THE LISTERINE BOTTLE

I consider myself very fortunate in having a garage, when most people in the world don't even have a car. My garage is really useful, not just to house the car, but in my garage I have my workbench with a multitude of Chinese tools; that is made in China.

When I come home, after buying stuff, I bring the stuff from my car and lay it out on the workbench and prepare to open the packaged items. I have the tools I need. Vice, hammer, hacksaw, scissors and various other cutting devices ... and band aids.

Today's incredibly tough packaging demands a set of aggressive tools to help open and release the products! From a simple toothbrush to a set of little batteries, they don't give up easily.

Most all of these items are incased in tough see-through plastic, vacuum packaged allowing you to see the item you purchased ... then spend twenty minutes trying to remove the item, intact, from the packaging.

Take a simple something like mouthwash.

The other day I bought a family sized bottle of mouthwash. (6 benefits in one ... 'one' what, I don't know.) I took the bottle from my car and sat the bottle on my workbench and looked at it ... it stared back.

I could tell, there was going to be war!

I was going to have to open this baby. Simply unscrew the cap? No way.

I took the bottle and twisted the cap to open it and sure enough it was "child-proofed" ... and that's understandable as any child would just LOVE the ugly taste of mouthwash. Right?

I love that ratcheting noise. It resonates aggression.

"Child-proofing" or, in reality, "Adult proofing" really ticks me off!

When I studied the cap, it showed how to simply squeeze the cap in the right place and simply twist it open.

Why didn't I think of that?

Now where is that right place ... it's under the cap somewhere!

So I carefully squeezed and twisted and sure enough it wouldn't open. I'm not one to easily give up. Again, I squeezed as hard as I could, and twisted it ... it wouldn't open!

I got my big pliers and really went at it ... squeezing and slowly twisting. It still didn't work.

By now the bottle and I both had an attitude.

I studied the bottle closely and noticed two little black lips on the bottom of the plastic cap. Aha! I got my hacksaw and cut them off!

Success! Now the cap works like a charm.

Some dark night I Would love to meet the designer of that cap ... even if I had to travel to China.

PET FOODS

The other day I was walking down the "Dog and Cat food" Isle in my local market. Looking at the rows and rows of pet food with their colorful packaging ... I guess that's what you do in a pet food isle. I paused to study this impressive panorama of canine and feline foods.

And briefly though of Haiti.

Indeed we love our furry pets. But oh so many, many decisions.

There's chew, bite, crunch munch, gnaw and gum.(Older dogs.) Dried food, wet food, canned food and hunks of leather from a long forgotten cow.

A growing diet section for the growing ever fatter pets.

We can't forget that maturity section, Age is playing a bigger part; there's puppy food, and adult dog food, then middle-age and ... senile dog food for the dentally impaired.

While there is little on the shelf for A common curbstone setter or average alley cat, there's a vast selection for the precious and finicky few ... ending in gourmet.

Now what would Tabby or Rover enjoy?

Because Tabby or Rover aren't allowed in the store and because they can't read anyway, means we must choose their pet food for them, so in reality the colorful and convincing packaging is created to sell us, not Tabby or Rover. An astounding revelation!

An important point to consider.

Each package holds a picture of a healthy happy dog or contented cat eager to eat the very product you have in your hand. How simple.

This one is it.

One thing for sure, the thoughtful time you spend walking back and forth and searching out what you think your Tabby or Rover would like for supper . .you're offering will be devoured in a blur of seconds as it hits the floor. And Rover will look up at you asking ... is that all?

Now Tabby, well, she may take her time, after all she is gourmet.

VICTOR ENDS IT ALL

Little by little Victor's world was falling apart. His fatherless two room home, in a very poor barrio was becoming impossible. No money, little food, fighting and arguments were an everyday thing. In school he was having problems too, for months things in Victor's small world had been going from bad to worse.

Victor, a scrawny little twelve year old, wasn't particularly good looking ... just an average Tijuana kid. He didn't feel needed or necessarily wanted.

There didn't seem to be enough love in those two rooms to include him.

He knew of two young boys in his neighborhood that had done it.

Maybe this was the answer. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense.

Each one of the two boys had hung themselves. (About 90% of suicides in Mexico are by hanging.)

Victor thought it over and carefully planned out his end.

He found out how to tie a noose, located a short rope and knew of an abandoned shack a few blocks up the street. Victor slowly penned two notes and stuck them in his pocket. He made a noose on one end of the rope, and walked with the rope to the abandoned building.

Gathering several boxes together, Victor stacked them up, and climbed atop where he could reach a 2X4 on the ceiling; while standing on the wobbly boxes he threw the rope over the 2X4 a couple of times and tied it into a knot then placed the noose over his head, pulling it tight.

After a time, he kicked the wobbly boxes and fell ... it was all over.

He hung there until some kids found him.

When Mexican Public Service arrived to pick up Victor's body, his mother identified her son, showing no emotion.

More food for the family?

Going through the young boy's pockets, they found some marbles, a few tasas (Small plastic disks; a game that boys play this time of year.) and the two notes.

One note was addressed to his mother ... in the short note he expressed his feelings that she love Benjamin, his younger brother, more then him.

The next note was addressed to Santa Clause.

"Dear Santa, I must be a bad boy because you never gave me the little remote control car I asked for."

A small twelve year old boy kills himself. He felt unloved, unwanted and even rejected by Santa ... he was a "bad" kid.

We are there for those twelve year olds ... somehow we missed Victor!

In Tijuana, kids suicides are growing ... and boys suicides in particular.

Seriously! What have they got to live for? You answer that one!

KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!

Back when boys were boys and women didn't make the rules, we used to play "King of The Mountain." A rather primitive game particularly attractive to boys. Sorry, no girls on the mountain.

Just a small, high, pile of worthless dirt would provide the challenge of who could be king, who would be king ... and for how long.

King was the boy on top! He was King! For how long only he could tell. The other boys had a singular agenda ... dethrone the king! Pull the king down and become king yourself!

Rules were simple; anything goes ... just become King!

A boy thing ... way back when they had real boys, and boy things.

A serious game of ego, strength and testosterone. In "King of the Mountain;" anything goes! The color of the game was black'n-blue ... there were often tears and blood.

In "King of The Mountain" ... there was a winner and of course there were losers. Those who fought fair and those who fought to win.

There were those who sought the summit and got the summit ... at least for a time.

PRISON?

When is anyone going to take on the prison fiasco? The whole system is rotten to the core but everyone seems to want it to remain "invisible" ... "Put 'em behind bars," to many, that's the solution! No way! How can any intelligent person think that larger prisons are the solution to less crime ... prison, for the most part just puts things on hold.

Why do we continue thinking criminal, police, jail, prison = equals solution? The prison system we have is in fact increasing crime. An institute of multiplication. Quality crime by more sophisticated criminals.

I would define prison as "Inmates in training:" Schooling paid for by our government. An average criminal can become a smooth professional with enough schooling ... and think of the future contacts he can make.

Why are our officials blind to this? They can't be that dumb.

Well, maybe they are.

Another thought: If you haven't a cause, you'll find it in prison; a proven recruiting environment for a fundamentalist Muslim. It's a fact that prisons are packed with terrorist potential And Muslims know it, and exploit it.

Muslim indoctrination, thumbs up! Christian indoctrination, thumbs down! That's the way it goes in too many prisons.

Prison: A place to locate and motivate future terrorists to a cause:

Oh, another question. How is it possible that gangs inside the prison can efficiently and effectively run gangs outside the prison? How can a prisoner make and keep a fortune while in prison? Now that's a real mystery.

Could it be the prison system itself?

Why is it that drug addicts can acquire all the drugs they need in prison? Something smells in the prison system, but then again, who really cares? To the guards, it's employment. Why should the guards care? The larger the prison the more guards employed.

Police? Do the police really care? Dumb question. Think it over. If there were no criminals the police would be out of a job.

Cops 'n robbers a healthy synergetic pairing.

Fact!

The prison can of worms needs to be opened. The sooner the better ... and ... we need to deal with the ... worms ... not the can they're in!

31 FLAVORS

In my ministry with youth I tried to place a priority on recognizing, attracting and developing leadership types. I was grateful for the compliant kids we had but wanted to invest in future leaders.

To find my leaders I had to study my kids. And I did.

One of my first tests in finding latent young leaders was "THE 31 FLAVORS TEST." A rather unique test. I would take my teens to the local 31 FLAVORS store and treat them to an Ice Cream ... then study each kid as they went about getting their Ice Cream. It seemed that the leaders were first to step up, quickly scan the flavors available, and select their flavor, they knew what flavor they wanted. Most of the other kids were indecisive and slow in finding their choice. Several, I noticed, asked the leaders what flavor they chose. (Being boys, I realize that there is a hunger factor here.)

How did I select leadership potential? What did I look for? Well, one who was decisive, one who tended to cut corners on a winding path ... a kid who didn't necessarily follow the trail but made his own. Often I found it was the leader who was first to do the dumb and daring. (Judgment comes later.)

I was always on the lookout for the mavericks; kids who showed the following six qualities: energized, articulate, decisive, competitive, determined and creative.

Of course there's a risk in developing leaders. A grouping of young leaders creates a rather tumultuous environment, however a necessary environment in which leaders could grow. Unfortunately, this environment seems to be a threat to many Youth Men. Also all leaders are not leaders for the good.

Leaders are leaders for whatever cause they take. May it be the cause of Christ.

PUT YOUR BULL HORN DOWN, YOU AIN'T MAKING THINGS BETTER!

Rev. Al Sharpton, Rev. Jesse Jackson and Rev. Martin Luther King, the black trinity.

Of these three, in my opinion, only one stands out as an honest champion of the blacks, and that was the martyred Martin Luther King. King was one who was for the blacks lifting themselves from their accepted status, and seeing themselves as having as much potential as any other American. Head held high!

Jackson and Sharpton, quickly attached themselves to King's legacy and are proving themselves to be cheap fakes; making their fortunes off the backs of their own poor people.

When you have an agenda to keep poor people poor, so you can control, manipulate and exploit them for your own cause ... this is sick!

Two cheap political Reverends, content with their stature, and competing for power through controlling their black communities. Two self-appointed political spokesmen for the thousands of blacks under them; which they keep chained to their color, history and status.

Bullhorn message to their blacks: "Never you forget that you're black and your forefathers were slaves!" "The whites owe you!!"

These two spokesmen find it quite profitable keeping blacks segregated, discontent and enslaved to their past. You will never hear Jackson or Sharpton encourage their people to climb above their slavery and history, and become the people they could be. Enter another loud perverted Reverend; Rev. Wright ... he and his cohorts make a mockery of the gentle Savior and His call to freedom.

A loud blowhard with one microphone and one agenda ... stirring up hatred and strife against the whites. Fomenting black anger!

Quite a successful strategy!

Quite lucrative too.

Keeping blacks diverted from a successful track upward is the goal of these pundits; their blacks are only to hear what they can't be and will never be. At all cost, keep them down and controllable.

Become their savior! (It pays big bucks! Look how these three live!)

Isn't it interesting to put this in a true perspective. Look throughout our history, follow different ethnic groups like The Polish, Italians, and Irish that came to America to make a new life and how they made it. They were treated bad, It was tough, each group took a lot of heat. Were they persecuted? Of course! Oh, and what about the Chinese? The Chinese were humbled, humiliated and persecuted ... even tortured, yet they didn't bitch, grumble and complain; they quietly climbed above their cultural handicap and made it to the top. Ethnic group after group came here, went to school, and climbed above their perceived handicap.

None of them with the "help" of a Jackson or Sharpton

However ... the blacks and Hispanics continue to bitch about their persecution and treatment.

I, along with millions of others, am tired of the constant complaining of blacks and browns ... It's getting old!! ... and I'm tired of being blamed for being born white! I'm tired of being blamed for persecuting blacks when my father and great grandfather were in Germany and never involved in the slavery that existed in early America. He, nor I were even here. Yet, I'm somehow at fault.

Surprise! Have you ever heard anything about the Blacks in Africa that betrayed their own people for money? Blacks in Africa that rounded up and sold their own brothers by the thousands into slavery. For some reason blacks never speak about that. Black's selling their own, to other blacks seems perfectly OK ... what's wrong with blacks selling blacks? Apparently nothing.

It's the big bad whites that bought them from the innocent blacks and brought them here to work as slaves, they were the problem! Never, never the blacks that sold them to us! (Are history books allowed to carry this part of he history?)

Ah, I smell the stench of good old hypocrisy!

Will the moaning and groaning ever cease?

Solution? A black I was working with, and he was a good worker and friend, summed it up rather simply. "If the blacks would get off their fat asses and get to work, they'd make it too."

Carlton made it despite Sharpten, Wright and Jackson!

THE HANDSHAKE

Consciously or unconsciously we all read people and it's true, one can't make a second first impression!

That makes the first impression very important!

My take on reading people at an initial meeting is not so much by their physical appearance but rather by their handshake and their eye-to-eye contact.

Even which one of the two initiates the handshake is telling, indicating the initial positioning of the two.

We might say ... briefly 'sizing a person up.'

Even though the handshake isn't used in every culture, it's a hidden indicator of many things. Simple, yet complex.

The handshake is a quick first read on a person's strength and self-esteem; the 'who' you are meeting. An equal or inferior? Leader or follower? A person of strength or a person that's weak? Someone with high self-esteem or a person who has little self-esteem? All told in a quick handshake.

A petite lady was brought into a rather large male dominated institution in which I was ministering. She was there temporarily to do a hatchet job; she was sent there to find and cut problem men. (Which she did!)

Indeed they had the right person.

I remember being called in to meet her ... it was her handshake that impressed me! This petite little woman had a remarkable handshake, a strong handshake ... as we shook hands she looked up at me, her eyes penetrating mine. In less than a minute we both knew who we were and the basic relationship we were to have. Fortunately we were both on the same side.

I've found the eyes to be, perhaps the most telling part of the body. Indeed windows to the very soul. (When I'm around police, security or guards, I take my dark glasses off!)

Eye to eye contact while shaking hands says a lot too. Eye to eye seems to indicate "direct and honest" and one who is also sizing you up ... while the person who switches his eyes from yours or who avoids eye to eye contact, looking at your face but not into your eyes ... something just isn't right in the relationship between you.

Something says caution.

As most tribal people, Yanamamo Indians of Venezuela don't have the custom of shaking hands but in the case of man to man they may test you in several other ways ... always while watching your eyes.

Eye to eye is very important in Indian culture; it's important in any culture.

The Yanamamo may draw their six-foot arrow, aiming it straight at your heart, while watching your eyes; they may even let it go while catching it at the last second ... watching your eyes to see if you show fear.

The handshake and the eyes combine for a quick read of the person on the other side.

Evaluate your handshake ... how have people been reading you?

PREACHING STONED (A True Story)

A few month's back, I was to preach at a local Church and my niece was to drive me. My shoulder had been injured in a fall and was giving me some pain, so my niece gave me some pain pills in case I needed them, but I was taking my pain like a man; that was until Sunday morning when I took another spill and my shoulder was really hurting. When I was about to leave the house I quickly grabbed a couple of my niece's pain pills and slowly and carefully walked down my stairs to get into her car so she could drive me to the Church. As we drove I got to feeling better. No pain. In fact the longer we drove the better I felt. When we arrived at church I was feeling better than I had ever felt.

Yep! I was pleasantly stoned. Legally stoned.

Pumped on two white pills!

Now I am dependable and was ready to go; I'm also an honest sort, so when I got behind the pulpit I smiled and told the people I was stoned and mentioned that if no one liked my message I really didn't care.

I felt good about it!

Let's say I had real liberty.

Probably one of my better messages!

Yep! I was invited back ... at that point I was tempted to give them a three pill message they would never forget.

OUR WORLD OF DIRTY FEET!

Years ago Pastor Juan and I were working in the Tijuana Children's jail. This was an institution holding over 160 teens and some preteens; kids as young as eleven. They were in there for anything from graffiti to rape and murder, their sentences ranging from one year to three years. (At that time a kid killing someone got three years.)

We noticed the smell from the kids feet; these young inmates wouldn't take off their shoes, they would sleep with them on or someone would steal them. 24/7 what a smell! A lot of the kids had bad cases of athletes feet or foot fungus.

We decided to cut down the athletes feet fungus by washing their feet with Hydrogen Peroxide and massage anti-fungal cream in their feet. We sprayed their shoes with anti-fungal powder.

The two of us would walk into the large smelly toilet area with a line of boys following us for medical attention ... sometimes just attention.

Boy, I've seen my share of dirty smelly feet, and filthy bathrooms!

I remember, as we were working on feet one day, an older teen asking me "Why are you guys doing this? Why do you care about us?

I replied "We're Christians and this is what Christians do..."

How would you answer this one?

These occasions, following our teaching time, were opportunities to make an impact through example.

Others were asking the same question. "What's your motive?" "Why?"

Indeed we were teaching, but what was more important is that our "foot washing ministry" gave credibility to our messages.

Biblical? I remember Jesus starting at Peter's feet to reach his heart.

It worked for him, it worked for us!

... and we're still washing dirty feet.

OATMEAL

Almost every morning I eat my hot oatmeal, I toss a few raisons in for fruit. I wonder why I eat oatmeal. I don't particularly like it yet I know it's healthy.

Maybe it's because we always ate it for breakfast as kids. Mother said it stuck to our ribs. Oatmeal.

Or earlier still, I'm sure she ate oatmeal while I was in her womb, I could have acquired the taste there?

Or possibly ...

in kindergarten; I remember us having a band, a sort of percussion band. Now, kids like to bang on things and our teacher caught the vision we could learn the art of banging in unison.

So our teacher got us kids together and told us of her plans. We were to become her little percussion band.

Some of us were, shall we say, musically challenged; the Johnnie-one-notes got to bang the nail; a big nail you couldn't miss.

I remember we had quality kids, mostly girls who hit the triangle, and the less talented that simply swished the sand-paper blocks.

Apparently I was musically gifted, so I was allowed to play the oatmeal-box drum.

Maybe that's where my thing for oatmeal comes from.

THE OLD HYMNS

On the radio today I was listening to an old hymn. "Make me a Blessing" I knew that one by heart, just a musical reminder of my calling today. I started humming along thinking of the many old songs I've been missing these many "contemporary" years of music.

I well remember the hymns of faith from our Baptist "Broadman Hymnal"

I remember Trust and obey, and it's lesson; there is no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey!

Then there are other impacting hymns: "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty!," "Praise God from whom all blessings flow".

And "How Great Thou Art!"

Somehow today's contemporary effort toward majesty and power in musical worship just doesn't seem to match up.

As I observe it, contemporary music has energy ... but lacks meaningful power!

These old hymns don't need a pipe organ, guitar or drums ... just a bunch of excited Believers!

I remember way back in my early childhood; every Sunday we closed our morning service, by standing, holding hands and singing an old hymn ... "God be with us 'Till we meet again!"

That seemed to make sense, as well as a great send off.

One college chapel I was attending, waiting to speak; I was surprised when everyone started to sing hymns ... it seemed as if I were in a huge choir. The church congregation was one gigantic choir. Everyone sang in parts, complete with the contralto high soprano who was there doing her thing. I said to myself," this has got to impress any visitor".

Somehow, yesteryears stuff leaves a good taste in my mouth ... and I'm hungry for more.

LADIES AND GENTELMEN!

Remember when a speech would begin with "Ladies and Gentlemen ..." Where did the ladies go? And the gentlemen, where did they go?

Gentlemen? They were the kind of man that stood to give a lady their seat. Gentlemen seated their lady at a restaurant. Gentlemen ordered the meal. Gentlemen opened the door for a lady. Gentlemen held her arm as they walked ... and he would walk on the curb side. A civil time. That was the lady and gentlemen era.

Where the ladies and gentlemen went is no real mystery.

Woman's liberation 60's thru 80's. quietly changed the lady to a woman and changed the gentleman back to a man!

Woman and man!

Woman's Liberation was the big gender blender blunder! No more ladies, no more gentlemen.

We're all equal. Unisex flourishes.

Women boldly going where no woman had gone before permeating the very sanctuaries of testosterone as well as reversing or minimizing man's roll in society.. Estrogen vs. testosterone!

"Move over man, I'm sitting there now!" ... the tough broad smiles," want to make something of it mister man?"

Open a door for a woman now and she looks puzzled. Try and seat a woman now and you get a dirty look!

Alas, the lady and gentlemen are two endangered species.

Indeed there are millions of women, and millions of broads too ... but has anyone seen a lady of virtue around?

FORMAL EDUCATION

When making that important decision regarding future schooling proceed slowly and proceed with caution. Don't be fooled by the front door! Whether a simple bible school, seminary, college or university; the front door is always inviting, it's always open and looks great!

Don't fall for the beauty of academic brick and mortar! Inexpensive tuition? There many be a reason.

Don't fall for promises, if it's performance your after.

A person enters schooling to be educated. A student enters school somewhat like moldable clay and leaves formed and baked. (In some cases ... half baked!)

It's the back door that you need to watch.

The back door, not the front door, defines the school.

Who came from the school that became a notable leader?

The school's alumni all came through that back door, what did they become, better yet who did they become and what did they amount to?

As to schooling, always study that back door ... before you enter the front door!

The time you take researching a school's alumni will be well worth the effort.

HONORARIUM

There is word called "honorarium." As a speaker I found I was often given an "honorarium" for speaking or teaching. Sort of a clever gift of gratitude.

A gift you didn't have to declare as income.

Most speakers get an appropriate honorarium and expenses paid, and that's only fair. If you're a big league speaker you get big league "honorariums" and if you're a person like me, a little league speaker ... you get what the people are good enough to pay.

Fortunately It was never necessary to make my living from speaking, so I rarely discussed "honorariums" and for the most part it came off well. On occasion I would get a thousand dollar "honorarium" and on other occasions not a red cent. Not even expenses ... or gas.

I remember well the most unusual yet endearing and humbling "honorarium" I ever received.

I was to speak to a small Church in tropical India. To say the church was small would be an understatement. Thatch roof, four posts and four short pews. A little pulpit for me to speak from. The little church was packed with ten smiling brothers and sisters.

After the service, we were all meeting and greeting one another, when a lady came up and with a smile handed me the church honorarium ... three eggs.

That thank-you meant more to me than any honorarium I've ever received.

THE STRANGE FEELING OF EMPOWERMENT!

I was thinking about government; I guess today we all think about government ... and I remembered the phrase "public servants," then I thought further into government, and even more important who funds our Governments.

Why, it's us! It's me! Enlightenment!

Why, I'm an employer! I'm the Governments boss! I'm the President's boss!

Yeah, I may be just a small sardine, but in this case us little sardines swim with the big tunas.

Wow! This has given me a new perspective, seeing as how heavily invested I am in my Government. (And God knows I am!)

I am a boss!

Just think, the next time I'm pulled over for a minor infraction, I can look at the police officer as my employee! Now that's a perspective I like! That dude is working for me. No more quaking fear. No more wet pants, but an eye-to-eye contact. Oh, and officer please address me as sir.

The unleashed power of a new mind set!

I can stop along the freeway construction area and inquire as to how they're doing on repairing my freeway and commend them on their work. Or tell the two men holding shovels to get down in the hole and help the one digging or I'll have them fired.

As boss I should be able to walk right in to the DMV and inquire as to how things can be improved and the need for so much paper. Oh, and I'll give you a date and time when I'm available.

And with due respect, I should be addressed as Sir. After all, I am boss and aren't all government employees ... public servants?

Servant has sort of a humble ring to it.

Alas, along the line we run into a bit of a double standard. The term "Public servants" is simply political misspeak! Reality sets in and again I cave in to my own employees.

The truth like a dream vanishes ... us sardines are still sardines and the big tunas ... well, they're still the arrogant and incompetent big tunas we elect every year.

(Try to find a good tuna? Here's a tip! You'll find the best selection ... in your local market!)

A DUMBED DOWN PEOPLE

What is dumbing us down? Could it be our growing legislation ... and masses of rules and regulations?

The bureaucracy with it's "One-size-fits-all-ism" makes one size fit all rules and regulations. Lets start with driving. Here in California we do the right thing because it's the law and the Cops are watching. We don't necessarily do the right thing because we think it out, it's simpler to get the "law habit."

The police want us to get the "law habit." If the light's green, lets go, if it's red ... stop! See a stop sign, stop.

Most of us come up to a stop sign at three in the morning, and stop even if there is no one around for ten miles. Rather dumb, but it's the law.

Or ... in the Military bureaucracy, I learned fast and first to obey the rules and regulations. I became a Lemming, like the rest of the men. Why? Because a Sergeant was on our back. We were told how to talk, how to walk, how to stand, even where to put our hands ... we were told when to eat, when to sleep, when to work and when to learn. One size fits all. (Literally.) The Military man is not trained to think above a certain level, or use common sense, but to simply obey! Your superiors were better qualified and did the thinking ... from quite a distance, I might add!

Our government legislatures continue the dumbing down process that's woven through the bureaucracy. Seatbelts mandatory, motorcycle helmets mandatory, no smoking, no Colas or Big Mac's ... they make you fat. No room anymore to reason or think, just do it because, well ... it's the law.

And the bureaucracy knows best.

No need to think any more, because that's what we have our Government for. The well educated egghead legislators always know best.

Don't leave your keys in your own ignition switch, it's against the law, it will tempt criminals, and you'll be cited ... not the thief, especially if he is undocumented.

If this keeps up I wonder what Americas population will be like in the next twenty years. Could we say "brain dead?" Fortunately we will have a large strong Government to carry us through.

Times like these are hard times for us old timers who dare to think things out. Not easy for the few of us who are used to using Common Sense and reason to govern our actions.

I wonder why it's against the law to plug in a toaster and take it in the bathtub with you? I should place that sign up over my bath tub. "No toasters in tub with water!"

In Mexico, where I drive, it's defensive driving and common sense decisions. Mexico where rules are simply suggestions ... and only apply when a policeman is near.

I fit in well.

WET, COLD ASHES

NOTE: This is an update to the previous post, WHAT ONCE WAS, AND IS NO MORE

More rain! The ashes, wet and cold, are all that's left of the home that once was. The dog continues sleeping near the ashes ... waiting. Little Alex cried because he couldn't get his sister out; she was strapped into a car seat and was too heavy to drag out. Abigail cried too, because she would have no Christmas.

And still it rains.

Last Christmas there was a fire too, taking the lives of all three children. We had no opportunity to give them a Christmas; maybe that's why we put so much effort into giving little Alex and his sister a big Christmas.

Inside Alex and Abigail the wounds aren't yet healed ... but for a few hours we saw them forget that tragic night.



Toys, smiles and even laughter: It was Grandma's little house and everyone was there.



Grandma's house is full; a welcome shelter from the wind and rain outside. Getting to and from that house is a slippery struggle in mud three inches deep.

When the rain lets up and our income allows it; we'll be starting on the building.

WHAT ONCE WAS, AND IS NO MORE

It was another Christmastime fire. Saturday night. All that remains now is a cold, wet miscellaneous patch of ashes over a cement floor ... and a heart broken family.

Hours before, it was a little building with a family of five, now it's a family of four; little two year old Yanely is missing; missing forever ... a little cross and flowers mark where she was found.

That rainy night, Mom was at work, father left to get some milk for hungry Yanely. A fire started; seven year old Alex did his best to save his sister Yanely but by then it was too hot! He, and his four year old sister Abigail, made it out in time ... watching as their sister burn to death.

Spectrum Ministries will be there to rebuild the building, bring blankets, beds, clothing and refurbish as best we can.

Tomorrow we'll give Christmas gifts for little Alex and Abigail ... but we can never replace cute Yanely

"Felez Navadad" Joyful Christmas? I don't think so. Better said perhaps; A Happier New Year.

HAVE A MERRY LITTLE HONG KONG CHRISTMAS!

Here's a Christmas exercise you might want to try in your home. Quietly take baby Jesus out of your Nativity Scene and see how long it is before someone recognizes that Jesus is missing.

Might be quite some time.

Just an example of what's happening all over the world this time of year.

We've drummed Jesus out of the picture! Rat-a-tat! Rata-tat-tat-tat!

Joseph and Mary sit there quietly looking at an empty manger. The wise men still hold their gifts. The animals are milling around while the angel flutters above. All is calm and all is right.

The songs, the color and the food along with family fellowship carries the Christmas celebration doesn't it,

Is Jesus really that important to Christmas?

How many years has the real Jesus been missing from your Christmas and mine?

Yesterday at the orphanage I dared to take baby Jesus out of his manger and tenderly look at him, then I turned Him over, only to discover that ... surprise! Baby Jesus was made in China! How discouraging! I never realized that Jesus was plastic and made by a Chinese engineer somewhere in Hong Kong ... You see ... I always thought Jesus, the supreme man, was created by the supreme Creator, called to pay the supreme price resulting in salvation for us all. What a gift!!!

Fortunately to many of us, Christmas remains as His day, not ours. He gets the focus as He should. He gets the gifts. Above all He's not Chinese plastic but the living King of Kings and Lord of Lords!

SOMEWHERE ON A DARK CORNER

I was in my car tonight waiting to turn right at the corner; ready to merge onto the busy boulevard. I looked to my left, then to my right and to my left again; judging the speed and space of the oncoming traffic. Then again to my left and quickly made my right-turn. As I was turning, I glanced to my right and saw this man standing on the edge of the corner. I swear I didn't see him. I could have hit him he was so close. I continued on down the road re-thinking the incident.

It's funny what a glance can tell you.

Here was a tall slender man in baggy clothing with disheveled hair staring straight ahead.

A person of the street ... quietly playing out the pain of his consequences.

One of the many invisible people; people you don't look at, you look through. This man, like thousands of others, was lost; alone; unloved. A man who's lost his very being. He's lost his direction, his dignity, even his manhood.

Living, yet dead from the inside out.

I wondered how God saw him ... and then I wondered how God saw me.

But for what reason do I, as a Christian, exist, but to meet the man on the corner.

THE TIJUANA TOOTH MOUSE

I felt a persistent tapping on my leg and I looked down to see this little girl with a wide smile looking up at me. A shy smile of expectation! She held up a little wad of toilet tissue, "Here Brother Von!" ... I took this little tissue package and carefully opened it up; just as I expected, it was a little tooth. Her tooth. She eagerly pointed to the empty spot in her smile and held out her hand.

You see in Mexico they don't have a "Tooth Fairy" ... they have a Tooth Mouse, and this rather poor Tooth Mouse is pretty stingy and a bit irresponsible! So they have learned to look to von for compassion. A rather tall old Tooth Mouse with glasses.

Years and years, and years ... and yes, years ago, I decided to give a little Mexican kid a dollar for their tooth. Actually, if I would have kept all of the teeth I've gained through the years, I would easily have a five gallon drum full of kids teeth. Often the child will wait, saving their tooth, for three or four weeks before seeing me again ... but there it is; their little tooth and a proud expectant smile.

I wonder why they think I want their tooth?? Gratitude? Seldom; it's just a dental exchange. Better yet, it's a dollar!

As money in Tijuana gets more difficult to find, I've seen some changes come in this "Von" tradition. For one thing more kids seem to be losing their teeth? On occasions kids are taking teeth from their buddies mouth. (On the spot cash!) I draw the limits at bloody teeth.

I've had kids try to pass off realistic stones; even dog's teeth from a well dead dog three blocks down the street.

The kids in their poverty get very creative!

I've spent years learning to be alert and discerning in giving of any kind! (The Tooth Mouse insists they have to point to where the missing tooth came from.)

The latest scam, is getting a molar, chipping it in half and trying to pass it off as two teeth.

Observation: poverty eventually trickles down to the small kids, the "Tooth Mouse" ... and Brother Von.

RAUL'S BIRTHDAY BASH

At the orphanage last Tuesday I heard quite a commotion so I walked over and opened the door to the big room. Little Raul's birthday party was in full swing. He was six now and his buddies were giving him a full on party except a little short on decorations. The dozen or so who were throwing this party had it complete with colorful balloons bouncing around everywhere. Not an adult was in sight, this was kids to a kid thing. I'm sure the singing of Happy Birthday could be heard for blocks. Then they all gathered on one end of a big couch and gave little Raul presents.

I saw two of them; briefly.

It seemed they had collected some of their own toys and wrapped them for the occasion. I don't know if you have ever seen presents wrapped by boys nine to eleven with whatever paper they could find ... Functional, unique, adequate. That about covers it.

Oh yes, they were wrapped with love.

Little kids, on their own making a party for another younger little kid, now that's rare.

Raul was in his glory opening his little secondhand gifts as quickly as possible . The first was a slinky with sort of a broken back. I couldn't quite see the other gift in a small box, but Raul was one little happy boy.

I can't say I was invited to the party, but I sure enjoyed it.

There was something good, clean and loving about it.

COMFORTABLY CARNEL!

Ah, The First Church of Laodicea. This was Charlie Brown's church. This is where the politically correct gathered each week. A congregation of "saltless" Believers and non-believers alike. A beautiful Church, a wealthy Church and a comfortable Church with a comfortable message that would never offend anyone. Indeed the compromising Christian would feel at home.

The Laodicean Believers were not really HOT yet not really COLD either ... but, well ... comfortably neither. Contentedly living in the neither world seeking the best of both the world, and God. Being good but not necessarily godly A church with the comfortable temperature of tepid ... a truly lukewarm fellowship.

The Lord had it correct as He judged His Church of Laodicea. A Church that was there specifically to change the culture, was gradually embracing the culture.

Politically correct.

He used the term "luke warm." Not hot, not cold, but the temperature of flesh! The temperature of flesh. Tepid.

Because you are "lukewarm," I will spit or spew you out of my mouth. More correctly, "I will vomit you out of my mouth!"

Vomit too is flesh temperature.

We cannot do in the flesh what God wants done in the Spirit. When will we learn this?

Caution: Years later the Laodicean Church began to multiply, changed it's name and spread all over the world ... the Laodicean Church has moved into our neighborhoods; it too has a steeple and a cross.

Be sure and check the temperature of your Church.

Remember, with God, Hot is healthy! (Rev.3:16)

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

The trip across the lake was a short one and the disciples wanted to give Jesus a break so they "took Him along" in their boat. Suddenly the wind changed, a big storm hit! The little boat was taking on water.

Where are the bail buckets? They tried their best but it wasn't enough. More water coming in.

Meanwhile the Lord, was quietly asleep in the boat.

Lets not bother the teacher, He's tired; let Him rest. Keep on bailing or we'll go down! They soon found that the solution wasn't going to be bailing it was going to be God.

Indeed this is the night God almost died by drowning!

But for the quick thinking of someone in the crew all would have been lost!

When all else fails call on God!

As a result was one of the shortest and most meaningful prayers ever uttered!

"Lord save us ..." or we're all going down!

Too many of us, like those in the boat, have a God that has shrunk through the years to the size of the last resort ... A rather distant last resort God. When we're about to go under, then we cross our fingers and cry out!

"Lord save us!"

We've fallen for Benjamin Franklin's observation: God helps those who help themselves." Man's thinking exactly ... however for some reason God did not help them bail.

Sorry Benjamin, your statement is flawed.

Of the many lessons we can learn from this blustery venture, two stand out as primary;

Lesson one: Check the size of your God before you leave the shore! Lesson two: Never "take Jesus along" ... Follow Him!

My God is the Lord that stood facing the storm, and commanded the storm to stop! ... and it did. ~ Matthew: 8:25

MORE, MORE, MORE!

I was driving down the freeway near our bay and I passed a nice car hauling a good-looking boat and I wondered if the car or the boat was paid for. Not my business of course, but I was just wondering. Credit is a wonderful thing.

Then for some reason I thought about the taxes. I know there were taxes on the boat purchase, the car purchase and the trailer purchase and then a hefty license fee for the car, trailer and boat. On the other side of the freeway I was passing rows of nice homes, each one paying a hefty property tax to the city. All of the cars and trucks on the freeway were running on fuel which we bought costing mostly taxes. Ever notice the taxes on your cable TV or the taxes on your phone bill? In fact everything I looked at or had at home had one or more taxes attached to it's purchase, function and maintenance. Then of course there is the big bite, Federal and State income tax. (We all know April 15 and IRS!)

I'm tired of taxes. Are you?

I was reminded of a hike I took in the jungles of India some years ago, and found I had leeches on my legs. Now I'm from San Diego and had never even seen a leech. They started so tiny that I didn't even feel them attaching themselves to my leg. As leeches do, they were looking for blood. They were sucking my blood; my life out of me ... little by little. And they were growing, how fast they grow!

I'm back living in San Diego, California ... USA and my life is being sucked from me by, quite literally a million little taxes and a few big ones.

Our elected leaders are quite literally leeches. "We need more revenue, where can we put another small tax? Just another half-cent will bring in millions." Just another little leech.

Proverbs 30:15 God has it right on! The leeches cry more! More! There is never enough! They never look at themselves and their bloated lives.

In a bureaucracy there are no mirrors.

Have you noticed; it's always our fault, we're not giving enough.

In the last ten years we've seen disproportional growth in the City, State and Federal bureaucracies, still the leeches cry out for more. Every bureaucracy is similar to a leech in two ways, (1) it sucks life from it's host and (2) it grows ... every leech grows.

Don't get me wrong.

Small government is necessary, and realistic bureaucracies have their place, but when they grow and grow, way beyond their purpose, they actually become the leeches they are.

What we did with our leeches that hot humid night, was simply scrape them off ... painful, leaving our legs bleeding, but soon to heal.

Simple solution to our growing government ... scrape off a third of the leeches and put the other two-thirds to work!

ALL SHOOK UP!

Church a container of salt or a generator of salt? Good question. The Church started as a generator of salt and it's calling is to generate salt but the salt was never to be captured by a container ... worse yet, captured by IT'S own container!

Salt is what a Christian is to become; it's a God produced condition meant to be shared in the world! A God thing!

The Church has missed half of it's Divine calling by attracting and containing it's salt within it's beautiful container.

Isn't it true that many "containers" compete with each other to attract the most salt?

Is it actually true that many churches own themselves and run themselves? God forbid!

Is that the real calling of the Church; to build a container and fill it with salt?

I think not!

When most of us think of salt, we think of shaker! The two words seem meant to be together. The dictionary puts them as one. "Saltshaker." Saltshaker speaks both of salt and of action.

Both disturbing and distributing the salt within by turning it upside down.

Indeed the Church should have fellowship, worship and be educated; but always educated beyond content. The Church needs preachers that are shook-up! We need preachers that preach a shook-up message simply because they, themselves, are shook-up!

The messages would excite and we would become excited!

The saints would once again "glow".

What the world desperately needs from God, is a good shaking of the saints!

Come on, lets sing it together!

"Shook-up, shook-out and shook-all-over!"

Now, for God's sake! ... lets get out and be what we are where we are. (Matt.5:13)

TIJUANA RABBITS

At our southern border the Government continues playing the expensive game of "cops 'n robbers".

It's a game, an expensive game ... but nothing more.

When we were kids we would play the same game, we'd run around chasing and shooting at each other; bang, bang you're dead. "I got you!" "No you didn't!" "Yes I did!"

Boy fun!

But our childish games never took a life or cost a cent!

A child's game is one thing, this expensive border game, quite another; the fact that we are the ones paying for this sideshow as well as the unwitting clowns that perform it ... is simply unacceptable. Billions of dollars are just too much for such an unnecessary game. The key word here is "GAME."

An expensive adult game authored by political buffoons and played out by well paid overweight agents!

My little kids in Mexico had the game down pat. They called it Migra (Immigrations) The idea was to run from Mexico across the border to the Jack-In-The-Box in San Isidro, grab a hamburger and return without getting caught. These fast little rabbits were chased by the best and fattest, but seldom caught.

The kids loved the game. Those unfortunate few that were caught were held for an hour or so and returned to Tijuana. "You're caught!" "No I'm not!"

The big question is when are we going to get serious? The second, even more important question is with whom are we going to get serious. Serious is serious! Bang. Bang; you're really dead ... serious!

Meanwhile; send in the rabbits! (For the clowns to play with!)

I WAS WRONG ALL ALONG!

I've taught and directed Sunday School's in the USA for many years. I liked the teaching end. Give me a class of seventh and eighth grad boys. I like the challenge! Most of these mid school guys are not coming to the class because they want to know about the Bible or Jesus. Get Real!

Kids come for a variety of reasons. Some come with their parents, others that may have discovered girls, and there are sort of girls to see and meet. Meeting with a small group of classroom boy friends. Social activities and food are a big draw. And some actually like the teacher.

My class of guys was always full, I always had a lot of weekday activity and outings.

I had such a special Sunday School class that Christian Education Directors and College educated Youth Workers would pop in to see how I did it.

The door opened up and none of my kids gave our visitors a second look, they were too busy checking the Scriptures to check my message. It did look good! And they were impressed.

You see, that week I was having a contest, with the winners getting a free frosty.

At the start of the lesson I reminded the class that as I taught the lesson I was going to tell a big fat lie, and that they actually would believe it. If they caught me, it was a free frosty.

I remember that day I taught about Jonah and how he ran from God's call. Most of my kids never caught on, when, in that story emphasized the miracle of Jonah swallowing the whale and that many never believe that miracle ... Can God do anything? I had them raise their hands. I was so convincing that morning that only three caught the lie and were rewarded!

My class had no idea what I was going to teach next week. But they were there to listen, I was into tricks and object lessons, whatever worked to sell a concept.

I remembered a big shot coming in from Chicago to evaluate our West Coast Sunday School of around 400, which was good for a small church of 300. He had a briefcase and a small black hat.

Alas, we got a very poor evaluation!

"In fact he said to me" I don't know were these kids are coming from, but I do know you're doing it all wrong.



I may have done it wrong ... but what a thrill it is visit many of these kids, now adults, that I used to teach in Sunday School as kids who became missionaries in tribes in Africa, Indonesia, Philippines, and countries in South America.

I have some of the weirdest grandchildren.

INTESTINAL FORTITUDE!

At over eighty years of age why is my intestinal fortitude being questioned?

I fought in the war. I'm not a politically correct person. I'm known as a rebel ... A jungle, Indiana Jones!

People know I have guts!

Oh! "INTESTINAL" fortitude ... literally! My own private guts!

My doctor says at my age my intestines need checking!

Now what's wrong with my innermost plumbing? I don't know. Nothing seems wrong BUT my doctor says he wants to start at my southern end and roam up into and around my innermost plumbing checking things like leaks and connections, whatever.

Oh Joy! This procedure will be video taped in full color! Is nothing sacred? The cost ... oh the co$t! Not just dollars, but a sacrifice of 24 hours of real fasting, enemas, pills, liquids and of course running back and forth to my bathroom spending much of that time perched on top of the white-throne. My internal plumbing must be really, really clean!

Frankly I don't like the idea, I really don't like it ... nothing personal of course.

BUT ... I just didn't have the guts to say NO!

Well, my procedure is over now. Clean, clear and no red-flags ... you see there was really no reason to have this invasion of privacy.

However even in something like this there are rewards!

Would you believe, along with my bill I have seven beautiful full color prints of my intestines ... suitable for framing.

Merry Christmas, I got my presents early!

TODAY IT'S TIME FOR THE LOOSER TO WIN!

At present we have a Government that blatantly rewards the stupid, the lazy, the loser and the selfish scammers of society; including the millions that simply feel entitled! The Government, in the name of compassion, takes from the wealthy minority and gives a little to the poor minority. In the middle somewhere there's just a little corruption.

Money given in the name of compassion to the end of political influence. Something smells here.

Are greed and cheating limited to the wealthy? Of course not! The poor, as a group, contain as large a percentage of greedy scammers as the rich. Greed is endemic to man at all stages of life.

The rich as a whole are simply more educated, willing risk takers, harder working and jump through every legal loop-hole they can find. They win!

Are the rich compassionate? No. Are the poor, as a whole, compassionate? No. Is a greedy man compassionate? No.

The very vocal leaders of minorities are a great example of selfish "hypocritical" greed. Greed to the end of control and political power. Anyone watching and listening to Al Sharpton, Rev. Wright, or Jessie Jackson can readily see their arrogance ... and agenda!

It's puzzling to me that the poor seem to go wild over their rhetoric ... yet are blind to their agenda ... extended slavery, indeed an addiction.

The Rev's cleverly keep their people kneeling down and permanently enslaved to their "perceived" status. (Key word here is, "perceived".)

The Rev's say we represent you, we speak for you; the permanently downtrodden and poor.

Note their dialogue never has suggested a solution, and at present contains no solution.

Give us money and an apology, that will do it ... for now.

Notice this trinity of Reverends, godly men that they are, live like millionaires on the backs of their poor.

That just isn't right.

A SOCIETY NEEDS CHRISTIANITY

Even if I weren't a Believer, even if I weren't a Biblical Christian, even if I didn't believe in a God ... I would see the value of "the Judeo-Christian religion" in a society.

An Atheist, that's different; according to God's Word an Atheist is a fool; we can't expect an Atheist to see any value in a religion of any sort; especially one that brings him to account before a living God. He believes in man.

Take an honest and close look at the "Judeo-Christian" religion ... true Christians have, and cherish, an inner ethic. An internal, right and wrong. An inner responsibility to answer to a God who sees all, knows all and will ultimately judge all. Judeo-Christianity is taught by parents to their children and reinforced by example.

We're talking here of a past society that had a deep inner ethic and believed in personal responsibility (sounds like the original America we were so proud of).

A people that holds and practices this Judeo-Christian ethic; cheerfully obeys the law from inside out, resulting in a happy and prosperous society.

Why are we trying to kill the Judeo-Christian religion that was our heritage?

Let's move to the America of today.

Our contemporary society of today is no longer Judeo-Christian. Today we have become reliant on legislators to both create and enforce our ethics; demanding bigger and better trained and equipped cops to become the solution. Politicians create our ethics and cops enforce our ethics ... while Incarceration contains the growing human debris. Lets be honest, today we obey the law (1) if there is policeman around or (2) there is a camera somewhere or (3) we may get caught.

Contemporary man simply has no "God"; consequently no inner ethic. Indeed we're free to do what seems right in our own eyes.

Hard as man might try, he can't change the "heart" of man; only God can do that and now we're back to ... Judeo-Christianity.

ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD ... ROM: 8:28

Al Potapoff sent me this article. I don't know who wrote it, but it's great!

Granny, 88, still drives her own car. She writes:

"Dear ones: The other day I went over to our local Christian Book Store and saw a "Honk, if you love Jesus" bumper sticker. I was feeling particularly sassy that day because I had just come from a thrilling choir performance, followed by a thunderous prayer meeting.

So I bought the sticker and put it on my bumper. Boy, am I glad I did; you can't imagine what an uplifting experience followed.

I was stopped at a red light at a busy intersection, just lost in thought about how good life is, and I didn't notice the light had changed. While I was sitting there, the guy behind me started honking like crazy, and then he leaned out of his window and screamed "For the love of God! Go! Go! Go! Jesus Christ, GO!!"

What an exuberant cheerleader he was for Jesus!

I found that lots of people love Jesus! Everyone started honking. I even honked my horn a few times to share in the love.

I saw another guy waving only his middle finger stuck up in the air.

I asked my grandson what that meant. He said it was probably a good luck sign or something.

Well, I didn't want to appear selfish, so I leaned out the window and gave him the good luck sign right back!

A couple of the people were so caught up in the joy of the moment that they got out of their cars and started walking toward me. They may have wanted to pray or ask what Church I attended, but this is where I noticed the light had changed.

So, grinning, I waved to all my brothers and sisters, and drove on. I noticed that I was the only car that got through the intersection before the light changed again and felt kind of sad that I had to leave them after all the love we had shared. So I slowed the car down, leaned out the window and gave them all the good luck sign one last time as I drove away. Praise the Lord for such wonderful folks!"

Your loving Granny.

LEFT. . .ISN'T RIGHT!

I remember as a new recruit we were learning to march. We were commanded to face left and one recruit faced right. A big military No. No. The sergeant pulled him from the ranks and asked him if he knew his right foot from his left. The Recruit stood there silent. Then the Sergeant raised his big boot and slammed it down hard on the recruit's left foot. “Don't forget; that's your left, your other boot is your right! Do you understand?” “Yes Sir!” and he hobbled back in line. Now he knew his left from his right.

The confusion of Left and Right continues on in politics.

The Conservatives verses the Progressives, and to make it simple it's the Right or Conservatives verses the Left or Progressives which seems only right, or maybe left as you may see it.

Then there is Reverend Wright who's Left as the Right sees him; Wright is not Right at all but rather Left ... of course those of the Right believe Wright is wrong! A simple case of when right is wrong. Is wrong right? I don't think so.

It can get rather confusing.

Even though I lean Right I live on the Left Coast, which makes me at odds with the rest of liberal California. Being Right makes me stand out among the Left.

But where is my heart? ... rather embarrassing.

Truthfully it's on the left. Anatomically that is. On the left yes, but not with the Left, if you know what I mean.

And then there are the Independents, who don't know their Right from their Left!

Time for the D.I. to stomp on their Right foot.

SAVEABLE?

We as Christians have to come to the understanding that it's impossible to become saved until we recognize we need to be saved; then, in fact, we become "saveable." Until that time, all attempts to save us meet with resistance.

We are not "saveable."

Take this as an example: A great swimmer decides he will swim from San Diego to Hawaii. A great challenge; a great fete, but actually impossible! With that irrational dream in mind, this great swimmer starts his swim with a confident smile.

The fact is, that at one point in his journey from San Diego to Hawaii he will need to be saved from drowning. But he won't be "saveable" until the sharks are circling; he is hopelessly fatigued and he recognizes he is going to drown. Then, and then only, he will accept someone or something to save him because he will want to be saved ... he will need to be saved.

He will cry out ... save me!!

When it comes to needing a Savior, man finds himself in a similar situation. Man isn't really "saveable" until he realizes he is a spiritual being with an eternal end. Until he knows he's done, doomed and hopelessly lost.

He then will accept a savior because he has come to realize he needs a savior.

A sincere man's effort to get another "saved" is commendable but futile.

Far better to pray.

It's God's Holy Spirit that makes a man "saveable."

RETREAT? I think today's Church has done enough retreating. Retreats, Retreats and more Retreats! Isn't it time the Church does some advancing? T

I think today's Church has done enough retreating.

Retreats, Retreats and more Retreats! Isn't it time the Church does some advancing?

The way I look at it, retreats were created by Jesus to pull aside, regroup, and motivate His disciples who were physically tired and spiritually exhausted from 24/7 serving. Honestly now, Is the average American Christian today really tired and exhausted because of they're working for God 24/7 ?

I think not!

Today's Church retreats should be better named. Rename them, maybe, R&R (Rest and relaxation.) or R&M (Reorientation and Motivation) or FD (Fellowship Day!)

But retreat? Come on!

To a soldier, retreat means only one thing ... and it isn't advance.

THE 99-CENT STORE

Back then, I mean way back then; my sister and I used to save our pennies, nickels and dimes in our little piggy banks. (As Gentiles I guess piggy banks were O.K; the Jews don't have piggy banks. They just aren't Kosher!)

How often I would take my nickel and dime to "Woolworth's Five & Dime". You could buy some neat stuff for a dime or even five cents. Everything us poor boy's wanted but couldn't afford. I remember wiping my little eyes across the counter scanning all the good stuff!

Everything in Woolworth's was "made in Japan" ... or "Made in USA!"



In a matter of years it seems that Woolworth's has morphed into today's popular 99-cent store! (Pardon me while I search for the 'cent' key on my keyboard! Dang! It's not here anymore!) The 99-cent store; one of China's greatest contributions to America; a big store where you could buy a variety of colorful stuff for under a dollar. Wow!

Not can but could ... note past tense.

I've noticed a subtle change creep in to the 99-cent stores. Have you noticed it too? They've added two words! ... "and UP!"

99-cents and up! (read that small print.)

Those paper dollars again ... floating up, just beyond our grasp!

I can't help but wonder how long It's going to be before we no longer find the $ sign on our keyboards?

Oh! And how long will it be before we have "99-Dollar" stores. Everything in the whole store for under a hundred dollars?

I think they call it inflation!

Don't laugh, it could happen.

China, keep up the good work; we'd be dead without you.

HOW I DEFINE THE POOR AND NEEDY

Some have been confused when I use the term 'the deserving poor'. I'm not putting them down, I'm simply calling it what it is; poverty that's deserved. Poverty that's a consequence of a line of bad decisions.

It's true, we work with the 'deserving poor'!

Naturally some of Jesus doctrine on giving to the poor would have a Jewish spin on it. I think what our Lord pushed was helping the poor including the 'deserving poor'. Examples: The leper, the blind, the cripple, the orphaned, the widowed ... those who had little or no part in they're plight. These poor were not responsible for their situation. Those I would call the 'un-deserving' of their plight ... the 'un-deserving' poor.

However another perspective surfaces in Matt 25 where Jesus does address the 'deserving' poor. 'Visiting those in prison'. Grace appears for the sinners ... those of us who are 'deserving' of our plight.

The Believer's love or compassion must never become affected by 'hair-splitting' legality! The Bible gives no list of do's or don'ts when it comes to helping the poor. A legal doctrine as to how, who, when, and where would simply rule out Grace! Of course we must at times make a judgment call, but always with the honest of motives ... always with the bottom line of grace.

The grace we received, we return to others.

I personally help both the 'deserving poor'; the beggar, the addict, and the 'undeserving poor;' the orphan, the widow, and I try to free myself of a judgmental attitude.

As to what I call the 'deserving' poor; I would define them as those who are like most of the poor Spectrum works with; people of poor judgment who are living out their own consequences. Most of these 'deserving poor' are where they are because they have made bad decisions; many are lazy and/or addicted to drugs. Thousands captured and content with their poverty-sub-culture and confirmed by the many well meaning American groups giving them food and clothing.

There is no way we can turn our hearts from the innocent children born into this kind of 'sub-culture'. Indeed they are 'un-deserving poor' but quietly learning the lifestyle of poverty.

In Mexico there is an all too common saying "what I don't see doesn't exist." Even as Christians many of us have the same philosophy as we turn our eyes away from the ugly and uncomfortable truth.

The big question for us as true Christians ... does grace discriminate? The answer is simply no. The way I read it; to God we're all poor, wretched, blind sinners awaiting condemnation.

Enter, God's grace.

How I relate to the poor around me says something about my Christian maturity. If I'm eager to discriminate between the 'deserving poor' and 'un-deserving' poor! It sounds a bit like the bigot Lawyer asking Jesus ... "and who is my neighbor?" The motive behind that question was so clear!

Many who love to argue the issue never give a cent to charity anyway.

It's true that as Christians we must make good and responsible decisions when we are faced with helping the poor, but our response to the need must be the result of a clean and godly motive. Grace and wisdom combine to give a proper response.

I hope to go through life with a godly balance in meeting the needs of all poor, the deserving; the un-deserving alike, and when I err, and err I will ... may I err on the side of grace.

My prayer: God, release my grip on the money you give me so it will do the good it was intended to do.

I'M A BIG TUNA NOW!

One of the first things I do when I get to Kauai is to visit the Grand Hyatt Kauai ... a first class, ten star resort hotel.



As to perfection, this resort must be high on God's list of perfects!

Now this is where I belong!

These are where my kind of people stay and play. I strategically parked about two blocks away. Grabbed my dark glasses and my tall Starbucks latte cup that I keep in the car for just such occasions, and leisurely headed into the lobby of The Grand Hyatt ... carrying my Starbucks cup.

I was dressed like my kind of people dress, cool, yet casual. Understated sophistication; I believe that's the phrase. And, of course, holding my tall Starbucks cup in hand. (I'll have to mention that a tall Starbucks coffee here at the Hyatt costs over $3.00.)



So I fit right in.

I figure I was created a big tuna by God, so why swim with the little sardines? This is my annual gate to Tuna Ville! (Or as we would say in Kauai; Ahi Ville.)

I carefully sat down on one of their clean comfortable chairs overlooking the ocean. I sat there with a thoughtful pose ... and thought. That's what big tunas do, they think!

Oh look!

Four beautiful swimming areas. All of these lovely pools were posted with signs listing what you couldn't do and where you couldn't do it. Rule number seven made a lot of sense; "NO electrical appliances in the pools"... no toasters, waffle irons or microwave ovens. In another area the small print was puzzling. No bodily fluids (or solids) in the pools! No spit, no pee, no runny noses or sweat! A severe warning to curb your bodily urges. I noted that this didn't seem to apply to the fish or fowl.

I struck out at the swimming pools as I was sweating ... and beside that I can't swim.

My kind of people, in appropriate swim wear, were lounging around in white chairs that circled the pools. Reading books and holding beverages. Pure leisure!

It was early, and I felt my Starbuck's was in.

Others were looking at the ocean and lounging in chairs under lovely shade trees. Amazing how the landscapers, years ago, planted these shade trees right where the chairs were ... that's planning ahead! That's vision. That's why these guys are paid the big bucks.

And that's why the Hyatt is the Hyatt!

There were warning signs at the ocean too, a list of don'ts to Mother Nature! One I noted was "Don't turn your back on the ocean!" (Been there, done that!)

I visited the smart clothing shops and the little gift shops all the while casually holding my signature Starbuck cup. Later I conversed with their two older parrots ... who seemed to sense I didn't belong there, but fortunately for me they kept their beaks shut.

This day was working out well ... two hours, with my kind of people, and I haven't spent a cent!

SERVICE? WHAT'S THAT?

I wonder if self-service started with the old gumball machine? You put your coin in, you turn the knob, you hear your gumball roll down the shoot, you lift the lever, you grab the ball ... and there it is! You've paid for the product and done all the work in getting the dumb gumball.

I remember when there were "service" stations. Remember them?

We all know what a gas station is, but how many of us actually remember way back when gas stations were actually called service stations, and for good reason; they gave us service ... and with a smile.

Today we drive in to the gas station, pump our own gas and off we go. Back then we drove into the service station and were actually greeted by a service person, who filled our tank, checked our oil and washed our windshield. If we needed a map, it was there and it was free. In the service station there was a clean bathroom that didn't require a key to use it. (Oh! And the price was lower too.)

Drive In's were hot too. Service with a smile! It wasn't the experience of facing a big board of selections where you converse with a loudspeaker and drive on through to one of two small bullet proof windows, pay and then collect the goodies! No, Drive In's were where cute girls on skates would come on up to your car, smile, attach a tray and take your order, then skate back with all your goodies! Now THAT was service!

The other day I walked in to a Rite-aid drug store looking for vitamins. I looked and looked for the vitamins and couldn't find them, so I looked for a sales person and couldn't find one. I found the whole store had only three people in it and two of them were at the counter and the third person, myself, continued looking for vitamins. How did AID get into the name? Something wasn't Rite.

Remember that black thing we called a telephone? And along with the telephone there were operators; human operators who talked to you (and spoke your language?). Remember when you called a business and there was someone human who answered? Then came the more efficient do-it-for-us magnetic phone maze. Replacing the human with a more efficient and impersonal magnetic tape that suggests seven selections, "push or say 3"!

How I love sweet synthetic Sally with her cold correctly enunciated words. It's embarrassing to converse with someone who actually isn't.

Even more convenient, log on! Do-it-yourself banking or better said, on-line-banking! And of course passwords, I love passwords!

Do-it-yourself check-out-counters are springing up. No waiting simply do-it-yourself.

Serve yourself! Lost, alone in a world of everything!

Serve yourself; rightly translated; do our work for us.

We love you dear sucker ... er, customer!

Ah! How I love progress!

GOVERNMENT vs. PRIVATE SECTOR

Time I've spent working for the Government and the time I've spent working for the private sector. How different.

In my younger years I've had the privilege of working for both our Government and what they call the "private sector." There is a very real difference between the two. Punching time cards is common to both ... from then on the differences become apparent.

Working in my private sector job I was expected to produce. I was expected to work! Things were laid out in man-hours and we had a boss who was there to see that we kept busy. He would walk around rubbing his hands together and singing ... "Go Go, Go Go Go!" On occasion the company brought in "Efficiency experts." They were dressed in a suit and tie and carrying a clip-board, they simply watched us with this question in mind. "How can this man do his job simpler and faster?" Am I making the company profit? If not ... I go! On my private sector job I went home feeling I had earned my pay!

Now on the Government payroll it was different. It was more who you knew than what you did. I was young and inexperienced; I remember working my buns off only to be told that "I was working too fast and, well, we work slower here." (The message? I was showing them up!) I got the point and slowed down. On occasion I remember my boss telling us in so many words, "get lost. Get out of sight ... we have nothing to do today." I would head for the tail cone of one of the airplanes on the assembly line and sit inside, out of view, with the rest of the crew ... that's where I drew my best cartoons. My Government time was boring and political. We eventually got the job done, but at what expense?

I'm one of those who believe that we have way too much Government; City, State and Federal!

My advice for the Government dilemma is very simple; fire a third of all Government workers and put the rest to work!