THE UGLY TRUTH

This pathetic little mongrel has broken free, he's wandering the dirt streets of Tijuana on his way to nowhere in search of food. This dog's unloved; He's been beaten and starved. Now he'll be the target of cars and bullies. This poor furless thing will always be running ahead of the sticks and rocks thrown his way. Later to be caught, tied-up, tortured and burned. It's a tough world for a Tijuana dog.

Hunger? I've seen two dogs so hungry they were eating on a third dog that was dying and too weak to move. Just whimpering. I've seen more than one car swerving to hit a little skinny dog on the road.

Emotions run wild as we think of this. It's cruel. It's ugly. It's so much easier to turn from truth, than it is to face it.

Speaking of truth . . .

It's a fact that I can elicit more pathos from people seeing our poor dogs down here than I can for the Tijuana poor; eternal creatures that live here in Tijuana. Many were domed and damned from their earliest years. My North American friends don't realize that the dirty poor in Tijuana are as helpless, hopeless and hurting inside as this young pooch appears to be on the outside.

As the Bible says; God looks on the heart, man looks at the outward appearance. I find that so true.

Our ministry calls us to face the truth, daring to look inside; gain trust and help where we can, even if it means opening 'can's of worms no one else will touch.


Look at this kid. Is there any compassion left for him?

(It's true that our ministry isn't for dogs, but I always carry dog food in my car. Often dogs will run from me as I offer them food. Why? They don't trust me and they have been suckered too many times.)

A SEASON TO BEND THE RULES

I remember so well a Christmas in Tijuana that I saw a little boy make an agonizing decision. Hundreds of new gifts were all laid out. Cars, dolls, balls, kites blankets and tarps. It was simply heaven on earth for a boy his age, like a key to a giant toy store!, The little kid let his eyes wander over the many possibilities. He could only choose one ... and finally he did; he picked a new little red truck. Then his mother called him over and talked with him. The poor little kid slowly came back, placed his truck back with the other gifts then picked up a new blanket and headed back out. I don't know what his mom said ... but it was apparent that the blanket was the priority that cold Christmas. When I watched this happen ... well, the fact is ... he walked out with his blanket AND his new red truck and a smile on his face. Sometimes we just have to bend policy!

THAT LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CORNER OF HELL AND PAIN STREET

It looked no different than the other houses on the street. A slapped together combination of old plywood, two-by-fours, cardboard and plastic tarp surrounded by a make shift fence of old boards and wire. In the weedy chunk of yard was a scrawny but aggressive dog chained to a dog shelter of sorts.

Indeed the small two-room house may have looked like 'hell,' but it was the inside that made it hell.


Inside the small dark house with one window and a door lived a family plagued with problems. The environment could best be described as truly hopeless. Mom, a sick alcoholic with T. B. and AIDS. A father who was an angry man sick with TB and AIDS and the four small kids. Little Jasmine (6), and her brother, Jose (5), both had AIDS and T. B. Roberto (12) and Jennifer (11) were the oldest and each had T. B. Roberto and Jennifer cooked and worked odd jobs for cash.

They all lived together, occasionally ate together and fought together in that dark and dirty little house. Crying, hunger, drugs and alcohol along with cockroaches were just a part of life. Early in the morning Jennifer could be seen walking the street trying to bring her mom back home.

Relatives, like the neighbors, kept a silent distance.

It all exploded one day when the Mexican government came in and took the family apart. One day they were together in their familiar pain, the next they were separated and enduring a new form of pain ... the pain of confusion and loneliness.

Roberto, he became little boy lost. Jennifer, she's with her little sister and brother in an orphanage.

Hell takes so many different forms ... we see it too often. My heart still aches every time I pass that broken down house ...

... on the corner of Hell and Pain.

ARE YOU DOING ANY GOOD?

Jesus went around '*doing good' ... I like that. His enemies had 'good 'in mind too. The Pharisees went around looking good and 'being good'. In fact they prided themselves on being good, very good. That was their goal, to be good by living up to their self made legal standard. Their legal standard was one of don'ts, rather than do's.

When Jesus entered the world there was a clash of good's! Godly good, and mans good. There is a difference.

Jesus cut the Pharisees exhausting legal labyrinth down to simply saying. Love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as your self ... 'DO' this and you will not only be good ... but *'do good'.

Today Evangelicals tend to drift into the same human weakness of 'being good,' like the Pharisees did ... making their own definition of good and going about keeping it. Interpreting good in their own eyes. Their definition of good didn't include doing, only being. 'Being good'?

Often you have to stoop to *'do good' and their pride just wouldn't allow them ... to stoop!

My very Christian mother used to tell me, "as Christians and Fundamentalists, we focus on the soul, on the eternal, now the liberals, they're out their doing works, helping people in a physical way. We have more important things to do."

The wealthy young *Pharisee asked Jesus ... 'Good' teacher, what must I do to obtain Eternal Life?" Jesus first tackled the Pharisee's use of the word 'good'. Why do you call me 'good'? Is it what you've seen in me '*doing good' or heard from me in teaching? Or both? Mr. Pharisee what do you mean by 'good'? Only God is truly good, and to be good is to be Godly. Man continues to corrupt the term into an intellectual and super spiritual thing. A sterile good.

Being good has just a tinge of hypocrisy.

Yes Jesus went around *doing good, and look what came of it.

He won the hearts of the multitudes by '*doing good' ... and the Pharisees, 'being good,' crucified Him.

(* Acts 10:38 and Mark 10:18)

THE ONCE GREAT OLD MAN.

He was strong then; standing tall and healthy and looked you straight in the eye. I was looking at a no nonsense man of courage; a proud man they called Uncle Sam.

As a young boy of about ten I first noticed him. He was pointing at me from a poster stapled to a telephone pole.

Uncle Sam, the representation of the USA ... America personified. A true patriot! Red, white and blue and proud of it!

I'm an old man now and I still remember him. Being old, I know what age can do. It's a gradual process. It's a deadly game that ends with 'gotcha!'

My hero, Uncle Sam, is older still and he is no longer the healthy courageous man he once was. His immune system is no longer what it was; diseased viruses with their deadly agendas have gradually overtaken his inner defenses. Slowly a multiple of cancerous tumors are growing, determined to devour their very host.

Once young and strong my Uncle Sam is becoming weaker by the day.

On occasions his judgment seems impaired and at times he seems to have lost his memory; forgotten who he was and even what he stood for.

The once great Uncle Sam, whom the entire world looked up to and respected, the benevolent Christian Capitalist that believed in liberty and justice, who would defy any and all who would challenge him. He stood for what was right and would bow to no one but God. He wasn't ashamed of the Bible on his desk, or the God he served.

He didn't let little punks push him around.

I caught a glimpse of him today and I could tell by his face he was sick ... Uncle Sam, my hero, was turning yellow.

Even more troubling, I wonder which of us is going to die first

IN GOD WE TRUST GOD OR ...BENJAMIN FRANKLIN?

Surprise! A couple of weeks ago, quite by accident, we found ourselves completely trusting God; you see our Mexican insurance agency we had used for years went belly-up and didn't let us know our seven vehicles had no insurance while driving in Mexico. Of course that left us entirely dependant on God; not just for one day but over a week! Wow!

Speak about risk!

What a situation to find yourself in ... completely trusting Almighty God!

In fact, for a few days, we were 'gambling' on God's promised provision and safety. On one occasion I was late going to Mexico and didn't pull in for a day's insurance and Glory be; wouldn't you know; I had another day of safe driving!

On another occasion, years ago, our own American 'Christian' insurance company in which we trusted and which we had invested in for many years proved unreliable. After a small incident in Mexico we found we weren't covered and had never been covered while in Mexico ... (in medical areas or damaged vehicles). Misguided trust and a lot of money poured down a bottomless hole. Can't beat those 'Christian Insurance Agencies' and how they play "Gotcha!" Indeed the Devil is in the small print! Lesson: read before signing.

Unknown to us, we were depending on God; we truly had no 'Christian' insurance agency backing us. Incidentally, a 'Christian Insurance Agency' sounds more like an oxymoron or perhaps a religious 'ponzi' scheme.

On one hand, our Christian brothers and sisters say we aren't acting 'responsibly' if we don't have secular insurance coverage ... On the other hand, Almighty God says "trust Me." Somewhere I've heard said: In God we Trust. I can also mention a few great hymns I've sung that focused on trusting God!

Rather confusing.

Admittedly I have a tendency to trust more in a secular hero like Benjamin Franklin and his common sense approach than in God. "God helps those who help themselves ... " Now that resonates with the secular me.

Maybe it's a combination of both.

With me; at least it's an honest struggle.

I must admit as I look in the mirror I still have too much hypocrisy in me.

Sorry God! ... Oh, and thanks for the many times you've protected me despite my 'secular insurance coverage.'

BULLIES, BARBARIANS AND BULLDOGS!

When my mother found out that I had a kid in my school who was bullying me; her solution was to go to the principal, or teacher, or the boy's parents to have him stop bullying me. "Don't fight the kid; that makes you just as bad as he is." I was horrified that she would go that route; knowing that route would really get me creamed.

Even as a kid I knew all of her solutions were wrong, in fact any kid knows that. But she was a woman and just didn't understand a situation like this. Women it seems don't understand force or power. You see that bully like any bully, had to meet a superior force! He was thinking fist, he understood fists and he had to meet a bigger fist!

Bullies, Barbarians and Bulldogs; all three respect a superior force ... a superior power, and they all thrive on the fearful and naive.

Negotiation and compromise are not and will never be in their dictionary.

How can our proud 'well educated' and 'intelligent' leaders be so dumb?

All people respect power and all dictators respect power. And here we are, the United States of America, arguably the most powerful nation on earth, groveling before the little bullies of the world.

Try negotiating with an angry bulldog, it just won't work! Try negotiating with barbarians bent on killing you and your people, it won't work. One thing for sure, they do understand a superior force.

It's not only sad, it's sick, seeing our nation actually grovel before the little Dictators of the world.

Ahh, yes, we voted for change ... and indeed we got it!

A leader whose profile is that of a groveling man.

TRICKY-TRICKY

Last night was Halloween; complete with a cold night, slight wind, and a bright full moon. In Tijuana they call Halloween, 'Tricky-Tricky'

... and kids appear from everywhere.

As I was driving home after speaking to a group of teens living at an orphanage that was located in a large remote area of the Tijuana back country; I noted how different Halloween night would be a couple of miles north in good old San Diego.

In this area there were no lights, just dry hills, and small, candle lit houses located along dusty rabbit trail roads. As we drove down the road my head lights caught small groups of rag-tag kids costumed for the night carrying little floppy plastic bags and walking along the side of the road; the trail to goodies. The little houses, each with a small bowl of sweet treats, were spaced from a half mile to a mile apart. Quite a night's hike for just a few pieces of small candy.

To kids who have little to nothing, getting a few pieces of candy is worth the long hike. Quite a contrast to rich San Diego.

GOOD OLD GREED

There's a lot of talk from our administration about greed, especially of the greedy big rich guys; the big greedy oil companies, mega-banks and insurance agencies and we could go on and on! Are these guys actually greedy? You bet!

We all know that wealthy big business tycoons don't give a damn about us as individuals, no love lost here ... however, corporately, 'we' represent profit so we do matter. "We" matter a lot.

What is Capitalism? Capitalism is simply greed under control! Ahh, the struggle of limiting unlimited power. The very energy essential to capitalism is 'greed', that's why it's been so successful! Capitalism utilizes the greed each of us has, and make no mistake we each have greed within us.

Greed is an obsession that's common to all of us. It's inherent in human nature, knows no bounds. Human Race? The energy of the race is greed!

The only thing that will satisfy greed is ... 'more!'
For some reason the greed most of us talk about is the greed for money. Let's take another look! What about greed for popularity, celebrity, control or power! Power being the ultimate greed!

I can't understand why our leadership is so blind. For some reason they don't see, or maybe won't see, that 'government' has just as much greed and corruption working in it's bureaucracy as the 'public sector' has in it's corporate structure. That's a given, look at history!

Where there are humans, rich or poor, there is the potential for greed.

The Administration believes that our greedy and corrupt Government bureaucracy should become, of all things, a 'watchdog' over the greedy and corrupt public sector?

Who's kidding who? Sounds like a power grab to many of us.

The one overlooked factor that swings in favor of the Public Sector, and the one thing we can't deny, is that in the Public Sector is where we find efficiency ... never do we find efficiency in the labyrinth of government bureaucracy.

Conclusion.

Government should stick to governing! The Government has no business getting in business.

FACES

As I study the faces of kids here in the U.S. and compare them to the faces of my many kids in the poorer areas of Tijuana. I find a very visible contrast; an unsettling contrast. The expression on the faces of American kids seem to read dull, sullen and unhappy ... almost like the adults they're trying to emulate.

Contrast that with the honest and animated face of boy-hood joy!

I guess I mean to say that our U.S. kids don't act like kids. Boyhood fun today is a kid quietly sitting scrunched up in a corner playing with his little joy stick, vicariously playing out his life using an electronic game. He can be a successful criminal, boxer, a soldier or sports hero ... just a few dollars more and he can enter a new and different world of challenge.

What happened?

That's a good question; a more important question is how long has this movement into the vicarious been happening? Weak chubby little American boys with that electronic stare already on their faces. Their fast moving little fingers bring them victory in fighting the unreal.

In my Mexico, where progress and technology are simply two words found in a Western dictionary somewhere, the kids show a youthful excitement, curiosity and joy of life. Happy-go-lucky bundles of boundless energy. You'll find them spinning tops or playing marbles. Kids happily pushing old four wheel carts, riding crippled tricycles. Wow! That's fun.



Even the poorest of kids in Mexico are a happy, energetic and noisy bunch. Why? They're normal kids; outdoor kids and as kids they are happy.

And they don't have our technology ... yet!

On the northern side of the border while our wealthy and sophisticated little American kids are busy staring into their addicting screens, our young teens are busy Googling out the forbidden fruits of 'Adulthood' ... Adult shows, books, magazines, toys, games, parties, language ... teens way too young to know that there is no meaningful purpose in hedonistic pleasure.

Where has the simple joy, freedom and happiness of youth gone?

Is anyone really paying attention as to the direction in which our technology is taking us? Our youth have got technology, or worse, maybe our ever addicting technology has them.

A bad scenario.

PEPE'S NEW FRIEND

Roberto's home tragically exploded the other day and he ended up as one of the flying pieces. He had two choices, the street or an orphanage. It's hard to explain to a sobbing twelve year old what happened and why it happened. I reminded him what happens to young kids who try to make it on the street. He, like most kids in the neighborhood, knows the facts of Tijuana life.

As we were settling him in an orphanage located near little crippled Pepe's house, I asked him if he would like to take a side trip and go with me to visit Pepe. I thought seeing Pepe and his condition might temporarily take the sting from Roberto's own world of problems.

He agreed and wanted to see him.

Pepe was excited to see us, especially me as I always give him a little Hotwheels car. The two new friends got along great, soon they were happily playing 'cars' together. Just two boys having fun.

Pepe became thirsty so I asked Roberto to give him a drink of water. Roberto looked at me puzzled and then realized the situation, Pepe can't feed himself. He found a glass, walked over to the bottle of water and poured some water in the glass, placing a straw in the glass he walked back to Pepe. Roberto had to hold up the glass of water so Pepe could drink. It was sort of neat to see this.

As we left Pepe's house I asked Roberto how he felt there with Pepe. "I like him, he's fun, I want to come back, he's my friend." "Roberto, did you forget about your problems while you were playing with him?"... He thought for a moment. "Yeah, I forgot all about my problems ..."

An interesting sight. Roberto the rejected, helping Pepe the cripple.



One way we can forget our own problems, is by getting involved helping others through their problems.

PTL POWER-ASSIST!

I stopped my car one night in Pana to leave one of the kids at his home. When I got back in and tried to start my car I found the battery dead; real dead!

The wrong time and the wrong place for an old Gringo to break down.

Seeing I had no battery, some men a few houses down opened a big steel door and motioned me in to their tire shop. I really had no options at that point so I went for it.

As I was on a down hill slope, I put my car in neutral and proceeded to coast into the shop. I was in for a surprise! No 'power-assist'. I forgot about the 'power-assist' and as rolled down I found it nearly impossible to brake! Hard to even slow down, then I tried the steering, wow! Surprise! I could hardly steer the car into the shop, and harder still to stop!

I put everything I had into it. I barely made it into the shop; I barely stopped.

There was a neat lesson in all of this.

In our every day driving, we're used to 'power-assist.' We simply expect it and never give it a second thought! However, when our power goes off, as it sometimes does, we end up on our own strength ... without 'power-assist.' The situation can become a dangerous moment, almost impossible to steer and brake. It turns to a physical issue. Our weakness is apparent.

Now that I'm older, I think of my body as a temporary vehicle used to haul me around. Actually, isn't that what our bodies are? My body is the temporary vehicle of my eternal soul, hard to manage, hard to steer in a good direction and harder still to break from passions.

Come to think of it, I was born with out 'power-assist'. Fortunately God makes it available.

Thank God, as a Christian I have God's Divine 'power-assist'! And if I lose that power, well ...

God help me to keep the power on!

See A BAD BATTERY.

THIS ALARM CLOCK WILL WAKE YOU UP

Today it was back down to the mall shopping for a little clock. I thought I would try a large department store. As I walked in, I asked myself "where would I be if I were a travel alarm?"

It proved to be a senseless question

I wandered the aisles and up and down the escalators looking for a travel alarm clock. Now where would the clock department be? After about thirty minutes of wandering around in the store I found a cute salesperson and asked her where they had their travel alarms. She smiled and said over in the bedding department and downstairs in the electronics department. I thought bedding, it seemed a little odd, nevertheless I hiked over to bedding and looked and looked; sheets and blankets they had but no travel alarms.


Then I walked over to the escalator and glided down to the first floor and found a salesperson and asked where the electronics department was and she nodded her head toward the east. Heading east I found electronics and searched the entire department. I found the electronics salesperson and asked him where the travel alarms were. Alarm clocks? I think they're upstairs near the bath section". Bath section, now that figures, that's where I would keep my travel alarms. So back up the escalator I went and took a long hike to the bath section and again no travel alarms.

Now I'm biting my lip, I'm determined to get that clock. It's now a quest!

Wandering around I found the same sales person that started me off and asked again where the travel alarms might be.

Cynically, I suggested that the travel alarm clocks may be in the lingerie department. She looked at me thoughtfully and said, "No, I don't think they would be there." I think they're in the bedding area over near that wall. I replied that I couldn't find them there. "Here" she said, "I'll show you." We were well on our way to bedding when she asked another salesperson who said that the travel alarm clocks were in the kitchen department. And we switched courses and ultimately found travel alarms in the home furnishings department.

I bought one with a loud alarm. Made in China! And by now I was hungry enough to eat it ... but I'm not into Chinese food.

I noticed, in very small print on the bottom of the face of my new alarm clock is a warning!

"WARNING: THIS ALARM CLOCK WILL WAKE YOU UP"

What a pleasant surprise. True story.

THE STORY CROSSES TELL

The other day as I was driving past Tijuana's cemetery for the poor, I saw this view... so I pulled over and took a few photos. It was late in the afternoon and the shadows were just right. What I saw was truly 'the valley of death'. Often I have used this place as a backdrop for teaching our American teens about values. A simple lesson ... ultimately all of our stuff will end up in the hill to the left which is the dump, the Tijuana dump, and our bodies, well, they'll end up in a grave somewhere. Indeed, gravity will claim it's own. What a spot for teaching about life, values, and what's really important, namely people ... people are eternal, we should never forget that. Acres and acres of people that were but are no more!

How many of these people who were laid to rest here ever knew what the cross above them stood for.

An eternal mistake!

I think of the potential of all of those little crosses. Count them, hundreds of them, each unique yet all made common by poverty and death.

As I mused, looking over the crosses in this dry, weedy and trash-filled cemetery, I asked myself, "how much good could have been done had these people lived?" It's possible the world could have been changed by even one of these had they lived to their potential.

Let's look at these crosses from another angle; we can't escape seeing the potential for good in this graveyard for the poor. I guess that's a strange thing to say, but think about it. Is there good in death?

The truth is, because of these deaths, many gang fights never occurred. People were never murdered, never raped, never robbed. Hundreds of fatherless or motherless children were never born.

The surrounding community of Fausto is filled with the living ... and is plagued with drugs and violence of all kinds, the same things that populated this cemetery. Innocent little kids, many of them fatherless, growing up to become the same dark community.

In this valley of death I don't like to think about the unseen ... the spiritual side of this cemetery, or any cemetery. The many that blindly fell over the side of the living and dropped into eternity without knowing God; without knowing their destiny. Leaving life alone, and with nothing, absolutely nothing!

Never knowing that the cross above them was intended by God to save them before death not post them after death.

A BAD BATTERY

Saturday night I stopped by Isidro's house in the evening to let he and Luis off ... it was a long day of checking out orphanages. I was tired and ready for home.

When I got back into my SUV. to return home ... my car wouldn't start! Oh! Oh! No battery! No lights. No nothing! ... here in Pana!

Pana is well known to be a bad area at night, especially if you're a Gringo and your car is dead. A couple of houses down the street two steel doors were pulled open. A mom 'n pop tire repair shop appeared which looked like any other house ... Seeing that I needed help, two Mexican men motioned me inside.

My first thought was ... is this the last of von? But at this point what are my options?

I put the car in neutral and slowly coasted in ... the men lifted the hood and started cleaning the battery, pulled it out and with a make-shift charger fast charged it.

During our conversation I told him who I was and who we were. The man, Ramon, who spoke good English, said " Oh, I've heard of you; you guys are the ones who help people."

What a relief!

When they were finished, I asked him how much for the battery charge. "No charge!" He wouldn't take a cent. "Don't let the engine die ..."

Thanks I said, and headed for home with an engine and lights.

It's nice, if you're going to be in a bad area in Tijuana on a dark night ... to be known for doing good.

Note: Two days later I returned and brought him a set of wrenches. I noted that night he only had a pair of pliers and a screw driver.

UNLOVED BOYS

I've never felt unloved. It must be a terrible feeling. Yesterday, in Tijuana, I took twelve year old Isidro shopping ... not for clothes or food but for an orphanage that he would feel comfortable in.

I don't like that kind of shopping.

What hurts most of all is that Isidro isn't a bad kid (yet.) He's a thin quiet boy who goes to school even though he isn't encouraged to. On off days you might find he and his buddy Luis working along a local dirt road, filling the big pot holes and hoping some drivers will give them a tip. They earned $4. one day. The other day he proudly showed me his watermelon plant and tomato plant near the house.

Twelve, the critical age.

He knows I like figs, so after I left he climbed a neighbor's fig tree and picked me a load of ripe figs, but I didn't return for about a week ... so much for the figs.

To his stepfather Isidro is a threat; to his alcoholic mother he's a liability. It seems the only one who really loves him is his dog.

At one point in the 'shopping' tour we sat alone in an orphanage and talked about the changes he would experience becoming part of an orphanage. The freedom he would have to give up, and the rules and discipline he would have to accept.

I told him very clearly; it's an orphanage or the street, you have to choose.

Isidro sat looking into my eyes and listening. No questions. No emotion.

In the afternoon we arrived back at the small shack he calls home, I told him to think things over and be sure of his decision. I'll be back Saturday, when he's to give me his decision.

As we got out of the car, his mother met us on the street. "Why did you bring him back? I thought you were going to leave him at an orphanage!"

How would you feel if you were Isidro?

My world is full of unloved and worthless kids ... but who really cares?

DOUBLE WHAMMY!

Double whammy is like saying, when it rains it pours!

In talking with several orphanage directors in Tijuana it becomes obvious that they're hurting, and hurting bad. The pipeline of prayer and financial support from the U.S. has all but dried up. The romance and fun of U.S. groups from local churches coming down to Tijuana for a day interacting with these little Mexican kids seems to be over ... along with it, the joy it brought. One by one the orphanages are finding themselves forgotten.

Some are closing down while others are trimming down.

The long standing three way turf war between the drug cartels and police have taken a toll on tourism, compounding an already bad Tijuana economy. High prices and no work forcing good men to go bad. Stealing and robbery have become an ugly and growing reality.

Our bad economy in the States has hit the church and forced many churches to rearrange their priorities and regroup by dropping short term missions and outside ministries. Sadly these kids across the border have been one of the first to go.

These two hits, no groups and no income, are forcing orphanages to let many of their kids to drop school and return to dysfunctional single parent families or, more literally, the dangerous streets of Tijuana ... where a kid can sell himself for a few bucks.

It's hard to see our churches so close yet so far away!

Compassion? Is that word still in our Bible dictionary?

OVERWEIGHT CHRISTIANS OR HEAVYWEIGHT CHRISTIANS?

Our nation is plagued with obesity, at least that's what "they" say and who of us can dispute it? It's 'apparent', we see obesity everywhere.

Obesity isn't new to the Christian world either; we've been plagued with it for centuries. Pink, plump, tender and pampered over-weight Christians. Overweight Christians are also 'apparent' especially on Sundays where they can be found feasting on the Word.

Today we have an abundance of great chefs, the seminaries are pumping them out every year. The goal of every good chef is to feed us what we want and make it delicious ... we need a different diet.

Obesity isn't a matter of genetics with Christians; it's a rather simple problem ... the same old problem; ingesting too much food with too little exercise.

Let me repeat: too much food and too little exercise.

Can there be too much of a good thing? 'Apparently' so!

It's much easier and more convenient to cook, eat and fellowship than to be outside working off those 'divine' calories.

