Good Friday

Can you imagine the despair that Jesus' followers, friends, and family must have felt on this night about 2,000 years ago? Not only was their dear friend, brother, son or teacher gone, but with him died their hopes and dreams. The scoffers laughed, the uninterested shrugged, but the hearts of the faithful broke. We know the end of the story, but they did not. Their sorrow must have been overwhelming. Once the sorrow had fully sunk in, the fear took its place with a mighty rush. We know that the Twelve locked themselves in a back room,  because this was where Jesus found them later. It was a dark time.
     And yet, as they suffered the agony of grieving and of they unknown, the spiritual world was exploding. Something big was happening, something wonderful and too beautiful to describe....

Blood

What do a boiled egg, a lamb, wine, and blood have in common? Passover. This is Passover week—the week that Judaism remembers the Exodus and Christianity remembers the death and resurrection of Christ. There are so many beautiful parallels in the Passover feast. Tonight, I put on a Seder meal for my family  (real and adopted) and was struck once again by God’s amazing design. If you ever have a chance to experience a Passover celebration, do it! You will never look at either the Exodus account or the Last Supper the same again. Just as the unblemished lamb was slaughtered at the Temple each year to commemorate the first Passover lambs whose blood took the place of firstborn sons, Jesus blood was shed the very same day at the very same hour. He hung on the cross for as long as the sacrificing in the Temple went on, and just as the high priest would say when the last lamb had been sacrificed, Jesus said just before He died, “it is finished.” He is our unblemished, sinless lamb, the one who takes our place. He is our High Priest, the one who goes to God the Father on our behalf. Because of Him, we can have confidence that we will live. We have no fear of condemnation! Praise be to God for the blood of the Lamb.

Spilled Blood

At the time that Mark's gospel was written, horrific persecution was assailing the Church. I cannot even wrap my brain around the horrors that Christians suffered under Nero and Titus—the atrocities of the torture and killing is just too much for my cushy-Western-sheltered-American mind to comprehend. It is easy to read things like this academically, and just pass unemotionally over the words on the page, as we do while reading history books about wars we never heard of and never cared about. However, we cannot just read the words and ignore the content. The reality is that Christian persecution is not history; it has been going on for two thousand years and it has not stopped. People today are being killed for their faith. As you read these words, somebody is DYING because they love Jesus. Stop reading and think about that for a moment. Do you get that ? Do you really comprehend that? Someone’s heart just stopped beating. Somebody’s child is fatherless or motherless. There is a widow or a widower whose world just collapsed. A congregation just lost a pastor or a beloved church member. There is a gunshot, an explosion, or a machete. Somewhere, there is a dark red bloodstain. And that blood belongs to someone who is your brother or sister.

      Maybe I am being a little intense. That is actually my point. Did you know that there is a Christian murdered by a Muslim extremist every five minutes? That is over 100,000 every year. And that is not including people killed by other hostile groups. This is a REAL, and it’s going on NOW. Human torches and gladiatorial-style events may be a thing of the past, but suicide bombers and ax murders are a thing of the present. While you and I are sitting in our offices, bedrooms, dens or dorms in our cushy chairs, contemplating whether it is worth risking friendships to talk about Jesus, there are people out there who are dying for their witness. While we are complaining about the amount of homework we have and bemoaning our work schedules, there are people who are suffering the loss of their loved ones in hiding and in silence. I am not saying this to give a guilt trip – we are blessed here, and that is just a fact. Praise God! I am saying this because Christians in Mali, Cuba, Iran, Libya, China, India, Azerbaijan, Qatar, Belarus, Uzbekistan and many other nations need your prayers. They need your support and your awareness. There is nothing more powerful than an intercessory prayer made out of genuine love for a brother in need. Pray for Asia Bibi, who is being imprisoned in Pakistan. Pray for her husband and two daughters. Pray for Gao Zhisheng, a Chinese Christian who has been in and out of government incarceration for years. Pray for the Indonesian church, and pray for Muslims—pray for the small percentage of radicals who are doing the violence, and pray for the peaceful majority, who are hurt by the evil deeds of the few and who have little exposure to the truth of the gospel. Pray that God will break your heart for what breaks His-- let your heart and your spirit be rent and ripped for your brothers and sisters who are persecuted.

