Eternity

The life of a Lover of Jesus

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

How can this be? A quilt of life that is surprisingly delightful and just as easily not comprehended. Everyone has this road of travel and when trying to explain our lives. For me, it seems like I am bragging about adventure and failure, fear and success and a thorough drifting about life as a blown about maple leaf in the street. Just there by some random wind. Wrinkled by the forces that put me there, run over a few times and still seen as it once was. Life that hangs onto creation, fluttering in the blown wind of God’s breath and now, seemingly bound for …somewhere.

To that leaf, it seems an exciting life, watching growth and seeing other maples growing nearby. Weathering snapping lightning and severe winds. Basking in life giving light and warmth and envying the oak leaves that are better at hanging on through the winters.

Being reborn every year and feeling the contribution of energy given in enough amount to give again the impossible sap that nourishes the created tree and the people that know the sap is also to nourish them with sweetness that always delights.

What is my purpose in life? To grow and feel my life unfold with reward and danger. Then be gifted and surprised by hearing it’s OK to be what I am and to move with the wind of the presence of God’s breath and guidance. It wasn’t always obvious I was being prepared to a purpose of serving when it seemed that survival and pleasure was my given life. Subjective or Objective reality. The Tau and the famous Greek philosophy or our own versions of truth which are subject to us and our emotions. Instead of listening to the perfect truth of Christ. ‘The abolition of Man’ by C.S. Lewis explains these things better than I can.

The trauma of violence of childhood, and then wandering throughout the land and being blown about by seemingly random events that formed me. Having my own secretary at 16 years old in a mansion in Minneapolis, working with the Boy Scouts communicating via Ham Radio to a far flung camp without a telephone. Then failing my calculus in engineering at MIT, joining the military and being caught up in a war at sea. More wandering and evading death in California many times, once with the audible voice of God I did not know, eventually I started an impossible auto repair business in rural Wisconsin. It was Successful and then I was blessed with marriage and two children and a beautiful and faithful wife. Hearing again those words that can’t be believed by many people. Gifts of God.

I saw my best friend, speak five words to me and enter heaven from 2000 miles away. Many things that eventually lead to leading worship in a tiny rural church that gave me and my wife documents saying we were now pastors. We put them in a drawer. My whole family built a house of prayer in a small empty main street shop if Frederic, Wisconsin and staffed it for almost 4 years. Singing and playing and praying. We were overcome with God’s beauty and love. We also traveled a little around the country worshiping with other lovers of Jesus. Our sons with us in DC and other places.

Now the maple leaf is indeed withered and quieter, still blessed with sustenance and beauty. And now joined with other people that have similar blessings and and need for sustenance and encouragement.

I tap into that flow of life once again that I am given by my creator, that gift of light and love that was always there. I am beginning to watch and stop and listen for the voice that is the best book and the words given to me. What’s next for the weathered one? Excited and puzzled and weary at times, I keep looking ahead to another chapter and move with that breath of life. Often I still look up at that tree of life and know the very atoms I am made from still spin within me. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson and written by Jack Gator

It’s all Good

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

There is no explanation that works for anyone. Who can explain life adequately to us?

The age old question that stares us down when we are realize we know nothing about life. Why? Is there any reason for the evil that has occurred to me or anyone for that matter. The senseless deaths, the wars of unbelievable savagery and mayhem. Our own thoughts of indecent behavior and revenge against the ones who have wounded us within our very core. Lust seems to fit the thoughts I have. For everything. Power, riches, prestige, fame and the fawning over me by myself. Astonishment that I am not at the least famous, elevated by the very talent I have been given since birth. Music and poetry that flows almost effortlessly.

Why am I seen as so good when I know every day I am not. I envy the man’s wealth that appears to be stealing everything I crave. Even relatives that have finagled my inheritance. The worst revenge is against someone long dead that deserves my curses and at the least, my disappointment and poverty or worse yet, the wounds that lie deep within my hypothalamus.

Fear and anger all mixed together from someone that abused or seemed to want to kill or maim my very being. Who indeed has planted that deadly garden within me?

The blossoms of deadly nightshade that always seem so beautiful and right and beckon me to indulge in a glance and embrace. They bloom once again, deep within me and seem so clear, and yet unknown when they disappear and leave behind wreckage from my speech and thought.

