Life is Short

I apologize. STTA hasn't provided much to ponder recently. Today, though life--or I suppose I should day "death," got me to thinking. A friend of mine, a fellow pastor, about ten years younger than me died. My friend graduated from Pacific Islands University and served as the chair of our Board of Trastees, so I thought it my duty to let others know of Hiob's passing. I realize that most of you weren't Hiob Ngirachemoi's friend, as I was. Still, I think what I had to say about his passing might give you reason to think about life and death, and perhaps make better use of the former.   I only have a few minutes to write about my friend and colleague, Hiob. My time constraints, as Hiob's passing, remind me of the vapor-like fragility and brevity of ur time on earth. I am privileged to call Hiob, "My friend." That is a privilege that Hiob shared with many. As one who worked with him as well as enjoyed his friendship, I both enjoyed and was frustrated by Hiob's ability to focus in on the person in front of him. Sometimes that focus caused him to forget other things, but for the person who was the recipient of his attention, it was like a good satisfying meal--all you could want and more. In 2010, Hiob spent a day showing Kathy and me around the island of Babeldaob. We heard the story of how he broke, and almost lost, his arm when he was a boy. I also know that in spite of that stunted, misformed limb Hiob was a respectable athlete. It certainly didn't prevent him from doing what he wanted to do. Over the last couple of years when I talked to Hiob on the phone I would always ask him if he had been fishing. Fishing did his heart good. When Hiob showed me around his home island and then later when he took a group of us camping in the Rock Islands (one of Palau's treasures), Hiob's pride in, and love for, Palau was obvious. I once commented to someone else who knows Hiob, that he might be the most Palauan person I know. At the time of his death, Hiob was Pastor of Koror Evangelical Church, Chairman of the Board of Trustees of Pacific Islands University, and involved in many other organizations. His counsel was sought by various leaders in Palau and beyond. Most significantly Hiob was wife to Leah and Daddy to Micah and Jireh. They are in California. Hiob had been traveling in the States when the illness that took him suddenly came on him. Please pray for those Pastor Hiob left behind. Pray for those who will be called on to speak at the services that honor him and point others to the Saviour Hiob loved. I look forward to the day when I will see a big smile, hear a hearty "Alli," and be engulfed in a hug from two big arms. There is a river of life in heaven. I don't see why there won't be fish to catch. I look forward to sitting next to my friend and catching a few while we catch up.  The picture above is of Hiob on the day eight years ago, when we toured his home. The one on the left is of the PIU Trustees at our last meeting. Often my parting words to people are, "Live for Jesus." Thinking of life's here-and-then-gone quality, those three words make all the more sense.   It's Something To Think About.

Up Close and Evil

This morning the young lady who is the first smiling face that most visitors meet when they enter our office at Pacific Islands University, was met by another smiling face.

Experts indicate that there are two million of these reptiles on the small piece of land known as Guam (here). Because of them the bird population has been devastated. OK, maybe my prejudice is showing, but, smiling looks aside, I think this critter is a pretty good personification of evil. Actually the smile adds to that evil image.

Whether we are thinking of Brown Tree Snakes or other kinds of deadly evils, we tend to think that we are safe. In our home, in our office, in the space where the real me dwells, we assume that we are free of the influence of evil. The snake on the desk reminded me that this isn't so. Evil isn't only out there. It is in here. In Ephesians 2, the Apostle Paul described the reality of mankind's fallen-ness.
  

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience.
Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest (Eph. 2:1–3). 

Note a couple of realities:

• There is a combination of forces and persons at work here.
• Some are external to us, the "prince of the power of the air," Satan, for instance.
• Others, like our basic nature and our lusts, inhabit the space that we call "myself."
• The implied reality is that we, by our own efforts, are powerless to escape the evil that surrounds and inhabits us.

As I write, some of the best and brightest are seeking to rid our island of this slithery invader. Others are helping preserve bird species that have been eliminated on Guam--often on islands where the brown tree snake has not yet arrived--so that they can be reintroduced once their reptilian enemy has been brought under control. In spite of the best efforts of these dedicated folk, the snakes may win. Evil is persistent.

In the bigger scene, though, a force far mightier than USA Department of Agriculture has promised that evil will not win in this world. Read Romans 8:18-39, and/or Revelation 21:1-22:6. For the moment, don't get hung up on figuring out the details, just rejoice in the victory.

