So, in the very short letter (of 1John), John introduces his purpose for writing the letter to the Christ followers out there who were being tracked down and eliminated--much like Christ followers are being tracked down and killed in the middle east today.

He says to them in 1 John 1:4, "These things we write to you that your joy may be full."  That's it.  That's what John is writing to people about.  Joy.  We can live in a state of joy because of what is ahead of us.  Death is conquered.  Because of Jesus, we can live with God forever.

We, in this part of the world, in this age, have heard John's message so often that we are no longer amazed by it.  We need a fresh dose of Joy.  It is an amazing story.

True belief in what John had to tell us will inspire us to spread the word.  We have a story to tell that is wonderful.  Amazing.  A cause to celebrate and spread "Joy to the world--the Lord is come."

Think back to the moment that you heard the story for the first time, and believed in a risen Christ.  In a God who loves you and died for your sins.   Your heart was full of emotion.  You were forgiven.  You were accepted by God into his family.  Someone died in your place.  You were guilty, but Jesus took your blame.  Everything you ever did wrong was erased.  Now that is joy.

But as we live the life, sometimes the day to day hassles of living can overtake us and cause us to forget what our real purpose is.  We are to spread joy with the story of Jesus.

Joy to the world, the Lord is come,
Let earth receive her King.
Let every heart, prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing...

Christmas in August.

Have you ever tried to tell someone something unusual that you saw or heard, only to have them scoff at you?  Or have them say something like, "That could never happen. You're kidding  me."

John--Jesus' disciple--was in that position.  He had news so spectacular, so unbelievable, that he could hardly wait to share it.  And rather than just give his own account, he testified that he was not the only one who had seen it.  Heard it.  Touched it.  That the event was "Manifested" to others besides him.

"For the Life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and show to you that eternal life, which was with the Father, and was manifested unto us"  1 John 1:2  John continues giving his bona fides.  He states that he--and all of the other disciples (we),  have seen Jesus--who was in heaven with God, and who came to earth in physical form.   He tells us that Jesus is life.  Eternal life itself.

Spectacular news.  John can hardly contain himself.  He wants the whole world to know what has happened.  What he has witnessed.  What he has heard, seen, and touched.  He wants everyone--and that includes you and me--to be aware of this historic event.  So he continues:

"That which we have seen and heard, we declare unto you, that you also may have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ."

John wants you and me, and the entire world to be one fellowship of believers who can have personal fellowship with God.  With the risen Jesus.  The one who will give those who believe in him eternal life.  I am reminded of a verse written by John in his Gospel:  "In him was life; and the life was the light of men." John 1:4  Knowing Jesus is like walking into a dark room and turning on the light.

We get life.  Life eternal.  That is hope.  He is our hope.  It happened, and those who were there, and saw it, gave their lives to spread the word to the world.  Nothing has ever been the same.

I have finished the Bible verse booklet I have been working on for my granddaughter.  As I went through the Bible book by book, it was amazing how many verses had had special meaning to me at some point in my life.  There were over 200 of them.  All Bible verses are important, but, let's face it, some verses are more important to us than others.  At least that's the way it is for me.

When I finished with that, I decided to go through the letter of 1 John again.  It is only four pages long, but packed with first hand accounts--that John shares from his three years as a disciple of Jesus.  My friend Sally, who lives in Hattisburg, Mississippi is doing it along with me.  We're studying it over the phone.  I'm a great believer in concentrating on one book at a time, rather than reading something and rushing on to the next letter or book.  (And forgetting what you have read.)

John uses the word "write," "written," "declare," or "proclaim" over 13 times in four pages.  He was very concerned that the story of the Christ was going to be lost if he didn't "write" it down.  Every one of the disciples that had first hand knowledge of what Jesus said and did was dying.  There is such urgency in John's words.   He  has realized that he, too, may soon be gone.  He wants people to know that he is writing down the truth.  A permanent written record.  And it is directed to all of us.

The first verse of his letter sums up his feelings. "That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have touched, of the Word of Life (for the life was manifested and we have seen it, and bear witness and show unto you that eternal life...") 1John 1-2a.

Heard, seen, looked on, touched--this is real.  An account of Jesus so personal that people would be insane not to read it, and know that John knew Jesus.  Really knew him.  They were friends.  But much more, Jesus was God incarnate and John knew without a doubt that he had touched the face of God Himself in Jesus.  John had seen him die and witnessed him later--alive.