Lately, there have been moments and astonishing thoughts that delight and surprise me with the obvious correct behavior I do. Not my usual modus operandi. Why did I say or do that? The only explanation is a whisper of beauty that overwhelms within. A very quiet and almost still voice that obviously is not usual but is embraced as right and true within my very given core.

“It’s all good. You are weaving the tapestry of things we cannot see. It’s all good.” A.

I must bury myself in the one who died and rose again. I can’t get around myself without Him. It’s the way it is. The creator of all things that is the truth, even faced with evil and wonder.

“What is truth?” was asked of Him many times and yet we listen to the evil that sits close by and whispers to us from the beginning of time. Our freedom to choose life or death given by our creator allows this whisper to once again get in our way and try to seduce with lies.

“Did God really say?” You know who he is. Now listen to the quiet and right voice that is now holding his arms wide open and always loving you. Welcoming you when you turn your minds sight to see him. Put on the robe and the ring indeed for once again we have listened to truth. A sigh of beauty appearing.

I encourage and almost shout it to myself and everyone. Listen and hear the voice of Jesus who loves us.

Jack Gator A. Chris Tofilon photo courtesy of Peterson Garden

Fear of Death or the Secret place

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Our choice, always our choice. Hide from life and truth or go into the secret place and connect with the Truth and seek His presence and listen and speak of our fears.

As in the garden, they were hiding from their fear. Listening to the author of fear. We do this, I do this and must be aware that instead of hiding, I must go to the beautiful place in the garden and talk with Jesus about my trembling self.

Our lives now are filled with anxiety and exhaustion. The world is darkening and death is looming upon the holy land of Israel. It is ramping up our usual lives of the lack of funds and time to do everything we need to do. Everything, including the best things which lie before us that seem out of reach. Life in the garden can be exhausting. Weeding, planting, tending and worry about growth and the elements that seem to conspire against us. We fail to see the wisdom and guidance that shows us every step on that highway of Holiness. Staying steady and trusting all circumstance.

Our lives seem chaotic and opposed by the world. We worry and rush about and exhaust ourselves instead of going into the secret place and listening to the master gardener. We both have a go-to secret place on our land. A small and cozy prayer cabin, overlooking a very small lake near our western property line is Julie’s place. Mine is up on the south hill with rows of large pines. They are in long rows, with a level path down one row. At the beginning of that row is a bench made of green treat wood. My son, Soren, built it for me. I can complain and weep and listen there. Little hard to do when it is filled with snow and below zero though. There is a wood stove in the prayer cabin. A trudge through thick snow which gets blown to the ridge above it. After that, it’s snowshoes for Julie and tough sledding on boots for me. Worth it IF there is a fire already lit! I am lazy and don’t do it if I can sit by the fire in our parlor.

Julie and I decided to go to another secret place that we share on Thursday night. It is a small place of worship on Sundays. We set out a cell phone and put on a live session of intercession from a place we have been. It was a worship set of worship with the Word from iHOPKC and it was calming.

We began to pray for our nation, the war overseas in the Holy land of our Savior Jesus. More fear and voices that say many things. Fear among the lovers of the living God and those that do not. As it grew dark through the windows and our prayer began to ask for the true Life that exposes darkness.

There was a whisper, a presence of movement. We were alone in the room and were not alone. A rustle felt as someone walked by, a puff of air moving close by. We both felt it and our prayers went on for several hours. It was time to go home and speak about these things in the car.

There were more requests for prayer to combat weariness among our friends and leaders in the area. We know the answer to them all. Trust, and pray to the living God. It’s pretty good. Norm

Three Years ago on Christmas Day

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

The cold Christmas clouds, chasing us down the big 4 lane expressway. We are slowly closing in on the big city hospital where sadness is dispensed in hallways upon hallways. Knowing nods of heads as civilians pass by one another with palpable misery and fear.

Finding the room in the maze with a beloved one, wounded on the battlefields of suburban America. Laughter turned to stunned silence as the soldier of God gets hit with a stray round of arterial death. Not quick enough to the medics, and valuable thoughts and memories die in her mind and the watch begins for her loves, standing stunned as the irreversible wreckage lies before them.

