The Church

Three Eternal Notes of Music

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

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.

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson and the Gator

Quotes That Allow Me to Write The Truth

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I think good preachers should be like bad kids. They ought to be naughty enough to tiptoe up on dozing congregations, steal their bottles of religion pills, and morality pills, and flush them all down the drain. The church, by and large, has drugged itself into thinking that proper human behavior is the key to its relationship to God. What preachers need to do is force it to go cold turkey with nothing but the word of the cross—and then be brave enough to stick around while it goes through the inevitable withdrawal symptoms. … Robert Farrar Capon (1925-2013),

Genuine controversy, fair cut and thrust before a common audience, has become in our special epoch very rare. For the sincere conversationalist is above all things a good listener. The really burning enthusiast never interrupts; he listens to the enemy’s arguments as eagerly as a spy would listen to the enemy’s arrangements. If you attempt an actual argument with a modern paper of opposite politics, you will find that no medium is admitted between violence and evasion. You will have no answer except slandering or silence. …G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936), 

Was there a moment known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped for joy?

…Madeleine L’Engle (1918-2007)

O be calm and quiet all by yourself is hardly the same as sleeping. In fact, it means being fully awake and following with close attention every move going on inside you. It involves a self-discipline where the urge to get up and go is recognized as a temptation to look elsewhere for what is really close at hand. It is the freedom to stroll in your own yard, to rake up the leaves and clear the paths so you can easily find your way.

…Henri J. M. Nouwen (1932-1996)

 Here is my examination at the beginning of Advent, at the beginning of a new year. Lack of charity, criticism of superiors, of neighbors, of friends and enemies. Idle talk, impatience, lack of self-control and mortification towards self, and of love towards others. Pride and presumption. (It is good to have visitors – one’s faults stand out in the company of others.) Self-will, desire not to be corrected, to have one’s own way. The desire in turn to correct others, impatience in thought and speech.The remedy is recollection and silence Dorothy Day (1897-1980),

Everything is made to center upon the initial act of “accepting” Christ (a term, incidentally, which is not found in the Bible) and we are not expected thereafter to crave any further revelation of God to our souls. We have been snared in the coils of a spurious logic which insists that if we have found Him we need no more seek Him. This is set before us as the last word in orthodoxy, and it is taken for granted that no Bible-taught Christian ever believed otherwise.. A. W. Tozer (1879-1963)

It must be admitted that a few clergymen glory in the contrast between their status and that of ordinary Christians. They accept obeisance as a natural right; they monopolize public praying; they learn how to keep themselves in the limelight. There is something about the pastoral office which makes the temptation to egocentricity especially powerful. This is partly because the successful preacher is regularly praised to his face. His mood seems a far cry from that of Christ when He girded Himself with a towel and washed the feet of His followers.

… Elton Trueblood (1900-1994)

Emotion and Worship

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

We’ve all heard it before in some context; “ you’re so emotional!” My response now to that is

asking, What is wrong with that? We are reluctant to endorse or engage with emotion in many situations. Many psychobabble voices tell us to calm down, damp down our emotions and be calm and ‘clear headed’ I am not sure that is appropriate. I get emotional reading a book or listening to Beethoven’s beauty. Weeping with pleasure and letting my emotions release it.

I have recently been trained in helping people to engage with emotions presented by ‘performance’ in worship music. Live performance, seen on a screen. It’s the same way we watch and listen without knowing we do so. Our eyes are drawn to different things as we move through our lives. We watch and are engaged with our surroundings. Constantly scanning the roads for dangers or beauty. Looking at the dash gauges. We don’t just stare straight ahead, we move our heads and eyes to see the world passing by us.

I have been taught that those are the natural movements and as an example: When zooming in on a singer ( it’s called pushing in) we don’t do it fast. Unnatural, it causes a distraction. We change focus as we look near or far and that is controlled as well. We open or close our iris according to dim or bright reflections or light. That’s called shading. The excitement in video production is different angles and being shown changes and solos we miss if looking elsewhere.

