No Bibles Allowed

The Bible Effect
(by R.P.Edwards)

Revered and honored
Hated…to shreds
Open…for all
Hidden ‘neath beds
Sought…for destruction
Sought…for true life
Effects
Never neutral
One…peace
And one…
Strife

The third grader gently lifted the lid to her desk and pulled out the book.  It was quiet time and, since she was allowed to read, she thought bringing her favorite “real” book to school would fill the time nicely.  Sure, like most kids her age she enjoyed the fantasies and funnies that her other friends were consumed with; but this book, her bible, was much more than those other, transient tales.  Indeed, by observing how much mom and dad loved it, and how the minister on Sunday was always quoting from it, well, it seemed only natural to become better acquainted with the pages.  But the main reason, was that it told about Jesus.  And this little girl…loved him.  It was disturbing, therefore, when the teacher, someone the child respected and even liked, walked up to her and demanded that the wonderful book be put away…because it wasn’t “appropriate.” 

On this Thursday morn, as I assisted in the send off of my spouse, I saw on the news how yet another public school teacher sought to reinforce the secular mindset by “banning the book.”  Of course, this individual was out of line (so says the Supreme Court…whoopee!) but I tire so of the whole separation of church and state nonsense.  Again:  God is mentioned four times in the Declaration of Independence.  The Constitution ends with the phrase, “in the year of our Lord” and, a simple review of the era when the document was written reveals Biblical principles being a necessary part of the A B C’s.  The convoluted route, it seems to me, whereby the black robed class have concluded that we are to be, when it comes to education “anti-God” (what is “secular,” if not that?) is, at the very least, inane.  The solution?  Vouchers.  Give me my portion and I’ll send my kids to an institution that reflects my values.  A place that teaches radical ideas like; don’t murder, steal, lie, or cheat on your spouse.  Where marriage is uncomplicated and sexuality…is safe.  And how about the most revolutionary idea of all…honor your father and mother.

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.

Contingency Plans

 

 

The Contingency Plan
(by R.P.Edwards)

The contingency plan
A thoughtful thing
Preparing one
For what fate may bring
To be on guard
Against the new
To stay on course
The heading…true
But contingency plans
Too oft are slight
Forgetting that death
Must someday…bite
So, think beyond your daily breath
And think of He
Who conquered death
Then, stepping to the edge of land
Embrace the clouds
In His scarred hands

“Unflappable,” it was a word the young biologist didn’t use very often, but watching his “boss” methodically put together the cold weather gear (even as the life-sustaining generator sputtered its final gasp) and then explain the intricacies of the plan for survival (listing the doings of each prospective day, culminating in a final exit strategy should there be no break in the weather), well, unflappable fit…and it gave the neophyte a degree of comfort, though from all appearances…the situation was very bleak, indeed.  “Dr. Comstock,” interrupted the youngster after the elder laid out the plan for day six, “what if these contingency plans fail?  I mean, what if…”  “My dear boy,” said the old scholar as he grimaced a bit while slipping on the--a little too small--thermal suit, “What we do then…is die.”  There was a weighted pause as the good doctor pulled the sturdy brass zipper up to his adam’s apple (being careful to avoid his long gray whiskers).  And then, handing the other suit to his companion he, looking over the top of his dark rimmed reading glasses, asked, “You do know that you will die someday, correct?”  The others silence spoke volumes and, as the kindly instructor motioned for the youth to begin dressing, he added, “Well, I see there is one more plan…that I need to share with you.”

The other day I mentioned the (in my opinion) rather cold weather we were experiencing.  Those north of us would scoff at my hesitation, but the thought of my bike ride in frigid  temperatures…gave me pause.  I carefully donned my protective attire, being sure to cover any skin that would not fare well against a negative windchill.  Well, things went fairly well till the final four blocks.  At that point my glasses iced over, a low branch pulled back my hood, and the scarf I had over my face unraveled.  Nevertheless, I survived. 

Contingency plans.  Wise.  But when you know that an end is certain; well, shouldn’t the preparation for this finality…be of first importance?

That’s what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below…and say.

Teaching teachers

 

 

Who will teach?
(by R.P.Edwards)

Who will teach the teachers
If the teachers
Have not been taught
And who will instruct the children
Of the bloody battles fought
For sadly, with the passing skin
True meanings also die
And those who share the sharing…
Are only guessing…why

It was a people transport.  A pickup from a church down the street where some of my young’uns were attending the midweek service (our home church is currently a little light in the “youth activity department”).  Anyway, on this particular cold December eve the local “Christmas Station” was playing a John Denver song, Aspenglow.  The first verse goes:

See the sunlight through the pine
Taste the warm of winter wine
Dream of softly falling snow
Winter snow, Aspenglow

Now, along with the nostalgic element (my era) I was paying close attention to the lyrics for, as the poor Disc Jockeys on this particular station are forced to listen to Christmas songs, one after another, I’ve noticed that in order to qualify for airplay the tune only has to have a vague reference to the holiday.  This song didn’t even do that.  But there was the mention of snow…I guess that met the slightly expanding standard. 

As we neared the end of the run my mind wandered a bit in the direction of the blond haired, wire-rimmed glasses singer/songwriter.  He was big in the seventies.  But…to my oblivious children (“Here he goes again!”) it might as well have been the middle ages.  And, as we pulled into port and the captives were finally set free,  I was once again reminded that in the space of just a few years…knowledge and knowing…fade.  That’s why the act and art of teaching is so important.  Indeed, there are truths that are to be maintained, preserved, passed on.  However, even the slightest misalignment of the stones…and the whole structure leans towards oblivion.  Surely, as late placed bricks begin to totter and fall; surely there are those who still hold a plumb line?  But the question remains; how much will have to fall…before it can be rebuilt…if at all?

 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Kingdoms will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love

 

(from the song, "And So It Goes" by John Denver)

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.

The Ill Wind

 

 

The Ill Wind
(by R.P.Edwards)

There’s an ill wind blowing
Hard…and bitter cold
Sweeping cross the nation
An evil…ages old
Seeking out the souls of men
To crush…and kill…the will
Forgetful we…we bid it come
And now…we’ll have our fill

Uncle Larry was a character.  A little older than my dad, he was--what was the word mom used?--Eccentric! That’s it!  Anyway, me and sis thought his ways were funny.  When he came to visit (every Arbor Day, believe it or not) he’d fill our young minds with wonderful stories of the our “Great Mother” (his words) the earth.  He’d lead us through the woods and whenever we’d come upon a bug or slug he’d (no kidding!) say, “Say hello to your distant cousin.”  The funniest thing was when we stood at the end of the driveway and every time a SUV drove by he’d utter some sort of curse (Mayan, he said).  Yeah, uncle Harry was a character, and he was fun to have around.  But…when mom and dad suddenly died in a car crash…and he became our legal guardian; well, then our lives became a living hell.

It’s early morning, and I begin my dayshift run this cold--and getting colder--December day.  In my neck of the woods (mid-America) there’s a cold front a-comin.’ I can hear the wind howling outside, and the weather folk predict single digits when the new day begins. 

The little charade above (I have no uncle Larry) is a type of “us” and “they.”  For some reason we have killed our “parents” along with their values and “truths,” and substituted them with the eccentric leanings of academia and the airy nothingness of Hollywood. Yes, these relatives were fun to listen to, and entertaining at the family gatherings, but now they’re in charge.  It’s an ill wind…and we invited it.  Better batten down the hatches…this storm…has teeth.

Pearl Harbor Day

Pearl Harbor Day
(by R.P.Edwards)

Busy, busy
Fleeting time
Pause for little
Seeking…mine
Rushing past
Memorial threads
Life for living
Forget…the dead
But now and then
From trials deep
From valleys low
With risings…steep
With easing pain
I see the worth
Of values born…
Not of this earth
And so a moment
On this day
Remembering heroes
Their blood…the pay
That bought my leisure
My selfish view
A simple pause for thanks
…to you.

“Red sky at night, the sailor’s delight,” so goes the ancient adage.  I thought about it on my mission last night at dusk which required a buggy ride (in one of our little steel mill transports) and an outside jaunt into the cold December elements.  There, as I tooled along, to the west, were clouds that had the appearance of cotton that had been subject to the cat’s merciless teasing; and they were red.  Well, even though I spent some time sailing the briny deep (decades ago), the saying never made sense.  However, one minute on Wikipedia cleared it up.  It all has to do with predictable weather patterns and the rays of the sun as they travel through the atmosphere at dawn…and dusk.  The “red skies” can indeed be a precursor…to good, or ill.

Today is Pearl Harbor Day.  Sixty-eight years ago the United States was plunged into a World War and the generation of our parents and grandparents was asked, and accepted, the task of sowing their blood that the hope of freedom…might bloom.  And, for us, their progeny…it certainly has.  However, it appears that it is again morning…and the sky is red.  We can try and ignore it; say it’s not coming; but the front is moving steadily towards us.  I hope a little of our ancestor’s “stuff” has been passed on.  We’ll see.  But on this day…we remember them…and say, “Thanks.”

That’s what I think.  How about you? Click comments below…and say.

Mike Huckabee and Compassion’s Choice

Compassion

(by R.P.Edwards)

Compassion is a priceless bloom
To thrive, a heart must give it room
No place for greed and selfish gain
No bed for anger’s shoots of pain
No vines of fear that choke the life
No calloused stones of hate and strife
But only soil, rich and red
Where love can grow, from heaven fed
And growing, reaches past the skin
Perchance to touch…and welcome in
Perchance to share your answered cry
When sorrow shouted how?! and why?!

 And you received compassion's bloom
Because the Savior…gave it room

I imagine it can be quite humbling; to realize that thousands of your peers...have loaned you their power, their strength, their trust.  Yes, as chief executive of the state, as governor, your words carry weight.  Your judgment will effect lives; set things in motion that will change, alter, direct streams that will run (and hopefully not ruin) long after your term attains lame duck status.

Then governor of Arkansas, Mike Huckabee, had on his desk a request for commutation.  An inmate by the name of Maurice Clemmons had, as a sixteen year old, committed crimes that earned him a sentence of over one hundred years.  The governor weighed the request, considered the circumstances, and sided with compassion.  He lessened the offenders time to forty seven years, which made him eligible for parole.  It was not a free pass by any means, but it was at least a chance to not let teenage mistakes...ruin a whole life.

Now fast forward to 2009.  Maurice Clemmons, who, because of the compassionate act of a governor, did indeed breath freedoms air once more; well, instead of a new, fresh start, his life spiraled downward, culminating, many years later, in the murder of four police officers.  He was later gunned down. 

Understandably, Mike Huckabee, upon learning of the tragic events, could only offer..."If I had known."  And, naturally, there are those who will try to demonize the man, even going so far as to link him with former Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis' disastrous prisoner furlough program.  But, to the objective and open, given the information he was given, his decision was understandable, even laudable.  And, although I join the nation in mourning the death of the innocent, and grieve over the ongoing suffering of their families,  concerning Mike Huckabee, I'd trade him for just about any politician who now sits in congress...or the white house.

Two weeks ago a fairly young (compared to me) minister stood behind the pulpit and gave a message of hope.  He spoke of a Savior whose compassion had reached down to him, even in his prison cell, and lifted him up.  This former criminal is a felon, and his early transgressions could have kept him behind bars...for life.  But compassion had its way and now his life is a blessing.  How terribly sad, that the life of Maurice Clemmons...took a different tack. 

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.

Black Friday...on Sunday

 

 

Desperation
(by R.P.Edwards)

Desperation
Moves the feet
When “longing for” and “finding”…meet
When constant torment
Sees the “stop”
When burning thirst
Perceives the…“drop”
But when conditions are unknown
Like silent cancer in the bone
Then desperation has no breath
No urge to move…and foil death
And so, O Lord, help us perceive
Our sinful state
And your heart…grieved
And then…the Christ…on mercy’s seat
Then desperation…move our feet

Black Friday; the day after thanksgiving when shopping deals, bargains, and savings drive untold thousands to the waiting aisles of the formerly placid sellers of things.  Be it the toy shop or the hardware haven, the known reduction of a few bucks…and here they come! 

Now, usually I avoid this feeding frenzy like the plague, but this year there was a personal element as my beloved spouse had garnered needful employment at an establishment known for a giraffe mascot and the universal lament, “I don’t wanna grow up!.”  Anyway, my honey was required to work her first ever midnight shift (doors opened at twelve, Thanksgiving night) and I thought it my least obligation to drop her off, and pick her up.  As we rounded the corner, nearly an hour before the floodgates opened, there they were…the thousands.  Wrapped completely around this not small building was a line, two, or three, or four deep (after all, who wants to go shopping alone?), all waiting to rush upon the prey.  My wife informed me that the flow was steady…all night.

So, I was thinking the obvious; they come because they have a need or desire to save some dough, to purchase a gift for themselves or someone else that they wouldn’t or couldn’t buy…before.  In other words; the perceived need…sends them to…the feed.

And so, since this is a Sunday post, the obvious connection is that we humans are in a terrible state; lost, separated from God, destined for destruction.  However, there is a provided, wonderful solution…Jesus.   If the universal problem were truly perceived, and the remedy understood;  every Bible-based church would experience an influx like the retailers on Black Friday.  May we who believe pray, and work towards this end.  For, brothers and sisters, like the sales after Thanksgiving, there is…a time limit.

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.