When you read scripture, everything points to the death and resurrection of Jesus.  John was there.  He saw it.  He heard it.  He touched Jesus.  What a message.  Read it.  It won't take ten minutes and it could change your life.

It has been so hot that you could hardly breath during the month of July.  Nothing is growing.  The newscaster said it was the hottest July on record.  I believe him.  My electric bill doubled--air conditioning.

But my okra loved it. The puny little stalks of May and June grew like Jack's beanstalk in July--to the sky.  I gave okra away, fried it, and still can't keep up with it.

It was so hot that my parsley, onions, green peppers, kale and lettuce never grew.  They burned up.  Even my tomatoes were pitiful.  Next year I am going to plant a different kind of tomato.  You may like Jet Stars, but to me they taste like mush.   I'm going back to Beefsteak, or Big Boy or Better Boy. Or some old Heritage cultivar.  I know--they have a tough core, but they taste like heaven.  I can cut the core out.  They won't be pretty, but they will be delicious.

I never thought I would say this, but I am ready for cold weather.  And I know that once it is here, I will be longing for spring--even summer.  I've lived in Florida.  I've lived in California four different times.  The weather is so boring.  I missed the seasons of Oklahoma.  In Oklahoma, the weather is always exciting.  Thunder, lightening, hail, wind, tornados, sleet, snow, poring rain, sunshine so hot you stay inside in the summer, and winters so cold you think you will freeze.  But something is always happening.  Oklahoma is definitely not boring.  I love Oklahoma.

Ken was overseas almost every other year.  When he got back from his last over-seas tour he said that God willing, he would never leave again.  And he didn't.  Near the end, he would say, "Let's go drag main street."  So I would get him in the car and drive him to town.  And he would say, "I love this town.  I love Oklahoma."  And he did.  He had seen enough of the horrible side of the world.

How God has blessed us to live in a land where we are free to move to some other place if we don't like the place we are in.  But as for me, I am content.  Like the apostle Paul said, "...I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."  Philippians 4:11

Christians are supposed to be doing something other than just sitting around and soaking up God's blessings.  We are called to spread the story of Jesus to a world that is wandering around in a fog of ignorance concerning God.  Many have convinced themselves that there is no God--until they are in a crisis, and then, they want a God they don't believe in to bail them out.  They don't know Him.  They don't know how to contact Him.  They are lost.  And we have the knowledge they need.

The good news is that we were created by a God who loves us and created us for fellowship with Him.  And even though we don't deserve it, he keeps trying to get through the fog and reach us before it is too late.  People need to hear that.  They need to know that God wants them for His own.  They need to realize that they have to make a choice to seek God.

And here is the thing we Christians should be doing:  Finding new ways to meet new people, get to know them and eventually (if not sooner) tell them that God loves them.  Tell them about how you came to know Him.  What He has done in your life.  And telling a person that the weight of past mistakes has been wiped out by Jesus.  Tell them what He did for them, and why.

We Christians need to set our priorities in order.  Get out of the rut of running with Christians all the time and make new acquaintances.  Branch out.  People are out there who need what you know.

My next door neighbor did something yesterday that is an example of what I am talking about.  She and her husband invited a group of people to dinner--people who had recently lost their mates.  It was really nice.  Come to find out, one of the women had a son who had been in a math class I taught at NEO A&M College more than thirty-five years ago.  It was a fluke that I remembered him--I had close to 500 students every year for almost 20 years.  She didn't know me. I didn't know her.  We would never have met if my neighbor hadn't gone to the trouble to put a group of strangers together for dinner.  There were six people there that I would never have met.

And I said to myself, "Janie, you can do that.  Throw a pot luck dinner for the neighborhood.  Have a brunch for some of the people on the block. "  Yep.  I could do that.  And even though you won't connect with everyone, you may connect with one.  You may be God's plan for telling that one.

The first African-American US Marine Corps aviator was Frank E. Peterson Jr. from Topeka, Kansas.  Everyone called him "Pete."  As I recall, he and Ken went through flight school together.  Friends.

Back then, in the late forties and early fifties, if you washed out of flight school, they sent you to helicopters.  So for a jet-jockey, that was as bad as it could get.  That policy created a lot of aviation conflict, so after a few years, the commandant issued an edict that all pilots would "voluntarily" cross train in helicopters.  Ken and Pete refused to go and got called in to the general's office so that the general could explain the "Way of the Lord" to the two of them more perfectly.

After listening to the General's explanation of why they had to learn to fly helicopters, Ken said that Pete told the General, "Sir, ain't it bad enough being a "........."?  (I can't bring myself to repeat the word Pete used.)  Whether that was politically correct or incorrect, that's what Pete said.  As a result,  Ken and Pete got out of having to go to helicopters--for which Ken was eternally grateful.

Years later, the Navy and Marines changed the policy for aviators concerning helicopters.  They decided that you had to make a choice before you went into flight school.  Choose:  Jets, or Helicopters.  Which eliminated the concept that the 'coptor pilots had failed jet aviation.  But the guys who flew jets still thought they were superior--until Viet Nam.

Viet Nam changed everything because of the heroic flying the helicopter pilots did every day.  They flew into ground fire to insert troops, and they risked their lives every day flying in to extract combat troops that were under fire.  They were sitting ducks on the ground while the dead and wounded were loaded and extracted.  They were under constant fire.  And many of them didn't make it home.

After Ken retired, he had to make a trip to D.C., so he looked Pete up.  Old times, funny stories, renewed friendship.  When Ken got back home, he kept me laughing telling the story about how he and Pete escaped helicopters.  By then, Pete had made general.  The first African-American general in the USMC.  He was something.  They both were.












Frank E. Petersen Jr. (USMC) (born March 2, 1932 in Topeka, Kansas) is a retired United States Marine Corps Lieutenant General. He was the first African-American Marine Corps aviator and the first African-American Marine Corps general.

"...I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.  They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."  Jeremiah 29:11

When things aren't going the way you want them to, don't give up.  God is still God.  He is still in the business of guiding our lives.  He has a plan for you.  He has a plan for all of us.

We may not know what those plans are, but He does.  That's where that thing called "trust" comes in.  Even when things aren't going well, we can trust Him because he says so.  He always keeps his promises.  

I keep telling God what I want.  And what I don't want.  Personally, I don't want to suffer.  I'm strong, and I can take it, but I've had enough of that.  But, what if He wants to use my response to suffering to give him glory?  Personally, I don't want that either.  But I do want God's plans to be fulfilled.  So, if that is what He has in mind, I will try my best to grin and bear it.  Because I trust Him.  But......I still don't want to suffer.  I'm human.  And suffering isn't on my list of favorite things that have happened to me.   

Since what I want and what I don't want doesn't seem to change, when things don't go my way, I will just have to trust that He will change my attitude.  I do take comfort in the scripture in 1 Corinthians 10:13 that says:  "There has no temptation (problem) taken you but such is common to man.  But God is faithful, who will not suffer (allow) you to be tempted (tested) above that which you are able (to bear), but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that you may be able to bear it."

That's pretty comforting.  God knows our limit.  Mine may not be yours--but what ever our limits are, God won't allow anything to push us past them.  That verse says God is faithful.

I put a high priority on faithfulness.  I'm counting on it.  He has never let me down.

Saturday I attended a teacher's conference at our church.  I was dreading it, to be honest.  I have been to dozens and dozens of those things throughout the years--you have to go because the educational director expects you to be there, but they are usually so very boring.  Well, pleasant surprise.  This one was really good.  We had a great speaker.  Eric Dabney.  He was funny, inspirational, genuine and not at all "churchy."

He told a story about when he was teaching first grade at a public school.  (The point of his story was that you shouldn't be quick to judge people.)  Seems that he had a little six year old girl in the class that had been suspended the year before (in kindergarten!!!) for getting into a fight on the playground and beating the stuffing out of a little boy.  Eric couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do with her if she caused trouble.

So, naturally, as a teacher, he was concerned when she started crying that someone had stolen her scissors.  One of the boys in the room pointed to another little girl who was stuffing something into her backpack and said, "She did it.  She stole the scissors."  That little girl crawled under her chair and curled up in a ball--afraid she was going to get beaten up.

But the child who had the reputation for being suspended  went over and crawled under the thief's desk and said, "I forgive you.  Let's be friends."  Many times, we are guilty of judging people based on what they have done in the past instead of being ready to give them a chance for a fresh start.

When I used to teach at Falls Creek, I would face a pavilion full of seniors and know that every problem a child could possibly have was present in the lives of the young people facing me.  I couldn't solve their problems, but I could introduce them to a God who could.

