PLAYING PEEK-A-BOO WITH A 60 YEAR OLD

Eleas seems to take to me.

Today when I walked into the small house, Eleas was hiding behind the table so he could scare me! I did the pretend thing and he was happy, ducking again behind the table!

Every birthday Eleas ages ten years and he's had six birthdays so far. Physically he is now over sixty years old and soon to die. Stroke or heart-attack; he's an old man. They give him about two months more.

Unique? Eleas is actually one in billions!

Yes, Eleas and his family attend church each Sunday.

Today we brought him his Christmas present; a small battery powered plastic race car, with a roaring sound and a quick get-away! Just what he liked. Running around the room chasing the car with his high squeaky voice.

Indeed they love their little old man and covet the six years he's been with them.

What a privilege to be Santa to this little old man!

Peek-a-boo Eleas!

DANIEL WASN'T AT THE PARTY

Everyone was at the orphanage enjoying their late Christmas Eve dinner and gifts. Kids talking, and laughing. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and a bunch of gifts to follow ... you can't beat that!

Daniel, thirteen, was the exception. It was obvious he didn't want to be there. During the singing he stared into space. He passed on the meal as he sat at the table, one hand holding his head looking down at the table.

A teen-age self-pity party? Maybe.

Daniel's mother was never in the picture but he has a father; it was his father that angrily placed him in the orphanage.

He mixes well with the other kids and is doing well in school.

However, almost a year has gone by and Daniel has never heard from his father.

He keeps hoping.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on in his world. Angry, frustrated, hurt, disappointed.

Joy to the world?

There was anything but joy in Daniel's world.

As I looked at him leaning on the table, I was reminded that; indeed life isn't fair ... even on Christmas eve. Daniel deserved better.

I'll talk to him later, when his anger simmers down.

CHRISTMAS DREAMS

Maria is looking at her first Christmas tree. She and her family are "dirt" poor. A bright little Walmart Christmas tree with mini-lights brought big smiles to Maria's mother, brothers and sisters. Just a dazzling little tree, sitting on the table lighting up the stark, cold room. No Christmas tree decorations and no gifts under the tree ... just the tree and kids; and happy dreams.

Yes I know the tree celebration and December has pagan roots. I know that Christmas and the Holidays are a secular bonanza. The small child in the manger scene below the tree has become plastic. Jesus has been squeezed out of His own Birthday. (I wonder if Jesus wanted us to celebrate His Birthday why He didn't give us the dates? ... I'm an Easter man myself!)

Having said that; I know, to a child, the Christmas tree has an entirely different meaning. The colorful tree simply frames a happy fantasy. Dreams. Dreams of what could be. Happy time. Mysterious gifts.

Down the muddy road, a short distance, is where the Gonzalo family lives.

Luis was hit by a car. Major injuries and in a coma for three months. He's now crippled and unable to support his family of six. Mom sells little candies at the school. The family's one room house rests on a shelf of dirt dug from the side of a canyon. Several beds; dirt floor. Cardboard and plastic roof. It was hard to find a place to set their Christmas tree. Electricity comes from a long lamp cord connected to a power line on the road above.

Merry Christmas? Not quite.

Happy New Year? ... we hope so. (Please pray for that little family)

The kids were so happy with their bright sparkling little tree.

We climbed back up to the road. Climbing a long line of tire stairs ... leaving the family with money for food and some candies. (We'll bring them some blankets and gifts tomorrow.)

This season there are dreams of what could be. However in too many cases there are dreams of what ... could have been.

If people only knew.

Luis's girl looks at the tree through their door.

AWAY FROM THE MANGER A CRIB WAS HIS BED

In Tijuana this time of year, almost everyone, rich or poor even very poor will have a Nativity Scene. Large ones, small ones; most indoors and a few outdoors.

I was looking at a large outdoor manger scene last week; just checking it out. The whole crew was there, but baby Jesus was missing; nowhere to be found.

I looked all over for baby Jesus.

Mary and Joseph were looking intently at where Jesus would have been ... and should have been. The three wise men were extending their gifts to Him but He, little Jesus, just wasn't there.

Lights on, everyone on stage but the star of the whole thing was missing.

It was an unusual sight; a complete display without its purpose.

A Nativity Scene with it's purpose missing. A Church with it's purpose missing. A Christian America with it's purpose missing. A world with it's purpose missing.

Indeed a disoriented people haven't found who's missing.

I wonder how long ago Jesus left Christmas ... even more interesting, how long has it been since we Christians have discovered Jesus was missing from His own Birthday party?

Ho! Ho! Ho! Good old secular Santa in his red suit covers the world with his gifts, different sizes and shapes ... however, Santa himself is missing the greatest gift of all; God's Gift that keeps on giving!

OLD DOGS AND NEW TRICKS?

Can we teach the old dog new tricks? don't think so ... have you ever studied an old dog? He just lays there, muzzle on the ground staring into space. On occasion he may wag his tail if he has the energy. The old dog's been everywhere heard everything, seen everything and done everything that a dog can do.

Now he's old; a faithful dog, but an old dog. Good old Rover.

The old boy has sniffed and re-sniffed every smell; he's pee-ed and re-pee-ed on any and all vertical objects in his canine world; of course fathered tons of puppies ... but now that's all a faded memory.

Yep, he had tons of romances when he had his balls; now they hang as useless decorations.

He's old.

Cats no longer interest him.

He's even forgotten where he hid his bones. Soon he'll forget what bones were.

There's a quiet, canine moment when a "been there and done that" fatigue falls upon him.

However if you want to drive the old boy nuts, bring an energetic bouncing little puppy into the picture! A nutty puppy that wants to have some fun with the old fur-bag.

With this old dog, I think we can conclude zero interest ... in learning new tricks.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF KID

Because I have worked in Mexico and South America for so many years, the unusual is no longer unusual. The other day I was thinking of the Mexican work ethic. The Tijuana kid's view of physical labor is totally different than our U.S. kid's work ethic. Kids here grow up learning to work. Work and chores are part of their life; starting at the age of ... very young.

If you don't work, you don't eat; it's as simple as that!

Whatever our job is, it seems there are always kids willing to help. Many know just what to do with-out asking ... they just pitch right in and do it ... even if it's cleaning up vomit or a diarrhea mess. They're cool.

The other day we were jostling up the long and winding dirt road to the Ijido area. It's a punishing ride for both the vehicle and the passengers.

The road is a collection of impressive pot-holes with a little bit of road around them.

So often, on the dirt roads of Tijuana, we will see kids with shovels working to fill in the potholes, and hoping, as you pass by, that you might give them a tip or cola for their effort.

Young independent business men trying their best to scrape up a little cash for the day.

"We haven't any money today ... what'll we do?"

Work! (What a novel idea!)

This time I thought to bring up my camera and snap a photograph of this young worker.

Yep, he got a tip!

This was one happy "road-worker!"

CHARLIE BROWN, WHERE ARE YOU?

Christmas means different things to different people. To the secular world around us, Christmas is a colorful, fun filled party ... especially when you get ‘high' enough to enjoy it ... to the business man it's simply $s. To the true Christian it's a Birthday Celebration, God's Gift day. As mature Christians we see it so differently ... but as kids, well we have an exciting immature view.

