Open Wounds and Blindness

  Ever have a cut and not know you are bleeding all over? I had that happen to me today at church. Sitting in the pew, I looked at my pants and saw a spot on them. I assumed that I had blopped on them the last time I had worn them and quickly tried to blot it off and seemingly being dry, it partially came off. Then, about ten minute later, I looked in the same spot and magically it had reappeared, only this time it was significantly larger. But how? My wife saw my reaction, and she asked me in a whisper, "Are you bleeding?"  I looked on my arm of the same side and it was covered in blood. A spot on my arm of skin about a 1/4" was missing and blood was slowly oozing out onto my shirt and pants. I got up and went to clean off and not knowing where a bandage was, asked a brother to help me. I had finally seen the offense.

  Sometimes men don't see offences. Usually, they don't see how they have offended another and the wound just sits there open and it bleeds until the offense has been fixed. My past two posts have expressed that. And today, when after I did my morning devotion, in retrospect, I saw this in the story of Joseph I had just read earlier.

  Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat is one of my favorite plays. The music and acting can be quite enthralling. I have seen it done many times. Every time, I have seen a man wronged by his brothers, spared death, but sold into something less than optimal, by brothers trying to soothe the wounds they inflicted upon themselves by their own evil. This is how I feel today, one year after the vote to remove the Deacon program in the LCMS.

  I feel like my brothers, equals in service, equals by birth, equals in the sight of God, throwing me and hundreds of other men down into a well, just because they did not like something God had given us, not them. In reality, of course, they had given it to us, but now, 30 years later, they deemed that a mistake, and we could no longer have it. Then, in order to soothe their own souls and make themselves feel better, they pulled some of us out of the well and offered us, some of us, but not all, a way to stay out of the well. Finally, some of the brothers accepted this band aid to stop the bleeding, but didn't know others were still in the well, still abandoned by the brothers who threw them there and still bleeding. For you see, the brothers in the well still didn't have a way out.

  The funny thing is, (not really) is that most of the brothers that originally threw them in the well, didn't notice the blood and didn't really care. That is the point of the story. Not knowing because of spiritual blindness is a way to bleed to death. That is what has happened in the LCMS. No one really cares. And men are still in the well.    

Hockey and weird dreams

  I haven't had dreams that I remember very often. Let me qualify that. Maybe more so in the past ten years, though. I have had some weird dreams that I have no idea what they mean. I have had one or two that are troubling, like the one of UN troops, tanks and cannons on the corner of Mack Hatcher and Hillsboro Roads, but I hope that does not come to pass. But, the one I had the other night really bothered me.

  I love hockey. Always have. After playing it every winter as a kid up until I graduated from HS, it was just part of life and I understood the dynamics of the game and the feelings you get while bashing the puck and your opponent on the ice. So, the vivid dream I had the other night just came to life to me.

  I was on the ice in an alb. White as could be, the alb was made to fit the occasion, not being too long to play hockey comfortably, I joined the other five players on the ice, not as first line, but second. All of the others had stoles on, in gold, which was odd, as the church does not use gold in the seasons. All of them, except me, and I was the lone player in just my alb. We skated towards the puck, which was in the other teams end, and the net was empty. I came up towards the others, there being no defense-men, and it would have been an easy empty net goal, but the others came up to me and took my stick! They made it impossible for me to hit the puck and make a goal! I was astonished and confused. The whole point of the game is to score a goal. The whole point of team play is to move your players to take a shot. I was dismayed. And then I woke up.

  I know what it means. It is truly evident to me that what I shared with you before carries on in this dream. The hurt I experienced in my life this past year and in this dream carries on. You just don't take a hockey stick from a fellow player. It's hard to score goals that way.

Broken Promises

  In February, I shared how I felt about the decision to eliminate the office of Deacon in the LCMS and how it hurt me as one that would be removed. I haven't posted an update to this since then, waiting to see how it would all turn out and if the men in charge of the program's demise would be wise enough to do it in a Godly manner. So, I ll now share it with you as my own personal trek is complete.

  This week I told my pastor and another pastor in my circuit that I would not be pursuing an option that was open to me as a certified deacon. At the last minute, they invented an option for some of the 250 men that were left out of the equation of possibilities for ordination to become "roaming" serving pastors. Kind of like a circuit rider of old, these men would fill pulpits when necessary, but be called or attached to one single congregation without any financial commitment. I struggled with that. It was an attempt to come up with something that they shouldn't have. It made it look like they were grasping and the only one it made look bad was the deacon wanting to serve. But, I digress.

