It was a perfect Saturday morning, cool after an inch or so of rain and a job that Soren, my son, had agreed to do. Cutting down trees. I love working with my family and so volunteered to assist him and do what I do.
We drove up about 15 miles straight north to a remote home. Two 4wd pickups, one older than the other..a lot older. The bed is starting to rust pretty bad and after cutting into the bed to replace the fuel pump, we found out how rusty. Missing hold downs and such. It’s a fairly good pickup and had a problem with fuel delivery when first started. A real problem. A neighbor that we borrow and service a nice compact JD tractor from and have known for many years, sold it to us. One dollar.
We took several chain saws, clippers, hard hats, chain oil and fuel. Soren even tossed in my old 80 cubic inch Jonsered saw., It will break your wrist to start if you don’t pull with total surrender and strength. It started but still needs a fuel pump. It was my first chain saw when I moved up here in 1976. I was working for Burlington Northern as a track worker and lifting and using it was easy. Fifty years later it got heavier and fussier. Good saw, Just set it with it’s big teeth on a huge round and it walks right through it with a delicious moan and power.
We got three trees down an I began using my Joe Biden electric saw to limb it and cut rounds. 60 amp battery pacs ready to take charge. Light weight and quiet. Soren used the new ‘Farm Boss’ Stihl and we filled the old Ranger’s bed after getting the brush cut and piled.
Dinner was ready and our delightful hose, Jane, had spicy chicken soup, coffee, bread and butter, ice cream and strawberries and rhubarb muffins for us. It was great. Conversations about the great authors of faith were the table talk.
A topic which was very personal and direct is how we expect Jesus to ‘fix’ our problems if we ask nice and are respectful. We plead and wheedle Christ when He is asleep in our boat to calm the raging storms around us. Waking Him up to do His thing. Again.
I drove the loaded pickup, sagging down the 1 ¼ mile driveway, trying to remember what we talked about, taking it to heart. The furious storm at sea, decades ago came to mind. That time my rescuer was the captain of the ship and I had no fear (mostly, just awe) Was this a small way that I trusted someone with my life at sea? After all, it was loud and wet and the ship was tossed to an fro as in a child’s bath as the waves worked their worst. The rigging howled and the bow was covered with water as we plowed through breaking 60 foot waves. Trust.
How would I have felt if our captain was asleep in his cabin and only I was at the helm? What would I have trusted in? I knew little or nothing about trusting the Lord in all ways and at all times. I would have banged on his hatch to waken him just as the disciples did.
Jesus knows there are now storms all around us and it is scary and a lot of us are praying for Him to intervene. He knows everything that was and will be and has answered all these prayers in His own way and we do not have to awaken him with our petitions. Be calm and know that He is with us, not against us and His will be done as it is in Heaven.
It is a new prayer that I offer to Him. I do not understand these times Lord, calm my spirit, once again, turn your face towards me and give me peace. Hallelujah!
In articulo mortis caelitus mihi vires, At the moment of death, my strength is from Heaven.
It was a trip that many of us have taken. Perhaps quite a few times for some. Julie and I decided to go North and become relaxed by the worlds containment of a third of all the fresh water on the planet. Lake Superior.
We made a brief stop at the entryway to the North Shore, Canal Park in Duluth. It was a Thursday morning and there was hardly anyone around and parking was a breeze.
An automated parking meter had issues and would not finish its given task. We tried to talk sense into it but the last thing we tried worked. Like a vagrant with an attitude, it wanted money, folding money and not plastic money. I understood that as I was a street busker in ‘The City’. Before credit cards. Only cash or groceries were placed into my guitar case. If you have been to that California city you know where that is.
Square card processing is not a possible sometimes when you are sitting on a sidewalk in front of a parking meter.
There was limited entertainment from the meter and it was adamant about cash. It pulled in our dollar bills and was satisfied and permitted our car to be parked next to it for 4 hours. We went into the basement coffee shop and got coffees and scones and went up to the second floor to the violin shop.
Old friends own it and they repair and sell bow played stringed instruments. A tale was told by Chris, the owner, about the guitar shop on the same floor. An interesting character was there buying a 1920 Martin D28 guitar. He paid cash and stood out side the violin shop with the guitar in his left hand, leaning on the stair case balustrade with his right. No one paid any attention to him as Duluth is rife with odd men. Chris knew It was Willy Nelson who was in town for a gig and was unrecognized and not fawned over either. Willy finally just strolled down the stairs and out the building. Another busker in from the cold seeking treasure. We had no idea what he paid for that Rosewood Martin.