I've always enjoyed the season of Christmas, as well as the true meaning of Christmas ... but Easter's my day!) As a kid the Christmas tree with all of it's colorful ornaments meant so much. I even believed in Fat Old Santa ... until I realized there were so many fat Santa's and not one could possibly get down our small stove pipe with any presents. (At least none did.)

As kids, though very poor, we always had a Christmas tree of sorts; being poor our trees were bought late and often visibly handicapped, and shortly after Christmas they would get bald. However we always had a gift for my sister and I ... not many, but at least one gift.

We were poor.

That's why my heart goes out to our kids in Mexico. They want a tree so bad, but this year money is tight to non-existent.

Brandon, ten years old, saved up his money, and went to the "dollar store" yesterday, where he bought a plastic one for $5. This bargain one I'll have to see. (The family is thrilled about their Christmas tree.)

Abraham, in part of his conversation said the dog ate their plastic Christmas tree last year and financially the family isn't doing well, so they won't be getting one this year.

Joshua and his brothers and sisters might be fortunate to make a Christmas dinner of tamales on their outside stove. How they would love a tree. (Some families use bushes, now that's creative.)

I could list family after family where the kids would love to have, and decorate, their own little tree.

But this year food will have to be the priority. We'll be doing good if we can even buy food and tarps for families.

Reality makes a real Christmas tree impossible ... a small Chinese plastic tree ... maybe.

While a tree is nice, it isn't essential; food is.

While gifts are nice, believe it or not the kids would rather have a tree to decorate.

Anyone have an extra Christmas tree? ... even a Charlie Brown Christmas tree?

FACT, FICTION ... OR LIES!

All of us exaggerate. Well, I guess that statement is an exaggeration in itself. Better said, most of us exaggerate from time to time.

It's hard not to fall into exaggeration when we are passionately trying to put our point across.

On occasion a lie may even slip our lips.

Best example of the use and abuse of exaggeration is our politicians and how often they twist and exaggerate to put their point across.

Exaggeration isn't quite lying, but it comes close. Of course we know politicians don't lie, they simply "miss-speak!"

Take our politicians reckless and often irresponsible use of statistics, surveys, polls and studies ... the constant drum-beat of...

"America says... " or "Our people demand that..." or "The latest poll indicates... " or "Statistics say..." or ... "ad nauseam."

For some reason "statistics, polls and studies," are a trinity of sacred words; never expected to be questioned ... and these so called "statistics" carry a powerful punch of authority!

Our politicians toss these figures around like "divine" set of loaded dice on the dirty table of deception.

Without doubt there are those who are Believers in our system ... but just as surely, there are the millions of us who are rapidly becoming unbelievers ... those of us who dare to doubt!

A MITE SHORT OF IRRESPONSIBLE?

Another painful question. Is trusting God responsible?

I see the two stories of the widow giving her two mites; all she owned, as a lesson on truly trusting God. (Ex. Mrk.12:41+)

We like this story; it's food for thought. But taking it literally? We don't think so. Sacrificial giving is ... well ... simply irresponsible. Few of us dare look honestly at the story ... Jesus can't mean this to be an example ... better a concept of extremes. Can we dare make a doctrine of this?

Most of us find this story to be somewhere between a stumbling block and a hook. Rightly so.

Giving to the point of jeopardizing my way of life or effecting my lifestyle ... or worse yet, jeopardizing my security?? Oh no!

The widow simply proved her trust in God. This begs another question; is trusting God irresponsible? To many of us those questions are irritating ... instead of the Word of God we are prone to grab the word of good old Ben Franklin; "God helps those who help themselves!" Trusting Ben makes sense, unfortunately trusting God doesn't. True or not?

"Trust and Obey" ... near impossible for most of us. We don't mind singing the hymn, but don't ask us to actually do it! How many of the hymns we sing, do we actually believe?

Bill was a good friend of mine, I knew him to be very wealthy.

He was a Christian and a big giver to his Church and charities. He too often came to me with a pitch for investing in a good charity. He tended to obligate me. "Just ten dollars a month for a year..."

Now I was a Youth Worker on a Church salary just above food-stamps. I was giving over 10% to our Church and also giving to a variety of missionaries and of course giving in Mexico. I could barely afford gas money.

But here comes Bill pushing another of his charities.

One day I got tired of this obligating me bit, and pulled him aside presenting him with a deal. "Bill, I'll make a deal with you. I'll give everything I have; my savings, my life insurance ... EVERYTHING, to the charity of your choice, IF you will give EVERYTHING you have to the same charity!"

He paused, looked at me and gave a wry little smile ... he simply said "I'm not that mature yet." I knew I didn't risk anything with that deal. Bill was a good Christian man, a generous giver but not nearly a sacrificial giver. He wasn't in danger of effecting his lifestyle. No way. Did he give me the right answer? He was truthful.

We have 13,000 people starving in the horn of Africa. I have families actually starving in Mexico. There are dirt poor people in the world (And they're not in America!)

Big givers where are you?

Challenge, try making an "irresponsible" gift to the poorer than you, and see if you can't double your profit. (In the Kingdom.)

THE ANIMATED PASTOR VON

While I visiting Hawaii a few months ago, I spent some time with my buddy Tom Finley, Children’s Ministry Director at Kauai Christian Fellowship, one of the largest Churches in Kauai. I did a handful of simple stories for him to use on his web site.

The guy is outrageously creative.

He showed me what he had done with these short stories. I was impressed, not only with the cartooned stories but with the technology of today.

Just for fun, you might want to check out the following videos, and hear (and see) the old man some stories as an animated cartoon.

• Tales from Pastor Von: Faith
• Tales from Pastor Von: Learning
• Tales from Pastor Von: Consequences
• Tales from Pastor Von: Courage
• Tales from Pastor Von: Fools

Cheers!

P.S. I've also had these videos placed on the Missionary Adventures section of my web site.

BEING HELPED AS I GO DOWN THE STAIRS

Going downhill? Getting older? The golden years? Ah, the winter years. There are many terms for aging. Each of them adding a little description to what the process is to be.

I was reminded yesterday.

In Tijuana, as I was going down eleven steep rickety stairs a couple of kids scrambled up the stairs to help me; one on either side, 'helping me'. "Be careful von," one said. With each step I was feeling a growing conflict of emotions. "The strong champion of the poor, Pastor von" being helped by the poor. I was actually angered by someone trying to help me. 'Von.' becoming old and frail ... and having to be helped. I envied the past and now I was angered at the present and the coming future.

Fighting the reality of ... stairs down.

The resident pride of an old "independent" man fights against the love and thoughtfulness of others ... simply trying to be of help.

The poor that I'm there to help, are now helping me! Somehow this isn't right.

As I stepped slowly and carefully down the steps; these two strong feelings were struggling. Feelings that were in conflict with one another.

Winning the struggle was, and had to be, a genuine appreciation for the love and respect these kids had for me, and thankfulness for their concern ... and willingness to help a man getting old.

To be honest, to me helping others feels good ... being helped doesn't ... somewhere on these downhill steps, is a lesson I have to learn ... to accept.

WITH GOD WE EACH, WE ALL, HAVE A VALUE

I find it rewarding teaching in Tijuana's prison for teens. Here at the CMI I actually have a "captive" audience.

As my group of incarcerated teens quieted down and looked on ... I took a dollar bill from my pocket, Immediately getting their attention. Money! A U.S. dollar! I took the dollar bill; held it up and talked about the value of this fragile piece of special paper.

"What could you buy with this dollar?" I asked.

Then I surprised the kids by knifing it with a small knife I had hidden in my pocket; then I threw the bill down to the floor and stomped on it;

All eyes were following me.

I picked my dollar up and spit on it; placing the dollar bill against the wall I hit it hard; then crumpled it in my fist, after crumpling it, I tore a portion of my dollar ... each occasion I abused my dollar, I stopped and asked my young bunch of criminals ... "does this dollar still have a value?"

The answer was always "yes".

I told the boys "you see, the value of this dollar was set by the dollar maker. No matter how I abuse it ... it holds it's value."

"God made you, and you are of many times more value than this little paper dollar."

The lesson was needed.

Throughout these boy's lives they had been abused. Their parent or parents have abused them. Police abuse them. In the prison the guards abused them. Their gang have abused them. I've seen the abuse of these kids with my own eyes. Indeed, there is a lot of abuse in the world of the Tijuana poor. The name of the game is abuse. You give and you take!

This short lesson was simple. No matter how you have been treated, you still have a value with God. He made you and he set your value.

You, as a person, have a great value!

Oh, and by the way; the person you yourself injure or kill, has a value with God his maker too. And you will give an account of what you did ... to the property of Almighty God.

Don't ever forget the lesson of this little old beat up dollar bill.

POVERTY?

It's apparent that the over-whelming cloud of millions of poor, obscures the guilt of personal responsibility. Statistics of over two or three people seem to lose their humanity; returning to what they are ... simply statistics; comforting black and white numbers and zeros. Numbers left in the world of text.

Erasing healthy guilt and bringing us to a comfortable conclusion, because I can't do everything ... I can do nothing.

Some statistics bothered me as I read the October issue of Time Magazine. The growth of American poverty. Is it 15% now? In the article it says that an American family of four is at poverty level if they make less than $22,000.00 a year.

Poverty? $22,000.00 plus food-stamps? Poverty?

I know poverty. I know what it looks like. I know what it smells like. (As a kid I knew what it felt like.)

I work 100 yards on the south side of America. Tijuana; where a family of four, six or eight might make $5,000.00 a year and no food stamps. Most make much less.

Thanksgiving is coming to America in a matter of days. Thanksgiving is an appropriate Holiday for America ... indeed America has been blessed of God. We need to be grateful and most of us are.

To set aside a day to thank God is good... but to set aside a day to gorge ourselves in the name of gratefulness isn't ... not when my neighbors are eating two meals a day and buying tortillas five or six at a time.

All over the world there is hunger, except at my table!

To thank God is good ... to share, even better.

Taking this Thanksgiving Holiday for a teaching day ... teaching the family not only THANKS, but GIVING too!

Indeed we have the privilege of giving! PTL!

HALLOWEEN

Tonight, the dark night of death and danger.

It's Halloween, when America's obsession with dark and death comes alive. The lovely houses along the street are decorated with spider webs, tomb stones, witches, skulls and bones of the dead.

"Honey, isn't it fun noodling through the graveyard to get to the doorway?"

This is the night concerned mothers are frantically checking the Internet to find where the local sex-offenders live ... "Now kids, watch the bushes, a pedophile may jump out and grab you."

Tonight "trick or treat-ers" are hitting the best houses for a "freebie" a chocolate bite of the good life. The pros already have the spots picked out from last year. (Good example of the rich giving to the poor!)

Concerned mothers in my neighborhood are out before dusk holding the hands of their children, ranging in age from six to eighteen. Mama knows best when it comes to a dangerous night like this. A car could hit my eighteen year old, he's a real clutz!

The costumes are cute too. . thanks to Walmart and Target the kids are out in colorful costume. The little devils, witches and monsters in appropriate costumes.

Many of them with little bags for the freebies, others, more optimistic, carry a couple of grocery bags each.

Driving home I saw a "retired police" car cruising the streets looking for ... any suspicious male in the neighborhood.

We are safe, safe, safe here!

Mama, what's that? Oh honey, that's a man's ribcage when he isn't in it. Mama, does daddy have one?

Honey, keep walking!

So the night of America's romance with the dark of demons, devils, witches and death continues on. . will we ever get enough of darkness? ... sorry Halloween-ers, but my day is Easter! Easter Sunday morning is coming and light trumps darkness. PTL !

JULIO, WITH THE THICK GLASSES

Julio, about eleven, would come in with forty or fifty other boys every third Thursday and take his shower. Each time he would hand me those thick glasses ... "Hold these for me von ..." I would give him some shampoo and shower him down. Then give him his towel and glasses. His glasses kept getting worse, until they were literally held together with tape and rubber-bands. The big thick glasses would sort of hang over his nose. He had to sit in a front desk in school to even see the black-board.

Julio wasn't doing well at school.

One bath day, I asked him for his glasses, and took them with me across the border and went to Lens-Crafters to buy Julio another pair, but the clerk said he would have to see an optometrist first. I told the clerk, he lived in Tijuana and a little of what Spectrum was doing with poor kids and Lens-Crafter's made an exception making him a new, heavy duty pair ... free!

The following week I found him and gave him his brand new pair of glasses.

He gave me a wide smile; now he could see!

A few days later he was near tears as he showed me what was left of his new pair of glasses. The gang ripped the glasses off Julio and threw them on the cement basket-ball court, grinding the thick lenses against the cement with their shoes scratching the new lenses and then twisted and pulled the glasses apart.

Again, I took the remains to Lens-Crafters. I told them the story ... and once more they made me another pair that was even stronger ... for free.

Three pairs of destroyed glasses later the gang no longer bothered the near blind boy.

He was accepted.

As it is.

SOLUTION TO POVERTY?

The conclusion of many of our visitors to the Mexican areas of poverty we take them into ... when they actually see blatant poverty ... the sight is ugly and the solution seems overwhelming!

After many questions, their defense becomes apparent; "because I can't do everything I can do nothing" and they comfortably retreat from all responsibility.

A cold intelligent mind has a way of trumping ... emotions like compassion and kindness!

In my book this is simply an intellectual cop-out! Sometimes the only way to fill that impossible gap of need, is by doing a lot of smaller "some-things" and forgetting the overwhelming "every-things" . While I may have no solution for tomorrow, Compassion calls on me to make their day ... today!

Is that wrong?

Today I met a poor scrawny dog in Mexico. Nothing but skin, bones and fleas. Hungry, hungry! I called her over and fed her some dog food ... boy did she gulp it down! And it's true I couldn't really help her, BUT I sure made her day! The motive for feeding this pathetic dog, is called compassion ... just being kind!

Have you ever felt compassion? Are you a kind person? Questions few people will honestly answer. (For good reason.)

Some of my academic friends when visiting my world, and they mean so well, tell me..."Von, It's far better to teach a man to fish, than give him a fish meal." It sounds so intelligent. . .so academic . . . so right. Until I remind the scholar there is no water around.

His intelligent response? OH! You see at this point we are all they have.

I'VE GOT A SECRET!

I remember when I first went into the prison for Tijuana's kids, to teach them about God's Word; I carried the Bible. Walked into the big room. The kid's response was immediate and, well ... bad. Very bad!

I was evidently seen as another one of the many eager evangelists hot to "save" everyone following a loud and long message.

A literal "captive audience."

I thought and thought and finally decided to use the Indiana Jones approach. I have about 30 years worth of exotic artifacts hanging around ... why not use them!!

First you have to get the kids attention and respect, what better way then bring the Amazon jungle and tiger stories to them.

I remember walking into the cage full of these teenage "tigers" with a Bible, shrunken head, and a few BIG bugs. And, boy I had a following immediately! Even the guards were open.

I imagine through the years many missionaries thought I was weird collecting all of these artifacts, but they have been worth their weight in gold.

One afternoon I drove to the Tijuana dump to see some of my friends, driving around and through the trash I locate six or seven friends. These people are dirty, sweating and look tough. I forgot I had several artifacts on my back seat to use in a missionary study later that night.

Well, my friends spotted these weird objects and before long we had about twenty workers surrounding my little Volkswagen Van, they were fascinated ... the items soon disappeared going all direction, while I'm yelling "Be Careful!!"

But these big tough guys tenderly held the artifacts in their large dirty, hands'

These adults, even those I didn't know, became friendly and like children wanting to know all about the objects.

That afternoon I made many new friends at the dump. Artifacts bring a unique opportunity to share stories and the Gospel.

Oh, and I didn't lose one artifact! They brought ‘em all back.

When people believe you ... they tend to believe your message,

PLEASE GOD, HEAL VON

The kids in Barrio Pedrigal asked Hortensia where I was, as I hadn't been down in their neighborhood for a week. She told them that I was at home sick with a cough. Pedrigal is a small poor and dirty neighborhood; we could add dangerous too, lots of drugs; lots of tough teens.

The kids there have a real love for me.

Ten year old Brandon was evidently concerned about me being sick. He nor his family are "religious" but he knew about praying.

Yesterday was a rainy, cold day ... Brandon put on his jacket and went out looking for a church to pray in. He walked the muddy road about a mile and found a big Catholic Church. He opened the door, stepped inside ... the church was empty ... Brandon walked slowly to the front of this awesome room, got on his knees and prayed for me to get well.

Later he told Hortensia about his prayer, she smiled and had chance to share with him about praying to God and that you don't need to be in church building to talk to God.

How humbling to have a little boy with that much love, pray for you the best way he knew how.

CACTUS "MEDIUM RARE"

Barbecued cactus. That's what was on the plate the little girl was holding up to me, the darkness fooled me, I thought it was Carne Asada (thin barbecued steak). How could they afford this much steak, I thought.

As I took a bite, I realized it was hot barbecued cactus. This sample was enough.

I was outside the house "in the kitchen" with the family. Mother was busy cooking more "Nopales Asada" on their makeshift stove. The little stove was fueled by wood and cardboard found around the area. The kids each had a plate and were sitting on things in the dark near the stove. The meal tonight for all six kids, mom and dad was simply cactus ... with some lemon juice on top.

It's OK if you grow up on it, if you didn't ... well, I'll pass with a sample.

I noticed a well worn broomstick laying near their big plastic tub full of cold soapy water and clothing. The broomstick had the top of a plastic cola bottle wired to the end, forming a small plastic funnel. This was the plunger mother uses to wash the clothing in her plastic tub.

It was late and I carefully climbed up four old shaking wooden stairs and another three tire stairs buried in the dirt, soon I was on the road walking to my car. It was very dark.

Slowly driving up the dirt road, my lights reveled a young man with his kids walking toward me. "Hey von" He yelled. "my boy is covered with sores, can you help me?" I stopped, got out with my flashlight, and went for my medicine bag. Inside I found a tube of medicine. Scabies is quite common among poor and dirty people. The older boy stripped his little brother down and I slathered the cream over the sores. They thanked me; one of the boys paused to hug me, and the family continued on down the road disappearing in the darkness.

TIME WAS ...

Three bucks an hour was good pay in my day. I worked for Convair Aircraft Corp as a mechanic for most of fifteen years. We built military jets and passenger jets. Convair airliners were great airliners. From the 240's to the 880's and 990's.

The 990 was a sleek jet, labeled, at the time, the world's fastest jetliner, but, uh. oh ... engineering failed! The 990 was sold to a speck they couldn't deliver. To modify those already sold cost the Company millions. Busted!

Convair, a privately owned Corporation, was failing. Heads rolled! Quickly, pink-slips were handed out. Workers went out the door in droves. Convair started cutting to the bone! From the top on down; every supervisor went down in rank. I remember well, supervisors had red buttons, we workers had yellow buttons.

Soon us old timers were working with our X-supervisors who now had yellow buttons. Yep, cut to the bone.

And then, I got my pink slip and also went out the door.

Things are different in the private sector. With no income, things radically change! Workers leave, and dead-beat Supervisors are put to work. Adjustments from top down! No more fat!

But that's the private sector where work gets accomplished.

Now lets look at the public sector (Government). Let's compare.

I'm amazed at how desperate the Government is for MORE revenue. Just another "hit" America ... another "hit!"

PLEASE, NO ADDITIONAL REVENUE TO FEED OUR BLOATED STARVING GOVERNMENT BUREAUCRACY! The public sector is fat! No more drugs for this out of control addict! Let them whine.

"Can" the dead-beats and move on.

With no income, the Government would be FORCED TO FACE THEIR PROBLEM ... not our problem. Forced to cut their redundancy, corruption and incompetence.

Giving the Government more $'s, simply justifies the present system.

Unfortunately, if worse comes to worse, they can print their own money ... and that's more than we can do.

THE POOR NEXT DOOR

As Jesus said "The poor we will have with us always..." True enough.

However today it might be said "The poor they will have with them always." "Their" responsibility.  The truly poor are not in the United States; the truly poor are millions, living a comfortably exotic  distance away ... a world away and viewed at our discretion. If the pictures are too graphic or start laying guilt on us, we have but to turn the page or change the channel.

Viewer discretion urged.

Indeed the truly poor are "their" problem, not ours. Their distance diminishes our guilt.

Unfortunately and unbelievably, many of the truly poor live quietly, invisibly, right across our border with Mexico and are too near to draw our attention but not far enough to be exotic; a dilemma to all of us working with these families on the border.

We are simply "over-looked."

The Mexican border is known for violence ... but not poverty.

It's the kids that catch our heart! Hundreds of them. It wasn't their decision to enter this dirty, hungry world, yet they rarely complain.

Yesterday, a very poor ten year old boy helped us a we worked with this poor family of seven living on a dusty dirty hillside. As we were driving away Abraham said " wow, that family was really poor, poorer then us ..."

We (Spectrum Ministries) have been taking care of the poor here on the Tijuana border for more than twenty-five years ... as our U.S. economy sinks, so have our donations. Our Doctor who freely treats and advises the people . . .we can't even afford cough medicine. No more help on medical surgeries. No more help with shoes and uniforms and books for those kids wishing to go to school. Without the proper shoes and uniform kids are barred from attending school. Tarps for leaky roofs are in short supply. No more help on rent money. No more "Ensure" drink for Pepe.

We get so many requests; what really hurts is when someone requests needed help, and the answer has to be "No" ... Having them give you a half smile, look down and say "That's Okay" ... and walk away with their kids following.

LEMMINGS

Slowly but surely we've become a nation of lemmings. Fuzzy, harmless little lemmings with a singular mind set ... follow the guy in front. Today more lemmings are being created than ever before.

Higher education seems to be the incubator of "Lemonistic" thinking ... Woven in to the curriculum of knowledge is the lemming mentality. Lemming 101?!?

I personally have nothing against the growing masses of lemmings ... However I would never want to become a publicly correct lemmings.

I'm a free spirit and free-spirit's don't reside in lemmings. I'm also independent and lemmings can't afford to be independent.

Fortunately I just don't seem to fit today's lemming profile.

A lemming has a need to be accepted ... a need to be politically correct and follow the direction of the masse ... "Shake ‘n bake," "paint by numbers" all these terms are indicative of a true lemming. A lemming feels a great contentment when he's inside the line ... but there has to be a line.

Just give a lemming a job description and a little cubicle with his desk. Happy! Happy! Happy!

Ah, another lemming says, "Just give me some food, a seat and screen, and I'll be content".

Nose to rectum they continue their common direction.

Thoughtless followers of the masses.

Clueless followers of the masses.

In my lifetime, I've worked with lemmings. I've worked around lemmings, I've worked under lemmings; but I'm definitely not a lemming. I'm an independent, alive and creative individual, traveling an entirely different direction then today's herd of lemmings..

On occasion, some lemmings even dare call me a rebel. What an honor!

How nice it is to be free from the fuzzy parade of mediocrity.

A CHRISTIAN IDOL?

When God's Church became the building, it began to die. It seems the "world" became aware of this deadening trend, and started calling the building the Church. Little by little Christians in the past followed along and accepted this change ... the building in too many cases became the church.

Look at the grand and permanent Church buildings in Europe and ... America.

Christians, as a dynamic people, slowly became invisible, and disappeared in the shadow of the Cathedral. Wow!

How we Christians love our beautiful buildings, we love "our" Church.

Our buildings, called Churches; created and designed by us. They're beautiful, they're permanent, they're visible and above all they're ours!

In reality, we, as God's Church, are eternal, consequently permanent and we, as a people, are to be visible lights in the community of dark doing together what we can't do as an individual.

Today it seems that what goes on inside many Church buildings is secondary to the growth and maintenance of the building itself.

It's apparent that a growing number of Church members would rather put their money and time into maintaining and improving their buildings than financing the more abstract, yet eternal, ministry of their Church.

Ministry is the very purpose of the Church.

I hate to see the Dynamic of God absorbed by the brick, steel and glass of man made idols. It's happening. Aaron had his golden calf, and we Christians today have. Let's not forget who we are, who's we are and what we're for ... where we gather, and where we worship is simply incidental.

TWO SHOES ... FOUR FEET

As a Junior High student in a Mexican school you are required to have a uniform and shoes. In a poor family having a small income ... $320 per month ... and seven kids, you just have to make do, Junior High school uniforms and backpacks cost around $90 each.

Ricki and Tomas are two brothers about the same size. Ricki, twelve, is in Junior High and his brother Tomas, eleven, is in grammar school; they have one pair of shoes between them. They make do by sharing the same shoes, When Tomas returns about noon, he takes his shoes off and Ricki puts them on and heads two miles down the dirt road to his school.

As a kid I was poor too, and ran all summer barefoot, but I had a better option than that. I had a good pair for Sunday and my "feet" world wasn't dirt but cement.

When I came Saturday afternoon, the boys were running around barefoot and in pajamas. I kidded them about wearing their pajamas so late, then I looked at the clothes drying on the fence. Mom stripped all the kids down to essentials and washed the clothing that was left, which wasn't much.

The family, like others in the neighborhood, buys their water from a tank truck that comes by every few days.

Yes, we paid for one uniform and two pair of shoes. These kids need school. I looked at all the boy's school books and grades, then gave them each $1.00 for their good grades ... a world of need, so close, and yet so far away.

NOW THIS THING IS BIG!

Yesterday I came out of the Krispy Kreme factory with a donut and cup of coffee; looking to the left I saw what appeared to be an armored car. A brand new armored car.

Parked near me was a vehicle I had never seen before.

I walked around it checking it out. It wasn't an armored car. It wasn't a swollen Hummer. It was simply the biggest street legal "what-ever" I had ever seen on wheels. Big wheels!

Ooh, the price tag!

Men like cars, and men like big, and men like tough ... this was the most impressive BIG ‘n TOUGH thing I'd ever seen. As I looked up at it, I quietly wondered at what altitude the driver's seat was.

Just then two young men came out with their donuts, went to the vehicle and started climbing up the side. They reached the doors and opened them and sat down inside. How I envied them ... looking down on all the cars below.

Mileage? I would guess about three gas stations an hour.

Wow! Look at that tire.

One of their tires would cost about the same as my little Nissan Xterra ... which I formerly thought was a rather Macho vehicle.

The difference? I drive around slow cars on the freeway, this thing simply drive over them! Oh, the feeling.

Well, as I stood there, I had to admit that mine wasn't as big as theirs. Mine Xterra was more in the toy Hot Wheels class now.

Obviously, these two men weren't politically correct, they weren't green, that's for sure.

Thumbs up! Two fossil fuel fools dedicated to heating up the atmosphere while driving over the little tree huggers in their electric wind powered sewing machines.

Yep, I slowly drove away, a humbled man.

LADY, WHERE DID YOU GO?

Ladies seemed to have vanished. When I was younger, I remember, we had ladies. Come to think of it we had gentlemen too. "Ladies and Gentlemen" wasn't just an opening statement speakers used in speaking to a crowd.

There actually were Ladies and Gentlemen. I do remember.

Young boys, like myself, were taught to become a Gentleman and treat Ladies with the honor and respect they were due. We were also taught manners. (When's the last time you heard the term manners? )

The term lady isn't used much any more. Today the concept of Ladies is, well, obsolete ... dead.

I rather miss ladies.

A true lady is rare find ... and probably old.

When they hear of the term Lady, many look back and think of the term Lady as a formal European entitlement ... part of the aristocracy of yesteryear. History.

Maybe that's the case.

Today it's simply woman or women. Woman's lib and Feminists stripped woman of lady. Feminists "We are not the weaker sex! We are equal with men! We don't want men or for that matter need men. Cut your hair, dress in a suit, stand tall; you are equal ... and keep your seats men, we can stand as well as you! No need to open that door, we can do it as well as you and even a little better."

Today it's simply women and men ... continuing their quiet struggle.

Throw out the manners, dignity, honor and respect we had for ladies. Throw out the beautiful and graceful walk of a lady. Throw out the perfumed trail of a Lady.

Today, Its simply men and women, boys and girls trying to blend into some sort of crude short haired Unisex anomaly.

Yeah, as an old Gentleman, I miss the ladies.

COMMERCIALS

I love today's TV commercials, don't you? An endless variety of devious sales pitches, if these guys could get through the screen they would grab you!

Where won't these guys go?

How unusual. On the screen bursts a pre wedding scenario; everyone in their best formal dress, white covered tables ... wine glasses ... Happy handsome young people, Then this young and happy lady picks up the mike and discusses ... intestinal bloating and constipation, flatulence? At least they're outside.

I'll have to admit it's a great pre-wedding subject!

Speaking of TV commercials, the pipe people are an interesting animation; pipe people in a dilemma running around looking desperately for a bathroom. Gotta-go syndrome! Bladder control problems.

Pills, depends, whatever.

Oh! And I'm a little intimated by the suggestion that I may have erectile dysfunction. BUT ... they caution ... if the pill works too well, (over five hours), your not to brag, but rather call a doctor immediately! We are assured that just one pill would make one ready at any time any place.

Of course I blushed as I looked up the definition of erectile and dysfunction.

Speaking of pills; I just found out tonight that one pill a day of this product in a bottle, will give me ribs. Muscular ribs! Now that's just what this old man needs is muscular ribs.

When I was young, commercials were on radio and much simpler ... mostly dramatic soap operas except the Marlboro man in the magazine. He was a macho nicotine icon, full of testosterone sitting proudly on his horse smoking. (The horse wasn't smoking.)

Cheers! At least today there are no tobacco or liquor commercials.

THE LOST COIN

After a hard long day working at the Tijuana dump Freddy with his wide smile gave me a big hug. He was dirty from top to toes. Probably no bath for weeks.

Working at the dump, about thirty-five miles away nets him about one dollar per hour.

Nine and ten hours of sweating hard work gives you a poor wage. It's hard to live on a wage like that.

I've known Freddy since he was a kid; he's been on drugs and alcohol for years; at age thirty-five he now looks about a thin and wrinkled fifty.

Freddy reached into his pocket and pulled out a dirty coin he found at the dump. "Brother von, what's this worth?" ... and he handed it to me. I gave it a quick look; It looked like a U.S. Silver dollar. "Freddy, this looks like a silver dollar, it should be worth $30 or $40 dollars, let me see what I can get for it," and I put it into my pocket.

When I got home, I sat down, relaxed and then remembered the coin. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the coin, wiped it off and took a closer look.

I noted the date on the coin.1803. I had never seen a coin like that or held one that old. It was a US coin. It was silver. It had no amount of money printed on it. Weird!

Could this silver coin be valuable?

Could a treasure actually be found in the Tijuana dump? ... out of the trash a treasure?

We had it valued.

This old 1803 coin is estimated to be worth from $2,000 to $5,000, depending on it's condition.

Wisdom. It seems so simple. Give Freddy his money.

He's probably on drugs. In his world that we know so well, they would kill him for $1,000, to say nothing of $4,000. And ... he has his enemies.

The coin is worth far less than Freddy is worth ...

Now we have to work out a reasonable solution and that won't be easy.

In our world we work in what many would call human trash; the dirty and damned ... but more than once we've pulled out a priceless and eternal treasure ... thanks for your prayers.

APATHY

This photo is worth studying. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and if that's true, then this photo is worth thousands of words that compress into one ... apathy.

If you could encompass poverty, bring it into focus and place it into one room ... this is what poverty would look like.

Notice, the lack of emotion shown in this picture. This photo illustrates ... no hope.

This scene wasn't posed, it was a quick shot I took in a rat- infested Tijuana ghetto a few hundred feet from our border with Mexico.

Welcome to our world of reality. Where mothers will sell their children's school clothing for food ... and fathers will sell their daughters for drugs.

Our ministry is working with the real poor where we find them. We work with kids, adults and families; we work out in the sprawling neighborhoods and within the ghettos of Tijuana's inner city.

We work while we can, sharing "who" we have and His love.

I find the love of Jesus takes many forms, (Matt.25:33) from the Gospel message, teaching and discipline, to distributing food and clothing. The love of Jesus can also take the form of meeting medical needs, and help in schooling also ministering to those in prison.

This is how we translate "Doing the Word." (Jam.1:22)

As the world economy falters, and America's economy slows, Mexico's economy continues to spiral downward ... Tijuana's poverty is growing to a dangerous level. The environment around us is becoming dangerous and explosive ... just waiting for an occasion to ignite.

From apathy to despair, and hunger to anger, resulting in desperation ... what's at fault? ... who's at fault? We haven't time to point fingers ... we're called to meet needs. Immediate needs.

As I said, we work "while" we can with what we have, and what we have is what folks give us to work with ... charity?

Indeed charity may begin at home but it must not end there!

THE DAY I MET JESUS

I'll be honest, I was in a hurry. It was a matter of hours and I was to leave for Venezuela. I had an evening speaking engagement in Mexico to brush up on and had to get down to a market and buy some U.S.A. magazines to take to the missionaries working in the jungles of Venezuela, then I had to pack. Hurry time!

Time was short and like I said I needed to brush up on my message.  I was speaking that night on love.

I drove quickly to the market rushed in and bought some tortillas and magazines to take with me to Venezuela.

Rushing out of the store with my package, I headed up the parking lot toward my car.

I was interrupted by a short older man standing there on a walker.

He smiled and quietly asked me if I was going his direction and he pointed sort of East, "would I give him a lift to his house just a few short blocks away". He said he was a little tired. (I had a flashing thought he may need the exercise.)

Well, I was in a hurry. I had my message on love to prepare for and if I was going any direction, it was West.

So I gently told him that I would be glad to BUT I was in a hurry and that, in fact, I was not going his direction and ... otherwise I would be glad to ... he smiled and interrupted me, saying "It’s no problem, if I go slow I can make it ..."

About that time God slapped me on the side of my head! "What are you doing, von?"  "Can your message on "love" be more important than demonstrating it?"

Then I realized the fool I was ... Mister, "I'll be glad to take you, no problem!"

Now he replied ..."  No, I know your busy, I can make it or someone else may give me a lift..."

"Nope! I'm taking you home . ! "  He smiled and we walked, slowly to my car.      Real slow.

I slid opened my Volkswagen van, side door and seated him placing his walker next to him and we drove off.

Sure enough, in just three blocks, he pointed out where he was staying.

I pulled into the driveway, and slowly helped him out and placed him on his walker.

He paused, looked up at me, and gave me a big smile saying thank you ... then he winked at me.

Winked at me!

It was his eyes and that wink that gave His Divine disguise away.

I actually feel I've met Jesus Incognito ... and almost missed him in my hurry to minister.

THE DOCTRINE OF JESUS INCOGNITO

Many of us find Jesus in all the typical places ... The Bible, the Church, the worship and often in the beauty of His world ... yet we miss the compassionate Jesus ... by overlooking Him, and even avoiding Him as He walks disguised as poor and needy in the dark of poverty.

The way I read Matthew 25:35 It isn't so much what we, His people did, that condemns us; it’s what we didn't do that actually condemns us. What we didn't do to Jesus incognito.

Hungry, thirsty, sick ...

Do the physically needy trump the spiritually needy, or are they actually to be one in the same. There is a lesson here.

If we look in the right places among the wrong ... we will discover a different Jesus. A Jesus we would never expect, In a place we would never expect. In a form that would surprise us.

"When did we see you?"

We can find Jesus as a poor hungry child.

If we look close we can find Jesus as a blind and crippled boy.

Open the prison and we find Jesus as a convict, locked in his cell.

Look closely at that feeble bedfast woman in an institution, is she actually ... Jesus?

In the understaffed hospital He’s laying on a bed hooked to IV's and oxygen.

Would you see Jesus in that drunk laying in his vomit, sleeping it off in the alley?

Or Jesus, as the old woman slowly walking down the road.

Unfortunately most of us Christians seem to be living and working ... where Jesus isn't. Why?

EVER HAD AN UGLY KID HUG YOU?

Zona Norte nights are dark. The alley we were walking was dark and a bit dangerous. Lots of drugs and alcohol. Long smelly walls filled with dirty graffiti.

Young Freddy was relieving himself against the wall when he saw us; quickly zipping up, he turned and while extending his wrist to me said "Grandpa!!!"

He smiled and hugged me. (In Mexico, if your hand is wet or dirty, you extend your wrist.)

Freddy is eleven and weighs about 200 pounds. He’s, well ... he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. A heavy naive kid who bangs around Zona like the big ball in a pin-ball machine.

Everyone knows Freddy.

It hurts his feet to walk so he stands a lot.

To be honest Freddy is unlovely, and because he is unlovely, he’s unloved and ... just maybe a little unlovable.

On the outside he looks like a happy animated clown, laughs a lot. Fortunately he is slow and unaware of those making fun of him.

Or, maybe, by now, he just doesn't care.

"Grandpa, sit next to me while we play this game", Play-station. Soccer. I sat. I watched. "I was his cheer-leader!" I had a chance to study him and his street friends and their strange dark world.

Freddy is just one of hundreds of unloved and worthless kids roaming the night streets of the Zone.

Kids, each night, playing the dangerous game of tag with Satan, the lord of darkness.

Does anyone care about Freddie standing on the corner ... existing the best way an overweight eleven year old can, in the darkness of Zona.

Only eleven years old. And ... alone ... lost.

Spending the night leaning against a darkened wall of cold graffiti, He waits the long night for a friendly face but only the Zona parade of drugged people with blurred eyes pass by.

Sometimes an opportunity comes his way for a little extra cash ... by being used a short time by an inebriated man of passion!

Mother? Father? You're kidding!

Who would want a kid like Freddy?

Does anyone dare love the unlovely ... standing alone in the shadows?

ANOTHER HIT IN THE REAR!

My Nissan SUV, like myself, is getting a little older, It isn't the beauty it once was. I'm a little sensitive about my rear end, or rather the SUV’s rear end. It’s a cosmetic thing!

You see I've been hit four times in the rear! Each time, for one reason or other, not one of the drivers could pay for the repair ... so being a logical and patient Christian, I'm just waiting for another guy to hit me and HE can pay for all five of the damages. Seems sensible. A financially sound perspective.

Well, today I got hit again!

I was slowly backing out of my parking space at a local market when, to my right, I saw this driverless black vehicle rolling down the tween-way gaining speed as it rolled. It was rolling toward me.

I was hoped the vehicle would miss me. I really don't like collisions, especially the driverless kind.

I tensed up, like I usually do when I'm being hit in the rear, and waited ... sure enough it hit the right rear of my car!

Bang!

So as we men do on such occasions, I got out, walked to the back, put my hands on my hips ... and looked over the situation.

Praise the Lord! No damage done to my car or to the black grocery cart that hit me.

Now I've been hit by the best of cars and orneriest of drivers, but this is the first time I've been hit by an irresponsible out of control black grocery cart.

Well, now I'm waiting for number six!

MARIJUANA AND MUSHROOMS

The leadership at the Union Church in Bogota Columbia heard that a youth speaker from the States was in town. So they called and wanted to know if I would speak a couple of days to their Church teens and speak to the Church Sunday as the Pastor was absent.

O. K. by me. I met with the Church leadership to get a better take on the weekend. I was shocked to find that the Sponsors of their youth were agnostics. The Christian Deacon from the church was apologetic ... he sadly told me that they were the only ones willing to take the Youth of the Church.

I was to be housed with them. They soon heard that a Baptist Youth Worker was to be their guest.

That didn't go over too well.

I climbed the stairs to the double doors of the big house meeting the couple on the porch. Bogota’s weather is rather cold and humid and the meeting between us was as cold yet civil.

Once inside the house I noticed in their foyer lots of healthy green Marijuana plants. They showed me up to my room in the third floor. On the way up I was invited to join their big drinking party in about an hour.

I deferred and went the unpacking route.

The young lady was strong into women’s-lib, the young man had to do his share 50/50. As guest I had to cautiously side step around the constant arguments. It seems they each saw 50/50 differently.

At dinner the couple mentioned to me that the Pastor and his teenage son were out in nearby mountains searching out some special hallucinogen mushrooms. You might say they were on a "trip" of their own. (Sunday service was going to be a challenge.)

My three meetings with the kids went as well as could be expected under the conditions.

It seems that this couple were on a grant studying the effect of a poor diet on young children in poor areas of Bogota.

Our last time together was at breakfast. I remember breakfast well. The young man asked me a little of what I did.

I told him I was a missionary to the very poor street kids (Gaminos) in Mexico.

I'll never forget their surprised look.

The young man leaned over his plate, looking at me ... He stated a stinging question:

"You mean you're an Evangelical Christian, and you give a Damn about the poor?"

I'll never forget that shocking question he stated to me.

Ah yes, we Christians have a great reputation among those of the world! A reputation we well deserve.

BETTER CHECK YOUR OIL!

Some years ago as I was driving down the road I started on a "pity party." Ever have one of those? No one is patting me on the back so it’s pity me time. I call ‘em "pity parties"

I had been working hard for months; as a result our church had a great youth program, large Sunday School and kids club of hundreds. Outreach ministries every week ... you name it, we were going hot! One of the hottest youth churches on the West Coast!

But my church leaders and pastor didn't give me any kudu’s. No pat on the back. No recognition. In fact my pastor said "Von, you are just the Pied Piper of kids, you snap your fingers and there they come".

Not true! I was working my tail off.

It seemed no one was grateful or could spare any encouragement!

I know! I know! I'm to be a humble servant working for the Lord, and that His "well done" should be sufficient.

My "pity party" continued for miles. Just the three of us: Me, Myself and I.

Then in a sudden and unexpected burst of honesty, I reviewed my own ministry and how I treated my own leaders. Those under me.

I was just as tough on them! They were working for the Lord, that should be sufficient. They could well be having their own "pity parties". I wanted tough hard working leaders, and I had them!

I actually felt like appreciation and encouragement from me were ... well ... a sign of weakness.

It took time for me, a hard working young activist, to understand just how important encouraging others was. I was hungry for it, but somehow I felt it was wrong!

The first standing ovation given me, left me completely frustrated. Being a conduit for God’s ovation felt, well, uncomfortable. It was to be a God thing, not a von thing.

I learned that changes in my perspective were necessary. I made changes based on the following verse.

The Word of God indicates that appreciation and encouragement are essential to a smooth running ministry.

"Encourage each other..." The Word says. (I Thess 5:11) Can't be more specific than this!

I found encouragement in ministry plays the important part of oil in a powerful, smooth running engine.

How obvious!

Oil in an engine isn't an optional liquid. Oil is essential to the smooth running engine ... and I needed to learn that the oil-of-encouragement ... kept the friction down and the ministry /engine lasting longer! Great lesson and so simple.

Brother, check your oil! It’s so easy to forget the need to regularly encourage one another.

The Holy oil of encouragement!

Hopefully each of us is growing in an attitude of gratitude and encouragement.

WORTHLESS?

"In that you've done it to the least of these, you've done it unto me ..." ~ Matthew 25:45

What did Jesus mean by "the least of these?" "Who did Jesus mean by the least of these?" Are we talking losers here? Worthless individuals. Someone who is simply poor or handicapped? A worthless fool who deserves his consequences?

We can talk about Jesus incognito, and that's an interesting concept, but to make that statement come alive we must be honest enough and courageous enough to define 'least'.

The way I read it, each of us will be judged on how we treat Jesus by treating 'least' people.

If that's true we need to know how God spells 'least'.

Are we who dedicate our ministry to working ground level with losers; the few and fallen ... are we but hopeful fools?

Am I Christian enough to look at a staggering drunk with compassion ... even love?

Are we simply fools, wasting time and money on the worthless.

Little Pepe with no working hands or feet is on one side of worthless ... and then Marcos, an unloved ten-year-old street kid addicted to his spray paint is the other side of worthless.

In a sense both are worthless ... but how does God look at our term "worthless?"

For that matter how many Christians are willing to give to a ministry to the ... worthless?

Scripturally, is there a worthless person in God's sight? For that matter is there a worthy person in God's sight? The answer to both questions is ... no.

We'll continue walking the streets mingling with normal sinners ... along with prime sinners; pimps and prostitutes and addicts to the pill, bottle and needle ... the unlovable, unloved and unlovely.

Our calling is to walk and talk with sinners on the smelly dirty streets of Zona.

Somewhere I hear a divine echo from 2000 years ago ...

"I came to minister to the sick and needy, not to the healthy or righteous." ~ Matthew 9:12, Mark 2:17, Luke 5:31

Today's lessons: 1. Go, learn what this means. 2. Come, join us.

SUBTLE BATTLE OF THE HORMONES

Last night twenty teen boys and I watched a rather uncomfortable video. Un-natural. Awkward.

In the film a half dozen skimpily clad and oh so shapely girls took on the world of ugly evil men, in high heels no less.

This film was obviously created and financed by a group of women's libbers, and /or homosexuals add a few metro-sexuals.

Gender benders!

The action packed video played out with an obvious agenda; Estrogen will ultimately win over and dominate testosterone!

I'm sitting there watching this fiasco with a room packed full of testosterone! Weird feeling.

These petite girls went up against ugly metal manlike robots three times their size and with little or no weapons they deftly skirted every deadly ray and sword swipe. Hurled and slammed around by these angry red-eyed giants the girls didn't suffer a scratch.

Whiz! Bang! Boom! Action Packed.!

Then the scene changed ... now the girls are facing men at war along with their powerful weapons. Up and down the trenches these girls went, in their high-heels ... dodging bullets bombs, hand-grenades and knives. Mercilessly shooting and bashing in the faces of hundreds of male soldiers. It was slaughter, it was bloody ... and these girls came out the obvious winners.

The spin of the video was so obviously Feminist that the boys groaned ... girls in, boys out. Mr. testosterone, we can do anything you can do and do it damn sight better!

Men, we don't need you!

Estrogen will be the winning hormone. It's testosterone that rapes, kills and fills our jails and prisons. It's testosterone that produces wars. It's testosterone that hunts and kills innocent people and animals. Out with testosterone!

Estrogen is an innocent baby pink, while testosterone is blood red!

Caution Feminists and Woman's Libbers! Caution Unisexers you're playing with dynamite!

When you mess with God defined genders there's trouble ahead.

Gender benders produce gender blunders!

Watch out girls, that you don't cut yourselves in your race to penetrate the "glass ceiling."

NOTE: Today's gender war started a few years back with a simple door! The door was titled "Women's liberation" ... women's freedom! We gentlemen stepped aside and opened the "Women's Liberation" door for you, as gentlemen do.

Our mistake? Big mistake!

We didn't see the sign on the other side of the "Women's Liberation" door that plainly read ... Men's Domination"!

Now the war is on, with what few "real" men we have.

EFFICIENT; A POWERFUL WORD!

Years ago, while working in the "private sector," Convair Aircraft Corp. I learned a lifetime lesson ... WORK!

I've had the privilege of working both the "Private sector" and the "Public sector" as they are called now.

In the "Private sector" it was obvious we were there to make money for the company. It was in the old days where if you didn't cut it, you were fired. You were "Given your notice" as they put it. So within your eight-hour shift you were to put in eight hours of work ... by their definition!

Our Boss would walk around the area in which we were working singing his little song while smacking his hand with his fist; Go! Go! ... Go! Go!! Go!!! Translated WORK!

I remember the times our Company hired outside "Efficiency Experts" to come in for a few days and "observe us."

I remember them well; dressed in suits looking very intelligent and businesslike; they carried clip-boards and watches ... they stood back for hours studying us and writing notes.

Have you ever been studied? It's a weird feeling.

None of us liked them or wanted them around, but there they were, standing quietly, and observing us. Watching our every move, including how many times we went to the bathroom as well as how long we stayed in the bathroom. If we went to get something, how long did it take; was it the quickest route.

To the efficiency expert it was always about time! Were we wasting Company time?

Then they would compile a report ... an evaluation; which went to the Company. After being evaluated, there would be changes based on their report. Changes!

No doubt, as much as we didn't like them, they made the Company more efficient. They knew their job and did it well. We became more competitive. Produced more dollars for the Company.

Now when the same Company entered into a Government contract there was a world of difference. Ah! There was money, manpower and employment ... and waste.

A time of relaxing.

In all my time working for the Government I never saw an efficiency expert. Of course not! On more than one occasion in fact, our boss would say, "get lost" or "look busy" ... take a hike. Too many men and not enough jobs.

Why is it our leaders won't look into the obvious? (The answer to that question reveals the degree of corruption in our leadership)

Why would they admit to making the dirty mess, let alone investigate it. (City, State and Federal )

The inefficiency, duplication, paperwork, waste and corruption in our Governments is legion. We've all experienced Government at City level, State level and Federal level.

Why won't we see the obvious?

We're tight on money?? Simple solution!

Bring in a few thousand efficiency experts and watch the money roll in as heads roll ... off and out.

Mr. President, maybe we should start by bringing an efficiency expert into your Oval Office. You up for it!

THE FOURTH-OF-JULY FIZZLED

This Fourth-of-July Weekend, I had the privilege of attending a grammar school graduation. The little auditorium was packed with squeaky clean Graduates and their proud parents and friends.

The ceremony began with everyone being asked to stand while eight kids on the right of the stage, with the flag held high, marched up the stairs and onto the stage. With military order they did a left face, and then took a few steps toward the center; the kid in the middle holding the big flag. The flag was then presented as everyone saluted and voiced together the salute to the flag.

The National Anthem was played and once again everyone saluted and sang together the anthem. They didn't just sing the anthem; they belted it out!

We were still standing, while another group of kids on the left marched down the other side of the auditorium, up the stairs and onto the stage to face the first group of flag bearers The second group received the flag, about faced and marched back down proudly holding the flag, while the first group on the right marched back into the auditorium.

We all were asked to be seated as the ceremony continued.

Indeed the Forth of July and patriotism go hand in hand in our great red, white and blue weekend! Or is that so?

I took the privilege of giving this story a little twist!

Surprise!

This graduation wasn't in our nation. These kids weren't saluting our flag or loudly singing our national anthem! Kids don't do that any more in our nation.

They were saluting the Mexican Flag and singing the Mexican National Anthem!

Standing proud, they sang and saluted with all their hearts!

Mexicans are patriotic! All year, 24/7, little Mexican flags are proudly waving over the humblest of shacks.

Isn't it a shame that I have to go to another nation to experience patriotic kids that are proud of their nation!

Our Fourth of July here in America simply means another Holiday! Barbecue, fireworks and sunburn.

If you don't believe it, just ask an average American kid.

Oh, I might add ... Mexicans don't come over here to be Americans, they come here to be Mexicans in America.