  What I talked about last time was how I felt and now that it is done for me, I will address that again. Ever have someone make a commitment to you if you did as they asked? If they broke that "deal" how did you feel? Were you mad? Did you demand that they live up to the deal? In this world, that would only be right. Even more so in the world of the church a commitment should be honored. A spiritual commitment is a much bigger deal, for it is with a brother in Christ you will have to live with for eternity. So if a brother renigs on a commitment that you have invested 20 years into, how do you react?  Even if he feels you are not adequate is it the fault of the the one being dumped that that is the situation? Did they train themselves or was it the one that trained them? But more seriously, it is not about training nor the competency, it is about the original commitment. One does not break oaths with fellow brethren if the demands have all been met. If it happens on a Synodical level, it is a sin. It is a grevious sin.

  Why? Not only does it remove ministry, but it destroys people. If one's own church does this to you, what will it do to others? New believers? Old brethren? Can it be trusted? Will it destroy more because it feels it is right? Is it right- to a fault? Most assuredly, it is.

  There was not enough thought put into this process of destruction. There was not enough thought put into the synodical vote. Shame on them. Each and every man should be talked to about future ministry on a individual level. Then, each and every man should be apologized to and begged for forgiveness.

  But, I'm just a layman that knows nothing...

Dealing with a Big Hurt

  Last summer, I was dumped. Told I was not good enough. I'm still hurt by it, even though I've been told to "deal with it", by the ordained and by laymen, because I just shouldn't feel that way. Their attitude disturbed me almost as much as the fact that I was told I couldn't serve anymore in the capacity I had been serving since 1998. That's a lot of commitment down the tubes.

  It's tough being a Christian these days. The statistics show that 85% of the world's Christian churches have no trained clergy and yet, the church in other countries is growing so fast, they can't keep up with it. So why is this happening?

  There, in other lands, I would be considered a rock star, so to speak. I have a BA in history and a minor in Philosophy. I have taken two languages, Greek and German. I took numerous classes concerning Christianity, comparative religions and Islam, even the history of Islam. Of course, I have taken Philosophy classes out the proverbial butt. I've taken the History of Christianity, OT and NT, and then, from our own denomination, ten specific courses on theology and yet, I am not good enough. Not in their eyes. I have served 5 congregations during vacancies, one with Word and Sacrament, the others in Word ministry. I have led many boards and Bible studies. I've served as an elder for 25 years. I served a nursing home ministry for seven years, weekly, with a service and Bible Study each week, but that doesn't count. Experience does not count. None of it counts. I am no one.

  So, you see why I am hurt. I can no longer serve. In fact, my own pastor told me I may not longer use my deacon's stoles if he does allow me to serve, when he needs me. Am I bitter? No, just extremely disappointed in them. As a Biblical historian, they have made severe mistakes in their opinions due to lack of knowledge and misguided hearts. Not only that, they care nothing about how we (all 650 that have been affected by the ruling) feel about any of this. Some have been able to be converted into pastors, but very few. Most of us and I, am told to get over it. It's going to take a long time. It's going to take patience. It's going to be a road of forgiveness only the Lord can bring into my heart, for I am weak and He is strong.

  And I come back to my original question, "Why is this happening?" Sin. The devil uses "divide and conquer" all of the time. Men, out of pride, unwilling to share what they consider rightfully theirs by "taking up their cross and following" are unwilling to admit that if they let someone else help them bear the load, they would get more done. Their ministries would be easier. Their ministries would grow. But we aren't good enough. I'm not good enough.

  Dealing with a big hurt sometimes takes more time than one thinks. So I look to Him. It's not all about me, this I know. But it still hurts.

  "Forbid it Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God; all the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood." # 425 TLH

Thought of the Day- Leaf stomping

 

  Actually, I've thought about this for a few days now, people posting beautiful pictures of the trees and leaves of all kinds. I truly enjoy the maples from up north. Sure miss that, but it is the fallen leaves that bring about this thought. Yes, the fallen, much like men at the end of life; crumpled and used up, spent and dried to the core.

  You know they (scientists) say that there are about as many people alive today, as the total of people that ever walked the earth- combined. It reminded me of the leaves all over the ground, each one a soul let loose to go to which it came. The piles of them in my yard almost seems like billions and I have not raked them as yet and I may not, because this dried out old man hurts too much to rake.

  But to get to the point, the other day as I drove home from work on a country road in the county, a man's tire fell off his trailer and he was stopped in the middle of the road, trailer sitting on the pavement. He didn't know that his tire had gone into the ditch and the hot metal that accompanied it there. Unfortunately, it had started a fire in the leaves under the trees. It has been dry here, and the conditions for fire are high. The man driving in front of me went past the guy and his trailer and so did I, because we both saw the fire. He pulled ahead and stopped in the road and I pulled to the side. Neither of us had a shovel or fire extinguishers. We had our- feet. He took one side of the fire and I the other, and we stomped the best we could, but after a couple of minutes he pulled out his phone and called the fire department. It was a hopeless situation. We could not put out the fire and the wind started to blow.

