christianity

The Best Advice, the Hardest to Do

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments
Al Quie

Chuck Colson

There is a man that I trust. More than any other man I have ever met. I’ll tell you about him in a little bit. There is another man, I talk to him less often, but the trust bond is there as well. This other man tells the truth to people. How many of us have a job like that? Tough job, really. Lot’s of training involved, study, college and ‘ample’ on the job training as well. The part that may confuse you is that this man’s desire is to tell stories about the other man! Oh yes, truth is absolutely a job requirement for both men as well. Character, discernible, is a gateway into seeing these things. Usually, the eyes are the first indicator to character. You may do this without even knowing that you do so. Eyes that look into you as you look into them.

I have spent a lot of his life looking away, fearful of what I might see (or be seen.) You also know this without it being something you think about when you meet an old friend or are introduced to someone. When the eyes, portals into the mind are not giving information, I usually forget their name as soon as it is said. This may also due to short term memory function a bit lacking. There are tests for this, usually avoided if possible. Who would want a total stranger telling them they were old ten years ago. “get used to it”

The second man has a lot to say to me and often, in a room filled with others, I will notice an unease in some as what this man has to say is a bit disconcerting and perhaps even confusing to those of us not used to communicating deeply. Questions are raised, sometimes boldly seeking some other fine point of the this man’s spoken words. Good questions, even encouraged and I have questions but usually hold them back because I am aware of an awkwardness of focus to others.

I would rather be silent and let the talk by the second man sink in a bit deeper without a distraction of speaking aloud. There was a man that did this speaking better than anyone since. He is long gone from us unfortunately. His name was Jonathon Edwards. A standard to which most speakers of truth aim for. There was one ‘speech’ that Mr. Edwards delivered that was so powerful and so convicting that a room full of ordinary listeners fell on their faces. There really was no other response that could be made when hearing the most important and life changing truth for everyone within hearing. A long time has gone by since that original speech but it remains powerful, convicting and stunning still.

The bold and inescapable truth taught was how bad we really are, especially if we think we are OK and are pretty nice. Compared with ‘those people’ we are in the ‘swell’ zone if there is a measuring device that could do that. Actually, there is a ‘swell’ or ‘free of faults’ measurement and on the other side of the gauge: ‘Bad and Wicked’ There is a thumb on the scale however and surprisingly, it’s our thumb. I leave it to you reader to decide which measurement the scale defaults to. Every time.

The revelation of who is first man is now at hand. He has many names that are used by many people to address Him. Somehow all those names are powerful nouns and are recognized easily by people that have met Him. Some of them are: Yaweh, Lion of Judah, First and Last, Beautiful, Shiloh, King of Kings, Everlasting, I AM, Chief Cornerstone, Teacher, Dayspring, Son of Man, Prophet, Alpha and Omega, Bread of Life, Savior, Light of the world, The Word, Branch, Good Shepard, Jesus. Those are just a few of his names.

As an illustration of what the first man does for those of us who look to Him for help, I will use the story of Al Quie and Chuck Colson. Many of us remember Watergate and Mr. Colson was convicted of conspiracy. Minnesota Governor Quie, quoting an obscure law, offered to serve the remainder of Mr. Colson’s sentence. Chuck did not take him up on it. The offer was real. Look it up.

Quite a bit of time passed after that before the Al Quie center was built at Lino Lakes prison. It was for the prisoners there to study Jesus and hear sermons from dedicated men that wished to serve. I was part of this ministry and was always told to give a sermon on the wrath of God. It was hard for me and I suspected the ministry leader was giving me an honor to select me for the task. Think about teaching a room full of prisoners about wrath and judgment! A challenge for certain. I have finally found out about God and His wrath. We deserve it but the first man has taken it upon Himself. All of it, for all of us. Impossible we say, but it’s historical truth.

There are many incredible stories about this Man. No one is like this, no one will ever be like this again. Now I am flat out preaching and it feels good to do what my friend does for me.

“There is something going on and you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?” Bob Dylan

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Sea Anchor

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Moving through a hurricane, we had a sea anchor set. This anchor, set at the stern, is adrogue that gives a steady pull, deployed like a huge parachute dragging behind the ship.Steering into the oncoming waves at an angle to prevent being pushed sideways and the pull from the drogue preventing us from pitching forwards. (It’s called pitch poling in nautical terms.)