There are also many facets to production that are not noticed but essential. Lighting with movement, color, focus and the use of ‘haze’ to show light beams which catch our eye and help us focus where the light is showing us. Sound, very important and very technical for music and speech. To hear everything clearly, the spectrum of frequencies and to not overpower but to enhance experiences. If the sound feedback happens with a loud hum or a singer overpowers other singers, the room full of people instinctively swivel their heads to the place they know this control is. It’s called a sound booth solo and sound booths are called ‘front of house’ (more media lingo)

It’s an art and if well done, not noticeable if done well, to a person watching or in the room during a live production. Movies are complex and a good example of these things too. You don’t even notice the technical camera work and perfect sound and dialogue that conveys a story. The story engages you and emotions below the surface, sometimes with excitement or tears.

What is our story? The real stuff, the romance between us and Christ. God the Father lifts His eternal baton, Jesus intercedes for our failures and the Holy Spirit whispers songs of Faith and love to us.

Emotion is a gift from God. I can only imagine Biblical descriptions that movies try to capture. The parting of the Red sea, burning bushes and the sea of glass mingled with fire. Do those things stir you? I have heard about production, “oh that’s done to get you emotional” Of course not. As the song says, I can only imagine being there and seeing these things. Ask Him when you show up at those Gates of Heaven. I believe He will be delighted to take you there and be one of those in the Cloud of Witness’. I will ask to help with the run through in the Holy Production for you if I get there first. You will be an operator and we can work together with a lot of help from the Producer and Director. Eternal Productions bring you the reality of all life.

It’s Pretty good. Norm and Jack

What’s the Rush?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I have noticed an uptick in velocities lately. 65 is the new 55. The speed limit signs used to say 55 day 45 at night.Not only on the highways and byways but everywhere. Rear ended in the baking supplies aisle as I was looking for canned garbanzo beans. Little did I know they were in the next aisle. Found them and fronted the shelf as there were only a half dozen back a ways. Pulled them up (it’s called ‘fronting’ in the retail biz) I thought that was a kind thing to do. I missed them first time around and I am certain there is ‘someone’ out there that needs them too.

I began to notice traffic in the carts had picked up since I entered the big box store. The speed of the carts picked up, and I found a check out lane that was staffed and began to wait my turn. It’s always easy to pass the time by reading the scandal magazines with gossip about the royal family. I got rear ended again. A lot of downward smile remnants and avoidance of eye contact. I have written a column about this called ‘anxiety’ but this time I remembered my recent church experiences. ‘Be anxious for nothing’ from a short book called Philippians, chapter 4.

I am a volunteer at what people refer to as a Mega church. Beautiful place to be and I have made many friends with staff and other volunteers. It’s easy in the earlier mornings because there are very few of us around. We wear name tags which helps those of us that have loose pages in our memory name section. I have an excuse for my internal Roledex missing entries. Seizures a half decade ago. Usual complaints we all have. The electrical system in me got a few circuit breakers tripped and corroded. A little rewiring needed. After a few months, we all remember each others names. Usually.

I stay at my volunteer position all morning from 0700 and leave around thirteen hundred hours. By that time, the parking lot is fairly empty and it is easy to find my way My son who is on staff as production director (I am the assistant director) drives us and buys me a crafted press near Forest lake on our way in. Perfect time for Father/Son chats as well. the picture above is my son at the directors console

We spend a lot of our time in the media production room and have breakfast at VC (volunteer central). In between services we get to go into the lobby and chat with people and relax. Sometimes I go into the ‘green room’ where the musicians relax and pray with them It’s a pleasant Sunday in church. I am at comfortable there and since I am there every Sunday, I am a familiar person. A lot of volunteers are there on one Sunday a month.

The usual flow is somewhat different. Within minutes after the service is over, it is almost impossible to enter the main sanctuary and work your way to the front. The salmon upstream with four to five abreast coming at you. No one makes room and it is puzzling and scary in some ways. It feels like a fire alarm has gone off. The worshipers have spoken to God and I want to ask if He spoke to them. I like hearing about those things.