  It was after I got home that I began to think of all of those leaves, like dead men scattered to the side of life, unable to get out of the way of the path of the fire. Lost and doomed. Billions of them unable to be saved. I went to my Bible and did a word study after that on leaves. Not much there except one verse that mentions or compares us and our efforts to dry leaves- Isa. 64:6. I even got out my long lost Strong's concordance, but found the same thing. We as men, unless saved from the fires that we put ourselves into, have just one result to expect if we try to save ourselves- to be burned up like billions of others that have not heard the Good News of Jesus Christ.

  I place myself into the fire like that only to share with you today. I came home with burn holes in my tennis shoes and the stench of fire in my clothes. I'm just a man. Give yourselves to God; the One that can save you.

  By the way, the firefighter, yes, one single man with a truck properly equipped to save, got the fire out in less than an hour. Think on that today. Peace to you all.

Thought of the Day- Calvin and Hobbs

  I sat on the deck in the partial shade this morning, after throwing the ball for the dog, and listening to my friend Roland Wells preach about the rules according to Calvin and Hobbs. (Excellent sermon and I can relate.) 

  I'm sick and the mild breeze felt good. But while I sat there in the peacefulness watching the leaves fall to the ground and join their brittle brethren, I was at rest, away from the rules of this life, basking in the light of the throne of grace, and relying only on faith, apart from the law. It is the essence of the Reformation. I'll rely on that instead of silly games created by boys and tigers. And when I get to eternity, I'll ask the Lord if I can watch leaves fall for maybe 15,000 years, but not in a row, so I can break it up and be in the garden with Him- alone.

Thought of the day- Round Square?

  For the last couple of days, I've been working in Fayetteville out in the sticks. The roads have funny names out there, like the one I'm working on "Possum Hollow Road". Today, I think I found one that suits me greatly- Round Square Road. Funny at first thought isn't it? But after I pondered it a while, I thought I'd explain how I felt about such a name.

  I've felt like a round square for quite some time. Changes in my life bring that about easily. Most of them major changes. When the recession hit and we lost our house was a big one. When I went on Social Security was another. (I think it stinks I can only make so much to collect it. What are they thinking?) Wearing different vocational hats is a big one, especially since last summer when that changed, too, and I was told I wasn't good enough to fill one of those roles anymore. Sigh. Wanting to move back to Wyoming is a big one for me, but I can't talk the wife into that. And what about the fact that I just can't seem to finish my next book or get an agent for the previous six!?

  The reason I say that I have only felt like a round square is because the above are only symptoms of being one. The only way to be a round square, is to make yourself one. I'm working on that. How about you? Do you feel like a round square? Do you feel just "not right" and flirt with being a round square?

  This doesn't even mention all of the things that are going on in the world that make you feel "just not right". So ponder this thought, "Are we all round squares?" Are we on the road to being one?

Thought of the Day- Miss me?

  Last weekend, the lady that sits in front of me at church on a regular basis turned to me and said, "I really miss you being on Facebook, especially your "thought of the day". She's a sweet lady and her husband is a nice guy who is slowly losing his ability to function in the world. He has heart and other troubles, but what I think is more difficult for her to handle is the onset of Alzheimer's he is exhibiting.

  I have to admit, sometimes when I greet him, he looks at me like he doesn't know who I am. Yes, even though I have known him since the early 90's, they had just returned from down South where he had served God and men as a church school principal. The man has a good heart. They have been back a couple of years now and I make it a point to greet him by name and ask him how he is doing and what he has been doing lately, besides going to the doctor.

  And this is my thought: what is it like to experience this? I really don't want to do so myself, at least not yet, but I'm not getting any younger. I think I need to do some research. I don't want my family to become strangers to me. I don't want to wander around lost. I don't want to wonder why, where, when or how as a matter of daily routine. I most certainly don't want anyone to "miss me".

  So the next time you think about your older relatives that are experiencing this, they are missing you, more than you know. Go see them. Greet them with, "Miss me, Dad?" You'll be glad you did.

Thought of the Day- Facebook?

  About a month ago or so, I got off of Facebook as a person. I'm there as an author, but I can't see that entity, because according to FB, I'm not real that way; I'm just an entity. (I'm going to post a blog on "entities" one of these day as well.) I wonder if I will ever go back?

  I had had enough of people. Don't get me wrong, some folks are downright nice, but others, well, if they could think they would be really dangerous. Not only that, but the great divide in our country is more evident there than anywhere else, except, perhaps, the streets of some of our larger cities like Ferguson and Baltimore. Those cities exhibit a lack of discernment in all manners, too.