Eyes that seem to see and scripture and spontaneous love sonnets are spoken to those soft eyes. Jack reaches out from the foot of the bed and slowly strokes Grandma’s forehead down to her nose. She briefly closes her eyes and Jack knows she is there still. Jack says the words he must. ” You’ve been afraid a long long time, but Papa’s here and it’s ok. He will take the fear away my little one. This day the man of truth and light, He will make all things right, my little one”

Hearts break at the crushed beauty and tears as they turn away, never to see those soft eyes again.

Today the day she leaves our time and enters into an astonishing new life. Sitting in a very nice chair in front of a just right fireplace fire. The gentle host across from her, completely understanding everything. Children,playing outside, seen through the floor to ceiling windows. “Not yet. We have to wait a bit till you are relieved of your last residence, home and tent. Then we can go outside and join the other children.”

The most comfortable chair, room and host ever. No clocks visible nor none needed, it is clear. Soon the best mocha will be gone and it will be time to rise up and explore outside. Through the door to meet the children playing and eager to embrace one another and finally, be home.

These words found in Jack’s journal of three years ago. So many changes, so many challenges and loss with gain too. The family keeps moving along and the Christmas candles and the lights on the railing above. Wound around the railing, lighting the many book shelves under the majestic window on the south wall.

There are all the seasonal treasures, brought out from storage in the new building and wood shop. A Manger scene on the table next to Jack’s rocking chair. The almost invisible string of tiny lights in the story and a half rubber three, now lit for the season of light.

A beautiful small quilt that has stars sewn into it that light up with a couple of triple A batteries put into the holder and switch. Made for us by Grandma. It greets you as you walk into the entryway. The candles in almost every window on timers for nighttime. Jack’s favorite candles high up on the big half circle window, above the library. They flicker as real candles do. The real candles being readied as more get made in the kitchen. Bubbling bees wax and the wicks all cut with weights tied on their bottom. Dipping them one at a time and hanging them on the rack. Clamped to the kitchen counter with newspapers spread beneath. Teamwork of delight for Jack and Julie.

Memories of the boys beloved Grandma on Christmas day as she passes into the presence of our beautiful saviors home where it is always Christmas and love fills the room from the light of our Lord.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

Save big Money on Vanities!

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I Just finished reading Ecclesiastes and checked my in box. Really. I did not know that a Big box store was into the Prophet of extensional thought. It caught my attention for certain. An advertisement as wisdom? There is no money involved in being vain. A homonym pun for my mind.

I have a new friend in our neighborhood. We swim together a few times a week at the pool about 20 miles away. He has been taking lessons on swimming and has a whole kit bag of cool accessories for serious swimmers..Special flippers, hand paddles, snorkel. Stuff like that.

I asked him once in the locker room what he thinks will happen when we die. “Worm Food” was his answer. The answer of Camus, Sartre or Nietzsche. The sum of the reviewers in a book, ‘The Terror of Existence’ was “every endeavor, be it good bad or indifferent, will one day become undone, as death ends at the grave.”

I can’t fathom why this intelligent and caring man would exercise so well and diligently, only to believe it all comes to naught. All is Vanity says the preacher.. To enjoy the response of his body and to prolong the inevitable death? {The usual unpleasant experience that we all must do).

There is nothing new under the sun and we whirl about our little solar system in the unfashionable western spiral arm of the Milky Way, It will all wind down to dust, stardust as it is said. Nothing new under the sun as the rivers flow into the ocean and it never gets full. A beauty of a planet that weights 6 sextillion tons ( that[s a six with 21 zeros) Spinning at 1000 mph on an invisible axis at 23 degrees tilt. Who built this perfect place for us to live? An excellent mathematician as Copernicus and others have said

I walk in the graveyard with all the old weathered gravestones that once were placed there by a grieving family. Now forgotten as the once fancy pillar of stone becomes covered with patches of moss. The so called eternal stone deteriorating and indeed, becoming building materiel for the ambitious small creatures with a much shorter life spans than ours are. Vanity, all is vanity.

No standards of life, no real solid instructions on what to focus on and how to actually live as we all know we should. A moral life is some how attractive to some of us and why does this happen? Who beyond our small view of life can we rely on to show us a way out and a way to live that has meaning, eternal meaning? Only one man ever claimed and demonstrated that there is life beyond the grave. You can’t weigh or measure love, beauty or devotion. There is no end to something you can’t measure. How can this be?

