Perspectives

Four men were traveling down the road and one thankful for what he had said,'"I thank God that he blessed me with a nice vehicle to drive from my big house to my prestigious job." The next man, thinking his friend was too specific said, "I thank God that he blessed me with the ability to drive from a home he provided to a job he gave me." The third man said, "I thank God he blessed me by keeping me on this side of the grass, so I can see the beautiful world around me." The last guy said, "I thank God that one day I will stop breathing and see the world of heaven."

The men were not trying to outdo one another. They were not trying to Pharisee-like seem more pious or humble. Each man truly felt thankful for his life from the perspective he chose to mention. None of the men were wrong yet each of them clearly show the intention of their hearts.

What we are thankful for is a revelation of what we hold dear. What we thank God for is a revelation of what we believe we get from Him. What we thank God for is an indication of what we take for granted or rather what we perceive that we bring to the table. It shows where we think the line is between man and God.

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2 Tales of Providence

Often the tales I share of Providence can appear to be merely coincidental incidents that just happened shortly after other events. For instance, last week my Monday and Tuesday were so slam packed that during normal business hours I was unable to order some flowers to send to my bride for our anniversary. This would have been a tragic mistake on my part, but Serendipity takes me everywhere.  My middle child had a fever Wednesday morning. This resulted in my wife staying home with her rather than going to work, where I would have sent the flowers. I further avoided the fallout of "missing" a day I look forward to every year by surprising my wife by taking off the rest of the week and driving the 320 miles from where I work to where I live without her knowing it. But the stories are not always so close or short behind one another.

When we first moved to live on the lake, our demands for internet exceed the capacity of the local system so we had to get satellite internet. We were never satisfied with the service, and don't get me started on the quality of the installation, so after a year when DSL was available in the area we ditched that dish (but not the television dish--love DirecTV). That oversized dish was installed on a pole, a metal 2 inch diameter, 6 foot tall steel pipe that we took with us when we moved. Over the course of the next 9 years I contemplated throwing it out time after time. The dish I did throw out about 3 years ago. The pole remained. I knocked the concrete off the bottom and considered using it to secure the Christmas trees I regularly sink beneath the pier for a fish habitat. But never did, the pole stayed in an out-of-the-way spot where only I ever saw it. Only I ever thought about getting rid of it. Only I never did.

The weekend before my anniversary, I needed to change the brakes on the family van. We bought it about eight months before and one rotor was a bit warped and wore out the pads. When I went to take off the tire, the lug nuts were tighter than Silas Marner. I tried three different lug wrenches including a four-way and then an eight foot piece of PVC pipe. Then I remembered the dish pole. It was halfway covered in dirt and still had the dish mount on the top but a few quick bangs of a hammer and that popped off. In a matter of seconds, my makeshift cheater bar broke each of the lugnuts so effectively I had to tighten them back before I jacked the car up.

What kept me from disposing of that pipe for all those years? You can blame laziness, you can blame a desire to hoard things. I know what kept me from throwing it out, and I'm ever thankful that He protects me from me. ~~~~~~~~~~~

And let's not forget the iPod we hid so well before Christmas. Guess what turned up? Hidden in a great spot, when I take it back the refund value is the same cost as the brake pads and rotors.

What a Day!

We all have things in our lives we regret. Sometimes those things also turn into things we never do again, even though no one besides ourself knows or recognizes it. During the run-up to my wedding day someone gave my beautiful young bride a gift that included a black garter with a small gold ball and chain in the middle. A gag for the groom. Ever the kidder, I thought it was hilarious and despite the fact that she told me explicitly not to wear it, I chose to. Not for the whole day, but the hour or two I ran around the church before the ceremony getting things ready. I had great fun opening doors and hollering, "If there is anyone in there about to get married leave now 'cause I'm coming in!" I knew it would be some time before any pictures would be developed IF I got caught wearing the thing (remember those days when you had to actually wait for the bird to chip out the stone to produce a picture?), so in addition to the old wives' tale about bad luck seeing the bride before the ceremony I was trying to make sure I had that lead time. I was successful in not seeing her before the ceremony. It was a long day, but eventually I stood there with my Best Man, partner in escapade upon escapade, fellow Van Halen fanatic, and cousin Karl to my left and Brother Jimmy Bradford to the right as the organ music began to play.

From 30 November 1984 until 16 Apr 1998 I could not hear an organ play without tearing up. It did not matter if it was a pipe organ in a high and holy church, a reed organ in a cozy church or the one at the Kingdome for Mariners games. Organs made me crack. I had a handkerchief handy as the music started. Brother Jimmy reached over, patted, then held my elbow. I think he is the only one that knew I was crying, though it is true that while everyone's eye is on the bride she is the only one who looks at you.

Staring down the nave of the small church I could see family and friends in the pews on both sides. We had huge candelabras to either side of the pews. Again it would be months before we realized that while we did light the candles, no one turned off the lights in the church. The bridesmaids came down, the ringboy and flower girl did their thing and my breath caught in my throat. The door of the church swung open and I received a quick glimpse of the most gorgeous red-headed woman dressed in blazing white before it swung back shut. I felt as if I had seen something I should not have but before it could really register the door again swung open and in came the love of my life, my soul mate, not only my better half, but the only part of me worth knowing.

On this day, exactly two decades ago, I married my one true love, the wind beneath my wings, and the mother of my children.

The garter was the last time I made a joke about my wife in the stereotypical husband/wife manner. I am married to my best friend, and wouldn't have it any other way. I have never since understood anyone making such jokes, clearly they don't have the relationship I do, but I love her and am thankful every second of every day for her choosing to put up with me.

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The only weird part of it all is that I was able to marry her long before she was born because she is still only 18.

The Hand of God Sometimes Smacks You

A few years ago our church instituted a Prayer Email Chain. I jumped on the bandwagon very early on, and while I don't always drop everything for a full-blown prayer, I do send off a quick one most of the time when reviewing the emails. I have also gotten into many conversations with the lady who sends the emails out, oftentimes including information that I don't want her to share but share with her because of our friendship.  Quite often I remind myself of how happy I am that I serve a God who operates outside the linear timeline we do because I know that what that really means is that it's alright for my prayer to come AFTER the event the prayer was asked for. Though I do try to pray at the specific time a prayer is needed if possible. For instance, if someone is going to the doctor for a test at 1000, I try to pray at 1000 if I can, but if I didn't see the email until the next day, I know my prayer was still heard and taken into account. This is an incredibly optimistic view of Providence, but is there such a thing as a pessimistic view of Providence? Well, dumb question, there is, but that's not where I'm headed (this time).

Since my split-personality life started I have viewed these emails in a different light. Like a lot of people, I am bad at remembering people's names. As I am quick to say when meeting someone new, it isn't that I'm unable to remember names, it's that I'm so much better at forgetting them. In these emails I see names of people I may or may not be able to put with a face, but now, with me being so far from them during the work week I actually feel closer to them when I get these emails. This is very odd because for the most part, I don't feel close to most of them when I'm sitting in church with them. Again, this is a very different topic than the one I want to talk about here. Our church is large, and is made of lots of people who are from the town, have been going to the church 2 or more decades, and aren't as accepting of "outsiders" who have only been going there a "short" while. This is not a wholesale dismissal of the church, because there are lots of us who have only been going there for A decade (come June) that are more banded together (though I'm not sure I mix well with them either), it's just that our diversification is not a well mixed diversification.

And if you take this to mean I don't play well with others I can admit that I tend to be blunt and don't mind speaking what's on my mind. I also have been known to run with scissors and all three of my children were born naked. As you can also see, I've been known to get off track, too.

Recently we have begun a push to pray about the need to relocate the church. We have outgrown the corner we are on and need a bigger facility to continue to reach those we need to reach. Again, the fact of needing to better reach those currently attending is one I have blogged about before (since it is not just a problem of our church) and is not the intent here (it was the intent here and here for 2 examples). One individual has taken it to heart and has been heading up a Call to Prayer on Saturday's in the sanctuary. Periodically he has sent out long epistles the intent of which is to advertise, for lack of a better word, the events. These emails strike me as almost blog-like and I don't like them at all. If I wanted to read the lengthy tomes he prints I would subscribe to a blog he writes (not that he does) as I don't like the stuff in my re-connect with your hometown emails. Last week, however, Providence slapped me in the face.

The emailer listed three unrelated things that had come out in church publications. The first was in the Pastor's column of our weekly newsletter. The second was a prayer email praise for an answered prayer. The third thing I will copy directly from the email:

And Sandra sent this prayer request out this week: Unspoken anonymous prayer request from a church member.  Blessings!

You may ask how the last one can be a blessing. Because this church member has faith that no matter what the problem is, nor whether the church know's who they are....God has got this!. I am blessed by this person's faith that the church family will lift up their problem unknown to us but trusting that God has everything under control. 

This smacked me in the face though it would surprise most that it did NOT smack me in the face because of the improperly used ellipsis, use of the word nor without neither, or the doubled punctuation. He absolutely nailed the rationale of the anonymous requester. The anonymous requester knows absolutely without question or the slightest hint of doubt that even though no one knows who they are or what the need is that GOD HAS GOT THIS! The anonymouse requester doesn't send all of their requests to the prayer email because he knows God has those requests too. He sometimes don't want to bother others, is sometimes afraid that those who don't like him because he doesn't allow them to rest comfortably in their status quo and speaks his mind (especially in business meetings) wouldn't pray for him if they knew it was him. Is it odd that he still believes their prayers are effective? I don't think so and neither does he.

This was Providence smacking me in the face because of who said the statement, because of where it was said, and because I know the exact mind and heart of the anonymous requester because I am currently wearing the anonymous requester's underwear. The unspoken matter is the very matter that led me to need to find a reason to drop work and go back home last week. The unspoken matter led me on the very hectic journey that provided me an opportunity to remember God's hand is constantly in my life. Not only to cause issues for Him to take care of, not only for Him to take care of, but to smack me upside the face and say, "Yo, Knucklehead! Remember Me? I GOT THIS ONE!"

 

The Rest of the Story Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The prayer isn't answered yet, but it will be.

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The Rain

Typically when I am traveling back and forth I have several activities that occupy my time: talking on the phone (via Bluetooth for safety reasons), listening to Car Talk, a book on CD, a missed sermon from church, or solving the world’s problems. The later, is like yard work, when the motor stops your solution disappears. In addition to two episodes of Car Talk, I listened to two sermons left over from December that I had missed. These two were the grand finale to the expository series we had about Jude. When I tried to listen to them the first time I was unable to concentrate on them because of the recent business meeting. In particular I was a little angry about my motion being tabled. Partly because the motion to table was used incorrectly (Roberts was a Civil Engineer as am I, so I’m more aware of some of the nuances of Roberts’ Rules), but also partly because despite the fact I made a very specific motion it was dismissed as a carte blanche motion and re-referred to the committee that hadn’t been able to take action on the matter (even though I serve on the committee and was tasked by the committee to do something). So my anger in not being able to do what I wanted to do kept me from listening to what I wanted to listen to when I wanted to as well as made me listen to it when I needed to listen to it.

One statement made in the first sermon is so powerful I can see a whole post just on it. That statement was: I have no more right to, or am no more deserving of Grace then Jesus was deserving of becoming sin. Dr. Thweatt said it better, but my paraphrase hits the high points and swings the hammer hard. The first sermon reminded me yet again of Providence and the touch that was leading me home right when I needed to be there. But another affect of them was a desire to call my preacher. I don’t like to call people after nine at night. Even though they tell me it’s okay, even though I’ll gladly answer the phone at all hours of the night, I just don’t like calling people after nine. It was five minutes until nine.

As I pulled up his number I noticed that I was driving near the area where my cell phone signal gets flighty. Cell phones are great when they work, but I dialed anyway. After an unsuccessful attempt, I retried and got the message that I had no cell signal. I prayed. There had to be a reason I felt the urge to call him. I simply gave it to God and said that if He wanted me to call, I’d get through. I retried with the same effect. At which point I began to think, “Maybe I’m calling the wrong number.” So I hit his cell number instead of his home number and a split second before my finger hit the button to dial my antenna went from “Searching” to a single bar.

He was on the road, so he wasn’t at home if I had called, and needed to hear the joy I had for his message. From time to time I have heard him preach and afterwards told him that he had not preached at all that day, as it was this time; he was a conduit for God sharing exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it even though it was a month and a half later when I heard it.

The rain I was driving through at times was heavy, but it again became symbolic to me. He knows where every drop will land today. And He put me on a path where my vehicle intercepted those drops that I needed to intercept. Some of the boulders were large, some small, some I carried around, some I threw up into the air and was surprised when they landed, and some hit me out of the blue. Yet all of them put me where I needed to be.

The Rest of the Story Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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Along the Long Way Home

I have an app on my iPhone that allows me to see where the nearest Pilot Station is. For those that don’t know, Pilot is the greatest truck stop in the world (or at least the South). They are usually large, clean, well-stocked, and busy with both truckers and non-commercial drivers. The price of their gas is usually cheaper too. Their greatest asset of course has to be that no matter what time of year, you can almost always find Hostess Orange Cupcakes in them. Some of them are practically right out of the oven. If you’ve never had one, try one, they blow away the chocolate ones (plus it’s easier to spell). There are 2 main routes to get from my where I live to where I live in my split-personality life. One is through Tuscaloosa, Meridian and Hattiesburg. The other goes through Montgomery and Mobile. Both have 2 Pilot and numerous Flying J stops on them. The Flying J is an affiliated truck stop that my app also identifies, but to me it’s like Levi’s and Wranglers—same thing only different. On the way down Monday I used my app to see that by milking my mileage and waiting until Meridian I could save 2 cents per gallon over stopping at the Pilot just outside Tuscaloosa. Yes, it’s that important. The fuel light came on 2 miles from the exit but I saved 24 cents on gas.

While crossing the Pascagoula River I decided I could check on the difference between the Theodore and Satsuma Pilots (about 30 miles apart). However, my iPhone had only the Edge network and not the 3G network over the marsh. Those with AT&T Service expect what I’m talking about. My boss’s boss directed me about a month ago to get an aircard so that when I go to the training classes (such as the one in Huntsville) I would still be able to work remotely, as I was planning. Serendipity truly takes me everywhere. To compensate for my lack of signal, I reached in the laptop bag and pulled out my Verizon WiFi Hotspot and cranked it up. Almost immediately I determined that stopping in Theodore saved me 1 cent per gallon on the gas, so I stopped at that station and filled up again. Yes, I did all this at 75 mph.

Laughing about this, I began to pray by thanking God that while I am often out of cell phone coverage I am never out of prayer coverage. I have prayed this prayer before as I’m out of cell coverage a lot, even with both an AT&T iPhone and a Verizon Blackberry. This in turn got me thinking that no matter what I do, I am also never outside of His touch, His guidance or His grace. I always fall under the hand of God and I am ever so thankful that I do not.

Being Human, and having the sin nature of Adam often gets me outside the spot He has for me. Using that line to explain human weakness, is a rhetorical technique of using an anathema that makes us feel better because we blame Adam instead of ourselves. But no matter how we explain it, we cannot get outside of His protective hand.

How often do you get a chance to describe your relation with your cell phone providers to your relation with God? For the record, owning 2 Smartphones makes one feel dumb.

