I often think about random things. One of the most prominent of these thoughts has been that of death and persecution. These thoughts and questions of mine were solidified a couple of years ago after I read a number of books about missionaries and missions during and after the Iron Curtain era. They are all good reads, so I'll list them here quickly. Three were by Brother Andrew: God's smuggler (his personal story), The Calling, and the Light Force (the latter two I probably wouldn't agree with completely). Also, Of Whom the World was not Worthy by Marie Chapian, If I Perish, by Esther Kim, and Against the Tide by Angus L. Kinnear.
All of these books had a common thread which grabbed my attention and has remained on my mind for quite a while. The thread was this: Christians suffering persecution for their faith were drawn together in an unique unity and their "love, faith, long suffering, gentleness, patience, meekness, and temperance" was tangibly strengthened.
Most of my life, I've wondered about death. Would I go to heaven when I died? Would my death be painful? Would my life have meant anything to anyone? Did I even want to die anyway? I mean, there was so much to do and see on earth, was I ready to die yet? Off an on, as these thoughts and question crossed my mind, I ended up concluding that "No, if God wanted me to die, I wasn't ready. Not in the normal sense of being not being ready of course. As a Christian, I knew it was OK to die because I would be in heaven. But not ready in the sense that I felt I had a mission to fulfill on earth and that I would rather stay on earth for a while than go to heaven unexpectedly. In other words, I wasn't I willing to die if called.
I was bothered by this repeated conclusion to my repeated thoughts. It didn't seem right somehow to not be willing. If God wanted me to die, it felt like resisting and defying Him to not want to. I'd always heard at other people's funerals and things about the deceased talking in life about being "ready to go home." And that, I decided, was what it should be like. One should be so focused on God and His home that one wouldn't mind, and in fact, would look forward to going to be with Him. So, I asked Him to make me willing. And, honestly, while I don't feel that I can say "yes" as yet, I do feel as though I am closer to it than I was a few years ago.
As I read these books a couple of years ago, it lead me to more wondering about the subject. No one likes pain. Probably everyone's ideal death is similar to Matthew Cuthbert's in Anne of Green Gables. We probably just want to go to sleep and wake up in heaven, or, die peacefully with "our boots on." But Paul, in 2 Timothy 3: 12 says this, "Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." When I saw this verse a few days ago, it set me to wondering, again, if I was ready; and if we were ready.
In America, we have been extraordinarily blessed with peace and rest from extensive persecution for two hundred years. It is becoming obvious however that it is coming here too. Legislation is appearing everywhere which is overturning our rights and putting in place laws exceedingly contrary to the former Bible based laws of our country. Our country has moved from it's Christian foundation to a sandy, shifting beach. (Matthew 7:24-27) Those with their eyes open can see that it may not be long before we too are meeting secretly and are being jailed and tortured for our faith.
Those books I read made it obvious that strong faith has a lot to do with it being put under strong tests. Here in America however, it has been so long since we have had such a strong test and trial that I can't help but wondering if our faith is now so weak that we would crumple under the coming persecution instead of strengthening. Ecologists once created a Utopian ecosystem, but because they could not recreate wind, their trees collapsed. A tree that is not frequently blown against by the wind is weak and at the first breath, it will fall.
So, my question today is this: "Are we ready? Are you ready? Am I ready?" And while it is a good thing to be thinking about, ("forewarned, forearmed,") keep in mind that it isn't hopeless. Not only does Paul say that we will suffer for our faith, but that verse is preceded by a list of Paul's sufferings ending with the words "but out of them all the Lord delivered me." And, in 2 Timothy 2:19, we have this assurance: "Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his..."
(This has been: Foutain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tidbits of Oregon
"Henrietta is my baby! You can't have her. Mother gave her to me! We're supposed to stay together."
In the dead of night, John Sager, 14, slipped out of the Fort with his five younger siblings and continued on to Oregon. Their parents had died of cholera and now their Aunt wanted to take the baby and separate the family. John, a rebellious child while his parents were alive, was determined now they were dead to live out his father's dream of a new life in Oregon.
