Papa Chick Thoughts

Rapunzel Tangled

2011-12-11T20:40:00.001+01:00

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

2011-11-26T14:28:00.001+01:00

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

2011-11-06T16:23:00.001+01:00

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

2011-11-02T20:15:00.001+01:00

"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

2011-10-26T21:23:00.001+02:00

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

2011-10-17T12:12:00.001+02:00

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

2011-10-02T13:20:00.001+02:00

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!

2011-09-24T18:49:00.001+02:00

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

Night Watchman

2011-09-16T15:12:00.001+02:00

Watch and pray, that you don't enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. (Matthew 26:41 WEB)

Beth and I were married more than thirty years ago. It's great! Unfortunately many of our anniversary dates fell on travel dates coming back from furlough. It's hard to get romantic at 35,000 feet in a seat designed for midgets with 500 other people contributing their germs to the captive oxygen. Sharing a meal of plastic packaged "whatever," while the flight attendant bangs into your shoulder with the cart, puts a damper on the celebration.

Often we celebrated a little later than the actual date. August 31st is the real date. For our twenty‑fifth anniversary we planned a trip to Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Germany. I found a little Bed & Breakfast inside the walled village next to one of the many famous gates. It was just Beth and me, no children, for a weekend of celebration and sightseeing. Hot diggity dog!

When we surfaced, to wander around the city, we were fascinated with the history and beauty. In the evening we walked down the main street and there he stood in the middle of the road, the Night Watchman! Dressed in a hooded black cloak and carrying a lantern. He caught our attention!

He wasn't there to dispense some strange ancient justice. He was a tour guide for the evening watch. Fortunately we found the one Night Watchman who spoke English. For the next thirty minutes we wandered in and out of the city walls listening to the tales of the city and its defenses.

The Night Watchman had a job. He was to watch the gates at night to insure no enemy would enter undetected. I'm sometimes a little slow but I think that is where he got his name. Tales of boiling pitch sending attackers fleeing in pain filled our heads with horrid images. Special doors, too small to walk through upright, pitted the gates wood and iron structure. These were used so infiltrators had to stoop and enter the city making them vulnerable.

The Night Watchman was to watch and then send up the alarm when something went wrong. He wasn't a warrior but an alarm. He was to check to insure things were in order then remain vigilant looking for signs of intrusion.

As the Night Watchman continued his slow cadence through the city I thought about the fortress of my own soul, this temple God has taken as His residence. I thought of the Holy Spirit standing guard to send up a warning when I chose poorly. Was I listening? I thought of the gates to my heart. Were they flung open wide to the world or carefully braced allowing only the pure to enter?

If Rothenburg constantly maintained a Night Watchman but failed to heed his cries of invasion the city would fall quickly. In the same way, if we are saved we have the presence of the Holy Spirit to lead and guide. What good is the Spirit if we don't listen?

It might be time to check the gates, survey the walls and see if our defenses against the devil are in place and secure. A heedful heart will be ready when the Spirit cries out a warning. Then, braced and ready, we will be able to stand firm and be watchful. We will no longer submit to the yoke of slavery. We will stand against the schemes of the enemy.

Papa Chick

Swiss Alps

2011-09-10T11:32:00.001+02:00

He puts forth his hand on the flinty rock, and he overturns the mountains by the roots. (Job 28:9 WEB)

Everyone knows Heidi. She’s that famous Swiss girl epitomized in story and portrayed by many a cute young actress. When we first visited Switzerland I thought I would be on the lookout for Heidi and Peter. I figured they were living somewhere up on the mountain in a beautiful little chalet. When I finally spotted an elderly couple, rocking on their porch, I thought, "Heidi didn't age well."

During our trip we shared a small cottage with another family. High up on the mountain side each morning we relished in the spectacular view from our windows of the surrounding mountain ranges. We relaxed, walked the many trails, played games, sang songs and enjoyed ourselves.

For several days my wife Beth and her friend Clarice kept talking about climbing the final 600 meters behind the cabin to the peak. I figured 1700 meters was high enough, why bother with the last few hundred. We surveyed the sharp incline and thought it might be too much.

"We can go this way," Beth said pointing to one section on the right.

"Too steep," I replied. They tried then returned and agreed it was indeed too steep.

"We can go that way," offered Clarice pointing to the left.

"Still too steep," I answered after a brief look. They tried and then returned and agreed it was indeed too steep.

About the third day Beth noticed the cows half way up the mountain. She figured if Swiss cows could climb it then American ladies could conquer the imposing sight. Next thing I knew the two of them along with the older children were headed across the pasture to reach the summit. Phil and I waved goodbye, kept the youngest with us, shook our heads, and wondered if we would ever see them again.

They reached the cows and stopped to rest. Clarice and her daughters were suddenly disturbed. Although they were from Texas they had never experienced cows at such close quarters. When the beasts inspected their packs, canteens and snacks things were a little crazy. Beth and the boys shooed the bell clanging cows away and the journey continued.

We watched them weave back and forth up the mountain looking for the right trail. From cow level up hands and feet worked together to make upward progress. Eventually they became little dots approaching the summit. They made it. They rose above our doubts and conquered the peak. They disappeared over the top and we waited for their return.

At the top one of the young ladies looked down the sharp steep wall they had just climbed. She was at the top of the world. She had conquered the challenging mountain face. All she needed to do was descend and share her achievement with the rest of the family. Then fear took hold. With tears she flatly refused to descend

Eventually our son Joel discovered a trail around the back of the mountain. They worked their way around the peak, down the trail, onto a road, and back to our cabin. The conquering heroes had returned. They had only a few injuries along the way to add flavor and color to their tale. The young lady taken with fear at the summit was glad to be back on flat, secure, and familiar ground.

Christians experience valleys and mountains. Sometimes we try routes which are too steep. At times we find just the right trail. We struggle; we deal with the unexpected along the way and then reach the goal.

We reach the goal, look back, and wonder how we made it to the end. Fear takes hold and the next step is too difficult to undertake. We look up, see our father calling, survey the terrain and undertake the challenge. God guides, strengthens, and protects as we weave our way to the wonder of His majesty.

Papa Chick

The Wrong Bus

2011-09-03T06:52:00.001+02:00

For the Son of Man came to save that which was lost. (Matthew 18:11 WEB)

My first experience riding a bus was in middle school. We didn't live too far from the school and I could walk there in almost the same amount of time it took to wait for the bus, make all the others stops, and then unload at the school's front porch. Not exciting by any means.

Forty years later my next experience with buses was wide ranging as I undertook the public transport systems of Europe. In most European cities you can get about quite well on buses, street cars and other inter‑city vehicles. You soon learn the critical bus routes and numbers for your routine trips. My experience included street cars, trains as well as the ubiquitous bus.

One of my colleagues, Harry, was visiting our office in Slovakia one day so I offered to show him the city. Harry is an interesting character. He is the only man I know who would alphabetize his spice rack and remember the position of every item on his desk. He’s married now and discovering a whole new world of changes. His routines have changed but order is still important.

There was only one electric bus which started at a station one block from our office and ended at a stop one block from the city shopping center. The electric bus was predictable, reliable and always followed the same route. It was the only bus I ever rode and I knew it well. Get on at one end, get off at the other. No need to read the local language or understand what stops were peppered along the way.

We purchased tickets, border the bus and started riding along. I explained some of the sites along the way. Everything was going according to plan. Then it happened. The bus turned right when it was supposed to turn left.

Perplexed I stopped my commentary and stared staring out the window. The view was taking on a shape I didn't know.

"What's wrong," asked Harry.

"Well," I started slowly, "the bus is going the wrong way."

"What?" Harry responded with a little concern in his voice. "Where are we headed?"

"That's the problem. I don't know," was all I could answer. We watched the streets and buildings rush by and waited in hopes of spotting something familiar.

Finally the bus pulled into a major train station and everyone got off. We took this as our clue that we were at the end of the line. I looked about and figured we were about one kilometer from where we should be. With determination, and no way to read the other bus schedules, we walked toward town.

We eventually reached the city center enjoyed some sightseeing and shopping and then contemplated our return. I wasn't sure how to get back since my favorite electric bus was going to the wrong place. We walked to a street corner and looked about for any helpful indication.

I glanced across the street. There waiting for a bus was another colleague from the office. She lived in the city and knew the system well. We were saved! Laughing at our predicament she guided us to another bus with instructions for a safe return to the office. It was perfect timing, at the perfect place, for two wandering souls.

That's also how God works in our lives when we open our eyes and look around. Sometimes we find ourselves dropped in an unfamiliar surrounding, we don't understand the language and we want to return home. God watches over our every step. The Holy Spirit guides day by day.

Next time you are wandering open your eyes. Look for the Father. He is there, just waiting to put us on the right bus back home.

Papa Chick

Fire Alarms

2011-08-30T11:48:00.001+02:00

God, you know my foolishness. My sins aren't hidden from you. (Psalms 69:5 WEB)

I grew up a normal American boy. I liked baseball, hotdogs and fire engines. All those bright, shiny red vehicles made my eyes glaze over in wonder. "Emergency" was one of my favorite programs and the sound of a siren starts my mouth watering in excitement.

Feuerwehr is the German/Austrian word for Fire Station. On the opposite side of our parking lot is the Gießhübl Feuerwehr. The station sports a tall tower with the siren right at the top. This elevation was perfect for calling the volunteers to resolve the latest emergency. It was also the same height as our dining room window. Every Saturday at noon we were reminded of its presence. It was loud, ear shattering and we couldn't miss it even with the windows closed.

Whenever they sounded the alarm we enjoyed watching events unfold. As a volunteer Fire Department the men came running from up and down the hill to bring out the trucks and ambulance. On several occasions we had our thoughts jarred as the loud horn began its call to arms.

One week I was in Bratislava for some mission work. When I returned home the family filled me on the evenings events. Late that evening the fire alarm sounded. It startled the family from their activities. Being curious, Beth and Joel went out on the balcony and watched the men arrive and the trucks drive out of the Feuerwehr.

Instead of heading down the street the trucks came around the back of the Feuerwehr and into our parking lot. They bounded off the vehicles and headed up the stairs in our building axes in hand, helmets wagging on their heads.

A few seconds later there was a resounding knock on the apartment door. When Beth and Joel opened the door of the apartment they were greeted by firemen with glow in the dark hats and appropriate jackets looking for a fire.

Apparently someone had seen the flame from the citronella candles on the balcony and thought there was a fire in our apartment. Beth showed them the candle after they gestured that they were looking for a burning residence. Speaking no English, the firemen looked at the candle, shrugged their shoulders and turned to leave. Other firemen saw the cause of the commotion and laughed at the situation.

We can now confirm the Feuerwehr in Gießhübl works quite well and responds quickly to calls for action. They also appear to be nice fellows and were understanding of the mix-up.

Sometimes we jump to conclusions. Even as Christians, we see a small flame make a wild assumption and call out the theological fire department to squelch the flames. The results can be devastating as spiritual doors are battered down by well-meaning believers.

God knows. He doesn't jump to conclusions. When He sends out the fire department there are flames to be quenched. When His convicting spirit points to a sin in our life in need of attention we can't point to a misunderstanding.

We love to watch firemen rushing to some disaster. Sometimes the disaster is in our own life. Next time we hear the fire alarm maybe it would be a good time to pray for those experiencing some disaster and evaluate our own heart to be sure there are no wild fires in our own soul.

Papa Chick

Tiny People

2011-08-26T11:32:00.001+02:00

For nothing is concealed except to be revealed, and nothing hidden except to come to light. (Mark 4:22 HCSB)

Perspective is a wonderful thing. With the proper perspective you can understand much of the world around you. For years Beth has attempted to change my perspective on many issues. It gets harder as you get older.

On the other hand children hold no preconceived perceptions about the world. They always look at things differently until they learn. Beth was reminded of this as our air flight approached the island of Oahu. Evan sat by the window with wide eyed wonder taking in all the sights.

Watching the approach of the tiny piece of land consumed his attention. He wasn't sure it was big enough for our large 747 to land. When we finally flew over the land he realized we would fit but another concern peaked his interest. Carefully observing life below, he finally turned to Beth with a puzzled look.

"Mommy?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Are those real people and cars down there?" he asked and pointed out the window to the highway and beach below.

"Yes, they are," she replied confident of her understanding of reality.

"Oh no!" he said; eyes growing wider and leaning closer to the window. "How are we gonna play with those tiny people without steppin' on them?" he asked in all seriousness.

Beth looked out the window. She knew all about perspective and distance. She knew the cars were full size. She knew the people were like everyone else. But Evan was still learning.

He had no concept of distance and its impact on perceived size. What he saw was real. If it looked only one finger long it was only one finger long. What looked like play cars to him were just that and he had to be careful not to step on them.

Sometimes we read or hear a passage of scripture and our eyes get wide with concern. "How can this be true?" we wonder. Everything seems suddenly out of place and confused. We aren't sure how to step forward without stepping on problems. It’s then we turn to God in prayer or talk with another believer about our dilemma.

Suddenly we find God providing the answer to our question. Our perspective is expanded to include the revelation of another mystery. God reveals something new to help us in our walk on earth. There is always something new to learn.

"They'll get bigger when we land so we won't step on them," Beth told Evan. They watched the cars and people grow as the plane approached the landing strip. Evan was quiet until we stepped off the plane and he understood the people were not really tiny. He had a new perspective. His perception of the world changed.

We hear the truth, a new revelation, a new mystery, and how God explains it. Then we step forward, wide eyed, and experience God's wisdom once more. When we are willing to have our perceptions changed by God's Word we grow and learn. When we think we know it all, we stagnate.

When was the last time we were sitting wide eyed reading through God's Word, in amazement? Our perspective on the world and God may need some changing, some growing.

Papa Chick

How to Create World Peace

2011-08-21T15:37:00.001+02:00

“Don't think that I came to send peace on the earth. I didn't come to send peace, but a sword. For I came to set a man at odds against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter‑in‑law against her mother‑in‑law. A man's foes will be those of his own household.” (Matthew 10:34‑36 WEB)

Over the years I’ve visited many countries that experienced the ravages of war. This opened doors to homes and offices where I could sit and chat about God, the world and why I was there. This led to a personal revelation which I think can turn the tide of world peace. All the unrest, the discontent and fighting can be resolved with the proper application of furniture. Yes, I wrote furniture.

Just think, when our furniture is uncomfortable we go outside and commiserate with other uncomfortable people. In the United States we experienced one divisive war. Contrary to most history books it wasn't over slavery, taxes or philosophical differences. It was because a group of guys were forced outside due to the lack of a La-Z-Boy. Standing around the streets, feeling miserable, they started talking.

"Life is lousy," said one guy as he rubbed his hindquarters to relieve the pain of a wooden bench.

"Yeah, something needs to be done," retorted another guy twitching his shoulders awakened from a restless nap on a short rope bed.

"What can we do?" asked the third guy trying to remove the crick from his neck caused when he attempted to stretch out on a log couch.

"It must be those guys in the north," claimed the first guy as he scrunched his face into an angry frown.

"Hey, I'm from the north," responded the second guy. "It isn't my fault you're miserable."

"It must be," interjected guy number three, "why else would all those northerners move to Florida? They brought the lousy life with them!"

All the while none of them recognized the common factor in their misery, uncomfortable furniture. So, the arguments continued, war broke out, and fighting started.

Since then we have learned how to make a comfortable reclining lounge chair. They have been sold across the nation and internal wars have ceased. Guys are no longer forced to wander the streets because they can't find a comfortable chair at home. The reclining, cushioned, swivel chair with sole access to the remote control has solved our internal discontent and brought peace to millions of homes.

Just think what this revelation could do for world peace. Ship billions of comfortable La-Z-Boy chairs to war torn countries and get all those guys back in their houses where they can relax. The evidence is obvious.

People all over the world are trying to enter the United States. You may think it is for political reasons or financial reasons. NOT! They want to experience the pure joy and relaxation of a comfortable Barco lounger. I have sampled chairs across Europe, Africa and Asia. There isn't a comfortable one in the whole lot.

Christians clamor for world peace. Pastors preach about peace. Politicians and sociologist tell us if we are nice to one another we will establish peace around the globe. NOT!

Jesus tells us in Luke 12:51, “Do you think that I have come to give peace in the earth? I tell you, no, but rather division.” (WEB) The Gospel message divides the world. People accept or reject God and His grace. If Jesus tells us the message of salvation divides why do we stand amazed at the world's reaction?

Faith is the final ticket to real world peace. It is faith in Jesus redemption which brings rest to our souls. In Hebrews 4:9 we read, “There remains therefore a Sabbath rest for the people of God.” (WEB)

Furniture may relieve some of the world's troubles but not all. While I don't expect things to improve in the world I do look forward to that perfect rest, that perfect peace, that world of peace, when Jesus returns and God creates a new heaven and a new earth. Then, and only then, we will discover what it is like to live in a world of peace and see our Savior face to face.

Papa Chick

Potter’s Clay

2011-08-18T10:27:00.001+02:00

But we have this treasure in clay vessels, that the exceeding greatness of the power may be of God, and not from ourselves. (2 Corinthians 4:7 WEB)

My wife, Elizabeth, loves pottery. She has a special love for terracotta pieces. When she brings up the subject, I tell her terracotta is just a fancy word for clay. Beth is always on the prowl for a new perfect piece of pottery. Some she buys to decorate our home and other pieces are put to practical use in the kitchen and sometimes she collects them to give for gifts.

I tried to make a vase once, in art class. That was a disaster. The final result looked more like The Blob from a B grade monster movie. So I turned to music. There is no physical evidence when I make a mess from a good song.

While I couldn't twirl clay into a pot, I did visit a pottery factory in Slovakia. One Friday afternoon some of our staff took a trip up to Modra. Nestled in a small country village the factory produced exquisite pottery.

The factory traced the ceramic work back to somewhere in the 1400s. It was steeped deep into traditions. A video showed us the history of ceramics in Modra then we toured the "factory."

Everything was done by hand, no mass produced pottery came from this place. In one side of the building you had the potters. These folks spent three years in school learning how to properly mold the clay on the potter's wheel. The precision with which each item was created was amazing.

There was a display of ceramics in the lobby. One held the students "creative" works of art. In school they learned all the techniques and processes. For graduation each student was permitted to create whatever piece they felt expressed their own imagination. Once in the factory they would only create pieces according to tradition. These were artisans caught in a world of conformity.

On the other side of the building were the painters. Each piece was hand painted. Colors, patterns and styles were limited to factory traditions. During business hours there was no place for creative juices to flow. This was a time to remember the past and recreate it again and again and again.

God, on the other hand, is not limited to tradition. There are no mass produced products in God's kingdom. Walk down the street and witness the marvelous creativity and variety of God's handiwork. We look different. We talk, walk, and live different. And yet we are the work of the same craftsman.

We are the product of God's hand. Carefully molded, colorfully adorned and perfectly shaped to worship Him. We are not the traditional work of three years schooling. We are a product of the eternal that created the universe.

After our shape is set and our adornments affixed we are fired in God's furnace. It’s here, in the day to day life with God, we are strengthened into tools to be wielded by God's hand in the world.

Paul reminds us that as clay vessels we hold the treasure of God's son to share with the world around us. God uses us as we were made to reach the world around us. What is your shape, color, or size? How is God using your perfect shape in the world?

Papa Chick

Repetitions

2011-08-13T12:18:00.001+02:00

Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. (Deuteronomy 6:7 NIV)

I’m not young but I’m not elderly. At least it makes me feel better to think that way. I was thinking the other day, dangerous I know, about what I remember thinking when I was younger about those who were not young but not elderly. I’m not sure about others in the world but I have a predilection to allow the changes which take place in my life to be ignored as normal while considering the same change in others as evidence of their age. I think it’s a case of mental self-preservation.

When I was a young man I loved hearing stories from my parents about when they were young. It was also great to hear of experiences they experienced throughout the “normal” activities of life. There is a lot of humor, wisdom and confusion when you look closely at everyday life. Needless to say these stories come to mind when we find ourselves in similar circumstances. It’s only natural to share them so others are forewarned.

Now that I’m older, but not old, I find that I share such tales with the young folks I meet as well as my own children who are now grown and living away from home. When I’m with their spouses or girlfriends some event will trigger a memory from my past I think will be fun to share. So I share it.

It’s like furlough for a missionary. After so many years on the mission field I’ve got a treasure of numerous situations or events which others might consider interesting, informative or funny. While bopping around the country sharing our ministry with churches, family and friends I use this collection of tales to fuel many conversations. But the problem is my memory isn’t quite what it used to be.

It’s not that I forget the salient points of the story. It’s not that I forget my wife’s name or my grandchildren. It’s that I can’t keep track of who I’ve told what, when or how often. We share our ministry and stories at churches across the nation. The advantage of speaking in different locations each week is that you can repeat a sermon or stories and it’s a different congregation. The embarrassment comes when we’re having lunch or just relaxing with different families in the church, with our family or our friends. I can’t remember what tale I’ve told.

Unlike lies which we often forget and thus get us into trouble; forgetting what story you told to someone doesn’t land you in hot water but in the lukewarm conversation of repetitions. I was gently reminded of this in a recent visit with family. Walking along I was reminded of some funny event centered on where we were and shared it. My marvelous daughter-in-law chuckled and said, “Now I know where he gets it.”

“Who gets it?” I queried.

“Your son,” she replied.

“Gets what?” I asked

“The habit of repeating stories he’s told me before,” she said and giggled.

“Oops, did I already tell you that?” I asked looking toward the pavement under my feet.

“Yes, but that’s OK. I’m used to it. I let him go ahead. It makes him feel good.”

She smiled, gave me a hug, and let me repeat more stories the rest of the day. I don’t know how many stories were repeats because I honestly can’t remember what I’ve told who, when or how many times. I suppose some stories are good to repeat and some get boring. I think it comes as a combination of getting older and making way too many presentations of our work throughout the years. Hopefully the stories I repeat the most often are the good ones which help someone else walk with Christ or liven up their day with humor.

God wasn’t afraid of repetitions but I think He remembered who He told what, when and how often. His instruction to the Israelites was to repeat His laws to their children every which way, everywhere, and all the time. I sometimes get so involved in other conversations about life I forget that God is part of everything I do and should take the center in every tale I tell. Honestly, they wouldn’t be the stories they are without God.

Papa Chick

Sand Castles

2011-08-12T11:34:00.001+02:00

How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more in number than the sand. When I wake up, I am still with you. (Psalms 139:17‑18 WEB)

I learned to swim when I was in Kindergarten. My family was living in New Orleans at the time. Three sailors living in the apartment complex where we lived took it upon themselves to teach my brothers and me this vital necessity of life. I remember my first lesson vividly.

Standing beside the kidney‑shaped pool they told me to hold my breath and move my arms and legs. I nodded as I looked up at their husky faces. In one swift motion they grabbed my arms and legs and tossed me high in the air. I summarily plopped me in the middle of the deep end of the pool.

I had followed their instructions to the letter. As my head slid beneath the waves I held my breath and furiously waved my arms and legs. I looked great! There I was, lying on the bottom of the pool executing what I thought was a perfect stroke. After a few seconds my instructors dove into the pool grabbed under my arms and whisked me up to the side where I sputtered and spit chlorine from my lungs.

One fellow asked, “Are you OK?” Unthinking I gasped, "Sure!" Before I knew what was happening I was pulled from the water and again tossed into the air to plop once more into the pool. This routine was repeated over and over until I eventually learned to swim.

Once I had learned to swim, I discovered the beach. Playing in the rolling waves was lots of fun. Years later I was living on Guam where we had plenty of beaches. There were plenty of chances to swim and also plenty of sand. The only problem with the beaches was the sand. It was everywhere.

Sand and is great for squishing between your toes. Strolling along the sandy beach in the late evening with your honey is very romantic. Camping in the sand lets you custom form your bedding. But when there are waves and sand there is sand in the shorts. I hate sand in my shorts.

Splashing in the waves is great. Walking from the surf with your swimsuit hanging around you knees full of sand is both embarrassing and uncomfortable. We spent a lot of time at the beach with our children. I spent a lot of time walking funny and rinsing sand from my shorts. I guess girls don't mind the sand. Beth never complained about sand in her suit.

Sand is useful for other things besides providing ballast for my swimsuit. It cleans things, cushions things and looks great in a fish tank and you can build with it. With the right mixture of sand and tide you have the perfect place to build a sand castle. I started when I was young and passed my skills on to my children. We built many a magnificent structure in the sand.

Our castles included the requisite moat, walls and towers. This was just the beginning. Adding pieces of drift wood there were draw bridges. Tunnels were carefully dug to provide escape routes for besieged residents. If there was enough daylight, we would include all the interior features, chairs, tables, toilets. The ultimate was the dungeon. You couldn't see the dungeon, because it was underneath our five story castle, but we knew it was there and held evil criminals.

We always built our castles near the high-tide mark so we could watch their destruction. I’m not sure why that was so much fun. Perhaps it’s a guy thing. Since there was more sand than we could count it didn’t matter when the castle dissolved in the tide. We just gathered the sand back up and started over.

Scripture says if we can count the grains of sand we will count God's people. I tried that once. When I ran out of toes and fingers I figured God had a lot of people to watch over. I have enough trouble just watching over my small family.

But according to the Psalmist God has more thoughts about me than there are grains of sand on the shore. There are lots of shores in the world filled with lots of sand, not to mention all those deserts. I find comfort when I realize God never runs out of thoughts about His children.

Papa “Sandy” Chick

Fast Food

2011-08-09T13:56:00.001+02:00

The next day, he saw Jesus coming to him, and said, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! (John 1:29 WEB)

As a little boy I remember my first visit to White Castle. This paragon of good food and fine dining set my standard of cuisine excellence for a lifetime. When I was older, I was introduced to the world wide favorite, McDonald's. Say what you will about their dietary presentation I like the place and apparently so do millions of other people. My life is filled with fast food and I'm not complaining. I'm enjoying the experience.

Fast food makes any dietician shudder with fear but it has its uses. When you have two minutes between trains, it can keep you from starvation. A car full of boisterous children can quickly be quieted by a stop at the drive thru. And, traveling missionaries can eat without the fear of ingesting a case of Montezuma's Revenge.

I remember eating at McDonald's in Russia, Sri Lanka, Guam, Hong Kong, Japan, Korea and a mess of European countries. (Some European countries are a mess but that is not the point.) Other countries, unfortunately, don't support such modern conveniences, at least nothing I recognize. One exception was my work in Central Asia.

After arriving and gathering all our equipment and then loading the vehicles we drove from the city where the airport was located to another city in the mountains. What would normally be a one and a half hour drive took more than two hours including a stop for a bite to eat at a roadside bar‑b‑q. This was the Central Asian version of fast food.

The outdoor BBQ kitchen was located on what used to be a building site on the side of the road. All that was left was the concrete flooring which made room for parking. The kitchen stove consisted of a tin tray with wood burning at one end. When an order was placed, the pieces of lamb were stuck on a long metal spit and laid across the tin box with ashes from the fire pushed below to start the cooking. It didn’t take long to cook and the heat from the fire helped warm up my cold hands.

When we wanted more the proprietor reached into the trunk of his car and extracted more pieces of meat for the next spit. I watched as small pieces of rust fell from the dilapidated vehicle trunk lid into the box of freshly butchered meat. I suppose this was part of the unique seasoning.

It was a particularly tasty meal served on flat, paper thin, bread. As the cook prepared our afternoon snack we stood in a heavy breeze between Snow‑covered Mountains. My Guam blood wasn’t happy with the situation and I was already bundled up with a sweater, two shirts, and several pairs of socks, coat and gloves. I reminded myself God called me there.

Sometimes people approach the Lamb of God like selecting items in a fast food restaurant. We order a piece here to cure that grumbling in the stomach. We order a bit there to give us a little strength as we hurry to another event. It might keep us alive but we won't develop properly any more than eating fast food will provide all the necessary nutrients.

I like what it says in The Message, "An intelligent person is always eager to take in more truth; fools feed on fast‑food fads and fancies." (Proverbs 15:14) Are we grabbing for fads and fancies? It may be time to grow strong on the good food of God's word?

“Every Scripture is God‑breathed and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16‑17 WEB)

Papa Chick

The Chickwrights

2011-08-07T15:51:00.001+02:00

May He grant you your heart's desire, and fulfill all your counsel. (Psalms 20:4 WEB)

Life in our home is like living on the Ponderosa. Just call us the Chickwrights. The advantages which I have include a wife, still alive, and a daughter to even out the antics of my three sons. (That sounds like a good title for a TV series.)

As I write this we live in a flat which overlooks the plains of Burgenland to the East, Vienna to the north and the Vienna Woods to the West. Our children ride the trails to and from Vienna (Virginia City) undertaking adventure after adventure. Meanwhile, I keep the home front, with my marvelous wife, and dispense wisdom and expert directions as situations rise and fall. I'm a Pa, proud of his family.

One year we were traveling through Nevada and I hijacked the scheduled plan to divert us to visit the original Ponderosa. First we stopped in Virginia City to stomp the wooden walkways and relive the past. Next it was on to the Ponderosa.