We left for highway 61 to go north. Another famous guitar player wrote a song about that highway. My mind was now peculating along with the lyrics that Bob Dylan wrote back a few years ago about Abraham and his son Isaac.
It was easy to find the cabin they would have for the better part of a week. The really good ones are on the east side of the road where the lake shore is.Forget about the three story mansions and hotels with widows walks and turrets and fantastic views. The quest we were on did not consider those things. It was easy to find the cabin’s gravel road and small sign after acquiring a smoked whitefish from Kendalls just up the road.
The cabin was as close to the shoreline as physically possible. About 25 feet or so and the same above. It was perfect. One room with everything you would need. Toaster, sink, king size bed, table. The civilized things.
Stunned by the almost exotic view, they got everything out of the trunk and made it home there. I made some toast and coffee right away and Julie went down the boulders to the shore. There was some wind and left over waves from somewhere and the crashing waves and foam worked their welcome. She build a campfire and I worked my way down on the big rocks,and with her guidance we settled in. There was a stairway we found later.
We slept with the window cracked and the heater cranked. Two quilts and a wool blanket and we were sound asleep as pillow rearranging was done. The crashing of the waves was a familiar sound to me from my Navy days. The oil on board below the ships compartments made rushing noises as the ship rolled at about 12 knots steaming. It is akin to an ocean beach sound but the regularity is the key. I was rocked to sleep on aboard the old WW II tanker with eight million gallons of bunker oil that was heated by the steam pipes just below deck. it made the compartments nice and warm in Decembers at sea. It was all there in my deep memory and I was asleep quickly. The waves never stopped all night and through the next morning. Storm surf.
A hot cup of coffee and the fingers of foam rising up from the black rocks below was mesmerizing and the anxiety of civilizations rush began to fade fast. Nothing to concern our self with as Eternities Eternal song called us away, calling us home.
Waves for thousands of years on those chiseled rocks. The centuries of time, rolling on and on. Wearing away our world one channel of rock in it’s own ways. It roars and leaps and then there is a passive swirling as the next impact swells up and in seconds, crashes again. Timeless and the soothing power of creation.
We will probably return to Bobs cabins when we hear the Lords gentle voice calling us to the North Shore of Superior for refreshment and reassurance again We rely on the Him for His wisdom and provision for these things. Indeed that time is a gift and a treasure locked in our memories. Forever.
They are almost invisible, very much so on a web stream broadcast. They move about, trailing thick expensive cables back and forth in their wakes. Appearing to be special force units with communication gear attached to their heads. Obviously someone is telling them what to do and where to go, but what is it they are doing? There are more of them than you can easily see.
Before the service there is a ‘huddle’ at ‘front of house’ (control booth in the sanctuary that controls sound and lights) We gather and share, musicians and techs to solidify and encourage one another. Of course, there is prayer from the worship band leader. It is a very important bonding for those who do their best at presenting Jesus Christ in song to the audience. It is not an opera or a performance. It is a privilege to do so. There is pay for some that work 5 days or so a week setting and rehearsing it all. The camera operators and some techs are volunteers. The best pay for all of us is His presence.
Trolley cameras run on tracks and do those smooth side to side shots just above the audience view. It really helps those watching engage in the worship. There are separate grips at the ends of the track to stop it and push it. That grip job is an excellent class on momentum and velocity. Hand held (often on one’s shoulder) move around and can catch momentary shots of the musicians or their instruments. The director instructs operators where to look, sometimes at the audience that are engaging and worshiping.
Big ‘Jib’ cameras with large booms and complex controls do those impossible flying shots but can focus closely on a keyboard. Those cameras have ‘fences’ around them to prevent people from being hit by the wide range of movement by the operator. Complex camera operation.
Tripod cameras are elevated on platforms and are a real asset too. Sometimes there are remote cameras that are run with a joystick by the director or switcher. They can zoom in and out and swivel. It’s all a’ bit more complex’ compared to the usual cameras we use in our cell phones. It is always distracting when people hold their cell phones up to capture a performance. I wonder if they are really engaged with what is going on before them. A small 8 millimeter would not be quite so intrusive but of course, as a technical dinosaur I have opinions on progress and regress.
Leave video tasks up to the men in black. They have time afterwards to be moved by the totality of the production. A review in the room of a recent set shows the crew how to improve the experience for the viewers so there is nothing seen or felt besides the worship. Working on video production is a thing that can distract from the reasons they are there in the first place. They help Convey story, and the story of Jesus beauty can often be accompanied by tears and spiritual engagement to the audiences. There are ‘huddles’ before every service at ‘front of house’ (control of sound and lights) In the sanctuary to encourage and bond production teams. Prayer is essential at those times as well. Almost akin to the ready room in the military.
Hand held, Jib, tripods all have their positions and are numbered through the comms everyone has. Those Cameras are heavy and very complex. There is a director in touch with them and exact instructions are given as to what to capture, how close and the next shot to prepare for. It’s a choreographed dance. A lot of training and experience for both sides of the production. There are ‘grips’ that make certain the camera operators do not trip nor step on the fiber optic cables that send the video feed, in the control room there are aperture operators that control iris settings, lyrics panels that are just for the screens to show words. It’s fast and fascinating to listen to. Timing and broadcast (simulcast) adds to the complexity.
As with many technical occupations, there is shorthand and acronyms. ME mixed effects, SHADER is a control panel that adjusts camera aperture, MI, musical interlude, Load the band, CP campus Pastor, PUSH go closer with the camera control. I like ABLETON controlled by the drummer to add a CLICK track to the other musicians which sounds a click in the IEM’s they wear to keep everyone on beat (IEM is an in ear monitor) This is a beginning list and at first sounds like another language which it is.
So many sounds bouncing around that must be accounted for and the volumes are carefully set. There is a handheld unit that measures that as a sound tech walks through the room during rehearsal. ( It’s called an SPL sound level pressure.) It’s all highly technical. The control rooms and electronics remind you of Houston’s launch control for spacecraft. Blinking lights and fast button pushing and many screens for each person. Of course, the only sign of failure is an audience confused and the sound booth failure joke is; An audience looking backwards towards the the booth. They know who is screwing up.
The main reason the camera folks are dressed in black is to not be visible on the video feed. The camera iris is quickly set for different light situations and most of the people on the stage are dressed in lighter colors. The lights show those video shots so they can be seen by the viewers. As a result, black does not bounce back (it absorbs light). You can see them if you look for them but it isn’t a distraction on the whole. The lighting is another job that works with the director.
The audio for broadcast is another technical job. That audio engineer that controls the ‘in house’ experience. You can only imagine the electronics, cabling, simulcast and internet connections to be set up and tested every day. One day events involve semi-trailers of equipment and adds a lot of work to those teams. At many churches, many of the team are volunteers and do not get paid for this work. They do it for the joy and camaraderie.
Another volunteer is a time traveler. The job is to be an assistant to the director. The music rehearsal is listened to a half dozen times before hand and the assistant director charts which instrument, and singers are in a certain part of the music. There are soft sections and loud crescendos. Then all that assistant has to do is tell the director and the camera operators which shot is the best depiction of the musicians. Before it happens. 4 bars beforehand, gives everyone time to literally focus on the next solo or high point (or ending soft or quickly) Stage lighting is a factor as well.
the director tells the camera operators what shot is indeed coming up and also when their shot is being broadcast to the screens in house. All the camera operators and other control people have headsets with microphones to help them be part of the dance. It’s beautiful and often breathtaking when it comes together.
The main campus that broadcasts throughout the world has the most precise and skilled media teams. It’s called ‘simulcast’ and if you watch on-line, that is the music you see.
The director sees all the camera shots on separate screens, selects and instructs movement and image constantly. “One push, ready 1, take 1, Four push right, take 4, Five push cymbals, take 5.” As fast as you can read this. Things speed and slow according to the songs. Verse, pre-chorus-chorus. bridge. The sound pushes up to emphasize the chorus as the room gets intense with singing praise to Jesus.
It’s not manipulation, It’s invisible and correct and if done right, no one watching is aware of the team doing this. It is energy, very much the same thing that broadcast and movie directing use. Tell the story and no one thinks about it that is watching. That is a good as it gets. The director gives a brief “great shot” over the comm line now and then and that is very well received. Augustine stated “teaching is essential, praise is sweetness but persuasion is victory”
There is a lot more to production. It’s fascinating and now you know why the team is called ‘the men in black.’ Not seen but essential. It has nothing to do with agent K and J.
“My own eyes are not enough for me. I will through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many is not enough. I will see what others have invented…literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege of individuality. In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself…I may be full of goodness and good sense but still inhabit a tiny world. If I was content to be only myself, and therefore less of a self, I am in prison.” a.
It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator
picture courtesy of Bjorn Peterson, my son, at a One Thing Conferencewith a hand held camera.
