Black Cow

and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise up. (Deuteronomy 6:7 WEB)

Atlanta, Georgia is a great place to grow up. Along side many other auspicious historical events I figure Atlanta is best known as the home of Coca Cola Corporation. Everything else in the city's history pales by comparison. At least that was how I was raised. My family held a great devotion to this sparkling, thirst quenching, concoction.

My brothers and I were born, bred and taught early the marvelous wonders of an ice cold coke. I figure we were teenagers before we heard of any other, what we called, soft drink. Pepsi was considered a dirty word in our home and just the mention of it would get our mouth washed out with soap. We had very clean mouths in Georgia.

We learned early the important and varied uses for a Coca-Cola. If you fill your mouth and then shake your head back and forth it will fizzle wildly. The growing internal pressure will eventually be released through your nose with a wild shout of excitement, and a disgusting dribble down your face. Pour a small amount, you don't want to waste it, on the porch, and it will attract a passel of bugs to examine and collect. Even the critters from our yard had sense enough to know a good then when it appeared.

One day, when it was hot and my brothers and I were sweaty, Dad showed us the miracle of a float. For the uninitiated, a float combines the sweet delight of a coke with the cool refreshment of vanilla ice cream. Some, non purists, might venture to use other flavors of ice cream, or even consider using a different soft drink, perish the thought! Mixing the appropriate two, Coca-cola and vanilla ice cream, in a glass produces a marvelous drink. There is a long standing debate. Which comes first, the ice cream or the coke. I am sure this serious issue will continue to be debated through the ages. I am sure, when we get to heaven. God will tell us the Coca-cola goes in first and settle the question once and for all.

As my own children grew I fear that I failed them as a father. I never instructed them in the proper technique for making a cool float on a hot summer afternoon. This became overwhelmingly evident when our youngest, Evan, was about five years old.

We were on furlough visiting some folks in San Antonio, Texas. The summer was hot, our schedule was full, and the children spent their afternoons with the family where we were staying. Visits to the bowling alley, another new experience, and the local pool, kept the children busy while my wife, Beth, and I shared our ministry with the Missions Committee and at difference meetings around town. As the story goes, relayed to us by our children, our hostess offered Evan a Black Cow.

Evan wasn't sure what a Black Cow was, outside of the four footed bovine, but jumped at the offer when he learned it included ice cream and root beer. Let me make this clear; I don't condone root beer for making a float. The use of this foreign substance is totally contrary to my pledge of allegiance to the state of Georgia and the Coca Cola Corporation. However, these folks were Texans, and Texans have some peculiar ideas about things.

This fine lady carefully filled a glass with root beer while Evan watched with his brown eyes wide in anticipation. The ice cream was retrieved from the freezer and opened. The excitement rose as Evan watched her find her ice cream scoop and dig into the cool, delicious looking, white ice cream. At least they had the decency to use vanilla ice cream in Texas. A large portion was scooped from the container and then whoosh, dropped into the glass of root beer? The white lump floated at the top as a brown foam rose from the quickly cooled root beer.

Evan was aghast with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. How could someone destroy good ice cream by putting it into a glass of root beer? He started crying. As a matter of fact he was still crying when we returned home a few hours later. It took a while to reduce his noise to a simple whimper. At bed time he drifted off into a fitful, ice cream concerned sleep.

Years later Evan commented on the horror he experienced when a good scoop of ice cream was destroyed by drowning it in a glass of root beer. He was sixteen then and the scar remained. Some things in life are just too horrific to forget.

Since that raucous day I have tried to teach him other unique things before he is caught unaware. Chocolate syrup on toast for breakfast, Boy Scout sandwiches (a combination where the bacon is cooked inside the egg), and oatmeal on toast have become part of his dietary experience. It is very important for us to teach our children the good things of life, things they can pass on to the next generation with pride.

God told the Israelites to teach their children His statutes. God didn't want anyone confused or traumatized by the unexpected. Without proper preparation I'm sure little Jacob would have been aghast at the Passover meal. “What do you mean no leaven in the bread? I wanted a fluffy cinnamon roll with dinner!”

I try to teach my children God's statutes as they grow. They can learn to live with a food oversight. A spiritual oversight is more devastating. As believers, what piece of God's wisdom have we failed to pass on to our children? When God drops a beautiful scoop of divine calling into a glass of routine life we want our children to shout with joy, not recoil in disgust.

Papa Chick

How much? Would You Say That Again? Are You Sure?

This is an article my father wrote for an internal newsletter in 1981. I find it hilarious and still applicable today. Enjoy . . .

by Elton B. Chick

One of Murphy's Laws states that any piece of wire or cable cut to exact length will be too short. Some say that Murphy is an optimist. Actually, problems with cable lengths often arise out of use of precision techniques such as measurement with a micrometer, marking with chalk and cutting with an ax. In other cases some difficulty may result from using exact specifications, where velocity, for instance, is measured in furlongs per fortnight. In the broadcast equipment business we often find some very interesting events that are related to linear dimensions.

Recently, for instance, there was a customer who needed several lengths of coaxial cable. Somehow Murphy's Law became operative in this situation and the cables were much too short, that is, they lacked sufficient linear dimension. By use of the retrospectograph, a new device for analysis of the past, it appears that this customer determined the lengths of line needed by an ancient system known as cubit measure, as used by Noah of Noah's Ark fame. In the process of converting from cubit measure to feet the customer seems to have used the wrong conversion factor, thus the lines were too short.

In this day and age there is really no need to use such measures as the cubit when we have so many other convenient linear dimensions. The furlong, for example, is quite handy, being 220 yards, 660 feet or 1/8th of a mile. Even better would be the fathom, simply 6.0 feet. Of course, for greater, lengths it would be more convenient to use such things as the kilometer, mile, nautical mile or the light year. So, why fool around with the cubit which has a precise definition as being “about 18 to 22 inches." Of course, the ultimate end to dimensional confusion will arrive when we are fully converted to the metric system where everything is a multiple or submultiple of ten. Since we all (well, most of us} have ten fingers and ten toes, this should work out just fine. Of course, several generations may be needed to make this transition.

In the meantime, we seem to be stuck with a rather odd collection of weights and measures. In many ways this will continue to make life difficult in such areas as the measurement of affection as expressed in the old love song whose words say, “I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.” Fortunately with all the pocket calculators around we can more easily evaluate the affection expressed in this old song. For example, a bushel may be equated to four pecks, so we have a total of five pecks of affection. One peck being two gallons, we have a total ten gallons of love . . . easy to grasp. If only song writers would be more accurate and use more familiar terms, this song could have been written simply, “I love you ten gallons and a hug around the neck.” Using the latest definitions, we can even evaluate the hug around the neck. This, of course, is a subjective phrase, but by use of a relatively new measure, the SWAG, we can give it more meaning. Actually, the SWAG is a little like the cubit, not too precise. A SWAG may be defined as an estimate which lies some place between, but less than an educated guess and greater than “I haven't the foggiest idea.”

Unfortunately, there are a number of less than precise definitions of length or quantity in our civilization. Many of these things go back to childhood days when children are taught by their parents, by example with such statements as “I've told you a million times not to exaggerate.” Now this lends a pretty definite meaning to exaggeration. Oh well, it will all work out when we adopt the metric system which we are moving toward inch by inch. Regrettably, we are resisting this change every foot (.3048 m) of the way, but please send accurate line lengths for phasors when you submit a specification guide.

Papachick’s Dad

Rapunzel Tangled

He said, “Please show me your glory.” He said, “I will make all my goodness pass before you, and will proclaim the name of Yahweh before you. I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy.” (WEB Exodus 33:18-19)

I love a parade. It’s been a while since I watched a good Christmas parade up close and in person. There were parades now and then in Austria but nothing like the full steam ahead, floats, cars, horses, bands, beauty queen, and grand marshal affairs I remember from my youth. When the chance came to go downtown and enjoy a local Christmas parade I thought it was a great idea.

