One thing have I desired of the LORD…

Psalm 27, verse 4 says "One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple." This wonderful bit of Scripture has been memorized, quoted, and sung for as long as I can remember. It was written by David, a man after God's own heart and the future king of Israel, at a time when he was just a shepherd boy expressing his heart-felt desire to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

 

As the youngest in his family it would have fallen to him to take care of the sheep so David spent a lot of time in the meadow, surrounded by his quietly grazing flock, playing his harp, and communing with the Spirit of God. We see a picture of this in the first verse of this Psalm. Verse 1 is a happy, cavalier attitude, praising the Lord without a care in the world. "The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"

 

So what is David's motivation for his devotion to the the Lord's House? Let's look at verse 2: "When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh..." Yikes! Like many of us, when confronted by hard trials and troubled times, David runs off like a scared rabbit to the safest place he knows: the House of the Lord. It is a lesson he learned well.

 

"For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy." Psalm 61:3. 

 

"Be thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort: thou hast given commandment to save me; for thou art my rock and my fortress." Psalm 71:3.

 

He came to trust in the Lord's protection in a very real way and it bolstered his confidence in a very real way too. He believed the Good Shepherd would be with him as he struck down a lion and a bear. He knew the Lord of Hosts would be with him as he brought down Goliath, the biggest, baddest champion the Philistines had. And he was absolutely convinced that the Lord our Banner had been with him when the song was sung "Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands." (I Sam 18:7)

 

It is not a bad thing to want security and protection and it is ok to anticipate God's provision. It is a part of God's nature to protect and provide; shown in His redemptive names, Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord my Provider (Psalm 23:1), Jehovah Sabaoth, the Lord of Hosts (1 Sam 1:3), and Jehovah-Nissi, the Lord, my Banner (Psalm 23:5).

 

Not long ago our family suffered the loss of a young niece and a few weeks later two others friend followed her into the presence of God. In times like these it feels as though the enemy truly has fallen upon us to eat up our flesh. In times like these we need that provision, that protection. In times like these we desire to dwell in the house of the Lord.

 

We are His children, as Jesus said in Matthew 23:37 "How often I've ached to embrace your  (Jerusalem's) children, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you wouldn't let me." We are even told we must become like little children to enter the Kingdom in Matt 18:3.

 

Like children we expect security, but we also want independence. As Christians, we sometimes act like teenagers and most of us know what that means. Like the bumper sticker says, "hire a teenager while they still know everything."  There is an anonymous quote (erroneously attributed to Mark Twain): "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years." Even though His "yoke is easy" and His "burden is light" we can still bristle at being yoked and burdened. Experience will teach us that Jehovah will be with us, as it did with David, and as we realize this we begin taking down lions, bears, giants, and armies.

 

As in life, Christians are not meant to stay children forever. "And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter (pebble), and upon this rock (boulder) I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." Matt 16:18. Gates don't fall on anyone to eat up their flesh. They just stand there and wait to get stormed.

 

But until we become gate-storming adult Christians, we must grow up and like teenagers, we think we know what is good for us, and want to be left to our own devices. We tend to want to just lounge around singing God's praises (of course I could just be talking about myself). At least that's what we want until the enemy comes ravening at our meadow. Then we, like the man after God's own heart, are quick to say "One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life…"

The Importance of being "Grampa"

I am a rather blessed man for a number of reasons. I'm still married to my junior high sweetheart, I have 4 amazing children, now grown to adulthood, they all seem to love me and enjoy spending time with my wife and me, and starting later this year I finally qualify for the "Senior Discount" at movie theaters! I'm also blessed because all my children live somewhere close, but other than my house. Don't get me wrong, I love having my kids around and would gladly open my doors should they need a place to stay, but I'm blessed that my kids have reached that stage of self-reliance where they no longer need "dad" to provide for them... as much... at least not in the same way.

I am also blessed because this Summer, I'm going to become a grandpa for the first time. My oldest son and his amazing wife are going to have a boy in August! My wife and I are thrilled and can hardly wait for this blessed event. I am thrilled not only to see my grandson, but also to watch as my son grows into fatherhood. I've mentioned a number of times elsewhere and in this blog about how much my kids have taught me. They have "schooled" me on patience, forgiveness, taming my temper, teaching, using accents while reading stories, even on being a better husband, as well as other life lessons too numerous to mention. He may not realize it today, but my son is about to go back to the "School of Life" and his little boy will be the school-master.