The best I could do was be well prepared, make the subject interesting, and exhibit kindness.  After I was through teaching, there would always be someone in the group who would stand around waiting--until every one else was gone--to talk to me.  Some of the best teaching I ever did was listening.  Just listening.

We get four score and ten if we're lucky.  One life.  We sometimes fill it up with trivia.  We pursue silly things.  We seldom think about the days that are trickling away.  We take it for granted that there will be more days--until one day we realize that most of them are behind us, not in front of us.

We go to school.  Maybe college.  We get a job.  We marry.  Some of us have children--who grow up and leave home and have children of their own.  And then, and then...if we are lucky, we have more years with a spouse we love.  Even better if our spouse is our best friend.  Mine was.

Life is a circle of stages we go through.   It is tragic when people wake up and find that they have missed their own lives.  When they have been so involved in work, or play, or silly things, that they have not fulfilled God's purpose for their lives.

"And you shall teach them (God's laws) to your children, speaking of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way, when you lie down and when you rise up." Deuteronomy 11:19

"Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." Prov. 22:6  That is a verse that involves everyone, not just parents.  If you never had children, God still wants you to bless the children around you.  Some of the most influential mentors I had didn't have children of their own.  But they didn't let that stop them from helping children that came to their churches.  Look around you.  There are children all around us who need someone to help, or notice them.

Christianity is not hereditary.  It has to be passed on by Christian people.  The gospel is a story about God that we must share.  When I was buying my phone last week, the girl helping me said something that led me to think that she might be a Christian.  I asked her if she was, and said, "I don't intend to hit you over the head with a Bible."

She answered, "I don't know why you wouldn't.  You have the greatest message ever told and we all need to tell it."  So very true.  Why do we hesitate?  The world needs to hear the story of Christ.

Today it has been 60 years since I got to be the princess in a fairy tale romance.  I was eighteen years old when an officer and a gentleman swept me off my feet.  He was everything you could dream of--a Captain in the Marine Corps.  A decorated war veteran with two Distinguished Flying Crosses, seven air medals (among dozens of others)--all that and only twenty five years old. (And good-looking to boot.)

He would fly from Pensacola to Pryor every weekend and spend two days trying to talk me into marrying him.  I would say "No," and the next weekend we would go through the same scenario.  I don't know how many times I said no, but he didn't give up.  He would buzz the town, break the sound barrier--which broke windows in our little burg.  People would see me down town and tell me to marry him so that everyone could have some peace.

"What's it going to take?" he asked me one weekend.

"At least three-quarters of a carat." I answered.  "Platinum.  Four prongs."  I was just kidding him, but that week, the ring came in the mail--exactly as I had described it.

He called to ask if I had tried it on.  I had.  It fit.  As I am typing this, I am looking at it on my finger.  I thank God every day that I finally said yes.  It was truly a match made in heaven.  I shudder when I think that he might have given up, and I would have missed a life with the greatest man I have ever met in my entire life.  Everyone that knew him loved him.

That's all behind me now.  He's gone.  But I know that once upon a time, I was a princess who was pursued by the greatest guy in the entire world.  So, if I get down on myself, I think about that.  Once upon a time, I got to be the princess in a fairy tale.

Today, I did something that I have been planning on doing for a year.  I wanted to finish with all the work on the house first--electricians, plumbers, painters, etc.--before I committed myself to something new.  But last week, I knew that I was ready for my new routine.

I went swimming every day while I was in Pryor, but when I moved here, I wasn't able to deal with an exercise regimen that met every day--with all of the workers in my house coming and going at different times.  But I knew that I would have to start back--because I need to exercise.  Which is something I detest.  I don't like to sweat.  Period.  I told you once that I was the kid that begged her mother for a note so I didn't have to go out for recess.

Anyway, I went to the class.  And it was the most intense workout I have ever participated in.  And it is a beginner's class for Seniors!!!  I am so sore.  I used muscles I didn't even know I had.  So I know it will be harder tomorrow because I hurt so bad.  But I am committed.  I will do it.  Thank God, they only meet three days a week.

It is hard to start new things when you don't know a single soul.  It is like the first day of school in a strange town.  Or walking into a church where everyone is a stranger--which I have done dozens of times with all those moves in the Marine Corps.  But there are things we need to do.  Because we need to do them...and we know it.

Hebrews 10:25 "Do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together as the manner  of some is, but exhort one another..."

That scripture is a call for Christians not to neglect gathering together with other Christians to learn, encourage, and comfort each other.  God expects it.  His people need it.

However, I'm going to apply it to the neglect that I have been guilty of this last year where exercise is concerned.  It isn't necessary that I know anyone in the room to excuse myself from going.

My computer is still doing strange things.  Nothing opens like it did a week ago.  And when I do get something opened, I have to go through a dozen steps to get where I want to go.  Oh well, I am thankful I am not back in the fifties using a manual typewriter, carbon paper and correction sheets of white retyping junk.  What a mess that was.

Sunday our lesson was very interesting.  It was about a stupid man named Nabal, married to a very smart and beautiful woman--who had enough sense to avert a slaughter.  Her name was Abigail.   Why I hadn't appreciated her story before now, I don't know.  I had certainly read it a number of times.  I think it was probably because I was concentrating on the main characters in the book of Samuel--which were Saul, Jonathan and David.

Nabal "dissed" David in a public and unnecessary way.  Nabal's men had been under the protection of David as  they shepherded their sheep.  If Nabal had had a brain, he would have been showering David with thanks, presents and praise.  But he was a rude, uncouth, stupid and ignorant man.  (The Bible calls him churlish and evil.)  He said, "Who does this son of Jesse think he is?"  (Of course, David was already anointed to be the next king.)  This made David furious, so he saddled up his army, drew swords, and started towards Nabal's house to kill him and all of those who served him.

But Abigail, hearing what her husband Nabal had done, found bread, fruits, and a group of loyal
men to accompany her, and intercepted David and asked permission to speak.  She basically told David that Nabal was a boorish nincompoop, and to put the blame on her.  She begged David not to take vengeance into his own hands, because he would have to live with the guilt of murder for the rest of his life.  She asked David to remember her when he came into his kingdom.

David was calmed.  Nabal got drunk and died of a stroke the next day.  God takes care of things.  Abigail was brave.  She spoke to a man who was not family--which was not allowed back then.  She took sides in a peaceful way to avert a disaster.  She was smart, and she used her intelligence.  She flattered David.  She fed him.  (Always a good plan where men are concerned.) And she sized up her husband as an idiot--which he was.  Later, David had the good sense to send for her and marry her.

Last week was difficult, to say the least.  I got scammed.  A person that I have known for years--my former director of Education at a church I belonged to, asked to "friend" me on Facebook.  So, I said yes.  Big mistake.  His identity had been stolen, and before I caught it, I was talking to stranger and had been invaded by a virus.  It didn't click in at first that this was not a legitimate request.

Anyway, I lost my computer for a day, and the next day it went down again.  Never again.  I won't friend anyone anymore.  I usually don't do that anyway because of all the junk that you have to scroll through.  I am not computer savvy enough to de-bug my own computer, so I have to take it to Becky and Craig.  Which makes me feel like an idiot.  (Not one of my favorite feelings.)

I am through with Facebook.  It's not worth it.  The only thing I really liked was the funny dog videos.  And messages from my close friends and family.  They'll just have to email me.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, I got a new phone.  I have been using an ancient phone for years, but my kids kept harping at me that I needed to update.  So I got a new phone.   Some 6 something or other.  And that night, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep, in a panic, because I didn't know how to dial anyone.  I didn't know where the number pad was.  And in the transfer, 30 or so numbers had been lost.  I know, that isn't supposed to happen, but it did.

Everyone says, "Oh, it's easy.  It's user friendly.  You'll get the hang of it."  Nope.  I'm not getting the hang of it.  I'm not ready to give up yet, but I am frustrated as all get out.  Patience is one of my weakest qualities--I never had much to begin with--so this isn't going to be pretty.  Anyway, that's why I didn't blog Friday.  But today, so far so good.

God is good.  I have so many people here in Edmond who are willing to help me.  My Sunday class passed my phone around and everyone programmed their numbers for me.  Even the receptionist at the doctor's office programed his info in for me.  I know more than I did three days ago.  Maybe if I learn one thing a day, I'll get there.  Problem is, I don't even know where "there" is.  I should have done this years ago when it was simpler--when there weren't so many options to learn.

My computer crashed yesterday.  I will blog Monday

Yesterday I wrote, "God loves us.  Otherwise, why in the world would he become a man and sacrifice himself..."  I was thinking about the verses in Philippians 2:5-7:

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men..."