He can do those things and bring them to us when we die. There is only one who can and does create eternal beauty. A man that conquered death and offers eternity with him. It is the only thing that is not vain. Chase and look for Him. He is everywhere and also with You as you read this short column. True life that is not vanity. It has and will belong to of the giver of life. As the wonderful song says it so well: “I can only imagine what it will be like. Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine” a. All life, all of us, all that will be and every thing that was. It’s Jesus. It’s pretty good.

Jack Gator

a. Mercy me

Rainbow Over the Garden

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it is. A rainbow, in it’s original glory. Rain reflecting the colors of the spectrum. A symbol that the Lord said He would give us as a sign that He would never flood us again.

Quite a few people have taken the symbol and the miracle of refracted light and have used it to illuminate fractured light of their own designated symbols and message.

There are many people that also have taken the beauty of the rainbow and used it as a symbol of a product. Quite harmless but still, diminishing the astonishment a child sees. Do you remember the first time? I remember the first time my son saw it. He was fascinated with the arc and even went to England to meet Ken Ham that came up with building a 1:1 copy of Noah’s commanded Arc. Rainbows of covenant between us and the Lord.

Another outfit decided that the rainbow would instead be a symbol of freedom for them. The concept does not make sense in some ways. Freedom? from what? The rainbow’s only freedom is freedom from an earth flood.

The Governor of our state thinks it is appropriate to fly a rainbow flag for a month celebrating endorsing the hijacking of the beautiful rainbow image. For freedom to embrace perversion. How enlightened. It will please 5% of the population that are on board with birth control by having pregnant men.”How many fingers Winston?” (Brave New World)

Remember Judy Garlands song, ‘somewhere, over the rainbow’ ? That symbolized the promise. We of the last century (don’t ask) would never believed that someday our public schools would be teaching the ‘new’ symbol and language. No more does the rainbow offer a promise of protection and commitment. It now offers the symbol of flesh used for pleasure and a prime focus of our awokened sensibilities. Awoken to the real freedom of endorsement of a child being able to be whatever sex they want to be. When our new Supreme Court Justice cannot define what the word ‘woman’ really means, then we are on the way to Ephesus or Pompeii redux.

Maybe the words ‘on the way’ are inappropriate. That train is here, at the station, engine idling. It has already arrived . How about sliding open that boxcar with the really neat rainbow painted on it? Oh look, it’s already open but there’s nothing inside but an unpleasant odor. What’s in the rest of them? Famous authors and ‘experts’ for Newspeak magazine perhaps. Professors and liberal teachers to indoctrinate the children.

That open boxcar in particular had a whole wardrobe for the King! Splendid it is said. A veritable rainbow of color and coordinated accessories. The parade has already started and has startled one young boy…”the King doesn’t have any clothes on!” He is walking around, prideful in his power. Naked and seen as a fool. You and I know the difference between men and Women. Counterfeit money is in the till. Try and spend it. Jack Gator Scribe

Conversation Desire and another Glimpse of Eternity

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It was one of those soirees, delightful providence of food and people well all yearn for. It went on for the perfect amount of time. Beautiful children, eager pets and faces and voices familiar. Polite words of promise and the search for lives barely understood. Surrounded by a choir, singing a light opera of intimacy, queries and laughter. The author of the notes and stanzas still in the wings waiting for the stage call.

Bits of the score, heard but not completely understood are jealously embraced, acted in a dream that night. The unrecognized but palatable yearning to be written into the opera at various stanza’s almost heard and ended many times with recognizable laughing voices.

Sometimes, you have the impression that the author has saved your savoring for last powerful measures. The ending of stunning beauty, only felt by a few actors still remaining on the stage. Duets mostly but with engagement of song between several singers. Fulfillment and with the dishes put away and the snap of tables folded for the next production in the background. The final notes played like beautiful, loud trumpets and kettle drums building to your then silent departure.

We have all been there. It was an invitation with promise and the invitation given casually. Turn on the voice in the car and follow her instructions. ‘Turn left’ almost going through the stop sign while looking for the road she was telling you about. Blue tooth on the car radio and it works. Sometimes. Upon arrival, it was anticipated that parking would be somewhat complex. It was a breeze this time. A few decades of months in the winter past, the sleigh and the snow complicated parking. A wonder of landscaping came into view. The stage was set.

