T’was the week before Christmas in schools ‘round this nation,
Midst lots of clear evidence of our secularization.

Songs about snowflakes and riding in sleighs,
High blood sugar in children – my head’s in a daze!

There are songs about Kwanzaa and Hanukkah’s there, too –
But no songs ‘bout the Christ Child – I tell you it’s true.

We heard songs praising Santa and his little elves.
But songs about Jesus were kept on the shelves.

In the name of diversity, to avoid any fights
True Christian believers have yielded their rights.
(JWasmer Dec 18, 2008)

I read an editorial on the internet a few days ago. The writer had atten
ded a “Holiday” program at a local school the previous day. He described it as “90 minutes of music”. The editorial was aimed at the content of the music, and how cultural changes over the past 20 years or so dictated the thrust of the music. There were lots of songs about Santa, the winter season, silly songs about snowmen, Grinches, and reindeer – but not one song about Christ, or the true meaning of Christmas.

After the program, he asked the music director why there had been no Christmas carols included. “But there were!” replied the musician, who went on to name Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Winter Wonderland.

We sometimes see signs that urge us to “Remember the Reason for the Season.” Some folks continue to try. But in a nation with a populace that doesn’t really think of Christ the other 364 days of the year, what can you expect?

Scattered as we are, I want to tell each member of the Flock – Have a wonderful Christ-oriented Christmas. Say a prayer. Think of His birth. Let His love for you shine all over this earth! His day will come; then it will be our turn.

Dr. G

Soon and Very Soon...

A short time ago, maybe two weeks, maybe three, I was reading a publication from some organization. At this point in time, I don’t recall where I was, how I ended up reading the particular magazine, or even which organization had put it out. About the only thing I recall was a short article describing how some employees of the organization had been encouraged within the organization to develop their musical talents. Three of the individuals had gone on to become part-time professional performers, and the article discussed their successes. One had gone into bluegrass music; the other two had become competent in the blues.

Down through the years I’ve heard a number of blues musicians interviewed on the radio or TV. I’ve heard examples of blues music. It seems that the focus of both the singers and the songs sung is the great trials in life. Perhaps that is why the music genre is called “the Blues” – the tribulations of life always keeps one’s spirits down – as in “I really feel blue today.”

In the Bible, Martha and Mary of Bethany were experiencing “the blues” after their brother Lazarus had died. There was much lamenting and wailing, focusing on the loss and the disappointment brought on by the fact that the family friend, Jesus of Nazareth, hadn’t come in time to do something about their problem.

Even when Christ did arrive, both sisters kept looking over their shoulders, lamenting, “If only you’d been here…” The focus was on the problem, not the solution. In a sense, I think they were blaming Christ for their crisis. How short sighted, but how much so like many of us today. We’re in the blues by choice.

There is a gospel song I’ve heard a number of times. I’ve even sung along to snatches of it while driving down the highway. After reading that article in the magazine, I realized that the song I’ve mentioned contains the solution to the blues. The main thrust of the words is, in a nutshell, “No more problems there, we are going to see the King.”

Soon and very soon – we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah, hallelujah – we are going to see the King!

No more crying there – we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah, hallelujah – we are going to see the King!

No more dying there – we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah, hallelujah – we are going to see the King!

Perhaps, maybe, perchance, there may be a time and place for the blues in this life down here. But for my money, there is ALWAYS time to go see the King. And when that is the focus of our lives, hoo-boy!

Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!..........


Have an uplifting day!

Dr. G

What a Change

Let me tell you about a friend of mine. We’ll call him Sam. Sam grew up in a small town in the Bible Belt, but the Bible Belt didn’t grow up in Sam. Early on, Sam started drinking, and soon progressed on to various drugs. As he has mentioned several times in public gatherings I’ve attended, he ended up with several sons, none of which bear his name.

As Sam became more and more involved with drugs, he eventually began dealing drugs. It didn’t take long before he was the major supplier for this small town in the Bible Belt. He was well known in town for his activities, and eventually ending up serving time. Not just once. Not just twice. His record finally showed seven felony convictions. Yet he continued dealing drugs, and using anything he could get his hands on – recreational drugs, horse tranquilizers, prescription drugs cleaning supplies. If he could get it into his veins, he was willing to try it.

He’s not sure how he managed to hold any job, but he worked fairly regularly in one of the manufacturing plants in his town. On his breaks he could always be found out back using pot. He didn’t really have much of a future.
But there was a little old lady there that kept telling him that she was praying for him (that sort of thing happens in the Bible Belt). She would also offer him tapes of sermons to listen to from time to time. While he might take the tapes occasionally, he never did listen to them.

Then one day, Sam did happen to listen to one. And the Lord broke through the fog. He gave up dealing drugs, joined the twelve-step programs for both alcoholics and for drug addicts. He recognized his condition, and decided to do something about it.

During his somewhat frequent trips to the courthouse he’d become acquainted with a young Christian woman. He joined the church and married her. He was in a situation where not many people in town would offer him a job (most townsfolk considered him an employment risk). So he started his own lawn business. Did fairly well, and soon had a number of employees. At least during the summer he had employees. Once fall came around, lawns no longer needed mowing, and Sam needed something to bring money in for the winter. He decided he might try working for a mall security company. He made a call to one in a city about an hour away.

A man answered, and Sam introduced himself and said he was interested in working as a security guard. The voice on the other end said, “You wouldn’t happen to be the Sam I know up in Bible Belt Town, would you?” Immediately feeling apprehensive, Sam replied, “Yes, sir. How do you know me?” Sam never forgot the answer.

“I put you in jail at least six times when you were growing up.” The owner of the security firm, unbeknownst to Sam, was the former police chief from the little town up in the Bible Belt. After some conversation, Sam was offered a job. Some months later, he began to realize that the company had better paying jobs running security for sites of the “night life.” But he would need to carry a gun for those jobs, and for that, he’d need a gun permit. That was something not normally given to convicted felons. But the former police chief spoke to the county judge up at Bible Belt Town. To Sam’s amazement, the judge expunged his record of all convictions. Sam got his permit, and worked the rough shifts for several years.

About six years ago Sam joined the men’s chorus I sing in. That is where I got to know him. About three years ago he gave up the security guard business, and was appointed animal control officer for his town. He did a great job taking care of strays, getting them back to their homes or getting them new homes. He went out of his way to keep from putting animals down. But this didn’t please the town fathers. They’d prefer it if he’ get rid of the dogs as soon as possible. But Sam insisted on keeping animals for the full two weeks allowed by law, and, if necessary, took them out to his own property while he continued to look for homes for them.

Ultimately, the town fathers gave Sam an ultimatum: start getting rid of the dogs or give up the job. This made Sam mad. He figured there was more than one way to fight City Hall. About four months ago, Sam quit as animal control officer. But on the first Tuesday of November 2008, Sam was elected mayor of that little town up in the Bible Belt.

There are two quick lessons I’d like to draw from this true story of Sam. First of all, if you’re a little old lady up in the Bible Belt and you’re praying for someone, don’t quit. Intercessory prayer sometimes is the only thing some people have going for them this side of heaven. Come to think of it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a little old lady, or not. If you’re praying for someone, keep it up.

Secondly, if you happen to read this, and you’re at the end of your rope, if you feel you’ve reached the place where you no longer have any future at all, remember that with God anything is possible. If the Lord can take the town’s major drug dealer, clean him up and set him up as the town’s mayor, the same God can do something for you. As it says in scripture (paraphrasing just a bit), “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor entered into the minds of man the wonderful things God has in store for them that love Him.”

As Sam might say, “Give the Lord the best you have as early as you can. Don’t wait until there’s only leftovers.”

Have a Great Day!

Dr. G

There ain't nothing free, and there's no "away"!

A number of years ago, while I was still a professor of Biology, I team-taught a class entitled “Life in the Balance.” It was an environmental awareness course in which we tried to look at the pros and cons of both sides of a number of environmental issues. Our purpose was to provide students with sufficient background to make informed decisions without our directly telling them what decisions to make. Because of differing life views, what is an acceptable cost to one person may be totally unacceptable to another.

One point that we tried to clarify was that, in the big picture, there is no “away”. In other words, just because I throw something away doesn’t mean it has gone away. In reality, it typically means, out of site, out of mind. Burying nuclear waste doesn’t eliminate nuclear waste. It simply puts it in a less annoying and, hopefully, safer place. But it is still there. Building a tall fence around an unsafe swimming hole doesn’t make it go away. Flushing excess fertilizer out of fields and down the river doesn’t eliminate the fertilizer. It only moves the problem: it is simply out of sight. Hiding a ghetto behind fancy office buildings doesn’t eliminate the ghetto or its poverty. When a large corporation buys out a faltering competitor, the competitors’ debts don’t go away. The larger corporation absorbs the debts, and charges them against their own profitability, and, ultimately, to either share-holders or customers. “Out of sight, out of mind” gets rid of things only as long as the mind doesn’t work.

A similar concept we tried to dispel was that “free” things exist. There is a law in the physical realm that states, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” In other words, everything has a consequence, a cost. And this holds true in every aspect of our everyday life. “Free” items offered on TV aren’t free. The manufacturer gets paid for them. The supplier gets paid. There is a cost paid by someone somewhere. In the movie “National Treasure,” the hero, in a tight spot, tells the head of the FBI detail, “I really don’t want to go to prison.” To which the FBI agents replies, “Someone’s got to go to prison.” It doesn’t matter what it is, someone pays the cost for “free” items. There are no free lunches, no free banking accounts, no free medical care (do we really think the doctors won’t get paid?). Even in basketball, there really aren’t any “free throws”, since the other team pays the cost with a foul charged to them.

Have you seen the ads by “credit” counseling companies? “Come to us, and we’ll eliminate your debts. You’ll be debt free!” But guess what! The creditors I owe end up paying my debt by charging higher prices to other costumers (like you, maybe), and I end up owing society a moral debt. There is no away; there is nothing free.

But wait a minute. Salvation is free! At least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t have to pay anything. Jesus did it all. I know this is true. However, that which Jesus did pays my debt, a debt which I can never repay in twenty lifetimes. That is what the parable of the ungrateful servant is all about. It may be free to me, but it cost Him everything. In His grace, He freely forgives me all my debt. The only thing I owe Him now is my gratitude and undying love; to be a grateful accepting servant.

And what about the “There is no 'away'” idea when it comes to my sins? It says in the scripture that in the earth made new, there will be no sin. So my sins (and yours, if you have any) must no longer exist when we get to the other side. Is it possible that, with our sins, there really is an “away”? Since He’s the Creator God, He must supercede the laws of nature. If He knows how to call things into existence, He no doubt knows how to call them out of existence. He truly is an awesome God.

I learned early as a child that hiding peas under the edge of my plate didn’t make them go away. Someone had to “go to prison.”

Dr. G

I Don't See What's Wrong With...

I’m defective. I don’t recall for sure when I first discovered the problem, but I know that by the middle of my college years I knew it was there. Perhaps I made the discovery in General Biology lab. It may have been several years later when I became a lab instructor in Anatomy and Physiology. At any rate, I remember seeing Ishihara plates for the first time, and discovering that I was red-green colorblind. All that time in high school while I was identifying plants and animals, the problem was there. In spite of the fact that I enjoyed drawing and painting, I hadn’t noticed anything wrong. But sure enough, once I got those plates of Mr. Ishihara in my hands, there could be no doubt.

A few years later I had an amusing experience involving my colorblindness. I was in the process of applying to several universities for my doctoral program. For some reason, one of the schools required a physical examination, and that examination asked the doctor to evaluate my color vision. A year earlier I’d gone for a pre-induction physical for the Selective Service. I’d been able to correctly identify a pattern in only one of the twelve plates they showed me. In the doctor’s office a year later, upon coming to that question, the doctor proceeded to go around the room pointing to various objects to see if I could identify their colors. He wrote in the answer space: color vision normal.

Of course, looking directly at the colored object proved no problem. You see, red-green colorblindness involves an inability to pick out a pattern of dots of varying shades of red embedded in a field of dots of varying shades of green. If you put a red ball into my hand, I can see that it is red. Toss the same ball out into the middle of the lawn, and I probably won’t notice it if I scan the yard with my eyes. Unless I happen to look directly at a red bird sitting among green leaves, I won’t see it as red. I might see the shape, but won’t notice that it is red. I’m defective, and have been from birth. Until my body is made new when Christ comes for me, I just won’t be able to see the patterns on Mr. Ishihara’s plates.

One evening, a distinguished leader called upon Christ for an interview. The first response the Lord gave Nicodemus was that this member of the Jewish Sanhedrin needed to be born again. Of course, what Christ was referring to was a spiritual rebirth.

Have you ever heard anyone say, “I just can’t see what’s wrong with…”? The scriptures point out that spiritual things must be spiritually discerned. Since the fall of mankind, we’ve had vision problems when it comes to spiritual things. Just like my colorblindness will be with me till my body is made new, so our spiritual blindness will remain with us until our spirits are made new through the rebirth by the Spirit. Paul refers to this when he speaks of our becoming a new creation when we yield our lives to the Lord.

I can get along with my colorblindness, and have for many years. I can’t get along with my spiritual blindness; it’s a life and death matter.

By the way, does this tie go with this shirt?

Dr. G

Momma Don't 'Low...

I have been sleeping with the windows open for a few days now. Fall may be my favorite time of year – the pollen count is down, the temperature is down. With windows open in late October, one can sleep in a cool room without allergy problems or the expense of air conditioning.

On one of those mornings early this week, I went to close the windows as I got up. For some reason, a random thought popped out of the caverns of my mind. I said to myself, “This is one thing I won’t have to do in the earth made new.” Then, suddenly, a line from a song I heard way back in my Neolithic childhood came to mind. Not directly connected to the earlier thought, but somehow my still half-asleep brain thought there was some association. The line? “Momma don’t ‘low no ____ round here”. I can’t remember what it was Momma wouldn’t allow – seems like it was singing and dancing.

The next thing I knew, as I stood at the window in the dark, there ran across my mind many things that won’t be allowed in the earth made new. Works of the flesh, they might be called. Somewhere the apostle Paul lists some of them. There is a similar list toward the end of the book of Revelation, as I recall. As I pondered this, I began to wonder if, in fact, the reality of the list isn’t so much that God “don’t ‘low” it up there, but that with His love dwelling in our hearts, there will be no desire at all for the things written. Murder? If God is love, and our hearts are filled with His spirit of love, there can be no hatred. If no hatred exists, there can be no murder. Envy? If our hearts are filled with His love, and our every need is filled to overflowing, what will there be to envy? Lying? Cheating? Do you follow my thinking?

If you are familiar with that old song which the line came from, you can be sure it didn’t originate in heavenly places. How do we know that? The final refrain went something like this: “I don’t care what Momma don’t ‘low; Cause I’m gonna do it anyhow.”

I then thought, thankfully, it will be so nice to live in a place where what we do will always be in harmony with His will. I really do look forward to it.

Finally, my mind came back to the original thought about not having to close the window when I get up. Up there, I won’t get tired. There’ll be no night. I most likely won’t sleep. So I might not even have a bedroom. But if I do, there probably won’t need to be any glass in the window (if there is one), because there would be nothing to be kept out or in (I’m supposing). I began to see why my heavenly home is beyond my limited comprehension. With that, I shook my head and went off to start the day. It was way too early for such deep thoughts. Choosing a cereal for breakfast would be challenge enough.

Have a great day – practicing here what we’ll be doing there. One final thought – stay away from the sugary stuff. It’ll give your eyes the jitters.

Dr. G

That Was Big of Him

“That was big of him/her/you.” Have you ever heard those words, said in a good way? Generally they imply that someone has had the opportunity to commit an (unrequired) act of kindness and has followed through.

Over Columbus Day weekend my wife and I went to Florida to visit our son and daughter-in-law. While there, they related an experience they’d enjoyed shortly before they’d moved from southeastern Michigan. Some good friends of ours and theirs had taken the two of them into Chicago for a program of some sort. Much of the trip was over toll roads. It seems that the other couple, at each toll booth, had also paid the toll for whichever car was behind them. Random acts of kindness. Being big, in the good sense.

Have you ever heard those same words said in a sarcastic manner? Thus said meaning, of course, that the person has had the opportunity to commit an act of kindness, but out of selfishness or thoughtlessness (Random? Habitual?) had not followed through.

The Bible relates the story of a small man. At least tradition has him being small. He wanted to see Jesus, but couldn’t see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree so he could see. In children’s’ divisions of some churches I’ve heard the song, “Zaccheus was a wee little man; A wee little man was he.” Perhaps you’ve heard it, too.

In the eyes of the Jews, Zaccheus was a little man. In fact, they looked down their noses at him. He was a tax collector, a traitor. You see, tax collectors were employees of the hated Romans. And while they were required to collect a certain amount of tax for the Romans, tax collectors were allowed to collect as much extra as they could for themselves. Legal thievery, an opportunity for self-aggrandizement. So while Zaccheus may or not have been small in stature, in society’s eyes he definitely was small by behavior.

On our way back from Florida that Monday, we stopped at a truck stop/service center somewhere south of Tifton, GA. As I entered the men’s restroom, I noticed a person about the height of one of the first grade boys I serve this year. Not a whole lot over three feet tall. At first I thought it was a boy of about six or seven. Then I noticed the stubble on his face and the earring in the ear. Properly proportioned, but a grown man about as small as I’ve ever seen. He was headed over to wash his hands.

To my amazement, he leaped up onto the counter, lying on his belly. It was the only way he could reach the soap and faucets. He stayed there while washing, feet sticking out into the room. When finished, he went to dry his hands. It was then that I realized that the crank on the towel dispenser was about eighteen inches higher than his outstretched hand would reach. Then I noticed an older gentleman, who’d apparently been watching sort of out of the corner of the eye as I had been. He had already rolled out and torn off a supply of paper towel which he handed to the smaller man. That was big of him.

Random acts of kindness versus random acts of selfishness. Being big versus being small. How will your colleagues and those you serve see you today? How will mine see me? More importantly, how will God see me?

You have quite a load there. Can I carry one of those bags for you?

Dr. G

I Can't Do It!

One day as I entered one of the classrooms I serve, the teacher was presenting a mini-lesson. I sat down to the side and watched. One student, who is not doing
well in class, was not struggling to keep from bothering other students (read it carefully). He clearly wasn’t paying attention to the lesson. At the end of the short session, the teacher started explaining an assignment, to be done in teams of four. Immediately the student I’d been watching blurted out, fairly loudly, “I can’t do it!” The teacher overlooked his statement, and continued with her group instructions.

As the students dispersed toward their assigned work areas, I signaled for the young boy to come over and join me at the side table where I was sitting.

“I heard you say you can’t do this assignment,” I said softly. “Can you tell me why not?”
“I can’t do it,” he repeated.
“Why not?” I asked again.
“I just can’t,” he replied with down-turned corners of the mouth.
“Do you know what it is she asked you to do?” I probed.
“No.” he admitted
“Then how do you know you can’t do it? Sit down here with me and let’s see if we can do it.” I offered.

“The first thing she asked you to do was to number from two through twelve on the edge of the (large) sheet of paper she gave you. Can you do that?”
“OK.” Which he did.

“Next she asked you to think of some things that come in sets of 2’s, 3’s, 4’s and so on. Can you think of anything like that? I know she gave you some examples during the lesson.” (Blank look).

“Do you remember her talking about your face? ‘Things that come in two’s.’ Does anything come to mind?”

And thus we started the list. As we went down the page, he was able to come up with a few things on his own. In many places I had to give some (occasionally, obvious) hints. Three times I had to come right out and tell him. But after about ten minutes, he had something written after each number. Then I asked him to look at his paper.

“Did you finish your assignment?”
“Yes!” The look on his face suggested it may have been the first one in some time to be completed. I admit he didn’t do it all on his own. But he did get a surge of self confidence and encouragement. (The next day as I came in he came running to tell me he’d thought of one for the number thirteen – stripes on the US flag.)

There are times when I review all of what God expects of me, and I think of my abilities and former failures. Know what I sometimes do? I cry out, “I can’t do it.” Or, maybe, I say “I won’t do it.” Or, even, “I don’t want to do it.”

When such times come, I can act like my young friend had done so many times before. I can just throw up my hands, shout “I can’t/won’t/don’t want to do it”, give up, and focus on keeping others from doing their God-given tasks. Or, I can look over at the Teacher, and ask Him for help.

In some cases, just His encouragement will be sufficient. At other times, He may need to prod or probe to bring things back to my memory that have worked before; or He may lead me to new clues as to how to do it. Finally, there may be some things in my life that I’ll end up having to let Him do for me all by Himself. Come to think of it, He has done it all for me (and you) already! If I put my name on the page beside His, I’ll get full credit.

Now for the next one: How many legs do spiders and octopuses (octopi?) have?

(OK… So octopi/puses have tentacles, not legs. It got the point across)

Dr. G

Don't Blow the Horn Yet

This time last week I was still dealing with the sudden news that I was being transferred to another school. As I have a number of times in the past, I accepted the situation as the Lord’s leading in my life, and I still do. However, as soon as the previous Flock message went out I started receiving many expressions of sorrow on the part of my colleagues at Roan School. On top of that, by Friday morning the word had pretty much spread throughout the student body.

As a consequence, on Friday, beginning when I unloaded the buses, numerous children (even some who I’d never taught) came up to me for hugs and expressions of affection. There were tears in a few eyes. It is so hard to say goodbye to children who so openly express their appreciation and sadness. Therefore, I went home on Friday with plenty of fuel for a pity party to be attended by only one.

And while I never did throw the party, occasionally certain questions would crawl across my mind: “Why me, Lord?” “Why now, Lord?” “Why not someone else, Lord?”

Then, early into the weekend, I was watching one of my favorite religious broadcasts on TV, and the speaker made reference to a passage in Isaiah that stopped me in my tracks. I’m sure I’d read it before, but it certainly hadn’t been in my mind recently. Yet I’m sure the Lord had it delivered just at that time, just for me. The passage was Isaiah 43:18, 19, and reads:

"Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. 19 Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it?”

The Lord wasn’t telling me to forget my friends (colleague and student, alike) and the good memories from my former school. Instead, I believe, He was saying, stop pining for what has happened in the past. Don’t even being to think about a pity party. Instead, look forward to the good things that can happen in the new situation. Just think: New situation, new experiences, new good times. That’s my God!

It never would have been much fun sitting in a room by myself wearing a silly pointed hat and blowing a noisemaker. But then, pity parties never are much fun when all is said and done.

Have a great day.

Dr. G

Now Where?

The Lord instructed Jonah to go to Nineveh; he fled for Tarshish instead. The Lord sent Elijah to King Ahab; he went, but fled into the wilderness after the victory at Mount Carmel. The Lord told Philip to go down to the road leading to Gaza, from whence, after witnessing to the Ethiopian, the deacon known as “The Evangelist” was flown without discussion to the town of Azotus. Why are you where you are? Why am I where I am? Have you ever really pondered the issue?

For many years I’ve had a strong sense of the Lord’s active leading in the direction of my life. My wife and I have seen so many doors open unexpectedly. Houses and property have suddenly become available to us just at the right time. Several times it was as if jobs came searching for us. Friendships have developed that have been continuing blessings. I am convinced that the Lord brought me to my current school almost eleven years ago for a purpose.

This afternoon I was called to the principal’s office, and was startled to discover the District’s Human Resources person there. I was told gently that I was being transferred to another school. As in the accounts of Jonah, Elijah and Philip, it wasn’t put to me in the form of, “Would you be interested in going?” It was just like “I need you at Nineveh,” or “I want you to work before King Ahab,” or “I’m putting you in Azotus.” It was a plain “We need you at a different school.” So I’m going.

Only a few hours later now I’ve already been asked several times by friends, “Are you OK?” I’ll admit the news was a shock, especially coming more than six weeks into the school year. There will be sadness at saying goodbye to many friends. It may not be what I’d prefer right at the moment. But like I told both my wife and a friend who called only moments after I had first said it, I may work for the School System, but I serve the Lord. Apparently another door has opened. I will go assuming that the Lord has greater need of me there than where I was this morning.

Fortunately, it’s close enough that I won’t have to run through the wilderness for a day, or go by whale, or even take the “whirl-wind” express.

Dr. G

Repairing the Damage

This past weekend was Labor Day weekend. Right after school on Friday my wife and I headed north out of Georgia to Silver Spring, Maryland, where we spent a few days with family. We were welcomed, and cheered hearts with our visit. When we left, where we had stayed was at least as clean as when we arrived.

Shortly before we headed home, about a 10-hour drive, another visitor arrived in Louisiana. However, Gustav was not invited, and certainly was an unwelcome visitor. He did not cheer the hearts of those he visited. In addition, when he left, there was debris and destruction all around. What a contrast.

On our way home today, we passed a number of convoys of large cherry-picker trucks from a variety of electrical contractors, mostly out of Pennsylvania, but also some
from New York (I even saw two trucks from Indiana!). They were all south-bound on I-81, and onto I-40 as far as Knoxville. When I first spotted them, I guessed they were headed to Louisiana to help clean up after Gustav. I became very sure when, just north of Bristol, Tennessee, we caught up with a large truck from one of the six companies I’d identified pulling a trailer marked “Disaster Emergency Response Command Center.”

Next to rescuing and helping victims in direct danger, re-establishing a region’s infrastructure is most important. Clearing roads and restoring power are the most important first steps. So it only made sense to see a large contingent of trucks and workers headed south.

In ways, sin causes a similar need in our lives. Sin disrupts our connection with the power we need to withstand further attacks by Satan. Like Gustav in Louisiana, sin in our lives creates damage, some immediately noticeable, some only to be noticed later on. Some damage can be repaired; sometimes, even though lives are healed, permanent scars are left. The folks without power in Louisiana are incapable of restoring their own power. Likewise, we are unable to clean up the mess of sin in our own lives. We are in need of the Heavenly Electrician to restore the sin-preventing power in our lives, and to clean up the mess left by sin. And we don’t have to wait for Him to arrive by truck from New York or Pennsylvania. He can be there as soon as we call.

And remember, if you see the hurricane of sin coming, don’t wait to evacuate the area.

Dr. G

Ready or Not,

As a group, we teachers have to put up with an awful lot of stuff that can wear a person down. Headstrong Pre-K children who want to run their own programs; Kindergarten children who are still crying in the morning after three weeks of school; First through Fourth graders who you have to wonder how they got as far as they have, and back again to headstrong Fifth-graders who want to run their own programs. During the day, it is not unusual to see a momentary grim look on more than one teacher's face.

On the other hand, I would ask you to think about all that the Lord has to put up with from us. As Paul says, ain't none of us perfect. What grief we must give Him from day to day. I wonder if He's ever had a grim look on His face. Somehow, in spite of our records, I don't think so, not from the God of love. One of my favorite passages is found in Lamentations 3, where the writer points out that, except for His great mercy, we would cease to exist. And those mercies are renewed every morning. We can trust on it, He won't let us down. No matter how much I mess up, He'll still receive me with a smile when I come to Him.

If God is love, and I can't think otherwise, and we are to be like Him, what responsibilities does that put upon us when it comes to the children as they come in the door each morning? When I unload the buses, do I, can I, reach out in mercy to each child, even those I know will push the envelope to the limit during the day? When they enter the cafeteria for breakfast, move on to their classrooms, on to specials like PE, Music, Art or Media, is mercy waiting for them?

It is my prayer that each of us feels the warmth of His mercy and love, and are able to pass it on to the ones we rub shoulders with today.

Have a great day.

Dr. G

Don't Plug the Drain

When we had our house built a few years back, we included an apartment in the daylight basement. We’ve had a variety of tenants, mostly students or recent graduates from the nearby university. So far we’ve not had any problems, and things have gone well.

Our current tenant, a young nurse, asked permission to get some large planters to put alongside her parking space so she could grow some flowers and a few vegetables. We gladly gave our permission, and soon there were a half dozen or so planters, each with its own special crop. One holds cucumbers, another has a tomato plant and there is one with a couple of pepper plants. Then there is one with marigolds and some impatiens. One planter had summer squash, and another had petunias. I say had, because they don’t any more.

A few weeks back, while mowing the lawn, I looked closer at the planters. Other than the cucumbers needing water (which I took care of), most of the plants looked healthy. Except, of course, for the squash and petunias. I noticed that the soil around the squash was quite wet. The petunias were almost swimming. There seemed to be as much water in the planter as there was soil.

Yesterday I saw our tenant, and asked how her garden was doing. She smiled as she told me of the seven cukes and two tomatoes she’d harvested. Then I asked if her planters had drain holes (I’d seen similar planters at a local store, and didn’t remember seeing a way for excess water to drain out). She said that they did have holes; she’d had them drilled. Then I asked about the two water-logged planters, and she admitted that, apparently the drain holes had become clogged somehow, and that she was going to have to fix that and replant.

In a way, our spiritual lives are like those planters. We can receive the “water” from the Holy Spirit, but if we don’t have an outlet, it doesn’t do us any good. We must pass on what we receive. In the last part of Matt 10:8, Christ told His disciples, “Freely you have received, freely give.” We are to be a conduit of the Lord’s mercy, not a storehouse. His love does no good if we try to bottle it up inside of ourselves. Let it flow out; let it water other hearts.

Water-logged petunias aren’t a pleasant sight for anyone. So much so that I couldn't even find a picture of any on the Internet.

Dr. G

(W)hile They Are Still Speaking...

About two years ago, our daughter had gone for a doctor’s appointment some distance from her home. Being into crafts, she stopped in at a large craft store on her way home. The first thing she saw on entering was a display of umbrellas. She couldn’t remember ever seeing umbrellas in a craft store before. She had plenty of umbrellas at home. In fact, she had one in the car. And while the sky was overcast, the forecast had only mentioned possible light scattered showers. But she picked up an umbrella anyway, not knowing why she felt she should.

After returning to her car with her purchases, she headed for the exit out of the shopping plaza. Just then it started to rain. She got to the stop light, and it began to pour. That is when things took an unusual turn. From the back seat came an urgent male voice that said, “Help him!” First, she looked in the back seat, and found to her relief that she was alone in the car. Next she looked around the outside of the car, and saw no one. Then the voice repeated, “Help him!”

She glanced around the car again, and saw an elderly man waking up behind her car in the middle of the roadway. He was pulling one of those collapsible grocery carts, filled, as our daughter described it, with all his earthly possessions. When he reached her door, she rolled down the window and handed him the new umbrella. Astonished, the man thanked her and began to unwrap and open it.

Then the voice in the back seat again said, “Help him!” Not sure what to do next, our daughter thought maybe she should look in her purse for some money for the man, but knew she didn’t have any. She never carried any cash; she used check cards almost exclusively. But she decided to look anyway. She had used her coin purse at the crafts store and knew it was empty. But she dug down deeper to see if there might be something there. At the very bottom she found a $20 bill. Not just an ordinary bill, but a crisp one that looked as if it had just come from the mint. She handed it to the man, who looked at her and said “Bless you. You’re a direct answer to prayer.”

In Isaiah 65:24 the Lord says “It shall come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear.” Our daughter had no need for a new umbrella and didn’t know why she was buying it. She knew there was no money in her purse, yet at the bottom was an unexplained $20 bill, inexplicitly unwrinkled.

But the Lord knew before the rain started that the elderly man would be calling, and was working to meet his need even before the man knew he was in need. What a beautiful experience. As our daughter said that night while relating the story to my wife and me, she had seen her own prayers answered before, but, to her knowledge, she had never before been a direct instrument in helping the Lord answer a prayer.

I see two lessons to be garnered here. First, the Lord is true to His promises. He does answer prayer. Secondly, He wants to use us as His hands in answering prayers, and will do so if we are willing. What a wonderful Lord.

Have a great day, and listen for a voice from your “back seat.”

Dr. G

Who Touched Me?

For the past four years, my office has been right off the school cafeteria. When Kindergarten and First Grade classes line up to return to their classrooms after eating, they line up right outside my door, often banging or kicking it; there is no question that they’re there.

Also most of my years at this school, I’ve had a planning period on one side or the other of my lunch period. So I have the opportunity to eat a little more slowly as I work at my desk or on the computer. That makes the rest of the day go by a little easier.

However, it is not uncommon for me to spend part of this time out with the students who are eating. Except for the Kindergarten classes, the classroom teachers do not eat with their students at lunch. Instead, in half-hour shifts two other staff members will “ride herd” on the seven or eight classes of students as they eat. Each staff member has several assigned duties outside their normal teaching responsibilities. Lunchroom duty lands on many people’s plates. So, if I finish eating early, I go out to help whoever has duty when I’m finished.

Lunchroom duty has several aspects: dismissing classes after eating, retrieving forgotten utensils or condiments, getting a custodian when things get spilled, and, most importantly, keeping the hum of voices from becoming cacophonic bedlam. Theoretically, the children are to talk to their immediate neighbors. When, from my office, I start identifying individual voices, I know it is time for me to come out. I’m sometimes referred to “the bear that lives under the stairs.”

As I roam between tables, I try to interact gently with many students, encouraging them to eat, greeting them by name, generally trying to keep things moving softly and quietly. From time to time, as I pass groups of students, I’ll hear someone call out my name. Often I recognized the voice, sometimes not. In any case, I turn around frowning, and say, “Quien me toca?” which literally means, “Who touched me?” And the children all laugh, for they know the drill. The child who called me will proceed with whatever they wanted. I’m always willing to listen and learn. I’ve learned that so many of our children need someone to talk to. And you never know what you’ll learn. The important thing is that I listen and give as good a response as I can.

Of course, the saying “Who touched me” is scriptural. In both Mark 5 and Luke 8 we find the story of the desperately ill woman who, through the throng of people was able to reach out and touch the hem of Christ’s garment to receive healing. And as soon as it happened, Christ turned and said, “Who touched me?” Not because He didn’t know, but because he wanted to recognize her great faith.

We can’t overlook the question the disciples asked Him. “Lord, with this great big crowd of people who’ve been jostling you all day, why do you suddenly want to know who touched you?” There is an important point to this question that is often overlooked. If touching the hem of His garment could bring the woman immediate healing, where was the healing for all the multitude that had rubbed shoulders and clasped His hand the rest of the time? The answer lies with the praise Christ gave the woman – “Your faith has made you whole.” The rest of the crowd was satisfied with touching Him, or perhaps just seeing Him; believing in Him wasn’t high on their priority lists. Too bad.

When I turn around and ask my question, it isn’t uncommon to see two, three or even four hands shoot up, all claiming to have been responsible. They know I’m their friend and that they can trust me. And Jesus is an even better friend.

We need to believe in Him, and reach out to touch Him, too.

Dr. G

There's a Mouse In The House!

Mice: the animals which stereotypically frighten housewives and terrify elephants. While the house mouse is probably the species which immediately comes to mind at the mention of the word, there are actually many types of mice. There are deer mice (shown at the right), grasshopper mice, harvest mice, meadow mice, and Mickey Mice. I even featured a deer mouse in an earlier article (see “The Terror By Night”, June 6, 2007)

The summer between my sophomore and junior years in college was spent at the Rosario Beach Marine Station (see photo at “When the Waves Get Too Big”, August 1, 2007). The station is on a small bay facing west, and has a small island in the opening. When I was there, the island had significant stands of prickly pear cactus and hordes of deer mice. I spent a large number of afternoons trying to verify the idea that the mouse population could have come from mice stranded on drifting debris which reached the island. After drifting around the bay for up to four hours, three of my twenty navigators were able to get within 5 feet of the goal line. Only one abandoned ship early in the procedure.

But let’s move on to the house mouse. First of all, it is nowhere as cute as the deer mouse. Dingy gray, compared to the nice, neat two-colored coat of the other. It has been in close association with man since time immemorial. The sight of one in the house can bring on a variety of responses: anger, fear, disgust, embarrassment, even dread. They chew on things, they get into things, and they soil things. No one wants a house mouse around.

I started thinking about mice, and realized I really didn’t remember any mention of them in the Bible. We all know to go to the ant, that leopards can’t change their spots, and camels can’t pass through needles' eyes. Dogs eat crumbs from the masters’ tables, and oxen fall into the ditch and are used as excuses not to attend banquets. Fish provide temple tax money; whales redirect wayward prophets, ravens feed repentant prophets, and donkeys can talk.

But what about mice? To my mind, they should be an excellent symbol of sin. Just think of it. They slip into our lives so easily; unless we are really watchful, they can reside with us without our even knowing it. Every mouse that gets into the house must be a pregnant female; if one mouse gets in and isn’t immediately removed, others soon come exploding out of closets, from under beds and behind refrigerators. Let one sin into your life, and if it isn’t removed quickly, others follow in its path.

A single sin can eat you up, destroy what you have. How fitting, I thought, for a mouse. So I decided to look in my Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance. The word mouse appears twice; the Bible lacks the word mice (that’s as close as this blog gets to poetry). The two passages where we find this creature are Lev. 11:29-35 and Isaiah 66:17. And guess what the Lord says about the mouse: it is unclean, and its dead body contaminates (defiles) anything it touches. In other words, the mouse does symbolize or represent sin.

To be sure we are rid of mice and sin, we need an exterminator. Praise the Lord, there is One!

By the way, have you been nibbling my cookie, or should I look behind the couch?

Dr. G

What Am I Doing Here?

The Olentangy River runs through Columbus, Ohio, in a north-south direction, joining the Scioto River close to downtown. Back when I was attending The Ohio State University in Columbus, much of the western bank of the Olentangy north of Columbus (north of Route 161) was undeveloped, and accessible from the road running parallel to it.

We had developed a group of friends, who, one Sunday afternoon, decided to go canoeing on the river. There were to be three canoes, with me and a doctor friend, Walter, in the middle canoe. Walter seemed to have confidence in his canoeing skills.

When I was about nine years old I had received a book entitled “Paddle-to-the-Sea,” about a model canoe and paddler carved by a young Native American up north of Lake Superior. It told the story of how the model had traversed the Great Lakes and on out to the Grand Banks where it was picked up by a fishing boat. A few years later, when I was about eleven I received a book about three brothers (the Waltons) who had adventures as they took a canoeing trip down the Penobscot River in Maine. Its title was “Rapids Ahead.” At the end of my freshman year in college, my maternal grandfather drowned while canoeing alone on the McKenzie River near Leaburg, Oregon. That was the extent of my experience with canoes.

Let’s see. When I did reading remediation a few weeks back, I emphasized that proper stories have a Who, What, Where, When and Why. I’ve got the Where, the Who, and the What. It is time to add the When. Not infrequently, during winter, the Olentangy freezes over. This particular year, it had also frozen, but in early January we’d had a thaw, and the river was running free. Because of recent rains and the melting of snow, the river was a little higher than usual. One of the men in the group, who always seemed to be very precise about such things, announced that the river water was at 37 degrees Fahrenheit. This from a man who had been known to take the temperature of his coffee, so who was I to doubt him?

I was a little concerned when Walter put on his wet suit. I had a dry suit (blue jeans, several sweat shirts, a stocking cap and tennis shoes), and I wanted to keep it dry. We pushed off into the river several miles upstream from Route 161, planning on shooting a low dam somewhere downstream (a couple of the wives had parked several cars for us there and had then gone home). The water was running a little swifter than any of the experienced group expected, but we figured that would just make the trip to the dam that much shorter.

There were standing waves in the middle of a normally calm and peaceful river that day. I tried to paddle as fast as I could from the front, but somehow Walter’s end of the canoe caught up with me and passed me as we turned broadside just as we came to some rather larger waves. My dry suit lasted for about 100 yards of the trip. Needless to say, the experience was shocking. And I remember thinking almost immediately, “What am I doing here?”

We were able to work the canoe to shallow water where we emptied it, climbed back in and continued downstream. I was quite blue and shaking rather violently when we reached the cars. I was put into one with the heater running full blast while the others shot the dam for a while. Then I was taken home and put in a tub of warm water to finish thawing out. Since then I’ve avoided people who go canoeing.

“What am I doing here?” Do you suppose Jonah asked that question while hiding down in that boat? Maybe some of the Israelites asked it when they went up to do battle when the Lord had specifically told them to stay home. After the crucifixion, Peter went back to his fishing boat. Do you suppose he asked himself, “What am I doing here?” Such an important question; important enough that it must be asked before making major decisions, rather than afterwards, when we find ourselves in a difficult situation. But why leave it with only the major decisions? Don’t leave home without it at any time.

The “Why” of the story? Easy. We didn’t ask first.

Dr. G

Remediation

Students have always had to take tests, and probably always will. How can researchers and administrators quantify learning without data? One end product of “No Child Left Behind” is “No Child Left Unassessed and Untested.” In the past eight years we have seen a tremendous increase in the emphasis on end-of-the-year testing. In Georgia, we have what are known as the CRCT’s (Criterion Referenced Competency Test – which is a fancy way of saying, ”Now we’re going to test you to see if you learned what we said we were going to teach you!”)

As in most (if not all) states, children in the 3rd, 5th and 8th grades must achieve a certain score on at least some portion of the test in order to be promoted to the next grade. In the 3rd grade, the students must pass the reading portion. In 5th, it is reading and math. Those children who do not pass the test the first time it is given are provided a two-week “re-delivery” of the basic points of the subject, and then are given a second chance to pass the test. The process is also known as REMEDIATION.

Some schools wait until school is out before giving the re-delivery. Testing then follows later in the summer. At our school, we do the remediation before school is out, and the retake of the test(s) occur the last week of school. So, for the past two weeks I’ve been involved in redelivery of 3rd grade reading: Inferring, main ideas, synonyms, antonyms, homophones, opinions vs. facts, details, genres, author’s purpose, and on and on. Some students only seemed to need a fine tuning. For others, it was as if they’d never heard of any of the material before. On top of this we saw a variety of attitudes toward the experience, ranging from a real desire to learn to an almost allergic reaction to the subject, with guffaws somewhere in between.

In addition to the actual material, the colleague I was working with and I tried to imbue in our charges a better understanding of test-taking. You know, like “Read the questions before you read the selection so you have an idea of what to look for.” Or, “Know why you’re rejecting answers. Don’t just grab the first thing that comes along.” That type of thing. Even, “Take your time and read each item carefully. You have plenty of time on the test.”

Well, today we gave the retakes. And we even noticed some of the students applying the tips we’d given them. Nevertheless, there were still those that were finished, including rechecking their answers, in less than half the allotted time. What are you going to do (besides see the same students again the following year)? There are second chances, but no third chances.

As I thought about this while roaming the classroom this morning, I came to realize that my work as a “remediator” for these children is nothing compared to what the Lord has to go through with me. There are so many lessons I have to go over time and again, because I just don’t seem to be able to pass the competency test. It isn’t that the stuff is too hard, I just don’t seem to choose to put into action that which I’ve learned. I guess I understand too well Paul’s frustration – that which I want to do, I don’t do; that which I don’t want to do, I do.

My only hope is to throw myself into the arms of the Supreme Teacher. If I give total control over to Him, He’ll even help me on (through) the test. What a deal! There have been so many times I’ve had to fight the urge to lean down and move a child’s pencil, or to scream out, “NO!” when I see him or her getting ready to mark an obviously incorrect response. In the spiritual world, God can do that for me if I’ll only give Him permission.

Remediation. Through His mercy He’ll keep going over it until I finally make it. Second chances, thirds, fourths…hundredths. Whatever it takes, as long as I show an interest. What a God!


Dr. G

Love Through Me

Our men’s chorus sings a song that has become quite special to us. In fact, we sort of consider it our signature piece. The wife of one of our second tenors and the young daughter of one of the first tenors stand on either side of the chorus and do the song in sign language as we sing it. The basic theme of the song is a prayer asking the Lord to serve others through us. The name of the song is “Love Through Me.”

One of the lines goes “Somewhere somebody needs Your love today. Oh, Lord, Love through me.” It is something all believing Christians should do, although it is sometimes a little hard, especially for those of us who teach in public schools. But even there, opportunities arise. And it probably isn’t as hard as our minds might make it seem.

This coming Friday at my school we’ll be having Awards Day. Most schools have such events at year’s end. Numerous prizes, certificates and awards are presented to the children. Typically, the parents of those receiving the awards are notified so they can be present when their child is publicly honored.

Today was Awards Day at the school where my wife teaches. There is one little girl she has been working with on the side for over a year. The child comes from a broken home, and a difficult one even at that. She receives very little support or encouragement from any adult relative. Today, the child, who I’ll call Ana, received an award. She was hoping that her Grandmother, with whom she often stays, or her father (who is not employed) would be there. But no one showed up. So she sat alone crying, while the other children celebrated and shared their books with parents. Seeing what had happened, my wife went over to “Ana” and asked if she would share the book with her... As the song goes, “Love through Me.”

Some who read this today may be in a similar situation in the next few days. Is there someone at your work site that needs an encouraging word, a smile, or, perhaps, a brief prayer? What does it take to show love to a neglected soul? I think this is what the Lord meant in Matt 25 where he referred to the righteous as those who will take the time to care for the needy, those in the hospital, jails, those with no parents.

The Father appreciates such actions as if we’d done it for His Son. How many lives can you or I touch today?...tomorrow……next week….

Dr. G

Got Any Useless skills?

I was sitting at the desk a short while ago, taking stock of things. You know, asking myself questions like what are you doing, what have you done, what can you do, what should you do? Taking stock of abilities, assets, weaknesses, and the general direction of my life – something we should all do from time to time.

The bronchial asthma I’ve been fighting for three weeks had sort of gotten me down. It’s been pretty rough this time – especially the violent coughing spells. I’d have to say it’s been the worst I’ve had. Something had happened during one of the coughing fits that made me aware of something – I’m pretty good at biting my tongue, as in drawing blood! In fact, on a good day, I can get both sides at once without trying. Of what value is it to be good at something that has no use?

Useless skills. Do you have any? If not, how about unused skills? Like in talents? It is amazing what the Lord can do with the little skills we each have. I am reminded of the time Peter and John were entering the temple and a beggar asked for a handout, and the disciples responded, “Silver and gold we do not have, but we’ll give you some of what we do have.”

Are we willing to give of what talent and skill we do have to bring a blessing to others? Or do we sit back and say, “I really don’t have anything to contribute, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. After all, what good are a couple of barley loaves and a few small fish? I’ll just keep them to myself.”

Conversely, have we said to the Lord, “I don’t have much, Lord. But what I do have is yours to use as you see fit. Don’t let the least of my abilities go to waste.” Is it possible that unused skills are worse than useless skills?

By the way, I’ve found a use for my “useless” skill. I’ll put it to work the next time I get around some folks who are gossiping.

I guess I'll bite my tongue!

Dr. G

Looking Up is Better than Looking Down

At the beginning of my Musings, almost a year ago, I mentioned that this project was the outcome of something I’ve been involved with at work: The Flock. I teach in a public school, and for at least the last ten years a handful of us have been sending out daily e-messages of hope and encouragement to a fairly large group of teachers and administrators. A number of my Musings have been used in the Flock and vice versa.

Some time ago a Flock reader asked me how it was possible to see spiritual applications for so many events, situations, and happenings in my life. As most readers will recognize, that is the type of message I like to send out. My response at the time was that I felt I saw connections because I genuinely felt the presence of the Lord and His leading hand in my life and the life of my family. I guess when I know the Lord is there, I expect to see the effects of His presence and expect to have spiritual insights. So I give praise to Him for any good thoughts that have come out through these musings.

But the past few months have been a little heavier on the heart than I might desire. Things at work have been piling up. Things at home have been piling up. Don’t ask about the light at the end of the tunnel. At times I’ve not been sure I was even in the tunnel. Related to this, for the past few months I've found it hard to come up with sufficient ideas for my Blog. Have you ever felt discouraged or overburdened?

Maybe that is connected to the malaise I’ve been feeling lately: I’ve also been experiencing a spiritual malaise. I don’t mean I have been having doubts; I’ve not been questioning Him. I guess (No, I know) the problem has been that I’ve not been spending as much time with Him as I should. When I’m not putting Him in my life, I’m not seeing Him in my life. Does that make sense?

Having recognized this, there is only one solution: grab onto Him again and hang on. Life hasn’t changed, so there are still lots of things to be seen and written about, whether it involve children at my school or animals or plants out in the wild. God is still in control, and can bring the insights. It is so comforting to know that He has promised to always be there when we're struggling, to support, to guide, to comfort. All I can say is praise His name. He has never failed me yet (He never will!).

By the way, did you notice in the news earlier this week that a hand-written letter by the famous Dr. Einstein is up for auction, a letter in which he derides the scripture and idea of a personal God? I just checked things out today. God is still there, alive and well. I talked to Him. Einstein? He’s been dead about fifty years.

I know in whom I believe.

Dr. G

Anybody You Know?

This past weekend my wife and I flew up to SW Michigan to attend our son's graduation. The trip went well, and he was "thoroughly graduated." During our trip, several events occurred which, to me, seemed to be linked together spiritually.

The school he attended has an agriculture program, with orchards, dairy, and stuff like that. Interspersed on the grounds are woodlots linked together by small valleys, gullies, and tree-lined fence-rows. There are walking paths throughout, and Monday afternoon my son and I went for an hour's walk. It was a beautiful day; the trees are about three weeks behind where I live, and the wild flowers are just coming on, also. As we walked, my son asked about various plants we saw. He knew I used to teach systematic botany, and thought I might know some of the plants.

After a short while he expressed his amazement at the fact that I was able to name so many of the plants, especially in light of the fact that I've not had a scientific thought for the past twelve years or so. I explained that I had grown up learning to identify wild flowering plants, and tried to know them well enough that whenever I saw them in the woods, I would be seeing them as old friends. Many of the spring flowers in Michigan are found from Massachusetts to Washington State (both places where I've taught systematic botany), so I did, in fact, meet many old acquaintances. It was an enjoyable experience. Having said that, I must admit that if someone picked me up and dropped me into a forest in South America, or Africa, or Australia, I probably wouldn't know "anyone." I might see some similarities in a few plants, some vague resemblances, but for the most part, the plants would be strangers.

In the scriptures, Christ tells of a group of people who would come to Him at His second coming, pointing to their many works. I can see Him in my mind's eye, saying, "Those works sort of resemble those of my friends, but I don't know you. Sorry."

When our flight home arrived in Nashville, we were 20 minutes early. ("A miracle!" you say. Perhaps, maybe even worthy of its own blog posting in due time). Our early arrival was not due to any action on the part of the folks on the ground at the Nashville airport, but it was their activity on our getting there that caught my attention . The folks with the little orange sticks knew we were coming, and they were there to guide us into our gate. The folks with their little carts knew we were coming and were there to receive our luggage. The folks that run the jetport knew we were coming, but had made no preparation for us to come so soon. So we sat there for about ten minutes until someone was found to move the jetport about four feet so we could deplane. Just knowing we were coming wasn't enough.

Again, Christ told a story. This time, ten virgins had gone out to meet the bridegroom. They all knew he was coming. Some made the proper preparations, others didn't. So when the cry went out that the bridegroom was arriving, five had to scurry off to finish preparation; while they were gone the bridegroom entered in, and the door was closed. When the five finally came to the door, they were refused entrance. Not because they'd fallen asleep. Not even, directly, because they'd run out of oil. Again, the bridegroom said, "I don't know you."

I'm convinced that Christ is returning soon. I don't know all there is to know about it, but I know He is coming. And I want to go home with Him. The key to my going appears to be the necessity of knowing Him and Him knowing me. Do I know Him as well as I do my flowers? Do I spend as much time studying Him, getting to know Him, as well as I do my birds? If I really love Him, I will want to know as much about Him as I can. Won't you join me?

How many of the flowers shown above can you identify? Let me know by sending me a comment.

Even more important, how well can you identify the bottom picture?

Have a great day! -- Dr G