There is one area in which my grandson will have an advantage that I didn't: he will have not 1 but 2 grandpas in his life (Lord willing). "Papa Mike," my daughter-in-law's dad, is an amazing master builder, has a great sense of humor, and is a wonderful man of God. As for me, I look forward to things like teaching my grandson how to think rationally, how to tell a joke, and how to make his voice sound like a cartoon character.

I grew up with no grampas to teach me things and I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different had I had even 1 grampa. My dad's dad died a few years after I was born so I only have only very fuzzy, vague memories of him. He had my dad's smile, for example and he used it as often as we came to visit. He had a soft heart and could never bring himself to spank his children. He used to take them out to the woodshed and tell his kids to scream and cry as he banged the side of the shed with a piece of wood. I never new my mom's dad and she didn't talk about him much, at least not to me. Without a significant sampling of grampas to learn from, I've had to research myself how to be one. During my reading in 2 Chronicles chapter 33 I came across something that I found interesting and significant, namely that grandpas may be more important than I had considered.

In 2 Chron 33 we learn that King Manasseh, son of Hezekiah (a very good king), and grandson to Ahaz (A very bad king), rebelled against his father's godliness and followed the way of his grandfather. Manasseh became king of Judah at 12-years old and ruled for 55 years; longer than any other king. In the beginning of his reign, he led the Children of Israel into worship of foreign gods. In fact Manasseh was such a bad king and the God of Israel became so displeased with him, that God sent the king of Assyria to take him captive. It was during this time of imprisonment that Manasseh repented and humbled himself before God and was eventually released and returned to Judah as king.

When Manasseh died, his son, Amon, became king at the age of 22 (2 Chron 33:21). He was a bad king and only reigned for 2 years before he was assassinated by his own servants. Amon's son, Josiah took the throne at the age of 8 and was considered one of the best kings Judah had ever seen (2 Chron 34). During his 31-year reign, he was responsible for pulling down the worship groves of foreign cults and leading the nation back to the worship of the God of Israel. How is it that Josiah, a godly king could have turned out so well when his father was such a bad king that he got himself assassinated? I think the answer lies with grampa Manasseh.

If one works out the chronology of these three kings (and I may be off a year or two here and there), it looks to me like the 1st 6-7 years of Josiah's life would have been during the last years of Manasseh's reign. We know that at some point Manasseh repented and tried to be a "good" king even though the people did not listen to him. Amon would have been born 30-some years after the death of good king Hezekiah and so would never have met his grandfather. He would have been a young prince around 15-years old when Josiah was born and it is reasonable to assume that teen-aged Amon would have had very little interest in being any kind of a father to a young child.  This would have left the role of "father figure" during the very impressionable first few years of Josiah's life to the now repentant and God-fearing grandpa Manasseh. At least, that's what I choose to believe.

Some people rage against the unfairness of "old age" even as they fall victim to a sense of uselessness and disability while others greet it as a friend, accepting and embracing it for what it can be: a new adventure with new responsibilities, challenges, and victories. I believe that the story of "grampa Manasseh" can can give us hope that there are still goals to strive for and influence to wield regardless of one's age. You never know what you can accomplish until called upon to try and starting this Summer, I will be called upon.

Hurry up, little Anthem! Grampa Scott has a lot to share with you!

St. Isidore de Seville: Patron Saint of the Internet?

I'm not much in to jewelry myself.  I have two rings, a wedding band and a ring that is silver and gold. The gold reminds me of my divine nature, made in the image of the Creator and the silver that I was redeemed by a price.  There's more to the story behind this ring but I'll save that for another time. The reason I mention this is because I've recently added something new. A medallion of St. Isidore de Seville around my neck. St. Isidore is the Catholic's patron saint of the internet, technology, and computers and their users. Now, before you wonder if I've converted to Catholicism, hang in there for a bit and let me explain.