The guest of honor spoke after a delightful lunch. myself and Julie, sitting in the front heard him plainly. The intriguing thing was his demeanor. Engaging. You knew he was not used to speaking and it really helped him. Not smooth but truth easily heard and personal as weakness’ and surprises as well.

After he spoke there were the inevitable requests for clarification and he handled that very well. Professional speakers are a dreadful bore in those circumstances. Thanks be he was again, engaging and the time sped by.

Since we were in the front row, it was natural to approach him and reassure him. We talked and talked well. There was no lecturing. Fascination. Worlds presented from far away. The mission to intrigue and cause a slight tip of the head to look beyond sight. The author delighted in us.

A light opera, conducted just for us it seemed. As indeed the accouterments were put away and no one else was seen or heard around us, we realized it was the curtain call. The car was easily seen as the other ones were gone.

Every one of the guests and hosts had politely exited and we felt very honored as we conveyed the mutual pleasure of the evening to one another. Real conversation. After all, the opera of honor was well written and well sung by all. Silence and delight at what had been given.

The author of the play is still with us. He has a habit of doing that. He rode back with us and is, as usual, still about the ranch. He helps me write, he surprises us with snippets of astonishing beauty that we have never seen before. We long for more, always. We hunger for the meal again as we wait with eager anticipation. At times, He shouts his name over us. Jesus, author and finisher of our faith. it’s pretty good.. Jack Gator Scribe

Are you Experienced? Have you ever been Experienced? a.

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If perhaps, you have read some of Norm’s columns, you may have noticed a familiar ‘ring’ to most of them. It could be described as being experienced [sic]. There is an astonishment and puzzlement when I have one of these ‘experiences’ and remember them even with accents and vocal tones.

The time at a wonderful, thoroughly scholarly Bible study for example. It was early in the morning at the study and there was a mention of a prison sentence for one of our brothers. Of course, I had to bring up the fact that I had spent a ‘bit of time’ in a prison in southern Spain. Before I surrendered this experience to the large table of solid and mature men, I asked: “has anyone here ever been in Jail?” Silence. “Just for an hour perhaps as a mistake in a traffic violation?” All eyes were on me . Another awkward realization as to what different lives those men have lived in contrast to mine.

. Oh well, no use prevaricating about it. All of those things are known by Jesus and those things are what He has for us to build the charactor and our usefulness to Him and His plan.

So I explained how it goes with guards and camaraderie in the ‘bull pen’. It was only six months at hard labor (summer in southern Spain gets a bit hot) but it felt awkward in the telling. As if I was tainted somehow OR more holy because I was a worse sinner than they were. Awkward because I was one of them that and also now I embrace the Truth and Beauty. I envy them a bit but not too much. Envy is not nice either. They missed out on a few things, things that sometimes result in a maturity and understanding of the world we live in.

The stories of Peter and Saul come to mind. They claimed they were the worst of sinners and I feel in am in good company with those men. Aren’t we all? There is an admission that eases the pain of being such a bad person. All the guns and drugs and the things polite people don’t talk about when military men seek employment. Sinful things. The easy sins to recognize. The so called ‘small sins’ of omission or even thoughts of enjoyable bad behavior are just as bad. Lust and greed are easy traps for us. There is a rescue in my story.

Someone that stole money from my wallet that was lost at Tractor Supply, but they turned in the wallet! But that doesn’t change any judgment of the theft does it? Half way efforts are pitiful. Don’t misunderstand me. I was thankful that all my credit cards and license were untouched. It took awhile for my to forgive the thief and thank them (whoever it was) for just taking that two hundred dollars.

Another example: Cursing that old driver that is going too slow instead of ramming them doesn’t change anything. I am working on that one, having pretty good success too. It only takes a few seconds to repent the words or even the thoughts. It still takes time. Most often, I am the slow driver and sometimes get a hand salute as I am passed or a friendly honk of the horn! The unburned hydrocarbons that linger as I drive on are a bit annoying but I don’t mind. Too much. perhaps I mutter about a bad catalytic converter as I breathe in the fumes. Remembering the old speed limit signs of yesteryear’s. They had two speed limits on them. Night and day limits. The nightime one was black and ten miles an hour less. I usually use the nighttime limits all the time. It is hard to go slower than 60 or 65 that is common. I mutter “scoff laws!” which of course justifies my legal but irritating behavior.

Living a holy life seems impossible and the good news is that it is impossible. I am doing much better for certain. I am not trying to kill someone and have not done too much of my old life stuff. A little bit perhaps which in the eyes of the judge is the same as all the rest of us. “Thank God I am not like that Tax collector over there!” An old quote of judging another. Same deal. We are all bad even though we think in degrees of badness.

Yes, I am a bad person. But the best part is knowing it! Not the I’m better now thought but the thoughts of being directed more and more to listen to the Lord and live the life He has for me. Small things that are actually good! Someone we all know did live a perfect life and gave his perfect life for me!

I am saved from judgment. All my sin? How can this be? God dying for me. I was drowning and a hand reached down and pulled me out. All I had to do was yell for help and mean it. An absurd story describes a drowning man refusing that hand reaching down from shore. “Oh, it’s easy for you!” Same way I used to look upon those men I described earlier in this column. Grasping those cold steel bars and looking for someone to save me. I didn’t know who was right there with an outstreached arm and a mighty hand.

This week I got in the pool a bit early and by the time a new acquaintance showed up, all the lap lanes were full. That quiet and undeniable voice told me to surrender my lane to this man. Three times (an old number of denial) I shrugged that action and instruction off and finally at the shallow end of the pool, I stopped and asked the man if he would like to use my lane. “that’s OK, I can wait!” was his gracious reply. Three or four minutes later a lane opened up.

The important part was our surrender. It felt right. It was simple really. It wasn’t easy though. It was enough obedience to expand the relationship between us too. We still do it. It delighted me that I could actually do that and mean it. One small step and the feeling that freedom can be found in Jesus. It’s pretty good..

Jack Gator, Scribe a. Jimi Hendrix

Telestati

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The downtown Minneapolis square block window show is coming back. It was at Dayton’s store and will be again. Myself and my family would walk around the huge building, viewing every window’s offering to the story of the world’s Christmas. Fashion, appliances, gifts of all sorts. The window that I really looked ahead to was the one with the electric trains. A young boys fancy and dream. Who predicted that when I was barely a reasonable man, I would be building those train tracks for the Burlington Railroad. Not as much fun as the models. Good pay and more fruitful that going to the gym to work out.

Decades later, I found the real Christmas story. Not the story of the manger and the shepherds and the three wealthy astrologers from the East. The most amazing story. The little boy Jesus, asleep on the hay, coming to make a trade for all of us with his Father, by dying one day. There really should be a Roman cross over the manger scene.

Does this offend some of you? I know I was shocked when I heard the Greek word Tetelestai and found it’s meaning in the Bible. The word means completed, finished, paid and done. A debt satisfied completely.

This is why Jesus was born, this was the mission he accomplished. He was to pay off a debt owed to his Father. A debt so monumental that it is still impossible to comprehend the size of it. Everyone’s debt except His own and he had no debt of sin. I’ve never seen a son like this before.

Jesus did not come to us to teach us social justice. He did not preach salvaging the poor. He did use the phrase “Poor in Spirit” but this has nothing to do with wealth. It means those of us that know we are lacking in connection with His Father and need to know Him and pray for an awakening in our heart and Spirit. He did not come to us to teach about feeding lots of people or being really nice. It was foretold by many of the prophets in the Bible as to what he came for. Freedom and Joy and Everlasting life. The three basic food groups of love.

Jesus came to give Himself to be the perfect, unblemished sacrifice for a sinful world. Us. That is why he was born. Not to preach love and peace and care for the poor parse. God told Mary and Joseph that Mary will give birth to a son, and you will give him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sin.

John the Baptist points to Jesus and declares: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” John, who was Jesus’ cousin knew about this. After all, the two of them met before either of them were born. Nice story, it’s good reading and, of course, astonishing and beautiful.

For centuries the Jewish religion demanded sacrifices of animals and food to atone for their sin. It made everyone feel a lot better as we go on sinning in spite of our tremendous offerings. God, giving Himself to death for the ones he created is the only cure.

I know about about sin, I should, I consider myself the be the chief of sinners at times. that’s a phrase I borrow from Peter the Apostle. Since my last name is Peters son I inherited that penchant for sin. That was 42 generations ago. Yet, The key is not bragging about how bad you were and are, It’s the thing that is true for every one who has, is, or will be living. All of us no matter how nice you believe you are.

