'The time has come,' the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax –
Of cabbages -- and kings.”
A promise of a better life. A promise of excitement and an escape from the mundane. A promise that I will be fulfilled with the result, and the only cost involved will be an acceptance on my part. A promise that there is no reward for doing the right thing, but then again, no consequence for doing the wrong thing, either. A promise that sin is only relative to the person that commits it. A promise that I will, in the end, get the good things in life that I so richly deserve.
Satan makes so many promises to me, and yet he keeps none of them. And despite this, I often simply follow along, much like the oysters in the Lewis Carroll poem posted above. He distracts me with a lot of talk that may seem perfectly logical; filling my heart with reasons why I need what he alone seems to be able to offer. He talks so much. He says so many things. He flatters me with the things that in my fallen state I long to hear. In so doing he lulls me to sleep, unaware that I have been taken down the dark, wrong path yet again. And it is then that I realize it is all of my own doing. It is merely a trap but usually it is much too late when I discover it to be so. Once again, I find myself filleted on the beach and wondering what happened to me.
Jesus, on the other hand, has a still, soft voice. Sometimes it is hard to hear Him over the noise in my own life and the world I in which I reside. To hear his voice I have to stand still and remain quiet. It requires a time for me to be alone in prayer and in the meditation that comes from reading His Word. Jesus does not make empty promises just to see me stumble and fall; he offers me truth. His truth.
Though we may not realize it, there is inside each of us a hunger and a desire for the things that are truthful and honest. And despite our natural, fallen state, it is so. No one wants to be ‘taken for a ride’ by a friends, a co-worker, a spouse, their children, or even Satan himself. When someone proves themselves to be chronically untrustworthy, we shun them. At the very least we are less apt to believe what they tell us later on. This can also become a problem for us when we realize that we have a tendency to be less than honest ourselves. As the years roll by, we can end up much like Pilate, wondering aloud, “What is truth?”
As a Christian, I understand the grace that comes from knowing Jesus personally in my heart. I love that grace even though I can scarcely understand or barely comprehend it. His grace saved me from my sin and has prepared a way for me to be righteous before God. Because of His grace, He has prepared a place for me in Heaven one day.
But there is even more to Jesus than the grace he so abundantly delivered to us: “For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” John 1:2
Jesus brought grace to mankind and the blessing of salvation that comes with it. But He also brought truth. Without that truth, His promises would be nearly as empty as the ones put forth by Satan that I mentioned above. It was a package plan: Without truth, there can be no grace, and without grace, there can be no truth.
Jesus is the truth. I do my best to ponder upon that when the voice of Satan begins ‘talking many things’ to me, making those empty promises that I know he will never keep.
Showdown
There are so many religions out there to choose from, and each one offers some method of proof as to why they are the true religion one should follow. The Hindu religion seeks a better way to live for all of us. Islam is a study of The Prophet via the Koran, and through them both we learn that what we do in this life will affect us in the life that is to come. Christianity has the Bible and offers salvation from the coming judgment of God by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. The Jews have a unique religion of their own based on an observance of the Law of Moses as taught by the Torah.
There is a Wiccan religion that revolves around ‘white magic’ and a study of nature with a belief in the ‘earth mother’. Even atheists, though they would never admit it, choose to follow a form of religion of their own. By their very denial of a higher being, they appear to have found one in evolution, science, and secular humanism.
I know there are many more, but you have probably caught my drift here. And as a modern society we are told that we must be tolerant of each individual’s belief-system. It also appears to be a common thread today that there are, in fact, many different ways to get to Heaven. In that regard we are advised to be non-judgmental in discussions of such, or face the consequences of being dismissed as a ‘bigot’ or far worse.
As a Christian, I’ve also noticed that tolerance is specifically required of Christians, but need not apply to other religions. Why? It is because Christians are supposedly narrow-minded and are described as such by the media, politicians, and others in authority. We believe in only one way to Heaven, as promised by Jesus, Himself, in John 14:6. By trusting in the Bible we have drawn the ire of a society that prides itself on being able to accept any alternative belief as well as no belief at all. And as a result, our country now finds itself no longer ‘One nation under God’ but a nation under many gods. Allah is not God, nor is Buddha or Vishnu. Satan is not God, and neither is our government. Though they all may be worshipped as such, in the end they offer little hope and no answer for what we see taking place in our nation today.
Thinking on this subject, I have a mental picture of what it must have been like on Mount Carmel a long time ago. It was a time for sacrifice; a nation was in trouble due to unusual weather patterns, threats of invasion, and political corruption. The people met on the mountain to request help from a higher being during that perilous time. Altars had been set up, the people were ready, and the priests of false gods were making their rounds and exhorting the people into an emotional frenzy. But there was one prophet of God on the scene, facing all of those priests that were arrayed against him. His voice boomed out across the dry valley, “How long halt ye between two opinions? if the LORD be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him.” The Bible says that when he said this, the ‘people answered him not a word.’ They no longer knew who to follow by this time in their history. Things were that bad in Israel back then – almost as bad as they seem to be in our own country today.
It was a showdown on the mountain; Elijah and the God of Abraham versus four hundred and fifty prophets and a god called Baal. The story is found in I Kings chapter 18. In the end, it was God who answered with fire from Heaven, and caused it to rain afterward for the first time in three years. Baal and his prophets proved they had no power, and thus they were exposed in front of all of Israel that day.
Somehow, my mind keeps returning to Elijah’s challenge to the people, and how it still applies to us today. If God is God, then we, as a nation, should follow and put our trust in Him. But if these other gods, like Allah, Vishnu, or even Satan hold the key, then we should follow them. Either way, a choice must be made. Because God will not share His glory with another god; and we cannot ride the fence as a people, a nation, nor even as individuals.
If Elijah were here and broadcast the same challenge to us today, how would we respond? Would we simply stare at him dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what he was saying as a result of our acclimation to our so-called religious tolerance over the years? Or would we stand with him and shout as Israel did later that day, proclaiming that “The Lord, He is the God?”
It is definitely something worth thinking about.
There is a Wiccan religion that revolves around ‘white magic’ and a study of nature with a belief in the ‘earth mother’. Even atheists, though they would never admit it, choose to follow a form of religion of their own. By their very denial of a higher being, they appear to have found one in evolution, science, and secular humanism.
I know there are many more, but you have probably caught my drift here. And as a modern society we are told that we must be tolerant of each individual’s belief-system. It also appears to be a common thread today that there are, in fact, many different ways to get to Heaven. In that regard we are advised to be non-judgmental in discussions of such, or face the consequences of being dismissed as a ‘bigot’ or far worse.
As a Christian, I’ve also noticed that tolerance is specifically required of Christians, but need not apply to other religions. Why? It is because Christians are supposedly narrow-minded and are described as such by the media, politicians, and others in authority. We believe in only one way to Heaven, as promised by Jesus, Himself, in John 14:6. By trusting in the Bible we have drawn the ire of a society that prides itself on being able to accept any alternative belief as well as no belief at all. And as a result, our country now finds itself no longer ‘One nation under God’ but a nation under many gods. Allah is not God, nor is Buddha or Vishnu. Satan is not God, and neither is our government. Though they all may be worshipped as such, in the end they offer little hope and no answer for what we see taking place in our nation today.
Thinking on this subject, I have a mental picture of what it must have been like on Mount Carmel a long time ago. It was a time for sacrifice; a nation was in trouble due to unusual weather patterns, threats of invasion, and political corruption. The people met on the mountain to request help from a higher being during that perilous time. Altars had been set up, the people were ready, and the priests of false gods were making their rounds and exhorting the people into an emotional frenzy. But there was one prophet of God on the scene, facing all of those priests that were arrayed against him. His voice boomed out across the dry valley, “How long halt ye between two opinions? if the LORD be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him.” The Bible says that when he said this, the ‘people answered him not a word.’ They no longer knew who to follow by this time in their history. Things were that bad in Israel back then – almost as bad as they seem to be in our own country today.
It was a showdown on the mountain; Elijah and the God of Abraham versus four hundred and fifty prophets and a god called Baal. The story is found in I Kings chapter 18. In the end, it was God who answered with fire from Heaven, and caused it to rain afterward for the first time in three years. Baal and his prophets proved they had no power, and thus they were exposed in front of all of Israel that day.
Somehow, my mind keeps returning to Elijah’s challenge to the people, and how it still applies to us today. If God is God, then we, as a nation, should follow and put our trust in Him. But if these other gods, like Allah, Vishnu, or even Satan hold the key, then we should follow them. Either way, a choice must be made. Because God will not share His glory with another god; and we cannot ride the fence as a people, a nation, nor even as individuals.
If Elijah were here and broadcast the same challenge to us today, how would we respond? Would we simply stare at him dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what he was saying as a result of our acclimation to our so-called religious tolerance over the years? Or would we stand with him and shout as Israel did later that day, proclaiming that “The Lord, He is the God?”
It is definitely something worth thinking about.
The Inspection
How about one more story of a time when I had a bad haircut? I’ve had my share of them. I have a good stylist (hate that word!) that cuts my hair these days and she does a great job, so I have all-but-adopted-her into my family. You can do that when you find one that does an almost perfect job; it is allowed in my book. But back to the bad haircut…
My time spent in the military was not all that difficult for me. I was good at taking orders because I always figured that if someone was placed in a position of leadership, then they knew what they were doing. That may sound naïve, but sooner or later we all have to trust somebody. I think it was probably early June in 1987 or so, but the person in charge of our group advised us that our base was going to have a special visit for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend – an Admiral from Washington DC of considerable notoriety. Sea-stories abounded of how ruthless he could be when performing dress inspections. It was said that not only would he spend several minutes meticulously going over each person in formation, but in the past he had gone as far as to remove a credit card from his wallet and slide it under the heel of a sailor to ascertain if his shoes were worn beyond specifications. We were admonished not to waste time polishing our brass belt buckles, but to purchase new ones. And we were also told to buy chlora-fram shoes because no amount of polish would ever be enough to escape the judgment of his keen eye. Our group leader reported that the Base Commander had upped the ante by ordering that anyone who failed the inspection would be required to stay on base and perform work details during the holiday. As you can probably guess, we were dismissed from muster that morning with a sense of impending doom surrounding our thoughts and conversations.
For me, the plan of action was obvious. With the trust of a child, I decided that I was going to do exactly as I had been instructed. I went by the exchange and bought a new brass belt buckle and a belt. I also purchased a pair of the recommended, ultra-shiny shoes. My dress uniform was almost new and had been worn only a few times, so I decided I was covered. But as an extra precaution, I dropped the uniform off by the cleaners and had it professionally-pressed, complete with starched creases at all the right locations on the shirt and pants. I may have spent fifty dollars or so (that was a long time ago!), but I could rest easy in knowing that I was fully prepared.
As the weeks went by, more and more rumors began to surface and each new tale seemed to have the ability to top the last one. I began to worry that maybe my extra preparation would still not be enough, and one of my friends was in the same frame of mind. So the week before the scheduled inspection, we drove over to the Navy base, specifically for the purpose of allowing a barber for ‘the few and the proud’ to cut our hair. Words cannot describe the result of our actions even to this date. Of course we were the objects of derision when we returned to our station, and the butt of not-a-few jokes. Our heads were almost shaved, and I believe that the length of our hair was even shorter than it had been back in boot camp. This was all well and good for my partner – he lived on base. I was still living in my hometown and life there was worlds away from my day-to day activities as a member of the Coast Guard. My family was shocked, and I specifically remember that my younger sister cried. She said she ‘felt sorry for me’. I guess I did look pitiful. By the way, there are no surviving pictures of that time in my life - I've managed to destroy the evidence.
A day or so before the scheduled arrival of the Admiral, several things happened that set the rumor-mills spinning around our base yet again. There was trouble in a small country called Grenada, and a big meeting had been planned in Washington involving all of the higher-up brass and muckity-mucks of the military services. It was rumored that the Admiral was not coming, and instead planned on sending one of his staff members to perform the inspection. We breathed a sigh of relief; except for those of us that had gone the extra mile in preparation. I was despondent, thinking that I had spent money and my time preparing in vain and would also have to live with the haircut for quite a few months. All that morning I accepted good-natured slaps on the back and ribbing from my friends because they ‘did not panic’ as I apparently did.
The morning of the inspection dawned hot and humid, as we made our way into formation on the levee behind the Base Office. Through the towering oak trees we watched the front gate, anticipating the arrival of the Admiral’s poge (desk-jockey) who would shortly arrive and inspect us by proxy. Afterward a bar-b-cue had been planned, and then we were all going to be allowed to leave work early and begin the holiday weekend with our families and friends. Morale was high that morning, and everyone spoke of their plans and what they were going to do for the Fourth. It was shaping up to be a good day.
In front of the base, a motorcade appeared on Urquhart Street, and the formation grew silent as we watched it approach. Security did not detain them as they drove straight through the front gate, and an audible moan emanated from our formation as we noted the Admiral’s flag flying from a limousine. He was here, despite the rumors and reports that he was not coming. Ironically, from where we were located, you could see the store-window of the Base Exchange. And located in that window, within our sight and on display, just happened to be brass belt buckles along with shiny new shoes. A journey of fifty-feet or less could have placed any of us inside the store and at the counter, but it was simply too late to take that walk. The Admiral had arrived, he was here on base, and he meant business.
Out of seventy-six sailors in formation that morning, forty-six were gigged for various uniform infractions. Of those forty-six, twenty-five failed the inspection altogether. I passed and if I remember correctly, he barely spent any time on me at all other than to turn to his note-keeper and state ‘ET Petty Officer Johnson, good job’.
But then again, I was prepared for his visit.
There is another inspection coming up for all of us. I am spending my time getting prepared for it now and I hope you are, too. The One who is coming will be much tougher than a mere Coast Guard Rear Admiral, and His verdict will be final once His judgment has been passed. There will be no pleas for clemency, and no second chances will be awarded at that time. How sad it would be to face that day with a pocket-full of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. Are you ready?
“And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” Revelations 20
My time spent in the military was not all that difficult for me. I was good at taking orders because I always figured that if someone was placed in a position of leadership, then they knew what they were doing. That may sound naïve, but sooner or later we all have to trust somebody. I think it was probably early June in 1987 or so, but the person in charge of our group advised us that our base was going to have a special visit for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend – an Admiral from Washington DC of considerable notoriety. Sea-stories abounded of how ruthless he could be when performing dress inspections. It was said that not only would he spend several minutes meticulously going over each person in formation, but in the past he had gone as far as to remove a credit card from his wallet and slide it under the heel of a sailor to ascertain if his shoes were worn beyond specifications. We were admonished not to waste time polishing our brass belt buckles, but to purchase new ones. And we were also told to buy chlora-fram shoes because no amount of polish would ever be enough to escape the judgment of his keen eye. Our group leader reported that the Base Commander had upped the ante by ordering that anyone who failed the inspection would be required to stay on base and perform work details during the holiday. As you can probably guess, we were dismissed from muster that morning with a sense of impending doom surrounding our thoughts and conversations.
For me, the plan of action was obvious. With the trust of a child, I decided that I was going to do exactly as I had been instructed. I went by the exchange and bought a new brass belt buckle and a belt. I also purchased a pair of the recommended, ultra-shiny shoes. My dress uniform was almost new and had been worn only a few times, so I decided I was covered. But as an extra precaution, I dropped the uniform off by the cleaners and had it professionally-pressed, complete with starched creases at all the right locations on the shirt and pants. I may have spent fifty dollars or so (that was a long time ago!), but I could rest easy in knowing that I was fully prepared.
As the weeks went by, more and more rumors began to surface and each new tale seemed to have the ability to top the last one. I began to worry that maybe my extra preparation would still not be enough, and one of my friends was in the same frame of mind. So the week before the scheduled inspection, we drove over to the Navy base, specifically for the purpose of allowing a barber for ‘the few and the proud’ to cut our hair. Words cannot describe the result of our actions even to this date. Of course we were the objects of derision when we returned to our station, and the butt of not-a-few jokes. Our heads were almost shaved, and I believe that the length of our hair was even shorter than it had been back in boot camp. This was all well and good for my partner – he lived on base. I was still living in my hometown and life there was worlds away from my day-to day activities as a member of the Coast Guard. My family was shocked, and I specifically remember that my younger sister cried. She said she ‘felt sorry for me’. I guess I did look pitiful. By the way, there are no surviving pictures of that time in my life - I've managed to destroy the evidence.
A day or so before the scheduled arrival of the Admiral, several things happened that set the rumor-mills spinning around our base yet again. There was trouble in a small country called Grenada, and a big meeting had been planned in Washington involving all of the higher-up brass and muckity-mucks of the military services. It was rumored that the Admiral was not coming, and instead planned on sending one of his staff members to perform the inspection. We breathed a sigh of relief; except for those of us that had gone the extra mile in preparation. I was despondent, thinking that I had spent money and my time preparing in vain and would also have to live with the haircut for quite a few months. All that morning I accepted good-natured slaps on the back and ribbing from my friends because they ‘did not panic’ as I apparently did.
The morning of the inspection dawned hot and humid, as we made our way into formation on the levee behind the Base Office. Through the towering oak trees we watched the front gate, anticipating the arrival of the Admiral’s poge (desk-jockey) who would shortly arrive and inspect us by proxy. Afterward a bar-b-cue had been planned, and then we were all going to be allowed to leave work early and begin the holiday weekend with our families and friends. Morale was high that morning, and everyone spoke of their plans and what they were going to do for the Fourth. It was shaping up to be a good day.
In front of the base, a motorcade appeared on Urquhart Street, and the formation grew silent as we watched it approach. Security did not detain them as they drove straight through the front gate, and an audible moan emanated from our formation as we noted the Admiral’s flag flying from a limousine. He was here, despite the rumors and reports that he was not coming. Ironically, from where we were located, you could see the store-window of the Base Exchange. And located in that window, within our sight and on display, just happened to be brass belt buckles along with shiny new shoes. A journey of fifty-feet or less could have placed any of us inside the store and at the counter, but it was simply too late to take that walk. The Admiral had arrived, he was here on base, and he meant business.
Out of seventy-six sailors in formation that morning, forty-six were gigged for various uniform infractions. Of those forty-six, twenty-five failed the inspection altogether. I passed and if I remember correctly, he barely spent any time on me at all other than to turn to his note-keeper and state ‘ET Petty Officer Johnson, good job’.
But then again, I was prepared for his visit.
There is another inspection coming up for all of us. I am spending my time getting prepared for it now and I hope you are, too. The One who is coming will be much tougher than a mere Coast Guard Rear Admiral, and His verdict will be final once His judgment has been passed. There will be no pleas for clemency, and no second chances will be awarded at that time. How sad it would be to face that day with a pocket-full of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. Are you ready?
“And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” Revelations 20
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