Sneaking Home

The title might bring several pictures to mind. You had a ten o’clock curfew, and now you’re trying to sneak in at midnight without waking your folks. Or you had to work late, said you’d be home by eleven, and here it is 1:30 in the morning. Or maybe you were sent to bed without supper, and you snuck out your window to go to a friend’s house, and now you’re trying to sneak back in, hoping no one has missed you. But I’m not talking about that kind of sneaking home right now. Let me explain.

My wife and I were married in College Place, WA, down in the southeastern corner of the state. My folks lived in Enumclaw, on the other side of the Cascade Mountains, about 7 hours away at the time (I-90 had been built, but I-84 down the Columbia River Gorge was just under construction and I-82 was still on the drawing boards). But that didn’t stop my wife and me. We’d get in the car, and ring the folks’ doorbell without warning. My sister helped with several of these sneak attacks – once when my wife and I came from Columbus, Ohio by train, and twice when we headed to Glendale, AZ, where they now live (she lives across the street from the folks). Our son has continued the tradition, surprising us here at home with unannounced arrivals from Michigan.

There is one Bible character who wished to sneak home. He’d grown tired of wallowing with the pigs, and headed for home. He’d left there under less than favorable circumstances – in essence he’d told his father he wished him dead, took his money and left town. Of course, the father (the whole family, even the whole close-knit village) was humiliated, shamed and affronted. Now the boy is trying to sneak back to Dad’s place without having to face the barrage of insults, barbed missiles and taunts from the neighbors. But there is a problem.

Some time ago I had a colleague who’d spent several years teaching at a college in Beirut. Often, he’d take his camera and drive out to visit the small villages in Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. He and I discussed this Bible passage once, and he pointed out that, when it comes to Middle-Eastern villages (and probably everywhere else in the world), no one comes to a village unannounced. If the sharp-eyed children don’t alert the settlement, the uproar raised by the many dogs will. So our young lad knows it is going to be hard sneaking home. The villagers will get their chance at him.

But there is a third reason the boy can’t sneak home, and it is the one Christ mentioned – it’s the father. He’s been watching, day after day, praying, hoping to see his son. No, this son could never have snuck back home. The sharp-eyed kids probably started hollering, the dogs baying, but I can’t imagine them making a greater noise than the overjoyed father as he ran to meet the prodigal. And that isn’t the best part, at least in my mind.

If you’re familiar with the story, the father started hugging his son, and wrapped him in the best robe. Do you understand what the father was saying to the neighbors by this? In essence, “If you want to throw your missiles, your attacks, your barbs at my son, you’ll have to go through me.” Isn’t that just like God? When we return to His arms, He covers us with Christ’s robe of righteousness, and Satan’s accusations fall harmlessly around us. They can have no effect, because to get at us, the devil will have to go through our Father.

Reader, if you’re a prodigal son or daughter, (we’ve all been there at some point), go on home. Make peace as best you can. Your family still yearns for you, and will welcome you with open arms. And what about the spiritual prodigal son or daughter? Your Father is watching for you, too. The angels are just waiting to raise an uproar in town when you return.

And when at last the redeemed are taken to their heavenly home, ain’t gonna be nobody sneakin’ in. A gazillian angels are going to be praising, and singing, and halleluiahing, and …. This is going to be one you don’t want to miss. Let Him put His robe around you today.

God Bless!

Dr. G

Amongst the Bulls

I was about to turn three years old. My older brother was about four and a half. We were living in Austin, Texas at the time. Our mother had gone to a rodeo outside of town with some friends, and had taken us along. It was late spring and, while warm, not overly hot. When we arrived at the rodeo grounds, my brother and I were asleep in the back seat, so she decided to roll down the windows and let us finish our naps. She could see her car from the stands, so was not terribly concerned.

Some time later, a concerned voice came over the loudspeakers about a couple of blond-headed boys that had been found wandering back where the rodeo stock was kept. Could the parents please come claim them? Mom glanced over at her car, finding the back door wide open. My brother had awakened, got me up, and we’d gone off to find our mother, not knowing where we were headed.

Fortunately a couple of cowhands found us before we got into any of the animal pens. We were returned to a red-faced mother who looked like she’d had too much sun, although she’d been in the shade.

