My friend Dorothy Englund celebrates her 100th birthday this week
When a person turns one hundred there’s a challenge to be sure. It’s called blowing out those candles on your cake. The cause of global warming is there right before your eyes. And the heat from all those flames is no mistake.
But the upside of this birthday is the chance to reminisce recalling all you’ve done these many years. You’re amazing. You’re a trophy of our God’s amazing grace. You have faced what life has dealt with joy and tears.
And this rest stop on life’s journey provides time to catch your breath as you bask in all the love that comes your way. There are cards and gifts and flowers, there are visits from dear friends who remind you that you’re Queen this special day.
From sea to shining sea our nation boasts the Creator’s fingerprints
In nature the Creator speaks. A gurgling brook or mountain creek are all He needs to bend my ear so I can hear His voice.
The windswept prairies boasting grain or northwest forests drenched in rain are means by which God whispers “I’m the source of all that lives!”
The seacoast with its deafening waves, the echoes of a pitch-black cave are sounds that point to One who spoke and said “Let there be life!”
On mountain summits cloaked with snow or in the desert sands below creation sings God’s majesty and bids me join the song… “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation…”
*The above poem can be found in When God Speaks by Greg Asimakoupoulos.
Greg’s book, “When God Speaks“ is listed on the BOOKS menu at $14.99 from Lulu Books.
Our old forefathers recognized one Father of us all. Their faith in God then paved our destiny. The Pilgrims and the Puritans sang praise to One who reigns o’er every nation by His Sovereignty.
One nation under God we claim as we salute our flag. Our fathers’ hope remains our dream today. A dream we still articulate the fourth of each July. A dream for which we wait and humbly pray.
O God, please bless America as we each do our part to purge our land of godlessness and greed. Equip our leaders with the will to stand for what is right and speak up for the rights of those in need.
Forgive us for our tendency to cave to culture’s trends and go along with what Your Word decries. Infuse us with the mind of Christ to navigate what’s truth while steering clear from self-destructive lies.
Revive Your Church. Restore our land. Renew us from within. Redeem what we’ve allowed to slip away. God bless our nation once again that we might be the means to bless a hurting world that’s lost its way.
On a recent cruise to Alaska, my wife and I spent the better part of one day in Glacier Bay National Park near the village of Hoona. The highlight of the experience for me was photographing Margerie Glacier. This brilliant blue river of ice that flows more than twenty miles from its source in the mountains is some three hundred feet high and stretches a mile from side to side.
I was impressed by what the National Park rangers told us. Although most glaciers in Alaska are receding due to global warming, Margerie Glacier remains quite stable. In fact, it is estimated that Margerie advances about thirty feet a year.
As I pondered the cold facts, I began to reflect on how “secular warming” has impacted our culture. Secularism, by definition, derives its worldview from naturalistic observations devoid of a dependence on the Divine. As such, it overshadows the supernatural and the mystery of a God-centered cosmos. In an expanding secularistic society, the end result is an atmosphere that threatens norms historically based in a Biblically-grounded perspective.
Like most of the glaciers in Alaska, Judeo-Christian values have been noticeably receding the past couple of generations. So, too, has Biblical literacy. If you were to do a survey among elementary children in public schools today, my guess is that most would not be clueless when asked to identify Adam and Eve, David and Goliath or Jonah and the whale.
Several years ago, I was renting a video in a Blockbuster Store. (That in and of itself would indicate just how long ago it was.) Scanning the shelves, a group of high school students chatted among themselves while attempting to find a satirical comedy based on the life of Christ. As they searched for Life of Brian by Monty Python, one of the kids attempted to explain what the video was about. “It’s about the dude who was born on Christmas!” he explained. “I can’t recall his name.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This well-educated young man, schooled in one of the best school districts in America, couldn’t name the person who was born on Christmas. Furthermore, he didn’t realize that the reason we celebrate Christmas to begin with is because of the significance of Jesus’ birth.
Since that startling experience twenty years ago, church attendance across our nation has continued to decline. Local churches are closing at an unprecedented rate. In addition, the Bible is no longer assumed to be the authoritative source of supernational revelation. Scripture’s time-honored status as the unquestioned and unchanging standard for faith, doctrine and conduct has been replaced by a culture of amoral relativism.
But it’s not just changing trends in church attendance and expanded views of Biblical interpretation that sound a cause for alarm. There is a shift in society when it comes to the freedom to practice one’s desire to share their personal faith. What we used to call personal evangelism is now labeled proselytizing.
Ironically, the word evangelism means “good news.” But any attempt to try and extol the virtues of one’s faith tradition with an eye towards conversion is now viewed as bad news.
But gratefully there are those who are willing to stand their ground and not cave-in to the boiling influences of society that are melting centuries of tradition and norms. Within the Jewish and Christian communities where I live, minority voices are speaking up about values easily put down by those drumming the cadence of our current culture.
Like the Margerie Glacier, these courageous souls refuse to simply calve off and melt away. But as with that beautiful blue icefield in Glacier Bay, they are an exception to the rule. All the same, their minority voices are needed. We need to be reminded of a rich heritage that is at risk of becoming merely a historical footnote.
Greg Asimakoupoulos shares poignant memories triggered by this photo
I became a father forty years ago this year. I’ll never forget the day. My wife and I were escorted to a labor room and left alone. Standing at Wendy’s bedside, my job was to monitor the baby’s heartbeat and the frequency of contractions. Depending on the severity of the discomfort, my job was to coach my wife how to breathe relying on the techniques we’d learned in childbirth classes.
Shortly after we settled into a routine that would likely last a few hours, I noticed the baby’s heart rate declined dramatically. I was obviously concerned. When the heart rate dropped with every sequential contraction, I raced to find a nurse. Within minutes an emergency c-section was scheduled and all the lessons we’d learned for a natural childbirth went out the window. As Wendy was wheeled into surgery, I’m the one who could have used help remembering how to breathe calmly.
The procedure didn’t last all that long, but it seemed like an eternity. When the doctor presented our newborn daughter to me, he explained why the surgery was required. The umbilical cord had become wrapped around our baby’s neck and with each contraction it tightened. Had I failed to monitor the monitor, our child could have easily been stillborn.
My first day of fatherhood was my introduction to what being a dad would involve over the next number of years. There is joyful anticipation of an unknown future. There is the need for being coached on how to “breathe” when the “contractions” of daily life take your breath away. There is the realization that normal can give way to abnormal without notice. That happiness can be trumped by fear with no time to brace yourself. In the end the good outweighs the bad.
That first day of fatherhood eliminated any illusion I might have had that my daughter’s life (or mine) would be problem-free. I was reminded of that reality four years later when my wife and I dropped Kristin off at her first day of preschool. After leaving our precious firstborn in the care of a stranger, my stomach was in knots. And as we walked to our car in front of the school, I noticed someone had backed into our station wagon leaving significant damage and not leaving a note.
No, a father’s life is not without troubles. And neither are the lives of those for which he is privileged to provide and to help guide. We do ourselves a disservice by expecting what isn’t realistic. Life becomes less hard when we recognize it is (by definition) difficult. No wonder that time-honored maxim by Robert Browning is this father’s mantra. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?
But lest I end this column on a downer, the overriding emotion I felt that first day of being a dad was one of gratitude and unconditional love. I had reason to be thankful. Kristin was born without complications. She was healthy. She was beautiful. She was mine. I was a proud father who cradled that miniature human being in my arms whenever I could steal her away from my wife.
I know I’m not the first pastor who has compared the love a father has for his child to the love our Heavenly Father has for us. But the firsthand discovery of that truth was so powerful, I was convinced this insight was something unique to me. I truly do understand how much God cares for me by the depth of love I have for my kids. Nothing (underscore nothing) can separate me from them.
“Behold what manner of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God. And that is what we are.” 1 John 3:1
My Rhymes and Reasons 