It was easy at first, the oxen were healthy and the road not too bumpy. They had plenty of food too, that is, they did. One of the oxen fell sick after crossing a raging river. Then, they were forced to camp with Indians who stole their food, and worse, most of the gunpowder too. At fourteen, John could do nothing except to roughly rally his siblings into going on. Catharine, the second oldest, broke her leg. With no immediate medical help, it healed crooked. She was a cripple for the rest of her life. Starving, with the baby on the verge of death, they stumbled into the Willamette Valley on their last legs. They had reached their goal, but they had nothing left.
Narcissa Whitman found them a short distance from the Whitman Mission. She took them in and saved the baby. The Whitmans were the first to bring a woman to the Oregon Territory. Their work there paved the way for future caravans and settlers.
Several years after the Sagers came to the Whitmans, the local Indians, those the Whitmans had particularly ministered to, rose up and massacred them. Catharine was one of the only survivors. The Whitmans however, left a lasting legacy. They, and others like the Sagers, were what had changed Oregon from a dream to a reality.
Today, the Willamette Valley is the most agriculturally productive region in the state and Crater Lake National Park is one of the most beautiful. Oregon acquired statehood in 1859. Founded as a refuge for slaves, Oregon was the only state admitted into the Union with a "whites only" clause. Oregon, said by the officials in Oregon to be pronounced Or-uh-gun, is home to the largest single organism in the world: the Armillaria ostoyae fungus, and the Oregon Ducks.
The woman recognized as the "Mother of Oregon" is Tabitha Brown. At age 66, she financed her own covered wagon trip to Oregon. The wife of a Congregationalist and Episcopalian minister, she arrived in Oregon with her remaining family on Christmas, 1846.
(This has been: Tidbits of Oregon. Look in next time to read: Foutain of Thoughts)
In the dead of night, John Sager, 14, slipped out of the Fort with his five younger siblings and continued on to Oregon. Their parents had died of cholera and now their Aunt wanted to take the baby and separate the family. John, a rebellious child while his parents were alive, was determined now they were dead to live out his father's dream of a new life in Oregon.
It was easy at first, the oxen were healthy and the road not too bumpy. They had plenty of food too, that is, they did. One of the oxen fell sick after crossing a raging river. Then, they were forced to camp with Indians who stole their food, and worse, most of the gunpowder too. At fourteen, John could do nothing except to roughly rally his siblings into going on. Catharine, the second oldest, broke her leg. With no immediate medical help, it healed crooked. She was a cripple for the rest of her life. Starving, with the baby on the verge of death, they stumbled into the Willamette Valley on their last legs. They had reached their goal, but they had nothing left.
Narcissa Whitman found them a short distance from the Whitman Mission. She took them in and saved the baby. The Whitmans were the first to bring a woman to the Oregon Territory. Their work there paved the way for future caravans and settlers.
Several years after the Sagers came to the Whitmans, the local Indians, those the Whitmans had particularly ministered to, rose up and massacred them. Catharine was one of the only survivors. The Whitmans however, left a lasting legacy. They, and others like the Sagers, were what had changed Oregon from a dream to a reality.
Today, the Willamette Valley is the most agriculturally productive region in the state and Crater Lake National Park is one of the most beautiful. Oregon acquired statehood in 1859. Founded as a refuge for slaves, Oregon was the only state admitted into the Union with a "whites only" clause. Oregon, said by the officials in Oregon to be pronounced Or-uh-gun, is home to the largest single organism in the world: the Armillaria ostoyae fungus, and the Oregon Ducks.
The woman recognized as the "Mother of Oregon" is Tabitha Brown. At age 66, she financed her own covered wagon trip to Oregon. The wife of a Congregationalist and Episcopalian minister, she arrived in Oregon with her remaining family on Christmas, 1846.
(This has been: Tidbits of Oregon. Look in next time to read: Foutain of Thoughts)
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Stories of my Life: The Stewpot with the Lid
This post has absolutely nothing to do with cooking; at least, not in the edible sense. The edibility factor is simply not there. On the other hand, the boiling part is. This story has everything to do with the dangers of a stewpot with the lid tightly screwed on and an easily fed fire.