Inconvenient Christmas

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuQFFCI1h34

I love this song. It’s funny and a little far fetched, but it’s also a reminder that even when this potentially stressful time of year comes around, we can just relax and remember what’s really important. How often do we really “have it bad?” Honestly, very rarely. I’m not saying that we don’t have our frustrations—in fact, I did write a new verse to this song that reflected our family’s mishaps! However (as this song reminded me on my most frustrating day this season), we can get through and over the road bumps in life and remember the incredible trouble that Jesus and his family went through in order to give us the ultimate Christmas gift—hope of eternal life.  Don’t let the business and stress of the season distract you from the precious core of this holiday.

Among the bills that I received was a postcard marked, "Apology,

the Christmas gifts you ordered aren't in stock."

So I packed up the kids for grandpa's house,

then a blizzard blew in and the car broke down.

So, we shared a quart of eggnog at a truck stop.

And I said, "Now kids, this is unfortunate,

you think it's bad, well it's inconvenient.

But the most inconvenient Christmas ever was,

was the first one, when God came so far to give himself to us.

So when the stress hits each December

how it helps me to remember

God is with us most when things just can't get worse.

Ah, the most inconvenient Christmas ever was, was the first.

By the time we got to Grandpa's house

his Christmas lights had burned it down.

So we had to take him home to live with us.

But he couldn't stand to leave the farm, so now there's cattle in our yard,

sheep on the rug, pigs in the tub, and a rooster at dawn.

I said, "Now honey, this is unfortunate,

you think it's bad, well it's inconvenient.

But the most inconvenient Christmas ever was,

was the first one when God came so far to give himself to us.

So when the stress hits each December

how it helps me to remember

God is with us most when things just can't get worse.

Ah, the most inconvenient Christmas ever was, was the first.

A young girl expects a child she can't explain;

forced to walk a hundred miles just to give birth in the hay.

While the king in that same hour,

fearing challenge to his power,

sent his troops to track him down and wipe him out.

Hands down,

the most inconvenient Christmas ever was,

was the first one when God came so far to give himself to us.

So when the stress hits each December

how it helps me to remember

God is with us most when things just can't get worse.

Ah, the most inconvenient Christmas ever was, was the first.

Books to Ashes

     Sometimes I wonder, what is the point of reading fiction? I enjoy it, but is there a purpose beyond entertainment? I’ve come to the conclusion that novels have their place in one’s life. A well-written piece of work gives you a window into the world beyond your own life. You gain a new understanding of the world according to someone else, and a new appreciation of other times and places. You can travel to France or Vietnam with your library card as your passport. The cover of a book is an instant time machine or teleporter. Sail the seas with Ishmael and come away with a rudimentary knowledge of ships and whaling. You may never have been on a boat, but as soon as you step aboard the Hispaniola en route to Treasure Island, you almost believe that you have watched the sun rise from the top of a mast, scoured a deck, and braved a tempest. You’ve drifted down an African river into the heart of darkness. You’ve journeyed to the center of the earth. You’ve been to Boston, London, Uganda, and Berlin. You can tell all about the palace of Cleopatra, you can describe the Crystal Palace, you are familiar with the untainted plains full of American Buffalo. You can give report on the sewers of Paris, describe the slaughterhouses of early 20^th Century Chicago, detail of barracks of Auswitch.

