12/25/2013
LADY BUG
GOAFS II: #74
LADY BUG
12.18.13
HIS EYE IS ON
THE SPARROW, I KNOW HE WATCHES ME.
'
The other day
I came out of the pharmacy ahead of a big rainstorm to find a lady bug making a
crash landing on the dashboard of my car. He (or she, as the case may be)
looked somewhat ruffled and upset by the situation. He rode home with me
without out moving except to rearrange his wings and settle himself down next
to the stereo speaker.
When I got
home I took my stuff in, got my camera and backed out of the garage to get good
light. The minute I got close with the camera, he started moving…fast. I could
not get a good close up. He apparently had no use for paparazzi or fame in the
world.
One of the
great things about getting old is that whenever you think of something, it
reminds you of something else. What came to mind at this point was Ethel Waters
singing, “His eye is on the sparrow, I know He watches me.” Her song was based
on Matthew 10.29-31:
Are not two
sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart
from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be
afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
I don’t think it is a stretch to include Lady Bugs in this
context as well. Have a blessed Christmas.
'
Jerry Sweers
cmudgeon@windstream.net
12/18/2013
THE WHOLE TRUTH
GOAFS II: #73
THE WHOLE TRUTH
12.18.13
Unto What Shall we Then Liken
the Kingdom of Heaven?
|
O
|
nce
upon a time there lived a pious young man who was often found reading a book
his grandfather had given him long before he had learned to read. His father
was already reading stories to him from a similar Book. They were wonderful
stories that were all connected and made up The Grandest Story of all—the story
of God. Both his father and his grandfather often told him that he could find
all the answers to all of life’s most important questions in this Book.
As soon as he had learned to read, the boy began
reading The Book for himself. In the front he found a list of names, his
grandfathers back eight generations. His father told him that all of these
grandfathers had read The Book, believed what they found there, and lived
according to its guidance.
But as he grew older he began to wonder, as boys
who have become young men often do. The
story was wonderful, and it answered many questions—but there were also many
places where it seemed to leave things out, to skip over things. He began to
wonder if it was just a story, or if there was more to be learned. He had begun
to hear about myths and legends and the similar stories of other religions and
these thoughts troubled him more and more. He found himself pondering them in
the time he used to spend reading The Book.
Finally he decided he would go on a quest for The Whole Truth.
Being a modern young man, he thought to help himself in the way with a small
machine that might guide him. He hastened to the electronics store and
purchased a GPS. He hurried home and began to read the instructions. To his
dismay, he learned he had to insert a destination to make the thing work, and
he discovered that “Truth” in any form was rejected by the machine as a
destination input.
This troubled him greatly and so he shifted his
pondering from stories and myths to asking the question--where does The Whole
Truth live? He was getting nowhere when he thought to Google “truth” – In a
flash he got one hundred and one million hits. This was a little intimidating,
even for a very modern, very pious young man, but after refining his search
again and again, he still could find no location for Truth that would work in
his GPS.
Then one day when he was about to give up on the
whole project he happened upon a book by a person named Hahn, reputed to be a
modern day prophet and appearing to be mighty in the land, if his book sales
were any indication. It was widely rumored that the Prophet Hahn might well
have certain knowledge of the street address where The Whole Truth could be found. The young man bought one book, and
then another until he finally found the street address he was searching for:
Pope Benedict XVI PP. 00120 Via del Pellegrino Citta del Vaticano,Italy
As the he input the address he thought he heard the voice
inside the little machine mutter, “Well, it’s about time.” He packed a small
bag and with the machine as his traveling companion, headed for Rome. They took
the long way around.
Time, ink, and paper do not exist in sufficient amounts to
tell of all the places he went in the next two years. The young man spent much
of his time turning down interesting byways and listening to stories from the
ghosts of The Ancients who had once claimed to know where Truth made its home.
Communing with the dead gave the young man the shivers, but he was encouraged
slightly in the fact that all the more thoughtful ghosts seemed to be pointing
in the direction of Italy.
The voice in the machine spent most of its time
complaining about all the re-calculating it had to do. But whenever they found
themselves off the track, the machine got busy and nagged the Young Man back
onto a road that would lead them eventually to Rome.
When they finally arrived at their destination,
they found the gates closed. A gorgeously dressed and formidably armed guard
informed them that unless they were with an approved tour, or had a letter
signed by their Priest, co-signed by his Bishop, and approved in advance by the
Commission of Papal Visits and Audiences, they could not get in.
They were also informed that the Papal Financial
Commission and the Commission of Papal Visits and Audiences were away on a
retreat at Cannes to review the protocols for entry into the Vatican and were
expected to substantially raise the requirement to show proof a recent large
gift to the Church along with their letters and approvals. “With the economy
the way it is, and the Euro in
trouble, the Vatican has to really stay on top its financial affairs,” the
guard said.
The pious young man was heard to utter words not
often used by pious young men. He was more than downcast--he was really upset.
Two years on the road, footsore and weary in every way, and just about broke,
he sat down on the curb near a plesant fountain with his head in his hands.
After a while, he heard footsteps and noticed a man coming his way. The man sat
down beside him and didn’t say a word. There was something about the man that
was different. He seemed not to be just from a different country, there were
lots of those folks in Rome, but maybe to be from a different time as well.
Finally the young man began to tell the
Stranger the story of his quest. When he was finished,
the man was silent for a bit. Then he spoke to the boy gently: “Don’t worry
about not getting in. I can’t get in either. If the truth is in there, it is
buried so deeply, hidden so carefully, guarded by so many officials, that there
is little chance you would ever get to it…and you really don’t need to get it
that way anyhow.”
“What do you mean? the boy asked, “If I can’t get
The Whole Truth in there, where can I go to get it?”
“At the beginning of the story of your quest
mentioned a Book you grandfather gave you. What happened to it?”
“It’s in my suitcase, would you like to see it?”
“Yes, please.” The man took the book and turned
the pages thoughtfully, from the front to the back. He then handed it back to
the boy and said, “All of the Truth you will ever need is right here in this
book. There is nothing of the truth inside those gates that you can’t easily do
without.”
This was almost more than the young man could
handle. He was astonished, appalled, and even more upset. “How can you say
that, how do you know that?”
The Stranger
looked the very pious young man straight in the eye and gently declared, “I
know it because I am the Truth, The Whole Truth, and I am the Author this
Book.”
“The Author of this Book” he shouted, “then why
don’t you live inside those gates, why are you wandering the streets of Rome like
a vagrant gossiping with disappointed pilgrims?”
“There are several reasons. First, I do not have
a priest to write a letter for me, or a bishop to countersign it. Second, I do
know a very ecumenical Rabbi, and a very, very ecumenical High Priest, but they
have already rejected me outright and even if I could get a hearing with them
they would be bound to suspect that if I ever got inside those gates the first
thing I would do would be to evict the present tenant.”
“Third, I could never get a permit from the
bureaucrats inside as they too would recognize the danger of my putting their
boss on the street and that would be bad for business.”
“Finally, I have no money to donate to them, not
even enough hard cash to purchase a tour of the place. I could offer them the
gift of salvation, which has infinite value, but they think they own it already
so that wouldn’t do. They much prefer hard cash--gold or silver coins--to the
more metaphysical treasures.
“I live in the streets and in the hearts of those
who read the Book and do what it says. I have no street address; you might say
I am homeless. But I am perfectly at home in the midst of my children who are
legion. May I give you a small bit of advice?”
By then the very pious young man had calmed
himself and was ready to hear. Yes, he nodded.
“I am the Truth, The
Whole Truth. The Book is not only written by me, but it is
all about me. It contains The Whole Truth and what it contains is the entire
story of God, all that you will ever need to know. Read it, believe it, act on it, and live by
it.”
The Stranger could see the wheels turning the
Young Man’s mind, going over all those years of living with the Story in the
Book. And also the seemingly endless years of his quest. Finally the Stranger
said, “and one more thing; for you, from this time on, searching fruitlessly
for The Whole Truth when you have held it in your hands from your youth, is not
only foolish, but will be a sin that will call for repentance.”
The Young Man raised his head and looked around,
the Stranger was nowhere to be seen. The voice in the GPS muttered, “OK, that’s
it, I will take you home but then I retire.”
'
Postscript:
Since this was written a new Pope has moved into this address,
Pope Francis. He is a humble man (we know because he says so) who eschews much
of the wealth and pomp of the Vatican, lives in a small apartment, drives
himself in an old car and is dearly beloved by all the people. He says what he
thinks, often, apparently without thinking how what he says conforms to the
teachings of his Church.
His subjective redefinition of conscience is typical of what
is giving orthodox Roman Catholics the shivers:
“Each one of us has his own
vision of good and evil and must choose to follow the good and fight the evil
as he understands them.” (Interview with Eugenio
Scalfari, 89 year old atheist publisher of Italy’s La Republica, Oct, 2013)
Statements like this have made him the darling of the liberal
media (like The Huffington Post, The
Daily Beast), Time’s Man of the Year, and people as diverse as Hans Kung,
Jon Stewart, and Jane Fonda. All American Catholics, large and small, who chaff
under the church restraints on same-sex marriage, the ordination of women,
abortion, and divorce also love him. The atheists love him since he has told
them to do good as they understand it and he will meet them in heaven some
day—and that he will not try to convert them because “proselytism is solemn
nonsense.”
The New
Oxford Review, one of the few conservative Catholic print journals still alive,
has tried hard to like this new Pope but at the end of their December notes
coverage of him, they quote Vaticanologist Sandro Magister in L ‘Espresso:
“There is nothing in this program
of the pontificate (Francis’ program of reforming the Vatican) that could turn
out to be unacceptable to the dominant public opinion”
“Woe to you when everyone speaks
fairly and handsomely of you and praises you, for even so their
forefathers did to the false prophets.” Luke 6.26 AMP
Jerry Sweers
cmudgeon@windstream.net
12/04/2013
HIDDEN MANNA
GOAFS II: #71
HIDDEN MANNA
12.4.13
The first time I met Merv and Merla Watson was in 1976 at the
First Christian Church in Tallahassee, Florida. When I joined World Vision to
represent them in seven Southeastern states, the first thing their man in New
Jersey told me was I had a weekend church meeting in two weeks.
It sounded pretty simple. There would be a concert Friday
evening, and a day with Corrie ten Boom on Saturday. I would have time to tell
the crowd about World Vision’s child sponsorship program while Corrie took a
nap. And, by the way, “you will be preaching the Sunday morning service.” This
still sounded pretty good—I knew more about World Vision than anyone there and
I always could come up with an appropriate sermon out of my background of
teaching adults the Bible for years in Sunday School classes.
The one piece of information he saved so I wouldn’t get
nervous, he gave me Sunday morning as he was pinning the mike on my lapel. The
sermon would be recorded for later broadcast on the radio and it had to be
exactly 23 minutes long. God was gracious and I did a reasonable job, but I
cannot say I was not nervous.
Corrie ten Boom was a marvelous communicator and even though
she had been telling the same story for many years it was fresh as the morning
dew.
But Merv and Merla Watson were unforgettable. I never saw them
in person again but I bought two of their records that we played until they
wore out. We were greatly blessed by them.
At the time I was with them they had been commuting to Israel
from their home in Canada for many years. They had a great burden for the Jews.
They were not with any mission organization—they were tentmakers whose tents
were musical. Eventually a ministry organization was formed by their friends
and supporters to keep the government off their backs and allow them to give
receipts for gifts. I have never seen a word from them in the way of an appeal
for money. They would probably call themselves “faith-based.”
This burden for the Jews kept them relatively poor. Merla’s only
extravaganza was a Stradivarius (I am not sure but I think her father got it
for her. She was a superb violinist and has played in the Jerusalem Symphony
for years. Merv had a fine accordion and they both had marvelous voices.
I could go on, but if you want more on them check out their
website, (mervandmerla.com). If you want to try their music (mostly Psalms set
to music in the Hebrew idiom) I would recommend “Hidden Manna.” Go to their
website and click on “albums,” you can download the CD for $10.00.
Finally we get to the point here. Periodically I get an email
update from them. The latest is just to good to not pass along. They do not
often get into politics in these updates, but this one is an exception. This is
a current perspective on the negotiations with Iran over building the bomb.
This the perspective from two people with over 40 years of personal experience
with Israel, the last 20 actually living there.
++++++++++++++++++++++
ISRAEL FACES ISLAM ALONE!
by Merv Watson, a Christian who lives in
Jerusalem
There is almost nothing to say that would encapsulate the
inner rage that is engendered by the constantly recurring blundering of the US
state department! Between the “ know nothing” appearance of the likes of a John
Kerry, with his thimble full of Middle East knowledge, and the diabolical
antics of the megalomaniac social misfit of a President, the so-called “free
world” has only one hope left. Israel, again, must defend and restore the honor
of the West (and East).
The arrogance of the deal which was struck in Geneva (where Israel
was notably absent) with countries in attendance where the Iranian threat does
not compute in their minds, was an unforgivable blunder which will inevitably
lead to a huge swath of carnage. Right now I hear above my head here in
Jerusalem the sound of air force maneuvers involving several countries
seemingly drilling for some kind of attack. It could mean an
attempt to restore the face of the free world. To give in to a regime like the
one threatening the world now with the single-eyed purpose of destroying
Israel, is beyond comprehension!
Israel is one of the only countries that has shown consistent care in
crises at great expense to themselves - Haiti and the recent Philippines
catastrophe being prime examples of ministering to the needs of places in dire
straits. Israel is a champion of humanity and the very source of civilized
behavior. If this is what the “astute” leadership of the Security Council wants
to destroy, then they have just written themselves out of the privileged class
called “humanity!” To abandon Israel to be offered up again on the altar of
death, subject to the ranting blood lust of the Iranian leadership, is the last
word in betrayal. The last time the world ignored such blood thirsty ranting
and tried to negotiate with committed murderers, the world was plunged into
formidable darkness. This time the whole civilized world is threatened with
this “covenant with death” because of the creeping 5th column of
Iran's assistant terrorists planted all over the world. When are responsible
people going to mount a resistance to this deadly mental disease drinking up
the health of countries and supplanting it with murderous mental fantasies
called Sharia “Law”?
(Note: It is ironic that while the leader of the free world
(from behind) continues to ride the merry-go-round of fruitless negotiations
with Iran, most of those who used to be our allies in the middle east are
praying fervently to Allah that Israel will have what it takes to turn Iran’s
nuclear program into heaps and holes of smoking, radioactive dust.)
Jerry Sweers
cmudgeon@windstream.net