I usually tell people that Jesus saved me when I was ten. Truthfully, I remember asking him to come into my life at seven. However, since I never felt like I actually changed until later, I cite age ten as the true date. It was at age ten that I feel I came to true repentence for my sins. And, it happened in the following manner.
We'd moved to a place that I strongly disliked; and that's putting it mildly. In the beginning, I thought it would be fun. It was the first move that I was old enough to help and remember clearly. Any eight-year-old likes fun and adventure, and that, I thought, is what it would be. Of course, looking back, I realize it was in many ways, but then, when I saw the place where we would live, I couldn't help but thinking that I'd been seriously mistaken.
The place was tiny; not tiny as many people think of as tiny, but truly smaller even than that! It was about the size of a Sunday school room in a church. Furthermore, all five of us siblings had to fit in it and share a closet that should have been for only two people. Still more, the room was shared with a computer desk, a wall of food buckets, five beds (two bunk-beds, but still..), and the mess of all five. Yeah, let's face it, kids are messy, and it wasn't a pretty picture to see. And that's not all! The place had rules. Lot's of them! "No running, no leaving dishes out, it's not your property so treat it with respect, keep the doors closed, no shouting"...the list could go on.
About the only safe place was outside. That was also the only plus I could see. The place was on a piece of large property over which we had free reign. But, of course, you couldn't go outside all the time, sometimes it rained, (it never snowed, we'd been used to several inches of snow in the last house, but in this place we could literally count the flakes on one hand. Another minus).
Most people seem to think of me as bubbly (where they got this idea I still have yet to determine). While generally cheery, I internalize things more than most people realize. With the background I've just given you, you can easily see that I began to build around me a castle wall. And inside the castle was a kitchen, and inside the kitchen was a fire, and on the fire was a stewpot, and that stewpot was me, and the fire was fed almost constantly by being in the new place and letting myself be rubbed the wrong way by just about everything.
It went on that way for nearly two years. Until finally, I couldn't stand it. At church one day, I wandered into the then darkened sanctuary and cried my heart out to God. He heard me and answered. I've never been the same since.
It took a little while after that for me to pinpoint my problem of bitterness to the correct sources. God used a school curriculum that I disliked to make me see my exact sin. After that, a long talk with my parents and everyone else I could think of that I was mad at, my consience was completely clear. It felt wonderful!
While I can't say I never struggle with bitterness anymore, after winning that large battle, it definetly has become easier to fight the subsequent ones. I would encourage all of you, if you have a list of things that "other people have done to you," forget it, rip it up, throw it away, and ask those on the list to forgive. With that list, you've probably been trying to keep other people on the hook, but in reality, you've hooked yourself. By ridding yourself of that list, you can find release and freedom. Forgiveness and repentence are powerful. They are the two most often detailed principles found in the Bible. So, in the words of our dear Savior, "Go, and sin no more" (John 8:11)
(This has been: Stories of my Life. Tune in next time to read another: Tidbits!)
I usually tell people that Jesus saved me when I was ten. Truthfully, I remember asking him to come into my life at seven. However, since I never felt like I actually changed until later, I cite age ten as the true date. It was at age ten that I feel I came to true repentence for my sins. And, it happened in the following manner.
We'd moved to a place that I strongly disliked; and that's putting it mildly. In the beginning, I thought it would be fun. It was the first move that I was old enough to help and remember clearly. Any eight-year-old likes fun and adventure, and that, I thought, is what it would be. Of course, looking back, I realize it was in many ways, but then, when I saw the place where we would live, I couldn't help but thinking that I'd been seriously mistaken.
The place was tiny; not tiny as many people think of as tiny, but truly smaller even than that! It was about the size of a Sunday school room in a church. Furthermore, all five of us siblings had to fit in it and share a closet that should have been for only two people. Still more, the room was shared with a computer desk, a wall of food buckets, five beds (two bunk-beds, but still..), and the mess of all five. Yeah, let's face it, kids are messy, and it wasn't a pretty picture to see. And that's not all! The place had rules. Lot's of them! "No running, no leaving dishes out, it's not your property so treat it with respect, keep the doors closed, no shouting"...the list could go on.
