A Rose, A Kiss and A Prayer For Forgiveness

I try not to ask for much. Sometimes I don't ask enough. I've been told that sometimes I need to ask for more information. Sometimes for directions. Sometimes for a second opinion. Sometimes only to understand the question I just heard. As a kid, however, I used to ask my mom for many things. I would her ask for snacks, fruits or the last serving of spaghetti. I would ask her for permission to go outside and play. I would ask her to prevent my brothers and sisters from killing me. Perhaps the most important thing was asking her to be merciful and not show my report card to my dad. The desire was never granted, but it was always worth asking the question. Mom believed in us. She would encourage us, though sometimes it didn't sound quite like encouragement. She would give advice knowing that we would neither follow it nor understand it until we had kids of our own. She used to tell me that I had talent for art even when I didn't think that my art was any good. She was that way. She believed in us. When I became a parent, my parent's experiences became my how-to manual. For good or not-so-good, that was really all I had to lean on. After we returned from our driving vacation to Chicago in 1993 my mother sent me a photo of our gang in the van as we were heading out. Written on the back were the word's "So proud of the man you became." I guess she recognized their years of labor showing a fruit that she could recognize. Tomorrow is Mother's Day. It will be the first without my mother. I have wondered how it will go, more so for my dad than me or my siblings. He spent 56 Mother's Days with her.  Think about how many gifts he bought her in our names. Think about how much of a challenge it must have been to keep 5 kids from ruining her day with our bickering. As much as we will feel the loss and the emptiness of the holiday, it will not compare to the hole he will try to fill with something other than the memories. Yet in all honesty, I hope he spends the day filling it with those wonderful memories. Last June when I found out she was sick and not likely to survive for any significant length of time I left work to visit them in suburban Chicago. I thought for sure that I would visit her for a few days, seeing her alive, and then returning when she passed. I had no idea how aggressive this cancer was, nor that she would pass on the morning I was supposed to return to California. It was a whirlwind of emotion and bad news as the doctor's reports grew ever more grim as, not the days, but the hours, passed. Dad and I spent the last night with her in the hospital. All of my brothers and sisters were standing beside her when she breathed her last. I felt so grateful that we were all there for her last breath, because she was there for each our first breaths. As heart-wrenching as that was - the experience indelibly etched in my mind - I remember something else just as vividly. It was the questions. As her conditioned worsened the nurses would administer medicines to ease the pain she was in. There was many times when she would cry out for her mom, relatives or others that had already passed. We were advised that this could be a symptom of the meds, or it could be a indicator of an imminent passage. I guess we'll truly never know in this life. The questions. Because of her condition, her questions and requests were slurred at best and incoherent at times. But it didn't stop her from trying to communicate with us. As she tried to speak sometimes only fragmented segments of words were uttered. But I could understand her request for the rose. I bought her a single rose in a vase and I put it next to her bed. She must have been able to smell it but that would have been quite a task with the oxygen feeding directly into her nose. She wanted to smell the rose. I held it next to her nose and watched as she did everything she could in her weakened condition to breath deeply and experience the smell of a rose. She loved flowers, especially yellow roses. We draped her casket with them and we wore yellow ties to the services. She was our rose. The fragrance of a life dedicated to her family. We heard the words "chalk", "car", "cigarette", "cake" and so many, many others with the hard "C" sound. We struggled to make sense of it until she finally hit the word she was trying to say - "kiss". When she formed that word, she held on to it, asking repeatedly to be kissed. Dad lit up and kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. We all did. When I think about how many times she tried to find that word I realized how much she wanted to be kissed. When you love, you want to be loved. Later when the others had gone outside leaving just me and my sister-in-law with her, my mom began to form words for yet another request. These words were "Father" and "give me". It didn't take long to catch on and I asked her, "Mom, are you asking Our Father to forgive you?" She nodded. I simply held her hand and for a little while asked a merciful God to grant this last request. It may be difficult tomorrow. But as I think about my mom I have a renewed understanding of a very well known passage in Scripture, "Ask and you shall receive." Whether it's for a kiss, a rose or even forgiveness, if it's important to you, ask. Enjoy life and be grateful for the blessings and the family God has given you. I do. If you don't believe me. Just ask.

And They Were Mine

It's been a while since I've written anything here. Life has been unusual, to say the least. Haven't felt the urge to write what isn't read, so I took most of the year off. Lately however, I've felt the need to connect and communicate with whomever might be out there looking, even randomly. Reading my Bible the other day I came across a story in Ezekiel that caused me to pause and think. In chapter 23 of the book, Ezekiel tells of two sisters from the same mother. It was anything but a pleasant story. The sisters are identified as Samaria and Jerusalem, the two capitals of the divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah, respectively. It describes their lewd behavior in terms that make you want to shield your kids eyes from the words. Their fall into their lascivious lifestyle is well recounted as is the judgment leveled against them. But this is not what caught my eye. What spoke to me strongly was the Lord's declaration in verse 4, "and they were mine." It pulled at this father's heart. I could at one moment feel what the Lord our God felt as He spoke of them being alienated from His mind. I thought about what that must feel like. A father raises his daughters to be fair, virtuous women. If he doesn't, he certainly should. In raising them proper there should be a love reciprocated back to the father as well as reverence for those things that he holds dear and sacred. That nation that God had chosen for Himself, to be a people through which He could reach all humanity, rejected Him and turned toward other gods. It broke His heart. They put Him out of their mind long before He responded in kind. They wouldn't stop for a moment to consider what they were doing to Him. Ultimately judgment came upon them. Destruction, heartache, pain and death. Total description would take longer than I care to write and you can read it for yourself. I have only wanted to put across the feeling I experienced upon reading this story again. "And they were mine" has a tragic, seemingly desperate claim to former relationship. A father's longing surrender to his greatest loss. He loves us beyond reason. Let's be true and faithful to Him.

