The Last One

Have you ever said, “That person is the last one that I would have ever thought....?” Fill in the blank, it really doesn’t matter. I think we all have known that person that did or said something that was totally unexpected, catching us off guard. Their action surprises us because of our own preconceived notions of who they are. People who knew Saul of Tarsus may have said exactly that, perhaps even harmonizing like a heavenly choir;

“Saul’s the last one that Jesus would hand pick to tell the world about the gospel!”  

And yet he did.

Ananias was one who had heard of Saul of Tarsus and knew of the threat that Saul posed to all who followed Christ. The Lord came to Ananias in a vision and gave him detailed instructions of what he was to do concerning Saul. Ananias purporting to tell God something he didn’t already know said, “Do you know how evil this man is? I’ve heard about what he has done to your children in Jerusalem!” Ananias was a disciple of Christ; he knew that Saul had the authority to treat him as he had all other followers. Saul could pull him from his home and throw him in prison! Saul of Tarsus was a man that Ananias would be wise to avoid. Yet God had come to Ananias in a vision telling him to go to Straight Street, to the house of Judas and fetch this man Saul. Surely God had told Ananias to do something that he did not want to do.

And yet he did.

The story of Saul’s Road to Damascus experience can be found in the 9^th chapter of the book of Acts. If you would like to follow along I will be discussing the many great treasures we can find in this story and how those treasures apply to our lives today.

But for now I contemplate the first question asked, have you ever said “He’s the last person…?” I think back over the years of my own life, to the time before I knew Christ as my Savior. I see the person that I was and wonder how I ever survived. I grew up in a Christian family, with a mother who loves Christ more than I will ever be able. Yet one day I chose to walk down my own road to destruction. I was too ignorant to recognize this dangerous path for what it was, so I hipped hopped along without a care and without a god. I look back on that person now and see someone that I would be ashamed of today, he (I) was so self-centered and self-absorbed that he (I) didn’t have time for nonsense such as God. God has so many others that love him, follow him, obey him, and are a much better person than I. Why would this loving God spend even a second of his eternity to consider someone such as me?

And yet he did.

"Do You Understand What You Are Reading?"

The Thanksgiving week is nearing its end, it was a good week. I learned that the words “abnormal growth”, as frightening as they sound is much better than the word “cancer”. My latest novel, “Broken Crosses” went live on Thanksgiving Day. There is a link on the right side of this page if you would like to check it out. (Please do!)

The good news from the doctor combined with the completion of ‘Broken Crosses” has lightened the burden I bear considerably. I have been slack in my blogging, using the previously unknown diagnosis and the around the clock occupation of my thoughts along with the final edits of the book as excuses not to write. So now I have exhausted all excuses and reentered the blogosphere.

My granddaughter asked me “Why are you always writing Grandpa?” I don’t recall the answer I gave this inquisitive six year old, but her question did make me ask my own—“Why do I write?” The answer is complex; first I enjoy writing. I have been writing for many years now, it was only in the last six or seven that I gained the courage to share my thoughts with a reader. Second, because of my faith in God; I believe that when Christ said “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature” he was not just speaking to the disciples that sat around the table. His words were recorded for every believer to read and obey.

Now not all believers will “preach”, but all believers must be ready always to give an answer to every man that asks about the hope that is within. The hope that is within is the gospel. Not all believers will or can “go into all the world”, but the written word of the believer certainly can with 21^st century technology. I find it incredible that the words I write tonight can be read anywhere in the world with just the click of a mouse. Now that’s not saying they will be, but I do know this; if I do not write about my faith then no one will ever read about my faith!

I am blessed to be able to teach from the Bible each Sunday at Trinity Baptist Church in San Antonio, Texas. Consider this an invitation, if you are ever compelled to fill your Sunday mornings with good company and scripture then come join Thee Class at Trinity. My intentions are to combine the time I spend studying and preparing to teach with the demanding time needed to update this blog. There may be some redundancy if you happen to read the blog and sit in the class, but I promise to try and never bore you. It is a simple promise to keep; God’s word is never boring!

Currently we are studying the Book of Acts from the perspective of being an effective witness for Christ. Our study today centered on Phillip and an Ethiopian eunuch. If you would like to read the story you will find it in chapter 8 of Acts. Every week the Lord seems to place a certain verse or passage on my heart even though the study may span an entire chapter. Today was no different. As I studied last week I kept returning to Philip’s question to the Ethiopian man, “Do you understand what you are reading?” [Acts 8:30] In this case the man was reading the 53^rd chapter of Isaiah, the greatest place to begin an understanding of who Christ is. As I thought about Philip’s question I began to apply it to all scripture. The Ethiopian could have been reading almost any verse(s) in the Bible and concluded with the same question, “Who is the Christ?” The entire Bible is written about Jesus, by either pointing to Him or telling about Him.

But it is Philip’s question that began to convict. “Do I understand what I am reading?” Not brain-understanding, but heart-understanding. Let me try to explain. I read the Bible a lot; I receive great enjoyment from reading the Bible and then studying the historians and commentators, men and women much smarter than I, and developing a better understanding of the scriptures and biblical times. Hopefully that leads to brain-understanding.

Heart-understanding on the other hand only comes when I open my life to His word. It is one thing to know scripture, to be able to quote chapter and verse; it is an entirely different thing to live scripture. Satan can quote scripture; I dare say he knows it better than you or I. But his brain-understanding is temporal, one day it will be useless. Brain-understanding makes us smarter; heart-understanding changes our life.

“Do I understand what I am reading?” Phillip had gone first into Samaria and then into the desert of Gaza. He did so because he was following his heart. Phillip’s love for Jesus Christ was so great that he shared the gospel in a land whose people had rejected Jesus and with an Ethiopian man, a foreigner, a man whose race and ethnicity as different from his own. “Do I understand what I am reading?”

Do I possess the boldness, courage and impartiality towards any man or woman to act as a witness for Christ, an ambassador of the gospel? Regardless of race, ethnic background, religious beliefs, social choices of that person?

I do not.

One day I hope to shed the old layers of prejudices that were a part of my old self. I do not struggle with the immaturity of racism, but I am still too quick to judge someone based on their behavior or beliefs. Today there are people that I know and love to whom I cannot witness because of who they are. That is simply wrong.

Thank God that he didn’t judge me first.

                                                                       
 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ABBHU7O              

Broken Crosses is finally complete and available at Amazon for your Kindle. If you don't have a Kindle Reader you can download the PC version for free at http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000426311.
I enjoyed writing this book as much if not more than "The Wooden Box". The characters seemed to become part of my family over the months that it required to write the book. The more time I spent with them the closer I got to them. As I neared the end I procrastinated (almost as much as the main character) to keep from saying good bye to them.
I hope that you will bond with them as I did. I also hope that your bond will leave you wanting more.
Thank you again if your a fan of what I write, without you it would be nothing more than a bunch of words on a piece of paper.

Jim

Broken Crosses

Excerpt from Broken Crosses

The relentless chirping sound of Scott’s smart phone finally penetrated his sleep. He opened his eyes and looked at the red numbers on the digital clock that sat quietly on the nightstand. Sleep had temporarily blurred his forty year old eyes; once they adjusted he read the numbers, 2:18 A.M. The smart phone chirped the message reminder impatiently again. He picked up the phone, his eyes having to adjust again, and saw Karen’s picture on the small screen. At the bottom of the screen the     “New text msg.” banner flashed. Scott tapped the screen,

Karen 1:58 A.M. Daddy, ima in trouble

Twenty minutes had passed since his daughter had sent the message. “In trouble”, what did that mean? Suddenly Scott remembered that Karen wasn’t home, she had gone to the Pond with her friends. Panic, worry, uncertainty, they all raced through Scott’s mind at warp speeds waking him up completely. He sat up and swung legs over the side of the bed. Twenty minutes! How did he not hear the annoying sounds of his phone for twenty minutes? Scott had always been a light sleeper, as of late that had changed. He always felt tired and sleep was cherished and deep.

He read the message again. “Daddy, ima in trouble.” Scott carefully dialed the numbers that would connect him to his daughter’s phone. Long seconds ticked off before he heard the ringing of his daughter’s phone; five, six, seven, eight rings. “Come on! Answer the phone Karen!”

A robotic feminine voice finally answered, “The person at 802…” Scot slid his thumb across the screen to disconnect the call and immediately tapped “redial”. The robot’s metallic voice greeted him again after just one ring, “The person at 8…” Scott disconnected again. The thought of leaving his daughter a voice message never occurred to Scott, not that it would have done any good considering her current situation.

Scott turned on the lamp beside his bed. He stood and walked to the door of his bedroom and turned on the overhead light. He looked around the room as if Karen may be there. He opened the door and walked into the hallway, the cold floors greeting his bare feet. Karen’s room was down the hall to the right, he headed there first. The door to Karen’s room was open part way, Scott could see the empty bed even before entering the room and turning on yet another light. The black comforter, outlined in brilliant purples lay undisturbed on the bed. Karen’s habit of making her bed every day had stayed true, having made it before leaving for the weekend away. Scott glanced around his daughter’s room, hopeful again that she was playing an innocent game of hide and seek. He reminded himself that she was no longer the little girl that used to hide each evening in an attempt to delay the end of the day. “She isn’t home Scott “, he heard an inner voice state factually.

Scott turned and left her room, leaving the overhead light on. He walked down the hallway until he reached the door of Jake’s room. He cracked the door enough to see his son lying on the bed. He could hear deep shallow breathing that only comes with equally deep sleep. Scott decided not to disturb his son. He closed the door. The latch sounded loudly in the stillness of the home.

He stood there with his hand still on the crystal doorknob. He tried to remember the names of Karen’s friends. It was white space, the names would not appear. Did he even have their numbers or their parent’s numbers if he was able to recall their names? Scott had always made it a practice to know the names and addresses of all her friends. He had even known the parent’s names, making efforts to meet them face to face. When had he stopped doing that?

Kyla! That was her name. No, not Kyla it was Kayla. Kayla what? He remembered that her father was a doctor.  “Doctor….blank?” Did he ever know her last name? He thought Kayla was a spoiled brat, but Karen seemed to adore her so Scott never shared this observation with his daughter. He remembered thinking that she was the kind of girl that wouldn’t mind getting in trouble if it meant having some fun. Had something bad happened at the Pond that started out as fun?

Scott turned and headed back to his bedroom. He would try calling Karen once more; if she didn’t answer then he would make the drive to Hinesburg Pond and find his daughter. He ignored the common sense ambassador that whispered quietly to him the impossibilities of finding anyone at the Pond in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even know what kind of car to look for. Were they in a rental cabin or did Kayla’s doctor dad own a lakeside home? Common sense and impossibilities didn’t matter; his paternal instincts were tugging with relentless determination.

He heard his cell phone ringing just as he entered the master bedroom door. The ring was the familiar tune that told him his daughter was calling. “Thank God”, he said to the empty room.

He tapped the screen, “Karen, what’s going on?”

It wasn’t his daughter’s voice that answered in reply.

“Mister Kelso?” The voice was crisp and carried the tone of authority.

“Yes, I’m Scott Kelso. Who is this?”

“Mister Kelso, this is Detective Robert Ryan. I am with the Burlington Police Department.”

Scott stopped breathing. Memories from a similar phone call so long ago flooded in.