About the only safe place was outside. That was also the only plus I could see. The place was on a piece of large property over which we had free reign. But, of course, you couldn't go outside all the time, sometimes it rained, (it never snowed, we'd been used to several inches of snow in the last house, but in this place we could literally count the flakes on one hand. Another minus).
Most people seem to think of me as bubbly (where they got this idea I still have yet to determine). While generally cheery, I internalize things more than most people realize. With the background I've just given you, you can easily see that I began to build around me a castle wall. And inside the castle was a kitchen, and inside the kitchen was a fire, and on the fire was a stewpot, and that stewpot was me, and the fire was fed almost constantly by being in the new place and letting myself be rubbed the wrong way by just about everything.
It went on that way for nearly two years. Until finally, I couldn't stand it. At church one day, I wandered into the then darkened sanctuary and cried my heart out to God. He heard me and answered. I've never been the same since.
It took a little while after that for me to pinpoint my problem of bitterness to the correct sources. God used a school curriculum that I disliked to make me see my exact sin. After that, a long talk with my parents and everyone else I could think of that I was mad at, my consience was completely clear. It felt wonderful!
While I can't say I never struggle with bitterness anymore, after winning that large battle, it definetly has become easier to fight the subsequent ones. I would encourage all of you, if you have a list of things that "other people have done to you," forget it, rip it up, throw it away, and ask those on the list to forgive. With that list, you've probably been trying to keep other people on the hook, but in reality, you've hooked yourself. By ridding yourself of that list, you can find release and freedom. Forgiveness and repentence are powerful. They are the two most often detailed principles found in the Bible. So, in the words of our dear Savior, "Go, and sin no more" (John 8:11)
(This has been: Stories of my Life. Tune in next time to read another: Tidbits!)
Friday, June 25, 2010
Snippets: Baltimore
In the gathering gloom of dusk, in the year 1812, a British peace ship sailed down the Patapsco River near Baltimore. It trailed 19 other ships that were, perhaps, not so peaceful. On board the peace ship were the temporary prisoners, Dr. Beanes and an American lawyer. The fleet of war ships gathered in the ocean within range of Baltimore and their object: Fort McHenry.
Meanwhile, in Baltimore, a seamstress named Betsy Ross, sat in her home sewing furiously. As the British fleet began to bombard Fort McHenry on September 13, Betsy finished her work. As darkness began to fall, Betsy hung her flag outside.
Watching the attack from the peace ship, Dr. Beanes and the American lawyer saw the flag slowly unfurl under the light of the rockets and mortars of the British fleet. The American lawyer watched a moment and then hurried to his cabin. There, on an envelope under his swiftly moving pen, words began to appear. "O! say can you see by the dawn's early light..."
Francis Scott Key was detained on board the peace ship until after the battle, (which the Americans won). In his later life, Key served as Vice President of the American Bible Assocation. The association is best known for its Good New Bible translation. Key's grandson was later held prisoner in Fort McHenry for being a suspected Confederate sympathizer. It is ironic that the National Anthem of America, written at a time of war with Britain, is set to a British tune.
Baltimore is the 20th largest city in the U.S. The name means "Town of the Big House" from the Irish. Baltimore was named after Lord Baltimore, of the Irish House of Lords. It was nicknamed "The Monumental City" by President John Quincy Adams because of the skyline of large churches, edifices, and monuments.
Not only did some of Americas finest history take place in Baltimore, but the traditional American boardgame, Monopoly, can also claim it's share in Baltimore. The B&O railroad (Baltimore & Ohio) began in Baltimore. It was privately owned, (in other words, a Monopoly) for many years, and made Baltimore a key shipping and industrial city. The B&O company suffered what is known as The Great Railroad Strike in 1877.
In 1904, a blessing in disguise was granted to Baltimore in the form of the Great Baltimore Fire. The fire burned most of the city (the disguise), and forced it to rebuild. The new buildings and layout made the city even bigger (the blessing).
It's almost the Fourth of July and most people have probably forgotten, or never heard, the story of the Star-Spangled Banner. America has mainly forgotton the price paid for her freedom and the bravery of the "primitive" colonists. Our country was founded on God and patriotism, it is my prayer that our country will turn back to God and patriotism and that we can, from the heart and with truth, say "God Bless America!
