An Atlas of the Life and Travels of Howard Merrell

Mental, Historical Cartography:

Posen, Illinois; Huntland. Tennessee;  the cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy, France; Sterlington, Louisianna; Roanoke. Virginia; Shenandoah Junction, West Virginia; Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania; Elora, Tennessee; a small part of Kiev Ukraine; (I don't remember the name of the community, but) -a large housing complex in Almaty, Kazakhstan; Weno, Chuuk; Harvey, Illinois; Bradley, West Virginia; Lita, Ecuador; Fredrickburg, Pennsylvania; Neuva Ocatepeque, Honduras; Elkhart, Indiana; Imperial Rome; Charlottesville, Virginia; Crescent Lake Bible Camp, near Rhinelander, Wisconsin; an area in the Black Forest region of Germany; Palau; Lawrence, Michigan; Rock Hill, North Carolina; a bit of College Station, Texas, Guam; the route Southeast to Northwest across Ohio; The area around Moody Bible Institute in Chicago; Florence, Italy; Lake Moomaw; Bryansk, Russia; Chuuk Lagoon; Israel; a bike route from Covington, Virginia to Hershey, Pennsylvania (complete with pictures of a hotel room that used to be 8 x14 but is now only 7 x 13, because of the many coats of paint); and several airports around the world. I am taking a few minutes this morning to page through the atlas in my mind. Maps, pictures, reports of traffic conditions, and notations of where to get good chicken, pizza, or sub-sandwiches are included in my one of a kind guide to getting around in this world. My mental atlas is horribly inaccurate. Some of the designations, like "Half-way Hardees," are meaningless to anybody outside my family. Some of its contents, like the memorial marker, "On this spot a drunk driver in a big Buick ran over Howard Merrell on the first day his parents let him cross the road with his bike." haven't been edited for more than sixty years. The information my book contains is utterly arbitrary. It says little to nothing about most prime tourist destinations in the regions it covers, yet it has a notation about the best hoagie shop in Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania--maybe the whole world--Grace's Hoagies. On page xxx you can see a picture of the trailer where Fred wielded his butcher knife and flyswatter making his wonderful sandwiches in a place that was so dirty that I wouldn't let Kathy go in because I knew if she did she would never eat anything from there again. I didn't want to deprive her of that pleasure. "Why do you call the place 'Grace's?" I asked, referring to the sign leaned against the front of the trailer that Fred had never bothered to hang. I was hoping for a deeply Theological response. "Aaagh, it's named after my ex-wife (expletive deleted." Such is the trivia that fills the pages of The Life and Travels of Howard Merrell. The pictures fade, and the data from one location gets confused with another. The compiler of this record makes no guarantee as to accuracy. I had cause to consult my book last night as I rode from the airport to my friends' house in Koror, Palau. Kathy and I lived in Palau for four months. It was the beginning of Act Two of our life, following a very long Act One. I consulted my record because I had the distinct impression that this "feels like home." Only it isn't home. Kathy and I have started referring to "our Virginia home" and "our Guam home." But that doesn't quite cover it either. I could just as easily say, "The place in Virginia, or Guam, that's not my home." Don't get me wrong I'm not looking for sympathy. There is a certain freedom in being "homeless." An old song captures the mood of our Lord's words about laying up treasure in heaven, or the Apostle Paul's words about where to set our affection. I'm content to hang around this world as long as the Lord wants me to. I'm just trying to remember my real address. (Philippians 1:21-15 gives Paul's much more together view of this.) It's Something To Think About.

Going Home, or Leaving?

Heading the other direction is odd.

In the morning I leave where I've been staying for the past nine months and head home for a brief visit. Only, I'm not sure that's what I am doing. Could it be I'm leaving home to go back to the place where I used to live? Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for sympathy. Other than the fact that I'll be sitting in airplane seats way too long, and I'll be away from Kathy for three weeks, I don't find what I'm doing distasteful at all. It's just odd. If you came in late, I'll point you to a brief word of explanation. I'm a retired pastor, lived all my adult life in the same place, and in our "retirement," Kathy and I took a temporary assignment 8,000 miles from home. You can find out more here. We have been here in our comfortable little apartment long enough that it doesn't feel temporary. It kinda' feels like home. I'm headed back to the U. S. mainland because of business. It used to be when I'd go away on business that I'd pack enough stuff to last until I got back home. This evening I packed a supply of stuff to last while I'm visiting home. Some of the old Gospel songs talk about this kind of dissonance in a far more profound way.   "This world is not my home. I'm just a passin' through." "I've got a mansion . . . in that bright land where we'll never grow old." "Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home."   The Psalm writer spoke of that not-at-home-ness when he said,“Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:25–26) In the New Testament, the Apostle Paul spoke of his desire to be "present with the Lord" (Philippians 1:23), yet he knew there was yet work to be done (24). What I am experiencing as I get ready go away from home and back home at the same time is something like the way God's people should always live. I'm where I am for reason, but this isn't my final address.   It's STTA (Something To Think About).

