Wednesday, January 29, 2020
“Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!” (Hebrews 13:2, New Living Translation) 

                Speaking of donkeys…

                Well, I briefly mentioned them, last week, as an animal I would like to have if I ever owned (as unlikely as it may seem) my retirement hobby farm. They are more than the stubborn, ornery creatures as they are sometimes portrayed. They are smart, mischievous and full of personality. A few years ago, we visited a donkey rescue sanctuary and were delighted at the many kinds of donkeys and their friendly natures.

                Consequently, I received a book at Christmas which is about a donkey, Flash.  And I would highly recommend this book written by Rachel Anne Ridge. The title is just Flash.  Flash is a homeless donkey who, one day, shows up in their driveway at their Texas home. He was shaggy, bedraggled, muddy, unkempt, and a closer look revealed several, bloody gashes from barb-wire fences. In short, he was a mess.

Against their better judgment Rachel and her husband Tom decided to rescue the donkey from off the road. But should they succeed, they intended that it would be only temporary (so they argued) as the last the thing they needed in their stressful, harassed, busy and barely-hanging-on-by-a-thread  lives was an abandoned, high-needs donkey.

Written from a Christian faith perspective without it being pompous or schmaltzy or overly pious, the whole story is about how the relationship between the donkey and this family taught them some valuable lessons about faith and coping when life is tough and seemingly out of control. As she wrote, “We were living our dream. Only it had become a nightmare.”

Gradually, the story evolves of a growing relationship between Flash and the family which ends up teaching them, Rachel, especially, about how to trust God in troubled times, when the going is tough and the future is cloudy. This unexpected and, at first, unwelcome shaggy visitor turns out to be more than just a lost donkey.  “The donkey did not look like a miracle. He looked like a lot of trouble.”

Without going into the several lessons that Rachel learned from Flash the donkey, the whole story has reminded me how God’s Love and Grace may show up in all sorts of ways and means, maybe even in unexpected, unlikely messengers. We may not always recognize or welcome this “intrusion”, and therefore not see it for what God means it to be, a gift, or better, a life-line. She writes, “It would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply ignore him, drive up to the house, get ready for bed, and then pull the covers over our heads.”

But, for whatever reasons, they didn’t. They took the donkey in. It helped change their lives.

“We thought we were rescuing a donkey that night. 

But the reality is, God had sent the donkey to help rescue us. 

We were the ones needing help. We were the ones who needed to know we were not alone. That God had not forgotten us. That He had a purpose for us. That we mattered to Him. We needed to know God was with us, and that we should still rely on Him. We needed to know He could reach down and make something good happen, and that He could still speak to ordinary people like us. 

So He put a donkey in the driveway.

And we could have driven right by.

But we would have missed the very thing we needed most.”

Speak of entertaining angels…

Dale

Wednesday, January 22, 2020
“All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left.” (Matthew 25: 32 – 33) 

                Perhaps, it takes an old goat like me to raise goats.

                It has become my retirement fantasy to own a small hobby farm and raise a few animals. At first, I was just interested in donkeys. But ever since I started watching some of the veterinary-based  TV shows, like The Incredible Dr. Pol,  I have become fascinated with goats, especially pygmy goats, miniature versions of the typical herd goats. They are cute as the dickens, playful, smart, easily trained, and just fun to be around from all that I see.

And oh yeah, maybe still a couple of donkeys. Apparently, they get along with goats very well and will act as guardians of the flock.

                For Christmas, I received the book, Raising Goats for Dummies, everything one needs to know about keeping, caring and living with goats. Sure, they take a little work each and every day, but I am only thinking about having a few of them, not a gigantic herd of little goats. They are relatively low maintenance, as long as you pay attention to their basic needs. I would not be raising them for meat or dairy or their fibrous fur (angora goats). I don’t want to breed them, but simply train them to be friendly and safe, especially around the grandchildren.

                Dang, but they are cute. And the grandchildren aren’t bad-looking either!

                Once my love affair with goats began, I became a little distressed about Jesus’ parable in which the king separates the sheep from the goats. The “goats” are the bad guys in the parable. They are the people who are accursed (25:41) because they didn’t care for the needs of the poor, the hungry, the imprisoned, the sick and those in rags. They are shocked and amazed at the claim of their ineptitude as Christ-followers. But just because they didn’t recognized Jesus in the people who had such great needs, it doesn’t keep them out of hot water with Jesus.

                Now I don’t feel about sheep the same way as I do about goats, so I am wondering why goats are used as the metaphor for thoughtless and uncaring people in the parable. Goats and sheep were a sign of wealth, blessing and prosperity in the Old Testament (see for example, Genesis 24:35). The more sheep and goats a man had, the more prestige and affluence he enjoyed and was deemed successful among his peers. Goats were a necessity for their milk, meat and hides.

                But only goats were used for sacrifice for sin offerings. Goats paid the penalty for individual and corporate sin (Leviticus 4:23, 28).  Most of us are familiar with the term, “scapegoat”. It too comes from OT laws and customs. Once as year, a goat was chosen to “carry the sins of the people into the wilderness.” (Lev. 16:8) We are given the picture the priest “will lay both of his hands on the goat’s head and confess over it all the wickedness, rebellion, and sins of the people of Israel. In this way, he will transfer the people’s sins to the head of the goat. Then a man specially chosen for the task will drive the goat into the wilderness. As the goat goes into the wilderness, it will carry all the people’s sins upon itself into a desolate land.” (Lev. 16:21-22, NLT)

                PETA would have a hissy-fit.  But it does sound very odd and harsh by today’s standards. Thankfully, animal sacrifices are no longer a part of our religous customs  although scientific tests on animals are not much different really. Nevertheless, perhaps, and it is only my personal conjecture, that it is this image of the sins of the people on the head of the goat which has shaped Jesus’ parable.

                What is important here is not the animal per se but the neglect by those who are failing to do  the loving work and compassionate deeds that Jesus requires of us. Jesus stressed that others will best recognize the love of God by our personal acts of love. He insisted that his followers copy his example to “invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (Luke 14:13) into our feasts and celebrations, to include them and make room for them at the banquet table of our Lord. The “sheep” in the parable get it, “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’” (Matthew 25: 40, NLT) 

                I guess when I get my little goats, we are going to have to have a little talk.


Dale

Wednesday, January 15, 2020
“And his name will be the hope of all the world.” (Matthew 12:21, New Living Translation) 

                Susan and I are pleased to joyfully announce the safe and healthy arrival of Naomi Barbara Carol Soble, on January 8^th, our seventh grandchild, daughter to Nathaniel and Krista, brother to Declan. She took a while – a typical Soble, stubbornly doing it on her own time, only when she was good and ready.

                Most of us are probably familiar with the line from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

                There is a lot packed into our new granddaughter’s name, Naomi Barbara Carol.  The names come from three very significant people, especially in our son’s, Nathaniel, life. Barbara is the name of his maternal grandmother, a woman who, among many contributions, has brought the influence of a love for nature, outdoors, and the environment. Carol is the name of his paternal grandmother, a woman who loved being with our whole family and brought us many humorous and enjoyable memories from her visits with us.

                But the name, Naomi, needs its own paragraph. We first met Naomi during our time in Ottawa, where she and her husband Earl were members of First Baptist Church. They immediately took a shine to our family as they did not have any children of their own.  When Earl died suddenly, we soon adopted Naomi as our “fill-in” grandmother and she rose to the challenge and then some. When Nathaniel was a toddler, Naomi was our go-to babysitter, often just for him. He had his own tooth-brush in her apartment. They loved to watch the Sound of Music together, the movie with “the lady who had a frog in her pocket.” They spent a lot of time together. Naomi would rather look after Nate than just about anything.  He shaped his own pet name for her, Omi, which soon became our whole family’s name for her as well. She loved it and owned it.  She was a generous, loving, caring person to our whole family. We miss her.

                So, it is very touching for all of us to have this wee one named after Naomi as well as her two grandmothers. My mom was always a little jealous of our relationship with Naomi, so I hope she doesn’t mind coming in third place, but Naomi is exactly the right name for our granddaughter.

                Not that long ago, we encountered the words from the Christmas Nativity, in which both parents, Mary and Joseph, were, separately, instructed to name the  newly-expected  child, Jesus, a form of Joshua, meaning he saves. “You are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21, NLT) And we have been piling more and more names on him ever since, trying to capture and even tame this larger-than-life personality and historical figure. “And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6, NLT)

                The name of Jesus has changed lives. The name of Jesus has brought transformation, liberation, hope, joy, peace and love. The name of Jesus has stirred up passion for justice, compassion and equity. The name of Jesus has stirred people into action, into service, into deeds of mercy and kindness. The name of Jesus has invited us into doing unto others what we would have them do unto us, into repeated acts of forgiveness and mercy. The name of Jesus is never a static definition of this man, but is multi-faceted, complex and adaptable in the sense that the name of Jesus is a powerful, symbolic response to the troubled times in which we live. The name of Jesus reveals, corrects and denies the sins of the people.

                Behold, the man! His name is Jesus!


Dale

Wednesday, January 8, 2020
“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.”  (Romans 8: 38 New Living Translation)


                Talk about being in a tight spot! Yikes!

                In early December, I was called into the hospital for an MRI on my arthritic shoulders as a prelude to an eventual shoulder replacement surgery. I have had MRIs on my knees before and I didn’t think that I would have any problems.

                After asking a bevy of questions and filling out their forms, the techs got me lying on the gurney for the MRI. They informed me it would take a half hour for each shoulder. They put ear mufflers on my head. They told me to pull in my arms, gave me a panic bell for emergencies, and stuffed me in a very small machine, headfirst. The machine then squeezed me in very, very tightly. I didn’t even have any wiggle room. There was copious light and a generous flow of air, but that was it. The ceiling of my sardine can was ten inches from my nose.  I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

                Jesus may have said, “everyone who endures to the end will be saved” but I am pretty sure that he was never stuffed into a too-small MRI nor suffered greatly from claustrophobia.

                I tried everything to distract myself from my situation. I thought up trades which the Blue Jays might try. I silently recited both the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm - several times. I tried to go to my happy places along the waters of Nova Scotia or Leamington. I chastised myself for my irrational fears about the situation, and tried to convince myself that I was fine and it would all be over soon.

                Who was I kidding? I didn’t make it through the first shoulder, never mind two. About twenty minutes in, I had a significant panic attack and hit the button for the bell for them to come and get me out ASAP. It took quite a while to fully recover from the ordeal, even after I got back home. I knew I suffered a little from the fear of closed-in spaces but never figured that I was this “bad”.  Live and learn, I guess.

When I die, please put me in a casket with a window and stand me up in a crypt above ground, facing the door. And maybe, even leave that ajar!

Our fears and worries can be debilitating features of our every day lives. As much as we try to plow through them and convince ourselves that we will be fine and it will soon be all over, fears persist in taking over our minds and spirits to paint some sort of a different picture of reality. Fears have very loud “voices” and are very persuasive that we can’t or won’t get through the ordeal without panicking or worse. Mere, simple distractions seldom work which is not the fault of prayers or scripture, as examples, but rather the spectre of fear is insidious and pervasive. Not all fears are irrational or foolish, but all big fears are life-altering and prevent us from living wholesome lives. Some of us would rather accept our fears and arthritic lives than face and conquer those fears.

Faith, our trusting relationship with God through Jesus Christ, provides considerable Strength in stressful situations and during those times which attempt to instill fear and dread into our lives. When we get squeezed into tight spots and awkward situations, when we feel the walls are closing in on us, when we feel that we have no room to maneuver, when we feel that we  can’t catch our breath, the light of God’s love shines and the  generous flow of his grace tends us whether we recognize it or not: “neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.”  We are never alone, never abandoned, never forgotten.

By God’s grace and mercy, and mostly by his Love, together with God, you and I will indeed endure to the end. 

Dale