Walking with Jesus

Pastor Richard Wurmbrand knew suffering. (I say 'knew' because he now lives with Jesus, where there is no suffering to be known.) His story, Tortured for Christ , is worth reading for anyone who can appreciate that our Western Christian model is not the norm in our world, or perhaps even in history. Most believers in the world face the risk of real persecution for their faith. ( John 16:33 ) Wurmbrand's primary antagonist was Communism , which declares that there is no God, no heaven or hell, and nothing beyond what we encounter and experience with our five senses. I'm including a passage from his work, which suggests a logical answer to the communistic worldview. It is a quote from an underground church member who was pleading with an atheist to recognize that eternal life does in fact exist. I found it hopeful, intelligent, and simple, and I hope you enjoy it: "Suppose that we could speak with an embryo in his mother's womb and that you would tell him t

Today is my brother's birthday! Kevin is 33 years old, the second of the 3 of us boys. He's the peacemaker, the sympathetic one, the teddy bear. Kevin is an engineer, a slalom skier, and an all around nice guy. He drives a sports car, listens to funky music, doesn't stress about cleanliness, and is a killer game player. Yeah sure, he was a pain in the rear sometimes when we were growing up, but that was primarily because my rear was too sensitive! These days, when it comes to generosity, Kevin's hard to beat. He's truly someone of whom it can be said... "To know him is to love him." Happy Birthday, Bro!

It’s no secret that I don’t like Halloween. I don’t dress up in October. I don’t carve pumpkins. I don’t hand out candy to children at my door. I don’t go to “church fall festivals”. I don’t watch Halloween movies. I don’t buy Halloween candy. I don’t do anything Halloween. But, why don’t I? I used to celebrate it. I used to dress us and go trick-or-treating. I used to sneak around in the dark with my friends and imagine all sorts of creatures lurking in the shadows. I used to be excited to hand out candy to the children who came to our door. Hey, we used to run a haunted house out of our garage! But, then, about the time I really started living for the Lord, I was exposed to some of the origins of Halloween and I began to grow in my understanding that any association with Halloween on my part is a compromise of my Christian faith. I’ve been looking for a site that will introduce you to some of the history behind our Halloween customs, and I think I’ve found three that you’d do well t

I love Sunday mornings! Not only is it my only day of real rest, but it's the day I get to spend the most time with my family (God, Olivia, Gracey...). It really is a gift. I know it isn't the original Sabbath (which is Saturday), but it's the day we celebrate as the Lord's. On Sunday, the first day of the week, Jesus rose from the grave. On Sunday, God began His work of creation. On Sunday, we worship with other believers. On Sunday, we come together as the Body of Christ. I wonder how many of our friends and neighbors have no idea why Sunday is what it is? How many of them don't know why we (generally) take the day off? why some businesses (not enough of them) are closed? why family suddenly becomes more important? I wonder how many of them don't realize that Sunday is all about Jesus? I wonder how many would listen if we would only tell them: Sunday is different.

Who can know the ache of a mother's empty arms? Who can bear her tears for her? Who can feel the sting of "Why?" and "No!" and "It shouldn't be?" Where can you take her to take the pain? How can you show her the love she needs? What can you do to mourn with her whom heaven has placed in your trust? Tell her not that this way is better; She will not believe and you don't know it's true. Don't give her easy answers; there are none. She is right to mourn! Mourn with her. She is right to cry! Wipe her tears and cry with her. If you truly love her do everything you can to take her pain into yourself and understand it as your own. When you do, God will give it to you. Her loss will become your loss. Her void will be comforted by one of your own. You will be changed forever and you will know that she was your daughter also.

Most of you who read my blog have already read Olivia's. I can't tell you how upset I was last night. Even if you've seen me mad, I guarantee you have never seen me this angry. Anyway, it's still too fresh for me to talk about it, though I hope you'll read Olivia's blog to see what went on. Today I mowed our lawn. I got some new edger string and was excited to try it out. (yeah, who gets excited about edger string?) I had basically finished when my trimmer ran out of gas and my neighbor walked up to me in the alley. This is one of our better neighbors (not the druggie tejano punks or the dirty college students). Mr. Claunch is a piano tuner and has been for years. He has a story for every occasion and just in case you don't get the point of it, he usually follows it with 2 or 3 others. I like Mr. Claunch because he's a thinker. Tonight he posed a question to me in the form of a story. Mr. Claunch was tuning a piano at one the theology school I