Racing for the Crown

During the 1950’s and 1960’s, hydroplane racing was big in Seattle, Washington. The city held an annual festival in late summer called Seafair, which culminated in a big race on Lake Washington. This lake forms the eastern border of the city. The race
featured the large, unlimited boats, and attracted about a dozen major boats from around the country. The southern suburb where I lived even sponsored a boat for a few years, “Miss Burien”, and during Seafair week, Burien would have its own parade, with the boat as the main feature.

About that same time, on college campuses across the nation, bed racing had become rather popular. Groups (mostly fraternity guys) would put bicycle wheels on metal beds and race them down the street. So it was that the summer between my junior and senior year in high school, about six of us guys got together to build a racing bed and join the Burien parade. What better way for many of our classmates to see us in our glory. We were uninvited, of course.

We joined the procession about two blocks down from the official starting point and were moving right along – for about five blocks. Then some officials stopped us and pointed out that we were not registered to be part of the parade (They may not have liked the purple bedspread!), and shunted us off to the side. Undeterred, we continued our parade one block over on a parallel street. However, we were never able to make it to the official finish line of the parade. Too many gendarmes were present in that part of town. But we had run part way, so went home in triumph.

This experience reminds me of several stories in the Bible – one about a messenger who wanted to run, but was told he had no message to deliver, so was not to run. He ran anyway, but accomplished nothing good. The other story is about the apostle Paul, who said he had finished the race, and had won a crown. Like the messenger, we were not supposed to run, but the desire for notice pushed us on. Unlike Paul, however, we did not finish the race, and there was no real glory except that which we heaped upon ourselves. We worked hard. We wanted to look good, but we didn’t follow the rules. And the officials had nothing good to say about us.

It is so important that we get in the race, but we must do so according to God’s route. Having a beautiful outfit and being noticed by others accomplishes nothing if we run on a parallel side street.

Now, watch out for the pedestrians and parked cars.

Dr. G

Where Have All The Princesses Gone?

Our granddaughter Boo has been into princesses lately. She is a little more than four years old, and has figurines of most of the Disney “princess” characters: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Belle, Cinderella – you finish the list. She has princess nightgowns, princess books, and, perhaps, princess dreams.

But, you say, these are all imaginary. And that is true. For if you look around you, where have the princesses gone? A few European countries still have royal families, but you hardly ever hear of their princesses, at least not here in the US. Japan and a few other Asian countries still have royalty, and no doubt their princesses. But there is very little in real life to help little girls envision what a princess is like. So we leave it to those who imbue our culture with their vision of what a princess should be – what they look like, how they act, what they go through. And in my opinion, their vision is somewhat twisted (and commercialized).

If you’ve read the Bible or even listened to some of the classic Christmas music, you are no doubt aware that Christ is referred to as a King and as a Prince (1 Tim 6:15; Ps 24:9,10; Acts 3:15; and Is 9:6 are some good texts to begin with). Yes, Christ is royalty.

When we accept Christ as our Savior, choosing Him over Satan and his crafty ways, we become part of the family. Perhaps you’ve heard the song “I’m so Glad I’m a Part of the Family of God”. It is true. We become adopted (Gal 4:5), grafted into the vine (Rom 11:17).

What this means is that all these little girls entering the doorways into school in the morning have the potential of becoming true Princesses, members of the Royal family of the universe. And all the little boys we see walking the halls of our schools may become true Princes, younger brothers of the Savior. If only they could catch that vision. Then they wouldn’t have to depend upon fairy tales.

Who needs a pumpkin for a coach when our Elder Brother has fiery chariots?

God Bless!

Dr. G

That's Seven!

I’ve been at my current school for about ten years. When my wife and I first arrived there, it had been a number of years since the building had been refurbished/remodeled. The ceiling tiles on the second floor showed many water spots resulting from a leaky roof. There was an abundance of mold growing on the upper surfaces of the tiles. Further more, the air ducts had not been cleaned for quite some time. The carpet throughout the building was old, and probably had a good loading of dust mites; I don’t know. But I do know that for the first five years at the school, I would get bronchitis and ear infections four or even five times a year. I assumed it was due to my close proximity to the Kindergarten children with which I spent the day. But, finally, the doctor diagnosed my problem as bronchial asthma, caused by dust and/or mold spores in the air within the building.

Five years ago, our building underwent a major remodeling. New wiring for computer systems went in. Walls were painted. New carpet was laid down. New heating/air conditioning units were put in. New ceilings were designed and hung, and air ducts were cleaned. What a difference. This past year, I only had bronchitis once.

Now, at this point, it would be so easy to go off and talk about how the Lord will come in and clean up our hearts, getting rid of the spores of sin. After all, the scriptures do say the “heart is deceitfully wicked”, and the Lord does promise to "remove the heart of stone." But that isn’t where I want to go with this.

As I’ve indicated, my career as an ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) teacher has focused almost entirely on the kindergarten crowd. I’m talking about children who are mostly totally naïve in the English language when they first come to me. The word “naïve” is not a pejorative word as I use it. In the language acquisition field, the word naïve refers to a total lack of fluency or ability in the target language.

In my mode of teaching, I view any event/situation as a teachable moment. Any opportunity to practice a skill is a good time, in my opinion. So I’ve done some unusual things as I taught.

For example, with the high mold spore/dust count in the building, I would often get into bouts of sneezing. True, many times I’d sneeze once and that was it.
But on other occasions, I’d sneeze anywhere between five and ten times, and nothing I could do would interrupt it. Blowing my nose did no good. Holding my breath didn’t help. Pressing my finger under my nose was of no value. I learned to let it run its course. And, since learning numbers and to count was on my list of things to teach, the students and I would count sneezes. “That’s two,...That’s three,...That’s four,...” and so on until the sneezing stopped.

Towards the end of my second full year, I had a sneezing fit that reached six in the class I met with right after lunch. After we had counted to six, I moved right back into what I’d planned on doing that day. I gave no more thought to the sneezing.

The next day I finished my lunch early; so I loaded my teacher’s cart with the necessary things and moved it to the hallway outside this particular classroom. I came from a direction from which the children could not see me. The hall was carpeted, so they didn’t hear me come, although the classroom door was open. There was no way for them to know I was out there, waiting quietly to come in at 1:15. And all of the sudden I sneezed. Didn’t even get a chance to cover it! And from the now quiet classroom came the sweet little voice of a five year old girl with deep, dark eyes, “That’s seven!”

They watch us so closely and take to heart what we teach them, these children we work with. Even the most innocuous moments are being observed. Like the people used to watch Christ, perhaps. That is why it is SO important to truly reflect Christ’s character all the time. If I’m the only Christ some of these children see, what will they think of Him? Lord, forgive me of the times I’ve misrepresented Him. And thanks to the Lord for the opportunities I’ve been able to take advantage of to show a little of His character. What joy there is to see the light dawn in receptive eyes!


Now, where did I put that box of tissues?

Dr. G

How Deep Are Your Roots?

We’ve been undergoing a drought in our part of the country. While there have been some scattered thunderstorms, some locally heavy, it has been a couple of weeks since we had any measurable rain up on the ridge where I live. The grass is really brown, lake levels are dropping, and many of the trees in the area are beginning to show stress due to lack of water. When school got out at the end of May, Chattanooga (not far from where I live) was about 15 inches below normal in rainfall.

Much of the terrain around here is either red clay or ridges of limestone or chert covered with a thin layer of soil. None of these provide conditions for growing deep roots. And if the trees can’t draw water from down deep at times like this, the leaves begin to shrivel and fall. Driving home from school today I noticed a number of trees that were showing bare branches higher up. We really need a good soaking rain so whatever roots the trees have can draw in the water.

If the tree is able to send its roots down deep when water conditions are good, it is likely to withstand the stress of hot, dry days. That is sort of like our experience with faith.

When things are really going well for you or me, how much credit, thanks and praise do we give the Lord for the good times? I think it is important to recognize His role in providing for us when we don’t have problems. It builds up faith that we can draw on when the times get rough. If we start taking the Lord for granted, our “faith” roots won’t/can’t draw from deep down to see us through when trials really come along.

Don’t let the devil shrivel up your spiritual leaves. When the spiritual leaves start dying, it is hard to produce the spiritual food the body
needs. Just like the trees. When the tree’s leaves start shriveling up, then the trunk, branches and roots begin to starve. So we need to grow those roots deep while things are going well. Don’t depend on the occasional spiritual “thunderstorm” to keep yourself going. Let the little things the Lord is doing in your life keep you going.

God bless!

Dr. G

Nobody Here!

During my high school years I was one of the student equipment managers for the track team. There were about six of us each year, sharing the duties. We got the equipment out for each practice, dragged the cinder track each week, scribed it and chalked lines each week. We were also responsible for getting the towels ready for the guys when they came in after practice. Some duties were more enjoyable than others; most were outside, but you had to stay in to fold towels. So we rotated assignments so no one got stuck doing things that were less desirable. That meant even the sophomore managers got their turns popping wheelies in third gear on the tractor we used to drag the track. It also meant that the head manager (me, the last two years) had to stay in to fold towels.

Every morning, a laundry truck would back up to the P.E. loading dock and drop off several bags full of 150-175 big white fluffy towels. Unfolded. These bags were put in a small room next to the shower room. The room was lined with, in the morning, empty shelves. By the time the guys came in after practice, the bags were to be empty and the shelves lined so that when the window between the towel room and shower room opened, everything was ready.

Most of the time we could get all the towels folded in about 45 minutes, and then we’d go outside where it was a little more fun and there was more camaraderie. By my senior year, I’d reached the place where I could get all the towels folded in about 25 minutes. But one spring day, I decided I’d move a little slower. The skies looked like it was about to drizzle as classes ended. I didn’t really want to be out in that any more than necessary. Besides, I had a new copy of Mad magazine I wanted to check out. So I locked the door, folded towels for a few minutes, then settled down on a mostly full bag of towels to read my magazine. I knew I could have the towels ready in a short time, so had time to relax.

I’d been sitting down for only a few minutes when there was a knock on the door. The guys weren’t due in for about an hour and a half; everyone was outside. Therefore, I casually called out, “Go away!”

There was a short pause, and another knock. This time I called out, “Nobody here!”

There was a shorter pause, then a key slid into the lock, the door opened, and there was Coach. I said, ”Oh, I didn’t know it was you, Coach!” He looked down at me, glanced at my magazine, took two of the few folded towels which he draped around his neck (probably to keep the drizzle I was avoiding from running down his neck), turned around and went back outside. He never said a word. He didn’t scowl, didn’t frown; he didn’t smile. Just turned and left.

As soon as the door was closed, I folded the towels as quickly as I could, and joined everyone else in the drizzle that frequents early spring days in the Pacific Northwest. I’m glad Coach and I had a good relationship. I had always tried to do my best for him, and he had placed me in a position of responsibility.

In the book of Revelation, Christ is portrayed as standing at the door to our hearts, knocking. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone opens the door to me, I’ll come in…” What a contrast with what happened between Coach and me. True, they both knocked. They both knocked more than once. But unlike Coach, who opened the door and came in whether I wanted him to or not, Christ will only come in if I open the door. We can ignore Him if we choose. We can tell Him to go away, and He’ll leave us alone. However, I don’t think He’ll accept, “Oh, I didn’t know it was you, Jesus!” the way Coach did. When you or I hear him knocking, how happy we’ll be if we throw the door open right away. Every day. Every time.

Only one towel per person, guys. Keep moving.

Have a great day!

Dr. G

I Used to Play The Piano

I used to play the piano. But I really haven’t played seriously for a number of years. When the kids were growing up, there wasn’t a whole lot of time. So I got out of practice. And then, over the past ten years, I’ve developed arthritis in my hands, and it hurts to play challenging music for more than a few minutes. But I used to play the piano. Mostly for myself.

I took lessons for almost eight years. Twice a year my teacher would stage big recitals in one of the theaters in Seattle, and I’d have to go on stage and play whatever 6- or 7-page number it was she’d picked out for me. This may come as a surprise to those who know me, but, in all honesty, I’m actually rather quiet and shy until I get to know people. And I didn’t know more than four or five of those several hundred people sitting out there. I enjoyed playing the piano, but I really preferred to do it down in the basement where I could be by myself.

When I got into junior high, I started singing in choir. That I didn’t mind doing, because it wasn’t just me up front by myself. I continued on into high school, singing in both the boys’ glee club and the mixed choir. But I kept my piano playing to myself.

At the beginning of my junior year, a honey-blonde piano player my age named Marlys moved to our area from Wichita, Kansas, and immediately became the accompanist for our choir. She was good. Then one day early in my senior year, Marlys was absent from school. I don’t to this day know how the choir director knew, but he called on me to come down and accompany in her place. We were singing the “Lacrymosa” from Mozart’s Requiem. After a little hesitation, I went down. And we rehearsed “Lacrymosa” for the full fifty-minute period.

Because of my shyness, I had always felt rather awkward around girls. Truth be told, I never dated in high school. So after practice that day, I was very uncomfortable when one of the senior altos came up to talk to me. She was one of the more popular girls in school; in fact she was one of the varsity cheer leaders. She smiled at me, and said, “You really played the piano well!” Embarrassed and grasping for something to say, I smiled and said…...”I know it!”

Of course, the look on her face told me that the crown she had just finished placing on my head was now down around my feet. I think that was the first experience I had had with the lesson Paul may have been trying to teach in Col 4:6, where he said, “Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every (wo)man.“ The point I wish to make (and I have to admit to having had a rather slow learning curve on this one) is that we have to be so very careful about what we say to others and how we say it, especially with the children who look up to us teachers with such admiration.

Truth is, I had done well. In fact, for a concert later that year, Marlys and I worked up a four-hand accompaniment to “Lacrymosa” that really went over well. And I really didn’t mean to sound proud. But there was certainly a more diplomatic way to receive a cute cheerleader’s compliment. She turned without speaking and went on down the hall. I stood there and didn’t say anything. I mean, even after forty plus years, I’ve not really thought of a suitable follow-up.

I pray your day today goes much better than mine did that day.

Dr. G

But I Didn't Hear You

I was in the seventh grade at the time, back when even seventh-graders got an afternoon recess. A bunch of us kids in Mr. Van Zee’s classroom (see posting A Ready Answer) had established an ongoing, vigorous game somewhat modeled after the game “Capture the Flag.” At least, that is the best I remember it. I was co-captain of one of the two teams (armies) with a red-head named Nancy. We’d often spend a few minutes at lunch-time planning our strategy for the afternoon.

One day during the skirmish, our squad hadn’t fared too well. So, as we went in after recess, Nancy suggested that I come over to her place after school for a thorough planning session. Sounded good to me! So I dashed the short distance home on my bike, said Hi to my mother hurriedly, dropped my school things in the living room, and took off for Nancy’s place.