(This has been: Snippets: Baltimore. Tune in next time to read: Stories of my Life).
Meanwhile, in Baltimore, a seamstress named Betsy Ross, sat in her home sewing furiously. As the British fleet began to bombard Fort McHenry on September 13, Betsy finished her work. As darkness began to fall, Betsy hung her flag outside.
Watching the attack from the peace ship, Dr. Beanes and the American lawyer saw the flag slowly unfurl under the light of the rockets and mortars of the British fleet. The American lawyer watched a moment and then hurried to his cabin. There, on an envelope under his swiftly moving pen, words began to appear. "O! say can you see by the dawn's early light..."
Francis Scott Key was detained on board the peace ship until after the battle, (which the Americans won). In his later life, Key served as Vice President of the American Bible Assocation. The association is best known for its Good New Bible translation. Key's grandson was later held prisoner in Fort McHenry for being a suspected Confederate sympathizer. It is ironic that the National Anthem of America, written at a time of war with Britain, is set to a British tune.
Baltimore is the 20th largest city in the U.S. The name means "Town of the Big House" from the Irish. Baltimore was named after Lord Baltimore, of the Irish House of Lords. It was nicknamed "The Monumental City" by President John Quincy Adams because of the skyline of large churches, edifices, and monuments.
Not only did some of Americas finest history take place in Baltimore, but the traditional American boardgame, Monopoly, can also claim it's share in Baltimore. The B&O railroad (Baltimore & Ohio) began in Baltimore. It was privately owned, (in other words, a Monopoly) for many years, and made Baltimore a key shipping and industrial city. The B&O company suffered what is known as The Great Railroad Strike in 1877.
In 1904, a blessing in disguise was granted to Baltimore in the form of the Great Baltimore Fire. The fire burned most of the city (the disguise), and forced it to rebuild. The new buildings and layout made the city even bigger (the blessing).
It's almost the Fourth of July and most people have probably forgotten, or never heard, the story of the Star-Spangled Banner. America has mainly forgotton the price paid for her freedom and the bravery of the "primitive" colonists. Our country was founded on God and patriotism, it is my prayer that our country will turn back to God and patriotism and that we can, from the heart and with truth, say "God Bless America!
(This has been: Snippets: Baltimore. Tune in next time to read: Stories of my Life).
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A Day in the Life of: Dad
Dad said that in order to have this blog, I would have to praise him to the skies. He was teasing of course. Nevertheless, this Sunday being Father's Day, I figured I would do it anyway. So, in this post, I'd like to talk a little bit about how much my Dad means to me, and what's he's taught me, and how much I appreciate him.
Dad means an awful lot to me. I mean, in the words of the hymn, "Without him, I would be nothing!"
Dad always loves to play games with us kids. When we were smaller, he'd tell us about the California peaches. Those peaches were sum'pin else! They were so huge that you couldn't see past them! Not only that, they were so sweet and juicy, that if you even looked at them, they'd squirt you. If one of them accidentally fell off it's leafy resting place, it would create another Death Valley or a Mariana Trench! We still enjoy joking about this. Dad is something I would call a "Good-memories maker."
Over the years, I think one of the best things Dad ever taught me was the little axiom, "Work before you play," and "Don't leave the work area until the work is done," and "Do it right the first time so you won't have to do it again." For me, these life principles have really been very freeing. You really can have a lot more time to do fun things, if you do the chores first; and correctly. If you work before playing, your work will be all done and you won't have to come back and do it later or worry about it. And, doing something over because you were lazy the first time doesn't save anytime. I love the way my Dad, (and mom), teach us principles from the Bible. In this case, Ephesians 5:15-16 applies: "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise. Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." A large part of "redeeming our time," is not wasting it. Doing something over again, or grumbling about it, is wasting precious time.
The other thing I really appreciate about Dad is his willingness to admit, and apologize for, his faults. (Oh, wait, Dad's perfect!) No, but really, it takes, I think, even more courage for an adult to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong, will you forgive me," than for a child. Most parents probably make their children apologize at least once in their lives, but to do so on his/her own, takes a lot of courage. And I've heard that it takes more courage for a parent to apologize to his kids. I'm not sure quite how to explain it, but when my dad (and mom) have done this, it brings them up another large notch in my estimation and respect. Thanks Dad! I love you!
(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Dad. Tune in next time to read: Snippets of...")
Dad means an awful lot to me. I mean, in the words of the hymn, "Without him, I would be nothing!"
Dad always loves to play games with us kids. When we were smaller, he'd tell us about the California peaches. Those peaches were sum'pin else! They were so huge that you couldn't see past them! Not only that, they were so sweet and juicy, that if you even looked at them, they'd squirt you. If one of them accidentally fell off it's leafy resting place, it would create another Death Valley or a Mariana Trench! We still enjoy joking about this. Dad is something I would call a "Good-memories maker."
Over the years, I think one of the best things Dad ever taught me was the little axiom, "Work before you play," and "Don't leave the work area until the work is done," and "Do it right the first time so you won't have to do it again." For me, these life principles have really been very freeing. You really can have a lot more time to do fun things, if you do the chores first; and correctly. If you work before playing, your work will be all done and you won't have to come back and do it later or worry about it. And, doing something over because you were lazy the first time doesn't save anytime. I love the way my Dad, (and mom), teach us principles from the Bible. In this case, Ephesians 5:15-16 applies: "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise. Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." A large part of "redeeming our time," is not wasting it. Doing something over again, or grumbling about it, is wasting precious time.
The other thing I really appreciate about Dad is his willingness to admit, and apologize for, his faults. (Oh, wait, Dad's perfect!) No, but really, it takes, I think, even more courage for an adult to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong, will you forgive me," than for a child. Most parents probably make their children apologize at least once in their lives, but to do so on his/her own, takes a lot of courage. And I've heard that it takes more courage for a parent to apologize to his kids. I'm not sure quite how to explain it, but when my dad (and mom) have done this, it brings them up another large notch in my estimation and respect. Thanks Dad! I love you!
(This has been: A Day in the Life of: Dad. Tune in next time to read: Snippets of...")
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Fountain of Thoughts: Honesty
What do...a bar of soap, a false accusation, and teeth have in common? Well, most often they don't have anything in common at all; unless, of course, the case is an exception; which it is.
I enjoy reading mysteries, but the realist side of me was always telling me that they weren't true stories. So, I never really believed that there were any mysteries in today's world; until lately that is. While thinking it over recently, (yeah, I think about random things) I realized that not only are there real mysteries today, but that our family had one! Furthermore, our family mystery is ten years old.
I doubt Sherlock Holmes would be interested in our little mystery. It doesn't have to do with criminals, only culprits. I mean, what big-time detective would even want to investigate the Case of the Chewed Soap? Yes! Somebody chewed the bar of soap in the bathtub. Evidently, it must have tasted good since each consecutive bar of soap was also symmetrically chewed all the way around! To this day however, no one knows who actually did it.
When the matter eventually came to our Dad's attention, an extensive interrogation took place. I was only approximately 5 years old. My little brother, at 1 or less would have been far too young to have even climbed into the tub on his own. The culprit had to be one of the remaining siblings, including myself. The interrogation is vivid in my memory.
"Now," said Dad, "We know I didn't do it. And we know Mom didn't do it. Your little brother didn't do it. So, which one of you did?" Each of us adamantly denied that we had done the crime.
Dad continued from there. "This didn't have to be a big deal, but now it is because somebody is lying. Who was it?" Still no progress.
I'm not sure what five-year-old has not had a reputation for lying, or exaggerating extensively to say the least. I was no exception. As I recall, I had a terrible reputation in this area. It was this fault of mine, I believe, which led to me being convicted of the crime. At last, I "admitted" to chewing the soap.
To my knowledge and memory however, I did not chew the soap. Since I admitted to it however (my first lie in the case) everyone thought for several years after that I had done it. (I eventually decided that enough time had elapsed for me to tell the truth safely. It was safe, it's now practically a family joke.) Perhaps, in heaven, we will find out the true culprit.
It is likely that most of you are saying to yourselves at this point, "Big deal, what's the point?" Contemplating this recently, I realized, all at once, that this incident in my life led me to become a more honest person. Ten year's later, I have quite a decent reputation for honesty. Not to say I'm perfect in that area-that would be a lie. Nevertheless, I believe that as I was standing in that corner ten years ago, I decided, subconsciously, to become more honest. Today, having a good reputation for honesty has made it unlikely for me to be accused for something I haven't done. Subconsciously, I determined that it would be far better to be punished for something I really had done, but that it be best to just not do it.
So, tomorrow, while you're eating your cheerios and thinking about a lie, don't lie. Tell the truth instead. A lie will get you nothing except the wrath of God and man, while the "truth will set you free." The freedom of a clear conscience is fantastic. Not only is it unlikely that parental punishment will be great when you tell the truth, but you have the great reward of knowing that you have done the right thing. Proverbs 22:1 says "A good name (reputation) is rather to be chosen than great riches..."
(This has been Fountain of Thoughts. Tune in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:---)
I enjoy reading mysteries, but the realist side of me was always telling me that they weren't true stories. So, I never really believed that there were any mysteries in today's world; until lately that is. While thinking it over recently, (yeah, I think about random things) I realized that not only are there real mysteries today, but that our family had one! Furthermore, our family mystery is ten years old.
I doubt Sherlock Holmes would be interested in our little mystery. It doesn't have to do with criminals, only culprits. I mean, what big-time detective would even want to investigate the Case of the Chewed Soap? Yes! Somebody chewed the bar of soap in the bathtub. Evidently, it must have tasted good since each consecutive bar of soap was also symmetrically chewed all the way around! To this day however, no one knows who actually did it.
When the matter eventually came to our Dad's attention, an extensive interrogation took place. I was only approximately 5 years old. My little brother, at 1 or less would have been far too young to have even climbed into the tub on his own. The culprit had to be one of the remaining siblings, including myself. The interrogation is vivid in my memory.
"Now," said Dad, "We know I didn't do it. And we know Mom didn't do it. Your little brother didn't do it. So, which one of you did?" Each of us adamantly denied that we had done the crime.
Dad continued from there. "This didn't have to be a big deal, but now it is because somebody is lying. Who was it?" Still no progress.
I'm not sure what five-year-old has not had a reputation for lying, or exaggerating extensively to say the least. I was no exception. As I recall, I had a terrible reputation in this area. It was this fault of mine, I believe, which led to me being convicted of the crime. At last, I "admitted" to chewing the soap.
To my knowledge and memory however, I did not chew the soap. Since I admitted to it however (my first lie in the case) everyone thought for several years after that I had done it. (I eventually decided that enough time had elapsed for me to tell the truth safely. It was safe, it's now practically a family joke.) Perhaps, in heaven, we will find out the true culprit.
It is likely that most of you are saying to yourselves at this point, "Big deal, what's the point?" Contemplating this recently, I realized, all at once, that this incident in my life led me to become a more honest person. Ten year's later, I have quite a decent reputation for honesty. Not to say I'm perfect in that area-that would be a lie. Nevertheless, I believe that as I was standing in that corner ten years ago, I decided, subconsciously, to become more honest. Today, having a good reputation for honesty has made it unlikely for me to be accused for something I haven't done. Subconsciously, I determined that it would be far better to be punished for something I really had done, but that it be best to just not do it.
So, tomorrow, while you're eating your cheerios and thinking about a lie, don't lie. Tell the truth instead. A lie will get you nothing except the wrath of God and man, while the "truth will set you free." The freedom of a clear conscience is fantastic. Not only is it unlikely that parental punishment will be great when you tell the truth, but you have the great reward of knowing that you have done the right thing. Proverbs 22:1 says "A good name (reputation) is rather to be chosen than great riches..."
(This has been Fountain of Thoughts. Tune in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:---)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tidbits of Texas
Who would have thought that a state as conservative as Texas would have a governor named Hogg? Well, maybe that's not so strange. But, on the other hand, couldn't he have named his daughter something other than Ima! It's true. Ima Hogg, who later gave herself the name Ima Imogene Hogg, was born in 1882 to James Stephen "Big Jim" Hogg. Big Jim later became the Texas state Attorney General and in 1889 was elected the 20th governor of Texas. Big Jim had a reputation for being what we today would call "a card." One day, the former governor went to get his shoes shined. They were shined by an Italian. Not in the mood for talking, Big Jim decided to pretend he was deaf and dumb. It worked. The Italian stopped talking. Legend has it that Ima had a sister named Ura Hogg. Legend however, has been proved false. Ima Hogg went on in her father's footsteps and made a name for herself as a benovolent lady. She never married but said she received over 30 proposals! Ima lived to be nearly a hundred and died not all that long ago in 1975.
