I don’t know what I was thinking. Mother’s Day was coming up and I wanted to get something really special for Carol, my wonderful bride of only a few years. And now a Mom, with our first little girl. Housework was a big part of her life, her lot in life, you might say. And she often mentioned how poorly the vacuum cleaner was working. So I decided that it was the perfect opportunity. An opportunity to show her the magnitude of my love. Not just something ordinary and mundane. Not something that would wilt and be thrown out onto the compost pile in a week or two. Not some chocolates that would soon be eaten up and have nothing left to remind her of my nice, loving gift. Instead, a new vacuum cleaner. Besides, I could kill two birds with one stone, turning a necessary purchase into a “gift”.
I was sure she would be elated. Her work would be made easier. Her wonderful husband splurging to get her this fine piece of machinery. I could hardly wait until Sunday to give it to her.
Surprise! Oh, not hers, but my own surprise. Dismay. She wasn’t nearly as overjoyed as I had anticipated. In fact, there was not even a smile, not even a smirky little fake smile. No big hearted gratitude. Merely a curt, obligatory thank you. I still didn’t get it. Not until a few days later when she had the courage to explain to me how she felt. A vacuum cleaner, as a gift, meant to her that my love was conditioned upon her worth as a housekeeper. There was no love or romance expressed in receiving a vacuum cleaner.
I really don’t know what I was thinking. I got her some belated flowers, or candy, or something. But it wasn’t the same. The damage was done.
Carol is not even my mom. But she is the mother of my children. An incredible mother, I might add. So now I try to give her a gift expressive of my true love. Flowers, for one. My son Jon always gives her flowers, too. He didn’t learn it from me. He’s smarter than his Dad. Not just flowers or chocolates, though, but also a card. Always a card that says, “Love always!”
In the children’s book, Sidney and Norman, by Phil Vischer, two pigs are invited to Elm Street for a meeting with God. The one pig, who is neat, fastidious, and highly disciplined is told by God, “I love you. But you must stop being so critical of everyone else who can’t perform like you do.” The other pig is ashamed to meet God, but musters up courage and overcomes his fear. And this is what God had to say to him. “First of all, I want to tell you that I love you. Secondly, I want to tell you again, I love you. And thirdly," after a long pause, "I love you.”
There is power in love. And vacuum cleaners, I now know, have nothing to do with love!
By love alone God changes our hearts. He told me that one time, and I believe it.
May 7, 2010
May 1, 2010
Grand Canyon
There’s nothing like it. The grandeur, the majesty, the panorama, the colors of the Grand Canyon. Unless, that is, you decide to hike down to the bottom instead of just stand on the rim and take it all in. And that’s exactly what we decided to do.
“Could you please be quiet!” The other campers down in the bottom of the Grand Canyon were very upset at us for making our dinner. We got into Phantom Ranch about 6:00 in the evening and did not understand their reaction. Climbing down the Kaibab trail took only three hours so we left from Phoenix in time to hit the trail by 2:00. The next day we would climb out of the canyon on the Bright Angel trail. We planned it such so we could enjoy different scenery. And being a much longer trail it was therefore less steep.
We were novices at hiking the canyon, we found out. Carol and I had only been married six months. My younger brother, Don, went along, too. He is quite the venturous soul, having rafted the Canyon several times since. But this was our very first venture to the bottom of the Canyon. I have never been into serious climbs, like Mount Hood, or hiking the Pacific Crest trail. So I was unaware of the difficulty of the hike that was to be our fate the next day.
When we woke up at sunrise the next morning we looked around the campsite. For sure, we didn’t want to make any noise and bother anybody again. But we were the only people left. Everyone was gone. Long gone. On their way up the canyon. Well before sunrise. Then it made sense why they were so upset at us the night before, making noise getting our dinner ready while they were desperately trying to get to sleep.
Climbing out of the Grand Canyon is about a mile vertical climb. That’s a greater climb than Mt Hood, from Timberline to the summit. No ice to contend with, though, just dry hot sun, sweat and dirt. The trail was nearly twelve miles of switchbacks -- switchback after switchback. So much for the scenery. By the middle of the afternoon we were worried whether we would make it out before dark.
We enjoyed a nice dinner that evening, in an air-conditioned restaurant with a wonderful view of the canyon, lit up by moonlight. It was amazing how our two day adventure made that view far more meaningful than ever before. We marveled at what we had accomplished. Despite our ignorance and lack of planning, it was a conquest, never to be forgotten.
“I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me…. Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14)
“Could you please be quiet!” The other campers down in the bottom of the Grand Canyon were very upset at us for making our dinner. We got into Phantom Ranch about 6:00 in the evening and did not understand their reaction. Climbing down the Kaibab trail took only three hours so we left from Phoenix in time to hit the trail by 2:00. The next day we would climb out of the canyon on the Bright Angel trail. We planned it such so we could enjoy different scenery. And being a much longer trail it was therefore less steep.
We were novices at hiking the canyon, we found out. Carol and I had only been married six months. My younger brother, Don, went along, too. He is quite the venturous soul, having rafted the Canyon several times since. But this was our very first venture to the bottom of the Canyon. I have never been into serious climbs, like Mount Hood, or hiking the Pacific Crest trail. So I was unaware of the difficulty of the hike that was to be our fate the next day.
When we woke up at sunrise the next morning we looked around the campsite. For sure, we didn’t want to make any noise and bother anybody again. But we were the only people left. Everyone was gone. Long gone. On their way up the canyon. Well before sunrise. Then it made sense why they were so upset at us the night before, making noise getting our dinner ready while they were desperately trying to get to sleep.
Climbing out of the Grand Canyon is about a mile vertical climb. That’s a greater climb than Mt Hood, from Timberline to the summit. No ice to contend with, though, just dry hot sun, sweat and dirt. The trail was nearly twelve miles of switchbacks -- switchback after switchback. So much for the scenery. By the middle of the afternoon we were worried whether we would make it out before dark.
We enjoyed a nice dinner that evening, in an air-conditioned restaurant with a wonderful view of the canyon, lit up by moonlight. It was amazing how our two day adventure made that view far more meaningful than ever before. We marveled at what we had accomplished. Despite our ignorance and lack of planning, it was a conquest, never to be forgotten.
“I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me…. Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14)
April 20, 2010
Pipe Wrench
It was the highlight of my week in Hermosillo. We were sitting in a little restaurant on Saturday evening listening to Terry Lingel, the host missionary, as he told us a few stories of God’s leading him to Mexico. Terry is very unassuming, and it took quite some effort to settle the chatter of the group and draw him out. But the stories were priceless. Jewels of faith.
We were there in Hermosillo to help Terry get a bunch of work done on a house he had purchased, by God’s provision, to start up yet another orphanage. Casa de Gozo, the House of Joy. In just a few months he had twelve children, already, and a wonderful Mexican couple to direct the orphanage. We were there to install all the toilets, sinks, showers, fans, electrical, and lighting in the new dormitory part of the building. We put in “miles” of conduit and wiring, a new panel, and tied in the old part of the house with the new. The day we left, with room to grow, they received five additional children. Terry and Pedro were afraid they wouldn’t be able to cap their number at thirty, because the need was so great.
Terry grew up in Idaho. Hardly ever ventured very far. But shortly after marrying Lorie they took a vacation to California. Since they were so close they ventured on down to Mexico. That was the beginning of God’s stirring their heart. Back in Idaho he encouraged the youth pastor to consider a mission trip to Mexico with some students the next summer.
The pastor was afraid of such a venture, so Terry took him on an exploratory trip. They wanted to meet up with a pastor and makes plans for the upcoming summer. When they arrived at the church on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, there was no one there to greet them. After waiting an hour they eventually met someone from the church. They were told that the pastor would be there soon, just to wait. After another hour they asked again when the pastor might arrive. They were told that he had gone down south for a funeral and would be back in about two weeks. Just wait.
So they headed for Kino Bay, and found another church. They asked around for the pastor, and once again they were told, “just wait”. Soon, though, the pastor did arrive. They began to make plans to come down and help him with his building and his ministry that summer. In the process they had to come up with a place for the students to “live” for the time they were there. They came up with a rustic setting. But one thing missing, which they must have, was working plumbing. They asked a man of the church, an expatriate American, if he could get the restrooms up and ready by the summer. The man said that he could, if only he had a pipe wrench. There was only one pipe wrench in the entire community, and it was in big demand, and cost much to rent.