It's Something To Think About.

A Grandpa Moment

HERITAGE:

For most of the year, Kathy and I live on the other side of the world. We enjoy it, but we also enjoy the opportunities we have to visit here in the mainland USA. I don't want to offend the rest of you, but at the top of the list of why we enjoy visiting here are Christopher, Carrington, Madeline, Kendal, Silas, Kira, and Ava--our grandchildren. On this trip, we have been able to see all of them, except Carrington. She was busy at college finishing up projects and studying for finals. Like all of our grandchildren, we are proud of her.   I recently had a conversation with a Godly gentleman who has been getting a senior-discount for a while. Neither of us is done, but both of us recognize that our time to make a difference is limited. One way of maximizing that is to invest in those who still have a long time to be involved in active service. People ask me, "Are you retired?" I guess technically I am. I draw Social Security, the church where I was privileged serve as pastor for 40+ years gave me the "emeritus" title, I've been excused from any expectation that I'll participate in any athletic endeavors at PIU, and I'm comfortable with the old-guy personae. Yet, I'm probably busier than I have been in years. Clearly the focus of my activity, though, is not on what I can do; it is on working with others--equipping them to do good work long after I can't do anything. It is quite likely that my youngest grandchild will live into the 22nd Century. All of them will be making a difference in the world long after I'm gone. While grandchildren aren't the only heritage we leave behind they do powerfully illustrate the concept. What will remain? Heritage, it's not only a topic for we gray-heads. Even you youngsters ought to ask yourselves, "What will I leave behind?" It's Something to Think About. PS: The picture, above, is of the 2018 commencement exercises at Pacific Islands University, where Kathy and I are privileged to serve. Find out more about PIU, and this part of the heritage we hope to leave in the current edition of Live Ready, a publication of Liebenzell Misssion, USA. Click on the link above or on the picture to the left, to find out more.

Lessons from Dissonance

Learning from the sound of nails on the chalkboard.

Dissonance: a tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious or unsuitable elements (Google Dictionary). There are many things in life that would be dissonant, if it were left up to me to bring harmony, consonance, the environmental shalom that is dissonance's antonym, to my environment. I enjoy music that goes straight to my heart and makes me feel good, noble or powerful. I enjoy sitting down in a room that has an "Ahh-ness" about it. Likely what I mean is fen shui stripped of its religious overtones. A meal well-balanced, properly-proportioned, and skillfully-served brings a pleasure that transcends nourishment and taste, though those are important elements. All of those are aspects of life that feel right to me but are beyond my grasp. I greatly enjoy the gifts and labor of others who are able to make those environments and experiences a reality. If  I were to attempt any of them--and I have on occasion tried some of them--the result would be cacophony, disarray,.and perhaps gastric distress. A walk along a creek on a spring morning, or a hike up a hill, covered in new-fallen snow, when the moon is full, or a cup of coffee at the top of a cliff with the surf cascading in its endless rhythm are examples of our Creator's ability to create a world that embraces us in its rightness. The pile of rubble that was a house, visiting a friend at the end of a battle with cancer, a family in chaos, or the ravages of government gone bad are examples of sin's power to twist, distort, violate, and hollow-out until the world is filled with a screeching sound that wails, "This isn't right." It is at this point that dissonance does its work. Our God, Who is the supreme of order and rightness, has brought even the diss-ness of this world under His sovereign will. There is an unmistakable wisdom in the answer of the fool who explained why he kept hitting himself with a hammer, "Because it feels so good when I stop. Don't rush out to the hardware store, but the much-bruised fellow makes a point, a point that is made without the idiocy in Romans 8. Read it. Think about it. Repeat. Do it again. Let the truth, especially the reality of two words, "in hope" in verse 24 soak down into your bones. I helped my son move into a "new" house. The list of things to be fixed is, as the saying goes, as long as my arm. He and his family didn't move here to settle down n the chaos. He and his wife did some calculations. They conclude that it is within their means, that they have the skills necessary to make this a house where the kitchen faucet doesn't make the sound of a distressed animal, the air conditioner goes on and off when it is supposed to, and where the cabinet door in the bathroom swings on hinges instead of lying in the floor. In only the few days I have been here I see order emerging. I have hope--I believe it is an entirely realistic hope--that this house, somewhat battered by neglect and even outright abuse, will become a haven from the turmoil of the world--dare I say, "tranquil"? God is doing that in His world. The dissonance that surrounds us should serve to remind us that this is not the way it is supposed to be, it's not the way it is going to be, and by His grace, God has given me the opportunity to be part of the project that makes all things right. I don't expect you to enjoy that clunking sound from the transmission on your car or the bitter taste of that coffee that's been on the heater too long, and I'm certainly not asking you to go around saying that what is very bad is really good. I am encouraging you, however, to join me in a project. When confronted with life's dissonances, let's be reminded that God is going to make this right, and, then, let's ask ourselves, "What can we do about it right now?" It's STTA. (The STTA link above will take you to an archive of many Things to Think About. Enjoy & Think.)

Happy Mother's Day, to all Mom's

Thank God for Moms:

My grandmothers raised families during the Great Depression. Granny, Dad's mom, was widowed with three boys to raise. Dad was just a toddler when his dad died. I grew up hearing stories of heads nearly crushed by wagons backing up, an old mule who suddenly came to life when a young Audley, my dad. dug into her side with an old spur he had found. Did I mention dad was carrying a basket of eggs to take to the store to trade for needed supplies? No doubt dad embellished the tale, but I'm sure the feat of riding a run-away mule without breaking any of the precious eggs, came nowhere near the real difficulty of being a single-mom long before that term had ever been invented. She saw all three boys go to war. One didn't return, another returned with a complete disability. Granny helped nurse Uncle Mc back to health.The third moved an all-day train-ride away to raise me and my siblings. Never the less granny was a prime influence in my life. When I visitied, Granny took me fishing, played dominoes and Rook with me, and I won't begin to guess how many puzzles she and I put together. I'll never have raisin pie as good as she made until I get to heaven. Grandma married Grandpa when she was but a child. She managed a household funded by money made from breaking mules--on occasion, she sewed up the gashes opened by mule hooves on grandpa's head--from the sale of country hams, and from the proceeds of a succession of small farms where she and grandpa raised mom and six siblings. Every bowl of vegetable soup I have ever had, is but a poor substitute for the real thing, which Grandma Hargrove served with cornbread still hot from the oven. I have two sons who serve the Lord with distinction, and seven grandchildren who love Jesus. Often people say, that my sons are following in my footsteps. Perhaps, but a much more important influence is their mom, whom they saw reading her Bible and praying every morning. She continues not only to be "Mom" to her boys, "Ma" to her grandkids, but now "Momma Kat" to a group of young adults from the far side of the world. You know my Daughters-in-law (second and third in the picture abave) must be great moms. They are the mothers of seven wonderful kids. I think both have learned about being a ministry wife from their Mother-in-law. They love my boys, my grandkids, and Jesus. One hauled two little ones to the other side of the world and back. She runs a household that is open to a steady flow of  mostly college students, and does it with grace. The other like the lobster for dinner was dropped into the caldron of a fully formed family, and began pulling together the pieces of lives torn by divorce and abandonment before her wedding album had arrived from the photagrapher. My family is greatly enriched by Nancy and Tanisha. Beyond my family, I have been enriched by moms who loved sick children--some who were never well for their way-too-short lives--others who again and again embraced children who went astray, and brought a semblance of order to homes made tumultuous by maladies physical, financial, natural, and emotional. In his book about sin, Not the Way It's Supposed to Be, Cornelius Plantinga points out how sin takes the Shalom (peace) out of the world. Moms are like the Shalom Brigade. They push back the chaos, often literally, bring the light and warmth of love into a world made cold and dark by hatred, and carve out havens of peace in a world torn by strife. Manay of those, I seek to honor, this Mother's Day, aren't mothers in the biological sense of the word. I think of those who adopted children as well as those who mothered those of us who needed a mom that day. Even though we are in our grandparenting years, Kathy and I currently have some women in our lives who mother us. I even have in mind some guys who step into the role of mom. For a while my son was Mr. Mom. To all of you moms, in whatever sense of the word, Happy Mother's Day. It's STTA. (The STTA link above will take you to an archive of many Things to Think About. Enjoy & Think.) If you would like to watch some of Mama Kat's kids go through an important step in their lives click here. It will take you to a site where you'll find a link to a video of PIU's graduation and a table of contents to help you navigate to particular points in the ceremony.

Congratulations, Class of 2018

CONGRATULATIONS! PRAYING

For the last two days I have been in "wind-down" mode. Each semester at Pacific Islands University, since I arrived in January of 2017, has been a bit like a battle in a major war. I don't want to give you the idea that it has been unpleasant; actually, the opposite is true. Kathy and I are loved, we have people to love, and we enjoy the work we are doing. It is just that there is a steady need to focus on survival. From what I read, it is that way with a lot of small colleges, especially Christian ones. Then we had the wonderful celebration of graduation. It was an emotional high, that left me drained. It is common for family and friends, here, to wish graduates well by hanging leis around their neck and putting decorations on their heads. Most of these necklaces are not made of flowers, but candy, toys, and even artistically folded money. One young lady received so many strands of these good-wishes-on-a-string, that she had to ask someone to help her. The load was too great, and it was piled so high that it made breathing difficult. After the battle, it was a good reminder. I'm not a professional educator. My entry into the world of higher education was the result of a "battlefield promotion." I have noticed, though, that what I am doing now, in the broadest sense, bears a remarkable resemblance to what I have always done, to what everybody ought to be doing. The Lord brings people into our lives. We do what we can to impact them for the glory of God, then we send them on their way so that they can impact others. I just read an article about the strategy that the fastest-growing church in the USA is using. I hear and read missionary experts who are strategic to the max. I am learning that the educational world is chock-full of strategies, assessments, and metrics, but, keeping mind that I still see things through the eyes of a small-town preacher, it looks like to me that what all of us ought to be doing is touching people where and when we can, to move them in the direction in which they ought to go, and, in the final analysis, commit them to the Lord. We ought to be strategic. We ought to have tools that help us ask the hard questions. But, we have to careful to not forget that when all the meetings have been held, the graphs produced, and the reports filed, it's really about people. ln a remarkably short time the celebratory, candy-ladden leis will be replaced by flowers on a casket. What happens between the decoration motivated by joy and the draping of funeral bunting in mourning is unknown. People are people. We get to choose. The rich young ruler walked away from the Son of God, and rejected His curriculum.  The Apostle Paul sadly reported that "Demas has forsaken me." What hurt the Apostle most, was, in the process, Demas had also forsaken the things of God. Frequently I tell people, "Get your licks in when you can. There will be times of celebration, and times of heartache. We keep on, because it is what God wants us to do, and because people are worth the effort. It's STTA. (The STTA link above will take you to an archive of many Things to Think About. Enjoy & Think.) If you would like to watch the PIU graduation video, click here. You'll find a link to the video and a table of contents to help you navigate to particular points in the video. I'm obviously biased, but I think that PIU is an institution that is worthy of your support. If you would like to partner with us, visit our donation page.

Hope, It's a Choice

HOPE

I'm not that blind or stupid. I know I live in a world full of problems and pain, but as I look out on the world on this morning after Easter, I see reason to hope. As He has done since He created the cosmos, God has once again kept the earth rotating, and orbiting. Day follows night, and, though it doesn't mean as much where I am now, spring follows winter. A moment ago the sun was shining. The yard sparkles with the droplets from the rain that just fell. The grass is green and the flowers continue to bloom. As an example of flourishing amid hostility, a little blue flower--a tropical weed, I suppose--which I plucked from a rock--literally, it was growing in a chunk of coral--is still bright and pretty after a week of being stuck in an old Pepsi can. Though my surroundings make me feel hopeful, I do not hope because it feels right. They do, but that is not primarily why. On this day after Easter, I hope because it makes sense to hope. On Good Friday we remembered the supreme demonstration of love. "God so loved the world. . . ." Yesterday, I rejoiced in the marvelous account of the resurrection of Christ, the ultimate demonstration of power. If God loves me that much and If even death and all the forces of darkness cannot keep Jesus from His mission to seek and to save, Then it makes sense to hope. I choose to hope. Not every morning is as hopeful feeling as this one, but the facts that cause me to choose to hope are steadfast. It's STTA.