  When I first got on FB, it wasn't that way. People got to know you and it was a happy place to be, especially when you ran into an old buddy. That's always cool. Or maybe you connect with a brother in the Lord from a place you used to live. That's nice, too. Keeping in touch with family is a plus, that is, if they really want to see your face that often. Sometimes, Thanksgiving and Christmas are too much for relatives. But, for the most part, in the beginning, FB was a cool place to be.

  Today, that's not the case. Setting politics aside, because that adds all kinds of stupidity to the equation, if I were Mark Zuckerberg, I wouldn't allow half the crap that's on there. In fact, I would only allow college students to participate, because we all know that they know everything. Just ask them yourselves. Anyone over 30 is too old. Anyone that is not in college is not smart enough. Anyone not cool, isn't cool.

  OR, how about this? We divide FB into categories by age. FB for kids- no one over 12. Then FB for Teens and no one over 19. Then 20's, 30's, 40's, etc. Of course, there could be subsets, like the groups there are now, but the ages would have to be strictly adhered to. I made this all up to prove a point and it is: How much more divided are we to become? Do we really want to? Do we really need one another? That's my thought of the day.

Thought of the Day- Undying Love

  There's a man I know, but never met from down in South Tennessee, and I have been reading his daily posts for about ten years now. Well, almost daily. In them he gives specialty market news, which is told from a darn-fool's perspective, but is rarely wrong. His posts are a joy to read and he incorporates his family into them as well, because we all know that if we have our heads screwed on right, family is everything.

  This man is about ten years older than this darn-fool. He had been married to his wife for forty-nine years until this past week, for she died in his arms on the back step of their home. She had a history of heart trouble. He told us readers that before. I know that the scenario that finally played out was in the back of his mind for many years. You could see it in his writings, even though he never came out and said it. He cared for her deeply. He, you might say, worshipped her, but I know that not to be the case for they both loved their Lord more than life itself.

  He watched out her though. She was always busy; serving God and others. It was her life plan. And a plan that many would love to do but never quite accomplish so well as her. Always on the go in that quest, you might say she just wore out. She had undying love for her family, friends, husband and Lord. And that's how she left.

  I think that is how I want to go; on my next trip out or back from service in my vocation or in a special act of compassion. It's the only real way to show undying love.

  Here's to Susan. Franklin, you were a blessed man in so many ways. And by God's grace, you still are, for He has undying love for you.

Bond of brothers

(Note: I wrote this last year and never published it. It's time.)

  The other day, I thought about the term, "brother". I have decided that the it means different things in different places. As a Yankee in the South, the discovery of a whole new definition was dramatic. As a typical Yankee, I approached it with caution, it being foreign to me.

  Being from up North, the term is used for blood kin, union fellows, members of bikers' groups, other secret society members, and veterans.The most prevalent of these is, of course, our genetic brothers. Brothers of the same mothers. Those that posses a bond that can never be broken, no matter what happens. Because, we all know that things do happen and sometimes relationships between brothers are strained to the point of breaking, even though their ties cannot be.

  First of all, I want to say that this "new" brothers definition is not necessarily a subject limited to a geographical area. Why? Because I have found it to be simultaneously used in certain religious groups throughout the country. However, as I had not heard it used in this way in the North, I assumed it was limited to the South. Wrong.

  Secondly, even in the groups I have heard it used in my place of residence, it is used in many ways. For instance, a man may greet me by saying, "Hello, brother! How are you?" In this contains only a general "howdy-do", because that is how the men of this area greet one another. However, if that same man welcomes me on Sunday morning at church saying those exact words, (I shall not repeat them) then the meaning is entirely different. It, to them, connotes a bond of faith. To me, it draws an raised eyebrow of suspicion. That's right. But, don't get me wrong here. I love every one of them. But the reason this Yankee somehow doesn't trust this is because he knows himself.

  I say this because I share, like these brothers, the same traits. We are all sinners. We all posses that same quality. Therefore, we all should posses a certain level of suspicion of each other. Some men have a high level, some like me, have a low level, being somewhat naive', or trusting to a fault. But being called a brother before I know a person sends up red-flags for me. What about you, Brother?  

Crying "Wolf"

  My son says I have been crying "wolf" for too long. You've heard of that old Aesop's fable before haven't you? (If not, look it up.) For you see, ever since I studied about the Jewish faith in college and on my own, I've declared that the Messiah would return during the Feast of Trumpets, which is a continuation of and begins the fall feasts, which we are now in and ends with the feast of Tabernacles.

  Some theologians say that the three fall feasts have not been, but will be, fulfilled by Messiah, just as He did the rest of them. In order to do that He'd have to come. Thus, why my son says I've been crying wolf. Each and every year since 1980, I've said the Lord will be here this year. But each year I'm that young lad crying wolf. My son doesn't believe me anymore. My wife, even less. Especially in a time such as we have today.