Terry had taken all his tools out of his van before leaving Idaho. He brought with him only a few emergency tools for the road. Four blocks from home, though, he stopped and turned around. He went back home and picked up one more tool to take with him on the trip. A pipe wrench. He gave it to the man. With tears in his eyes, the pastor said that the pipe wrench would be an incredible blessing for their church families, and for the community. He promised to have their little “camp” ready by summer.
Kino Bay soon became the Lingel’s new home -- site of their first church, a camp for orphans, and a base from where they helped start several orphanages, a rehab center, and several other churches.
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21)
We were there in Hermosillo to help Terry get a bunch of work done on a house he had purchased, by God’s provision, to start up yet another orphanage. Casa de Gozo, the House of Joy. In just a few months he had twelve children, already, and a wonderful Mexican couple to direct the orphanage. We were there to install all the toilets, sinks, showers, fans, electrical, and lighting in the new dormitory part of the building. We put in “miles” of conduit and wiring, a new panel, and tied in the old part of the house with the new. The day we left, with room to grow, they received five additional children. Terry and Pedro were afraid they wouldn’t be able to cap their number at thirty, because the need was so great.
Terry grew up in Idaho. Hardly ever ventured very far. But shortly after marrying Lorie they took a vacation to California. Since they were so close they ventured on down to Mexico. That was the beginning of God’s stirring their heart. Back in Idaho he encouraged the youth pastor to consider a mission trip to Mexico with some students the next summer.
The pastor was afraid of such a venture, so Terry took him on an exploratory trip. They wanted to meet up with a pastor and makes plans for the upcoming summer. When they arrived at the church on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, there was no one there to greet them. After waiting an hour they eventually met someone from the church. They were told that the pastor would be there soon, just to wait. After another hour they asked again when the pastor might arrive. They were told that he had gone down south for a funeral and would be back in about two weeks. Just wait.
So they headed for Kino Bay, and found another church. They asked around for the pastor, and once again they were told, “just wait”. Soon, though, the pastor did arrive. They began to make plans to come down and help him with his building and his ministry that summer. In the process they had to come up with a place for the students to “live” for the time they were there. They came up with a rustic setting. But one thing missing, which they must have, was working plumbing. They asked a man of the church, an expatriate American, if he could get the restrooms up and ready by the summer. The man said that he could, if only he had a pipe wrench. There was only one pipe wrench in the entire community, and it was in big demand, and cost much to rent.
Terry had taken all his tools out of his van before leaving Idaho. He brought with him only a few emergency tools for the road. Four blocks from home, though, he stopped and turned around. He went back home and picked up one more tool to take with him on the trip. A pipe wrench. He gave it to the man. With tears in his eyes, the pastor said that the pipe wrench would be an incredible blessing for their church families, and for the community. He promised to have their little “camp” ready by summer.
Kino Bay soon became the Lingel’s new home -- site of their first church, a camp for orphans, and a base from where they helped start several orphanages, a rehab center, and several other churches.
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21)
April 16, 2010
Fireworks
The border guard took only two minutes to search, and he turned to me and said, “Sir, I’d like you to come with me.” He even threatened me, right in front of all the students – threatened to throw me in jail and impound the bus. I felt humiliated. But I also felt betrayed.
We took our youth group down to Rocky Point, on the northern tip of the Baja California. From Phoenix it was about a four hour trip that provided a couple fun days of camping and romping on the beach. One of the big attractions in going to Mexico was buying cheap fireworks. Firecrackers, bottle rockets, M-80s – big stuff, loud stuff, the kaboom kind of fireworks. Even though I warned them clearly and sternly that they could not take any of the fireworks back across the border, I knew the desire to try and sneak them in anyways. I was younger once upon a time – been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And in the old days you could get away with smuggling them out of Mexico. The American border guards didn’t really check all that thoroughly.
But things were different when I started making the annual treks as a youth pastor. The search was becoming more serious. I was having to be more careful. So I came up with a great idea. The last night of our trip I instigated an all out fireworks war. We divided into two teams. We assigned points for all sorts of things – rockets over the back defensive lines, end around attacks, big points for a rocket hitting the enemy cache and setting off a major explosion. I don’t think anyone ever did it, but it was fun trying. Mainly, it was a way to blow off all that they had left before heading home the next morning.
My mistake was to be too trusting, too naïve, and not check for fireworks myself before heading for the border. I assumed that the students would all heed my warning and obey my instructions. But that was not the case. As the border guard boarded the bus to inspect he was congenial. But I could tell quickly that he was all business, too. He went to the back of the bus and began to check through some of the luggage. It wasn’t two minutes into the inspection that he pulled out some fireworks. That’s all he needed to make his point. He came to the front of the bus and spoke clearly and loudly, so everyone could hear it. He threatened to impound the bus, detain me, and maybe throw me in jail. I was embarrassed. We went inside and he proceeded to question me. I felt so betrayed by my students that I don’t even remember what he asked or what he said. Looking back, after the fact, I realized that he was making a statement to the students as well as to me. They got all their fireworks and turned them over when we returned to the bus. He didn’t even have to inspect. And they learned from someone much more authoritative than me that rules were rules, and they were not to be broken.
I often look back at that experience and marvel at the feeling of betrayal. And I wonder what God must feel like when I so often ignore his advice and wisdom, and betray his authority. But I also remember the grace that the border guard showed to me and the students once there was a sense of repentance. It’s a good thing he didn’t just go by the law, and throw the book at us with all its punishment and consequences. It would have turned one fun trip into a hell, never to be forgotten.
“The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:20-21)
We took our youth group down to Rocky Point, on the northern tip of the Baja California. From Phoenix it was about a four hour trip that provided a couple fun days of camping and romping on the beach. One of the big attractions in going to Mexico was buying cheap fireworks. Firecrackers, bottle rockets, M-80s – big stuff, loud stuff, the kaboom kind of fireworks. Even though I warned them clearly and sternly that they could not take any of the fireworks back across the border, I knew the desire to try and sneak them in anyways. I was younger once upon a time – been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And in the old days you could get away with smuggling them out of Mexico. The American border guards didn’t really check all that thoroughly.
But things were different when I started making the annual treks as a youth pastor. The search was becoming more serious. I was having to be more careful. So I came up with a great idea. The last night of our trip I instigated an all out fireworks war. We divided into two teams. We assigned points for all sorts of things – rockets over the back defensive lines, end around attacks, big points for a rocket hitting the enemy cache and setting off a major explosion. I don’t think anyone ever did it, but it was fun trying. Mainly, it was a way to blow off all that they had left before heading home the next morning.
My mistake was to be too trusting, too naïve, and not check for fireworks myself before heading for the border. I assumed that the students would all heed my warning and obey my instructions. But that was not the case. As the border guard boarded the bus to inspect he was congenial. But I could tell quickly that he was all business, too. He went to the back of the bus and began to check through some of the luggage. It wasn’t two minutes into the inspection that he pulled out some fireworks. That’s all he needed to make his point. He came to the front of the bus and spoke clearly and loudly, so everyone could hear it. He threatened to impound the bus, detain me, and maybe throw me in jail. I was embarrassed. We went inside and he proceeded to question me. I felt so betrayed by my students that I don’t even remember what he asked or what he said. Looking back, after the fact, I realized that he was making a statement to the students as well as to me. They got all their fireworks and turned them over when we returned to the bus. He didn’t even have to inspect. And they learned from someone much more authoritative than me that rules were rules, and they were not to be broken.
I often look back at that experience and marvel at the feeling of betrayal. And I wonder what God must feel like when I so often ignore his advice and wisdom, and betray his authority. But I also remember the grace that the border guard showed to me and the students once there was a sense of repentance. It’s a good thing he didn’t just go by the law, and throw the book at us with all its punishment and consequences. It would have turned one fun trip into a hell, never to be forgotten.
“The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:20-21)
April 2, 2010
Turmoil At The Tomb
The crowd was beyond imagination. The audience at the tomb was innumerable. But we all assume that no one was there except a few guards posted by the Roman governor. The Jews were afraid someone might come to steal the body of Jesus, crucified that Friday. He hinted that he would rise again in three days. So they wanted to be sure that his determined little band of followers could not heist the body and keep that rumor growing. In reality, the few loyal followers of Jesus were devastated, alarmed, and hiding in fear. All their hopes and dreams were dashed. Utterly confused by the crucifixion, they thought their faith and trust in Jesus was for naught.
But God’s eternal plan had its vortex in those three days. All spiritual hell broke loose and all heavenly power was displayed. Despite the earthquake, the darkness, the curtain of the temple torn in two, those in Jerusalem saw only what was observable on the surface of things. The Jewish leaders thought they had put to death a false prophet, a great blasphemer. While for Jesus’ followers hope seemed dead. Along with the man they thought was Messiah.
God said at the beginning of time a truth that was fulfilled in those three days. One who would come from the seed of Eve would have his heel bruised by Satan, but that promised one would crush the head of the serpent.
Some years ago a girl whom we were helping to be set free from serious demonic possession had a particular demon manifest to her outside the high school one afternoon. He tricked her into looking at a demonic object, a sigil of sorts, and let her go on. As she continued her walk to the church to come for some counseling a snake slithered out in front of her. She stopped to watch it. Suddenly its head crushed. It exploded, she said. She told me about both things when she arrived. I told her of the prophecy of Genesis 3:15, and explained the profound image God had just shown her. Several days later a poor innocent little snake walked across my own path. Reluctantly, but with purpose, I stepped on its head and crushed it. And as I did it I spoke out loud to Satan and his spiritual realm. “Satan, you are defeated and sealed for destruction. You and all your hosts. By God’s grace you have no authority over me, or over anyone who stands against you in the name of Jesus.”
So now picture the crowds, the innumerable throngs of beings who were congregated all around the tomb. The hosts of demons, the legions of misguided and duped beings who chose allegiance to Satan. They knew the prophecies. They knew what Jesus had said. Yet they thought they had won. They thought they had put to death the Son of God. They thought that God’s eternal plan of the ages was foiled. God, they were convinced, had underestimated how effective they could be in persuading the hearts and minds of the Jewish leaders, the political figures, and the throngs of the descendants of Abraham who trusted those leaders. They had won. They were celebrating. Dancing, slapping each other on the back, congratulating. Getting drunk in their own blind glory.
But then came Sunday. All of creation had been in turmoil for two days, but the third day dawned eerily quiet. A hush fell over the legions of Satan’s minions. They watched and waited. And waited. And when God’s power broke forth in all its eternal glory it was witnessed only by this horrible throng. The tombstone moved. It wasn’t visible at first. But they heard it. It creaked and groaned as it ground, ever so slightly against the rock of the hillside. The groans grew steady and the stone began to roll. They could see it. Little by little it rolled back. They stood in silence, disbelief, and defeat. Then the unthinkable. Overwhelming dismay. Bright, glorious, alive, and victorious, Jesus walked out of the tomb. He didn’t float, he walked. He wasn’t mere spirit, he was alive. They fled. Every last one of them. Yelling, screaming, accusing, back stabbing, disgraced. Celebration turned to turmoil
On the cross Jesus said, “It is finished”. The price was paid, the blood shed, our sins forgiven, redemption accomplished. They, the host of demons, did not believe it, nor could they comprehend it. In front of the tomb Jesus declared, “It now begins. Death is conquered. Grace is real and it is full of power. Try all you want to come against my saints, now, but they are mine. And your doom is sealed.”
Turmoil at the tomb. So, so much more than what met the human eye. Power that creaked and slowly rolled a stone the distance of some five or six feet. Then the vortex of eternity was fulfilled. Jesus stepped out from the grave. Our hope, our eternal life. our forever salvation. Ours, by trust alone. Do you believe?
Savior, He can move the mountains,
My God is mighty to save, He is mighty to save
Forever, author of salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave, Jesus conquered the grave.
(from the song “Mighty to Save”, by Hillsong)
But God’s eternal plan had its vortex in those three days. All spiritual hell broke loose and all heavenly power was displayed. Despite the earthquake, the darkness, the curtain of the temple torn in two, those in Jerusalem saw only what was observable on the surface of things. The Jewish leaders thought they had put to death a false prophet, a great blasphemer. While for Jesus’ followers hope seemed dead. Along with the man they thought was Messiah.
God said at the beginning of time a truth that was fulfilled in those three days. One who would come from the seed of Eve would have his heel bruised by Satan, but that promised one would crush the head of the serpent.
Some years ago a girl whom we were helping to be set free from serious demonic possession had a particular demon manifest to her outside the high school one afternoon. He tricked her into looking at a demonic object, a sigil of sorts, and let her go on. As she continued her walk to the church to come for some counseling a snake slithered out in front of her. She stopped to watch it. Suddenly its head crushed. It exploded, she said. She told me about both things when she arrived. I told her of the prophecy of Genesis 3:15, and explained the profound image God had just shown her. Several days later a poor innocent little snake walked across my own path. Reluctantly, but with purpose, I stepped on its head and crushed it. And as I did it I spoke out loud to Satan and his spiritual realm. “Satan, you are defeated and sealed for destruction. You and all your hosts. By God’s grace you have no authority over me, or over anyone who stands against you in the name of Jesus.”
So now picture the crowds, the innumerable throngs of beings who were congregated all around the tomb. The hosts of demons, the legions of misguided and duped beings who chose allegiance to Satan. They knew the prophecies. They knew what Jesus had said. Yet they thought they had won. They thought they had put to death the Son of God. They thought that God’s eternal plan of the ages was foiled. God, they were convinced, had underestimated how effective they could be in persuading the hearts and minds of the Jewish leaders, the political figures, and the throngs of the descendants of Abraham who trusted those leaders. They had won. They were celebrating. Dancing, slapping each other on the back, congratulating. Getting drunk in their own blind glory.
But then came Sunday. All of creation had been in turmoil for two days, but the third day dawned eerily quiet. A hush fell over the legions of Satan’s minions. They watched and waited. And waited. And when God’s power broke forth in all its eternal glory it was witnessed only by this horrible throng. The tombstone moved. It wasn’t visible at first. But they heard it. It creaked and groaned as it ground, ever so slightly against the rock of the hillside. The groans grew steady and the stone began to roll. They could see it. Little by little it rolled back. They stood in silence, disbelief, and defeat. Then the unthinkable. Overwhelming dismay. Bright, glorious, alive, and victorious, Jesus walked out of the tomb. He didn’t float, he walked. He wasn’t mere spirit, he was alive. They fled. Every last one of them. Yelling, screaming, accusing, back stabbing, disgraced. Celebration turned to turmoil
On the cross Jesus said, “It is finished”. The price was paid, the blood shed, our sins forgiven, redemption accomplished. They, the host of demons, did not believe it, nor could they comprehend it. In front of the tomb Jesus declared, “It now begins. Death is conquered. Grace is real and it is full of power. Try all you want to come against my saints, now, but they are mine. And your doom is sealed.”
Turmoil at the tomb. So, so much more than what met the human eye. Power that creaked and slowly rolled a stone the distance of some five or six feet. Then the vortex of eternity was fulfilled. Jesus stepped out from the grave. Our hope, our eternal life. our forever salvation. Ours, by trust alone. Do you believe?
Savior, He can move the mountains,
My God is mighty to save, He is mighty to save
Forever, author of salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave, Jesus conquered the grave.
(from the song “Mighty to Save”, by Hillsong)
March 30, 2010
Techno Development
I can remember when my family got their first television, when I was a kid. Before that I used to sit and listen to programs on the radio. Danny Orlis stories, on Saturday mornings, were my favorite. For years and years the picture on the TV was black and white. Color TV and color movies were quite the invention. I learned to type on an electric typewriter at school. But at home we still had a manual typewriter. In my first car, a 1964 Chevy pickup, I installed the latest, greatest new sound system, an eight track tape player. A few years later it became hopelessly outdated so I updated to a cassette player, and then several more years later, a CD player. The centerpiece of my first prized home audio system was a belt-drive turntable. It played music off of a big round black vinyl disc with grooves in it.
I had been a pastor for over ten years before I got my first computer. It was so slow I would turn it on in the morning and go make a pot of coffee and come back to see if it had booted up yet. All it did for me was word processing. I suppose it could have run other programs, too, but I was slow to get on board. I don’t know that I ever got on the internet until about the turn of the millennium, when I came to work at Eagle Fern. I had heard about it, and everyone was incredibly excited about the newest revolution in techno electronics.
To make copies in the old days we used a spirit duplicator machine, or a mimeograph machine if you could afford it. The first copy machines were like an invention on par with the first printing press. Then came color copiers, fax machines, e-mail.
But, wow!! Technological development in the last ten years has been incredulous. Dial up internet went to high-speed internet, analog gave way to digital. Fiber optics move information at the speed of light. Search engines put information, images, and videos within the click of a mouse button. Much of it extremely helpful, but much of it morally destructive. Cell phones have replaced home phones. Texting has become the norm. High speed became 3G, then 4G. Laptops, wireless, skype, Ipod, Ipad, Iphone, broadband, paperless, google, high definition, self-publishing, blogs, twitter, video games, youtube, social networking, eCommerce, online banking, cloud computing – the development is like a tsunami. Not one wave, but wave after wave, after wave.
And most of us, particularly the younger generation, think that this is normal. That this is the way it’s always been. That this kind of invention and development is how the world has always progressed. Not so. This is unparalleled. And it is scary, too, if you think of all the ramifications upon our youth and young adults, all the hideous uses of this technology, all the driving forces behind this development, and all the potential for government and global control of commerce and enterprise.
Is this unparalleled development foreseen by the God of the universe? Was he aware that the incredible intelligence and creativity of the human mind, which He created, could lead humanity into a culture so dominated by electronic and technological advances? Did he foresee and foretell this very era?
Yes he did. Somewhat cryptic and ambiguous. But yes, God told us it was coming. In apocalyptic, symbolic visions, God revealed it to John, the apostle. Revelation 13:11-18 is that prophecy. And we would be wise to see it and to understand it, and to heed it. Not in fear and isolation, but in hope and in holiness.
“This calls for wisdom. If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man’s number.” (Revelation 13:18)
I had been a pastor for over ten years before I got my first computer. It was so slow I would turn it on in the morning and go make a pot of coffee and come back to see if it had booted up yet. All it did for me was word processing. I suppose it could have run other programs, too, but I was slow to get on board. I don’t know that I ever got on the internet until about the turn of the millennium, when I came to work at Eagle Fern. I had heard about it, and everyone was incredibly excited about the newest revolution in techno electronics.
To make copies in the old days we used a spirit duplicator machine, or a mimeograph machine if you could afford it. The first copy machines were like an invention on par with the first printing press. Then came color copiers, fax machines, e-mail.
But, wow!! Technological development in the last ten years has been incredulous. Dial up internet went to high-speed internet, analog gave way to digital. Fiber optics move information at the speed of light. Search engines put information, images, and videos within the click of a mouse button. Much of it extremely helpful, but much of it morally destructive. Cell phones have replaced home phones. Texting has become the norm. High speed became 3G, then 4G. Laptops, wireless, skype, Ipod, Ipad, Iphone, broadband, paperless, google, high definition, self-publishing, blogs, twitter, video games, youtube, social networking, eCommerce, online banking, cloud computing – the development is like a tsunami. Not one wave, but wave after wave, after wave.
And most of us, particularly the younger generation, think that this is normal. That this is the way it’s always been. That this kind of invention and development is how the world has always progressed. Not so. This is unparalleled. And it is scary, too, if you think of all the ramifications upon our youth and young adults, all the hideous uses of this technology, all the driving forces behind this development, and all the potential for government and global control of commerce and enterprise.
Is this unparalleled development foreseen by the God of the universe? Was he aware that the incredible intelligence and creativity of the human mind, which He created, could lead humanity into a culture so dominated by electronic and technological advances? Did he foresee and foretell this very era?
Yes he did. Somewhat cryptic and ambiguous. But yes, God told us it was coming. In apocalyptic, symbolic visions, God revealed it to John, the apostle. Revelation 13:11-18 is that prophecy. And we would be wise to see it and to understand it, and to heed it. Not in fear and isolation, but in hope and in holiness.
“This calls for wisdom. If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man’s number.” (Revelation 13:18)
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