Same deal in the lobby and the parking lot. There are orange cones volunteers put out and police directing the outlets to the frontage road. It’s a lot like leaving the airport. A lot of give and take getting out of the lot. One message encouraged us to give way once in a while to someone waiting to get in line. “you don’t have to be Mother Theresa and let everyone in, there are cars behind you as well”. Just pay attention and move but slowly.

Why do we rush about? I can understand a crock pot miles away or a plane scheduled. It’s that way everywhere, always. Not just in this church.

I would love to chat about this mornings worship, the music, the soul scratching messages. The lobby food is all gone, the coffee shop is closed and it feels like we should now wave goodbye to a pleasant ‘restful’ holy day. The musicians leave as soon as the second service is over. After the second service begins, the food is put away in VC and the cleanup starts.

I like the big lobby in between the 9 and 11 services. People leaving and going but the atmosphere is gentile and relaxed. Some people go to both! We do, we have to. When the second service is over, the camera operators come in to our control room and hang up their electronics and badges and we mention a few shots that really were perfectly, and artistically done

We have a good half and hour to shut it all down and say our goodbyes to staff that are hard at work cleaning and making certain of their tasks. I like going through the corridor between our control room and the musician’s ‘green room’ and trying my hand at a double flip on the plastic hatchet throw target. Sometimes tickling the ivories on a old baby grand that is there with the rest of the stage and cables.

That area I Sometimes refer to as the ‘junk drawer’ corridor. A big electric lift platform next to a work bench with a microphone being soldered. Which hadn’t been touched in 6 months It feels like our shop at home with neat stuff. I soldered it last week with my learned skill building short wave transmitters. A delicate touch is required. I still love the smell of rosin core solder.

Alone among several thousand people and in this instance there is someone beside me and with me and is always for me. He turns His face towards me and gives me peace. I can introduce you to Him if you are interested. I would love to, no rush. It’s pretty good,

Norm Peterson writing for Jack Gator columnist.

Desparate

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I was with a new friend Bryan in a coffee shop about 20 miles from home. We began speaking of the former owner and praising his character and the way he lived. He died a few years ago and we miss him. At the table next to us was a woman by herself and she asked us who we were. Instantly I said Bryan was my brother. It felt right. From that moment on, we have been brothers to one another.

She was now smiling and said she was the mother of the man we were speaking of. She was drawn to her sons name and we were pleased to have spoken so well of him with her nearby. Another ‘coincidence’ arranged for us and her. That man, Jake, was indeed a bright light to all who knew him. He walked with the Lord.

My brother was a volunteer at a church that was about 60 miles away in Minnesota. It broadcasts it’s services world wide for the spiritually hungry. My wife Julie and I and a dozen other neighbors had been watching those services together. There was authenticity and it felt right and good.

A month later, Bryan asked me to help him pray for people that were attending those services. He drove he and I down to the ‘cities’ the next week on a Sunday morning. I saw a parking lot as big as the one at the Minneapolis airport, filled with cars. We parked near a sidewalk that did not seem to be a parking spot but Bryan said it was fine, he parks there all the time. There were at least a thousand cars parked already.

I was expecting cab stands, I drove them a long time ago and this place seemed a good spot to wait after dropping people off. No cabs seen. The big double doors were attended by a handful of people with name badges on. As we walked towards the door, I noticed the address of the church. It began with 777 and those are also the numbers inside my old Gibson Lloyd Loar A model mandolin! Those things catch my attention. A confirmation and connection. The people at the doors were very bright and welcoming, that got my attention too. It didn’t feel forced or phony, It was genuine. I noticed that Bryan had on a name badge as they did. Really neat ones with magnets under shirts or jackets to hold them in place.

We went up a large spiral staircase and on the second floor, Bryan gave me a lanyard that simply said ‘prayer’ We walked down the balcony and into a room labeled ‘volunteer central’ There was breakfast laid out and tables that faced several TV screens that had the live stream of the service going on in the sanctuary nearby. Where, I had no clue yet.

Bryan had already bought me an Americano coffee downstairs and we sat down and were greeted by members of the prayer team. Soon, it was time for us to go and pray for people. I still had no idea what that was going to be like. Bryan led the way down the balcony the way we had come and we kept going past the stairway to a corridor that led to a doorway on our left. There was no one else in that hallway.

Bryan opened the door and there was a small platform with stairs to the left going all the way down to the main floor and leading to the left side of the stage where the Pastor was speaking. I stood there crying as I looked out upon thousands of people looking down and instantly knew I was experiencing a strong emotion of hunger. Through my tears I whispered: “Lord is it their hunger or mine I feel?” He said yes. It was overwhelming and never before had I walked through a door like that one!

Bryan and I walked down that long stairway to the left of the stage. The prayer team was there already. The service ended and the pastor said anyone desiring prayer would come down to the front of the stage. Astonished again, I saw many people come up from their seats and head down to where we were standing. The team leader quickly handed me a small vial of anointing oil and told me to ask them if they would like to be anointed on their hand or forehead. “For it is one thing to see the land of peace from a wooded ridge…and another to tread the road that leads to it” 1.

I was standing in front of the big bass bin speakers and I saw a man looking for direction and I smiled at him and nodded my head. He came over and stood in front of me. Right away I asked him if he would like to be anointed and chose to have his forehead be so. I dashed a small amount of oil on my right forefinger and drew a cross upon him. I told him this was a baptism of the Spirit and then asked him what he would like prayer for.

He said his wife was convinced she was ugly and did not listen to him when he told her she was beautiful. His need was personal and spoken from his heart. I told him of his obvious love of the Lord and today, his wife would see her beauty in his eyes when he returned home. Those words came directly to me to say, they were firm prophetic words. I had never considered that prophecy, Just listening.

We both cried and that man hugged me after asking. It was indeed OK and welcomed. After the second service it was more healing requests from dozens of people, eager to meet a prayer warriors words of healing and restoration. All of the prayers were given to me as a response to hunger.

Many tears and many strong embraces were in response to the words I gave. I felt well used and astounded again. Never had this happened to me so many times. People with desperate needs to connect with truth. The honor of conveying blessings from the Holy Spirit stays steady in my heart. There are blessings from my public writing and there will be more from speaking them as well.

I am now at a different campus and am involved in media production with my son. I occasionally slip into an area overlooking the right side of the stage after my work is temporarily done. I am hidden there as I am dressed all in media team black. I pray up there and watch to see if any of the prayer team needs help. I love that team too along with all the other volunteers that make a huge difference for the people who attend. It makes a big difference in us too. The joy goes both ways.

This is how I envision ‘church’ Like the very first ones we read about. Prayer to one another in unity with spiritual songs and and spoken words of His timeless blessing for us. The teams realize this and that is pretty good. Norm Peterson, Eagle Brook church volunteer.

1.St. Augustine confessions VII.

Worship

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A common word, found in everyone’s vocabulary and is used quite often in many signs and personal conversations. The tricky part is, what and where does this occur?

The most seen places are church bulletin boards or big outdoor signs. My personal preference is to call them by their resemblance to marble cemetery markers. Tombstones. Often lit. Sometimes they have times listed and can be read if you are going slowly. They always say Worship.

I studied worship at a school down in Kansas City and it became clear to me where the words and body postures came from! Hebrew origins from a while ago. A long while ago.

The first one is very familiar, Hallal. It shows up in a lot of singing and is the base word of Hallelujah. It means to be clamorous and be seen as foolish in praising the Lord. I have been surprised at my own responses when a band sings Jesus, Jesus, you make my heart tremble. I toss up my hands and weep at His name. I am reserved because I do not want to smack someone nearby in my enthusiasm for His name.

Sitting up front with no one in front and room to step out works well for me.

I have asked camera operators if it is OK that I am there and they understand and try not to hit me with the back panel of the hand held camera. I tell them I am aware of their fiber optic cable and will not step on it. (stepping on a coil of it when it is on top of itself is a cardinal sin) Fiber means glass. Operators worship too but it is easy to forget when you are working to tell the story.

I am involved with media production of worship and the simultaneous thrill of the clarity of worship can goof up a good camera shot when you are dancing with joy at the same time. It’s good to be close and among the leaders of the room’s worship. You know it’s real.

Shabach means clapping and shouting. That encourages musicians and if it offends you then you are probably in a bad mood or in the wrong place. Pentecostal worship is exciting and easy to engage with. I love it when the singers Shabach. It’s spontaneous in many places.

Zamar is worshiping our Lord on musical instruments. Plucking strings and joyfully singing praise. Zamar at nine and eleven would catch my attention! I especially like Banjo Zamar.

Barak is kneeling down or bowing down. Rhythmically bobbing works for many. I have seen a few people in a sanctuary just disappear as they fold up in front of their seat. It’s easier if the seats are further apart. Don’t worry about the carpet, facilities staff cleans it after every service.

Yadah is the extension of your hands. There is a separate word for halfway up in the air, I will have to look that one up sometime. You have done all of these things! It’s quite OK as the posture of worship is very traditional and as we all know, God never changes so it seems we should pay attention to that fact. Worship is a romance and Love is most of it but astonishment and joy are hooked on. It’s impossible for me to ignore knowing that I am involved in the timeless and overwhelming beauty of meeting with the creator of all things. Crying happens.

“Don’t you get shy on Me, come on and praise the Lord” Joy, it’s pretty good. Norm the Gator

It’s Not Right, But…

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There indeed is a ‘but’ in our in all of our thoughts and actions. My brother and I were at a local eatery/bar and our waiter was ‘interesting’ to us. The waiter seemed to be a rude woman. Very sarcastic too which to me, can be charming . (I have become aware that being sarcastic is not a very good conversation trend) It’s fun when you are with a close friend. Just don’t make a habit of it.

I asked if they had french fries and our waiter replied. “it’s a bar, do you want a beer too?” The fries were good, not hand cut but OK. I still did not know what to say to him. His costume was pretty good. He had nice trim razor bangs and hair with slight blue coloring. Oh well, so what, It was a person which the establishment had hired, Most certainly followed by local whisper gossip heard in small towns.

A saucy Lisa Minelli with menus and a pad and pencil. Cute, attractive but giving us a wry inward thought. A movie actress pose with hips slightly bent to the side accompanied by a wry smile. Both my brother and I are very humorous types and attend the same church which is very scriptural and very welcoming. To everyone. Love one another is a prime focus. Everyone.

The recent topic that was being preached was about the ‘buts in our lives’ Spelled with One T. Many ways we all use that modifying word. I will do that, but I do not have the time thing. In our immediate situation, I will accept this waiter but without judgment. Respect and the usual friendly banter we all have towards people in the service industry. Good tip always.

We continued our delicious meal with our usual brother to brother ways. “ what do you think our waiter is?” Not sure. “Sarcastic and forgot my refill on my coke!”. In my usual direct way, I asked our waiter if they were a Christian? A firm NO came forth with a disgusted description of his mother that was a woman of faith and how controlling and offensive she was. Boldly replying to my question. Instantly I asked “would you like to be one?” No never!

My brother then went up to the bar and showed our waiter the bill and he said “it was wrong as it was too little”. “No one has ever done that before!” the waiter said. Our sodas were removed from the bill for being forthright and honest and the bill was then the ‘correct’ amount. Outside as my brother readied his Austrian motorcycle and I prepared to walk to my truck, we smiled and I swept my hand towards the ground and said “seeds were planted”

We both smiled and agreed, indeed that was good. Declaring our Christian belief and showing respect and honesty. It was pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

my brother Bryan

Tolstoy and the Endless Fireworks of Life

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The flash and flare in the east and it is time. Move away from the comfort and deep sleep, awaken to
dawn. Shut of the alarm clock, rise to the circadian rhythm of my body. Grasp my robe from the hanger on the back of our bedroom door. Close the bathroom door and glance at my tousled hair. A small pleasure in the new toilet seat that lowers itself slowly and doesn’t bang.


There are duties and places to be and now, it’s easier to find things because there is light beginning to arrive from the east. There is a small Brownian movement from the dust and I turn on the coffee maker. Go back in the parlor and open the side draft, rake the coals and put on a few pieces of wood.

I Find the good bread and drop two slices in with the timer set to max. The good bread is heavy. I ponder finding the cash for that upgrade on my cell phone already as I check the wood stove. Can we afford it? After all, everyone in the family has a new phone. Mine is old and I need to be current. It is the state of made things, they are old by the date they are put for sale. New and improved. No ‘good till’ or expired dates on your cell phone, but now I can’t find a screen guard to replace the cracked one. “You have to get a new one, yours is several years old. How much? Only 35 bucks a month forever.

It’s better with the shredded wheat on the shelf, we all know it’s good for a few years on our shelf. Silly thoughts along with dream remnants that linger until they too, pass into the storage area in my mind that is never too full and unavailable now and then.


There is a shuffle and purpose at hand to indeed waken fully and the hot caffeine warms my old ceramic
cup. Carefully, set it down besides the fresh toast and open up a book next to the vitamins and various
pills. The accouterments of morning rituals. The book now at hand is a collection of short stories that take slow reading to understand. Sarte, Sallinger and the rabbit eared current choice is Tolstoy’s ‘The death of Ivan Illych’

Nothing to it. Toast and coffee and a little orange juice to sluice down a hearty meal of existential
writing and with some of the greatest short stories ever written. It’s still early and my son is stirring a
bit. I come to the part of the story when Ivan knows he is dying and no one will be honest with him
about how they feel about it and him. Only a peasant boy tells him the truth.

A quote from la Rochefoucauld is remembered: “One can neither stare long at the sun nor at death” During the war the thought was, it will come quickly It did to that shipmate on the horizon. It was close but I am OK. Next stop, Palma De Mallorca. Great liberty! My acquaintances ship has been sunk over the horizon. Tough luck. Time to celebrate after freedom from with the liberty boat and have a few drinks in his memory.


We go on, inwardly feeling we will live forever and poor old Ivan, it must have been his diet or that he
just wouldn’t go to gymnasium as they advised him so many times. After all, his whist game was more
important to him. There was nothing to be done. and here I am hundreds of years later, dressed for a church funeral service. I am Still in my book and almost awake.

A funeral then to go to. The fact that we are soon to be in that silken and narrow box does not cross our conscience. Even when the preacher tells us we are off the hook by death of Jesus’ sacrifice, we do not comprehend the sacrifice, it’s not totally understood. Tithe well and we might walk as Enoch did and not have to suffer as Ivan illych did. That’s it! The second coming and it will all work out! Don’t worry, be happy.

Death is defeated knowledge lingers and we are all good to go. Mourning seems to have passed us by. Ask not who the bell tolls for, it’s you. Old Ivan, it was his time to go. The rest of our family is up and dressed and we drive a dozen miles to the church for a funeral for a neighbors son.

Is there lunch after this funeral? Should be. It’s good here at the church of endless life. Maybe if I get in line before every one else does! I do not want to miss that apple pie I saw as I walked by the kitchen!

No one knows the hour of our death. People of faith in Jesus know what His resurrection means for us. Still, I like it here and I know my loved ones will have Shiva at the house. I do not like to think about the weeping, just as I wept as the coffin wheeled by me and I reached from my seat and gently prayed as the polished wood slid beneath my extended fingers. A young boy taken from us in tragedy.

Live well, love well and spend a lot of time speaking and listening to our creator that knew us when we were yet to be born. “why me?” “why am I here and what am I to do? I ask of Him. He answers gently. “I knew you would know the joy and sorrows of life and I Like how you write and talk about it and Me. That seems pretty good.

Jack Gator

How much is it Worth?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was just a memento, really. A friend had given me the coin, in honor of my service in the six day war, back in the middle sixties. (The story is in my column, Soaring.) It is a recollection of the times at sea when my ship was threatened by a Russian guided missile Frigate at night.

That young woman could buy a coffee in Jerusalem at a Cofix store or some noodles with the coin, but it meant more than that. It was a confirmation from a total stranger that Jesus holds her tight, and will always love her. Right here right now. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

The rescue came from ‘above’ with a tomcat fighter on our side of the war. Battle group stuff.No body died at that time but it was very terrifying nonetheless. For both ships and crews.