To add to the fun one of my two year old granddaughters joined us at the celebration. In case you haven’t been around a two year old lately they have a lot of energy (more than me) and a very short attention span. They like to be entertained. With this in mind we expected Lily to be distracted during the two plus hours the parade marched by our seats. But a little distraction from our granddaughter isn’t really a distraction, it’s fun.

We got up early and made our way through the traffic to a back street parking place. We walked past the line of traffic snarled cars to join our friends on the parade route a block from the start. It was a cool and sunny day and the crowds were gathering. Vendors weaved their way up and down the street to offer us hot coffee and get us going with donuts, all for a nominal price. Lily watched the people coming and going and started to wake up and enjoy the morning. Then the parade started.

Beth and I were amazed. We expected a tag team approach to keep track of Lily when the initial excitement of the parade gave way to the short attention span of a two year old. Nothing close to that happened. From the first trumpet of the first band through the final police vanguard at the rear of the parade she sat enthralled.

She clapped for the bands, waved at the people on the floats and said Hi to everyone who walked, rode or marched along the parade route. When she saw a young lady dressed in a long gown she would shout out Rapunzel Tangled. (We didn’t know that was the phrase until later when she was interpreted by her Mom.) She smiled, she giggled and laughed and was entranced from start to finish. There were horses, cars, dogs, dancers and folks in large costumes.

Then the first of a couple big balloons came floating by and she was beside herself with joy. She’d look me in the face and say, “Big Balloon.” Each time a float appeared she put her hands to the side of her face and exclaimed, “Another one!” I really enjoyed the parade but I also enjoyed watching her excitement and thrill as the various schools, businesses and organizations shared in the holiday celebration.

I can just imagine God watching Moses’ face while He displayed His glory before patriarch. I can hear Moses clapping his hands in excitement as each aspect of God’s glory rolled by in a divine parade. I think God was thrilled that Moses was thrilled with what he saw.

I think it will be fascinating and more than we can imagine to see the wonders of heaven and experience a glimpse of God’s glory. Just think of the parades we’ll enjoy watching as they wind their way down the golden streets of the New Jerusalem. We’ll be filled with excitement as we wave at Michael and shout Hi to Gabriel and the other angels as they reveal God in each step. That will be a truly grand parade.

Until then I look forward to my next parade. I look forward to sharing more of these joys with my grandchildren. I look forward to a touch of wonder this side of heaven while I wait in anticipation.

Papa Chick

Giggles, Grins and Grands

Children's children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children. (Proverbs 17:6 NIV)

We lived many years overseas serving the Lord wherever He placed us. No regrets but plenty of praises for God’s provision. In the last few years away from our homeland we enjoyed the benefits of modern technology including video conferences with our grown children and our growing brood of grandchildren. They thought we lived in a box and were awakened as simply as starting a video game but that’s better than waiting for weeks on snail mail for updates and photos.

Then the call came from the Lord to move our ministry back into our homeland. It’s the same ministry, the same work, just from another location. The greatest thing about God leading clearly is the joy of serving Him. There are many benefits from His leading and this one included being closer to our grandchildren.

So, for the first time since God started blessing us with grandchildren we were able to host a Thanksgiving celebration in our home. Not everyone could come due to work, school, or other obligations, but a majority made the trip. It was great. There were giggles and grins throughout the day. There was plenty of food, snacks, and drink.

As many have already discovered it’s delightful to watch a couple two year old granddaughters discover each other and figure out how to share the few toys they can find at Opa and Oma’s house. Off to the sideline an adorable five month old grandson giggles and laughs at his sister and cousin’s antics. You just never know what to expect.

We weren’t disappointed with the floor show. It went amazingly well and even sharing favorite dolls didn’t escalate into a feud. Maybe we can get the folks at all the peace tables around the world to take a few lessons from two year olds. But that wasn’t even the best part.

