Miracles and Dry Sponges

A miracle. Most of us think of miracles as something beyond our humdrum every day existence. A miracle might be something collective for a society, such as the 1980 US hockey team beating the Soviets. Or, it could be something more personal- a man like Dean Braxton, who had his heart stop beating for almost two hours, yet not only lived to tell the tale of his after death experience, but also wound up unharmed with no lasting physical signs of trauma.

We struggle with bills, work, family, and other personal issues. Those who are younger struggle with school, academics, social dramas and the difficulty of self discovery and growth. Yet, there is a miracle- a true miracle- that is present and available, from the most prosperous to the penniless; from those with fame to the outcast and rejected. What could that be?

I was praying for my students this morning on my way to work. I was asking God to bless them, to help them… to send angels to them, to intervene in their lives, somehow. Each year, these kids come my way, and there are all sorts of individuals. Some are quiet, studious and cooperative. Others really try my patience with button pushing and bad behaviors. In spite of appearances, both types of students need prayer equally. While one lashes out at the world demanding attention in the spotlight, another suffers silently from the pain of divorce and the separation of their family. Another one might be caught in a cycle of bad decisions, then another questions their own worth in the depths of depression. All need love, acceptance, a kind word and a generous amount of patience and forgiveness. Did not we also go through these difficult times ourselves?

As I prayed, I had a realization of sorts. When a person comes to God and takes a leap of faith, a miracle occurs. A real miracle. A spiritual renewal takes place- a new life is born and angels in heaven sing. Just to say, “Jesus, I believe in you. Please help me,” is a beautiful thing. God can change the hearts of men. We can have hope. Hope beyond our existence. Hope that transcends our brief lives. Hope that leads to understanding, that we are here for a purpose, that there is meaning for our lives.

“Let one of them, I pray, just one, somehow… someway… see You through me,” I prayed. For when one person comes to God, the entire world changes- not physically, but in eternity. The Holy Spirit comes to dwell within us. If a heart was like a dried sponge, the Holy Spirit is like oil poured over and through the soul. With gentleness and love, it softens and conditions our hearts. The heat of the sun and the wind of life’s storms cannot evaporate the penetrating oil of God’s love.

Lord, let your will be done. Let your love for each of us be known. Thank You for loving us. I love You.

Glenn

A Lesson Learned

[Above, Chris Elliot, whose character is the ultimate irresponsible guy]

This has been on the back burner for a while. Sometimes an article needs to simmer and age in order to reach fullness. Today, January 1^st, it is ready.

What you are about to hear is a story about love. Love from God towards me; that He would care enough about me not only to save me, but to have me learn from my failings. Love from a college professor who helped me a long, long time ago, and continues to do so, even now.

It all started back in 1984. I was still in college, at the time at Liberty University, recently renamed from Liberty Baptist College, the institution founded by Jerry Falwell. I was finally old enough to move out of the cramped four-guys-per-room dormitories and into an apartment in town. Fortunately, I found an ideal place. One of the professors, Dr. Pantana, owned a house he rented out to students at the university. The top floor was rented to a family, the basement to two pastoral majors and myself. Rent was a miniscule $50/month per person, an amount that even then was very low. It was basically a gift to the students, something I was appreciative of, but not as much as I should have been, by far.

It was nice not to have to live in the campus dorms. Privacy was lacking there and the rules were, by my standards, draconian having transferred to Liberty from a small liberal arts college, Maryville, south of Knoxville, Tennessee. It was a culture shock to say the least. Ties required for class, dating permission slips from the dean of student affairs , and traveling all over Lynchburg 3 times per week in little yellow school buses was getting old.

Finally the time came for graduation, and with that, time to come back home to Georgia. I don’t remember the exact circumstances, but I made the wrong choice. Instead of honoring Dr. Pantana’s gift to us, I was selfish, immature, and foolish. I skipped town owing him the last month in rent. It didn’t matter that I was owed the same amount in phone bills I had to pay. It didn’t matter that I had yet to establish a career with a decent wage. I was wrong.

The years passed by and I eventually became a teacher, the incident long forgotten. Eventually I began attending a wonderful little church, Christ the Redeemer Charismatic Episcopal Church. It was there I met “Sam,” a guy who was at the time living with another church member. Sam needed another place to stay because he was not getting along with his current landlord. I said, “Hey, come live with me. I have a spare room and you can stay there.” So Sam moved in.

Sam was a young guy, maybe 22 or 23. He still wanted to party and stay out till all hours of the night. I knew that when you hang out with ne’er-do-wells, bad things happened. However, I also realized that people need to learn these lessons for themselves, and no amount of advice from anyone would change his mind or take the place of personal experience. So I would counsel him when asked, but otherwise let him be (at least as I recall.)

The deal I made with him was $200 per month plus half the utilities, which was dirt cheap in 2003. He also had the option of working off part of each month’s rent by doing work in the yard. He was not the most diligent worker. In fact, he was rather irresponsible, promising the world and then failing to deliver. He also could not seem to keep a job longer than two or three weeks. So we had some minor conflicts, but nothing deal breaking.

That is until he came home one day and told me about this fantastic deal he had found out about. Fantastic in his opinion, that is. Sam told me that some convenience store had closed down, and some “friends” of his were giving out free beer and liquor left over from the store. I was sort of confused by this. Something was just not right. You don’t just “get” free beer. When I wanted to drink beer (which was and still is rare) I would go out and buy it.

I felt there was something not quite right about this deal. So I told him he could do what he wanted, however, any liquor which was not purchased was not to be brought into the house. Bottom line. He went against my wishes behind my back, and while I was at work, brought in cases and cases of beer and hid them under a blanket in his room.

That winter my heater broke down and I needed a new one. Three thousand dollars later I was good to go. I needed to check the vents though to make sure they were not blocked in his room, and did so in his presence. Sure enough, Sam had piled up his “free” beer against an exhaust outlet for the central heater.

I told Sam he had to go and gave him two weeks. He was upset and could not really understand me. He moved out owing me that December’s rent plus utilities, promising to pay as soon as he could get steady work. It never happened.

A while passed and eventually I realized the missing rent and utilities would never be forthcoming. So I forgave Sam the debt. Then, years later I realized the incredible irony of this story. What I had done to Dr. Pantana, Sam had done to me. So I gave the entire thing to God, and asked for His mercy and forgiveness.

But the story does not end there. I recently got back in touch with Dr. Pantana. He took time to call me back in his busy schedule. I told him the story and asked for his forgiveness. He forgave me, and I cried, doing so even as I write these words.

Dr. Pantana continues to work at Liberty well beyond the years he is eligible for retirement. It is something that seems odd to me, for I cannot wait until I can retire. I am not sure I can take the stress for eight more years.

But, you see, Dr. Pantana is teaching still as a service for God. Again, he shows himself to be an example for me to follow. So, I pray for God’s will. Perhaps there will be a child I need to pray for that I have yet to meet.

I have heard about Sam from a mutual friend at the church I used to go to. He is doing much better, and has a steady job and has grown in maturity and wisdom, escaping the folly of youth. I thank God for this and pray for his continued blessing and growth. God bless you, Sam. And thank you Lord, for this wonderful lesson, learned. I love You.

G.Houtchens

Armchair coach

Amateur historian

The Impossible Story

As a Christian and a Science teacher there has come to me an idea from a story in scripture. It is an unorthodox idea; a most unusual one. It begs for understanding, for illumination. It is impossible. But true.

It was a high point in Jesus' ministry. He was preparing to enter the Jewish holy city of Jerusalem, to prepare for Passover with his disciples, and also to prepare for the events which would lead to his betrayal and crucifixion. Jesus was well known throughout the area- for his miracles, for his ministry to the outcasts of society, for his stance on the truths of God, not the minutia-ridden, legalistic, tradition-centered views held by many of the Pharisees of the day. People lined the streets at word of his impending arrival.

Even his approach to Jerusalem was marked by unseen spiritual occurrences. As he approached the little town of Bethany at the hill of the Mount of Olives, he told two of his disciples to fetch a donkey upon which no one had ever ridden. They went and found the animal just as they had been told.

As Jesus went down the hill on the other side, a crowd had gathered and they began to hail and praise him, spreading their cloaks on the road as he passed. They praised God in loud joyful voices, for all the miracles they had seen. Luke 19:38 “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

In the midst of this triumphant procession, some of the Pharisees in the crowd began to criticize Jesus. “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” they said. Evidently, their hearts were not moved by the significance of the moment. Perhaps they thought that God could only be worshipped and praised in certain ceremonial ways, or they were angry with Jesus for receiving praise that they desired for themselves.

Jesus answer to their objection to me is like a bell which once rung, continues to resound. “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Imagine! The rocks themselves were ready to cry out. How could such a thing happen? This brings to mind all kinds of questions. Do rocks have any form of sentience? How could they cry out?

First the cause: Jesus, the Son of the Most High God. The Lord of Creation. The one of whom it was written all things are held together by the word of his power. I believe this may refer to the strong force, by which atoms hold together, but that is a subject for another time. It stands to reason that this was a special time and a special place- a crossroads of time and space where strong spiritual forces were at work.

Now science, in and of itself, is good for certain things. It is good for discovering the laws of nature. It is good for understanding how certain systems work, be it biological, physical or chemical. It is good for helping us to understand our environment. What it is not good at whatsoever is describing or understanding things spiritual.

Science: I knew you were going to play the mystic card.

Me: I prefer the word spiritual. Sixth sense?

Science: Don’t be coy. No, you have used the argument in the past.

Me: That bothers you, doesn’t it?

Science: Not in the least. I’m right. I’m always right.

Me: Explain how swamp gas can do circles around a helicopter at 5,000 feet, show up only on infra red cameras, then speed off leaving the copter in the dust.

Science: We both know that only experiments that can be repeated in laboratory conditions…

Me: It was caught on film. That’s objective evidence.

Science: Would you let me finish?

Me: Can’t do it, can you? Maybe it was not swamp gas as you alleged?

Science: Sputter! You…. You….

Me: Explain how a dog separated from its family can find it again after traveling hundreds of miles.

Science: Coincidence?

Me: In more than one instance…. Go ahead, calculate the odds.

Science: Working… working… That is not logical. Error. Error. Error.

Me: The fact is, there is a lot that you can’t explain.

Science: Fact… explain… fact… right… wrong.

Me: YOU are the infection! Destroy the infection!

Science: Buzz! Whirr! Help me! Help me! Help me! (Science goes into a massive meltdown, turning into a twisted, smouldering molten heap of metal)

Me: Sigh. That never gets old. (with thanks to Captain Kirk)

Back to the rocks, which we have just finished studying in class. Rocks have natural lines of breakage, due to their organized, crystalline nature. Even the hardest of materials, diamonds, have lines of cleavage along which the lightest tap of a gem cutter’s chisel can split asunder.

The bottom line is this: I believe that the stones which were there along the road would have shattered along their natural fracture lines. Even a crystal glass can shatter from an opera singer- who is to say that spiritual forces could not break rocks on the road in praise to God for His goodness and the arrival of the very salvation of all mankind?

The praise of angels? Maybe. Maybe not. Jesus is Lord. Let God be true, and every man a liar.

G.Houtchens

Armchair coach

Amateur historian

Heroes #6 Ben Hamby

Heroes #6 Ben Hamby

When I hear the name "Ben," I smile. I first heard of Ben many years ago, I suppose in the early to mid 90's. Ben was working at the time at the county office building complex, in a special school where kids who had misbehaved just a *bit* too much got once last chance gasp before being expelled. At least, that's how I remember it.

At various times at Dean Rusk Middle School Ben served in the ISS room, as a Special Ed teacher, and also at times as a Social Studies teacher. Whatever job they gave Ben to do, he did it. He was the school's basketball coach for a number of years, even though he was not in the best shape to demonstrate basketball skills to the boys.

Ben volunteered for a while (it may have been years, I'm not sure) to work with the prison ministry in Cherokee County. The contrast between being locked inside a jail and being able to walk out at the end of the evening must have been stark. Ben had a heart of gold though, and to anyone who knew him, he was always ready to jump to pray for people or just to lend his ear. He was a very good listener, a quality that I am sure helped him in ISS.

One day, many years ago, I had a vehicle which was not terribly trustworthy. Thankfully, Doug Jackson lived around the corner from me, and he would pick me up in the mornings for work. I would listen to his tales of history. He would rant about his students unwillingness to do their work, and the commies, wherever they happened to reside in the world. This particular day, Doug could not give me a ride home, so I was sort of stuck. 24 miles from home. Nearly everyone had bugged out immediately after school. Guess who gave me a lift, going out of his way to do so? Ben =). We had a good conversation, I do remember that. I remember thinking something along the lines of, "Wow, what a neat person!" as he dropped me off in that big van.

Ben would take missionary trips to Mexico in the summertime. They (his church group) would drive there in a marathon road trip. That's a long trip from Georgia. There, he would assist in building churches for the people to worship in. How beautiful.

Ben worked for two years on a specialized team that provided extra individualized attention to students. They were... difficult students to handle, magnified exponentially by the fact that they were all grouped together. I honestly don't know how he did it. But you know what? He was able to show them love and acceptance while being an example for them as well. I'm sure he felt like the biblical Job and had a few extra white hairs by the time he was once again back in ISS.

Since I went to the new middle school, Ben and I have been out of touch, except for a few messages on Facebook, and once where I visited him on a teacher workday. I regret not having kept in better touch with him.

I spoke with Ben two, maybe two and a half months ago. I had heard he was not doing too well physically and was concerned. So I got a hold of his home number and called him during morning planning. He answered, and his speech was a little slurred. I said, "Hey, Ben, this is Glenn Houtchens. I wanted to call and ask how you are doing and to pray with you."

He sounded sort of out of it, and replied, saying, "Well, how do I know this is you?"

I said, "It's me, Ben," smiling. "We have all been thinking about you here. Let me say a prayer for you." So we prayed and I was glad to be able to do so.

God had other plans for Ben. Two weeks ago, Ben went into multiple organ failure including his heart and was found by his family at their home. He was taken to the hospital but by then, the damage had been done.

I have had a thought that has recurred to me since then. It's a scene in heaven. Ben is with Jesus and they are speaking. Jesus is thanking Ben for visiting him in jail, for teaching Sunday School, for listening to him in ISS, for building churches for worship, for giving him a ride and just for being a blessing to everyone around him. Ben understands then, and they hug.

Ben took what God gave him and gave it to others. Thank you, Ben, for your loving heart, and thank you Lord, for your gift of Ben to us. God bless you, Ben Hamby. I am better for having known you. You are my hero.

G.Houtchens
Armchair Coach
Amateur Historian

At the Cross

I learned this song from my Second Life church, Calvary Chapel. It's... beautiful, and tugs on the strings of my heart so very deeply. The deepest part of me resonates along with it. I sing this in my heart as I go through the day. Ignore the video- just hit play then read the words as the song plays. Beautiful.

At the Cross, by Randy and Terry Butler
Copyright © 1997 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing. All rights reserved. International copyright secured.



I know a place, a wonderful place
Where accused and condemned
Find mercy and grace
Where the wrongs we have done
And the wrongs done to us
Were nailed there with Him
There on the cross


At the cross (at the cross)
He died for our sin
At the cross (at the cross)
He gave us life again


I know a place, a wonderful place
Where accused and condemned
Find mercy and grace
Where the wrongs we have done
And the wrongs done to us
Were nailed there with You
There on the cross


At the cross (at the cross)
You died for our sin
At the cross (at the cross)
You gave us life again

Ten Things I Want to do in Heaven

Ten Things I Want to do in Heaven:

1. To thank Jesus for my life; for making me, buying me, and forgiving me. To kneel at his feet and submit myself in love.