Ah, Texas! Home on the Range! And home of some of the best tall tales in the world. There goes good ol' Pecos Bill. His rope sailing through the air as he rides a tornado across the state and finally hogties it down in Kansas! Could you do the same? I suspect that those tornado chasers I hear about would love to speak with ol' Pecos Bill, but, this time, they're out'a luck. Pecos Bill is long gone. And all that is left of him is the stories and tales which stand tall in your local library. And they get taller every time they're told!
Who could talk about Texas without talking about animals? Texas, as would any other state, would be incomplete without it's fauna. One might expect that the animal chosen to be glorified in this post would be the longhorn steer. This, however, is not the case. On the contrary, most Texans probably don't know that they have such an unusual rabbit living in their state. If they did know, they would probably attribute it to the greatness of their state. Yes, the Texas rabbit has been endowed in the more recent years with an abnormal amount of courage. Courage! in a rabbit! This courage is evidenced in a unique manner. It so happened, as certain Texans were sitting on their back porch, (or something) that they privileged to see one of these unique rabbits in action. At the same time, they saw what would normally be a rabbit's mortal enemy: a snake; and a large one too. But no, the rabbit did not run away! On the contrary, the Texas rabbit went towards the snake! When the snake, (whether venomous or not is uncertain) struck at the rabbit. The rabbit bounced, and...Returned for More! Naturally, the snake struck again. Was the rabbit daunted? No! This amazing Texas rabbit got around the snake to the tail end and started biting. Not long afterward, the snake was seen retreating in full flight; the rabbit following quickly afterward. The story began with the snake having the upper hand. The story ends with the snake in the branches of a tree approximately 2 feet up! Yes, truly, Texas rabbits have been endowed with a marvelous amount of courage.
(This has been: Tidbits of Texas! tune in nexttime to read the first in the series: Fountain of Thoughts!)
Ah, Texas! Home on the Range! And home of some of the best tall tales in the world. There goes good ol' Pecos Bill. His rope sailing through the air as he rides a tornado across the state and finally hogties it down in Kansas! Could you do the same? I suspect that those tornado chasers I hear about would love to speak with ol' Pecos Bill, but, this time, they're out'a luck. Pecos Bill is long gone. And all that is left of him is the stories and tales which stand tall in your local library. And they get taller every time they're told!
Who could talk about Texas without talking about animals? Texas, as would any other state, would be incomplete without it's fauna. One might expect that the animal chosen to be glorified in this post would be the longhorn steer. This, however, is not the case. On the contrary, most Texans probably don't know that they have such an unusual rabbit living in their state. If they did know, they would probably attribute it to the greatness of their state. Yes, the Texas rabbit has been endowed in the more recent years with an abnormal amount of courage. Courage! in a rabbit! This courage is evidenced in a unique manner. It so happened, as certain Texans were sitting on their back porch, (or something) that they privileged to see one of these unique rabbits in action. At the same time, they saw what would normally be a rabbit's mortal enemy: a snake; and a large one too. But no, the rabbit did not run away! On the contrary, the Texas rabbit went towards the snake! When the snake, (whether venomous or not is uncertain) struck at the rabbit. The rabbit bounced, and...Returned for More! Naturally, the snake struck again. Was the rabbit daunted? No! This amazing Texas rabbit got around the snake to the tail end and started biting. Not long afterward, the snake was seen retreating in full flight; the rabbit following quickly afterward. The story began with the snake having the upper hand. The story ends with the snake in the branches of a tree approximately 2 feet up! Yes, truly, Texas rabbits have been endowed with a marvelous amount of courage.
(This has been: Tidbits of Texas! tune in nexttime to read the first in the series: Fountain of Thoughts!)
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