As I See It ~ Pastor Von

LITTLE MARIBEL

2012-02-08T22:30:00.000-08:00

The hillsides of barrio Laguna are covered with small, unorganized little one and two room shacks. People in our areas walk or ride small busses. On school days Maria would carry her little eight-year-old Maribel up the hillsides to and from her school. No one seemed to think it odd that Maribel was carried up the hills on the back of her mother.

Maribel was born with a defective heart, and as she got older she just didn't have the energy to climb the hills to school; so mom would carry her. From time to time Maria and Maribel would visit Hortensia. Lips and fingers slightly blue told the story of Maribell's growing problem.

Miguel, her father, is a hard worker and pays the family's medical insurance each month. About $75.

The Government's social security hospital was so slow in responding to their requests for help. Meanwhile Maribel grew weaker.

Finally word came from the hospital that a date was set and a specialist chosen to operate on the little girl's heart. The date just two months way. Good news!

Bad news followed. About the same time Miguel lost his job and couldn't continue his insurance ... without insurance the date and procedure would be canceled.

That's where you entered the picture. Thank you Lord for our general fund. Maribel has had her first operation, and her second (and hopefully the last) one is two weeks away. The cost to Spectrum was only a few hundred dollars.

Maribel and her family are incredibly grateful. Hortensia has had many flowers and hugs from Maribel as well as her mom. I have a specially created envelope and colorful thank you letter from a special little eight year old, with a new life.

How can those with nothing thank those with everything?

Spectrum Ministries is a general term. It's easier to understand our ministry when we break it down into families and kids.

Maribel, we love you.

THESE BONES

2012-02-03T23:00:00.000-08:00

Remember that old African American Spiritual "Dry Bones"? "Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones" I've always loved the energy and truth of that song.

Okay, Ezekiel! Bring life to these dry old bones!

With due respect to my mother and father; God created and put a soul in this body called von. I was created an eternal being and placed in a temporary flesh vehicle. As in every living thing God has created, I was created on purpose, for a purpose.

God is not the author of accidents. God is not the author of chance.

God is the author of purpose.

I was quite a way into my Christian pilgrimage before I realized an important truth about of God's anatomy ... God has no hands, and He needs no hands.

I was created to be God's hands ... and on occasion His voice.

What an awareness ... what a privilege.

Why did it take me so long to find out what my hands were designed for?

Praise God, I have another day to bless others .... hands, do your job.

Read: Ezekiel 37:4

ONCE UPON A TIME

2012-01-31T22:00:00.000-08:00

Many, many years ago, Christians were called Believers. Big things happen because of Believers ... Believers create an environment that enables God to work.

Unbelief, on the other hand, forms an environment that suffocates the very power of God.

A good example of the power generated by a collection of true Believers was the creation of The Church.

That Believers prayer meeting must have been "something-else!" Believers reaching harmony with God through their prayers.

"We are yours, do with us whatever you please..."

The explosive formation of the Church was the result, in part, of these true Believers and their environment of faith ... a power filled, anointed group of Believers headed down the stairs, spilling out into the street with a multilingual Gospel all understood!

Like a holy virus, this Gospel quickly infected thousands of "non-seekers."

On fire Believers in dry brush ... the Church started as a hot unquenchable Holy fire ... Once upon a time the Church was hot!

The Church of Jesus Christ was born that evening. It was totally created by God. The Lord used this small group of Fire brand Believers to enflame the world.

Success? Thousands became Believers!

Believers in God. Believers in His Son, Jesus ... and Believers in His Word, and Belief in their new Gospel ... the key word here is BELIEF!

Once upon a time. Yes ... once upon a time ... there were serious Believers ... Today, who of us can call ourselves serious, focused Believers?

Read Acts: 2

NEGOTIATING FOR THE LIVING, AND DEAD!

2012-01-23T22:00:00.000-08:00

Over half a century I've driven in and walked through the growing city of Tijuana; along the way I've met thousands of people and gathered as many stories. True life stories; I don't have to dig into fiction to create these stories; here we deal in reality.

Because of the work we're called to, and the country we serve in, it's necessary to carry three to four hundred dollars in cash; often folded up in one of my socks. In Mexico, in the case of a tragedy or accident, it's cash on the table; immediately!

I remember one time that I had to negotiate for a corpse; a dead baby boy. The mother simply didn't have the money to "buy" her baby from the mortuary. It had to be cash on the table and fortunately I had the cash on hand. And much later, once again I had to repeat a similar negotiation, for a little baby girl. This time it was a live baby the mother couldn't pay for, so the clinic kept her. Again, cash on hand.

The gangs and street kids I deal with all know I carry money. The word gets around.

Many of these kids would steal from their own mother's purse.

Time after time, I've taken hungry dirty teens out to buy them tacos or burritos. Sometime two or three kids and at other times as many as ten ... I remember one night being alone and buying ten hungry teens burritos ... yet I've never been held up or threatened in any way.

On occasion teen gang members have even protected me.

What I'm saying is that I've never had to "watch my back" ... the Lord seems to be doing a great job of covering me; even today, as an easy-to-take, old man.

Driving thousands upon thousands of miles of Tijuana traffic, without even one serious accident ... anyone who's driven Tijuana knows that's a miracle. Thank you Lord!

I'm simply saying two things in this short narrative, first is to thank you, my friends and co-workers, for your faithful prayers in keeping me safe in a truly hostel environment ... and second, for providing us with the money we need to help poor and desperate people on the other side.

Indeed some may call me a fool ... others call me a BELIEVER.

TWO IS A POWERFUL NUMBER!

2012-01-17T21:30:00.000-08:00

I was asked to speak in a small church in San Diego. In the meantime, I had undergone an operation on my right shoulder. My arm was in a sling and doing O. K. I had a little pain and asked my niece to give me a couple of pain pills in case I needed them. So I had these pills on my bathroom sink.

Well, Sunday came, as it always does, and because I couldn't drive with my arm in a sling, my niece offered to drive me to the church where I was to preach.

She was parked near my garage.

I was ready and prepared, but in going down my stairs to the garage where my niece was waiting ... I tripped and fell against the railing. My shoulder hit the wall! Oh boy! Now I was in real pain.