You know it, even though we all think we will ‘make the cut’ because we’re not so very bad and we even go to church and give to the poor!’ An illusion we all embrace at some time or another. That’s in scripture too by the way. Talk to Jesus and listen to what He says. There is the moment that gives us incredible joy when we are delivered from a sinful behavior. It makes life real and purposeful for us and our loved ones. Still, we sin, and have sinned. The debt we owe to the judge of all things can’t be paid by us. We are to be holy and we are not. Now we are on that Highway of Holiness and shall not go astray.

That debt is the reason Jesus was born. He taught and loved and healed and showed us His perfect life. The only perfect sacrifice for us. A spotless Lamb which was a usual Temple sacrifice. But now, a lamb of God. Given to death for all , once and forever. Tetelesti. There is so much more, there isn’t room in this short column. It is indeed the Good News that we are ransomed from the righteous wrath of His Father. We deserve death, “He made me alive, when I was dead and He raised me up and seated me with Christ. It’s by his Grace, that I am saved and it’s though faith, the very gift of God”

Oh yes, Jesus is alive. I’ve never met a man that’s more alive. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

With many thanks to Gregory Koukl

A Vision of Forever and Ever

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

It’s always been there and it always will be. Described by a man thousands of years ago when he was on an island in the Mediterranean (Patmos). Eternal joy. I was given a two second glimpse of that years ago. It was pretty good. Ask me about it, I love to share these things.

My family has been given some of those enticing and wondrous glimpses into that joy too. What a gift it is. I am certain that quite a few of you reading this have experienced the curtain of eternity pulled aside briefly. We wait behind that curtain for our part in the play and it is irresistible to peek.

There is something, there is everything, there is wonder and amazement just so close to us. Often, without even knowing it, we are given a sneak preview of that grand production. Another gift. I have written about these things as long as I have been writing. Most of it falls short. After all, if I was capable of writing perfectly, I wouldn’t have to keep trying to get it right. It’s close sometimes but always in need of a sequel to flesh it out again. Like this one. This time I will get closer and capture even my own attention? That’s the best way.

As Augustine stated: ” Teaching is essential, praise is a sweetness, but persuasion is a reward.“

There is that writing that I mentioned in the first sentence. It was written by a man named John. He saw what we all yearn for. Meaning to life. myself, a musician, really resonates with this vision as it has a lot of music in it. Can you even imagine a breathtaking song that you listen to and become a part of forever, and never tire of it’s beauty? Never ending as the slow breath of a perfect song.. The music of the spheres at night that are the innumerable stars, all singing, just for us because of His love. Things like that.

Music that sings of that beauty. About that beauty and sung to the author and creator of the songs of beauty. It is an eternal song that never grows weary and is always fresh and stunning again and again as it reaches farther than the small galaxy that sings along.

Myself with my family once sang a song echoing that. We sang a prayer that went on for a few hours and when it was done, we saw that the clock in that room had stopped running at the precise time we had begun. Appropriate. It was the last song sung in that prayer room. The new owner of the building did not know about these things. For the family it was another glimpse and kiss from our Creator.

There is a place that sings these things and has been doing it for over twenty years. It’s an old tradition that began in the upper reaches of Bavaria. Many centuries ago. Antiphonal singing that is written about the Moravions led by Count Zinzindorf. Non stop. Comparable to Davids singers in scripture.

Now on the internet, every few hours, another team of musicians steps up and continues the worship. Available on an incredible machine that funnels that worship into homes via a length of glass.

Worship also that continues on a sea of glass mingled with fire in eternity. In many ways gatherings throughout our world, worship is available any time of our day on the internet.

It is a delightful way to connect heart to Heart. I turn on my computer and put on the headphones early, and I listen and watch. A cup of coffee and worship is a good way to start the day. Amazing. You can dial into your own church’s recordings and watch and pray with those teams?

Different people taking the yoke of beauty in rooms of worship that never stops. In a very small way, echoing that vision given thousands of years ago on that little island in the Mediterranean sea that I spent a few days on. It is Malta.

We were there with the sixth fleet, anchored out with our ship and taking a liberty boat to the shore. The same shore that Paul the apostle was shipwrecked on. Much time has passed since Paul and it still feels like yesterday that both of us were there. Beauty forever there too. because of the creator of beauty that was revealed to a man on another island in the Mediterranean sea. John on Patmos. A man known by Paul. What a coincidence or is it Providence?

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe