How To Remain Positive In A Negative World

 Since this column reflects on current events and life experience, I am constantly searching the news for information.  It is a daunting task.  The headlines alone are depressing, let alone the blow-by-blow accounts of murder, theft, graft, rape, sexual abuse, prejudice, hatred, scams, suicide, mass shootings, political corruption and a looming recession.  Sometimes the news seems like a black hole that drags every ray of light into its dark abyss.  I spent some time this morning reading about the terrorist who set 12 peaceful protestors on fire with a flame thrower in Boulder, Colorado.

 It is difficult not to become a pessimist from this constant onslaught. But we must not give in.  We must resist the darkness and cling to the light.  We must not surrender to the pessimism that surrounds us.  But how do we remain optimistic in a world filled with pessimism? 

 It seems to me that we do so by looking for the moments that renew our faith in each other.  Like Carlos Alcaraz refusing to take credit for an incredible backhand against his good friend Ben Shelton at the French Open.  Instead, he confessed to the umpire he had thrown his racket at the ball, thereby surrendering the point.  Or Justin Thomas who called a one stroke penalty on himself in the RBC Heritage tournament at Hilton Head.  While removing a loose impediment he thought he saw his ball move. No one else had noticed. The former number 1 hadn’t won in over 3 years.  The penalty could have cost him the tournament. He went on to win in a playoff.

 We can remain optimistic by focusing on obscure moments like the first day of second grade reported by WIVB News in Wichita, Kansas. Eight-year-old Christian, who is African American, saw eight-year-old Conner, who is white, standing alone crying while they waited for school to open.  Quietly, Christian reached out and took Conner’s hand. Conner stopped crying and the two of them walked into their classroom together, hand-in-hand.  Conner is autistic.  

 We are surrounded by little acts of honesty and kindness; some demonstrated on the grand stage like Alcaraz and Thomas.  Others in obscure corners like Christian and Conner.   And we are sustained by a faith that overcomes darkness and despair.  Love overcomes hate. Forgiveness wipes away resentment and guilt. Resurrection conquers death.  Our God who is the Father of Lights is the source of all good things.

 The Bible is the most realistic and most optimistic book ever written. It clearly exposes man’s sin and consistently demonstrates God’s righteous redemption. It embraces the Cross with all of its pain and despair and proclaims the resurrection in all of its glory.

 The Bible always offsets our struggle with discouragement and despair with the hope of faith and the unchangeable goodness of God.  Three times the Scripture asks, “Why are you in despair O my soul? And why have you become disturbed in me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him for the help of His presence” (Psalm 42:5, 11; 43:5).

 Jesus said, “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

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Center of the Universe

 For thousands of years we assumed the earth was the center of the universe. When Galileo advanced the proposition that the earth revolved around the sun and was, in fact, only one of many planets that did so, he was tried by the Inquisition and placed under house arrest for the remainder of his life.  More recent investigations, along with Voyager’s first foray beyond our solar system, have verified that the earth is a very small speck of dust in the galaxies -- nowhere near the center of the cosmic creation.

 This physical truth gives rise to a more personal question for each of us.  “What is the center of my universe?”  For most of us, the answer to that question is a very small two-letter word, “me.”  Everything revolves around us and our interests. This is the reason we are prone to become angry with God.  Sooner or later the evidence begins to pile up that, like planet earth in the cosmos, we are not the center.  Everything is not ordered for our personal gratification, pleasure and benefit. 

 Paul started his life like most of us, focused on his own ambitions.  He went so far as to arrest Christians, both men and women, and throw them into prison to advance his own agenda.  But, after he met Christ everything changed. He discovered that the Christ whom he persecuted was, in fact, the center of all creation.  ^”He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together,” (Colossians 1:15-17).

 Fifteen years ago billboards sprang up proclaiming, “I am second.”  They were part of a movement to proclaim what Paul discovered.  We are not number one.  God is.  And when we make Christ the center of our universe, everything else comes into focus.  According to the web site, “I Am Second is a movement meant to inspire people of all kinds to live for God and for others.”  I Am Second testimonies include people like Jason Witten, Colt McCoy, Chip and Joanna Gaines, Eric Metaxas, Tony Dungy, Joe Gibbs, Anne Rice and many others.  They include the rich and famous as well as those who have been addicted, abused, molested and imprisoned.  The number ultimately includes all of us. You can check it out at www.iamsecond.com.  

 When Jesus Christ becomes the center of our universe everything changes.  All the petty resentments and disappointments disappear.  Scripture begins to make sense. For instance, in an effort to comfort others, many people quote the Bible when tragedy strikes saying “All things work together for good.”  What the Bible actually says is, “All things work together for good for those who love the Lord, for those who are called according to His purpose.”  This is entirely different. All things don’t work together for my good when I am the center of my own universe.  They only work together for good when I recognize that God is the center of the universe and I am created for his glory.

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What We Don't Know

  The total of human knowledge is increasing at an astonishing rate. It is estimated that it took 300 years for knowledge to double after 1450, but only 150 years for it to double again. From 1900 to 1950 it doubled once more. It is now believed to double every 12 months and, with the build out of the internet and AI, is soon expected to double every 12 hours.

Only 200 years ago physicians thought that illness was caused by bad blood. George Washington was virtually bled to death in 1799 as the favored treatment for an obvious infection. One hundred years ago Henry Ford introduced the assembly line and the Model T. Fifty years ago personal computers were unknown. Thirty-five years ago, the World Wide Web was introduced.  The first iPhone went on sale January 29, 2007.  Our access to knowledge and the world has dramatically changed. What is there that we do not know today that will be common knowledge tomorrow? What is it that we think we know that will be proved wrong or usless?

Each of us can comprehend only a small segment of the vast ocean of human knowledge. And, when all our knowledge is compiled and computed it only scratches the surface of the limitless universe. We are still confined to this tiny spec of a planet. Humans have not been able to travel any further than the moon. The vastness of the universe remains far beyond our reach. The closest star, Proxima Centauri, is 4.33 light years away. Traveling at the fastest speed imaginable with current technology, scientists estimate it would take 19,000 years to reach it. At our very best we can only observe the vast reaches of the universe through our telescopes as though looking through a glass darkly.

Regarding God, we debate our axioms and truths as if we have complete and comprehensive knowledge about God. We must always be reminded by the words of the prophet when God says, “My ways are not your ways. My thoughts are not your thoughts. As the heavens are above the earth, so are my thoughts above your thoughts.”

This is one of the reasons God sent his Son, simply because God is incomprehensible. Knowledge of his universe is too vast. Knowledge of his nature and character is too far beyond our mortal minds. As with his creation, we can only observe and stand in awe.

We are like newborn babes first opening their eyes to a new world they have never seen. We are like children giggling over newfound discoveries on the playground: a stick, a flower, a worm, a caterpillar. I think God takes joy in this. He takes pleasure in our discoveries of his intricate, complex and mysterious creation. 

At the same time, he is grieved by our blindness. The violence, cruelty, abuse and conflict that exists on the earth bears witness that for all our advance in scientific and technological knowledge, we are still unable to focus on the truths that matter most. 

Jesus was the only one who has ever known and seen all things clearly. For all of our advances we have yet to learn the Sermon on the Mount and put it into practice.

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We Are All Born By God's Design

 Ten years ago Kensington Palace made the announcement: “Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge was safely delivered of a daughter at 8:34 am.  The baby weighs 8 lbs 3 oz.” It was a typical British announcement with little more flair than the weigh-in of jockeys at the Kentucky Derby.  But Prince William and Kate beamed with joy when, seven hours later, they presented their newborn daughter to the world. 

 When Prince William married Kate Middleton fourteen years ago it was a storybook wedding.  Two billion people watched. Since that time, the Royal couple has charmed the nations with their world-wide tours.  Now they have enchanted us with their children, Prince George and his little sister, the Princess.  Keeping with British tradition, William and Kate waited a few days to let us know her name.  Charlotte Elizabeth Diana.  She was named for her grandfather, King Charles, her greaet-grandmother Queen Elizabeth, and her grandmother princess Diana.

 When she was born, Prince William called her, “A little joy of heaven.” Princess Charlotte is now a beautiful ten-year-old girl full of laughter, giggles and fun. Ten years later, her mother Kate said. “Charlotte spends most of her time upside down, doing handstands and cartwheels.”

 Part of our attraction to William, Kate and their children is our fascination with celebrities. But, in this case, even celebrities stand in awe, overshadowed by the traditions of royalty.  We are moved by something deeper than celebrity worship.  The core attraction of the royal family is just that: family.

 In our scientific and antiseptic world we are sometimes in danger of reducing human life to the mundane, the clinically predictable.  But the birth of a Princess somehow draws us back to celebrate the majesty and the mystery of birth and life: the natural result of a man and a woman committed to one another in matrimony.

 We are each born of a mother and a father, which does not mean that we all know our fathers and mothers.  Parents are not always married, and in some cases, such as artificial insemination, they never even know one another.  But, the fact of the matter is, we are all conceived, fashioned and formed by the mystical union of male and female. 

 It has been so since the beginning.  Genesis states, “ God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’” (Genesis 1:27,28)

 Sooner or later most of us want to know our lineage.  Where did we come from?  Who were our parents, and who were their parents? What mysterious mix of ethnicities and nationalities went together to produce … well … us?   

Princess Charlotte is who she is by birth and by choice. She was born a Princess because Prince William chose Kate Middleton to be his bride. And she was born a Princess because she is the daughter of their union.

 In a similar way, we are all born because God chose us and gave us birth.  In Isaiah, God says, “You who have been borne by Me from birth, and have been carried from the womb; even to your old age, I will be the same, and even to your graying years I shall bear you!  I have done it, and I shall carry you; and I shall bear you, and I shall deliver you.”  (Isaiah 46:3-4).

Celebrating Diversity

 Last Saturday, like millions of others, my wife and I sat back and watched the Kentucky Derby, an American tradition. Simone Biles, the Olympic gymnast gave the call, “Riders Up!”  The top thoroughbreds in the world pranced onto the track.  Everyone sang, “My Old Kentucky Home,” including my wife.  They introduced the jockeys that would vie for the coveted prize. And there it was, right in the middle of the Kentucky Derby, “diversity!”  Three of the jockeys were from the U.S., 2 from Brazil, 2 from Venezuela, 3 from Puerto Rico, 1 from Mexico, 3 from France, 1 from Italy, 1 from the Dominican Republic and 1 from Panama.

 It is true in every sport: baseball, tennis, golf, basketball.  Diverse people from any and every nationality and ethnicity excel in every area of life. The major cities of the world are cosmopolitan. More than 90 languages are spoken in Houston.  In Dallas, every ethnicity is a minority, including Anglo.

 When I was pastor of an English-speaking church in Nuremberg, Germany, the church was composed of people from Germany, Ireland, England, Romania, Ukraine, China, Cameroon, India, Sweden, Austria and others. Most were in their twenties and thirties. After we returned to the U.S., we hosted a Bible study for grad students in our home.  They came from South Africa, Indonesia, China, the Czech Republic, Japan, Hong Kong and Zambia. They became like family to us.

 God must like diversity.  There is so much of it.  If we all looked alike, spoke alike and thought alike, it would be a boring and shallow world. God has splashed His creation with rich and wondrous diversity, from the fish of the sea and the stars in the heavens to the people of the earth.

 Why is it, then, that we are so prone to make other people conform to our own way of life?   Why do we feel it necessary to argue until others adopt our point of view? Why do we want them to dress like us, look like us and talk like us?   What should a Christian look like? 

 It seems to me that most Christians think others should look like they look. But they don’t.  I am reminded of a visit I made several years ago to the Harley Davidson Factory in Kansas City.  A young man stood up to address the group and introduced himself as a disciple of Jesus Christ disguised as an executive at Harley Davidson. Disciples of Jesus Christ come disguised in the clothing and customs of every culture on the globe. 

 When we flip through the pages of the Bible to the final book, we find a description of the ultimate consummation of creation.  “After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb,” (Revelation 7:9).

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The Fast That God Desires

 Thirteen years ago, I served as the pastor of an English-speaking church in Nuremberg, Germany.  It was a fascinating experience.  The church was small, only 30 or so, and composed mostly of young adults starting their careers in Nuremberg. They came from Cameroon, South Africa, India, Japan, Ukraine, Poland, Ireland, UK and, of course Germany. There were even a couple from the United States.  Nuremberg, once shrouded under the dark cloud of Nazi history, has emerged in the twenty-first century as a cosmopolitan city welcoming people from around the globe. 

 As a result of that experience, I followed refugee reports in Europe with special interest.  I was impressed with the way Germany and other European nations opened their resources, their communities, their arms and their homes.   In 2015 ABC News reported, “Dozens of volunteers have been driving to Hungary and to the Serbian border, picking up refugees walking along the highway in the aim of helping them travel to Western Europe.” Universities offered free classes to refugees. In Berlin more than 780 people opened their homes for temporary shelter. The continued flow has become overwhelming. Today there are more than 122 million refugees worldwide, people forced from their homes by war, crime and corruption. According to Statistica, in 2024 Germany ranked third in hosting refugees at 2.6 million.  The U.S. ranked 20^th at 435 thousand with 60,000 admitted in 2023.   

 I am always encouraged to see people reaching out to those who are different and desperate. There are, of course, dangers and risks, just as there were dangers and risks in Jesus’ Good Samaritan story.  But the rewards far outweigh the costs.

 In the United States, we are a nation of immigrants, refugees and their descendants. We all came from somewhere else, often from places suffering famine, disease and oppression.  In the 1960s and 70s we welcomed refugees from Viet Nam.  Fifty years later they have built businesses and sent their children to college where some became doctors, lawyers and engineers. When we lived in Minnesota, we came to know and love the Hmong our allies who fled slaughter in Laos following the fall of Vietnam.  Most came to the U.S. as animists.  Today many are devoted followers of Christ. St. Paul has the largest Hmong church in the nation. 

 While some traditional churches in the U.S. are in decline, many immigrant churches are growing. I attended the dedication of a new building for Liberian Christians north of Minneapolis. In St, Paul a church composed of immigrants from Myanmar (formerly Burma) rapidly outgrew their meeting space.

 In Isaiah, God said, “Is this not the fast which I choose, to loosen the bonds of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free, and break every yoke?  Is it not to divide your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into the house; when you see the naked to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?  Then your light will break out like the dawn, and your recovery will speedily spring forth, and your righteousness will go before you; and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard,” (Isaiah 58:6-8).

Pope Francis

 White smoke curled from a chimney over the Sistine Chapel at 7:06 pm on March 13, 2013.  Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina had been chosen as the new Pope. Within an hour he had selected his new name: Pope Francis. 

In 2008 our family rented an apartment in Rome overlooking St Peter’s Basilica.  We strolled through St Peter’s Square, the open plaza where a standing-room-only crowd of more than one hundred thousand gathered to welcome the new Pope. We visited the Sistine Chapel and stood beneath Michelangelo’s images of Creation and the Last Judgment, where cardinals have gathered to choose the next Pope since 1846. 

 Cardinal Bergoglio was the first Pope to choose the name Francis, in honor of St. Francis of Assisi.  It was a significant choice. The man we know from history as St. Francis lived at the turn of thirteenth century.  He grew up as a spoiled youth in a wealthy and influential Italian family. According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, “No one loved pleasure more than Francis; he had a ready wit, sang merrily, delighted in fine clothes and showy display … the very king of frolic.”  By the time he was twenty, Francis became a mercenary, was captured in battle and spent more than a year in prison with a protracted illness.  That experience seems to have started his spiritual journey that would set him apart. But his turning to Christ was neither sudden nor easy.

 Once released he decided on a military career of conquest and glory, but a series of dreams began to redirect his journey.  Through a series of missteps and, what appears to be a confusing period of solitude, prayer and clumsy efforts to serve God, Francis eventually came to a clear vision of God’s will for his life.  He found the focus for his life on February 24, 1208 when he heard a recounting of Jesus’ instructions to go into every village, two by two, carrying no money, neither bag nor shoes, greeting everyone on the way with blessings of peace.  To heal the sick and proclaim the Kingdom of God.  (Matthew 10:7-11).  From that moment forward Francis committed himself to a literal application of these instructions from Jesus, devoting himself to the poor and a joyful proclamation of the Kingdom. Francis is credited with being the first to celebrate Christmas with carols and many Christians still sing his hymn, “All Creatures of our God and King.”

 The name emphasizes the transforming power of Jesus Christ, who can change a profligate mercenary into a joyful servant of the poor. The passing of Pope Francis serves as a powerful reminder that all of us need to care for the poor, the refugee, the disenfranchised, the outcast.  Ten weeks ago Pope Francis warned, “What is built on the basis of force and not on the truth about the equal dignity of every human being, begins badly and will end badly.”  

 Christianity Today wrote, “His humility won the praises of international evangelist, Luis Palau who called him a friend and ‘a very Jesus Christ-centered man.’”

Persistence

 Some of you will remember that we adopted Buddy, a tri-color corgi, 16 years ago after he was found starving on the streets of Fort Worth.  I wrote his story for my grandkids, “just the way Buddy told it to me”: how Barney the Blood Hound helped him survive on the streets until they were picked up by the dog police. I named the story, Buddy the Floppy Ear Corgi because his left ear flopped when we first met. Unfortunately, the lifespan of our pets is much shorter than our own. We had to “lay him down” in 2022.

 Like other dogs and pets, Buddy got us through Covid. He followed me from room to room and sat patiently near my chair on our back deck.  He took me for walks in our neighborhood and introduced me to neighbors.  

 During those difficult days of “sheltering in place” he taught me persistence. “Persistence” isn’t a word we use much.  But we all know what it means: never quitting, never giving up and never becoming discouraged. We saw a human example of persistence last weekend when Rory McIlroy won the Masters to complete the Grand Slam in golf after 11 attempts.  Like most humans, I am not very good at it, but Buddy was a natural. He communicated mostly by “persistence.”

 If he wanted to go outside, he went to the door and sat there looking out the glass.  He never moved.  He just sat there until I noticed and obligingly opened the door and let him out.  He did the same thing about coming back inside. If I was eating, he locked his eyes on the food and stared, again refusing to move.  I could scold him, tell him he wasn’t getting anything from me, act as callous and cold as possible, but it didn’t faze him. He just sat there staring with those big brown corgi eyes until I finally gave in. He won his arguments with persistence.

 I need to learn more of that. We humans are always looking for shortcuts to get what we want.  We resort to tantrums, tears, weeping and wailing, pouting and protests. We get angry and argue.  But it seldom achieves our goals.  We need to learn from Buddy.  Persistence and peaceful perseverance is irresistible.

This must have been what Jesus was getting at when He said, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and goes to him at midnight and says to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine has come to me from a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; and from inside he answers and says, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been shut and my children ^[e]and I are in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’”

^“I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his persistence he will get up and give him as much as he needs.  So I say to you,ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened.” (Luke 11:5-10). 

Be persistent.  Be patient. Don’t get upset. Don’t give up.  A better day is coming.

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Liberty and Justice For All

 I am not sure when I first learned the pledge of allegiance to our American flag.  I did not attend kindergarten, though most of my friends did.  So, I guess I learned it in first grade at Robert E. Lee elementary.  With a portrait of the Civil War general peering over my shoulder, I faced the flag and  tried my best, pledging to one nation “invisible.”  That made sense.  The nation seemed pretty “invisible” to me at the time. Later, I learned the word was “indivisible” and had deep meaning related to my school’s namesake. 

 I think I got the last words of the pledge right from the start: “with liberty and justice for all.”  In my childhood world, It sounded a lot like what I read in the Superman comics:  “Truth, justice and the American way.”  (DC Comics changed the motto a few years ago to “truth, justice and a better tomorrow.”)

 By design, I suppose, our pledge is short and simple. It is that last phrase that has given us trouble.  “Liberty and justice for all.”  We haven’t always lived up to it. In fact, from the very beginning, as a nation, we have fallen short.  Just ask the Native Americans whose treaties were repeatedly broken and, after roaming the hills, plains and mountains of this continent for thousands of years, found themselves herded onto reservations. 

 Or ask the African Americans, whose ancestors were captured, shipped to our shores on slave ships and for two centuries were property, bought and sold for profit.  It has taken us a century and a half following the Emancipation Proclamation and the 13^th amendment to achieve significant advances in civil rights. Still, every time we remove our caps, cover our heart and repeat the pledge, those words both inspire and haunt us, “liberty and justice for all.” 

 I guess this is why I am disturbed that our government is suddenly backtracking on efforts to include people who are not like us.  I am disturbed that our government mistakenly scooped up Kilmar Abrego Garcia who is married to a U.S. citizen, father of a 5 year old, living here under the protection of our law and shipped him off with gang members to El Salvador. I am even more disturbed that after a federal judge ordered his return, our government says they can’t or won’t do anything to right the wrong he and his family have suffered. Even though our nation is paying El Salvador $6 million to incarcerate these men, they say it is out of our hands. The Justice Department attorney who admitted the government’s error has been placed on leave by the Administration.

 Who are we becoming?  What are we becoming? 

 The Bible has a lot to say about accepting others and treating them with respect.  “There is no longer Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female for you are all one in Christ Jesus,” (Galatians 3:28).  Jesus always practiced inclusion of the poor, the downtrodden, the racially rejected, the moral outcast. This was largely what got Him into trouble.  He condemned arrogance, greed and injustice of every kind.

 Maybe “liberty and justice for all,” is best summarized in the golden rule that He gave us, another “pledge” we learned as children: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew  7:12).

Good and Evil in the Garden

 The first blossoms and blooms have appeared on the trees.  Seedlings have raised their heads from the soil.  Spring is coming!  There is something therapeutic about digging in the dirt, sifting the soil through our fingers, planting seeds and seedlings that flourish in the sun,

 When I lived in Minnesota, I always had a garden.  I guess it was “our” garden, my daughter and mine. She was seven when we moved to Minnesota. Every spring we would pick out what we would plant and, after I spaded up the earth, we would plant our garden together:  cilantro, tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, cabbage.  One year we grew a pumpkin two feet in diameter.  We tried okra, but apparently it needs the searing heat of Texas.   Rhubarb didn’t require planting, it just volunteered itself every year.

 I wasn’t a very good gardener. After the ground was turned and the garden planted, we pretty well left it alone, and it grew. That is what things do in Minnesota.  Long days of sunlight, pleasant summers and occasional rain. Things just grow.

 But, the same conditions that cultivate vegetables also stimulate weeds.  By harvest we had a wonderful crop of both.  Our whole family would visit the garden like children on an Easter egg hunt.   Searching among the weeds we celebrated the discovery of tomatoes, squash, cabbages and a “great pumpkin,” hiding among the weeds. 

 Jesus used a similar image to help us understand the mystery of good and evil in the world: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field.  But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away.  When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field?  Where then did the weeds come from?’ ‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.  The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ ‘No,’ he answered ‘because while you are pulling the weeds you may uproot the wheat with them.  Let both grow together until the harvest.  At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into the barn.’” (Matthew 13:24-29).

 The world is kind of like our gardens. Evil flourishes in the world, like the weeds.  It dominates the news and grabs the headlines. But hiding among the weeds are the vegetables, those things that are good, righteous, wholesome and healthy.  In every situation where it appears that evil will triumph, we find, hidden beneath the headlines, acts that are heroic and sacrificial, acts of forgiveness, kindness, goodness and faith.

 Someday the harvest will come.  When John introduced Jesus, he said, “One is coming who is mightier than I, and I am not fit to untie the straps on His sandals; ... His winnowing fork is in His hand to thoroughly clear His threshing floor, and to gather the wheat into His barn; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”  (Luke 3:16-17).

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Choosing The Better Portion

 We love celebrating birthdays with our grandchildren.  After the candles are blown out and we have all joined in singing “happy birthday,” it is time to cut the cake.  The birthday celebrant gets to choose the “better portion,” usually the corner slice or the one with the most icing.  The younger the child, the more likely they are to make an honest choice.  As we grow older, we defer, out of a desire to be polite or to conceal our gluttony.

 But, really and truly, we all secretly, if not overtly, want the better portion.  Almost all advertising is based on this premise, promising the better portion if we choose their product or their service.  

 In the Bible an interesting scene unfolds in an obscure home on a side street in Bethany, a quiet village just beyond the Mount of Olives, only two miles outside Jerusalem.  It was Jesus’ favorite place to stay when he was visiting the holy city.  The house was the home of two sisters and a brother: Mary, Martha and Lazarus. 

Dinner was approaching and Martha was doing her best to cook up enough food to feed fifteen people, Jesus, his 12 followers and her own family.  Outside, the men were deep in conversation and, in their midst sat Mary, Martha’s sister.  Finally, Martha had enough.  She burst through the door and demanded Jesus tell her sister to come help in the kitchen.  But Jesus shocked everyone in the room with his response.  “Martha, Martha you are anxious and worried about so many things and Mary has chosen the better portion,” (Luke 10:41).

 I often wonder what happened next. The Bible doesn’t say.  We know that Jesus loved Martha.  John wrote, “Jesus loved Martha and her sister,” (Luke 11:5).  I suspect he got up and helped her.  Surely, he who washed the disciples’ feet would not leave Martha in the kitchen alone.

 This event gives us insight into what we all can learn about choosing the better portion.  We choose the better portion when we turn from worry and distraction to simplicity.  Like Martha, I am often worried about things that never happen.  And, like Martha, we are often pulled in many directions trying to meet obligations.  Mary had chosen simple delight, sitting at Jesus’ feet.  Life should be lived with delight, experiencing God’s pleasure.  Repeatedly the Scripture says that God took great pleasure in Jesus: at his birth, his baptism and his transfiguration. Jesus said it is the Father’s pleasure to give us the kingdom! (Luke 12:32). 

 Every day I meet people who are living life out of obligation or delight.  I see it in the faces and hear it in the voices of workers at the fast food restaurants or employees and various businesses.  Some are doing what they do out of obligation. They don’t want to be there. They don’t like their job or the people they work with.  Others are working out of delight, enjoying what they do, happy to be of service.  Every day I can choose to live my own life out of obligation or delight.

 Most of all, Mary chose the better portion because she chose Jesus.  I often wonder what Martha and Mary remembered about that day Jesus visited.  Martha would remember a frustrating day full of obligation, the hot kitchen and the stress of entertaining her guests.  Mary would remember Jesus, the look in his eyes when they met hers, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand and the words that he spoke.  What do we remember at the end of the day?  What will we remember at the end of life’s journey? Are we choosing the better portion?

What We Learned From Covid

 It is hard to believe it has been 5 years since Covid brought the world to its knees. On March 21, 2020 my wife and I invited a group of our neighbors to bring their lawn chairs and meet in our driveway.  Ten of us showed up and positioned our chairs 6 feet apart.  A few had met, but most did not know each other.  Our neighborhood was typical of most suburbs. We passed each other coming and going to work, then disappeared into our garages.  We occasionally saw each other walking our dogs, but we rarely spoke. Faces might be familiar, but we didn’t know each other’s names. But that Saturday was different.  Under the ominous cloud of the Coronavirus, our neighbors were hungry to meet each other, to talk and to share.

 The group included a widow in her 70s, two young couples in their 20s, a couple in their 30s recently moved from Philadelphia and a couple in their late 40s, recently married and adjusting to a blended family.  My wife and I had been married more than 50 years. The gathering was not somber. There was much laughter. One couple brought gifts of toilet paper with a card: “Just a little something to show that we got your back.”  But there was a serious undercurrent, not knowing what comes next. We each introduced ourselves and shared how the COVID crisis was affecting us and our families. At the end, I led the group in prayer.

 Five years later many who assembled that day have become like family.  The two couples in their 20s are now in their 30s. One couple has given birth to 2 bright boys.  The other had a beautiful daighter.  The teenagers who were home have grown up, gone off to college and are finding their way.

 We learned some lessons during Covid. We discovered that the place to which we can turn in a crisis is to God and to one another. We discovered that more than big government, more than money, we need people. We need our families.  We need our neighbors, and we need God.  Instead of seeing a society implode in anger and frustration and chaos, we watched people step up to stand in the gap.  We looked for ways to encourage one another, to support each other. Everyone wanted to help. 

 Jesus taught us this amazing truth about human nature centuries ago when an arrogant young lawyer asked him, “Who is my neighbor?”  He replied by telling the story of the Good Samaritan. Across the ages in every culture where the message of Christ has been told, that story has enabled people to overcome and withstand the most severe catastrophes.  Instead of “passing by on the other side,” instead of just thinking about our own interests and concerns, we must stop and help somebody for whom we can make a difference.

 One of my neighbors reminded me that often Jesus stopped to help just one. That’s what we needed to do 5 years ago.  That is what we need to do today. That is what we each can do in these uncertain times, like the Good Samaritan. (Luke 10:25-37).

Bill's book, Bold Springs, is Free as an eBook on Amazon March 18-19.  Chosen best Christian Historical Fiction by Reader's Favorite in 2022. 

What We Can Learn From the Birds

 I grew up in Texas, often wakened by the rasp of blue jays outside my window, frequently entertained by mockingbirds with their collection of stolen songs.  Buzzards circled in the sky, high overhead on hot summer days, riding the wind, barely moving their wings.

 When we moved to Minnesota the Canadian geese migrated to and from the fields passing low overhead.  I could hear the wind in their wings. When I visited the Boundary Waters a bald eagle built her nest in a lone tree on a rocky island less than 50 yards from our camp.  She circled overhead, the sun glistening off her white head.

 We owned a beach house for a few years on Galveston Island.  I never tired watching the sea gulls balance on the wind, descending to the shallow surf where they laughed and danced on stick legs. They seemed to think it was hilarious. The pelicans swooped in squadrons over the breaking waves. One or more would suddenly drop in a vertical dive, splash in the surf and return to the sky with an unsuspecting fish.

 In Colorado our house looks out on an open marsh.  The red-wing black birds are already returning to build their nests in the tall grass.  As in Minnesota, the Canadian geese occasionally fill the sky from one horizon to the other. Two sparrows built a nest in our bird house. A pair of Robins selected a low limb in the Aspen out front. Finches and an occasional Chickadee visit our window feeder.

 In every region and every climate birds survive and thrive.  They are masters of the air, the forests, the land and the sea. No wonder Jesus encouraged us to “consider the birds.”

 “For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?” (Matthew 6:25-26).

 “Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.  Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.  But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows,” (Matthew 10:28-29).

 He who cares for the birds of the air will doubtless care for you.  You are of great worth to God.   Look to the birds and listen to their song. 

God's Metrics

We live in a world of metrics. We are obsessed with measuring progress in almost every area of life. The business world has created an entire glossary of terms for measuring CPM (Corporate Performance Management), ROI (Return on Investment), Churn Rate (the measure of customer or employee attrition over a specified time), EBITDA. (Earnings Before Interest, Taxes, Depreciation and Amortization), to name a few.

Our most recent metric seems to be money measured in the billions and trillions of dollars.  Thousands of Federal employees have been laid off in what DOGE claims to be cost-savings efforts.  The three-year war in the Ukraine seems to have come down to billions of dollars in mineral rights.  A trade war over tariffs has erupted between the U.S., Canada, Mexico and China.

Education has long used measurements to determine a student’s future.  Any student with ambitions beyond secondary education is familiar with the stress and importance of the SAT, ACT or, to enter graduate school, the GMAT, GRE, LSAT and MCAT.

Sports is filled with metrics. Hundredths of a second separate sprinters, downhill skiers, bobsledders and speed skaters on the podium.  PGA golfers are rated by average score, percentage of fairways hit, greens in regulation, putts per round and many others. Baseball is synonymous with statistics: RBI, OPS, BA, BB/K, ERA, etc. The list is long.

 If measurements are so important in other areas of life, it might be good to know God’s metrics. How does God measure success or failure?

Most of us assume that God’s measurements are limited to religion: church attendance, offerings, budgets, building, religious ceremonies and service. Surprisingly, according to the Bible, these things are not God’s primary concern.

The prophets taught that God could care less about religious ceremonies. In Amos, God says, “Even though you offer up to Me burnt offerings and your grain offerings, I will not accept them; …Take away from Me the noise of your songs; I will not even listen to the sound of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

In Isaiah, God says, “I hate your new moon festivals and your appointed feasts. They have become a burden to Me; … when you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide My eyes from you; … Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from My sight. Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, reprove the ruthless, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”

When Jesus confronted the religious leaders of his day, he reproved them for focusing on religious disciplines.  “You have neglected the weightier provisions of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness.  These are the things you should have done.” (Matthew 23:23).  

Cemetery

 Cemeteries can be fascinating places. The monuments and tomb stones bear record to generations who inhabited the spaces we now inhabit, walked the same streets, climbed the same hills, breathed the same air.  I once walked through the cemetery with my father-in-law and listened as he told stories about his friends and family who were buried there.  My wife and I now visit his grave and her mother’s buried side-by-side in that same cemetery.

 Some years ago, I attended a conference in Boston and stayed at the historic Omni Parker House Hotel.  With a bit of free time on my hands, I ventured outside, crossed Tremont Street and wandered into the Granary Burial Grounds, the third oldest cemetery in Boston established in 1660.  Some of America’s founding fathers are buried here: Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, John Hancock and five victims of the Boston massacre along with Benjamin Franklin’s parents.

 As I wandered among the grave markers I was struck by the contrast.  Those gravestones that were erected in the late 1600s bore images of skulls and cross bones. They appeared stark and painful.  But in the early 1700s something changed. The images were replaced with angels and cherubim along with Scripture quotations. They radiated hope and expectations for heaven.

 I wondered what happened to cause the change.  Why were those buried in the late 1600s interred beneath morbid markers while those who died in the 1730s and later had gravestones symbolizing hope of heaven?  The only explanation seemed to be the Great Awakening.

 The earliest beginnings of the Great Awakening can be traced to Gilbert Tennent who founded a “Log College” In Pennsylvania in 1727 to train Presbyterian preachers.  The “Log College” was later named “Princeton.”  The awakening took wings in the 1730s on the preaching of John and Charles Wesley, the founders of Methodism, and George Whitefield, whose sermons were widely published by his friend, Benjamin Franklin. The Great Awakening changed the spiritual fabric of the Colonies and transformed the way people viewed death.  Death released its grim grip of despair and was replace by the hope of heaven through faith in Jesus Christ.

 Every generation must face its own mortality.  As we age, we must say goodbye to parents, fiends, brothers and sisters. Every generation must find its own faith.  As someone said, God has no grandchildren. We must experience our own spiritual awakening that connects us to the most important event in human history.  As was written 2,000 years ago, “But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep. … O death where is your victory?  O death where is your sting?  The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:20, 55-57).  

Bill Tinsley's book of poems, People Places and Things is FREE February 25-27 on Amazon Kindle. 

The Viral Gospel

 The power and potential of anything “going viral” is mind boggling. “Going viral” was once limited to communicable diseases, the kinds that are so easily transmitted that they can rapidly escalate into an epidemic, or, as with Covid, a pandemic.  In our day the term means something quite different.  With the aid of the Internet, email, X, Facebook, Instagram, Whatsapp, text messaging and You Tube, what was obscure can “go viral” and become suddenly famous.

 Facebook went viral in 2004 when Mark Zuckerberg and a few friends launched it from their dorm rooms at Harvard.  Today, more than one billion people use Facebook.  It boasted a market cap in 2019 of over $500 billion and has become one of the most powerful tools on the Internet to catapult others into the “viral” stratosphere.

The Swedish teenage climate activist, Greta Thornberg, was catapulted to fame after she posted her first protest as a 15-year-old on Instagram and twitter. Within a week she gained international attention.  Her actions went viral on Facebook and other media and in December 2019 Time named her the youngest ever “Person of the Year.”

 “Going viral” appears to be a twenty-first century phenomenon. But is it? 

 History documents that the Gospel went viral following the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus.  There was no media campaign.  There were no reporters, no cameras, no photo ops, no internet, no Facebook.  But somehow, Jesus impacted and changed the world.  Growing up in the obscure and infamous village of Nazareth, Jesus’ public ministry lasted only three years.  He walked wherever he went and never traveled more than one hundred miles from his birthplace. When He was crucified, there were no papers to report it, no news teams to film it. But the news spread around the world and is continuing to spread today.  It did so by “going viral.” 

Paul spoke of.”the gospel which has come to you, just as in all the world also it is constantly bearing fruit and increasing, even as it has been doing in you also since the day you heard of it and understood the grace of God in truth.”  (Colossians1:6). And again, “For all things are for your sakes, so that the grace which is spreading to more and more people may cause the giving of thanks to abound to the glory of God.” 2 Cor 4:15, “I thank my God through Jesus Christ ^… because your faith is being proclaimed throughout the whole world” (Romans 1:8).

When the Gospel goes viral, it requires more than posting a few sentences or a video clip on the internet, more than “clicking” and forwarding information.  The Kingdom of God goes viral when lives are transformed by faith in Jesus Christ so that society is saturated with honesty, integrity, justice and generosity.  Changed lives change the lives of those around them. The Gospel has gone viral in previous generations.  It could “go viral” in ours.

A "Christian" Nation

 Throughout my lifetime I have always been grateful and proud of our American reputation as a “Christian” nation that cares for the disadvantaged, the poor and the oppressed.  In 2005 I visited Indonesia following the tsunami that decimated the islands in that region of the world.  I stood on the beach at Banda Aceh and listened to the gentle waves on the shore while the Indonesian people strolled along the jetties. It was a beautiful and peaceful afternoon. Behind me stood a lighthouse that had been erected as a beacon to passing ships. It now stood as a monument to the tragedy that struck on December 26, 2004. The top of the lighthouse towering above me had been blown apart by the powerful surge of water.

Aceh is perhaps the most rigid Muslim state in the world, governed by strict Sharia law. It is ruled by the Koran and the Muslim Imams. It prides itself as the “gateway to Mecca.” Prior to the tsunami Christians were not allowed entrance into the region. But the day the tsunami struck, everything changed. The city of Aceh was virtually wiped out by the massive wall of water.

I was visiting with a group of Americans attempting to assist the Non-Governmental-Organizations that had been allowed into the country to help the people rebuild. Separated from the rest of the world and taught that Christianity is evil, many of the people were asking why Christians were the ones who responded the most to their disaster. President Bush immediately pledged $350 million to help with the recovery. Like many Muslim countries, the people of Aceh equate America with Christianity.

I noticed a woman watching us. She was sitting on her motorcycle. Almost all Indonesians rode motorcycles. The streets were filled with them. For days I had watched them leaving for work in the early morning, weaving their way along the streets, whole families balanced on two wheels, the father driving, one or two children in his lap, the mother behind him with another child. I watched young women, their blue and green hijabs flying in the wind. Through an interpreter I struck up a conversation with the woman.

She asked if we were Americans. We said yes. She told us that she was at this very spot when the tsunami hit. She said it carried her and her two children more than two miles inland. One child was separated and drowned. Her husband and the rest of her family were killed. Only she and her son survived, but he was badly injured. His wounds were infected and he was dying. She said an American doctor came and treated her son and he lived. In spite of her deep sorrow and loss, she smiled, not just her face, but with her eyes, and said, “I want to thank you for coming.”

 Years later, in 2012, I served as pastor of an English-speaking church in Nuremburg, Germany, the site of Hitler’s Nazi rallies and the “Nuremburg laws” that launched the holocaust.  I found a people who were grateful for the American GIs and agencies who helped them rebuild their country after WW II. The recent Executive Order to shut down all U.S. financial aid to the world is disturbing  to me.

 Isaiah clearly described faith that is pleasing to God. “Is this not the fast that I choose:

…  Is it not to break your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into the house; when you see the naked, to cover him; and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?  Then your light will break out like the dawn, and your recovery will spring up quickly; and your righteousness will go before you; the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard,” (Isaiah 58:6-8).

A Healthy Heart

 According to the American Heart Association, “The epidemic increase in heart disease mortality ended in the 1960s or 1970s.” Deaths from heart disease have fallen dramatically over the last 50 years. Heart-healthy alternatives are produced in almost every food category. Restaurants include heart-healthy menus. Smoking has been banned in most public places. Cheerios and oatmeal both claim to help with a healthy heart. Physicians and non-profits promote diet-and-exercise. Nevertheless, both of my wife’s brothers died of heart attacks.  One brother collapsed in his garden. The other made it to a hospital.

I first read Dr. Kenneth Cooper’s book, Aerobics, in 1982. It was a groundbreaking book that opened the eyes of millions to the benefits of aerobic exercise and a healthy diet for a healthy heart. When I visited Brazil, I was fascinated to find hundreds of Brazilians walking and jogging every morning to get in their “Cooper.” The doctor’s name had found its way into Portuguese as a synonym for heart-healthy aerobic exercise.

When I followed Cooper’s regimen, I experienced the benefits: lost weight, increased strength and stamina. Unfortunately, I have not always followed those disciplines, and it shows. Developing a healthy heart requires more than knowledge.

As important as it is to maintain a healthy heart physically, it is even more important for us to develop a healthy heart spiritually. The Bible clearly sets forth the disciplines and characteristics of a healthy spiritual heart. They include gratitude, hope, forgiveness and love. If we discipline ourselves to be grateful every day for what God has done, if we hope when things look hopeless, if we forgive those who injure us, if we love those of other nationalities, ethnicities and languages, like the Good Samaritan, we will have a healthy heart.

But, like our physical heart, having a spiritually healthy heart requires more than knowledge. We may know that we need to be grateful, hopeful, forgiving and loving. But how do you create heartfelt gratitude, hope, forgiveness and love?

In the spiritual realm, this requires a spiritual heart transplant. God must create a new heart within us, something that He is more than willing to do. We are all born with spiritual heart disease. Jeremiah says, “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). But later he writes, “I will give them a heart to know Me, for I am the Lord; and they will be My people, and I will be their God.” (Jer. 24:7). And in Ezekiel He says, “Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh.” (Ez. 36:26).

God sent His son Jesus so that He might create in us a healthy heart. He changes the heart that has grown callous, bitter and resentful into one that overflows in gratitude. Someday our physical heart will beat its last beat and our bodies will die. But the spiritually healthy heart that God creates will live forever.

What Can A Snowman Say?

 Seven and one-half years ago, when we moved into our house, our neighbor across the street was a young man in his twenties.  Three other young men lived with him.  He met a girl.  We had them over for dinner. They fell in love and became engaged.  The other three young men moved out.  The only public gathering we attended during Covid in 2020 was the wedding of our young neighbor and his bride.

 A year later, she gave birth to their first child, Charlie.  Yesterday we watched from our window as two-year-old Charlie and his father built a snowman in their yard.  As we expected, knowing our neighbors, it was a huge snowman, over 5 feet tall, with a wide grin, a carrot nose, button eyes,  and stick arms extended as if waiting for a hug!

 It reminded me of a poem I wrote about snowmen when we lived in Minnesota. 

He stands outside

smiling through the night

smiling though the day

with a wide-eyed gaze from coal black eyes

punctuated by the point of a carrot nose.

 

A blue-stocking cap warms his frozen head

while a red and white scarf flutters in the breeze,

tickling his tummy

softly patted into place by small hands

scooping great scoops of snow

and fashioning his form,

till he stood where he stands,

stick arms spread in a welcome greeting

to family and friend and passerby

signifying by his constant cheer

that a child lives here.

 Last week, when a rare winter storm swept the South, snowmen made their appearances in New Orleans, Houston and Galveston.  They are a universal breed, transcending generations, the product of creative imaginations, uniting generations from ages past, a non-digital race that binds our human hearts to one another.  They reach across language, ethnicity, culture and time, created amid giggles, squeals and laughter.  In Minnesota, a snowman can last for months.  In the South, a few days at best. Some of them have already returned to puddles in the yard.  But while they last, they cheer us up and give us hope. 

 It took the birth of a child named Charlie to create our snowman across the street.  Like other snowmen in our neighborhood, he reminds me of one of Jesus’ profound object lessons to his disciples, “Jesus called a little child over to him. He had the child stand among them. ³ Jesus said, “What I’m about to tell you is true. You need to change and become like little children. If you don’t, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” (Matthew 18:2-3).

Remembering Buddy

 About the time I started writing this column in 2009, my wife and I adopted a tri-color Pembroke Corgi that we named Buddy.  We had pets over the years when raising our children, but I wanted my own dog and my wife finally gave in.  We found him at Corgi rescue.  He was picked up by animal control on the streets of Fort Worth, skinny and sick.  How a dog like Buddy could be lost for that long was a mystery to me until he told me his story.  I wrote it down just the way he told it to me and published it as a children’s book, Buddy the Floppy Ear Corgi.  

 I wrote my first column about Buddy on October 29, 2009.  Each year I wrote at least one column about Buddy and what he was teaching me.  We traveled to many places together: Texas, Montana, Wyoming, Minnesota, Colorado and places in between.  We walked hundreds of miles. 

 Once we left him with our daughter who lived 2 miles from our house.  He escaped their backyard and tied up traffic on a busy intersection trying to make his way home.  I was on the road in Nebraska when I got the call from a stranger who rescued him from the frantic drivers who were trying to avoid hitting him.

 When we went fishing Buddy sat in the front of my fishing boat, sniffing the wind, trying to locate the fish.  He fell in once.  We discovered Corgi’s can’t swim.  Fortunately, I was able to pull him b. ack in the boat.

 Several times he went with me to sit by the graveside of my college roommate who was buried in Farmersville, Texas in 1999.  Afterward we would go for long walks in the open fields where he could run free, leaping through the long grass (as much as Corgi’s can leap). We explored the beaches in Galveston.

  Buddy didn’t do any work.   He couldn’t open doors, couldn’t carry anything or hold anything with his paws (beyond a bone or a chew toy).  He wasn’t Buck like Call of the Wild. He couldn’t pull a sled.  But he worked his way into our hearts just by being there, jumping in my lap when I was sad, jumping between us on the couch to make us glad, following me from room to room, introducing me to strangers who wanted to pet him, playing with my grandchildren.

 But Buddy grew old.  His muzzle turned gray.  He couldn’t take long walks anymore. After 14 years, Buddy developed spinal myelopathy.  He lost the use of his legs, and we lost Buddy in January 2022.   We grieved his death as much as we grieved a friend or family member.  We still miss him.

 We loved Buddy, not for what he could do for us, but just because he “was.” 

 Maybe that was his final lesson about God. Maybe that is the way God looks at me.  I can’t do anything for God.  He doesn’t really need me, but He loves me just the same, just because He made me; just because He is and I am.  “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us” (1 John 1:10).  God has declared His love for me, “I have loved you with an everlasting love” (Jeremiah 31:3).  God loves you.