Keeper of the Bucket

Train up a child in the way he should go,
Even when he is old he will not depart form it.
Prov 22:6

My parents put a love of fishing and other water sports in me from an early age. This picture shows just how serious I was about fishing at about age 4. My older cousin Keith and older brother Jeff insisted that I fish in the spring house at my cousin’s Pennsylvania farm because I would catch something big. Look at those two...tricking the poor little hatter.

About the same time, (looks like the late 1950's) my dad told me that he wanted me to be the “keeper of the minnow bucket” so they wouldn’t escape. I guarded it with full abandon. I was too young to really remember these incidents, but it has been fun laughing at these pictures over the years when we pull out the slide projector.

My sister, brother, and I were blessed to have parents who spent time with us in the great outdoors. All three of us love water sports in one form or another to this day. Besides fishing, we water skied, camped, and spent time boating in the gulf.

It has been a tradition we have kept up with our own families. Stephen and I started fishing when he was very young, and we just finished up our last weekend of deer season. Like my parents, I was cognizant not to force him into long periods of boredom in a boat or deer stand when he was younger, as I want him to maintain an interest in outdoor activities all his life.

It is my hope that I walk that same line in his spiritual life. I want him to have the revelation of grace and love that God has imparted to me; the recognition that Christ is indeed his Lord, and God does expect a certain lifestyle out of him, but also a recognition that “it was for freedom that Christ set us free.”

Phillip Yancey tells of his years in Bible college. Between the dress codes, strict dating, mandatory early devotions, the rigidity of religion, etc. he battled what he now refers to as the legalism of ungrace:

In a world of ungrace, structured shame has considerable power. But there is a cost, an incalculable cost: ungrace does not work in a relationship with God. I have come to see legalism in its pursuit of false purity as an elaborate scheme of grace avoidance. You can know the law by heart without knowing the heart of it.
What’s so Amazing About Grace

A friend told me one time that he forced his young son to go fishing with him every chance he could, thinking it would be a great time of bonding. He readily admits now to making several mistakes. He demanded that the young boy sit still in a boat for an entire day while they fished. What seemed like great fun to the dad was a tedious day filled with boredom for the son. My friend wisely warned me to avoid his mistakes, as the boy is now a young adult and never fishes with his dad.

Neither I nor Yancey are suggesting that anyone jerk their kids out of church! But it has become clear to me that church takes place many times in the cab of my pickup with my teenaged son. He asked if he could go to church camp this coming weekend. There will be several dynamic youth speakers and musicians present. Nice having him ask if he can go...instead of us demanding that he go. I think we are catching on to this grace thing.

Mark
Prov 17:22

Memories of Tommy

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love, give preference to one another in honor.
Romans 12:10

The full moon was a bright as the low beam on a ‘63 Volkswagon. Tommy had talked me into my first "all night" fishing trip on Lake Jordan, a major reservoir in Central Alabama. At about 2:00 AM, I mumbled that I was tuckered out, the fishing was slow and I was going to curl up on the front platform of his bass boat.

"Yer gonna miss some good ‘spots’ (spotted bass) you sissy-wimp," he drawled in his Crenshaw County accent.
"Yea, but I will be a rested sissy-wimp come daybreak when you put me on those stripers." (hybrid striped bass)

The humid summer night blanketed me like a soft cotton sheet and I was lullabied by the gentle lapping against the fiberglass hull. My celestial comfort was suddenly and seriously disrupted. My head was wearing a four pound spotted bass, still attached to Tommy’s rod, flapping fish slime all over my face. Laughing hysterically, he shouted loud enough for the full moon to hear him, "TOLD YOU THAT YOU WAS GONNA MISS SOME GOOD FISH, YOU WIMP!" It was a trick that he had played on a few other night fishing buddies I later found out.

I realized that sleeping would be a risky endeavor now, so I grabbed my rod and caught a few spots myself, eagerly awaiting the dawn. We happened to be in a secluded slough when the sun started peeking through the trees. I love those mornings when you can see the sun on one horizon and the full moon on the other! The next site I didn’t love at all.

We started to notice some human activity in a old lake home on the bluff high above the slough; it was a scrawny woman looking at us through her sliding glass window. Suddenly and without warning, (again) the ol’ gal drops her bathrobe—and it was NOT a pretty site! I remember being in utter shock, while Tommy was laughing his tail off.
"Tommy, are you seeing what I am seeing?" I asked stupidly.
"You tol’ me you wanted me to put you on to some strippers at dawn!" he shouted.
" I think that was ‘stripers’, now fire up that Evinrude and get me the heck outta here!" I pleaded.

He had warned me one day on the Alabama River to stay clear of what he referred to as "River Gals", rough females who lived on the water's edge. I didn’t believe him, so I guess he wanted to take me to a spot on Lake Jordan to show me the truth. ( A few years later, a very drunk woman in a bikini tried to swim out to my boat and wanted a ride, because she thought I was ‘cute’. Like I said, she was VERY drunk. Her mullet-headed boyfriend, cut-off jeans and Bud in hand was laughing and hollering for her to "swim faster, he's gettin' away!" And no, she did not get a boat ride, my much smaller Evinrude outboard was full throttle as I escaped out of Saugahatchee Creek.) Back to the story:

Still laughing, Tommy manned the console and headed for the canal, a long stretch of swift moving water. Within thirty minutes of daybreak, I had three of the best fresh water fights I have ever had, three 8-10 lb stripers, working with and against the swift water, which to this day causes my heart to beat faster recalling that morning. Tommy simply laughed at me; everytime I got the fish close, it would zing the drag and head for deep water. I could tell he was having more fun watching me than fishing himself.

You could not have found two more unlikely friends. Tommy, a country boy, me, an army brat. He dropped out of high school, yet I was intimidated by his intelligence. He seemed to know it too, as my high-falutin’ Master’s degree from Auburn never impressed him, being a Bama fan. On one particular trip, his Evinrude outboard blew in the middle of the Coosa River. We had enough power to limp back to the boat ramp. Instead of taking out a loan and buying a new motor like I would have done, Tommy took the motor apart piece by piece, laid it out all over the deck of his boat and had it back together within a few weeks and we were fishing again.

He could have easily been a mechanical or electrical engineer given the educational opportunities. He always had a project going; he worked constantly on ham radios and built my first computer. He had made a good living for himself and his family working for the city of Montgomery and doing radio/computer repairs on the side.

I imagine Tommy’s greatest memory with me had to be the holy grail of bass fishing, the ten pound club. I snapped these photos after he landed an 11 pound bass from a private pond that I had permission to fish. We both whooped and hollered when he landed that fish, knowing a once in a lifetime experience had just occurred. ( I have only caught one, a ten pounder.) After the photo session, Tommy said, "You got the pictures, that’s all I need."...and released that beauty. We watched silently and smiled as she disappeared into the deep.

It is with great sorrow that my earthly friendship with Tommy has also disappeared into the deep, and I am left with only memories of my good friend. About five years ago, he was taken from this world at 39 years old by a heart attack, leaving a wife, a young son and a multitude of friends. At the visitation, his wife Marie gathered herself in Annie’s embrace, as they had their own connection over the years, and wondered allowed, "What am I going to do?"

I swallowed hard and drifted over to Tommy’s casket; dressed in his Scoutmaster’s shirt and blue jeans, I had to smile. I remembered how uncomfortable he looked at his own mama’s funeral in that ill-fitting suit that was dragged out for marrying and burying. He was comfortable, at rest and at peace. Oh how I wished for one more fishing trip...maybe someday, in heaven.

Carpe diem, my friends! Seize the Day! Don't let another day pass without contacting those Tommys in your lives!

My memories of my dear friend will always be strong, and I just felt I owed him some hardcopy. I also wanted those of you reading my blog to see what a wonderful life I have been blessed with...to have encountered friends with whom I have shared...brotherly love............Mark

Last summer at the folk's place with a trophy bluegill

Longings of a Father

As they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed Him. And two blind men sitting by the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, "Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!" The crowd sternly told them to be quiet, but they cried out all the more, "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!" And Jesus stopped and called them, and said, "What do you want Me to do for you?" They said to Him, "Lord, we want our eyes to be opened." Moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes; and immediately they regained their sight and followed Him.
Matt 20:29-34

I was reading today in the Gospel of Matthew and came across this passage. The scene all takes place in 6 verses, but it was the words in red that stood out. "What do you want Me to do for you?"

I wonder sometimes...as I have gotten older my prayers don’t seem to be as specific as they were in my youthful days as a believer. Some of it is maturity; I am now smart enough to know that I can’t fool God with manipulative prayers with hidden motives. ( Hiding something from God...now that’s a laugher!) But then I read a passage like this, and think of another red letter comment: "Or what man is there among you, when his son shall ask him for a loaf, will give him a stone?" It does make me pause and think, do I think that this question is addressed to me...personally?

These passages indicate one thing to me pretty clearly. God desires for us to walk in His blessing, and that it is more than just some material prosperity message meant to tickle the ears of the greedy. These passages speak of the heart of the Father and His deep love for us. That is real blessing. Yes, I do believe He is asking me...and you, that question.

I have been meditating on the story of the prodigal son lately. In my thoughts, I have found myself thinking more about the father...a father who longed to see that son come up the dirt road, looking with antic- ipation daily, sometimes squinting his eyes, wondering if that was him...Luke says that "while he (the son) was a long way off, his father saw him, and felt compassion for him, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him again and again."

It is this longing that I believe our Father has for us. As we rush about with our daily lives, do we take the time to come up the dirt road and let Him ask us: "What do you want Me to do for you?" It sounds totally illogical that we would not pause to do this. Do you think He feels this way about you? I can only conclude from the words of Jesus that He does.

Jesus had such an appointment with a real prodigal in his last hours. As Phillip Yancey tells it:

In one of his last acts before His death, Jesus forgave the thief dangling on a cross, knowing full well the thief had converted out of plain fear. That thief would never study the Bible, never attend synagogue or church, and never make amends to all those he had wronged. He simply said "Jesus remember me," and Jesus promised, "Today you will be with me in paradise." It was another shocking reminder that grace does not depend on what we have done for God but rather what God has done for us.

And here in the dust and the dirt,

O here the lilies of His love appear.
George Herbert

Mark

Prov 17:22

The Technicolor Gospel

Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these. But if God so arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith? Matt 6:28-30

More like, "O man of little faith" as I read this.

This whole portion of scripture, commonly called the Sermon on the Mount, is chocked full of such practicality for daily living that I frequently refer to it as my spiritual roadmap. It is unfortunate that I seem to forget my map reading skills at times.

Have you ever looked at the world around you...and it seems gray? Not the blackness that folks often describe during periods of deep depressive episodes, but just the dull, impersonal drabness that sometimes is the product of the multiplicity of things, the worries associated with life, stress at work, small nagging issues that you know will need to be addressed...The color in our lives subtly fades into gray as our focus turns away from Christ and His words and we "take back" the worries that we somehow think of as our possessions. It is an easy trap to fall in, yet I find that even during these times, our merciful God offers sometimes very simple solutions to our failings.

Pulling out of the driveway at my folks this past weekend, I glanced to my left and I noticed it. The world reeked of color again. I threw my truck in park, left the motor running and grabbed the camera. The Camilla bush adjacent to the porch was in full bloom and it drew me like a magnet. I snapped a few pics, previewed them and thought I had a couple of good shots. I realized when I got home just how special those few pictures that you see here were. I heard the words of Jesus, "Consider the lilies..." The gray that had veiled my eyes began to lift, the beautiful reds of the state flower, the deep greens of the foliage, with the Magnolia leaves in the background was a pure southern delight to behold.

I began to think about just how many years that particular bush had been blooming in the dead of winter to remind people of this message of Christ, "Consider the lilies". This picture of my sis has to be close to 30 years old, and it looks like she got the message. How tiny the tree was then! Note to LeeAnn: "What are you doing in that Alabama jersey? You followed your middle brother (me) to Auburn, not your older brother to Tuscaloosa! The bush obviously has had an impact on my mom; I noticed several freshly cut blooms in a vase in her kitchen Sunday.

I noticed things for the remainder of that day after I "stopped to smell the roses". The sunlight peeking through my deer blind; had I seen a deer, I probably would have done nothing except shoot furtive glances his way. My hike to the blind had commanded me to a stop to take in the softness of the winter feathertop wiregrass rustling quietly in the afternoon breeze.

Oh Lord, how many are Thy works! In wisdom Thou hast made them all; the earth is full of Thy possessions. (Ps 104:24)

I love the fact that Christ spoke to the masses in ways they could understand. He frequently used the commonality that we all share to draw analogies and parables. The use of nature permeates His teachings in the gospels and I guess that is why I am so drawn to the lessons of His creation around me. The sermon ends with this verse:

The result was that when Jesus had finished these words, the multitude were amazed at His teachings. (Matt 7:28)

Lord, please add one more amazed soul thirsting for Your grace-laden words into that multitude. And forgive me for substituting the glory of your technicolor creation with the banality of my world.

The greatest enemy of Christianity may be people who say they believe in Jesus but are no longer astonished and amazed. Jesus Christ came to rescue us from listlessness as well as lostness; He came to save us from flat souls as well as corrupted souls.
Mike Yaconelli
Dangerous Wonder

Mark

Prov 17:22

Tributaries

...apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:5

Oh...“the after the holiday blues”... usually not a real issue with me, but this year it has smacked me around a little. We lost our beloved Pepper-kitty on Christmas Eve to an unfortunate accident. It hit Annie especially hard. A few days after Christmas, Annie and I, my sweet mother in law, and my animal loving sister spent a day visiting the local shelters and found a wonderful adult cat we named Pru, who came in our house and stole all our hearts in the matter of a few days. It has helped, but losing a pet is always a tough thing.

I love my job, but I returned to some issues that I knew I had put off until after the holidays...and now I am dealing with them. Bottom line, I really haven’t felt like writing or praying or reading. With that, I declare myself....normal. We have all been there, and I have been around long enough to know that times like this don’t last forever. It changes nothing spiritually, Christ is still Lord, He loves me with an everlasting love and I know I am repeating a line from the last entry, but I found it an astoundingly simple, yet incredibly deep statement by Phillip Yancey:

There is nothing we can do to make God love us more. There is nothing we can do to make God love us less.

Recently, I was in a training session at a work retreat at the beautiful 4H Camp in Columbiana, AL. We were sitting in a cozy hexagon shaped building, constructed with natural wood siding and tall windows in each of the six sides. I was paying attention to the speaker, but as usual, the sights of nature were distracting me. I was drawn to an eyeful outside the window I had camped out by. It had rained hard that morning, one of those severe weather days that we are apt to have in the deep south with the clash of warm and cold air during the winter months. Water was gushing in a small stream, and a number of small, run-off tributaries were feeding into the stream, much like fingers leading to the palm of your hand.

Initially, the tributaries were strong, moving swiftly toward the source, where the real vitality of the water was evident. With each glance, I noticed the weakest tributary losing its strength and finally being morphed into the source, then the next one, by the time the session was over, there was one lone stream, weak and slow, leading into the main creek.

My epiphany came quickly. John the Baptist spoke a brief seven word sentence that sums up the tiny tributaries leading to the stream. “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (Jn 3:30) I am so thrilled to know that as that little trickle called my own human efforts and emotions start to run dry, they run into “the stream of God” (Ps 65:9). It is what John refers to in the book of Revelation as the “river of the water of life”.

I don’t look at John the Baptist’s astonishing sentence as something we decide to do, but I see this as God’s urging. He is gently pulling us from those singular tributaries into what Isaiah called the “rushing stream” (Is 59:19) that is teeming with the “spring of salvation” (Is 12:3). It is wonderful that He cares for us during what we refer to as dry times; it is His desire to provide us with His holy refreshment.

Lord, thank you for drawing me to the strength of Your mighty river! Yet in it we find the quiet brooks and the winding streams on our journey. And sometimes even the receding tributaries serve to remind us that we are being pulled into Your river of life.

Mark

Prov. 17:22

Pru, who I call Prudy,

watching me write my

blog. A thankful animal

rescued from a local shelter.

I highly recommend it.