St. Isidore lived around 1600 years ago, which if nothing else makes his sainted patronage noteworthy. He was a stalwart advocate of education who believed seminaries should include classes on science, literature, medicine, and other academic subjects. In short, he was not afraid of information that might seem to contradict the Spiritual Truth. He also was responsible for creating an encyclopedia which remained in use for hundreds of years after his death. You may not pray to the saints, but you must admit that he was a remarkable man.

Despite his being remarkable, I don't pray to him for guidance or miracles but I do remember him. I remember his desire to educate, to disseminate Knowledge and not just speak Truth. If we, as Christians, are afraid of science or medicine, we cut ourselves off from a rather large part of God's creation. There is much we can learn, much we need to learn about this world we live in and our place in the cosmos. An atheist can look at the night sky and ask, "Where is God?" but Christians should look at the same panorama of stars, galaxies, nebulas, and temporal anomalies (threw that one in for my Star Trek fan friends) and see His handiwork everywhere. You may be asking yourself "What does this have to do with a saint, the thing over which he was granted patronage wasn't even invented for a millennium and a half after his death?" I'm getting to that.

In John 9, starting at verse 6 we see Jesus heal a blind man. He took some dust, spit on it and made clay, then put that mess into the blind man's eyes. Then he told the man to go and wash in the pool of Siloam (which means "sent" by the way). The man's healing was realized after he did what Jesus told him. Great story. What I find interesting is that in Mark 8, beginning with verse 22 Jesus encountered another blind man. This one he led out of the city and spit in his eyes and laid hands on them to give him sight. And even more interesting is that in Matthew 9:27, Jesus healed 2 blind men with only a touch and the phrase "Become what you believe" (or "According to your faith be it unto you" for our King James stalwarts that believe it was the translation that Paul used).

Jesus healed with dirt and spit, with just spit, and with just a touch and a few words. If Jesus could have healed all four men with just a touch, why all the spit and mud? I believe the answer lies in the question he asked the two blind men in Matthew. "Do you believe I can do this?" They may not have realized it, but they set the stage for their healing when they answered "We do!" It was the confession of their faith that healed them through the touch of the Messiah. From this I conclude that the blind man in Mark needed the spit to trigger his faith and the one in John had to have mud put in his eyes to activate his faith. We see this in so many places, Jairus told Jesus that if he were to touch his little girl, she would be healed ("Don't be afraid, only believe") The centurion knew that Jesus only had to speak the words to heal his servant("I have not found such faith in all of Israel"). The woman with the issue of blood was absolutely convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that should she touch even just the hem of Jesus' robes that she would be healed ("According to your faith...").

According to your faith, be it unto you. What is it that you believe Jesus can do in your life? Or more importantly, what do you believe he CAN'T do? C. S. Lewis, arguably the greatest Christian apologist of the twentieth century put it this way: "We are what we believe we are." What do you believe you are? The Word says we are Kings, Priests, Joint Heirs with Christ. Do you believe it? So often we believe what others say we are and don't dare aspire to anything more. What do you tell your children? They will believe what you tell them.

So, what does this have to do with St. Izzy? When I think of him, I remember that God is sovereign over technology. That He watches over computer users. That Al Gore had very little to do with the creation of the internet. Also, I remember that I do not need to fear information. Knowledge can only confirm the presence of God in the universe-- IF one approaches facts with an open mind. If you don't believe in the possibility of the Divine, you will never see Him no matter where you look. If, on the other hand you DO believe in a Creator, you will see Him, no matter where you look.

I used to have a motto in Latin: Aut viam invenium, aut faciam. It was reportedly said by Hannibal when he was told he would never get elephants through the Alps to attack Rome and means "I will find a way, or invent one." But now, I have a new motto. One inspired by St. Isidore de Seville, patron saint of the internet, technology, and computer users: Conari vicis id de, tum vicis id in. Which roughly translated means "Try turning it off, then on."

How have you used the gifts God gave you?

One of my favorite jokes is about 3 men who died about the same time and are in line to get into Heaven. St. Peter meets them at the gate and makes a general announcement: "Excuse me! May I have your attention, please? We are a little backed up with mansion construction just now, so we are going to let people in based on how they used the gifts God gave them." Some of the people in line started shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"You there," said Peter to the first man in line. "What was your IQ?" After a brief pause the man replied "130."

