a dirty, chipped cup

A DIRTY, CHIPPED CUP

                The king entered the banquet hall and surveyed the room, examining the tables, the ornate service settings that decorated some of them that took the front of the room.  They had matching, fine china, crystal stemware, golden flatware.  Fine candlestick holders held elegant tapers aglow at their centers.  “He will grace US, surely, with his touch,” beamed the settings.

                But, to the side, in the kitchen, the servants’ dining room, there were wooden bowls and spoons, stained and well-worn.  And with them were clay tankards, chipped, but useful.  Not allowed in the main hall, but arranged for the lowly to have a place during the festivities, they quietly held their place.

                Confused, aristocratic, privileged eyes followed Him as he walked past them, smiling, but focused on the hidden, forgotten side room.  And, the dirty, chipped cup was confused and astounded as He raised it, toasting the room!  “Me?!”

 

                “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.” (2Cor.4:7)

Maybe we should re-do the old ditty?

“I’m a little teacup, short and stout.

Here is my handle; just try my draught!

I’m not all that special; yes, that’s true.

But, give Him a shot; and see what He’ll do!

Jesus is a mouthful, two hundred stout.

This is the Spirit that really makes you shout!”

 

HOT TUB DEATH

HOT TUB DEATH

Help!  I need get some direction, and to make confession – while traveling recently, I stopped at a nice motel.  I checked in, unpacked, and went to the hotel spa.  The next morning, I ate my complimentary breakfast, and left with a second refill on my morning coffee.

          Now, back to the spa – there were a couple of hot tubs and adjoining saunas.  In the occupied tub were two, hot blondes, deep into each other and relaxed to the point of being asleep, seemingly.  I walked over to the empty tub, trying not to gawk in their direction, and dropped my bathrobe before stepping into the warm water.  But, the water was not warm!  It felt like it was 150 degrees, at least.  I retreated to my robe, and quietly exited.

Now the hard part – I heard on the news that two girls were found in that same hotel, dead in the spa, overcome with heat exhaustion.  What should I have done?!  When I put my foot in that water, I wondered how in the world they could not think that it was too hot.  Maybe they just sat there and got used to it?  But, it evidently sapped the life out of them.  They were smiling, and sipping something, and, they were nearly sauced.  Should I have said something?

NOT.  Just a retelling of the old frog-in-the-pot story.  Who among us would not, at the very least, call out to the two dopes and see if they would respond?  And, if not, then anyone would call 911 and/or hotel security.

I can remember when TV couples, such as Ward and June, the Cleavers, had separate, twin beds; and they wore pj’s and robes.  The “new normal” for “partners” is a single mother, with two male-lovers (read - homo’s) for the father (sperm donors) of her child?!  And, we watch such?!  Our grandparents would have boycotted the network, at best.  At worst, they would have acted like today’s liberal left.  Us, enlightened, 21^st-century moderns?  Somewhere between “don’t ask, don’t tell” and “that’s not for me, but …”

Where are we going?  IMHO, we are on the highway to Hell.  To quote the messianic prophet, “Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”  (Isa.5:20)  Can you say, “rationalize, justify, excuse, compromise, conform …”?  Whatever happened to “choose, stand, separate …”, and “reprove, rebuke, admonish …”?

The temp is rising; and, that is the “global warming” that really should be so alarming.

BLUE LIGHTS, or, “maybe it will just go away?”

BLUE LIGHTS 

or,  

“maybe it will just go away?”

                “Oh, crap!” were the words that I murmured when the blue lights came on, flashing out, for all to see, my transgression highlighting – 74 in a 55.  As the cop went by in the opposite direction, I hoped, in vain, that he was just scolding me.  I fruitlessly imagined, “maybe it will just go away…”

                You see, I was passing a log truck which was hauling tree length logs.  I was north-bound and had just merged behind him, east-bound at the four-way stop.  Headed to work, I looked at my watch, and grew impatient with his slow acceleration – 20 – 30 – 40 – 50 – finally a passing zone!  So, I peeked out; saw it was clear, and began to accelerate around – 50 – 55 – 60 – oops – over the hill ahead, an approaching car popped into view.

                Quickly, I calculated the closing gap’s distance, my speed, and the log truck’s length (including protruding logs).  But, the problem was that he was still accelerating!!  Options?  1) brake onto the left shoulder, 2) brake back into line behind the log truck (and trailing traffic), 3) stomp it.  One other unforeseen factor (?!) -- the rapidly approaching, oncoming car, in my lane, is a police car!  Forgot to factor in that one!  “but, officer, I was passing a log truck…” seemed to fall on deaf ears.

                Two days later, after a couple of phone calls, pleading for a chance to tell my version, I was presented with my options:  1) pay the ticket (worth a week’s wages at minimum wage) and go to driving school (at my expense), 2) go to court and plead my case to a judge who “only looks at the radar numbers,” or, 3) beg for mercy!  My stomach cramps were coming  back in full force.  With humility, and with meekness, I imploringly looked into the eyes of the police chief … (his eyes were as blue as those blue lights that caught my breath and made my heart skip a beat).

                In another setting, years before, the HR manager demanded, “… you have to tell me the truth…”  as I stonewalled his inquiries.  He already knew.  The “Unauthorized Access” warning  on my computer screen was recorded with time-stamp and id-stamp at corporate.  The sick feeling of capture with no hope of escape overwhelmed me.  No, one cannot really hide his transgressions nor tracks.  He wanted to hear me say it, for my own good (whether he recognized this or not).  I was stubborn, prideful, angry …

                Actually, neither of these incidents compare with another alarm, flashing light, arrest, confrontation.  It won’t be blue lights, nor a jpeg stop-sign on your monitor.  It will be a trumpet blast!  The skies will fold open, the trumpet will blare, the graves will split open, we will arise to meet Him in the air!  At that time, will you be dancing in ecstasy, or cringing in fear looking for a hole in which to hide?!  “…maybe it will just go away?”  NOT.  God have mercy on us, for we are sinners; but, you are love and mercy.

 
Matthew 24  ³⁰ And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.  ³¹ And he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other. (KJV)

1 Corinthians 15 ⁵² In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. (KJV)

PINE CONES vs. MUSHROOMS

PINE CONES vs. MUSHROOMS

                I have learned to survive (and even thrive!) on pine cones.  Plenty of them out there!  Most of the year I can find them fairly easily.  The early, green ones are sorta crunchy and chewy, even if somewhat bitter.  The later ones I find rotting on the ground are very different – soft, and full of little surprises!

                What I really do not understand is those weirdos who wander through the woods searching and looking for mushrooms.  Those weirdos have to search and dig for hours.  Don’t they know those things are poisonous?  That might explain what’s wrong with so many of them?!  Besides, it is just so much easier to pick up pine cones.

                I have talked to a few of them.  Tried to understand them; but, they are just so different.  I’ve heard them whisper about the “delicate flavor” of this shroom and the “woody bouquet” of that one.  On and on they go about ‘em.  They sit around and talk about books they read about the things.  They are always trying to get us cone-heads to try one.  Ugh!  (Frankly, I think they are smoking some of them.)  Fungus!  They are eating fungus.  I think there’s a fungal infection between their ears.

 
                Worst of all, they think we are heathen and cretans.  They are the wooses.  Real men eat cones.  They gather in their little groups and talk about shrooms and how to spread the fungus.  They send some of their people to the far corners of civilization and spread their nonsense.  They want us all under their umbrella!  They say it is for our own good.  And they make that nauseating “cream of mushroom” concoction.

                I’d like to get into a contest with them – they can throw three to my one cone.  I will leave them so bruised and bleeding that they will be drinking mushroom tea.  I just hope they do not hit me in the face with a morel.  I’m scared already, just thinking about it.

                Pine cones for me.  Us normal folks just pick up the closest cone and chomp away.  Unless, of course, it’s got shrooms growing on it.  Really, those cappers have no flavor, anyway.  Besides, who wants to eat something a frog has been squatting on?!  And, they say we are the "squirrely" ones?!