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by
Jared Woodard
Jared is a high school junior with interests in computers and music
The
voice calls once again. I now know who calls to me. It is the one I’ve spent
years in slavery to, the one who I did these awful things for. My master. But no
more! With my back bent under the weight of the chains, I rise to flee once
again. For one stumbling step after another I press on. The trees and
vines seem to entangle themselves in my feet, causing me to fall again and
again. Each time I rise more slowly. Exhaustion begins to take hold of me. I
cannot go much farther. But there! A break in the trees! I struggle to my feet
for one last effort. The voice is nearly upon me as I stumble from the forest
onto a desolate path.
A
barren wasteland lies before me with no chance to hide. I have no more strength
to run. I
collapse on the path there is no desire to move again. I am defeated. I raise my
head one last time, perhaps to plead for mercy. I see a light coming down the
path. My time has come.
But
wait, this is not my old master. It is a man dressed in white who radiates a
light that pierces the night around him. I raise my hand to cry for help, but I
stop myself. His face. I recognize His face. It is Him! The one I have so many
times rejected and scorned. How could He help me? After all I had done to Him? I
was His executioner; it was I who laughed as He died. It was I who spat in His
face and nailed Him to that cross. I turn my face in shames; He would never help
me, not after what I had done. Yet still He draws nearer, and kneels beside me.
I
try to pull away. My shame causes me to lower my eyes. But He takes my face in
His hands that I had scarred with the nails. He looks into my eyes with such
love, such caring, and such mercy. He begins to pick me up; the filth from my
chains is staining the white of His robes. I look into His face, the strain
evident in its features, but the look of love is still there. “Why’?” I
ask. He just smiles at me, “My dear child, it was for you I died.”
I
can
still hear the voice, although it is distant now.
It still calls to me, but it doesn’t matter any more.
I am with Him now and I
am free.
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Our friendship started in the dingy basement room which was located near the boiler room of the old high school building. It was our homeroom and all our last names started with “S”. We saw each other every morning for 3 years. One girl, Vicki, had red hair and was full of life and fun — she always reminded me of Pippi Longstocking. She became my close friend.
One day she invited me to stay the night at her home. She lived in an older section of Omaha in an upstairs apartment of a two-story house. Her dad was a blue-collar worker who carried a big lunch pail. Her mom had a sparkle in her eye and she had a younger brother. The apartment consisted of a living room, kitchen, small bathroom and one bedroom where they all four slept in separate twin size beds. Each room had sloping ceilings and small windows. They welcomed me warmly and her younger brother gave up his bed for me. I felt like I was camping out because we were all in the same room to sleep; it was a night to remember. She also spent many nights at my house, including our graduation night.
Vicki and I loved to read, sing and laugh together. I still have three books that she gave me that are now children’s classics: The Giving Tree, James and the Giant Peach and Winnie the Pooh, We had so much fun together.
In high school, I was very involved in “Campus Life” Bible Studies put on by Youth For Christ. I invited Vicki to come with me. Through this and through our friendship, Vicki surrendered her heart to Jesus Christ. She absorbed Christianity and grew spiritually by leaps. This bonded our friendship forever.
Since I attended Bible College in Omaha and Vicki worked in the city, we saw each other often during the next few years. One late August day right before my senior year, I received a phone call from Vicki’s mother. They had discovered lumps in Vicki’s arm and back. It was cancer, and it was terminal. Vicki was engaged to another good friend of mine and they moved their wedding day up to December so that he could take care of her. She died the following May. I still miss her.
Little did I know that Vicki’s life would be so short. Remembering her is like yesterday. Thankfully, I could sense God’s purpose for our friendship and I am now eternally grateful that I followed the Lord in telling her about Jesus.
I can now see that God’s purpose for my life in that homeroom reaped eternal life for Vicki. Sadly, there were other friends of mine that never heard about Him from me. What if I had not told her?
Debbie Wetzig
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DOES
GOD COMPETE IN OUR LIVES FOR OUR ATTENTION?
The
late William Cameron was minister of the largest Baptist Church in York Minster
Park Toronto, Canada. He
had grown up as a farm boy in Western Ontario. Once he had been asked why so
many ministers came from farm backgrounds, and he replied, “it was because God
had a better chance to get at us than he ever would have in the city.
I’m
sure there is much truth in that statement. In the city there are so many things
going on and whether a person takes part in many of those activities or not,
there is much hustle and bustle that demands ones time and energy.
James
Taylor, the author of a little book entitled, ”An Everyday God” writes that
God doesn’t compete for our time like television or traffic does.
Jesus
was very busy with the multitudes of people and his demanding speaking schedule
and his slow means of travel. He often took time out of his busy ministry to get
away alone or with his disciples into the desert or mountains, in a boat or in
the garden. He, of all people knew that God would not compete for attention.
The
same is true for Christian people today. We have less opportunity to hear God
speaking to us in the hectic traffic of the city or walking down a crowded
sidewalk, than we would have on a quiet country mad or on a path in the forest.
The
author makes a great observation when he says, “for the doing of God’s will
may be in the crowded walks of life, but the hearing has to be in the reflection
and solitude.”
Only
rarely does God break through the pressures of our daily lives and demand our
attention. Rather, he expects us to come to Him.
Thank
God for being willing to wait, for being there at the times when we do break
away.
It’s
for sure we Siskiyou County dwellers, who enjoy the clear skies and wide open
spaces and very few honking horns or gridlock on our highways, can’t be
excused for not being closely connected to the Lord because of the pressures of
our cities.
Praise the Lord for allowing us to live and share this wonderful place on His great Earth with folks who do find time to draw close to Him in their quiet time and as we gather as His Church.
Ken Brown
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What
do you think of when you think of the Majesty of God? If you’re like me you
come up with numerous different ideas. And most of them reflect years of flannel
graph stories from Sunday School lessons taught by little old ladies in sagging
nylons and pilgrim shoes. Or as was my case, maybe you learned at the knee of
your older sister as she led you and the three other children in the little
country church that met in the tiny school house on the corner. The simplest
process for determining the Majesty of God would be to look up in your reference
Bible all the scriptures that refer to each character of God. However, I’m
going to attempt to challenge you to look beyond the normal references to the
Majesty and Power of God.
Webster’s
Dictionary offers this definition of majesty (n): sovereign power; greatness or
splendor of quality or character; awesome wonderment. Awesome wonderment, I like
that. Think on that for just a moment. What do you think of when you ponder
awesome wonderment? It’s the essence of the mysteriousness of what God can do
for each of us through His incredible majestic grace.
I’ve
spent the better part of the last 40 years at the very least influenced by Mount
Shasta in one way or another. As a kid, I used to think the snow-covered
mountain was Alaska as we drove north on California Interstate 5. Years later, as an ornery dad, I used to tell my own kids that on
a clear winter day they could see Alaska while driving north bound Interstate 5.
When I moved my family to Yreka, and my daughters reached junior high
school, I served as a Ski Club Advisor for several years. It was in that
capacity that I really came to appreciate the awesome wonderment of Mount
Shasta. Riding a ski-lift at night under a full moon really brought out the
amazing qualities of the mountain God created as Mount Shasta. There’s a
peaceful quietness one experiences while floating through the frozen air aboard
the ski-lift as it ascends the snow covered slopes illuminated by the smile of
the moon. It
was during those quiet moments of reflection that I really began to understand
the majesty of the One who created the mountain for our enjoyment instead of the
majesty of the mountain itself.
Jesus’
“Triumphal Entry” into the city of Jerusalem is often considered a good
example of the majesty of God. In Luke 19:28-38, Jesus fulfills His plan to
serve as the ruler of His people, but His revelation is far from what the people
want of Him. They want a ruler who is powerfully forceful and shows His
vengeance on their enemies. What they got was just the opposite. Compassionate,
caring, calculatingly gracious.
The
fact that Jesus was constantly followed by throngs of physically and spiritually
thirsty people attests to his majestic qualities. They knew His strength, they
knew His goodness, and they lived along side His majesty (Luke 4:38-42).
For me, God’s true majesty is displayed in the simple yet complex
experience of the birth of a child. No experience in my life affected me more
than the birth of my children. Four times I watched as Dena courageously brought
life to our children. Four times, while helping by staying as far out of her way
or close to her side as she wished, I watched the majesty of God played out in
one of God’s most innocent expressions of His love for us. The suffering Dena
endured to bring glory and honor to God by completing His plan for the love she
and I shared was truly awesome wonderment each time. Four times I watched and
wondered, why me Lord? Why bless me with Rachel and Abby and Kyson and Kaden? In
such a simple experience, awesome wonderment.
When
God opened the window to His majesty, he did it by inviting you and me to His
birth. That’s right, His unconditional majesty first appears in His humble
beginnings in a lowly stable (Luke 2:6,7). Too often we ye all used the phrase,
“we want Jesus in the White House”, but He knew the only place we could ever
truly trust and appreciate His majesty was in that humble home of hay. What an
incredible story, the King of the universe makes His entry into our failing
world in a cow barn on the wrong side of the tracks.
Thirty
years later, there He was again, focusing His majesty on the lower end of the
social ladder. In Luke 18: 15-17, Jesus reached out majestically to the children
drawn to Him magnetically by the never-ending pull of His unconditional love.
And, when the world, through the voices of His disciples, tried to push the
littlest beneficiaries of His love away, Jesus remained steadfast in His desire
to allow each little one rest in His incredible glory. We are called to be His
littlest ones in our faith; to comfort in His unconditional love and to rest
in His glory.
Jesus
understood His majesty. It was a gift of servitude, and He lived it every day.
Look at Jesus healing the lame, their joy overshadows the Pharisees’ anger and
fear. There He is comforting the down trodden, the destitute, the despised. All
the while not allowing the whispers and the gossip mongering to influence his
purpose for coming. A purpose more important than the next Sunday service or the
next business meeting or the next association retreat. Yes, His good and perfect
purpose was to be majestic, so each of us could know Him, as He truly was, a
man, a God of awesome wonderment.
by Orlyn Cu/p
Orlyn
Gulp and his family have attended our
Church
for the past 10 years. He is a teacher at
Yreka
High School and is the Head Coach for
Football
& Track.