Dead Flowers

I spent the week before my daughter's June wedding running
last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop, and the
church about forty miles away.

As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian
young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my
budget dwindle.

So many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son Jack
was away at college, but he said he would be there to walk his
younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who
had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he'd
wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had
large magnolia trees. Their luscious, creamy-white blooms and
slick green leaves would make beautiful arrangements against
the rich dark wood inside the church.

After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, we
banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we
left just before midnight, I felt tired but satisfied this
would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music,
the ceremony, the reception - and especially the flowers -
would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived - the busiest day of my life - and while
her bridesmaids helped Patsy to dress, her fiance Tim walked
with me to the sanctuary to do a final check. When we opened
the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted; and then
I saw them - all the beautiful white flowers were black.
Funeral black. An electrical storm during the night had knocked
out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day,
the flowers had wilted and died.

I panicked, knowing I didn't have time to drive back to our
hometown, gather more flowers, and return in time for the
wedding.

Tim turned to me. 'Edna, can you get more flowers?
I'll throw away these dead ones and put fresh flowers in these
arrangements.'

I mumbled, 'Sure,' as he be-bopped down the hall to
put on his cuff links.

Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark
wooden beams in the arched ceiling. 'Lord,' I prayed, 'please
help me. I don't know anyone in this town. Help me find someone
willing to give me flowers - in a hurry!'

I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white
magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety
from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would
not get out a shotgun when I asked to cut his tree to shreds.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance.
I approached a house...No dog in sight. I knocked on the door
and an older man answered. So far so good. No shotgun. When I
stated my plea the man beamed, 'I'd be happy to!'

He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them
down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my
car trunk, I said, 'Sir, you've made the mother of a bride
happy today.'

'No, Ma'am,' he said. 'You don't understand what's happening
here.'

'What?' I asked.

'You see, my wife of sixty-seven years died on Monday. On
Tuesday I received friends at the funeral home, and on
Wednesday . . . He paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes.

'On Wednesday I buried her.' He! looked away.
'On Thursday most of my out-of-town relatives went back home,
and on Friday - yesterday - my children left.'

I nodded.

'This morning,' he continued, 'I was sitting in my den crying
out loud. I miss her so much. For the last sixteen years, as
her health got worse, she needed me. But now nobody needs me.
This morning I cried, 'Who needs an eighty-six-year-old wore-
out man? Nobody!' I began to cry louder. 'Nobody needs me!'
About that time, you knocked, and said, 'Sir, I need you.'

I stood with my mouth open.

He asked, 'Are you an angel? The way the light shone around
your head into my dark living room...'

I assured him I was no angel.

He smiled. 'Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you
those magnolias?'

'No.'

'I decided I'm needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have
a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets
at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at
times like that and I have lots of them. They're all over the
backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches - all sorts of
places. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to serve the
Lord until
the day He calls me home!'

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder. On Patsy's
wedding day, if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who
was hurting, I would have said, 'Forget it! It's my only
daughter's wedding, for goodness' sake! There is no way I can
minister to anyone today.'

But God found a way - Through dead flowers.

'Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is.
The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.' That you for your Blog . Everytime I read it I am Blessed ,
Judy wilson
Clinta , Ohio

The Tongue

There is an ancient fable about a monster known as Proteus who had the power of assuming many shapes and appearances. He could become a tree or a pebble, a lion or a dove, a serpent or a lamb. He seemed to have little difficulty in passing from one form into another.

That fabled creature reminds me of the human tongue. It can bless or curse; it can express praise or whisper slander; it can speak a word or encouragement or spread the poison of vindictive hatred (James 1:10, 11).

Easter [ Hope }

Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to Him, “Rabboni!” (which is to say, Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that He had spoken these things to her.
--John 20:16-18

The hope that Mary Magdalene experienced the day of Jesus’ resurrection is the same hope you and I will celebrate this Easter Sunday.

For you see, my friend, this HOPE...

Helps you. It helps you cope with the darkness of disappointment. When you know Jesus Christ, you see Easter as more than a religious observance. It is the reality of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ!

Opens to you the possibility of restoration after defeat. Because Jesus came back from the grave, you can be restored and renewed, no matter how defeated you may feel.

Provides you an answer when you doubt. Today, you may be wondering if all this is really true. If so, I advise you to sincerely search for God with all your heart by reading the Bible and listening to His Word being preached. Because He will show Himself strong on your behalf.

Enables you to conquer death. Through your trust in Christ, you will live forever in eternity with Him.

Did you know that 60 percent of Americans will go to church this Easter? And did you know that only 25 percent of those who go even know Easter’s true meaning?

I don’t want you to miss the true meaning of Easter! Because Jesus Christ lives, you can be forgiven of your sins, you can live a fulfilling life, and you can be free!


YOU CAN HAVE HOPE TODAY BECAUSE OF CHRIST’S RESURRECTION!

Confronting The Cross

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

God is looking to us to see if the Cross of Christ is imprinted on our hearts and lives. The early Christians clung to the image of the Cross because it helped them remember Jesus. They did not see Him as still hanging on the cross, but viewed it as a symbol of God’s eternal love and forgiveness.

George Bennard’s hymn "The Old Rugged Cross" exemplifies this: "On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suff’ring and shame; and I love that old cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown."

The Cross was not the end or the final word on the state of mankind. It was a necessary step that had to be taken by Jesus before God’s salvation could be fully realized by all who would come to love and worship Him.

Early Christians came to understand that not only was the Cross a place where Jesus suffered and died, it was a symbol of their need to lay aside pride and anything that separated them from the love of God.

It is the same for us today. When we take up the Cross of Christ, we crucify all that we are apart from Jesus. We live for Him and Him alone. This is our glory, and the empty cross represents our crucified life.

The Cup and the Covenant

– Matthew 26:26-30
Jesus’ last meal with His disciples took place during the celebration of Passover. Giving them bread, He said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” Next, offering wine from a shared cup, He told them, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:26-28). Believers today observe the Lord’s Supper as a symbol of cleansing, consecration, and communion.

Jesus’ blood cleanses us of sin. Starting with Adam and Eve, God required a blood sacrifice to cover transgressions (Gen. 3:21; Lev. 17:11). But this was just a temporary solution, as the next offense required another sacrifice. Jesus was God’s permanent answer to the problem: He took upon Himself all sin?past, present, and future?and died to pay the full penalty.

When a believer receives salvation, he is consecrated?or set apart to the Lord. His sin is forgiven, and he receives eternal life as well as the indwelling Holy Spirit. But if he at times forgets that he belongs to the Lord, he may give in to temptation. The bread and the cup provide an opportunity to remember what the Father expects of His children and to renew one’s commitment to obey.

The Lord’s Supper is also a time to be in communion. We are connected not only with the Lord who saved us but also with past and present believers. Among members of God’s family, we find comfort and support, just as the disciples and the early church did.

The Lord’s Supper is a good time to stop and recall what Jesus has given us. Partake solemnly and gratefully.

Lord's Supper

Lord's Supper

In World War I, in a British section of the Western Front, just a few miles back from the front lines, was a hut named Talbot House. It was a meeting place for men going up to the trenches and men coming back. In the loft above they served Communion--truly an upper room and literally a last supper for many men. Over the door were these words: "Abandon rank all ye who enter here." Always, those words are above the place where the table is spread. We are all on the same level here. All of us are sinners--confessing our sins and seeking forgiveness in the only place it can be found--at the foot of the cross.

Marooned

A man sat on a large mound of sand in a chair totally surrounded
by a deep ocean. He had been shipwrecked after crashing his
small catamaran.

He was relieved to be out of the icy waters; although, he could
swim. He solemnly took in his fate. He stubbornly refused to
leave his chair. He had prayed many days for God to make him a
millionaire and was frustrated that he found himself in such a
predicament. He sustained himself by fishing with a makeshift
fishing pole and cooking the catch of the day and eating few
berries that grew nearby.

Over the months that he was marooned, he saw many sailors and
fisherman fall overboard but they were too far away to help.
Finally one day a fisherman came so close he couldn’t help but
stretch out his hand and the weight pulled him into the water as
well. He managed to pull himself and the man up on the mound of
sand. As soon as this occurred, a helicopter appeared from
nowhere, the pilot left the fisherman behind, but not before
handing him a thick envelope. “Hey wait” the man yelled, but the
helicopter vanished as quickly as it had come.

The man was amazed to find $10,000 dollars in the envelope.
The next time a fisherman fell overboard the man eagerly leaped
in the water and rescued him. He remembered all his prayers to
God to make him a millionaire. When the helicopter came this
time he asked the pilot who had sent him. There was no answer.

He more curiously wanted to know why the pilot kept taking the
fishermen and leaving him behind. Again there was no answer.
Finally just before the pilot left, he asked the man if he knew
what was on the back of his shirt. Curious himself, he took off
his shirt and read the back where these words were written:
"Lifeguard-Pay him $10,000 each time he saves a life."

Often God has blessings waiting for us if we just stretch
ourselves beyond our comfort zone. Many times we waste all our
energy trying to move ourselves to a situation that we deem more
desirable, but it’s not where God needs us to be.

We miss the blessings we have asked God for trying to change our
titles. God may have given us titles like "Husband" and
"Father" or "Neighbor" or "Wife" and we try to shed these titles
for titles of our own making.

Pray and stay in tune to what God has for you so that you have
the appropriate title and are in the right place at the right
time. More often than asking for money, we ask for peace, joy
and happiness: yet, we put ourselves in situations where this is
least likely to occur. God’s quiet voice often says "move on."
Sometimes He says, "stay just where you are."

The End

Give Thanks

It is impossible to feel grateful and depressed in the same
moment.

In each of our lives, for whatever reason, there are times that
we are faced with things that just don't make sense to us.

And the more we struggle to understand our hardships,
the less any of it makes sense.

I have found that in every challenge and obstacle that we are
faced with there *can* be good that can come from it!
While it's almost never easy to identify, I assure you that it
is there, lying dormant just waiting for us to release it!

I urge everyone to spend your days looking for positives in your
life. Just be grateful and you can't be depressed.

What positives have you given thanks for today?

Is Dialogue a Basis for Christian Unity?

I have to confess to a certain annoyance with buzz words–warm fuzzy jargon words like “dialogue” and “inclusion.” I’m sure at times the annoyance has been of my own creation. They can be perfectly good words after all. But at some point on the I’m-ok-you’re-ok train these words picked up some unwanted baggage.

Take the word “dialogue” for example (or “conversation” if you like). It’s a fine Christian word if it simply indicates a willingness to take others seriously, speak to them humbly, and consider their ideas responsibly. But “dialogue,” in contemporary parlance, usually means far more. It implies a disdain for monologue. One-way proclamation is just too self-assured, too settled, and too propositional. For many postmoderns, truth is a journey. Consequently, we are suspicious of those who claim to have arrived at some destination. No one is supposed to know anything for certain and certainly no one knows they’re right. So, of course, dialogue is the only way to truth. Dialogue, in the end, may be truth itself.

The call for dialogue among Christians often comes from those with inter-faith sensibilities. Now, hopefully, it is obvious that talking respectfully and intelligently with people of other religions is a good thing. It may not be as obvious, however, that in many circles dialogue serves as an antidote to evangelism. Instead of hoped for conversion, the goal is open-minded conversation. In fact, believing too strongly in the rightness of one’s convictions is considered dangerously closed-minded and a barrier to genuine dialogue.

If our goal is persuasion–which ought to be at least one of the goals for Christians talking to non-Christians–I’m simply not convinced that dialogue is the way to go. For starters, the doctrinal edges of Christianity are often smoothed over in inter-faith dialogue so as to be non-distinct. In the book Buddhists Talk about Jesus–Christians Talk about the Buddha, Grace Burford, a practicing Buddhist scholar wonders aloud about her Christian counterparts in the book. She asks, “If they were so taken by Buddhism, why did they hang on to Christianity?” Sadly, the Christianity presented in inter-faith dialogue is rarely historic orthodoxy, and more frequently a secularized, syncretized version of Jesus-appreciation plus Western-style tolerance. Maybe this explains Burford’s title to her chapter: “If the Buddha is So Great, Why are These People Christians?” (quoted in Timothy C. Tennent, Christianity at the Religious Roundtable, 9-10).

Even for the committed Christian who holds to historic Christian orthodoxy and is a little less enthusiastic about the Buddha, dialogue, sometimes a good foot in the door, can only go so far. A few years ago I asked a retired missionary who spent many of his years in ministry facilitating Christian-Muslim dialogue how many Muslims he saw come to know Jesus from their inter-faith dialogue. “None,” he told me. Then I asked if he ever saw any Christians convert to Islam. “Sure,” he said, “a few.” Hardly a ringing endorsement for reaching the unreached by dialogue.