This story sort of reminds me of a passage found in Luke 2, where Christ has gone to Jerusalem with his parents for Passover. After they left for home, Mary and Joseph discovered the Boy wasn’t where they thought He was. Like my mother, they had not paid attention and lost sight of that which was precious to them.

Do I assume Christ will be where I left Him as I wander around, doing my own thing? Or do I risk waking up from a spiritual nap, not knowing where He is and “wander among the bulls”, oblivious to the danger? How important it is to constantly take care to make sure Christ is at our side, or, better yet, that we are constantly at His side.

May you have a wonderful, Christ-filled week! I'll be away from the computer for a few days. Y'all stay close to Him!

Dr. G

What's in Your Field of View?

Have you ever wished you had eyes in the back of your head? Most parents have had that thought at one time or another, as have the majority of teachers I know. I suspect even the mischievous child, in retrospect, has wished for such a thing. But none of us are so equipped.

The two eyes that birds and mammals possess are arranged so that the creatures have binocular vision toward the front. In other words, the fields of view of the two eyes overlap to provide at least some area in which there is depth perception. For humans (and most predators), the best vision occurs when the focal centers of the two eyes also overlap.

Generally speaking, the more likely the animal is to be a prey species, the more widely spaced on the head the eyes are, giving a greater total range of view. But this sacrifices the forward pointing binocular vision so that what remains involves mostly peripheral vision. As a consequence, whenever a chicken wants to get a close view of something, it must turn its head (you’ve heard the term, cocking one’s head) so that one of its eyes is pointing at the object to be studied.

There is one bird, however, that goes to the extreme, and serves as the exception to the rule. In the eastern forests of the US and southern Canada a member of the shorebird family can be found probing the soil and under leaves searching for grubs, insects and earthworms. Of course, I’m speaking of the American Woodcock. This is a chunky, short-legged bird with a long beak and bulging eyes. Now if I were a tasty morsel that kept my nose to the ground, I would like to be able to see what is above and behind me. And the Lord has arranged the woodcock’s eyes in such a way that it has limited binocular vision behind its head. Thus, when it is sticking its bill into the ground, the bird is able to watch the sky above for danger. But it can’t see the tip of its bill very well at all.

I would suggest that our spiritual vision serves us best when we focus it at what lies in front of us. Let’s say I have a tremendous burden. Truth is, our family is currently facing a difficult situation, and many of us spend long hours in prayer. So we can either stand here, looking at the problem, praying that the Lord will move this massive weight; or we can turn to face God, knowing that He is greater. I heard a pastor couple being interviewed on a TV program about a week ago. They are very supportive of intense prayer programs, prayer warriors, and intercessory prayer. And the wife made a statement that really caught me attention.

She said, “We need to spend less time telling God how big our problems are, and more time telling our problems how big our God is.” Yes, we all have problems. Some involve grief, suffering and pain. But as this lady suggested, we need to take our eyes off the problem and put them onto God. To fail to do so would suggest that we believe the problem may be greater than God can handle.

But really, which is greater, the God who created and sustains the universe, or my problem? I can freely turn my back on the problem and place it firmly in God’s care. I like to think that my binocular vision is best used studying and admiring my wonderful God. I would encourage you, too, to turn whatever problem you’re facing over to the Savior. Look upon Jesus, and leave the problem-solving to Him.

Have a great day.

Dr. G

On Staying Put (Or, Do What Your Mother Says!)

1 Kings 19:9 And he came thither unto a cave, and lodged there; and, behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and He said unto him, “What doest thou here, Elijah?”

Between the ages of four and eight, I lived with my family in the small town of Belgrade, Montana, about 10 miles west of Bozeman. Belgrade had a few stores in which you could buy essentials, but to really go shopping, one had to go to Bozeman, where there were real stores like JCPenney, Montgomery Wards and Sears Roebuck. So it was that, one summer day before I turned six, we went to town. My mother was going to get some dresses at Penney’s while our father went up the street a few blocks to get a haircut. Of course, my brother and I got to stay with our mother.

The ladies’ department was in the basement of the store. There was a wide stairway going down, with a large landing about half-way. We were instructed to sit there quietly while Mom looked at and tried on dresses. She, as one might guess, will state otherwise, but my brother and I maintain to this day that we knew nothing about fitting rooms at the time. So it was that, after sitting quietly for a while and amusing one another, we glanced up to look for her. She was gone!

Thinking rationally was not something my brother had learned in first grade, and I hadn’t been to school yet. So we thought that the best thing to do was to take matters into our own hands. We didn’t start crying. Nor did we trust any of the adults around us (or at least we didn’t think to ask for help). What we did was to agree that we’d better go get Dad and tell him that Mom had disappeared. Up the stairs we went and out onto the sidewalk.

Surely the Lord was watching over us as we tore up the street about four blocks to the barbershop. I’m not sure how we knew where it was. Perhaps we’d been there before: I don’t recall. However, since our father knew we were with our mother, and he had learned about the relationship between time and buying dresses, he was quite shocked to see us burst in the door of the barbershop so soon.

“What are you doing here? Where’s your mother?” he asked. And of course, we were quick to tell him how Mom had disappeared and forgotten us in the store.

The barber finished the haircut as rapidly as he could and, with us in tow, our father headed for the scene of the mystery. I can clearly remember, even to this day more than 50 years later, the expression on my mother’s face as we met her about two blocks down, in a crosswalk in the middle of the street. I don’t know if my mind is repressing something, but I don’t remember any punishment. But I do know that was the last time the two of us got lost while shopping.

There are several things I’ve been able to draw from this experience. First of all, as we teachers deal with the children in our care, we have to remember that little minds don’t always process things the way an adult mind does. Imaginations can leap to conclusions or positions that a mature mind would never consider. Nor do the children have all the experiences and knowledge to draw on when faced with a new, perhaps startling, situation. So compassion and patience are truly necessary on our part.

In his epistles, the apostle John more than once refers to the Christian as a child. This connects with the second thing I’ve drawn from what happened on that day long ago. We still have much to learn in our spiritual lives, and the only truly safe approach is to listen closely to the word of our Heavenly Father. We must learn to trust Him so that, even if we lose sight of Him for a moment, we know that He is still near, and has not abandoned us. When He bids us do something, we should do so, rather than, unthinkingly, take off like wild rabbits, ending up where He has to ask us, “What doest thou here?”

Another thing illustrated by this experience is that when you perceive that you are in danger, head for your Father. And finally, He does love us and watches over us, and accepts us back even when we make big mistakes.

What a great family we belong to!

Dr. G

Just What Was Needed

Our granddaughter, Boo, was approaching three years old when she came running to her mother, who was working on the computer. “I’m sick,” came the small voice.

Knowing that her daughter had seemed perfectly fine just a short while earlier, our daughter picked Boo up for some questioning.

“Does your head hurt?” “No,” came the reply.
“Does your tummy hurt?” Again the response was, “No.”
“Does your throat hurt?” “Nope,” Boo answered quickly.
“What do you need?” Mommy asked.
“Hot chocolate. It would make me feel good inside.”

Sometimes in the morning, our daughter would take a few minutes and share hot chocolate with our granddaughter. It was sort of a special time together. But Boo had been fighting the sniffles, and her mother didn’t want to give her any more sugar at that time. So instead, she just spent a few minutes holding and talking with Boo about various things.

Shortly, Mommy asked, “Are you still sick?”
“No,” came the reply. And Boo slid down and ran off to play with her stuffed animals. Of course, what she had wanted all along was some attention. Her love cup was running low.

How many of the children we teachers work with come to us in the morning with their love cups running low? We may not be able to give them all a cup of hot chocolate, and it certainly wouldn’t do to take them each in our laps and chat with them for a few minutes. But we can embrace them with loving words, smiles and kindness. It is so easy to refill love cups that are running low.

And what about our neighbors, coworkers, or even strangers we meet on the streets? Can we find ways to fill their “love cups”, too? Isn’t that what the Christian walk is all about?

It is interesting to note that Boo felt a need, and thought it was hot chocolate that she needed. She didn’t recognize that what she needed was something deeper. Sometimes we can be like that when we go to the Lord. Romans 8:26 says, in part, “For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us.”

We have a loving God who knows how to fill our love cups. Sometimes he may give us what we think we need; other times, He’ll simply smother us with love. In all cases, He gives us just what we really need.

Hot chocolate, anyone?

Dr. G

In His Presence

Have you ever had one of those days? It’s cold, gray and rainy. Maybe one of your friends lost their mother over the weekend. Or you plate at work is overflowing, and you’re not sure where to start? Maybe one of your offspring is having boyfriend or girlfriend problems, and they’ve come to you for advice. And you were at a loss for anything constructive to say, and you feel you let them down? Or maybe someone in the family just lost their job? In the morning you sort of lie there, wondering why you should get out of bed because discouragement or worry is weighing you down. Not sure which way to turn?

David must have had days like that. So many of his psalms are full of complaints and cries for help from God. But I like what he says in Psalm 16:11: “You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

From the human standpoint, what lies ahead in our lives may look insurmountable. But the path of life goes through that mess, and God has promised to show us that path. His presence will be found along that path, so as we travel it, regardless what surrounds us, we can have fullness of joy. So don’t let the gloomy clouds get you down. Remember His promise that He’ll be there, and go forth with joy on your face. Remember, many of those walking by us today are looking to us for a ray of happiness. Be prepared to share it with them.

Have a Sonny day, even at the center of the storm!

Dr. G

Had Your Mind Scanned Lately?

I sat down at the computer tonight to check my e-mails, and realized it had been a few days since I had updated my virus protection. So I decided to download the recent updates and then do a complete scan of the system. Fortunately, the scan turned up only one low-level threat; someone was trying to attach a tracking cookie. But I have noticed that, ever since I started posting things on this blog, that the number of attempts to attack the computer has soared. To date, fortunately, no viruses have gotten through the defenses. We have, though, started receiving e-mail messages from folks we’ve never heard of, and we dump them out of hand. Hope we’ve not offended anyone, but we don’t want our hard drive corrupted.

Have you noticed how similar the situation with the need for protection of the computer and its hard drive is to the necessity to protect the mind? We have to be so vigilant against Satan’s attempts to get thoughts, ideas, pictures, his viruses into our system. He is so adept at hiding his evil in such innocent looking packages – just like the computer viruses hidden in apparently innocent attachments to e-mails.

Just like there are security programs to protect computers, there is a “program” to protect our minds. Also, there are programs and methods available to clean up the hard-drive if it becomes infected. Again, there is the counterpart for our minds (truth be told, the Apostle Paul points out that we “come off the shelf” already infected: we are all sinful by nature). But the “programs” intended to keep us cleansed of the sin virus are of no value if they are not updated systematically and applied to the hardware (our minds) consistently.

May your day be free of sin-viruses and attempts to hack into your minds. I so look forward to that day when the Lord will eliminate the source of such things.

Dr. G

Snake Dancing

Ps. 91:12-13. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash you foot against a stone. You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra; the young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.

The college I attended is not far from the foothills of the Blue Mountains in southeastern Washington State. Like the Cascade Mountains, the Blues are largely hard volcanic basalt rock. So river valleys typically have numerous rocky crags and cliffs projecting from their slopes.

One afternoon in the early spring of my freshman year, two friends and I went for a hike up the South Fork of the Walla Walla River, just across the border into Oregon. Like most spring days in that part of the country, the sky was blue and the sun was shining, although it was quite cool. After driving up the river as far as we could go, we decided to climb up the northern face of the valley (the one bathed in sunlight) to see if we could spot any of the elk herds that come down out of the mountains to winter in the lower elevations. There was no trail, so we each started climbing up the slope as best we could, working our way around and over boulders. Eventually we came to a rather large abutment which had several narrow fissures and leads through which we each could work.

I was about halfway up, climbing with hands and feet, when I realized that my right foot was standing on something sort of soft. Thinking it rather peculiar, I looked down, only to see that I

was standing on a moderate-sized Northern Pacific Rattlesnake. As the passage above states, the angels bore me up from that point in a flash, without dashing my feet. In fact, one of my companions, not knowing of the circumstances yet, jokingly asked if I had even touched the rocks during the last part of my ascent. In retrospect, I came to realize that, while climbing, I had grabbed the rock no more than a foot from the snake, and my face and body had passed within the same distance as I ascended.

One asks, why didn’t the snake strike? There are two explanations. First and foremost, I believe, was that the Lord protected me as He had promised. The second had to do with the time of year. While the day was sunny, it was early spring and there had been frost on the hills that morning. Snakes are “cold-blooded”; that is, they derive their body heat from the environment, and are slow moving if not warmed up. (A trick of nature photographers who want to get a “good” pose of a cold-blood animal is to put it into a refrigerator overnight before shooting pictures. When taken out, the animal can be posed and will sit quite motionless for a good period of time). Apparently my snake hadn’t warmed up to a useful (to it!) temperature yet.

During the next few years, there were a number of times that my brother and I went in search of rattlesnakes. But we always used snake sticks or nets to handle the snakes. I’m not convinced that the text I quoted gives me permission to tempt Mr. Serpent (the devil). While I am committed to serving the Lord, He will send his angels to protect me from and during encounters with the devil which are not of my own making. When I intentionally step on the snake, I am being presumptuous. It is so important to keep myself where the Lord would have me be, think and see what the Lord would have me to think and see, rather than to blunder off on my own, assuming there is no danger. Satan isn’t in the refrigerator yet!

Have a great day!

Dr. G

Photo of Northern Pacific Rattlesnake Copyrighted 2005 by Jeremiah Easter

What's the Water Doing in Your Life?

It was while I was attending The Ohio State University working on my doctorate that I first became aware of the nickname of the University of Tennessee football team – The Vols. But up where I was, the term was pronounced (perhaps derisively) as the “Voles”, which would refer to several species of short-tailed meadow mice, as any biologist worth their salt would recognize. I couldn’t figure out why anyone would choose such a nickname. Where do nicknames come from, anyway?

The State of Washington is referred to as the Evergreen State. There are probably several sources for such a moniker. First of all, the great forests of that region are made up almost entirely of cone-bearing evergreens – firs, hemlocks, cedars, pines, spruces, Douglas fir. So the Evergreen State makes sense. At the same time, the moist air blowing in off the Pacific Ocean delivers a significant amount of precipitation, producing a lush green hue to the area. It isn’t uncommon to find even roofs covered with moss in some areas. So, again, the Evergreen State it is.
However, I wonder if those who chose the nickname ever got far beyond the crest of the Cascade Mountains, which separate western Washington from eastern Washington. You see, the 6,000 to 10,000 foot peaks of the Cascade Range wring almost all the moisture out of the eastward flowing air masses, so that eastern Washington is a veritable desert. When the settlers came, it definitely was brown and black, due to the large outcroppings of volcanic basalt rock. The Columbia River bisects most of Washington on a north-south line at the edge of the eastern foothills of the Cascades, effectively serving as a major demarcation line between
forest and desert.

During the last ice-age, a tongue of ice came down from Canada into western Montana, blocking water flow into the Columbia basin from Missoula northward and eastward. Eventually, the ice dam gave way and a tremendous torrent of water flowed over the basalt plateau of eastern Washington, gouging and eroding in such a way that, today, the area is referred to as the scablands (Some geologists suggest up to a hundred such floods may have occurred). In any case, the area was left dry, devoid of much soil, hot in summer and cold in winter. Not much use as the settlers found it.

Because the land is mostly flat, with few trees, the wind blows almost continuously. As a result, what soil was left by the floods in the center of the state has been blown into great deposits of silt in the more eastern portions of the state and on into west-central Idaho. (The picture below shows a gulley carved by an irrigation ditch that broke its banks west of Walla Walla, Washington. There are over 37 different layers of beautiful, rock-free dirt visible). The soil was rich, but dry. Covered with sage brush, some clump-grass and prickly pear cactus. A few settlers were successful with dry-land farming of wheat, but not much else could be done, except maybe run a few cattle per acre.

Then in the late 1930’s a great reclamation effort was put forth by the Federal Government. Large dams were built on the Columbia and Snake Rivers, developing long, deep lakes in the gouged terrain. The dams produced electricity and waterways for transportation so that, today, barge traffic can reach all the way to Lewiston, Idaho. But what was there to transport?

The lakes have been tapped for irrigation purposes. When the water became available, the Methow River valley and the valleys around Yakima and Wenatchee began to produce the apples, peaches and cherries for which Washington is known. To the east, where the wind-deposited loess lies, there sprang up wheat, potatoes, peas, lentils, alfalfa, and, more recently, numerous grape arbors. All that was needed was the water.

The scriptures describe the human heart much as a scabland, calling it deceitfully wicked, unable to produce anything good. Nothing of value can grow out of it. But the Lord has promised to change and water our hearts with the Living Water. In Galatians 5:22 we find the fruit listed that the well-watered heart, not can, but will produce. What a bounty!

The Lord told the children of Israel that He was taking them to a land of milk and honey, where bountiful crops were theirs for the taking. May we serve as a bountiful land to the children of God, whom the Lord is surely bringing to us daily. All it takes is the Water.

Now, go play in the garden!

Dr. G

How's the View?

Puget Sound is an arm of the Pacific Ocean that reaches into much of Western Washington. It has many islands, including a northern cluster known as the San Juan Islands. A number of the islands in the sound have state parks on them. A few of these parks are on islands close enough to shore that you can reach them by bridge. Others can be reached via foot, bike or car if one takes a ferry boat out of the town of Anacortes. Then there are a few that can only be reached if you have your own boat.

In late spring when I was about 11 years old, our family went on a four-day camping trip to Moran State Park on Orcas Island. Orcas is one of the larger islands in the San Juans, and is served by the international ferry that runs between Anacortes, Washington, and Sydney, BC, on Vancouver Island. The park has a number of lakes and four or five campgrounds.
The park also has Mt. Constitution, the top of which can be reached by car or trail. From the top, one has a panorama that is absolutely beautiful. To the southwest, across the Straits of Juan de Fuca, the snow-capped Olympic Mountains stand boldly in the sky. To the north are emerald green islands stretching into the distant Straits of Georgia between Vancouver Island and the British Columbia mainland. To the east lie the North Cascades, with two dormant, snow-capped volcanoes, Glacier Peak and Mt. Baker. To the south lies the channel of Puget Sound with its many islands. At the end of the sound, about 150 miles away, lies Mt. Rainier.


The campground we were at was on the larger lake, and had a concession that rented rowboats. Our father rented one for us. The second morning there, my older brother and I went fishing.

In late spring the weather is usually pretty good in the Northwest, but as luck would have it, we two boys were outside so it was time to rain. However, we were enjoying ourselves so much that we didn’t really notice the rain. We fished all morning in the rain. We fished until after lunch in the rain. When our mother finally got our attention from the shore, she was not in a good mood. She didn’t like camping in the rain; she didn’t like cooking in the rain; she didn’t like taking care of our little sister in the rain; and she didn’t like her boys out in the rain all day. What a different perspective on the day! We were having so much fun that we didn’t care if it rained, even though we didn’t catch anything (including colds).

As I’ve grown older and gone more places, I’ve learned at least two lessons from this experience. First, the view from a mountaintop depends on the situation. Mt. Constitution is only 2,049 feet high. With the stone observation platform, you might be able to stand close to 2,100 feet above sea level. Now, if that mountain had been surrounded by 6,000 foot peaks, the view wouldn’t have been all that great. But since the nearest peak that is taller than Mr. Constitution is some 25 to 30 miles away, the view is what it is. Too often we’re faced with a 2,100 foot problem, and all we can see are the 6,000 foot peaks Satan throws up around us. If we can remember that Christ promises that His grace is sufficient for us, the view will be so much better. Our perspective of situations is influenced by the setting we have pictured in our minds.

Secondly, when our family discusses this camping trip, we have totally different remembrances. Our mother remembers the dismal weather. My brother and I don’t remember anything about dismal weather. We do agree it was gray that day, and that we enjoyed seeing mist rising from the lake. We simply remember the fun we had. Perhaps at that point, we were applying Paul’s approach to our situation – we’d decided to be content in all situations. All too often, our perspective of situations is influenced by our attitudes. And this reminds me of a point I learned from a statement written by one of my favorite authors.

In a passage depicting the ransomed in heaven, she describes one of the saved approaching one of the heroes of the Bible (it may have been the apostle Paul), and asking him to tell the stories of all the tribulations he had gone through when he had lived on earth. The hero looked around at the beauty of heaven, the tears of joy on the many faces, and the crowd of people casting their crowns at the feet of Christ, and said, “Heaven is cheap enough.” In other words, from the perspective of earthly standards, we may have to go through terrible things; but from the perspective of the earth-made-new, we can hardly bring to mind the things that bothered us in that other life. If we can grasp that perspective in the here-and-now, it will help us tremendously when Satan assails us. Heaven is cheap enough! Heaven is cheap enough!

Could you please pass me that can of worms?

Dr. G

The Important Thing Is To Get To The Water.

When I was growing up in Western Washington, we’d sometimes take ferry trips across Puget Sound. Often we’d go from Seattle over to Bremerton. Maybe we’d go from Whidbey Island to Port Townsend. Or perhaps from Anacortes to the San Juan Islands. My older brother and I would always stand on the outside deck at the bow of the ferry, watching for anything living – lion’s mane jelly fish, seals, seabirds – if it was alive and moving, we were interested.

We’d frequently see members of a family of birds (Alcidae) that seem to fill the same ecological niche in the northern hemisphere that the penguins fill in the southern hemisphere (regardless what kids’ cartoons or advertisements may say, polar bears and penguins are not found together in nature). This bird family includes such birds as the puffins, murres, auks, and guillemots. Like penguins, these are (mostly) black and white birds which dive deep to catch fish. Being seabirds, family members tend to nest at the ocean’s shore – edges of cliffs or burrows in the turf at the tops of island cliffs are typical nesting sites.

One species of alcid we’d see from time to time as we crossed the water was the Marbled Murrelet. There was something different about this bird. Nobody knew where it nested. I can remember when I was a sophomore biology student in the mid 1960’s spending the summer at a marine field station on the southern tip of Fidalgo Island in Puget Sound. Several times I joined in on adventures involving climbing the slopes of loose rock above Deception Pass looking for crevices in which the birds might be nesting. None had ever been seen among the other alcids in their nesting colonies. Where the bird reproduced was a real mystery.

Then, in 1974, a logger cutting old-growth timber somewhere in the Northwest happened to find a strange nest on a larger branch of a giant tree. Mystery solved. However, the tree was not exactly close to the shore. And here begins the adventure. When it is time for the young to fledge, the parent must coax it off its perch to begin the first flight to the sea, where it will spend most of its life. I suspect most who read this will have seen pictures of the young sea turtles making their 50 yard dash across the sand for the relative safety of the ocean. This is the same story, but writ much larger. And while the turtles are admittedly exposed to marauding gulls, the young murrelet must fly from its nest an average distance of about 3 miles (5 kilometers), although there are reports of at least one nest having been found about 45 miles (75 kilometers) inland.

How does this relate to us in our daily walk? Well, just consider what that fledgling is trying to reach, and what it must go through to get there. It draws to my mind the story from the book of John, chapter 4, where Christ has offered the Samaritan woman some special water, and she asks, in verse 11, “Where then do You get that living water?” To which Christ, in verses 13 and 14 replies, “"Whoever drinks of this water [from the well beside which they were sitting] will thirst again, 14 but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life."

Are we as willing to fly as great a distance to that living water as the young murrelet is to get to the ocean? Yes, Christ offers it freely, but we must desire it greatly. We have to recognize that it, like the ocean to the murrelet, means our very lives spiritually. We can’t get it as long as we continue sitting on that tree branch in the middle of the forest.

You're cleared for takeoff. Have a great flight!

Dr. G

Who's Using Your Light?

My wife teaches at an elementary school for a county district. I teach at a similar school, but for the city district in the center of that county. I drop her off at her school on my way to work, since it is only about 15 minutes from my school, and not too much out of the way. Most of our route is on two-lane back country roads.

At one spot along the route, the road climbs over a gentle hill and turns slightly to the left at the top. A side road joins from the right at that point. And there is a rough spot in the road just as it starts back downhill. Since one's car is still climbing and not quite yet turned, the lights from the car don't delineate the rough spot very well. But I can usually pick it out well enough not to wake my wife as she catches a few last winks, since we both try to be at work by 7:00 a.m.

At that intersection, just where the road starts back downhill, there is a house with a five-globe light in the yard. It seems to be on almost all the time. But one day, it was not on. And I noticed that I could not pick out the rough spot in the road at all. I suddenly realized that all that time I had been using the light from the yard for navigation.

It is highly unlikely that the folks in that house leave the light on for the benefit of those traveling by on the road. In fact, they are probably unaware that their light even shines in such a way that it might be of help to others.

That experience got me to thinking about how a person should let their Christian light shine. How often have I helped others, being unaware that my light was being of service? On the other hand, how many times have others passed me by in darkness, struggling over rough spots because my light was not on and of no potential help?

It is my prayer that my light may be on continually. No doubt, there will be times that I know my light has been of benefit. But how many times, like the folks in that house on the corner, will I be - can I be - of benefit without my knowledge? The important thing is for my light to be on, not for me to know that people are noticing. May my actions and witness be Christian, not so I can be a Christian, but because I am a Christian. As Christ said, "Let your light so shine..."

God Bless!

Dr. G

Don't Go Nameless!

One of the things I really enjoy on a daily basis is unloading the buses in the morning at my school. It helps give me a fresh start to see a whole bunch of mostly smiling faces coming to school. Plus it is fun to call as many of them by name as I can. They enjoy gettting the attention, for the most part.

After unloading their buses, the drivers are supposed to go back through the bus to make sure everyone got off (not infrequently certain children are found sleeping in a back seat somewhere) and that the students took everything with them. And you can be sure that from time to time I get handed a variety of items: gloves coats, sweaters, book bags.

Not long ago the driver on Bus 17 handed me a nice book bag. I looked the bag over on the outside -no name. I checked all the pockets – no name. No papers. No nothing (my apologies to the grammarians amongst us). It was as clean as a whistle (whatever that means). Now, I can usually guess grade level of errant backpacks fairly well by size and theme. Not too many fifth graders have smaller book bags with Ninja Turtles or Barbie or Dora. You know what I mean.

That morning’s backpack was of the smaller variety, with the Ninja Turtle theme. So I guessed Kindergarten or First Grade. After the last bus had gone, I wandered down to the cafeteria, held the bag aloft and queried in my most official sounding voice, “Bus 17?” Quickly, Hector B. popped up from a table at the serving-line end of the room and said, “I know who that belongs to. It’s Nancy’s brother’s.” I asked if he knew the boy’s name, which he didn’t. But he said, “Nancy’s up there,” pointing to the other end of the room. I walked in that direction, saying, “Where’s Nancy? I’ve got your brother’s book bag.”

Of course, several girls’ heads jerked up, but only one raised her hand, somewhat sheepishly. I asked, “Is this your brother’s?” She nodded her head. “Is he here?” I asked. “No,” she said, “he didn’t eat breakfast today. He is in Mrs. P’s room.” She didn’t offer his name, and I didn’t ask.

I went upstairs to the First Grade hallway, and as I approached Mrs. P’s room I called out, again in my “official voice”, “Nancy’s brother?” and held up the book bag. As I expected, he immediately jumped up and claimed his belonging. I told him he needed to put his name on the bag, so the next time I wouldn’t have to call him “Nancy’s brother.” He agreed.

I don’t know why, but the incident took my mind to a text in the book of Revelation, Rev. 3:12. “He who overcomes, I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God, and he shall go out no more. And I will write on him the name of My God and name of the city of My God, the New Jerusalem, which comes down out of heaven from My God. And I will write on him My new name.”

When we consider the big picture, who cares about names on book bags, when we have the opportunity to have our Lord’s new name written on us? What a privilege to be so closely associated with Him that he is willing to write His name on us. There are lots of things to look forward to in our lives. This time of year, vacation quickly comes to mind as something we all desire, especially teachers and students. But to have Him write His name on you and me – now that is something to really look forward to and to smile about.

Anybody got a permanent marker handy?

Dr. G