Kathryn and I went to Billings on Saturday to do some shopping. We had a nice time, got some great bargains, and had a nice oriental lunch.
I was wearing a Santa Claus cap with a button pinned on the front that reads “Jesus is the reason for the season.” I’ve had it for over 25 years, and have found it to be a wonderful witnessing tool.
We were standing in line waiting to check out at one of the stores, when I saw a little girl, probably about three years old looking at me. She tugged on her mama’s sleeve, got her attention and pointed at me. Her mom smiled, and I winked at her. The girl’s eyes got big, and she said to the mother, “It’s Santa!
Well, when one puts on the costume, one must play the role. So I put on my best Father Christmas voice, ho ho hoed and said, “Well, that looks like a good little girl.” The kid just beamed. The mother said, with a little twinkle in here eye, “Well, I don’t know about that.” I, still in the role, said. “Oh, mama, You know, I only see the heart.”
As a somewhat straight laced Christian, I don’t do Santa Claus. I don’t condemn those who do, that’s between them and God. It’s just that I don’t. I think the Santa Clause cap is not sending a mixed message, it is, after all, a witnessing tool.
But I could no more bring grief to that little child, who knows no better, than anything. I love little kids, with their innocence and wonder at the world too much for that.
I got to thinking, OK, people may teach their children that Santa may not forgive your trespasses, and bring a stocking full of ashes and switches, but Jesus forgives. All you have to do is ask. See, like Santa, Jesus only sees the heart.
Agape
Lee
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Rebuilding Walls
In the Old Testament book of Nehemiah, Babylonian king Artaxerxes allowed some of the Jews who had been held captive to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple, and do restorative work to the city.
The people banded together under Nehemiah to rebuild the damaged and broken wall around the city. They all worked together, and in a short time, had the wall back in place, repaired.
In Chapter three, verse 20, Baruch, son of Zabbai, Zealously repaired another section.
These people worked together, and separately to do this mighty task. One must remember that the stones of which the wall is made are very large. Some as big as a piano, some as large as an automobile. But they did it.
As an illustration, suppose the sidewalk on your block has fallen into disrepair. You, as a neighborhood, petition the city to repair it. So the city comes and tears it out. Then it says, “Here is the concrete, and material. Fix it, or it doesn’t get fixed.” So everybody on the block sets forms, and pours and smooths the concrete in front of their own house. Voila! The sidewalk on the whole block is re-paved. In some places it is better than others, and in some places the work has been done zealously.
The people put this wall around Jerusalem together. It was a damaged wall. In many places it was destroyed. And like our lives; Sometimes they are damaged. But through the grace of God, and through the repairing work that God has given us to do, and the methods that God has given us, through prayer, and meditation, through introspection, and these things, God has given us a way to repair our lives. Our Spiritual lives. If we have fallen away from The Lord, he has given us a means by which we can repair our own spiritual lives.
Sometimes we have done damage to our families. Usually unknowingly, we have said things and done things that have hurt the feelings of the people we love. He gives us an opportunity to repair those breaks in the walls of our relationships. But we have to do it.
He buys the concrete, but we have to put it down. We have to lay it. He gives us the directions how to do it, but we have to pick up the bricks and lay them in place. We have to put the mortar in place and see to it that the bricks are zealously laid, and all those bricks are aligned.
Sometimes when we start to rebuild our lives, the bricks are kind of uneven. But as we gain knowledge in God’s Word, and as we begin to grow in God’s Word, and as we begin to grow in grace and faith, the bricks of our repairs become smooth and straight, because God is in it.
That’s my message for today
The people banded together under Nehemiah to rebuild the damaged and broken wall around the city. They all worked together, and in a short time, had the wall back in place, repaired.
In Chapter three, verse 20, Baruch, son of Zabbai, Zealously repaired another section.
These people worked together, and separately to do this mighty task. One must remember that the stones of which the wall is made are very large. Some as big as a piano, some as large as an automobile. But they did it.
As an illustration, suppose the sidewalk on your block has fallen into disrepair. You, as a neighborhood, petition the city to repair it. So the city comes and tears it out. Then it says, “Here is the concrete, and material. Fix it, or it doesn’t get fixed.” So everybody on the block sets forms, and pours and smooths the concrete in front of their own house. Voila! The sidewalk on the whole block is re-paved. In some places it is better than others, and in some places the work has been done zealously.
The people put this wall around Jerusalem together. It was a damaged wall. In many places it was destroyed. And like our lives; Sometimes they are damaged. But through the grace of God, and through the repairing work that God has given us to do, and the methods that God has given us, through prayer, and meditation, through introspection, and these things, God has given us a way to repair our lives. Our Spiritual lives. If we have fallen away from The Lord, he has given us a means by which we can repair our own spiritual lives.
Sometimes we have done damage to our families. Usually unknowingly, we have said things and done things that have hurt the feelings of the people we love. He gives us an opportunity to repair those breaks in the walls of our relationships. But we have to do it.
He buys the concrete, but we have to put it down. We have to lay it. He gives us the directions how to do it, but we have to pick up the bricks and lay them in place. We have to put the mortar in place and see to it that the bricks are zealously laid, and all those bricks are aligned.
Sometimes when we start to rebuild our lives, the bricks are kind of uneven. But as we gain knowledge in God’s Word, and as we begin to grow in God’s Word, and as we begin to grow in grace and faith, the bricks of our repairs become smooth and straight, because God is in it.
That’s my message for today
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Random Thoughts On A Sunday Morning
It's been raining for a couple of days in southeastern Montana. I have been working in the harvest bringing crops in from the field.The ground has been so muddy, that we can't get into the fields, so I have had a couple of very welcome days off. When we finish cutting corn, I will move to the next farm over, and haul Sugar Beets from the field to a receiving station called a Piler. They are digging part of the crop early this year. I am glad that I am not there yet. They dig beets no matter what the weather. When the ground is muddy, they hook tractors on to the front of the trucks, and pull them through the field beside the digger, while it fills them. Very tense, stressful work.
I said I was glad to get a day off. I am pretty sore from driving that truck, because I ordinarily do a lick of real work, work. I mostly sit in front of a computer screen and type, or sit in front of a microphone and read aloud what I have written. - Pretty cush deal when I get work.- Of course I am still working at the radio station part-time, but am branching out into free lance operations too. I have put up a web site, leethevoice.com leethevoice.com It's not finished, but it is there for all the world to see.
Oh, yes, what I started to say. It has been raining. This morning it seems to be clearing. The sun shone between layers of clouds, illuminating the hills and buttes to the south and west. Sure was pretty.
Time to get my shirt and tie on, and go bring the message of love, peace, and forgiveness through The Lord Jesus. Truth be told, of all my activities, that's the one I love the best.
Agape
Lee
I said I was glad to get a day off. I am pretty sore from driving that truck, because I ordinarily do a lick of real work, work. I mostly sit in front of a computer screen and type, or sit in front of a microphone and read aloud what I have written. - Pretty cush deal when I get work.- Of course I am still working at the radio station part-time, but am branching out into free lance operations too. I have put up a web site, leethevoice.com leethevoice.com It's not finished, but it is there for all the world to see.
Oh, yes, what I started to say. It has been raining. This morning it seems to be clearing. The sun shone between layers of clouds, illuminating the hills and buttes to the south and west. Sure was pretty.
Time to get my shirt and tie on, and go bring the message of love, peace, and forgiveness through The Lord Jesus. Truth be told, of all my activities, that's the one I love the best.
Agape
Lee
Saturday, September 11, 2010
9-11
Nine years ago I walked in to work at KATL in Miles City. I was still doing production, before I took over the News Director slot. Terry Virag ace salesman, and morning personality, was in the control room. "Did you hear? They've bombed the World Trade Center in New York!"
Someone had brought in a television. It was showing the chaos in the streets and smoke and flames pouring from the burning building. In unbelief, I, and millions of people around the world watched as the second airplane hit the second tower. I will never forget that day. It is burned into my memory as with a hot iron.
I will never forget those thousands of innocent people murdered by cowardly animals who in spite of the lies they've been fed by insane leaders, are burning in Hell at this very moment. May it always be so.
I will never forget those firefighters and police officers who gave their lives in service to their city, their state, their nation, and their fellow man. Those are the heroes. Those and the thousands of those who stand ready to protect us from fire, flood, pestilence, and evil doers, both foreign and domestic. You are those to whom I stand, humbly tip my hat, and say, Thank you. I will never forget.
Agape
Lee
Someone had brought in a television. It was showing the chaos in the streets and smoke and flames pouring from the burning building. In unbelief, I, and millions of people around the world watched as the second airplane hit the second tower. I will never forget that day. It is burned into my memory as with a hot iron.
I will never forget those thousands of innocent people murdered by cowardly animals who in spite of the lies they've been fed by insane leaders, are burning in Hell at this very moment. May it always be so.
I will never forget those firefighters and police officers who gave their lives in service to their city, their state, their nation, and their fellow man. Those are the heroes. Those and the thousands of those who stand ready to protect us from fire, flood, pestilence, and evil doers, both foreign and domestic. You are those to whom I stand, humbly tip my hat, and say, Thank you. I will never forget.
Agape
Lee
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Chickens
I finished building the chicken pen Tuesday morning. What a task! It's not much of a pen, but then, I'm not much of a carpenter. I finally got it pretty straight, and the wire all on. In the end, it doesn't look too bad.
About a month ago, I bought two little Bantam hens from a friend. They came in a small coop about 2' by 3', so I decided to build a yard for them.
I bought a dozen eight foot 2X4s, some one inch mesh chicken wire, and some nails. I kept splitting out the 2X4s, so I bought some self tapping screws. They work much better, and my Makita power driver spins them in nicely.
Then I ran out of 2X4s, so I bought two dozen more. Then ran out of screws, so had to buy more. I did think that time to get some small ones as well, to attach the roof. Of course all these purchases involved separate trips to town, about 20 miles away, and mostly in the pickup, which drinks three dollar plus per gallon gasoline at an amazing rate.
I haven't done a lick of work since I quit driving truck, and my hands were sore, but I finished the 8' by 8' pen. It has two 4'X8' sheets of plywood for the roof. The plywood came from the last election campaign of a former US Senator from Montana. So now every airplane passing over can see that my chickens are "Friends of Conrad Burns." While I may not be, my chickens are good Republicans..
I created a place for the little coop to attach to the yard, and pulled the chicken wire off of it, creating a door for them to go in and out. There is a crossbar about halfway up the now open doorway, that now serves as a perch.
The birds were pretty leery about leaving the confines of their pen. They had never been out of it in their lives. I removed their waterer the night before, and that morning, after everything was ready, at about 8:30, I put it in the yard. I scattered some wheat in the yard, and called them, as I always do when I feed them. They were a little hesitant, but stuck their heads out and looked around.
I went back to the house, which is about 20 - 25 feet away, sat on the porch, and watched them. Pretty soon they ventured timidly out into the yard, necks stretched straight up, looking in all directions. They stretched their wings out fully, and headed for the waterer.
After a good drink, and pecking at the food, they discovered that they were not in their little enclosure, and fled back.
After a few minutes, one went out into the yard and began to peck at the seeds. The other hopped up on the crossbar in the doorway, and launched herself out. She spread her wings, flapped mightily, and flew!
It was a beautiful sight. First, the birds who had never had enough room to do so, spread their wings out fully. Then, for the first time in her life, that little Banty hen flew! It almost brought tears to my eyes.
"Free at last
Free at last
Thank God almighty
I'm free at last."
I like chickens. I like to watch them. They are sentient beings you know. They have a language, and carry on conversations. They also sing. When I was little, our mother raised chickens. Thousands of them. I discovered then that they sing. They sing different songs, and often repeat them. Not only that, they sing in harmony. The songs are often very complex, and sometimes take many minutes to complete. As a musician, I recognized the music they create.
So now, I feed the chickens and watch and listen to them. It's very pleasant, and the sense of accomplishment in finishing the chicken yard is very satisfying as well.
Agape.
Lee
About a month ago, I bought two little Bantam hens from a friend. They came in a small coop about 2' by 3', so I decided to build a yard for them.
I bought a dozen eight foot 2X4s, some one inch mesh chicken wire, and some nails. I kept splitting out the 2X4s, so I bought some self tapping screws. They work much better, and my Makita power driver spins them in nicely.
Then I ran out of 2X4s, so I bought two dozen more. Then ran out of screws, so had to buy more. I did think that time to get some small ones as well, to attach the roof. Of course all these purchases involved separate trips to town, about 20 miles away, and mostly in the pickup, which drinks three dollar plus per gallon gasoline at an amazing rate.
I haven't done a lick of work since I quit driving truck, and my hands were sore, but I finished the 8' by 8' pen. It has two 4'X8' sheets of plywood for the roof. The plywood came from the last election campaign of a former US Senator from Montana. So now every airplane passing over can see that my chickens are "Friends of Conrad Burns." While I may not be, my chickens are good Republicans..
I created a place for the little coop to attach to the yard, and pulled the chicken wire off of it, creating a door for them to go in and out. There is a crossbar about halfway up the now open doorway, that now serves as a perch.
The birds were pretty leery about leaving the confines of their pen. They had never been out of it in their lives. I removed their waterer the night before, and that morning, after everything was ready, at about 8:30, I put it in the yard. I scattered some wheat in the yard, and called them, as I always do when I feed them. They were a little hesitant, but stuck their heads out and looked around.
I went back to the house, which is about 20 - 25 feet away, sat on the porch, and watched them. Pretty soon they ventured timidly out into the yard, necks stretched straight up, looking in all directions. They stretched their wings out fully, and headed for the waterer.
After a good drink, and pecking at the food, they discovered that they were not in their little enclosure, and fled back.
After a few minutes, one went out into the yard and began to peck at the seeds. The other hopped up on the crossbar in the doorway, and launched herself out. She spread her wings, flapped mightily, and flew!
It was a beautiful sight. First, the birds who had never had enough room to do so, spread their wings out fully. Then, for the first time in her life, that little Banty hen flew! It almost brought tears to my eyes.
"Free at last
Free at last
Thank God almighty
I'm free at last."
I like chickens. I like to watch them. They are sentient beings you know. They have a language, and carry on conversations. They also sing. When I was little, our mother raised chickens. Thousands of them. I discovered then that they sing. They sing different songs, and often repeat them. Not only that, they sing in harmony. The songs are often very complex, and sometimes take many minutes to complete. As a musician, I recognized the music they create.
So now, I feed the chickens and watch and listen to them. It's very pleasant, and the sense of accomplishment in finishing the chicken yard is very satisfying as well.
Agape.
Lee
Friday, August 6, 2010
The View Off My Porch
I ate breakfast on the porch this morning, as I nearly always do when the weather permits. The Kinsey area of the Yellowstone Valley is covered with tall corn, and green Alfalfa, Pinto Beans, Sugar Beets, and Potatoes all nearing harvest. It is a beautiful sight. Down the road, one of the neighbors is getting his second cutting of Alfalfa started, and a little farther down there is a stand of grain ready to be harvested. My few chickens cluck happily in their soon to be enlarged pen. We are truly blessed to live in a place where we can witness the bounty of a fruitful nation.
I have always loved the great national hymn "America The Beautiful."
Oh beautiful far spacious skies
Oer amber waves of grain
Oer purple mountains majesty
Above the fruited plain
America, America,
God shed his grace on thee
And crowned thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
Of course we still have to work on that "brotherhood" part, but we're working on it. That is something I'll reserve for another blog.
I am proud of my agricultural roots. I'm happy to be a witness to, and a part of, the system that feeds our nation, and an otherwise starving world. I work in the harvest hauling cut corn to a silo for silage to feed cattle through the winter, so that you can have a delicious steak for dinner. I also haul Sugar Beets from the field to a marshaling station called a "piler," so you can have sugar in your coffee or to pour on your American grown cereal.
All of this costs money. The farmer has to plow, buy seed, plant, cultivate, water, and harvest his crop. He has to pay me, and others like me to help in the harvest. He has to buy and maintain terribly expensive machinery, and buy terribly expensive fuel for those machines.
Then he is dependent upon a bunch of gamblers in the commodities market to tell him how much he will get for his crop. In the end, he barely has enough to cover the loans (with big interest) to pay for all of the above, and feed his family. Farmer's daughters and sons like pretty clothes, and cell phones just like the offspring of "townies." whose parents work for wages, and pretty well know how much they will be getting at the end of the year.
But you know what? the vast majority of us wouldn't have it any other way. I was reared on a cattle ranch. Dad had to work an outside job just to keep the three of us fed and clothed. He hated that, but knew that it was necessary to the operation of the ranch. Besides, girls object to wearing flour sack dresses to the junior prom. And have you seen the price of shoes?
My Dad, and my Mother at his side, would have no more left the ranch than cut off their arm. That land is a part of them as much as they are a part of that land.
Dad's gone on now, but Mama is still on the ranch, and when it's time for her to leave, her body will be buried alongside his on the land they loved. The land they nurtured, preserved, and from which they fed our nation, and an otherwise starving world.
So I just want to ask you to join me, as I sit and enjoy the view off my porch, to pray a prayer of thanksgiving and protection for those engaged in agriculture. From sea to shining sea.
God bless our farmers and ranchers.
Agape
Lee
I have always loved the great national hymn "America The Beautiful."
Oh beautiful far spacious skies
Oer amber waves of grain
Oer purple mountains majesty
Above the fruited plain
America, America,
God shed his grace on thee
And crowned thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
Of course we still have to work on that "brotherhood" part, but we're working on it. That is something I'll reserve for another blog.
I am proud of my agricultural roots. I'm happy to be a witness to, and a part of, the system that feeds our nation, and an otherwise starving world. I work in the harvest hauling cut corn to a silo for silage to feed cattle through the winter, so that you can have a delicious steak for dinner. I also haul Sugar Beets from the field to a marshaling station called a "piler," so you can have sugar in your coffee or to pour on your American grown cereal.
All of this costs money. The farmer has to plow, buy seed, plant, cultivate, water, and harvest his crop. He has to pay me, and others like me to help in the harvest. He has to buy and maintain terribly expensive machinery, and buy terribly expensive fuel for those machines.
Then he is dependent upon a bunch of gamblers in the commodities market to tell him how much he will get for his crop. In the end, he barely has enough to cover the loans (with big interest) to pay for all of the above, and feed his family. Farmer's daughters and sons like pretty clothes, and cell phones just like the offspring of "townies." whose parents work for wages, and pretty well know how much they will be getting at the end of the year.
But you know what? the vast majority of us wouldn't have it any other way. I was reared on a cattle ranch. Dad had to work an outside job just to keep the three of us fed and clothed. He hated that, but knew that it was necessary to the operation of the ranch. Besides, girls object to wearing flour sack dresses to the junior prom. And have you seen the price of shoes?
My Dad, and my Mother at his side, would have no more left the ranch than cut off their arm. That land is a part of them as much as they are a part of that land.
Dad's gone on now, but Mama is still on the ranch, and when it's time for her to leave, her body will be buried alongside his on the land they loved. The land they nurtured, preserved, and from which they fed our nation, and an otherwise starving world.
So I just want to ask you to join me, as I sit and enjoy the view off my porch, to pray a prayer of thanksgiving and protection for those engaged in agriculture. From sea to shining sea.
God bless our farmers and ranchers.
Agape
Lee
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Paranoia? Or Well Founded Caution.
There is a general sense of unease in our country today. More and more, people are living in fear. Rumors fly, and are believed by many.
Case in point. An Internet story recently got transmitted that a large Mexican gang had taken over two small ranches near Laredo Texas. Now, this gang, who are really dangerous people, have struck fear in the hearts of thousands in both Mexico, and the southwestern portion of the US.
I received the story, which was presented by a quasi-legitimate news agency, and passed it via e-mail to a friend who, like me, is retired from a legitimate and well respected agency in the news business. I say quasi-legitimate, because it is an Internet based agency, and it's credentials are as questionable as anyone who invents a name, and starts posting "news" on the net.
My friend, who has been my mentor in the business, takes a pretty jaded look at news stories, looked at it with his jaundiced eye, and wrote back that he didn't think the story was true. I wrote back, and rattled off a brief history of this gang, which in reality, is a very large paramilitary organization, and thanked him for his input.
Over the next few days, the story grew larger and larger. Finally, another friend, who is a noted author, made some telephone calls to several of the proper authorities, and found out that while the law enforcement people do indeed have serious problems, this case was false. End of story.
I was much relieved, and e-mailed my mentor the results. He wrote back and kindly reminded me to check my sources. At least I didn't post the story on the web, but transmitted it to him in an e-mail letter.
As I said in the beginning of this message, there is a general sense of unease in our country today. I lived for some years in towns along the Mexican border, and know first hand of the dangers there. On one hand you have the narco-traffickers, and on the other, you have the law enforcement people. along the fringes, are folk living a pretty hardscrabble life, who live by any means they can, most of which, are either illegal, or immoral. Caught in the middle of this chaos, are regular people. Citizens of the United States, of America, and The Republic of Mexico. People who live their lives, rear their children, and work to support the local economy. Even among these, there is the uneasiness of living in a war zone. There too, rumors fly. Some well founded, some not.
In these end times in which we live, everyone is affected by the fear and paranoia around us. Some merely hide their head in the sand, some get caught up in it, and others, just say, "Oh, bulls--t!, and get on with their lives. I really wish that I could be like the latter. Unfortunately, my previous life has left me pretty emotionally scarred. I like many, get too caught up in this world in which we live, rather than remembering that I am a spiritual being, temporarily living in a very flawed body, as we all are.
There is a prayer that I learned many years ago. I often recite it almost like a mantra. It goes:
"God
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen."
Thank God for wise council.
Agape
Lee
Case in point. An Internet story recently got transmitted that a large Mexican gang had taken over two small ranches near Laredo Texas. Now, this gang, who are really dangerous people, have struck fear in the hearts of thousands in both Mexico, and the southwestern portion of the US.
I received the story, which was presented by a quasi-legitimate news agency, and passed it via e-mail to a friend who, like me, is retired from a legitimate and well respected agency in the news business. I say quasi-legitimate, because it is an Internet based agency, and it's credentials are as questionable as anyone who invents a name, and starts posting "news" on the net.
My friend, who has been my mentor in the business, takes a pretty jaded look at news stories, looked at it with his jaundiced eye, and wrote back that he didn't think the story was true. I wrote back, and rattled off a brief history of this gang, which in reality, is a very large paramilitary organization, and thanked him for his input.
Over the next few days, the story grew larger and larger. Finally, another friend, who is a noted author, made some telephone calls to several of the proper authorities, and found out that while the law enforcement people do indeed have serious problems, this case was false. End of story.
I was much relieved, and e-mailed my mentor the results. He wrote back and kindly reminded me to check my sources. At least I didn't post the story on the web, but transmitted it to him in an e-mail letter.
As I said in the beginning of this message, there is a general sense of unease in our country today. I lived for some years in towns along the Mexican border, and know first hand of the dangers there. On one hand you have the narco-traffickers, and on the other, you have the law enforcement people. along the fringes, are folk living a pretty hardscrabble life, who live by any means they can, most of which, are either illegal, or immoral. Caught in the middle of this chaos, are regular people. Citizens of the United States, of America, and The Republic of Mexico. People who live their lives, rear their children, and work to support the local economy. Even among these, there is the uneasiness of living in a war zone. There too, rumors fly. Some well founded, some not.
In these end times in which we live, everyone is affected by the fear and paranoia around us. Some merely hide their head in the sand, some get caught up in it, and others, just say, "Oh, bulls--t!, and get on with their lives. I really wish that I could be like the latter. Unfortunately, my previous life has left me pretty emotionally scarred. I like many, get too caught up in this world in which we live, rather than remembering that I am a spiritual being, temporarily living in a very flawed body, as we all are.
There is a prayer that I learned many years ago. I often recite it almost like a mantra. It goes:
"God
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen."
Thank God for wise council.
Agape
Lee
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