Suddenly, I remembered the pain pills in my bathroom. Thank you Lord. I hobbled back up the stairs and grabbed two white pain pills and downed them with some water, and slowly, carefully and painfully descended down the stairs and slowly got into my nieces nice car.

As we drove off, I started feeling a little better. In a matter of miles I was feeling great! What a wonderful day this is!

I remember walking into Church that Sunday morning feeling better than I had in years! I have to smile here.

As they introduced me to speak I was feeling no pain.

Well, I got honest with the people right from the start ... They knew me as I had spoken there before.

My opening statement was ... "Well folks, this morning I'm stoned! I took some pain pills and I feel great!. I hope you like my message ... if you don't, well I don't much care!"

We all enjoyed the message, perhaps I enjoyed it the most.

Yes, I was invited back.

A TRIBUTE TO AN INCREDIBLE WOMAN

2012-01-12T19:00:00.000-08:00

I found Hortensia in front of the funeral home. She hugged me and said, "Thank you for coming Pastor von."

"Can we go somewhere to talk alone?" I asked. We went into the austere funeral home and sat on a bench in the hallway. She leaned over, grabbed me and started sobbing. Regaining her composure, she told me the whole story. Last night her son was killed; a victim of another senseless and unprovoked murder in her neighborhood. Another kid, too young to die ... dead!

He was simply talking with his friends near a small store in the early evening when a group of young men and teens came down the street firing guns. Everyone scattered. Marico didn't run; he just stood there alone. One of the guys came up to him and shot him three times in his chest at point blank range. As Marico fell, they all ran and scattered. David, his younger brother, ran up to him and placed his jacket over him. He died on the way to the hospital.

Hortensia came as quickly as she could to the hospital but it was too late. The next few hours were a painful blur of police investigations, signing papers, answering questions, making funeral plans. She finally returned to her neighborhood around ten in the evening, exhausted, hurting and ready to be alone.

As she climbed up to the porch of her house, a young lady carrying a little boy came up to her. "Hortensia, I have been waiting for you. I have heard that you help people. Look at my little boy; he can hardly breath!" Hortensia said, "I was so exhausted and I didn't want to hear this, but I looked at the little child, struggling to breathe and was bluish in color. She spoke to the woman. "I just lost my son, he was killed a few hours ago." The young mother said, "I'm so sorry" ... then paused and added, "but here is my little boy dying, and he has a chance to live, won't you help us?"

Soon Hortensia was on the way down the hill in a taxi heading back to the hospital again, this time with a desperate mother holding her dying little boy. She saw to it that the child had a doctor and that he was placed in bed with an IV loaded with the proper antibiotics. About one in the morning she asked to be excused. Soon she was home.

It was a difficult sleep, a short sleep.

Later the next morning both mother and child appeared at her door again. "Hortensia," the young mother said, "I want to thank you for saving my little boy's life. Look at my son." The antibiotics worked and the little boy was breathing normal and had a good color.

Then the hurt returned; her son, Marico, would never recover.

Our conversation at the funeral parlor took a sudden change back into the reality of the moment, Hortensia apologized as she looked around, "The funeral will be a little late. My son's body isn't here yet; the police had a hard time finding the bullets. Pastor von, funerals are so expensive" ... she said.

Now I know how the poor feel when their loss comes and they have to go into debt for years just to pay for the funeral."

In Mexico, when a murder or shooting occurs, the police comb the neighborhood and ask all kinds of questions about the people and family involved. The police chief greeted Hortensia and said, "You are a strong woman. Everyone in your neighborhood speaks highly of you and your boys." They say that "you have helped so many people. You are an incredible woman." Hortensia has been one of our staff workers more than twenty years. She adopted little HIV infected Roberto into her home. Like all of our staff, she is paid meager wages. She works for the Lord and the love she has for the poor around her; money is secondary. Indeed she is a rare find.

It seems in the dark areas of God's vineyard some of His workers stand out like brilliant lights. Hortensia is one of that kind of servant. We are privileged to have a person like this as part of our team.

Please pray for Hortensia and her loss. It will be difficult for a while. Do continue to pray for our safety too as we work days and sometimes nights in these same areas where guns and drugs are illegal but available to all.

PLAYING PEEK-A-BOO WITH A 60 YEAR OLD

2011-12-28T21:30:00.000-08:00

Eleas seems to take to me.

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

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

Unique? Eleas is actually one in billions!

Yes, Eleas and his family attend church each Sunday.

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

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

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

Peek-a-boo Eleas!

DANIEL WASN'T AT THE PARTY

2011-12-26T12:00:00.000-08:00

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

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

A teen-age self-pity party? Maybe.

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

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

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

He keeps hoping.

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

Joy to the world?

There was anything but joy in Daniel's world.

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

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

CHRISTMAS DREAMS

2011-12-23T23:00:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

Merry Christmas? Not quite.

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

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

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

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

If people only knew.

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

AWAY FROM THE MANGER A CRIB WAS HIS BED

2011-12-13T23:00:00.000-08:00

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

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

I looked all over for baby Jesus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OLD DOGS AND NEW TRICKS?

2011-12-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

He's old.

Cats no longer interest him.

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

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

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

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

A DIFFERENT KIND OF KID

2011-12-01T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Work! (What a novel idea!)

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

Yep, he got a tip!

This was one happy "road-worker!"

CHARLIE BROWN, WHERE ARE YOU?

2011-11-26T10:30:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

We were poor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FACT, FICTION ... OR LIES!

2011-11-23T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

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

On occasion a lie may even slip our lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A MITE SHORT OF IRRESPONSIBLE?

2011-11-18T22:45:00.001-08:00

Another painful question. Is trusting God responsible?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But here comes Bill pushing another of his charities.

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

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

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

Big givers where are you?

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

THE ANIMATED PASTOR VON

2011-11-18T21:30:00.000-08:00

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

The guy is outrageously creative.

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

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

Cheers!

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

BEING HELPED AS I GO DOWN THE STAIRS

2011-11-13T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

I was reminded yesterday.

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

Fighting the reality of ... stairs down.

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

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

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

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

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

WITH GOD WE EACH, WE ALL, HAVE A VALUE

2011-11-07T18:30:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

All eyes were following me.

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

The answer was always "yes".

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

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

The lesson was needed.

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

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

You, as a person, have a great value!

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

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

POVERTY?

2011-11-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Indeed we have the privilege of giving! PTL!

HALLOWEEN

2011-10-31T21:30:00.000-07:00

Tonight, the dark night of death and danger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are safe, safe, safe here!

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

Honey, keep walking!

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

JULIO, WITH THE THICK GLASSES

2011-10-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

Julio wasn't doing well at school.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was accepted.

As it is.

SOLUTION TO POVERTY?

2011-10-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

Is that wrong?

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

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

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

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

I'VE GOT A SECRET!

2011-10-18T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

A literal "captive audience."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PLEASE GOD, HEAL VON

2011-10-13T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

The kids there have a real love for me.

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

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

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

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

CACTUS "MEDIUM RARE"

2011-10-06T21:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TIME WAS ...

2011-10-03T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can" the dead-beats and move on.

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

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

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

THE POOR NEXT DOOR

2011-10-02T11:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

Viewer discretion urged.

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

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

We are simply "over-looked."

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

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

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

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

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

LEMMINGS

2011-09-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nose to rectum they continue their common direction.

Thoughtless followers of the masses.

Clueless followers of the masses.

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

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

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

A CHRISTIAN IDOL?

2011-09-22T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ministry is the very purpose of the Church.

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

TWO SHOES ... FOUR FEET

2011-09-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOW THIS THING IS BIG!

2011-09-06T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

Ooh, the price tag!

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

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

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

Wow! Look at that tire.

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, I slowly drove away, a humbled man.

LADY, WHERE DID YOU GO?

2011-09-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

There actually were Ladies and Gentlemen. I do remember.

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

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

I rather miss ladies.

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

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

Maybe that's the case.

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

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

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

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

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

COMMERCIALS

2011-09-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

Where won't these guys go?

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

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

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

Pills, depends, whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

THE LOST COIN

2011-08-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could this silver coin be valuable?

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

We had it valued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

APATHY

2011-08-24T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE DAY I MET JESUS

2011-08-16T23:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winked at me!

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

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

THE DOCTRINE OF JESUS INCOGNITO

2011-08-12T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

Hungry, thirsty, sick ...

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

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

"When did we see you?"

We can find Jesus as a poor hungry child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EVER HAD AN UGLY KID HUG YOU?

2011-08-01T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

Everyone knows Freddy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother? Father? You're kidding!

Who would want a kid like Freddy?

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

ANOTHER HIT IN THE REAR!

2011-07-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

Well, today I got hit again!

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

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

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

Bang!

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

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

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

Well, now I'm waiting for number six!

MARIJUANA AND MUSHROOMS

2011-07-22T23:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

That didn't go over too well.

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

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

I deferred and went the unpacking route.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'll never forget their surprised look.

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

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

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

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

BETTER CHECK YOUR OIL!

2011-07-18T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

Not true! I was working my tail off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How obvious!

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

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

The Holy oil of encouragement!

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

WORTHLESS?

2011-07-13T19:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUBTLE BATTLE OF THE HORMONES

2011-07-10T11:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

Gender benders!

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

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

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

Whiz! Bang! Boom! Action Packed.!

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

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

Men, we don't need you!

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

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

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

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

Gender benders produce gender blunders!

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

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

Our mistake? Big mistake!

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

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

EFFICIENT; A POWERFUL WORD!

2011-07-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A time of relaxing.

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

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

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

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

Why won't we see the obvious?

We're tight on money?? Simple solution!

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

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

THE FOURTH-OF-JULY FIZZLED

2011-07-02T19:30:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprise!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DOGGIE WALKERS

2011-06-27T23:30:00.000-07:00

I live in a Condo, one in a large number of identical, status quo and politically correct condos. From my kitchen window I can see the street and walk ways. Green lawns, trees and bushes;

I have it all.

The only people action I see is dog walkers. People out walking their dogs ... and from time to time dogs out walking their owners. I walk the bay a couple of times a week and there I see more dog walkers.

Then there are the professional dog walkers taking up to six ... repeat, six dogs at a time. Chihuahuas to Dobermans old and young. These serious dog walkers and dogs generally walk slowly with a group of frustrated dogs on tangled leashes.

Oh yes! Professional walkers with their white rubber gloves and large doggie bags ... waiting for, and hoping for, the inevitable.

Now there are types. Dog types, people types and combination types.

Humans seem to want to get on with the walk while their "best friend" on the other hand ... well, he is interested in sniffing. Sniffing the grass, Sniffing the sidewalk. Sniffing the trees and bushes. Every dog is sniff oriented ... ranging from the short quick hurried sniffs to the long and thoughtful sniff.

The long thoughtful sniffer is most often jerked into reality by his owner

Some committed dog walkers are out for the walk, literally dragging their poor mutt behind ... sad and sniffless!

I notice many of the dogs today, unlike their owners, are de-balled, de-clawed, and de-flee-d ... but still happy as if they had good sense!

Doggie walk! Yipee. Sniff time! Pee time!

Yesterday I saw a sad sight. A very determined dog walker was leading his dog ... now I'm talking leading! His little dog was obviously a “has been” ... that is, he was once a male.

One thing a male or former male dog just has to do is pee on things. I mean it's in him and it's gotta get out! If something is pee-able, he will pee on it.

Sad sight ... nothing more pathetic than a dog on three legs, rear leg held high being dragged while peeing. He was hopping along on his three little legs peeing irresponsibly everywhere. Peeing in places no dog had ever pee'd on before!

Canine humiliation! Thoughtless canine cruelty!

THOSE HELD IN THE BLACK HOLE OF HELL

2011-06-22T19:30:00.000-07:00

Admittedly we go where few go and reach down into pockets of filth! Human Jetsam! Interacting with those living in urine and vomit splashed alleys among scattered needles, bottles and old plastic sacks of paint and contact-cement.

People that come alive at night.

A smelly, dirty collection of people that no one wants to associate with, and for good reason. Who wants to invest in losers? Who wants to sow seeds in this weed patch? ... and who wants to support people who do?

Why do we go to this undeserving segment of society?

Why?

For God's sake! As Christians our light and ministry of love is meant to penetrate the darkness through the credibility earned by association with these people.

In the dark, where lights belong!

We aren't always accepted. We aren't always loved. Love and respect are earned and it isn't always easy.

And more than that, it takes time.

One thing for sure, Christians are not called to be a light seated corporally forming a candelabra of incredible divine wattage under a cross.

Indeed there needs to be a time for "church"; there is a time for worship, for meetings and Bible study" BUT there is a time that we Christians should simply BE THE CHURCH; His people scattered like salt among the world ... scattered like lights in the darkness.

God's random, yet Divine method. A method that still puzzles Theologians.

Sounds a little like the Believers back in the Antioch days. in those days Believers didn't hide in a building waiting for "seekers" ... somehow they were taught that the Church was them. (Acts 26:28)

The world could see the difference because it was obvious. And our name "Christian" began.

It's time again, that the world sees Christians in action.

I FOUND A SON I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD.

2011-06-14T23:30:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you become a father and don't even know it ... now that doesn't sound right does it?

Follow me on this.

I saw Oskar walking up the narrow street in Grupo Mexico and pulled over to say "Hi." He smiled, came over to the car leaned into the window ... and we talked.

He wanted to thank me for being his father image and for the attention I had given him. I was the male he targeted. In his early life he had many "step-fathers" as his mother had many boyfriends. Who his actual father was, he didn't know.

When I first met young Oskar he was living on a dry hillside in a little one room shed of squalor. Small, no windows, and, of course trash. He was taking care of his little brother who stood there looking at me. His pampers were loaded and he was dirt from head to toe.

But Oskar was just a kid himself on "little brother" duty.

We became friends. He went to our Bible Club and came to camp.

One night I became his doctor. I remember that one well.

I was the last car left. We had finished our Bible Club program and I saw that the doors were locked, generator off, lights out. It was very dark as I began to pull out and head for home.

A few neighborhood teens, gang members, stopped me and they were holding young Oskar. It was dark but by my lights I could see Oskar bleeding and crying a bit.

"Hey, von" one teen yelled. "Oskars hurt!"

It seemed that he was running around in the dark with some of his friends and caught his eye-lid on the barbed-wire and it cut the eyelid completely across and the top part of his eyelid was just hanging.

Oh boy! What do you do in a situation like that? Take him to the Mexican Red Cross? Those intern doctors would ruin the kids eyelid. He really needed a specialist. A plastic surgeon. No way at that time of night to get a specialist in Tijuana!

Time for a quick prayer and common sense.

I grabbed a flashlight, tube of Neo-Sporin, some Kleenex and we went to Oskar's house. He was twelve, a Mexican and he didn't cry much.

Oskar's mother opened the door and looked a bit startled. "Where'd his bed" we asked. Oskar's bed was an old door in the corner with a blanket over it. We laid the boy down. I found another blanket and fashioned it like a pillow and told him to just relax and close is eyes. His mother was holding the candle.

(No electricity in all of Grupo Mexico at that time. )

Wetting some Kleenex I carefully washed around the bad eye and very carefully pushed his torn eyelid up to butt against his top eyelid. Held it for a short time. It stayed there. It held! PTL!

I told his mother to stay there and watch all night while he slept, in case he would move around or place his hand to his eye as he slept. It was not to be touched, his head was not to move!

As I look back ...

I hadn't washed my hands. The water was Tijuana tap water. No gloves. No antibiotics. Candle light.

Just God.

I left with a prayer that Oskar's eyelid would heal. Driving home I fought my doubts.

It worked! Today you can't even see a scar.

Oskar's a Christian. He has a wife and son and a small business there in Groupo and still has that wonderful smile.

Nice to stop and get thanked by a "son" I didn't know I had.

ORPHAN'S SHOES

2011-06-13T23:30:00.000-07:00

Last night at the orphanage I sat on the bed while Gabriel, four, was putting on his pajamas. I grabbed his bare foot and tickled it, he laughed and pulled it away.

I tried helping him put on his socks, but he pulled his foot away and said "I can do it!" and he slowly and sloppily put both of his socks on ... four year old style.

Then he handed me his shoe. Now that was a challenge he couldn't muster. And I found out why. His shoelaces were all knotted up, and it took a while for me to un-knot the shoe laces.

He watched me rather impatiently.

Then it was time to get his foot and sloppy sock into this small shoe. Force balanced with patience. Indeed this was a double challenge. His foot just didn't want to go into the very small shoe, I stretched the shoe and widened it, pulled the tongue up and finally forced his foot into it. The second shoe seemed to go on a bit easier ... then I re-tied both shoe laces. He stood up, looked at me, smiled and he was off ... doing things a four-year old boy in P.J's does!

PEPE IS GETTING A NEW BODY!

2011-06-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

Here he is sitting happily in "his new body" a card-board prototype!

Oh, how I wish I could give him a real new body ... hopefully God will give him his new body in the future. (Pray for this.)

This is a cardboard mock-up body ... hopefully, little by little, we'll turn it into a cute little car (Blue) with lights and a horn. (He steers it by push-buttons.) This card-board body will sit on his little moveable platform.

I just wanted to see how it fit him.

He likes his MP ... moveable platform. It fits a small boy in a small room. He can spin it in a circle, and that helps.

I first met Pepe about eight years ago, in Zona Norte. Hortensia took me to visit him. Their home (or room) was almost as small as baby Pepe. Just one small, dark room.

When I saw the baby, I knew there was something terribly wrong ... but we could do nothing about it.

I remember when he was about seven ... when the doctors told him he would never walk. No, he would never play football. He would never be a normal boy.

He was depressed for days.

But Pepe bounced back.

I remember him learning how to slowly write and draw. Ever so slowly. But he persisted.

I remember when he excitedly told me he won a dance contest in school ... Dance contest? "Yeah, watch," and he jerked around and beat his legs to the rhythm of the dance music.

I guess dance is just how you look at it.

And the time he told me he could run? Run? "Yeah, watch me" ... and he rolled fast across the floor ... and popped up with a big smile.

Yesterday he didn't want us to carry him into his bedroom, there was about a nine inch step up to the bedroom ... "watch! I'll get up myself" ... and he did!

Pepe hasn't a lot of body ... but he has a lot of guts.

And a big smile!

P.S. Here are a video of Pepe playing in his cart ...

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING?

2011-06-03T23:30:00.000-07:00

If I'm trying to compensate my failure to DO THE WORD, by reading and studying even more of The Word, am I not deceiving myself and placing myself in jeopardy of Divine judgment?

If I know the word, yet fail to act on what I know ... how is knowing more and yet doing less, going to benefit His Kingdom? It isn't.

Isn't it strange that His mandate can some how get to the head and even to the heart ... yet never filter down to the feet?

Am I not condemning myself by gaining more knowledge that I fail to act on? Will I indeed be judged by that very knowledge?

Can I compare knowledge to fuel? What's the reason to store fuel if I don't intend to use it?

There was more than one reason God said to the Israelites, "Don't store the manna!"

Eat and share.

More schooling, more degrees, more study, more and more knowledge.

Libraries and bookstores are full of Bibles and great Christian books, yet the streets show no sign of God.

Bookstores and libraries and are full of Bibles and great Christian literature and DVD's, a mega-potential of light! Yet the streets are still full of darkness.

Churches, it seems, are on every corner, yet the streets are still void of hope.

Christianity is spelled out on the streets, by "doers of the Word."

It seems the physical dimension of Spiritual Christianity, is woe-fully missing the streets of life.

Wasn't Jesus a man of the streets?

The Church started when it spilled out on the street, or am I missing something?

Was not "Christian" actually coined on the street, by the people in the streets of Antioch as they watched Believers doing the Word?

Believers doing God's Word outside.

"Be doers of the Word, not "knowers" only" ... Jesus brother James spelled it out in his short book. "James 1:22"

Divine perversion?

Could perversion be knowing more and more of the truth, benefiting from that truth and loving the Truth Giver ... yet unwilling to exercise that truth outside ...

Knowing Love, yet not doing love?
Knowing compassion, yet not doing compassion?
Knowing grace, yet not expressing it?
Knowing forgiveness, yet not forgiving?

Therefor, the challenge today is getting our feet to the street! After all what are my feet there for?

THE ECHO OF STATUS QUO

2011-05-31T22:30:00.000-07:00

Many, if not most of the Christian leaders today seem to be content to take Christianity as it is, for what it is, and worse, for where it is.

Is today's level of Christianity worth building on? ...

Planning, building and working on the existing sand of Status Quo. Seldom does anyone question where Christianity should be, or for that matter where the Church should be ... or could be.

The truthful answers to these questions are uncomfortable indeed.

I feel we have done a great disservice to true Christianity by accepting "Status Quo" as our norm and working from there.

It seems that we're quietly adapting to reality by changing our definition of heat and remaking our spiritual thermometers; It's much easier scratching out the old Biblical increments and changing them so that tepid reads hot?

If indeed, Godly "hot", is an un-reachable goal why not change the increments to read more realistically.

It seems the Churches have already re-set their thermostats to comfort! The temperature most want.

How many times have I've heard "Don't with the church thermostat!!!"

Good question. Why keep stretching toward the call, if I'm never going to attain to it?

Lets be realistic and adjust to lukewarm reality ... as we look around we can find loads of cold Believers, and warm ones too, and the "lukewarm".

But let's be honest where are there any hot Believers today? Where are the Believers with a burning passion for God? Where are the Believers who are out doing it?

The movers and shakers!

Where are the lighted Believers who are recklessly running into darkness to illuminate the truth?

Believers are doers of the Word! I want to be out there doing it to the max, until God says ... "Time up!" May I be hot ... until my body turns cold. You don't find thermostats in ... caskets!

NOW I'M A MAN

2011-05-24T22:30:00.000-07:00

Every kid grows up wanting to be an adult. Kids consciously and sub-consciously study the behavior of adults. I remember little girls in my neighborhood dressing up like "Mamas" trying to walk in a pair of mother's big shoes, with mama's dress and sometimes jewelry. Boy's dressed up like "Daddies" finding father's shoes and coat a little too big, but ... Oh! And a lunch pail.(Daddy went to work.) Of course that was way back when there were homes, Mama's and Daddies and you even knew who they were.

Today it's so different.

Have you ever thought about this ... If a kid actually acts like an adult, before he is an adult, he is castigated and on occasion imprisoned. This creates a rather frustrating and confusing environment for teen wannabe adults.

It reeks of hypocrisy.

Wow! At the magic age we can enjoy the vices and drugs reserved for adults and not feel guilty.

Until then ... mom and dad will say ... "Honey, your too young to use the "F-word," next year it will be O. K., you'll be eighteen". "You know better Bobbie, no beer or whisky, your really too young, wait a few years, remember your father and I are adults". "Johnnie, you know you're not to be looking at porno, you're simply too young, you'll enjoy it more as adult." "Bruce, what are these condoms doing in your pants? ... remember your only twelve. Now be careful "

Adult language, adult toys, adult shoes, adult videos, adult games, porn, all off limits to a long line of impatient wannabe adults.

Especially the years of teens standing there full of hormones with their tongues hanging out ... ready for adulthood; and mature vices.

Mom and Dad handle it something like this: "Now Jeanie, when you get older you'll learn to use vice ... well ... responsibly, until that time you'll just have to wait. Sorry honey."

Being adult today pretty well centers around what we used to call vises. Immorality!

Vice in our world is the starting increment of adulthood. Vice becomes legal at the magical age of eighteen.

It seems too much to ask for us Christian adults to display a maturity as a virtuous end. Adult behavior that would highlight wisdom, character, honor, loyalty, humility ... Oh and lest I forget, modesty. (The other day I saw a fourteen year old girl in a bathing suit that would make a stripper blush!)

I can hear the kids now ...

Wow! I'm eighteen and now I can open the adult door and enjoy all the vices! Life become the trinity of alcohol, sex and party.

We're doing a great job with our kids!

ME, MYSELF AND I

2011-05-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

Well, my body and I got of to a bad start this morning. I thought we were going out for exercise but my body simply said "No!"

From time to time my body and I have our disagreements. The direction we take tends to be a matter of who out shouts who. My body seemed more determined then ever.

It seems the more years we spend together, the more diverse our thinking. Sometimes I think we're becoming strangers.

"What do you mean no?" I asked my body. "Well," my body replied, "I'm simply too old to do what you're asking of me! Von it's time you realized how dumb this is! You don't see other 80 year olds out exercising, walking in a cold wind, doing push-ups and chin-ups; that's just plain nuts!" My body continued on it's tirade passionately pushing the virtues of a more sedentary goal.

"For example, look around at other 80 year old bodies, they're sitting in a big warm comfortable chair watching T. V. and munching chips. That's what I want to do at this age. It's only reasonable"

"Von, think retirement!"

My body had a point, and I was duly tempted. "What's wrong with doing what everyone else does? Give in. Give up!

But TA-DA!!!

I Pushed my feelings aside, and countered with a reasonable argument. "Hey body! Look at what these "couch potatoes" look like. Bald, bloated and fat! Contented and constipated!"

I won.

I followed my body out the door and we did our thing!

DOES THIS PHOTO ELICIT PITY:

2011-05-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

The older I get the more I think of pity or compassion as an emotion that is gradually fading away from our Christian ethic. I wonder if this is true or maybe just my observation. Is compassion or the willingness to pity seen as a weakness or maybe an irresponsible emotion in the black and white world of reality?

Maybe it's that the ability or tendency to pity tends to makes me vulnerable to an action or giving I really don't want to commit to?

Can the ability to emote become calloused in time or because of experience? Am I protecting myself against compassion ... against pity? Have I, in time, developed a defense mechanism against pity and the obligation it may present?

I struggle with compassion, it doesn't come natural to me.

We have to admit Jesus, our example, was quite literally "moved" by His compassion. That is His actions were often the result of pitying.

His teaching on the Good Samaritan highlighted a lesson on compassion to a small crowd of pitiless religious professionals; the smart Academics of the day.

Would it be right to expect true Christians to have pity and compassion as their strength rather than their weakness?

Compassion; the God given ability to empathize with the conditions or feelings of others less fortunate.

Compassion; love in action. True compassion demands some kind of involvement.

Is compassion missing as the driving force of ministry? Should compassion be the heart of ministry? Is it possible to have a calling initiated and driven by compassion for others?

*Today, as in most days I'll drive past beggars. In my world there are many. I drive past the homeless without a concern; I in my comfortable car give them but a glance, looking at them simply as everyday objects; a visible part of a society gone wrong! I don't want to connect with their pitiable condition; for which I really can do nothing about? I can use one of a hundred good excuses ... responsible reasons why I can't afford them pity or give them a prayer ... or a coin.

By driving past them I am doing nothing wrong; but then I'm not doing right either.

It's a fact that there is someone watching from above ... and He's keeping score.

The Book of Life is but one of many in God's Library!

The History of my life and your life is being written each day.

*To be honest, above my sun visor in my SUV, I have a pocket full of dollar bills, just for such occasions.

LEARNING TO LIVE WITH VIOLENCE!

2011-05-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

Common sense says: Kids raised in violence, whether actual violence or vicarious violence ... will perpetrate violence. Violent scenarios, violent environments become an attractive and exciting world for disoriented male children.

A perverted world.

Three powerful influencing screens are responsible for much of this; TV screen, big screen and tiny screens; all packaged to sell violence to eager young male buyers. Violent, exciting and attractive male actors and man images have become vicarious mentors to these confused “man hungry” young boys.

Most boys will grow up to be male ... too few will become men.

Boys that are born to be true men, often end up as angry and disillusioned male primates ... candidates for escaping reality.

This kind of kid grows up to become a smart and dangerous social predator.

To this predator violence ends up becoming a purpose ending in an exciting, though short, way of life.

Add dangerous drugs to the equation and you have an intense violence that is hungry for blood, anguish and pain.

Death ultimately becomes a high! And the 'trinity-creed' below becomes a reality!

As one good looking teen told me ... "I'm going to live fast, die young and make a good looking corpse!"

Unfortunately, society, instead of changing this scenario, has for the most part decided to live with it ... too many single moms unwittingly donate their son's to the Devil and his short term agenda. Heartbreak indeed.

Leave your kid alone, looking and interacting with the screen long enough and ... to know what your kid is looking at is to know what he's becoming.

YES SIR!

2011-05-10T22:30:00.000-07:00

This evening it was interesting watching our President as he inspected the Texas border. He really got close to Mexico! Here is our President taking a look for himself to see, indeed, how effective his border guards are. Meeting with the top officers and supervisors, asking good questions, "checking with the troops!" "Petting the dogs."

"I want to see for myself!" "I want to know what's going on!"

I well remember when I was in the Army how the inspections went. Oh yeah! Whenever a general or big-wig would come to see the troops, we would get the word in advance and we would start to work getting everything clean and shiny, I mean CLEAN and I mean SHINY! Then, when the big occasion came, we would stand in formation ... waiting for the big-wig's to inspect us. Some times it would be a General, or sometimes a Senator or Congressman.

They would walk down the line of us soldiers and from time to time question us about the conditions we were living under. "Soldier, how is the food here?" "GREAT SIR!"

Could we tell them the truth? No way! Of course not! Not with our Sergeant looking at us.

Did our dear Leaders see the truth? No. Did they hear the truth? No. Did they see what they wanted? Yes. Did they hear what they wanted? Of course.

Just another expensive exercise in political futility. Just a game. Even us lowly soldiers knew the game ... and we fall for it every time!

WHAT WE NEVER TALK ABOUT!

2011-04-30T22:30:00.000-07:00

There are three things my Christian brothers and sisters don't seem to know. Three important facts: (1) That Satan is the god of this world (I JOHN 5:19) & (EPH 2:2), (2) that we have an enemy and (3) we're in a war (EPH 6:12). Blissfully ignorant? Intentionally ignorant? ... I don't know, but ignorant we are!

It seems the American saints never talk about Satan or his strategy. Books or preaching; I don't hear of our enemy or warfare. If I didn't know my Bible and work the darkness, I guess I would be blissfully ignorant too.

The Bible tells us of Satan, his position and strategies. In fact our Bible warns us against being ignorant of his strategies (II COR 2 :11). Be alert the Bible says ... (I PET 5:8) ... Pray against Satan? I don't think so.

For some reason we keep this Biblical doctrine under wraps. I wonder what the reason could be? Speaking of the Devil, his demons, and demon possession just isn't ... well, politically correct for the church today.

We don't want to be seen as extremist ... yet few there are who are “extreme” on this subject.

One day when I Was talking with a “man of God”, I mentioned Satan ... he tensed up saying he felt that we shouldn't give the Devil “free advertisement.”

In the old days we used to sing a hymn, “Onward Christian Soldiers.” I tended to keep mum on that one ... it was just another song we shouldn't sing unless we believed it. Indeed where are the soldiers? Where is the enemy? Where is the war? What is our weapon? Just another inside the church-hymn.

It's apparent Satan has a different strategy for different cultures. The strategy he is using in affluent America is working well.

Like the hypnotic cobra, he has hypnotized the church.

We are kept in ignorance.

What have you heard about the war lately?

A ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD'S DOCTRINE ON PAPER

2011-04-27T22:30:00.001-07:00

Monday morning I was sitting on Robert's bed at the orphanage and he was showing me some of his drawings.

He pulled out a page and gave it to me.

I was fascinated as I studied it. Robert is nine years old, and for some reason decided to visualize the doctrine he was taught. I studied the drawing as he watched, asking questions.

The large hand on the upper right is our Lord's nail scarred and bleeding hand with blood dripping down. Little things with wings flying up toward His hand are actually Christians dying and brought up into heaven.

Climbing the hard path up the right side of the mountains were pilgrims climbing some real hard areas. Christian pilgrims haven't an easy road.

Under the large mountain are the two different roads taking you two different directions. Decision please.

On the left are those non-believers on their pilgrimage trying to find God, they were met by lightening, fire and brimstone ... finally ending in flaming hell.

On the top of the mountain is glory of God and the cross of Jesus Christ.

~ Roberto

WALKING THE DOG

2011-04-19T22:30:00.000-07:00

Every time I see someone walking their dog or dogs, I feel happy inside. Why? One or two more adults that have opted to have a pet rather than a child. Cheers! They'll love their little fuzzy four legged being they can hold, love and spoil rotten.

A little ball of loveable fuzz that will remain a controllable pet and never grow up to be a dysfunctional adult. Kid's need parenting, pets don't. Kids take a long haul commitment, pets don't. Kids need a mature family of two ... pets don't.

Most of us don't connect social problems, drugs, crime and killing ... with poor parenting of children who grow up to be problems ... almost as if they were two entirely different things. As adults today become more selfish and dysfunctional, I'm for them having more pets!

If a pet lover would rather pick up poop from their dog than change the pampers of a child ... so be it.

Buy a dog, man's best friend.

Pets are loyal and forgiving. They don't say "no!" nor do they sass you. Pets will never cause a scandal and they eat less food; pets medical services, though high, are nothing compared to a child's medical bills. It makes sense.

Coming from a lifetime working with boys here and in Mexico has convinced me that more adult couples should invest their love in pets rather then create babies they are unable or unwilling to parent properly.

Many making an eternal mistake!

It's easy to make a baby but it's quite another thing raising the child to become a healthy mature man or woman ... in Tijuana, I see more than my share of hungry unloved dogs running the streets, the heartbreak compounds when I also see hungry, unloved kids running those same streets.

Yesterday I asked a street boy about his mother ... he looked at me and said "I don't even remember her."

Bastards are the result of a man and woman simply breeding.

I used to think breeding was a term used for animals and limited to animals. The world in which I work has proven otherwise, breeding continues to grow and cause pain in the human race.

Suggestion, and I'm serious.

If you don't want to pay the price of being a good parent. Buy a doll, or get a pet, but, for the baby's sake, don't bring another human life, an eternal life, in this world unless you both know how to raise it right.

Tip! Good parenting is learned, not by books but by being successfully parented, if you don't know how to parent, in my opinion, don't try! We don't need another adult problem.

COMPASSION AND RESPONSIBILITY

2011-04-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

There is an ongoing struggle in the true Christian's life between being "responsible" (The mind.) and showing compassion (The heart.)

Well, maybe I should say, there should be a struggle; in most cases there is no room for struggle in our formally educated minds ... reason and education trump compassion, as a deciding factor.

Compassion, mercy, grace ... not that important. You wouldn't want to base your life's decision on that weak trinity.

Being responsible is thinking wisely; making wise decisions. Compassion, on the other hand is but an emotion. A dangerous emotion, An uncomfortable emotion. Let's be responsible!

I've heard too much of this secular "responsible" babble.

At a prayer breakfast, I was talking about our ministry to the poor in Mexico with a Christian leader of my church. "Von, why do you go down and feed those people? They'll just multiply like rats." To this "man of god" ,I was wasting time and money ... I wasn't acting responsible.

I was visiting a missionary friend of mine in Bolivia working with a jungle tribe. This tribe was the last of it's kind. There were only seven people left. Through the years the rest of the tribe died off by warfare and disease. This missionary family was willing to invest ten or more years to learn the language and give these people the Gospel and a Bible and prepare them for the dominant society. When a Christian friend of mine listened to me talk of this man and his calling. He said, von, what a waste! Seven people? When he could stay here and preach to hundreds or thousands? My Christian brother saw this man as irresponsible in his decision.

We just can't conceive that God has a very different approach to reaching and converting man. He has a different scale and different increments. He has a different "method" ... His method is successful with permanent results. His way can't be improved.

I've heard all my life ... be responsible, make responsible decisions. Get your education first, be responsible. "Von, you're too big for your little church, move up, reach more people. ". .that would be seen as responsible Christian counsel

A missionary pastor in my church once said "von, we need to invest in church planters. Only missionaries that plant churches." What about missionaries who are called by almighty God to other missionary ministries? I.e. Sorry, God, we just don't see your Divine call as worthy of our support!

Let the man you called get his support somewhere else!

I see today's Christian's tending to make judgments based on secular judgments. Using secular increments. Being politically correct. That's today's 'responsible' way.

There is an apparent struggle with some, very few ... of us. A secular balance vs. a Divine balance ...

I note in the Gospels that Jesus seemed to be guided by love, mercy and compassion. He didn't seem to act responsibly. I see Him as not very efficient either, but always effective.

As I see it, Jesus acted on compassion.

My call, was a call of compassion! And that may not seem responsible to some, but so be it! My call is from God not man ... even well meaning "responsible" brothers.

If I am to err, and err I will, may it be on the side of Compassion and forgiveness.

DRIVING TIJUANA AT NIGHT

2011-04-12T00:30:00.000-07:00

Every now and then there will be a mayhem Tijuana traffic knot. (A Mexican stand-off!) Night time vehicular mayhem formed by a sudden intersection created by two separate two lane roads (= four lanes) narrowing into two lanes.

It's tired time ... Night time; no signs, no lights, no love, no cops ... and no rules!

We all just want to get across the border and back home.

Yep! A "Mexican Standoff" where nice guys don't win.

Last night I had to drive into and thru one of those Tijuana Traffic Knots, and it wasn't pretty.

Four lanes of cars slowly and miraculously cramming into two lanes forming a constantly changing knot of eight or nine crafty and bullish drivers hitting at you from every side ... this forms the heart of the cram. Each determined driver is pushing the limit. Many of us actually working within a three or four inch margin.

We're all trying to gain and maintain a permanent place in line.

Cars with their side mirrors pulled in indicate an unusual determination.

A heavy old car and bluff is the name of the game. The stuff these winners are made of.

Add some alcohol and drugs and you can have a rather explosive traffic cocktail.

Timid losers finally pull off and go back thirty cars to start again, dreading the growing cram intersection ahead.

We could call this, automotive poker ... however there are no rules to this game.

An interesting point you learn fast, no eye contact with any other driver. You slowly follow, within inches, the vehicle in front of you ... letting no one even think of cutting in. All of us slowly and deliberately forging ahead.

I'll be honest, a nighttime challenge like this for an eighty year old can stress this old man out. Each Tijuana traffic jam knotted like this, leaves you sweating ... for there is no mercy!

SKATEBOARDS

2011-04-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

America has had a ongoing thing about skateboards or skate carts for years. Today's skateboards are just that, a small board with four plastic wheels. In our day skateboards were just for kids. It's a little different now; today's skateboards are for kids forty and under.

Seems strange to me to see grown men zooming down the street on their skateboard. Whoopee!

What's so great about skateboards? Us old-timers invented them years ago.

All of us kids had 'em. We made our own ... a lot cheaper that way. Materials needed: One old fashioned metal clamp-on skate, a two and a half foot wooden 2X4, a small wooden fruit box ... some nails. And a lot of vision.

Our skateboards were rather simple to make. One half of a metal clamp-on skate with it's two metal wheels was nailed to the front of the board and the other two wheels were nailed to the back. On the front of our wooden skateboard we nailed the wooden box and on top of the box we nailed two handles. Stand with one foot on the board, lean over and take hold of the handles then scoot down the sidewalk with other foot. To steer we just leaned one way or the other.

Yeah, we were proud of our skateboards. I even had brakes on mine.

Of course our skateboards were different than today's slick agile and quiet boards, ours were more of a one-leg power vehicle built for our neighborhood sidewalk freeway system. They were loud and noisy ... just the way boys like them.

We shared our tools as money was tight.

We put everything we had into these skateboards; our money, our skill and even our reputation! Yep, we made it ourselves ... and you could be sure, it was made In The USA!

DIGNITY

2011-04-01T22:30:00.000-07:00

Driving in Tijuana I slowed down in back of a line of slowing cars, then came to a stop. As I was waiting, a rather disheveled man approached me ... he was selling "chiclets" little boxes of gums.

I rolled down my window, grabbed a dollar from my sun visor and handed it to the man. Lots of beggars "selling" chiclets. This man appeared to me to be another beggar.

He took my dollar ... and offered me the gum.

I said "no thanks" and smiled. He said, "No, take it. It's yours." I replied, "No, I don't need any gum."

He said," Well, you bought it, it's yours." I smiled and said "thanks" and took the package of gums, "I'll give them to my kids."

He smiled, and went on to the next car to sell his gum.

I took this man to be just another beggar; he was really a salesman. When I realized I was wrong, I smiled and took the gums.

This man was poor indeed, but he was a salesman with his small micro-business. He had his dignity ... and who was I to strip him of that?

THE BOOGIE-MAN OF DARK!

2011-03-29T22:30:00.000-07:00

If your house is well lit; on a dark night, walk over to your door to the outside, and open it.

Look closely and you will observe a profound truth.

When you opened the door to the outside, the light shined right out the doorway ... the darkness didn't prevent the light from shining out, nor did the darkness project back into your room.

Why?

Light trumps dark! Light always trumps dark.

Dark has no power. Light has power, light is power, light is energy.

Darkness is simply a paper tiger, by that I mean dark is simply the absence of light.

Light reveals truth while darkness covers truth. We, by our nature, prefer the dark. (John 3:19)

Light and darkness cannot co-exist at the same time, light dominates!

The standard of truth is comfortably hidden by darkness.

I'm called to be a light. (Matt.5:14) I'm called to shine in darkness. By my new nature I'm called to illuminate ... I do not fear darkness because it holds no power over me.

Conversely

Those in darkness are held bondage to their very darkness because they can't see truth. To them, light, like the truth it reveals, is painful and costly ... and they can say, "Walk in the dark as I am in the dark and we will have fellowship one with the other!"

The purpose of light is to conquer dark as ... We walk in The Light. (I John 1:5-7)

THE LISTERINE BOTTLE

2011-03-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-10T22:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-03-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

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?

2011-03-04T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-28T14:00:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-02-24T21:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-22T19:30:00.000-08:00

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)

2011-02-17T20:00:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-02-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-07T19:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-05T22:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-01-31T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-25T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-22T22:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-01-12T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-07T12:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-29T22:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-22T20:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-12-20T21:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-15T21:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-12T16:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-08T22:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-11-28T21:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-18T21:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-11-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-11-07T18:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-27T21:00:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-24T15:30:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-16T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-09T21:30:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-10-04T21:00:00.000-07:00

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."