"Well, then! Did you get your Master's degree?"

"Yes..." came the somewhat puzzled answer.

"Wonderful! Come on in!" To the next man in line Peter asked the same question. "120!" came the confident answer. "Okay! Did you get your Bachelor's degree?" Peter responded. "I sure did!" said the man. "Very good!" said Peter. "Come on in!" and patted the man on the shoulder as he walked through the gates. Turning to the third man in line, the sainted gatekeeper asked the question again. "You, sir. What was your IQ?" The man looked down at his feet and replied, "80, sir."

"Ah," said Peter with a look of compassion on his face. "Um... uh... OH! Did you get your elk?"

It should come as no surprise that hunter's wives find this joke far more amusing than hunters.

This last week has been a week of introspection and emotion for me and my family. We lost a family member this week. My niece, Katie. A twin, 40 years old with a husband, a beautiful 19-year old daughter and a set of beautiful 12-year old twin girls. She met Jesus this last Wednesday after years of health problems that included two open-heart surgeries. My wife, Penny helped raise these twins since before we were married, and they have always considered her a second mom. We were with Katie a few days before she passed and I was impressed by her faith, her Humanity, and her family. She told us she was ready. She had made things right and prepared her family as best she could. She seemed pretty confident so I was a little surprised when she looked at us and said "But, I'm still kinda scared. I'm not ready to go yet." Yeah, I know what you mean Katie.

You see, I'm not afraid of "Death" but I am a bit concerned about "dying." As Christians, we have faith that there is something for us beyond the veil of death. We believe we will be united with God on the "other side," but we don't have many specifics about our new address. What we have been given all comes from descriptions of first-hand accounts given to us by people that didn't even have indoor plumbing. As a result, our picture of Heaven consists of images conjured by phrases like "streets of gold" and "a city with a foundation made of precious jewels," and "4 and 20 elders singing around a crystal sea." While that verbal imagery may have meant something to the disciples of 2000 years ago, it has lost something in translation, not just into English, but into the 21st century. Were these visions of Heaven or did they have some other purpose? Depends on who you talk with, and what they WANT to believe.

Oddly enough, this may have been by design. No one, even today, has any idea of what Heaven will be like. Those that say they do, will likely be surprised when they finally arrive there. It is a place conceived by an infinite intellect. A mind so far beyond us that were it not for the fact that He wants us to understand a portion of his character, and wrote us a Bible to do just that, we would be totally unable to comprehend Him at all. Like a dog looking at a ceiling fan.

I know this sounds like the ramblings of someone who is afraid to die, but it is actually the ramblings of someone who is more afraid not to live. We will all die eventually "should the Lord tarry" (as they used to say in my church) and it doesn't do anyone any good to dwell on that overmuch. In 100 years, virtually every one alive today on the entire planet will have been replaced with others. Worrying about the "afterlife" wastes too much of the precious "now-life" that God has granted to us.

I don't want to take health and life for granted. I want to be more engaged and active. I want to find reasons to say "yes" rather than excuses to say "no." I've heard someone say they wanted to end their life by four-wheel drifting into their space in Heaven's parking lot, jump out of the hot-rod red convertible yelling "WHOO HOO! What a ride!" I'm quite not there anymore, but yeah. I get you. At this point in my life, the most I can probably hope for is that my answer will not be "Um..." when asked "What did you do with the life I gave you?"

Goodbye Katie. We love you. We'll look after your kids. Tell Jesus I said "Hi."

What is Your Favorite Verse?

I had occasion to think about my dad today. Not that I don't think of him often, but today's remembrance was a bit different. It was at a men's breakfast at our church. The theme was "Your Favorite Verse" and the pastor shared his; if you're wondering it was either 1 Chronicles 11:22 or 2 Samuel 23:20, I forget. They both relate the same story.

When he was done, we were encouraged to share our favorite verse around our table. Each man shared a verse and a personal story about why that particular verse had impacted their lives. When it came to my turn, the choice was easy, but the realization was unexpected.

My brothers may take exception to some of this but I remember my dad as a man of contrasts: great physical strength and soft heart, woefully uneducated and mentally brilliant, prejudiced but not racist, possessed with a keen understanding of people and yet seemingly unaware of the needs of his own family. Even in Conversion he displayed this "Greate Divide," this dichotomy of character. Many of the people that knew him before he became a Christian commented on what a different man he was afterwards. One of my favorite stories about my dad was when he went out to lunch with his best friend, Bud Crane (one of the funniest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing) and Bud said to him "Harold, please. I'm begging you. Please let me get my order in BEFORE you try to save the waitress." It had never occurred to him to not share his new-found faith. Even Penn Jillette of the Penn & Teller comedy duo and confirmed, outspoken atheist has said he has no respect for people that don't proselytize and made the point: "How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?" Check it out.

Early in my own Christian life, my brother Mark was taking a calligraphy class in High School and asked us for a quote or favorite verse for him to make into a plaque. I still have the plaque around somewhere, but I never realized that the verse I chose would impact my life so profoundly because it would remind me of my dad and his extraordinary dedication to the new life he'd been given.

Romans 1:16 - "For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek."

I find that looking back on my life, I am ashamed. Not of the Gospel, but of missed opportunities to "save the waitress" as it were, like my dad. As an introvert I find it awkward and difficult to initiate conversations, and perhaps even more so to insert spiritual references into one once it gets started. That is not to say that I feel one needs to be obnoxious about it. I certainly don't want to "bash people over the head with God" like:

"Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, and God made this day for you to hear the Good news that God hates sin and that you are a sinner and going to Hell so accept His free gift of Salvation to avoid spending eternity in endless conflagration where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth!"

I don't believe that my reluctance is because I would be embarrassed by the Gospel (which I'm not convinced is represented by the above conversation, by the way) as much as that I want my conversation to be a "word fitly spoken" like "apples of gold in pictures of silver" (Proverbs 25:11) The problem is I rarely look for those "pictures of silver" opportunities. How many times have I missed out on giving someone that golden apple because I was tired, or grumpy, or just not in the mood? Too many, I'm afraid. Some of the people I admire most, like Chuck Neighbors and Glenn Colangelo, are not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. They pray in public places and talk openly about spiritual matters where people can hear (GASP), and are always ready with a silver basket of golden apples ready to give to anyone who is hungry. I pray I become more like them.

So that's my favorite verse, what's yours and why?

I am my Beloved's... mostly

My Beloved is MINE...

Song of Solomon 2:16 - "My Beloved is mine, and I am His."  Isn't this the way of early relationships? Our beloved belongs to us, owned by us and we jealously guard over them to make sure we do not lose them.  We call on the phone and spend hours just listening to our beloved breathe so we can be connected.  We rush to meet them and linger in their presence.

In light of the Christian experience, it sometimes feels like we get a pair of Christian handcuffs to latch on to our Savior (even though WE sometimes hold on to the key).  At this stage we're actually more like new-born infants clinging to the comfort and care of our mother.  Because we experience Jesus' unconditional love, the "eat-when-we-hunger" phase of growth, and the near constant protection and attention we can easily be convinced that Jesus does indeed "belong" to us.

As we follow our Good Shepherd, Jesus patiently teaches us, leading us to green pastures & quiet waters where we eat and drink, of His Presence, His Word, His Spirit.  We need the Milk of the "first principles" (Hebrews 5:12-14) and He makes it available to us; as much as we need as often as we press in.  Over time, we graduate from the Milk, to the solid food, the strong meat of the Word, guided and interpreted by His Spirit.  We learn more about how our Beloved feels about us and the depth of His love for us and step by step we grow.  We learn the Truth that God has spoken about us; that we are joint heirs with Christ, we are Royalty, we are Priests, we are Warriors.  And as we grow closer and learn more, we grow stronger, more independent and capable of standing with Him but on our own two feet.

Okay, so ... I am my Beloved's ... but He is still mine

We mature enough to no longer require that He belong to us, and we now recognize that we belong to Him as in Song of Solomon 6:3 we come to the realization that "I am my Beloved's and He is mine."  Learning more about His character, realizing the depth of the sacrifice required and made to secure my place with Him, we come to understand that He has chosen us and we have done nothing to earn that gift, but to accept it freely.  But even though we now know that we belong to Him, we can still cling to the hope that He also belongs to us. That we can hold some piece of him as surety of His love, His dedication.

As we move into this new level of relationship and face new challenges, earn new victories, we see that our Beloved is no longer with us continually in an obvious way.  Like a child learning to peddle his two-wheeled bike, we begin learning to avoid obstacles, overcome the rough patches in the road and stay upright on our own; we mature.  We can become so focused on our situation, we don't notice the support we receive from the one running behind us, hand on the bike, lending support and guidance.  So we struggle with things seemingly on our own, and call to Him... and we learn.  We learn from our triumphs and our failures; from answered prayers and confusing silences.  And looking back we see how His grace and mercy surrounded us every time and we learn that sometimes bread can look like stones, and eggs serpents.  But through it all we learn a new kind of closeness and dedication; a new kind of relationship.  Deeper and more mature, more secure.  And in our struggles with trials & tribulations, we grow stronger still.

I am my Beloved's ... and His desire is towards me

Then hopefully one day, we realize that it is not about "me" at all, it's all about Him.  Now we can finally say that "I am my Beloved's, and His desire is towards me." (Song of Solomon 7:10)  We can rest in the confidence that he will not forsake us, because He never has.  He will continue to love us, because He always has.  We come to a place where we know that if we try to hold Him, we lose him; we're just not big enough.  But only when He holds us we are truly secure.

This is the place where Joy can come freely and abundantly; where we are secure in our relationship.  This is the place where "He prepares a table in the presence of our enemies" so that He may fight, while we feast.  This is the place where strife ends and fruit happens.  You don't see an apple tree straining to produce fruit.  The apple tree just busies itself being an apple tree and the fruit happens.  This is the place we should all strive to live.

This is the place where I want to be.  Sitting at His feet.  Confident in who He says I am.  Glorying in His Grace, marveling at his Mercy, profiting in His Presence.  I'd like to say I've arrived.  That I live here all the time, that nothing shakes me or frightens me, or angers me and that I spend all my time giddy with joy.  But I'm afraid I'm just a visitor to this place.  I get here every once in so often.  Those are times I remember as being confident in His provision.  Just knowing it will be alright, because greater is HE that is within me, than he that is in the world.  But, no... I visit.  Even so, I'm grateful that I get here from time to time.  The good news is that I seem to visit more often and to stay longer each time.  That's gotta be worth something, doesn't it?

What about you?  Where are you in this march towards maturity?

What do you hold in your hand?

Moses.  Adopted and raised in the family of the Pharaoh of Egypt, surrounded by opulence & power became a runaway, in trouble with the law and reduced to being a shepherd in some backwater hill country.  Imagine his surprise at finding a bush, that was burning yet not consumed!  He hears what can only be the voice of God telling him that he is on holy ground and to remove his shoes.  In my imagination, the conversation basically runs like this:

"Moses, I want you to go back to Egypt and free my people."

Looking around Moses says "Lord God of the Universe!  Maker of Heaven & Earth!  King of all Creation!  You ... have ... got the WRONG GUY!"  Moses drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Don't you know that I'm a wanted man by Egyptian authorities?  Not to mention I'm also hated by YOUR people."  Now his voice raises a bit, getting agitated.  "No one's going to hear me and no one's going to believe me.  You want them freed?  You go!  Or better yet, find someone else to do your dirty-work."

Moses now starts looking around frantically for a way of escape.  Running away worked once, it's worth a try again.  "Besides," he wheedles, edging along the canyon wall, "I don't speak so good, and you need a great speaker for such an important task.  The one YOU want is ... uh ... my ... my BROther, Aaron!"  By now, he's wondering if the bush will chase after him if he runs, "Yeah THAT's the guy YOU want.  Man, he can sing like an angel and talk like a preacher."  Relief flooding his voice Moses boldly contines, "Yeah, Aaron!  (under his breath) never liked him that much anyway...  You should send HIM on your little journey of DEATH!  Not me.  Hey, I don't even listen to mySELF when I talk and when I sing?  The SHEEP even run away.  Besides, what makes you think anyone will believe me when I tell them You sent me?"

"Moses?  What do you have in your hand?"

"uuhhh, nothin' ..."

"The OTHER hand, Moses."

"Oh!  This old thing?  It's just a rod.  Yep.  A plain old rod... Nope, nothin' special about this beat up stick of wood..."

"Well, throw it down Moses."

"um... do you mean like on the ground?"

"Yes.  Throw it down, Moses... as you say... on the ground."

"You know, a rod's a pretty useful thing to have around.  If I throw this away, well, You know, no one wants to be caught rod-less!"

"Throw it down, Moses."

"I raised this rod from a twig..."

"Throw it DOWN."

"OK!  There, you happy... WHOA!"  Imagine Moses' surprise to see this rod--something he'd probably made himself, something that kept him safe, something he had come to trust and lean on--turn into a snake!  A desert viper, perhaps.  Venemous & crafty.  Something one could not trust.  Something that hides waiting to ambush unsuspecting prey.  Something that strikes with no warning; no mercy.

Moses sense of loss, fear and revulsion may have been acute and shocking but his reaction would have been mild compared to his response at what God said next, "Now Moses, pick it up... by the tail."

"Uummm, Lord?  I realize You may not have been here in the desert very long so I want to explain something to you.  Only Steve Urwin the Crocodile Hunter picks up a snake by the tail!  I mean you grab a snake by the tail and he'll WHIP around and..."

"Pick it UP, Moses."

Muttering, "Wasn't it one of these that got us kicked out of the Garden?"

"PICK IT UP, Moses!"

"Ok!  Ok!"  As Moses bent to pick up the rod-become-snake his life may have flashed before his eyes.  As his fingers closed around the scaly tail, eyes tightly shut waiting for the moment of pain that would mark the beginning of the end of his life, imagine his surprise once more to find he held... a rod in his hand.  It was the same rod... but ... NOT the same.  He may have thrown down the rod of Moses... but he picked up the rod of God.

That precious thing that Moses threw to the ground, yielded his rights to, and gave to God became something that God could use to do things Moses could never have accomplished before.  With the Rod of God, he would strike the rock and bring forth water.  With the Rod of God, he would part the waters of the Red Sea.  With the Rod of God, Moses set God's people free.


Bob Pierce was a missionary to Asia more than 50 years ago.  He was invited to address the children of a series of Dutch missionary schools.  For a week, he spoke to 600 children many of whom gave their hearts to God.  "Now, you must go home and tell your parents.  Tell them you are Christians now and will only worship the one true God."  Satisfied that he had fulfilled his calling in that place, he prepared to return home.

As he left, he wanted to stop by the Dutch missionary's home & say goodbye but was surprised to find her standing outside her home holding a child.  As he got nearer, he saw that the child's dress was torn, and her back bleeding.  Bob ran to the missionary and asked what had happened, who was responsible for this?

"You," she said.  "This child did exactly what you told her to.  She went home, told her parents she was a Christian and would only serve the one true God.  Her father screamed at her, beat her and threw her out of the house saying that she had defiled her ancestors and that she was now dead to him."  The missionary stepped forward and placed the child in Bob's arms.  "What will you do about it?  I cannot take her in.  I already have 6 children eating out of my rice bowl."

Stunned, Bob fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a $5 bill. "This is all I have" he said.

The missionary took it and said, "This will buy her rice, some cloth to make a new dress, and a slate for her to attend school.  You will send me this same amount every month and I will find a warm place for her to sleep and see that she is safe and educated."  He never forgot that event.

Five years later, Bob Pierce stood before a large group of Chinese pastors and told this story.  Afterwards, he prayed this simple prayer.  "May my heart be broken, by the things that break the heart of God."  He urged the pastors to do the same thing he had been doing for the last 5 years for the child he had held in his arms.  Her name was White Jade and she was the 1st child to be sponsored by the organization that came to be known as World Vision.

That was more than 50 years ago.  Today, World Vision is one of the largest children's relief organizations in the world giving hope to more than 3 million of the smallest, weakest, and most vulnerable segment of the world's population.


Charlotte Elliott was a vivacious and active young woman in England more than 200 years ago.  Known for writing poetry, and her artwork, her father was known for taking in traveling ministers as they passed through town.  Charlotte was struck down at an early age with what we now feel may have been Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which eventually left here nearly bedridden, with no energy to do more than move about a bit.  She began to become bitter and cynical in response to her illness and felt unworthy to be used by God.  She would broach the subject with many of the ministers as they ate meals with the family.

"How is it," she would say, "that God could use me?  How am I to approach Him?"  Most ministers would recite platitudes such as "Pray more" or "Read the Bible more" or "Resolve to do better." none of which helped her at all to cope with her condition.  Then one day, a minister named Dr. Cesar Malan came to stay with them.  When Charlotte again, asked the question she finally got an answer she did not expect.

"How are you to approach God, Miss Elliott?  Why, just as you are."

Charlotte was stunned by the simple answer for only a moment.  "Why, Dr. Malan, should I not pray more?  Read the Bible more?  Resolve to do better?"

"You may, if you like Miss Elliott..." Cesar responded.  "However, do you honestly believe that you have anything of value that you could possibly bring before an all-mighty God?  That you could do anything to impress Him?  There is nothing you can fail at that will make Him love you less, and nothing you can do to make Him love you more.  You must come to him, just as you are."  The conversation had a profound impact on Charlotte's life and was instrumental in her making a decision to accept the Lord as her personal Savior.

Over the years, Charlotte continued to be plagued by Chronic Fatigue, unable to do the simplest things.  When her brother, Rev. Henry V. Elliott, began a fund-raising campaign to start a school for the daughters of Ministers (at that time only boys enjoyed rudimentary education) she was deeply troubled that she could not help, as she expressed one day during his routine visits.

"Morning, old thing!" Henry said as he popped into her room and flopped into a chair near her bed.  "Do you know what I've been doing all day?  I've been preparing for tomorrow's bazaar!  Arranging all the booths, spreading out clothing & the other donations so things look nice and people will buy loads.  We are very much hopeful of bringing in the money we need to get St. Mary's school going.  And we... Charlotte?  What's wrong?"

Charlotte's eyes had fallen to the seemingly useless hands in her lap.  "Oh Henry," she said, "I feel so... useless.  I can't even get out of bed to help with the Bazaar."

"Oh, posh old thing!  We've got in well in hand."  Casting about for something to change the subject his eyes fell on a piece of paper on her bed side table.  "What ho!  What have we here?  The famous Miss Charlotte has been composing again, I see."

"What?  That?  Phaw!  That's nothing.  I wrote it last night thinking about how little I could do to help and how greatly God still loves me despite the fact.  I remembered something that Dr. Malan said many years ago.  Do you remember him?"

"Remember him?" Henry said, "How could I forget the one that finally brought you to the feet of our Lord?  Yes, I remember him well enough."  As he read through the lines on the page, his eyes welled and his voice cracked a bit.  "Charlotte... do you mind if I take this?  Show it to some people?"

"That?  Take it.  I shouldn't think much will come of it."  Charlotte could not have been more wrong.  They printed that poem, and sold it and my understanding is that the proceeds from the sale of that poem brought in more than the entire bazaar.  Even beyond that, what she had written on that piece of paper would one day be set to music and become one of the most recognizable hymns in history.

"Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come."

It found its way into nearly every major hymnal, and became a hallmark of many great preachers including the call to altar song for Billy Graham crusades.  This story has a particular and personal meaning for me.  I first heard it when I was 6 years old, watching a televised Billy Graham Crusade and praying the sinner's prayer along with Billy.


God never asked Charlotte Elliott to write a hymn that would touch the lives of millions of people.  God never asked Bob Pierce to found an organization that would give hope to over 3 million children around the world.  He only asked them to lay down what they had in their hands... just as he did with Moses.

So, what is it that you hold in your hands?  In what do you place your trust?  Your security?  Your hope?  God wants you to lay that down and see it for what it is; and imperfect reflection of what you could be.  He also wants you to lay it down so He can ask you to pick it up again as something He can use through you.  With our own talents, we can do little.  With talents, given to God and returned to us there's little we cannot do.