I was thrilled. My children thought I was nuts. I remembered the colorful peacock introducing each program then watching as Pa, Little Joe, Hoss and Adam rode across the plains ready to stand for justice against the evil forces of the world. I didn’t want to miss a single episode.

We parked our car, paid the entrance fee and sauntered up the hill to the most famous ranch in history. There I was. I was finally standing before a log cabin I knew as well as my own home. I was in memory heaven. My television world was brought to life. To enhance my excitement they were filming a new "Return to the Ponderosa" episode that day. What more could I ask for?

It was one of my dreams come true. Famous and not so famous stars walked the dusty streets. Occasionally someone would shout for quiet as they filmed another segment of the pending show. In all the excitement I discovered some very important facts.

First, the Ponderosa is indeed located beside Lake Tahoe. Second, the burning map, which introduced each episode, was correct even though north was on the left and not the top of the map! But, that is where reality ended.

Virginia City, the movie version, not the real one, sat right behind the Cartwright homestead. It was much smaller than I remember from the show. The homestead itself was a deception. The sprawling two story cabin was in truth a one room cabin. The extensions and upper floors were fake. They were created in the minds of Hollywood special effects.

A lot of Christians are like movie sets. Outside they appear to be larger than life capturing our attention. When we draw close to look inside the doors we discover something is missing. The inside is hollow, useless. It only exists in the imagination.

In Luke six Jesus tells us the good things come from inside, from the heart. On the other hand evil things come from the same place. What people see in me as they open the doors reflects my walk with God. Do they see good things or evil? I pray they see God things.

Pa Chick

Riding the Rails

2011-08-03T14:14:00.001+02:00

And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful. (Colossians 3:15 WEB)

I never lived in a really big city. Some think that Cincinnati is a big city but nothing like New York, Chicago or Los Angeles. Big cities have subways. Subways have always fascinated me. I find there is something about riding in a hole in the ground through endless tunnels that’s exciting. Cincinnati started a sub‑way system once but it was never finished. The tunnels poke out of the hills here and there but no trains run filled with anxious commuters.

Once, Beth and I rode in a train across Florida. It was less than exciting. There were no bandits on horseback robbing the train. There wasn't even a rush down some mountain tracks without brakes. Then again, Florida is rather flat and a little too east for western bandits.

It wasn't until we moved to Europe that I was able to enjoy the full wonders of public transportation and especially riding in a train. To me there is something romantic, like a children's story, about trains and riding the rails.

I once aspired to be a Hobo. I was young and it looked exciting to jump a moving train headed to some unknown place with no responsibilities, no money, and no future. As soon as I met a real Hobo and discovered it wasn't exciting but filthy, smelly and dangerous, I decided I was better off riding trains as a rich or middle-class man. Besides, my parents told me not to play near the railroad tracks.

In Europe I never rode a train as a rich man, but I didn't go as a Hobo either. I was one of millions of European passengers getting from one place to another. Taking the train was almost a daily event. My children rode a train to and from school every day. I was in train heaven.

Several times I traveled on an overnight train through the mountains to and from Monte Carlo, Monaco. It was fascinating. I slept in a small room. Rocking back and forth to the sway of the tracks was actually restful. Riding through village after village, along the Mediterranean Coast, watching the houses and fields rush by the window was fun.

It didn't take long to discover train tracks do not go through the beauty spots of the city. In fact, most train tracks go through industrial areas. Many stations are underground, out of the way, and many stations are just a slab of concrete in the middle of nowhere.

One of the greatest joys was watching the people on the trains. I watched many people board and exit trains throughout Europe. Some were laughing, some serious but most looked lost. They knew where they were headed, what train to ride but their faces hinted at a lack of purpose.

Once in a while I would catch sight of someone with a smile of peace on their face. Occasionally I would talk with other riders of the rails. Those with peace in their faces were walking with Christ. The rest were avoiding God or thought He was some piece of crystal or a guru from a mountain top.

Beth was approached by a stranger on one train. The lady walked up and started a conversation. Eventually she asked if Beth was a Christian. When Beth said yes the lady replied, "I knew it, by the look on your face."

What is the look on our face? I must admit mine isn’t always beaming with the Glory and peace of God. Beth, on the other hand, is famous for her smile and beautiful face. When I stop thinking about my destination or which train to take my face changes its appearance.

We are called to be imitators of Christ. I don't think Jesus would ride the rails with a lost look on His face. When I set my eyes on the Lord, not myself, I too can ride the rails of life with a look of peace.

Papa Chick

Lighthouses

2011-07-30T09:19:00.001+02:00

You are the light of the world. A city located on a hill can't be hidden. (Matthew 5:14 WEB)

I remember watching an old monster movie with a lighthouse. The Day of the Triffids was a classic. A meteor shower blinds anyone who is outside while turning simple plants into giant, walking, noisy, man-eating plants. Beth was never interested in man-eating plants so she never saw this particular lighthouse. I think she missed an important aspect of life.

Other lighthouses were not ignored like the one in the movie. I'm not sure where Beth's fascination with lighthouses originated but she enjoys pictures, paintings and especially visits to lighthouses. She talks about the lighthouses in New England, where she grew up. When I was growing up the closest I came to a lighthouse was holding up a flashlight on the side of a lake.

Our son Joel would tease his mother about lighthouses. He called them big flashlights. When we did visit a lighthouse he went around asking where they put the Duracell. He never found them even when he looked into the basement.

I must admit I do admire lighthouses. They are stately, imposing, and cool looking. Standing at the top of the lighthouse commands a magnificent view of the surrounding land and sea. I can imagine myself standing on the walkway, spyglass in hand, wind and rain whipping through my long hair, with scraggly beard searching the horizon for a ship in danger. Beth has been known to hug a lighthouse in her excitement.

The lighthouse is an old device used by sailors to give guidance to safe harbor, a warning against the shoals and a comfort knowing where they are at sea. The first lighthouse is mentioned around 1200 BC in Homer's Greek epic poem the Iliad.

Every lighthouse looks different and its beacon flashes a unique pattern. They are listed in The Light List so sailors know where they are by the characteristic of each lighthouse glow. Only once did I see a lighthouse in operation. I don't stay up after dark too often.

On our honeymoon we stayed on Sanibel Island. Late in the evening I watched the beacon at the southern end of the island sweep across the Gulf of Mexico at regular intervals. There was a soothing comfort in its piercing sweep of the water.

I believe it takes a lot of work for the lighthouse keeper to maintain such a strong and clear illumination. If the Fresnel lens is dirty the lamp is useless. The lens must be checked, cleansed and maintained at regular intervals. The power house needs to be kept fueled and the fog horns in working order.

In Philippians, Paul reminds believers to live a life "worthy of the Gospel." When we do this we are a beacon to the world around. We warn those who heed God's beacon there is a safe harbor. To those who ignore the beacon and head for the reef we are proof of disaster on the horizon.

Are we a beacon of hope or is our lamp dusty and useless? Maybe it’s time to clean the lens, increase the power and be a guide to a perishing world.

Papa Chick

Coconut

2011-07-28T06:30:00.001+02:00

each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. (1 Corinthians 3:13 ESV)

I never liked coconuts. Growing up I could taste coconut buried in almost any mixture of food. It made my taste buds scream in disgust. I could always discover the secret ingredient no matter how hard the cook tried to cover the flavor with other ingredients.

On Guam coconuts were everywhere. We removed the trees from our yard so the heavy seeds wouldn't whack our children on the head. A ten‑pound coconut does considerable damage when falling thirty feet onto a child's head. This is another reason to dislike coconut.

Then while visiting Pohnpe I enjoyed cool fresh coconut milk. A native man climbed the tree, lopped off the coconut so it fell to the ground. After he climbed down he then whacked off the top with his machete and offered it as a refreshing drink. I'm not sure whether it really tasted good or I was that thirsty. I'm still not convinced it is a viable food source.

I once saw a coconut in a U.S. grocery store. It was a brown round furry hard seed. When I experienced a whole coconut on Guam, I discovered it’s originally packed in a strong green fiber covering. Getting the cover off is much more difficult than opening the seed. Still, this is another reason to leave coconuts on the tree.

My family, on the other hand, loves coconut. In elementary school Ellice and Joel learned how to make coconut candy. They claim it’s a sweet and delicious treat. I'm not convinced. Since they ate everything on the way home from school, they had nothing to offer as proof of their wild claims.

It sounds like a simple process to make coconut candy. First you take a machete, the size of my young son, and whack the top off the coconut and split the seed. A good islander can open a coconut in seconds. I tried opening only the seed once. Hours later, after using a drill, a saw and an axe, I finally had a small hole in the tough seed.

Next you scrape the white meat out of the seed using a small stool with a dangerous looking projection on the front. Sit on the stool, twirl the seed around the sharp pointed thing and watch the white meat fall into the bowl on the ground. This is a skill everyone should learn. Why, because some people actually like coconut.

Finally you boil the meat in a pot over a wood flame; mix in some other stuff and then you have hot, supposedly delicious, candy. My children like it. My wife likes it. I suppose there is no accounting for taste. Given a choice, I wouldn't choose a coconut.

It’s also difficult to understand why God would choose me to be one of his children. Like a coconut I have a strong fiber husk surrounding a hard internal seed. It just isn't easy to get inside. But God has whacked away the husk and lopped off the top of the seed to work with the valuable meat inside.

He scrapes out the essential parts, boils it in the fire of his Holy Spirit and produces something good. I don't understand it but I'm thankful He's a good cook. If a coconut had feelings, I’m sure it wouldn't enjoy the process of being made into candy.

We don't enjoy the process as God works in our lives to turn us into useful children. He breaks us open, scrapes out the good and discards the useless. When He has cooked us just long enough we become useful instruments, valuable sweats in His hands. I still don’t like coconut.

Papa Chick

Hike in the Woods

2011-07-25T09:33:00.001+02:00

For you are my rock and my fortress; and for your name's sake you lead me and guide me; (Psalms 31:3 ESV)

During High School I participated in a week long hike of the Appalachian Trail. I was young. The mountains were beautiful and the rattle snakes abundant. That week long hike was a once in a lifetime experience not to be equaled. Sometimes I thought I got close.

On Sunday afternoon, while on a church retreat, we decided to enjoy a hike in the forest surrounding the little village of Baden. A castle ruin near the retreat site beckoned for a visit. I, and a few others, decided to pay it a visit.

Our Austrian friend took the lead. He was an accomplished outdoors man, native to the land and all around a nice guy. We started our hike to the castle. Our trail blazing guide said it was only twenty minutes away.

An hour later we discovered there were many paths through the forest not clearly marked on the trail map. The landmarks appeared to be taking the day off. Turning the map round and round, trying to figure which way was which our intrepid leader said, "Maybe it's this way," and pointed to another trail heading into the deep dark forest.

In spite of being lost, in a foreign land, in the deep dark forest with a confused guide, the day was beautiful and cool. The conversation was delightful and jokes abounded.

We looked like an international hiking club. A mixture of Nigerian, German, Austrian, Filipino and American explored the wild together. These were good friends to be with when lost in the forest on a sunny day.

We were so far off the beaten path we figured we would soon cross the border into Slovakia. Despite our guides claim to understand the trail map we doubted his abilities after the first hour. However, we trudged onward, upward, downward and around many a bend in the trail. After almost two hours we finally arrived at Rauhenstein.

The castle sat on one side of a mountain pass. Across the valley sat another castle. The two were situated to guard the pass and defend the valley from attack.

We figured our next trip to the area we’d hike up to the other castle and take more pictures. Maybe by then I’d learn how to read the trail map myself. If I'm going to get lost, I want to lead the way.

In the end we arrived at a great spiritual revelation. Never accept a seasoned outdoors man as your guide through the Wiener Wald . . . even with a map in hand!

As a Christian I try to lead others as they follow the narrow way. Sometimes I read the map well. Sometimes I take a wrong turn. Fortunately Jesus is a better guide and never takes me down the wrong trail when I follow Him.

Papa Chick

Father and Sons

2011-07-18T11:45:00.001+02:00

And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. (James 3:18 ESV)

Since I was able to crawl I made my way through the cables, cabinets and equipment of radio and television stations. I probably knew more about electricity before I started Kindergarten than most people ever learned. Granted, this was not a particularly useful skill in elementary school but it kept me from biting the electrical cord.

Needless to say some of my children acquired an interest in electronics and especially audio. Joel was the first to discover the wonder of mixing audio in the church for a good sound. Working with Dad he discovered what he could and could not do with the available equipment.

It didn't take him long to notice the sheepish singers and boost their microphone a little more than the accompaniment. Getting the right mixture so instrument and voice could be heard was always a challenge.

On the other end of the spectrum was the confident, loud singer. They always wanted the monitors and speakers blaring as loud as possible to help insure permanent hearing loss for themselves and the audience. Floor monitors directed at the singer are wonderful devices. Lowering the volume to the congregation while boosting the floor monitor would give the singer sense that they were blasting away at their captive audience while the audience was spared hearing damage.

Working with a group was even more fun. Joel learned quickly to turn down, and sometimes off, the microphone of that one individual who was swaying back and forth in spiritual sync while singing in another world and another key.

For years we worked together. Joel was always behind the mixing board. I was sometimes helping him. Sometimes I was providing the music and became the victim of his mixing decisions. Either way it was an exercise in making peace between the musician, the preacher, the choir and those listening in the congregation.

There was also a time of peace when we worked together on special audio projects. More than once we worked the sound board together for church or special programs at the boy’s school in Austria. For several years Joel helped our church in Vienna mix the sound in our small and noisy meeting hall.

When Joel went off the college James stepped in and picked up the ministry. It was fun watching him keep the peace between the musicians and the congregation. One time he turned off his Mom's microphone. When she asked why he said, "Trust me. It was better off not letting people hear what you were singing."

OK, so maybe there wasn't always peace at home. I have the sneaking suspicion he often turned my microphone off but just didn't say anything. There was that one Sunday when I had a stuffy nose, and sounded like a walrus with his head buried in the sand.

It’s times like these, working with my children that I remember and cherish. God allowed us to work together, to be at peace with one another, usually. As Father and son we carefully sculptured audio to help others worship and praise God through song.

What events remind you of God's peace working in your life? Mine are with family and friends. God's calm hand helps us work together.

Papa Chick

Musicals

2011-07-13T13:57:00.001+02:00

The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him. (Psalms 28:7 ESV)

As early as I can remember I listened to music, sang music, and enjoyed music. I married a beautiful lady who also loves music and singing. It’s no wonder a love for music also developed in our children.

Ellice, our firstborn bundle of joy, started singing when she exited the womb and hasn't stopped since. She sang in the crib, sang in the tub, sang when we traveled, sang in church, sang in the shower, and still sings whenever the chance or a momentary silence provides an opportunity.

In High School, Ellice was involved with a theater group on Guam. This collection of students from schools across the island presented a number of excellent musicals including Camelot, A Christmas Carol and others. The best students from each school worked on their musical abilities and prepared for the big opening day.

Ellice said she had a singing part in A Christmas Carol. She was part of the chorus. She said it was not a big lead but she was a part in many scenes throughout the musical. Beth and I purchased tickets and headed to opening night.

You can imagine the surprise on our faces and the flutter in our hearts when a young lady began a long solo. It took about two notes to recognize the voice and know Ellice had hoodwinked her parents.

She was part of the chorus to be sure but also had a major piece as part of the plot. Singing about bed clothes and parsing out the dead Scrooge's things she delighted us and the audience with her talent. Humility is a great Christian virtue. That evening we were humbled at God's gift in our daughter. At the same time we were proud of her abilities and rolled these feelings into one set of emotions.

Over the years our family listened to many musicals and sang along with one another and the tape, CD or record. We would spend an entire day interspersing songs from different musicals into the events of the moment.

We would start the morning singing Oh, What a Beautiful Morning to wake one another. A news program might bring out the chorus to Everything's up to date in Kansas City. Talking about boyfriends and girlfriends might spark a rousing rendition of Matchmaker. Singing as a family has always been a delight.

I don't have the chance to hear her much these days. She is grown, teaching school, raising children and singing for a church in another country. When we do get together you can be guaranteed there will be at least one songfest as a family.

It’s amazing how many people remember the songs in musicals. When you start singing part of Sunrise Sunset someone is bound to join in the refrain. Our hearts and souls respond in a miraculous way to the musical melodies of the world.

Starting with Moses and Israel singing "The horse and its rider He has thrown into the sea," we have been singing praises to God ever since. We may argue over "acceptable" music but cannot deny the ability of music to teach, admonish and encourage us as believers.

Ellice astonished us with her solo. I still remember the stage, the song, and all the events of that night. God astonishes me regularly with a melody, a psalm, a musical song that grabs my heart and brings me closer to Him. I remember these moments.

When was the last time God amazed you with a touch of music? What musical score do you remember best? Is Oklahoma easier to remember than your favorite hymn or chorus? Maybe it’s time to rekindle the work of music in your soul and give God thanks through music.

Papa Chick

Out with the Old, In with the New

2011-07-08T09:19:00.001+02:00

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have passed away. Behold, all things have become new. (2 Corinthians 5:17 WEB)

One of the hallmarks of a good engineer is to keep a piece of equipment running forever! Well, at least as long as the engineer thinks it’s worth fixing. Unlike modern devices, such as personal computers, CD Players, DVD players, etc., many pieces of radio equipment have operated for thirty, forty or fifty years.

With the simplicity of the earlier designs it was easier to determine which part was faulty. As the years wore by the problem became finding spare parts. This was a growing problem for the AM station on Guam. KTWG sported a classic transmitter.

Even in the harsh island conditions the transmitter usually operated well. Occasionally a component would fail, usually the few modern solid state parts, be replaced and the programs would again bless the people on the island. Time marched on, parts became harder to find, and repairs became more frequent until one dark night when it gave up.

After working on the transmitter for a couple of days the prognosis was dark. Finally, I declared it dead, permanently dead. The costs for the necessary parts, even if they were available, were more than the value of the transmitter. Our station went dark. Thankfully it would only be dark for a little while.

After a shuffle of funds and communication with a transmitter manufacturer the process was under way for the emergency purchase of a replacement transmitter. It would take at least two weeks to ship the unit to the island.

During the two weeks we worked to remove the old transmitter from its concrete bunker under the parking lot. When it was originally installed the walls were not in place so it was easy. Removing it was a bit more difficult.

Heavy components were removed from the chassis. Environmentally hazardous material was transported to the proper disposal authorities. With lots of huffing and puffing, pushing and shoving, twisting and turning the remaining skeleton was removed from the building.

The room was cleared, cables were prepared, wiring was updated and we waited for the new transmitter to arrive. It was to be a modern solid state wonder! No more old tubes to replace, no more large oil transformers. This was a miracle of technology coming to our little island.

The unit arrived and we went to work to get it into the building. It was smaller than the old transmitter but still a tight fit through the doorway. It took more huffing, puffing, pushing and shoving to get the unit into the building.

It was finally in place. The muscle men of the mission went about their normal routines while the engineers went to work connecting all the wires, gadgets and controls. It was a big job and we were in a hurry. We wanted to be back on the air!

Rich, Ray and I poked, prodded, testing, tweaked and worked through the night to finish the project. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, we were ready to begin.

I strolled across the parking lot to the main building. The three of us climbed the stairs to the main studio room. We looked at each other, smiled and pressed the button.

Lights flickered, meters moved, our hearts skipped a beat and we were back on the air. I sat down at the control console, played a stations ID then selected my favorite song and pressed "play."

Our work was rewarded as we heard music coming from the receiver. It was a long road and lots of work to hear those sweet sounds wafting over the airwaves once more. We smiled, gave a toast with our coffee cups and called the morning operator to return to work.

I’m reminded of a song titled, New Lives for Old. It was a great song about how change is brought about in us when Christ becomes Lord of our lives. We don't need new parts; we are a new creation, top to bottom.

The old transmitter could never be fixed; it was filled with old, rotting and dead components. Our life without Christ is not fixed at salvation. It too is filled with old rotting components of the sinful nature. Instead, Christ gives us a new life. We are a new creation. We are ready to be put into service.

Too many times we try to fix the old when it is just not worth fixing. Sometimes we keep the old parts and try to fit them into the new man. This doesn't work any better than putting an old tube in a new solid state transmitter.

It's time I stopped stockpiling my old parts and started paying attention to the new man Christ has created. Only then can I discover how He will use me to broadcast His message of salvation to those around me. Thank God we are not repaired but NEW!

Papa Chick

A Time for Rest (Matthew 11:28-30)

2011-07-06T13:06:00.001+02:00

Last week I shared from Jesus’ teaching about dealing with enemies and the “golden rule.” It takes a lot of work to apply the “golden rule” to everyone in our lives. It’s been a busy week attempting to apply Jesus’ words day after day. That made me spiritually and emotionally tired. On Monday for my birthday, we went on a road trip and visited ten more palaces and castles in Austria which made me physically tired. For those interested we’ve visited more than 150 over the years. Then I dealt with a number of needs and issues in my ministry with TWR. I’m here to tell you that I’m exhausted. I need some rest. So that’s what the Lord put on my heart for today, rest.

There are many ways to rest. There are many ways to be tired. We can be tired of something happening over and over. We can be physically tired from strenuous exercise or labor. We can be tired emotionally from events which intersect our lives. We can be tired spiritually as we try to live faithful lives in a faithless world. It’s a combination of all these which I want to talk about today. Whenever I think of rest I’m driven back to Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28-30. Listen as Jesus calls us to both work and to rest both rolled into one.

(28) “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. (29) Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (30) For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (NIV)

I find enormous comfort in these three verses. I see hope in the midst of a busy world. But, it seems too simple to me. Can it really be this simple to find rest? Let’s look closer.

Jesus begins with a marvelous invitation . . . “Come to me.” This call is a call to salvation as well as a call for those already saved. He’s calling us to accept His gift of salvation.

He doesn’t call us to go to the beach or to stroll along the mountainside. He calls us to Himself. It’s easier for us to focus on resolving our needs by looking at human resolutions. Instead of turning to Jesus first, we often turn to Him as a last resort. We see in these three words that Jesus is again emphasizing the ultimate importance of our relationship with Him. Who is Jesus calling?

His invitation is for those of us who are weary and burdened. I fit into both of those categories. But what does Jesus mean by “weary.” This word, κοπιάω, indicates someone who is fatigued from hard work or labor. Are you worn down by your work? Are you weary from continued labor? Jesus is calling to you so listen carefully. Jesus is also calling those who are burdened. Good old King James uses the phrase “heavy ladened.” This is the Greek word, φορτίζω, which means to be loaded like a ship or a donkey. For us this would be carrying burdens, physical, mental or spiritual, which load us down. Perhaps our legs begin to shake with the physical weight or our minds are confused with the spiritual weight of our load. Jesus is calling us to Him. Listen to His voice while you shoulder the burdens of your life and trod wearily along. He has a solution to get us through.

Jesus will give us rest. Whoo hoo! I’m looking forward to that. But what do we consider rest? I have a tendency to think of rest as doing as little as possible. I can imagine myself sitting in a comfortable lounge chair, sipping on a cold iced tea and watching the wind play in the tree branches overhead. Or maybe rest for you is getting fourteen hours of sleep at night. Perhaps you find rest in singing, or reading, or some other leisure activity. Rest can be found in many different contexts.

I’m dissecting a lot of good Greek words in these few verses and here is another, ἀναπαύω. The NIV renders this as “rest.” In fact, every translation I consulted, which is quite a few, all used the word “rest.” Literally this means to “repose,” to “refresh,” to be “refreshed.” I like the MESSAGE paraphrase of this verse.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. (Matthew 11:28 MSG)

Jesus wants to show us how to get “real” rest. He’s not going to talk about a vacation at the shore. Jesus gives us what we need for rest in the midst of a full life. Most of those contexts don’t include the concept of carrying another burden. But that’s what we’re going to see in Jesus’ solution to a weary burdened life. Let’s look at verse 29 again.

(29) Take my yoke upon you . . . (NIV)

What do you mean, Lord? I’m looking for rest and you’re telling me to be yoked! A yoke involves carrying a burden and laboring, not resting. Although ζυγός is translated as yoke and we know that a yoke is to bind a horse, cow, or donkey to a burden it carries more than that meaning. A yoke implies a form of submission. We must submit ourselves to Christ. We’re called to exchange one yoke for another.

Think about that for a moment. Have you ever thought things would be better if you just changed jobs? How about moving to another country? Jesus is telling us to take His yoke, His burden and learn the difference. Let’s go back to verse 29.

(29) Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (NIV)

Did you know that most yokes are designed for two animals to work together? In order for them to work efficiently and not overwork each other they must learn from each other. They need to discover how to pace themselves. They need to know which way to pull to get the job done without hurting each other. Jesus word picture makes sense in an agrarian society. The people knew about oxen and cattle and yokes. I was reading about training oxen as I thought about the subject of yokes. Here’s what one expert says.

Training oxen requires taking two separate animals, (selected for their similarities in temperament and willingness to work), which have previously been their own masters, and making them a team, that will work for another master. Behaving this way is contrary to nature. These animals have already learned many things before they began this training. It is your job to undo some of the things they have learned, and to teach many new things. Every time they are in the yoke they will learn something, either beneficial or unbeneficial. (http://www.prairieoxdrovers.com/training.html)

It’s our relationship with Jesus, our yoking ourselves to Him which teaches us how to find rest for our souls. Ox trainers will usually take a trained ox and pair it with an untrained ox. When we yoke ourselves to Jesus and submit to his guidance we will learn something every time we’re walking together. He will change us. We will learn from Him. He is our example. But Jesus wants us to know something special about being yoked to Him.

Jesus is gentle. He won’t drag us this way and that until we are worn down and rubbed raw by the yoke. He knows what it’s like to live in this world. He understands the burdens we face every day. He’s not arrogant about what He knows and we don’t. He’s humble in heart. What Jesus is telling us is that He has experienced humiliation and understands. He wants to teach us to find rest with a gentle and humble heart. He’s fully qualified to be our yoke mate. Let’s look at Hebrews chapter 4 beginning at verse 14.

(14) Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. (15) For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. (16) Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. (NIV)

We can change our yoke from the misguided desires of mankind to someone who knows and understands us, our high priest. Jesus will lead us to a spiritual rest. But how do we get there? We draw close to the Lord. We pray. We seek God’s direction. We study His word. It’s here we learn how to live righteously in an unrighteous world. Listen to 2 Timothy 3:16-17.

(16) All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, (17) so that the servant of God[a] may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. (NIV)

We need Jesus to teach us how to find spiritual rest in this world. We need to yoke ourselves to Him and move in conjunction with His movements. We need to learn when to pull, when and where to turn. We need to be thoroughly equipped. God has provided us the ultimate instruction manual to equip us. But take careful note Jesus that is speaking of spiritual rest. We will find rest for our souls. We will rest confident in the love of God expressed in our relationship with Jesus.

This means we may still be tired after a day of hard work. We might still find the number of tasks required each day to be a physically strain. In this physical exhaustion we can still find rest for our souls. It’s almost like working hard all week while dreaming of a relaxing weekend. We can put up with some of the burden when we know there is relief in sight. Jesus lets us know the spiritual rest we need is ready. God’s love through Jesus Christ can get us through each day when we yoke ourselves with Him and learn from Him.

Think about Paul. He experienced a number of what we would call catastrophes in his life. He enumerates them in 2 Corinthians beginning in Chapter 11 verse 23. Let’s just briefly look at verses 25-27.

(25) Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, (26) I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers. (27) I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. (NIV)

That’s quite a resume. I’m sure he was weary. I’m sure he felt the weight of his burden. But Paul “came to Jesus” and yoked himself with his Savior. He spent time in God’s word. He spent time in prayer before God’s throne. He learned from Jesus how to shoulder his yoke. Paul also wrote these great words to encourage us.

(38) For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, (39) neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (NIV)

How could Paul carry such a burden? How could Paul shoulder such a yoke? Because Paul worked alongside the Lord who guided, trained and shared the burden. Let’s go back to verse 30 in Matthew 11.

(30) For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (NIV)

The yoke of Jesus is an easy yoke to shoulder. The burden of our Savior is a light load to carry. It’s His yoke which should occupy our minds and give us comfort. It’s His burden we should be carrying.

Will I get physically, emotionally, or mentally tired this coming week? Depending on what happens during the week that’s a good possibility. Once I’m there in “weary” land what can I do? I can recognize my yoke is with Jesus, not the world, and that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. I can sigh in relief that the impact of the present world will pass away. I can rejoice in knowing God’s rest awaits me for eternity.

---[OUTLINE]---

A Time for Rest

I. We all get tired at some point in life.

II. The Invitation is open to all (v28)

a. To the weary

b. To the burdened

III. Jesus wants to give us rest (v28)

IV. Jesus does not give rest without work (v29)

a. He provides the example

b. He is a gentle master

c. He is a humble master

d. He leads us to a spiritual rest

V. Work need not be oppressive (v30)

a. His yoke is easy

b. His burden is light

Papa Chick

Searching for Magnum P.I.