The best part was when one of them decided Oma, and especially Opa (me) needed a hug or kiss or that their lap was the perfect vantage point for watching something. There’s nothing like it. It doesn’t last long before they’re off to another imagined adventure but that’s long enough. These gestures of love toward grandparents can come unexpectedly anywhere in the house, any time of day. Bring it on.

I always wondered what it would be like to get older and have grandchildren. Now I know. It’s great. I also know why God gives little ones to us when we’re young. A two year old has much more stamina that I do these days. But the exhaustion at the end of the day is worth the love you receive from these little additions to the family.

I’m looking forward to future invasions or invading their homes. It’s encouraging to watch our children raise their children and be able to see that God did a good job with them. We’re proud of our children and grandchildren. It’ll be exciting to see how God works our grandchildren’s lives in the years to come. I can’t wait for another hug or kiss just because they love their Opa. They have their tizzies and fits and get tired and cranky, just like Opa, but I still love them.

There’s nothing like walking along the road with my arm stretched down so little fingers can clasp a couple of my fingers and feel safe while they point out every new thing they see. I’m not sure who enjoys it more but I think I do. Teaching my grandchildren to skip rocks on a pond or stir up the fall leaves with their feet gives me a feeling things are going along just fine in God’s world.

I hope God is proud of me. I think He is. I mess up enough and still He cares for me. It’s astonishes me each and every day. I’m looking forward to the day I can put my arms around my Savior’s neck and let Him know how much I love Him.

Papa Chick

Sunday on the Mountain

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; Though its waters roar and foam, Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride. Selah. (Psalms 46:2‑3 NASB)

“I Sing the Mighty Power of God, that made the mountains rise.” High on the side of a mountain in Switzerland the morning activity was slow. The weather was iffy but gave the hint of improving later in the day. Our two families were enjoying a holiday of fresh air, mountains, flowers and fellowship. It was our first trip to Switzerland. The children staggered their way down the stairs from their loft bedrooms to the larger living room.

After a breakfast of French Toast, prepared by Phil's caring hands, we contemplated worshiping the Lord of Salvation. Sunday morning had dawned and our hearts were ready to approach God's throne of grace. However, a little cleaning was a must.

I led the way outside for the boys to undergo a cleansing with water. The cabin was provided with water collected from a stream flowing down the mountain. There was no hot water. There was no electricity to heat the water. The hose hanging from the back of the cabin provided clear and cold mountain spring water. The emphasis here was on the cold. Just the process of washing the hair on our heads created a frostbite headache. Rinsing out the soap was an exercise in steady nerves, fast reflexes and pain. My poor hands hurt for about an hour after the refreshing adventure. With a little coaxing the boys were willing to brave the water and removed a layer, or two, of grime.

The girls were the smart ones. They cordoned off the kitchen where they had access to the wood burning stove. We brought in buckets of water which they turned into hot water. With their luxurious hot water and a little privacy they prepared themselves for the day. The boys remained sequestered in the living room for the duration until the ladies emerged happy and clean. We all agreed that hot water would be the best addition to this gift of a mountain cabin from God. Now that we were all clean it was time for some cleansing by the Word.

During the bath time, except when I was freezing in the water, Phil and I enjoyed worshiping the Lord with song. I played the guitar for songs I knew and Phil for those he knew. We moved from one song to the next through the chorus book I brought on the trip. When everyone was clean and present Phil suggested we allow the children, and youth, to provide the morning message.

Beginning with our youngest Evan, and working our way up in age, each shared a verse or passage and then their thoughts on the content. We were encouraged. Here were young people freely sharing what God had taught them from His Word. Our hearts were also encouraged by the words they shared. It was an uplifting time for all of us. Their insight into God and his love for them was more than we expected. I guess they did learn something at home and in Bible class.

Next we each shared a prayer request or two from our hearts. These were requests for ministry to or for others. Everyone was willing to open their hearts and desires before God and the family. Finally, we spent a time in intercessory prayer for these and other items which came to mind. You learn a lot about others and family when they pray for things important to them. You discover their dreams, their fears and their loves.

I believe this is a great way to worship the Lord of our salvation. There’s no need to impress someone with Sunday dress. No theological exposition of impressive schooling. Only hearts, touched and molded by God, seeking to know God and praise His name. I must admit I felt as though I had worshiped God more closely and faithfully that morning than all the Sundays of the previous year.

I think we should each take an occasional Sunday morning, afternoon or evening to worship God with close family and friends. There is a close fellowship, a sharing from the heart, a bond which only exists in close family and small quarters. The facade of public worship is stripped away in the familiarity of family. We are not tempted to impress those who already know us. There we can feel free, accepted, and open to worship God without psychoanalysis by a congregation.

We don't want to forsake gathering together to encourage and strengthen one another through corporate worship and prayer. We are called to this in Scripture. I've spent years studying corporate worship and love times of blessing, singing praises, shouting hallelujah and lifting up God's name with the body of Christ. But, sometimes we gain more strength and encouragement in a small body of Christians.

Sometimes Jesus drew away only with his disciples. There was a time for the crowds and a time for family. It was in those close gatherings the disciples received most of their training. Maybe we need to draw away, sometimes, with the disciples in our own family. Does your family need to grow and know each other better? There is no better place to learn than before God's throne in praise, prayer and worship.

Papa Chick

Lock and Load

"For nothing is hidden that will not become evident, nor anything secret that will not be known and come to light." (Luke 8:17 NASB)

One advantage of living on a small island with an extensive military presence was the chance to tour the impressive vessels. With three energetic boys there was always an interest in the latest demonstration of power sailing into the harbor. When a ship dropped its gangplank we were there waiting to be piped aboard.

Some ships were more impressive than others but each held its own unique features. As the boys and I strolled the decks and explored the belly and superstructure of each steel behemoth we tried to imagine life on board. Of course we always glamorized it as fun, exciting, saving the world and being seen as heroes wherever we sailed.

We imagined flying freedom missions from the decks of aircraft carriers. Sending an enemy to the bottom of the sea would be our mission while touring a submarine. Storming a beach to free a nation from tyranny became our goal on troop carriers. Serving the thankful needs of our comrades in arms gave us joy while looking over the machinery of a tender.

One day we toured a guided missile frigate. The man in charge of the three story launch platform spoke excitedly about its capabilities. "I can lock and load a missile in ten seconds," he declared with a gleam in his eyes and pride in his voice. Immediately he manipulated the controls spinning the mount to demonstrate its flexibility and speed, no missiles of course.

The expected question soon arose from someone in the crowd, "Are these nuclear missiles?"

Immediately our guide’s appearance became staunch and empty faced as he repeated by rote, "I can neither confirm nor deny the nuclear capabilities of this vessel." He waited a while as everyone nodded their heads and mumbled a chorus of "uhm." The capabilities of the vessel were well known but could not be discussed.

We like to keep secrets. We want to surprise people with our abilities. On the other hand we don't want people to know our deepest secrets. We're afraid of their response if they knew what we really thought or what we might do.

Jesus addressed this tendency and told us without mincing words there is nothing which will remain hidden. This is a sobering thought when I take an inventory of my own thoughts and activities. I would like to say, "I can neither confirm nor deny the sinful capabilities of this vessel." My capabilities are well known but carefully hidden. How they are used may be hidden from the world but not from God.

Jesus also reminded us that our words decry the intent of our heart. Good speaks good, bad speaks bad. Sometimes we can hide what is inside by carefully weighing our words. While the sailor sidestepped the issue of weapons, we knew, even from his veiled response, the immense destructive power safely stored in the belly of the ship.

The same is true for us, as Christians. We can try to hide, try to veil the truth but it reveals itself even in our carefully crafted speech. Now, before we are called to action, is the time to clear out the destructive contents of our heart. Only through the revelation of the Holy Spirit can we see ourselves properly to know where to start and all that is hidden within.

"But I, GOD, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be." (Jeremiah 17:10 MSG)

Papa Chick

Baroness

On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords. (Revelation 19:16 ESV)

I, Beth, went for a walk in the woods one day and found something unusual. Did you ever think you would go out your front door and meet a Baroness? Well I certainly never thought I would really meet a Baroness in the woods. Maybe a bear and I've seen deer and jack rabbits and marder and wild boar...but a baroness? That was something I never thought would happen, but it did. I often walked in our woods around Giesshuebl. In truth, I walked every day that I could. I took this as a gift from God. I found peace and blessing in the woods. I found this a wonderful place to pray and talk with God. I also found this was a good place to walk and talk with my neighbors.

I walked on Mondays with a fellow missionary. We walked about 5 km in wind, rain, fog, snow or sleet . . . well maybe not sleet. We talked and encouraged one another and share about our weekend past and the week to come. We worked with the same mission and could share many details and understand what each other brought up as a topic. The rest of my walks during the week were more spontaneous. My neighbor, two flights down in the apartment building, was from Malta and married to an Austrian. They had three children close to our sons James' and Evan's age and the kids were actually friends.

When we first moved to Giesshuebl she was my help and good neighbor. She spoke English and German and often provided help dealing with living in a foreign land. During some tough times she experienced with her health and her daughter's health I was able to be there for her and we became good friends.

Often, when the weather was nice, she would yell from her balcony, "We go for walk?" We went hunting for flowers. We exercised and to talked. We sat on top of the Salatberg and rested in the beauty of our surroundings. She knew everyone in the community from the little Catholic Church they attend. The church had a new priest no one was very fond of.

So she told me about our neighbors and asked questions about me, my life and my faith. Her son came to know our Savior but she still had many questions. She introduced me to the Bürgermeister, and the doctor, and the town nut. We also meet up with other friends and neighbors and walked and talked with them. I sometimes had friends from Vienna up and we also walked in my woods.

I saw many wonders. I saw the beauty of the Vienna Woods. I saw the wild flowers, the trees, the herbs, spices and nuts that grew right up the hill. I saw and heard the birds and some wildlife. During the fall with the leaves changing and in the spring with flowers blooming there was an explosion of color and wonder filled my eyes. I loved the woods in the winter too when it became a sparkly fairy land.

One day it became a place of surprise as we walked and talked and suddenly she stopped and said hello to someone coming from the other direction. She introduced me and I saw an elderly lady very refined, aristocratic and friendly. We spoke in German briefly and then went on our opposite ways. I, of course, asked for more information and was told this was truly a baroness and the mother of one of our neighbors. She came from the area near Graz where she lived in her castle. I felt maybe I had wandered into fairyland myself and the Baroness wasn’t real but part of a book I had read or a tale I had heard.

I am a child of the King of Kings and not overly impressed with royalty here on earth. But, I am impressed over and over with my God who surprises me with the life I have been called to lead as a missionary and the tough times and the blessings he sends my way. Who knows, maybe next I will be invited to tea with a princess!

Papa Chick

Vicarious

and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand! Repent, and believe in the Good News." (Mark 1:15 WEB)

I once read a devotion to our staff in Vienna. It’s important to first note most of the people in the room speak English as a second, third, fourth or umpteenth language. Some have excellent vocabularies some are still struggling with the basics of the language.

One of the words in the devotional was vicarious which elicited quirky looks from my fellow colleagues. I read the devotion and when asked explained the word meant simply, "to be substitute for someone else." One of the North American colleagues now looked at me with a quirky look and commented, "I think it means more than that."

This started me thinking, "Did I really know the meaning of the word." So I went looking. Here’s what I found and some thoughts on using such words, especially in a foreign language setting.

According to a World Book definition:

Vicarious: (1) done or suffered for others, (2) felt by sharing in the experience of another, (3) taking the place of another, (4) the substitution of one person for another.

As a side note the etymology of the word comes from the Latin vicar which is a substitute.

The same definition is confirmed through several on‑line sources and in numerous dictionaries I consulted. So saying that “vicarious” means doing something on behalf of someone else is actually a good definition to simplify the word for non‑native English speaking staff members.

The word is often used by theologians in describing the substitutionary death of Jesus on our behalf. It’s such a unique word it sounds like it has its roots in some theological conclave of overly educated seminary students. Then again theologians are notorious for confusing the chasteness of God's revelation. By applying multi‑syllabic obscure words which confound the masses they insure their prestige as closer to God because they can pronounce and wield such literary extensions. Just think about words like propitiation which have oozed their way into our speech as believers thanks to the 17th century King's English. In truth many believers have no concept of what the word means or its implications. (Propitiation: a conciliatory offering to God.) (Conciliatory: From reconcile, to regain friendship or trust by appropriate or pleasant behavior.)

Ah, but all this is just fun with words and demonstrates the great expanse and flexibility of the English language. It’s no wonder people don't understand how to translate into their own language when our language is often bedimmed by frequently misapplied terminology in the religious realm.

I guess I'm simplistic. I try and sometimes I succeed in using the right language skills for the right situation. Other times I find people staring at me as if I sprouted a third eye. Highfalutin words are great, in the proper context. I have to remind myself the message is important not my ability to wax eloquently adorning my speech with word just to garner attention.

Jesus used simple examples, the common tongue to proclaim a simple message, "Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." What more needs to be promulgated.

Papa Chick

Fireworks Symphony

There were lightnings, sounds, and thunders; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since there were men on the earth, so great an earthquake, so mighty. (Revelation 11:19 WEB)

I was always fascinated with fireworks and the beautiful display of colors and patterns. Growing up in Greenhills, Ohio we attended the annual Fourth of July fireworks display. We sat on the grassy hill at the front of the local lodge across from an open field. For hours we sat, ate sandwiches and waited until it was dark enough to start the show.

Skyrockets, spinning wheels, and roman candles filled the sky with colors and patterns and plenty of booms. Each ear shattering thunder clap was accompanied by oohs and aahs. The grand finale was always the Niagara Falls wall of white sparks. When the last watery spark fell to the ground the show was over for another year. Mom and Dad packed us into the car for the five minute ride across town to our home.

Over the years I witnessed fireworks in many countries. Some were spectacular, some mediocre. On furlough we often attended the Fourth of July celebrations with the requisite fireworks. But none of these compared to a show I witnessed in Monte Carlo.

Within weeks of our arrival in Europe I was whisked off on a trip to visit satellite downlink sites and our station in Monte Carlo. Within hours I drove through the Alps, Germany, Italy and France to reach Monaco. There are 130 tunnels; I counted them, between Milano, Italy and Monaco.

It was July and warm. In the evenings we stretched our legs and walked the busy streets and alleys of Monte Carlo. I discovered this was fireworks season. Each year different countries presented a synchronized show of fireworks and music to complete for some prize.

Promptly at 9:45 PM the show began. H and I stood along the rail looking out over the marina. At the entrance to the marina two light houses framed the opening in the sea wall. The fireworks were sent from both sides of the watery gateway with the Mediterranean Sea as a dark backdrop.

There were selections from Schubert, Beethoven, Mozart and even a couple contemporary instrumentals. Each was accented by the resounding boom of the fireworks. There were seven selections altogether. Each round they would begin with roman candles or twirling sparklers near the base of the sea wall. The size, color and grandeur of the display would rise with the music and in altitude to punctuate each round with a spectacular light display. At times there was more illumination from the fireworks than the normal street lighting. This went on for quite some time and I thought, "The boys would love this!" I haven’t seen such fireworks anywhere else in my life. I thought Disney World did a top-notch job until now.

I’m reminded of the earth shattering descriptions in Revelation. After the seventh bowl God declares, "It is done!" Lightening fills the sky, thunder rolls and we’ll witness fireworks to make Monte Carlo and Disney World pale in comparison.

I’m excited when there’s a chance to see fireworks. Even more I’m excited to see God's redemption of the world. Then my dream fireworks will have a purpose. It’s good to enjoy fireworks but we must keep our hearts attuned to the eternal fireworks which declare the finished work of redemption in the world. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

Papa Chick

Whirlwind!

Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind, your lightning lit up the world; the earth trembled and quaked. (Psalms 77:18 NIV)

The first time we departed for the mission field we had four children and sixteen suitcases. Back then extra luggage wasn’t a problem and there were no extra fees. Things have changed since then. We’re just finishing up our third International transfer and the whirlwinds are still swirling around us.

As prices soar and planes fight for income we’re now limited to a single suitcase and a reduced weight, for the suitcase, not us. Unfortunately it is difficult to move to a new home across the ocean and put enough stuff in a single suitcase to get started. Add in my guitar and we definitely need additional baggage. Thankfully our ministry helped with the excess baggage fee so we had three suitcases and one guitar. I think that’s enough to keep things moving for a few weeks.

In the last couple months we were very busy. Getting things turned off was a challenge. Most companies want you to move your account, not terminate the services. One actually had a “disconnect” fee which amazed me. Then there was the container packing. It was great to hear the company had to pack everything for insurance purposes but a little strange to sit around the house and watch as they did all the work. In two days our home was packed in boxes and brown paper and loaded into a container headed for the USA. If all goes well we’ll see the stuff again in a few more weeks. Now the question is where to store it.

Storage became a necessity as God provided for our first nine months living in the states. A missionary colleague is headed to Guam for nine months with his family. He needs someone to care for and house sit and we need a place to sit. It works out quite well and gives us plenty of time to decide where we want to live and what type of housing we would like. This will be almost like a nine month furlough trip except our household stuff will eventually arrive so we’ll have access to whatever we can find in the boxes in whatever storage facility we use.

With initial housing out of the way we hit the ground running. First we needed cell phones. It was quite a shock to see the cost of the new plans available after the less expensive cell phone contracts in Europe. But, we needed to talk with family and friends so we took the plunge and were modernized in our phone communications. Next we needed an automobile. Beth carefully investigated the options via the Internet before we moved. Using this information we visited a number of dealers and took a number of test rides.

We settled on a little car where I could actually get in and out of the car. Some of the smaller fuel efficient cars are just too small for me to get in and out. Beth says I look like someone escaping their mother’s womb when I climb out of some cars. That settled and arrangements with the auto dealer took all of day two. Now we had a care and a way to communicate.

Day three back in the USA. Next we turned our sights to a new mattress set. Our old one server us well for many years but we wanted something a little more comfortable and with a little more space. It was time to find a king size bed to rest for the future. We were staying in our mission’s lodge the first few nights and I figured moving into our temporary home would help with getting settled. But we didn’t want to sleep on the floor. After visiting a few places we found what we wanted with a bargain and they said they would deliver right away. What that meant was they were at the house waiting for us when we drove across Raleigh. They were fast.

One day of rest and then we’re off to visit our children, daughter and son-in-laws and grandchildren in our new car. We’re still running and looking forward to all the hugs and kisses as well as eventually getting back to our home and enjoying our new bed. I don’t think we’ll feel settled until we are there for more than a couple nights and get accustomed to the new location, where to find things, how to get here and there and returning to some sort of a routine.

When we get back we need to rent a storage facility. I think we’ve done well in less than a week back in the country. Phones, car, mattress, housing, and visiting family and friends are a lot in less than seven days. I’m feeling like Dorothy being swept up in the tornado watching the world go by. I’m not sure where we’ll land but know the ground will come up soon enough.

Through all this we’ve seen how the Lord has provided day after day. We’re ready for a little rest but until God stops the whirlwind we’ll press forward. We’re thankful to rest comfortably in God’s loving arms and watch Him get this first week of a new portion of our lives in order. Now, where are those silver slippers Dorothy?

Papa Chick