Even a Tycoon of News Cannot Prevent News of His Death

The real FAIR & BALANCED:

Roger Ailes has been one of the most powerful forces in media for the past several decades. The motto of the news empire that he oversaw is "Fair and Balanced." Ailes died this morning. Clearly there is room for argument, especially with revelations that surfaced at the end of Ailes's life, as to whether his career modeled that motto. I'll leave that discussion to others more "pundit-y" than I. I am confident, though, that Ailes entered a realm where fairness is beyond dispute, and balance is Divine. Hebrews 9:27 declares, "[I]t is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment." The early chapters of Romans give us a great deal of information about the standard of the judgment God administers:  God's judgment is rightly directed. It is against "all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men." We should not take false comfort in that, however, since Romans goes on to say that all have "sinned and fall short" (3:23). Impartiality is often held up as the standard of human justice. With Godit is clearly achieved. In Romans 3:9-20, words like "all," "none," and "no one;" and pronouns like "they" predominate. Chapter 2 and the first part of chapter 3 make clear that no group gets a pass. Jew and Gentile, religious and secular, educated and unlearned, all stand on level ground before God's tribunal. Ignorance of the law is not an acceptable defense in a human court. God, though, bases His judgment on what we know (Romans 2:12-16). It is as if the Lord will play the surveillance recording in our heart. As verse 19 says, "every mouth will be stopped." We'll know that there is nothing we can say. Most important to us, while God's judgment is sure, His grace and mercy are without limit. After establishing that all are guilty, the Apostle Paul goes on to show that just as all are guilty before the Lord, salvation is made available to all through faith in Christ (here).  I have conducted many funerals over a lifetime of ministry. I always did so knowing that I was not privy to the eternal destiny of the one being memorialized. When commenting on the afterlife of someone I have never met, like Ailes, that is even more-so. I do know that the God of the Universe will do what is right. Roger Ailes sought to inform, teach, and persuade us for decades. His death, like the end of every life, is a lesson we should heed. It's . . . STTA (Something To Think About).  Here is a different presentation of the Good News in Christ. You can find several ways to explore the Message of Grace here.

TOGETHER, for Thanksgiving and Beyond

Together Again, It makes my gray head thankful:

If you have nothing better to do than to read STTA every day, you know that Kathy and I have been at our older son's house for the past couple of days.  Last night, my younger son and his family arrived.  Kathy and I watched, and HEARD, the "Cuzzins" having a good time.  We really enjoy the fact that they enjoy each other.  Everyone except my older grandson was there.  He has been out on his own for a couple of years.  He lives nearby and will be in and out this week.  It's good to be together. It's even better to be TOGETHER. My Daughters-in-law, and my sons are bringing their children up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.  The oldest grandchild, the one on his own, is a passionate follower of Christ.  I can look around my son's home and see reminders of the faith that makes this, and his brother's family tick.  I am very thankful. At this point in life all of us being together is an important part of me being together.  I remember hearing Dr. James Dobson, decades ago, answer the question about what he regarded as most important in family life.  I found these words in a graduation speech Dobson delivered.  As I remember it approximates the answer I heard on that earlier occasion. ". . . be there. On resurrection morning, be there. I will be looking for you then. Nothing else matters. Be there." Children & grandchildren aren't computers.  We can't program them.  At the top of our goals as parents, however, at the head of the list of our priorities for how we use those eighteen, or so, critical years that our children are at home, in bold letters on our prayer list should be these words, "Lord, in the end, I want my family to be there."  Together. It is likely a long way from here to heaven.  For the youngest of us it could be a century.  I can't look in anyone's heart and see what is there, but looking around at my family together, and seeing the evidence, gives me great encouragement.  In the sense of "Keep it together." or, "Don't go to pieces."  I feel together. Moving toward Thanksgiving, I'm a thankful "Papa."  It's STTA.