Such powerful verses.  God looked on us, loved us, became a man, showed us what He was like, and died for us.   Then he rose again to stand between us and judgment.  Verse 8 from that passage says, "And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross."  

God found himself in the fashion of a man.  Jesus.

Do I understand all of that?  No.  I don't.  The idea of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit being one God boggles my mind.  As a matter of fact, the word "Trinity" was invented to explain it, but that word isn't found in the Bible.  That word just gives the idea a name.

The closest that the Bible comes to explaining it (for me) was written by John, Jesus' disciple: "For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one."  1John 5:7

John further explained what the "Word" was in John 1:1-2,4  "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  The same was in the beginning with God.  In Him was life; and the life was the light of men."

The Word of God.  Jesus.  The way God spoke to us.  Life--for those who choose Him.  Like I said the other day, "What a deal."  And it's free.

 And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.

Why is it so hard for us to admit it when we are wrong?   It's pride. We offer excuses.  We try to justify ourselves.  Or we just try to forget and hope the incident will fade away from our memory.  

The Bible says, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." You've gotta humble yourself and 'fess up.  Not just be sorry, but be repentant.  Ready to change.

That sounds like a great plan.  It costs nothing and you get everything you need in return.  A new start.  It says "All" unrighteousness.  What a deal.  Clean again.  Eternal life.

"Cast all your care upon Him; for he cares for you." 1Peter 5:7

Hard to believe, but true.  God loves us.  Why in the world would he become a man and sacrifice himself for someone he didn't love?

"Cast your burden upon the Lord and he will sustain you: he will never suffer the righteous to be moved."  Psalm 55:22

And why would he support and sustain us for any other reason but love.

I love the promises of God.  They are so encouraging.  Look at that last verse.  He will never let his righteous children be moved.  He will hold on to us.

"And I (Jesus) give to them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.  My Father, which gave them to me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand."  John 10:28-29

Good grief people.  Here you have something priceless for the taking.  Swallow your pride and accept it.  It's free.

I told you yesterday that I had learned some things by reading 1Samuel.  Truth is, every time I read any part of the Bible, I learn something.  The thing I don't understand is why so few people read it.  Here we have a story about eternal life.  About that Spiritual entity called God, and what he has done in the lives of people throughout history.  It is a well documented historical account of His plan for earth and the people he created.  It is one of the richest pieces of literature in the world.  And the oldest.  It should be required reading for any person who wants to call themselves educated!!

It gives us an idea of what God will do for us.  There are promises in this book--but if you don't know what they are, they go unclaimed in your life.  We can learn about God, what He wants from us, and how to claim his blessing of life after death.  But you have to choose to read it for yourself.  You can't find the path to God from a church, from baptism, from a priest, or from trying to be good.  Those things are important, but they don't save you.  Only God can do that.

Just think of it.  No other message in history gives us a path to forgiveness, redemption, and acceptance into the family of this Supreme Being.

I am always amazed at the things people say about finding their way to God, such as:  "I think I have done more good in my life than bad--so I think I'm going to heaven."  That is completely contrary to the message God has given us.  The Bible says that there is only one way.

Others say, "I went to confession this week so I'm okay."  The Bible doesn't support that either.  Or they say, "I'm a member of the only true church."  Again, not supported by scripture.  Or, "I've been baptized."  You can dunk a turkey in water but it still comes out of the water a turkey.

The Bible says, "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God."  Come short.  That's where we are.  And until we look at ourselves and own up to the things we have done that were wrong, there is no way to get rid of them.  "I'm sorry.  God, please forgive me."  That's a good place to start.  That is the point where God can say, "Okay, I've been waiting on you, and here is my plan.  I have a Son who is willing to take your sin on Himself and pay your penalty."  Now that is love.  True, real love.

I have written over 930 messages to you.  I think I have told you everything I know.  Well, maybe not everything.  But it is getting harder and harder to think of something I haven't already said.  Maybe I should go back and refine some of my early blogs for those of you who have joined me lately.

I am still in the book of 1Samuel in my Bible class.  It is a history book about Eli the prophet, Samuel the prophet and Saul--the first king of Israel.   And David--who would later become king.

I am a poor historian so it has been difficult for me to teach this book.  But I have learned.  And have been encouraged that a man as flawed as David could be called "A Man after God's own heart."  That means that there is hope for the rest of us.

David was of the tribe of Judah--which became the linage of Jesus.  (Remember that there were twelve tribes, named after the sons of Jacob.  Jacob was the son of Isaac--the son of promise given to Abraham and Sarah.  Who were the first Israelites.)

In our lesson today, we looked at a lie that David told a priest that cost the life of that priest, 84 other priests and all their wives and children.  Hundreds. (1Samuel 22)  Only one priest's son escaped.  David's sin had cost the lives of all of those people.   David was broken at what he had done and what it had cost in the lives of innocent people.   He was repentant.  Which is probably why God loved him.  God looks on the heart. 

You never know what the far reaching implications of a lie might lead to.  That's why one of the ten commandments is, "You shall not bear false witness."  Probably a good idea to stick to the truth. 

My brother Bill and his wife Janet have been here this week.  We went to the Matisse exhibit.  I've never been a fan of Matisse, but it was interesting.  Van Gogh, Degas, Gauguin would have been more down my alley.  But a permanent exhibit of Chihuly was there and it was wonderful.  Probably because I love glass--and his art is so full of light and color.  So I left happy.  

Janet is an artist and of course loved it all.  She went to China as a young girl and redid all of the religious children's books.  They had been illustrated with white, English looking children, so she repainted them so that they could be published with Chinese children.  Huge impact.

Janet and my brother spent their lives in China.  Bill is a doctor and ended up doing his work in Laos, Viet Nam, Afghanistan, Macao--actually everywhere in that part of the world.  He entertained us with harrowing stories of his exploits--getting into restricted areas and treating people who otherwise would have killed him.  There are church groups all over that part of the world due to the work they did of telling people about Jesus--which was very dangerous.  But of course, Bill made it sound funny.  And much of it was.

I have a picture of him "repairing someone" who is lying on a blanket in the middle of a dirt road--with two armed Afghan military soldiers standing on either side of him.  Bill said that you never knew if they were going to shoot you or not.  It was a fun few days.  Becky and Craig, Ann and Dave, Bill and Janet, and me.  Family.

"Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world."  Matthew 28:19  That is what Bill and Janet did with their lives.  They changed that part of the world for Christ.

My mom saw to it that I did everything a child could possibly be expected to do.  Piano.  Elocution.   Drama.  Puzzles--math and otherwise.  Reading the classics.  Reading everything as a matter of fact.  I told you once a couple of years ago that if I was reading, I didn't have to help with the housework.  So I read.  And read.  And read.  Duh.

I didn't like my second grade teacher.  I remember nothing about that year.  Not one single thing.  But in the third grade we put on a play:  Cinderella.  There were three speaking parts and I had one of them.  One of the bad sisters.  My friends teased me that it was type casting.  The part for Cinderella went to a cherub of a little girl with blond curly hair.  (Another Duh.)  The other bad sister was the principal's daughter--Anna Lee.  Who did happen to be sassy in real life.  Anna Lee and I were both in elocution--so I guess it paid off that we learned to speak in front of people.

We were all dressed as flowers.  I was a Tiger Lily.  Anna Lee was a Holly Hawk.  Cinderella, of course, was a Rose.  (Another Duh.)  I remember nothing else about that year.  And only one thing about my fourth grade year.  I got stabbed in the leg with a lead pencil by the fourth grade bully.  Whose dad was the high-school coach.  You can't fight city hall.  I still carry the lead in my leg.

How can you spend four years of your life and remember so little of the events.   I guess the point was to learn stuff, which most of us did.  I am pretty oblivious--so everyone else probably remembers more about school than I do.   School for me was agony.  I already knew most of the stuff we were supposed to learn and just had to sit there all day and be bored to tears.   It got better once I reached the eighth grade.  I do remember things that happened outside of school.  Family things.  Church things.  That was where I made friends.  And they lasted a lifetime.

Proverbs 27:17  "Iron sharpens iron; so a man (person) sharpens the countenance of his friend."

Many of the children in my first grade classroom had lost a parent in the tornado that came right down the middle of main street in April of 1942.  It hit on a Saturday around four o'clock when everyone was in town.  In those days, everyone went to town on Saturday to do their shopping.  Malls didn't exist.  All of our stores were on main street, and the tornado--which was a quarter mile wide--took out the entire street from one end to the other.  It killed 52 people and injured 350 more.   

For a town so small, it was a critical decimation of the population.  The town was gone.  Very little was left that could be used.   This was a contributing factor in the lack of housing.

First Baptist Church was destroyed and had to be rebuilt so they called a new pastor who had been a master carpenter and "brick and mason pro" before he became a preacher.   E.R. Jacks--who rounded up all the able men and taught them to lay brick.  They rebuilt the church.   

My mom and dad joined the church and became friends with E.R. and his wife Mary Jane.  So did dozens and dozens of others who had come to town to work at the powder plant.  My aunt and uncle Ruby and Cleo.  My grandmother and grandfather.  The church became the center of our lives.

That was the church I grew up in.  Mary was my Sunday School teacher and E.R baptized me.  I don't remember anything about their children since they were so much older than me--I was in the third grade when Ken graduated high school.  But life is a circle, and when he came to visit my folks after he got back from the Korean war,  I was a senior.  He liked what he saw.  And the rest is history.

Time passes.  Events mark our lives.  We remember moments, but the rest is forgotten.  I'm glad Ken didn't forget how much my mom and dad meant to his family, and took the time to come see them when he was on leave.  Otherwise, I would never have met him.

 

There was a reason those classrooms were so crowded.  I have written about it before, but some of you have joined me lately, so I'll tell it again.  The government built a dam just outside Pryor.  Grand River Dam.  The reason for the dam was a need for electricity--to run a powder plant that was built to make ammunition for the war.  Men who had not been drafted flocked to the town for the jobs, and with them, their families.  Their children.  What had once been a small town now burgeoned.  There were no houses to rent.  Families lived three and four to a house.  They lived in tents in the park.

My dad commuted from Tulsa on Monday and came home on Friday, until I was three years old, and we finally got a two room place.  And were very thankful for it.  I slept on the sofa.  The kitchen was a short wall in the tiny living space.  A little burner, oven, sink and ice-box.  No refrigerator.

Grades 1-6 were crammed into a building that had once housed the entire school.  The government started construction on a building to house grades 7-12, but in the mean time, they set up Quonset huts in the park for high school.  A hut for each subject.  And churches opened their rooms as well.

The government constructed housing--hundreds of them.  They called them the Court Houses because they were grouped into courts of seven houses.  Three facing each other and one at the end with a walk up the middle.  But it took time and each house was filled the moment it came available.  After a year on the waiting list, we got a four room house.  Heaven.  Each house in the court had shutters with designs.  Ours had candlesticks.

It was a unique American situation caused by war.  But somehow, we all got through it.  Within two years things were better.  And then, when the war ended, the ammunition plant closed and hundreds and hundreds of men were out of a job.  The court houses emptied and the government sold the houses.  People who stayed bought them and moved them to empty lots.  You can still see them all over Pryor.  God bless America.  We are a people with grit.

When I was in the first grade, there were 18 classrooms in the building--three for each grade, one through six.  My class had 63 children in it.  I don't know how we learned anything.  I don't know how the teacher kept her sanity.

If I multiply 63 children per room times 18 rooms, the number of kids was 1,134 children in the building.  The temperatures when school started in late August were always in the nineties, and there were no air conditioners.   Winter was better because you could keep your coat and mittens and hat on when the heaters didn't work--which was often.  Many days we were very, very cold.

There were two water fountains.  And.  There were two male and two female bathrooms in the building.  The water fountain ran tepid water and the bathrooms were horrible.  Dirty, backed up, and unbearable.  Everyone got in line twice a day to get a drink of water and go the the bathroom.  If you couldn't go on cue, or couldn't stand the conditions, tough luck.   The lines behind you were both long, and stretched down the hall.  Your class wouldn't get another chance for hours and hours.

I learned not to drink water all day, so that I wouldn't have to use those horrible bathrooms.  And each day I would run home--which was a mile away--hoping I would make it.  I was six years old.  I will never forget it.

But somehow, we learned to read.  We read about Dick and Jane, and Spot the dog.  We learned to write.  We learned to spell.  We learned to add and subtract.  It was expected.  So, we did it.  And we learned to endure.  1944.  Our country was at war.  Food was rationed as well as gas, tires, and anything else you needed.  Everyone did without.  Yet, I never heard anyone complain.

I am tough.  And so are all of the children of that generation.  The war children of 1938-1945.  We were children of the greatest generation.  And proud of it.