We had to keep steaming to punch through and keep adjusting the helm to enter another wavecoming at us. I was standing two decks above the main deck and the waves were thirty feetabove me. The ship had a big draft to the plimsoll line, so I figured 60 foot waves.

I watched the spray covering the bow back to the masts as we kept steady onward. I heard thatwe were in the ‘shadow’ of the island of Malta. The place where Paul the disciple was shipwrecked. A real place of peril for everyone. Right in the middle of the Mediterranean sea.

It occurred to me in afterthought as I was listening to a podcast was the phrase of being safe and secure as an Anchor was used, quite a few times. We had huge anchors and used them when we had to ‘anchor out’ at a seaport. Tied up at a dock, we used hawsers and fore and aft ‘spring lines’ to stay steady. Anchors kept us in one place of course. The anchor of my soul gives me the image of the sea anchor. Moving through my life with it’s usual storms and holding on as best I can and relying every time now with staying the course with the Lord’s sea anchor. Keeping me pointed straight through my life filled with peril and

my penchant to change course in rough places.“My anchor holds against the gale” Not to stop but keep pressing in to the goal. Don’t get off that true and righteous path.

“ The safest road to hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, with out sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts “ C.S. Lewis

Stay the course, He will hold you and guide you and give you peace. It’s pretty good and guaranteed.

Norm Peterson/ Jack Gator

The Sight of a Smell

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was early in the morning when I saw the delightful smell drifting in from the kitchen. A haze,It was Soren my son cooking bacon for the family breakfast. Delightful, visible and delicious.A combination of several senses at once.

Another combination is lightning. The stroke, which grasps our sight as suddenly it appears and continues for a very brief time afterwards as dark lines as we blink it away. Then comes the sound. Calculating the speed of sound @ 1125 ft/s we come up with a mile every 4.7 seconds.

It’s fun to see how close the strike is by the timing of the thunder. So, we have sound and sight in combination. If the lightning is close, there is a smell of the ozone as well. The fertility of the earth is enhanced by the generation of Nitrogen. A natural fertilizer and the ozone protects us from the harmful radiation from sunlight! Quite a few senses involved. Sight, smell, hearing and the engagement of our mind in calculation and awe.

Along with the lightning, comes the wind and the rain. So now we combine sight, smell and sound in a different way with seeing the rain, hearing it spatter on our head or the rap on a roof. Then comes the smell of freshness. Does anyone have few words for the smell of the rain? It’s the smell that aromatic companies try to duplicate for those car ‘fresheners’ or scented soaps and dryer sheets. That isle in the big box store that gives us the challenge of holding our breath until we wheel past with the wobble-wheel cart, looking for toilet paper (Same breath holding reaction to the kitty litter aisle)

There is the smell of an old bound hard-cover book while reading it. We could talk about the delight of those two, but that’s another sense we have. Awe. It’s a natural emotional response to the senses combined. It’s a sense of presence of the Numinous Creator God. You may call Him a different name in your awe, I call Him Yahweh or Lord or God, the best one for him is Jesus.

Another sense often occurs with that Awe, shivering or a tingling of suddenly being aware of the supernatural that is always with you but now, sometimes visible (It HAS happened to me, but it is very rare.) After all, no one is supposed to see the face of God lest he die. In the words of Pogo..”Death, I can live without it”. It’s not the of God I have seen, it’s the result of His presence I have seen. I know He has permitted me to see things and hear things, along with that presence that is unbelievable when I talk about them. That’s OK if someone scoffs at these things, I was there.

As I have said before, I am not claiming any thing else. Just a gift we get if we know it is so. I look forward to this gift from Him with a smile of expectancy. None of us knows when it will occur, but it does and gives all of us more than we can try to describe in the description of senses. You have had this happen to you, but have thought of it as incredible luck or coincidence unexplained. It’s Joy, that’s for certain. Its pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Training Ground

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

TRAINING GROUND

It wasn’t too bad, looking back. The success’ outweigh the tough parts. That’s the way it looks now anyway. Like boot camp for everyone on the planet, you’re drafted and you have to do it. Just show up and survive. Some don’t survive, some don’t even show up. The draft notice doesn’t come in the mail, it’s not on your email or Facebook. It just comes and it’s pretty obvious what it is.