     Reading a novel is wasted time if you get nothing out of it. At the very least, you ought to be able to learn something about the world, past or present. But is should be more than that. Novel reading should color your world, should make it brighter and more vivid. You ought to be able to leave the black and white of the pages and perceive the real world colored in shades of scarlet, gold, vermillion, magenta, ultramarine. The words on the pages should paint your world and teach you to FEEL, to laugh brighter, grieve deeper, love sweeter. To cry poignantly, care passionately.  A novel should steal your shoes and place you in someone else’s. And when you close your book, the characters in its pages should stay in front of your eyes. In the faces of orphans, you will see Oliver Twist and Sarah Crew. In the eyes of young woman who has ruined her life, you see the eyes of Fantine. The bitter woman whose love has been frozen begins to look like Miss Havasham, and the tears of the man who lost everything are the tears of Jurgis Rudkis. You wept for Robert Jordan’s Maria, for Phineas, for Ona. Your heart went out to Heidi and Mary Lennox’s Colin. So be Dicken. Be Jean Valjean Robin Hood and Percy Blakeney. Let your heart be awakened. Care more deeply than you dare, and do something. The whole world is a nonfiction novel. Be the hero; help the helpless. You always wished that someone had saved Piggy or helped the Joads. Your heart cried, “Why? Why didn’t anyone pay attention and make it right?” But these stories are only imagination. They go away when you put the book on the shelf. The cries of pain that sound all around you are real. So find yourself caring. Find yourself seeing and understanding. Otherwise, the time spent reading is wasted; the pages of your books are ash in the wind.

Empty Grave, New Hope

He has risen, He has risen indeed!

Hallelujah! Praise God for His gift of eternal life. This is a day to celebrate!

Maundy Thursday?! I thought Monday was three days ago, and why is it spelled like that?

     Today is the Thursday before Easter, the day we call Maundy Thursday. If you are like me, you have always wondered what “Maundy” means and what it has to do with Jesus. Today I learned what this word means, and that it has a lot to do with Jesus! It is actually quite profound.



     “Maundy” is derived from the Latin word for “command,” “Mandatum.” Mandatum the first word of John 13:34 in the Latin Vulgate Bible. John 13:34 reads,

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

     On the Thursday before Easter, Christ celebrated the Passover (also known as the Last Supper) with his disciples. He knew that later that night, Judas would betray Him, and in the next two days He would be given a trial, be flayed with bits of bone or glass tied to leather straps, be mocked and ridiculed, have a circle of briars jammed into his head, and finally be slain on an ingeniously torturous killing device with the agony of all the world’s sin on his shoulders. He did all of that for one reason: L O V E. He loves you. He loves me. He loves your annoying neighbor and that person who always tries to get your goat. And what is  His command? Love one another. Love them the same way I loved you. Love them enough to be willing to give up your life for them. Chances are, you will never have to give up your life for someone else. But in order to love someone enough to be willing to give them your life, you naturally have to be willing to give up lesser things; the best piece of pie, an afternoon in front of the TV, winning the argument. Your time, your plans, your dreams. 

     Today is Maundy Thursday. Command Thursday. The command is to love. Find a way to show Christ-like love today… and every day.

Becoming Like Francis

Today I am inspired by Francis of Assisi. I used to see St. Francis as the chubby monk statue that my grandma has in her garden… a man poor by choice who loved animals. That might be true, but there is so much more to him!

     I recently read a Catholic book on the Crusades, called  The Crusaders  by Regine Pernoud, that my friend loaned to me. It was interesting because it was told from a very different perspective than secular and even Protestant history books. The Crusades surely is a multi-faceted subject filled with heroes and villains on both sides. It is so confusing and I really don’t know what stance to take on the subject! I came to a chapter on Francis of Assisi. In the middle of a bloody war against the Muslims, this brave man walked unarmed across Christian borders and into Muslim territory. He asked to be taken to the Sultan of Egypt. He was. This is a miracle for two reasons: firstly, because he was not killed on the spot, and secondly, because he was actually allowed to see the sultan. He witnessed to the Sultan, and the Sultan actually said that he would like to become a Christian, yet could not because of politics and fear of assassination (oh, how our human affairs cloud out the glow of eternity! It is tragic).  In the darkness of warfare and bloodshed, St Francis was a shining example of how God wants us to deal with our enemies; with love and concern. This man risked his life to bring Christianity to the Muslims, while many of his fellow Christians were only interested in killing and fighting them over a single city.

     Application: What in your life seems so important that you neglect what really is important? Are you fighting a personal “crusade” over your “Jerusalem?” In other words, are you so focused on something (even if it is something good) that you neglect to fulfill the Great Commission? Be a Francis of Assisi and not a Richard Coeur de Leon!

A Fire Kindled Inside

I have a wonderful missionary friend who told me all about the years she spent with her husband ministering to the people of Thailand. A few months ago, she told me about her time in Asia and allowed me to write about it! I learned a lot from the interview. She also has godly wisdom to impart as someone who has walked with the Lord for many decades. Click to read "A Fire Kindled Inside."

It's a Thaiger!

Saint Paddy's Day

Happy Saint Paddy’s Day to ya! I be hopin’ that she finds ya in good healt and that ta luck o’ ta Irish be on ya.

As you probably know, Saint Patrick was the first missionary to the Irish. I want to take this chance to tell you modern day mission to the Irish.

 Ireland has the lowest percentage of evangelical Christians of all the English-speaking countries in the world! Only 30,000 (that’s less than 1%) are evangelical Christians. For every believer, there are 133 unbelievers! That's a ratio of 133:1

Ireland ranks in the top of the European lists in reference to teenage suicide, drinking alcohol and unwed mother rates. Cocaine and heroin use is rapidly on the rise amongst all socio-economic levels. Divorce (previously illegal until 1997) is a new difficulty for families, with a 70% increase over just four years.

Many evangelical churches today in Ireland consist of just 20 people, most of which meet in homes.

Please pray for Cross Ireland Ministries!

http://www.crossirelandministries.com/

And just because I’m a fan of Ireland, here are a few links to Irish music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWTYt_-jafg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpSZefCKC6U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpMGWOAAKs4

An Irish Blessing for You :)

May the blessing of Light be on you -

light without and light within,

May the blessed sunlight shine on you

and warm your heart till it glows like

a great peat fire, so that the stranger

may come and warm himself at it, and

also a friend.

And may the light shine out of the two

eyes of you, like a candle set in two

windows of a house, bidding the wanderer

to come in out of the storm.

And may the blessing of the Rain be on you -
the soft sweet rain. May it fall upon your
spirit so that all the little flowers may
spring up, and shed their sweetness on the air.
And may the blessing of the Great Rains be on
you, may they beat upon your spirit and wash
it fair and clean, and leave there many a
shining pool where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

And may the blessing of the Earth be on you -
the great round earth; may you ever have a
kindly greeting for them you pass as you're
going along the roads.
May the earth be soft under you when you
rest upon it, tired at the end of the day, and may
it rest easy over you when, at the last, you lay
out under it;
May it rest so lightly over you, that your soul
may be out from under it quickly, and up, and
off, and on its way to God.

Virgin Mary Through the Ages

Today I did some research on religious art through history for an illustrating job I have. The purpose of this was to study the culture and clothing of the first century as portrayed by various artists. As I scrolled through over one hundred of the most famous paintings, it struck me as funny how each artist’s culture changed his perception of different scenes. There were many that contained historically correct clothing and realistic scenes, but there were many others that did not. I couldn’t help cracking a grin when I saw Caravaggio’s Calling of Saint Matthew. This painting was done in 1600 and the persons in the picture were dressed in styles belonging to that century.

     I think Mary would laugh if she could sit next to me and see all these paintings. Roughly half of them depicted her. She was painted with everything from blonde and red to brown and jet-black hair, dressed in the plainest frocks and the most elaborate garments from the fashions of the first century to the Regency period.

Sometimes, she was a small young girl, other times a full-figured woman. She sat in barns, caves, thrones, clouds, temples, rocks, and even floated above the clear waters at the edge of a tropical island.

Her waist contracted and expanded and her skin darkened and lightened with the fads through the centuries. 

 I wonder what she was thinking while she was laboring in a smelly animal cave in the dark and cold night. I wonder if, as she held her newborn baby close to keep him warm and comforted, she knew that what had passed would be recorded and celebrated for millenniums by people all over the world.

Did she understand the significance of that moment? As she lay down, exhausted and sore, on a pile of straw, could she foresee what lay ahead?

Did she dare to imagine that millions would veneer and even worship her? Her hair was matted and messy. She was weary and sore from riding on a donkey all day and giving birth. Her clothes were dirty and old. She and her husband were almost penniless.

There was no floating above the ground in a gold throne while she rocked her baby. He was red, wrinkled, and floppy—and oh, so tiny! He did not sit up gracefully and observe the world with wise eyes.

When the shepherds, stinky and unpolished, came trooping through the entrance, what did she think? When she heard the hosts of Heaven break out into song, did she tremble? These weren’t little fair-haired children with stubby wings, after all. These were mighty spiritual beings like nothing  she had ever seen!

     What was it like? I always wonder what life is or was like in places and times I’ll never be in. What was it like? The paintings aren’t any help whatsoever. Even the scriptures skim the details. What was it like for Mary? I wonder.

National Socialism?

For a school project, I have to define about a dozen forms of what Gary North refers to as “philosophies of organized envy.” Good description.

While doing research on National Socialism (Nazism), I stumbled across a National Socialist forum. Here I got the best definition of what National Socialism is and began to watch a very screwy video about why Nazism is great and the Holocaust was a lie and a bunch of cruddy bologna like that. It took me about 2 minutes to see that the video was not going to profit me in the least. As I scrolled up to click out of this messed-up site full of ethnocentric weirdoes, I caught site of the site’s slogan:

“White Pride, World-Wide.”

I felt tears stinging my eyes. These people are missing the whole point of humanity! I believe in one race: the human race. Who cares about pigment? Why does that even matter to people? It shouldn’t; to use a wise quote, “Our blood runs the same red.”

     Don’t get caught up in racism, bigotry and ethnocentricism. Don’t be a fool.

    This year, I have been studying the case laws of Exodus. It is interesting (Yes, it is frequently interesting!) to see how God’s plan for government covers all the bases. It provides for everyone and everything and makes a whole lot more sense than the structure of government in our country today… whether you’re reading this from the US, Canada, Japan, South Africa, Romania, or Australia, it makes more sense! It just WORKS. If it is followed. Problem is, it often wasn’t. That’s when the problems began for Israel.

     After one of their “falling away” times, Israel was taken captive in Babylon. (There’s a whole interesting sequence of events involving prophesies and maybe I’ll post about that later.) Nehemiah was allowed to go to Jerusalem to rebuild the wall, and after it was built, the Law was found. They read the Law, realized their errors and came up with a “Magna Charta” or constitution of sorts. Here it is http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Neh&c=10&v=1&t=NIV

Read it there or crack open your Bible to Nehemiah 10. Please don’t just bypass this, it won’t take you that long. I think you will enjoy it anyway.

Having just finished dissecting the US constitution last week, I dissected this rather shorter piece of legislation and summarized it. Here is what I came up with:

(signers names and seals)

“We the people do solemnly swear to be a people pure and distinct, to follow God’s plan for our property and time, to pay “taxes” in the form of a simple tithe (that is, ten  percent), to give a contribution to the House of God, as is our duty, to give the Lord our first and our best, to provide for our leaders, to provide for the poor, and to remember our God.”

Don’t you think that sounds like a good law-of-the-land? I mean, it’s simple. And welfare is built in, but nobody is discriminated against. And taxes are low and simple! No crazy paperwork for them to fill out. We see, though, that just 3 chapters later, the Israelites had totally discarded the document! Isn’t that sad? After all God had done for them... made the King agree to Nehemiah’s request (1:4-6), gave them faith and strength (2:20), gave them protection (4:14), gave them financial relief (5:12), thwarted plans of the opposition (6:10-13), gave them success in rebuilding the wall (7:1), brought exiles home (7:5), gave them the Book of the Law (8:1-2), and forgave them and gave them joy (8:11-12). Let’s not be like them, so ungrateful and unfaithful!

     The good news is that God still forgave them and gave them a second chance. 2 Titus 2:13 says, “When we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot disown Himself.”

     Lord, make us like Nehemiah, who had faith, patience, and perseverance. Let us live for you alone and stay at the center of your will. Let us bless you that you will bless us and the work of our hands. Amen.

September 11

Dear Americans and Friends of the US,
September 11, 2001 is a day, like December 7 1941, that will live in our memories forever. Will any of us ever forget the horror of the video footage and the mourning for loved ones? Will we ever cease to think of the lives destoryed by the flames? Will any one of us ever travel to New York for DC again without remembering the ugly scar across its face? Let's all take a moment to bow our heads and say a prayer for those still recovering. Let us pray that our nation will turn back to God.






PRESIDENT BUSH: Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices. Secretaries, business men and women, military and federal workers. Moms and dads. Friends and neighbors.


Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror.


The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge structures collapsing, have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness and a quiet, unyielding anger.


These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed. Our country is strong. A great people has been moved to defend a great nation.


Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.


America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.


Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature, and we responded with the best of America, with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could.


Immediately following the first attack, I implemented our government's emergency response plans. Our military is powerful, and it's prepared. Our emergency teams are working in New York City and Washington, D.C., to help with local rescue efforts.


Our first priority is to get help to those who have been injured and to take every precaution to protect our citizens at home and around the world from further attacks.


The functions of our government continue without interruption. Federal agencies in Washington, which had to be evacuated today, are reopening for essential personnel tonight and will be open for business tomorrow.


Our financial institutions remain strong, and the American economy will be open for business as well.


The search is under way for those who are behind these evil acts. I've directed the full resources for our intelligence and law enforcement communities to find those responsible and bring them to justice. We will make no distinction between the terrorists who committed these acts and those who harbor them.


I appreciate so very much the members of Congress who have joined me in strongly condemning these attacks. And on behalf of the American people, I thank the many world leaders who have called to offer their condolences and assistance.


America and our friends and allies join with all those who want peace and security in the world and we stand together to win the war against terrorism.


Tonight I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened. And I pray they will be comforted by a power greater than any of us spoken through the ages in Psalm 23: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for
you are with me."


This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time.


None of us will ever forget this day, yet we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.


Thank you. Good night and God bless America.

America the Beautiful?

O Beautiful, for polluted skies,
For grayish strips of asphalt,
For mammoth buildings majesties,
Above the city streets!
America! America!
God has no place in thee
Let’s crown the stars, rich and popular
From beach to crowded beach!

O beautiful for government
Whose stern agendas pressed
To take away our freedom, and said
It was for our best!
America! America!
God’s name is thought a flaw.
Confirm thy happiness with self in mind
Thy demands in law!

O beautiful for idols proved
In televised strife.
Who more than self nothing loved
And money more than life!
America! America!
May the Fed thy paper bills refine
Till all success be selfishness
And every gain be mine!

O beautiful for American dream
That lusts beyond what’s yours
Thine chrome and glass cities gleam
Wells Fargo Tower and Sears!
America! America!
God? Ancient myth is he!
Let’s crown the stars, rich and popular
From beach to crowded beach!

O beautiful for jet-filled skies,
For imported, modified grain,
For Oprah, her majesty
Who makes her politics plain!
America! America!
God has no place in thee
Let’s save the bears and earth and air
And kill our own babies!

O beautiful for pedicured feet,
And busy moms who stress
Woman’s lib and freedom meet
Sadness no one could have guessed!
America! America!
God, if I like, is ME
I’ll base my life’s path on
My wild thoughts
Don’t need to hit my knees!

O beautiful for gory tale
Of murderous strife
With constant vice,
for man's avail
Men destroyed precious life!
America! America!
God’s blessings all will flee!
Till selfish gain ceases to stain
The hearts of you and me!

O beautiful for children’s dreams
That sees no hope, just fears
Thine crowded, starving cities gleam
Awash by human tears!
America! America!
God won’t be mocked by thee!
Pray nobler men keep once again
His plan for this country!

(c) 2010 Becoming Godly Maidens

5-21-10 "A Mount Vernon Horror Story"

It was twilight on Mount Vernon. The sun’s last rays were fast disappearing behind the northeast hills. The lake was dark and the estate was bathed in grays and blues. I walked up the path to get a last look at the fields and trees. I shivered as evening wind blew past me and rattled the autumn leaves above.
“Almost closing time, kid,” said a man as I walked past. He was one of the two surveyors who are employed at Mount Vernon. George Washington himself was a surveyor, and these two men display colonial surveying equipment and talk to visitors at a table beside the path.
“I know,” I said, “just finishing up.” I knew that I was walking the opposite way of the exit, but I wanted to be here as long as possible. The cool air was refreshing, and without the throngs of other tourists, it was easy to imagine that George Washington himself might ride out from between the tall trees at any moment. The surveyor shrugged and carefully placed an old, curiously shaped metal object into a padded case. I walked a little further up the path, into a stone-paved clearing. Here was the final resting place of the body of George Washington—an unburied casket viewable behind locked bars in his tomb. The casket of Martha Washington, his wife, was beside it. I was too old to be afraid of dead people and sensible enough to disregard superstition, but here, in the gloom of imminent night with owls hooting mournfully above me, it was just a little creepy. The chill wind moaned and wound itself around the tomb. I pulled my jacket closer to me. Then I froze. I heard a sound. I had always read in novels and mystery books that bones rattle when they move—was that what I was hearing? No, of course not. This was real life, not a thrilling story. Maybe it was a bad idea to venture so far from the visitor center alone after dark. I turned to go. But I had not taken three steps when I heard the sound again. I turned, slowly, heart thumping wildly. There was a dim light that lit the caskets after dark, and by it, I could see into the tomb. What was the movement—a shadow, perhaps? There it was again. No, it was not a shadow; I was sure of it. One of the caskets was moving ever so slightly. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I felt like vomiting. Was I dreaming? This was like a terrible nightmare—the kind where you can’t run and you can’t scream. The casket shifted slightly and groaned, scraping on its pedestal with the movement. Was the body going to burst out? Dozens of terrible thoughts flooded my mind. There was something moving inside the coffin. Were the bones of George going to escape? Then, to my absolute horror, a wraith-like figure appeared out of the trees and moved toward me. My tongue unstuck itself from my palate. I screamed.
The figure spoke. “What on earth? It’s after closing time. What are you doing here?” He looked at me expectantly. I stuttered and fumbled for words. The figure put up a hand. “Stop that gasping! What do I look like to you, a ghost?” No, he looked like a groundkeeper. There was his ordinary blue jeans, his “Mount Vernon” shirt, and dirty sneakers. I swallowed.
“Sorry. I was just… looking.”
“Saying goodbye to George and Martha?” He was not angry. Thank goodness.
“Uh-huh,” I was still uneasy. I began to move away. Then I heard the rattling sound and the casket began to shake. I felt like I was going to faint. “What… is… oh, my… how…?” I choked.
“That’s George turning over.” The groundkeeper seemed unconcerned but a little sad. “Every time congress or a government official does something against what this country was founded on, George turns over in his grave.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I sputtered.
“But true.”
I moved to stand beside him. He was looking at the casket, hands in pockets.
“What I would give to have lived under American government the way it was designed,” he sighed.
“Does it happen a lot— Washington turning over, I mean?”
“Nearly every day; often multiple times each night. It’s disheartening.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. A bat circled overhead, catching bugs. An owl hooted. For some minutes we stood in silence, listening to the sounds of the night.
“Well,” the groundskeeper snapped out of his own thoughts. I started. “It’s after closing time,” he said, glancing at his watch “You better head out.”

5-2-10 "Creationists Cannot be Racist"

Creationists can't be racist- that would just be stupid.

Read on!

 

5-20-10 "Broken Dreams and Living Nighmares"

Here is a true story about a little Austrian boy born in 1889.

Cute kid, huh? Well, aside from the bad haircut. This baby boy lived in Europe a while back. He grew up to be an artist. Art was his passion.  Here are a couple of his pieces. Not bad at all! Quite impressive, actually.  

Mr. Heidler wanted his son to go into government. The boy himself did not. Perhaps this was because his father did. You see, Mr. Heidler was quite abusive and had not had a very good life himself. Here is his picture, taken in 1901:

The boy, Adolphus, fought with his father repeatedly and begged to go to a classical high school.  It wasn’t allowed, and Adophus’ grades went down in his conventional high school. At age 15, he dropped out of school.

But there was still college.

Adolphus applied to an art school, but dropouts were turned down. Adolphus presented his art, thinking that perhaps they would change their minds when they saw his talent.

He was wrong. So Adolphus lived like a waif and ate at soup kitchens.

But his life was not to stay that way! As an adult, Adolphus moved into this gorgeous estate with his true love.  

But the story does not end happily ever after. On April 30, 1945, Adolfus shot himself. There were comparatively few mourners for his death. In fact, most of the world celebrated. The evil genious of the Third Riech, the mastermind behind the holocaust, the Fuhrer of Nazi Germany, was dead.

 

What would have happened, I wonder, if Adolf Hitler’s life had been different? What would the history of the 40’s be like had Alois Hiedler been a kind father? How many old men would be unscarred by war today had he allowed his son to go to art school? How many Jews would be alive today had a relative supported the impovereshed Adolf? How many Japanese would be whole instead of maimed by nuclear fallout had Hitler been accepted into art school? Would the name "Hitler" fill art class instead of history textbooks? Would we learn about “Adolf Hitler, the great artist- granted, he had some strange ideas, but, hey, his art was awesome!” instead of "Adolf Hitler- the murderous Nazi leader who tried to wipe out an entire race and caused a World War."

How much can one kind and merciful action change a life… a generation… a race…..the  world…the course of history… for the better? People aren't born evil. The baby at the top of this page did not have anti-semetic sentiments. That came later, after a deep wound pierced his heart. The Devil doesn't get newborns- but if they are not cared for and shown the love of God, anyone, even a poor orphaned teen, can become a human monster. Show god's love to everyone, even outcasts. They are the ones who need it the most.

 

 

 

 

4-31-10 "Forget it, Lizzy Stanton"

I just found a delightful website- Ladies Against Feminism. Come on, sisters, let's fight feminism and show the world that we want to be respected for our feminity and appreciated for the womanliness that God gave us!

     Feminism is unbiblical- just check out the epistles. And Feminist attitudes won't go away without FEMALES fighting it. By giving "rights" they took away our dignity. Let's take it back for the glory of God!

     When we do this, we not only help ourselves, we help our Christian brothers by allowing them to be masculine. The world laughs at feminine women and masculine men, but that is SO backward! Men can't behave chivelrously if we don't let them. Give the gift of manhood to the boys in your life and the gift of womanhood to the girls and take your place in the role God intended for you!

Nathan has thoughts on this matter, too... please read his post here

4-27-10 "I'm a Native American, too! For Cryin' Out Loud, It's Not My Fault Columbus Didn't Use GPS..."

 Most of you would look at me and say that I am “white.” I am a mixture of Czech, Norwegian, German, English, French, etc… yes, you would say that I am white. However, I am not really white. To comprehend my meaning, I suggest you conduct a conclusive experiment: Take a piece of computer paper. Find the nearest white person. Hold paper against skin of white person. Compare. Do the paper and the skin match? Is there more than an infinitesimal difference in pigment?  Of course there is. You will discover that while the paper is decidedly white, the flesh will range anywhere from pale ivory to beige, or reddish if it is swimming season. Not white. Therefore, using the term “white” to describe this particular race is derogatory and racist. I take great offence! Therefore, allow me to suggest a few more politically correct terms:

·         People of European Descent

·         European Americans

·         People of No Color

Better yet, how about we all forget about the whole “race” thing. As Carl Kerby of Answers In Genesis says, there is only one race- the HUMAN race. We all came from one couple in the beginning, and they probably had a light, warm brown for skin tone. As people spread out all over the earth, genetic mutations changed the skin tones to darker or lighter colors, and as time went on, those in Africa passed on dark pigments, those in Europe passed down a deficit of pigment, and those on other continents had various different skin tones. Makes sense, right? We’re all related by Adam and Noah, and God loves everyone the same. So what the heck is all this to-do about “races” for? We are all people- can’t we just be color-blind?