It has often been said, "A man is known by the company he keeps." There is certainly truth in that statement, but honestly, I don't believe it is the complete truth. Rather I think we need to consider the motives of people for the company they keep. Now, before you get rattled and prejudge my statement, let me get to the point of this article.
As 2009 squeezed through the keyhole of time, the challenges and joys of this coming year do as well. Three most oft heard words as this time are "New Year's Resolutions". My personal prayer for the year ahead is for a personal revival in my own life. A.W. Tozer, a 20th century prophet of righteousness and revival recommended the following formula for personal revival. I feel it deeply worth sharing…
Reading this story I was impressed to believe that the man who was killed had been greatly touched and influenced by the very words Jesus prayed while on the cross,
"Father, forgive them." The Luke 23:24 account shows us a deeper side of love and forgiveness then most of us, dare I say, possess.
"Father, forgive them." The Luke 23:24 account shows us a deeper side of love and forgiveness then most of us, dare I say, possess.
Larry and I were blessed to have our granddaughter, Myanna, with us for ten weeks last summer. We usually have our grandson, Dante', join us as well, but he is almost 15 and juggled a few part-time jobs this summer. My sister-in-law, Terry Brooks, once said referring to grandchildren, "Be sure and enjoy them all you can when they are little because they grow up so fast. They then find their own friends, have their own activities and they won't want to spend weeks with Grandpa and Grandma." We have taken that to heart and have enjoyed thirteen summers on the road with Dante' and now Myanna also for the past five summers. We only have two grandchildren so we nab every minute with them we can amidst our busy schedule.
Sin is fun. It's pleasurable as stated in Hebrews 11:25, "..to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." Sin is usually nestled or hidden in a form that appears perfectly harmless. We play with it, we flirt with it, we invite it into our home through the television, internet, video games, photos, magazines, movies with the intention of ridding ourselves of it as the first signs of harmful effects. But, usually, the more time we spend with it, the more it becomes a part of our lives. Then the day comes when it reaches maturity and strikes the death blow…"And sin, when it is finished, brings forth death." (James 1:15)
I was amused, to say the least, when I was told the following true story several months ago: A well-known group of artists and musicians were traveling in Europe and checked into their hotel room. As some of you have probably experienced if you've ever traveled in Europe, most of the hotels are old and historic and the rooms are about the size of a large bathroom. The guys piled their entire luggage up against what appeared to be a cubbyhole closet. Knowing that their suitcases would not fit inside, they did not even open the door.
We are blessed to live in America, the land of the free thus far. We are blessed with freedom to attend any church we desire. We are blessed with great churches that are fulfilling the Great Commission! They are reaching the Lost, feeding the hungry and encouraging the hurting.
Gloria and I stopped at a pancake house a few days ago, and as is our custom, we initiated a conversation with our 21 year old waiter. In a matter of minutes, he began to spill out his life story...
Gloria and I stopped at a pancake house a few days ago, and as is our custom, we initiated a conversation with our 21 year old waiter. In a matter of minutes, he began to spill out his life story...
In the August 7th, 2006, issue of Time magazine, there was an interview with Willie Nelson. That name is no stranger to most of the adult generation. Nelson, 73, is still hitting the road with his country music. He has written more than 2,500 songs and has sold over fifty million albums. He has also been the driving force in Farm Aid shows for over twenty years. Now, wouldn't you say he has what it takes to be successful and smart?
When questioned in his interview about life, he answered, "It seems to me the easiest way to get through it is just to accept it and live in the moment." Having fallen away from his Methodist upbringing, he revealed his new beliefs, "I believe that all roads lead to the same place. We're taking different ways to get there, but we all end up in the same place."
When questioned in his interview about life, he answered, "It seems to me the easiest way to get through it is just to accept it and live in the moment." Having fallen away from his Methodist upbringing, he revealed his new beliefs, "I believe that all roads lead to the same place. We're taking different ways to get there, but we all end up in the same place."
My dad has been gone nearly 11 years, but he is definitely not forgotten. On Memorial Day we visited his grave located in Peever, South Dakota. Many emotions surfaced as I stood there. While looking at his tombstone, I was reminded of The Dash written by Linda Ellis. In the poem, she speaks of two dates on a tombstone; the first is the date of birth and the second is the date of death. She says that what really matters is the dash between those dates. Dad's dash lasted 79 years. When I looked at the dash on Dad's headstone, memories of years past flooded my mind.
A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his sandbox. He had with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic pail, and a shiny, red plastic shovel. In the process of creating roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he discovered a large rock in the middle of the sandbox. The lad dug around the rock, managing to dislodge it from the dirt. With no little bit of struggle, he pushed and nudged the rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a very small boy and the rock was very huge.)
When the boy got the rock to the edge of the sandbox, however, he found that he couldn't roll it up and over the little wall. Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and then fell back into the sandbox. The little boy grunted, struggled, pushed, shoved-but his only reward was to have the rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers. Finally he burst into tears of frustration.
When the boy got the rock to the edge of the sandbox, however, he found that he couldn't roll it up and over the little wall. Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and then fell back into the sandbox. The little boy grunted, struggled, pushed, shoved-but his only reward was to have the rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers. Finally he burst into tears of frustration.