A Good-Looking Friend in Heaven

Something To Think About A Friend in Heaven:

When I get to heaven I'm going to keep my eye out for someone.  I figure he'll be about six-foot-four, with shoulders so broad that the first question you'll ask will be, "I wonder how much he can bench?" Impressive as his frame is, though, it will be nothing compared to his smile and the utter joy and deep gratitude that will sparkle forth from his smile and eyes.  Knowing Burton, he'll greet me before I have a chance to say anything to him. Even though I'm preparing myself, I figure I'll be awed by the voice.  I'm guessing it will be so rich, melodious, strong, and compelling, that one could be spellbound, listening to him read the New York phone book. I don't know Burton really well.  He is a kinda-sorta relative of Kathy's. On occasion he used to visit Kathy's folks.  At least once he was a guest in my home.  When I was a young teen I remember attending Bible Camp with Burton.  He was really too old to be a camper, but the powers-that-were graciously let him join in.  Burton's body wasn't shaped quite right.  He looked like maybe he had emigrated from middle earth--the last representative of a race of ancient dwarves.  His hands were stubby, and, as I remember, he didn't have all ten fingers. When he walked his misshapen feet, and joints that didn't work quite right gave him a gait that made him walk like an old man all his life.  I always had to listen carefully to Burton, to tell what he was saying.  It always seemed that he needed to clear his throat.  His enthusiasm for getting his words out sometimes outran his ability to articulate. So, when I get to heaven why will I be looking for a man with Hollywood leading-man looks and voice, when the last time I saw him he was a gnarled five-footer with cartoon character diction? It's because, though I didn't know Burton real well, I knew him well enough to see the beauty of who he really was shine through.  Burton prayed for people.  No, I mean he really prayed for people and ministries, I was among them.  He cared enough to carry on a fairly extensive correspondence with a number of relatives and friends.  He had to work hard to write or type, but he did so with far greater faithfulness than most of us who have hands that work as they should. Long before it was common for churches to record their services, Burton--I think because of his compassion for shut-ins and his enormous respect for the power of the Word of God--started recording the services at his church and sending the tapes to people.  He had trained his stubby fingers, how ever many there were, to play the piano.  He sang with enthusiasm. In short, Burton was a man who loved his Lord and served Him to the best of his ability.   I think heaven is a place where those who are redeemed by the great sacrifice of our savior will be fully redeemed.  I heard various stories about why Burton was born with the deformities that he carried all his earthly life.  All the explanations in one way or another have sin at the root.  Either something was directly done to Burton when he was being formed in his mother's womb, or his was one of those inexplicable consequences of sin in general.  Romans 8 gives the glorious account of the ravages of sin being undone by the power of our redeeming Savior.  We presently live in a world in which we, like the rest of creation, groan.  We are eternal, image-of-God creatures trapped in a marked-by-sin, time-bound existence.  We long to be set free. I received news that last night, Burton was set free.  The beauty that is the wonder of who he is, is no longer hidden and marred by sin. That's why I'll be looking for a tall, handsome gentleman, with kind ways, and a melodious voice. Welcome home, Burton. It's Something to Think About. Find out about Christ's power to redeem here.

Replacement Parts I Won't Need Any More

Something To Think About, Scrap Metal I'll Leave Behind:

My Siblings and I are accumulating quite an array of new parts.  My little brother is having a new hip installed this morning.  Among the four of us we have a couple of bionic knees--with at least one more highly likely--a bunch of screws, some parts for thumbs, and some pieces that look a lot like strips of plumbers strap to me.   I'm thankful.  My mind goes back to my childhood when one of the chores of being on vacation was going to see some of my older relatives.  Several of them were bed-fast with broken hips, others walked with great difficulty.  I figure I'd be there were it not for the wonders of modern medicine.   I pray that my brother does as well with his hip as I have with my knee. The fact is, though, that we Merrells will be done with these various high-dollar after-market parts in just a short time.  We have children and grandkids in need of college tuition, not to mention shoes and backpacks.  Maybe someone would be interested in investing in Merrell spare parts futures.  I'm thinking you could pay us now, for the privilege of selling all this scrap metal later.  Just make sure you have a big truck before you bid.  Obviously, we won't deliver. My wife doesn't even know I'm writing this, yet somehow I can hear her yelling, "No!"  So don't bother to send your bids.  Instead let me give you a tip.  Everything about this life is temporary.  It won't last.  With poetic beauty James reminds us, "[Y]ou do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away."  (James 4:14)  It is likely that my titanium will go to the grave with me.  If the Lord takes me without sending me to the undertaker, He'll deal with the scrap metal and plastic as He sees fit.  Vaporize?  Let it hit the ground where I used to walk?  I don't know.  I just know I won't need those parts anymore. When you see a gray haired guy with a long scar on his knee or an athletic lady with her arm in a sling, recovering from shoulder surgery, be reminded that just like those bones and sinews wore out, so is everything else in this world.  If my life consists only of what is down here, I am sure to be disappointed. If you need a new part, or need an old one fixed, go get it taken care of.  But know that all that is part of this world is passing away  (here, here, & here), so make sure you prepare what lies beyond. There is more! It's STTA. You can find out about that which is eternal on this page.

Looking forwad to joining my Mom:

Something To Think About, Thanks Mom, 5/12

I am greatly indebted to the woman I was privileged to call, "Mom," Irene Hargrove Merrell. Yesterday was the first Mother's Day I spent without my mom.  In a practical sense Mom had been gone for several years.  At first mom exhibited confusion, then frustration with not knowing others and not understanding that what was going on.  After a time she experienced periodic bouts of fear, because she didn't know who she was.  On a couple of occasions she plaintively told my sister, with whom she lived, "I don't know who I am."  Finally the tightening grip of dementia squeezed out even the ability to recognize that she didn't know.  Mom was mostly gone for quite a while before she died.  Having said that, it was still a comfort to know that mom was there.  I knew when I called her, or went to visit her that my words on the phone or even my presence by her side had little impact.  At the end, her life was lived like a person looking out of a moving vehicle through a very narrow, vertical slit.  For a fleeting second she saw something that wouldbring her a moment of joy, or sometimes even pain, but any memory of what had happened--even a second before--was gone and there was no anticipation of what was next.  That slit narrowed and narrowed until little if anything from the outside made it in.  The last time or two I went to see my mom I answered the question, "Why are you going?" with, "I know mom won't know or remember that I was there, but I will know."  Now that is gone for me as well.  I'll see mom again in heaven, not before. I don't write from sadness--at least not primarily so.  I figure my life is not unlike the way I imagine mom's experience toward the end.  Believing that my life is eternal, I figure my present situation is like my mom's dementia-choked experience.  I see such a tiny bit of reality--an infinitesimal portion of the ultimate reality.  Using a slightly different picture, the Apostle Paul said, "We see in a mirror dimly."  There is so much in the past, and in the infinite future that doesn't register on my time-bound mind.    My mom has not only gone back to the person she was before she began her long slow decline.  She has become all that God intended her to be.  I enjoyed Mother's Day.  I enjoyed it because I am Thankful for all that my mom gave to me and my siblings.  I enjoyed it because of the awareness that my Mother has emerged not only from that limited view that marked the end of her life, but from the limitation that marks all life in this time-bound world before those of us who, by God's grace, have been given eternal life will emerge into that realm in which we "will know fully just as [we] also have been fully known."  (1 Corinthians 13:12) I look forward to not only seeing my Mother, but truly seeing myself for the first time. It's STTA.

HEAVEN

One of our Sunday School classes at Covington Bible has been studying about Heaven. Thinking about the eternal abode of God's people is a good way to clean out the pipes.  Living in this world has a tendency to plug things up.  The sludge doesn't smell too good.  Enough!
Once one get's to a certain age, he tends to think of heaven in terms of what won't be there, and, in fact, the Bible gives ample encouragement in that direction
 
   "and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away."" (Revelation 21:4)

   "I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.And the city has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God has illumined it, and its lamp is the Lamb." (Revelation 21:22-23)

 

  "There will no longer be any curse;"  (Revelation 22:3)

 

You can find other "won't be there" statements about heaven.  As is often the case, little kids tend to get it.

"Tell me about heaven."

"There won't be anything bad there." 

It is the bad things that limit us.  Often one comes to the place of dealing with a really big problem when he realizes not only what it is doing to him, but what it is keeping him from doing.

 

In Heaven:

• Love will be fearless.
• Worship will be untainted.
• Focus will be uninterrupted.
• Growth will be unlimited.
• Joy will be unmixed.
• Friendship will be unending.

As you begin a week which is likely to contain some unheavenly content, It's Something To Think About.

   It's STTA.
 

Don't assume heaven is your final home.  Find out more here.  For the next three Wednesdays there is a supper discussion about Jesus. Writeto find out more.  

Keeping My Feet On The Ground:

I look forward to heaven, but my address is still 2106 S. Carpenter Drive.  As I pointed out yesterday, I need to leave final relocation plans to the Lord.

As I think about those I have known,  personally, and through scripture, I can think of no one more heavenly minded than the Apostle Paul.  I also know of no one who kept his well-worn sandals more firmly on Terra-firma than the Apostle from Tarsus.  In fact, by keeping his eye on eternity he found motivation to keep going down here.

 

 After  stating "we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ," Paul goes on to say, "Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade men."