So, many decades later, that five shekel coin wound up on my dresser. Covered with dust many times and mostly forgotten with the usual dresser top debris. Pens, pencils, notes on small post it pads and a jewelry box with alligator pins, bow ties and very ancient and worthless cuff links. There even was an old hand-held ham radio transceiver up there with a nice whip antenna. Battery was dead. I found the charger and the battery works. Two meter rig, handier than a cell phone with 5 watts instead of 1/2 or less.

One day, a Sunday, I was getting ready to go to my volunteer position on a prayer team. Early in the morning as the church was about an hour and a quarter drive away. I grabbed a handful of quarters to buy an espresso and at the last moment put them aside on my desk and grabbed the 5 shekel coin and pocketed it. No reason really, just felt right in my left jean pocket. It belonged there that day.

On the somewhat dark morning drive there was a whisper in my spirit that I was to give the coin to the first person I met when I walked in the door. This is an interesting time of day to get into the church as it doesn’t open the doors until 8. I had left a message with a pastor that oversees the facility that I would be in early. I was being dropped off by my son who works at another campus of the Eagle Brook church nearby (Blaine) He is a director of the media department and has to come in early to set up the equipment and test the simulcast stuff. I was early at 7 and walked up to the big doors from the parking lot and it was pretty quiet. Lots of parking at that time!

When I reached the locked doors, a woman inside the second set of ‘airlock’ doors smiled, and came right up and opened the outside door and greeted me by name. Very pleasant considering there are over 800 staff people in the organization. Ten times that many volunteers. I dug into my left hand pocket and handed her the Israeli coin. I told her briefly why I did so. She widened her eyes and told me I did not know how much this meant to her. She is a missionary to Israel, is involved with these things and later, at an early gathering on the second floor, she gave it to a young woman that was going to Israel soon. Her plane had been canceled due to the new war.

This post was written several years ago. Since that time I have moved to the Blaine Campus and am an assistant director in production. I still slip down and join the prayer team if they have need. Dual chitizenship!

Who’s Your Friend?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

“Hey, introduce me” Thinking of all the prefixes quickly to describe the person standing next to you. Uncle, Aunt, child, spouse or parent are the usual choices. We are all faced with that a lot and the easiest one I have found is to say; “We both have the same best friend! That’s how Social situations are the usual place that question is put forth. A gathering. Anywhere really.

If asked we can expound on the situation but it often suffices to settle the polite inquiry. Conversation then can go deeper between the three people. It’s fun to find connections between us. Often it seems serendipitous when mutual discoveries are found.

Some people refer to this as “providential” but to me that sounds like an insurance company.

Many times I have used ‘Miracle’ for so-called chance encounters that are incredible and so complex with place/timing and circumstance, that I like to use the word miracle. Things happen that we can’t explain. I have had plenty of them and have given up on randomness to explain them.

I can tell you about some of the real interesting ones, I have already written of them. They are at my web site publication, ask me and I will give you the location. One of my favorites is the way I met Julie, my precious wife. A miracle, no doubt about it. Undeniable and funny too.

How about you? Do impossibly neat things happen to you that can’t be explained by the Brownian movement of randomness? It happens every day most days for all of us. I look ahead to it. I am willing to venture that is a common occurrence for you too.

Do you have a best friend? Most of us do and of course, as we get older, a lot of them die. Pass away is the polite term for that. My new friend that I share a relationship with as having the same best friend have that in common too. Our best friend died some time ago but is still in our hearts when we talk about Him. He lives on. Eternity is like that. Time can’t stop love nor destroy it.

Talk about miracles! Our mutual best friend didn’t stay dead! He still talks to us. It is very subtle sometimes when we hear from Him. We have to be quiet, real quiet and open in our spirit to Him. No cell phone or text needed. Just listen.

By now, you have figured who our mutual best friend is! The nice part is, He be yours too. He gets around a lot and spends time with many people. Of course, you can ignore Him but the nice part is, He doesn’t get mad when you do. He never forgets anyone and you can talk and listen anytime day or night. No long distance charges. Let me know who your best friend is and chances are, if you have read this to this point, It’s probably the same one as ours. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe