Which Is Greater, Satan Or Sin ?

This was a consideration I posed to a bible study group a few years ago. It was my hope to get people to consider their situation and where they are in their walk with God.
Which would you consider to be the greater, Satan or sin ? The answer perhaps could be found in another question, what do we fear more, Satan or sin. Our minds can easily identify the "enemy" by name and in most church settings we rally to cast out the demon(s) of our trials and tribulations.
I'm of the generation that remembers watching the Flip Wilson Show where the comedian would be dressed in a woman's dress and wig, saying, "The devil made me do it!" After all, it is easier to deflect blame and instead give our lack of accountability over to "someone" who has greater power over us.
I would suggest to you that that line, made famous by crossed-dressed Flip, was proclaimed way back in Genesis by two people standing naked behind some tree leaves, answering to the Almighty God.
It matters not whether you believe it was an actual apple or any other fruit, what does matter is if you do or do not believe that the Word of the Lord was disregarded for the simple desire instead to, "be like God".(Chp 3, vs. 4)
So now we fast forward to these same two individuals, now filled with shame and trying to hide their nakedness and hearing the Lord walking in the garden, calling for them. Verse 11 continues with God asking, "Who told you that you were naked ? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from ?"
Adam answers in classic male fashion, "The woman you put here with me she gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it."
There wasn't a hint of remorse, he didn't ask for forgiveness, he wasn't sorry. He could only point at the woman and blame her.
Now the woman's turn to respond when God asked, "What is this you have done ?" She could not point back at Adam, her position was clear. She simply said, "The devil made me do it!" (vs.13, with poetic license)
The obvious statement is that the bible is full of stories of Satan's meddling and man's struggle, but this was at the very beginning. This set the bar pretty low.
If I were to ask you, "How much power does Satan have?" Hopefully, your answer would be, "Only as much as we allow him to have". See, God is the only one Who is omnipotent and omnipresent, all at the same time. If I say, "the devil made me do it!" then I have already given myself over to him and let the pity party begin.
But if I say that I am a sinner saved by Grace then I am no longer held as a slave to sin, but have been made free. Man sinned against God in the garden and continues to do so because it is man's desire to be like God. Where ever man may be, sin enters in with him and there is no place, this side of eternity, where man is free from sin and the judgment that is to follow. Church especially.
We could, not knowing, be drowning in a sea of sin, crying out, Where are you Satan? Show yourself so that I can have victory over this! Not likely to happen.
If, however, we cry out like Peter, "Lord, save me!" He is faithful to reach down and save us, even in the midst of a storm.
I would ask you to consider, again, which is the greater, Satan or sin ?
Hopefully this has, at the very least, caused you to pause and think where you are in the battle for your eternal soul. My love to all.

I Got A Glimpse

You've perhaps heard the phrase, "got a glimpse"? Most often it refers to a brief moment in time when you are given the opportunity to view the future, whether you realize it or not. It has happened to me twice, the most recent being the night I met Sarah. I can't tell you exactly why, I just knew she was to be my wife and amazingly, the girl I saw that night is the same girl I get to see, everyday. Previous to that, it was the summer I got to work at Steelmasters with my dad.

When we reached a particular age, my dad would take each one of his sons to the shop for a summer, some of us willingly, others, under what seemed like a prison sentence. I'm sure my dads plan was to introduce us to the harsh realities of toil and labor in the hopes that it would scare us into seeking refuge in the hallowed halls of some university, pursuing a higher education. My two brothers are a lot smarter than me.

Dave, after his stint at Steelmasters, joined the Marine Corp. Hmm, maybe not that much smarter. However, after he got out,it gave him the experience and fortitude to test out a new field opening up called, computers. Back then, those things filled large rooms, chewed and spit out cards with rectangular holes and could add 2+2 in the blink of an eye. Way beyond my scope of comprehension.

Andy, he was simply a pawn used to hold the summer position open until I reached the age when I could get my work permit from school, thereby allowing me to legally apply for work. Thanks Andy! It only confirmed in him what he already knew, he didn't want to work that hard. Ever. He went on to a four year university, got his degree in art and set out to find his niche. It was still a struggle for him, but I have envied the fact that he always knew what he wanted to do. Remember, I still can't decide on what cereal I want.

My job, basically, was to sweep the shop. This was a big shop and so I would throw around sweeping compound in small areas and then pick it up. It looked like red sawdust and was designed to keep down the dust. It wasn't long before my dad would take me out to the yard and show me how to operate the forklift. Or, the overhead crane, or clean some welds with the chipping hammer, or do some grinding. Before I knew it, I was unloading trucks and moving large pieces of sheet metal, helping some of the other guys.

My dads plan, and hopes, for me and college, fell away completely, I'm sure, once I got my first paycheck. I guess he saw that look on my face as I looked over my first check from Steelmasters. I traced my finger over the amount embossed on it. With what may have seemed ceremonious, I tore off that little pay stub which I had seen so many times before, in his wallet, on his nightstand. I can't remember dinner tasting so good as that night.

Psalm 128 reads;

Blessed are all who fear the Lord, who walk in his ways. You will eat the fruit of your labor, blessings and prosperity will be yours. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house, your sons will be like olive shoots around your table. Thus is the man blessed who fears the Lord. May the Lord bless you from Zion all the days of your life. May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem and may you live to see your children's children.

Yeah, I got a glimpse

Toilet Paper and The Great Depression

Being that we are now counted among the empty nest population, our trips to the grocery store have become less frequent and eating out is now more the case. I have promised my wife that if we ever win the lotto, I would remodel the house to fit her every need, a bathroom I would never set foot in and a fast food pick up window in the driveway. Naturally, this would eliminate the need for a kitchen which I used to leverage for a larger garage. She said I can put my bathroom in there.

Yesterday evening we made what now works out to be about a once a month visit to the grocery store, restocking the essentials, milk, eggs, cereal (why does it still take me at least 10 minutes to pick a cereal?) paper products, shampoo, laundry soap,etc. These restocking visits, which usually ran above the $200 dollar mark, now come in between $90 - $110. So if I feel that I've been an extra good husband then I may want to purchase a mountain bike magazine some pork rinds and a 6-pack of beer, for we now have the room in our budget.

I do however, take advantage if something is on sale, like say, toilet paper. Granted there are only two of us in the house now but you can count the rolls on the shelf in the bathroom and find that we have a total of 36 rolls. Actually, I try to maintain an inventory of 20 rolls, but this was a good sale price.

Maybe some of you consider this, excessive ? For me, it is now the yardstick by which my financial security is measured. See, back just a few years ago, things were pretty tough for us, and every month there I was, trying to re-enact the fishes and loaves thing, only with my paycheck and the bills.

On more than one occasion we had run out of toilet paper and it usually happened right between pay checks and grocery runs. Course of action? Find all the coin possible, night stand, in the car, in the kids room, you know, everywhere. I never bothered to look in the couch cushions because, well, we never had money in our pockets so logic would tell you that there wasn't going to be any in the cushions. After finding just enough, and then, not wanting to waste gas driving to the market, I'd walk to the 7-11 and purchase a roll. That's right, I said, a roll ! Sure it was kinda weird, but at 7-11, weird is the norm. Walking back with my one roll of toilet paper I would resolve myself to never have to do this again, but a few months later there we are scrounging for change to go buy a roll of toilet paper. You can see how this experience would lead me to think of this now as a measure of financial security.

Both of my parents were old enough to have experienced the Great Depression,and, at an impressionable age. They also were quick to tell me that, even afterwards, when everyone was working again (thank you World War II) it was still a tough time. They were a young married couple with small children, my dad working in the shipyards of Long Beach and my mom working for some appliance manufacturer, or was it the hot dog company. Anyways, as they recanted those times, I never recall hearing them say how they had to starve for a couple of days, or how they had to go without heat. They just said, "Things were hard back then and we did what we had to do to make ends meet."
Hey mom, was toilet paper ever an issue? I think my mother would have fainted if I had ever asked that of her.

Yes, things were hard then as they are hard now, relatively speaking. And guess what? It doesn't look like it's getting any easier, but, I am at peace knowing that I have enough toilet paper in my house and I don't have to go to 7-11 for anything more than a Slurpee or a hot dog.

Lemonade

Originally written Monday, December 19, 2005

Maybe it's just me but, have you noticed that we can all experience the same event, share the same facts, and yet come away with a different impression.

I remember growing up at the Daly St house and we would be next door with Mama Maria. Joseph and I would be playing in the dirt with her masetas. We'd take those little clay flower pots and pack in the dirt then, turn it over and begin building our fort or town or whatever.

The days were bright and hot and the dirt was black and cool and I remember thinking that if I left the pot full of dirt sitting in the sun it would bake it, making it a much stronger structure.

Mama Maria had lots of masetas around the back porch, but there were just a few that we could play with. She had these starter pots which she used for the geraniums which already lined the side of the house along the driveway, the back fence and of course on the side where "Franky" used to live. There were the times when she would want to transfer from the pot to the ground some of these geraniums and she would have us loosen up the soil and then dig a little hole and shake 'em out to plant. Then of course the fun part, watering ! I remember the little black shoes she always used to wear and how they would get all muddy. She didn't mind, she was busy beautifying her house and having fun watching just how dirty we could get.

Sometimes we would go over to uncle Charlies house, of which I have very little memory of except for all the masetas and geraniums he too had growing on what seemed like countless shelves on a slope. We would have some lunch and then walk out back and I can only guess that Mama Maria would be giving uncle Charlie advice on how to improve some of his plants. I was busy running around and playing with all his small gardening tools, immediately finding the nearest patch of dirt to start digging. One very hot afternoon of visiting, I remember walking back towards the house, exhausted from the hard work of playing in the dirt. Everyone was sitting in a semi circle, Mama Maria was seated fanning herself with that fan she always had, mom and aunt Susie were on either side of her, pop and charlie were standing and charlie was taking off his hat and wiping his brow. Everyone looked a little green from the sunlight through corrugated plastic that was over the patio and they were all drinking lemonade.

I walked up to mom and told her I was thirsty and aunt Susie said, come here, I'll get you something to drink and she took me by the hand and into the kitchen. She picked me up at the sink and washed my hands all the while talking to me about how busy I was and what a hard worker I will grow up to be. She poured a small glass for me and put a couple of cookies next to it. This had to have been the first time i had ever tasted this stuff, and when I found out you could add sugar !! That's all I needed to know, forget the cookies aunt Susie, bring me more lemonade and that bowl of sugar!

In hearing the news about our aunt Susie, I wasn't sad or reminiscent, i simply marvelled that we have been so lucky to have been born and raised by a family such as ours. Though miles separate many of us, there is still a close bond of which I have not seen or experienced in any other family.

As you know, lately we have been experiencing extreme cold here in Denver however, the forecast for this week we will be in the mid-50's by the weekend. I think that will be just warm enough for me to go out and find a maseta and a geranium to plant in it.

I'll probably cry when I drink the lemonade.

Thanks Aunt Susie.

Bumper Sticker-ism

The vast majority of drivers we encounter on the streets and highways of our daily routine are stupid, let's not beat around the bush. I'll also be the first to say that I have pulled off some bonehead moves myself, so count me in as one of them. To an extent, that is. So with this revelation, why do some of these idiots feel the need to apply a personal adhesive testimonial in the hopes of declaring their brilliance or outrage for a particular group, government, religion, or the level of intelligence for their pet? I'm talking about bumper stickers.

For instance, the one which uses the different cultural symbols of faith to spell out, "COEXIST". A nice thought,as if we were to accomplish this, all strife and fighting would cease to exist. Personally, I think that ranks somewhere along the lines of believing that everybody holding hands and singing the Coca-Cola song would make world a better place!

What jumped out at me when I first saw this was, the fact that the first symbol is either backwards, or a mirror image of the Turkish flag. If it was meant to represent Turkey then why are the others symbols of faith and beliefs. I don't recall hearing about any news reporting that Turkey is no longer a country but a faith or belief system. And really, for the sake of the bumper sticker I'm sure, this more closely resembles the Algerian flag, but, I'm pretty sure this was meant to symbolize the Muslim faith, of which, one of it's orders for existence is to completely eliminate the 4th symbol!

Followers of the second symbol just piss me off and those who align themselves with the last symbol have done more to damage and destroy what it represents than the Good that came from it.

Don't get me started on the one that says,"My Child is an Honor Student at Our Lady of Perpetual Payments Elementary School!" Or whatever school that child may be attending. Yay for you! As opposed to the home life where the child is fawned over and indulged, hence the bumper sticker, or even worse, neglected, indulgence of another form. Give them whatever they want so the parental units need not be involved.

How do I suppose they are neglected, you ask? As I motor past the mini-van and look inside, I see the parent, bluetooth engaged, with a cup or bottle of the latest energy infused drink and the kids in the back, with drop down monitors and headphones, watching the latest DVD release of whatever movie is out that makes them quiet!

And please, if I offend anyone with the next sticker-ism then, mission accomplished! I don't care that your dog is smarter than their honor student. Our society has given way too much to our 4 legged domesticates. It has been on more than one occasion that I have had to instruct our groomer or vet that I am NOT the daddy of my dog!

I have to take him to the vet because he has to have shots updated. I have to have updated shots records because I have to take him to the groomers. I have to take him to the groomers because every once in a while, like snowstorms, I let him in the house and he stinks! He has to stink because, he's a dog! Not my son, not my daughter, not my baby, and especially not my "preshie-weshie, snoogy-woogy little cute face!" Yeah, it's rare I use the same groomer twice.

Our current canine resident is a Border-Collie, recently touted as, "the smartest breed ever!" Princess Pissy-Pants!?

I found this hard to believe recalling the time, "seth" jumped out of the car window while I was traveling down the freeway at 65 mph! This was not the first time he had been in a car, either! He just bailed out! Incredibly he only had a couple of scrapes and cuts, although I was more afraid someone would be killed in the massive pile up I feared surely would happen as they tried to dodge the dog on the freeway. Thanks be to God, no such thing occurred. How he got to the side of the freeway and how I found him is another story, but there I sit, in the vets office, waiting to get him checked out, and a magazine with this headline is on the table in the waiting room. I looked at our dog and then back at the front page photo of the dog on the magazine. Yup, same dog, just amazingly lacking in the intelligence department.

Who'll Be My Pall Bearers ?

You'll forgive the title of my first foray into the "blogging profession", and its morbidity, but you will see how it bears out, as this was a long train of thought which occurred to me after the night I experienced a choking episode in my sleep.

The next morning I awoke (always a good sign) and set about working in the yard as I pondered on what had happened and how serious it actually was. I'm thinking that I may have died a little at one point because my whole body seriously ached.

I'm not talking about a little soreness like the kind you get after 20 minutes on the elliptical. This was more like, if I had gone to the gym and my trainer was one of those sadistic young female coaches who knows that you don't want to fail in front of a woman but her hatred towards 50 year old men, not to mention other daddy issues, pushes you to the point of thinking, "Surely I'm going to die!", and then frightfully realizing, "No, I'm going to live!". Yes, this feeling was more like rigor mortise had set in and I had to kick out of it's sticky web as I frantically sat up, choking and gasping myself to consciousness.

I do believe the autopsy report would find, asphyxiation, choked by my own vomit, as the primary cause of death, from a rogue belch I unconsciously allowed and had not kept in check. After all, I was asleep! My apologies to those of you eating right now.

So, as the train of thought continued, naturally I came to the part (and we've all done it, don't lie) where I imagined my funeral. I think I remember reading somewhere, "If you want to live a good life, start from your eulogy and work backwards", or something to that effect. I think the clinical definition is "illusions of grandeur".

Now for a little insight. My first full time job was working at a large mortuary chain in California. I started as a junior in high school, part time and evenings and then went full time after graduation. My, not yet wife, I met as she toiled away in the office, across town in Hollywood, at the crematory. Contrary to corporate lore, her job was not to stare at the pre-cremated remains until they burst into flames. That, dear readers, is a skill only developed after almost 30 years of living with me. I worked for this company for 5 years, helping families arrange services for their loved ones, so I believe I am sufficient with the experience one would need in order to imagine a proper service.

In all those years there was only one service, I recall, where the widow had to hire pall bearers to carry her husbands casket because their situation was that they either didn't know or didn't have any friends.

We think and plan for so many events in our lives so that those who are closest to us are a part. Our parents consider who will be our godparents. We think, Who will stand with us at our confirmation? Who will be part of the quinceniera, bar mitzvah? And, of course, we cannot over look, Who will be my best man/maid of honor? All very critical, life long choices, based on friendships.

In the event of our death we have, hopefully, left matters as such that our family would not have much to worry over and maybe even be able to leave a little financial security for them to move forward with. My wife and I have discussed with our children, and in no uncertain terms, our wishes after we have, "fallen off the twig".

James Dean is credited for the quote, "Live fast, die young, you leave a good looking corpse", however, I don't think he took into account his convertible flipping over and his head turning into a #2 pencil eraser. If I had not so desperately and unconsciously desired to breathe, this too would have been my sudden and untimely demise, but I would have left a good looking corpse!

So, to that end, I am able to imagine a formal memorial service with open casket. Again, it has been my experience that surviving members have an easier time with grieving when the body is presented in such a manner as opposed to simply having pictures and a memorial service.
My apologies to scrapbook makers, event planners and previous memorial services I've attended.

With all that said, I asked myself, "Who will be my pall bearers" ? I hope to resolve this before the time is called for, thereby avoiding some of the more comical, almost Three Stooges type scenarios I have witnessed, occurring at my own funeral. These six individuals, male and female, will have had a significant part in my life and I would be both humbled and honored to have them symbolically escort me once more.

Ask yourself, who your pall bearers might be, it could be fun. It could be insightful. It could also be that maybe you'll need a lot more friends.