Nancy lived on the shore of Lake Burien. Her family had a row boat, cat-tails to explore, and a nice, shady lawn sloping down from the house to the lake. So Nancy and I spent a couple of hours catching bullfrogs, rowing the boat and sitting on the lawn. We may have even planned strategy. I don’t recall. However, supper time eventually came, and Nancy’s mother invited me to join the family for supper. Having missed supper at my own home without permission before, I decided I better call Mom first. I remember my mother’s two sentences: “Where have you been? Get home right now!” Which I did.

On arriving home, I found my parents in the backyard. They were not happy with me. My mother asked why I had taken off without permission, especially when she’d told me to wash up because the family was going to go out to a restaurant for supper. Oops! I assured my mother that I hadn’t heard her, but she explained that I had been standing right in the doorway when she told me.

Have you ever been so preoccupied with your own plans, that you don’t hear God telling you His plans for your life? I’m not talking about downright, intentional ignoring, here. I mean, so engrossed in something you want to do, that God can’t break through unless He knocks you off your horse on the way to Damascus? My mother didn’t knock me off a horse, but she did have a paddle I was acquainted with. I’d met it several times.

How easy it is to get sidetracked. Are we able to hear Him when He calls us softly? Do we try to keep our ears open to hear His instructions? Christ has said that His sheep hear His voice, and follow Him. Can you hear Him? With a voice of love He calls us.

Perhaps you’ve seen the billboard or bumper sticker, purporting to be God speaking: “Don’t make me come down there.” May we each make listening for His voice our first priority. Instead of playing Capture the Flag, let us earnestly work on Capture the Crown.

Don’t let Satan put either bullfrogs or “redheads” in your way.

Dr. G

(Nancy died her freshman year in college of a brain tumor. She was a good friend)

Put it in His Hands

Phil 4:4-7 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. NIV

I would like to share with you a paragraph from my favorite chapter of one of my favorite books:

“Keep your wants, your joys, your sorrows, your cares, and your fears, before God. You cannot burden Him; you cannot weary Him. He who numbers the hairs of your head is not indifferent to the wants of His children….His heart of love is touched by our sorrows, and even by the utterance of them. Take to Him everything that perplexes the mind. Nothing is too great for Him to bear, for He holds up worlds. He rules over all the affairs of the universe. Nothing that in any way concerns our peace is too small for Him to notice. There is no chapter in our experience too dark for Him to read; there is no perplexity too difficult for Him to unravel. No calamity can befall the least of His children, no anxiety harass the soul, no joy cheer, no sincere prayer escape the lips, of which our heavenly Father is unobservant, or in which He takes no immediate interest.” E. G. White, Steps to Christ, p. 100

During the coming week, associates may pass you by hurriedly without noticing your presence. Your computer may stop functioning. THAT student may get on your nerves. It may start raining, and you’ll have forgotten to close the windows of your car. Things may happen that could drive you to distraction. Perhaps you’ve already suffered a great loss or disappointment in your life. Give it to Jesus!

No matter how rough your road may seem right now, it is my hope that you will be able to think back to this message, praise God, and move on with assurance, peace, and the knowledge that God understands: in spite of being ignored by others, God loves you; cars dry out; computers-who needs them; and that child’s parents will have to answer to a higher authority some day. And He understands loss and grief. Put it in His hands.

Have a great weekend.

Dr. G

That Blessed Hope

Titus 2:13 “Looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”

My wife and I are finally empty nesters. When our daughter got married, she and her husband lived downstairs in our basement apartment for almost two years. So even though she had her “own” place, she really hadn’t left the nest. Then they moved to Alabama, and our son went to Lincoln, Nebraska for a year. But he wasn’t really “gone”; he came home during several of his breaks. His bed and other furniture,much of his clothes, and many of his instruments were still in his room. And he returned home for his final two years of schooling.

Now he has moved to Michigan where he is attending the seminary. But this time he is gone. He took his bed, desk, bookcases and almost all of his instruments. When he finishes next year, he will be assigned to a church in Florida. My wife doesn’t make a good empty-nester.

We live for phone calls or e-mails from both of our children, and are delighted to hear the latest news. Those who know us are aware of the fact that we make frequent trips out of town to see “one of the kids”. It is so nice to see them, but it is a great delight to have them return home.

One Friday, we got home from our teaching jobs about 5:30. We had had errands to do, and stopped by the local Subway for supper. No sooner had we walked into the house than our son called on the phone. My wife was so happy to hear his voice. She went into the bedroom to sit on the bed while she talked. After a short time, she thought the reception was changing, and she asked if he was losing the signal on his cell phone. No, he assured her. His phone was working fine. But it still sounded strange to her. Then she turned around, and he was standing in the room behind her. She let out a shriek, the phone went flying, and she ran to give him a hug. He had driven all night to pull a sneak surprise visit on us. It was so great to see him, even if it was only for a little more than 24 hours.

Christ promised the disciples in John 14 that He would return for His followers. In Acts, as He ascended, the angels again promised that He would return. In Revelation, He promises us He is coming. And both Paul and Peter refer to the second coming several times. As I saw my wife’s reaction when she turned around and saw her son, my mind was drawn to thoughts of the day when Christ, God’s Son and our Redeemer, returns. What joy there will be in the hearts of those who are awaiting His return. We have this hope that keeps us going; as Paul calls it, the blessed hope.

Have a great day and a fabulous weekend.

Dr. G

It's All About Meeting Their Needs

You’ve probably seen them at times while passing through the house plant sections of Lowes’ or Home Depot. I’ve even seen them a few times at Sam’s. You may have even bought one because it was so attractive. The blossoms last a long time, then they fall off, and the plant just sits there. Maybe once a year it adds a leaf. Or you may see some silvery-green roots creep out of the potting material and over the edge of the pot. But new blossoms? May pigs fly!

What I’m talking about are the showy orchid plants, with their white, pink or purple blossoms. Large, moth-like blossoms. They are derived from the genus Phalaenopsis. The simple instructions on the tags would lead one to think that the plants can hardly wait to bloom again. Sort of like teaching – it sounded so easy in the education classes.

The students at my school will begin classes on Friday, August 10. Most were at school briefly today for orientation – finding their classrooms, meeting their new teachers, and watching their parents fill out even more forms.

Each student is a plant, just waiting to bloom. When they walk into your classroom, you wonder what color their blossoms will be. Will they struggle to put out a few simple blossoms, or will the stuff just come pouring out of them? And after the initial blooming period, can you keep them blooming, or get them to bloom again? Have you found the secret yet (just like each plant has its preferred conditions for blooming, so each child has his or her special conditions). Usually, one has to experiment a little to discover just what each one needs.

What the orchid tags don’t mention is that to trigger bud formation, the plants must have just the right lighting conditions. Yes, intensity of light is crucial when the lights are on. But even more crucial is the need for continuous, uninterrupted darkness. As in almost total darkness. Twelve hours of it each night. I mean, with no interruptions at all. Even light coming in the window from the street-light can inhibit bud setting. Turning the light on for a moment to check the thermostat can do it. Is it any wonder that the once-beautiful plant sitting on your coffee table hasn’t bloomed since you brought it home?

How did I find this out? I applied considerable effort, did a lot of detailed reading, and gained much experience. You see, while I was in grad school, I used to raise Phalaenopsis orchids. I had over forty plants, with many in bloom at once. Now, I only have eight plants, but a week ago, there were six of them in bloom on our fireplace hearth. And did I mention that the Lord helped out a lot? I am just an under-gardener!

Successful teaching works the same way. Do a lot of reading, find out what works for other"gardeners", experiment some. Give those children the “light” they need. And go to the Lord often. You, too, can be a successful gardener of fertile minds!

Sometimes being in the dark can be a good thing.

God Bless!

Dr. G

A Ready Answer

I have no idea what got into me that day. I just thought it would be something fun to do, and I thought I could get away with it. I was in the seventh grade, and I was slated to have a one-hour piano lesson after school. My teacher, Mrs. Parmele, came out to her daughter’s house in the suburbs of Seattle three days a week to give lessons. The other two days she was at her studio in downtown Seattle. I had been taking lessons from her for six years, and we got along quite well, even though she was aware of my dislike for recitals. We lived about ten minutes from her daughter’s house, so my mother would pick me up after school, drop me off for the lesson, and then return at the end to pick me up. There was always another student waiting for a lesson when I finished, so I was usually able to get into the car without communication between Mom and Mrs. Parmele.

My classroom teacher that year was probably the best teacher I had prior to going to college. Mr. Van Zee (his Dutch parents had come to the US after the First World War) had a way with kids just entering their teens, and he was able to get even the most reluctant student to put forth an effort to learn. Those who did their lessons well and finished early were allowed to work on personal extra-credit projects related to our lessons during class.

Somehow, he left me alone all afternoon that day. And did I make use of my time! First of all, I thought up every question I could think of that Mrs. Parmele might ask me. I moved on to various comments she might make. For each of these, I prepared a hand-written answer/response of my own. I can only imagine that Mr. Van Zee didn’t notice what I was doing. Maybe he didn’t see me (he had lost his left eye to an errant BB from his older brother’s gun at age 14). Anyway, by the time school was out, I had my shirt pocket stuffed with slips of paper to be pulled out as necessary. The first one to be handed to Mrs. Parmele stated that I had a bad case of laryngitis, and could not talk.

The lesson actually went quite well. The next recital was months away, and I was playing mostly music that I really liked. But the occasional question or comment did come my way, to be followed by a pause as I went through my pocket looking for an appropriate slip of paper. She would read it, and we’d move on. Finally the end of the hour came; I picked up my music and headed for the car. I had pulled it off! Unfortunately, Mrs. Parmele decided to come out to the car to make sure my mother took me to the doctor for my laryngitis. Shortly thereafter I was encouraged to give her a profuse apology. Mom didn’t take to my prank very well.

Down through the years, my mother has frequently revisited this incident, both with my wife and, in their turn, my children (most recently during the past Thanksgiving break). I, too, have thought back on it a number of times, especially as I’ve gotten to know the Lord and the scriptures better. How diligent I had been in working on useless slips of paper that day. Since then, have I been as diligent in preparing to give answers to others as they ask about the hope I’ve learned about and learned to love? Do I still let Satan put things in my path that I’m quite willing to pick up and get distracted by? I am still learning and I hope that I never let him “give’ me laryngitis when the opportunity comes to let others know about our wonderful Savior.

“But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.” 1 Peter 3:15

Have a blessed day!

Dr. G

When Is A Good Time?

The young man moved slightly in response to the pain. The effort brought forth a low moan, it hurt so much. His father moved a little closer, wishing there were something he could do. But there wasn’t. His son was dying. And it all seemed so unfair. In the prime of life, losing his life like this as the few short hours passed.

The father was alone in his thoughts. He remembered when the son
was but a lad – such a good son, always obedient. Never running with the other boys of the neighborhood, he could always be counted on to be there when he was called. And so good-natured – always smiling. As he had entered his teen years, perhaps not a few mothers in town had eyed him with their daughters in mind. He had that quality about him. But now that didn’t matter. He was so near death. What medicine was available had been offered, but really, it wouldn’t have done any good. In fact, in this case, there was the possibility of tragic side-effects. So it had been turned down. The sorrow fell heavily on the father.

Then the chest finally rose for its last gasp, not really much more than a twitch. Suddenly the son was gone, and the father was left alone, with no one to comfort him. I mean, who could the Supreme Ruler of the universe turn to in His grief?

Many of us have lost loved ones – perhaps an aged grandparent, or maybe a father. Was it a sibling, dying an early death? Have you lost a child, perhaps even an infant? It all seems so unfair; but God understands unfair. God understands being alone in a loss. God understands grief and pain.

In our realm, we hear terms like dying prematurely, an early death, an unfortunate death, or an untimely death. I ask you, what is a mature death? Or a fortunate death? Or a timely death? Is there a good time to die?

I would suggest that, when we take in the bigger picture, there is no “good” time to die. Yes, ironically, death is part of life. It sounds strange, though, doesn’t it? That’s because it is. You see, it was never intended to be so. Death is an intruder, an interloper, a virus snuck in by sin, used by Satan to separate us from God. Left as it is, in fact, it will be the final separation caused by sin. But it need not be feared or loathed.

I encourage you, those who’ve lost loved ones, not to focus your eyes on the grave where you’ve laid your precious ones. Instead, look up. Up, past that other grave. Up, even higher. Look into heaven. See that the Son who suffered so greatly, who died such a terrible death, has been reunited with the Father who felt such anguish at His Son’s death. A resurrection has taken place. God’s done it before, and He’s promised to do it again, but on a much larger scale. Some golden daybreak....

You can choose to be reunited, not only with the earthly parent you’ve laid to rest, but also with your Heavenly Father. Reunited, not only with that brother or sister of flesh and blood, but with our heavenly Older Brother. Reunited, not only with that child, that infant who died so young, but with the Son of God. He has promised; He can be trusted. Every one of us can participate. Only believe…only believe.

Dr. G

What's In It For Me?

It’s a common question underlying many human interactions. “What’s in it for me?”

If I do something for you, will you reciprocate? Am I motivated into being friendly to the neighbor so I can borrow his tools? Or is it the other way around? Am I friendly to the neighbor because he offers me the use of his tools?

It is so easy to get caught up in the game. Doing things in order to get things. Acting nice so we can get favors. Doing favors so we can get something we want in return. We get so used to doing it to one another that we probably end up trying to do it to God, too.

I would like for you to consider a passage from the Book of Psalms:
Ps 107:8-9 Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.

Notice the sequence of events. We are to give thanks because the Lord satisfies us. It isn’t the other way around, the Lord satisfying us because we praise Him. He has already done wonderful things for us; we owe Him much praise. Because He loves us, He will continue to satisfy. We can’t trade praise, behavior, offerings, or sacrifice in exchange for His love. It pre-existed us – His plan of salvation, His love-action was in place before either you or I were even figments of our parents’ imaginations. That should lead us to freely praise Him always; not for what we’ll get out of it, but because of what we already have. What a wonderful God to serve!

My tools are in the garage by the back door. Have a great day!

Dr. G

(My thanks go to Pastor Mike Goetz http://www.mgoetz.blogspot.com/ for the idea on this one. The grandfather clock was his story, too.)

Are You Making A Mess?

I received a call from my daughter a few months back. She wanted to relay a conversation she’d had with our granddaughter, who was about to turn four years old. The two of them were planning on going out for lunch together. Mother was picking things up in the living room; daughter Boo was in the tub. Mother hears considerable splashing going on in the bathroom.
“Boo, are you making a mess?”
“No, I’m not, Mother.”
“OK. Thank you, sweetie.”
Pause.
“Mother, would you define the word ‘mess’?”

We sometimes get so busy in our lives that we lose focus on what is expected of us as Christians. From time to time, the voice of the Lord penetrates our self-absorption, “Son (or Daughter), are you making a mess?”

It is so easy to glibly respond, “No, Father. Everything is going fine.” But when we take a closer look at our lives, we can see some problems hiding in the corner and, maybe, some water on the floor. That is when we begin to get a little worried. There is always the temptation to brave it out, and pretend that as far as we know, everything is fine. Our standing with Him is OK by our standards. Or, sometimes, we try to skirt the issue by trying to get Him to redefine “mess” in our favor.

How much better it is to be straightforward and say, “Father, I’ve made a mess of it again. Can you help me clean it up?” Not only is this the honest answer, but it always results in a closer relationship with Him who is always willing to forgive. In addition, who has a bigger mop and bucket to clean up whatever we’ve done? How wonderful to realize that we serve a patient and loving God!

God Bless!

Dr. G

Please, Boys, Don't Scream!

Human nature intrigues me, especially the different ways in which people can respond to the same thing.

A short while ago, our son-in-law and granddaughter, Boo, came for a visit. We took them to the Tennessee Aquarium in downtown Chattanooga. They currently have a good penguin display going on we thought she’d enjoy, and there is a big butterfly exhibit at the top of the new Marine building. She’s a little over four years old and is big on butterflies.

I’ve been with first-grade class field trips to the aquarium before, so I knew what to expect – attention darting from exhibit to exhibit with gasps of delight and awe, but with enthusiasm waning after about thirty minutes. But not Boo! She was enraptured with every display, full of curiosity, and willing to see it all.

There are several sites in the marine exhibit where a person (especially children) can enter into glassed-in portions that extend into the exhibit, or under the exhibit. She loved these, since they tend to give the impression of being in the water with the animals.

It was while she was in one of these, wowing at the clown fish and anemones, that she was joined by two slightly older boys. As soon as they were in the enclosure, they began hollering and horsing around. Viewing the exhibit wasn’t really on their agenda. In a kind but bold voice, Boo said, “Please, boys. Don’t scream. We’re in the middle of the sea.” There were two completely different responses to the same exhibit.

An event will someday take place here on this earth, and, again, there will be two completely different responses to it. A group of people will look upward in awe and great joy. Another will scream in terror, calling for the rocks and mountains to cover them. I want to be with the group that can say, “Please, boys. Don’t scream. It’s only my friend Jesus coming back for me.”

Won't you join me?

Have a great day.

Dr. G

Protect His Lambs

I’m sure anyone in education has come across them. We’ve probably all worked with them; no doubt we’ve all despaired of getting them to some semblance of grade level work. Some days it seems like you’re starting over anew yet again; after five months the Kindergarten child still only knows perhaps eight or ten sight words while the rest of the group has mastered 70+, or the fifth grader still can’t explain to you the difference between a noun and a verb. When you ask, it’s as though the concept is totally new. As a teacher, have you been there?

I teach English as a Second Language (ESL), and experienced this afresh one day last spring. I was administering the end-of-year placement test that all Limited English Proficient (LEP) students in Georgia must take. This was the child’s fourth year in an English speaking school. He’d received at least three years of ESL services. During the Written English section he was presented with a graphic showing several stages of a process studied on his grade level. He was asked to look at the graphic and write a short description of what was being shown. He had about 20 minutes to write his response.

After the time had passed, I asked him if he was finished. His paper was blank. He said he couldn’t think of anything to write. (It was a tightly scripted exam, and I could not give any hints). My heart goes out to children like this. What kind of future lies ahead without some sort of direct intervention? I can’t begin to imagine.

Later in the spring, this situation came to my mind again. But this time, I saw myself as the student, and our Lord was the teacher. Why do I have to repeat so many lessons over and over? Each day I get a new chance to apply what I’ve supposedly learned. I turn around as if I’d never faced the situation before, and I blow it again. Our Lord is so patient with me. He’s willing to try again and again. I’m so thankful He never gives up on me. I appreciate that so much. That is enough to make me want to keep trying.

How is it with God’s lambs that you and I work with, or rub shoulders with? Does the way we treat them give them hope? Are they willing to try again and again, because of the way we respond when they don’t make it? Or do we give up hope ourselves, and respond in a way that brings discouragement, fear, and doubt on the part of the struggler?

It may be a public school I teach in. Perhaps you, too, are in a position where you are not able to direct the eyes of your charges directly to Christ. But I am convinced that, regardless of our situations, we are still under-shepherds. It is our responsibility to PROTECT THE LAMBS!

Have a great day!

Dr. G

It's Later Than Ever Before

This past weekend, my wife and I visited a small church out in the country in the state of Michigan. The speaker was a young seminarian, a friend of our son. During his sermon, he told a short tale of a young lad. In essence, the boy could not sleep one night, and heard the grandfather clock in the hall strike ten o’clock. Tossing and turning, he heard it strike eleven o’clock. Still unable to sleep, he heard it begin to strike twelve o’clock. But something had gone wrong with the chiming mechanism, and the clock struck thirteen times. Amazed, the boy ran to his parents, exclaiming, “It’s later than ever before!”

As Christians, we have what Paul referred to as a blessed hope: that Christ will return for those who believe in Him. I can’t explain fully why He has delayed as long as He has, but it wouldn’t surprise me to discover that He is allowing Satan to fully expose the results of his rebellion, and the end result of his authority on this earth.

It says in Revelation that the devil went to make war with the remnant, those believing in the Lord at the end time. It also says that, except the time be cut short, the full rage of Satan would destroy the faithful. While we don’t know exactly when Christ will return, it sure appears that earth’s society is in a death spiral. Secular man believes that human nature is on the upward, evolutionary slope, progressing to higher and higher attainments. Just look around at what modern man has accomplished and is accomplishing with his improved version of society! Surely, the earth’s clock is chiming thirteen.

I am really looking forward to the day when, in all His glory, Christ returns surrounded by the clouds of angels. It is time to go home. It really is later than ever before!

Have a great day!

Dr. G

When the Waves Get Too Big

Matt 8:23, 24 “Now when He got into a boat His disciples followed Him. And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered with the waves. But He was asleep.”

Have you ever been in over your head and knew it? The disciples knew it that night (you know the rest of the story).

I received my Bachelor’s degree from Walla Walla College in the state of Washington. Eight days after graduation, I began work towards my Master degree from the same school. One thing that had attracted me to the school in the first place was their Rosario Beach Marine Research Station, situated at the southwestern tip of Fidalgo Island in the San Juan Islands. And that is where I was that summer.

One of the classes I took was Advanced Marine Invertebrates. There were five of us graduate students in the class, whom I will only identify by state of origin. Alberta had grown up on the plains of said province, and was returning to school during the summers to work on her MA (she was a high school biology teacher). California was working on his MA in hopes of gaining entrance to medical school. Ohio was in the same situation as Alberta. Oregon and I were planning on becoming college professors, and had been classmates for four years. Our instructor was only several years older than the two of us, having received his MA while we were sophomores. I will only say that we were as experienced in boating as was Matthew the tax-collector.

We took a four day field trip into the northern San Juans, at the southern end of the Strait of Georgia, which runs northerly between Vancouver Island and the British Columbia mainland. We wanted to collect deep water specimens for our class, and where we were headed the water is a little over 100 fathoms (600 feet) deep. We were on the station’s forty-five foot fishing boat, and the weather was great when we set out.

After a day's worth of sailing, we were in deep water. The net had been on the bottom for only a short while when a squall line hit us from out of the strait. I’d seen and been in large waves on Puget Sound before, but these came up so fast that we were caught quite unawares (Can somebody say we weren’t paying attention to what was going on around us? Thanks.) If the Coast Guard had boarded us, we would have been cited for numerous violations. None of us were wearing life jackets. Our radio did not work. Our small boat that would have served as a life boat was firmly lashed amidships.

As soon as the waves hit, Alberta grabbed a life jacket, climbed to the bench at the small flying bridge on top of the cabin and held on for dear life. The spray coming over the bow into her face was not exhilarating. In fact much of the salty liquid running down her face was tears. She was admittedly terrified.

The net was still on the bottom, acting much like an anchor. That wasn’t too bad, except to get it back onto deck using the short boom required pulling it up over the side of the boat. What we didn’t know was that the net was filled with a bunch of boulders. So when we started winching it up, it tended to give quite a list to the boat. California thought we were going to capsize, panicked, and grabbed an ax to cut the line to the net. Ohio became quite irate at this, and threatened California with bodily harm (he actually threatened to toss him overboard if he didn’t put the ax down.)

Oregon and I were so intent on getting our specimens that we continued to work the winch, becoming frustrated that no one was helping us. Our instructor was at the helm, trying to keep the boat from becoming broadside in the waves, and was at a loss as to what to do to help any of us. We were in over our heads and we knew it.

I am sure that we, each in our own way and time, reached the same point the disciples did two thousands years ago- we went to the Lord in great need of help. Oregon and I managed to get the net with its rocks and crushed specimens aboard and our instructor got the boat turned around. About an hour later we were in a safe harbor at Sucia Island.

People respond in different ways when faced with extreme situations. When you feel like panicking, the Lord is the answer. When you feel terrified, the Lord is the answer. When you feel like you’re becoming combative, the Lord is the answer. When you feel like you have to go it alone and nobody is there to help you, the Lord is the answer. When you are so intent on your own interests that you don’t know what’s going on around you, the Lord is the answer. When you’re expected to be in charge and know what to do, but you can’t think of anything to do, the Lord is the answer. If fact, when it is all boiled down to basics, the Lord is always the answer.

Now, where did I leave my foghorn?

Dr. G