 

While interpreters disagree as to just what the "upward" or "high" call of Christ is in Philippians 3:14, it is clear that it is "heavenward" (NIV).  This motivated Paul to "Press on . . ."

 

He labored with the realization that there was something to be lost.  He did not want to be disqualified from the race he was running.  Rather he looked forward to receiving the prize.  ". . . woe is unto me, if I preach not the gospel!"  

   "Run in such a way that you may win [the prize]."   He says no sacrifice is too great.  Comparing the race he was running to that of the athletes at the Isthmian Games, the Apostle said "They . . . do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable."  On that basis he found no effort in fulfilling his ministry too great.  I think he would have liked the song, "It will be worth it all when we see Jesus."  (You can read about Paul's heaven-earth reasoning in 1 Corinthians 9.)

Indeed, it seems that all of Paul's life was tied up in heavenly investments.  He clearly lived out the Lord's admonition to "lay up treasures in heaven."  Concerning the Christians at Thessalonica, people in whom he had invested his life, he said, "[You are my] hope or joy or crown of exultation. . . . For you are our glory and joy."  (1 Thessalonians 2:19-20)

The Apostle's focus on heaven was not a distraction.  It kept his focus clear.rd,

It's STTA.

Looking forward to Heaven:

I look forward to heaven.

And it's not just because my knees ache.  

Over the past few days I had the privilege of visiting with old friends and hearing from some others.  I miss them.  I received news of the birth of a great niece, named after my grandmother, and I am processing the ongoing process of my mothers gradual decline toward death--a process that long ago robbed her of all that makes her who she is.  

I'm acutely aware of the separation of miles, and more touched by the gaps that grow between people because of the friction of life here on this sin-cursed globe.  

An acquaintance just died one of those "senseless" deaths--as if death ever surrenders to good sense--and a friend, younger than me, who very much needs to stay with us--Lord, are you listening?--is battling a life threatening disease.  To top it off I just attended the funeral of a little guy who never got to come home from the hospital.

As my late pastor used say, these things "cause us to long for heaven."

I want to be in a place that is not controlled by the wicked one.

I long for a place where distance and stupidity do not come between friends.

I am looking forward to being in a realm where the only mention of death will be to observe that it is dead.

My knees won't ache, and in the same way some wonderfully sweet people I know, won't be hampered by thinking apparatus that doesn't work up to spec.  (I figure were all in that group to one degree or another.  I know I am.)

I desire the completion of what my Lord has begun.

I want to thank Him.

Yep, Heaven is looking good.

But, enough of that.  God is the conductor who punches the tickets.  Until then I need to be faithful.  The Apostle Paul, somebody on my list of people I want to meet, has some things to say about that in Philippians 1 & 2 Corinthians 5.

Lord, help to live here and now, with then and there on my mind.  Amen.

It's STTA.

Twinkies in Heaven?

SOMETHING  TO THINK ABOUT It will likely break my sweet wife's heart, but I have to tell her.  It is better that she hear it from me, than from a stranger.  Hostess Brand--the folk that make Twinkies--is going out of business.  I just heard that an ongoing labor dispute caused management to turn off the ovens. There are two reasons the news will hit Kathy hard.  When she was a little girl, she used to bring a lunch to school.  Because of her mom's health-consciousness and frugality, Kathy's lunch never included Hostess Cupcakes or Twinkies with their little girl lust inducing cream filling.  She probably hasn't eaten half-a-dozen in her life, but she still has a fondness for them, and . . .   Ever since she heard that such a thing is done, she has wanted to sink her teeth into a deep-fried Twinkie.     Now it looks like her fat-laden, cream-filled dream will have to wait for heavenly fulfillment.  Some of you will say, that surely something that bad for us won't be in heaven.  Me?  I figure that if God can make a burning bush that doesn't burn up, He can make a calorie, and cholesterol free grease-dipped pastry.   OK, from the tragic and comic, I go to the utterly serious and sublime.  The old Negro spirituals have it absolutely right.   "When I get to heaven gonna put on my robe/crown/shoes.  Gonna shout all over God's heaven." Maybe one of the changes that come to God's people when we move to our eternal abode will be that will lose our taste for things like deep-fried Twinkies.  I have no doubt that there will be delights that will put such gastronomical wonders in perspective.       But it is a place where the great longings and needs of the hearts of women and men will be filled with the blessings of God in the same way that the light of His presence will fill the New Jerusalem. It makes sense to live these few years here in such a way that we can spend eternity there. In the mean time, pray for Kathy. It's STTA. Find lot's of information about how God stepped into our world to meet needs we cannot meet on our own, here.