Unfortunately, in our society there will always be the many who live to eat and the few who eat to live, which is the healthier way to go. Unfortunately too, in our spiritual parallel the same perversion exists.

Churches by the score producing and reproducing obese Christians. Christians born into Church families with a dietary predisposition to ... obesity.

Cheers for the chef? ... I don't think so.

Many Christians can quote "II Tim 2:15" "Study the Word to show yourself approved unto God ..." but few can find and quote "James 1:22"..." be doers of the Word, not just hearers, that's deception."

Hearers of the Word and not doers leads to obesity!

"Show me a fat cook and I'll show you a good cook!" or so the saying goes ... unfortunately; more of a truism than a saying. Good cooks love food; love to eat it and love to share it. Look at the great food found in churches, seminaries (Cooking schools.) and books today. Resulting in the too well fed, fat and contented Christians we see waddling around today.

God's Divine calories turned "selfish" make for unhealthy fat!

No need for diets, just more time outside the Church building using the energy from God's good food to reach a needy and hurting world.

Obvious conclusion: Let's be doers of His Word! ... not just hearers.

ALONE

In the orphanage and after our evening talk the teenagers filed out and into bed, all except fourteen year old Fernando, we asked him to stay back. "Take a seat Fernando."

It was lonely time!

This young boy is a Mexican Indian, placed in the orphanage by the Government. He doesn't speak much Spanish. He sat uncomfortably straight and stiff in his chair; his eyes avoiding ours. I know Fernando, he's very quiet and not close to anyone. A loner in the true sense of the word.

The kids call him "Indian."

I was asked to tell him that his little brother was dead.

No one wanted to tell him, neither did I. Fernando had asked about his little brother from time to time but the subject was always avoided. The Mexican Government had separated the two of them several years back, placing them in different orphanages. I knew about the situation but was waiting for information to come in as to what happened and where the young boy was buried. We only knew Fernando had no mother or father or even a relative, only his little brother, whom he loved ... and now his brother was dead. The government stonewalled us in trying to get the details.

It was time to tell him.

As we sat there, I broke the news to him as gently as I could. He took the news like the Indian he was, stoic; emotionless, his black eyes staring straight ahead. If he felt pain or loss, it didn't show.

He had no questions ... I had no answers.

I broke the silence by asked him if he liked it there at the orphanage, he paused and then whispered "no".

"Fernando, if there was anything in the world I could do for you or give you, what would it be?" ... After a long pause he whispered, "I wish I had a family."

He walked from the room ... truly alone.

COPS 'N ROBBERS

Once again America works against itself.

When I was younger I remember hearing that crime didn't pay. Does crime pay? Of course crime pays, if it didn't, there wouldn't be so many free and rich criminals. Common sense here. More and more young potential criminals are catching on. Crime pays and it's exciting. It's an accepted and 'honored' profession, for those lacking purpose.

Thank our indolent politicians for that.

Let's face another truth, if Cops didn't have criminals, they wouldn't be needed. A Cop without a criminal is like a soldier without an enemy ... it's a love hate relationship. Cops need criminals and criminals need cops, sort of a perverted symbiotic relationship. Police have their job to do and prison's have they're job to do.

They have one thing in common; they both love their job.

It seems no one in this equation is seriously interested on cutting crime down. The Mayors, Governors, politicians and media all talk about it, but let's get real ... who's really serious?

Cops and robbers will continue as they have for centuries.

Prison; 'Crime 100' or 'Gladiator Academies'! The police have their academy, and the criminal has his academy; prison. Isn't it interesting that our prisons have done nothing to really confront and solve this problem? Is there a reason? Maybe it's because the prison bureaucracy's lifeblood comes from the prison system it's self. Every bureaucracy has to grow ... and so the prison system grows!

Prison and jail are excellent places for educating and motivating the criminal. Excellent post-educational benefits.

It's well known that our prison system is motivating and educating Muslim extremists. U.S. paid training for future terrorists. Are we doing anything about it? Don't make me laugh!

America's gangs collect and motivate potential criminals while our prisons educate and act like a catalyst. In prison you locate your friends, learn to fight and fix your future direction.

Oh, and there is graduation!

When you graduate from prison, no one will hire you, so you are forced to continue on in crime. You get caught, and again sent on a free, government expense paid post-grad course of your choice.

The solution (And there is one.) is too humbling and costly for us to pursue.