  My wife may have become a scoffer, always wanting the Lord to come, but not expecting Him to. My son, being respectful of his old dad that is really a young man, goes along with me when I tell him the feasts are here and he should look up for his redemption is nigh. Many others have heard this on youtube and other places so many times that people have been called date setters (I'm not one) and many other ugly names, and so, there are many scoffers out there today. I wonder if they would ever want the Lord to return in their lifetimes? Just so they could be right when they say the Lord isn't coming for another 2K years. But it makes me wonder if this is what the Lord was talking about in his parable about the ten virgins? Has the separation already occurred and five are waiting while five are not? Is it really date setting by being ready? Really ready? He is our blessed hope!

  I've spoken with many friends and family that are ready. Many who pray for the Lord to return quickly. They see the signs. Signs that have  never been fulfilled. Death, persecution, and the abomination that causes desolation. It's all set up. Is this the one? The feast of Tabernacles ends on Sunday at about 4pm our local time. On my wife's birthday, as I said in my last post. At the last trump of the feast. So, I hope I have not cried "wolf" again. I'm ready. How about you?

Waiting and waiting and waiting- in lines.

  Have you ever stood in line waiting? I avoid lines. There is a problem with that though- I like going places. But if you go places, there are always lines. Lines to take a seat, to park, to eat. Lines to buy a ticket, to watch a ball, no point in it all! Lines to hear a voice, a band, and there seems to be no choice! Consequently, I rarely go even if I'd like to. I hate lines.

  Even driving to these places I like to go to is a problem. It seems like the lines from point A to point B are longer all of the time! Who planned all of these lines? Was he a crazed lunatic? And the lines are even longer during the holidays. Such nonsense.

  Which makes it easy to go to church. There are never lines going to church. I can drive into the lot and park easily. I can go to my usual pew and sit there without a problem. And I have to admit, I don't mind waiting in line to go to communion, for there is comfort in that. That's the only line I don't hate. And when it's time to leave, the line goes out slowly. That line isn't a problem either. So, if you think about it, what are you waiting for? A line?

Living with Him

  On Sunday, the 16th, the feast of tabernacles began in Israel and throughout the world. It is a week long feast where those born in Israel live in booths made of natural items that are constructed just for the feast. Usually of cloth sides and thatched roofs, the walls are made of local woods. They are primitive, just like the tents in the wilderness.

  Tabernacles was instituted as a remembrance of the fact that God had taken the people out of Egypt and provided for them in the desert while they lived in tents under the stars. He humbled them and in this remembrance brought to mind that He provided everything for them for forty years. It is a time that brings to mind that He lived with them that forty years, as evidenced by the pillar of light at night and the cloud by day.

  Wow. To be able to look out of your tent and see the promise of God in such a way. It is surely a time of reflection. I see it as a promised fulfilled and a promise to be fulfilled. First, Christ came to dwell among us. Many theologians believe that Christ was born on the feast when He came in the form of a babe to Bethlehem. That certainly would fit cold evenings in the fall and the need for shelter for the family. Secondly, that we may tabernacle with Him for eternity. Some evangelical theologians say that He will come at the end of the feast for the second time at the last trump of the feast, which falls, by the way, at sunset on Oct. 23rd this year. That's my wife's birthday. Wouldn't that be a great gift?!

  Wow. Again I say, Wow! To live with Him in eternity is certainly a promise I believe and one that couldn't come soon enough for many. But first, humble yourselves. Give Him praise for providing all you have been blessed with. Repent of your sins. And keep ever vigilant, looking out of your tent. So we wait for the last trump. And it will be "the" last trump when Christ returns, that this time, we might tabernacle with Him for eternity.

  Maranatha! Come Lord Yeshua!

In the Garden

  Last night, in the twilight of the evening and amidst the trees of a country setting, I attended the wedding of a wonderful man and woman. The rain had left us and the slight breeze made it cool, but not difficult to sit outside, in the canopy of white lights and scrub oaks, slowly loosing their leaves. However, the setting, although it reminded me of a God-tailored event as in the days of Adam and Eve, was secondary this time once my friend Pastor Peter Ave-Lallamant got started with the ceremony.

  Pete had a lot to work with. I've seen him do weddings before, as he was my pastor for almost a decade and he can do wonders with weddings. Truly, he can. But in this case, the participants made all of the difference in making their wedding one you were glad to have attended.

