THE CALL STILL ECHOES ACROSS THE PLAYGROUND, “I call Do-Overs!” It’s that magical phrase one utters when they have served the ball badly in games like four-square. Many a game has been saved through the declaration of those power-infused words.
Two-thousand years ago another set of power-infused set of words were uttered, words that would forever change the course of not only history, but time itself. Those words were, “He is not here, He has risen!” In some sense it was the God injected “Do-Over.” In, and through, the resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah, from the dead, God was declaring that we were given the grace-filled opportunity to start over again from all the previous bad starts.
Through the death of Jesus Christ upon the Cross the penalty of our sin was paid, and through His resurrection we have been granted new life. Jesus Himself has proclaimed, “Because I live, you too shall live.” (John 14:19) For those who place their faith, trust, hope, belief in the Person of Jesus a divine “do-over” is granted. The blessed gift of God’s grace is bestowed, and a new life is started. The Apostle Paul wrote, “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)
Are you in need of a “Do-Over” in your life? God’s gracious gift is still offered to you. There is no better day than today to receive that gift and begin anew.
The ball is in your court.

LIVING IN A FOG is not always a bad thing.
When a fog settles down upon our little valley a unique event takes place. Trees, usually lost among the forest, now stand in singular relief against the gray curtain of early morning mist. That which was once not seen, is now noticed. Though we often understand fog as that which obscures our sight, in reality it can help us to see.
A fog can also settle upon us emotionally. Our spirits feel damp and sullen, we move forward unsure of that which lies before us. We find ourselves living somewhere between the light of a new morning and the lingering night. But, just like the shroud that sometimes settles upon our valley, a spiritual and emotional fog can help us to see things in new relief.
The foggy days of our lives are times for us to focus upon that which we can see rather on that which we cannot. It is an opportunity for us to search more intently and to listen more carefully, for it may be during these times of shadow that we experience the closeness of God. It is often in the darkened gardens of prayer that the assurance of God’s presence can be felt most distinctly. As our Lord Jesus taught us through His prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane, calling out to God from the darkness and doubt of our lives allows us to see in stark relief that which was hidden in plain sight.
When faced with an encompassing fog, allow it to quiet your spirit, refocus the eyes of your heart, and see the God who is there.

CRESTING THE HILL ON QUAIL HOLLOW road I was amazed to see the green expanse of grassy parkland in the distance. Bright, beautiful, rising terraces of spring-time green, this park-like setting beckoned me on. But wait! That’s no park, that’s the dump! (Now euphemistically referred to as “The Ben Lomond Transfer Station.”)
Underneath those verdant hills lay years of garbage. Some of it mine. The sculptured seeded somewhat appealing scene may have looked inviting on the surface, but the death and decay which lie beneath could no doubt make your toes curl. You can dress it up, rename it, but it’s still the dump.
As I pondered this uneasy reality I wondered if the landscape before me was a picture of my own life. On the surface things look almost park-like, while underneath garbage abounded. Not a pretty thought, and not unlike the Lord Jesus’ comments to the Pharisees about being white-washed tombs full of dead man’s bones. (Matthew 23:27) Yet, there is a grand and wonderful difference between the Ben Lomond Transfer Station and myself; it is the all-sufficient sacrifice of Jesus Christ upon the Cross. The Word of God reminds us that the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin, not just the surface stuff, but down to the dredges! (1 John 1:7-9) What a glorious truth!
It is this deep, from the inside out, cleaning, that allows us to flourish. The garbage of sin is replaced by the growth-causing presence of the Holy Spirit. The work of Christ was not just to make us look better, or to dress us up, but to completely, radically change us from deep within. We are a new creation! (2 Corinthians 5:17)
Now, there’s a reason to celebrate!

ONE WOMAN’S SLOW IS another man’s fast. This was brought home to me this past week at the first early morning gathering of the “Runners Club” at the National Pastor’s Convention in San Diego. As we gathered to stretch and pray and set out on the morning’s course, our fearless leader told us that she was not a fast runner and the pace would be something we could all handle. I should have known better. As I sized up my group of fellow runners, of which I was one of the oldest and roundest, I should have known that her idea of a slow pace and mine were minutes apart.
In the cool of that San Diego morning we took off at a conversational pace, that is as long as you only wanted to speak a word every ten seconds or so while sucking much needed air into your lungs. Thankfully, as the group of rabbits pulled away from this plodding pastor I was joined by another “conversationally-challenged” pastor-runner. Together we plodded on, sharing of our individual ministries between gasps for breath and prayers of help.
As we shared together we noticed that our other brothers and sisters were no longer insight, so much for looking out for the “weaker brother.” Being left behind can be a lonely place, thankfully, though left, I was not alone. Together we persevered, encouraging each other in the course before us. Such as it should be in the walk of faith, for all do not move at the same speed, and that’s OK.

WE’RE TOLD TO KEEP LOOKING UP. Well I have discovered a time when that adage is nigh impossible, or at least very dangerous. It’s when you’re running on a treadmill. When you’re moving along at a good speed on a treadmill you need to keep your eyes focused forward, or even downward, but turn your gaze to the side for any length of time, or heaven forbid you look up, and you’re a goner. Believe me, I know! Praise the Lord for safety bars!
The reality of running on a mechanical treadmill also holds true to running on the treadmill of life. You need to keep your eyes focused. Get distracted by what’s going on around you, let up for just a short moment, and you’ll find yourself flying out of control. This unrelenting reality of the treadmill poses a problem for those who would like to take some time and look up. For those who feel the call and the need to take a moment or two to gaze heavenward the treadmill of life can make that incredibly difficult, if not dangerous.
I suppose this is why God calls us to a Sabbath’s rest. A specific time of getting off the treadmill so that we can safely, and peacefully look up toward the God of heaven. Sadly, for many of us, we try to practice the discipline of Sabbath-Treadmilling. The result being…well, let’s just say it’s not a pretty sight. The Sabbath, as God created it, was to be a time of stopping, of getting off the treadmill, and resting in the presence and the care of a Lord who loves us. Not a bad idea, really. If you desire to know more about cultivating a Sabbath heart, check out Rick Tozer’s new Sunday morning class, I am sure he’ll point you in the right direction.
So, my treadmill friend, hit the off button, step off the contraption, and take the rest you need. You’ll be glad you did.

IT NEVER FAILS. One of my children say something or do something that is worthy of me knocking them into tomorrow, and when I ask them where they came up with that, the cock their heads, give me a funny twinkled-eyed look and say, “Why we learned it from you, Dad.” Yikes! I guess the old adage, “The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree,” still holds true.
Living in proximity has its pluses and minuses. There is that other old saying about things being learned come from being caught rather than taught. Hang around a person long enough and you’ll be talking and acting just like them. Scary thought when we consider the people who hang around us, especially our children!
Yet, there is a positive side to all of this proximity. If you want to be like someone the key is spending time with them. To learn a language quickly immerse yourself in the culture. To learn a new skill or trade, spend time with a master craftsman. Keep your ears and ears open and before you know it their language will become yours. Their skill, your skill.
The same is true in becoming conformed to the image of Jesus Christ. The Bible says we were made in God’s image, and now are called have that image re-formed in us. But how? Proximity. Get close to the Master. Keep your eyes and ears open. See what He does and do likewise.
What a great day it will be when our Heavenly Father says to us, “Hey, where did you learn to do that?” To which we will reply, “From You Father, from You!” It all comes from getting close.

WORDS INTEREST ME. I guess it comes with the territory of being a “preacher.” I enjoy discovering the etymology of a word, and noting their evolution over time. Words can often lead to questions. Take for example the word redeemed.
Here’s the question. If something has been redeemed does that mean it must have first been deemed? To place a re in front of a word brings the word back to its original state as in words like reestablish and reinvent. So, it bears to reason that if something, or someone, has been redeemed that something or someone must have first been deemed. Right?
As Christian we say that we have been redeemed, so what is it that was deemed in us in the first place? I believe the answer to that question is found in the opening chapters of the Bible where we are told of man and woman being created in the image of God, only to disobey God and to fall into what we call sin.
At creation God deemed us to be conformed to His Image and to enjoy the joy that comes from the communion that Image implies. We were deemed to walk in fellowship with God. We were deemed to experience the full love and provision of God. We were deemed to be blessed. But our willful disobedience removed us from that blessed relationship.
Enter redemption, the work which Jesus Christ accomplished on the cross for us. It was in and through His sacrificial, atoning death, that we were redeemed, brought back to the very place that God had deemed us for from before the beginning.
Re-deemed, how I love to proclaim it! Such a glorious word it is.

I LOST MY CAR KEYS, or at least placed them where I couldn’t find them. I looked for almost an hour, enlisted the help of my wife and kids, and checked each place where I thought they could be at least three times. All to no avail. The good news is I did find them in the last place I looked. Where? In the ignition of my car. Right where I left them. Stop snickering, I can hear you!
As I finally got to go off for a Monday morning run I dwelt upon the key hunt of the previous hour. I had looked in the car, but my searching took me only as far as the seat and floor and the ground around the car. I never thought to look right where I was hoping to insert them in the first place! The lessoned I learned (once again) was when looking for something go back to the last place you know they were for sure, and that place for my keys would of course be the ignition.
Throughout the course of my life I have lost any number of things, (wallets, TV remotes, my mind) but the most worrisome is when I feel I have lost my relationship with the Lord. During those times I found little solace from bumper-sticker theology like, “Feel far from God? Guessed who moved?”
What I have found to help is to return to the last place where I was walking close to the Lord. Like returning to the ignition to discover my keys dangling and waiting to be turned. In truth, that’s the place I guess they should always be, but that’s another sermon. Suffice it to say, the key (pun intended) to restoration of my relationship is to return to where it was working last. I suppose that is what the Lord had in mind when He told the church at Ephesus to “Repent and do the things you did at first.” (Revelation 2:5) To return to our love for the Lord means just that, to return to first things. A lesson well-learned.

IF YOU’RE A WINDOWS® USER you get to store your “favorites” where you can get to them. If you have cell phone service with T-Mobile™ you get to have fast access to your “faves.” Favorites of course are those websites, or programs you access often, or on your cell phone those numbers you call most frequently. Even if you’re not on the web, or have determined never to be slave to the cell phone master, you most likely have favorites.
Maybe your favorites are certain relatives in your family, or recipes mom used to make. Maybe you have a list of favorite television shows, or board games. Maybe it’s authors or books, actors or movies. May be it’s a list of friends at school or people at church. Well, whatever it may be, we all have favorites.
I have lots of favorites. Ice cream flavors, books, television shows, friends. Favorites are things or people I return to often because of the comfort they bring. Be it person, place or thing, when I am enjoying my favorites I feel at home, at peace.
I suppose that it’s why I have certain favorite Bible verses and stories. When I return to these favorites, it’s like returning home, their truth brings me peace. So, what are some of those “faves” on my list? Well, there’s 1 Kings 18 and 19, the story of Elijah and the Prophets of Baal. It’s a fave because I identify with Elijah’s highs and lows. Then there’s Psalm 51, oh how I return to that great Psalm of confession and brokenness. I must include the verse I believe God laid upon my heart when I responded to His call, Isaiah 61:1-3. I desire to see a people who become oaks of righteousness, whom God chooses to use for the rebuilding of the ancient ruins. And lastly, at least for the purpose of this Shepherd’s Staff, there is Galatians 2:20, most likely my favorite verse, not because I live by its truth, but because I desire it so. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. Amen and amen.

EXPLAINING THE TRI-UNITY OF THE GODHEAD is much like trying to explain one’s child. If you had asked me to explain my first child, Trinity, when she was a little tyke of two or three I would have had little problem. But, ask me to explain her as a grade school child, a teenager, a young adult, and the process of explanation becomes well nigh impossible. Now, lest you think I am picking on my eldest child, let me set the record straight, explaining the rest of our brood became increasingly more difficult for me, and it seemed to start at an earlier age. I read the books that told me each successive child would be different from their older siblings, they just never told me how different.
The learning curve continues for me, and I dare say, shall continue for quite some time to come. I am not bemoaning the fact of their differences and their “un-explain-ability,” and truth be known I appreciate each child’s uniqueness and gifts. I suppose what I am trying to communicate is that the longer I watch them, the more I stand back in awe and wonder at the people they are becoming. My inability to explain in no way diminishes the beautiful gifts they are from my heavenly Father.
Back to theology. Explaining Trinitarian theology is thus impossible. It is, as we say, a mystery. But, as a mystery, like our children, it is a wonderful thing to behold. The longer I walk with God, the more I seek to know Him, more mystery is revealed. The deeper I peer into this mystery the more wonderful and awe-inspiring it becomes. The more my heart is moved to worship. And is this not what God truly desires?

WHAT DOES GOD LOOK LIKE? Ask that question of a variety of people and often the reply will include a word picture of an old guy with white robes and a flowing beard. God is referred to as the “Ancient of Days,” and we often translate that into an image of the old man of heaven. But God is no grandpa.
The Scriptures tell us that God is eternal, but that does not equate with “old.” To be eternal is not the same as being immortal. To be eternal places God outside the confines and constrictions of space and time. It could be stated that God “lives” in the “eternal present.”
The God of the Bible, the God we worship, is not some grandfatherly figure sitting in some state of repose in a heavenly rocking chair. Though He is the Ancient of Days He does not experience the infirmities of age; His bones do not creak, nor does His memory fail. God is the all-powerful, all-knowing, sovereign Lord of all. He is no grandpa.
Yet, this eternal God is also a loving heavenly Father. He welcomes His children into His presence. He embraces them in His strong and compassionate arms. He wipes away our tears with power and caring hands. He speaks to us with words of wisdom that our hearts can bear. He is the God who is love. (1 John 4:8)
What does God look like? He looks like Jesus. Jesus, speaking of His relationship to God, said, “No one has seen the Father except the one who is from God; only he has seen the Father.” Jesus, that young, strong, wise, steadfast, obedient Son, He is what God “looks” like. A God strong enough to bear the cross. He is strong enough to bear you up as well.

“PERHAPS HE KNOWS TOO MUCH,” so suggests one of the animated pirates on The Pirate’s of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. The travelers had “seen the cursed treasure,” and now had to pay dearly for the knowledge they possessed. Yep, too much knowledge is not good for you, or at least too much of the wrong kind of knowledge.
Knowledge got Adam and Eve in trouble…and that trouble has been passed on throughout the ages. But it’s not just any kind of knowledge that gets us in deep water, it is the knowledge we seek so that we can “be as God.” It was this promised knowledge that Satan promised to the first couple, and it is the same knowledge that tempts us today.
Throughout the history of humankind we have sought knowledge that would some how push beyond our need to humbly confess our dependence upon God. Be it in the arenas of science, medicine, finance or psychology, we believe that we can really know enough so we can take care of ourselves. Even in the spiritual arenas of our lives we hope to find just the right knowledge so to have all the questions of faith answered. History is replete with groups, like the Gnostics, who were always looking for that “special knowledge” that would answer all the questions, and move them closer to God, or in the worse sense, be like God.
Not all knowledge is wrong. In fact, to not know the truth about God is harmful. The issue before us is gathering the correct knowledge, and with the wisdom to know best how to apply that knowledge to our lives. It’s one thing to know what the buried treasure consists of and where it can be found, it’s quite another thing to be able to acquire the treasure and put it to good use.
I believe it is a great time, at the start of this new year, to head out on that treasure hunt. We know what the treasure is (to know God) and we know where it can be found (in His Word) all we need do know is start digging.
Grab a shovel and let’s get to it!

IT WAS THE CALL FOR SACRIFICIAL GIVING. The challenge was for us to “give until it hurts.”
Whether it was on the field of sport, or in the offering plate, we have been called to give sacrificially, that is until it hurts either our body or a pocketbook. It is a great speech for both college locker room and church lectern, but is really how we are to give?
I suppose the impetus for this sacrificial giving is found in the Heavenly Father’s giving of His Son, Jesus to be the complete atoning sacrifice for our sins. And yes, they both did more than “give until it hurts.” But, the motive behind their giving is more than just sacrifice. Their giving was prompted by their love.
The Apostle Paul writes, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) It was the love of God for us, His creation, which motivated Him to give. The Apostle John famously reminds us that, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) Again, it was God’s love that moved Him to give His only Son. Sure, sacrifice was involved, but love was the gift. What do you expect from the God who is love?
This Christmas what is our impetus for giving? Should it not be to reflect the great love of God? Yes, from time to time we may be called upon to give until it hurts, but let us always give because we love. Perhaps we should rewrite the “challenge” given above. Maybe it should read, “Give until it’s love, and then give some more.”
May God’s love, joy, peace and hope be His great gifts this Christmas!

THE FIRST NOEL, THE ANGELS DID SAY, was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay. Say what?
What is a “noel” and why are the angels saying it? A little online research will tell us that “noel” has a few possible meanings. It could be the title of episode #32 of the television show, “The West Wing,” or the Micmac Indian name for when “ice cakes float freely.” It could have even referred to the medical research term used when the highest dose in a toxicity study results in no-observed-effect level (NOEL), though I sincerely doubt that one.
All kidding aside, “Noel” derives from the Old French as the word for Christmas. It most likely finds it roots in the Latin natalis, meaning birthday, as in natalis dies Domini “birthday of the Lord”. So, there you have it, the angels were declaring a Merry Christmas to the first community of celebrants, the shepherds in the fields of Bethlehem.
This first Christmas greeting was one of “good news of great joy that would be for all people.” The good news that a Savior had been born, the Messiah they had historically hoped for, the One who had been promised through the Prophets, was now here. Yes, this was truly good news of great joy! News that would travel throughout the country-sides of history unto our own day, when we too join with the heavenly host in proclaiming a Joyeux Noël!
May your Noel be filled with His joy!

CHRISTMAS IS FILLED WITH SPECIAL MOMENTS. The “moment” I am referring to is different for each of us. It might be bundling up to go sing Christmas carols or enjoying a special Christmas-time meal with family and friends. It might a night of adrenaline rush shopping at the local mega-mall or a trip to Crest Ranch to select the perfect Christmas tree. Whatever that “moment” is it is just not Christmas without it.
My Christmas moment comes on Christmas Eve, and I guess you could say it is a culmination of moments. It begins with a family meal of soup in bread bowls followed by the final preparations for the Christmas Eve service, the filling of Communion cups and the lighting of scores of candles. It finds its focal point in the re-telling of the Christmas event and the gathering of fellow-worshippers around the Lord’s Table. It is punctuated by a family car ride through the Christmas-lit houses in Scotts Valley and finds its finale in the hanging of Christmas stockings and making sure all are tucked into bed with sugarplum dreams in their heads. But…my most special moment is yet to come.
My true Christmas moment comes late in the evening, when all is quite. The woodstove is radiating its warmth and the lights on the Christmas tree cast a hazy glow throughout the room. All is quite. All is still. All is peaceful. It is the moment I wait for, dare I say that I long for, in each Christmas season. It is the moment between moments. It signifies the end to the pre-Christmas rush, and stands as a quite sentinel awaiting the unpackaged joy of Christmas morning. It is the peace between pieces. It is a moment that reminds of the first Advent night. The moment the Child was born, and the angels declared “Peace.”

WHEN LINDA AND I TAKE LONG ROAD TRIPS TOGETHER we are very comfortable with long periods of silence. No radio, no CD player, just the sound of the road rushing by under the tires. It is a time to let our thoughts run from one point to the other, and then, when the time is right, we express those thoughts to each other. The whole process is something we enjoy, and even look forward to when we travel. Yes, we are comfortable with silence.

One of the things that make these periods of silence bearable is knowing that we can enter into conversation whenever we like. We can interrupt the silence and that’s OK.

But what if we couldn’t? What if the silence was unbreakable? Then the peace would become a prison. It’s a prison that Israel found itself in the period of time that came to be known as the “intertestamental period.” That period of time between the ending of the Old Testament record and the beginning of the New. It wasn’t just a period of silence while driving between King City and Paso Robles, it was a span of time covering four hundred years. Now that’s silence.

During those four hundred years no prophet spoke, no epiphany was given, no bush ignited or donkey spoke. It was God incommunicado. Lots of prayers going up, but no answer in return. Some went after other gods, some remained faithful, but even after four hundred years and scores of generations, even the faithful began to wonder, “will the silence last forever?”

But in the fullness of time God spoke.

The Word became flesh.

“A RUT IS NOTHING MORE THAN A GRAVE with the ends knocked out,” a wise old wag once told me. Ever since,I have desired never to get myself into a rut, but sadly I have found myself there more times than I care to acknowledge.
Why do we often find ourselves in those ruts? One reason, I suppose, is because there is safety in a rut. Dig one deep enough and you can stand up and nobody can even see you. Lay down and they’ll take you for dead. There’s a certain comfort in that. If they can’t see me, or if they think I’m “gone,” then they will not bother me. I can keep to myself, do my own thing, be my own boss, live within the box that I have created. (A box? In a rut? Not a pretty picture given the description above!)
Forty-five years of “doing church” in the San Lorenzo Valley, not a bad track record. What will it be for the next forty-five? A rut? A grave? Business as usual? I pray not! Ten years of ministry for my family and me here at Felton Bible Church, what will the future hold? A rut? A box? Business as usual? I pray not!
This morning we hold one of our regular Annual Congregational Meetings, a time to look forward as we approve our 2008 budget and elect new Ministry Team members. It’s a time to take seriously the business of the church. It is a time to remember: Whose we are, why we are, where we are, and to pray about where we are going. Will it be a rut? A box? Business as usual?
I pray not!

I’VE BEEN TO PRISON. Well, just as a visitor, but I have been there. In fact, I have been to one of the highest security level prisons there are; Pelican Bay State Prison, located in northern hinterlands of California. There is that old saying, “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t not want to live there.” Well, it’s not even a nice place to visit.
Pelican Bay State Prison is filled with some of the worst of the worst when it comes to criminals, and yet in the midst of that very dark place God is at work, and lives are being changed. They are changed because someone cares enough to bring God’s light into the midst of the darkness. Sometimes the light is brought through the preaching of the Word of God by a visiting volunteer chaplain, like myself. Sometimes it is brought by someone linking with an inmate through a ministry like Prison Fellowship, and sometimes the light is lived through the life of a correctional officer who is a follower of Jesus.
This Sunday we join with thousands as we remember the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. It is a time when we focus on the reality that throughout our world it is not only criminals who find themselves imprisoned, but there are thousands who suffer many forms of imprisonment simply because the bear the name of Christian. To us here in America these brothers and sisters are nameless and faceless to us, but they are no less our family. We may not be afforded the blessing of visiting them in prison, as we could an inmate in our county jail, but through the power of prayer we can still have an impact in their lives.
Let us therefore heed the Word of the God, from Hebrews 13, “Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.”
Not only today…but everyday.

ON THE WALL ABOVE MY DESK are a few reminders of those for which I am thankful. There is a picture of my wife, a picture of my family, and a pen and ink drawing of Jesus upon the cross, and a watercolor of pelicans skimming the waves. Each of these pictures move my heart to thankfulness to the Lord.
I am thankful for the love of God exhibited in Jesus Christ. I am thankful for the love of a wife, exhibited in Linda. I am thankful for the love of family, exhibited in Trinity, Krista, Lizzie and Jordan. I am thankful for the God’s amazing creation, exhibited in the wingtip-to-water flights of the Brown Pelican.
Because I am thankful for each of these I am constrained to give forth, with an open hand. Because of God’s first gift of love I am able to love in return. Because of God’s gift of my gracious wife, I am moved to meet her deepest desires. Because of God’s gift of my family, I am moved to fulfill their needs, and hopes. Because of God’s gift of creation, I am moved to be a good steward of it.
I have been blessed beyond belief and thus, my heart is filled with gratefulness, and my hands are moved to extend the gift that has been given. Yes, a grateful heart is attached to giving hands.
I encourage you to take a look around you today. Gather in through sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, the blessings that God has lavished upon you. Let your heart be glad, and with a glad heart give a blessing in return.
Let thanks-giving flow!

SOME INSECTS ARE MEAN-SPIRITED. Yellow-jackets are one such insect. About a week ago I was involved in a 5k race to benefit San Lorenzo Valley Elementary School. The course took us on an out-and-back trip through Fall Creek State Park. As I started to head up one of the steeper grades one of the course volunteers alerted us to the presence of yellow-jackets. Needless to say, I didn’t stick around long to discover what kind of mood they were in. But, by the time I was on the return leg of the race the race officials had changed the course and were taking us down “let’s-break-an-ankle-hill.” Ah, such are the choices in trail running; yellow-jackets or broken ankles.
At the finish line the bites (stings?) were counted, and ice-packs were applied and the stories were told, some with tears, of the yellow-jacket encounters. What was interesting to me is that some got stung (bit?) and some didn’t. Often one runner was attacked, while next was not. What made the difference? Could it be the speed of the runner? (That wouldn’t be a fact in my case.) Could it be the color of clothing? (That didn’t seem to matter.) Could it be that the little nemesis had the ability to smell fear? (Then I should have been attacked, I’m always afraid when I race.) None of these things seem to make a difference. It all came down to: some got stung and others didn’t. No rhyme, no reason, just life.
As I contemplate the tragic fires sweeping over Southern California this week, I ask myself the question raised above. Why are some “stung” and others not? The fire destroys one home and leaps over the next. Some neighborhoods leveled, while others stand. Why? The choice of God? The results of living in a broke world? I don’t have the answer for that.
So, what are we to do?
Me? I weep for those who have lost everything. I celebrate with those who “made it through.” And, I pray for God’s mercy to fall on all of us…for we all need it…stung or not.