The Rest of the Story Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

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A Town in Rhode Island

Last week about this time I experienced a particularly vivid demonstration of the fact that Providence is at constant work in my life. Chief among these acts were a series of completely unrelated and yet inexorably intertwined events that shaped more than just the course of my week. Taken separately they appear to be simply anecdotal events of the kind that a personal blogger would share about. While I tell them separately, they are not simple anecdotal examples but symbolize a greater presence. Rather then inundate you with the complete story in one post I have broken it into several posts, but check back to see how the story unfolds. It is simply amazing (and if I were a better webmaster I would link Simply Amazing to this sentence because like the story, the song will stick with you). Last week, I received a call from my wife who presented an issue that while I couldn't fix by being present made me want to need to be present. Being 300 miles away as my split-personality life has me during the week was not the answer, but it also made it hard to find a reason to be able to leave to be at home. There were some items that I needed to take care of that could only be taken care of in the office. There were several I could do outside the office, but only if I did some other parts in the office first.

Within about a half hour of the call, I received an email that I had been expecting the week before. Had I received it as late at 18 hours earlier I would have forgone the drive to the Mississippi Coast and stayed on the lake because the email instructed me to go to Huntsville the next day. At that point, I had my justification to adjust fires to set up the things I needed to accomplish in order to work remotely, be at home for my family, make a doctor's appointment I had made before my split-personality life began, as well as to attend the Men's Prayer Breakfast at church that I used to faithfully attend every week before going to work for my present employer. While on the way home I got an email that the Building and Grounds Committee at church needed a special called meeting to address the matter of chairs that I have brought up in our Business Meeting for the last 3 years (see also previous post describing my Karmic Christmas Present, bonus munchies points if you get the title). This is a matter that will come back quicker than even I imagined. As I got further down the road, I had a call to set up an appointment dealing with the pending placement of the Byrdhouse onto the market (followed by a second such appointment the next day). In other words, there were a good number of things I needed to be at home for, and now I would be.

The Seredipitous Hand of Providence mixed with Karma again brings me to be exactly where I need to be.

 The Rest of the Story Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Home tends to be a relative term as I have a house (where I stay during the week), a home (where my heart and my girls are), and a home away from home (my vehicle). And for the record, impossible is a synonym for unimaginative and the words Karma, Serendipity, and Providence are interchangeable in my book. They are all symbols of the same touch of God's hand.

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Discipline on a Sunday

Sunday's sometimes turn into battlegrounds at the Byrdmouse House. My oldest daughters don't want to get up (ever). Yesterday was no exception. I left with my middle daughter after the time Sunday School had started so we were very late. She in turn didn't want to go into her class late. We were only late because of her, but that's a finer point lost to a double-digit-pre-teen. As I walked the hall headed to my class, I met the Associate Pastor. He has a cool, long title, but even he thinks it too long and settles for AP. He mentioned that there were few people in my class so they joined another class for the day. This shouldn't bother me, but I was a member of that class for several years. I didn't fit in, didn't like it, and when the class I joined after being in it disbanded I called the AP and told him that I would be watching the "SS Enrolled" numbers in the weekly bulletin and it had better go down by 1 because I was no longer enrolled in a class. Seems harsh but only because it is. I know lots of people in the class, some I even consider friends, I don't have anything against them or the teacher but month after month I sat in the class thinking that I was one of the youngest members of the class and yet the subject matter they were going over was juvenile compared to where I am in my walk.

Similar
Similar

After walking around the church once, I went on to the class. Most of the people in there I don't get to see much, many I never get to see with my new split personality life, so I sucked it up. The teacher was at the beach (again) so a substitute was in charge. A great guy, and good teacher, but as he started it was as if I had never left.

He began by talking about the discipline of God and asking if we ever praised the discipline of God. Who gets happy about discipline? The thing is several years back, I tried it. It works. Do I crave being disciplined? No, and while Dondi talked I was playing in my head about how often now when my car breaks down or I scrape a knuckle fixing a problem I don't really know how to fix I find myself praying and thanking God for paying attention to me. I can't count the number of times at the start, or in the heat of a bad moment I have thanked God for working on me, told him I would spend as much of His money as He wanted to on the problem, and it would be great if He would just reveal to me what it is I needed to know. It has been life transforming.

As these thoughts whirl through my mind, I began thinking of a story point, one where the student learns and grows by what the teacher says even though the teacher doesn't get it. This will be another story post, but not the point. While this is going on (doesn't everyone operate on multiple levels simultaneously?) my phone rings. It's my young bride, who subsequently texts me to say "Answer the phone." Now I'm dense, but one thing I can do is follow instructions, at least from her, and at least part of the time.

My eldest child decided she really didn't want to do what her mother wanted her to do. After having drug her feet and making the self-fulfilling prophesy that she wouldn't be ready to go with me to church, she was being brought with her mother and youngest sister to her grandmother's where they would be helping her recover from a recent operation (the reason my wife wasn't with me at church). After slamming the hall door, the sliding door, the screen door to the porch, she yanked on the motorized, automatic door of my wife's van and proceeded to pull it off the track.

Did you know you can pull a van door off its track? Me neither. This led to a half hour search when I was unable to find my middle child (a different matter entirely) so I left her at church while going home to fix something I had no idea how to fix. Lying on my back in the driveway on leaves, sticks and pebbles looking up at my grease covered hands, partially buried in the guts of the bottom of the van door, wondering if I was about to pinch or cut off a finger, I noticed the irony of it all. I was about to (and did) pray my "thanks for the discipline, what am I supposed to be getting out of this" prayer.

The door snapped back in easily. I had figured out 3/4ths of it before my wife pulled up on the iPhone the trick (back and in) to the operation. My daughters received their discipline later. I received mine. And I was able to put my money where my mouth was implementing a Sunday School Lesson while it was being taught.

God is good, all the time.

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Malaise

People who are employed by governments, whether at the federal, state, or local level tend to be described as lazy people who don't do much work and get paid for doing nothing. I have been employed by two municipalities, served in the military, and currently am a federal employee. I have seen the workers that are complained about, I have seen lots of them, I have worked with, for and over more than I care to remember. But they aren't all that way. Oftentimes the government does things in a strange way. Lots of time it is a stupid way. Like spending millions of dollars to build a new building then turning around the next year and selling off all the property including the new building. From time to time the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing. I can describe to you a situation where the index finger doesn't know what the social finger is doing. This is seen as status quo and stereotypical when working with (and for) the government. It doesn't have to be, and it isn't always.

One thing I review and comment on is safety. Even when I started I saw things that I had always seen on construction sites as the standard practice, but I learned that the way it's always done isn't always the way it's supposed to be done. In fact, the way it's always done is often the exact opposite of the way it should be done, but most people don't know that. As a result, they continue to do things the wrong way.

These are three examples of things that don't really go together, don't match and are the furthest thing from the Providence of God. And yet, they are all examples of doing things the same way over and over again so many times that the same thing has changed. The "we've always done it this way" mentality changes. Whether from comfort, conformity, lack of problems, laziness, or just plain easier way to do it, the only way to do it is not the only way, not the same way, and most definitely not the right way.

Why do I add God to it all? There is a similar malaise in religion, in churches, in Sunday School classes, in church business meetings, and in the minds and though processes of some who claim to be followers. So much so that some who once picked up their cross have put it down and others never picked it up, simply following along with the crowd convinced they are on the right path.

I'm not the one to point it out specifically. I'm not the guy who will look you over and say, "You're wrong." I'm not the guy who will say, "I'm right, follow me." I'm just a guy who says there are some who are wrong. There are some who aren't carrying their own cross and serving the way we should. I'm just a guy who is trying to make sure I'm doing it the right way. Trying to follow all the safety rules, make sure the right hand knows what the left hand's doing and they both make sense, not just punch a time clock and do my job, and try to keep on the narrow path doing what the Bible says we need to do, and reaching out a hand to those who stumble. Hoping I make a difference: at work, with my work, on the job, and in my walk.

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Camping, Again

Though to say this is in honor of Harold Camping is a bit of a stretch, this re-post from 20 May is being re-posted because of him. Unlike the first time, I am posting it ON the day of Camping's apocalyptic day. Why? Because I know you'll still be able to read it.  

This morning I went to iTunes and bought Knocking on Heaven's Door, the Guns N Roses version not Bob Dylan's or Avril Lavigne's. The version I downloaded was by the original band members (before they kicked out Izzy) and was on the Days of Thunder Soundtrack. Now as much as I love Days of Thunder, and as many times as I saw it both in the theater and out, I never once heard the song in the movie. I did hear the Dylan version in Lethal Weapon 2, but that's not the point.

Camping proclaims to have uncovered the "key" to the Bible, and has mathematically described how The Flood was the first apocalypse and the exact number of years between Apocalypse 1 and Apocalypse Redux. It's elaborate and depends on counting years in both BC and AD, without any regard to the time period between Christ's birth and death (that one has long bugged me). He does take into account that there was no Year 0, which of course is why the 21st Century didn't start until 2001. Among other things he ignored is the fact that it was the 6th or 7th century before BC and AD were invented and that the calculator was anywhere from 4 to 400 years off, depending on whom you believe.
 
Another pesky fact that is overlooked is the fact that after Apocalypse 1 God said he wouldn't do it again. But why ignore the little verses?
 
There is no "key" to the Bible. It is a book to be taken in its whole, not split up, dissected and used in pieces to explain whatever happens to be the decision du jour at the time. The Bible is a work of literature, in fact it is THE work of literature. All other works of literature are based on the literary principles included in it. This is not to say that it is a work of fiction, but metaphors, parables, parallel concepts, allusions to past and future events are all used in literature because it was used in the Bible. But what Camping has done is to slice it up, read his own interpretation into it and come up with a date he believes will be the end of the world.
 
This degrades the integrity and character of not only Camping's work, but of all Christians. Here's a newsflash for you Harold, unless you take the Marshall Applewhite ticket, your mortgage comes due again next month. You do not know the date or time of the Rapture. You are not knocking on heaven's door, and it won't be answered according to your time frame.
 
Besides, the door is open. The path is narrow, but the door is always open.
 
Update:  Who doesn't like a C.S. Lewis quote,? This one works on many levels, but it at least works on this level.
"God, in the end, gives people what they most want, including freedom from himself. What could be more fair?"-CSLewis
 

NPR Article on Harry's new date: http://n.pr/p8hVis

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Homeward Bound

A strange phenomenon occurs at the end of a vacation. It is easily noticed if you work at the desk of a hotel (not that I ever have). People come in mad and angry. Not just because their vacation is over, but because they have to go home to the worries, problems and things they were happy to get a break from on the vacation. It was easy to forget about the problems for a few days, to shut off the brain, to go from worrying about work to worrying about how to play as hard as you work--or sometimes harder.

My grandfather, Daddy Byrd, used to tell me that if I wasn't happy doing what I did at work it was time to find another job. He was a true Master of All Trades, and had had many jobs at many different places. His father had run sawmills, and he had done every job there was to do in a sawmill. With his best friend as a partner, he owned a dock selling gas, ice, boats and motors (I like fun with an Evinrude). They got wiped out by a couple of hurricanes, and never rebuilt after one (I think it was Camille, but it may have been Betsy). He was the maintenance man at the Church of the Redeemer, doing everything from grass cutting to preparing the altar to refilling the Holy Water. He practiced what he preached.

My wife's father was the opposite. He hated every single day of the 29 years he worked at US Steel. If his former boss were on fire in front of him he wouldn't urinate to put him out. As a result, she thinks I am the luckiest man in the world because not only do I love what I do, I go in and come home with a smile on my face.

Now these two things, vacation and work don't seem to be related except that as I leave Florida to return to what pays the bills, I'm not mad thinking about the problems I needed a break from. It's not because I took care of them all before I left. It is certainly not that I don't have any. Constant prayer and giving it to God. He takes better care of me than I ever could. He gave me an great wife, three beautiful, talented daughters, my dream job, a house on the lake, a vehicle I love--even if it is a tight squeeze putting the 5 of us in it with luggage. It's easy being happy when you're this well taken care of, but rest assured it isn't always that way. And even when it's not I've learned that I still can't take care of myself as well as He can. Tough lesson to learn, but ever so worth it.