Tag Archives: childhood

Jesus Died and it’s Good

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So it’s Maundy Thursday.  The day before Good Friday.  It seems like maybe someone chose the wrong word, Good, to describe This Friday.  If you know the story and why it happened, you’ll see why we call it Good and despite the horror of what Good Friday represents, the Why is incredibly Good.

Oh

maybe you aren’t aware that Jesus, the man who died more than 2000 years ago, (so that we, you, me, everybody, could spend eternity with God, if we choose to accept His free gift of Life) actually rose from His death to live again.  Crazy but true.  You better believe it since He’s coming back to get all of us who agree, to believe it.  We do more than Commemorate Jesus sacrifice, His death.   We actually Celebrate.  It’s a lot easier to celebrate when you know there’s a happy outcome.  Good Friday is a somber day of remembering.  Sure, we weren’t there when he died, so we don’t remember first hand.  Some of us have watched movies about what that day may have been like.  The ones I’ve seen were pretty bloody and scary.  Mean people, cruel, inflicting  horrible pain upon Jesus, perfect man, son of God, God himself.  I’m quite certain that being there would have been, well,

worse.

God made sure we had the story at our fingertips so there would be no doubt about what happened.  Jesus came, to Earth.

He walked around and taught about God, who is Love.

He was so loving and kind and offered such hope to the hopeless that those who listened, wanted to hear more and as they listened their hearts were changed and they believed that what He said was true.  They believed and then they followed. He changed them from the inside out.  There isn’t anybody who can’t understand what God wants us to know.  He created us with that God shaped hole in our hearts.  Even for people who have no trouble believing,  It’s following that we have trouble with.

So God created a perfect World and made people so they could walk and talk with Him and enjoy Him forever.  There’s nothing like the enjoyment that comes from walking and talking with God.  Oh, I know, we’ve got it coming from all sides, that God isn’t important at all.  We hear that what’s great is doing your own thing, whatever that is and however you want to do it.  Don’t believe it.  Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself for a bit and a while and then, you’ll be wondering if that’s all there is.

Anyway, even though God created us for the purpose of enjoying Him and He enjoying us,

And here’s the kicker

He created us with the freedom to choose.  He doesn’t want to make us Love Him or make us spend time with Him.  He wants us to do it because we understand how Great He is and how Good it is for us to do that, walk with Him and learn from Him and live in the shelter of His plan and His Love.

Because of Free Will, sin came

and when Sin comes, it’s bad news and Sin changed everything.  From then on, if people wanted to come close to God, they needed to bring a

Blood sacrifice

The blood sacrifice of a perfect spotless lamb.

And Just.  Like.  That.  Back at the beginning, God prepared the way for the perfect spotless Lamb to come to make things right.  To forgive sin and to

Cleanse us from all unrighteousness,

Once and For ALL, for Everybody.  It was necessary.  It was essential.  It was the perfect and only way for God to reconcile us to Him.

He sent His son to die for us.  He was The Messiah and He still is.  He came.  He lived.  He died so that we could live, forgiven and saved.  He came so we could live abundantly here and perfectly in eternity with Him, later.

He’s coming back to get us.  He didn’t tell us when that would be, but He told us we should be ready, every day and we should help other people to get ready, by telling them about Jesus and His Love for them.

A very long time ago when I was a little one living in the Preachers home, I had this urging to share Jesus with people.  I watched closely for opportunities to tell the story of God’s love.    As I reflect, however, I realize I may at times have forgotten to mention the Love Part and concentrated on the fire and brimstone part.

The little town on the prairies, in the north, way north, had just a handful of churches but in those days almost everybody went to some church or other.  Ours was down the street and around the corner and at the end of the next street and would you believe the doors stayed unlocked most of the time?  During the day, anybody could come and go as they wished and there was never trouble, as far as I knew.  Of course, on Sunday the doors were unlocked because there were only a few hours between morning and evening services.

One week when I was ten, I decided there were just too many children in our town who had no idea who Jesus really was and it was imperative that I be the one to tell them.  I made up flyers and went around to the houses where I knew there were children living and invited them to come to church.  The scheduled time was  3:30 on Sunday afternoon and I would be waiting at the open door to welcome them.  I learned that part from my dad who stood at the door until it was time for him to do his thing on the platform at the front of the little sanctuary.  Everybody knew where our church was, so I expected quite a crowd.  I saw no reason to let my parents or any other adults know about my new venture into evangelism and once our roast beef had been eaten and the dishes cleaned up, I made my way back to the little church where we had spent the morning and would in just a few hours return for the evening.  The doors were unlocked so I let myself in and turned the lights on in the basement.  It wasn’t more than a few minutes until the invitees began to arrive and before I could say Jesus Loves You, that little basement was full of four foot tall humans who had come for a good time.  If you’re thinking perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew, you are correct, but jumping in where things are more than I can chew has never stopped me and it did not stop me then.  We sang songs and coloured pictures, that I found in one of the Sunday School Rooms and gave no thought to whether I might be taking something that didn’t belong to me.  After all, this was all to advance the Kingdom of God.

And then

I preached.  Oh could I preach.  I stood up there and gave those children the scare of their lives, telling them that if they did not bow next to their chairs, immediately,  they would, before long, be heading for Hell without a hope or a prayer of ever seeing Jesus, except of course on the judgement day when He would return on His white horse.   There were a number of converts that day  who I am afraid may have had nightmares for weeks after and when I finally made my way home and told my only slightly flabbergasted parents, because after all, they had lived with me for ten years already, they suggested that perhaps I should in future let an adult or two know my plans before deciding to hold an evangelistic meeting in the church basement.  Since some of the guests at my little service actually attended our church and a few of them had fathers who served on the elders board, it is not surprising that I was directed to refrain from holding services, ever again, anywhere but in the basement of the manse.  We called it the parsonage but for the sake of you, my readers, I decided to use the more common term for the preacher’s house.

And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. Mark 16:15

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life John 3:16

We do not mourn the death of Jesus.  We are grateful for His sacrifice made so that we can live with Him forever.

Oh and Sunday is Coming!

Amen

 

 

On a Blustery Fall Day

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Oh how I love Winnie The Pooh.

Silly old Bear.

He is sadly lacking in intellect yet such a dear friend to his woodland neighbors.  The group of misfit creatures who call the Hundred Acre Wood home, offer companionship, but also kindness and counsel in good times and bad.  Interestingly, what seems to be dreadful misfortune to one, is rationally processed by others, which helps the one who is troubled to work through his feelings.  In the end, as they skip or run on their merry way, the situation seems, not so dire.

Friends are good.  A.A. Milne did a fine job of his story telling of life at Pooh Corner.  I am grateful to him for the smiles over the years.  Innocent, simple, sweet stories.

I arrived at the new classroom.  It was my first day and it was grade two.  Unfortunately, I was a month late, having just moved from a different town a province over.  Fear struck as we, my mother and I, arrived at the door and the teacher welcomed me in.  Fear is a terrible thing, especially when you are a child of seven.  

Mrs. Thompson was her name and she had a voice like none I had ever heard.  She was from England and when she introduced me to the others, each in their own place, she was kind and she smiled.

The empty desk half way down and four rows over, waited for me and 30 pairs of eyes watched as I seated myself in the attached chair.  It didn’t take long of course, for me to learn the names and begin to find my place in the society of Beaverlodge (yes, that was the name of our town) Elementary School.   Some would be my friends and some would not.  There was no such thing as bullying in those days.  At least, it wasn’t recognized.  I was bullied, from time to time.  But I know for certain I was guilty myself far too often.  Oh I didn’t hurt people, on the outside.   Just on the inside.  Their hearts.  I’m sorry now.    

I remember the days when…Oh I wish I could remember her name, would tell me to watch out because she and her friends were going to beat me up on the way home.

 I took a different route.  

Would she have hurt me?  I don’t know.  Maybe but maybe not because there were also days when she would sit next to me at story time.  Nastiness was just part of childhood.  I didn’t like it.  But I learned to be kind because I knew first hand how it felt when people were unkind.  I learned how to show empathy when new children came to our classroom.

 Even as a grownup, kindness can be elusive.  It takes effort.  Worthwhile.

Well, my first day in Mrs. Thompson’s grade two class, in the afternoon, before it was time to go home, she called us to the rug in the corner.  We sat in a circle on the floor and she sat on a chair.  There was a pile of books on the table next to the chair.  She chose one and began to read.

 I think it was my introduction to Winnie the Pooh.  

It is possible the Blustery day was imprinted on my brain because it was my first time on that rug.  Maybe because it was actually a blustery Fall day and it all just fit so well together.  Whatever the reason, I remember it fondly and have a warm feeling whenever I  hear a quote or read a sentence or see a picture of those friends from Pooh Corner.

Remembrances on a Blustery Day.

On this particular Blustery day, many years later, I am here in my kitchen in the city.  Leaves falling from trees and an oven ready to warm, impel me to bake something.  Today’s offering was Cranberry Apple Muffins.

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I made them to take to Bible Study this morning.  I got up early to mix them together and bake them and they were good and I will certainly make them again.