Monday Morning Music Ministry

6-28-21

Whoo, what a week. Surely it was not this way with every visitor or reader here, but it seems like everyone I know was coping with problems, challenges, and crises that are somewhere between bad and worse. Friends, myself, acquaintances.

I didn’t make a list, because I don’t have enough pencils, but… relationships; health; financial; a child in peril; employment; betrayal; bitter gossip; a neighbor child’s drowning accident; breakup of a family; addiction; clinical depression. Friends shared so many things with me, helpless but not hopeless; and I cried on a couple shoulders too.

Amazing. Maybe Satan is getting out of the lockdown too. I want to be careful not to wallow in self-pity, and, certainly, I despise “negative confession.” There were blessings this week, too – for all of us – and I, for one was refreshed and encouraged on the faculty of a (Zoom-virtual) Christian Writers Conference. Fantastic reports, the glow of fatherhood, about my son and daughter doing well in their callings.

We must always have clear eyes and remember the right priorities.

If there are times we don’t feel like praising God… let me state the truth, not if but when the times come when we don’t feel like praising God, THEN is when we must do it. Praising Him for, maybe, little and mundane things will lead us to remember greater blessings; and then we will humbly thank Him for the uncountable and unspeakable glories He has gifted us with; and – every time – we will soon enter into His courts with praise.

I have always thought that’s what that phrase means in the Bible – the “sacrifice of praise.” It does work. When you don’t feel like it, DO IT, and you will feel like it, very soon.

God’s arithmetic can be funny – naw; not funny, inscrutable. God’s ways are His own, and unknowable. And, frankly, having to seek the Everlasting Help in Times of Trouble; or trust Him when we cannot know what awaits us… keeps us on our knees, so to speak. Reaching out. Trusting. Exercising faith. Crying “Daddy!”

Here’s what I mean about His arithmetic. As I write this, called away from the closing session of the Writers Conference by the pinging-alarm on my cell phone, I learned there was a tornado warning in my town. I realized, then, I had been hearing unusual sirens. Subconsciously I must have thought that some oaf at town hall had flipped a wrong switch, but it was real. A friend a little south of me called and said there were car parts and a TV set strewn about his area; and a new warning (not watch) has been issued.

At such times we pray, “Keep me safe till the storm passes by,” literally and figuratively, right? And, as the challenges of my friends and me will pass – altogether, or slowly, or barely – it made we wonder how often do we thank God for the problems that never present themselves in the first place? Tornados that don’t touch down? Accidents that don’t happen? Relationships that don’t rupture? Hurts that don’t hurt? Hurtful gossip that is never spoken? Storms that pass by?

Well, it is next to impossible to thank God for things we don’t see in the first place.

… except when we praise Him for all things, seen and unseen; joy unspeakable, as we are promised, and full of glory.

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Click: Till the Storm Passes By

6-20-21

A guest column today by my friend Kent Kraning. I had the honor of helping him put together a book on “parenting” and particularly about the essential and precious relationships between fathers and sons. This passage is from that terrific book. Kent and his wife Robin “have been married for more than 38 years and have raised six sons; have three daughters-in-love, and 9 grand-lambs.” Together they have served in ministry most of their lives, including co-pastoring a church in Cool, California; and directing family camps and other adult conferences at Forest Home Christian Camps in the San Bernardino Mountains. Kent now serves as the Marriage Life and Senior Ministry Pastor at Friends Church Yorba Linda; and also as a Chaplain for the Orange County Fire Authority.

As Father’s Day approaches, I am reminded of a missing piece in my life. My father passed away on Palm Sunday 2020, right at the front end of the pandemic. He didn’t die of COVID 19; his heart just grew tired from working so hard to keep him alive.

However, because of the lockdowns we were unable to gather. So last week, days before Fathers Day and 14 months since he graduated to heaven, we finally held his Celebration of Life.

My father loved to tell stories. And he didn’t really care if you had already heard it. It didn’t even matter if he had told you this one before, he would tell it again because he just loved the telling. Then, once he had finished the story, he would say, “I still remember that.” We would often add, “We do too, dad.”

More than five years ago my father and I began writing a book about parenting. It is a collection of stories from our lives and the lessons we learned from them. I am grateful that we finished the book and placed a copy in his hands while he was still able to enjoy it. There is one story from the book in particular that seems to strike a chord with dads.

It is a reminder of how vital it is that we are people of our “word.” Especially when we give it to our children. We need to be people of integrity. We need to be fathers who place a high priority on our families. We need to see the high value of our children and keep our commitments to them above all else and at any cost.

Here is that story, an excerpt from our book, Dirt Grenades. I hope you enjoy it too.

My Dad grew up in Indiana. As a boy, he and his dad often went fishing and hunting. One particular day his dad, my grandpa, made plans to take him fishing in a local pond called Fennel Lake. It wasn’t the first time they had gone together. Dad loved fishing, and any day spent drowning worms with his dad was a great day.

He had been looking forward to this particular day for some time. As they were heading out the door the phone rang. Grandpa answered; it was the school. He was the principal at what is now Lima Brighton School in Howe, Indiana. Evidently something had gone wrong, and presence was requested. My dad heard Grandpa begin to argue gently but firmly with the person he later learned was the vice principal.

Dad could tell that this man needed my grandpa to go to the campus… and he could feel his best day slipping away. Then Grandpa said, “Well, you need to handle this. I made a promise to my son that I would spend this day on the lake with him, and I need to keep that promise. When I return, I will come in immediately.” Then grandpa said goodbye, closing the conversation abruptly. In a moment, my father walked out the back door with a reassuring smile from his dad who said, “Let’s get out of here before someone else calls.”

They had a great day on the water! When they returned home, Grandpa dropped Dad off and quickly headed for school. My father never knew what happened, what problems needed to be solved, or if Grandpa got in trouble for refusing to go in. All he knew was that they had a great day at the lake. I don’t know what that cost Grandpa, but my dad learned two things that day: He was more important to his dad than the job; and Grandpa was a man who would keep his word even if it cost him.

In Psalm 15:4 David says, a man of God “keeps his oath even when it hurts.” That was Grandpa, and that became my dad. In many families, a little boy and fishing would fall to second place after career and responsibilities, and become a lesson that the child must learn – understanding the importance of Dad’s job. However, to my grandfather of far greater importance was the lesson of integrity.

A child will never forget when a dad breaks his promise – no matter what the reason. My dad and my grandpa had many days of good fishing, but the day he kept his promise was one my dad would never forget.

From Dirt Grenades and Other Explosive Parenting Moments by Kent Kraning with Bob Kraning. It is available on Amazon.com at $14.99 for the paperback or $2.99 for the Kindle version. For further information regarding the content of this book or to contact the author visit www.oursixsons.com or e-mail the Kranings at hello@oursixsons.com

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Click: The Best Day of My Life

6-14-21

Do you ever have the feeling that life has slipped its moorings? Not necessarily your personal life, but the world today; tradition and stability. Sanity! Do events sometime seem out of control? Or… maybe more than “sometimes”?

Do not check your personal “check engine” light. Life has slipped its moorings.

There are times we are in charge of our own fates. And many more ways in which we are not. It has always been thus, and always will be. I am not a defeatist, nor fatally pessimistic. Mathematically, we are individuals in a big world, crowded with people. If we are, in many ways, pilgrims and strangers, or a leaf in a stream, we can feel helpless… but never should feel hopeless.

We balance – or we must balance – the secular and the sacred. This world is not our home, we believe; we are only passing through. Yet, even with the Celestial City in view, the passage can be rough. We have been warned; hard times should not surprise us.

I invite us all, having framed these thoughts, to take a long look at humankind’s history, a very long overview. Civilizations and societies have had distinctive periods, and “we” have responded in very different manners to some challenges that are very similar in nature.

In primitive times, up through pre-Modern civilizations, when societies felt helpless, they turned to superstitions, or to religious hopes, and finally to reliance on the revealed God.

In subsequent Post-Modern and Enlightenment eras, societies tended to become reliant upon “progress” and science, education and literacy.

In the Post-Christian, self-oriented, nihilistic age we now endure, societies have become reliant on “self” (instinct and appetites) and chance – which really means trusting to blind luck, the inertia of daily life, seemingly confirmed by prosperity.

The next stage, whenever we slide there, cannot bring anything but unprecedented dislocation, change, and misery. And, probably, expressions of surprise from those who ought to have known better.

Anyone can reckon that in a state of such drift, something – a nation, a movement, a philosophy – will fill the void. Secularism? Communism? A revanchist and aggressive China? It will be something malign: we cannot assume, as many observers have done, that through all history’s changes, one thing that evolves positively is a steady “progress” – a march toward ever-expanding personal freedom and profitable responsibility.

This is self-swindling nonsense. Every phase of humankind’s history, whether in small primitive pods or in continent-wide empires, has revealed a common impulse whose name is Domination.

And, I suggest, stronger than the need to dominate is humankind’s ultimate need to be dominated. It is a genetic imperative, a cultural inclination, a social excuse… a choice, even if inchoate. Of course, this trait is universally and rhetorically denied.

People look toward, and for, leaders. Humans organized under caesars and kings; they needed space, and placed rulers over themselves. When restive, they reorganized as serfs and subjects, but loving to love a sovereign. The spread of churches was quickly under control of popes, bishops, and metropolitans. In Post-Modern times, organization and centralization were behind the facades of freedom and liberty. Constitutions drafted to protect citizens from government are being used to enable government intrusion and control. America, having “thrown off the yoke” of royalty, reveals in uncountable ways – celebrity mania, hero-worship, blind trust placed in the “influential” – that we are a people eager to find a boot to place upon our heads. The internet heralded unfettered freedom, but is, rather, intrusive, agencies of spying, favoring lackeys but censoring everyone else. The web and Dark State know what we think, and tell us what to desire. Things to crave. And whom to hate.

This is not moral progress; nothing at all resembling a positive evolution toward freedom and responsibility.

We must acknowledge the mechanistic truth that humankind instinctively does not seek liberty. Subconsciously, I believe we all desire to choose, if we can, whom we will serve; not really that we be free from servanthood. Whether the boot will be velvet-covered, or full of hobnails. Like infants as they grow, actually desiring discipline and direction? Yes.

We all desire a leader; and we all need a Savior. In that way humankind has not changed over the world, over the millennia.

If it were possible, in the world’s current state of moral anarchy, toxic materialism, and social anarchy, to throw this vehicle called Western Civilization in “reverse” gear, there would be a chance. It is a slim chance, of course, because the evolution-chart indicates that human beings do not usually make choices in our own self-interest. When we don’t… we invent terms and philosophies and lies to fool ourselves that we have learned lessons.

The general solution has been available for many millennia; and specifically available for 2000 years. We know that.

The God of Judgments can seem harsh (He is not, but His judgments are; your choice). And His Son, the Creator of the Universe and Savior of your soul, softly and tenderly is calling us home.

It is returning “home,” to God’s teachings and promises; and not charging off toward new promises, philosophies, and chimeras, that will have us secure in our moorings – where we, subconsciously perhaps, have always wanted to be.

“Know today whom you will serve.”

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If you can tolerate the Alberti Bass, let Will Thompson’s old musical plea, and Jesus’, touch your heart:

Click: Come Home – Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us (Romans 8:18).

I take comfort from that promise, but I never have read it without thinking in my spirit that there is also a warning; it is consistent with Scripture to think that the “sufferings of this present time” are not the worst that we may face. We might not be close to End Times. Whether believers shall be spared the Tribulation or not, it is very possible that things in this world will get very, very, worse. Much worse.

I have been contemplating matters of sin, lying, false witness, deception, and disappointment lately. Happy thoughts, eh? Very personal to me. There is a book soon to be published about a situation much in the news in recent years. The victim in the story’s center is an unassuming Christian who stood up for his beliefs, was crushed in the mills of Political Correctness, and found his legal case in the highest courts of the land.

I reached out to him when the news first hit the fan. I proposed telling his story in a book, or ghost-writing, and he expressed interest in me. Over a couple years I flew cross-country more than once to see him and interview him; I prepared outlines and proposals; I talked to my publisher and agent (who also visited him); friends graciously hosted a dinner at which we all surveyed plans to collaborate; and countless friends, mutual friends, and church groups kept this project in prayer.

“Long story short,” as people say, he started to fade. He was on media tours and distracted, he told me. I finally said and wrote, “Jack, if you don’t want to do a book, or you want someone else to help you, I will stop bothering you.” “No, Rick,” he told me more than once. “I want to do a book, and I want you to write it.” I trust the word of a Christian brother.

Well, a book is due to be released; his book, not written by him. Nor me. And by my own publisher, of all people. In my archives are there are no notes of thanks or apologies, and I suppose I’ll wait on my own for the paperback or movie versions.

Whether I am hurt materially is immaterial to this essay. Spiritually I was wounded, I will confess… but it is what set me to thinking about this topic, these related activities of people, mentioned above. And what is the Big H?

My friend Donald Phelps, one of our generation’s greatest cultural critics and essayists, and in the great tradition of James Huneker and Whittaker Chambers, wrote a piece years ago about the “H” – hypocrisy – for an alternative magazine. He clinically but compassionately dissected the unique nature of hypocrisy, and I wish I could share it all here. In my own flailing-fish manner I would propose that lying is something we speak, but hypocrisy is something we do. They surely are not synonyms, by intention nor effect.

In a secular sense, hypocrisy probably keeps the wheels of society oiled, yet we know that “great” and “small” sins are alike to God. And yet…

Hypocrisy is a sin unlike any other sin, Donald wrote; first, because it is almost always a connective tissue, an integument, for other sins – notably envy, greed, and cowardice…. Hypocrisy represents an almost perfect symmetry of emotion and judgment, neither quite prevailing; this also sets it apart from other delinquencies… cruelty as well.

Donald visited hypocrites of drama and literature (Moliere even wrote a play called Tartuffe, the Hypocrite); of history’s many examples; and Biblical accounts, for instance the Pharisees and followers who condemned Jesus while twisting Scripture to the priority of their prejudices; and religious people who accept only a percentage (and we may think, even a great percentage) of God’s word – hypocritically. “Pick and choose” morality.

These thoughts might have value beyond my venting; and I pray they do as you read. However it all points to a major crisis in our society and our government these very days. And in the corporate church – organized religion.

I think of Joe Biden. We frequently hear evocations of “Joey, the choir boy”; Joey at the altar as a boy; and press photos of Joe crossing himself and attending mass.

Yet the public-show Catholic Biden, in one his very first acts after inauguration, approved taxpayer funding of abortion programs in the US and overseas. He reversed a Trump administration decision to ban taxpayer-funded research using the bodies of aborted children… which has long been condemned by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

In testimony from Planned Parenthood, its Dr Forrest Smith admitted that there is “no question” babies are being aborted alive so that their organs can be harvested. An associate, Perrin Larton, admitted under oath seeing aborted children with hearts still beating. She said that “once every couple of months” a baby would fall out intact during an abortion, and would then be dissected.

Pope Benedict XVI declared that a Catholic politician who would vote for abortion after being instructed and warned against it “must” be denied Communion, and if that politician still attempts to receive the Holy Eucharist, the priest must refuse him. Pope Francis confirmed this policy, declaring that Catholic politicians who support abortion should not receive Communion. As Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio, he wrote in in the “Aparecida Document”:

[W]e should… be conscious that people cannot receive Holy Communion and at the same time act or speak against the commandments, in particular when abortion, euthanasia, and other serious crimes against life and family are facilitated. This responsibility applies particularly to legislators, governors, and health professionals.

So we have the “Public Photo-Op” Joe Biden crossing himself and partaking of the sacraments, presiding over the killing of babies, and forcing us to participate through taxes. And we have the Catholic Church with its volumes of teachings on the sanctity of life, and rules for communicants, on the other side.

Question: Who is the bigger hypocrite?

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Sinners seek forgiveness; wayward evangelists and politicians sin and repent; yet the very public choice of ongoing hypocrisy unfolds on the nightly news.

Click: The Darkest Hour Is Just Before Dawn