A sunny and cold February morning while the temps are single digits and the parlor stove at my back is going well. I am up early and typing to share these things with the world.
The stats in my dashboard tell me there are 12 countries or so that have read these short missives. I am satisfied. My coffee cup by my left hand and the keyboard in front of me.
It’s early and still dark and I have my headphones on and I am listening to singers from Kansas City praising the Lord . A Live broadcast.
“From the garden, to the desert, to the mountain, to the Heavens. It’s The story, the story of the Glory of God.” It brings me back to singing those spontaneous chorus’ as we worshiped at church’s all through the state. The Wellspring team.
There are times now when I can capture those precious moments that occur spontaneously where I now work in video production. Just a week ago I got a shot of a singer on stage right
“Ready 3, take 3” Simple com instruction and that shot, taken briefly makes it out to the broadcast that goes to the side screens, the lobby and perhaps the Web-stream to many around the world. It’s the best I can envision coupled with my tears at it’s beauty and perfection of worship at it’s best.
All of you have experienced these stunning events. Your eyes filled with sudden tears and briefly overcome with unexpected glimpses of beauty and eternity. Just for you, right then and right now.
I try to share them as best I can. A butterfly’s close kiss, the sunset or sunrise that takes your breath away. Too quickly to grab a camera and share it with loved ones.
Treasure that lingers, forever yours. A gift from our Lord. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator.
It started with a dream several nights ago. I had taken my robe off and slipped into bed, fully expecting a normal nights sleep after reading to Julie and our puppy which was lying on her side over my left leg. I was tucked in but that doesn’t matter to the young pooch. A little affection either calms her mania or gives her permission to start licking my face.
Eventually, the dog goes into her large crate next to Julie’ side as she is the alpha female here.
I slipped into rem sleep and had a dream unlike any I have had before. It was a reality submersion type. I was in the locker room where I swim twice a week. A public announcing system called my name several times. It announced there were two people waiting for me in the lobby. Harvey Stower and Charles Gendron.
Harvey had saved our farm from the counties attempt to take our land and home because we gave the county six thousand dollars from a bicycle rally we hosted in River Falls. We designated it for what was to be known as the Gandy Dancer trail for snowmobiles and we asked that bicyclists would have a smooth trail to ride on in the summer. The country was garnishing our land for failure to report income! Harvey, a state representative made it quickly ‘go away’ A devout man of faith and fair play Harvey died decades ago.
Charles Gendron was my old Navy buddy. On this web site is the story: The lost ring and the saved soul’ It is the story of our friendship and my part in his realizing Christ was his true best friend. I asked him to meet me when it was my turn to ‘cross the bar’ It was the last time I saw him at a hospice in Maryland.
Chuck died 20 years ago and appeared to me when he came into heaven at the moment of his death. “It’s better than you said! Were the five words he spoke to me as he walked away into eternity. A pretty good gift from Jesus as I was in a local church, sitting in the front pew. He had just died in Maryland at that moment. There was a message on our phone machine from Mary Lou in Maryland when we got home. “I wanted to tell you that Chuck died today” I called her back and told her I had seen him enter paradise this morning and it was very encouraging to her. Still is to both of us.
So the dream came into sharp focus as I sat on the bench in the locker room. I had never heard a PA system there in 30 years of swimming. The voice was of poor quality an I sat riveted on the bench with just my boots to put on before leaving the school. Could it be? Is it my time to indeed be escorted to eternity this morning? I just sat there, exited and fearful.
What is Julie going to do? I shared the dream with her from the night before and so I made sure the car keys were in my pocket so she could identify me at the school and drive our car home.
As I walked towards the lobby I also realized there was an ‘In service’ day going on and the school was very empty. Chuck and Harvey were not there. I was ready to go, at 82 I am in the range of expected expiration date. “Good till February 16th” Relieved and encouraged at the same time and tenaciously fearful on that plastic bench in my socks.
It was pretty good. I am still here. Never heard that speaker before and maybe will once more?
There is a common saying around the world that means much more than the two words it says. It is about acceptance and it can be very misleading to some of us. Accepting a gift is pleasant as it also is getting a package from the brown truck. They could be one in the same as well! You must, of course open the door and let the package into your home. If you are not at home, the gift will be left on your doorstep. Maybe.
The thing I am referring to is the common phrase, Accepting Christ. It is usually a cause for celebration by both the recipient and family. But what does the phrase imply? Is it just like opening your door to have a package of renown given to you? It would seem the phrase would indicate that someone finally made up their mind to indeed open their door and receive a Man. It seems so simple, but what does it really mean to us?
I like the phrase, ‘Accepting the Word’ It means so much more and it doesn’t mean an instantaneous change and a new person that almost glows. Of course, there is an immediate change often, but at times nothing really changes. It can be world shaking as it was for me. I had been seeking some answers to questions. The big ones. “Who made the universe and why? Why do I look a bit different and why am I a bit happier than I was? Why do I think and do things that even I know are wrong?”
Answers that we all ponder and pontificate on. We all have ideas to answer those queries as well. As was said by one of the wisest men known: “Those who are given over to preconceived ideas are forced to defend what they cannot prove” Cicero 36 BC.
We cannot prove those big answers but some try with science and theory. Evolution is one of the greatest children’s stories ever expounded upon. It has entertaining value, much akin to science fiction classics. We evolved a brain with more synapses than there are stars in the Milky Way? Ben Carson pointed to that absurdity.
We have all heard them from some pretty smart guys. They are brilliant scientists and tell us that a big firecracker exploded a few millennia ago (the big bang) and all we know and see came of it. The new question which has not been answered is where did the firecracker come from and who lit the fuse?
All those questions can be answered within the pages of one very old book. You most likely have heard of it and probably have one. It starts “In the beginning” which indicates that time started then which is incomprehensible to us but we read on, and it starts to make sense. A lot of sense. It states that at that exact time, God created the building blocks of the universe. Then He made us to enjoy Him and His incredible creation Further into the book it states: In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and Word was God. All the scholars and teachers that Jack has met agree on the description of Jesus as ‘the Word’ That makes sense after a while of study. A lot of reading starts with the above questions.
The Triune God. Father, Son and Holy Spirit. All of the three God and separate as well. I know what you are thinking. If you are anything else than a Christian, then it doesn’t make sense. If you are a Christian it doesn’t make sense at times either. Ask someone in your circle of believers to talk about it with you. Dig and keep asking questions. Be unrelenting in your pursuit of God and knowledge of Him.
Read and then study in ‘the word’ (Bible) coupled with some pretty savvy authors. My all time favorite for the tough questions is C.S.Lewis and his seminal magnum opus, ‘Mere Christianity’ You might have read or seen the movie, Chronicles of Narnia. (That work is a wonderful primer for Mere Christianity.)
Read Mere Christianity a few times and then put it down for a while and then read it again. And later, when looking for some light reading, read it again anyway. There was a group of scholars from Berea (modern day Greece) that studied like I am asking you to do. So perhaps another way of saying the tremendous realization of ‘accepting Christ’, would be following Him or studying Him.
The best way is to talk to Christ. Right now. He is delighted to talk with you. He is eternal and can be your intimate best friend for life. The description I like is ‘Became best friends with Jesus’ It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator
We are made in his image. We breath in every breath Twenty five Sextillion molecules which get fed into sixty thousand miles of veins, arteries and capillaries. And the 1+1+1 = 1 made it all within us. As far as we can see into the universe. It is now seen as at least 93 billion light Years long or wide, whatever you want to try and imagine as impossible to comprehend.
God spoke it to existence by the way. How big or small is the Lord of creation?
I read a lot and some things stick a bit longer in me such as I have mentioned, meditating on simple things such as “who are you Lord and who am I praying to?” 1. I have also read about a church that Frederic Buechner searched for. He visited them all nearby. Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterian, New age, Old age and all the rest. He finally settled on one called Smokey Mary’s.
It was a large cathedral type with constant incense burning and smelled like Christmas. At the stage or platform as it is called, were the leaders and priests/clergy dressed in elaborate ways that seemed as the Micado was in production. There was chanting in Latin or perhaps Russian. It seems to me Frederic was seeking Holiness, mystery and something incomprehensible to him. It worked and the mystery was there. I would like to visit there too. “Never loose a Holy curiosity” 2.
No flannel graph Bibles to be seen. Otherworldly approaches to everything of religion and faith in an incomprehensible worship of the God of creation. A good start. There was no preaching with words that we have grown used to and even doze a bit thinking about Sunday dinner. Sin, Transfiguration, repentance and such. We just breeze by listening sometimes and once again, try to imagine what God meant when he stated we were made in their image.
I wear flannel shirts sometimes. I could be stuck to a graph in two dimensional purgatory for all I know. I heard His voice once, saved my life but I did not see Him or a burning bush either. I know I have been blessed beyond my comprehension many times and the only answer to that is my purpose is to tell everyone I can about the love of God.
What does He look like we all wonder. I stood and stared at the ceiling of the Sistine chapel and the finger of God reaching towards Adam. It worked as an image for a while. The best that Michelangelo could come up with. Anthropomorphic, to keep us all a little calmer when thinking of a million galaxies and it’s creation. By one word. A planet in the unfashionable spiral arm of the Milky Way. Orbiting a yellow dwarf star at 161,000 miles per hour. Every second our star burns 4 million tons of matter into fusion energy (E=MC2) Oh yes, we spin at 1,000 mph. What a creation. Just for us, perfect except for the north and south poles. Hard to live there.
1. Frederic Beuchner Also with many thanks to Henri Nouwen, Mark Batterson, and Tycho Brahe
“In the beginning” Three words that describe the entry into the creation of time and the impossible comprehension of what time really is and how time and eternity exist together. Heady stuff. Once in 10th grade physics, I was asked to do a presentation on Einstein’s theory of relativity. It was impossible and the best that I could do was try to describe the bending of light by suns and massive Gas giants. Light that would cause the known universe to actually be a sphere. It made our solar system feel like an indoor affair. I theorized that with a strong enough telescope you could see the back of your head.
The impossible times mentioned by astronomers which try to describe distance by the speed of light itself. A traffic sign out in the Crab Nebula: Speed limit 669,600,000 miles per hour. Light years used to make it a bit simpler. A few miles a year. A bit faster than the fastest cars on the Autostrada in Europe. After all, the closest stars to our own are only 4 light years away, next door neighbors. So far, the closest exploration of space has been our moon, and recently, Mars. Not much to show for that effort except a couple of reasonably priced ATV’s left behind which are really neat. The price for them is very reasonable, delivery is an issue and expensive. Really nice though, great on sand!
There is no logic that affirms bigger is more important. Saturn or Jupiter are not more important than earth. The Andromeda Galaxy is not more important and worthy than our solar system. It’s just a lot bigger, Is a child less valued than a grown man? Logic dictates the answers to this question. I am assured that I am just a valuable as a President and the opposite. So it begs the question: What is more worthy than anything we can see or touch or hear?
The dialogue between Lucretius and Posidonius in Voltair’s writings is another, older dialogue between the atheist and a spiritual man. Never grows old, these conversations. Both imaginary men were written into existence by Voltaire and are brilliant and their arguments well versed. I leave it up to you dear reader to read and enjoy the dialogue. Same one between Steven Hawking and Ravi Zacharias. Many acknowledge Steven’s genius as I, but in matters of creation he was a bit off.
The debate continues throughout history. As for me whom has been spoken to by the living God, it is a moot point. What a privilege to have your life saved to write and speak about Jesus and His gentle ways.
Time and time again He reveals himself to us. Paying attention to that still, small voice from the Word of creation is key. Impossible it is said. I must be delusional and a fool. Such talk is humorous and disappointing to me. Seeds of beauty and inquiry are planted at such conversations. Denial is useless. I know my beautiful and incomprehensible Savior chose a drug addicted young man for salvation. Me. No reason other than to be a witness in the dock telling such truths.
Look into my eyes as I tell you story after story that excites me. You can tell. I am not delusional nor insane. Look into my eyes again. The steady gaze I have seen from my King with an unbelievable privilege Is in there. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator
There I was, running Camera 1, mounted high at Front of House control booth. Trying to ‘shoot’ what my director had told me to point to on the stage below. It’s a big room with often close to 2000 people seated. A dynamic presentation of the worship music is the goal and the camera shots of the electric guitar both far and near with energy, the drummer building a crescendo of many strikes on the tom toms, snare and cymbals visible to camera 5, a hand held camera.
Cross shots of engaged singers and a little energetic dance from the bass player also convey worship with energy. Somehow, the keys players are sort of hidden in the shadows. I would like the cameras to get close enough a shot to show the keys and the hands of music. It doesn’t happen very often but makes a clean and beautiful statement if it can be done. Lighting is an issue back there in the semi-shadows.
A constant stream of instructions comes over our ‘coms’ which just have one earpiece on the right side. “Look here, move there, pull back wide and get several singers”. You get the idea.
The room is dark except for the lights which can surprise you with a lens flare. I like them, most camera people do. We had five cameras to work with, the bigger ‘campus’ has 9 or 10.
I remember vividly the best shot I found. Near the close of the music, one of the singers stepped forward to her mic and as scheduled, prayed for what was on her heart for the room and anyone watching the screens in other parts of the church. In this case, there are two screens above the main stage too. We were ending the shoot and I swung my camera to the left and there, in the shadows was the worship leader, head bowed and hands clasped as we could hear the prayer. Almost invisible. I pushed my lens as much as it could go and just watched.
I saw a renaissance painting. A Rembrandt of shadow and fabric, capturing a moment of life that was perfect, stunning and humble. My director did not see it nor order the shade control to open my iris. It was just for me to see. A fiery sunset with all the pathos and humanity visible.
I never will forget that picture and it lingers with all the others. Orion as I walk out to our car on a winter morning. A sudden meteor streak through my windshield. You have them stored away too. A high splash of storm surf suspended in an oriental impressionist painting.
What a gift to see these things and realize they are timeless paintings for our miracle eyes. Ours alone to gasp and smile at. It’s pretty good,
Norman Peterson / Jack Gatorwith thanks to Sony for the camera photo
It was a real scorcher of an August day. The usual formula, 80 to 90 with humidity to match. The heat index was high and I always wanted to learn the calculations but plowed my calculus exam at the institute of technology. It was sweaty and work of that sort was on the menu.
Not the garden today, the weeds on the south side of the big automotive shop I ran for almost 5 decades. Metal siding and roof and a big commercial sign over one of the bay doors.
Everyone knew what needed to be done and everyone but me was already working today. Volunteer locust trees, accompanied by the usual weeds. Gravel on a slope all around and some of the small trees very close to the greenhouse and the cement foundation for the old pump house.
I began to work and the locust bushes (some over 7 feet tall) doing their best to turn into trees were on the A list. Main trunks well over an inch thick needed the long handled lopper. Thick gloves, good jeans with only one diagonal slash from a small chainsaw accident and excellent boots. It was hot and short sleeves prevented overheating. Then I had to put on a thick canvas jacket at the time of picking up the trimmings. It started to get a little hotter.
Several small puncture wounds and the forty foot row of trap rocks against the building was once again visible. The blood had dried on my left arm. It was getting pretty sweaty after pilling up the branches, weeds and such. Time for a break. I was amazed at how wet I was with sweat.
I found the small clippers that I had covered up with weed debris, grabbed everything else including my thermos of ice water. I walked down the three steps from the shop, turned left off the new sidewalk and went over to cool off under the shade of our gigantic Chinese elm. I sat on my birthday gift wooden swing and settled in with my water jug horizontally stabilized on the slats of the swing. There was a delightful breeze and the view is always pleasant. The white lap sided farmhouse with six gables and a treasure of small trees and plants set in the trap rock around the perimeter.
A swallow tail butterfly was fluttering near the pots of zinnias by the shop and it caught my attention. I asked to see a butterfly dance with an imagination and a wish. The butterfly soon came over the top of the zinnia bush flowers and it began its dance. Just over the grass on the other side of the walk. Back and forth, up to the top of the lilac bush by the house corner. Then gliding back down to the grass up to the zinnias. Dancing in the sunlight. Back and forth several times and then went out to the driveway and sat down. “How was that?” It seemed to say.
Why not ask it to come over and give me another dance and then a kiss? I closed my eyes and there coming close to me was the butterflies creator. Smiling with an embrace and a brothers kiss of greeting. He looked like I imagine Him to look. His description is found in Isaiah 53 by the way. If you are with a friend, the confrontations and weariness of your world are soothed over and sometimes, are forgotten completely. There is great comfort in intimacy with another’s spirit and the love of Christ shared between each other. Starting sometimes with a drawn fish in the sand. New and old. Transformation takes place again and smiles in our heart began to show.
Meanwhile, Julie was concerned as she hadn’t seen me in hours and was in contact with Jesus asking Him if I was OK. Quickly she was assured that I was ‘with Him!’ Her first thought was she would find me lying in the sun smiling and gone. At the exact time I was still entranced with the kiss of brotherly love and satisfied to the whole of me. I was indeed, with Him. “I could go right now” Not my first choice I thought but about as good as it gets nonetheless. A perfect ending to a love affair that grows stronger every day. I too knew I would have a smile if I was lying there.
I finally grabbed my ice to water thermos and left the swing and swallow tail and went in the back door to the kitchen. Julie was processing sweet potatoes for the drying racks and we shared this kismet of the butterfly and Jesus’ gift of faith with one another. Astonished by Him stopping by and then our shared joy. It was now toward the end of the afternoon. Julie was reassured as to what was meant by ‘I was with Him’. Not my time yet to “go rest high on that mountain.”
Julie mentioned that a few days ago she had been asking our Lord if she was hearing Him correctly that He would answer her earnest prayers. He told her to go to the raspberry bushes and pick four of them. Late August and the berry season is over. She found them and as in her usual way, wanted to share them with me. “They are just for you was warmly said by the Lord”. Very sugary and brilliant red. Four of them, all that was there. She shares a lot of things.
As I write now, I can see from my desk our flag waving on the long pole just to my left. The garden and the gladiolas and the heavy laden bean poles are also visible through the front door windows. I am still stunned. Indeed, I have a smile. Limitless delight and faith abounds once again. My work clothes are stuck to me and my shirt is hard to remove. A light supper awaits.
My mentor that I delight in wrote this about prayer: “And why should the good of anyone depend on the prayer of another? I can only answer with the return question, “Why should my love be powerless to help another?” George MacDonald
Jack Gator With thanks to Henri Nouwenon the Lectio Deviniaon Mount Taborand Vince Gill for the song
A sunny morning in winter found me reading in our living room in my favorite chair. An excellent book by Frederick Buechner. His story inspires mine. I was also glancing up and watching fine, powder snow swirl in strong wind just beyond the window on my left.
It was blowing off the barn edges and up on the high hill, obscuring the 40 foot tall pine rows. It was swirling about in a Brownian movement. Circling about itself and appearing as smoke that is mostly seen as driven snow, sleething across a highway
Reading on in Frederick’s book , Listening to your life. I began following the intimate thoughts and loss of dear friends that shared poetry of life with me. An unusual chord progression or high harmonic would engender conversation, long after the shared concerto we were playing, just the two or three of us in a room. Swirling about in delight for us all. Never repeated or written down.
I miss those friends and their instruments that opened from the cases with the snap of clasps. Tuning just a bit with their 12 strings that needed constant attention. My six was in tune before theirs were. We would then start playing, slowly until the tune would catch up with us and akin to the smoky snow swirls, would indeed spin around, settle in a new mound of notes and harmonies never before heard.
As I continued reading I began to see my desire for that engaging and impromptu beauty with dear departed ones. We sat many hours and years together, also impromptu, delightfully just in time for another go at it. We were separated later in life by long lines on a map and later by eternity itself. They are together, waiting for me to join the beauty of music. King David would perhaps join in the jam session on his harp with Asaph with his beauty with words.
A vision brought to me by the gift of a perfect small snow blizzard as I sat near the parlor stove. Looking out our big windows. I could feel that beauty. Never to be repeated as every snow flake is different in uncountable numbers.
I see that hunger for communication now with others, often as old as I am. We wander about in the large parking lots and buildings or even on the opposite sides of gas pumps. There is a sign from each of us as shared events and life experiences that only are remembered by our generations. Duck and cover, the draft and several puzzling wars we all were in. I see them proudly wearing their ball caps usually with Vietnam Veteran on them. A glance and a brief nod of my head is enough for both of us. Adrift and swirling around our world and just needing that high E string tweaked. Harmony and those 12th fret harmonics signaling unity in tune with one another. I miss those friends and I know you still miss someone when all of the love was there.
It was always there. A loss, not even known for what it was. An emptiness that fell upon every thing that I experienced through my life. Empty of love and lost it when I was a child. I weep now when I realize what I felt that time when the emptiness took hold of me. I always thought it was abandonment. A memory that diffused relationship with everyone. I tried to cope with that memory, not even aware I was doing that. Clever words spoken and written. There were many times when that empty feeling would diminish and it was always the same thing. Smiles and words that promise embracing mutual friendship. I needed to forgive the people that it seemed I was abandoned by. My family did not know me nor did I know them. Relatives that should have known those things too. Inherited behavior, perhaps cultural.
“I believe that God’s purpose in giving us memory is to enable us to go back in time so if we didn’t play those roles right the first time round, we can still have another go at it now…finish with the past in the sense of removing it’s power to hurt us and other people” Frederic Beuchner
Music was soothing then and a smile inside at a moments of beauty got me hooked into that beauty. Songs and orchestral creations still work well. I remember some of those songs. that I played. the phrases of praise momentarily fill the emptiness. ”I loved what you did” or sometimes just a few notes spoken of. It always makes the emptiness fade. I still crave approval and contact. Applause was nice but fleeting, Playing Ashokan Farewell on the violin perfectly, without an accompanist on guitar for example. Fulfilling for a moment. List, Chopin and Beethoven are soothing time and again. A perfect den of pleasure, even driving. Alone.
It was a coldness in my very core that drove me to play well, and now, to write well. A romantic spirit. Those moments are when the emptiness would back off. Approval and love of just me. I did not know why those times of contact and praise satisfy. It seems selfish to enjoy a secret pleasure in being alone.
Isn’t it like that for everyone? Seeking smiles and laughter from people and amazingly, an interest in us that might be a friend. There are few friends that I can contact anytime for their care and seeing me and they myself for what we are. An empty man, perhaps like they are. Leaning on one another like an unmovable roof truss. Solid wood. With knot holes and defects but Oak or Gopher wood. A trust able to withstand bad storms.
Many of them are Gone now from the inevitable event we all must experience. They died. How inconvenient of them to do so. I still love them dearly and I know they still do. One close friend appeared to me just as he was dying. He was 2000 miles away, so it figures friendship and love is eternal. I lean on Jesus often, especially when I am desperate.
Most of those friends were the kind we all need. A phone call or even showing up without calling, just showing up. Not even a hint of inconvenience from the open door. “You were in the neighborhood? That’s over a hundred mile trip! Tell me what’s going on, I feel that you need encouragement and a good hug.
The day of the wall phone is gone. Now we have Facebook and posts telling us what’s right with us. All neat and clean without any tears or embraces of understanding. Isaac Asimov’s robots now have cell phones and good internet. We edit conversations akin to open book exams.
The two years of isolation and fear reduced our civilization to rubble. The covid theatre that had bodies piling up that where not there when the curtain was lifted. No smiles seen from anyone. The old game of keep away. A scowl if you were in public without ‘the mask’ The deadly bat flu made it fearful to come near and we were so much poorer, even crippled by it. We all lost and the stats and graphs and zoom meetings were just party favors for the worthless messages of untimely death. It’s always untimely for everyone. We always think we will live forever. That is true but not in the limited way we think of it.
There was enough money generated by the scamdemic to weigh it by the semi trailer load. Easier to count that way There was no one accountable anyway, Not yet.
I an not alone in my quest now. The world needs good friends and we must learn how to do it. Smiles. Waving from the mailbox at the lake people with cabins just over our hill that are seen in season. I have noticed that a slight smile and a nod are beginning to make a difference. Smiles and laughter ring out as bells from the steeple. Come. Gather together and be thankful for blessings and deliverance from evil. Look upon the world as a small child’s smile at an adoring adult. It opens our hearts as we look upon our world. Not through rose colored glasses but with clear vision. We take off the disguise of indifference and reveal ourselves and see.
This is who we were created to be. I’m not afraid of you. It’s civilization 101. I have been hiding for most of my life and I have began to offer myself to my best friend who is nearby. Close as my heart beats in synchrony with His. Asleep while I am dreaming, He tells me stories of romance and adventure.
The creator of us all, different and beautiful. Loved and embraced as we listen and the world becomes pleasant and we enter into the joy of the Lord. Well done good and faithful. Well done.
It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator
Photo of my bench on the south hill (the cathedral) built by Soren
My first thoughts on the very beginning was what a powerful nation Rome was. And yet, from poor leadership and inflated senses of self, she fell.
The philosophic, the scientific and the religious thoughts of today seem to be universal and timeless. My favorite is a slight variation from Descartes: “I think, therefore I am an intellectual” Or perhaps a young student who knows no history and runs on temporary feelings and some fools advice.
The mindset, the world outlook all colored by experiences is obvious, but still profound. Since I have read Francis Schaeffer’s book ‘How should we then live? several times, the concept of compromise and personal satisfaction runs through the whole book. Or; “how ya doin’? Fine, thanks! How’re you doin? Fine, thanks for asking” ad infinitum.The god’s we are now embracing instead of Jesus, seem to be somewhat familiar to Romes. Universal reset to the golden calf that ‘just appeared’ out of the fire of, the struggles of life. My generations gods: Sex, drugs and Rock and Roll. A little commune life spiced up with all those things.
Communist Hippies. Precursors to the Woke generation. I am special (true!) You are not (false) All truth is false and that’s the truth! “Eat the rich”, People power, Rent Strike! Make enough money for a pitcher of beer across Cedar Avenue, West bank of Minneapolis which now is totally Somali immigrants feeding money back home from fooling the dole que. I lived there after discharge and it was headquarters of world class musicians and hippies. They don’t speak English there now and they hate America except for our money. I don’t judge them for their race, just their ties to people who hate Israel and us. Thanks president Biden for flying them in on Walz’ sanctuary city scam.
The Roman Empire. Similar to ours in many ways. Conqueror of the known world. Roads everywhere. Most powerful country, best military, Controlled civilization with Caesar in absolute control to keep the roaming gangs in line.
The battle of Christian believers in the first 300 years were pretty bad and then just after Constantine made the state religion Baptist, the whole thing went sour with apathy and slouchy living. Violence, weird and badly done artwork, fascination with sex and of course, the games and government stimulus checks. Followed by inflation. Sound familiar?
Just like us. Then the whole thing fell apart and Rome was not the big guy in the world. Their freeways and secondary roads are somewhat still in use! Just a little narrow and bumpy and the bridges are iffy.
It seems that Greek civilization was not the main model we have used today for government and structure of society. It’s Rome. Not too long ago, our nation rejected our Creator and his Son for no god at all, Hegel, Darwin, Marx and Brilliant Steven Hawking. The god of our own power and science. Pretty flimsy religion.
Oh the Methodists, Baptists, Lutherans and Catholics putter along in competition with one another for the ‘Truth’ and the most perfect worship and doctrine. Good musicianship helps the popularity chart as well.
A Henri Nouwen quote seems appropriate here. ” When I pray, to whom do I pray? When I say Lord, what do I mean? This is the real question, the only question that you can make your most important question…when the question exhausts you so much that you need to read Newsweek for a little relaxation!” 1.
Apathy again. We care about the state of our country and talk about it a lot! As long as we have our goodies, lake homes and boats, recliners and bigger TV screens than our friends, we are on top. Until we get older and weird looking and forget who we are and who we are in God. As if we knew about God in our “used tea bag minds“.2.
We must be very careful to not be as sarcastic as I usually am. There is something wrong with our country, our world and Francis Capon says it well. ‘How should we then live?’2. Jesus Jesus Jesus, nothing else will do. Then It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator
Jack gators grace notes 