2011-07-01T14:37:00.001+02:00

The heavens declare the glory of God. The expanse shows his handiwork. (Psalms 19:1 WEB)

At the end of our first furlough we were tired and ready to return to the mission field for some needed rest. All the travel, the speaking engagements, the birth of our son James, and the pressures of raising support took their toll. Whatever pressure there was on the mission field it was nothing compared to the pressure of furlough and being constantly on display from house to house and church to church.

As we prepared our bags, shipped our container, closed our US affairs, we looked forward to heading back to our home on Guam. In the midst of preparation we received a note, from the home office. We had received a gift. Someone, who we were never able to identify, provided funds for us to spend two days in Hawaii on our way back to Guam so we could rest and relax.

We were amazed! This was an unexpected joy. We completed our packing, spent a week visiting my parents and headed west to the romantic island. Unfortunately, I opened a hot radiator and received first degree burns to my arm three days before our flight. Ellice, while playing in the park, fell from a jungle gym, broke her arm and sported a nice white cast two days before our flight.

Bandaged, wearing a cast and seeking safety we sat back on the plane and looked forward to seeing a bit of Oahu Island. The flight was uneventful. We arrived, checked our extra bags into a storage facility at the airport and rented a car for two days of exploration.

Most people when they visit Hawaii spend a lot of time at the beach. With a six month old baby, a father in bandages, and a daughter in a cast, this was not one of our options. We could see the beach beckoning from our hotel room. A walk along the beach was as close as we would come during this visit.

So, in the interests of having fun we started a search. The television program, Magnum P.I., was popular at the time so we decided to tour the island and look for the mansion used in filming the show. We spend a lot of time, on holidays, looking for bits and pieces of shows or movies we watched.

In the morning we piled into the car, squeezed our bags in the trunk and headed around the island. Literally, we drove around the shore road of the island. Each little neighborhood was the chance to diverge from the beaten path in search for the ever elusive Magnum Mansion.

We stopped by Diamond Head and went inside the dormant volcanic funnel. We watched paragliders gracefully sail from the cliffs on the eastern shore. Pineapple fields we an interesting and new sight. Toward the center of the island we were fascinated with the rugged mountains, lush vegetation, and beautiful waterfalls. There were surfers anywhere a wave was present. The island was teaming with life and vacationers.

In all our driving we eventually forgot our quest and never found the television mansion. On the contrary we discovered some of the wonders of God's magnificent creation on a small piece of rock in the middle of the ocean. From the pineapple filled plains to the tropical forest covered mountains God's attention to details was evident.

Evan though man created beautiful and ugly buildings and cities in the midst of the beauty; the beauty stood out none the less. We were searching for the imaginary in the midst of reality. It wasn't the glamour of a world famous vacation spot, the marvel of surfer dudes riding the curl, or the finding of a television set that caught our attention that day.

That day, on a small island, we were impressed, once more, at God's creation. God's glory was declared by the beauty of this small bump in the midst of the mighty ocean. I’m amazed. Some folks can look at the world around, see the minute details of creation, the beauty of carefully sculptured mountains or the fine weaving of a leaf and not see God at work.

Sometimes, I get so caught up trying to find something man created that I miss the bigger picture. At those times I’m likely to miss the obvious things around me. Burned arms and broken wings forced us to slow down, use our eyes to see, enjoy, and be impressed by God's work.

By awesome deeds of righteousness, you answer us, God of our salvation. You who are the hope of all the ends of the earth, Of those who are far away on the sea; Who by his power forms the mountains, Having armed yourself with strength; Who stills the roaring of the seas, The roaring of their waves, And the turmoil of the nations. They also who dwell in far‑away places are afraid at your wonders. You call the morning's dawn and the evening with songs of joy. You visit the earth, and water it. You greatly enrich it. The river of God is full of water. You provide them grain, for so you have ordained it. You drench its furrows. You level its ridges. You soften it with showers. You bless it with a crop. You crown the year with your bounty. Your carts overflow with abundance. The wilderness grasslands overflow. The hills are clothed with gladness. The pastures are covered with flocks. The valleys also are clothed with grain. They shout for joy! They also sing. (Psalms 65:5‑13 WEB)

Papa Chick

Are We Listening? (Luke 6:27-31)

2011-06-26T16:58:00.001+02:00

What did you say? I wasn’t listening. I think we’ve all experienced that exchange at times. Many of us have hearing difficulties. I think children have selective hearing loss at an early age. They appear not to hear many things their parents say. As a father I’ve shown selective hearing loss in a room full of noisy children. Now that I’m a grandpa, also known as getting older, I also have a physical hearing problem. When I ask someone to repeat something it’s usually because I didn’t hear it not because I’m ignoring them.

As a Christian I find that hearing and understanding are important in my communication with God. Sometimes I hear through what another believer shares and sometimes I hear by reading God’s word. The Bible is like a service manual and says a lot if we take time to listen. I’m afraid I have a tendency to experience selective hearing loss when I run across something I don’t like. It might seem easy just to skip over a passage or verse that troubles me but God has a tendency to keep showing it to me over and over. I believe this is because I try to ignore passages that point out my own guilt and failures or passages that tell me to do something I’m don’t want to do.

Today I want us to check our hearing. We need to clean the wax out of our ears and turn up our hearing aids. Jesus has something He wants us to hear. It came to my attention when I started reading at Luke 6:27. Turn there with me and let’s listen very carefully.

“But to you who are listening I say:” (Luke 6:27a NIV)

Are we listening yet? Can you hear OK? Are you ready for the news? I chuckle at this phrase. Apparently Jesus knew many people gathered weren’t listening. Are you here to listen or just occupy a seat? I hope you’re listening. Let’s continue.

27 “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,” (Luke 6, NIV)

I like the way Eugene Peterson expresses this passage in the Message.

“Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst.” (Luke 6:27b MSG)

Jesus is going to teach us how to deal with our enemies. He doesn’t define our enemies. He assumes we know the people who oppose us. He knows who hates us and usually so do we. However, Jesus does know how an enemy expresses themselves to us and wants to discuss our reactions. We can’t change how people treat us but we can control how we react. So how should be react to those who oppose us?

We react with love and good works. This brings out the best in us if we react properly. It’s easy to love people we like but it’s really hard when someone opposes us. When we think of enemies we usually think of people outside our Christian circles. We need to be realistic and understand there are people in our “inner” circle who also may oppose us. There may be people here in our congregation who may oppose us or just don’t like us.

Instead of reacting badly, or not reacting at all, let’s allow the good in us to come out. Let’s love them and see what good we can do for them. In this verse we are jumping into a whole new paradigm of relationships. It’s a challenge to do good things for those who hate us. This is from the Greek word μισέω which means to detest, or persecute or hate. Not only is it a challenge because of hatred but also because we must teach ourselves how to do good things. In our selfish all about me world it’s seems unnatural to respond to hatred or opposition with good deeds. Paul wrote in Ephesians 2:9, “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (NIV)

We’re created to do good works. God made sure of that. And what are some of those good works? Let’s continue in Luke chapter 6 and we’ll find out staring in verse 28.

28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. (Luke 6, NIV)

It only takes a short time to see Jesus is asking for something contrary to today’s culture. Today’s media drags us away from these good deeds. If we consider this verse backwards and forwards we have choices to make. When we are confronted or attacked what do we do? Do we bless the other person or curse them? Do we pray for them or plot our revenge? It is a good deed to bless someone. It is part of our Christian life to pray for others, including those who are enemies. At times our enemies can bring out the prayer in us. But, what do we do about a slap in the face? Read on.

29a If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. (Luke 6, NIV)

We must be careful not to allow the English word to soften this offense. The Greek word, τύπτω, includes multiple blows by an instrument, not a just a slap in the face we might receive from an insult. Do not confuse this is family abuse. I don’t believe the Lord is calling anyone to remain in an abusive relationship. That is the subject of another message. I want to be sure we understand this distinction. This isn’t just a simple slap across the cheek.

I don’t know about you but I don’t like to get slapped. My natural reaction is to throw up my hands in defense to ward off any further blows. But Jesus tells us to let them slap our other cheek! Let me tell you it’s contrary to my human nature. But, it’s in line with the new life in me as a Christian, a life fueled by God’s love and grace. It’s a good deed to let them take a second shot at our other cheek. It brings out the best in us by making us face our human nature and yield instead to God’s nature.

Are you listening to Jesus’ words? Do you understand the image God’s Spirit has on our relationship with others? It isn’t easy and we might want to experience sudden selective hearing loss but we need to pay attention. We’re not off the hook to behave in a loving manner toward our enemies just because of slap in the face. What about theft? Look at the end of verse 29 and verse 30.

29b If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. 30 Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. (Luke 6, NIV)

One of the most helpless and vulnerable events in my life was when we were robbed on Guam. Someone came into our home, while we were sleeping, and stole some equipment and money. It took me a long time to get over that and sleep peacefully again. I wasn’t inclined to hand the thief my television. Then again, he already took that.

I’ll admit I can be and have been known to be selfish with my stuff. Even now I struggle when someone wants to borrow certain things . . . things like my guitar or computer. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if they were stolen. And if someone takes my computer do I give them the other one as well? Wow, that hits close to home. I have no problem to toss my extra coat or shirt at them but when it comes to things I consider precious or irreplaceable things are different. In Jesus’ time your coat was as vital as a car is to an American. It wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity. But Jesus is reminding us in these verses it is just stuff.

There’s a wonderful thing about stuff. It’s just that, stuff. It’s usually composed of things. It’s usually things we bought, or were given to us, but it’s still just stuff. People, on the other hand, are not just passing stuff but eternal souls. So what am I saying here?

We have to see the good deed God created us to do in this situation. Does someone steal from us? Maybe they do but it’s just stuff, but the person doing the stealing is so precious to God that He sent Jesus to die for them. Does someone ask us for things? Perhaps they do and they don’t even bring it back. That shouldn’t matter because the person asking, the person keeping is so precious to God that He sent Jesus to die for them. The good deeds we can exercise are to show patience and extend generosity toward this person. They take something, we give them more. Our enemy brings out the patience in us. They ask for something (a little more polite) or just take it we don’t pester them to give it back. Our enemy brings out the generosity in us. The MESSAGE calls this the “servant life” which is a good term.

30 If someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously. (Luke6, MSG)

Are you listening to this? Do you understand what Jesus is saying? It’s all about our relationship to the other person. It’s about building that relationship based on God’s love and grace not on our human desire for revenge and retribution. It’s all about the “golden rule.”

This rule is so universal to mankind and relationships you’ll find it used in almost every religion in the world. I think that’s because it is one of God’s foundations since the Garden of Eden. I remember hearing this over and over as a child. Look at verse 31.

31 Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6,NIV)

. . . or the parallel as penned in Matthew 7:12 . . .

12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets. (Matthew 7,NIV)

What we must hear at this point is the broad range, the all-encompassing application of this rule. Just look at the good deeds above. If I at some time say something bad against someone I hope they pray for me and bless me. If I take something from someone, regardless of my self-generated excuses, I want them to be patient with me. If I ask for something I want people to be generous with me. But can I turn the tables around and say I’m praying for my enemies? Can I say I’m being patient with my colleague, or wife, or neighbor, who always walks off with stuff from my desk, or yard, home? Can I say I’m gladly giving to others who are asking? Note I didn’t say others in need, that’s another sermon.

Are you listening? Do you understand what this means? Jesus makes no excuses for our enemies in these few verses. Their motives, good or bad, are not the issue. The issue is our response. The issue is our understanding the importance of building relationships. The issue is whether we apply the golden rule to others or just expect others to apply it to us. This is something we all need to hear. This is something we all need to understand.

It’s hard. I know. I’ve been impatient with those who want something . . . more times than I want to admit. I’ve been stingy (the opposite of generous) many times when asked to give something. More than once I’ve thought about revenge on someone I think wronged me . . . more than I thought about praying for them. The golden rule hasn’t always been my first thought in a conflict. But it should’ve been. It should be. I need to work on this constantly. How about you?

I think every day we have a chance to show that we’re listening? How are your ears today? Is the wax cleared out? Is your hearing aid turned up? Are we listening or humming to ourselves with fingers in our ears so we’re not disturbed with what Jesus is telling us?

We need to pay attention and apply what we hear. We need to allow the attack of our enemies to bring out the best in us as demonstrated in our response. We need to pray for those who aren’t nice to us. We need to be patient with folks who want to strike out at us. We need to be generous with those who come or take our stuff. Eugene Peterson again says it beautifully in the MESSAGE: (Luke 6:31 MSG) “Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!”

Let’s listen up, apply and show some initiative.

Like Paul for the Philippians this is my prayer for you, “. . . that your love may abound more an dmore in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, fulled with fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ – to the glory and praise of God.” (Philippians 1:9-10, NIV)

Amen!

----[OUTLINE]----

Are We Listening?

29 June 2011 – Dr. Robert Chick

I. We all have selective hearing loss

II. Jesus calls us to listen and learn about things we ignore

III. Dealing with enemies

a. They can bring out the best in us. (v27)

b. They can bring out the blessings and prayer in us. (v28)

c. They can bring out the patience in us. (v29)

d. They can bring out the generosity in us. (v29-30)

IV. The “Golden Rule”

Papa Chick

Swiss Army Ax

2011-06-23T09:12:00.001+02:00

Let us therefore draw near with boldness to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and may find grace for help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:16 WEB)

I have mixed feelings about weddings. Not about my wedding but about attending other people's weddings. They are usually lovely affairs, the food is good and the pastor seldom preaches a long sermon. With the focus on the bride and groom people are happy when weddings start and the celebration begins.

One furlough we were invited to the wedding of a short term missionary and a former Navy man. We knew the two young people from their time on Guam. The wedding was held in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Having never visited this city of steel we thought it would be fun to see the city and enjoy the celebration with our two friends.

We drove along the Pennsylvania turnpike, entered the city of Three Rivers Stadium and located our accommodations at a wonderful Red Roof Inn. The groom’s parents and other members of the wedding party enjoyed the same hotel. We found our friends and looked forward to the ceremony.

On Friday evening I took Joel to a baseball game. Guam doesn’t have a professional team so this was a new and exciting experience. The closest Guam came was Little League. Hot dogs from the roaming vendors, a warm night, cold drinks and a good scoring game made the evening memorable.

Close to midnight we returned to the hotel. Beth, me and baby Evan were in one room. Ellice, Joel and James were in another room. They weren’t adjoining rooms so all visitation involved going outside to get between the rooms. The game was good, the night was warm and we all looked forward to a good night's sleep.

The next morning we arose and began preparations for the wedding. Beth and Ellice were participating in the wedding with silk dresses and matching shoes. I called the room next door to ensure Ellice, Joel and James were starting to get ready while Beth and I prepared in our room. They were awake, excited and getting ready for the big event.

Finally, I stepped out our door to go next door and help our children with their final preparations. I knocked on the door, Ellice peaked from behind the curtains and then I heard her working with the lock and door knob. I tried the door and it was still locked. Knocking on the window I told Ellice to turn the knob to unlock the door. I heard the movement of the knob and tried the door again, it was still locked.

It was obvious the dead bolt was dead. Turn, turn, and turn again Ellice was unable, even with Joel's expert assistance, to unlock the dead bolt from the door. Beth came from our room and tried to get in the children's room. No good, our children were locked in a hotel room with a broken door.

I went to the hotel office and explained the situation to the attendant and then returned to the broken door to try and find a solution. I explained, to Ellice and Joel in a loud voice through the window, the hotel was working on the problem and should fix it soon.

Just as I finished shouting through the window the young lady from the office arrive and said, "I called the maintenance man and he will come as soon as he can."

"How long will that take," I asked as a concerned parent with three small children locked in a hotel room.

"At least an hour or more," she replied sheepishly.

I looked at my watch, remembered the time of the wedding and replied, "That won't work. Our children are locked in the room, the wedding starts in less than an hour away so they need to get out."

The young lady looked at me helplessly.

"What will it be," I asked her.

"What do you mean?" she queried looking uncertain.

"The window or the door lock?" I responded.

"Huh," she replied as here eyes opened wide as she understood my question.

"I can either smash in the window or break the lock on the door to get them out. Which do you prefer?" I gave her a few seconds to consider the options.

"I don't know," she answered looking around for unfound help.

"OK, its the lock then," I replied and whipped my Swiss Army Knife from my pocket. I went to work on the lock with minimal results and started to reconsider the window option.

Suddenly, the groom's father walked up and asked about the problem. I explained the situation and he walked off around the corner. I continued to work, ineffectively, on the door lock with my little knife.

After a couple minutes the groom's father returned carrying a fire ax from the hallway. "Let me give it a try," he said and positioned the ax near the door lock.

Wham, wham, wham, he smashed at the locking mechanism until the outer cover came loose. That was just the ticket. Again wielding my Swiss Arm Knife, I built upon the work of the Swiss Army Ax to remove the lock cover, poke into the lock mechanism and release the lock and free our children.

It was a joyous reunion, perfect timing for the wedding and the start of a fun day. By the time we returned to the room the door was repaired and the next morning held no more surprises.

Unexpected problems come into our lives at the most unusual times. In Psalm 46 we are reminded that God provides us help, in the present, when troubles come. Sometimes that help comes from the everyday people God places in our lives. The groom's father was a present help in time of trouble. He was God's instrument that morning.

It’s times like this when I stop and think of the helps God has provided throughout my life and ministry. They are beyond counting and a fountain of blessing to my soul. God wields his Swiss Army Angel, Knife, Ax or whatever tool is necessary to care for His children. We need to stop and thank those folks God uses in or life to provide present help in times of trouble. Who knows, maybe we will be God's Swiss Army Angel in someone else's time of trouble.

Papa (Swiss Army Knife) Chick

Coconut Trees

2011-06-18T13:06:00.001+02:00

Where there is no counsel, plans fail; But in a multitude of counselors they are established. (Proverbs 15:22 WEB)

After moving into a new home on Guam I made a survey of the yard and realized that the coconut trees were a problem. If you consider a ten pound coconut falling thirty feet onto a five year old head, as a parent, you begin to shiver thinking about the consequences.

The coconut trees had to go. They posed a serious health threat to our growing family. Holding our six month old James in my arms I counted two looming disasters towering over our concrete bunker we called home. It was time for action.

We engineers like to plan things correctly, use the appropriate instruments and consider all the ramifications of a project. I gathered my fellow male colleagues one sunny Saturday afternoon to tackle the problem. This was a man's job. Women were only there as spectators and to bandage wounds in case of disaster.

I looked over the situation, considered the options and then I had it all figured out. Mark brought the chain saw, Ray brought some ladders, Rich, George and a couple others handed out hard hats and provided the muscle.

The first tree was partially cut midway up the trunk. A rope was attached. With our flexing muscles impressing the girls we heaved and heaved until the top topple to the ground. Cutting down the rest of the trunk was simple. We surveyed our successful work, turned and considered the taller of the two trees.

Climbing a ladder, tied to the tree at the twenty foot level, Mark pulled the chain saw to life and worked around the hearty trunk to top the tree. When he was almost through the tree he climbed down and we once again heaved with the rope to pull the top off the tree. It came crashing down partially buried in the lawn. Coconut trees are very, very, verrrryyyyy heavy!

A rope was tied to the top of the remaining trunk. We gathered just outside the fence area ready to pull the tree safely away form the house. Sputtering with a vicious appetite to devour wood, the chain saw was applied to the base of the trunk.

We heaved, our muscles bulged, the women were impressed, the chain saw cut, things were going just as I had planned. Did I fail to mention this was all my plan. Yes, I was the successful engineer planning the project all by my self.

The tree began to tilt, the chain saw dug deeper into the watery pulp, success was imminent. My moment of glory was at hand. In slow motion the tree began to fall away from the house under the insistent tug of the rope.

As the tree began its plummet to earth my heart soared in pride. My planning was perfect. Then, in even slower motion, I realized I missed one small, very small, but very important, point. The tree was going to clear the house and that was good. Unfortunately it was headed directly toward the front fence.

Squeezing my eyes shut, scrunching up my shoulders, there was nothing left to do but watch the pending destruction of my fence. Sproing . . .the tree toppled, the fence bent, the job was done. I just stood and stared. Not at the successfully fallen tree but the big dent in my front fence.

I panned perfectly. I gave careful directions. My friends followed my advice. Unfortunately it was only my advice and I missed a very important point. A point which would remind me of my limitation every time I walked out the front door of our home.

Solomon was a wise man when he wrote about multiple counselors. There’s a lot to be said about asking for advice. The problem with asking for advice is we don't like to admit we don't know something. Solomon understood this point as well.

When we don't ask advice, whether from God or our colleagues, our plans might fail. When we seek advice, when we seek the Lord's direction, our plans are established. There is success.

Over the years I’ve learned the wonderful advantage of good counselors, co-workers and expert advice. I still launch out on my own occasionally and usually fall flat on my face.

It’s good to seek advice, direction, and help from God and others. When we combine God's revelation in our life and his revelation to us through others we’ll succeed. A missionary once pointed out that any project started by God will never fail. That is one counselor I need to seek every time, especially if something might be damaged like may poor fence.

Papa Chick

Udon Thani

2011-06-13T17:34:00.001+02:00

Come, let's go down, and there confuse their language, that they may not understand one another's speech." (Genesis 11:7 WEB)

By the time I departed for the mission field my experience with bus travel boiled down to a couple city bus trips and one trip from Gainesville to Jacksonville, Florida during my college days. During my trip from Gainesville to Jacksonville, a whopping 2 hour drive, I sat bored watching the flat Florida countryside roll along. Not fully understanding the bus route I pestered the driver to let me off at a corner near my parent's home. He was a bit annoyed but figured putting me off the bus was better than listening to me.

I thought Guam might have a bus system I could use to go to and from the office. Guam was, and is, a small island with tour busses. These were small busses which took the predominately Japanese tourists from place to place. The local residents never rode the bus. They drove everywhere. I thought was destined to be bus impaired for life. This was until Beth and I visited Thailand.

My brother worked for Voice of America at a station in Thailand. My travels across the pacific qualified me for some free tickets. With a destination, free tickets and a book titled, "How to visit Thailand on $10 a week," we were ready for the adventure. We made reservations, withstood the eight hour layover in the Narita, Japan and arrived in Bangkok for our holiday.

Beth and I enjoyed a couple days in a mission home while touring bits and pieces of Bangkok. Finally we went to the bus station to book a ticket to Udon Thani. The ticket agent spoke just enough English to sell us two tickets. When I asked which bus was the right bus their English skills suddenly evaporated.

We walked through the maze of buses and realized interpreting the language was going to be difficult. The Thai language uses a form of Sanskrit. To us it appeared like scribbles on the sign. We carefully looked at our tickets and held them up to compare them to the bus signs and figured we found our transportation. We took a chance and asked the driver, "Udon Thani?" He smiled shook his head and we climbed aboard.

We were in God's hands because no one on the bus spoke English. The bus attendants used hand signals to inform us when it was meal time, toilet time and sleep time. The attendant passed out the bagged meals, collected the remains and left us to enjoy the rest ride.

We sat on an unknown bus, traveled throughout the night on an eight hour drive, in an unknown land, with an unknown language and an unknown destination. This made it a little difficult to sleep. I doubt it had to do with folding my six foot plus body in a seat designed for a five foot Thai.

As morning dawned and the sun provided a spectacular array of color the bus entered a city. It was about the right time so we thought this was the place. I stepped up to our road attendant and asked, "Udon Thani?"

"No," she replied with a frown on her face.

"Not Udon Thani?" I inquired.

"Udon Thani" she replied and smiled.

This conversation went back and forth a couple times before the bus pulled over to allow some of the passengers to depart. Beth and I took the chance, departed the bus and collected our suitcases.

The local travelers disappeared into the morning mist and left us on the side of the road as the bus departed. One Sam‑low (sic) driver came to offer a ride, at a price of course, but we didn't know where to go. (A Sam‑low is like a Rickshaw with a bicycle on the front.) All the shops were closed, the signs looked like scribbles and we were in an unknown town in the middle of no‑where.

As we contemplated our situation one of the shops opened its security gate. The owner came out, dumped something into the street and began to retreat behind the gate. We approached, almost scared the man to death, and used sign language to see if there was a phone available. After a few minutes of flapping our arms around like lunatics, attempting to demonstrate the universal sign language for, "I need a phone, I don't know where I am," he smiled and let us step into the shop.

In the center of an otherwise empty room sat a chair with a telephone on the seat. I dug through my wallet for my brother’s number and dialed.

“Hello,” came the groggy voice of my brother, assuming something was wrong at the transmitter site so early in the morning.

"Hi John, it's me!" I replied with a thrill of joy in my voice.

"Me who?" John asked. It had been a long time since our last phone conversation.

"Your brother Bob. Beth and I are in town, I think, and need to be picked up."

"That's today?" he asked.

"Yep, we are at the bus stop."

"Which one?"

"The bus stop from Bangkok."

"There are five bus stops in the city. Which one are you at?"

"I haven't a clue," I answered. I began to wonder what we were doing in this strange place.

"Any signs around to tell you where you are? Perhaps a shop or something?"

"You've got to be kidding! They all look like chicken scratch to me. Let me look outside once more." I set down the handset and poked my head out the door to find some distinguishing landmark. Returning to the phone I said, "There's a sign across the street with a horse on the front."

"There's a lot of those in town as well," my brother replied. "Just hang tight and we’ll drive around until we find you."

"Ok, see ya."

When I expressed my thanks to the shop keeper and returned to the street Beth received a detailed report on the conversation. We were apparently in the right town, but John had no clue where to find us. We sat on our bags and waited.

Within ten minutes a Jeep rolled up in front and we were greeted with John and Jeanne's smiling faces. What a relief to be back with someone we knew, who spoke our language, and who would bring us to safety.

Our vacation was great. We ate dinner by the Mekong River, visited the transmission site, and caught up on years of separation. It was well worth the trip. I'd do it again in a heart beat except my brother doesn't live there anymore.

Attempting to communicate with the bus personnel, the Sam‑low drivers and the shop keeper reminded me of the Tower of Babel. Getting things to work well was difficult. I didn't understand them and they sure didn't understand me. God's plan to confuse the languages was a job well done. We weren't accomplishing much by speaking gibberish to one another.

Sometimes when we share the Gospel it sounds like a foreign language. We use big words, church words, and theological words to express simple ideas of God's love and salvation. After the demon‑possessed man was healed he wanted to follow Jesus. Our Lord sent him back to his home, not with theological proclamations but with a simple testimony, “Go to your house, to your friends, and tell them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how he had mercy on you.” (Mark 5:19 WEB)

How well do we communicate? Are we refugees from the Tower of Babel or are we messengers and ambassadors for Christ? Maybe it’s time to ride a bus into the country and learn the simple life and the simple language of a personal testimony. What great thing has the Lord done for you . . . in twenty words of less?

Papa Chick

Elephant Orphanage

2011-06-05T12:24:00.001+02:00

. . .even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for adoption, the redemption of our body. (Romans 8:23 WEB)

Tarzan was my hero. At least he was when I was young. I didn't miss an opportunity to watch Johnny Weissmuller, along with others, swing through the trees, shout "ahh-ee-ahh," then save the jungle people or rescue the damsel in distress with the help of his animal friends. "Me Tarzan, you Jane," was one of my earlier sentences.

When I was old enough to enjoy the forest around our home I was a Tarzan wanna‑be. At first I searched the trees around our house for vines to swing my way through the foliage. All I found were vine wanna‑bes cluttering up the undergrowth. I guess forests in Ohio just don’t have the necessary vines for jungle rescues.

Once, I tied a rope to a high branch to practice my swing and jungle yell. With nowhere to swing to it was short lived excitement. I just couldn't figure out this jungle transportation mode. Then I remembered the elephants. When there were no vines Tarzan resorted to the lumbering elephant’s sturdy service.

In the jungle there were no jeeps, not taxi cabs or busses, only beautiful, big, gray, trumpeting elephants. These lumbering beasts fascinated me. When a colleague suggested we visit an elephant orphanage in Sri Lanka I jumped at the opportunity. I practiced shouting, “umgawa!”

The Pinnawela Elephant Orphanage is one of a kind. As the only elephant orphanage in the world they are proud of the ministrations and love they provide to these gargantuan beasts.

Most of the residents are young and many required bottle feeding. They’d take a three gallon jug, add a nozzle and pour it down the youngster's throat. Bath time was a daily ritual. Herded to the local stream each elephant was carefully scrubbed, using a car brush on a long stick, to insure good skin and freedom from pesky bugs.

As they grew they were prepared for work on the island. On Sri Lanka, as well as in other parts of the world, the elephant continues to serve an important role. A good working elephant is a prized possession, especially by farmers.

The handlers, nurses and caretakers insured each orphan was properly cared for and loved. Occasionally they would ride atop the older elephants and demonstrate their abilities to tourists, like myself. There were no Tarzan imitators attempting to save the world from the invading safaris or treasure hunters. There were only elephant caretakers who watched out for the welfare of the lost and forgotten.

Without the love and care of the Pinnawela staff these gentle creatures would soon perish in the wild. Their parents were lost or dead. Each elephant was named, brought into the household and nurtured for a productive life.

I’ve never been an orphan, at least not in this world. I was born into a loving and wonderful family with mother, father, and brothers. However, in the eternal, spiritual world, I was born an orphan. No father, no mother, no relatives just lost and alone in human wisdom, without a purpose.

Without the love and care of God I would have remained an eternal spiritual orphan. However, God has adopted me. John reminds us, "But as many as received him, to them he gave the right to become God's children, to those who believe in his name: who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." (John 1:12‑13 WEB)

Not only am I one of God's children but I’ve been given a name! I’m an overcomer in God's family and will receive a special name, from God's heart to me, a name for me alone (Revelation 2:17). I’m no longer a spiritual orphan but a child, with a new name in an eternal household! What more could I want?

I look forward to eternity. I look forward to hearing my special name from God. I look forward to swinging from cloud to cloud shouting, "ahh‑ee‑ahh," knowing everything is in order in God's kingdom.

Papa Chick

Tasting Tea

2011-05-31T06:04:00.001+02:00

I am the vine. You are the branches. He who remains in me, and I in him, the same bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:5 WEB)

Although my parents drank coffee I avoided that delicacy for many years. Finally, at twenty years of age I took my first sip and it was awful. I was working in hospital in Florida and entered the world of coffee as a reaction to the stress. My work with often terminally ill children was counteracted by the effects of the caffeine.

Although I continue to enjoy my daily coffee I’ve also developed a love for tea. According to popular belief it’s better for you. I'm sure my British colleagues would argue it’s God's gift for afternoon tea time. I'm not interested in the health issue just good taste. I appreciate the wonders of Viennese coffee as well as a wide variety of teas.

During a visit to Sri Lanka there was some spare time between projects. With my eyes closed to the dangers of the fast driving, crowded roads and suicidal tendencies of motorists we rode from Colombo to the village of Kandy. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch in the cooler climate with a wonderful view and then we headed back down the mountain toward Colombo. Along the way we decided it would be fun to visit a tea farm.

I'm not sure if they call it a farm or factory but it was along the way. Earlier we passed the gates to the factory as the workers, hundreds of them, arrive on foot. Many were elderly women, some young men, some dressed in business attire while others arrived in country clothes.

We entered the gates, passed the guard house and stopped by the central preparation building. The tour was straight forward beginning in the drying room, then the rolling (cutting) room, the roasting room and finally the separating room.

Fresh leaves only from the top of the bush were picked each day by the ladies. They were then deposited in the drying rack, along with anything else that happened to jump in their basket. There forced air dried the leaves until they were ready for processing. Once dried the leaves were gathered from the drying bin, tossed on the floor and shoved through a trap door to the floor below.

On the lower floor the leaves went through a series of rolling machines designed to separate them by size and value. Each machine rolled the leaves and dumped the separated piles on the floor. The leaves were scooped up in shovels and tossed onto the roasting machine. When the roasting was complete they were once more deposited on the floor.

The final separation process again dumped the results in piles on the concrete floor. From there the prepared tea was shoveled into bags for packaging and sale. It’s interesting to note the staff members tending this process, mostly women, wandered about the factory in bare feet. I suppose they didn't want the tea leaves spoiled by their shoes!

We exited the factory and stopped by the little in‑house shop. In various bins they had tea available from $ 10 to $ 500 per kilo. I purchased a small amount of the cheap stuff, took it back to Guam and brewed it up. With my first sip the hair on my head, what little there was, stood on end it was so strong!

I found the process fascinating, simple and almost primitive. With the exception of the giant rolling machines, most of the labor was done by hand. A friend in Austria read a report on the contents found in tea bags, including grasshopper legs, and still he continued to enjoy the brew. I was a little dubious at first, then figured I couldn't see all the foot prints, the leftover grasshopper legs, or other articles collected from the bushes. Maybe that’s why so much tea is hidden in little packets.

I looked back at my life and thought, "This is how God prepares us." God rolls us to separate the wheat from the chaff. This process is repeated again and again to prepare us to minister for Him. Those who listen to our testimony, sermons, bible studies, don't know all the times we’ve fallen on the floor after God pruned our life. It doesn't matter. What matters is the final product. After we fall God picks us up, and prepares us for the next step in our walk with Him.

When we begin to concentrate on the areas in life where we’ve failed we become crippled. Like pausing to drink tea after watching it fall on the foot trod floor over and over again, we sometimes spend too much time looking back and not forward to the Lord.

I am reminded, again and again, of what Paul wrote to the Philippians, "Brothers, I don't regard myself as yet having taken hold, but one thing I do. Forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13‑14 WEB)

Let’s look forward to eternity in heaven with the Lord. That’s what matters in the end, not the past. Ah, there is wonder in walking with the Lord in the new Heaven and Earth knowing the rolling process is over. Now that will be a good cup of tea.

Papa Chick

Searching for the Lost Pond

2011-05-28T07:49:00.001+02:00

"Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found, and hid. In his joy, he goes and sells all that he has, and buys that field." (Matthew 13:44 WEB)

The longer you live in a place the more you hear the tales, mysteries and mystical history surrounding the land and the people. Guam was full of such stories. The tales explained the creation of the island, their local mermaid, and why little children should stay away from the jungle.

One item, often mentioned by island natives, was the Lost Pond. Everyone seemed to know where it was located except us. I figured it must not be too lost if it was the topic of such repeated conversation. I asked some folks where it was but they didn't know. Maybe it was lost. A wandering pond, lost in the jungle, amazing.

When I was young I wandered my stomping grounds with friends in search of new and exciting places. Many times we’d jump into an inviting stream or small pond to escape the summer heat. Between the mud, leeches, and other creatures we found in the water it’s amazing none of us became ill. The lure of a Lost Pond on an island in the Pacific was too much to ignore, I had to find it.

I finally located the secret directions to the pond. I’d say where but that’s a secret. It was time to explore and see what we’d find. Swimsuits, shorts, sandals, hats, children and towels ready we left home in search for the Lost Pond.

Parking near one of the power plants Beth and I walked up the beach for so many paces, turned right and followed the small trail so many feet then turned left around the old stump and went deeper and deeper into the jungle. We were like pirates as we searched for hidden treasure. Perhaps some scallywags from a previous century used the pond to hide their hoard of gold.

Hot, sweaty, and ready for a rest we stepped around another stand of trees to see the pond nestled in the jungle. The water was smooth as glass, silent and still. It was inviting in the hot tropical summer heat. An old rope hung from the branches of an overhanging tree, the only evidence that earlier explorers were successful in their ability to follow directions.

Tossing aside my hat, removing my sandals and shorts I scampered over the tree roots and took hold of the inviting rope. Of course I first used a stick to insure the water was deep enough so that no one would get hurt. A couple tugs to test the rope and I was ready. I knew after a short swing I would experience this new delight.

I climbed back from the water’s edge, part way up the tree for a better take off. I shouted to Beth and started my Tarzan swing out and over the water. Johnny Weissmuller, eat your heart out! I made an arc, I just cleared the roots, swung up over the water, reached a peak above the center of the pond and let go.

I shouted in triumph as I plummeted toward the inviting water. Just as my toes made contact my mind was thrown into panic mode. The day was hot. I was sweaty from my trek. The water . . . well the water was ice cold! I plunged beneath the water and turned into one large goose bump. Down through the icy water I hurled until my feet touched the sandy bottom. As fast as possible I pushed off, eyes wide open, to find the surface of the water and a desire for heat.

I gasped for breath as I shot out of the water. I fell back in and began to swim like an Olympian toward the shoreline. Beth started to laugh uncontrollably as I shot out of the water. She watched as I clasped my arms around my chest and danced around trying to use some of the tropical heat readily available in the jungle.

"A little cold dear?" Beth asked with a chuckle in her voice.

"N . .n . .n . .n . .no, d. . .d . .d . .dear, th . .th . .the water's fine!" I shouted back.

The water wasn't actually icy cold but it felt like it after the heat and the humidity of the jungle. The pond itself was fed from a fresh water spring so it was cooler than the ocean nearby. After a while we were accustomed to the cold and enjoyed the pond. It was refreshing. It was like liquid air‑conditioning in the tropics.

I discovered my watch fell off in the pond and was lost. That might be why they call it the lost pond. It was too deep and murky to find anything so I figured there are plenty of lost watches, and other trinkets, lining the bottom like a hidden pirate's treasure.

We enjoyed a few more plunges into the pond before we headed back to the beach and the warmth of the ocean. After we baked on the beach and splashed about in the waves we headed back to our car and our home.

Jesus talked about finding things which were lost. He talked about the widow's coin, the lost sheep of Israel, the prodigal son, you and me. Whenever they are found there is great rejoicing by the searcher. When we are found by Jesus there is great rejoicing in Heaven.

Beth and I rejoiced to find the cool, jungle shrouded pond and relax in its refreshing waters. Just think of the rejoicing in Heaven when one lost sheep comes into the fold of God. Do we remember the refreshment of God's Holy Spirit to our souls when we turned to God for salvation?

It will be beyond our wildest dreams to rejoice with God in Heaven for eternity! How wonderful to be found.

Papa Chick

Bragging Rights

2011-05-23T21:47:00.001+02:00

But if any widow has children or grandchildren, let them learn first to show piety towards their own family, and to repay their parents, for this is acceptable in the sight of God. (1 Timothy 5:4 WEB)

Work with computers has definitely impacted my life. Learning command lines, file formats, software and hardware were just the tip of the iceberg. Discovering things like bugs, crashes and the innate ability of a machine to make one rip roaring mad came with time. There’s a human quality in a computer. They usually do what you tell them but sometimes they take on a mind of their own. This reminds me of raising children.

Computers provided me a number of excuses to fly to the USA for meetings, training and development. On these trips I often took an extra day or two to visit my mother in Tennessee. One summer other members of my family arrived at the same time. My brother and his wife were visiting from Asia. My other brother and his son were visiting from California. It was a mini‑family reunion. The only ones missing were my wife and children. They were back on Guam and missing all the family fun.

My brothers and I may be older and gray but we’re still boys. To demonstrate our maturity we’d sit about the living room and talk about life, love, and the meaning of the universe. We had all the answers, just ask us. Eventually the conversation would escalate to a competition.

I remember John stating, changing the subject completely and starting the challenge, "I can bench press 200 pounds." He glanced from chair to chair waiting for the rebuttal.

"Yeah, well I can build a notebook computer from tin foil and old plastic toys," responded Steve calling on his technical background.

"Oh yeah," countered John moving to the edge of his seat. "I can build a beam antenna from tinker toys and erector set parts."

This banter continued back and forth for several minutes as I silently considered my entry into the fray. This was no simple battle of words. This was a life and death struggle for filial superiority. As my mind worked through a series of exaggerated boasts I considered how to end this verbal banter with a crushing blow.

I cleared my throat. My brothers paused and looked my direction. Here sat their little brother. Here was the poetry reading, music playing, baby of the family attempting to enter the holy ground of verbal one up‑pence. I paused, in a polite southern manner, made eye contact and launched my attack.

"I maintain thirty computers, two servers, two networks," so far they were not impressed. "Living on a tropical island I can go to the beach any day of the year," a slight nod of their heads but the barricades of pride weren’t breached. "And . . . I have four children, and . . . I am taller than either of you!" I turned to look toward our Mom, Grandmother, and proud ancestor of my brood.

No response, just a look in their eyes conceding to my taller stature and larger family. The victory was complete. Single handedly I conquered their claims with statements only a mother could appreciate. Since it was Mom's house that was the winning blow. Four grandchildren, what more could she want.

In truth, there was another grandchild to grace our family in the years ahead. However, at that time I was at the head of the pack. The battle won even if only temporary, the victory assured for the moment, it was time to move on to more important things, food!

Mom's house was small and the kitchen was the favorite meeting place. My Filipina sister‑in‑law made great lumpia, my favorite Asian delicacy. To sit, eat, and discuss family life is one of the great pleasures of being in a parent's home.

Fixing faucets, shutters, and trimming trees are a delight when we have the chance to be home and helpful to Mom once more. Since we’re spread across the globe this doesn't happen often but we enjoy every chance to get together, boast, share and laugh with one another and see who gets the upper hand.

I’m reminded of the banquet table set in Heaven. Think about it. An eternal chance to sit, laugh, share, boast, (well maybe not in Heaven), and fellowship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!

We can make our claims, our accomplishments in the world known, smile as we counter each other's claims. Then, from his seat at the table, the Lord will clear his throat. We'll all turn to watch and wait. After a short pause, a good southern tradition, he’ll make one statement.

"I gave my life as your ransom, for you."

We’ll remain silent.

Papa Chick

Day After Day

2011-05-21T14:33:00.001+02:00

Day after day they pour forth speech, and night after night they display knowledge. (Psalms 19:2 WEB)

As a youngster and even as a young man I had dreams of adventure. I wondered what I could do with my life that would earn the respect of the world around me. That’s what life was supposed to be about. I thought about being a musician with dreams of writing that one special tune that people would remember forever. I thought about writing the theological masterpiece that would convince anyone to accept my view of God. I considered writing the great American novel. Over the years a number of ideas have come and gone.

I haven’t done any of those things. Yes, I’ve writing songs but don’t ask me to sing them. Trust me; you don’t want to hear them. I’ve written numerous sermons and articles on theology but nothing to shake the religious foundations of the world. I’ve even written a few stories along the way for fun and family. The closest I’ve come to my dreams of adventure are the travels I’ve had around the globe. But even those are just doing normal things day after day. As the world appears smaller and smaller folks aren’t as impressed with world travel as they were in my youth.

So, what do I do? As a missionary some folks think I’m always on the cutting edge of converting the masses to Christ day after day. In one sense I am. Day after day I do my work, my ministry, to bring the message of Christ to the world in as many ways as I can. In another sense I’m not on the cutting edge of ministry. Day after day I do my work, my ministry, to bring the message of Christ to the world by carefully doing my work. No mysterious techniques, no miraculous presentations, just getting done what needs to be done.

When I go to the mission day after day I usually see the same things. I experience the routines of life. I walk out my door and down the street. Most mornings I say good morning to the older gentleman walking his long haired dachshund. I smile at him and he smiles at me. When I reach the bus stop day after day I see the same people pass by. The young folks are headed to school. Some walk, some wait for a bus, some roll along on their scooters or roar by on their motorcycles. A young mom comes to the bus stop with her daughter most mornings. She helps carry her daughter’s extra bags to the stop and then sends her off loaded for a day at school. She reads the Salzburger News on the bus each morning and gets off somewhere after my stop.

There are shops near the bus stop which open as I wait for the bus to arrive. Day after day they have their routines. They open their doors. They meet the delivery truck and unload enough to stock the shop. They put out the signs for the day or roll the garment and shoe racks outside to catch the eye of the passerby. As the bus approaches, the driver smiles and nods. He knows who I am and doesn’t even ask to see my pass. We greet each other as I get on board and say goodbye when I exit.

When I walk beside the train platform I see the same group of people waiting for the train. I work in the same office and do the same things day after day. Sometimes the unusual or unexpected creeps into the day but it’s normally very routine and uneventful. But it’s the routine which keeps the staff working. It’s the routine that gets the message of the Gospel from its source into our system. It’s the routine which gets the message of God’s grace from our system to its destination. It’s the routine which brings a message of hope to people in need. It’s completing the routine which declares God’s glory day after day.

As the heavens declare God’s glory, day after day, they only display what they are in God’s creation. We forget this sometimes. I forget this sometimes. Like the heavens we declare God’s glory not because of who we are but because of who He is. It’s not a matter of composing some memorable song, or organizing the theological interpretations of the world or writing a great novel. It’s a matter of allowing God to demonstrate His glory in use because we are His. When we go about our day after day business, remain faithful to the Father, complete the things He has placed in our lives, we declare His glory and the world can look on us and see Him.

Papa Chick

Monitor Lizard

2011-05-20T14:35:00.001+02:00

"'These are they which are unclean to you among the creeping things that creep on the earth: the weasel, the rat, any kind of great lizard, the gecko, and the monitor lizard, the wall lizard, the skink, and the chameleon. (Leviticus 11:29‑30 WEB)

“Boys will be boys,” that's what my mother would say when I was growing up. As the baby in a family of three sons I was at a distinct disadvantage. While my brothers were interested in sports, rock and sock'em, I was into music, poetry and reading.

One thing we held in common was a love for the outdoors. This is something my wife reminds me of now that I spend so much time indoors with this computer. As boys we enjoyed playing with various curious creatures we found. Sometimes the bugs, worms, snakes and rodents we captured were happy to spend time with three curious boys. Other times, well, we won't talk about those times.

Small creatures are very common in the tropics. Large creatures are also common. When we left Guam there were twice as many snakes on the island as people. This isn’t a good ratio to put in the tourist brochures. Along with the ubiquitous snakes Guam sported, wild dog packs, Carabao herds and the Komodo dragon or Monitor lizard.

I read about these three to five foot creatures with toxic breathe and saw one in the Guam zoo. Zoo might not be a good word. Ten animals in someone's backyard with a ticket booth in the driveway don’t quite match the wonders of the Saint Louis Zoo. The Monitor lizard is a leathery creature that eats small mammals, and generally steers clear of people. With the large wild dog population on the island I was sure they were well fed.

One day we strolled along Tanguisson Beach and wandered into the boonies, island slang for jungle. The massive growth of a tropical jungle is fascinating. Beth was wandering ahead when I heard her call out. I jogged ahead and found her pointing at a log across the trail.

"I think we can just step over the log dear, you're not that short," I commented and continued along the trail.

"Not the log, what's on the log!" she shouted and pointed again at the moss covered decaying trunk.

"COOL!" I exclaimed after I recognized the five foot Monitor Lizard relaxing in the shade.

Beth quickly turned to exit the boonies while I stepped forward for a better look. The lumbering lizard caught a glimpse of my movement and high tailed it off the log into the dense undergrowth. I gave pursuit but to no avail. The creature crawled faster than I could navigate the dense foliage.

Armed with the most toxic mouth in the animal kingdom the Komodo Dragon recognized I was too large for even his appetite. That was the first, last and only time I saw the lounging lizard in the wild. He was smart. Although I meant no harm he knew when to turn tail and run.

Timothy writes about our flight from evil. He reminds us, "But you, man of God, flee these things, and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, and gentleness." (1 Timothy 6:11 WEB)

Sometimes we think we can stand even when the scriptures remind us to be careful lest we fall. We might learn from small creatures. There is a time to stand, and a time to flee.

Papa Chick

Hide and Seek

2011-05-18T10:11:00.001+02:00

It will happen, while my glory passes by, that I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you will see my back; but my face shall not be seen." (Exodus 33:22‑23 WEB)

I was the youngest of three brothers. As children we enjoyed the normal games of childhood. There was "Ghost in the Darkness," "Freeze Tag," and the ever popular "Hide and Go Seek." I usually lost. I was suspicious my brothers would gang up on me and report my position to one another and insure I was always "it."

I wasn't looking forward to a life of always being "it" so I accepted the Lord's call to the mission field and left the country. For more than twenty years my brothers and I’ve been playing hide and seek with each other around the globe.

I’m no longer found hiding under my parent's bed or sitting in the closet on my brother's stinky shoes. These days they just type in my email address and let the wonders of the Ethernet find me. I know I've been found when I hear "You've Got Mail" oozing from my computer speakers.

We share with one another the current events in our life while Mom provides regular parental advice between messages. Unfortunately there are some events which go beyond her expertise. Playing hide and seek with an Octopus is one of those.

Snorkeling is a great hobby. Of course you don't see much if you practice in the local pond. A nice tropical beach, plenty of sunshine to burn your back and a picnic lunch waiting on the beach are the perfect ticket.

We were enjoying the beauty, warmth, and relaxation of Agat beach. Protected from sharks by the coral reef I donned my goggles, plugged a snorkel into my mouth and floated away from shore. The coral reef is home to a plethora of beauty in multi‑colored fish, artistic formations and miniature sandscapes created by the currents.

Caution must always be applied when snorkeling. The clown fish are very protective of their realm and will nip at your toes, fins and fingers to drive you away. Sea Urchins anchor themselves in the crags of the coral and cause good news, bad news stings. The good new is you won't die; the bad news is the pain might make you wish you would die.

One afternoon I was surprised to find a small octopus seeking refuge amid the rocks. My first instinct was to scream but swallowing sea water isn’t fun. My second idea was to swim like mad for shore but I figured the octopus was faster than my little fins.

While staring wide eyed through my foggy goggles I realized the baseball sized multi‑legged glob of jelly was just as scared of me as I was of it. I moved closer and it scrunched tighter into the rocks. I backed off a little and it oozed out enough to see me over the rock. Up and down, in and out, we played our little game until I returned to the shore.

I was excited with my discovery and playing hide and seek with the octopus. I'm sure Moses was thrilled to be hidden in the cleft of the rock when God strolled between the pieces of offering. He couldn't pop out of the rock because God protected him with a loving hand. There were things he wasn’t permitted to see, for his own good.

The octopus was interested in watching me to know what I would do next. His concern was for his own safety in the face of a creature many times his size. Moses was interested to see God's hand work with the children of Israel. He was satisfied to see God's back and enjoy the protection of God's hand. Are we satisfied with God's revelation in our life or do we want to push aside the hand and try to see more than we should?

Sometimes we hide in closets and under beds to play a game with those trying to find us. God hides us in the cleft of the rock to let us know He is present, caring for us and leading the way. He doesn't need to find us. He knows right where we are.

Trying to sneak a peek at my brothers would almost always make me "it" because I gave away my hiding place. God is always "it" in the Christian life. Like Moses we need to take comfort and courage with what God chooses to reveal. It’s here we know God is leading, God is providing and God will reveal all we need to know, no more, no less.

Papa Chick

Taming of the Shrew

2011-05-17T07:09:00.001+02:00

But nobody can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. (James 3:8 WEB)

In High School I was required to read Shakespeare's plays. Shakespeare was wonderful with words both soothing and searing. I don't remember any of the plots except for Romeo and Juliet because they made a movie out of it. I am a very visual learner.

I always like the title "Taming of the Shrew" but thought it was something akin to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom show. At one point in life I wanted to be a zoo keeper but my yard wasn't large enough for the cages, elephants, and giraffes. I like giraffes. Then I needed to get a job and became an engineer.

Engineers are meticulous people. They like everything in order, categorized, quantified and sanitized. When looking over a piece of equipment each minute detail is recognized by the trained eye. By just walking into the room a well-trained engineer can sense problems before the normal operator knows something is remotely amiss.

With these skills at hand I entered the restroom at the transmitter site one day. My eyes noticed the soap by the sink was scratched. My mind ignored it as useless information. Preparing to make use of the facility I heard a noise. Quickly I looked toward the top of the toilet tank. With bubbles popping on his lips a soap chewing shrew smiled a greeting.

I backed out of the room, closed the door and announced loudly, "There's a small rat on the toilet!"

George opened the door a crack and peeked in to confirm it was a small rodent. Closing the door he quantified and clarified it as a shrew. George was an expert on small creatures and a pretty good engineer as well.

I assessed the situation and decided reinforcements were in order. After I called the rest of the crew, Ken and Rich, came running into the transmitter hall. I explained the situation and we put our heads together to devise a plan of attack. When we stopped rubbing the bumps on our heads, from smacking our foreheads against one another, we started to think.

Four adults, each close to six feet tall or taller, educated, serving God on the mission field, were trying to figure out how to eradicate the life of one four inch shrew in the restroom. None of the technical manuals available contained anything about how to deal with small animals in large buildings terrifying God's servants. It was a matter of prayer.

We bowed our heads and Rich noticed a large insulated electrician's glove on the counter. That was the ticket. Smack the little beast into animal heaven. We were not about to have the message of salvation curtailed by a short tailed varmint. The great white hunters were ready to bag their quarry.

I poised the glove rakishly over my shoulder, ready for the attack. Rich and Ken crouched down to stand guard and prevent the monster from escaping. George cautiously opened the door, entered and scarred the shrew out the door into the hall interrupting the varmint’s Safeguard dinner.

Corralled by my two colleagues the shrieking shrew turned my direction and made a run for freedom. Wham, down came the heavy leather glove on the sinister shrew. The blow was too much and the miniscule mouse plopped back to the floor unconscious.

We gathered around, insured our quarry wasn't moving and congratulated one another on a job well done. Before he moved his four feet and regained consciousness our visitor was unceremoniously cast into the forest near the building. I’m sure he told his four footed friends never to go up against four engineers just to snack on soap. It was time to get back to the message of the Gospel.

I’m reminded of that small organ called the tongue. It’s usually hidden, always active and very difficult to tame. I’ve spent my entire life trying to tame that roaring beast sometimes successfully but often with failure. James talks a lot about the damage a few words can inflict.

Maybe I need to put a glove in my mouth from time to time to keep it in check. When it revives it may be a little gentler and in its proper place.

Papa Chick

Take Cover!

2011-05-14T07:15:00.001+02:00

Keep me as the apple of your eye; Hide me under the shadow of your wings, (Psalms 17:8 WEB)

Many times I found the best place to have fun was hard to reach. On Guam some of the best beaches were secluded away on military bases requiring special permission to visit. Guam did sport Fina Lake in the center of the island. A great place to fish I understand. Like many other nice spots Fina Lake was snuggled into the center of a military base, the Naval Magazine.

Fina Lake was unique. It was the only lake on the island. It was also a manmade lake to keep water supplies flowing between the rainy seasons. The lake was built by the military after WW II. With its central location and surrounding mountains it was secluded and quiet. The location was so secluded the US government felt it was a good place to hide weapons of all sorts. Well, maybe not hide but at least keep them away from the general populace.

So the Naval Magazine was constructed surrounding the lake in the central portion of the island. There was one road in, one road out. Since the facility was generally bereft of people the local Carabao population felt it was a great place to rebuild their numbers. After many years in what they must have considered their own resort their numbers increased and the largest herd was located within the guarded gates and double fences of the Magazine.

No ordinary soldier was commissioned to guard such military power. The Magazine was guarded by a group of Marines. With three boys at home this was a triple threat, a Lake, a herd of Carabao and Marines with cool looking weapons.

A friend of ours at church was the former commander for the Marines on the facility so he offered us a tour and a visit to the lake. After we passed through security and an inspection of our vehicles we entered the facility. Some of the soldiers provided an impressive demonstration of the Marines' ability to lock and load on command.

The lake was beautiful and several local workers enjoyed fishing. We meandered through the small roads in search of the elusive Carabao. On the far side of the base we found them casually munching on some grass and ignoring our intrusion.

We saw all the attractions and began our journey back to the front gate. Our Marine friend was slightly confused by the unmarked roads. Eventually we drove beside an interior fence that surrounded a massive and secure looking building.

As we moved slowly along the outskirts of the enclosure we noticed soldiers on the roof with binoculars marking our progress carefully. Next there were more soldiers running across the roof manning several gun emplacements. We were suspicious this was not the right place to be enjoying a Sunday afternoon drive.

As we approached the end of the secured enclosed several vans drove around the corner and stopped in front of our two vans. Soldiers poured out of the vans, big guns in hand, fanned out across the road, took up prone positions, pointed their guns at us and we all heard the numerous clicks as safeties were turned OFF! We were definitely in the wrong place at wrong time.

Their commander walked toward our vehicles. Our Marine escort climbed out of his vehicle with his hands up to meet the commander and our children dove for the floor out of sight. While we listened to the children whimper from the floor and wondered what the inside of a military prison would look like the two Marines chatted for a while. Suddenly the commander started laughing. He shouted to the vigilant troops who clicked the safeties back ON much to our relief. We were released, passed out the front gates and never considered visiting the lake again.

I’m reminded of many saints who find themselves suddenly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Serving the Lord enjoying His grace and guidance and then glancing up to see the world around them is aiming their weapons in toward them.

We were under the protection of our Marine friend and his connections. As saints we are under the caring wings of the almighty. If we stare too long at the opposition we’ll dive for the floor and whimper in fear. When we feel the comfort of our heavenly father we relax, wait, and watch as He handles the situation and makes the path clear.

If we’re going to hide, let’s hide under the shadow of God's wings. There we’ll find comfort and strength no matter what lies ahead.

Papa Chick

Squalor Housing

2011-05-07T11:41:00.001+02:00

For we brought nothing into the world, and we certainly can't carry anything out. But having food and clothing, we will be content with that. (1 Timothy 6:7‑8 WEB)

My family wasn’t rich. At least we weren’t as rich as folks like Howard Hughes or Bill Gates. On the other hand we weren’t poor either. While my parents hailed from the hills of Tennessee I was raised in the more cultural areas of big cities like Atlanta and Cincinnati. During those years I never knew hunger although I thought I would starve some evenings waiting for dinner to be served.

I read stories and heard news about poor people around the world living in cramped conditions. Occasionally I would see a "homeless" person in the city. Most of my life that glimpse was as close as I came to the poor and homeless. Then God put us out on a little island in the Pacific.

There were very few poor people on the island. I'm talking about the folks who have no home, no income and beg for food daily. Then I visited other areas of the world. My view of the poor and homeless changed forever. I remember riding back to my room after church in Sri Lanka.

After church I rode to the B's home through some of the most pitiful squalor housing I could’ve imagined. Along one street, if the pot holed narrow cart path could be called a street, there are houses literally one next to the other. When I was young I would’ve said they were "stuck" on each other, physically.

The wall of one home is the wall of the next home. Each was a single room about the size of the van, sometimes slightly larger and often smaller. This room was home for the entire family. This might include the extended family with children, grandchildren, and grandparents sharing the same piece of floor each evening, sleeping side by side. There are no facilities in the small room.

All bathing, eating, and cooking was done on the street. A local stand pipe (water faucet) was everyone's shower or kitchen sink. Many of those people were proud because they owned their room. They felt that at least they owned something. Those houses had no water, bathrooms or electricity. Home after home was illuminated by the orange glow of a single candle in the center of the floor.

As strange as it might seem there was the occasional flicker of a television coming through the doorway of a few homes. Battery powered televisions were the pride of the few who had scrimped sufficiently to enjoy this treat. They still lived in their one room house without water or electricity other than a battery charged at work.

The Sri Lankan people I met were amazingly content with their life. It was what they knew and expected. When things would get better for a family they were happy as well. Paul reminded Timothy to enjoy the simplicity of having his needs met. Food and clothing should be sufficient.

I think many people have scratched this verse from their copy of the Bible. I find myself guilty as well. When was the last time we were encouraged to be satisfied with where we were? The world today, and often times the church, says we should always want more better and fancier stuff.

I think I need to look about my home, be satisfied with God's provision and stop looking over the fence to someone else's fields. Maybe I can write this verse back where it belongs.

Papa Chick

Rats!

2011-05-05T19:10:00.001+02:00

These are they which are unclean to you among the creeping things that creep on the earth: the weasel, the rat, any kind of great lizard, . . . (Leviticus 11:29 WEB)

After we arrived on Guam and established our home we explored the island. Sometimes a colleague, with years of experience on the island, would accompany us and tell us what was what. Other times, we were on our own to explore and discover.

Once I drove around Agana Park and noticed a large animal sitting next to a picnic table enjoying the leftover bits from a forgotten meal. A few seconds later I realized it was a rat, a big rat. He was so big he could sit on his haunches and still reach the top of the table. This was not a creature I wanted to meet in the middle of the night.

Outside of this unusually large rat there were a number of rodents out and about on the island. Twice I was unfortunate enough to encounter them one on one. The first was in our home.

My morning routine included waking up, taking a shower, eating something and heading to the office. The children were usually up and getting ready for school or already out the door and on their way before I moved. That was a routine morning.

I rolled out of bed and headed for our small bathroom and shower. Half awake I removed my clothing and stepped into the shower stall. Habit took over as I turned on the water and pulled the curtain closed behind me. In my waking daze I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

Glancing about I expected to find a hand towel on the floor of the shower. This hand towel moved, just a little, but enough to wake me quickly from my half slumber state. It was a rat! Not a big rat but a rat in my shower none the less.

I knew this was always a possibility. These nocturnal creatures often live in the sewers. When in searching for food they sometimes crawl up the drain pipes to a house and swim the short distance through the toilet trap into the house. This was supposed to happen in other homes, not mine!

Alert, wide eyed and ready for action my mind went into overdrive and quickly deduced it was time to exit the shower as fast as possible. Backing away from the frightened creature I exited the bathroom closed the door and put on my robe.

Beth was surprised when I walked briskly to the living room and demanded, "Where's the cat?"

"There," replied Beth wondering why I wanted the cat so early in the morning.

I grabbed the petite feline and made a bee line for the back bathroom. I opened the door slightly, tossed the cat inside, slammed the door, and left the diminutive cat to do her job, catch and kill the rat. The casual observer might have noticed the rat and the cat were about the same size!

I proceeded to gather my clothes and dress for the day. I wandered into the living room and looked for some missing piece of clothing. Suddenly the cat sprinted past my legs under the couch and out of sight. She was definitely the weaker vessel in this battle.

Beth continued to eye me as I wandered back to the bedroom and found the bathroom door open and the shower stall empty. The rat was out! Where? I didn't know. Donning the remainder of my clothing I sauntered back to the living room.

Curiosity taking control Beth asked, "What was that all about?"

"There was a rat in the shower," I reported as if it was the evening weather report.

"Where's the rat now?" she asked with a quizzical look on her face.

"I don't know,” I said with a tilt to my head. “The cat knocked the bathroom door open and the rat escaped into the bedroom." I put my keys in my pocket, gathered my office papers and prepared for the day's ministry.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she asked. Her attention was diverted momentarily by the vision of the cat poking her nose from under the couch watching for her new enemy.

"I'm going to work," I announced. "When the children get home from school they can catch the rat. The creature will hide in the dark somewhere all day so you don't have to worry."

"You're going to do what?" Beth asked incredulously.

"I'm going to work. My ride will be here shortly, I can't find the rat without Joel and Ellice's help so there’s nothing to be done this morning."

Beth wasn’t sure. Her look told me I was skating on thin ice and the cracks were beginning to form under my blades. Before we could continue the conversation I heard Ray honk the horn and quickly scooted out the door and headed to the office.

Beth continues to remind me I was no knight in shinning armor that day. I left her to deal with the diminutive dragon hiding in the cave of our closet in the bedroom. I found out later she did laundry, cleaned house, and kept the bedroom door closed until the children returned home from school.

When Joel came home Beth commissioned him to find, catch and dispose of the intruder. He found his friend David and they went on the hunt. Using a special blanket, reserved for those who didn't feel well, they bagged their quarry.

When I returned home Joel met me at the gate excited with his accomplishment. He guided me across the carport and pointed to a bucket covered by a piece of wood. Inside was the deceased rodent. Curious I asked, "How did you kill it?"

"We gassed it," replied Joel proud of his work.

"With what?" I asked.

"With RAID," he responded pointing to the empty can beside the death bucket.

I looked once more in the bucket to see the dying creature twitching its legs twice before collapsing in death. It wasn't a pretty sight but I was glad the vermin was dead.

When the day was done the rat was in a bag in the trash and out of his misery, I was in the dog house for leaving the rat in our house and Joel was the hero of the day. Something tells me I didn't handle that situation as well as I could have. Maybe that’s why God classifies rats as unclean.

Papa Chick

Church Services & Beggars

2011-05-03T15:45:00.001+02:00

For such men are false apostles, deceitful workers, masquerading as Christ's apostles. And no wonder, for even Satan masquerades as an angel of light. It is no great thing therefore if his ministers also masquerade as servants of righteousness, whose end will be according to their works. (2 Corinthians 11:13‑15 WEB)

When I travel to new lands I enjoy meeting the believers and, when possible, attending local church services. Occasionally, I’ve been asked to share from God's word at the last minute. I believe there are three things a missionary should always be ready to do on a moment's notice. When called upon a missionary should be ready to preach, pray or die. I try to be ready for the first two at all times. The last one, well, that’s not my favorite but I’m ready.

In Colombo, Sri Lanka I was privileged to attend church with some of our local staff. Church was fascinating. This was my first interaction with a Dutch Reformed Church. The pastor was Sinhala and spoke with an, often over dramatized, Indian accent. It was Vacation Bible School Sunday. April was a holiday month in Sri Lanka and I was treated to a series of songs and Bible verses by the local children. It was great. The songs the children presented were very familiar songs from fifteen years earlier. I asked our staff about this and learned it was very difficult and slow to acquire VBS and Sunday School materials. The children were excited and their eyes wide with the joy of their songs and dances. The adults joined in the fun with the up and down songs and many of the hand motions.

The church building was located in the center of a public school compound. Originally the school belonged to the church until all schools were nationalized. Most of the three story buildings looked beautiful from the outside. The classrooms sported wire mesh windows, no glass, no electricity and from what I could tell, no running water. It would be a rather dark learning experience on a cloudy day. I understood why the Expatriate staff sent their children to boarding school or home schooled them in Sri Lanka.

In the evening I attended another Dutch Reformed Church across town. Their pastor was away for the evening so the fellow from the morning church came to present the word of God. The service began with three guitars, an organ, and an electric bass player leading the congregation in praise chorus songs. It was a rousing time of singing and praising the Lord. This lasted almost thirty minutes before the final song which accompanied the collection. Instead of fixing everyone's mind on the collection or a special music presentation they jumped into another lively chorus while passing the bag through the aisles. If you didn't pay close attention you didn't know they are gathering the offering.

The church building was similar to the church I visited in the morning. The exception was their preparation for the possibility their school would be acquired by the Government. They separated the school buildings from the church buildings and built a wall to provide a definite separation between the two. Thus, if and when the government acquired the school, they were left with the church, fellowship hall and a nice green lawn not overrun by the government schooling officials.

After the service I met my first beggar. Beggars are the ubiquitous landmarks of a nation that’s been struggling to unite for more than thirty years. A young fellow, nicely dressed, approached me while I was standing in the walled church yard. I at first figured he was from the church interested in the foreign visitor. He then proceeded to describe his local home, hungry grandmother, and equally hungry stomach. Not having any local currency, and having been equally warned of the often fictitious stories I refused the man and turned to depart. His tenacity, with which these professional beggars pursue their mark, was suddenly evident. He followed me to the car and started to climb inside insisting I should help his starving stomach. When my colleagues arrived he departed quickly and disappeared outside the compound walls.

Lest you think I’m the ugly American savagely ignoring the plight of the local people; be assured this fellow was not hungry, nor destitute. The local pastor and many of the local people keep track of these frauds to turn them away regularly.

There are "real" beggars in the country. These are people living as outcasts from society and solely on hand outs. It’s considered good form to give them a rupee or two to help alleviate their plight. Many are cripples from the years of war. In contrast the "professional" beggars who are not outcast choose to solicit their income rather than join the work force.

Distinguishing between the real and the false beggar is difficult for a visitor such as me. As an outsider I can’t distinguish between those who make false claims and those who are in real need. I must rely on those who work within the country and know the culture to guide me clearly. The same problem exists in the church today.

Many people in church are redeemed, seeking God's face, and allowing the Spirit to work in and through them. Others are actors, charlatans who know the proper makeup, activities and phrases so they look and sound believable. When new believers enter God's family they’re often accosted and entreated by the charlatans in our midst to partake of ungodly activities.

As we walk with the Lord we need to provide guidance, especially to those new in our midst, so they won’t be carried away by the deceptions of men. We must help them distinguish between the false gospel of the world and the true Gospel of Jesus Christ. In order to do this our own hearts must not long for the world but be set on God.

Papa Chick

Here to There

2011-04-30T16:13:00.001+02:00

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow let's go into this city, and spend a year there, and trade, and get gain." Whereas you don't know what your life will be like tomorrow. For what is your life? For you are a vapor, that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away. For you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will both live, and do this or that." (James 4:13‑15 WEB)

The first time I climbed aboard an airplane I was married, in my twenties and headed to my best friend’s wedding in Ohio. I flew from Jacksonville, Florida and returned to the small, miniscule, airport in Gainesville, Florida where the airplane barely had enough room to stop. I was excited and scared all rolled into one.

My second flight was to Guam. There was a big difference. After a few years on the mission field, trips here and there about the Pacific, I became a season traveler. While my height didn't quite fall in the standard for airline seats I could easily enter a state of the living dead and become a zombie from one end of a flight to the other. Other than the food few things bothered my ability to drift off to another world during a flight.

In the 1990s I had the opportunity to help with some ministry at our offices in Sri Lanka. This was not a normal flight. Not by any means!

The first leg of the flight was not direct to Taipei but via Saipan. After checking in on Guam I headed past the first ticket gate to the gangway for the plane I was told was at Gate 4. As I approached the airplane ramp the attendant in the hall said, "Oh no, your gate is over here," and directed everyone from Gate 4 to the door for Gate 3 and everyone for the Manila flight to Gate 4. Gate 3 went outside down the stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting 727. Gate 4 was a regular gangway connected to another Boeing 727 preparing to depart. As I and the other passengers began to ascend the stairs to the waiting aircraft a man came out and said, "This is the wrong plane you want to be on that plane," pointing to the plane docked at Gate 4. We all shuffled back across the tarmac and up the outside stairs of Gate 4 (the stairs reserved for ground crew.) As we approached the top of the stairs a similar confused set of passengers were exiting the same gate attempting to descent the outside stairs of Gate 4 to reach the aircraft sitting in the Gate 3 location. Needless to say it was interesting watching the passengers shuffle between both planes until everyone was on the correct flight.

Finally, they pushed the plane away from the gate and we waited, and we waited, and we waited. As the rustle of discontent began to rise in the cabin we heard a message over the speakers. I don't think the engineer knew he was connected to the speakers when he commented, "Just call the tower and have them to pull us back into the gate. Then call maintenance to see what they can do." I was curious, to say the least and I watched as a flight attendant opened the cockpit door and whisper to the flight crew to tell them the intercom was coming out over the speakers. The look on the flight crew's face was great. Immediately there was a "click" as the intercom speaker was turned off. A couple of minutes later they informed us we had to go back because they couldn't start the engines.

We finally left after the maintenance crew brought out a jump starter, fired the engines up, and sent us on our way. We arrived in Taipei about an hour behind schedule. The flight via Saipan to Taipei was uneventful until I got off the plane. I was the only white 6 foot plus passenger on the plane. The airline personnel on the ground knew they had to do something with me. I just didn't fit into the crowd! After a lot of discussion, which I couldn't understand, they relieved me of my passport and tickets, deposited me in a transit lounge and left me without any explanation. With five minutes to spare before my next flight boarded, the airline personnel returned with my precious documents and a boarding pass for the remainder of the trip.

I’m not a fan of airport terminals. I’ve been in some very poor and extremely uncomfortable airport terminals around the world. Some were mere grass huts while others so massive they contained their own subway systems.

When I arrived in Singapore I enjoyed what I consider the best airport I’ve ever seen. As a transient passenger I was treated well with all the conveniences I needed. Even a meal at the airport restaurant was reasonably priced, something US airports need to consider. As I walked around to kill three hours of boredom I thought to myself, "Where was this terminal when I was carting four small children all over the globe?"

We were boarding the plane to depart. Everyone was checked in at the gate waiting for the bus to corral us to the waiting aircraft. As we stood up to walk to the bus the lady carefully announced we were headed for Bombay. This created quite a stir until someone at the counter corrected the error with the proper destination.

I did fairly well for someone who doesn't like to fly. I survived until the last couple hours on the final leg to Colombo. At that point, it was hot, I was tired (being about 3:00 a.m. my time) and I couldn't straighten my aching knee. I made it to the ground without accosting any flight attendants then spent forty‑five minutes waiting for Immigration to pass everyone through their routine. The hour drive to the office and the guest apartment was exciting with the unique Sri Lankan driving technique. It reminded me of Bangkok and Thai driving methods. Our driver was calm as a cucumber when a cycle without any lights would appear unexpectedly before our front bumper or a truck on the side of the road decided it was time to move and chose our lane while we were still occupying the same space.

Jesus did a lot of traveling during his earthly ministry. He walked everywhere. I think he would have still walked even if there were airplanes, buses and cars. When you walk you meet new folks, talk about life and see how they live. It’s from these visual interactions Jesus drew some of the parables with the most impact. On a plane you hunker down in your seat and try to endure the long flight.

Studies over the last couple decades indicate we’re moving fast. We’re moving so fast we can’t keep up with modern technology and the demands it makes on our lives. Stress increases, worry increases and our ability to cope with life decreases. It seems to me, we need to return to walking and talking so we can understand, relate, and celebrate God's presence on a personal basis. Maybe I can book passage on a cargo ship for my next furlough from Europe!

Papa Chick

Water World

2011-04-29T10:58:00.001+02:00

The moon and stars to rule by night; For his loving kindness endures forever: (Psalms 136:9 WEB)

Like many special events in life the "Camp Out" was a planned time of enjoyment and family togetherness. The idealistic pictures of children at play on the beach and the family frolicking in the water for the day were forefront in our minds as we prepared for the weekend. Extra vacation days were approved and the food menu was carefully planned to insure nutritional balance with the right amount of plain, but good, camp food. All the tents, sleeping bags, quilts, pillows, swimsuits, plates, stoves, flashlights, and toilet paper were inventoried and stacked with care throughout the living room and dining room.

The big day, Friday, arrived. Most of the day was filled with thunderstorms and rain which delayed the start of our adventure. That was OK we can go Saturday and sleep through to Sunday morning. So, Friday the family cooked out at the nearby Pizza Hut followed by a nature walk through "Free Willy 2" at the Naval Station Theater. The afternoon was lots of fun. We arrived home late and everyone went to bed to be prepared for the next day.

Saturday morning came along as the sun poked its rays through the scattered cloud covering. Everyone climbed into their cars, with all the gear we don't fit into one car anymore. Forty-five minutes later we arrived at the gate to Anderson Air Force Base. It seemed to me all the best beaches on Guam were on the military bases. Passes were issued and we drove to the beach. The view to the beach was spectacular as we drove down the road through the break in the cliff. The ocean was spread out like a beautiful quilt a couple of hundred feet below us. The waves crashed against the reef and even the island of Rota was visible in the distance looking like a thick fog on the horizon.

As soon as we arrived at the camp site the boys headed for the sand bound and determined to be covered with the gritty particles until we headed home the next day. Their plans were momentarily interrupted when we forced them to help unload the van and the car. An awning was put together over our lawn chairs and the portable grill set up for cooking a scrumptious lunch of hot dogs with chips of course.

The remainder of the afternoon we ate, played in the sand and water and sat in beach chairs relaxing. What a true delight! The time to just sit and chat was wonderful. Jay and I took the time to talk about several areas which were often pushed to the background by the tyranny of the immediate. No telephones, no radios and due to the clouds, no one else on the beach, except the lifeguard. I think "refreshing" would be the appropriate word for the afternoon, refreshing for body, mind, and soul. Late in the afternoon it appeared occasional sprinkles were the worse we would see so we pitched the tents and laid out the bedding for the night.

I need to stop here and state why we enjoyed camping at Terrague beach. This beach, on the north end of the island, was known for the continuous breezes which made camping cool and comfortable in the tropics. As dinner was consumed and the darkness fell we discovered that night would be different. The branches ceased frolicking in the wind and hung like limp wash rags. So far so good, there were temporary respites from the doldrums as a breeze would rift its way through the campsite.

Bed time arrived and we all crawled into our tents. The unfortunate thing about tents is they tend to block the breeze with the mosquito netting. After some shuffling around on the mattresses, which felt like sleeping on pregnant balloons, I resigned myself to a warm night's sleep. A little later in the evening a breeze arose followed by rain. With my head at the window and my feet at the door I began to get wet from both ends. It was time to zip the tent closed. OK, it was a little warmer but still tolerable. Then the rain came harder and, just as I was dosing off, SPLAT! a drop of water hit me in the face. Then splat, splat, splat I began to feel I entered a B grade Kung Foo movie with Chinese water torture! It was time to move the mattresses once more.

Beth was slept off and on as I awoke and shifted and went back to sleep. It got to the point, as another leak was formed, we began to laugh and wonder if we would wake our sleeping neighbors. We learned early the next morning the children, in their matching tent, experienced similar late night difficulties. At one point Evan complained to Joel he was cold. When he reached over to check he found his blanket was soaked and he was lying in a puddle. It was four children snuggling together in the middle of a leaking tent during a late night tropical rain storm. Now that is a mind picture if there ever was one!

We enjoyed the entire weekend, water and all. We looked at this not as a problem weekend but a "BONDING" weekend for the family. As nations are brought together in times of distress so the Chick family draws closer together in times of hot tropical rain storms.

Breakfast was delightful with Boy Scout sandwiches (a specialty of mine) and more time for the boys to build sand castles. When we arrived home, later that morning, everyone fell fast asleep until midafternoon. It took a couple days to dry out and put away all the soggy camping equipment. We couldn't wait for another chance to go camping. Who knows the depth of family bonding this can bring about!

God made the stars and moon for the nighttime. He also made the rain and wind. I slept in a cold, wet, sleeping bag, under God's stars and moon and remembered, "His love endures forever!"

Papa Chick

Animal Adventures

2011-04-23T10:43:00.001+02:00

“Tell the daughter of Zion, Behold, your King comes to you, Humble, and riding on a donkey, On a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Matthew 21:5 WEB)

I like most animals. During my formative years we enjoyed the wonders and the chores of having a dog in our home. Throughout my life I have provided food and shelter to various dogs, cats, snakes, fish, hamsters and mice. Moving to the mission field you experience another set of animals. Sometimes we get along fine like our cat, Popcorn.

Why Popcorn? When she was a kitten she liked to sit in my lap and eat popcorn from the bowl. The name sort of stuck. Popcorn also sported a hook tail. It was supposed to be a type of cat but we thought it looked funny. The end of her tail curled around in a sharp hook, like the letter "J." Occasionally it would become entangled on various things about the house.

One Christmas season Popcorn was hiding under the Christmas tree waiting for a victim to stroll by unsuspectingly. I was the victim. As I passed the decorated tree out she sprang. There was a rustle of pine needles, a shivering of ornaments and a look of amazement on her face. As Popcorn's body cleared the lower branches on a trajectory for my leg I noticed the fine green chord caught in her tail. She had hooked the Christmas light wiring and it was securely hooked to the tree. Crash, boom, bang, down came the cat, short of my leg, followed by the Christmas tree which I caught in my arms.

Popcorn's antics were a source of entertainment to the family. She was a constant companion for Evan when James started school. When Evan went up the hall, along went Popcorn. When Evan went down the hall, Popcorn followed. When Evan took a bath, Popcorn sat on the back of the toilet watching like a guard.

Other creatures from the island had less than friendly relationships with our family. Joel remembers one day when Beth was working on the laundry. Our washer and dryer were outside on the covered porch. Joel writes:

One day Mom and I went outside to do the Laundry. When she looked into the sink she found a nest of Gnats who are carriers of Dengue Fever. She screamed and ran to grab a can of Bug Spray. With much screaming, smashing and swatting Mom eliminated the nest. Satisfied with the results she went back to the laundry.

Reaching into the washer Mom pulled out a towel and saw a lizard. Screaming once more the towel hit the floor and she ran into the house looking for me. Even staying home with Chicken Pox I had to eliminate the lizard.

I walked out to the washer and looked for the little lizard. I found a foot long Chameleon freshly washed sitting in the machine. I laughed so hard I could barely control myself. Removing the lizard from the washer in a towel I went inside to show my prize to Mom. She screamed and Evan was excited and wanted to touch it. We let it go, squeaky clean and ready for a new life.

Walking back into the kitchen I tossed the towel on the counter. Later I walked out to find Mom cleaning the counter with the "lizard" towel and I screamed, Mom screamed and the towel hit the floor. I would call this day a real scream!

Lizards were not the only creatures on Guam to entertain our family. A host of geckos, Carabao, snakes and miscellaneous flying insects were part of our daily routine. Joel remembered another incident:

Has your car ever been chased by a dog? My Mom has had more excitement in her life and, as always, some fun for me. Some days Mom takes James to H.S. Truman Elementary School and then Evan and his friend Deborah to J.P. Torres Elementary School in Santa Rita. Finally, she takes Neil and me to Piti Middle School on her way to Mail Day at the mission. On these days she takes, “a road less traveled.” Several times we’ve enjoyed watching a Carabao family foraging on the edge of the jungle. The mom, dad and teenage Carabao were fascinating to watch.

One week it wasn't quite as much fun when the teenage (a mere 400 pounds) Carabao lowered his head and started chasing the van. Mom yelled and tried to avoid the lumbering beast. Like a roller coaster the van went up and down the twisting road with the beast hot on her heels. Finally the Toyota out ran the weary water buffalo and Mom continued to the mission. She doesn't like to take that route from school to the mission anymore.

And I’m not immune from the impact of critters in our home. Joel reminded me:

This summer, as the rainy season began, a cricket found its way into a door frame in my parent's bedroom. After two nights of non‑stop serenading, my Dad reached his limit. Around midnight he decided to kill the cricket. He moved furniture and all sorts of stuff around until he found the critter. Finally he gassed the varmint, silencing his chirping. When Mom got up to do something my Dad said, “Watch out for the . . .”" THUMP, “desk?” From that night on, my family and I have called him Dances “with Crickets.”

We still have pets in our home. When we departed from the tropics the massive number of insects and small creatures we encountered was reduced but occasionally bugs can be found in our home. Animals are found throughout the Bible. Some are food, some beasts of burden, some talk, but all have a purpose and part in God's plan.

When I think of the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem I’m amazed. This common beast was God's choice to demonstrate Jesus' triumphal entry into the Holy City. I’m sure the donkey had no idea what was to happen and wondered at the glorious reception as he carried his sacred rider into the city. He was available, God called and he did his job, carrying something on his back. The same thing he was destined to do throughout life.

How often do we miss God's blessing when we’re called to do our routine work? We buck and bray and complain about the burden. God knows better and carefully determines our burdens and our calling. We need to respond with willingness and wait to see God's glory revealed. Just remember what Jesus said.

“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:30 WEB)

Papa Chick

A Choir of Angels

2011-04-20T16:23:00.001+02:00

I will be glad and rejoice in you. I will sing praise to your name, O Most High. (Psalms 9:2 WEB)

Music has and continues to be a major part of my life, our family and our ministry. The right melody, the choice poetic rendering, the appropriate tempo can move a person's thoughts toward God in a way ten thousand words will never accomplish.

One year Beth and I put together a small ensemble of missionary colleagues for the Christmas holiday season. Using parts of a cantata we assembled a presentation of songs to worship God and proclaim the incarnation of Jesus to any who would listen.

Church was one place to share this musical message. One evening we shared our few pieces with the congregation in preparation for a time of communion and remembrance of Jesus work in our lives. Another less conventional presentation took place at the Governor's mansion. The governor at the time was a Christian and permitted a number of religious events.

One of these was a Christmas gathering at the official mansion overlooking the Philippine Sea. Christmas gatherings were not unusual. They were held each year. However, allowing an "evangelical" group, non-Catholic was outside the norm. We gathered for the festivities and shared God's love and salvation through song with the dignitaries and invited guests.

Christmas wasn’t only a time for special music and ensembles but it was a time for church choirs to gather and present the annual Cantata! Our church, Bayview, was no exception. For months I directed the choir through rehearsal after rehearsal to reach the point I thought we were ready for a public hearing.

Cantatas are interesting pieces of work. In most churches, ours included, everyone practices for months to be prepared. Then, one fine Sunday morning or evening, or maybe on Christmas Eve, the presentation is made before the congregation. An hour later it’s finished, not to be repeated. The works of months of preparation are poured into one hour of concentrated ministry to proclaim the wonder of God to those present.

During this concentrated presentation things can become rather tense for the choir on the platform, the accompanist, and the director. Regardless of careful preparation things can, and will, go wrong.

I love to see my choir smiling while they sing. In fact, I believe they sound better when they’re smiling and enjoying the music they’re singing. If it becomes too laborious then it becomes a task and not praise to God.

Since the director faces away from the congregation there are opportunities to do things only the choir can witness. I like to put on a big smile and poke my cheeks with my fingers to get the choir on the verge of laughter. It helps to get everyone relaxed and ready. One year I borrowed a Christmas tree pin with little lights. I pinned it to my shirt. Unknown to the congregation I turned it on just before the choir sang. They sounded happy and cheerful that year.

Another year I purchased a bowtie with flashing lights which became a regular part of my Christmas attire, especially for the church choir. Not all activities to get the choir's attention come from the director. Sometimes the music, if pre‑recorded, can glitch or someone can forget the melody to their solo. I figure, if you start right and end right, what happens in the middle can be forgiven by the congregation.

One Christmas this was tested to the max. We were performing one of my favorite cantatas with a marvelous missionary message woven into the arrival of our Savior in Bethlehem. The choir was pumped up. We knew the music, the intros, the exits and the cut offs. Everyone was smiling and the music began to play.

Things went well. My son was operating the sound system and knew my hand signals. Ellice was one of my altos while Beth was busy with the sopranos singing their hearts out for the Lord.

Ellice was an old hand with church musicals and presentations. Starting when she was about four she took every opportunity to sing, dance or act her way across the platform. She has an excellent voice, and a very outgoing personality which is important in any musical or play. Singing a Christmas cantata, after the youth choir, the school choir, and singing with mom and dad, was routine.

About half way into the cantata I noticed Ellice looked a bit pale. Sure enough, near the end of the present song she swayed one way, then the other, and then . . . collapsed on the floor.

Normally this type of activity will stop things immediately. My choir, bless their wonderful hearts, looked at me, watched me direct and keep time and completed the song we were singing with an amazing crescendo.

I motioned for Joel to stop the music and then looked at Dr. Vince. He was one of my tenors and also the family doctor. He and Beth helped Ellice through the side door into the small classroom just off the platform. The choir faced the director. I lifted my hands in preparation and Joel started the music once more.

We sang the next piece right on cue. A few minutes into the song Dr. Vince came back and resumed his position in the tenors smiling to indicate everything was just fine. Ellice was just a bit too nervous and it was a hot night.

The choir sang the remainder of the cantata with renewed energy and careful attention to detail. The final piece was as spectacular and moving as any other Christmas cantata I remember. When the cantata was over most people forgot about Ellice's swan dive. We finished well and that was important.

I’m reminded of Paul's words in 2 Timothy 2:12. “If we endure, we will also reign with him. If we deny him, He also will deny us.” We make mistakes along the way to our heavenly kingdom. However, it’s not every step along the way which counts but the direction we’re heading and how we end the race. Paul reminds us to run to receive the prize. If we stumble, we need to get up, brush ourselves off, take a bearing on the direction of the goal line and enter the race once more. In this eternal race there’s more than one winner. All who finish well will win an eternal prize in God's new heaven and earth.

Papa Chick

A Cause for Weeping

2011-04-17T13:55:00.001+02:00

I have a lot of good memories from my childhood. Most revolve around my family and the different places we lived. There are also a number of memorable events from attending church.

I remember I don’t like Bible memory contests. I’m terrible at remembering a combination of chapter, verse and content. I tend to remember what Scripture said and then use a concordance or computer search to locate the address. This mixes old technology with new.

Christmas was always distracting with the special programs, parties and presents. Then there was the Easter season. It confused me for a long time. But I really enjoyed waving a palm branch over my head on Palm Sunday. They were imported when I was young and readily available when I lived on Guam.

On Palm Sunday we often reference the “Triumphal Entry” of Jesus into Jerusalem. Today I’d like to concentrate on two words Luke shares as he describes Jesus’ journey on a donkey. Let’s look at the story recounted by Luke. Turn with me to Luke chapter 19 beginning in verse 28.

Luke 19:28-44 NIV

(28) After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

If you read the previous verses you’ll read Jesus parable of the talents. Now he sets his face toward Jerusalem.

(29) As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them,

(30) "Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here.

(31) If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it.'"

(32) Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them.

(33) As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?"

(34) They replied, "The Lord needs it."

Apparently the owner of the colt knew who the Lord was. Perhaps he was a believer!

(35) They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it.

(36) As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road.

Here Matthew says they cut off branches, chapter 21 and John chapter 12 clarifies with the waving of Palm Branches. Thus this Sunday is commonly called Palm Sunday. Palm branches are historically a symbol of triumph and victory. Jesus was headed for the ultimate victory.

(37) When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:

(38) "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!" "Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!"

I find the motivation behind the crowd’s adulation of Jesus interesting. They were moved by the miracles Jesus performed. Scripture said the Messiah would be known, in part, by his signs and miracles. The people were expecting a Messiah.

(39) Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, "Teacher, rebuke your disciples!"

Here we see the opposition raise their objections.

(40) "I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

Nothing on this earth can stop God’s creation from recognizing the author of their salvation.

(41) As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it

(42) and said, "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace--but now it is hidden from your eyes.

(43) The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side.

(44) They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you."

Jesus sees the future of Jerusalem and its destruction. He is overwrought that the majority of the city cannot recognize that He brings them peace. We see in verse forty-one those two words, “He Wept.” We see Jesus weeping only one other place in Scripture. Turn with me to John chapter eleven. Here we find the death of Lazarus, Martha and Mary’s brother. Jesus is away when He learns the news. After an interesting conversation with the Disciples they all head back to Judea.

Jesus approaches the city and is greeted by Martha. Martha is cool and collected trusting the Lord can do a future miracle. They have a conversation about the resurrection which Martha doesn’t quite understand. Then Mary is called. Mary arrives and says the same thing to Jesus Martha just said, “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” She fell at Jesus’ feet and continued to weep. Her friends were weeping over the loss of Lazarus. The emotions of God were moved. Jesus went to Lazarus’ grave and we read, “Jesus wept.”

Jesus wept! The creator of the universe, faced with the anguish and love of the human soul over the loss of a loved one was driven to tears. He didn’t just cry. He wept. From the Greek word δακρύω Jesus shed tears for Marta, Mary and Lazarus. Contrast this back to Luke chapter 19 where Jesus literally lamented over the pending future of Jerusalem. This Greek κλαίω word goes beyond tears to wailing aloud or sobbing.

I am amazed that Jesus, God incarnate, would weep for one of His own creation. This is compassion. He wasn’t crying about losing Lazarus, He knew Lazarus would rise from the dead. He wasn’t wailing over the destruction of Jerusalem, He knew the city is only a city. Jesus wept and wailed over people. Jesus cried with Mary and Martha over their own sorrow and loss. Jesus cried over Jerusalem because the people there couldn’t see their own avenue of redemption.

I'm convinced God cries when I hurt and mourns when I mourn. We are to be like Jesus and Paul writes to the Romans, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” (Romans 12:15 NIV) Passion for God and compassion for one another is deeply rooted in the Christian life. Just consider 1 Corinthians chapter 13. Without love, we are a pitiful group of people and wasting our time.

Let me ask a few questions. Don’t answer out loud.

What do we weep about? Do we only weep for our own sorrows? Do we cry over the trials and eternal state of others? Do our tears of sorrow flow because of what happens to “us” as a result of someone else’s trial or for the other person’s sorrow? When does compassion for someone’s difficulties bring us to our knees in tears? Do we easily dismiss things with sayings such as, “That’s life!”

I believe I need to allow the compassion of God and my passion for Him to be demonstrated more fully to those around me. I believe the church needs to be more expressive in demonstrating compassion inside the body of Christ. Why do we create excuses in our mind for the troubles of others? “It they would be more faithful they wouldn’t have this problem.” “If they would just give more time, or money, or something, to the church their life would be blessed.” We close our compassion in our own excuses.

As Jesus approached the city he wept. Why weep? Victory over death was at hand. Crushing Satan was imminent. Reconciliation between God and sinful man was about to be applied. All signs signaled the need to rejoice in God’s work. But Jesus wept.

Jesus wept because He saw a city full of people who were missing the point. The peace they longed for was riding on a donkey receiving the adulation of the few who recognized their coming king, their redeemer. What about the rest of the city. Jesus wept for people. Peace was present but not perceived.

How about Mary and Martha? Jesus’ sorrow wasn’t for Lazarus, He knew what would happen. Jesus wept with Mary and Martha as he identified with the depth of human sorrow. Jesus weeps for the people, for Mary and Martha, not the situation. Paul implores in Romans 12:5, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” (NIV)

It’s easy to contemplate what God has done for us during Easter week. There are many things to rejoice over in the Passion Week. We think of Jesus’ sacrifice for us. We imagine the events of the crucifixion, death and burial of Jesus. We rejoice that our Savior rises from the dead to bring us eternal life. It’s all about us! But Jesus looked at things differently. It wasn’t about Him . . . it was truly about us.

Jesus knew the task before Him as He rode a donkey into Jerusalem. Jesus knew the writer to the Hebrews would remind us in Hebrews 9:22, “In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” (NIV) The shadow of the cross covered the path Jesus walked. The pending Passover graphically demonstrated the redeeming actions of Jesus Christ. All of this was driven by God’s compassion to redeem the people He created, to restore our relationship with Him, to bring us peace.

Throughout Jesus' ministry we can see his compassion for the lost. He had compassion because people were harassed and without a shepherd (Matthew 9:36). Jesus had compassion on the crowds as they hungered spiritually and physically (Matthew 14:14). Jesus had compassion on the blind men who were rejected by the crowds but sought Jesus’ healing touch (Matthew 20:34). What tugs at our heart evoking compassion for another?

Consider this short statement from Paul in Philippians 2:5, “You should think in the same way Christ Jesus does.” (NIrV) That’s quite a statement. How do we compare to this statement. Is our compassion the same as Christ? Is our concern for others the same as our Savior?

How do we see view week? Do we view this as a time of celebration or contemplation? Do we understand the pain and agony Jesus’ faces to express to us His love. Do we understand what God did to apply His grace?

It’s easy to be so caught up in our family, our work, or just surviving, that we lose sight of those around who are hurting and in need of compassion. We develop “tunnel vision.” We can’t see beyond the immediate. We become very nearsighted. Let’s expand our vision starting this morning. Take a moment and look at the people sitting near you. Do we know their struggles? Do we know what is on their hearts this week? Are we thinking the same way Christ would think if He were here looking around?

We can’t know the heart cry, the struggles or the needs of everyone we meet. We can’t even do that for those we know closely at church. It isn’t practical for you, for me, for the Elders to know all of this for everyone in this room. This is where we work together as a body. We function as a family. We start thinking like Christ. We express compassion like Christ. We become burdened and weep like Christ at other’s losses, at other’s lack of vision, at other’s blindness to God’s grace.

Listen to these verses. John 15:12 “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” 1 John 3:2 “Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” Colossians 3:12 “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” (NIV) What spiritual-relationship clothing are we wearing today? Are we clothed with compassion or covered with armor? Are we thinking like Christ or the world?

Let’s think like Christ. Let’s allow compassion of God work in us and through us to those around us. Let’s be an encouragement, a help, let’s rejoice, and let’s mourn with those in need. Let’s learn how to weep.

Papa Chick

How to Inspire a New Generation

2011-04-14T06:30:00.001+02:00

Ministry Thoughts … or … How to Inspire a New Generation.

When I consider all the events of the last 28 plus years, how do I sift through everything to determine what’s encouraging and exciting to share with others and what’s boring? Another question is; how much detail do I include about technical matters? Some folks like all the technical details while others soon have a glazed look in their eyes. It’s a fine line to balance when writing anything about ministry years.

As I think of it there’s also the question of security. Security is an issue when dealing with an evangelical ministry which brings the Christian Gospel message into countries who are religiously, culturally, politically and historically opposed to the message. Like a spy would say, “I’d tell your everything about my work but then I’d have to shoot you.” It’s not quite that bad in ministry but some items are best left unsaid outside of the work place for the safety of others.

The impact of electricity, the booming electronic industry, and the growth of media platforms in today’s ministry are enormous. Today’s young missionaries take it all in stride. They are part of the “connected” generation. They don’t remember life before the Internet, cell phones and social media. Seasoned missionaries, us older folks, are a bit reticent to apply the latest and greatest technology to our ministry. We see the good and the bad from personal experiences. Unfortunately we often downplay a potential expansion of our ministry in fear of or due to a lack of understanding the new media platform. The younger mission candidate doesn’t see this problem and can easily race forward without carefully considering the fallout caused by a brash approach to distributing the message of salvation. There are bridges to be built and barriers to overcome from both sides of the age barrier.

I'd like to encourage the younger generation to commit their lives to the ministry of reconciliation. I’m not talking about just putting a toe in to test the waters. I want them to take the great leap of faith and jump in full body to see what God can do through their full commitment. The problem I’ve witnessed with toe testing is that we never get used to the water, we never adjust. It's only when they're willing for God to use them both in my comfort zone, (work they're familiar with or trained to do), and out of their comfort zone, (work they've never done or where they have no training), do they experience the full reliance on His guidance, grace and care. How do I share this with a culture effectively speaking another language?

I’m reminded of the mechanism I use to prepare sermons in a multi-language, multi-cultural environment. I write the sermon using the vocabulary I know best. I try to be concise and succinct with a careful selection of words and phrases. Then I give the written message to my wife. She sifts through the message and strikes out culturally specific phrases, complicated word combinations, or “big” words from the text. I have to go back and find more common phrases and better words to insure the translator and the listener will understand my point. It takes a lot or work and the results make it worthwhile. So how do I apply the same approach to sharing the ministry with young folks?

I want the next generation to understand the amazement I feel when I see God supply, in unexpected ways, everything I need. He even supplies some of the things I just want! My desire is for another generation to see and long for that feeling of total dependence on God to provide. I want them to learn to not rely on their skills or training to be faithful. How do I convince them to hand everything to God and allow Him to manage their lives? How do I convince them that their training, schooling, and experiences are good tools but nothing is better than allowing God to choose what to use and what not to use? How do I share the experience of being dropped into unknown territory and relying completely on God to provide the skills, knowledge and application we need to accomplish His goals?

How do I do all this without losing contact, without driving them away, without creating confusion instead of clarity? Something to think about . . .

Papa Chick

Taiwan

2011-04-10T15:26:00.001+02:00

Yahweh said, "Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is what they begin to do. Now nothing will be withheld from them, which they intend to do. Come, let's go down, and there confuse their language, that they may not understand one another's speech." (Genesis 11:6 7 WEB)

One of the advantages of serving as an audio consultant is the occasional opportunity to visit other studios to provide advice. I serviced equipment in Hong Kong a couple of times. One visit to Hong Kong was scheduled to coincide with the need for a consultation on a new studio under construction in Kao Shiung, Taiwan.

The first flight was from Guam to Hong Kong. There I used two days to align and maintain a number of reel to reel recorders and other studio equipment. (In the days before digital audio.) This kept me busy with little extra time to see the town. The most I as able to see was when we, my colleagues and myself, went to find something to eat. One of my friends lived in Hong Kong for many years and knew the Chinese language, Mandarin, quite well.

One evening we went for dinner in a restaurant which served a number of American delicacies including the infamous hamburger. At times, when I’m traveling, I appreciate an item I can usually identify and know won’t cause my stomach to object. Adventure in food is OK when close to home, but when traveling, it can be a disaster. So, this evening I ordered a hamburger.

Our conversation included the events of the day and news from our families. After a few minutes I was rewarded with a nice looking burger and fries. Just what I like. Poking through the condiments on the table I could not find mustard, one of the basic ingredients for a good burger. When the waitress returned I attempted to request this spice for my sandwich to no avail. She didn't understand English. Bill, my friend fluent in Chinese, made the attempt. He used a number of words, descriptions, phrases and gestures until the waitress appeared to understand and departed on the hunt. A few minutes later she returned with soy sauce, ketchup and something we have not been able to identify to this day. I ate my burger with only ketchup.

The third day I prepared for the flight to Taiwan. Everything was arranged and the director's brother was to meet me at the airport. His big concern was whether his brother could find me in the crowd. I didn't think that was a problem. I was in the last row of a 747 taking off toward the city of Hong Kong. Anyone who has flown into or out of the old airport understands the steep climb necessary to prevent crashing into the tall buildings. The tail of the plane, where I was sitting, dropped like a roller coaster and scarred the daylights out of me!

An hour later we landed in Taiwan. As I departed the plane and walked across the tarmac the idea of being found in the crowd became humorous. I was the only western, white, foreigner on the airplane! I stuck out like a pole, literally, head and shoulders above all the remaining passengers. It wasn’t a problem for Andrew (his westernized name) to spot me coming through immigration. One small bag of test equipment and a taller than normal foreigner.

After a quick tour of the small town we came to the building where the new office and studio were under construction. The studio was on the fifth floor with one wall of the studio bordering the elevator shaft creating a number of noise problems. When we added in the need for air conditioning, to keep from suffocating the workers, we decided it was a large project which needed some rework. There were old walls to remove, new walls to build and rooms inside of rooms to be constructed as a sound barrier. My job was only to make recommendations on the construction and materials.

After surveying the room, making some sketches and lists, we headed to the ground floor for some lunch. Andrew, is Chinese. Born and raised in Hong Kong. When the waitress handed us menus in the southern Taiwanese dialect I was at a loss. The pictures, which didn’t look very appetizing, didn't help me interpret the menu. I turned to my native speaking colleague and asked him to order something for both of us. He promptly entered into a ten minute conversation with the waitress. They pointed at the menu, discussed and described items, pointed some more and eventually she made a note on her pad and departed.

I turned to Andrew and asked, "So, what are we having for lunch?"

"I have no idea," was his unexpected response. "Her accent is so different and the dialect so far removed from Taipei I can’t understand what she’s saying. It will be an adventure!"

Adventure was true. I’m not sure what I ate but it tasted OK, went down, and stayed down. That’s always a blessing when traveling. A couple of hours later I was on my way back to Hong Kong to catch a connecting flight back to my home on Guam.

More than once I’ve encountered language difficulties in the course of our ministry. Currently living in a land with a native language other than English is a challenge. I’m reminded, over and over, of the need for people from every tongue and nation to be proclaiming the gospel to people in their home land. God may use us in a language we’ve learned. However, there is none so eloquent to reach another as one raised in the same language. Let’s praise God for lifting up workers in every language and nation on earth and watch Him accomplish his purpose of bringing the Gospel to the world.

Papa Chick

Chewing

2011-04-06T20:27:00.001+02:00

“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are profitable. “All things are lawful for me,” but not all things build up. (1 Corinthians 10:23 WEB)

When we first arrived on Guam the number of fast food restaurants was limited. The universal McDonald's were spotted about the north half of the island. The children loved that sight.

I wasn’t so thrilled even though I’d grown up with a great love for fast food. Restaurants, such as White Castle and Krystal, make my heart flutter with excitement. I’m not sure if that is joy over the food or an arterial reaction to the blood clotting fat in the meal. Regardless, I’ve always enjoyed such fine eating establishments and occasionally sneak a bite even in the face of my present dietary restrictions.

McDonald's was as close as we got when we arrived in the tropics. With careful research, known as driving around the island, we eventually discovered a Pizza Hut way up in the north. A couple years later we were thrilled when they opened a second shop close to our home.

When the spirit of fast food, mixed with the grain of available cash, moved, Beth and I would stop by Pizza Hut for lunch. One time, while Ellice was in school, we took Joel along to enjoy the treat.

We selected a booth by the window with a view toward the main road. Joel took a seat beside me as we ordered our pizza and drinks. Joel played while Beth and I chatted about the week's events and our up coming schedules.

After a few minutes Joel decided he’d have more fun sitting by Mommy. So, with the usually shifting of our legs Joel descended beneath the table and arose again beside Beth. We continued our conversation as the waitress brought our drinks.

Out of the side of my vision I saw Joel coloring on the placemat and chewing on some appetizer. At least I thought it was an appetizer. Glancing about the table for the crackers he appeared to enjoy I couldn't find them. I wanted a little something to chew on while waiting for the cook to finish the pizzas. I asked Beth if she gave him some gum and she said, "No." We stared at each other a moment then turned toward Joel.

Looking at Joel I asked, "What are your chewing Joel?"

"Gum," he replied without looking up as he continued to fill the paper before him with color.

"Gum," I mused, "where did you get it?"

"From under here," he said, without concern, as he pointed under the table.

Needless to say Beth and I had Joel spit out the gum. We then instructed Joel, in no uncertain terms, never to take it from under a table again. We promptly lost our appetite! Our son was passing by the attractive collection of colored temptations on his way from Dad’s side to Mom’s side. In the joy of his colorful discovery he partook of the offering and was enjoyed himself, for a while. He wasn't aware of the potential danger.

Sin has a way of entering the Christian life as we casually saunter by temptation out of the sight of others. The appearance is good and no one is looking. We take a bit and off we go . . . until we get caught.

We were glad to catch Joel and provide proper instruction for the future before something tragic happened. He survived his short episode as we sometimes survive our tripping into sinful situations. If he had asked before he partook of the secret temptation he could have saved himself some trouble. We, as believers, can save ourselves some trouble if we pause and take time to ask before we start chewing on the wrong things in our walk with God.

Papa Chick

The Incredible Enchilada Incident

2011-04-02T09:00:00.001+02:00

Rejoice in the LORD, you righteous,

And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.

(Psalms 97:12 NKJV)

In life milestones present themselves unexpectedly. They become etched in our memories quickly and are removed slowly. There are things we struggle to remember. Fond memories often slip from our grasp as we find ourselves playing out bad memories over and over. Some, usually unexpected, are a mixture of joy and sadness with the emphasis on the joy.

It all started on the first of April. In the midst of a day for fools and pranksters we decided to hold a Mexican Food celebration with friends. The planning went on for weeks. Folks were invited, schedules were checked and plans put into place. We all looked forward to the fun evening as the days passed by slowly. To make things more festive we would celebrate the birthday of a friend.

Beth spent the day getting our little apartment ready. She made a special trip, on public transport, into Vienna to a special shop just to get the right fixings. She came home and stared to work. She prepared taco salad, chips and salsa, refried beans and cheese. R brought his homemade enchiladas. We were excited about these fat, tasty, chicken filled, delights. Our previous dinner with these delights was a good memory. The oven was hot, things were cooking or warming up as everyone finally arrived. I remember the enticing smell emanating from the kitchen.

It was a great south-of-the-border feast. Laughter erupted often as we talked about a variety of subjects in a variety of mixed languages. We piled our plates high with all the goodies. We savored every chip, enchilada, salad, and bean. To say we were full after the first tray of enchiladas would be an understatement. We were stuffed. I remember feeling like a turkey on Thanksgiving day.

I can’t remember the gamut of topics we covered from the spiritual to the mundane. From raising children to raising Cain we talked about whatever came to mind. Sign language (wild hand gestures) and multi-interpretations helped span the gap to cross multiple languages. Lots of memories were created in our joyous banter.

After our dinner settled a bit Beth announced we had dessert. Since we were also celebrating C’s birthday a cake was brought out. The lemon cake with lemon icing looked delicious. In fact, it was delicious. All that sweet, with a touch of lemon, was something to remember.

We continue to chat, laugh, and enjoy the evening when we hear a loud bang. We all stopped talking. We looked at each other wondering what was wrong. Then Beth said, “Oh oh,” and got up. She headed to the kitchen. There was a groan as she found the source of the big bang. There were not theories about this, the Pyrex dish, containing the next batch of enchiladas, had exploded!

The dish was on top of the oven. Unfortunately the oven burner was not complete off and had headed the dish continually the last few hours. Did you know that Pyrex explodes when it gets too hot? We know that now.

There was enchilada everywhere. The unexpected explosion tossed chicken, cheese, and sauce up the wall behind the stove. It projected the contents across the kitchen to the other counter and wall. Pieces of Pyrex glass spotted the kitchen floor from end to end and out the door into the hallway.

After shaking our heads over the damage we remembered the enchiladas. I’m not sure which was the greater loss, the dish or the enchiladas. They were great enchiladas! C said she would definitely remember this birthday celebration. I don’t remember pyrotechnics being part of the celebration but we had them. And we’ll definitely remember this night. We’ll laugh about the unexpected fireworks and cry over the loss of the enchiladas.

As Christians we remember many things as God leads us through life. Some are good memories and some are bad. Some are a mixture of both. I’m reminded of the Psalmist who calls us to remember, rejoice, and give thanks for the name of the Lord. It might be time for me to look back on my memories and recall the good things, not just the bad. In those memories I’m reminded over and over of God’s care, grace and love.

Papa Chick

Parenting Codes

2011-04-01T14:07:00.001+02:00

He didn't allow him, but said to him, "Go to your house, to your friends, and tell them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how he had mercy on you." (Mark 5:19 WEB)

In all my studies about parenting I’ve yet to find Morse Code listed as a vital tool. When children are small you can talk about anything and they don't understand. After a few years they understand so you resort to spelling. But, what do you do when they learn to spell? Use Morse code of course!

I remember hearing my Dad use Morse code to communicate with fellow Amateur Radio operators around the world. From the time I was old enough to descend the stairs to our basement in Georgia I remember the lilting sound of dots and dashes. This was long before computers, Internet access and the ubiquitous email. This was when a mobile telephone filled the trunk of your car and let you sport a long whip antenna attached to your bumper. SMS and cellular phones were the things of Science Fiction movies.

As soon as my brothers and I learned to spell our parents resorted to Morse code. In the middle of a dinner conversation the shouts and whoops of three boys would be interrupted as Dad would dah-di-da his message to mother who would reply with the appropriate di-dah-dit. This kept my brothers and I at bay for a number of years as we struggled to learn letters and words in regular English. Visitors thought our parents were a bit loony when they began making beeping noises at one another during a meal.

Eventually, we all learned code in the interests of self-preservation. It was nice to again know what was going on at the dinner table and around the house. After many years of procrastination I finally took my Amateur Radio examination and earned my "ticket." My communication with the world expanded beyond the telephone to other nations, without International calling charges.

My children, on the other hand, never succumbed to the desire to develop a good fist. There’s something magical about communicating with people from around the globe. Using Morse Code is more romantic than making a phone call or sending an email. It takes a bit of skill, preparation and you never know who will answer your CQ call. You meet some interesting people when you open yourself to chat with anyone “out there.”

One of the first additions to our home on Guam was a radio tower. It was attached to the rear of our house with a tri-band beam mounted on a rotor topping the steel structure. I was equipped to talk to the world.

I had more opportunities to share my faith as this international hobby brought the diverse culture of Guam into my life. My bedroom closet was full of equipment and I would often be found chatting with someone across the globe late at night.

One morning I connected my transceiver to one of the huge curtain antennas at the transmitter site. In minutes I was chatting with folks throughout Europe. They commented on my magnificent signal considering the five watts of power I was dribbling into the antenna. When I explained the details of the antenna system they were amazed.

Simple language, common terms and a little bit of power brought people to my door and allowed me to visit their homes. Too often we use special codes, known only to those in the know, when attempting to share the message of salvation to friends and neighbors.

God's message of salvation is simple. Our sharing of God's work in our lives should be simple. Maybe then, we can communicate better and bring others to God's doorstep. We don’t want to hide our messages in code but make them available to anyone who might hear. God’s plan of salvation is simple. Likewise sharing about our faith too should be simple and clear.

Papa Chick

Scratch Golf

2011-03-28T13:04:00.001+02:00

Cease from anger, and forsake wrath. Don't fret, it leads only to evildoing. (Psalms 37:8 WEB)

I like to enjoy life. I like staying home with my family, even if we just sit, talk or read in the same place I enjoy it. I enjoy a good meal with friends, chatting about the day, life and how God is working. I enjoy games of all sorts with just about anyone if there’s a chance to laugh, relax and no one takes the outcome seriously.

I enjoy the outdoors including golf, the carts, the talking and the interesting things which can occur on the links. One time, while golfing with my father‑in‑law, I hit the ball into the rough. When I looked for the ball I was greeted by an alligator guarding his new found treasure. I let him keep it.

I remember playing golf with my father once. We were behind another foursome taking our time and enjoying the beautiful weather. Three of the four men playing ahead of us appeared to be having a great time. The fourth man was losing his cool hole by hole.

By the time we reached the 18th hole the man was furious with his progress. They chipped on the green and motioned for us to tee off. We took our first stroke and sauntered down the fairway toward the green. As we drew closer we watched the first three men putt. Finally, the third man took a stroke and missed the cup. He took another and another before he dropped the ball in the hole and let out a few expletives.

He turned toward the lake beside the green and he tossed his ball in the water. With tensed shoulders and a running barrage of comments he walked to the edge of the green and picked up his bag, cart and all, walked to the other side of the green and heaved it into the lake. As the ripples spread across the small lake the man turned and stomped across the green toward the club house. His friends stepped back to clear the way then followed him toward the parking lot.

Dad and I chipped onto the green. As I was lined up my shot Dad caught my attention. The angry golfer stomped toward the green. We stepped aside as he apologized for interrupting our shot and crossed the fine cut grass.

He marched across the green, down through the rough and right into the lake. Soon he was splashing around looking for his golf bag. We figured he had second thoughts about tossing his good clubs into the lake.

He splashed around for a couple of minutes until his hands located the water logged bag and cart. With disgust on his face he lifted until the top of the bag poked out of the water. He reached around the bag, opened a zipped pouch on one side and extracted his car keys. He dropped the bag back into the lake and stomped across the green, with apologies for the interruption, and headed toward the parking lot and his car. Dad and I chuckled, finished the hole and headed home. Golf is a game of control. This man lost his.

I wish I could say I’ve never behaved like our wet golfer. Unfortunately my temper has always been a bit of a problem. Sometimes, I remain calm and cool in the face of things going wrong and other times I lose it, to my own shame.

I could laugh at this man's predicament. I could also feel his inner turmoil. I don't know his relationship to God. I do know mine. If not for the presence, strength and guidance of the Holy Spirit I might spend more time in anger than joy.

God continues to teach me. Sometimes I get an "A" in class and other times I don't want God to give me my report card. Like my parents, he already knows, long before I have the courage to fess up and reveal my shortcoming.

Papa Chick

Fun in the Familiar

2011-03-26T17:09:00.001+01:00

There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and make his soul enjoy good in his labor. This also I saw, that it is from the hand of God. (Ecclesiastes 2:24 WEB)

Not everything in life is intended for serious contemplation and study. I think this is why I enjoy so many of Solomon's writings in Ecclesiastes. I have no intention of going to his extents in experimentation but I do enjoy the simple things of life. Living on a small island there were opportunities to make simple things memories.

For vacations we would usually stay at home and have fun. Things like patching the cracks in the walls, power washing and painting the roof were very popular holiday activities. Going somewhere, from Guam, was usually out of the question due to the high cost of air fare. Still fun events abounded throughout the routine activities of the week.

On Wednesday evenings we busied ourselves with church activities. For a number of years I directed the church choir and other years provided musical direction for the Pioneer Clubs. Beth was involved as a singer in the choir or as a teacher in the Pioneer Clubs. The children came along to enjoy the fun events of the clubs and a midweek break from homework.

When the evening’s events were completed we headed home along Marine Drive. It was the only way home. With one main road circling the island our options for different routes was very limited. I think I could drive the route blindfolded it was so well worn. I never tried.

Along the way we passed the government buildings, beaches, restaurants and in the late 1980s they opened a 7‑eleven as part of a local gas station. Invariably, or with careful attention to timing, we were in need of additional fuel as we passed the 7‑eleven. I pulled up to the pump, Beth and the children headed into the store and I joined them when the tank was full.

The political status of 7‑eleven has risen and fallen over the years. Some like the shop and others feel it’s to be avoided. However, they were the proud owners of an Icee Machine. This cup full of flavored sugar water was just the ticket after a long evening of singing or playing or studying. Selecting from the available flavors, which changed each week depending on the shipment arriving on the island, we would each wait for a chance to fill our cups to the brim.

Icees, or Slushys in some places of the world, are a culinary delight. All that sweetness surrounding your favorite flavor could quench the thirst of a camel in the middle of the desert. If you weren't careful you would drink too fast and get "brain freeze." This painful experience was avoided by drinking slowly after the first onset and provided a source of laughter as others watched your reaction.

Icees were cheap, refreshing and contained nothing of nutritional or long lasting value. Sometimes we need a little nothing to liven up our evenings and give us delight. In the early 1990s we were visiting my mother's home when I remember another empty delight, lightening bugs.

Growing up in Georgia I was well aware of this marvels of luminescence. My brothers and I must have captured hundreds when we were young. We’d put them in a glass jar and take them to our room for the night. When they stopped flashing the jar would receive a vigorous shake to liven them up once more. By morning they would be let loose, if they survived.

Sitting on the back porch of my mom's house Ellice and Joel came up and pointed out in the dusk towards the trees. "What are those flashing lights?" they asked with wide eyes. I explained they were lightening bugs and remembered the delight I had in catching them in a jar.

Into the house I went to raid my mother's cabinets for empty jars. Grandmas always have the right accouterments for the fun and games of grandchildren. Sure enough there were four jars, with lids, just waiting to experience the thrill of the hunt.

After a few instructions and a little training the four hunters took up the challenge to capture the brilliant little creatures. I helped Evan catch a few as his little hands had problems coordinating the big jar with the lid and keeping his eye on the bug. Within minutes four glowing jars were set, like trophies, across the back porch railing.

We enjoyed studying them for a while as the children asked questions like, "how do they do that?" I created fictitious answers such as, "They are actually miniature dragons from the fairy kingdom and their lights are small internal flames." They didn't believe me but enjoyed the story.

Other fun adventures were part of living on the mission field and back in our homeland. They were each little treasures, learning experiences, encouragements in our lives. A moment here or there and then each was remembered long after the day they were discovered.

God uses the routine, the common things of life to teach us. In the wonder of lightening bugs, the "brain freeze" of a slushy or the strange appearance of star fish we discover bits and pieces of his marvelous creation. It’s not always the spectacular we remember but often the quiet voice of God speaking to our hearts, when we take time to listen.

Papa Chick

Teaching and Training

2011-03-23T16:56:00.001+01:00

The things which you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit the same to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also. (2 Timothy 2:2 WEB)

I love to teach. I prefer to teach through the Scriptures, exposition, but sometimes need to teach on a topic. Digging deep into God's word to unlock the mystery and majesty of our creator's love has no end. Each time I open God's word, even for a casual reading, I find some new revelation to apply to my life and ministry.

Others have confirmed this as one of my spiritual gifts. When the opportunity arises I dive in and learn more personally than I ever share in a classroom. I believe if someone wants to know and understand God's word they need to teach. To explain a discovery clearly to someone else we must understand it carefully and clearly.

For years I taught Sunday school and the occasional home Bible study. I preached when I could. Each time I found myself immersed in more of the wonder of God than I could imagine as His word sprang to life. Most of the time, I taught as a simple ministry in the church. The Lord blessed me with good classes and great participation.

One year the church established the Bayview Bible Institute which lasted for three years. I was recruited as one of the teachers. My subject was New Testament Greek. I enjoyed the challenge as well as refreshing my understanding of the language. There were four students in my class and they enjoyed themselves and did well.

As a missionary I was not permitted to accept pay. I could volunteer all I want. I didn't want to be divided in my purpose and goal. So, what could be done.

My solution was for them to give me a piece of software I couldn't afford to purchase and we would call it even. The mission agreed, the Bayview Bible Institute agreed and I was ready to write the great American novel on my little notebook. I’ve written many things since then but no great American novel.

I continue to enjoy teaching when the opportunity arises. At times I wish that was my central ministry. God has a different plan but allows me to exercise this gift now and again to further His kingdom in this world.

There are courses on discovering our spiritual gifts. Books abound on discovering God's gift in our life and how to apply it to minister. But, I think God gives us gifts to meet needs and not to direct our ministry. God doesn't give us the gift we need and send us in search of a ministry. He places us in a ministry and then gives us the gift we need, when we need it.

Although I enjoy the gift of teaching, God has called me to minister as an engineer. I praise the Lord for guiding me in this ministry. It wasn’t my talents and abilities that permit me to do the work but His gift and guidance each and every day.

God teaches and trains me daily. When I allow Him to guide my choices and His ministry I can be assured I’m in His will. When I insist on using the "gift," I think I have, I can easily find myself outside of God's will.

I must remind myself that my perception of what I can do best is not God's perception. His is divine, mine is marred by my human nature. My desire is not pure and heavenly directed. His is always in line with reaching the world with His love and grace.

I think, just maybe, I should listen to Him, not myself, and then I’ll discover the wonder of walking His path and the joy of accomplishing the purpose for which I’m called.

Papa Chick

Water Baptism

2011-03-20T19:51:00.001+01:00

Go, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, (Matthew 28:19 WEB)

Baptism is a subject which can divide churches from one another. Every church has something to say on interpreting the meaning, method and application of Baptism. I don't like to debate issues such as Baptism. I don't like to debate many religious issues because religion cannot bring salvation. Religion is a set of rules, created by man, to define the confines of their faith in human terms easier to understand. My concern is whether someone has turned to God, through the saving grace of the cross, and entered into the heavenly family for eternity.

As parents this was a heart concern. We desired each of our children to understand our faith, God's grace and the salvation offered from the cross. To see our children cleansed by the blood of Christ and know we will be with them for eternity was a major concern.

For years we dedicated our lives to serving God and brought this message of salvation to a lost world. It was just as important to see the lost world within our own home and insure they too heard the Gospel message.

I fear, and sometimes this fear is confirmed, we spend so much time concentrating on reaching the world that our global vision doesn't include our own home. I’m reminded of Paul writing to Timothy when he says, "But if anyone doesn't provide for his own, and especially his own household, he has denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever." (1 Timothy 5:8 WEB) We read testimonies of pastors and Christian workers discovering, after many years of fruitful service, they’ve neglected their own families. I wish I could saw I was always properly balanced between family and ministry, but I can't.

Sometimes I got so involved in a project that home became a place to eat, sleep and have my laundry done. The longer I spent in ministry, the older I got, the more I recognized the need to give as much attention to the spiritual growth and relationship of my family as I gave to reaching others with the Gospel. At times I was successful. Other times, I was not.

After twenty plus years of overseas ministry I was thrilled to know all my children came to the Lord's throne of grace. Each of our children gave their lives to the Lord. Each of our children were baptized.

On Guam baptisms were held in the ocean. We said we had the largest baptistery in the world. Several times a year, since it was always warm, our church held baptism services after the Sunday services.

We’d gather together outside the church and form a caravan of trucks, cars and vans to drive to Hotel Row and find parking near Tumon Bay. With a portable sound system each candidate would share their testimony with the church and any interested beach combers. When the testimonies were complete, the pastor, and those to be baptized, entered the water and the ceremony commenced.

Wind surfers, snorkelers, sun bathers, and other tourists watched and wondered. We were ready with tracts to hand out and willing to talk with anyone interested in the Gospel being brought to life in the baptism. More than once a curious bystander saw the baptism then came to church and the Lord lead them to salvation. The circle was completed as they returned to the same beach to be baptized as a witness to another bystander.

In Vienna baptisms were a bit different. Since our church rented space at the YMCA we didn't have a baptistery. During the summer, since it was cold in winter, a baptism would be scheduled on a beach at the Alte Donau (Old Danube). This was a big event.

Food was prepared, brought to the beach and a large table covered with numerous delicacies from the variety of countries represented in our church. We gathered, ate, sang and the candidates shared their testimonies. When others at the beach noticed the food table they were invited to join in the celebration. This was a chance to minister to people who might never step foot in our church services.

Singing and testimonies complete, we gathered at the river, no pun intended, and each person was baptized. Between baptisms we sang a rousing chorus of celebration. People gathered from all along the beach to see what was happening and ask questions.

One year, a man who had witnessed the baptism the previous year, came and spoke with our Elders. In the intervening year he too gave his life to Christ and desired baptism. After an interview on the beach he joined others from our church to celebrate his new life in Christ.

In the ocean, in a river, in a baptistery, a pool or a bath tub, yes we have seen that as well, each of these people were willing to proclaim, to the world, their faith in Christ. I grew up watching people baptized in the safe confines of the church. This is definitely an encouragement to the body of believers.

On the mission field I was introduced to public baptism. This was an encouragement and witness to the dying. Watching our children be baptized was an encouragement to us as parents.

Instead of arguing over the methods maybe it’s time we concentrated on the witness of baptism to the world around us. With a little attention to this detail we might lead others to God's throne and need more baptisms. I’m just wondering . . .

Papa Chick

Visitors

2011-03-19T08:26:00.001+01:00

Our friends, you yourselves know that our visit to you was not a failure. (1 Thessalonians 2:1 GNB)

Living on an island far from anywhere had advantages and disadvantages. One advantage was a lack of visitors. One disadvantage was a lack of visitors. Family, friends, pastors, and tourists, with the exception of the Japanese tourists, seldom considered flying to a small island they could barely locate in a National Geographic world atlas.

In December of 1990 Beth's parents decided it was time to see just what we were doing out in the Pacific. Their grandchildren were growing up and they wanted to experience island life in the tropics. Plans were made, tickets purchased, accommodations in a local hotel reserved and bags packed. We were ready as well. Our home was in order; the children were excited that Grandma and Grandpa would be with us for Christmas. Things just couldn't look better.

Then four days before Christmas, on December 21st, typhoon Russ made its dramatic visit to Guam. The island power went out. Water became scarce. Severe damage was inflicted on the mission transmitter site. We scrambled to work during daylight hours to repair antennas and transmitters and restore the Gospel programming quickly. Things weren’t looking so good.

Programs prepared for Christmas broadcasts lay unused in the control room. All the able bodied staff worked with us in the mud and heat to gather the pieces of equipment spread across the property and into the neighboring countryside.

Two days after the typhoon Beth, the children and I were at the airport to pick up Grandma and Grandpa. It was Sunday. They arrived to an island struggling to restore basic services. As a staff, we interrupted our repair work to worship the Lord and celebrate his provision through the storm. With all the damage across the island not a single life was lost.

Beth's parents were introduced to the realities of island and post storm life. They sought the quiet of the hotel in the evenings. It was sure quiet. No power to the hotel. Situated on the beach they listened to the quiet lapping of waves each evening.

The first few days of their stay I worked at the transmitter site to help restore the broadcasts. Not only were the antennas and transmitters damaged but our emergency generator also failed and needed repair. I, along with my colleagues, was called upon to do things we never did before. All of this was to get the Gospel message back on the air.

In the months following the storm we received numerous letters from listeners praying for us because they knew something was wrong to prevent the airing of the programs. Programming resumed the 26th of December.

As I worked Beth and the children enjoyed fun times with her parents. The generator at our home kept the fans providing a cool breeze and the food preserved in the fridge. When things were desperate we’d visit Denny's. They had electricity and air‑conditioning!

Air‑conditioning is important after a typhoon. When the storm completes its damage to the island and departs it takes all the associated weather, and clouds with it. So, after supersaturating the island for several days the sky became clear, the sun came out and we lived in a tropical sauna. No breezes to counteract the heat and humidity except what was created by the generator powered ceiling fans. No fresh water to cool off since the electricity was out stopping the water pumps from filling the pipes with fresh water for our homes.

Beth took her parents on a drive around the island. Everywhere they turned the evidence of the storm's destruction was visible. Many homes lost their roofs and their Christmas trees were now part of their yard decorations. Some lost everything and others only suffered minor damage. Beth and her parents were heartbroken as they witnessed people picking up pieces of their homes to start over.

While the lack of electricity and water was annoying, Beth's parents experienced it in full each evening. The pair was experiencing reduced sight in their old age. They couldn't see things in their room or read by the insignificant candle light. The day before their departure from Guam the power was restored. However, by then they were accustomed to the evening darkness.

Two visitors came at Christmas, one we wanted to come, the other uninvited. With Beth's parents we enjoyed the visit in spite of the weather and living conditions. Our family fellowship was delightful and the children were thrilled to have their grandparents about for the holidays. Russ, on the other hand, wasn't invited but crashed the party anyway. Despite his attempts to hinder the ministry it was only stalled for a few days and then the word of God continued to reach into the Far East.

One visitor without the other would never have created the memories and excitement we experienced that December. In fact, one visitor, Beth's parents, enhanced the unexpected arrival of the other, typhoon Russ. Their visit provided an encouragement in the midst of extra work, under uncomfortable conditions. God's timing was perfect.

Sometimes, when I think things are just not going right, God surprises me with little gifts of encouragement. Our Lord encouraged us in the midst of what many might consider a catastrophe. When we stop and listen to what the Lord is saying, when we look at what the Lord has provided we find He can bring success to what we cannot. We, as His servants, need to listen, watch and learn.

Papa Chick

Guam Goodies

2011-03-12T13:54:00.001+01:00

Who satisfies your desire with good things, So that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. (Psalms 103:5 WEB)

During our years living on Guam we met many people passing just through. Some just visited friends for a day or two and others were stationed their with the military or their business for a couple of years. Their different reactions to the island were interesting.

Some folks, stationed on the military bases, only left the familiar confines of their compound as a last resort. Church was often a last resort. Thus, some of these folks attended our church and we got to know them a little better.

Those who lived in a compound, on a military base, or secluded from the rest of the island, had few, if any, good things to say about the island. They didn’t experienced the wonders of the island but remained safe and secure in their familiar surroundings. The folks who took the time and effort to venture out, explore the island, meet the people, and get involved, discovered a wealth of fun and many fascinating aspects about Guam and the people.

Not everything on Guam was good in those years. Telephone dialing seldom reached the intended person. I had a theory. Somewhere in the main telephone exchange was a random number generator. As a call would pass through the exchange the dialed number would be used as a seed to generate a random number to some unknown home where you would be connected. The most common phrase heard when answering the phone was, "Whose this?"

Power outages were the norm. Outages were expected following typhoons. Unfortunately, the power company was beset by a heavy dose of nepotism. Workers were often assigned tasks because of their relationship to Uncle Joe and not based on their ability to maintain the massive generators. One summer the power went off just before the Liberation Day parade, that’s in July. We figured; go to the parade, return home and the power would be back. NOT! Of the eight generators, yes we knew how many where they were and what they were named, they forgot to put oil in six of them causing them to come to a screaming halt. For months we enjoyed the power being turned on occasionally, not off. Power would be turned on at the house two or three times a day for an hour or two at a time.

Water shortages once or twice a year, during the dry season, were expected. We would then wait for the heavy rains, the reservoir would refill and life would return to normal. During one long power problem the need for electricity overtook the need for water. Residents stole the generators from the water pumps to power their homes and left much of the island without water. We also operated a small generator at home so the children could complete their homework using a light bulb instead of a candle.

All of these experiences, water outages, power outages, typhoons, random telephone calls, made life unique, interesting and sometimes down right annoying. However, there were many things which were down right fun.

One year my father sent the children a pup tent. As a young boy I went camping many times with my father. Pup tents were the way to go when you were trekking through the Appalachian Mountains or paddling a canoe in Canada. Now it was time to camp, with my children, on a tropical island.

Several times we ventured to the northern tip of Guam to camp with friends. All of these were great experiences for the entire family. We discovered the night flights of fruit bats, what sea creatures came out in the dusk and how often the security guard roamed the beach looking for trouble.

The beach was a common meeting ground. Often we’d go to the beach, fire up the grill and enjoy steaks or burgers in the open air. The children, not to mention Beth and I, would snorkel, hide in the shade in the middle of the day and pick fresh fruit from the local trees for snacks. Friends from the mission and church would meet us at the beach for an afternoon of fun in the sun.

One afternoon on the beach the children were swimming and building sand castles. Beth and I were relaxed in a pair of beach chairs under the shade of an ironwood tree. Actually, Beth was just beyond the shade in the sun enjoying the rays and I was hiding from the ultraviolet menace. I looked up and down the beach, watching our children enjoying themselves and looked at my gorgeous wife. With a relaxed sigh I said to Beth, "Some days dear, it is tough suffering on the mission field for the Lord." We both laughed then went to the shore to enjoy the water.

Cookouts with short ribs, burgers and chicken, camping on the beach, snorkeling and swimming were a delightful gift from the Lord on our small island. When the power would fail there was usually a breeze on the shore. When the water ceased to flow in our home there was plenty available in the ocean. When the typhoons blew over the trees, God grew another forest.

Taking time to explore the island, meet the people and gawk at God's beautiful creation was well worth the effort. Getting involved with the local schools was also a delight for the entire family.

Throughout the years we had children in five different schools. One year we had four children in four different schools. This was a logistical nightmare when it came to parent teacher night!

In Elementary school our children experienced the Guam culture including riding the ubiquitous Carabao, eating coconut candy and the many local fruits. By the time Ellice was in High School they were part of the local Chamorro culture. Through their involvement opportunities arose to share the Gospel.

Ellice discovered the wonder of bands and instruments. The Oceanview High School band was no match for many of the slick and polished bands I remember in the USA, but, they had a big heart. Ellice's talent with a flute and piccolo earned her a spot on the all island Honor Band and a chance to play at the Governor's Mansion.

The mission was also a source of activities beyond the daily work of the ministry. As a staff we were a close knit family working toward the same goal of proclaiming the Gospel using our technical abilities. Not everything was work, work, work, sometimes there were opportunities for fun and fellowship.

More than once we held costume parties to celebrate anything from holidays to missionaries coming and going from the field. One evening we were seriously in search of a murderer in our midst. Clues were planted throughout the office building implicating one of the members of the staff in a dastardly deed. It took more than an hour for each team to find the bits and pieces and pin the blame on someone.

There was a heritage night, complete with costumes. Another costume night referenced favorite fictional characters. Beth and I chose Running Deer and Falling Rock, the famous pair of Indians often seen, as indicated by the signs, along so many U.S. highways.

Christmas on the beach, staff socials, cookouts, camping, typhoons, all were part of the interesting goodies on Guam. The work of the ministry required long, hard and tiring hours. Striving to bring the salvation message to people we never saw was difficult at times. Living far from family and friends added stress and sometimes a desire to be back on the mainland.

God knew these struggles and knew our needs. God provided an alternate family for fun, learning, fellowship, and encouragement. Our children were cared for, educated and, experienced events in their lives many people can never imagine. God cares for his people in ways we could never imagine.

Papa Chick

Home Improvement

2011-03-08T14:15:00.001+01:00

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, (Galatians 5:22 WEB)

Over the years I’ve been placed in numerous situations which required me to learn how to do something new. I was never a construction worker nor a machinist. Fortunately, my father taught me how to make normal home repairs. Growing up most things around the house Dad repaired during my life and when he was unable my mother stepped in to keep things going forward. This instilled in me the need to, at least, attempt to repair and fix up things about the house.

I use the word "attempt" because my abilities and understanding of housing construction and repair are sometimes less than adequate to achieve the desired result. In truth, sometimes the item under repair was worse when I finished than when I started. It was all part of learning my limitations and the phone number of the local plumber, handyman, or fellow missionary willing to lend a hand.

One year a retired couple came to Guam to help with fixing my mistakes, housing repairs, construction, and other types of repairs around the mission property. Roy and Agnes were delightful. Roy was great at repairing just about anything around the house or office building. It was like having grandparents on the field to enjoy the children and lend a hand where needed.

We needed a new home to have room for four children. Before our furlough there was discussion about adding another room to our house. Then another missionary family decided to move to the USA so their home became available and it had the extra room we needed.

The house was situated directly behind our old home so traveling back and forth to help Roy, when I was not on duty, was easy and convenient. I just climbed the fence and I was there. When we finally moved we dropped the fence for a few hours as colleagues helped carry our furniture from one home to the other across the backyards. But before we moved the house needed some preparation. This was right up Roy's alley.

Beth and Evan brought Roy and I coffee each morning. Evan told Roy he could sleep on the end of his new bed since he was moving out of the crib into a real bed.

A lot of the refurbishment was handled directly by Roy. The removal of old carpet, tile, and preparation to re-tile the entire house required my assistance to complete the job on time. When we pulled up the old carpet most of the house was in good shape. Holes from the furring strips needed to be filled and in two rooms we discovered old tile beneath the old carpet.

Removing the tile from the dining room was straightforward. Removing tile from Joel's new room was less than spectacular. The original tiles were installed with contact cement and did not pull off the concrete easily. For three weeks Beth and I chipped away at the old tile until it was finally removed and the floor prepared for the new tiles.

One thousand, two hundred and twenty one tiles later Roy and I completed the new flooring. Walls painted, cracks patched, we were ready to occupy our new home. Our fellow missionaries and friends from our church arrived to help us move.

I had shift duty the day we moved so timing was critical. With a flurry of arms, trips, boxes, furniture and dodging children at play, our personal items were transferred from one home to the other. As I prepared for work there were no curtains, so I moved from place to place to be out of the way as the final items were brought over.

I departed for the transmitter site and left Beth with our friends to complete the move. Their love and care for our family was spectacular. By the time I returned home at 6:00 a.m. the next morning there were curtains and shades up so I could get some rest before starting to hang pictures and deal with other "moving in" items. Evan went to bed the first night and was sad that Roy wasn't really going to live with us, he thought the "grandpa" came with the house.

After a couple weeks we were fully settled into the new house and holding a Bible Study in the living room. At one point in the evening there were some loud noises from the boys room. I walked back to the boys room. Evan and James were sharing a bedroom. I stepped inside their room and my heart dropped, my blood pressure rose to astronomical heights, and anger took control.

There was James, floor tile in hand, another pile of tiles beside him, gleeful he had discovered they could be pulled up, one by one until he revealed most of the underlying concrete foundation. I believe my parents could hear my comments back in the USA as I informed James what he was doing was wrong, with a capital "W!" I think that’s when my hair turned gray.

I was not a shining example of patience and understanding. Roy and I had worked for weeks, late at night, between shifts, on hands and knees, to carefully install the one thousand, two hundred and twenty one tiles. Each tile was hand sculptured to fit the form of the house. My children still remember that night. I’m sure our former neighbors still remember that night.

When Paul writes about the fruit of the spirit one critical word is patience. This fruit is preceded in the list by love, joy, and peace. At that moment, looking at the destruction of my hard labor, I doubt I experienced any of the other fruits much less patience with my children. Until that moment I thought things were in order.

Our home was occupied, pictures on the walls, children playing in their new rooms, friends visiting. It took only a few seconds to realize my calm was easily shattered by the world around me. I was looking at the horizontal, the work "I" had done, not at God. "I" didn't experience the fruit of the spirit because "I" tried to control things, instead of allowing God control.

I think my children have long since forgiven my outburst but I doubt they will ever forget that evening. Last time I mentioned it to the children it was remembered with humor and laughter. It was not the first nor the last outburst of my temper. Many times I’ve had to apologize and ask their forgiveness, not something parents enjoy doing but necessary. I also prayed for patience, joy, peace, and joy.

As Christians this is the way things work. When our eyes are fixed on the world around us we fail. When we see our accomplishments as the fruit of our own strength and our own hands we are blinded by our worldly hearts. It’s only when we fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, that we can experience the fruit of the spirit at work in our lives.

In the fruit of the spirit we experience peace and joy when the world around us appears chaotic and hopeless. As we experience the fruit of the spirit it allows us to demonstrate patience when things go against our nature. It’s only when we seek God that we may walk through events, like having our hard work destroyed, without permitting the old sin nature to have its way.

Maybe, just maybe, we need to close our physical eyes occasionally to allow our spiritual eyesight to once again find the object of our longing, Jesus Christ. We can then open our physical eyes with the assurance that what we see is nothing compared to the wondrous glory we will witness for eternity. Maybe next time I might consider using contact cement.

Papa Chick

Furlough is Family Fun

2011-03-06T14:43:00.001+01:00

Trust the LORD and live right! The land will be yours, and you will be safe. (Psalms 37:3 CEV)

During our first furlough we lived in one home for many months. I traveled regularly to meet with churches and share the ministry. Once in a while the family came along for the weekend. Later furloughs were different. Our second furlough was more realistic and a hint of coming furloughs.

With one or two exceptions we spent our second furlough on the road. Most of our stops were for two or three days. A couple times it was four or five. After a few miles our four children, in one car, let us know that they were bored. They wanted to do something fun and exciting.

In a desire to be good parents, relieve our children's boredom, and maintain our own sanity, Beth and I decided it would be good to stop regularly and have some fun. Games such as license plate alphabet didn't last long. The close quarters of the car called for more drastic measures.

I remember riding many miles with my parents. We usually had a destination in mind as well as planned stops along the way. I tried to do the same with my family. It seemed very efficient for an engineering mindset like mine as well as my father. However, I do recall as a young man seeing a sign for some special location and wanting to stop. But, since it wasn’t on the schedule and slowed us down we didn't stop.

Now it was my children in the car. What would I do when they read the signs and wanted to stop? Beth and I discussed it briefly and decided we would beat them to the punch. When we saw a sign to some supposedly interesting place we would investigate. Even historical markers were on the list of possible reasons to stop for a few minutes at least.

We visited Beth's parents in Florida where the children learned about fishing. Grandpa prepared a fishing pole for each of the children and taught them how to catch, clean and eat the fish. They even learned to watch my hat float away when it was blown into the waterway.

Beth was reading the Laura Ingles Wilder series about the Little House on the Prairie. One of the churches we visited put us up in a log cabin beside a small lake just outside of town. The children thought we were living out part of the story.

Since there was only a small zoo on Guam, and I like zoos, we visited many zoos across the country. My favorite would be the Saint Louis Zoo. While visiting the San Antonio Zoo Beth discovered we had monitor lizards on the island of Guam. She didn't believe me when she saw the sign although I told her we saw them on the island. After finding out they had lizards as big as herself, that ate small mammals, she wasn't sure she wanted to return.

Not everything we experienced or every place we stayed was wonderful. There were some hard times with poor housing, illness, and car problems. But overall there was much more to be thankful for than to worry about.

God works in our lives to provide the rest and refreshment we need to serve Him fully. Sometimes we don't see the benefits, sometimes we sail by the historical markers, sometimes we miss the joys along the way because we’re too busy trying to get to that next place of service.

God has taught me to slow down on furlough and look around. He created a marvelous world full of faithful servants for which we are eternally thankful.

Papa Chick

The Statue of Ribbery

2011-03-05T13:35:00.001+01:00

casting all your worries on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7 WEB)

On furlough, while enjoying the welcome of our home office in New Jersey, we filled all the rooms of the lodge. The lodge was formerly a livery stable and carefully modified to provide all the comforts of home for those away from home. There was a nice common kitchen and a collection of nice rooms with private baths. The rooms were situated either side of a large common room which came complete with comfortable couches, chairs and a fireplace. Nice.

This was a chance to develop new friendships and renew old friendships in the midst of our mission family. As a mission family we worked together to reach the world with the Gospel. Whether we tuned transmitters, balanced the books, changed light bulbs or expounded the Word of God we were related through our Savior, the one who called us to serve.

While in New Jersey we decided it was the perfect opportunity to introduce our children to New York City, the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty and the World Trade Center. After a couple calls we had plans set to take the train and the subway tube into the city. We would arrive and reach the city through the bottom of the World Trade Center.

Finances were a bit tight so we counted our pennies to determine whether the trip were possible. Later that day the founder and president of our mission met us as we were chatting with other missionaries in the front lobby. Hearing us discuss the cost of the trip he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and held it out in our direction. Feeling a bit awkward and not wanting to bother the head of the mission we politely declined and he wandered down the hall toward his office.

A few minutes later, as we headed out the door one of the secretaries came out of the back hall and flagged us down. She handed us an envelope and said the staff took a collection to insure we would enjoy the trip to the city and not have to worry about the costs. Again the Lord let us know this was a family.

We thanked our colleague, took the envelope and walked toward the lodge. Looking inside the envelope we discovered a twenty dollar bill on the top of the pile and have a pretty good idea who made that donation. Our pride kept us from the first offering and here God made the point that He can provide, if we are willing to let our family care for us.

The trip to the city was fantastic. We rode a train from the office to Hoboken. From there we rode the tube train and exited beneath the World Trade Center. Rising from the depths of the buildings to the street we were taken in by the immense size of the city and the busy streets. The children clung tightly to us as we navigated the streets and made our way toward Battery Park and the shuttle boats to the Statue of Liberty.

James was wide eyed through the entire event. Walking in the canyon between the buildings and then finding the opening at the park, with the harbor in front, was a new wonder for him to behold. He was really excited to be visiting the Statue of Ribbery, as he called it. Time didn't allow us to walk the stairs to the crown of her head. I was a young man the last time I was in New York and remember the long stairway to the top. So we walked around the statue, enjoyed the ferry boat once more and saw the city. That was more than enough for one day.

In one day we traveled from a quiet lodge at our headquarters, to New York City, the Statue of Liberty and back. I love trains so that in itself was a delight for me. God provided the transportation, the funds, and the timing, to see everything and return to the office.

Through God's family we were treated to an experience never to be repeated. When we think we are on our own God lets us know we are His and He does care enough to provide our needs and even some of our desires.

Papa Chick

All in the Family

2011-02-26T14:53:00.001+01:00

He made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the surface of the earth, having determined appointed seasons, and the boundaries of their dwellings, (Acts 17:26 WEB)

Before we started our second furlough arrangements were made with our home office in New Jersey. The last time we had visited the headquarters of the mission was in 1980 when we were appointed as missionaries. Thus our leadership felt it was time we stopped by to reintroduce ourselves to the staff. With this in mind our second stop, after some time in California, was New Jersey. This was the land of Beth's birth and a number of her relatives!

Beth and I were married in 1974. On the day of our wedding some of her relatives from New Jersey came to join us in the celebration. Here was my chance to renew acquaintances and discover new relatives, on my wife's side of the family.

Borrowing a car from someone in the mission we navigated through the confusing streets of New Jersey to the house of Beth’s Aunt Ruth. Her home was a mere fifty feet from a major highway which they called a parkway. Since it was against the law to park on the parkway I was always confused by why they called it a parkway. In this small house, filled to overflowing with memories, I was introduced to close and distant relatives living in the general vicinity.

I once commented to my children that I was experienced in dealing with cross‑cultural marriages. Beth was a Yankee and I was a good old southern boy. Meeting her family confirmed we were definitely from different worlds.

The conversations covered a myriad of topics. At times I felt they were speaking a different language as they recalled events of their youth and the wonders of the region of their heritage. The children were a continued source of entertainment as well as a bit of anxiety as we wondered if they would knock over a valued family treasure in the crowded house.

I’m an avid believer in Manifest Destiny. If things get crowded then head west and find some breathing room. Aunt Ruth was delightful and the food delicious. The house was crowded bringing dreams of wide open spaces to mind.

Once I became accustomed to the close quarters, something I would call upon years later in Europe, I was able to learn more about Beth's past and northern culture. Talking to Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and visitors provided a great wealth of understanding and information on the family I married.

These were great folks, loving, caring, and willing to help when and where they were able. Because of one person, Beth, we were related and a bond of friendship and care existed. I’ve seen similar relationships develop in the body of Christ.

When we understand God's love and grace we come to Him, through Christ, to receive salvation and the promise of eternal life. But, we have eternal life with whom? It’s eternal life with God. Not only is it eternal life with God but with God's people as well.

God's people come from every walk of life you can imagine, some are even Yankees! People from every culture and government you can imagine will be represented in the eternal community. We will all be related through the one who shed his blood for us, Jesus Christ. Then we’ll understand the true meaning of cross‑cultural and the complete relationship we have in God through Jesus.

Papa Chick

Like Candy for a Baby

2011-02-19T10:37:00.001+01:00

For who among men knows the things of a man, except the spirit of the man, which is in him? Even so, no one knows the things of God, except God's Spirit. (1 Corinthians 2:11 WEB)

The first few weeks of one of our furloughs went as planned. We shared with family, friends and churches what God was accomplishing through the radio ministry. It was a joy to see excited faces and answer questions about God's work. We started in Houston, headed east, then north and wrapped around back through Kansas City and down through Oklahoma heading back to our starting point.

That furlough we enjoyed the comfort of a beautiful Oldsmobile sedan. Three in the front, three in the back and the trunk full to the brim. With cruise control and air conditioning we wandered along the highways from house to house and church to church. There were two big loops through different portions of the US planned this trip.

Toward the end of the first loop, just as we entered the northern reaches of Oklahoma City I heard a funny noise, the engine was suddenly bogged down and I pulled to the side of the road. A sudden rush of hot air from the air conditioning ducks led me to suspect the compressor was in trouble.

I turned off the air conditioner as I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. It was hot, unbearably hot. In the few seconds between turning off the air conditioner to stopping the car the temperature in the car rose sharply. This did not bode well in the middle of summer.

Stepping to the front of the car I opened the hood. At my shout Beth pressed the air conditioner "on" button. Immediately I shouted, "Turn it off" as I watched the belts flop widely and heard them squeal against the frozen shaft of the compressor. The air conditioner was a dead duck and there were several hundred miles to go before we could consider repair or changing vehicles.

With the windows down we headed south toward Texas and our next stop. It would be a long two days until we reached our friends in San Antonio. The next day we were caught in a traffic jam in Austin. It was hot, cars weren't moving and the children, not to mention Beth and me, were hot, irritable and ready for a cool breeze. The breeze didn’t arise but the heat continued to rise.

Evan reached a boiling point and decided he was hungry for something. Traffic didn’t permit us to pull over and enjoy a break. Evan continued to clamor for something to eat or drink. It’s amazing how the combination of heat, thirst, and an upset baby can quickly get on your nerves.

In the years God provided for us to raise our children we worked to reduce the amount of sweets and other "bad" foods they ate. The only thing in the car at this time was a bag of Sweet Tarts we had picked up somewhere along the way. Evan was only one, tired, hot, hungry, thirsty and bored from sitting in the car.

Beth and I knew these were not the best items to eat in the heat. The last think Evan needed was more energy he could not expend in the confines of the car seat. After a few minutes of his crying and complaining we relented and said, "Give him the Sweet Tarts!" It quieted him down, calmed our nerves and brought a sense if peace back to the stifling air of the car.

It’s amazing how the wrong thing could produce such good responses. Beth and I knew he didn't need the candy but a cool drink and some food. Evan cried out to get what he wanted. He didn’t really care what it was. He saw the candy and wanted it. After a while, we let him have it.

I think God deals with us like this sometimes. We look around and see something that looks exciting and enjoyable and cry out to get it. God knows better. He knows what we need and when we need it but we, at times, are too impatient to wait for His perfect will in our lives.

A few minutes later we were able to get off the highway and enjoy a nice meal in an air conditioned restaurant. Evan was too full from the Sweet Tarts to enjoy the meal. He filled himself with the passing pleasure of his eyes and was unable to enjoy the good food of the restaurant.

The same happens in our spiritual life. We fill up on the lust of the eyes and when the blessing of God comes we don't have room in our hearts to rejoice. If we have a little patience, a little time of waiting for God's answer and then we’ll receive what He has planned for our lives. The next time we see something we just can't wait to obtain, maybe it would be a good time to check with God about His plan and timing. We might be asking for Sweet Tarts when God has a steak dinner planned!

Papa Chick

Word Limits

2011-02-11T13:13:00.001+01:00

For in the multitude of dreams there are vanities, as well as in many words: but you must fear God. (Ecclesiastes 5:7 WEB)

Evan was an unexpected and delightful addition to our family. Of our four children, he was the only one born on the mission field. Granted, being born on Guam makes him an American citizen but it’s still special, just as he is special.

As each of our children was born, we wondered what characteristics they would develop and how God would use us to raise them for His glory. Evan began showing his verbal abilities at a young age. There is an old series of events. You have a newborn baby and are excited waiting for them to start walking and talking. When they reach this stage in their life, you spend the next few years wishing they would sit down and be quiet.

As soon as Evan discovered he too had the ability to speak, he took to talking like a fish takes to water. There’s a direct link between every thought which goes through his brain and the movement and sound from his lips.

According to his older brothers and sister, he was a great source of conversation even as a three and four year old. They would come home from school and have difficulty sharing their tales from the day because Evan had so much to say.

I read a magazine article which discussed word limits. They figured each person has a word limit per day after which others need to speak. Based on their calculations Evan exceeds his word limit before he finishes breakfast. If you figure the remainder of the day and look at life span, he would have to be mute from the age of thirteen to compensate for the abundant number of words spoken on an average day.

We love Evan and figure he is a slow eater because he talks so much between bites. When it comes to school plays, speeches in class and sharing the Gospel there is a benefit to a large vocabulary and unhindered speaking ability.

Compared to the volumes published by many modern preachers and teachers it’s amazing to discover how few words of Jesus are recorded in Scripture. God knows just how to turn a phrase and make a point without long detailed explanations.

Evan is learning this and so am I. Maybe we should each look at how we share the Gospel and consider whether we are adding too many words to the perfect words of Christ. Jesus didn’t feel that long theological explanations were necessary to point people to repentance and salvation. Why do we inundate others with our educational prowess and extended vocabulary when the simple message of the Gospel will suffice?

There is a place for many words in this world. I pray we can carefully determine when and where they are necessary and how they may lead other's to God's throne of grace.

Papa Chick

Four on Furlough

2011-02-05T16:05:00.001+01:00

My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:19 WEB)

When mission work was established many years ago, some missionaries would depart for their foreign field never to return. Others would remain on the field for twenty, thirty or more years before returning to their home land. The idea of the two, three or four year term is a modern invention.

At times I am thankful for this modern convenience and other times find it an interruption in my ministry. Most furloughs are a blessing and a chance to see family and friends. But, in truth, sometimes they interrupt the flow of ministry forcing a mental change of direction mid stride. When furlough is over it is, at times, difficult to get back into the swing of things and pick up projects which sat idle for months.

Our furlough in 1989 was a welcome break from the fast paced work of the mission field. We now sported four lovely children and were ready to give everyone a glance at Evan, our new "Guam" baby. Mission projects were in good shape and coverage was carefully arranged.

We put together a number of plans including an extensive travel schedule beginning in California and then on to the eastern USA. Friends we met on Guam were to be married in Pennsylvania, a trip was scheduled across a portion of Canada and visiting supporters in Michigan was on the schedule. There were also trips to Texas, across the southern U.S. to Florida, and back up through the Midwest and Kansas City.

Contrary to many opinions furlough was and is seldom a period of rest. It did provide a break in the routine but rest, that was a word that seldom applied to furlough, at least for our family. However, being busy was fun. Visiting supporters, family and churches were all an encouragement to our family and we prayed we would be able to encourage those we visited. The occasional side trip along the way to see some historical monument, museum, or natural wonder was an added bonus to all the travel.

As a family of six furloughs presented special challenges. Corralling four children through numerous airports, without leaving one behind, required eyes in the back of our heads. Evan took some of his first steps through the crowded passenger strewn waiting lounge in Tokyo Narita airport.

Once we reached our home base, a logistical challenge awaited. How would we fit six people, all our luggage, display material, playpens, portable cribs and car seats into a vehicle where we will essentially live for three months? We became very creative car packers. Every nook and cranny had some shoe, toy or other essential item stuffed inside. By the end of furlough you had the packing and unpacking down to a precise series of steps.

Each furlough, from the first through the most recent, God provided, through His people, a vehicle for our travel. This was quite a challenge but God provided abundantly. We never could organize such transport nor afford to rent vehicles with sufficient space. God has provided abundantly through His people.

Since we brought our children along, no one on the field wanted to keep them, our furloughs always fell during the summer months. The day after school was over, we headed to the mainland and returned one or two days before school restarted. For the children our travel about the USA made for great "What I did This Summer" stories.

With few exceptions, I remember our furloughs with great fondness. Taking our youngest son, born on the field, to visit his grandparents for the first time was a highlight. There were many tales and adventures for sharing in churches and with new found friends along the furlough trail. We enjoyed log cabins, fancy hotels, holidays for our anniversary while friends watched the children, theme parks, zoos, mountains, plains and just about every part of the USA.

Furlough is a break in the routine of the ministry work but not a break in experiencing God's provision and care each step and every mile along the way. At times, we were uncertain what was coming next and excited to see what God planned and provided. Our thanks go to the many that have made our furlough a time of encouragement and renewal and occasionally restful.

I am reminded of God's rest. Scripture speaks of this as a future event. It is definitely not furlough but God's care and supply. I look forward to our next furlough even as I think and write on the subject.

Papa Chick

A Word in Due Season

2011-01-31T06:23:00.001+01:00

. . . so shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. (Isaiah 55:11 WEB)

In the course of dealing with mail Beth sent out a large number of pamphlets from Guam. These small pieces of scripture and teaching wander about the world reminding us that God's word does not return void but accomplishes His purposes. Here is a letter Beth received in response to one of these pamphlets.

Dear Friends because of Christ,

It has taken me a long time to write back to you... It was because I've been on a long journey on a ship going round the Solomon Island Seas doing fisheries work. Yes friends, there is one thing I do mostly want to share with you ‑ during my journey I got with me the letter you've sent and the booklet. One night as I was about to go to sleep I took the booklet and started to read.

As I read something unusual happened to me. . . I broke down with cry. I was crying because I was the same as the man in the booklet ‑ mocking Jesus sometimes and even didn't believe in Him. As I was crying one of my workmates came into my room...! I showed him the book and after looking at the parts that stick me most he said to me, “Today is the day of salvation, your sadness will turn to gladness”" And from that very night...I've become somebody new, a believer.

Now I am a new being, a life which is new to me. Jesus has changed my life and has made an example of how a young lad like me leaves his rubbish ways and becomes a new being. And now I am starting to witness to my friends, I will let you know if Christ will win some soul through me.

Sometimes we feel our work falls into the cracks between the keys of life. A tract here and there appears to be just paper to fill up someone's waste can. That special word of encouragement invokes no response. Sometimes we are tempted to think, “Why bother?”

Still, often we find God uses these words, these efforts, these struggles to touch a soul for eternity. God works in His time, not ours. He makes our faithfulness useful in touching other lives, even when we don’t see the immediate results. We must not grow tired in doing good knowing that God will accomplish his purposes if we remain faithful.

Papa Chick

Roast Pig

2011-01-22T15:04:00.001+01:00

When one of those who sat at the table with him heard these things, he said to him, "Blessed is he who will feast in the Kingdom of God!" (Luke 14:15 WEB)

Fiestas were common on Guam. Holding on to island legends to be mixed with religious conversion there was a long history to the island’s culture. Between the historical celebrations and the religious celebrations there was always a good reason to party hardy!

These celebrations were large. If necessary a second mortgage, on someone's home, would be used to pay for their daughter's christening or sweet sixteen birthday party. It was taboo to have a small party for selected guests. Everyone in the family was invited and all the neighbors who heard the noise were welcome to wander on over.

A central food item, along with red rice, lumpia, pancit, and short ribs, was the roast pig. Watching the preparation was akin to watching an old swash buckling knights and damsels movie.

The pig was killed somewhere and the carcass brought to the home. Then the pig was gutted and skewered on a long spit and then placed over an open fire. For hours the spit was turned as the pig was roasted to a beautiful dark brown color. The head, tail and feet remained attached and the fur on the skin burned off over the fire.

When the meat was fully cooked the pig was un‑skewered, placed on a long table with an apple in its mouth. Yes, they really did put an apple in the mouth. The family and guests gathered around the table, someone prayed a prayer and the feasting began.

The first time we went to a fiesta we were not sure how Ellice and Joel would react. I don't remember the event but I do remember there was an abundant amount of food, a constant flow of beverages, and the requisite pig gracing the center of the food table.

Fiestas were generally buffet style eating arrangements. Each person grabbed a paper plate, a knife, fork, and napkin and then piled it as high as the plate would hold. If you were really a pig, or just hungry, you could take several plates to build up a stronger food base. You would then balance the plate on one hand, eat with the other and keep track of your drink.

Ellice walked up to the table and waited until someone placed a little pork on her plate. She then selected a few other delicacies she recognized. Joel, only four at the time, walked up and stared into the eyes of the roast pig. We watched to see what he would do. Our hosts noticed his stare and waited. It was like a staring contest which we felt the pig would win.

Finally, Joel turned to our host, who was serving the pig and said, "Give me some of that pig!" Our host smiled, laughed, and cut Joel a big piece of pork which he ate with delight. The pig might win in a staring contest but Joel had the last laugh.

We were invited to this banquet to honor a special event in the host family's life. God has also called us to a great banquet. I’m glad we attended this earthly banquet and didn't make excuses to stay away.

Sometimes we approach God's invitation, like the banquet Jesus described, and make excuses. We don’t take time to enjoy the bounty of God's provision. I think it’s time to remind myself I don't want to be excused from God's banquet table in heaven. I want to enjoy the feast He will place before us, including the roast pig. I can only imagine the delicacies He will have in store for me.

Papa Chick

Bullfrogs and Butterflys

2011-01-15T14:38:00.001+01:00

Seeing you have purified your souls in your obedience to the truth through the Spirit in sincere brotherly affection, love one another from the heart fervently: having been born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, through the word of God, which lives and remains forever. (1 Peter 1:22‑23 WEB)

All my life I enjoyed nature. I have a great love for most animals and a favorite pastime, on furlough, is to visit the numerous zoos across the USA. Reading about different animals, watching them crawl, creep, slither and swim has always fascinated me. Hiking in the forest, camping, sitting and watching the clouds go by are engaging activities.

My love for nature probably explains my interest in Scouting and camp outs. Several times a year my father and I would join the Scout troop and go camping. Summer or winter, it was always delightful and gave me a chance to observe the local wildlife. In the creek near our home I investigated the life span of frogs and watched the fluttering of butterflies in the forest.

Scouting was not a big option on the small island of Guam. They were there but not with the same friendship building, skill developing activities I remembered as a boy. Our children enjoyed the nature found in our neighborhood and throughout the island. Geckos, chameleons, praying mantis, snakes and numerous bugs were carefully investigated by all our children.

My favorite run in with animals occurred during a church presentation. It was a children's musical called "Bullfrogs and Butterflies." There was an Ark and our friend Dave played Noah while dressed as a pirate. The children took over the animal parts with a wide variety of costumes. It was the first big children's presentation in our church in years.

Ellice was called on to be a butterfly and Joel was cast as the green squatting bullfrog. Their responses to their parts were very different.

Ellice was thrilled to wear fluffy sleeves, a beautiful skirt and a hat with antenna. If she spun herself around the skirt would flare out like a ballerina. At each practice she carefully followed directions, learned her part and took the whole event seriously.

Joel, although willing to participate, was not quite as excited. He almost learned his part, followed most of the directions and made a great frog all hunched down on the platform. He was fascinated with all the costumes, the Ark, and the fun and excitement of so much singing and dancing.

I don't remember the whole performance. In truth I remember only a few special parts. Video tapes are a wonderful thing for resuscitating memories.

At one point Ellice was twirling about portraying the elusive butterfly. Suddenly her little skirt came loose and fell to the ground. Quickly she picked it up and tried to tie it back on. Poor Dave, he tried to help but wasn't sure how to attach the thin fabric of the costume.

Joel, at one point, squatted down near the front of the stage. Beside him were a couple other green clad crouching frogs. In unison they would belt out there "reedeep" then hop around the stage trying not to knock the other children off their feet.

Although they sang a number of songs I remember only one line from the theme song. It ran, "Like, bullfrogs and butterflies, you got to be born again." It's amazing I remember this line. My memory isn’t that good!

As Christians, God pricks out memories with simple and poignant messages. You've got to be born again! Praise the Lord all four of my children are born again. I pray daily they will lead others to God's throne of grace. I pray they will help other tadpoles and caterpillars discover they can be born again through God's grace.

Papa Chick

Beth Remembers the Children

2011-01-09T07:32:00.001+01:00

My little children, let's not love in word only, neither with the tongue only, but in deed and truth. (1 John 3:18 WEB)

As I, Beth, am reading all of these memories it reminds me also of wonderful things God has done and how good it is to remember his work in our lives. You have read about my working with children. Bob also writes about work in areas that you want to and feel gifted. It made me laugh how they tied together in a way Bob doesn't even remember.

Before we went to Guam I taught many ladies bible studies and felt this was a good match for my gifts. I didn't really like working with children and the thought of walking into a room of twenty three or more two year old bundles of energy for hours sounded awful. The church asked me to teach and I started with the fifth and sixth grade girls in Pioneer Club because they were the oldest class. I had a blast because I had great girls and they were old enough to obey and behave without much work from me . Many thanks to Rebecca and Heather.

Then I was convinced to help with Vacation Bible School so I helped people who really knew what they were doing. I watched Jacki and Kim and thought hey when you control the kids in a loving manner it’s fun to teach them. I then took on my first VBS class of four and five year olds. My son, James, was in this class and about twenty one other children. We did an ocean theme and we were a team of four with a memory verse person and a craft person and a teen for crowd control.

We decorated the room like you wouldn't believe . It was great. There was a blue carpet for seaside bible lessons and huge dolphins swimming around. Bible verse time was at the palm tree on an island complete with a treasure chest.

The unique part happened with our bible story and the presentation of the gospel. The first day I gave the lesson and presented the salvation message and the children listened and looked. The second day the same. Then, on the third day, sixteen children raised their hands when we gave the invitation! You should’ve seen the looks on our faces. We were stunned. All four of us sat there with our mouths open. There was this pause as we looked at each other. “What do we do now” was written on our faces.

We quickly took each of the children aside, who raised their hands, and talked and prayed with each one. They seemed to understand and were sincere and all of them prayed. Our only regret was one dear boy named Teddy who had seemed so open and wasn't there on Wednesday.

This shows how great God is and that it wasn't us that did any great work. Teddy's dad brought him in on Thursday and said, “Teddy tell the teacher what you did yesterday.” After lessons on Monday and Tuesday he talked and talked at home about the Lord and his parents led him to Christ on Wednesday while waiting in the Dentist office. I have followed some of these kids into their teens and am happy to be a tool God could use.

Papa Chick for Mama Chick

Spirit Led

2011-01-06T13:00:00.001+01:00

You didn't choose me, but I chose you, and appointed you, that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain; that whatever you will ask of the Father in my name, he may give it to you. (John 15:16 WEB)

As I grow older I see more and more change. I have the sneaking suspicion I was less observant as a young man. Still, while growing up my Father was excellent at teaching me to observe things. Not just big things that you can't miss but the small, almost insignificant, changes.

Teaching me this was very important for working in a technical field. When it comes to troubleshooting problems, accuracy involves noticing small changes and then discovering why. There is a mystical gift for good troubleshooting. My father taught me how to use the gift.

Over the years I worked with many engineers and technicians. Some were excellent at noticing the small things. Hearing the slight change in pitch from a blower, catching a scent of ozone from some failed part or noticing the tell tale wisp of smoke escaping a component were second nature. Others couldn't find the problem when the transmitter was in flames before their eyes.

Following the Holy Spirit's lead is much like troubleshooting. Sometimes the direction is obvious. At other times it’s noticing the small changes in life, family, work, prayer time, and studying God's word that tweak our heart to change. We each have a gift to recognize this prompting. Responding to God's call for change is important in our Christian walk.

Calling us to the mission field was a major undertaking for God. I am rather thick headed at times and can easily choose to ignore the signs and wonders which are so obvious. Still, once we were called, we knew it and responded to that call.

A calling it is. I emphasize the calling because it was not the choice I, nor Beth, would have made. As a matter of fact mission work was far from our thoughts and not part of our plan as a newlywed couple. And yet God prepared the way during my schooling and through the friends Beth established in Wilmore.

Reading missionary biographies, being introduced to furloughing missionaries, and being burdened for the lost were just some of the methods God used to put our feet on the right path. Because God did the calling, because God did the directing, because it was God's direction and not ours we see things with a different perspective than some.

Granted, there are many missionaries who understand what is involved in being called by God. Others, including some missionaries on the field and some full time Christian workers, don't appear to have a clue. It appears illogical, from a human standpoint, to work outside our training.

When our work is a calling we can either obey or run. This is like Jonah and the whale. If we choose to run, there is no place we can escape God's hand or voice. If we obey, we may not immediately know the results but can trust God to accomplish his purposes.

Hearing requires listening, obedience requires following. The problem for us can begin when God's calling is not to do what we feel we are trained or prepared to do! We use logic to try and avoid or ignore God's call in our lives. "Surely the Lord will want me to use my training and education to serve him," we say when God's leading doesn't fit in our earthly plans.

According to Beth’s training and education she is a physical therapist. According to my education and training I am a theologian and an engineer. When we arrived on Guam they didn't need a physical therapist or a theologian. They needed a secretary and a ditch digger. While this was not our training, God used these jobs to teach us to trust in Him. It was not a question of using our skills. It was a question of obedience to God's calling.

Through the years we have not always been so willing to follow when called to work outside our skills and training. Still, God used us in areas we never expected. In each case God provided the skills, understanding, and abilities to accomplish his task.

As I listen to people clamor about their rights, their need to use their training and skills, I am concerned. The concept of a calling appears to have faded. I think many of God's prophets were working outside of their training and abilities. They were willing, sometimes through divine encouragement, to obey God's calling regardless of the task ahead. What are we willing to do?

Are we guided by the Spirit or are we guiding the Spirit? Cleaning toilets, mopping floors, digging ditches for water pipes are not the normal activities for theologians, technicians or physical therapists. But God can and will work through us in these, and other areas outside our expertise, when we are willing to heed the calling and obey. I pray the Lord will remind me of this next time I kick against the calling because of my own selfish desires. I pray He’ll remind me and I’ll listen and obey.

Papa Chick

Suffer the Little Children

2011-01-04T16:03:00.001+01:00

But Jesus said, "Allow the little children, and don't forbid them to come to me; for to such belongs the Kingdom of Heaven." (Matthew 19:14 WEB)

God did not call Christians to suffer through the little children even though some children are insufferable. In these small bodies innocence is looking for answers to life just as adults struggle with the same question. Working with children, sharing with them the Gospel is a delight, a challenge, a struggle and requires a person with a lot of imagination and energy.

Beth is this kind of person. She is great with children. This is probably why I like to be around our four children. She is creative, marvelous with stories and loves making arts and crafts for our home and children's ministries. Everywhere we live she gets involved with children one way or another.

Brownies, Awana, Vacation Bible School all benefited from her gifts and talents. Even during our furloughs she would take the opportunity to work with children. I was usually relegated to behind the scenes constructing projects before the classes.

One year we enjoyed a Tee‑Pee in the classroom. This full size re‑creation required the ceiling tiles be removed so the top would fit in the room. The children thought it was great. One young man wanted to build a fire in front of the Indian dwelling. As a deacon I didn't think this was a good idea. There were no vents for the smoke in the building.

Another year there were paper fish hanging from the ceiling as the children experienced life under the sea. Wall size paintings, on bed linens, were often used to liven up the evangelistic opportunities. If it wasn't nailed down it was used for a children's ministry project.

One Guam summer it was time for Vacation Bible School. Our church held an ambitious program each year. Recruitment began just after Christmas running right up to the day before the joyous event started. The only excuse for not participating was being off island. I would go to the beach, stand in the water and shout I was "off island" so I could go to my mission work without a guilty conscience.

Each year Beth was thrilled as the little hearts responded to the Gospel message. She would sing, teach, play and show them God's love from a heart filled with God's love. I looked forward to the last night of VBS when the children would present music and skits for their parents and anyone who wandered into the church auditorium.

One year I was laughing with the antics of the kindergarten class and humming along with the music of the first grade class. A few more skits, songs and presentations followed and then came Beth's class.

Over twenty young ones came prancing onto the platform with stick horses. They used white socks to make the horses head complete with button eyes, felt tongue and twine manes. It took me a couple moments to come to a startling realization.

The morning before the presentation I dressed to go to the mission. Working in technical areas I often wore work boots and white socks. For some reason I couldn’t find any clean white socks. I figured they were all in the wash until I remembered them dancing in young hands across the stage. My sock drawer had become a herd of horses to the squeals and delights of Beth's class. Next year I started hiding my clothing when the subject of Vacation Bible School was broached.

Although some people view me as a grumpy person I have a grand time with children. For some reason they enjoy climbing, talking and having fun. I enjoy watching as they figure things out and seeing their eyes grow wide with wonder as they listen to a story about God's love.

Jesus called the children to him. He told us we need to be like children. We need to be innocent in our devotion. No withholding before God. Clear, clean, innocent openness. It is here He takes us into His heavenly lap, tells of the miracles of a life with Him and we find rest.

Papa Chick