Another year, another birthday.
Birthdays are good for you, though—healthy in fact. According to well-researched statistics, those of us who have the most birthdays actually live the longest. Who knew?
I’m pondering that thought as I celebrate the beginning of the last year of my fortieth decade. And although it seems to be just another day at work to me this morning, I figure I’ll up the ante and create a birthday ‘wish list’ anyway. I know the old adage of wishes and horses, etc. and I’m experienced enough by now to comprehend said adage, but why not be simply un-jaded long enough to give it one more whirl?
I wish for my wife to recover her health. That’s the best place to start. Face it, things haven’t been the same over the last few months and she needs some relief from all of the many things that ail her. Besides, she is younger than me by six years or so, so that wish should be a gimme. Yes, we’ll start there. Here’s to you, sweetheart, I’ll spend my first birthday wish on you!
Despite the perceived chutzpah on her part, here’s wishing for my youngest daughter to not only do good on the test she asked me to pray for her about this morning, but to have a successful continuation for the rest of the semester in her nursing studies. This needle and blood-pressure cup is hoisted in an erstwhile toast to you, puddin’.
I wish for my oldest daughter and son-in-law to finally get some sleep in the near future. New babies can put a damper on the requisite nocturnal rest cycle, but she is healthy and precious—well worth the efforts because you will miss those all-nighters once she is grown and gone. Trust me on this one.
Some calmness for my oldest son, his sweet wife, and a grand-daughter that has truly become “Paw-Paw’s heart”. A lot will happen in the upcoming year; from jobs and graduation to the addition of a new baby. Enjoy the stress—thrive in it, if you will. Always remember that prayer still opens all doors whether it is answered in the manner you want it to be or not. And it never ceases to amaze me how that truly works.
A computer that does not crash when you download thirty-seven on-line games would probably make my youngest son happy. Well, that… and an LSU victory over Alabama next week. But I cannot ask for the latter wish, son, because seriously—I’m pulling for ‘Bama in this one. My birthday, my wish. But we’ll see what we can do about those computer issues.
Health for my mom—and roses that look as good as mine. OK, I’m kidding. Your Rio Samba won this year. And a final ‘stay-at-home-and-do-only-those-things-you-actually-want-to-do retirement’ for dad. You deserve it, Bum. You’ve been much too busy for far too long. It’s time to place added emphasis on enjoying the old ‘fruits of your labors’ thing by this point.
Health and peace for my mother-in-law, and an unending stream of Gospel singings for my father-in-law. Yeah. That’s the ticket. BTW – I’m doing my best to take care of your daughter, Nan. Yet if things don’t get better soon, your services will over-ride what we are currently getting from the medical industry.
A new dog for Hunter. ‘Nuff said.
I could go on all day here, folks. No probs.
“But what do you want, Shannon? What is your wish for yourself on your birthday?”
“Seriously, a fulfillment of any of these wishes would be far more than merely enough for me.”
“No, really.”
“Hmm.”
I think I’ll go with the Psalmist for $100 on this one, Alex.
Birthdays always seem to stir my heart to the truths that are written within G_d’s Word: “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
Every day is precious and should be made to count—not just on birthdays. My personal wish is to remember and count often throughout the coming year. If I can manage to do just that, I’ll be fine when 50 glides in over my horizon.
Fatherly Resemblance
Young Adult Sunday School Class - August 14, 2011
Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not. I John 3:1
There’s a baby shower being planned for this weekend even as I write this; my oldest daughter will deliver a daughter of her own in a month or so. It’s a blessed time in both her and her husband’s lives, and I’m not going to fret one tiny bit over the addition of another grandchild to my progeny. Judging by my first granddaughter through my oldest son, they are pretty special—a whole new experience to one who felt he knew all there was to know about children in general. These tiny creatures have a precious side effect of capturing your heart. They really do.
Witnessing the births of my own children, and many nieces and nephews along the way, the question that always seems to arise in those beautiful moments is who do they look like? Do they have their mother’s eyes and lips? Do they favor their father? As they grow up and character and personality traits come into play, it’s often asked who do they take after? Did the apple fall far from the tree? Are they in fact a chip off the old block? In more than a few subtle ways, I’ve noticed Parker is truly a female clone of my son, but I’m not going to go into any details here. Sorry Scott, but she truly is you made all over again… and I mean that in a good way.
This week we’ll be looking into the multi-layered depths of the 3rd Chapter of the Book of First John. There are many paths we can study in this chapter, and I’m not sure which road we’ll travel, yet all of the routes are laid out before us and are viable options to both learn and grow from. Most importantly, each verse we personally analyze will enable us to walk closer with the One who loved us first.
The first verse of the chapter opens with a bold statement from John, and I truly believe he was smiling through tear-filled eyes as he wrote it down. Behold! Is there any love greater than this? That we unrighteous and doomed sinners can literally become the sons of G_d due to the Heavenly Father’s love for us? Ponder that verse before class—it’s a deep one! We’ll look into the verses that follow and take a gander at how we are supposed to act and who we are supposed to emulate in our own lives. John lays out a wonderful pattern for us to follow here: although on the outward appearance of our carnal bodies we may look no different than others, there is something within us that makes us the very opposite of those who live in the world. At least it should be that way.
Reminds me of a story I read the other day about the famous Greek philosopher named Socrates. It seems one day as he was teaching his pupils, into the class walked a great physiognomist. This is a fancy term for what we would know today as a profiler, you know—someone who can tell you all you need to know about a person by simply studying their features. Obviously, because of his credentials, the students in Socrates philosophy class wanted a demonstration of his talent and skills, so they asked him for a quick, on-the-spot profile of their teacher. After a careful observation of the philosopher, the profiler pronounced him as “the most gluttonous, drunken, brutal, and libidinous old man that he had ever met." The class, who really respected Socrates and knew that he was none of these things took offence and began to insult the profiler, deriding him for his poor judgment of their much-beloved leader.
But Socrates raised his hand and stopped them, smiling, and said that the renowned profiler was correct by strictly using science in an observational manner, but that he (Socrates) had “conquered those visible traits of my body by utilizing my philosophy.” This is pretty good, coming from a man who had never heard of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
When others look at us, what do they see? Better yet, who do they see? John uses a ‘take no prisoners’ approach in this chapter, reminding us that as Christians we should strive to control the sinful nature that is ever-present in our lives, refuse to budge when it comes to temptation, and most importantly—through our love for each other in the church—we should do our best to display the same personality and spiritual traits that Jesus exhibited while He walked on the earth. That’s a tall order, and one we can never accomplish on our own. We need Christ in our lives in all that we do for this to happen.
But in so doing, together we can make ‘The Chapel’ a place to go for so much more than just a weekly meeting. It can be a haven for strength and support, and a source of knowledge; all of which will enable us to achieve a noticeably closer resemblance to our very own Heavenly Father.
Other Things To Check Out Before Class:
1. Compare John 3:16 and 1 John 3:16. Is it just me, or is there a correlation between these verses? Hmm.
2. This is an example of how church members (and leaders) should not act. (Click on "This")
There’s a baby shower being planned for this weekend even as I write this; my oldest daughter will deliver a daughter of her own in a month or so. It’s a blessed time in both her and her husband’s lives, and I’m not going to fret one tiny bit over the addition of another grandchild to my progeny. Judging by my first granddaughter through my oldest son, they are pretty special—a whole new experience to one who felt he knew all there was to know about children in general. These tiny creatures have a precious side effect of capturing your heart. They really do.
Witnessing the births of my own children, and many nieces and nephews along the way, the question that always seems to arise in those beautiful moments is who do they look like? Do they have their mother’s eyes and lips? Do they favor their father? As they grow up and character and personality traits come into play, it’s often asked who do they take after? Did the apple fall far from the tree? Are they in fact a chip off the old block? In more than a few subtle ways, I’ve noticed Parker is truly a female clone of my son, but I’m not going to go into any details here. Sorry Scott, but she truly is you made all over again… and I mean that in a good way.
This week we’ll be looking into the multi-layered depths of the 3rd Chapter of the Book of First John. There are many paths we can study in this chapter, and I’m not sure which road we’ll travel, yet all of the routes are laid out before us and are viable options to both learn and grow from. Most importantly, each verse we personally analyze will enable us to walk closer with the One who loved us first.
The first verse of the chapter opens with a bold statement from John, and I truly believe he was smiling through tear-filled eyes as he wrote it down. Behold! Is there any love greater than this? That we unrighteous and doomed sinners can literally become the sons of G_d due to the Heavenly Father’s love for us? Ponder that verse before class—it’s a deep one! We’ll look into the verses that follow and take a gander at how we are supposed to act and who we are supposed to emulate in our own lives. John lays out a wonderful pattern for us to follow here: although on the outward appearance of our carnal bodies we may look no different than others, there is something within us that makes us the very opposite of those who live in the world. At least it should be that way.
Reminds me of a story I read the other day about the famous Greek philosopher named Socrates. It seems one day as he was teaching his pupils, into the class walked a great physiognomist. This is a fancy term for what we would know today as a profiler, you know—someone who can tell you all you need to know about a person by simply studying their features. Obviously, because of his credentials, the students in Socrates philosophy class wanted a demonstration of his talent and skills, so they asked him for a quick, on-the-spot profile of their teacher. After a careful observation of the philosopher, the profiler pronounced him as “the most gluttonous, drunken, brutal, and libidinous old man that he had ever met." The class, who really respected Socrates and knew that he was none of these things took offence and began to insult the profiler, deriding him for his poor judgment of their much-beloved leader.
But Socrates raised his hand and stopped them, smiling, and said that the renowned profiler was correct by strictly using science in an observational manner, but that he (Socrates) had “conquered those visible traits of my body by utilizing my philosophy.” This is pretty good, coming from a man who had never heard of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
When others look at us, what do they see? Better yet, who do they see? John uses a ‘take no prisoners’ approach in this chapter, reminding us that as Christians we should strive to control the sinful nature that is ever-present in our lives, refuse to budge when it comes to temptation, and most importantly—through our love for each other in the church—we should do our best to display the same personality and spiritual traits that Jesus exhibited while He walked on the earth. That’s a tall order, and one we can never accomplish on our own. We need Christ in our lives in all that we do for this to happen.
But in so doing, together we can make ‘The Chapel’ a place to go for so much more than just a weekly meeting. It can be a haven for strength and support, and a source of knowledge; all of which will enable us to achieve a noticeably closer resemblance to our very own Heavenly Father.
Other Things To Check Out Before Class:
1. Compare John 3:16 and 1 John 3:16. Is it just me, or is there a correlation between these verses? Hmm.
2. This is an example of how church members (and leaders) should not act. (Click on "This")
Plums And Roses
I’m thinking about going all-medieval on my plum trees when winter finally rolls around this year, cutting branches and trunks like Sherman marching through Georgia. If memory serves me correctly, my two trees are almost fifteen years old at this point, and have yet to bear anything even remotely resembling what others would call substantial fruit. I’ll confess most of the blame can be laid at my feet—I do not tend to them in the manner I should. Especially if I really expect plum jelly or pies during tepid, early summer months when the trees were designed by their creator to provide said fruit. I’m supposed to spray the early spring buds with some sort of concoction the old-timers around here swear by. I’m supposed to prune them back in the fall, and mulch their bases with composted manure. Too much trouble, I say. Besides, other than grabbing and eating a plum off a tree while mowing or idly walking through the yard, I’m not much of a plum-eater when it comes right down to it.
Yet by the same token, I tend my roses in a manner that borders on the fanatical and all to no avail. If you want to see prize-winning tea-roses or beautiful floribundas; you need to look elsewhere and not on my corner of Johnson Hill. The green-thumb does not reside in my genes, although it is not due to a portent lack of effort on my part.
I’ve witnessed those poor shrubs physically cringe when they see me coming, pruning shears and spray bottle in hand. Oh no! He’s back again, duck and cover! OK, maybe not that bad, but you get my drift. I dead-head my roses, I mulch and water them, I spray their leaves with expensive Neem oil in a thankless effort to fend off black spot and rust. In return, I’m rewarded with an occasional bloom from time to time, but nothing like the label advertised when I originally planted them. (I've kept the labels to identify them, and those faded, yellow pictures taunt my gardening-ego mercilessly when I garner the courage to view them!)
The other night I sat on the porch and listened to my roses taunting the plum trees, chiding them on how the gardner was going to chop them down for not producing. (I don’t know how they got wind of the plan I expressed here earlier, but they did…) The plum trees dripped moisture from their fruit-barren limbs in response; their silvery leaves shining sadly in the moonlight. The roses explained how the gardener tended them, pruning and painstakingly caring for them, all the while ignoring those nearby fruit trees due to their apparent lack of worth. The roses seethed in their arrogance, knowing how patiently the gardener sacrificed time and energy for their benefit, but not so much on the plum trees.
Those silly roses will neither understand nor comprehend it when the day comes (and it will) where I will grow weary of tending their unrepentant tendrils, and get out my shovel (or tractor) and destroy them all. Maybe I’ll plant lilies in their place—they seem to like our humid, blast-furnace-akin summers enough to thrive in those conditions, and certainly with a lot less hassle to boot.
But the plum trees really have to go, too. It’s in the cards. And it’s not without precedent:
There were present at that season some that told him of the Galilaeans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answering said unto them, Suppose ye that these Galilaeans were sinners above all the Galilaeans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Luke 13:1-5
Jesus begins a parable by reminding his listeners of two recent tragedies listed among the current events of the time. One event happened when Pilate sent in the troops and wiped out a host of Galilean worshipers that were in the process of making their sacrifices in the Temple. Those supposedly-righteous Jews had been exterminated during the middle of a worship service! Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a tower fell and killed eighteen people near the Pool of Siloam, where the crippled outcasts gathered waiting for a miracle—the only possibility that could save them from their destitute lives. Jesus reminds his listeners that unless they repented, they were also going to perish despite their prominent standing in the community. At that point Jesus launches into the Parable of the Fig Tree, where a gardener pleads with the master for one more year to work with a barren fig tree before chopping it down.
It’s a reminder to me that due to the spiritual blessings that have been bestowed upon me as a Christian, I must be careful. Walking with G_d on a daily basis leaves no room for perceived self-righteousness on my part: I must bear fruit. Except for His grace, I am no better than the addict down the road crippled by chemical dependency, or the vilest sinner that avoids church services at any cost. Unless we all repent, a harsh judgment awaits each of us in like manner.
Meanwhile, the Master Gardener continues to prune and mulch me. He dead-heads my blooms in order to make me flower even more so. He anoints my heart with expensive oil. In return, He expects good works, not to save me, but as a noticeable result of my being saved by His matchless grace in the first place. He expects me to bear fruit, and if not, then he will trim me, cutting deeper into my soul with his Word, while chastening me with His Spirit. But in the end I must bear fruit. (Galatians 5:22-23) You see, it’s required of me to do so.
It’s a sobering thought to know that when I smugly point my self-righteous fingers at others, I better be very aware of what I am doing in my own life.
Plum pudding, anyone?
Yet by the same token, I tend my roses in a manner that borders on the fanatical and all to no avail. If you want to see prize-winning tea-roses or beautiful floribundas; you need to look elsewhere and not on my corner of Johnson Hill. The green-thumb does not reside in my genes, although it is not due to a portent lack of effort on my part.
I’ve witnessed those poor shrubs physically cringe when they see me coming, pruning shears and spray bottle in hand. Oh no! He’s back again, duck and cover! OK, maybe not that bad, but you get my drift. I dead-head my roses, I mulch and water them, I spray their leaves with expensive Neem oil in a thankless effort to fend off black spot and rust. In return, I’m rewarded with an occasional bloom from time to time, but nothing like the label advertised when I originally planted them. (I've kept the labels to identify them, and those faded, yellow pictures taunt my gardening-ego mercilessly when I garner the courage to view them!)
The other night I sat on the porch and listened to my roses taunting the plum trees, chiding them on how the gardner was going to chop them down for not producing. (I don’t know how they got wind of the plan I expressed here earlier, but they did…) The plum trees dripped moisture from their fruit-barren limbs in response; their silvery leaves shining sadly in the moonlight. The roses explained how the gardener tended them, pruning and painstakingly caring for them, all the while ignoring those nearby fruit trees due to their apparent lack of worth. The roses seethed in their arrogance, knowing how patiently the gardener sacrificed time and energy for their benefit, but not so much on the plum trees.
Those silly roses will neither understand nor comprehend it when the day comes (and it will) where I will grow weary of tending their unrepentant tendrils, and get out my shovel (or tractor) and destroy them all. Maybe I’ll plant lilies in their place—they seem to like our humid, blast-furnace-akin summers enough to thrive in those conditions, and certainly with a lot less hassle to boot.
But the plum trees really have to go, too. It’s in the cards. And it’s not without precedent:
There were present at that season some that told him of the Galilaeans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answering said unto them, Suppose ye that these Galilaeans were sinners above all the Galilaeans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Luke 13:1-5
Jesus begins a parable by reminding his listeners of two recent tragedies listed among the current events of the time. One event happened when Pilate sent in the troops and wiped out a host of Galilean worshipers that were in the process of making their sacrifices in the Temple. Those supposedly-righteous Jews had been exterminated during the middle of a worship service! Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a tower fell and killed eighteen people near the Pool of Siloam, where the crippled outcasts gathered waiting for a miracle—the only possibility that could save them from their destitute lives. Jesus reminds his listeners that unless they repented, they were also going to perish despite their prominent standing in the community. At that point Jesus launches into the Parable of the Fig Tree, where a gardener pleads with the master for one more year to work with a barren fig tree before chopping it down.
It’s a reminder to me that due to the spiritual blessings that have been bestowed upon me as a Christian, I must be careful. Walking with G_d on a daily basis leaves no room for perceived self-righteousness on my part: I must bear fruit. Except for His grace, I am no better than the addict down the road crippled by chemical dependency, or the vilest sinner that avoids church services at any cost. Unless we all repent, a harsh judgment awaits each of us in like manner.
Meanwhile, the Master Gardener continues to prune and mulch me. He dead-heads my blooms in order to make me flower even more so. He anoints my heart with expensive oil. In return, He expects good works, not to save me, but as a noticeable result of my being saved by His matchless grace in the first place. He expects me to bear fruit, and if not, then he will trim me, cutting deeper into my soul with his Word, while chastening me with His Spirit. But in the end I must bear fruit. (Galatians 5:22-23) You see, it’s required of me to do so.
It’s a sobering thought to know that when I smugly point my self-righteous fingers at others, I better be very aware of what I am doing in my own life.
Plum pudding, anyone?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)