Reading Between The Lines

Yesterday, I had occasion to give my testimony to the congregation of our new church. There are several in the church that are currently needing hope that they too can live in freedom. So, I offer to you, some of what I offered to them. It is not pretty, but it is true. Not every story starts with "Once upon a time", and unfortunately not many stories end with "and they lived happily ever after." But it's almost guaranteed that every story contains the epic drama of the struggle between the supernatural forces of good and evil and the weak human will and spirit. Children's fables portray the good angel on the right shoulder and the evil demon on the left. Between the two lies the mind of the human. The cartoons never really reveal the intensity of the battle, but rather almost jokingly show the propensity of the person to listen to the dark voice of temptation. In reality the yielding to temptation generally has a painful cost associated with it. A simple look around your circle of friends will prove the veracity of my claim. Shortly after leaving home to join the military in 1973, I began to smoke cigarettes. I enjoyed them until I tried to quit. I used to joke about how easy it was to quit, saying "I do it all the time." But deep down, I knew I couldn't do it on my own. Some people quit cold turkey, as my parents did, but I wasn't that strong. Very soon after graduating from boot camp I was transferred to my training station in Georgia. It was there that I began to smoke pot. The digression from there into other drugs was swift. A couple of years later, while still in the military, and still using drugs, I married my beautiful wife. We had anything but a beautiful life. (How love grew from there, could only attest to the grace of God.) Within a couple of months of being Honorably Discharged from the Navy, my wife let me know that she was leaving me. I couldn't say I blamed her, but I didn't want to believe my ears. I was so far from the man I promised to be that I'm sure she saw no hope of this marriage working out. Still I loved her and felt as if my heart was ripped out of my chest. I cried often over the next several weeks. Then I simply decided that drugs would ease the pain. Anything I could get my hands on went into my body. After several months of separation we decided to try again. I felt I had a chance to win her back, but I was seriously addicted to drugs. I could not consider myself an alcoholic because I didn't drink unless I wanted to get drunk. I usually saved that for the weekend, which typically was party time. Unfortunately, that was also when I spent the most time with my wife and our baby daughter. It was on a weekend getaway party when my wife asked me to go easy on the drugs and alcohol. In a fit of anger, I pushed her and she fell to the ground. Needless to say Separation #2 followed immediately. Thankfully it was a brief separation and soon I was trying again to prove I could be the man I needed to be, but was seriously hindered by drug and alcohol use. It was not long and again we were speaking often of divorce. One day, to my surprise, she came home stating that she wanted to attend a Bible Study with some friends from work. I vehemently objected saying that I "did not want that junk in my house." She prevailed and in a few weeks I asked if I could go with her. Her reply was a simple, "that's what we've been praying for." The same week that I attended my first Bible Study lesson I accepted their invitation and went to their church. There was no preaching that night, but beyond any doubt the presence of the Lord was there. They gave an altar call, something I had never heard of, and I went forward. It was at that moment that I first felt that I had a hope in Jesus. After spending a little time at the altar, God poured out His Spirit upon me, filling me with the Pentecostal experience of speaking in tongues as He baptized me with His power, His presence, and His Spirit. My wife was "freaked out" by what was happening and ran out of the church, locking herself in our car. When her friend came to get her to watch what was happening to me she said, "No, this is weird, you're weird, Gary's going to change and I'm not!" When I finally got to the car she repeated her fear to me that Jesus was going to change me, but not her. I could do little to alleviate her panic so I did something I hadn't done in years. I prayed for her. A few weeks later after trying other churches she wanted to go back to the Pentecostal church and be baptized. It was that night that she and I were buried in the Name of Jesus Christ. She received the baptism of the Holy Ghost as she came up out of the water. Our life together could only get better, and it did. I still had some friends that were using drugs and alcohol and they would come around trying to keep us in the party mode. I didn't know any better, so I indulged a couple of times until conviction set in. God delivered me from drugs in my driveway. I was pretty much able to walk away from alcohol on my own and totally gave it up at my wife's urging on New Years Eve, 1980. Smoking was more difficult and took perhaps several months. When a friend asked how I was doing with my efforts to quit I told her, "OK." Then I got in the car, started to drive away and lit a cigarette. My wife looked at me and asked what I was doing. As I turned on to the street I took the cigarettes out of my pocket, threw them on the lawn of church and asked, "God if you'll help me, I'll never smoke anything again." He did, and I haven't. Well, several months became one year, which soon became ten. I wrote in an earlier blog about overhearing my wife speaking on the phone and describing herself as having "a fairy tale life." Since I knew that I had ogre-like tendencies she must have been talking about Jesus being her prince, but I appreciated the comment anyway. Ten years has now become more than 28 years. Still clean, still sober, still in love with my bride and our savior. Some stories do have a happy ending. I have confidence that this one will. And we will live happily forever after this life. I hope that my words will bring hope to you or someone you may know that is bound by weakness to drugs, alcohol, smoking or any other vice. Generally, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. We need help. We need a savior. We all need Jesus. He's still a deliverer. Just give Him a chance.

Brothers And Sisters, It's A Family Matter

Well, the holiday season is, and has been, upon us. Much will be written about the season and what it means to various ones of us. This blog will be much like those. We understand that the true meaning of the season is to remember God's greatest gift to us, His son Jesus. The Christ. The Savior. The Anointed One. Traditionally, we celebrate God's gift by showing a similar spirit of giving by exchanging gifts. Most of us exchange gifts with those closest to us. Some give much to charity because of their ability to do so. Some unfortunately have little wherewithal to give much of anything. To them the season brings pain at the prospect of not being able to meet self-imposed expectations. I know, I've been there before. I'm blessed to have been raised in a home that, though far from perfect, had an underlying love for each other. It was something my father valued greatly. Even during moments of chastening he always let us know it was because he loved us. When we as siblings griped and bickered with each other he would remind us how fortunate we were to have brothers and sisters. Now that we're older we all see that, and thankfully, we all appreciate each other more than ever. I'm glad that when I made my dad angry that he reminded me of his love, (though sometimes the reminder had a measure of pain to it!) I'm also glad that we were not banished from him, or from one another. There were times I didn't want to speak to my siblings, but it was never forced upon any of us by our parents. In fact, often times the shared sympathy was a tremendous help. How painful it would have been if my dad would have prevented my brothers or sisters from talking to me just because he was upset. The blessing of brother and sisterhood has extended itself to us through the Family of God. We count it joy that we have so many wonderful friends. I'm still amazed at how strong our friendships have remained after so many years. Memory would fail me to mention all those that mean so much to us. Even though we have now been former members of 3 congregations we esteem the wonderful men, women and children with whom we have formed relationships. This is perhaps the most understated element of Christian living. The living strength of relationships and family bonds. This is perhaps why it hurts so much to go through the holiday season after having lost a loved one. The sense of grief seems compounded for many reasons. One definite reason is the feeling that we forgot to give something so important to the one we lost - a constant reminder of how much we loved them. This holiday season I am reminding myself to let all of you know just how much you mean to us. Though we are separated by distance, we are joined by love. No silence, no lack of immediate presence, no busy-ness can really separate us from the feelings we have for you all. We think of you often and pray God's blessings upon you. After all, that's a gift too. Merry Christmas.

The Art of the Spirit

The words of a preacher are not lost on me. I usually listen very carefully and check myself to see if he's talking to me. We've been in many, many services where we hear the voice of God speaking to us. One part of the message speaks to you, and another part speaks to someone else and the rest of us get parts of both, or something totally different. That's the beauty of anointed messages. They come across just like the Bible. Read it today and see something you've never seen before. That's what I call the Art of the Spirit. A man speaking as the oracle of God, a voice to your soul, a breath to your spirit. It feeds the hungry, quenches the thirsty and salves the wounded. A subtle beauty like frost on a window or gossamer wings carrying their charges through a wooded canyon. Yesterday I witnessed such a display in church while visiting our daughter and her family. The preacher, Brother Sam Howard, had delivered God's Word in a powerful manner. He related the story of Abraham's willingness to offer his son Isaac as worship. He clearly delineated the differences between sacrifice and worship and showed how Abraham clearly understood that's what he was going to do. Knowing in his heart that God was able to raise up his son, he must have been able to convey that same sense of faith to Isaac. You see, Isaac would probably have been strong enough to fight off a man that was 100+ years old. It really would have been quite easy and if nothing else, the boy could probably outrun his dad. But for some reason there wasn't a fight. There was no conflict. When Isaac asked his dad what was going to be sacrificed, his response was prophetic - the Lord would provide Himself a lamb for a burnt offering. This must have been sufficient for Isaac, for no other discussion was recorded. Fast forward to the present. We are in day-to-day struggles. Our adversaries take on different names and relationships, but they are adversaries nonetheless. Some look like friends, others like family or employers. Rarely do they look like Satan, for there are none that I know of that could even describe him to me. Suffice it to say, we have enemies. When it comes time to worship, our brains can be preoccupied with those that offended us. We may want justice for them instead of the mercy we ourselves would want. We may desire their downfall, some discrediting or even worse. We often choose to fight rather than lay down our egos. My will is the hardest to bring into subjection. And far too often we want revenge, recompense or some other sense of evening the score. All of this instead of taking the virtuous route of self-denial. Enter the preacher speaking in the Spirit. Without instructing us, he simply places the story out there for God to do the work. And work He does! Quietly, skillfully with the touch of a master He speaks to our souls, quieting them in their time of trial. He lets us know that if we just simply worship Him the rest will be taken care of. We may lose something now, but He is able to resurrect whatever it is that dies whether it be reputation or relationships. Anointed preaching. Apples of gold in pictures of silver.

Turn the Page

In the words of a wise old king; To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8) In seven years you get to know some people very well. We have been blessed to have been part of some tremendous friendships. These are the kind of friendships that will last as long as there is breath in our bodies. Friendships born out of love. Friendships born out of passion. Friendships born out of adversity. We have known them all. When we first moved to Reno, it was a time of national turmoil. We signed a lease on a home on 9-11-2001. Our arrival here was met with the uncertainty of the day. It was five months before I could find employment. I've never had that challenge before. The adversity of that time allowed us to develop friendships built around prayer and a common desire to see God's people prosper in a downward economy. Our desire to help with the vision and mission of Pastor Flowers allowed a friendship to grow that was based on the passion of doing God's work in northern Nevada. This friendship actually started in Antioch, CA eleven years ago. I am sure it will last until the Lord calls us home. And what can be said about the congregation at Skyline that would not be an understatement? These people are filled with love. They have a deep appreciation for the ministry. They have great support for the labor that is needed to see the results that Skyline has experienced. The wonderful support of the leadership was witnessed continually. Oh yeah, and as Pentecostals we know a few things about fellowship. The great barbecues, the fun church picnics, snacks at Small Groups, meals at Newcomers Class. All churches seem to be blessed with kitchen talent, and Skyline was no exception. To the great department heads, I admonish you to stay faithful to your field of labor. Whether it be Sunday School, Greeters, Music or any one of the others, it is a great thing that you are doing. It is impacting Reno and the surrounding communities. Just as God had in mind when He called your pastor here. Stand behind him in all that he endeavors to do for God. He will follow the Lord, but he needs your help to accomplish it. Ladies of Skyline, you have been so dear to my wife. Your kindness, love and friendship has strengthened her when she needed it. Your laughter, love and prayers have spilled over into our home. Stand behind Sis Flowers as she supports and complements her husband's ministry. Support their family in all ways. Love their daughters as your own. Pray for them continually. Linda and I have felt for sometime that we needed to get away and develop our teaching ministry, and so we have made the decision to leave and pursue our ministry goals. Skyline church has blessed us so much. The opportunity I was given to teach was most generous. I hope that you have enjoyed it as much as I have, but I feel that I truly received more than I gave out. We love you all and you will be in our prayers. May God grant mighty revival in Reno. May your building be overflowing. May your lives be enriched by the great God, Jesus, whom we all so dearly love and serve. It is time to turn the page. God bless you all.

Out of the Wilderness

Yep, it's over. The Fishing Trip is complete. And for a change... I Scored!!! The first evening, in the lodge eating smoked salmon chowder, I told the guides that I was somewhat of a fishing legend. Their looks begged me to explain, so I did. I told them that in 2005 over a total of 9 fishing trips I did not catch one single fish. It became their responsibility to put me on the catch and they did. This photo is the end of our first day out. I'm in the background on the right standing above the 54 pound halibut. I limited on halibut every day, but Thursday, when the winds and the 8 foot seas made us cut our day short. I still landed a 25 pounder that day. On Friday we joined the throngs wading near the banks on the Kenai River in Soldotna where I limited on Reds (Sockeye Salmon), a great tasting fish. In a couple of weeks we'll be hosting a fish fry, or something like it, to try and reduce the the current inventory of nearly 125 pounds of fillets! The place we stayed was Casa de Kings, in Anchor Point, about 30 miles north of Homer. Captains, and brothers, Phil and James Mertzweiller run a great camp. Up early for a good breakfast, on the water around 6 am, fish for about 8 hours, come back, clean and pack the catch and then eat a great supper. I would highly recommend their camp if you want to go to Alaska and fish. Nothing much else to do around Anchor Point so it is truly for fishing. Stay a couple of extra days in Homer if you want something more coastal in feel. It's a neat little community. Or stay in Anchorage if you want that citified feeling. You can contact the fishing camp at www.casadekings.com for more information. Tell them I sent you. Now it's time for halibut ceviche.