Report to recruit depot and get prepared for the toughest, most interesting time of your life. Anyone’s life. When it’s over, you can stand tall and be someone that did the right thing. “Fall out! get your uniforms and find your barracks.”

What am I writing about now! It sounds like going to basic training…yes for all of mankind and there is nothing harder nor more rewarding. I have been taking a University Class on Philosophy and it approaches me in strange ways. The last lecture was on Emmanuel Kant. He stated that the greatest example of Moral law was someone sacrificing for another person. Not a cause. Learning how to embrace that concept and make it our operational motive is very hard and can be the only thing we have to decide in this world.

A moral decision. Akin somewhat to the decision to lie to a Nazi guard looking for the Jewish man hiding in your home. Do you lie or do you tell the truth which is a basis for moral decision? Of course, telling the Gestapo the reasoning behind their miscreant behavior would not go well, even though that itself would be telling truth.

These are basic things for maturity, to wrestle with our reasoning. To seek out a ‘basic training’ that will tell us a way to think and act that fulfills, founded in a moral law. A law of civilization. Some folks will say it is tied to survival to assure survival of community and family. Sounds reasonable. Define survival, that’s all that’s required. Evolution aficionados like to use the old tooth and claw to describe survival of the fittest.

That sort of evolution works for watching trees fall when dead and then see what happens to the surrounding forest. Seems rather random to most of us. What if it isn’t? The old silly question: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, is there a sound?” What a ridiculous question! As though sound were a philosophic decision. Can you discern the timpani of that statement?

There are decisions that echo throughout our lives. Often seemingly small decisions. A friend of mine a very good fellow writer put it in 20 words:

What can I do? What should I do? What is God telling me to do? What am I willing to do?” Pretty astute. How indeed do we know what God is telling us to do? It’s a thing that we are taught in basic. Simple in some ways. Keep our mouths shut and pay attention. Don’t call the sergeant sir and don’t embellish the tasks you have been given. That’s boot camp.

Now, we are out of boot and aware that survival depends on paying attention to everything around us. That is key, not fear of the unknown. It’s awareness of who you are, where you are and what can and what should you do. At this time the communication is critical.

I was communications man/radio operator. Handy skill to help me listen. Some of the important messages had such weak signal strength it was only listening intently that made it clear. Shut out the static, the thrum of the ventilator fan and the hatch noise. Stop listening to the ‘world’ and be still. Headphones worked then and now I need self control over static.

As is taught in scripture, it’s not the thunder, the wind and the earthquake that our Lord uses to speak to us. It’s a still small voice and as though you are remembering a conversation you had 15 seconds ago. “Turn left up here” “keep your eyes open” “go visit him, you have the time” “walk slowly and stay alert” These are a few that I remember. Falls in the category of what is God telling me to do.

It usually begins by believing those faint messages are there for you. You alone. Keep listening. He will tell you he loves you right here, right now. Often He will tell me to do something that either seems impossible or simply, I not want to believe what I just heard. It’s OK. The Lord is patient and kind. We can hear Him if we want to. He isn’t going to tell us to go to Africa (usually) and it’s things that we can do to make things right.

It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson/ Jack Gator

Prayer in the Big City hospital

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The intrigue of the new name, written on a white stone. The only name for you, one of a kind and a blossom in the garden of the Lord. From the beginning of time made to blossom.

As the pattern and majesty of the mighty oak is placed within the acorn, so is our life given as each one of us is created unique, a perfect fit for us and seen on this side of eternity.

The Brief glimpses of Jesus’ heart which can overwhelm and bring us to our knees. Sometimes to the floor. There is a gift given which is the most precious stone indeed. Only revealed on that day we see the beams of light coming from Him as he smiles and blesses us. As the light flows from His beauty, it penetrates our heart, our spirit. The revelation of Christ indeed.

There is a hospital, that a fellow writer I had recently met at the local library was recovering. In hospital as the odd phrase goes. Much akin to a sailor that says “what ship did you serve in?” Conveying a mutual experience. As most of us, being in hospital after ‘procedure’ we become very aware of our frail body and also are anxious to be seen alive and belonging. My friend, Wally, was pleased to see me show up.

He had just come under the knife to save his life. A removal of a growing thing that did not belong inside of him. As he laid in the bed, I was allowed to come in and see him with deeper sight. He also saw me with new eyes. A caring visit from afar just for him. The visit that was as others that have been given to me, Irresistible and also fulfilling in ways of love for another. Also I gave him prayer for a powerful healing and it was well received by him.

(I see him now and then, sitting under a tree where he lives. I try not to stop and interrupt him. He is deep in thought and communion and I love to see him there. He is well.) He rolls his own smokes and I pray he would also be cured of tobacco addiction. I do not chastise or try and guide him away from the addiction. I used to smoke as well and the last thing I needed then was an evangelist telling me the truth. What would I have thought about advice from someone that doesn’t smoke?

After and reassurances, it was time to leave the hospital with the promise of return firmly known. When I left that room, I noticed a tall young man walking slowly by in the hallway. One of those endless hallways with perspective ahead. Walls extending a long ways. I was surprised at the instant inner voice to walk and pray for him. This young man had large hoop earrings. It was merely an affectation I thought. It have been a symbol or recognition trigger. Didn’t matter to me at all.

Right away, I asked that man if it was OK to walk with him. Surprised and pleased that a stranger would walk slowly beside him, the man nodded yes and they walked ahead. ” I walk pretty slowly” I replied to him that there was no hurry for me at all. I am a slow walker too. They began to converse.

This man said that his doctor told him to walk in a every day around the floor that his room was on. Stairways were not on the menu. I slowed down and walked. I am getting used to doing these types of things, not denying that small voice within me. Too many times, I have balked at doing such a simple task asked by my best friend Jesus.

I asked a few polite questions and we began chatting about what was around them and then why they were there. Truth exchanged between two strangers by an arrangement of the Lord. Fear revealed and spoken of. It took a while to get to the turning of the corridor. I said I must go to the right and had to “find the place my car was parked.” (A small joke among people of the city that deal with five story tall cement parking ramps).

I then asked permission to put my hand on his shoulder and pray for him. A prayer of immediacy and details I have forgotten were given to this wounded young man. “Well, I must go” I blessed him and thanked Jesus with the last words of prayer.

Astonished, the man said: “Are you an Angel?”…. I smiled and said “No but I was sent and told to pray for you”

I eventually found my car, and the joy of fulfilling two men’s need for prayer overcame me. A gift given to listen and then pray what I hear. Silence and then listening without thinking what to say.

It is a recent lesson I learned from reading in a brilliant book, “It is a restful heart that will attract those who are groping to find their way through life” a.

As the old Story of the desert fathers is written; “The Messiah lied to me, he said He was coming today and He has not shown up. Ah! replied Father Anthony. “He didn’t say He was coming, He said listen”

It was good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

a. The way of the heart Henri Nouwen 1981

My Spirit is Moved Again

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Another hot, ‘almost summer’ late May day and the commitment to do something around the farm. The rest of my family was elsewhere in the county working and getting chores and visits done. I was Alone and it was in the high 80’s. Lazing about with my Lewis and MacDonald I heeded the call to work outside. Weed whip the small ditch next to the driveway. I can do that! Get dressed in the jeans with a small chainsaw rip on the left pants leg and a white T shirt.

The battery whip was loaded with four strings and the fully charged delta battery. The big one. I began in the approach to the long mini ditch and swung the whip, side to side and it began to get sweaty. I poked an earlier garden wound on my left forearm and went inside briefly to put on one of those band aids that pulls your skin up when you try to remove it.

Swinging that whip and clogging up once in a while and looking ahead for progress. Taking small bites of foot tall weeds until I was almost out of battery power. I was relieved that the lights where down to one. Time to put the big 60 amp on the charger and check the fridge for lunch. Back to C.S. And perhaps Winship or Bunyan. Improvise the day and cool off.

I was afraid I would fall when I was in the ditch. I sat down to rest and could not get out of that ditch. I have an old Karate move of swinging my legs beneath me to stand. It did not work as everything was uphill. I finally scooted out and then flipped upright. The fear of being unable to move was surprising. Fear mode, small or large is not an operative mode to be in.

Is that where I am in world view? Fearful from past experience and therefore always afraid. Of who, what or when it all started. Sixty years ago. I would be unable to ‘get up’ Maybe it was fifty. Trapped and unable to ‘get up and just go’ We all have those remnants, akin to spilled food by a careless sweep of an elbow. Now it’s on the floor and nothing will bring it back. Tasty toast or a tasty meal of doing what we always want to do. Move about and pick up ourselves and justget onboard with our train of thought.

Fear of being chased by a perverted relative, fear of the bully. Fear of the guard who wanted to just see the fear when he stared at me with humor of dominance. The kangaroo court, handcuffs and out of control. Is this my world view? I will be unable to escape the floor, the ditch, or the death we all fear?

“Fear not for I am with you” The words of my creator that I read and listen to. Truth as was asked of Him. What is truth? We are eternal beings and He loves us. How indeed can I fear Him and His love presence?

It’s pretty good! Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

The Old Ford Wrench and the Faucet

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I took on a home project the other day, replacing the kitchen faucet. It took all day, odd tools and a session with my past habits. It began, like most ‘easy’ home projects without any trouble. Removing that drippy faucet was awkward for an older man on his back, under the sink, and being somewhat careful to not disconnect any pipes of drainage and to avoid set mouse traps. Two fittings did not seem possible to remove. They were up high, constricted and large. Rummaging in the old big toolbox in the standard dimension wrench drawer revealed a very old Ford wrench that amazingly, seemed correct for the job. It was a perfect fit and was offset . A one inch open end, perhaps for my 41 Ford coupe?

I took the old faucet and noticed it was a major brand that sets forth a ‘lifetime warranty’ Sounds good! I took it to the major big-box store where it was purchased some years ago and ran into an instant refusal. The initially friendly young woman behind the counter asked for the paid receipt and it was long gone from years ago. I was expecting ‘no problem, it’s warranted for life! Go get another one and bring it back for exchange” It happened when the original one failed a decade ago. There was no receipt then either. Things had changed at the big-box. Then an an argument ensued from what was supposed to be an easy return.

It got heated, at the final refusal, I spun around towards the door and threw the defective faucet on the sidewalk and it lost a few pieces in the process. I slunk away, one of my digits shaking from the emotion and sat behind the wheel of the Fusion. I knew I was wrong and I prayed for somehow to make it right.

I finally came back in and the counter woman had an expression that was unpleasant to see.I went up to a smiling worker and asked for the store manager. He came and after a short, somewhat snarky conversation, gave in and told me to go get another Delta faucet off the shelf and bring it back. The manager opened the box on the counter and pulled out the faucet and parts and ‘tossed in’ the remains of the old one. I took the awkward double handful and put them in the car. What I had just done worried me.

I went back in (3rd time) and went shopping with the list. I met the manager a ways down in the huge store and called him over by name. I was genuine and mild by now in apologizing for my attitude. The manager understood and they shook hands. For ‘some reason’ I remembered the managers name to call out to him. Astonishing, it Felt good. I tracked down the clerks he had words with and humbled himself as best he knew how and also apologized and asked them shake on it. It felt right.

Later, on the drive home, I realized the freedom I had experienced and broke down while listening to a friends song about someone that was still hurting but was still able to look back on the Lord and ask for forgiveness and strength to do what was good and right. I knew another change had occurred within me. Deep with truth about my brokenness and looking for help from the only one that could help.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson/ Jack Gator

Embracing Jesus at the Fence

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I needed to pull some steel staples from a corner post. The garden fence was coming down and was going to be ‘recycled’ as a fence for the upcoming chicken yard. A prison exercise yard with out weights and the tough guys with fur are usually on the other side of the fence.

The first time I had chickens a half century ago, I was pleased with the eggs and felt like a real small farm owner. One day I looked north from the kitchen window and saw a fox running next to the north fence line with a pillow in it’s mouth! Very new at agronomy I quickly realized the big white object was a chicken. Time for a chicken yard my neighbors informed me. Now, half a century later, a new chicken yard was being planned with the old inadequately high garden fence.

The deer ate our snap peas, beans, tops of the broccoli and brussels sprouts last season. Some of the flowers were nipped in the bud but the Kale was OK. Figures. Time to put in all wood posts and 7 ½ foot coated fencing. That fence would ‘discourage’ the deer and we would be able to eat fresh veggies this summer.

Thus the old perimeter fence was in process of removal and as it was bent around the corner posts, it was held on by those steel brads/ staples very firmly, top and bottom. It was my job to remove them and help roll up the old fencing. The damaged fencing had to be yanked out and flattened to take to the scrap yard along with the barbecue, T posts, truck rims. Those things had reached the end of their service life.

I had to lie down on the grass to pry out that spiked metal with a judiciously placed screw driver. A hammer assisted the placement and the prying went well. I was pausing after setting my ‘lever’ and looking at our home and being pleased and astonished..again..at what had been done in a half century at this homestead. White siding with sun ray blue half moon trim over the gable ends and upper windows.

I always said I wanted to go as Matthew did in Green Gables. Out by the fence just falling over I was in the perfect place with the perfect spirit to realize this was eminent. Bright sun and the spring weather was in the high sixties. I laid my head back, on my side I surrendered and reached out with my arms for Jesus and held tight. It was right, it was perfect and Julie and Soren would find me just as I had spoken to them about this scenario. I soon awoke to the son in my face and felt relieved and disappointed. Not now but the beauty will never leave me

The staple came out, the spikes came out and the post was free of it’s burden. Once again Jesus had touched me and told me how he loved my surrender and it was pretty good.

Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Photo of post courtesy Jaqui Dawson

The Beginning, The end, And all the Important stuff in between.

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Everyone, I mean everyone had to learn the basics when we were children. It’s obvious even to an old man like me. Riding a bicycle for example. Did anyone climb on to a 10 speed racing bike and right away began strongly climbing hills with it? Of course not. So how did we get to that point of an understanding and skill to pull it off (starting with a smaller bike with training wheels of course) There had to be a teacher, an adult with knowledge and strength coaching, encouraging and helping us do so.

Another example: Writing and understanding language that is written. No one, not even Einstein, can do so right out of the gate of childhood. First huge flash cards, gentle words and skill as a teacher-parent to help us. The the writing part (my handwriting can use some improvement) but as sloppy and ill formed the letters are, imitating the adults writing words to teach us. Maybe even holding our child’s hand to help. It works, it’s the way things are done for every child ever born.

As adults, we still need this training. Some call it school or primary, secondary, college an upward learning which still needs an adult with knowledge and skill to ‘hold our hands’ to continue learning. As an example: I can now play stringed instruments, my son plays a full drum kit. He learned from movies and instruction from books and a few other drummers. Not me perse. A side note; the piano is considered a percussion instrument! How did I and they learn how to do this? Another Adult who knows these things. In my case, even bowing the violin while I attempted to finger the notes. Such off key and bumbled sounds caused my kind friend an excellent fiddle player, Bill Hinkley, to wince but so did my learning bicycle riding cause some laughter and kind advice. At least I did not fall off the violin.

‘So easy when you know how’, is said. These are simple thoughts that I am just reminding us of reality, so obvious, we do not even have it cross our minds. Even potty training. Teaching is a skill not all of us have but potty training is a skill that all parents realize they must do. It’s one of the first classes along with eating spinach.

When we are all grown up adults (except me who took longer to want to grow up), we seek a purpose and a reason we are alive. It’s the big question which opinions abound to answer. Often as we are getting older, we get serious.

Some of us do not want a complex answer. We look to an older adult that has some answers. Why are we here? How are we here? There even is a book which starts with those very words! Here is the the name of that book which many dismiss as ludicrous. The Bible.

As I have stated before: It is a book that is written by adults and if you don’t want to read it, please don’t dismiss or talk poorly about it. Wait until you become an adult and can think clearly. Read it, ask questions and understand what it says. It’s the only clear and rational explanation for why we are here.

There are also many other books which address the reason we are here and what to do about it and I have read a few of them. Many of them say we are here because of a random event that occurred long ago and we are also a result of randomness.

These too are books made by and for adults to read. Most of them are made up stories that are fun to read. Akin most really intriguing fiction that engages our imagination. All of those fiction books, tell us there is no purpose to life except to enjoy it and die. What’s the point of that? We hunger for meaning to our lives, not oblivion. I asked a friend that I swim with what he thought happens when he dies and he replied, “worm food” When he gets older, I can speak to him again about hope and faith. I pray this will occur. God knows these things.

The Bible tells us our God of all, created us just to give us the choice of loving Him or not. After all, Love can’t exist without a choice to love. Why do you think there is the Father and the Son? Both God and both in love. We question the Bible, some dismiss it, some read and understand it. It is a book that shows us why we are here, and how we got here.

At first reading it can be challenging. That’s the best part! You will be intrigued and read it over and over again. You can start anywhere in it. A good place to start is the book of John. It’s in the New Testament in the last half. This book tells us the real meaning of life and why we are living. It is an older book,written by many authors, and they all have the same subject, and the same Hero.

Darwin and Dawkins and other writers and philosophers, desperately write fiction to assuage their fear of there actually being a God that knows more and than they do. Most intelligent people do not believe a big firecracker from nowhere created us. None of them say where that fireworks came from. It’s God that created us to love Him and one another.

No one knows where God came from, ask Him when you see Him. It’s easy to say that, Its the hardest and most fascinating thing I have ever tried to understand, and realize what I am to do about it.

When that love overcomes us, It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

1. Thanks to Gregory Koukl for his writing to help me understand a few things.

Memory Flip

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

There was a time when I felt my whole world was justified to be the sum of trauma and loss. The way I used that world was unknown, to me. I never wanted to be reminded of my failures with Julie or our kids for that matter. An adamant speech repeated over many times when I was in a conversation with family. “Don’t remind me of that!” would come from me and finally, after a particularly intense conversation with Julie and Soren, I said it again.

My denial of my failures to be a good man to Julie because of my past, were the driving force behind my dominating conversations. I did not want to be reminded of failures because I thought I was powerless to prevent them. It was someone else driving the boat. So I would blame Julie for reminding me of my failures, thus pushing against the only thing she could say. Things that hurt her inside. Things an insensitive man would blame on his old world. Not growing but living in limbo thinking nothing would change me. There was a way, a way to freedom from myself. It was desired and it was coming.

It, perhaps is well described in Latin: “Incurvatus et se.” A fancy way of saying a way of living that always curves in on itself. Seeing everything in life as affirming ourselves or not. Usually affirming our poor behavior as a product of our reacting to past ‘unpleasantness” and powerlessness to prevent the unpleasant things. Using that memory behavior to tell someone who cares about us to stop telling us about our behaviors. A convenient scapegoat, really not upfront on the memory radar. Just on top of the charts and navigation aids within.

A weak child making a decision for the rest of his life to not show compassion or weakness to anyone. Alone inside the orphanage of my own making and in charge of it. “If you tell me that my room needs painting in the orphanage, you are wrong!” “Don’t remind me of those times there, you were not there and never will be!”

As though I always have the last word and have an excuse for controlling conversations. Tromping on the feelings of my wife, because I, once again, do not want to be reminded of that long ago decision to be unable to help anyone. Let alone, myself.

Now, the reality of my young son’s courage and truth speaking in that moment, it stunned me. Change was afoot, change as obvious as change rattling around and around in the clothes dryer. Revealed truth, painful truth beyond this writing. Trying to remember every precious, angry word from a son. Desperate to heal his father from yet another curving around to short circuit tenderness and understanding. Anger at me as my fear and anger from so many years ago watching my father beat my mother. She was having an affair with one of dad’s coworker in the local department fire station. Powerless then and now… truth dawning finally within. Not powerless, not leaning on my own limited understanding. I knew out of this confrontation things would never be the same again. The fear, the blaming of others, the violent emotion of facing failure and using it to disconnect from my loved ones.

That wound was leaving, leaving footprints behind, oh yes. The footprints of disguise and confusion were leaving their lives and soon, the thing would be out of sight. Only memory and yet another hidden path to a new bond and yet another strength that we all desperately needed to be cleansed. Wanting that white robe, washed in the blood of the lamb. It’s pretty good.. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator