Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

As some of you know, my one real hobby is climbing my family tree looking for nuts the horse thieves that supposedly got hung.  I've found lots of the former, none of the latter.  My family tree is not a stump or a shrub, and it definitely forks--along most branches.  And I've found lots of diversity in my family's gene pool.  Which is why I love telling people I'm a Black Irish German Jew.

Oh, you're black Irish, they say.

And I get to reply with a smile, "No, I'm black, and I'm Irish, and I'm German, and I'm Jewish.  Of course, I'm also English, Scottish, French, Dutch, Scandinavian, Spanish and Native American.  So basically, I'm an American."

Then I get the question, "How are you black?"  I'll admit, one look at me doesn't exactly put one in mind of the dark continent, but I promise you it's true.  5 generations my Guynes ancestors were rich, white, slave owners on a Mississippi plantation.  But 5 generations before that, they were considered free colored in Virginia, and 5 generations before that, John Gaeween was kidnapped by Portuguese slavers off the coast of Angola, rescued by English privateers, and brought to Jamestown, Virginia, where he was sold into indentured servitude to pay for his trip over.  So diluted though it may be, I'm black.

And in case you want to ask the same question about my Jewishness, my mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother Augusta Eschberger Draper came to Texas from Prussia with her parents and siblings in 1852.  Her last name and every one of its variants is Jewish, and our family often claimed that those ancestors were "black Dutch", which is an American code word for "Jewish, but we don't want anyone to know."

In all actuality, and I can say this definitively, 40% of my heritage is British (English, Scotch, Welsh), 10% is Irish, 25% is German, and the other 25% is everything else I named above.  But we're not singing "God Save the Queen" over here.  It's Saint Patrick's Day, and I thought I'd give a little tribute to those of my forbears who hailed from the Emerald Isle.

Henry Ferrell,
born 1797 in Londonderry County Ireland,
to Patrick Ferrell and Margaret Donahoe,
who came to America in 1798.


John Boies,
born 1778 in Ireland,
to David Boies & Nancy Forsyth.


James Harris,
born 1740 in Ulster County, Ireland,
to Samuel Harris.

Jane Johnston,

born 1717 in Ireland,

to Michael Johnston & Mary Hancock,

who came to America in 1728.

Samuel & Mary Bigham,

born about 1715 in Antrim, Ireland,

who came with his brothers to America in the 1730s.

Robert Gregg,
born 1732 in Antrim, Ireland,
to John Gregg and Nancy Ann Woods,
who came to America about 1735.

William Irvine,

born about 1725 in Ireland (though descended from noble Scotsmen)

to Christopher & Mary Irvine 

who came to America in the 1720s.

George Reid,

born 1746 in Antrim, Ireland,

to Alexander Reid & Margaret McCay,

who came to America with the parents and other relatives in the 1750s.

George Finley Sr.,

born 1735 in Dublin, Ireland,

to James Finley Sr. & Elizabeth Patterson,

who came to America in the 1750s.

Joshua Mullins,

born 1720 in Ireland,

who came to America as a child.

John & Catherine Clark Atchison,

born about 1710 in Ireland,

who brought their family to America in the 1730s.

David and Jenny Culbertson Reed,

born about 1710 in Fermanagh County, Ireland,

who came to America about 1734.

Henry Chambers,

born 1708 in Ireland

to James Chambers,

and his wife Jennet Futhey,

born 1715 in Antrim, Ireland,

the daughter of Robert Futhey & Jean Eliot,

who married and came to America in the 1730s.

James Downey,

born about 1690 in Ireland,

who came to America in 1711.

Cornelius Keife,

born about 1680 in Ireland,

whose daughter Mary married the Melungeon John Gowen here in America.

And even though Stafford is an English name, complete with castle and county, there was a branch of them that went to Wexford County, Ireland, before the beheadings started during the Wars of the Roses.  And it was there in about the year 1755 that my patrilineal ancestor Richard Stafford was born.  He was brought to this country in a forced immigration program called the draft and spent his first few months on American soil fighting George Washington and the Continental Army...until he was captured, marched into the wilderness of Northern Virginia, and released on the condition he wouldn't fight again.

So it seems I'm on solid ground when I say, "Kiss me, I'm Irish!"

Why Aren't You Marveling?

And all those who heard it

marveled at those things
 which were told them

by the shepherds.

Luke 2:18, NKJV

Who do you think they told?  I don't know if you've ever asked yourself that question, ever even thought about it.  But between now when they had seen Him, they made widely known and the shepherds returned there's this verse about people marveling.  And I'm sitting here wondering, who did they tell?

Certainly they told their families, perhaps rousing their wives and children from their beds to tell the wonderful story.  An angel visited us tonight, right there on the hillside with all the sheep, and told us that the Messiah was being born right here in Bethlehem!  Can you believe it?  And then there was this angel choir that filled the sky with song.  And when we went to find the baby the angel told us about, we found him!  Isn't that great?

Maybe they even woke the neighbors, rousting them from their beds with the glad tidings of treat joy.  Hey, the Savior has been born tonight!  Perhaps they ran through the quiet country village shouting the good news.  Lamps were lit, sashes thrown back, people leaned out of windows and peeked out of doors to see what all the commotion was about.  And every face the shepherds spotted brought them to a breathless halt as they cried, The Savior of the World has been born tonight!

And those who heard it marveled.

Now marvel is not a word used in our every day language.  Neither is wonder, at least not in the sense the KJV employs for this verse.  But I'm thinking the response was more than just "Wow, cool."  If you belonged to a people whose entire religion and cultural identity was wrapped up in the promise of a savior, what would your response be to the announcement of his arrival?

The savior.  The great deliverer.  The anointed one.  The prophet greater than Moses.  The redeemer.  The seed of the woman.  The seed of Abraham.  The Son of David.  The Son of Man.  The triumphant king.  The Lord Himself.  The Son of God. 

Yeah, that guy!  That's who just got born!

Perhaps if we used the words as descriptors.  It was marvelous news, wonderful news, glorious news!  These people hadn't even had a real word from God in 400 years.  They had heroes like the Maccabees, but no one who had really spoken from God in 15 generations.  And along come the shepherds.

Perhaps they laughed.  Or shouted.  Or wept.  Or danced.  Or fell on their faces to worship the Lord.  Perhaps they went seeking this babe the shepherds spoke of.  But outside our imaginations, there is no way of knowing how they responded, except that the Bible says they marveled at what they heard.

And now here's the hardest question of all.

Why don't people marvel today?  When we tell them about Jesus, why don't they see it as wonderful news?

I've got some ideas about that, too.  First of all, so many in our cultural don't accept their own need for a savior.  So when you tell them the savior of the world has come/is coming, they shrug and say, So What.  They're not waiting for someone to rescue them from their problems, to forgive them of their sins, to redeem them from destruction.  They have no anticipation of the Messiah.

Secondly, when we present the good news, are we giving the world facts that are 2000 years old, or are we giving them the up-to-date facts about what Jesus is doing today, right now?  Because everything Jesus did in the Bible for those Jewish people twenty centuries ago, he still does today!  Are you sick, hurting, lonely, desperate, needy, lost, bewildered, searching, questioning, longing?  My friend, I've got good news for you.

Finally, are we excited about what Jesus has done for us?  We who are saved are walking miracles, living testaments to what Jesus does.  We have the best news ever.  Maybe the world isn't excited about hearing it, because we're not excited about having it. 

Just a thought.

Why Me?

For You, O God,

have tested us;

You have refined us

as silver is refined.

You brought us into the net;

You laid affliction

on our backs,

You have caused men

to ride over our heads;

We went through fire

and through water;

But You brought us out

to rich fulfillment.

Psalm 66:10-12, NKJV

Have you ever found yourself asking "Why?"  Why is life so difficult?  Why did this happen to me?  Why am I going through this?  Why, Lord, did you let this happen?

I've often told people to be careful about asking God why, because when you start asking Him questions, He starts giving answers.  And you might not like what He has to say.  For instance, a few years back I was going through a dark time in my life.  Things weren't going the way I had expected they would.  I wasn't seeing the kind of success I was used to.  Instead of my task being easy, it felt more like banging my head against a brick wall...over and over and over again.  I saw no produce of any kind, no fruit, no results from all of my labors.  It was a thankless job.  And when I begged the Lord to let me leave, the Lord said stay put.

So one day I was out in my yard pulling weeds, and I was talking to the Lord, pouring out my heart to Him.  I told him about all my troubles, my heartaches, my woes.  I told him about my desires and dreams and wishes and goals.  And then I asked the Lord to release me from my assignment, and He said no.  So out of my frustration, I said to the Lord, "Fine, I'll stay!  But I have to know why you want me here!"  His answer surprised me.

All of those trials I went through, those tribulations, those sorrows I suffered, those hardships I endured...they were going to happen, no matter who was in my place.  The same fights would have been fought, the same losses sustained, the same questions would have been asked.  And other men might have given into the temptation to flee for their lives.  But the Lord said, "I needed someone I knew would stay."

A few years after that, I went through an even darker time.  I was hated, ridiculed, spat upon, lied to, abandoned, and betrayed.  And all that after I had been faithful to what God called me to do.  To love and give, and to stay put when everyone was telling me to run.  I watched my world crumble around me, watched as those things that had been most important to me were stripped from my hands and there was nothing I could do about.

And one day after it was over, I was out in my yard digging up broken sprinklers, and I was talking to the Lord, pouring out my heart to Him.  I told him about all my troubles, my heartaches, my woes.  I told him about my desires and dreams and wishes and goals.  And then I said to Him, "You knew all along that was going to happen to me, and you told me to do it anyway.  You sent me into that, and now you've delivered me out of it.  But what was the point?  Why did I have to stay?"

Surprisingly enough, His answer was much the same.  "I needed someone who would stay."

After that I often joked that if I could do those two things, I could do anything!

We need to understand who is the author of our trial, who is our companion along the way, and who we are taking our cues and counsel from.  If we are trusting the Lord and following His instructions, it doesn't matter how bad the situation around us seems.  We are obeying the Lord.  He may send us through the fires of a refinery, pour us into the unyielding molds of a foundry, test us with captivity, affliction, and sometimes even defeat.  He may take us right through the midst of fire and flood.

But if we remain faithful to Him, His promise is to bring us out to rich fulfillment.  Thank you, Lord!  You make it all worthwhile.

Pour Out Your Heart

Trust in Him at all times, you people;

Pour out your heart before Him;

God is a refuge for us.

Selah.

Psalm 62:8, NKJV

Sometimes I hold back when I pray.

It's true.  There are times when I don't tell God my whole heart because I'm embarrassed about what I have to tell tell Him.  Or because I hate feeling so vulnerable.  Or because I don't want to deal with the hurt that is deep down inside of me.  So I keep my prayers simple and shallow, and my emotions completely in check.  I put on a brave face and go before the Lord in prayer and tell Him how wonderful life is and how much I appreciate all that He's done, all that He's promised, and all that He's going to do.

I make my requests known to God.  I mutter through my intercessions for the needs of others that I know about.  I ask forgiveness for my own faults and failings which are so obvious to me.

And I believe God hears them all.  But in the deepest recesses of my soul, there are things that ache inside me.  There are wounds and hurts and disappointments.  I try not to let them fester.  I try to stay sweet in spite of them.  But I don't always deal with them.

God doesn't want to hear my groans and complaints, I tell myself.  God doesn't want to hear me whine and cry.  God doesn't want to hear me talk about everything I think is wrong in this life and this world.  God doesn't...

Really?  Doesn't the Bible say, Cast all your cares on Him, for He cares for you?

Doesn't the Bible say, Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God?

Doesn't the Bible say, He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds?

Doesn't the Bible say, He shall wipe away every tear?

Truth be told, it's not God that I don't trust.  It's me.  I know He hears and receives all my prayers.  I even know that He is already aware of what's in my heart, whether I give voice to the pain or not.  I know that God is sitting patiently as a loving Father, waiting for me to open up the secret places of my heart so that He can provide help and healing.  I know those things.  I know that God is good, and that He gives good gifts to His children, and that there is nothing He will withhold from me, and that He can do everything, and that nothing is impossible with Him, and that He does all things well.  I know those things. 

So the time has come to pour out my heart to God, to tell Him everything that is there, not for the sake of His hearing, but for the sake of my healing.  It is time to trust the Lord with all that is within me, and find in Him the true refuge that my own heart cannot provide.

Hear my cry, O God;

Attend to my prayer.

From the end of the earth

I will cry to You,

When my heart is overwhelmed;

Lead me to the rock

that is higher than I.

Psalm 61:1-2, NKJV

Looking for His Coming

I know the Bible says nobody knows the day or the hour when the Son of Man shall come, and that the times and seasons for such things the Father has in His own authority.  But several years ago I gave some thought to the question:  Where would I like to be when the trumpet sounds?

Here were my top three choices.

If I could choose to be anywhere when Jesus returns for his own, it would be standing in the pulpit of a church preaching a gospel message and calling people to repent, for the kingdom of heaven was at hand.  I'd like to offer the invitation for someone, anyone, to believe and be saved, and see a hand go up in the back, perhaps some prodigal son, some wayward daughter, some lost soul that had been prayed for time and time again with no results.  I'd love to see that hand go up, and then watch as that person stepped out in faith to walk the aisle, to kneel in an old-fashioned altar, and to pray a prayer of repentance and acceptance as they receive Jesus.  And somewhere in heaven, that great book of names is opened and God's finger runs down the page to the last name on the list, and with a smile, He turns to His right and says, "Son, that's the last one.  Go get your bride!"  And just as that sinner steps out, transformed by faith into a saint of the most high God, I'd love to hear that moment shattered by the sound of a trumpet and someone calling my name.  And in a moment, in a twinkling of any eye, be with my new brother in the sky!

My second choice would be preaching some old saint's funeral.  Gramma So-and-so who had spent a lifetime waking in the midnight hours to pray for someone whom God had laid on her heart.  Who came to you were sick to wash your dishes or do your laundry or bathe your feverish forehead with a cooling cloth.  Who showed up in the worst moments of your life with a basket packed with fried chicken, cold potato salad, warm banana pudding, and a jug of sweet tea.  Who knelt with you in an altar of commitment, holding your hand and sometimes your neck as she prayed you through to whatever blessing God had for you.  Who danced and shouted all over the sanctuary when the Holy Ghost got ahold of her, bobby-pins flying and braids swinging while she hooted and hollered and spoke in tongues and prophesied, leading that forgotten parade called a Jericho march.  I'd love to be standing at a graveside, with one hand on the casket and the other holding my Bible open to the page that says, "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, and the voice of the archangel, and the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first..."  And as I'm reading those words as a final prayer over the body of the dearly departed, the lid flies off the casket, sending roses and mums everywhere as Gramma leaps to her feet with her hands in the air and shouts, "I'm going home!"  And before we even have a chance to respond, graves everywhere begin to explode with dirt and debris as all the saints of all the ages begin to rise from the graves.  And suddenly we too are changed, rising to meet them in the air, knowing that we shall ever be with the Lord.

But if I could really choose to be anywhere at all when the Rapture happens, it would be standing on a hillside south of Deming, New Mexico, where fourteen years ago I took the ashes of my preacher Daddy and dumped them into the wind, watching them drift peacefully away--until the breeze shifted direction and blew him all over me.  I'd love to be standing there when the trumpet sounds, when Jesus calls the name of Bryan Stafford from the roll, and those ashes come back from the four winds that carried them off, and even as my own flesh is transformed into incorruptible immortality, I look my daddy in the face and hear him shout one more time, "I told you son, Jesus is coming back!"

As I said before, nobody knows the when.  All I do know is this--regardless of where I am or what I'm doing, I'm going to be ready when Jesus sounds the call!  How about you?   

The First Evangelists

Now when they had seen Him

they made widely known

the saying which was told them

concerning this Child.

Luke 2:17, NKJV

How long do you reckon those shepherds stayed huddled in the little hillside tabernacle with Joseph and Mary, staring down at the Messiah in a manger?  As a pastor, and more often as a friend, I have occasioned to be in a delivery room shortly after some births.  Let me tell you, first of all, it's no pretty sight.  Immediately after, I mean.  And even when I've waited a few minutes or hours to go see the proud papa and mama and their little bundle of joy, that's not the time to pull up a chair and stay for an afternoon visit.

First of all, that is a very personal, very intimate time for a family.  Secondly, everybody is completely exhausted in ways the people who've never been through it cannot understand, and those who've been through it have likely forgotten.  Thirdly, I'm speaking from the perspective of a friend.  What if it was strangers coming into the hospital room to see your newborn.  Don't you think your reaction would be, "Thank you for coming.  Now GET OUT!"

Then again, we're talking about the birth of the most anticipated figure in 4000 years of those shepherds' history.  A birth shrouded in miracle and mystery, announced by angelic messengers and heavenly choirs.  If I had been one of those shepherds, I might have wanted to linger at the cribside just a while longer.  Would I have reached out and stroked his chubby cheek with my knuckle?  Would I have smoothed the dark curls of hair with my roughened palm?  Would I have dared bend to place a soft kiss on his smooth forehead?  Come on!  I can't resist doing it to normal babies.  I most certainly would have been reaching out for any kind of contact with the Christ, brief though it might have been.

And I suspect that Mary and Joseph probably understood.  Maybe they were in awe too.  As if, after having carried him for nine months and now delivered him into the world, they weren't quite sure what to do with him now.  How do you care for the son of God?  And how do you react when people who have been sent by God to worship invade your personal space to do exactly that?

However long they stayed, there did come a point in time where the shepherds knew they had been there long enough.  With muttered whispers of gratitude and farewell, they backed out of the shelter.

And then they went berserk!  At least that's the way my imagination sees it.  The time for reverence had been in finding the Child.  But to know everything they had been told was true, that the savior of the world had been born and they were his first visitors.  Their hearts were pounding inside their chests, their breathing rapid, their eyes bulging with excitement.  I can close my eyes and see them as they huddled together outside, bouncing on the balls of their feet, whispering excitedly about what they were going to do.  I'll bet the first thing each of them wanted to do was go home and tell their wives!  So into the night they ran, each one of them in a different direction, maybe even waking up their neighbors along the way to tell them the good news.

Those shepherds were the original evangelists!  And they give us a good pattern to follow in doing the same kind of work.

They heard the message about the Messiah.

They saw the Messiah for themselves.

They told everyone they saw about the Messiah.

We should be doing the same.

What the Shepherds Saw

And they came with haste

and found Mary and Joseph,

and the Babe lying in a manger.

Luke 2:16-17, NKJV

I can't wait to get to heaven, for lots of different reasons.  But one thing I am really looking forward to is seeing the replay of Bible events and comparing them to the way my technicolor imagination envisioned them.  Personally, I think I could give Cecil B. DeMille a run for his money.  At any rate, these Bible stories have come alive in my mind, and I like retelling them in surprising ways.  Especially the story of Jesus.  I've seen lots of Jesus films, and I still haven't seen one that I really Really REALLY think got it right.  But this is my story, so I'm sticking to it...

The glorious light of the angelic appearance had barely faded from the night sky, and the final notes of the heavenly chorus might still have been lingering on the Bethlehem hillside, when one of the shepherds jumped up and said, "Let's go!"  And in one accord, they all scrambled to the feet and dashed toward town.  Now the sign they were looking for was a baby in a manger, so how did they find him?  Did they peek into every barn along the route until they found the right one?  If Jesus was born in a barn, and there was no other Divine direction given them, that is exactly what they would have had to do.  On the other hand, what if the manger was something so out of place and extraordinary that the shepherds would have no trouble finding it.

What if the shepherds knew that the "manger" they were looking for was not a common feeding trough, but rather a portable bread basket widely used among their people at this particular time of year?  In two week's time, the entire countryside would be flooded with pilgrims arriving in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles, and makeshift shelters constructed from tree branches would be thrown up all over the place, each one with it's own "manger"...not for holding hay for cattle and donkeys, but rather for keeping the family's supply of food up off the ground.  But finding such a manger on the night Jesus was born would have been a little unexpected.  Kind of like passing an American household on Halloween and finding the Christmas lights already strung and the plastic glowing Santa Claus already enthroned on the lawn.  Unusual.

As they ran toward town, perhaps they noticed the soft glow of firelight where there should have been none.  These shepherds knew the Bethlehem Hill Country like they knew the backs of their own hands.  They knew ever pasture, every cliff, every cave.  They knew who owned them, and who used them.  And on this particular night, they knew that no shepherds were using that particular grotto.  Even more peculiar might have been the sight of a hastily constructed booth built to shield the concave interior from the summer night and any casual passersby.  Who would care about being seen in such a place?  Who would want their privacy?

How about a young couple weary from travel, the wife heavy with child and ready to deliver, who had arrived at their family's home to find that no place would be made for them there?  The extended family was embarrassed by the knowledge that the young bride had conceived the child out of wedlock, and that the young groom had taken her early as his wife and claimed the child as his own, but everyone knew the truth.  That child was the illegitimate offspring of the girl's shameful dalliance with a Samaritan while she was traveling to visit relatives.  And the proper Judean relatives were not going to let shame overshadow their holidays.  These two troublesome teens could celebrate the holidays elsewhere.

And as the shepherds drew closer to the shelter built against the hillside, they heard a sound out of place in a sheep field.  From behind the screen of woven tree branches came the hearty cry of a newborn, the hurried rustlings of new parents trying to figure out how to quiet the child, and then the cooings of a mother who instinctively knew what to do.  Slowly the lead shepherd creeps within inches of the cave and whispers his hello.

The young father appears, his face stretched with cares no one could understand.  And the shepherd tells his story.  The angel.  The message.  The heavenly choir.  The light.  The song.  The command to go and find a newborn babe packed snugly in a bread box.  "Please, sir.  Can we have a peek?"

And Joseph stepped aside, waved the shepherds through the entrance, and one by one they fall to their knees around the pallet of the tiny young mother and, within easy reach, a tiny infant tightly swaddled for his own good, nestled neatly in the little crib.  This is what they came to see, and I don't think he was that hard to find after all.

Reading to Read

I've been reading the Bible for about 33 years now...ever since my parents gave me my very own Bible on Palm Sunday, 1979, which also coincided with the year I learned to read.  I can't tell you how many times I've read it through.  There are parts of it I have read multiple times.  I've been reading through Proverbs on a monthly basis for 25 years.  I've been reading through the Psalms on a monthly basis for 10.  During one 18 month period, I read through the Gospels every month.  Because of the idea that the Bible should be read through from cover to cover, I've read Genesis & Exodus innumerable times, and yes, I have also gotten stranded in the desert with the Children of Israel in Leviticus and Numbers, and often didn't make it to Deuteronomy.

This year, 2012, I've decided to read the Bible through completely four times.  My basic premise is this:  I love to read, I'm a fast reader, I've read it all before so I should be familiar with the contents.  All things considered, the Bible is not really a long book compared to the host of other things I read.  So I did a little math to determine what I would have to do to read the Bible through.

The Bible is 66 Books, with 1189 chapters

30 Days = 40 Chapters a Day

40 Days = 30 Chapters a Day

60 Days = 20 Chapters a Day

90 Days = 14 Chapters a Day

180 Days = 7 Chapters a Day

365 Days = 3 Chapters a Day, & 5 on Sundays.

I began my first attempt in January.  My travels messed my reading schedule up; I read about half the Bible.

My second attempt in February got messed up by illness, and I didn't even keep track of what I read.

Now I'm in the first week of my third attempt to read the Bible completely through in 30 days.  So far, so good.  And there is nothing on my schedule to prevent me from doing it.  So I'm reading.  Day before yesterday, I read 81 chapters.  Yesterday I read 61 chapters.

How long did that take you? someone might ask.  Well, I read 40 chapters in Genesis in about an hour and a half.  On average, I figure 2.5 minutes per chapter for the narratives, about 60 seconds per chapter if it's an average Psalm or Prophecy.  And I don't usually do it all in one sitting.  I do little bits throughout the day.  And I also don't stay in one place the whole time.  In other words, I didn't just start in Genesis, then go to Exodus, then go to Leviticus...that's where I get lost in the wilderness.  Instead, I have created my own breakdown for reading 40 chapters a day:

15 Chapters from the historical books (Genesis - Esther)

2 Chapters from the wisdom books (Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon)

1 Chapter from Proverbs

5 Chapters from Psalms

9 Chapters from the Prophets (Isaiah - Malachi)

3 Chapters from the Gospels (Matthew - John)

5 Chapters from the Epistles (Romans - Revelation)

And on days 29 & 30, read Acts.

Now, this isn't an exact science.  If you read exactly 40 chapters a day, on the 30th day there will only be 29 chapters left to read.  I actually have a reading grid that I mark off to show how much I've read.  What I'm suggesting is not a strict religious exercise; it's more of a personal challenge to see if I can do it.  And a sort of personal challenge to you...to see if you would like to read the Bible through this year, or this month.  Incidentally, 170 chapters a day will get you through the Bible in 7 days.  I don't know if I'm that ambitious.  But perhaps someday.

And I might also add that this reading is not for study purposes.  It is not to gain deep understanding.  It is not to find hidden or previously unnoticed truths.  I am reading just to read.  I'm getting the Word in me, in large amounts every day.  My study for personal benefit or for sermon building is in addition to this.  So if you're thinking about doing this, remember:  read to read.  You'll be surprised how much it nourishes your spirit.

Your word is a lamp to my feet

and a light to my path.

Psalm 119:105, NKJV

Your word have I hidden in my heart,

that I might not sin against You.

Psalm 119:11, NKJV

"It is written, 'Man shall not live by bread alone,

but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.'"

Jesus, quoting Deuteronomy 8:3, in Matthew 4:4, NKJV

Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit,

which is the word of God...

Ephesians 6:17, NKJV

Let the word of Christ

dwell in you richly.

Colossians 3:16, NKJV

As newborn babes, desire the pure milk of the word,

that you may grow thereby,

if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is gracious.

1 Peter 2:2-3, NKJV

The word of the Lord endures forever.

1 Peter 1:25, quoting Isaiah 40:8, NKJV





Good Christian Parenting

Mom, Dad & Me - May 1976

 While I was pondering the complexities of the universe, a question came to mind.  If falling away from God/Jesus/Church/Faith/Religion is so prevalent among people who were raised in Christian homes going to church, how come I never did?  I certainly had every 

opportunity, especially that first year in college when I was on my own with absolutely no accountability in my life to make me do what was right.  And yet, I didn't.

Now I'm not claiming I was perfect.  I certainly wasn't.  But I can say 



Dad & Me - October 1996

this absolutely, with no question or equivocation in my mind:  I never even came close to giving up my relationship with Jesus Christ.  And tonight I asked 

myself why.

Why didn't I abandon, or even question, the beliefs I had been taught?  Why did I always go to church, and feel extremely guilty whenever I missed?  Why didn't I go try out all the things that the world has to offer those who are ripe for temptation?

 

Mom & Me - October 1996

I'm not sure I have all the answers, but I think Good Christian 

Parenting would right at the top of my list.  So after reflecting very briefly on the way I was raised, and thinking very highly of the parenting skills of Mom & Dad, I thought I would share some thoughts with you about why I turned out so good. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. After Dad got saved (April 1976), Jesus was what our life was all about. 
2. Mom and Dad MADE me go to church.  Sunday school, Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, any other night anything was going on at church, home Bible studies...none of it was optional.  Of course, I liked church, so it wasn't so much of a have to as a get to.
3. Mom and Dad taught me how to pray, at the tender age of 3.
4. Mom and Dad read me Bible stories every night before I went to sleep.  When I got old enough to read, I was expected to read them for myself.
5. Mom and Dad MADE me read my Bible, especially when I didn't want to.
6. If I developed attitude problems, Mom and Dad made attitude adjustments--grounding, lecturing, depriving, spanking.
7. Did I mention that my Dad believed in and practiced corporal punishment.  The government would like you to think you should go to jail if you hit your kids, but let me tell you something--a good and proper spanking can go a long way to bringing a wayward butt back into line.
8. Proverbs says that a man who loves his son will spank him, and that spanking will deliver a child from hell.  Well, my daddy loved me and wanted me to go to heaven, and he proved it to me often.  So did I mention that I got spanked?  Alot?
9. And after the spanking, Dad would take me in his arms and tell me he loved me.
10. And then he would explain to me what I had done to deserve the spanking.
11. And then he would pray for me.
12. And if none of that worked, he would rebuke the devil who he figured was influencing me.  Yeah, Dad was an extremist.
13. From the day he got saved, Dad lived out Christ-likeness in front of me.  He wasn't a perfect man, but he was definitely a godly man, husband, father, teacher, and friend to me.  I learned alot from his example.
14. From the day he got saved, Dad refused to compromise his faith in Jesus Christ, or his commitment to becoming like Jesus.
15. From the day he got saved, Dad told me I needed to get saved too.  Yes, at three-and-a-half, I needed Jesus for salvation.  And he did not rest until I accepted Jesus as my savior.
16. Mom and Dad couldn't make me live for Jesus, but they refused to let me live for the devil.  So I heard "no" alot.
17. Mom and Dad had rules, and I was expected to live by them.
18. Mom and Dad had standards, and I was expected to uphold them.
19. Mom and Dad had morals, and I was expected to abide by them.
20. Mom and Dad taught me that the Bible was absolutely the true Word of God--and if anyone contradicted the Bible, it didn't matter how smart they were, what degrees they'd earned, or what position they were in, they were wrong.  That made for alot of interesting science classes in school.
21. Mom and Dad taught me to respect authority, regardless of who was in it.
22. Mom and Dad stood up for me when I was wronged, but made sure I was really the one in the right.
23. Mom and Dad told me who I could and could not date (at least as long as I lived in their house). 
24. Mom and Dad MADE me eat whatever food was put in front of me.  But if I really hated it (like liver and spinach), they made the decision to not put it in front of me.
25. Mom and Dad taught me to say things like "yes ma'am" and "no sir" and "please" and "thank-you" and "you're welcome."  That's being polite.
26. Mom especially taught me about opening doors for ladies, and walking streetside on the sidewalk with lady, and chewing with my mouth closed, and not talking with my mouth full.  Those things are called manners.
27. Mom and Dad taught me to respect my elders, to be quiet unless I was spoken to, or later, to be quiet unless I had something of value to contribute.
28. Mom and Dad taught me to seek God for direction and for answers.
29. Mom and Dad showed me how to live by faith.
30. Mom and Dad loved me absolutely, without question, and never for a moment made me doubt it.

There's probably a whole lot more, but I'm telling you right now, if you want your children to grow up to be good Christian people, you need to put forth alot of effort when they're young.  After all, the Bible says, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

*     *     *

My mother is going to give me what-for because of that first picture, but I couldn't resist.  As far as I know, this is the first picture of us as a family after Dad got saved.  And no, my parents weren't toothless hillbillies.  We were dressed up for a special church event.

What Would You Do?

And so it was,

when the angels had gone away

from them into heaven,

that the shepherds said to one another,

"Let us now go to Bethlehem

and see this thing that has come to pass,

which the Lord has made known to us."

And they came with haste

and found Mary and Joseph,

and the Babe lying in a manger.

Luke 2:15-16, NKJV

I love the response of people to God in the story of Jesus' birth.

When Gabriel appears to Zacharias, the old priest's first response is to question the logic of fathering a child in his old age with an old wife.  But after he gets struck mute, he goes home and contributes the only thing he can to the plan of God.  Elizabeth conceived, John the Baptist was born, and the plan of God is in motion.

When Gabriel appears to Mary, the young virgin's first response is shock and awe.  She knows how baby's are made, and she's saving herself for marriage.  It's okay, the angel reassures her.  The power of God will come upon you, and the Spirit of God will overshadow you, and the miracle of conception with human contribution will take place within you.  And to that she said, "I am God's servant.  Let Him do to me just as He said."  (You should rally go back and check out my earlier Evertold posts on the subject)

When Gabriel appears to Joseph, who has just discovered Mary's pregnancy and is debating the finer points of private divorce or public execution for his intended, the bewildered carpenter heard the angel out, then got up and immediately did as he was commanded.

Now Gabriel has appeared to a group of shepherds (at least, we might assume it was Gabriel, since he was the bringer of good news elsewhere in this story), announcing the birth of their long-awaited Messiah in Bethlehem and commanding them to go find him.  It's interesting to me that they seem to have had less trouble with the angelic messenger and his good tidings of great joy than anyone else previously in this story.  There were no doubts expressed, no questions voiced.  They started out fearful, but nobody said to Gabriel, "Are you sure about that?  The story sounds a little far-fetched if you ask me."  They didn't waste time asking, "Why us?  Why here?  Why now?  What do you want us to do again?"  They had their marching orders, and they made haste to obey them.

As soon as the angelic host and their heavenly glory had faded from the hillside, the shepherds were on their feet:  "Let's go!"

Oh that people would respond thusly today!  The message of salvation through Jesus Christ alone may sound exclusive--only those who believe in Jesus Christ will be saved--but it is really an all-inclusive message.  Anyone can receive Jesus.  Anyone can have eternal life.  Anyone can go to heaven.  All they have to do is believe in the risen and living Christ, the son of God, and confess Him as savior.  All they have to do is turn their life over to God and accept His acceptance.  All they have to do is say "YES" to the savior.

But so often, they don't.  They challenge the message and the messengers.  They question the amazingness of it, the audacity of the thought that an Almighty and Supreme Deity wants to be in a permanent and eternal relationship with them, but they have to do it His way (after all, He is God).  They don't like the one way that has been provided; they want to try to find another way.  They wish fancifully for all roads to lead to God.  They want to make it up as they go along.

And here we stand, the good news in our hearts and hopefully on our lips, sharing Jesus and salvation with those who need it the most, and we cry and beg and plead and encourage the dead and dying to take the life that Jesus offers.  I wish I could make people believe, but alas!  If God's not going to make them accept Jesus, nothing I can do can force the issue either.  God calls.  The Word calls.  The Spirit calls.  The Church calls.

I pray for and wait expectantly for the day that I can simply announce the good news of Jesus Christ, and those who hear the message will leap to their feet and say, "Let's go find what we've been told!  I want to see this Christ!"

Glory to God!

And suddenly

there was with the angel

a multitude of heavenly host

praising God and saying:

"Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth, peace,

goodwill toward men!"

Luke 2:13-14, NKJV

The appearance of one angel was often a harbinger of dreadful things to come.  That's why when one shows up with good tidings of great joy, they often have to start the telling with, "Fear not!"  But imagine those poor, shell-shocked shepherds on the hillside near Bethlehem just after the angelic messenger falls silent, and suddenly!

The darkness around them turns to light!  Pulsating, piercing, blinding brightness.  And the silent hillside suddenly transforms into a deafening chorus of multitudinous praise as the barrier between heaven and earth opens wide enough for an uncountable host of angels to cross over.  I can't think of another instance before, and only one after where such a sight is seen.  And the one after is in heaven.  This is the only time the Bible records such a heavenly invasion of our terrestrial sphere.

Brilliant illumination, thunderous song, and thousands if not millions of angels filling the night sky.  And a group of shepherds quaking in their sandals, perhaps falling to the ground and huddling with their sheep as their ears are filled with the greatest announcement ever.

Peace has been declared, and God has extended His goodwill toward men.

So what's the big deal?

For four thousand years, the Almighty had been at war with belligerent humanity.  That's why he flooded the whole earth with water until every living creature had drowned, save the eight souls and the animals on the ark.  That's why he confused their languages at Babel and scattered them across the face of the decimated earth.  That's why he poured fire down on the cities of the plain.  That's why he devastated Egypt with plague after plague after plague.  That's why he opened up the earth and swallowed the family of Korah, and consumed 250 grumblers with fire, and struck 14,700 with instantaneous death before Moses intercessions stopped the killing.  That's why time and again he struck the enemies of Israel, one time killing 185,000 men in one night.  God was at war!

But now, the prince of peace at come and God declared an end to the hostilities.  It was a ceasefire negotiated through the babe in Bethlehem.  Before, God sent death and destruction upon his enemies; now he was sending life-giving power through his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him would not perish, but would have everlasting life.

The Bible tells more about the ongoing conflict between good and evil, between God and men.  The ceasefire is still in effect, peace and goodwill are still being offered to the world through Jesus Christ.  But The Revelation tells the end of the story, when God's grace will have been exhausted by the constant rebellions of mankind.  With his church safe in the presence of Christ and his chosen people sheltered miraculously in the desert, God will pour out wrath upon the earth such has never been known before.  Drought, famine, disease, pestilence, earthquakes, firestorms, asteroids, hemorrhoids, ecological disaster, economic collapse, wars, violence, riots, demonic havoc everywhere.

But just when it looks like humanity will not survive the end time holocaust, the Prince of Peace will split the eastern sky, riding on a white horse with judgment and justice in his hands, and the power to bring the kingdom of God to earth once and for all.  And what he started in the cradle and sealed on the cross will finally be completed when he stands as King of kings and Lord of lords on the earth and declares his sovereignty over all. 

Peace on earth, and goodwill toward men.

Gone To Texas

Today is Texas Independence Day--and lest any of my non-Texan friends think I'm celebrating secession, let me remind you that Texas is the only state in the union that was its own nation before joining the United States in 1845.  But nine years earlier, on March 2nd, 1836, delegates meeting at Washington-on-the-Brazos declared The Republic of Texas to be free and independent from Mexico and the oppressions of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana.

Twenty-six years ago, as a student of Texas History at White Deer Junior High, I participated in what I'm sure was a state wide project to climb our family trees and find out how and when and where my people came to Texas.  That project started me on my lifelong genealogical quest, and now a quarter of a century later, I'm still knocking nuts out of the family tree, headstone hunting in old cemeteries, and opening closets looking for the skeletons.  And I finally do know how and when and where my family got here.

About the year 1850, Joseph B. Pruitt, a Baptist preacher, and Phoebe E. Reid, natives of South Carolina and George respectively, but most recently of Benton County Alabama, moved their young family to Leon County, Texas.  By 1853, they were in Van Zandt County, Texas, where my ggg grandmother Frances Jane Pruitt was born 30 October 1857.  She was not the first of my ancestors born here, but she was the furthest back from me.

On 01 February 1852, Godfrey Eschberger arrived in Galveston aboard the ship Magnet from Bremen, Germany.  He was 40 years old, a weaver, and hailed from Worlitz.  The following December, his wife Elizabeth and six children--including my gggg grandmother Augusta--arrived aboard the ship Neptune.  It is said that Elizabeth's mother accompanied them but died en route and was buried at sea.  Had she made it to Texas, she would have been the only one of my ninth generation ancestors to make it to Texas.  The Eschbergers settled on 320 acres located on the Bastrop-Burleson County line.

About the year 1855, Simon Draper of Shaftsbury, Bennington County, Vermont, lately a follower of Mormon leader James Strang in Michigan, chased a fleeing wife to Texas.  After recovering his children, he settled in Bastrop County, where he married the aforementioned Augusta Eschberger in 1857. My ggg grandmother Aurilla Christina Draper was born to them 25 December 1858 in Bastrop County, but the family later moved to Grayson County, Texas, where Simon's parents Dr. Orrin and Aurilla Robinson Draper joined them from Ohio.  The elder Drapers and the Eschbergers were the only four of my eighth-generation ancestors to come to Texas.

In the early 1850s, William McCreary and Eliza Ellen Dunham Bigham moved their family to Ellis County from Johnson County, Missouri.  My gg grandfather Edwin Timothy Bigham was born there 22 August 1857, my first ancestor born in Texas.

Following the Civil War, Jacob and Manerva Adaline Wilks Rhodes moved from Panola County, Mississippi, to Van Zandt County, Texas, in 1868.  Their married son Jesse N. Rhodes and wife Margaret Nicholass settled first in Davis County, but soon moved to Van Zandt, County, Texas.  Her father John Nicholass came with them and was the first person buried in the Union Chapel Cemetery in Van, Texas.  My gg grandfather Henry Allen Rhodes was six months old when his parents Jesse and Margaret made the trip from Mississippi.

About 1872, I.C "Kit" and Irene Josephine Davis Irvin brought their family to Wise County, Texas from Giles County, Tennessee.  A later move to Montague County is how their daughter Anna Beatrice Irvin met and married Edwin Timothy Bigham in 1885, whose family had moved to neighboring Jack County.  My great-grandfather Thomas Watson Bigham was born to them in Jack County in 1894.  In 1908, they moved to Waurika, Jefferson County, Oklahoma.

In 1873, a young Milburn Norman Hogue came to Grayson County, Texas, where he met and married Aurilla Christina Draper.  Their daughter Myrta Augusta Hogue was born there in 1881.

By 1874, William M. and Winifred May Short Wariner had brought their family to Wise County, Texas, from Calloway County, Kentucky, by way of Bollinger County, Missouri.  Their son James Alexander Wariner married Frances Jane Pruitt in Cooke County, Texas, in 1874, and their son Newton Lonzo Wariner married Myrta Augusta Hogue in Grayson County in 1899.  My great-grandmother Francis Aurilla Wariner was born to them in Whitesboro, Grayson County, Texas, in 1902.  In the 1920s, they moved to Waurika, Oklahoma, where the last of their eleven children was born.  In 1924, Aurilla Wariner married Thomas Watson Bigham.  My grandmother Naomi Joy Bigham was born to them in 1929, and they raised their family in Waurika before moving to Pampa, Texas, in 1940.

In 1877, Calvin Washington and Celestine Paradicia Mullen Guynes moved  their family from Copiah County, Mississippi, to Robertson County, Texas, where Calvin died later that year.  His son Henry Becton Guynes, was cowboying in the Waco area in the 1880s.

In 1878, James William and Katherine Hartman Stafford brought their family to Grayson County, Texas, from Taylor County, Iowa.  My gg grandfather Francis Marion Stafford had been born in the latter in 1876.  A few years after that, they moved up the Red River to Wilbarger County, where James was post master in the community he named Fargo.

About 1880, William Haywood Parker came to Waco, McLennan County, Texas, and then sent for his wife and family.  Priscilla Temperance "Tempy" Wildman Parker brought her six children and three others to Texas by train from Calhoun County, Alabama, stuffing one of them under the seat.  Bill Parker died soon after their arrival in Texas, and Tempy began marrying her daughters off.  Sarah Elizabeth Parker married Henry Becton Guynes in Waco in 1887.  They had twelve children, the youngest of which was my great-grandmother Charlene Fayblane Guynes, born 1910 in Rayland, Foard County, Texas.  The Guynes moved to Wheeler County shortly after Charlene's birth, where Henry died in 1912.

In 1884, John Chester and Susan Mohon Jackson moved their family from Wilson County, Tennessee, to Denton County, Texas, and three years later to Wheeler County.  Their youngest child was Clare Desmond Jackson, born 1881 in Hartsville, Tennessee.  She met Francis Marion Stafford, who had come to the Panhandle from Vernon, Texas, on a cattle drive in 1895, and they married in 1905.  My great-grandfather Lewis Jackson Stafford was born in 1910, grew up knowing Charlene Guynes, and they married in Shamrock in 1928.  My grandfather Francis Lynn Stafford was their oldest child, born in 1929.

About 1885, William T. and Ursula Stagner Cross came to Van Zandt County, Texas, from DeWitt County, Illinois, by way of Henry County, Missouri.  Their daughter Cammie Caldona Cross, born in 1872, married Henry Allen Rhodes, and gave him six children before her death in 1904.  Eight days later he married her younger sister Hattie Gertrude Cross, and they had nine more children.  My great-grandmother Laura Gertrude Rhodes was the youngest child of the first family, born in 1903.  The Rhodes family lived in Grand Saline, Van Zandt  County, Texas, and in Nacogdoches, Texas, before moving to Thomas, Oklahoma.  There Gertrude Rhodes met Cleon Gerold Huckins, and they married in 1927 before moving to Hutchinson County, Texas, where my grandfather Gerold Edward Huckins was born in 1929.

During the oil boom of the late 1920s, John Henry and Edith Beighle moved to Skellytown, Carson County, Texas, from Oklahoma, and my grandmother Olga June Beighle was born there in 1930.  In 1939, the Staffords moved to Skellytown where Jack and Charlene were employed by Cabot Corporation at the carbon black plant.  Lynn Stafford, Gerold Huckins, and June Beighle grew up in Skellytown together and were best friends.  In 1945, Lynn and June sneaked off to get married; he was sixteen, she was fifteen.  They moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, where my father Bryan Lynn Stafford was born in 1948.  A few years later, they moved back to the Texas Panhandle.

Gerold Huckins met Joy Bigham at a popular Pampa nightspot, and they eloped to Sidney, Nebraska, where he had a job waiting for him in 1950.  They returned to Skellytown a few months later, and he joined the army.  My mother Donna Gail Huckins was born in Pampa in 1951 and grew up in Skellytown.  My Stafford grandparents and my two-year old father were among her first visitors.

The Staffords moved to Louisiana in the 1950s, but later divorced and Lynn Stafford moved back to the family farm in Shamrock.  My Dad ran away from his mother and step-father in Louisiana and joined his Dad in Texas, where he remained until enlisting in the army in 1965.  After a three-year stint in Germany, he returned to Texas, looked my mother up, and they married in 1969, shortly after her High School Graduation and ten days after her eighteenth birthday.  I was born three years later in Groom, Carson County, Texas.

I spent the first 17 years of my life in Pampa, Skellytown, and White Deer, Texas, before we moved to Southern New Mexico, where I spent the next 17 yeas.  In 2006, I moved back and now here I am, living deep in the heart of Texas, thirty miles from where Texas Independence was declared, and not much further from where my first Texas ancestors originally settled.  Texas bred, born and raised, and proud to be a Texan once more.