Our sufficiency is of God 'the silver lining"

The Lord is my strength!  The physical weaknesses common to man at 85 years of age , magnified by degenerative damages from the car accident Jessie and I had survived in December of  2000 I learned that sitting and waiting requires strength which can only come from our Lord.The Lord hath sent strength (Psalm 68:28). The most gratifying lesson I observed in these years is that my inner man is continually strengthened by His Spirit. He is my strength to sit still, and to "go down" , to go up, to go on, treading the dead level and descending life's inclining motions, facing adversity(as thy days so shall thy strength be). Difficulties take on a new dimension as I focus on God's strength and not mine. I challenge who ever may read this blog to take hold of God's infinite strength and see for yourself.

IN THE MIDST OF THE TYPHOON

In the midst of the typhoon, I recalled Reverend Pike, recently appointed to the Methodist pastorate in Bonner's Ferry before I left home.  He had stopped me on the street just after I enlisted in the Navy, towering over me wearing glasses so thick they looked like tiny fishbowls.  However, his six-foot-plus height advantage kept me from making any smart remarks, and I attempted to hurry past with a simple, “Hi, Rev. Pike.”

But he stopped, offering a large paw to shake.  I attempted to side-step to avoid further conversation, but again he stood in my path.

“Your mother mentioned that you joined the Navy,” he said.

“Yes sir, I did.  I passed the physical—nothing more than presenting a live body and making my way clear across the examining room to the physician.  I’m fit as a fiddle, and just waiting for my call to active duty.”

Rev. Pike flashed a quick smile, then quickly turned serious again.  “Well, Paul, I wish you well as you enter the service.  I respect you for the desire to defend our country.”

His pleasant attitude disarmed me, which made the follow-up feel like a sucker punch.  “What I wish you would do, Paul, is make a decision for Christ before you go into active duty.  Ships go down, you know, and some of the boys don’t make it back home.”

“I’ll just have to take my chances!” I remarked, making good my

escape.  I wondered, on the open bridge of the Cape Esperance as 

  Typhoon Cobra blasted all around me, if I would be one of the 

boys who would make it back home

From 1946-NOW!!!

            This letter is to thank you, our supporting churches, prayer warriors and donors, for your faithfulness in sticking with us.  Jessie and I, a couple years as octogenarians,  are still enjoying life as much as ever.  Oh, not quite.  We can’t run as fast or jump as high, but the Lord has never left us or forsaken us since we accepted Him as our personal Savior while in our late teens.  Hebrews 13: 5 is encouraging to us, “Be content with what you have, because God has said,  ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you’”.

            Last week we enjoyed reading our annual physical checkups and lab reports from our good doctor, who scribbled on the reports that all levels are satisfactory.  These good levels don’t seem to help the pain and weakness in Jessie’s knees and ankles as she shuffles down the hall for a cup of fresh Yuban “eye-opener” and into the living room for our morning worship.  My deafness is an unending hardship, not only for myself, but for my patient wife. After her third, failed, saliva-sprayed attempt to get my frequency, her shoulders sag from defeat, her arms hang limp, and she looks up to the ceiling – and on past to heaven for help.

            But Jessie is an exceptional “finder” of items I have misplaced.  My vision is great, but at times I search, and search for an item like a tool on my workbench, or my pocket knife, or one of my hearing aids, and can’t find it.  I’m looking at it, but don’t see it, until Jessie helping me search, points and says, “what’s that thing right there?” And I pounce on it like it had sprouted legs and was trying to escape my clutches.  On  occasion, too often, when I zap something in the micro wave, I stand there humming, or whistling a tune until I realize I forgot to punch “start”.  Oh my!  But we have fun laughing at each other as we come unglued, comparing our weaknesses like arthritic crooked fingers and toes.

            At this age we shouldn’t need encouragement, but in God’s providential care lots of things happen in our lives that contribute to our joy and happiness.  More and more God’s Word gives us confidence and deep satisfaction. Our children treat us like we are great people.  On the phone, by email, gifts by snail mail, special treatment, and surprise visits continue to store up wonderful memories for us.
          Please, check out my newest publication, use it for a tract as well as a gift for you favorite Veteran!

Ahoy Mates!

...God I know you are out there someplace....

In that moment, the Esperance careened down the side of a mountainous wave into a black trough that looked as deep as Hell’s Canyon in north Idaho.  As the bow attempted to knife the oncoming wave, we took a deathly blow to the port side, tipping us to a starboard list which jerked three of the five Hellcats loose to crash onto the catwalk at Lookout 3 position.  The heavy planes ripped the steel catwalk as though it were made of flimsy paper.  A hideous roar of scraping steel rose above the howling fury of waves and wind before the planes disappeared beneath the water.  Minutes later, another plane twisted around on its steel pads and plunged into the elevator well.

I stared looking for Jim on station 3, but his phones, still plugged in topside, dangled over the side, dipping in and out of the water as the ship listed.  I glared at the pitiful OD, speechless with fury.  I didn’t dare speak.  I wanted to fling myself on him and beat the life out of him.

I cried out, “God, I know you’re out there someplace!  No man or machinery can raise mountains of water like this or cause devastating winds to blow, and I’m not ready to meet you, wherever you are.”

In the middle of a battle -zone.

Memories of my frantic experience trying to release lookout #3 from his precarious position on the catwalk still remain vivid, more than six decades later.

“Bridge, from, Lookout 3, over.”  I could barely hear his voice.

“Lookout 3, go ahead,” I replied.

Lookout 3, requests permission to secure station.  Planes, coming loose above my position.  Over.”

“Gotcha #3.  Stand by.”

I leaned into the OD’s protected area out of the wind in order to relay the request.  “Sir, Lookout 3 reports planes loosening dangerously close to him.  Looks like they’re about to drop down onto the catwalk where he’s located.  Requests permission to secure his station.”

Without so much as a glance in the direction of lookout 3, he shouted, “Not granted!  We’re in the middle of a battle zone! How could anybody be so dumb to not realize that?” was the OD’s nonsensical response.

A Mother's Love...

As I recalled, Mom introduced me to her friends around town as her “baby,” far from amusing to a teenaged boy.  A pang of sorrow hit me as I recalled how disrespectful and disobedient I had been at times.  Despite my misbehavior, Mom kept me covered with clean clothes and full of good food while I attended school and worked as flunky for two grocery stores. I accumulated a shameful list of swear words from both grocery store managers.  During summer vacations, I worked on farms driving teams of horses, pitching hay, mowing lawns, whatever jobs I could find. 

One of the grocery store managers, a bulky six-feet-plus, sounded like a Sunday school teacher as he chatted with customers who asked to leave their purchases in the store after closing so they could finish their shopping in town.

U.S.NAVY

The first time I took the helm, my pulse accelerated like a machine gun, while my fingers trembled in their white-knuckle grip on the big wheel.  I had never even driven a car, so I had no background from which to steer a five-hundred-foot ship with any hope of arriving anywhere close to our intended destination.  The fact that there was nothing for me to bump into helped allay some of my initial panic.  Once I got the hang of it, it was actually kind of fun.  I was proud of the fact that I started my driving career by tooling a 500-footer around the Pacific Ocean!  But after a few days, the novelty wore off and monotony set in.  There were no mountains or buildings; no roads; no hitch-hikers to liven the scenery; just me with my feet planted in the same spot, hour after hour, keeping both compass needs in their appointed positions.

I never needed to look out on the ocean during my watch, just 

focus on the compasses.  Full moon and stars, sunrises and 

sunsets were wonderful beyond description.  A sparkling moonlit

path on the water led all the way from our ship to the horizon.