Intra-Christian debates are just as overrun by dialogue–the tool of choice for resolving (read: delaying) denominational conflicts, especially those having to do with homosexuality. The plea is always for more talking. But do we ever call an end to the meeting of the minds and simply make up our minds? Do we ever declare, ala Martin Luther, “Here we stand”? Are there any issues so clear and so important that to spend time in dialogue would not be a sign of patient discernment but of cowardly equivocation? Does there come a time when the need to rest on the side of truth means we resign ourselves to the fact that there are going to be “winners” and “losers”? When do we swallow hard and admit that it’s fruitless to dialogue for the sake of unity when both sides don’t agree on anything except the most nebulous, ambivalent, watered-down expressions of Christianity?

I think the Apostle Paul would be truly exasperated by our endless conversation. No doubt, he was willing to continue teaching and “dialoguing” with people who wanted to know more about Jesus. But for deserters and false teachers, he had little patience. He called them out by name–Alexander, Hymenaeus, Philetus, Demas, Phygellus, Hermogenes–and warned his fledgling flocks, “Be on your guard against them.” So much for dialogue.

And then there’s the word “inclusion.” Another fine word in its own right. Considering the church’s spotted past in excluding people for the wrong reasons–too poor, too black, too awkward–inclusion can sound awfully good. And it is, when by “inclusion” we mean something like “welcome.” The church, of all places, should be an inviting haven for any sinner-come-lately and any socio-category that treasures Jesus in faith and repentance, or is simply looking for spiritual guidance.

So what’s the problem? The problem is one of boundaries. I am convinced that most of our wrangling in churches and denominations is over where to put up fences. What are the boundaries for fellowship? Membership? Leadership? What does one have to believe, say, or do in order to be counted as one of us? Where inclusionists have gone wrong is in removing theological and ethical boundaries that are essential in defining what it means to be Christian.

Picture a wide open field with a fenced-in square in the middle. The fence posts are doctrines, behaviors, and affections. The area inside the fence is Christianity. Outside the fence is not Christianity. If we put the fence somewhere else or remove it entirely, we no longer have anything definably Christian. If we take down all, or most, of the key fence posts in the name of inclusion, we may have included more people, but not in any meaningful way. In all the hubbub about inclusion, the irony is that it cannot exist without exclusion. Caroline Westerhoff writes:

If anyone and everyone are too easily included, we are saying in effect that anything goes. We are disclaiming boundaries. And as our membership is more and more made up of those who will not or cannot confirm some measure of adherence to the core practices and values of the defined community, that community as we have known it will disappear...if even initial membership is without qualification, then we stand for little other than being nonsensically “inclusive.” If belonging is without obligation and accountability, then we finally have not joined much of anything at all, and any significance that community might have held for us evaporates like mist ("Good Fences: The Boundaries of Hospitality," 29).

It should be commonsense when you stop and think about it. What is the great humanitarian feat in having all kinds of people join some inclusive institution, when the institution itself has no boundaries to define what it means to be a member? It’s kind of silly to speak of joining a group that doesn’t stand for anything and doesn’t turn anyone away. What, then, have you really joined?

Of course, in the end, inclusive churches and other institutions do have boundaries. Even the most wildly accepting community draws the line somewhere and excludes some people, usually those who are less wildly accepting of the same things they are.

In other words, every institution, if it is any kind of discernible community, has its own creed and convictions. Some are published, publicly recited, and rooted in Scripture. Others are unwritten, but no less powerful. Every group that can be meaningfully joined stands against some other group. Inclusive churches are inclusive of gays, lesbians, and doctrinal innovation. But they are exclusive (though it won’t be written down in any by-laws) toward those who cannot tolerate homosexuality in the church and advocate doctrinal standards. For inclusionists, nonjudgmentalism does not usually extend to those who put up their fences a little closer in.

If inclusionists--be they emergents, inter-faith gurus, or social gospel acolytes--draw their boundaries to exclude evangelicals, fundamentalists, traditional Catholics, and others they deem theological nit-picks, that is their perfect right. It would be nice, however, if they realized they were exclusive like the rest of us.

Who knows, with a little dialogue, maybe they will.