Roger Bothwell

This evening in my Child Development class one of my students presented a paper on sensory perception disorder.  It manifests itself as a process that sends mixed and often times offensive sensory data to a child’s experience.  To a degree all of us have this disorder.   Classrooms today no longer have blackboards but most of us remember to our horror the sound of chalk screeching its spine-chilling sound.  There are things we cannot bear.  For me it is green smoothies made with kale.  For others it is the thought of eating jack cheese because it is made with goat’s milk instead of cow’s milk.  I actually threw up one night when my mother made me eat turnips.
 
As my students (elementary teachers) were sharing their experiences and how to be sympathetic to children in their classrooms, it occurred to me that God, Himself, has sensory perception disorder.  He is revolted and horrified when He sees us do things He knows will harm us.  We get so used to certain kinds of sins they have little or no revulsion to us.  However, our heavenly Father is repulsed, revolted and nauseated while watching us harm ourselves. He cares so much for us and He knows the extent of damage that we are inflicting upon ourselves and/or others.
 
Proverbs 6 has an interesting list of things God especially hates.  “There are six things the LORD hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”  These things are to Him as the sound of chalk on a blackboard.

While Japanese diplomats were in Washington D.C. pretending to negotiate, a Japanese aircraft carrier was being positioned to launch a devastating attack on Pearl Harbor.  On December 8 an incensed President Roosevelt began his declaration of war with the following words.  “Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 – a date which will live in infamy – the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”  Ever since it has been a Day of Infamy.
 
As terrible as it was there was one day even more infamous.  Human beings took the Creator of the Universe, unfairly and illegally tried Him, twice beat Him, stripped Him, crushed the nerves in His hands with nails, ruptured Him with a triangle of wood placed between His legs, mocked and berated Him, spit on Him, and literally stabbed Him in heart.  This was the One who knelt in the grass in Eden and breathed life into man.  This was the One who restored fingers and lips on lepers.  This was the One who spoke and a rotting corpse lived again.  This was a day that will forever live in infamy.  For centuries and millennia we will speak of that infamous day in hushed tones.
 
Though forgiven never will we be proud to be human.  All our pride will be focused on the One who became one of us. Forever we will be overwhelmed by His love.  That He would have creatures like us enter His presence speaks nothing about us and everything about Him. Never will we wear a badge proclaiming our humanity.  Instead we will forever wear a badge proclaiming our redemption.  But He goes further than merely forgiving us.  He declares us to be sons and daughters, princes and princesses.  How can this be so?  I doubt I will ever understand.

Don’t you hate it when someone comes up to you and says, “Do you remember me?”  Chills run up your spine.  Well, actually, it depends on the tone they use.  If they aren’t smiling and lean in too close, that makes me want to run.  Maybe they have some sinister motive because of a perceived terrible memory of a dreadful encounter. But even when their demeanor isn’t threatening I hate it.  I don’t want to say, “No” and hurt their feelings inferring that they are not important enough for me to keep them in mind.  Sometimes I am tempted to lie and say, “Oh, of course, now give me a moment to retrieve those marvelous times we had together.”  But that can just dig you in deeper.
 
It happened to me yesterday.  I hadn’t seen this person in ten years.  He had gained at least 40 to 50 pounds.  He had shaved his head and was sporting a goatee.  Our appearances can change so much through the years.  I sometimes look at a picture of myself taken 50 or so years ago.  Wow.  That person doesn’t exist anymore.  He didn’t die.  He just evolved into someone else.  He evolved into me.  The people I have known, the books I have read, the movies I have watched, the sermons I have heard, the classes I have taught, the jobs I have lost, all have contributed to this person I see in the mirror.
 
Yet, He knows me.  We never have to say to God, “Do you remember me?”  While there are moments I want Him to forget, I’m happy He always knows where I am and what I am doing.  He even said to Jeremiah, “Before you were I knew you.”   That kind of care is amazing!

The little wise men and the shepherds were ready.  The designated donkey jockeyed his hat bearing long ears.  The little boy shifted his camel hump.  Joseph was bearded and standing tall.  The manger was waiting and the congregation was wondering why the delay.  All were antsy as the clock on the wall ticked away the day.  But something very important was happening.  Baby Jesus wasn’t finished eating.  Mommy was so warm and nice. Finally there was a coo.  It was time to go.  It was a grand program.
 
All I ever saw of baby Jesus was the top of a tiny head with a swirl of new-born hair.  It was all I needed for my memory to hear Mahalia Jackson sing Sweet Little Jesus Boy.  “We didn’t know who you was.”  We know now.  Those tiny hands grew big and strong and were calloused from the carpenter shop.  They were to hold nails so differently from what He learned from Joseph.
 
The angels and the universe are ready.  The world strains with pain.  God’s children pray. The clock in the throne room ticks away the centuries.  Jesus is not yet ready but will come at the exact precise moment when all is right.  He waits. “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” II Peter 3:9.  Just as when our baby Jesus finished his lunch so our King of King Jesus will finish His heavenly duties and as Paul describes, “In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.”  I Corinthians 15.   Not long.  Not long now. 

I have a confession to make.  My favorite store is Dollar Tree.  One never knows exactly what will be available.  When wandering about I stock up on things I know I will eventually need.  If I see my usual kind of toothpaste I will get a tube even though I’m not in an immediate need. 
 
I do the same thing with memorizing verses from Scripture.  Not always is a text needed for an immediate problem.  But it’s good to have just in case.  The Psalms have texts about enemies.  I don’t have any.  (Oh, I know there are people that don’t wish me well.  That makes me their enemy.  It doesn’t make them mine.)  David seemed to have several enemies.  It must be the price one pays for being important.
 
But back to the idea of storing up things for future needs.  One can’t have too many verses tucked away.  Modern poems are like that as well as Psalms.  When I was in high school our English teacher had us memorize many poems by Robert Frost.  Now decades later as I ride around New England I see rock walls, woods and many things that bring them to memory.  I love it.  It adds so much to an afternoon drive.  I have even stopped by a wood on a snowy evening to watch it fill up with snow.
 
Treat yourself.  Exercise your brain.  Learn some memory verses.  Just one a week will next year at this time put 52 new arrows in your quiver.  They also create pathways for God to talk to you.  I realize He can talk to you anytime but it doesn’t hurt to make it easier for Him by storing up His Word in your heart.  Psalm 119:11.

Today is a day from Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring.   There are no birds, there are no squirrels.  My bird feeders hang dormant.  The suet feeders are untouched.  Normally when this happens it is short lived because our neighborhood hawk is present.  But this has been all day.  Could there be an owl on my roof that I cannot see?  It is rainy and gray but that alone should not explain the total dearth.   I feel like singing Peter Paul and Mary’s Where Have All the Flowers Gone and swap the word flowers with the word birds.
 
Just as I miss the birds so would God miss us if we were not part of His family.  Perhaps that’s not true.  While the absence of birds leaves me vacant, God’s missing us is a thousand times more devastating to Him.  One of the most poignant passages of Scripture is Matthew 23:37.   Jesus is weeping over Jerusalem.  “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”
 
When Jesus told us to pray “Our Father” He revolutionized our approach to God.  God is not merely the all powerful, all knowing force in the universe.  He is the head of a family. The universe isn’t just about galaxies, solar systems and worlds unnumbered.  It is about family.  We just had Thanksgiving and not everyone was blessed to sit at a table with all their children and grandchildren.  Those not there were missed.  Revelation 19 tells us about the wedding feast of the Lamb.  It will be a glorious event with all of God’s children in attendance.  If you are not there you will be missed.  For sure – you will be missed.

You know those commercials where the little old lady falls on the floor and cries out, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”  Well, it happened last night to my older sister.  She lives alone and fell out of bed.  She didn’t have to cry out.  She has one of those buttons hanging from her neck.  She pressed the button and in a few minutes blue lights were flashing through her front windows.  Someone picked the lock on her door and four firemen came in.  Gently they picked her up, put her in bed, tucked her in, smoothed her hair and locked the door on the way out.  I asked if one of them kissed her goodnight.  All she would say was, “I’m not a kiss and tell girl.”  I think she had such a good time we might have a problem with her doing it again tonight. 
 
One of my favorite verses comes from the story of Lazarus in John 11.  It’s about falling.  “After he had said this, he went on to tell them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.’”  Jesus specializes in picking up the fallen.  Whether we have fallen into sin and fallen from grace or have fallen asleep as Lazarus did, Jesus is the fireman to come and rescue.  So the big question is did you fall today?  Did you need Jesus to pick you up?  Of course you did.  That was a stupid question. But don’t be tempted to deliberately fall.  Remember Romans 6 says, “Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  By no means!”  This is such a great truth.  I never get over how wonderful, practical and applicable is the Gospel.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be something else or someone else?  What or who would you be if you could just for 24 hours not be you?  Would you be someone famous; an actor, a politician, an athlete, a gifted musician, a great preacher?  Would you be a different race or gender?  Would you be a lion on an African savanna or your pet dog?  Would you so enjoy it you would not want to return to being you?  Or would you find it so distasteful 24 hours would be way too long?
 
Jesus did such a thing.  He was the Creator and He became one of His created and not for 24 hours but for a shortened lifetime on this very small planet.  He was rich and became poor.  He was loved and became hated.  Each of us searches for meaning for our lives. After the age of 13 He knew His meaning.  He had sent ahead a manual (Isaiah) telling Him what He was to be and how to be it.  He was to be wounded for our transgressions and be mangled by men.
 
I wonder if pigeons on a wire wonder about all the hustle that passes below and where is their place in the grand scheme.  I doubt it.  We seem to be the only creatures haunted by a quest for meaning.  If my dog wonders about meaning it certainly is limited to the now and not related to eternity.  She is here to bark at the UPS man and to tell me when the postman has arrived.  Today she even had something to say about a small airplane that passed overhead.   But we are different. We have meaning and purpose and that is our quest.

We just returned from Boston Symphony Hall where our souls were nourished for two and half hours as we listened to Handel’s Messiah.  It is not difficult to pinpoint my favorite five minutes.  I know we all stood for the Hallelujah Chorus but for me the best was yet to come.  It was the very next aria “I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and tho’ worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep.”  Job 19 and I Corinthians 15.
 
When the soprano sings “I know that my redeemer liveth” I want to jump and shout, “Yes, Yes, Yes.”  This old body grows decrepit but I gladly trade it in for the newest best model.  There won’t be a next year’s model because it will be the best possible model.  That’s not because there won’t be any needed or wanted additions it is because it comes with never ending self/divine improvement software.
 
I did notice that some did not stand for the Hallelujah Chorus so I watched them at the end when the soloists came out for their bows.  Those same people stood, applauded and some even yelled, “Bravo.”  I should hold my judgment because I’m sure each had their personal reasons.  But for me if I stand to applaud a fellow human whose accomplishment was to sound good, why not stand for the praise, honor and glory for the one who shall reign forever and ever because He is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?   Tonight I shall go to bed hearing in my head, “I know that my redeemer liveth” and I will sleep well.

Thanksgiving is almost a synonym for food.  Food preparation is not one of my gifts.  Therefore about halfway through the holiday I begin to feel guilty.  While I am watching football others are busy in the kitchen.  Trying to compensate I look for little things that I can do that might be helpful.  So when I saw the dishwasher full of dishes it was a serendipitous opportunity for me to do something other than freeload.  So I quickly put in the dishwasher soap and turned it on.  I was feeling pretty good about myself until I heard, “Who turned on the dishwasher?  They were clean!!”  Alas.  No good deed goes unpunished.
 
I have a friend who belongs to a church that baptizes by immersing three times – one for the Father, one for the Son and one for the Holy Spirit.  He never said so bit I think he thinks I’m not really baptized since I was only immersed once.  Then of course there are those who were merely sprinkled.  And we can go one further and mention the thief on the cross who wasn’t even sprinkled.
 
Actually we are saved by grace and not by any rite; otherwise it would be salvation by ritual.  Salvation is a heart experience with our maker.  Salvation is saying, “Lord, I want to be like you.”  Salvation is saying, “I am disgusted with myself and know I can only be clean if you say so.”  Salvation is knowing Jesus also says to us, “This day you will be with me in my kingdom.”  And how does that happen?  Merely by asking.  It is easy to make God happy.  Fathers are like that.  Yeah, they are.