  I've known Heidi for over twenty years. She's the daughter of two of my best friends from church. She has struggled in her life, but I believe she has always remained positive in much of the turmoil and has turned to God in order to survive the heartbreak and loss. Mixed in this, she had a little girl I watched grow up in the back pew. She'd stare at me and I'd make her smile back there, shy as she was back then. She's a young woman now and we are all proud of and love her; her new step-dad, Nick, told her so during the ceremony.

  Ah, Nick. I've known him for almost as many days as Heidi, (she says 900 some days) and all I have ever observed is a man wise enough to take the bait and marry this God-fearing woman, and taking on the role of Dad for Rylie. He is a match for them made in heaven. So let's go back to the beginning.

  Pastor Pete had a lot to work with and the vows I heard proclaimed all of the above and much more. God bless this new family who began in the garden prepared for them.

Long Time- no see

     Wow! I didn't realize it had been that long since I had posted here. I have to say that in that time period, I didn't realize the freedom I had here. How is that? Well, when on other social media, the world sees it. Here, I have anonymity of sorts, and I can say anything I wish without being chastised for it. Well, I haven't been in the past anyway, so please don't start now.

     Such is life. We go along doing what we do. We try to do the best we can and then- SMACK! Out of the blue someone comes along and chastises you for doing what you do. And sometimes, you may be doing the same thing as them, and even better, but then, you are told you can't do that anymore. Whoa. Such a change! Such a slap in the face. And none of it is your fault, but you still can't do it anymore. Bummer, in the extreeeeeme.

     Worst part about it, is that you have no recourse. There is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Period. So, you grieve. You pray for peace and acceptance. You submit. You go on. But it is difficult, because now you feel used and at the same time abandoned. Then, you try to go on, wondering what in the world God has in store for you at such a time in your life.

     But you feel all alone. Kinda like no one gives a rip about ya. No one even asks how you feel about things. And that doesn't make it any easier to go on either. So you withdraw. Which makes it worse. So, you try to buck-up, but that's hard, too. You won't be taken advantage of or used. Ever had enough of that? Personally, I'm too old for more of it.

     Finally, you figure it out and leave it all to God. It's His will- not yours that is important. It's not what we want, it's what He wants. I'm fine with that. So, go on and live the present, forget the past, and have hope for the future. Just like we are supposed to.

I give up

  In the past, I decided that in order for me to publicize myself as an author, I needed to be on social media of some sort. I heard that Facebook was the going rage (about ten years ago), so I jumped on board and began to do just that- promote myself. I determined that it was to be the only reason I could justify for me to be there.

  It didn't work out quite that way. Along the journey, I found I gave up much of myself to the world. Many things that would only be shared with people in person in the past, were now out there for everyone and every entity was there to perused, poked at, and purveyed. In the beginning, I perceived that some things had to be shared in order for people to get to know me, what I wrote and where it came from. This led to me establishing a author's page, where I would post "author" type things that many people I didn't know would also get to know me.

  But, it was the people I met along the pathway that either brought me joy or dismay as we walked together on a page meant for friends. That is probably why I'm here to post this today. I'm not going to go into what really makes a true friend here, because you see plenty of inadequate memes on FB that try to define the term in just one sentence wholly incorrectly. What I want to merely state is why I pulled myself from the fray of friends that are not friends at all, just acquaintances, and sometimes hostile ones at that.

  Let me digress. Once in a while, I'd get upset by what someone would post, and throw a tantrum and remove my account. In FB terms, a childish, naive' thing to do. You are not a mature FB person if you do that. Then, there would be times I would post something of my own and it would be derided and I'd also get upset and do the same thing- again. Not a FB mature thing to do. I would also at times, profess my faith in like-minded Christian groups, be made to recant for what was deemed as almost theologically inadequate knowledge bordering on the heretical, and I would remove either the people involved from my friends list, or remove myself from the group, or both. Not a mature thing to do. And finally, at times I'd go through and delete people I had no idea who they were, just because I thought them to be- immature in some way, shape or form. Finally, what has bothered me the most about FB is this one thing- that the world and even many Christians have fallen for the lies of Satan in many subtle ways. That causes me the most pain and I hate to see it and can't - anymore. And if you are one of my old FB friends and are such a narcissist as to think I'm taking about you, you're wrong.

  However, I have now come to the conclusion my entire excursion onto FB has been a waste of time. It is not what I am giving up on. What I am giving up on is the promotion of myself as ever being a well known author. I know that I will never be so. Consequently, as the purpose of me being on FB was to become well known as an author so I could become published and "discovered", I have withdrawn myself from the FB site and a rather immature wasteful exercise. I will only post on FB again if I am discovered, (ha) and I'll let my "people" handle it.

  But, and this is a big but, I would not mind anyone sharing this blog from time to time on their FB page. Especially since I have finished the edit of the proof of my third book of the COTE series called, "The Keeper's Son". I hope to do the final items this weekend and have it on the selves at Amazon next week. I'll post the info on my website, cafiebiger.com when I'm ready.

