Special Feature

The Voice ~ Jared Woodard

MY FOREVER FRIEND ~ Debbie Wetzig

DOES GOD COMPETE IN OUR LIVES FOR OUR ATTENTION ~ Ken Brown

THE MAJESTY OF GOD ~ Orlyn Culp

 

”The Voice”

 

 by Jared Woodard

Jared is a high school junior with interests in computers and music

 

  As I awake, I find myself in a forest devoid of all comfort. The night closes in around me, almost suffocating. The trees are dark and haunting. Their bare, twisted branches seem to reach to the sky as if begging for mercy from their tormented state. A voice calls from the vacant trees; terror grips my heart. I know not who calls to me, but the voice’s chilling tone tells me it has only malevolent intentions. I must get away. I stand to my feet and begin to run.  Before my second step I fall to the ground. I am chained!  Chains encircle my hands, feet and body. Chains cover the entirety of my form. Etched into the shackles are the actions of my life, and I turn my face from the memory of those awful deeds.

 

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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MY FOREVER FRIEND

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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THE MAJESTY OF GOD

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.

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