I love bread.  Yeast bread.  The more yeast the better.  And it is certainly a Godly thing to eat, or there wouldn't be so much Godly stuff written about it.  Almost every time we see Jesus eating, or speaking, there is bread involved.

"Give us this day our daily bread..." Matthew 6:
"Jesus took the bread and broke it..."  Matthew 26:26
"I am the bread of life..."John 6:35,48
"Man shall not live by bread alone... "Matthew 4:4
"...the bread of God is He..."John 6:33
"...he took bread and gave thanks...Acts 27:35

And in the Old Testament, they regarded bread as a wonderful, pleasant, joyful food:
"Bread eaten in secret is pleasant..." Proverbs 9:17 )
"...go, eat your bread with joy..."Ec. 9:7   (I like this one.)

 And this next verse hints that I am going to get to eat bread forever in heaven. "...the blessed eat bread in the kingdom..." Luke 14:15  That is a wonderful expectation.

One of my earliest memories is of my grandmother making bread.  And the aroma still haunts my memory.  I never learned how--because I was surrounded by great bread and pie makers--why bother.  (I can't make a pie worth eating either.) I wish I had listened better. 

Both grandmothers had an ongoing argument over whether to use an egg or not.  As far as I was concerned, it was a moot point because both of them were experts at making yeast bread.

 Yum. 

We had an old hymns sing-a-long today at a covered dish luncheon at the church.  I am an alto, and in this day of no hymn books, no music score, and no four part expectations, I guess I am a dinosaur because I know how to harmonize.   I couldn't reach the soprano notes if I tried my hardest--so if I am going to sing, it has to be lower.

So the music director--sitting across the room--kept looking around the room--for whoever it was singing alto.  And when the hymn was over, he stood up, pointed a finger at me and said, (in front of 50 people) "Are you the one singing alto?  We need you in the choir."

To which I replied, "Yes, I am.  And no, I need another thing to do like a moose needs a hat-rack."   I figured that would end the matter.  But no, he needs an alto in the choir.  And didn't let it drop.   So I told him that my only claim to fame was not singing in a choir, but singing pop in a trio, and once, I sang back up for Earnest Tubbs."  My church music participation has always been to play the piano, not sing.

(For all you young ones out there, Ernest was one of the first country western singers.  Who wants a country-western-pop singer in the choir.  Evidently, this director does.

Spring is coming on.  I want to spend my time in the yard.  And teach a Bibld class.  And mentor these two women I have been assigned.  And write this blog.  And teach this special class coming up on Genesis.  Where in the world can I find time to sing in the choir?

Didn't I just write about this a few days ago?  About learning when to say, "No."  And yes, I know, we are supposed to pray about things like this.  Or use some wisdom.

Looks like I will finally be teaching a study on Genesis this summer.  The educational director of my church asked to review my teaching materials and I spent an hour going over them with him.  I am glad for the opportunity to do this again.  It gives me a chance to make closer relationships with people, and helps them to get to know me better.  Eventually I will be one of the gang.

My new Sunday morning class is good.  I have had three Sundays with them and all is going well.  I finally feel like I am doing something useful again.  And feel like  I am a part of something.  Moving is such an uprooting of your soul.  Everything and almost everyone that I knew is left behind.   I am trying very hard to make friends--it isn't easy.  Making acquaintances is easy.   Developing friends takes a lot of time.

But I can do it.  Not like the friends that I had in Pryor, however.  Carolyn, Sally, JoAnn, Becky B., Kathy, Judy, Kathleen, Anita and dozens of others.  They love me.  It takes time for people to love you.  I love them too.  And my son Scott.  And wife Stacy, their four children, spouses and grand-children.  So many people back there.

There is only one way to make a friend.  Love them.  If they can look over my faults I can certainly overlook theirs.  But I can't think of any faults any of my friends in Pryor have.  I miss them.  But things are good here in other ways.  "Don't be unhappy for what you don't have; be thankful for what you do have."

Paul said, "Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."  And Janie says:  I learned all about that the first 7 years in the USMC with Ken.  We moved 11 times.  And had 4 children.  And I made 2 friends.

I can do this.  Compared to that 7 years, everything else is downhill sledding.

The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is called the chapter on faith.  If ever there was any doubt about what saves a person, this chapter puts it clearly--it is faith.  This chapter is the Hall of Fame of faith.

Those listed who were saved by faith are Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah,Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab the harlot, Gedeon, Barak, Samson, Jephthae, David, Samuel, and others.

Not sacrifices.  Not being good.  Not good works.  Not being born Jewish.  And not keeping the Law.  This chapter spells out how people in the Old Testament were saved.  By faith.

Hebrews 11:1 "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." 

Long before the Messiah, people were saved by believing in what God had promised.  A Lamb.  Who would take away the sins of the earth.  Sacrifices were made to show how that would be done.  But back then, the sacrifice was good for only a year.  Sacrifices were given to remind them of the coming King.  The perfect Lamb.  The Messiah.   Now, through Christ, by His sacrifice, forgiveness is for eternity.  Someday, when I stand before God and am judged, Jesus will say, "Yes, she did that.  But I have paid the price for it."

"Greater love has no man than to lay down one's life for his friends..."John 15 :13

Some people think that believing without repentance is good enough.  Not so.  You aren't saved so that you can keep on sinning.  You are saved to grow more like Christ.  To love others more.  To change your life with His help.  Through the power of the Holy Spirit within you.

Check yourself.

I now have a raised garden bed.  "John" is my new handyman.  And he is a worker.  He tires me out just watching him.  He raised the bed high enough so that I don't have to bend over very far.  I don't bend very well any more.  I don't unbend very well anymore either.

And--I don't spend hardly anything on anything anymore.   All extra dollars go for "service."  The only thing I really need is for people to help me do all the things I think up to do.

I can't wait to get my hands in the dirt and stick seeds in the ground.  There isn't much sun anywhere in my yard, so God is going to have to do the rest.   I sat on the ground and pulled weeds yesterday while John worked. 

You remember how excited Morgan Freeman was in the Shawshank Redemption when he got out of prison and headed to Mexico to find "Andy Deframe."  Well, that is how excited I am about spring coming on.

I have never seen a winter like this one in Oklahoma.  It barely existed.  We set records for warm days in February.  All the daffodils are coming up, the azalea buds are ready to burst into bloom, and it isn't even March yet.  Maybe God is in as big a hurry for spring as I am.

I got a check from the electric company in Pryor.  Seems like I overpaid for years--they never told me.  It is going into my yard.  Choosing what to buy will be hard.  More azalea bushes for sure.  I hope they live.  The ground here isn't good azalea ground, so I will have to buy a ton of peat moss.

I'm so excited.  I just can't hide it... 

I haven't been this busy in years and years.  Yesterday morning, I taught a class at 8:00 at the church, ran home to let the dog out and went back and taught another class at 11:00.  I teach by asking questions--making sure I know the answers!!  Everyone participated.  Somewhere in the middle, I visited with the woman I am mentoring.  But I missed church in the process of all of that.  Not good.

When I got home, I grabbed something to eat and drove to Moore to my grandson's 1st birthday party.  And of course got lost.  They were working on the road and the turn had been changed.  I was an hour late.  I think I am not really up to everything I am trying to do.  The spring chicken in me may have clucked out. 

Sometimes we need to check our selves and make sure we aren't just running in circles.  And ask the question, "Is this something I really need to be doing."  Maybe we need to sincerely adopt the idea that we need a day to do nothing.  Maybe that is why God told us:  "Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy."

That was one of the 10 commandments.  Maybe God puts a higher priority on resting than we do since resting was first observed by God himself.

Genesis 2:2-3 "And on the seventh day God...rested...from all his work...And God blessed it and sanctified it..."

I'm going to pull a Scarlett and think about that tomorrow.  Because I have to go to a breakfast at 9:30 with a group from church,  and the man who is going to plant shrubs for me is coming after that.  He is going to build me a raised bed for my garden.  I will sit and watch.  That ought to count.

There are a number of ways to find truth.  It depends on "Proof."  There are a number of ways to arrive at truth through proof.

1. Analytical or mathematical truth using a proven formula.  Remember the Pythagorean Theorem.
2. Logical truth.  If all birds have feathers, and a robin is a bird--then robins have feathers.
3. Sensory truth.  Touch, taste, sight, sound, smell.  Touch a hot stove and you will get burned.
4. Historical truth.  Established on a preponderance of evidence.  Not as reliable as other truths.
5. Elimination truth. I use this every morning when I solve the Sudoku puzzle.
6. Substitution truth.
7. Convergence truth.  When I taught Calculus, we were able to find the slope at a point on a curve.  You remember that a curve has no slope, but using "limits", you can find it at any point.  It goes something like this: if I step toward you and split the difference between us, then do it again and again, no matter how often I do that I will never really reach you.  But for all practical purposes the distance between us approaches zero.  Or, the "limit" of the distance between us approaches zero.
I love Calculus. But then, I love logic and "proofs."  I guess that's why I am a mathematician.

The proof that Jesus existed, that he lived, taught, was crucified, and rose again comes to us from a preponderance of evidence.  Historical evidence: gathered for around 5000 years.  Elimination truth: no one else has ever come close statistically to fulfilling 72 prophecies except Jesus.  Etc., etc.  If you carry that out to 72 places, not that many people have ever lived.  It is statistically amazing that Jesus met the qualifications.

But after you have accepted Him as the truth: God in man, the Son of God, or as Thomas said: "My Lord, and my God,"  something happens within.  You are changed.  His Spirit takes up residence with a broom and begins to sweep out all of that bitterness, hate, jealousy, spite, anger, and on and on.  You are never the same.  Peace begins to take over.  It is experiential truth.

I am not the same.  He has changed me.  Thank God.

          In a Bible class today, the subject of the "Holy of Holies" came up and I commented that the High Priest went into that room only once a year to make sacrifices for sin.  I further added that they tied a rope around his waist or ankle so that if he touched the Ark of the Covenant--which meant he would die--that they could pull him out.

         This was disputed.  So I looked it up, and here is what I read in Jewish literature:
"According to the account of our rabbis preserved in the Talmud, the High Priest wore a rope around his waist as he made his way - absolutely alone - into the holy of holies...in the event that the High Priest said or did something wrong...he would be struck dead for his offense...the rope enabled his assistants to safely pull the corpse...out of the inner-sanctum in the event of mishap."(www.tbsoc.com/sermons/donnellyk5763.html)  (Read Hebrews Ch. 7-10)

          Also from "Torah Class Podcast,  Studies in the Old Testament", I read:
"...later on in the Temple era (the Temple was just a permanent Tabernacle), a rope was tied onto the ankle of the High Priest when he went into the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur…..the Day of Atonement. The idea was that the lower priests, who would be standing outside the Sanctuary, would listen for the constant gentle jingling of the golden bells (on his robe) as the High Priest moved around, performing his purification rituals; if the jingling ceased for any substantial period of time, then they would assume that Yehoveh has likely killed the High Priest for some breach of protocol, and they would pull him out with the rope attached to his foot. The logic for this procedure is understandable: ONLY the High Priest can go into the Holy of Holies.

Jesus is our high priest, so we don't have to worry about all that.  This is kinda heavy, but some of you out there like details.  Hebrews 10:7,10,14  "For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins...we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all...for by one offering he has perfected for ever them that are sanctified."  FOR EVER!!!

I got an email from a young man today whose father must have been in one of Ken's squadrons.  He has written a book, and mentions a Major Jackson.  Which he said was a pseudonym for my Ken.

He says, "In it (the book) I have several references to a major named Ken Jackson, saying that:  In the air and on the range, he could do anything the hot shot lieutenants could do, and unlike the other field grade officers, he was "one of the guys" without trying, while the others tried like hell but never came close to achieving that level of respect."

I thought that was a nice way of saying, "Everyone loved Ken."  And they did.  He was a class act. He was never puffed up about all of the things he had accomplished, or the rank he had made.  He never forgot that he was just a barefoot preacher's kid born in 1929, in the depression.

I remember him telling me that once, that when they lived in Hobart, Oklahoma, in the early thirties, that there was no food.  Not even cornmeal to make corn bread.  It was a Sunday night and the whole family went to church hungry.  When they got home, the people in the church had filled their kitchen cupboards with food.  They called it a "Pounding."  He said that his mom cried.

He said, "I had two pairs of overalls.  One to wear to school, and one to church.  Those were my clothes.  All of them."

When we got married, I was amazed at how little he wanted.  Things held no pleasure for him.  He was generous to a fault.  Anyone in need knew where to go, and he never turned anyone down.

"...the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."   If it wasn't a free gift, nobody could ever afford it.

My son Scott is ambidextrous.  When he was young, he couldn't tell his right hand from his left hand.  He simply couldn't remember which was which.  Some things he did with his right hand, and others he did with his left.  In baseball, when he would bat, he would use one hand, and when he ate with a fork, or used a pen, he would use the other hand.  Sometimes he used both. 

When he was in Junior High, I was watching him play football, and every time the quarterback called a play, I could see Scott slap his chest with his right arm.  "Why do you do that?" I asked him later.

"Well," he said, "when the play is called--sometimes right, sometimes left--I have to figure out which way is which.  So I just do the Pledge of Allegiance when the quarterback calls the play--and know that my right is on my heart because that's what we do in school every morning.  The teacher says that we pledge with our right hand.  I've gotten used to pledging."

He probably hadn't ever had to figure that out, much less remember it, before football plays were labeled "right" or "left."  He had functioned just fine not knowing.

So if you ever see him standing around looking confused with his hand on his heart, you will know what he is doing. 

 The Bible says: "If there is anyone among you who is poor...don't harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your brother." Deuteronomy 15:7

"It doesn't specify which hand.  Some things don't require that you know your left from your right.  Simply that you do what is right. 

"...when you give alms, don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."  Matthew 6:3

I will never have another child.  And I will never have another grandchild.  That is all over.  My first grandchild was born in 1982--so she is 34 next week.  My last grandchild was born on the same day as my first one--thirty-three years later, and he (Tate) will be one year old next week. 

But great-grandchildren are on the way.  I already have two, and another is coming in a few months.  My family is big and getting bigger.

The other day I was looking at a picture of Ken and myself on our wedding day.  We look so young!!!  Little did we know what was in our future.  We certainly weren't thinking about children, much less grand-children.  And certainly not great-grandchildren.  It was just the two of us.  We started a new life.  And because of that, our future began to unfold.

Now all of that is in the past.  And my off-spring will fulfill their own futures.  I hope that I have had an influence in their lives for the good.  My grandmother had such an influence on me.  I would like to be half the woman that she was.

But maybe I can be good influence on the other people that God puts in my path.  My daughter Pat said, "Well you can't feed all the poor, but you can certainly feed the poor people that you know."  I agree.  You can't influence the world either, but you can influence the people you know.

Just live your life so that your influence is good.  You are a child of God.  Try and act like it.  The only God some will ever see is in your life.

This church that I go to keeps me really busy.  Seems like one group or another is doing something every day--and doing it with food on the side.  I've only cooked once in the last two weeks.  I like it when everybody gets together and brings their favorite dish.  You never know what you are going to get for dinner--but it is always really good.

However, the side effect of all of that is that I am gaining weight.  Seems like everyone loves deserts and tries to outdo each other's cooking on that front.  I usually don't like sweets, but..........

Sunday, I will start teaching a Bible class again.  There are nine women, and I am excited about it.  And Saturday, a first cousin that I haven't seen in a long time is coming to stay over night.  Besides that, a second cousin (once removed) called to talk about our common great-grandfather.  Her name is Ann Harrison and she is big into genealogy and has traced our family back for generations.  It is really interesting to hear the stories she has uncovered and the people she has found that are related to us.

It is a rare thing now for cousins to be close to each other.  America is so mobile that everyone loses track of their other family members.  And we are so busy with our own lives that we let things slip.  I love to get together and talk about the "Old Days."

This is one of the remarkable things about the Bible.  They kept track of each other and made lists of who "begat" who.  You can trace Jesus all the way back to Adam.  Ann (Harrison) said that the Bible is a book of the genealogy of those before Christ.  After Christ, people quit keeping track of those things.  Probably because the new family of God weren't related by common blood.  They were--and are--related by the blood of Jesus Christ.  And because of that, we have a new Father.

The people of God talk about the good old days every Sunday.  The stories are timeless. 

When I built the house in Pryor, I added a room with an outside entrance for my dad.  He decided it was time to move in with us after my mom died.  I had become concerned about him because of his eating habits.  Every morning, he ate cookies for breakfast.

Well, I thought about that yesterday when I got up and looked around for something to eat, and lying on the counter were some cookies that Becky had baked for me and brought over.  I ate them.  For breakfast.  I am my father's daughter.  I decided it wasn't such a bad idea anyway.  They had raisins, and lemon juice, and eggs in them--how bad could that be.

My dad ate cookies for breakfast for years--and lived to be 94.  The way I figure it, if I take up the habit, I have--at the very least--sixteen more years to enjoy cookies.

We are what we eat.  We are what we do.  We are not what we think--because thoughts without actions are nothing but dreams.  But thoughts can lead to actions.  That is why the Bible says: "A good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, brings forth that which is good; and an evil man, out of the evil treasure of his heart, brings forth that which is evil: for out of the abundance of the heart, his mouth speaks."  Luke 6:45

We need to be very careful what we think about.  What we dwell on--more often than not--ends up becoming the behavior that we display--and the words that we speak.  If you hold a grudge, you will eventually behave in a way that is not Christlike against the person that has offended you.  Maybe they just had a bad day.  Give it a break.  At the very least, try to keep your mouth shut.

"Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue, keeps his soul from troubles."  Proverbs 21:23

Today, I opened the last box from my move.  I had been putting it off because I knew what was in it.  Shoes.  Little glass shoes.  Monopoly token metal shoes.  Indian beaded shoes.  Dutch carved wood clogs.  There are even leather loafers, ballerinas and booties. All of them very, very tiny.

When I was seven, an older cousin gave me her collection of little glass shoes.  About seven or eight of them.  After that, I added to them.  When I went somewhere, I would sometimes find and buy a tiny shoe.  It was something to take home and it was small and easily transportable. And they didn't cost much.  Except for a pair of sterling "shoe" cuff-links.  But I figured that Ken or I might possibly wear those.  We didn't.

As I unwrapped them, I counted.  Ninety-seven.  You see why I put off opening the box.  I have cornered the market.  They are really hard to find anymore.   And what would I do with more little shoes?  They are totally useless things.  I would love to find someone in the family that would like to have them.  But until that happens, I will put them in glass display boxes on the mantle.  That should keep me busy for a few days.  And remind me of my idiocy.

Just think of all the things we have bought in our lifetime that are useless, silly, temporary and eventually discarded.  I tell the ladies in my Bible class that: "You want it when you are twenty.  You charge it when you are thirty.  You pay it off when you are forty.  And when you are fifty, you wonder what in the world possessed you to buy it.  So.......in your sixties, you get rid of it all." 

As we age, stuff doesn't matter much.  It's a shame that we can't learn that in our twenties.  Simplify, simplify.  Would anyone out there like 97 tiny shoes?

"Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust corrupts and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven...for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Matthew 6:19-21 

I just finished 800 posts.  I can hardly believe it.  What began as a lark has turned into something else. I looked at my on line audience today, and there are readers not only in the United States, but also in France, Germany, Portugal, Indonesia, and Romania.  People that I won't ever meet in this life, but hopefully in the next.  Hello out there.  God bless you.

I also figured out how to read your comments for the first time.  It was so encouraging!!  The only problem is that they are cut off after one or two sentences.  I have a new friend in a Sunday School class that I taught a week ago named TJ who is a computer guru.  Maybe someday she can help me figure it out.

God is so good.  Some days I just feel overwhelmed at his goodness.  And then my next thought is, "Why does He bother with us?"  We are so flawed.  So puffed up with ourselves.  Just when I think I have done away with my pride, I find myself patting myself on the back for being such a good person.  Ugh.  God usually lets me know (immediately) that he doesn't think I'm "all that."  And reminds me that if it wasn't for Jesus living in me, I would be worth nothing to Him.  Totally useless in my unrighteous condition.   So much for my pride.

We have a tendency to itemize sin.  1. The worst sin, 2. The next worst sin...and so on.   It is true that some sins are much more horrible than others in terms of life and death.  Those sins destroy the community.  And not only God, but the government condemns them.  But to God, sin is sin.  It is all disobedience.  We are guilty.  He is merciful if we repent.  (Repentance is not just being sorry.)

Psalms 119:11 "Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee." It is the stuff I memorized (hid in my heart) as a child that helps me remember who I am.  God's child.  I certainly don't want to embarrass Him by doing something wrong.

I love the "Gaither Gospel Hour."  The old songs touch me.  We just don't hear them anymore, and some of you--and I--grew up on them.   They had real words with real messages.  And more importantly, they had four part harmony.  The younger generation doesn't share my feelings.  They have a new kind of church music that they are growing up on.  Saturday, the Gaither Hour featured Tennessee Ernie Ford. (Sixteen Tons, and whatta you get...")  I heard songs that I hadn't heard in fifty years.  He had such a beautiful voice.

Ernie was a big name back then and was asked to do a TV show.  He said he would--if he could do a hymn at the end each night.  They balked.  So he refused, and was willing to give it up.  But the producers relented--and Ernie sang his hymns.  They became the feature of his show.  America loved it.  I remember watching him with my family every week.

Four part harmony is a thing of the past in our churches.  I miss it terribly.  Now when we sing a song, the words are on the overhead screen--with no notes.  I am not a soprano, and can't follow along because it is too high.  I'm an alto.  I wish for songbooks.  That I can hold in my hands.  With four parts.  I like to sing.  I like to hear someone singing basso.  And tenor.

I call the new music "Blah, blah, blah" music.  There is very little message.  Ken called them "7/11 songs.  Seven words, eleven repeats.  However:  the younger generation will someday remember these songs just like I remember the ones I grew up hearing.  Things change.  We have to change with them.  The thing we need to do is not complain.  It doesn't help, and it doesn't glorify God.

A friend gave me an old, old songbook.  I opened it to play some of the hymns on my piano, and was surprised to find that I had never heard most of them.  I bet my great-grandmother was just as
nostalgic about the "new music" in her day as I am about the "new music" today.   I guess we just need to "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord..." Psalms 100:1

I got my eyes tested yesterday and they haven't changed in the two years since I had cataract surgery.  Still 20/20 for long distance.  That's good.  It is amazing what modern medicine can do.  I can see.

In three more months I will have to get a new pacemaker.  I don't have any heartbeats of my own any more.  I have a great heart, strong, healthy, no cholesterol,  etc.  It just doesn't have an AV node to tell it to beat.  I lost that when I was 34.  Forty-four years ago.  I should have been dead.  But once again, modern medicine came to the rescue.

I could go on and on about the near medical disasters in my life.  But I've made my point.

However, there are times when medicine or surgery won't fix the problem.   We should always call on Jesus for healing.  Most people say that we should do that first.  I say, do both.  God has given us wisdom, but He still decides.  He has the final say.

When I got breast cancer, it was aggressive and had spread.  The minute I found out, I started praying.  I also immediately went to the doctor to schedule surgery.  Then I left for London on a trip that had been in the making for months.  And started chemo the day I got back. No use wasting a trip with your friends because something bad has happened. That was 7 years ago.  I was healed by the grace of God.  But I still see the doctor and take my meds.  I'm not stupid.

Whether it is modern medicine or surgery, the outcome is still in the hands of God.  He has a plan.  We are just a small piece of it.  "If you will, you can heal me..." is what the leper said.  I think that is a good way to pray.  I've certainly lived longer than the doctors expected.  But they don't get to decide.

"...thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."  The Lord's prayer is full of things that are hard for us to pray.  But it works out better if we do.  Praise God.

You would think that there was nothing else going on in the world except primary elections. We don't get the news much any more.  We get opinions, arguments and advertising.  Blah, blah, blah.

The word "debate" is out the window.  I would love to hear someone discuss how important this election is--on the subject of Supreme Court appointees and how the future cases coming up before them will be affected by whoever is elected president.  I am upset by their ruling that corporations are now recognized as one "person" when corporations are obviously a collective of people--with billions to spend to affect the outcome of elections.  One man, one vote is now out the window.

And I would like to hear a realistic debate on Planned Parenthood (if that is what you support).  If they stop offering abortion--which is the problem between the two sides--maybe there could be discussion.  As long as the country considers abortion legal, there will be opposition from Christians who will always believe it is murder.  And from citizens (other than Christians) who have moral objections to their taxes being used this way?  What ever happened to compromise?

Am I a Republican?  Am I a Democrat?  No, I am a Demoblican.  Or a Republicat.  I'm to the point I don't know what I am.  I do know this, I am sick of the bickering, and name-calling, and insults.  Would someone please discuss the issues.

I want to honor the scripture: "Let every soul be subject to the higher powers...For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil..." Romans 13: 1a, 4a, and it gets harder every day.  When I look at past presidents that were good for the country, both parties were represented.  Hate leads to a stalemate.  Nobody is going to get everything they want.

We need the help of God.  "Thy kingdom come..."  I can support that.

Rabbinic literature was filled with contempt for women.  They were not to be saluted, spoken to in the street, instructed in the law or receive an inheritance.  A woman was to walk six paces behind her husband, and if she uncovered her head in public, she was considered a harlot.  (Sounds a little barbaric, like Muslim women in the middle east today.)  First thing every morning , many Jewish men prayed, "Lord, I thank you that I was not born a slave, a Gentile, or a woman."

The third miracle involved a woman.  Peter's mother-in-law.  Christ healed her--and she got up from her sick bed and immediately went about her work. To Jesus, a leper, a Roman soldier, and a woman, were real people, in need of real help.   They were not second-class citizens.  The Jewish priests may have been biased against certain classes of people, but Jesus made no such distinction.

He must have infuriated the Jewish legalists.  At the same time Jesus was throwing convention to the wind, concerning certain classes of people, he was doing miracles that couldn't be explained.  No wonder that the Jewish legalists considered him to be a demon.   If he wasn't a demon, then He must have been from God.  And that was unacceptable.

"...the Pharisees said, He casts out devils through the prince of the devils."  Matthew 9:34   They couldn't explain it, so they condemned Him.  He had power that they couldn't explain.  But the people loved Him.  He gave the people something that they didn't have.  Hope.  You can't condemn hope.

Today, we make the same judgments that the Pharisees did back then.  We do not want to encounter the contagious sick, the destitute, or people who are different from us.  We build monuments to hide in called synagogues, temples, or churches.  And there is nothing wrong with meeting to worship in beautiful places, but perhaps we need to rethink how we are trying to reach the lost and disenfranchised.  They don't come to church.  We have to go to them.  With hope.

Sunday's lesson from Matthew 8 was over three miracles that Jesus performed after he finished the sermon on the mount.  The first was the leper, who called out to Jesus (probably from the side of the road since lepers were not allowed in public around people)  and said, "If you will, you can heal me."  He didn't ask for healing, but for the will of Jesus.  And Jesus said, "I will."  And He did.  If it had been me, I would probably have asked that Jesus heal me.  But the leper was humble in the presence of Christ.  We usually add, "Thy will be done," to our prayers as an afterthought.

Jesus then sent the leper to the Temple to receive the blessing of the priests and to be declared clean--which was required by Jewish law.  I think that Jesus did that because there were those who said that Jesus was performing miracles because he was possessed by a demon.  By receiving a declaration from the priest that the leper was clean, it put those accusations to rest.  The leper was approved as clean by the Jewish priests, the Mosaic law, and by God.  Not by demons.

The second miracle involved a Centurion.  A Roman and a Gentile--both hated and declared unclean by the Jews.  To enter a Gentile house was forbidden.  To speak to them was looked down on.  So for this Centurion to speak to Jesus was very unusual.  And he called Jesus "Lord."  That was very, very unusual.  The Romans controlled the Jews.  But the Centurion asked Jesus to heal his servant--who was not there but was back in the Centurion's home.   He told Jesus that he understood authority, because he was in authority over many men.   For a Gentile to grant that Jesus was in authority over sickness, that Jesus could just speak a word and the servant would be healed amazed Jesus.

Jesus said, "I have not seen such faith as this in all of Israel."  This healing was a public declaration that Christ had come to heal all of us.  Not just Jews.  And the servant was healed--not by his faith--but because of the faith of the Centurion.  "...pray for one another, that you may be healed.  The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." James 5:16

Becky Bacon's husband Joe Mike is a pilot.  When he and Ken met each other, it was an instantaneous friendship.  They had both been pilots in Viet Nam, and the four of us fit together as friends like hands in gloves.

Ken quit flying after he got back.  Joe didn't.  He flew Lears  for a private company that chartered.  He also played the part of Wiley Post in the annual Will Rogers celebration in Claremore--flying in with a patch over his eye in full character.   He sometimes flew as as a charter pilot for Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood who live on the edge of Claremore.

One night, at two in the morning, there was a knock on our back door.  "Who is it," I yelled!!  "It's Franklin and Eleanor," was the answer.  I knew Joe's voice, so I opened the door, and there he stood in his pilot's uniform with a Styrofoam crate in his arms.  "What in the world are you doing?!!" I asked him. "It's the middle of the night!!"

 "I've brought you Franklin and Eleanor straight from Maine," he said.  I took the crate and lifted the lid and there were two big lobsters crawling around inside.

"I know you love lobster.  I just landed and wanted to bring them to you all right now so you can ice them down." 

"And you named them!  How can I eat a lobster that has a name," I asked him.

"They'll be tasty," he answered.

Friends are wonderful things.  Only Joe would bring me lobster at two o'clock in the morning.