  In the end, I've come the realization that it does not matter at all if I'm well known by the world for my writing, and I'm OK with what God has in mind for me. For me, that is something to be happy about.

Fourth of July Reflections

    When I originally began this blog, I intended it to be for people curious about my work as a writer. For a while, as I had no other outlets for people to get to know it, I  posted a monthly blog. After getting on FB with many other ways to post about the series called Curse of the Eraser and my first book The Baker and Malachi, I found that coming to blog here was a chore and one in which I was less than inspired to complete. Therefore, the lack of blogs the last few months. Consequently, on this fourth of July, I intend to change how I approach the matter and only blog here when I feel like talking about something- anything. And here I am free- to do anything I want.  

   When I spoke of FB, I spoke of a means to an end. That's right, I've learned a great deal since I've had a presence on FB. Much of it good, in sites where I share my passions of History, fishing, Jesus, and yes, writing. The last thing, writing, is the only reason I am on FB. Oh, I've met a great many lovely people there, some not so lovely, and have become re-acquainted with many old friends. However, as Big Brother and the rest of the world can see my every move, I'm not so thrilled in being there. But to me, that is not the primary reason I'm disturbed about having an account there. What makes me sad is the division I see.

    On this fourth of July, these divisions are briefly, somewhat, suspended. Many people use the day to promote those things that they wish to rant on about every other day. Some people use it to show that their way of being patriotic is the only way to be- patriotic. Sigh. All, it would seem, hate war. All crave for peace. All, as well, want the hungry to be fed. All wish for equality, rights, and good health. What we are divided on is- how to achieve those goals in a fallen world. It has to be our way or it won't work.

    In this craving comes an almost maniacal loss of respect for others. Why do I say this? Because, if you look around, people don't care what anyone else thinks anymore. They say, "Well, that's just your opinion" and dismiss the entire thing. I find that to be, in a society such as the American Experience, appalling. When you have lost respect for other peoples' ideas, thoughts and opinions, then they are, in the minds of these narcissistic maniacs- worthless. That is disconcerting, to say the least. Because when that happens, tyranny is just around the corner.  

   Ah, good old tyranny. The Founding Fathers, with whom I have a love/hate relationship with, sat out to free themselves from that menace called tyranny. You can say it was because they did it for their own financial gain, or many other reasons that would benefit them, but in reality, it was to be what I mentioned at the beginning of the blog- to be free. Underneath all the trappings of this modern day world we live in, we desire that more than anything- freedom. And it is just that underlying urge which makes us leery of anyone that would snatch it away under guise of something else. Fish are easily caught with a good bait. Sheep can be led away by a wolf in sheep's clothing. And so, in the land of the free, we are becoming more divided, because we trust less in those that lead.

   I wonder if the American people felt that way back in 1776? Who do you follow? The Tories or these new patriots that wanted to do it another way? Isn't there a certain freedom in following a King? It must have been a very hard thing to go to war, lose your property, family or life. And what for? To be able to do it your way? No, it was to know that at the end of the day of God given toil, that you may be able to sit at your table to enjoy those things God provided and you labored for; to know that you could do so in peace and quietness; and to do so with your thanksgiving to He who gave it. On the one hand they could follow the King. On the other, they could go to war. On this day, they chose- war. That's what happens when people become divided on how to do things.

   It took a few years for this to happen. Tensions built. The Brits exercised their authority. But it didn't take long for the bubble to burst and war to occur. Today, I see it happening again like a different war- our own civil war. But I pray that not occur again. We have too many other enemies to worry about than to fight with our own. For this notion, we should be ashamed with ourselves. We need to concentrate on who the real enemies are. Because like sheep, we are being led to slaughter...      
 

Waiting for His coming.

  You'll have to check for me, but I think that I have usually had a post in December to bring to mind the Holy Day of Christmas. As I have contained my thoughts to once a month or so, in order that I don't overwhelm you with more posts than you can take, (many people have a daily blog, which I guess is great if that many people think you are adorable) I'm going to do a repeat of my December practice.

  Christmas. These days, often dreaded by adults, greatly anticipated by children, and loved by retailers. Christmas. In days of old, greatly anticipated by adults, dreaded by kings, and loved by prophets. Christmas. For me, the exercise of patience of the second coming, which today, I suspect, is more than ever in the prayers of the elect.

