John 10:10  The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly

The Greek word here for abundant means “exceedingly, very highly, beyond measure, considerably more than what one would expect or anticipate.”

1 Cor. 2:9   No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.

The shackles have fallen off.  There is a thief that would attempt to steal everything.  But Jesus came to give everything.  And He did.

I live in the eternal realm.  God’s resources are limitless, and if thieves attempt to destroy me, I need not fear: God will take care of it.  In spades.

Knowing God and His Son consistently proves to be far more than I could ever have anticipated.  My life overflows with love, joy, meaning, and purpose.  And this is never going to end.  …Never.

HOW AWESOME IS THAT!!!

Yesterday I actually became overwhelmed with all this abundance.  It started before SUNRISE, with COMFORT in His FAITHFUL Word—and JOY in my COVENANT marriage and BELOVED family.  It continued with a PROVIDENTIAL drive, observing His POWER in CREATION.  Then He poured on the HOPE as we shared FELLOWSHIP, offered up heartfelt PRAYER, and honored THE LORD with our WORSHIP and OFFERINGS.  Then He BLESSED us with more of His INERRANT WORD, and the SAINTS gathered for a FEAST.  All afternoon, we enjoyed WORK, MINISTRY, and BLESSING, and then the REMEMBRANCE of COMMUNION.  Finally, He ordained PEACEFUL REST.

All of this abundance—day, after day, after day—is the pro active GOD working—making it not only possible, but extremely doable—for believers to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”  2 Peter 3:18

W.E. …..  P.R.A.I.S.E. …. T.H.E. ….. L.I.V.I.N.G. ….. GOD.

A.N.D. …. G.I.V.E. …. T.H.A.N.K.S.

I still remember her name; it was Sue.  At my first real job, she was the one I was to shadow.  You know, follow her around, and do what she does.

For the most part, it worked famously.  But it was so funny:  there was this one flub-up she tended to make; and, you guessed it: a shadow is a perfect imitation.  (It was a grammar thing; I don’t remember exactly.  Hey, give me a break: it was 1976.)

Learning by osmosis is usually a good thing; a subtle infusion of information is easier, and often retained more lastingly in the gray matter—(hence my semi-permanent etching of that booboo).

I homeschooled two students, K through 12; some of their best lessons were job shadowing:  English at family gatherings, Writing thank you notes, Math at the grocery store.  I’d heard that children’s brains were like sponges, so I kept them immersed.

However, just like back the 70’s with Sue, there’s a breakdown: a student is only as good as his teacher.  They learn all sorts of things from us—when we’re not looking.  We can teach them how to carefully cross the street, yet they can grow up being bitter.  After six years of piano lessons, they can still be inept when it comes to loving their neighbor.  Most kids are smarter than they look, and before they can walk, they start sponging it all in.  ALL of it.  (Trust me; I know.)

It’s a valid question:

~ When our offspring observe our day-to-day ~

~ What unintentional message do we display? ~

Frankly, it’s not just our kids who learn by observation.  There are few things as tragic is professing Christians that give the world the wrong idea about the kingdom of God.  Matt. 5:16  Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.

What are YOU teaching?

I’m blessed.  I’ve been given the rare privilege of going to work—and going to church—at the same time!  (Transcribing sermons is good work if you can get it.)

Yesterday, as my fingers clickety-clicked, the earphones transmitted the doctrine of the “spirit of stupor.”

Americans don’t use the word “stupor” very often—except maybe talking about somebody who’s drunk.  The word means sleepy mode: lacking function; unresponsive to anything except something intense.  They’re conscious, but clueless and without ability.

The Bible explains that—when people merely give God lip service, doing religion by rote, treating their own ideas as if they were Scripture, God takes that a step further—and puts them in clueless mode: “eyes to see not, ears to hear not”—like Pharaoh: he failed to respond, and hardness set in.  We’ve all seen many, many individuals who are ill equipped to discern the Bible.  That is actually God’s doing (Isaiah 29).

I hate to say it, but—I’ve been there.  Busy-ness crowds away my appreciation of having a Bible in every room.  Before I know it, I’m baking cookies for Jesus, without thanking Him for the wheat.  We can so easily lose that integral involvement with the Lord.  That, my friends, is stupor. (And pride.)  Then, He lets us go that way for awhile.  Thankfully, I am saved—and He has always placed a giant bump in the road to arouse my attention.

People like me, being called by God and kept by Him, are—even as we speak—provoking Israel to jealousy.  That will bring a happy ending for many (Zech. 12).  (Lord, we take a moment to pray for Israel.  And for our own minds and hearts; guard us from being Stupid Stupor-tons!)

I’ll close with the last part of the sermon:  “So, personally, our response is crucial.  You will not know the blessing of God without responding in faith.  ‘Do not harden your hearts,’ the Scripture says.  Respond today.”

The sum of the whole is other than its parts.

No, I didn’t make a typo.  You thought it was “greater than its parts”, didn’t you?   (That’s because you haven’t studied Gestalt psychology.  Okay, neither have I.)

The latter is sometimes true, but not always so.  Take, for instance, combining two parcels of real estate (the “economies of scale” principle).

But I bet you’re wondering what this has to do with “The A-Team”.  Well, alright, already!

Yours truly is a part of something big.  I’m merely a cog in a giant wheel—but without this little, round, integral cog, the wheel falls off and everything comes to a screeching halt.

Just like Mr. T and his A-Team, my Top 50 and I, individually, aren’t able to accomplish much (branded by some, prized by others).  But in groups, the sum of the whole is greater than its puny, pathetic, pitiful parts.

Never has my entire A-Team worked all together: some serve at church; some meet for breakfast; some are other local friends; some are out-of-towners; and some live in my house.

But though my 50 don’t all know each other, they form a network in my life that makes me (and them) stronger.  These are the people with whom I work, play, talk, and pray.  They are the ones that sharpen me.  They are the ones I forgive, and that forgive me—70 times 7.  In the words of crooner Jack Johnson, We’re “Better Together.”  As I mentioned last month (“Plate Spinning”), God has designed us to be with people.

My A-Team is comprised of souls that won’t shake me loose—even when I’ve had an off night (or a series of them, Ha).   My comrades in arms notice when I’ve been gone.  They remember to include us when it’s time for something special.  We care.  And we make a difference.

So a huge shout-out to my A-Team.  You know who you are.

P.S. to all you TV Land fans:  “I love it when a plan comes together.”

At yesterday’s Bible study, it was time to share our testimonies—specifically, the circumstances relating to how the Lord drew us.

I hadn’t done this in awhile, and—interestingly—there was a different dynamic this time.  As the words spilled out of my mouth, the air became full of more than my blathering; we discovered a recurring theme: many of the people and places that were part of God’s calling me… are gone!  They’ve been led astray, inwardly corrupted, moved, or torn down! the restaurant where I heard of the Bible study; the high school where I’d met that girlfriend who told me about it; the suburban neighborhood where it was held; the articulated commuter buses where I first studied; the gaudily decorated apartment where I first repented; the other restaurant where I told my friends that things were going to have to change; and the friends—who’ve each had their own journey and are mostly scattered hither and yon.

After yesterday’s class, I hit the ground running.  It wasn’t until our Valentine dinner that it really sunk in:  all those buildings and people are nowhere near as they were—or where they were—30 years ago.

And I was tired after yesterday’s work, so it didn’t occur to me until this morning: there is One who is right where He was then, and just as He was; 30 years is barely a hiccup to Him.

As I ponder the whirlwind of change, absence, destruction, and debris, I stand here in wonder:  not only is He still here, so am I.

John 10:27-29  “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.  “And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.  ”My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand.

= – =

So much going on,

As busy as a bee,

I had the logistics

Worked out to a “T.”

= – =

To get ready for tonight,

Stuff to do right now,

To get ready for tomorrow,

Advance prep for the chow.

= – =

Knock out a shower,

Squeeze in a chore,

Take a few minutes

To run to the store.

= – =

Since I’m only one cook,

And one oven’s not mine,

I chart it all out

In military time.

= – =

Out comes the pot roast,

In goes the bread—

But leave the potatoes—

(Can I just go to bed?)

= – =

But I worked it all out

It went off without a hitch—

Except for the weak link;

Can you guess which is which?

= – =

It’s the single listed item

With a variable, you see—

It’s the only part noted

That’s not done by ME!

= – =

God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. …  Be still, and know that I am God; … I will be exalted in the earth! From Ps. 46:1 & 10

In the 1500s, those verses inspired Martin Luther to pen the hymn “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”:

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:

‘Too bad my blog already used this month’s quota of military allegories.  I would relish reminding us of the futility of building a fort—if the squad leader failed to radio the troops those three little words:  “To the Stronghold!”

God IS our refuge!  He is a fortified, defensive, large, permanent, military Stronghold—with a city inside.  He is our support, protection, and defense.  His fire power is the only kind that is effective against the powers of the air, and we are foolish if we do not run to Him en masse.

When we get low on rations, we must traverse the battlefield.  And the enemy is a schemer; it is then that he plans his attack.  I can’t speak for you—but as for me, by God’s grace alone, I am not too proud—not the least bit ashamed—to follow orders: to dress in the camouflage of Truth, cover my vulnerability with godly living, put on my gospel boots, and shield myself behind the Wall, Jesus Christ.  He will extinguish all the flaming arrows.  Even when I do find myself on the battlefield, He is always my helmet; “no mortal wound shall fell [me].”

For still our ancient foe

doth seek to work us woe;

His craft and power are great,

 and, armed with cruel hate,

On earth is not his equal. 

Did we in our own strength confide,

our striving would be losing;

Were not the right Man on our side,

the Man of God’s own choosing…

How classic does literature have to be, before you can bypass the Spoiler Alert?  I guess 60 years isn’t long enough.  No worries: I won’t give away the ending.   ………Even though I’ve seen it half-a-dozen times.  In 2001, 2, and 3, the movies came out.  This week, I finally got around to watching them.  [??] Don’t be confused: I hadn’t seen the trilogy (I always dosed off during the first or second Orc attack).  But always, at the end of No. 3, a mysterious force drew me into the family room.

Now that I’ve seen the whole thing, after a decade of feeling like an outsider, I understand what the hubbub was all about.  They weren’t kidding when they said “Lord of the Rings” is “the biggest project to hit the movies.”  Wow, I would definitely watch them again someday.  Maybe next time, though, we’ll let more than three days lapse between installments.

My daughters were right: I did appreciate the inescapable symbolism of the strong forces of evil, a good fellowship, prophet/priest/king, loving the unlovable, supernatural providence, and a suffering servant.

And it did get me charged up for the 2012 release of “The Hobbit.”  I read that book in high school; a group of us were all about it.  Someone in that circle got hold of a Runic alphabet of sorts, and we memorized it so we could pass notes.  I’m 53 years old, and still write in that alphabet nearly every day.  Weird. I know.  What’s really fun is, it’s not exactly the same as in the encyclopedias; my kids tried for years to decipher it, to no avail.  YESS!!

So, yeah, I really liked the Fellowship, the Towers, and the Return.  Awesome.  And, not to take us away from this epic conversation, but I’ve just gotta say it:  Elijah Wood?  Jeepers, creepers, where’d you get those EYES?!!

I’m gonna miss…

…the big hugs that she couldn’t wait till you were in the door to start giving.

…the stories of the old neighborhood.

…the stories of the old, old neighborhood.

…the hot-out-of-the-oven coffee cake.

…the Boston accent.

…the coffee.

…the family pictures on every table.

…the wood sculpture that if you looked at it just right it said Jesus.

…the bathroom all the way around the other side of the kitchen.

…the salad, with the oil drizzle and vinegar shake right before serving.

…the hutch with mementos and you get to hear who gave her every dish in there.

…the greetings when the basement door opened to reveal whoever was temporarily finding a haven of rest while in-between jobs.

…the melodrama, lol.

…the Christmas trees.

…the picture of that little island in Italy where she was born and the other picture with the front of the house where they lived.

…the generations of dogs way too big for that house that were there because somebody couldn’t keep it at their apartment.

…the politics banter.  (Wait; I won’t miss those.)

…the home away from home.

…the cookies that somebody gave her just that day but she put on a plate and you were supposed to eat ‘em.

…the sisters that visit from the East Coast and they talk just like Nonnie.

…the hobbit-like front walk leading to an enclosed porch with a couch on it.

…the open door.

…the perm.

…the toys she would pull out for the kids that were outdated but somehow they liked ‘em anyway.

…the papers and cards and pictures and papers and cards and pictures.

…the Italian words her mama always said and now she said.

…the spaghetti.

…the upstairs full of tiny rooms filled with furniture and books all surrounding a banistered staircase right smack in the middle.

…the LAUGHS!

…the lady that loved everybody just the same—even if they were “A BUM!”

…the big hugs that she couldn’t wait till you were in the door to start giving.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF NANCY:

I’m gonna miss…

…her.

But it’s only temporary.

“Keep jiggling, Peggy, please keep jiggling.”

For the life of me, I cannot fathom how I ever thought that was funny.  But it’s a song replayed in my head since I was a kid.  In this episode of “I Love Lucy”, Ricky can’t shake a gaga young fan—so Lucy’s scheme was to show how old Ricky was.  He has this gal shake his arthritic legs, while he whines, “Keep jiggling, Peggy!”

I’m thinking that’s good advice in general:  Just keep jiggling.

Today I got some sad news.  Last weekend was one of the worst ever.  The Country’s gone down the tubes, and so has my figure.  But life goes on (for the moment), and a person’s just got to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Brush, floss.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  The old joke is, “Repeat?  How many times?”  …As many as it takes.

In God’s infinite wisdom, we have been blessed with a thing called routine.  When the heart is heavy, it can be therapeutic to just pack up your troubles in the old kit-bag, and  …fold the laundry.

Eccl. 3:22  So I perceived that nothing is better than that a man should rejoice in his own works, for that is his heritage.

I’ve long theorized that’s part of why the Curse included labor.  (Double entendre!)  Once sin entered the world, God brought work—which, while intrinsically a pain in the backside, ironically can make the unbearable, bearable.  (I guess that explains the millions of city dwellers that spend an inordinate amount of time at the office.)

So, in spite of it all, we continue:  job, school, home, and all of the above.

Ha. Now my mind is regaling classic Lucy and Ethel—frantically stuffing chocolates down their dresses.

Onward ho.