No PT...

No PT...

No PT...No Physical Therapy...

The man was crippled from birth. A forty year old beggar on the temple steps. He had his own spot there. Carried to the temple gate to beg for his living. All he expected or hoped for was a coin or two from Peter.

Peter had no money. But, he did have the power to heal in his hands. Immediate, instant healing. Acts 3
says that Peter pulled him up. 'In the name of Jesus, walk!' Not only did he walk. He jumped and danced.

To walk takes practice. Babies usually crawl or scoot first. Then pull themselves up and hold on to chairs or something. Then the first step. One or two, then a heap on the floor. Even a person who has walked before has shaky legs if they haven't walked for awhile. Many go through weeks or months of physical therapy. They practice learning to walk again. They do not go from 'crippled' to walking, jumping and dancing.

This was indeed a miracle. Jesus working through Peter. A changed life for the beggar. 

Been thinkin'... I'm a miracle too. Not as spectacular as the temple beggar. But Jesus has changed my life just the same. From a crippled unbeliever to a walking, jumping, dancing believer.  

The power of Jesus lives on today...

My Brother...

My Brother...

I have probably the best brother ever...

He loved me - always. 

Even when 'we' (the neighborhood kids) tied him to a chair. 'See if you can walk!' That is when chin met cement. Blood spurted out and maybe stitches were put in. Even when 'we' (neighborhood kids, again) tied the dog's tail to the water faucet and told Larry to run and say 'Here Spot!'. Spot pulled loose, chased Larry and bit him. Still he loved me.

Two years younger, he followed me everywhere. Always nice and kind. I realized that soon, he would be bigger than me. Not that he would ever have retaliated. But, as a precautionary measure, kindness seemed the best idea. 

Knowing the worst me... He still loves me.

AND I LOVE HIM...

Invisiable

Invisible...

Strange word - meaning - not seen. Maybe it should be: unvisible.

There are many things that are invisible -

Smell for one. Come close to a lilac bush. Even if it is not visible, you know a lilac bush is close by.  Step outside our door and you know when food is being cooked at the 'Big House'. Cut grass has its own smell. Diesel stinks. Coffee!!

Sound is another invisible. I awoke this morning to the sound of a humming bird outside my room. Could not see it yet as my eyes were still closed, but I knew the sound. And it sounded like a humming bird. We hear the wind, but only see the result. We hear honking and can distinguish between a car and geese before either comes into sight. 

Breath is invisible. Unless it is really, really cold. Then we can see it. Of course, if someone is laying on the ground, you may have to feel to see if they are really breathing...

Emotions are sometimes invisible. Sometimes visible. Love. Hate. Pain. Despair. Disappointment. Hope. 

God, Jesus and the Spirit are all invisible. But, visible in the world around us. Especially not that it is really spring. Flowers blooming. Trees leafing out. Sunshine. Warmth. The earth is reborn. Also, visible in the actions and words of those who have 'seen', 'heard' and 'know' God is real. That Jesus lived and died and the Spirit lives within, filling us with hope, joy and peace...

Brother...

Brother…

Have you ever thought about having Jesus for a brother? Your parents surely had a special place in their heart for him. You see, they knew who he really was. A secret they kept.

You heard the neighborhood gossip about his birth. At twelve years of age, he stunned the religious teachers with his knowledge. He probably made his bed and took out the garbage without being told to! A wonderful role model. Loving. Kind. Compassionate. The Bible says, He was without sin. Hard to live with a perfect brother!

Then he started acting crazy. Stirring up the people. Especially the ruling-religious. How could he do such unlawful things? Touch the Lepers. Talk to women. Even a Samaritan woman! He was without honor in his own town. Maybe even in his own home. And then miracle after miracle.

And then the end… Captured and drug from Herod to Pilate. Lies! Accusations! Death penalty! Whipped! A cross! And then death!

This was your brother. How would you feel? Would you finally believe that he was more than a brother! He was the Messiah! Your Savior!

Blame us…

‘Blame us… And our children. Just kill Jesus!’ That’s what the crowd, the mob, called out to Pilate.

They had been worked up by the religious leaders. They could only go along with the crowd. Its’ mob hysteria. It is still pretty much the same 2000 years later. It starts small, continues to go to a point where there is no turning back. The mob rules.

Several years ago in Seattle, the Fat Tuesday celebration turned into mob violence and an innocent young man was kicked and beaten to death while others watched.

Five people received new life from his organ transplants. One was his heart. But, that doesn’t make it right.

2000 years ago Jesus hung on a cross. A victim of mob violence and a few religious leaders who saw the law only one way.

The crowd called out, ‘Kill Him! Blame us and our children!’

Pilate washed his hands of the matter. However he had Jesus whipped, then turned him over to the mob. Pilate’s name is always connected to the crucifixion of Jesus. The hand washing didn’t work.

Jesus had to die. It was a sin issue. I’m glad He was willing. The crowd was right. The blame is on them and their children. And me! Jesus was innocent. I’m not. Jesus died because of my sin. To set me free. Thousands live because He died. It’s a heart transplant.

S’more thinkin’

Wonder what would I have done, if I had been part of the mob that morning? Would I have washed my hands and walked away? Or would I have been caught up in the mob hysteria - only to realize too late who Jesus was.

What am I doing today? Am I still part of the crowd? Or do I stand away from the crowd and do what God would have me do? What about you?

Junk

Junk...

'Father,' he prayed. 'Thank you for taking me, broken and looking like junk and making me into something worth while. Judy takes junk (interesting and unusual things) and hangs it on her wall for us to admire. She gives honor and value to broken things -- .'

Wearing an ankle 'bracelet' (because he was on parole) out of a job and attending our Home Group Bible Study, I was surprised at his connection to the 'interesting and unusual stuff' I had on the walls and around our house.

He continued, 'But, God... He takes us where we are and loves us with His powerful, merciful and transforming love. He calls us His. And patiently waits for us to become what He always saw us to be. We are not broken, old junk to Him'.

Simple...

Simple...

I like simple - easy - not complicated.

I just read Psalm 116:5-7: 
     The Lord protects the simple hearted.

I have never thought of a simple heart. A simple mind perhaps. And then my mind goes to College English 101. The instructor stopped the class, of about 50+ students, and asked me, "Are you wasting daddy's money?" 

I could have answered, "No, I wasn't wasting his money. I was the one paying the bills". I don't think she liked me...

Now, that my mind has wandered back, I Googled simple. I was right easy - not complicated, but there are more definitions. Uneducated - foolish - stupid - feeble - little value - ignorant - plain - elementary.

Okay. Now, back to the simple heart. The God I know is all about: grace, mercy and love. If he wants a simple heart, or any of the above definitions, HEAR I am. (Did that get your attention?) 

You have to be quiet and listen with ears, heart, mind and soul. Sounds complicated! But, here I am Lord! Ready to hear with a simple heart.

* gramatical and punctuation errors are mine... I stopped listening to her!