It’s something that comes naturally, growing up locally or even relocating and adapting here.
You’ve used these phrases and everyone around you has such as: “how’d she go dis weekend? Ya get out and get anything?” or “ s’hat new boat easy to launch?” Didge yah go up nort to the lake wit da fam to da cabin or just chill and cook out?” “ Hews she goin? Ya look a little foofed.
It’s perfectly normal and not even noticed unless you are just up from Chicago. Relatives that own a new cabin just around our neighborhood up here. Wisconsin actually has more than ten thousand lakes and the traffic is astounding around weekends. Especially the three day ones on holidays that fall conveniently on Friday or Monday.
I count the out of state license plates just for conversation at interstate bridge highways and on this last three dayer there were a hundred vehicles in rows bumper to bumper separated by quarter mile gaps. Usual comments from us about drivers getting ahead on the double yellow by a few cars. I call it ping ponging. Rushing and getting a few seconds ahead game that we play with anxiety and some skill depending if you are quick enough and like to take chances
On the times I am passed by anxious drivers I hold my breath to avoid the inevitable unburned hydrocarbon emissions from catalytic converter overloads, especially from older Buick’s and pickups that do not display led taillights as new stuff. Oh well, we used to make a lot of money replacing those things and erasing the inevitable check engine lights from the mixture fails of over loaded oxygen sensors.
As I have quoted a few times from C.S. Lewis: “Rushing is not of the devil, it IS the devil” some writers capitalize devil, I don’t, he isn’t worth it, it’s not a ‘proper’ name.
Nowadays I pray after laughing when someone passes me and a quarter mile ahead turns off. Sometimes I count the seconds saved and that really generates humor and puzzlement.
Relax, soon we get to relax with the man who is more alive than any man has ever been. We can watch the universe unfold and drift away and still be alive with him.
“Eternity’s eternal song, is calling to me, calling me home.” Misty Edwards
I wrote and copy-wrote a song decades ago when I thought the world was my burger to devour (with fries) and songwriting and performing were my destiny. Only the title of the song now makes perfect sense in the situations we have found ourselves in. Anxiety, fear and restlessness abound.
{Dancing alone.} The original column was written during the Covid19 scare and so called pandemic. Most of us remember the dystopian and totalitarian government actions during that time. The death tolls were not even close to the Spanish flu. None of the draconian measures worked. Masks, isolation, closing everything except for big box groceries and bars. The vaccine did not work either. What a disaster.
We were indeed dancing about. Whizzing down the road, against all declarations of our leaders.
Going somewhere, anywhere, just to once again be free to go somewhere. It didn’t work. Coming home to safety without the plague hitchhiking on us, we did the usual things. Make supper, get the parlor stove laid in and lit. Do the family business out in the shop, get ready for planting and go to one of the few shops down the road deemed necessary by the government. What? We can’t gather with our friends and worship the living God?
We can’t, we can’t, we should not. We are in danger, we are all in danger under a death threat as is the whole planet. Inconceivable! But we accede and say, As you wish. Those who resisted and kept their restaurants open were prosecuted and fined an absurd amount. Especially in Minnesota.
I felt so much disconnect with almost everyone on the planet except a handful or so. The imposed oddness, the imprisonment before imminent execution as we read about in scripture and history. The comfort of my cell, even driving in our car. A cell with bars, not bars of signal from Verizon
I felt the shrug of being rapidly passed. Don’t look at me, don’t get close to me. The hurtling shopping carts filled with toilet paper. Don’t don’t don’t. Please wear a disguise around your face for I know you fear me as I fear you. Social distancing which our head of CDC at the highest level told us was useless and just made up. Six feet apart. Six feet under. Make your choice while fully masked. The masks were ridiculous and actually caused carbon dioxide buildups and not prevent a 5 micron virus with the 24 micron mask materiel used. Fake news? Reality? The Matrix is a documentary, I just heard it on Fox News.
Shop till you drop dead and we’ll send the wooden cart for you. Wear the white or yellow or blue mask, it won’t help. Those helped you feel how I felt about you. Isolated and confused. Fearing the plague.
With due reverence, but very plainly, let it be said that God can do nothing for the man withshut hand and shut life. There must be an open hand and heart and life through which Godcan give what He longs to. An open life, an open hand, open upward, is the pipe line ofcommunication between the heart of God and this poor be-fooled old world.
…S.D. Gordon (1859-1936),
I am stretching out, looking fondly upon memories of freedom I fought for in the military. My leaders for this time are many and none of them make any sense to me. It is a dream forgotten as I stumble in the dark at 1 in the morning to the bathroom. Walk back to bed and actually try to remember the power and lack of it in my dream. It’s gone with a few remembered scenes. A mission of sorts, confusion and almost palpable in my real life.
The blue pill or the red pill. Got to remember at least to take my pills in the morning. I look upon my desk when I awaken later and cast my eyes upon books, journals and the book with all the answers if I would just open it and read. Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, we are weak but He is strong.
Indeed, I am not dancing alone. I am never alone and David knew this as he danced before the King of Kings thousands of years ago.
Photo of a wood waste basket I made in shop classin 1960
This late spring morning as I was making our bed, I began humming my high school rally song. “Fight for dear old Henry High” I called an old classmate and had a great conversation. We went deep which was a pleasure. The school has now been renamed and the involved people wanted to name it after Prince the rock star. It didn’t happen due to my old friend who intervened.
The memories meanwhile, flooded in and Ken and I talked a long while with my cell phone on the kitchen table, volume up high with the mic turned over the table edge. An illuminating chat and went far deeper than I thought it would. Similar eye surgeries, stacks of books at hand near our chairs in the living room type of connections.
The title of this column refers to the memories of my favorite author, C.S. Lewis. Preparatory schools with all the unpleasant clothing and such for him. It’s universal among us all. We remember the odd things about those 12 or 16 years. Everyone tried to overcome the isolation and angst that came with education in a public school. The clubs, the teams of athletics and the clicks that we were part of or not. Competition for high grades or outrageous behavior. I was a combination of geek and outrageous. Harley chopper and lecturing on Einstein’s theory of relativity in physics class. Trying to fit in somewhere.
It didn’t help that my mother was the assistant principals secretary either. A connection to power and influence. Plutonium residue upon my prescience. I had three friends and sold my motorcycle to one of them after high school. It would be worth five figures or so today. Hundred bucks and I needed money to get to the exciting town of San Diego. At least I took my briefcase and slide rule with to there.
A rather interesting story that is found in the archives of this website. Auto biography of Norm chapter 2 gives more detail of this adventure.
There is a loss in our communities that seems like a gain! The texting phenomenon has made writing letters obsolete and to many, cheaper and faster. Pen and Ink started to loose ground when the typewriter was introduced. The expense of ink wells, and ink stains was replaced with typewriter ribbons and skill.
I learned to touch type in the military and I got fast. Electric typewriters and carbon paper worked well. With top secret letters there were no carbon copies allowed. Now there is a new skill, typing on the screen of a cell phone. I have not embraced typing with both thumbs while holding a phone. I am fascinated and irritated at our civilization that has become hunched over while walking or standing, holding ‘the phone’ and writing and reading letters of sorts. Texting along with fun emojis and video clips. How about a three pound Bakelite model? I remember our bag phone and of course, my hand held Amateur radio. The ham radio did not need a phone number to talk to someone. A call sign worked but many times the beginning message was; CQ anyone there?
What I am getting around to is the act of writing and reading. Sitting down quietly while doing so.
I love to write and these columns are much easier to type with Word Press as it checks my spelling and syntax as I type. I have a short term memory issue, often real short time when I am physically writing a word and leave off a letter and skip on to the next one. Leaving off a vowel for instance. I can see my mistake and the software catches it and shows it to me. But that is a byline for this column, I revere actual writing with pen or pencil and using a stamp and an envelope to have USPS deliver my letter.
The major point is keeping in touch, not speedily but with intent beyond the rush of our current lives. “Rushing in not from the devil, it Is the devil” I believe that impatience is included. C.S. Lewis
I have sent a few letters lately to some friends. Some of which I have not seen nor heard from in decades. Several of them have never been answered although I know they were received because they were not returned with address unknown or such postal information. Phone calls work too but we are usually in a rush and an unexpected phone call from a friend of years past is surprising and hard to respond to if you are driving or setting down to lunch in a cafe. I like re-reading and even have a manila envelope for personal letters. It’s good. Phone numbers are passe. There used to be a book called a phone directory. They were hanging by a chain in phone booths. The is no cell phone directory hanging there.
Is there someone you send letters to and wonder if they will ever answer? There is also a very important type of letter that is spoken in private! These letters are referred to as prayer. It’s just me and the Lord alone and I tell Him how things are going and ask questions and have requests too. If my heart is calm and I am speaking in truth and love, I know my prayer is being heard. Peaceful and knowing and feeling His presence.
Often it seems my prayers have not been answered. The way I wanted them to be. Healing, provision for me or someone else. There is also the conversion to faith of someone that I have known a long time or just met. Evangelism. God hears these requests and stretches out his mighty arm and strong right hand and fulfills that prayer. Instantly in many ways we do not see and is always a perfect response from Him. Prayer is essential for all of us. Letters to the lover of our souls.
Someone obviously prayed for me to reach out to Christ, years ago, decades. It happened just the way it was supposed to happen. Why did it take so long? I have no idea and there is no answer until I read the book about me that no one this side of eternity can read. As C.S. Lewis says: “Every chapter is better than the last one you read”
“What is truth?” An old question that goes back to Mars Hill in Greece. Also the original question in the garden. “Did god really say?” Also the question that Pilate asked Jesus a few thousand years back. Jesus did not answer as the Truth was standing right in front of Pilate.
He knew this question of all philosophers as an educated citizen of Rome. Pilate spoke and wrote in Greek, Latin and Hebrew. He wrote the sign above Jesus on the cross. In those 3 languages.A letter posted for all to see throughout history. ‘Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews’ . Some of the locals disagreed and Pilate said what I have written stands.
The very gift of God will be all we need to keep sending those prayers/letters to him. I know so little of these things but I rely on that gift that gives me peace and confidence that my prayers are heard. Faith.
Do you ever wonder what happens when someone you know or someone you just met, says “I’ll pray about it” Do we follow through? I used to fudge it and forget the promise within a short period of time. Those four words were a dismissive phrase for me. Not anymore. I am growing up and taking responsibility for my life and the things I say and do. There is so little time left for me, and for you.
I was on an official Prayer team at a very large church that seats over 2000 people and we were told to stand in front of them just as the service had ended and with lanyards that said prayer, be available to anyone that came ahead. I loved it. Many times no one came, but the few that did are sharp in memory.
I had to be vetted and interviewed to be on that team and that is very correct to do so. You can surmise the interviews that took place. The teams prayed a lot and I learned how to do so from them.
I am now in production at that church, media, and I also love that. Presenting the songs to the room as messages of praise to the Lord right then and there. The professional musicians know that it is much more than having a good time or playing a good song. We all sing with them and we get to touch eternity.
It seems so long ago that the Re-birth occurred for me. An epiphany is a good description or a sudden awareness of being (that one sounds new age) This event was sudden but had many events and a ‘cocoon’ before it occurred. I wrote about it in the column, ‘Consuming Fire Fan into Flame”.
The back story was an escape from hibernation, a cocoon that I did not see nor notice. I was swaddled up comfy in my life of sorts before the re-birth. You have read some of those stories as well. They are all true. There is one thing about a cocoon that is necessary, growth and strength acquisition. It is common and I saw one last spring, it was hanging beneath a milk weed leaf. A place where a Monarch butterfly was taking shape.
Dangling from that leaf, built by a worm that crawled up and used it’s spit to anchor itself. It spun the chrysalis (another name for cocoon) somehow. It’s called metamorphosis and the study can be described as such. A good word would be a scientific focused study on the metamorphic process’? One such study answered the question: “Is it painful for the butterfly?” Through extensive electric wave analysis on an oscilloscope, it was determined that it was not painful. Go ahead and chuckle at that one.
The same folks that track the emotions of carrots that know you are coming to yank it out of the ground. I don’t even want to know what that would see in me. More later on that. my growth was very painful but also necessary. You don’t need an oscilloscope to see that.
To get on with the epiphany I experienced, just thinking about that monarch’s life was stunning enough.
Why was it designed that way? And the pivotal evidence seen, was the gold ring around the very top of the chrysalis. Small gold dots, perfectly spaced and a very strong message indeed is there, if we choose to look at it.
First off, what do we usually associate with gold rings? Marriage and crowns for honor. A king or a Queen. Soon enough, the chrysalis splits open and the Monarch begins to emerge. Can you even imagine what process this is? The wings fully developed and folded up like a plane in the hanger of an aircraft carrier, just waiting for the freedom of flight.
How does this miracle of transformation apply to us? I have found myself just trying out those wings I was given not too long ago. Wings that not only speak freedom but purpose and direction. A flight path, a sudden internal gyro that stabilizes my glide path or flapping through this short life I have been given. It seems short when many decades cruise by with the longing for something more.
We have been built and created for something more. We hunger for it. We do everything in our power and wisdom to live as long as possible, but it is only vanity to grasp the wind. As we grasp at the wind, the astonishing thing is an answer to that hunger for more. A meaning and purpose and beauty that we, in our chrysalis have been waiting for. Eternity to wear that gold crown and hang out with the creator of all and gaze upon His glorious splendor as he grasps us and gives us the crown, as we gaze upon the beauty of real treasure, Him.
The story and promise of crowned beauty beyond description. If we wish this transformation with all our heart, soul, and spirit, the treasure will be ours forever. It’s pretty good. Norm aka Jack Gator
“Let’s go down, come on down, let’s go down to the river to Pray” 1.
How many decisions do you make in a lifetime? How many in a day? How about right here, right now? Life seems to be mostly decision making. All the little things we have to constantly consider. Where, what and how mostly.
The very important decisions can be interesting. Myself, I was given an interesting decision problem five decades ago. I made the right decision because I am still alive. Things like that leave an impression on us. “Are you serious?” Some decisions are not deal breakers, they are quite simple and are mostly easy to make as well.
A few decades ago, I was given the choice to be Baptized. I was what is called ‘New in the faith’ up to that choice, I wanted to be just like God and be my own man. Just look into my heart and obey what I thought was right. Of course, I was desperately wicked as are all of us. I didn’t have a clue about those things of trust, faith, grace and repentance.
The pastor that came to minister to my dying mother spoke to me instead of her because she had died the night before his appointment. We sat at the kitchen table when he came and he asked me questions about life. I spoke of Gandhi and Buddha and all the rest. He then asked me it wasn’t about them. it was about me. He gave me a C.S. Lewis book, (Mere Christianity) and I read it. It read it a lot. It’s one of my ‘go to books’
Julie and I began attending his church that weekend and they did a funeral with all the trimmings for my mom with no charge. They even lit a candle every Sunday for a month for her. It was astounding and humbling. Not what I expected after some ‘bad’ experiences with the church in general. Usual things we go through as broken people resenting anyone that tells us there is a mending to that brokenness. “Sure, easy for you to say.” Etc. Not really understanding that narrow walk. An iron worker 50 stories up on a big I beam, just walking. What if I go off the path? “The wrong path is soft underfoot, an easy incline with no warning signs.” 2.
That Christmas I was at a cantata in a very local church and as the choir sang ‘Mary did you know’, I was stunned by a man in the choir who spoke the words of the song. Did you know, that those tiny hands flung the stars into the sky. I did not believe in evolution and said to myself, someone had to do it! The song went on and I began to cry. “It’s all true, it’s all true” I then knew Jesus was Lord of all and have never turned back since that time.
A while later, Julie was out walking on our road, up the hill from our mailbox and the Lord spoke to her about being baptized. When she shared it with me, it seemed like a good thing to do. Infant baptism just not adequate for her and thinking about it, not for me either. I was whisked away as a baby by my Uncle and baptized in Duluth. It seemed to not be my decision at that time. We felt that Baptism falls a little short of John’s style. “Repent and be Baptized” Was a breath of sweet air when Julie said that and we agreed together to do so. We both had a few things to repent of. So the Methodist camp where Julie and I had our first romance (Spirit Lake) was the place where we went to be Baptized. Friends came and we put agates in our pockets to give them as mementos. They stood and watched us as we were baptized good and thoroughly.
Pastor Barry did our Baptisms differently. He had never done a full immersion baptism before. He dunked us three times. “For the Father.. for the Son.. and for the Holy Spirit.” I was down on that perfect sand bottom and saw him above in the clear water. When I came up I knew he was looking right at me the whole time. I asked him, “what did you see when you were looking at me?” “A dead man” he replied.
I came up somewhat wet and let go of my nose. Then Julie and I started giving the agates from our pockets to our friends on the dock. They were beautiful as they glistened and we burst out saying because they have been in the water with us and we are clean too.
That was the beginning of a new us, especially a new me. I needed to die and it was a long process and still is. I am getting better as are we both. No longer dead inside but open to our King and Savior as he began breathing life in us. It’s not an instantaneous change because we have to listen and learn from Jesus and read the instruction manual He has graciously given us.
We are learning, every day it seems. Loving God and ourselves as his own and then loving all those people he gives us to love. The neighbor thing to say it, a lifetime to learn. Akin to washing one’s hands in a way. Scrubbing and washing clean. There are many things in our lives that pivot around those those words Jesus gave to us: “Love one another as I have loved you” The love your neighbor as you love yourself was stymied until I forgave myself and began loving my life with the Lord. He started it and He will complete it! Now I know how good it is.
The simplest and hardest thing for me to do. Every day, if I listen well and surrender myself to Him, He guides me to this new life. Jump in the water and it ain’t no trouble if you can, walk on the water. He offers his strong right hand and His mighty arm to us and lifts us out of death into life.
One day in Kansas City, I was sitting in a prayer room, waiting to be prayed over for my strained leg. I had a clear vision as I dozed off to beautiful live worship music. Jesus appeared to me and we were swimming together with a side stroke. “I know you love to swim, do you want to go down? You can breathe down there.” How deep is it? I asked. He replied “How deep do you want to go?” I awakened, healed and started dancing a little for the group waiting to pray for me. I told them I wanted pray for them. “Sure, come on in!” ‘Jump in the water, got no trouble if you can, walk on the water‘ Michael Mayor
It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe
1. Old spiritual song; ‘Down to the river to pray’ Picture courtesy of Arron Dahl
There it was, three sung notes that flooded memories and several dreams a few days later. The singer was featured as the closing song of a broadcast from Eagle Brook Church. It was Easter Sunday and I had seen the performance earlier in the week at my job at the Blaine campus.
At the Easter Sunday broadcast I was stunned by the song ‘Because He Lives’ sung at the closing. The woman singing was at a live performance I was at several years earlier. It was held at a new Eagle Brook campus in Downtown Minneapolis, close to Christmas. A Jazzy Christmas.
Eagle Brook church Minneapolis Campus
I was an usher at that time and I requested to pray for the music team and the production crew. I stated by telling them that this concert is the Magna Carta of one of the attending people maybe all of them! Looking upon these teams sitting in the seats in front of the stage I began to do a simple prayer that our Lord would guide them to shine out His glory to those people. Especially the ones that were going to be moved in their spirit for the first time in their lives.
After all, it was billed as Jazzy and that is a draw for a lot of music fans. And it was in the big city. It felt good and right to pray for them. At that time I was on the prayer team at the main campus in Lino lakes. Obviously, I love to pray. Anywhere, anytime Jesus tells me to do so.
At the end of that concert, I went up to the third floor balcony to see if the sound was as good as I expected it to be. I listened through the open door and an usher asked me if I would like to have a seat. I hesitated and he said there was one seat and I went in to see that seat. It was right where I sat before with a perfect view and a young woman scooted over so I sat at the very end of the pew that overlooked the whole room. The sound was magnificent and well done.
I was overcome with tears at one of the last songs as it was the song at another concert years before at a church near our home. (that I was reluctant to attend that night) that instantly sank into me at that time and I was convinced that Jesus created all things and me.Mary did you know is the song. “ Mary did you know those tiny hands flung the stars into the sky?” Yes I knew it was so. I always wondered how the universe came about. The big bang didn’t make sense. The song was spoken by one of the choir members and his face was directly facing me.
I have never been the same since. I understand now that is called a testimonial moment.
There I was at this Jazzy concert, years later, crying and holding my hands as high as I can, worshiping Jesus. The woman sitting next to me offered a Kleenex as she was weeping too. I got up to leave and thought I had caught her in my Pendelton shirt somehow and looked down to my left and she was holding my elbow. She said: “ My Father died on this date last year and I felt he was sitting next to me now” I did not know what to say and smiled and said “thank you!” as I left to help distribute hot cocoa to the crowd that was leaving.
I went down soon afterwards, the cocoa volunteers had everything under control, so I walked down to the stage as the crew was taking things down and I told the singers what had happened. Angie and T, just sat down on the stage, folded up in a way, and I thanked them for doing so well that night.
A few weeks later at the pre-service huddle at Lino Lakes, by Front of house booth I saw T there and again thanked her for her being there at the jazzy concert and singing that beautiful song. She said, “The whole concert was for you and what happened there” I did not know what to say. It was another moment I have never forgotten.
This year when I saw her sing at that simulcast I knew it was her. She had been through a lot of physical medical issues that were shown to us before that last song in a short video. I listened closely.
It was her. Those last three notes of the song she sang were almost similar in pitch and spirit as that concert three years ago. Operatic and powerful. I hardly moved off of my chair when the broadcast was over and the room began to mingle and talk. Chatting was impossible for me. Even afterwards when we all ate a wonderful prime rib dinner prepared by one of the members of that group, Dale, I could not speak. What would I say?
I dreamed about it that night and the next and decided to write this column. It’s a Very personal experience and tenderly unforgettable. One of the most significant things I have been gifted with by Jesus. His gifts are like that often, unexpected, perfect and beautiful.
Jack gators grace notes 