2. To sing praises to God with Keith Green.

3. To see friends, students and relatives who have passed before me.

4. To see Mikey and Snoopy, give them a hug, and tell them how much I love them (and to let them jump all over me.)

5. To pray for others that I knew down here.

6. To love and be loved; to know and be known.

7. To not sin any more.

8. To do God's will without messing up.

9. To meet and speak with author J.R.R. Tolkien, Mother Theresa of Calcutta, Pope John Paul II, the apostles whose stories were never recorded (or were and were lost in time,) and if possible, actor Jonathan Harris.

10. To join others in cheering on from the stands, to encourage those left behind if that might be possible, to finish the race.

11. To meet the angels who have helped me without my ever knowing, to thank them.

Let His great love be made known, let it be shouted from the rooftops. Life is all about Him.

Glenn

The Real Matrix

The Real Matrix

I have mentioned Second Life before- it's basically an alternate reality sort of program where things of all kinds are made using a utility with shapes, or prims, that can be formed, colored and even coded. These objects may be made translucent, transparent, even phantom, so that other objects can pass through them. They can even be attached to one's avatar- the character, symbol, or representation folks use to portray themselves to the rest of the Second Life world. Interesting.

Pictured above is a supermarket found within the world of Second Life. Look at it carefully. You will notice boxes, pictures, shapes, and a setting that we are familiar with, for the most part. The photos which cover some of the vegetables and doughnuts are skewed, though. There is something not quite right about them. They look flattened. Mis-shapen. The angles are not quite right. Yet, I say to you, the images seen here are in some ways, more real than the supermarket you go to visit, the walls that surround you and the chair that you are sitting in right now.

No, I have not gone nutters. Just bear with me for a minute. You see, we spend every moment of our waking lives surrounded by the sensations delivered to us by our senses- what we see, hear, smell, taste and feel. Our lives are consumed by pleasure, or the pursuit of it. We think continuously of the temporary, what we understand. By nature, we think in terms of our experience. But I say to you, what we see is ashes, or soon will be. What we hear; fleeting.... As the band Kansas once popularized, we and all we see are "Dust in the Wind." What is more real than our limited, blind experience is what is unseen. The cries of the heart. The wounds of the spirit. The tears in our innermost being which cannot be touched by any earthly hand.

Why do I say that the picture above filled with electronic pixels is in some ways more real that reality? Proverbs 23:7 says loosely, As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. When people first come to Second Life, many times they just go wild in this new found environment. Their every desire is suddenly available in anonymity and security. The sinful appetites of the heart come rushing out, seemingly without consequence. This is a tragic misconception, with equally dire results.

There was a man I met in Second Life a little over a month ago I'll call "Jack." I met him at a church sim I go to ( a sim is a large square piece of land where environments are built.) Jack was new to Second Life and was visiting. I asked him if he was a Christian, thinking it might be an opportunity to witness, and he responded by saying he was a pastor in real life. Of course, there's no way to confirm that, but he seemed honest and reasonable- nothing seemed suspicious at any rate. I friended him and told him we would talk later.

About a week went by, and I noticed Jack was logged in and online. When I went to check his profile so I could send him an instant message, I discovered he had joined an adult club. I was concerned and when I asked him about it (evidently he did not know I could see his clubs by friending me,) he claimed that he had joined this club by accident. He had also changed his name to "Lonesome Lover."

Had this occurred by accident? Not likely. Now this is not to advocate asceticism, which is a rigorous self denial of the flesh; that all things having to do with our bodies are worthless. Far from it. Our bodies are beautiful gifts to enjoy, take care of and be thankful for.

My point is this. Our hearts are shaped by our thoughts, and though we live in our bodies for a short while, our eternal destination will be determined by what we do with what Jesus did for us. There is only One who can change the heart of man. Lord, please examine our thoughts, and cleanse them. Draw us towards You. Let us not be mired in self condemnation or self pity. Renew our minds, and make us as Your children, so that Your will may be done. We love you. Amen.

G.Houtchens
armchair coach
amateur historian