  Why do I say this? Because like men of old, we who know the promises of God to those that love Him, we are no different than them. We wait. And wait. And wait- some more- in a time that is full of signs in the heavens of the coming of the Son of God. We, the elect, all know the Word says that signs in the heavens will be one of the great signs of His coming, just as it said to the Wise Men from the East. In that respect, we are no different, for astronomers say we are in for some very distinct things coming in the heavens. (Such as four blood moons that fall on the coming Jewish festivals.) Not to mention some of the things that have been happening lately. Like comet Ison; the increase in the Geminids; other blood moons; the asteroid in Russia and the list could go on. And that is the biggest reason I write this- there is SO MUCH.

  And its not only the signs in the heavens that are to be a sign. It is also the signs on the earth. The seeming unraveling of our society. The unraveling of governments, small and great. The civil unrest all over the world. The greater number of poor, rampant greed on all levels of society, (including amongst the poor, and I have to say all men commit that sin) earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis, hurricanes, wars and rumors of wars- the list is not a partial one- it is a complete one. However there is one thing missing- the anti-christ.

  For many, the absence of and revealing of, and presence of one man is what has kept Jesus from coming back. According to some theologians, the anti-christ must be revealed in the Temple before the great and horrible day of the Lord. But what if that went by so quickly no one noticed? And, of course, it all depends on if there will be a thing called the rapture. That throws all of it out of whack. For me, it doesn't matter, because for me also, the signs leading up to this last item are all complete, like I said. It is only a matter of time.

  The Palmers in Curse of the Eraser, believed the same and waited; just like all of us. I guess, that is, if you are waiting, and hoping, just like men of old... and what if something were to happen on His so-called birthday? What if He came when men did not expect? Like on- His birthday? What if something appeared on the horizon that precipitated a return so unexpected, that it took us all by surprise? What if?

   Are you waiting and hoping this Christmas? If that is the case for you- Merry Christmas.

The FBI on my doorstep

  When I first moved to Tennessee and began my own business back in the early 90's, I had to rent, not only because I had no money, but because no one trusted my new tract record as a small business owner. Consequently, I rented an old, old house on Franklin road, next to what the locals call Spencer Creek.

  Franklin Road is very busy and traffic is present day and night. After a while a man gets used to the noise. One night this time of year, someone knocked on the door. It was odd, because there are no sidewalks on that portion of roadway, nor do people walk there because it is so busy. As it was after dark, I opened the door slowly after turning on the porch light, which was bright enough to see anyone through the single pane in the door. It was a man in a sports jacket, about the age of my father.

  After having lived in the South for a couple of years already, I knew this person was out of place, and it was not Bill Peach, who always dresses neatly. So, trusting someone that looked like this, I opened the door and asked, "Can I help you, Sir?" (I had already learned to add the "sir" to all my questions and greetings.)
   He replied, "You sure can! Do you have any gas?"
   Smiling, because I knew what had happened, I said, "Follow me," and we proceeded down the stairs and over to the garage.

  I opened the rickety door, revealing my 1963 Lincoln Continental. As he stood in my way to get the gas, he allowed me to go past him, but I noticed he was not paying attention to me at all, but his eyes were transfixed on the car. Slowly he walked towards it and placed his hand on the lid of the trunk. After picking up the gallon can of gas and going back over to him I asked, "Like it?"
  He said, "LBJ had one just like it."
  I asked, "LBJ?"
  Although it was dark it seemed as though he had a tear in his eye, almost hesitantly he said, "Yes, I rode with him in Dallas. I'm retired FBI."

  His statement through me for a loop. No wonder he had gone up to it and placed his hand there. He most certainly had ridden on the back of one of the grand Lincolns reserved and specially made for JFK and others. Then grabbing the can from me, he said, "Be right back."

  He walked in towards town into the dark, not giving me the chance to ask him if he wanted a ride, so I assumed he was not far from the house. I was right, because he was back in less than five minutes with his car. I had waited in the garage and was putting things I had left strewn about on shelves and into corners.

  When he came back to me he was smiling again, and he handed me the can. He started to pull his wallet out of his trousers, but I said, "No. Don't worry about it."
  He said, "Thanks. Can I look at it better?" He pointed at the Lincoln.
  "Sure," I replied, but I added, "So, you were there?"
  "Yes," he said as he walked away from me towards the front of the car. He asked, "Did you have it painted?"
  I said, "Yes, a couple of years ago. Its not the original color, but close."
  "I noticed. Lady Bird had a convertible that was like robin egg blue. It was a nice car, too. LBJ had one just like this." He placed his hand back on the fender again.
 
  I let him look for the remainder of the time without saying anything, but finally as he walked back out to the car I just had to ask. I said, "Was the Warren Report correct?"
  He stopped at the door of his car, and opened it. Bending in he picked up a hat, much like some of the young men wear to parties today, and placed it on his head. No one was with him as the light was bright enough to see inside the 80's model Ford. He turned to me after this and said, "No. Thanks for the gas."

  He got in and drove away. I never did get his name.