Getting Higher

I am afraid of heights.  I don't really know why, though my memory of a day when I decided to join my dad while he was working on our two story home's flat roof comes to mind as something more a nightmare than a dream.  In any case, I am afraid of heights.

So today, as we were walking downtown Colorado Springs, and I looked up at these guys across from the post office, I froze.  I didn't freeze enough not to reach for my camera.  I just stopped walking while Mona went ahead to pick up our mail thinking I was right behind her.

 What is it that gives some the ability to do
                                   things without fear that make others cringe in abject terror?

What is it that allows some to overcome their fear so that they can do what they have never done before?  It does happen, you know.

 Years ago, when Ramona was a child, she experienced a horrible fright while playing under water. She thought she could not get air.  And from that day she did not, ever, put her head under water again.  Until...

Until one day she saw her grandsons in a campground pool we were sharing put their heads under water for the first time and express such glee at seeing the strange new world, even in a chlorined pool.

What was it that made her fear placing her head under water all those years?  And what was it that gave her the courage that day, without telling anyone of us she was doing it, to let herself simply sink under the blue green ripples and feel herself immersed in a world she could not enter a moment before.

I so remember the moment I looked for her in the pool, could not find her, felt a small twinge of , "Where...?" and then saw her slowly rise up, head first, from under.  I think I yelled.  maybe I screamed. But all of us stopped what we were doing, and maybe the rest of the swimmers did too, to watch Mona, for the first time in our memory, come dripping head to shoulders out of the water, only to go under again, and again, and again.




I do not know what bit is that makes us fear, but I think I know what makes us able to deny our fears.





When we want something badly enough, we will do literally anything to get it.  I don't mean 'things', though I know some aberrant and even inhuman behavior has occurred when a certain kind of person wants some THING too much. No, I am talking about wanting to share the joy of an experience so much that you actually do what before you never thought you would do.

I am afraid of heights, but Mona took a hot air balloon ride once and I so wanted to experience it with her that somehow I was able to place myself completely in God's hands and step over that low wicker hand rail and into the basket to effortlessly glide up a thousand feet and more for an experience, for me, of a lifetime.

Ah! Have I answered at least my second question myself?  I placed myself in God's hands. I literally and completely said, "Lord, I'm yours, so use me as you will today as I allow myself to step into this awful frightening low walled, fragile and frail basket."  And so He did, and has ever since.

I am still afraid of heights.  But I know if I ever need not to be God will once again remove my fear.

The year after we camped at that pool with our daughter Jennifer's family the two of us went to Cancun, Mexico, and Mona swam, with me, and the fishes, off a coral reef near Isla Mujeres, the Island of Women.
 

Mona doesn't snorkel much anymore. Not out of fear of the water.  Just because we haven't gone to where the water is warm enough for her to even want to get into it.

But if she ever wants, or for some reason needs, to go in badly enough, I know she won't  let even the cold keep her from doing so.

Mona knows how to give God her fear too. And together, we help each other defeat our fears, with God's strength.

Fears of coach breakdowns, dead batteries, getting lost, crowded cities, and even, if need be, heights.

-Pastor Ken

What do we value most?

Matthew 6:24 ESV
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money."

I took a walk this morning in the clear warm 10,000 foot high air of Russell Gulch, Colorado.  I walked the horse trails on the old mine roads of the O'Rourke property and above till I got to what's sometimes called the 'Skeleton', but is more accurately known as the 'Jefferson', a mine shaft, or head, building with one of the largest and most impressive steel frameworks left standing in Colorado.

 The owners of this mine were going down super deep and wanted to open a shaft to all levels to send the miner's cage down and up in record time.  They thought their mine would last a hundred years or more so they built it's entrance building to last at least as long.  And at least the skeleton of it has.





But the mine did not.  Falling gold values, harder to reach ore, flooded or collapsed tunnels and the simple expense of crushing the expensive quartz ore ended the boom just decades after it began.  Though some mines held on for decades more eking out some profit, all were closed before the beginning of World War 2.
I took many pictures on my walk.  And I took them from many angles.  How fascinating this huge work of man. Pennsylvania Steel formed the beams and buttresses.  Chicago engines drove the cables that lowered and raised each shift of men. Bricks made locally were said to hold a minimal amount of gold dust in each since the area was so rich in gold the very clay contained it.

As I was just preparing to head back down the mountain I looked at the foot of one of the heavy stone walls which still held the steel upright. It was there that I saw the testament of time which spoke most to me.

I do not know in which sod the makers of this building rest, nor the uses to which their profits from this mine were put.  But I do know that the rocks at the rear of this photo have fallen from their massive wall.  I know that the fine steel they paid a high price for to bring up into this high valley is rusted beyond recognition. And I know that the brick, thought to have encased some amount of gold dust has lasted no longer than any other.

The tiny tree now growing from the ground just beside the deteriorating brick today has more value than the entire building above and behind it.  The buildings use is exhausted, but the tree will provide oxygen, animal homes, and shade for generations to come.

We all place value on temporal things.  And there is value in all things for God has made all things to be valued.  Sadly, we often place too little value on the things God values most.

So if you will allow me this metaphor, do not place your dependence on the gold or the steel of this world.  Place your trust in the God who can make trees grow where man has taken all he once valued away.


I THINK that I shall never see  
A poem lovely as a tree.  
  
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest  
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;  
  
A tree that looks at God all day,          
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;  
  
A tree that may in summer wear  
A nest of robins in her hair;  
  
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;  
Who intimately lives with rain.   
  
Poems are made by fools like me,  
But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer - written about the time this mine was soon to be closed.

-Pastor Ken

Christians at Twelve O'Clock High

Our friends Brian and Peggy O'Rourke live at about 10,000 feet up, where summer lasts for about two months, winter for much of the other ten and, as our son Jim in Nederland, Colorado at about 9,000 feet says, it's all mud in between.  Brian bought this home site well before Peggy and he were married so they built their dream home together up here above, and within, Russell Gulch, a once thriving community of gold and silver miners near Central City, CO. 

Along with their wonderful pet pup OPIE they live here in summer and in  winter they drive down to their desert home north of Phoenix in Cave Creek, Arizona.

 They love to have company so we are staying with them this week while our coach is being serviced in Arvada, Colorado.

They love to play games with their friends. Especially card games.  Tonight they taught us "Hand & Foot", a game not unlike Canasta. Several card decks, simple rules, and high scores. And, at least tonight, the guys WON.

 They also love to sing. They are both Praise & Worship Leaders at their Lutheran Church in Arizona and have been asked to bring their gifts to a church up here in Idaho Springs, Colorado.

 Last night we came home about 9:30 in the evening from spending all day with Jim up at Rocky Mountain National Park. What we came home to was just as beautiful for the ear and was that wonderful park for the rest of the senses.  Brian had had a stressful day working on a new computer program for his custom kitchen cabinet maker customers and he had been relaxing with the Lord for over an hour already playing and singing just for the pleasure, and need, of his own worshipful rest.

He played another half hour at least as we joined in or hummed along to the tunes we knew.

Peggy later told us that Gilpin County, where they live, and Clear Creek County, where they attend church, has 85% of the residents classed as un-churched, or non-attenders at any church.  The number was 75% in South-eastern Berks Country, Pa, when we started ministering there.  It's near the O'Rourkes number now.

But high in these old hills, among the ghost towns, ghost mines, elk, moose and bear there are some surprising spiritual sites, like a Christian couple who relax alone together by praising the Lord in song. And with friends.

---

To Christian readers of this blog I don't believe I have shared any news, either about the low church attendance numbers, or that believers can un-stress best not with an overdose of some substance but with a time of prayer and praise, in song or not, with others or not, whenever the world gets too filled with hurt for them to bear.

As Mona and I drive the highways down on the 'flat' (a mile high but still below as local mountain Coloradans say) or from 'peak to peak', we'll need to be in prayerful praise too when the road gets too narrow or the coach loses some of its fluxy.

In fact, our entire journey is one of worship.  Praise God!

-Ken

What you do always trumps what you say

Today we spent the afternoon at the pleasant Lake Jackson State Park north of Wiggins, Colorado. We found another beach, and a few skiers and Jet-skis to watch, so we relaxed in our beach chairs and just read.

After a couple of hours we saw huge storm clouds brewing off to the north. Lightning flashes were visible but no thunder could be heard.

The State Park Patrol Boat went up and down the lake, on the north and south sides, several times, but then returned to its dock.

I asked several fishermen if they had a feeling the storm would come south toward us and they thought not, but none of them had been at this lake before.  Then we saw some families begin to pack up and leave.

 Yes, the storm was going east, not south. Yes, the rangers had not warned us to move though they obviously had inspected the situation an hour ago.

And then the first drops came.

We packed up.

The drops were a light rain for a while as we drove around to the other side of the lake to visit a wildlife preserve (WELL preserved, apparently. Invisible too).  But in 30 minutes or so the skies above were blue and the beach we had been on, now across the lake, was full again with new arrivals coming in to spend the evening and prepare supper at the many picnic tables and grills.

So should we have paid attention to the rangers, ignored a few drops, and stayed on or in our car near the beach?

Should we take the advice, or even apparent advice, of others even if it contradicts our own past experiences?

---

Before we left camp this morning I searched for a well recommended restaurant online for lunch and found one in the small town of Wiggins, just south of Lake Jackson.  I'll leave out the name here in kindness to the owners though if they read this blog they will surely recognize themselves.

Mona found this inspirational poster on the women's bathroom wall.  I also found similar posters on the men's room wall.

There were other positive words and phrases shared elsewhere in the Mexican cafe, (oops, that might give the place away. Wiggins is a SMALL town).


But when we tried to order it took forever to get service.  Then the kind but under-impressive staff took forever not only taking our order but completing the setup of our table.  When the food finally did come it was a 3 on Mona's 6 point Mexican restaurant quality  scale.  She is a very astute Mexican food aficionado.

The bill took forever to pay (confusion with the charge system) and when we left we had no problem tossing the leftovers we had asked for a box for, at the next stop.  If it wasn't great the first time, it would be little improved the second.

Should we have ignored the online reports of others who had reported good food and service here in the past?

What should we use to help us make decisions every day in our world?

---

Two thoughts come to mind.  First, no matter whose advice we take, even the longest term friends, we may have a completely different experience than they, wherever we go. Second, no day is guaranteed to be great.  Some days just have things happen in them that aren't super. Sadly, some of us have one or two bad things hit us and we decide the whole day is, or will be, bad.  And guess what... then it often is.

What, or whose, advice should we take before making decisions about where to eat, or how long to hang around a beach?  Gods.

Don't laugh or even giggle.  These are not trivial items to our Creator who wants to assure us of the best possible life every day, IF we do follow His advice. So Mona and I do try to pray and ask for guidance, even as we are reading Tripadvisor or Google Reviews, about a restaurant.  We sort of expect Him to have a handle on whats up with weather so thats a no-brainer.

But God gives us a mind to reason with, and if we don't feel His clear direction one way we often do go in another.  And sometimes we are right; that is Gods plan.


One final thought. Before we rolled back into Fort Morgan this evening I had been looking for a nice pizza shop online.  All I found open was Domino's and Pizza Hut.  So we settled for trying to be satisfied in a downtown pub.  Turns out they had some of the best thin crust veggie-pizza we've had in a while, and I overate my calorie limit for the day by 170! Thank you Cables Pub & Grill.  "No ice cream for me tonight", smiled Mona.  :(

We had a good day today.  We found a second beach, the weather was fine while it lasted and supper was just right. And I got home in time to write this blog and spend some time just relaxing with Mona, a movie or a book.

God is GOOD! All the time!  And all the time, trust me on this, God is good.

-Pastor Ken

Snyder is not DEAD

We were driving up Colorado 71 this morning heading for the Pawnee Grasslands when our GPS showed us a tiny town we'd be passing by named SNYDER.  Mona's maiden name is Snyder, and we know alot of Snyder's back in PA so we slowed TOAD down as we got closer and turned in on 1st Street.

Our visit would turn out to turn our minds around after we got the full picture of Snyder, Colorado.

 First Street was macadamed, as were two or three other streets but most of the eight streets, each about 3 blocks long, as in most small Colorado prairie towns, were dirt. Tiny grit like stones, actually, over dirt.

There were a couple of dozen homes.  Most of them wood frame though several were mobile.  There had been a couple of stores. This one to the right may have been the largest at one time.  Its empty now.

 There was a church not far north of town but it had been closed years ago.

And while most of the farms and ranches along rte 71 looked good a couple near Snyder were deserted.


From what we saw of Snyder the town was on its last legs; nearly dead; only requiring a municipal coroner to pronounce the time.  But we were wrong.

---

Snyder has an active farrier living and doing business in town.The Hastings family provide on site horse shoeing and other equine services to farms and ranches all over Morgan County.

Snyder has the Carmin Welding and Pipeline Company.  This entire area requires the services of this specialty.  Water for crops is almost all irrigated from wells drilled deep into the Ogallala aquifer below. And oil wells abound in several places around and out of the county.

Photo Courtesy of the Brush News-Tribune

We found a closed church, yes.  But in town, not on route 71, is the Snyder Bible Church. They were founded in the 1950's and they have a new big electric LED sign! And new pastors. Josh and Kathy Elliot, who live in Brush, pastor this church together. Today people come from over 50 miles to attend Snyder Bible Church.

So Snyder is dying?  Dead? Not hardly!

And on top of these discoveries...

Check out the productive farms, not just the deserted ones, around here!

Wheat, corn, and thousands of acres of sugar beets.


And of course, cattle.

 
 And the South Platte River itself.  Flowing as it has for thousands of years, it brings surface water from the Rockies to the plains. Annual flooding makes the Platte Valley rich in good soil, and the water and resultant plants and trees bring other animals of all kinds to feed and thrive.

 Like these little 'Flycatchers'. I walked out on the Snyder bridge over the South Platte and saw several, then several more, and before I knew it I was surrounded by hundreds, at least, of these little guys feasting not on me (see Hitchcock's 'THE BIRDS) but on insects living around the precious                                                                      water themselves.

 By the end of our visit to Snyder, Colorado, we had to take a different view of what we had initially seen.  Yes, there was poverty. Some of the homes were pretty rough, but the ones we saw which were lived in seemed to have solid roofs and running cars out front.

Yes, the stores were long deserted, but we've found that almost every small prairie town has lost it's retail business to the larger communities.  You can blame the Walmart's of the world if you want but I think the simple fact is that after World War 2, when many could finally afford to buy a first car, and drive farther to get what they wanted, they wanted more selection and the small town shops couldn't compete. The folk of Snyder drive south to Brush or southwest to Fort Morgan. And the church I mentioned above?  They operate food services and other care programs in the name of Jesus for all who can't drive.

God is good, and those who follow His precepts find good, especially when they aren't expecting it.

So we drove on, but not before TOAD caught me taking one more picture of the huge expanse of the Colorado prairie.  I held up the camera to avoid getting the barbed wire fence that borders pretty much every road on America's prairies.

Which brings to mind one final observation.  The Pawnee Grasslands are impressive. They are made up of two sections of thousands of acres of northeastern Colorado land that is being allowed to grow back the way it was before the white man arrived.  Someday it is hoped that buffalo will roam free once more on these plains. My photos were unsatisfactory so I give you a pic from the US Government.

But sadly, while the land bears the name of the once large Pawnee Indian Nation, those people's descendants now live in Oklahoma. Forcibly moved by US land grants to white settlers over 150 years ago.

I hear the Pawnee thrive now in  what initially was a poor and disease ridden land.  I pray they may do as well as the people who now inhabit their ancestral lands.

May God forgive the sins of our fathers, and keep us from following in those same bloody footprints.

-Pastor Ken

Meet Mary

Today we met an amazing woman.

Meet Mary. We had walked over to her combination General Store and Delicatessen in the middle of the quaint little town of Hygiene, Colorado, where we are living out back of the Hygiene UMC for a couple of days. Mary has attended the church a few times and says it is one of the loving-est churches she has ever found.

We were there for lunch and an ice cream cone.  Mary had walked outside to throw out some recycling. We said Hi and she came over to our table. An hour and more passed. What we received was more costly than pearls and more tasty than any dessert.  We found the love of Christ, and Mary Magdalene.

Mary bought the store four years ago when it was just a way station for farmers on tractors and driving  passer's by.  However Mary began to especially promote to the hundreds, of bicyclists who ride through the crossroads every day, some from as far away as Loveland, a 20 minute car ride to the north. She became a destination for riders and bike clubs from all over.  In fact, the ride is now called Mary's Loop between here and Longmont.

Mary provides lots of comfortable outside dining, even, as today, free space for groups to have their own picnics, whether she caters them or not. Today's group served up hot dogs and had way too many, but when Milo came over to offer us some we had to tell him we were already just too full of egg salad and buffalo (yes, buffalo) pot pie.


 PS:  The food was worth the visit, but Mary also offers a used book corner!  Yes, Mona was a happy camper, literally, today!

But Mary's store is barely the surface of Mary's life.  When her three children were all under the age of 10 she and her husband left Denver, bought a 65 foot sailboat and spent a year exploring the east coast of the US and the Caribbean.

I asked Mary how they learned to navigate and handle the boat.  She said her husband took a class in Denver in Astronomy to learn to read direction in the stars and the family learned the rest from past days on small sailboats and OTJ training.  In other words, the way we are learning to navigate and handle our 35 foot coach and it's 15 foot dinghy.

At other times Mary has owned an antique store, and been involved in each of the varied communities she has lived in.  Especially in Hygiene, which along with all of the communities of Colorado's Front Range in the flood plains of the Boulder and St. Vrais Creeks were devastated by last years torrential rains and the ensuing floods (see yesterdays post in our travel blog on Lyons, Co.).

But Mary had to leave Hygiene and her store the day after the floods came.  It was very hard for her to do so, but she was contracted with others to lead them on a tour leaving that day for Southern France and the home of the Cathars. The once vilified Christian religion of Central Asia which moved west through Europe with the 'Vandals' and settled hugely in Provence and northern Spain. Vilified? Crusaded against by the Roman Catholic Church was more accurate. Great walled cities and castles were destroyed by northern French armies in the name of the pope.  But why was Maryof Hygiene leading a tour of this area?  To help others seek out the extra-biblical historical locations of Mary of Magdala, Mary Magdalene, beloved female apostle and friend of Jesus as recorded in all four Gospels, and beyond.

Here, if you wish, read more about her from as non-biased a site as I can imagine.  The Smithsonian Institution:

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/who-was-mary-magdalene-119565482/

You see, as we spoke to the Mary of Hygiene, Colorado, we learned that she is a devotee of the Mary of Magdala, and as I had personal visitations by the Holy Spirit at nine years old, and later in my twenties and since, so she has experienced the presence of Jesus and visions of Mary Magdalene in her past, and seeks more of their presence for herself and for others.

One can certainly argue that Mary's visions and perceptions of the Disciple Mary may be wrong. Just as they can and sometimes do of my faith and experience in Jesus. After all, Mary of M is not considered by the United Methodist Church as more than a disciple.  But the Roman and Eastern Church have named her a saint.  and Dan Brown, so our Mary says, got much of what he wrote of in the Da Vinci Code from books she and others like her consider truth.

An orthodox biblicist like myself probably should reject anything that cannot be fully supported by Scripture alone.  After all, I do believe the Holy Bible is the ground upon which all reason and faith must stand.  However I am the guy who named our new life journey QUO VADIS, (Where are you going?), from the extra biblical record of Peter meeting Jesus on the Appian Way as he was departing Rome to escape Nero's persecutions.  I liked the book and the movie too, so...

Mary told us she is following God's Word to her now and has her four year old store up for sale.  She does not know where Jesus will lead her, much as we have no deadlines, and no definite direction, till we feel the stirring of God to send us where we should go (which according to Mona will always include libraries and good ice cream).

Her vision seems to include counseling with women especially who have felt the oppression which Jesus fought so hard against in the stories of the Bible.  Sexist, economic, and personal degradation.  She does this now in a limited way through her teaching of what she understands of Mary of Magdala.

I cannot say what God's view of Mary's counseling is, just as no other can say I do not preach God's Word or counsel myself if I believe (know) that I do.  I can say that I am fascinated to have met my first disciple of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. And as the great Jewish teacher Gamaliel told Saul, who would become the Apostle Paul, "Don't be too quick to condemn Christians.  What if they are right?"

So Mona and I learned from Mary today, about Mary. And life.  And Mary learned a little about us. Seems like that's the way life should be.

-Pastor Ken

Kids today

 Boy, what a subject.  Way too big for a blog post. But maybe small enough if I keep the post to one primary observation.

Yesterday, as Mona and I were doing some shopping at the Nederland, Colorado food store we saw a lovely thirteen-ish daughter with her well dressed mother. They were doing what so many mom's and daughters do when shopping together; lightly disagreeing over what kind of something to buy.  No problem there, right?  Normal.

What was a problem for us was that mom seemed to have no problem with the T-shirt her daughter was wearing.  Now, before you get excited and tell me, "But you're a guy!  And you're both old!  You'd never understand."  I already believe that's something like what this daughter said to her mom, and possibly dad, before she was allowed to wear the shirt she had on.

Wait a minute!  This is Nederland, Colorado!  One of the last true bastions of American free thought and total 'be who you are but don't kill anybody being it' life.  But it seems this doesn't matter, as my son, a 17 year resident of this very unique town,  has sometimes expressed, "the hippies are generally just loose, but they are harmless.  The mean homeless are few, thank God,  and no one believes they should be allowed to harm anyone, even themselves.  Its the yuppies, the wealthy adults and especially their kids, who take advantage of others sensibilities, insult without thought, and need to be educated in how to be citizens of a community of OTHERS." (very loosely translated, actually paraphrased.  Sorry for any errors Jim!)

OK. But what did the T-shirt say?  Well, it took me a minute to figure it out.  And I'll grant you, the shock value got my attention when I did. But in reverse of what this probably very nice girl meant for me to understand.

The shirt, in very big, bold letters across her chest said, "FCKH8".

I am as much opposed to people hating other people as anyone.  I struggle to live as Jesus taught: to love God and all others before anything else.  And that is HARD.  But to use a word that implies the grossest possible meaning for one of God's most wonderful gifts to define a positive behavior does not work.  Except in reverse.  And that's what happened to me. My initial reaction was not, "Yeah sister!  You are RIGHT!"

My reaction was, "Your shirt makes me want to hate you."  Why?  I was deeply offended.

Maybe the sad thing you see here, if any sad thing at all, is that I could be offended by a teenager taking seriously a problem of hatred that we do face in this country, and everywhere humans breathe, and at least making some kind of statement against it.  But I don't see it that way.

I was first offended that she would wear such a shirt outside of a toilet.  I was second offended that her mother was with her, obviously approving of her choice of clothes (or just 'letting her kid be a kid'). and I was third offended by what I can do little about.  The shirt was not hand made.  The teen had not designed it herself.  I have seen them on racks at the New Jersey beaches and in Boulder, Colorado gift shops.

It seems 'offensive' is a huge industry.

Of course it is.  It always has been.  But for an obviously educated parent to not only allow, but by allowing, support that industry in this way seems, well, wrong.

And that's my point.  Kids today are no different than kids 7,000 years ago, so archaeological finds and the Bible tell us. If you raise up a child in the way they should go, eventually they just might get there.

And if you let the child raise themselves, well, they'll get there instead.

Praying for our next generation, but mostly for its parents...

-Pastor Ken