A bump in the Clouds 5-5-2004
The propellers rotated faster and faster, the plane slowly moved forward, the wings danced as they turned into the wind for takeoff. Soon the small plane was rolling down the runway, faster, faster, until there was a quick upward lift and the 24 passengers were headed into the clouds. Rain had fallen most of the evening and the clouds promised more as the plane cut through them, gaining altitude. Soon the plane leveled off between two cloud stratum, the higher one flat and smooth, the lower one resembling large cotton balls piled one on top of another.
The flight attendant asked for drink orders, moving efficiently up and down the aisle. The passengers were asked to remain seated with their seatbelt fastened, due to the off chance of unexpected turbulence. Drinks came, snacks were eaten, and trash was placed into the appropriate containers. I settled down into the seat, read a little and watched the clouds roll by under the window. They formed shapes, reformed into different shapes - sometimes looking like a mountain range, sometimes a valley, or even a few animal shapes were imagined. Their appearance belied their power.
The plane entered a harmless looking cloud formation. Soon a new sensation was felt by all of the passengers - our stomachs felt as if they were being pushed down. It felt somewhat familiar - like the time I was on the roller coaster, just as we entered the long drop down the steep hill. The sensation lasted only a few seconds, when all of a sudden we dropped straight down. The passengers were pitched up out of their seats, seatbelts strained to hold bodies in place. Loose objects were tossed upwards to the cabin ceiling. Only by bending heads forward were passengers able to avoid injury. The screams died down, the flight attendant talked to the pilot, the passengers showed their sense of joy and relief. The power of the clouds was conquered as the plane settled gently onto the concrete and rolled to the terminal.
We each go about our daily lives surrounded by the clouds of life - job issues, family concerns, financial obligations, health issues, tasks and chores. These clouds sometimes look very harmless, sometimes dark and ominous. Sometimes we are traveling along and the bottom falls out from under us. As we fall, we are caught by our seatbelts of faith - our faith that holds us close to our Rock - Jesus. We may experience a bump with our job, our family, our finances, our health, but God is there with us -
holding us to Him.
The flight attendant asked for drink orders, moving efficiently up and down the aisle. The passengers were asked to remain seated with their seatbelt fastened, due to the off chance of unexpected turbulence. Drinks came, snacks were eaten, and trash was placed into the appropriate containers. I settled down into the seat, read a little and watched the clouds roll by under the window. They formed shapes, reformed into different shapes - sometimes looking like a mountain range, sometimes a valley, or even a few animal shapes were imagined. Their appearance belied their power.
The plane entered a harmless looking cloud formation. Soon a new sensation was felt by all of the passengers - our stomachs felt as if they were being pushed down. It felt somewhat familiar - like the time I was on the roller coaster, just as we entered the long drop down the steep hill. The sensation lasted only a few seconds, when all of a sudden we dropped straight down. The passengers were pitched up out of their seats, seatbelts strained to hold bodies in place. Loose objects were tossed upwards to the cabin ceiling. Only by bending heads forward were passengers able to avoid injury. The screams died down, the flight attendant talked to the pilot, the passengers showed their sense of joy and relief. The power of the clouds was conquered as the plane settled gently onto the concrete and rolled to the terminal.
We each go about our daily lives surrounded by the clouds of life - job issues, family concerns, financial obligations, health issues, tasks and chores. These clouds sometimes look very harmless, sometimes dark and ominous. Sometimes we are traveling along and the bottom falls out from under us. As we fall, we are caught by our seatbelts of faith - our faith that holds us close to our Rock - Jesus. We may experience a bump with our job, our family, our finances, our health, but God is there with us -
holding us to Him.
The Bicycle 5-12-2004
When I was about 10 years old, my parents gave me a very special bicycle – a 26-inch, English-style, black bicycle with hand brakes. It was the most beautiful bicycle that ever a boy could want. This bike was the envy of every child on the block – but it was mine!
I would ride down the street and heads would turn. Kids would point and call out to their parents, “I want one just like that!” I was feeling important. However, there was a slight problem with my bike – it had 26-inch wheels. I had 24-inch legs. It was impossible for me to mount the bike with any dignity at all. I had to pull the bike up to the stoop, climb up to the top stair, and balance the bike with one hand as I swung my leg over the bar. Then with the other leg I had to push off from the stoop and hope to hit the pedal – otherwise I would come down hard on the bar. (That was very painful!) I learned that I could not sit on the seat, but was permanently riding my bike standing on the pedals. (Dad screwed some blocks on the pedals, which gave me some relief, for then I could sit and reach the upside pedal.)
I learned that I also could not control my dismounts. I either rode up to the stoop and reversed my “getting on” dance or just fell over. I also learned that to impress the neighborhood children, I had to mount in the backyard away from anyone’s notice.
So, one summer morning I mounted my bike and headed down the drive. I hit the sidewalk, made a quick turn and was now cruising. As I crossed in front of the front door, I caught a glimpse of Dad heading to the car for work. I thought, “How cool would it be for me to race Dad to the corner? I bet I could win!” However, Dad was going in the opposite direction – I had to turn around – fast. So, in the wink of an eye I swung the bike out into the street between two parked cars. The squeal of the brakes registered at the same time as Mom’s scream, Dad’s yell, and the car’s bumper hitting my leg. I stopped, put my foot on the car’s bumper, regained my breath, hopped off the bike, walked it into the garage and didn’t ride it again for three months.
It was on that day that I discovered that God, indeed, cares about His children. There were millions of souls in the world at the time I swung into the street. There were millions of prayers being offered. The laws of physics would have concluded that there was no way on earth that I could have avoided a trip in a hearse or, at the least, an ambulance. Yet on that day, at that time, the laws of physics were suspended as one foolish boy escaped from certain disaster with nothing more than his pride bruised.
God is a God of millions – God is a God of individuals. He does care about each and every hair, each and every soul. God is a miraculous God. I thank Him for the lesson of the bicycle.
I would ride down the street and heads would turn. Kids would point and call out to their parents, “I want one just like that!” I was feeling important. However, there was a slight problem with my bike – it had 26-inch wheels. I had 24-inch legs. It was impossible for me to mount the bike with any dignity at all. I had to pull the bike up to the stoop, climb up to the top stair, and balance the bike with one hand as I swung my leg over the bar. Then with the other leg I had to push off from the stoop and hope to hit the pedal – otherwise I would come down hard on the bar. (That was very painful!) I learned that I could not sit on the seat, but was permanently riding my bike standing on the pedals. (Dad screwed some blocks on the pedals, which gave me some relief, for then I could sit and reach the upside pedal.)
I learned that I also could not control my dismounts. I either rode up to the stoop and reversed my “getting on” dance or just fell over. I also learned that to impress the neighborhood children, I had to mount in the backyard away from anyone’s notice.
So, one summer morning I mounted my bike and headed down the drive. I hit the sidewalk, made a quick turn and was now cruising. As I crossed in front of the front door, I caught a glimpse of Dad heading to the car for work. I thought, “How cool would it be for me to race Dad to the corner? I bet I could win!” However, Dad was going in the opposite direction – I had to turn around – fast. So, in the wink of an eye I swung the bike out into the street between two parked cars. The squeal of the brakes registered at the same time as Mom’s scream, Dad’s yell, and the car’s bumper hitting my leg. I stopped, put my foot on the car’s bumper, regained my breath, hopped off the bike, walked it into the garage and didn’t ride it again for three months.
It was on that day that I discovered that God, indeed, cares about His children. There were millions of souls in the world at the time I swung into the street. There were millions of prayers being offered. The laws of physics would have concluded that there was no way on earth that I could have avoided a trip in a hearse or, at the least, an ambulance. Yet on that day, at that time, the laws of physics were suspended as one foolish boy escaped from certain disaster with nothing more than his pride bruised.
God is a God of millions – God is a God of individuals. He does care about each and every hair, each and every soul. God is a miraculous God. I thank Him for the lesson of the bicycle.
Mommy I'm Scared 5-19-2004
I was about five years old when I developed a case of the chicken pox. I was kept home from school and allowed to lie on the sofa in the TV room. I spent a couple of nights on that couch – it was close to Mom and Dad’s bedroom. (Usually my brothers and I slept upstairs in the attic room.)
It was a Sunday evening when the whole family gathered in the TV room to watch Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz.” The film was a hit with the family. The songs were catchy, the story line was exciting and the ending made us all long for home. I was allowed to go up to my own bed that night for the fever had abated.
It was about midnight when I awoke. I had just had a dream about witches, flying monkeys and houses falling on people. I looked out the window and was relieved to see the light from the street lamp shining brightly through the window. Then I glanced up at the ceiling. Now our bedroom was only partly finished. The walls were paneled, but the ceiling was just rolls of Johns-Manville insulation stapled to the rafters. The light cast shadows on the exposed paper. I soon saw monkeys, witches and flying houses glaring down from the ceiling. I froze in my bed – too scared to even move.
Finally I composed myself just long enough to yell out, “Mom – Mom, I’m scared!”
The light went on overhead as Mom rushed up the stairs. Hugs and kisses soon put the monkeys, witches, and flying houses away – replaced by folds of Johns-Manville paper. Mom’s hugs gave life and strength to me. The world was a nice place once more – she cast out the darkness – both with the electric light and with the light of her very being.
I still get scared. No longer do I see images in the folds of paper, but I see the monkeys of worry as I look over the checkbook and wonder about the future price of food and gasoline. I see the witches of self-doubt as I review my past deeds. I see the flying houses of doom and gloom as I worry about tomorrow. I cry out, “Mom – Mom, I’m scared.”
Mom doesn’t come to my rescue anymore. No, Bunny, my children, my extended family, my friends, my co-workers and all sorts of Christian witnesses have replaced her. They shine their light of faith brightly into the darkness of my fear and I experience the warmth of the Son through them. Thank you.
It was a Sunday evening when the whole family gathered in the TV room to watch Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz.” The film was a hit with the family. The songs were catchy, the story line was exciting and the ending made us all long for home. I was allowed to go up to my own bed that night for the fever had abated.
It was about midnight when I awoke. I had just had a dream about witches, flying monkeys and houses falling on people. I looked out the window and was relieved to see the light from the street lamp shining brightly through the window. Then I glanced up at the ceiling. Now our bedroom was only partly finished. The walls were paneled, but the ceiling was just rolls of Johns-Manville insulation stapled to the rafters. The light cast shadows on the exposed paper. I soon saw monkeys, witches and flying houses glaring down from the ceiling. I froze in my bed – too scared to even move.
Finally I composed myself just long enough to yell out, “Mom – Mom, I’m scared!”
The light went on overhead as Mom rushed up the stairs. Hugs and kisses soon put the monkeys, witches, and flying houses away – replaced by folds of Johns-Manville paper. Mom’s hugs gave life and strength to me. The world was a nice place once more – she cast out the darkness – both with the electric light and with the light of her very being.
I still get scared. No longer do I see images in the folds of paper, but I see the monkeys of worry as I look over the checkbook and wonder about the future price of food and gasoline. I see the witches of self-doubt as I review my past deeds. I see the flying houses of doom and gloom as I worry about tomorrow. I cry out, “Mom – Mom, I’m scared.”
Mom doesn’t come to my rescue anymore. No, Bunny, my children, my extended family, my friends, my co-workers and all sorts of Christian witnesses have replaced her. They shine their light of faith brightly into the darkness of my fear and I experience the warmth of the Son through them. Thank you.
The Less Traveled Road 5-26-2004
When I was a teenager, Dad would have a habit of sharing his stories and advice with me – at bedtime. He would come sit on my bed just after I pulled the covers up. He would share stories from his youth, from his Army days, and he would share his hopes and dreams with me. He would often quote poetry. One night he shared the Robert Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken.”
His recitation was moving. He was especially emotional when he came to the lines:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
I have often thought of that night. It was very apparent that he was telling me to be my own person, not follow the crowd and to stay true to my faith. Many times in my life I have faced two roads. Sometimes I have traveled with the crowd. I have joined in and walked for miles, joyfully, willingly, blindly following the group. These roads sometimes led to a destination at which I was not fully intending to arrive. Most of the times I found that these roads followed the world and turned me away from the Word. I would arrive at a destination and look for a way out. There was always a path open to me. Sometimes the path was well marked and evident, sometimes I had to search. All of the times the path led me away from the world and back toward the Word.
Walking the less traveled road is often lonely. It is possible to see the wide avenues filled with people laughing and sharing their journey, but they do not notice me. Almost always my companion on the less traveled road is my wife. She extends her hand and we walk together, sharing, observing, and leaning on one another.
We sometimes meet other people. We visit, share experiences, and pray for one another. We refresh each other on our journey. Regularly we will stop at church. We cherish the time we are comforted, encouraged and renewed through interaction with the body of believers and the Body of Christ.
Perhaps the disciples felt much as I do. Christ had returned to heaven and they had to make choices. Their roads were much like my roads – some very crowded, some less traveled by. They also cherished the companionship of family, friends and fellow believers as they walked the less traveled by path.
I thank you for allowing me to be part of your journey. I thank you for your walk with me. As we travel along a new path together, we are comforted to know that we have a very real and constant companion – our Risen Lord and Savior – Jesus Christ!
His recitation was moving. He was especially emotional when he came to the lines:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
I have often thought of that night. It was very apparent that he was telling me to be my own person, not follow the crowd and to stay true to my faith. Many times in my life I have faced two roads. Sometimes I have traveled with the crowd. I have joined in and walked for miles, joyfully, willingly, blindly following the group. These roads sometimes led to a destination at which I was not fully intending to arrive. Most of the times I found that these roads followed the world and turned me away from the Word. I would arrive at a destination and look for a way out. There was always a path open to me. Sometimes the path was well marked and evident, sometimes I had to search. All of the times the path led me away from the world and back toward the Word.
Walking the less traveled road is often lonely. It is possible to see the wide avenues filled with people laughing and sharing their journey, but they do not notice me. Almost always my companion on the less traveled road is my wife. She extends her hand and we walk together, sharing, observing, and leaning on one another.
We sometimes meet other people. We visit, share experiences, and pray for one another. We refresh each other on our journey. Regularly we will stop at church. We cherish the time we are comforted, encouraged and renewed through interaction with the body of believers and the Body of Christ.
Perhaps the disciples felt much as I do. Christ had returned to heaven and they had to make choices. Their roads were much like my roads – some very crowded, some less traveled by. They also cherished the companionship of family, friends and fellow believers as they walked the less traveled by path.
I thank you for allowing me to be part of your journey. I thank you for your walk with me. As we travel along a new path together, we are comforted to know that we have a very real and constant companion – our Risen Lord and Savior – Jesus Christ!