A Grave Threat 10-3-2002
“A Grave Threat” -- those were the words that a reporter used to describe the situation in Iraq last Monday morning as I was driving to work. The news report indicated that we might go to war against Iraq because it constituted “a grave threat.” Truer words were never spoken. Yes, if the United States launched a military action against Iraq, there would be graves. Young men and women in pressed uniforms, complete with medals, would be laid to rest in freshly dug graves. Other men and women in no uniform other than work pants or a dress would also be laid in fresh dug graves, casualties of war. That men and women would be facing a grave is not a threat; it is fact. In every war ever fought throughout history, soldiers have fallen alongside of civilians caught by the unyielding force of weapons of destruction.
The threat of graves has often been used to keep the peace. Weapons of mass destruction were invented to deter the loss of life. The reasoning was that when faced with the threat of too many graves, war would be averted. Using the threat of a grave to bend one’s will has been practiced for centuries. When Jesus stood before Pilate, Pilate used the threat of a grave when he asked Jesus, “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” Pilate could not use the threat of a grave with Christ. Christ had the power over the grave. Christ willingly went to the grave to save us from the grave of eternal suffering.
Last Tuesday I stood at the grave of my long time co-worker, mentor and friend Cornelius B. Sieving of Nashville, Illinois. Corny was the first person to call me when I was a brand-new, wet-behind-the-ears, rookie principal at St. John’s Lutheran school of New Minden, Illinois. I sat down behind my principal’s desk and was very discouraged. I faced mountains of paperwork. There were county health forms, lunch reports, text book orders, supply orders, CA-60’s, achievement test orders, I.Q. test orders, Kleinhenn fund-raiser forms, attendance forms and any manner of report and form conceived to confuse a rookie principal. Corny came over and within three hours had my desk piled into three neat heaps: things that could hurt me now, things that could hurt me later and things that could never hurt me. His rule was, “Do what can hurt you the most -- the soonest.” Corny mentored me for over ten years while we served together in the Southern Illinois District. We kept in touch over the years and spent many a night playing pinochle and discussing the state of today’s youth when I moved back to the area. He was a true brother in Christ.
I stood by his casket and thought, “Thank you, Lord, for allowing Cornelius Sieving to touch my life.” I mourn with his family, but Corny lives in my heart and in my memory. Corny also lives eternally in heaven. I rejoice with him as he walks with his Lord. I smile to think that Corny can now see face to face the Savior he proclaimed to his students for 41 years of being a teacher/principal. I am comforted to know that there really is no “grave threat” for those who know and trust in Jesus. I thank God for all of the people who came to know Jesus as their Savior by Corny’s testimony. There really is no “grave threat” for those who trust in Jesus for Jesus has turned the threat of the grave into the promise of the grave. Through our earthly grave we enter into eternal life.
I pray comfort for all those who mourn, strength for those who are weak and rest for all those who are troubled.
The threat of graves has often been used to keep the peace. Weapons of mass destruction were invented to deter the loss of life. The reasoning was that when faced with the threat of too many graves, war would be averted. Using the threat of a grave to bend one’s will has been practiced for centuries. When Jesus stood before Pilate, Pilate used the threat of a grave when he asked Jesus, “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” Pilate could not use the threat of a grave with Christ. Christ had the power over the grave. Christ willingly went to the grave to save us from the grave of eternal suffering.
Last Tuesday I stood at the grave of my long time co-worker, mentor and friend Cornelius B. Sieving of Nashville, Illinois. Corny was the first person to call me when I was a brand-new, wet-behind-the-ears, rookie principal at St. John’s Lutheran school of New Minden, Illinois. I sat down behind my principal’s desk and was very discouraged. I faced mountains of paperwork. There were county health forms, lunch reports, text book orders, supply orders, CA-60’s, achievement test orders, I.Q. test orders, Kleinhenn fund-raiser forms, attendance forms and any manner of report and form conceived to confuse a rookie principal. Corny came over and within three hours had my desk piled into three neat heaps: things that could hurt me now, things that could hurt me later and things that could never hurt me. His rule was, “Do what can hurt you the most -- the soonest.” Corny mentored me for over ten years while we served together in the Southern Illinois District. We kept in touch over the years and spent many a night playing pinochle and discussing the state of today’s youth when I moved back to the area. He was a true brother in Christ.
I stood by his casket and thought, “Thank you, Lord, for allowing Cornelius Sieving to touch my life.” I mourn with his family, but Corny lives in my heart and in my memory. Corny also lives eternally in heaven. I rejoice with him as he walks with his Lord. I smile to think that Corny can now see face to face the Savior he proclaimed to his students for 41 years of being a teacher/principal. I am comforted to know that there really is no “grave threat” for those who know and trust in Jesus. I thank God for all of the people who came to know Jesus as their Savior by Corny’s testimony. There really is no “grave threat” for those who trust in Jesus for Jesus has turned the threat of the grave into the promise of the grave. Through our earthly grave we enter into eternal life.
I pray comfort for all those who mourn, strength for those who are weak and rest for all those who are troubled.
In His Time 10-10-2002
Last Saturday Bunny and I visited a craft sale, signed up for a free year’s membership at Costco and stopped by Home Depot (one of my favorite stores). We bought lots of flower bulbs, dirt and mulch. By the time we arrived home, Bunny was feeling tired as she had missed her nap and the pain pills hadn’t kicked in yet. She laid down and I started an indoor project -- some research about seeing who had the best sports programs on TV. The planting of the bulbs would wait until Sunday afternoon. Sunday was planned
I woke up Sunday to rain! I was feeling down, I wanted to plant bulbs, God had rained on my day. I was thinking that if we got out of church early enough, we could hit the dinner before the rush, get the errands done and maybe have time left to plant the bulbs. Off to church we went; it was LWML Sunday -- special service, special songs and two baptisms. One of the school parents decided that he wanted to be baptized along with his infant son. I rejoiced with the family, but watched the clock. There was still time left to beat the rush.
Bunny asked me if I would wait while she fed the animals (two iguanas) in her classroom. I sat at the computer and remembered that she had a problem with one of her programs. I thought I could fix that while she fed the animals and still get out in good time. Two hours later we finally left. Now I am really hungry. When we walked out of church, we saw a bright sunny day. The rain was gone, the clouds disappeared and it was one of those early fall days that are made to work in the garden. Off to the dinner we went.
The dinner was a family-style, all-you-can-eat affair. We waited for a table and sat down surrounded by people we didn’t know. The meal tasted delicious and soon the conversation included the couple across from us. One thing led to another and soon Bunny was offering to send them copies of her preschool cookbook. (Bunny cooks with her children every week and wrote a cookbook that included recipes that the children can make for each letter. My favorite is Mr. “B’s” buns.) A brief argument ensued over the cost of the books -- free -- versus what they wanted to pay. A compromise was struck -- they gave her a nice donation for the school library.
The cell phone was purchased, the garden dug and two hundred bulbs found a new home. The day was fantastic! It struck me as I was kneeling in the dirt that if I had stuck to my schedule we would never have met the couple, the cookbooks wouldn’t be shared and the gift to the library wouldn’t have been given. It was then that I could thank God for His timing (I was already on my knees). I could see His hand in my life. It was a humbling experience to realize that He cares for me -- individually and personally! He provides what I need when I need it. He is in charge.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” – Isaiah 55: 8,9
- church
- eat at a neighboring church’s roast beef and potato pancake dinner
- buy a new cell phone
- plant bulbs!
I woke up Sunday to rain! I was feeling down, I wanted to plant bulbs, God had rained on my day. I was thinking that if we got out of church early enough, we could hit the dinner before the rush, get the errands done and maybe have time left to plant the bulbs. Off to church we went; it was LWML Sunday -- special service, special songs and two baptisms. One of the school parents decided that he wanted to be baptized along with his infant son. I rejoiced with the family, but watched the clock. There was still time left to beat the rush.
Bunny asked me if I would wait while she fed the animals (two iguanas) in her classroom. I sat at the computer and remembered that she had a problem with one of her programs. I thought I could fix that while she fed the animals and still get out in good time. Two hours later we finally left. Now I am really hungry. When we walked out of church, we saw a bright sunny day. The rain was gone, the clouds disappeared and it was one of those early fall days that are made to work in the garden. Off to the dinner we went.
The dinner was a family-style, all-you-can-eat affair. We waited for a table and sat down surrounded by people we didn’t know. The meal tasted delicious and soon the conversation included the couple across from us. One thing led to another and soon Bunny was offering to send them copies of her preschool cookbook. (Bunny cooks with her children every week and wrote a cookbook that included recipes that the children can make for each letter. My favorite is Mr. “B’s” buns.) A brief argument ensued over the cost of the books -- free -- versus what they wanted to pay. A compromise was struck -- they gave her a nice donation for the school library.
The cell phone was purchased, the garden dug and two hundred bulbs found a new home. The day was fantastic! It struck me as I was kneeling in the dirt that if I had stuck to my schedule we would never have met the couple, the cookbooks wouldn’t be shared and the gift to the library wouldn’t have been given. It was then that I could thank God for His timing (I was already on my knees). I could see His hand in my life. It was a humbling experience to realize that He cares for me -- individually and personally! He provides what I need when I need it. He is in charge.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” – Isaiah 55: 8,9
Frogs and Toads 10-17-2002
This past week Bunny was teaching her children (25 Pre-K and Kindergartners) about various animals. They were discussing frogs and toads. She asked the class if anyone could tell the difference between a frog and a toad.
"Yes, teacher, I know," volunteered one little girl squirming to be recognized. You have to picture how she looked, bright-eyed, smiling, leaning over the table, half out of her seat, excited to know the answer. She had the information and was straining to share it.
"OK, what is the difference?" asked Bunny.
"Frogs go, 'Rivet, Rivet,' but toads go, 'hippety-hop, hippety-hop.'" Her voice intoned the position of, "that's that -- next."
Bunny suppressed her reaction -- laughter -- thanked her and asked if anyone else had an opinion.
One little boy dared to raise his hand, for now the girl had fixed everyone with her "I knew the answer and you better back me up" look.
"Yes, frogs go, 'Rivet, Rivet,' but toads go, 'Croakkkk, croakkkk,'" he ventured.
The little girl looked devastated, for her answer was wrong!
The little boy noticed the girl and quickly added, "but some toads go, 'hippety-hop, hippety-hop.'"
The girl smiled, her feelings intact. The boy smiled; his answer pleased the class, teacher and the girl. Life was good.
How could Bunny follow that? She did manage to go on with the class. She shared that with me and I thought, "What a great lesson."
The interaction between the boy and the girl is priceless. What a world we would have if each of us could recognize and react to others' feelings as quickly and as smoothly as this young student reacted to his classmate. He did not want to hurt her; he wanted to share. He looked for a way for her to feel important. I like that young man. He has a heart for people. I know that in his circumstances that he will most probably lose the idea of selflessness and build a tough guy exterior, but for now, at least, he has a kind heart. I like the girl. She knew the answer -- she wanted to share. She had the wrong answer, but she wanted to share. I also know that this young girl will most probably run into people who will make fun of her and her answers, so she will quickly learn to be quiet. For now, however, she is in an environment where she can share and not be afraid. I need to do more sharing. I know the right answer -- Jesus -- yet find it sometimes difficult to express my words. I have been laughed at, made fun of and embarrassed because of what I would say or would not say. I would suggest prayer and be laughed at. I would offer a testimony and be made fun of. I would express faith in God and be embarrassed. I could be quiet; it would be easier. I pray God will give me the boldness to proclaim loudly that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Light.
"Yes, teacher, I know," volunteered one little girl squirming to be recognized. You have to picture how she looked, bright-eyed, smiling, leaning over the table, half out of her seat, excited to know the answer. She had the information and was straining to share it.
"OK, what is the difference?" asked Bunny.
"Frogs go, 'Rivet, Rivet,' but toads go, 'hippety-hop, hippety-hop.'" Her voice intoned the position of, "that's that -- next."
Bunny suppressed her reaction -- laughter -- thanked her and asked if anyone else had an opinion.
One little boy dared to raise his hand, for now the girl had fixed everyone with her "I knew the answer and you better back me up" look.
"Yes, frogs go, 'Rivet, Rivet,' but toads go, 'Croakkkk, croakkkk,'" he ventured.
The little girl looked devastated, for her answer was wrong!
The little boy noticed the girl and quickly added, "but some toads go, 'hippety-hop, hippety-hop.'"
The girl smiled, her feelings intact. The boy smiled; his answer pleased the class, teacher and the girl. Life was good.
How could Bunny follow that? She did manage to go on with the class. She shared that with me and I thought, "What a great lesson."
The interaction between the boy and the girl is priceless. What a world we would have if each of us could recognize and react to others' feelings as quickly and as smoothly as this young student reacted to his classmate. He did not want to hurt her; he wanted to share. He looked for a way for her to feel important. I like that young man. He has a heart for people. I know that in his circumstances that he will most probably lose the idea of selflessness and build a tough guy exterior, but for now, at least, he has a kind heart. I like the girl. She knew the answer -- she wanted to share. She had the wrong answer, but she wanted to share. I also know that this young girl will most probably run into people who will make fun of her and her answers, so she will quickly learn to be quiet. For now, however, she is in an environment where she can share and not be afraid. I need to do more sharing. I know the right answer -- Jesus -- yet find it sometimes difficult to express my words. I have been laughed at, made fun of and embarrassed because of what I would say or would not say. I would suggest prayer and be laughed at. I would offer a testimony and be made fun of. I would express faith in God and be embarrassed. I could be quiet; it would be easier. I pray God will give me the boldness to proclaim loudly that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Light.
Power Failure 10-24-2002
“Power Failure” declared the radio announcer as I started the car. Yes, I already knew there was a power failure. I was in the middle of shaving, the lights flickered and died. I knew there was no power coming into the house. Of all the mornings for a power failure, this was not the ideal morning. Bunny was on vacation and could sleep late. I was trying to be very quiet and sneak out of the house with a minimum of noise and lights. The power failure made the minimum of lights easy to accomplish. The darkness prevented the noise thing, however. As I stumbled through the house looking for a flashlight or match, I was able to find pieces of furniture, shoes and other various obstacles hereunto unknown. The resulting verbiage from an unexpected meeting of bare toe on hard wood did make noise.
I did notice after I arrived at the office that there is a difference between getting dressed in incandescent light and candlelight. Blue socks tend to look black in candlelight and all shirts tend to look white. My outfit was coordinated; bad is a form of coordination.
This was the second power failure I experienced this week. My truck started to buck, bolt and in general rebel against going faster on the drive home from work. My first thought was that I had somehow damaged the power train running over the new speed bump in the parking lot. Once there was no speed bump, then there was. It is amazing what can be accomplished in a day. On closer inspection of the dashboard, however, the reason for the erratic truck behavior was evident. “Low Fuel” lit on the dashboard means – get off the expressway and find a gas station – now. I did. I put in more gas than I had ever put into the tank before and thanked God for watching over me.
I often take for granted the power that is in my life. I turn on the light switch and expect light, turn the key and expect an engine roar. I have no problem believing the fact that electricity will be there or that gasoline will power the truck’s engine. I expect and use. I am upset when something interrupts the power. I then reflect on what a blessing it is to have such power.
So why do I have such a hard time trusting in the power of prayer? I catch myself praying as if I really don’t expect my prayers to be heard, or if heard -- answered, or if answered -- answered in the affirmative. I go through the motions but don’t expect the power to be there. It is at such times that I must stop and rethink my prayer. God’s power will never be depleted, never diminished, never stopped. I must pray boldly, in full confidence that God will hear and answer my prayer. God tells me such, I must just do it.
I did notice after I arrived at the office that there is a difference between getting dressed in incandescent light and candlelight. Blue socks tend to look black in candlelight and all shirts tend to look white. My outfit was coordinated; bad is a form of coordination.
This was the second power failure I experienced this week. My truck started to buck, bolt and in general rebel against going faster on the drive home from work. My first thought was that I had somehow damaged the power train running over the new speed bump in the parking lot. Once there was no speed bump, then there was. It is amazing what can be accomplished in a day. On closer inspection of the dashboard, however, the reason for the erratic truck behavior was evident. “Low Fuel” lit on the dashboard means – get off the expressway and find a gas station – now. I did. I put in more gas than I had ever put into the tank before and thanked God for watching over me.
I often take for granted the power that is in my life. I turn on the light switch and expect light, turn the key and expect an engine roar. I have no problem believing the fact that electricity will be there or that gasoline will power the truck’s engine. I expect and use. I am upset when something interrupts the power. I then reflect on what a blessing it is to have such power.
So why do I have such a hard time trusting in the power of prayer? I catch myself praying as if I really don’t expect my prayers to be heard, or if heard -- answered, or if answered -- answered in the affirmative. I go through the motions but don’t expect the power to be there. It is at such times that I must stop and rethink my prayer. God’s power will never be depleted, never diminished, never stopped. I must pray boldly, in full confidence that God will hear and answer my prayer. God tells me such, I must just do it.
Lonely Roads 10-31-2002
I was thinking about lonely roads last Wednesday as I drove to the airport. The Interstate highway leading from my house to the airport is generally a stop and go procession at best. However, when I traveled it at 4:30 A.M., there was hardly another car or truck to be seen. My mind wandered back to the many times that we traveled to Denver to visit Grandma and Grandpa. We would load the kids in the back of the station wagon and later the van around 6:00 P.M. We would head out for the 12 – 20 hour drive (depending on where we were living at the time). The kids would settle into the back and would soon fall asleep. Their sleeping allowed for us to travel through the night without the expense of motels or food stops. Bunny and I would trade off driving every two hours and soon we would wake the children to see G’ma and G’pa. Often times at 3:00 in the morning there would be no traffic, just our little family streaming through the night. Bunny would never really rest when I drove, but she would occasionally nod off. I would turn the radio off and just enjoy the long dark stretches of highway. I cherished those times when it was dark and cozy in the car with all my loved ones close at hand.
As the children grew, we still would drive through the night. Most of the times they would still sleep. However, I do recall a trip from Texas to Illinois. Our youngest son Russell was a preschooler. He wanted to see the Mississippi River. We set off from north Texas and started our travels east. Into Oklahoma we went. Most of the family was still active and lively. By the time we reached southwest Missouri, all of the family was resting except for Russell and me. He sat beside me on the front seat and commented on the scenery. He and I talked the night away. We chatted about Indians and land, classmates and teachers, life and death. The content of our conversation was not as important as the time we spent getting to know one another. Daybreak found us over the Mississippi River and Russell promptly fell asleep -- to be awakened a short 45 minutes later when we arrived at our destination.
That lonely road gave us a time to share with each other. We were able to share our love for one another.
That is why I cherish the lonely roads that I travel. I feel as if I am on a long, lonely road when I watch my wife flinch in pain. I feel I am on a long lonely road when the pain in my stomach will not go away. I feel I am on a long, lonely road when I am overwhelmed by the job. I feel I am on a long, lonely road when I feel the weight of my sins. It is when I am on these roads that I can turn to my Heavenly Father and talk the night away. I can share my pain, my troubles, my desires, my hopes, and my dreams. The content of this conversation is more important than that which I had with Russell, but the effect is the same. At the end of the talk I am comforted and surrounded by love.
As the children grew, we still would drive through the night. Most of the times they would still sleep. However, I do recall a trip from Texas to Illinois. Our youngest son Russell was a preschooler. He wanted to see the Mississippi River. We set off from north Texas and started our travels east. Into Oklahoma we went. Most of the family was still active and lively. By the time we reached southwest Missouri, all of the family was resting except for Russell and me. He sat beside me on the front seat and commented on the scenery. He and I talked the night away. We chatted about Indians and land, classmates and teachers, life and death. The content of our conversation was not as important as the time we spent getting to know one another. Daybreak found us over the Mississippi River and Russell promptly fell asleep -- to be awakened a short 45 minutes later when we arrived at our destination.
That lonely road gave us a time to share with each other. We were able to share our love for one another.
That is why I cherish the lonely roads that I travel. I feel as if I am on a long, lonely road when I watch my wife flinch in pain. I feel I am on a long lonely road when the pain in my stomach will not go away. I feel I am on a long, lonely road when I am overwhelmed by the job. I feel I am on a long, lonely road when I feel the weight of my sins. It is when I am on these roads that I can turn to my Heavenly Father and talk the night away. I can share my pain, my troubles, my desires, my hopes, and my dreams. The content of this conversation is more important than that which I had with Russell, but the effect is the same. At the end of the talk I am comforted and surrounded by love.
