Parenting

Parenting - Audio/Visual

Parenting

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. (Prov. 22:6)

A gardener gave a seedling to his friend, an orange grower. "Consider this a gift," he said. An orchestra conductor presented a package to her favorite cellist. "Just because I appreciate your work," she told her. An artist thanked a plumber for his neighborliness by giving him a present, too. And so the orange grower, the cellist and the plumber unwrapped their gifts.

The orange grower planted the seedling, anticipating oranges. After all, that’s what he did – he grew oranges. So this must be an orange-tree-to-be. But the seedling sprouted into bushy, clustered branches. The orange grower couldn't coax a single orange out of that plant. He gave it orange-tree fertilizer, and sprayed it with orange-tree bug spray. He even poured orange juice on the soil to encourage the seedling’s growth. But no oranges. Tomatoes, yes. But oranges, no. He felt like such a failure. The cellist empathized. She’d expected a cello. And she was close. The large package contained a musical instrument, alright – an accordion. So, she treated the accordion like a cello, setting the base on the floor, and running her bow across the keys bellowed on her lap. She made a noise, but it wasn’t music. She was less than enthused. As was the plumber. He expected a gift of wrenches and pipe tape, but he was given brushes and a palette, instead. Puzzled, he set out to repair a leaky pipe with his new tools. But a palette doesn’t open valves, and brushes don’t seal joints. So, he painted the plumbing and grumbled. The repair was pretty but ineffective.

The orange grower raised the tomatoes, but preferred oranges. The cellist made sounds, but not music. The plumber painted the pipe, but didn't fix it. Each assumed the gift would be what they knew rather than what the giver gave. Similarly, each year God gives millions of parents a gift, a brand-new baby. Parents tend to expect oranges, cellos and plumbing tools. Heaven tends to distribute tomatoes, accordions, and paint supplies. So moms and dads arrive at a crossroad: making their children in their own image, or releasing their children to follow their God-given identities.

As parents, we accelerate or stifle, release or repress our children's giftedness. They will spend much of their life either benefiting or recovering from our influence. And as parents, who has a greater chance of helping our children live their purpose than we do? But will we? Do we? God's Word urges us to. Listen closely to this maternity-ward reminder: "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." (Prov. 22:6) Be careful with this verse, though. Don't interpret it to mean, "If I put my kids on the right path, they'll never leave it.” Or, “If I fill them full of Scripture and Bible lessons and sermons, they may rebel, but they'll eventually return."

The proverb makes no such promise. Salvation is a work of God. Godly parents can prepare the soil and sow the seed, but God gives the increase. (1 Cor. 3:6) Show them the path? Yes. Force them to take it? No. So what does this passage teach parents? Simply put: to learn to love growing tomatoes, to appreciate the sound of an accordion, and to take art supplies to canvas, not to the sink. Stated differently, to view each child as a book, not so much as one to be written, but as one to be read.

The phrase "train up" descends from a root word meaning to develop a thirst. Hebrew midwives awakened the thirst of a newborn by dipping a finger in a bowl of crushed dates and placing it in the baby's mouth. To "train up," then, meant to awaken a thirst. Parents awaken thirst "in the way [the child] should go." And the small word "in" means "in keeping with," or "in cooperation with," suggesting that babies come with pre-programmed hard drives. The American Standard Bible margins this verse with the phrase "according to his way," and in Hebrew, the word "way" suggests "manner" or "mode." Look at the same word in Proverbs 30:18-19: “There are three things which are too wonderful for me, four which I do not understand: The way of an eagle in the sky; the way of a serpent on a rock; the way of a ship in the middle of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.” "Way" refers to a unique capacity or characteristic, whether it be an eagle, a serpent, a ship or a person. If you raise your child "in the way he should go," you attune yourself to your child's inherent characteristics and inborn distinctives.

The word "way" can also mean "bent." The psalmist used it to describe the bent, or bending of a bow: “[God] has bent His bow and made it ready.” (Ps. 7:12) “For, behold, the wicked bend the bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string to shoot in darkness at the upright in heart.” (Ps. 11:2) The archer arches the weapon, setting his aim on a target. And by the time your child is born, God has done the same. He has already "bent" your child in a certain direction. He hands you a preset bow that you secure until the day of your child’s release.

In other words, God prewired your infant. He scripted your toddler's strengths. He set your teen on a trajectory. God gave you an eighteen-year (sometimes longer) research project. So ask yourself, your spouse, and your friends: what sets this child apart? Childhood tendencies often forecast adult abilities. So, read them; discern them; affirm them; cheerlead them. For instance, eight-year-old R. G. Collingwood sat wedged between his father's bookcase and a table, reading, of all things, Kant's Theory of Ethics. He later wrote: “As I began reading it, . . . I was attacked by a strange succession of emotions. . . . I felt that the contents of this book, although I could not understand it, were somehow my business; a matter personal to myself, or rather to some future self of my own. . . . I felt as if a veil had been lifted and my destiny revealed.” His hunch proved accurate. By the time of his death in 1943, Collingwood had established himself as a distinguished philosopher with works in metaphysics, religion and aesthetics. Immanuel Kant entrances few eight-year-olds. But every eight-year-old is entranced by something.

And that "something" says something about God's intended future for your child. Look at Joseph. At seventeen, he interpreted dreams and envisioned himself a leader. (Gen. 37:2-10) As an adult he interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh, and led the nation of Egypt. (Gen. 40-41) Young shepherd-boy David displayed two strengths: fighting and music. He killed a lion and a bear (1 Sam. 17:34-37), and played the harp with skill. (16:18) What two activities dominated his adult life? Fighting and music. He killed tens of thousands in battle (29:5), and we still sing his songs. Even Jesus displayed an early bent.

Where did Joseph and Mary locate their lost twelve-year-old? "Three days later they finally discovered him in the Temple, sitting among the religious teachers, listening to them and asking questions." (Luke 2:46) Joseph the carpenter didn't find his son chilling with other carpenters, but engaged among teachers of faith and interpreters of the Torah. Did this early interest play out later in life? By all means. Even his enemies referred to him as "Rabbi." (Matt. 26:49)

Jesus, the son of a carpenter, displayed the heart of a rabbi. In fact, don’t you detect a mild rebuke in his response to his parents? "And He said to them, 'Why did you seek Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?'" (Luke 2:49) He may have been saying, "You should have seen my bent. I've been living under your roof for twelve years now. Don't you know my heart?"

Don't see your child so much as a blank slate awaiting your pen, but as a written book awaiting your study. What’s their story? What abilities come easily for them? At the age of two, master pianist Van Cliburn played a song on the piano as a result of listening to teaching in the adjacent room. His mother noticed this skill and began giving him daily piano lessons. Eventually, the little kid from Kilgore, Texas, won the First International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition in Moscow. Why? In part because a parent noticed an aptitude and helped a child develop it. Writer John Ruskin said, "Tell me what you like and I'll tell you what you are." So what do your children like? What projects capture their attention? In what topics are they delightfully lost? Numbers? Colors? Activities? Alert parents ask these questions.

They also ask about a child’s optimal learning conditions. Pine trees need different soil than oak trees. A cactus thrives in different conditions than a rosebush. What about the soil and the environment of your child? Some kids love to be noticed. Others prefer to hide in the crowd. Some relish deadlines. Others need ample preparation and help. Some do well taking tests. Others excel at a particular subject, but stumble through exams. Rush Limbaugh received a “D” in public speaking, but today he relishes speaking into a radio microphone that attracts an audience of millions. The West Point algebra entrance exam nearly excluded Omar Bradley from military life. He squeaked into the academy in the next-to-lowest group, but went on to earn the rank of a five-star general and oversee thousands of troops and millions of dollars in World War II. We each have different optimal conditions. What are your child’s?

Finally, some kids are born to lead; others are born to follow. When it comes to relationships, what phrase best describes your child? "Follow me, everyone." Or, "I'll let you know if I need some help." Maybe, "Can we do this together?" Or perhaps, "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it." Don't characterize loners as aloof, or crowd seekers as arrogant. They may just be living out their story. So find out what gives your child that satisfaction. Do they love the journey or the goal? Do they like to keep things straight or straighten things out? What thrills one person bothers another. The apostle Peter liked to keep the boat steady while Paul was prone to rock it. Childhood tendencies forecast adult abilities, and you’ve been given a book with no title – so read it. You’ve been given a CD with no cover – so listen to it. Like an island with no owner – go explore it. Resist the urge to label before you study.

What story do you read in your children? Uncommon are the parents who attempt to learn – and blessed are their children. God doesn't give parents manuscripts to write, but personalities to decode. Study your kids while you can; it’s not too late. The greatest gift you can give your children is not your riches, but revealing to them their own.

Grace,

Randy

Begin

Begin - Audio/Visual

Begin

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. (Zechariah 4:10)

World War II had utterly destroyed Germany. Citizens were desperate for supplies. Russia had reduced Berlin's buildings to skeletons, and sought to do the same to the German people. Russia blockaded food-bearing trucks, trains, and boats, and without help the city would soon starve to death. The United States and British militaries responded with the 1948 Berlin airlift. For eleven months, they airdropped tons of food to the 2.5 million West Berliners. Gail Halvorsen piloted one of those planes for the United States.

After landing in Berlin one day, the twenty-seven-year-old Halvorsen talked with thirty or so German children through a barbed-wire fence. Though hungry and needy, they neither begged nor complained. Impressed, Halvorsen reached into his pocket, produced two sticks of gum, broke them in half, and handed the pieces through the wire. "Those kids looked like they had just received a million bucks," he recounted. "They put that tiny piece of paper to their noses and smelled the aroma. They were on cloud nine. I stood there dumbfounded." Touched by their plight, Halvorsen promised to return the next day and drop more gum from his plane. But with supply flights landing every half hour, the children asked how they'd recognize him. "I'll wiggle my wings," he replied.

Halvorsen returned to Rhein-Main Air Force Base and bought gum and candy rations from his buddies. He tied the sweets to tiny handkerchief parachutes, loaded them on his C-54 and, true to his word, wiggled his wings over West Berlin. Kids in the city streets spotted their friend and ran to gather the falling candy. And with that Operation Little Vittles had begun. Momentum mounted quickly. Within three weeks the Air Force had sanctioned the crusade, and during the following months U.S. planes dropped three tons of candy on the city. Halvorsen became known as Uncle Wiggly Wings.

Do small deeds make big differences? Halvorsen thinks so. Of greater importance, Jesus does. He says: "The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants and grows into a tree where birds can come and find shelter in its branches." Jesus followed with this additional illustration: "The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast used by a woman making bread. Even though she used a large amount [three measures] of flour, the yeast permeated every part of the dough." (Matt. 13:31-33)

Original listeners caught quickly the pictures of this parable because they knew about mustard seeds and leaven lumps. Both were small: the seed the size of a freckle (it takes 750 of them to weigh just one gram, or the weight of a paperclip), and the leaven no larger than the end of your thumb. Yet a tiny mustard seed can erupt and reach for the clouds, growing to three times an average person’s height, boasting bushy branches large enough to house a homeless flock of birds. And a pinch of fermented dough can feed forty people three meals a day for several days. What begins minutely ends massively.

Maybe the early church needed this reminder. What clout does a tiny manger and a bloody cross carry in a forest of Jewish tradition and Greek philosophy? How can a backwoods movement headed up by a rural carpenter gain traction in a religious world dominated by Epicureans, Stoics and Gnostics? That’s like a kid on a skateboard entering the Daytona 500.

We, at times, fear the smallness of Jesus' story. And that fear can keep us from seed sowing. Can the Sunday school account of Jesus hold its own in the Ivy League? Do terms like "sin," "salvation," and "redemption" stand a chance against today’s humanism and relativism? Apparently they do. Where are the Romans who crucified Christ? The Epicureans who demeaned and debated Paul? The Gnostics who mocked the early church? And the great temples of Corinth? They dwarfed the infant church. Do worshipers still sacrifice to Zeus? No, but believers still sing to Jesus. God does uncommon works through common deeds.

A survivor of Hurricane Katrina recounted that as the waters rose around his house, this New Orleanian had to swim out of a window. With two children clinging to his back, the man eventually found safe refuge atop the tallest building in his neighborhood. Other people soon joined him on the roof. Eventually, a small circle of people huddled together on what would be their home for the next three days until they were rescued. After an hour on the building, the man realized he was perched on a church. He patted the rooftop and announced to the others, "We’re on holy ground, friends."

His news jogged the memory of another roof-dweller. She looked around at the area, crawled over to the steeple, hugged it and proclaimed, "My grandfather and grandmother helped build this church!" Now, do you think those grandparents ever imagined God would use their work to save their granddaughter from a flood? They surely prayed for God to use that building to save souls . . . but they couldn't have imagined he would use it to save their grandchild from a hurricane. They had no idea how God would use the work of their hands. And neither do you.

What difference do selfless deeds make? Do you ever wonder if your work makes a difference at all? I'm envisioning a believer at the crossroads – one recently impacted by God somehow. Maybe that’s you. The divine spark within is beginning to flame. Do you douse it, or fan it? Dare you dream that you can actually make a difference? God's answer would be, "Just do something and see what happens." That's what he told the citizens of ancient Jerusalem.

For sixteen years the temple of God lay in ruins. They had abandoned the work. The reason? Opposition from enemies, and indifference from neighbors. But most of all, the job simply dwarfed them. To build the first temple, Solomon needed seventy thousand carriers, eighty thousand stonecutters, thirty-three hundred foremen, and seven years. A gargantuan task. The workers must have thought, “What difference will my work make?” God's answer: "Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin." (Zech. 4:10) Begin. That’s it. Just begin. What seems small to you might be huge to someone else. Just ask Bohn Fawkes.

During World War II, he piloted a B-17. During one mission he sustained flak from Nazi anti-aircraft guns. Even though his gas tanks were hit, the plane didn’t explode, and Fawkes was able to land the plane safely.

On the morning following the raid, Fawkes asked his crew chief for the German shell. He wanted to keep a souvenir of his incredible good fortune. The crew chief explained that not just one but eleven 20 millimeter shells had been found in the gas tanks, none of which had exploded. Technicians later opened the missiles and found them devoid of an explosive charge. They were harmless and, with one exception, empty. The exception contained a carefully rolled piece of paper in the shell. On it a message had been scrawled in Czech. The note read: "This is all we can do for you now." A courageous assembly-line worker was disarming bombs and had scribbled the note. He couldn't end the war, but he could save one plane. He couldn't do everything, but he could do something. So he did what he could.

God does big things with small deeds. Against a towering giant, pebbles from a brook seem futile. But God used them to topple Goliath. Compared to the tithes of the wealthy, a widow's two coins seem puny – they were, combined, about ¼ of a penny by today’s standards. But Jesus used them to inspire us. And in contrast with sophisticated priests and powerful Roman rulers, a cross-suspended carpenter seemed nothing but a waste of life. Few mourned his death, and only a handful of friends buried his body. The people turned their attention back to the temple. And why not? What power does a buried rabbi have? We know the answer. Mustard-seed and leaven-lump power. Power to rise from the dead. Power to change history.

In the hands of God, small seeds grow into sheltering trees. Tiny leaven expands into nourishing loaves. Small deeds can change the world. So, sow the mustard seed. Bury the leaven lump. Make the call. Write the check. Organize the committee. Drop some gum from your airplane. Sixty years from now another soldier might follow your example. Chief Wiggles did. No, not Uncle Wiggly Wings of West Berlin fame, but Chief Wiggles of Iraq.

Like Halvorsen, his story begins with a child at a fence. And like the candy bomber, his work began by giving one gift. He noticed a little girl crying on the other side of a stretch of barbed wire in Baghdad. "She was obviously very poor, in her tattered old dress, totally worn out plastic flip-flops, her hair matted against her head indicating she hadn't had a bath in a long time and her skin blistered from the dirt and weather." The soldier remembered some toys in his office, so he hurried and brought the girl a toothbrush, a whistle, and a toy monkey. As he gave the gifts, "her eyes lit up with such joy." He posted this experience on his Weblog and thousands of people responded, asking where they could send gifts. Operation Give was born. And the soldier inherited Halvorsen's nick-name – “Chief Wiggles."

Moses had a staff. David had a sling. Samson had a jawbone. Rahab had a string. Mary had some ointment. Aaron had a rod. Dorcas had a needle. All were used by God. So what do you have? God inhabits the tiny seed, and empowers the tiny deed. John Wesley, the 18^th Century founder of the Methodist church said, "Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can." Don't discount the smallness of your deeds. In God’s hands, you never know how big they’ll grow.

Grace,

Randy

Pause

Pause - Audio/Visual

Pause

The apostles returned to Jesus from their ministry tour and told him all they had done and taught. Then Jesus said, “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat. (Mark 6:30-31)

Ernie Johnson, Jr. knows baseball. His father announced three decades' worth of major-league games. And in the quarter century since Ernie inherited the microphone from his dad, he’s covered six sports on three continents, voicing blowouts and nail-biters, interviewing losers and buzzer beaters. He’s now the lead television voice on Major League Baseball on TBS. But one game stands out above all the others. Not because of who played, but because of who stopped playing.

Ernie was a nine-year-old Little League shortstop. An opposing batter hit a ground rule double that bounced over the fence. Two of the outfielders scampered over the fence to retrieve the ball so the game could continue. (Apparently the league operated on a tight budget.) Both teams waited for them to return. They waited . . . and waited . . . but no one appeared. Eventually, concerned coaches finally jogged into the outfield and scaled the fence. Curious players, including Ernie, followed the coaches. They found the missing duo just a few feet beyond the fence, gloves dropped on the ground, found ball at their feet, blackberries and smiles on their faces. The two players had stepped away from the game.

How long has it been since you’ve done the same? To stay sweet-spot centered in your spiritual life, you must because the devil is determined to bump you out of your strengths. We need regular recalibrations. But who has the time? You have carpools to run; businesses to run; sales efforts to run; machines, organizations, and budgets to run. You’ve gotta run. And Jesus understands. He knew the frenzy of life. People back-to-backed his calendar with demands. But Jesus also knew how to step away from the game.

“As the sun went down that evening, people throughout the village brought sick family members to Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his hand healed every one. Many were possessed by demons; and the demons came out at his command, shouting, ‘You are the Son of God!’ But because they knew he was the Messiah, he rebuked them and refused to let them speak. Early the next morning Jesus went out to an isolated place. The crowds searched everywhere for him, and when they finally found him, they begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.’ So he continued to travel around, preaching in synagogues throughout Judea.” (Luke 4:40-44)

These words document Jesus' entry into the public arena. Having withstood the devil's wilderness temptations, and his hometown's harsh rejection, Jesus journeyed to Capernaum, where the citizens gave him a ticker-tape reception. Think John Kennedy at the 1960 Democratic National Convention. They were astonished at His teaching. (Luke 4:32) The story of what he had done spread like wildfire throughout the whole region. (v. 37) People throughout the village brought sick family members to Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his hand healed every one. (v. 40)

Could Christ have wanted anything more? Enthralled masses, just-healed believers, and thousands who would follow his lead. So Jesus . . . . Rallied a movement? Organized a leadership team? Mobilized a political action committee? No. He baffled the public-relations experts by placing the mob in the rearview mirror and ducked into a … wildlife preserve, a hidden cove, a vacant building, or a “deserted place.” And Luke 4:42 identifies the reason: "they begged him not to leave them."

People brought Jesus more than sick bodies and seeking souls. They brought him agendas. Itineraries. Unsolicited advice. The herd of humanity wanted to set Jesus's course. "Listen to us," they said. "We'll direct your steps." And they say the same to you. Just look over your shoulder. The crowd is only one step back. They seem to know more about your life than you do. Where you should work. Whom you should marry. What you should study. They’ll lead your life if you’ll allow them. But Jesus didn't. More than once he exercised crowd control.

"When Jesus saw the crowd around him, he told his followers to go to the other side of the lake." (Matt. 8:18) When the crowd ridiculed his power to raise a girl from the dead, he evicted them from the premises. "After the crowd had been thrown out of the house, Jesus went into the girl's room and took hold of her hand, and she stood up." (Matt. 9:25) After a day of teaching, "Jesus left the crowd and went into the house." (Matt. 13:36) Though surrounded by possibly twenty thousand fans, he turned away from them: "Then Jesus sent the people home." (Matt. 15:39) Christ repeatedly escaped the noise of the crowd in order to hear the voice of God.

After his forty-day pause in the wilderness, the people “… begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.’" (Luke 4:42-43) He resisted the undertow of the people by anchoring to the rock of his purpose: employing his uniqueness (to "preach in other towns, too") and to make a big deal out of God ("the Kingdom of God") everywhere he could. And aren't you glad he did? Suppose he’d heeded the crowd and set up camp in Capernaum, reasoning, "I thought the whole world was my target and the cross my destiny. But the entire town tells me to stay in Capernaum. Could all these people be wrong?" Yes, they could.

In defiance of the crowd, Jesus turned his back on the Capernaum pastorate and followed the will of God. Doing so meant leaving some sick people unhealed and some confused people untaught. He said no to good things so he could say yes to the right thing: his unique calling. Not an easy choice for anyone. So what about you? Do you sense a disconnect between your design and your daily duties? Are you neglecting your strengths? God may want you to leave your Capernaum, but you're intent on staying. Or he may want you to stay, and you're bound and determined to leave. How can you know unless you mute the crowd and meet with Jesus in a deserted place?

"Deserted" doesn’t mean desolate, just quiet. A place where you, like Jesus, can depart. "Now when it was day, He departed." (Luke 4:42) "Depart" presupposes a decision on the part of Jesus, don’t you think? "I need to get away. To think. To ponder. To rechart my course." Jesus determined the time, and selected a place. And with resolve, he pressed the pause button on his life. And your escape requires equal determination because hell hates to see you stop.

Richard Foster hit the mark when he wrote: "In contemporary society our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in 'muchness' and 'manyness,' he will rest satisfied.” Psychiatrist C. G. Jung bluntly stated, “Hurry is not of the Devil; it is the Devil."

The devil implants taximeters in our brains. We hear the relentless tick, tick, tick telling us to hurry, hurry, hurry, time is money . . . resulting in this roaring blur called the human race. But Jesus stands against the tide, countering the crescendo with these words: "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry have burdens, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28) Follow the example of Jesus, who "often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed." (Luke 5:16)

Eugene Peterson provides a healthy example here. This multi-book author and three-decade pastor knows the importance of pausing on purpose. He wrote: “Monday is my Sabbath. Nothing is scheduled for Mondays. If there are emergencies I respond, but there are surprisingly few. My wife joins me in observing the day. We make a lunch, put it in a daypack, take our binoculars and drive anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour away, to a trailhead along a river or into the mountains. Before we begin our hike my wife reads a psalm and prays. After that prayer there is no more talking – we enter into a silence that will continue for the next two or three hours, until we stop for lunch. We walk leisurely, emptying ourselves, opening ourselves to what is there: fern shapes, flower fragrance, birdsong, granite outcropping, oaks and sycamores, rain, snow, sleet, wind. . . .When the sun or our stomachs tell us it is lunch time, we break the silence with a prayer of blessing for the sandwiches and fruit, the river and the forest. We are free to talk now, sharing bird sightings, thoughts, observations, ideas – however much or little we are inclined. We return home in the middle or late afternoon, putter, do odd jobs, read. After supper I usually write family letters. That's it. No Sinai thunder. No Damascus Road illuminations. No Patmos visions. A day set apart for solitude and silence. Not-doing. Being-there. The sanctification of time.”

God rested after six days of work, and the world didn't collapse. What makes us think it will if we do? Or maybe we fear it won't. I don’t know, but follow Jesus into the desert. A thousand and one voices will scream like banana-tree monkeys telling you not to ignore them. But heed Jesus instead. Quit your work for a moment and contemplate his. Accept your Maker's invitation: "Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while." (Mark 6:31) And while you’re there, put the phone down and enjoy some blackberries.

Grace,

Randy