Mountain Meadows Massacre

M is for Mountain Meadows Massacre.  Recently as my wife and I have been studying our family histories I came across a historical event that I had never heard about before.  A couple of things struck me about this event.  It happened on September 11th and was one of the worst massacres in American history.  The date was September 11, 1857 and the place was Mountain Meadows in Southern Utah.

The story starts when Alexander Fancher and John T. Baker along with 140 men, women, and children and 40 wagons left Caravan Springs in northwest Arkansas and headed west to California. Their path took them through Utah.  Brigham Young, the leader of the Mormon Church and the territorial governor of Utah had forbidden the Mormons to sell anything to the wagon train.  He also declared that, "the Almighty recognized Utah as a free and independent people, no longer bound by the laws of the United States".  There was extreme distrust of any non Mormons by the Mormon people.

The Fancher Baker wagon train was a very rich one. It is said the emigrants had nearly nine hundred head of fine cattle, many horses and mules, and one stallion valued at $2,000; that they had a great deal of ready money besides. All this the Mormons at Salt Lake City saw as the train came through town. The Mormons knew that U.S. troops were marching to their country, and a spirit of intense hatred of the Americans and towards the U.S. Government was kindled in their hearts by Brigham Young, Orson Hyde, and other leaders, from the pulpits.

In early September, the wagon train made camp at a place called Mountain Meadows where there was grass and water for their horses and cattle.   On September 7, the group was attacked by Indians and the Mormon Militia disguised as Indians.  A child who survived the massacre said, "Our party was just sitting down to breakfast when a shot rang out from a nearby gully, and one of the children toppled over, hit by a bullet."   The shots came from forty to fifty Indians and Mormons.  The well-armed emigrants returned fire.  Soon the gun battle turned into a siege.

Over the next three days, Mormon reinforcements, continued to arrive at the scene of the siege.  William Dame, the head of the southern Mormon Militia,  was determined to not let the emigrants pass: "My orders are that all the emigrants, except the youngest children, must be done away with."

The siege was a standoff and continued for several days.  The commanders of the Mormon Militia came up with a treacherous plan for ending the stand-off.

On September 11, they marched across the field to the emigrants' camp waving a white flag.  When they reached the camp they promised that they could guarantee the emigrants' safety if they would agree to their terms. The desperate emigrants agreed to the terms: They would give up their arms, wagons, and cattle, in return for promise that they would would be taken past the Indians to safety in Cedar City.  They looked upon the Mormons as their saviors.  One of the wagons was loaded with the youngest children.  A woman and a few seriously injured emigrant men were loaded into a second wagon. Following the two wagons, the women and the older children walked behind.  An armed Mormon "guard" escorted each emigrant man.

When the escorted men had fallen a quarter mile or so behind the women and children, the command was given, "Halt!  Do your duty!" Each of the Mormon men shot and killed the emigrant at his side. Then they began the slaughter of the women and older children.  It was over in just a few minutes.  120 members of the wagon train were dead.  The militia did not kill some small children who were deemed too young to relate the story. None of the survivors was over seven years old.  The children were taken into Mormon homes. Once the story of the massacre got out, the relatives of the children made an attempt to get them back, but it took over two years and the help of the U. S. Army to return the children to their relatives.

Members of the militia were sworn to secrecy. A plan was set to blame the massacre on the Native Americans. This train was undoubtedly a very rich one. It is said the emigrants had nearly nine hundred head of fine cattle, many horses and mules.  They also had a great deal of money and gold besides.  Large amounts of their valuables and cattle were taken by the Mormons in Southern Utah. Some of the cattle were taken to Salt Lake City and sold or traded.The remaining personal property was taken to the tithing house at Cedar City and auctioned off to local Mormons.

Pictured here is Nancy, the only survivor of the Peter and Saleta Huff family.  The photo was taken at her wedding in January 1869.

Once news of the massacre began to trickle out, the nation was horrified.  Mark Twain wrote about it in his book "Roughing It".  "A large party of Mormons, painted and tricked out as Indians, overtook the train of emigrant wagons some three hundred miles south of Salt Lake City, and made an attack. But the emigrants threw up earthworks, made fortresses of their wagons, and defended themselves gallantly and successfully for five days! Your Missouri or Arkansas gentleman is not much afraid of the sort of scurvy apologies for "Indians" which the southern part of Utah affords. He would stand up and fight five hundred of them. At the end of the five days the Mormons tried military strategy. They retired to the upper end of the 'Meadows,' resumed civilized apparel, washed off their paint, and then, heavily armed, drove down in wagons to the beleaguered emigrants, bearing a flag of truce! When the emigrants saw white men coming they threw down their guns and welcomed them with cheer after cheer."

It was twenty years before anyone was convicted in the massacre. Because of Mormon control of the judicial system in Utah, no one was brought to justice. When the Federal government finally stepped in, John D. Lee was offered as a scapegoat, and was the only person convicted out of the estimated 50 to 70 Mormon participants.  Before he was executed at the Mountain Meadows Massacre site on March 23, 1877 he said,  "I had many to assist me at the Mountain Meadows. I believe that most of those who were connected with the Massacre, and took part in the lamentable transaction that has blackened the character of all who were aiders or abettors in the same, were acting under the impression that they were performing a religious duty. I know all were acting under the orders and by the command of their Church leaders; and I firmly believe that the most of those who took part in the proceedings, considered it a religious duty to unquestioningly obey the orders which they had received. That they acted from a sense of duty to the Mormon Church."

The terrible events of September 11, 1857 have a clear parallel to the terrible events of September 11, 2001.  It shows us that throughout history there have been people who believe their religion gives them the right to kill other people.  Just look back at the Salem Witch Trials, or the Inquisition, or the Crusades.  Although many times in history it has been Christian people who have been involved in these killings, true Christianity, following the teachings of Jesus, requires Christians to "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you", Luke 6:27

The Mountain Meadows Massacre is an important part of American history.  It amazes me that I had never heard of such an important event until recently.  I wonder why this story was not a part of any American history textbooks I studied.  I feel it is important to remember such events and realize how religion affected the outcome.

The ABC Wednesday Meme is a fun way to see some great blogs.

Class of 73

One week ago my wife and I attended our 40th High School reunion. We both attended Campion Academy in Loveland, Colorado and graduated in 1973.  It had been 30 years since we had been back for Alumni Weekend - we attended our ten year reunion.  As we pulled onto the campus of Campion Academy we were a bit nervous.  What would our old classmates be like?  Would we have anything in common?  Would we recognize them?  Would they recognize us?

As I parked the car and walked up to the registration table my apprehension was confirmed as I couldn't place the first person who spoke to me.  I'm so sorry, Ted.  Within just a few minutes all uneasiness melted away as old friends greeted us.  I was amazed as classmates bridged the forty years like it was no time at all. Conversations came easy even though I hadn't seen most of my classmates for at least thirty years.  

  

Classmates weren't the only people we reconnected with.  We also saw a number of people we had no idea we would see there.  The most fun for me was seeing Marlene Fernandez who attended the Fort Lupton SDA Church with her family when I was growing up.  It was great to see her and catch up on her family.  The extended Fernandez family were some of our closest friends during my childhood. 

Lunch for our class was provided by the current Junior Class of Campion Academy.  We had a great meal and continued our conversations.  

After the meal we gathered for a group photo.  There were 73 in our graduating class and 40 who made it to the reunion, an amazing percentage.  

During the afternoon we sat in a large circle and each person spent a few minutes telling about their lives after high school.  The most common topics seemed to be grandchildren and dogs.  It was a wonderful afternoon of reminiscing.  Some great stories were told and mysteries solved.  Six members of our class are no longer with us. We spent some time remembering each one of them.  As tired as we were of sitting in those chairs, no one seemed in a hurry to leave.  

That evening we gathered again in the home of Larry and Paula Howard and continued our conversations over a great meal from Qdobe Mexican Grille.  The day had been so wonderful that no one seemed to want to leave.  It was well after 11 before we said goodbye to old friends.  Promises were made to keep in touch, and I hope that we will.

The next morning we went to breakfast with friends not wanting the weekend to end.  It seemed like no time had passed and we always had Sunday morning breakfast together.

Before we left Loveland and headed back to Denver, I looked up my old friend, Vern Tscheuschner.  When I lived in Campion, he lived just a block away.  He was a great friend and we spent a lot of time together.  It was nice to be able to be together again like old times even if it was only for an hour or so.  We reminisced about many things including our muscle cars; Vern's six cylinder Ford Falcon and my Nash Metropolitan. 

I can't remember when I have had as much fun as I did on this trip to Colorado.  I wish all of my old friends, that is long time friends, the very best.

Lloyd Lawry

L is for Lloyd Lawry.  He was my uncle, my Daddy's half brother. When he retired he moved to Mena, Arkansas and lived there until he passed away.  I loved my Uncle Lloyd and enjoyed spending time with him.   He loved to play dominoes and we often played 42.  He was a serious Bible student and we spent many hours discussing the Bible.

One of my favorite memories if him involves wallpaper.  I knew that he had put up some wallpaper in his house, and I was wanting to wallpaper my daughters bedroom.  I asked for his help and he agreed. As I applied the wallpaper he gave me tips and directions.  Even though he didn't actually apply any of the wallpaper, he said several times, "I would never do this for money, only for love."

Uncle Lloyd had a number of interesting sayings.  If something was quite long he would say that it was longer than a well rope.  If someone was determined to do something he would say that they would do it if it hair lipped every goat in Texas.

Shortly before he passed away he compiled family stories, genealogy, obituaries, birth announcements, and some of his Bible studies.  He placed them in a notebook and gave me a copy.  In this notebook was a short life history he wrote.




LLOYD
written by Lloyd Lawry

I was born at my Aunt Cody's (Cora Hixson) June 9,1919. From one of Mama's letters I learned we lived in Mildred, Kansas in 1920. Daddy worked at the cement plant there.  We lived in Yates Center where Daddy ran a restaurant in 1924.  I remember living in Chanute, Kansas at some time with Mama when she and Daddy separated.  We all lived together in Wichita, Kansas where Daddy worked in an oil refinery, but by the time I was 6 they had separated. Mama and I were living alone by the time I started to school.

Mama told me some things I did when we were in Texas visiting her relatives: One time there was a jar of jalapeno peppers on the table and I kept asking for one thinking they were pickles. When I persisted she gave me one and I ate it without blinking an eye (when she knew it must be burning me up).  Another time there was a Ku Klux Klan parade, all of them in their white robes. I kept hollering, "which one is Grandpa", because I knew he was in the parade. Yet another time an old colored lady who had worked for the family for years shook hands with me and I looked closely at my hand after she shook it. She said, "Bless your little heart honey, it won't rub off."

Mama and I lived in Wichita, Kansas from just before I was six until she died shortly after my ninth birthday. For some time she worked as a waitress in a restaurant on 21st street. She made $12 a week, and got all of her meals and two meals a day for me. We lived in several different apartments, and after she married Marion Doyle we live in two different houses.

In the second grade I had a little red-headed freckle-face girl friend. We were so small we sat in one theater seat to watch the silent movie. Mama offered to give us an ice cream cone if I would bring her in the restaurant, but I wouldn't do it because I knew they would tease me.

One Christmas I was in a program where I had to say, "These grapes from far Italy's vine the children of Italy send, and greetings as glad as of yore they keep for their Christmas friend." Mama bought a huge bunch of grapes thinking I would bring them home after the program and we could share them. However, I ate them all as I watched the rest of the program.

For Christmas 1927 Mama made an imitation fireplace with cardboard, box and spread my presents around it. Among other things she got me the books Little Women, Little Men, Penrod, and Penrod
and Sam. She said in a letter to Grandma Lawry that I had read them and understood them.

When it was obvious to the adults that Mama would soon die, Daddy came and got me and took me home with him to Buffville. This was just after school was out in the spring of 1928. I had a good time fishing and swimming with the boys in Buffville, but one day Daddy came down to the shale pit where we were swimming, took me in his arms and said, "Mama's gone."

My sister Opal was a tiny baby and Daddy needed to get me to Wichita for mama's funeral, so he arranged with my Aunt Cody to put me aboard the train she was taking to Wichita. He took me to Yates Center to put me on the train, but she wasn't on it! He finally put me on the train anyway and I went to Wichita by myself . We later learned the train I was on was a special train and the one Aunt Cody was on came a little later. When I got to Wichita I tugged my heavy suitcase to the taxi cab and told the driver the address. He took me to the house where Mama had died.  I never did like Marion Doyle but my heart went out to him at Mama's funeral, because he cried as if his heart was being torn out of his body.

I went back to live with Daddy and Hazel at Buffville. For many nights I cried myself to sleep mourning for my mother.  Hazel was real good to me, but I wasn't very nice to her for several years.  I was happy fishing, swimming and hunting with the Buffville boys, but then when I was 12 we rented a house on a farm and it was quite lonely with no one to play with.

We continued to rent a house on some farm as long as I was home. After I graduated Glen Boyer and I hitch-hiked to Western Kansas and shocked wheat for several farmers. We would be out in the field just as the sun came up and didn't quit in the evening until the sun went down. We made $2.00 a day, and I got home with $13.

I joined the Civilian Conservation Corp later in the summer of 1937 and spent 23 months there.  I got $30 a month, $5 in cash and the rest sent to my foIks. After 13 months I became assistant leader and got $36 a month.  After I got out in June 1939, Toby Boyer and I hitch-hiked to Colorado looking for work. We couldn't find any so hitch-hiked back home again.

Connie Schultheiss and I hitch-hiked to Dumas, Texas hunting for work but couldn't find any so started to hitch-hike back to Kansas. We were standing in a sleet storm with cars flying by us when I bet Connie a chicken fried steak dinner the next car would pick us up. He took me up on it and sure enough the next car picked us up and took us all the way to Wichita, Kansas. The only bad part was I had to sit in the back seat with a huge German Shepherd dog!  At least I got the chicken fried steak dinner.

We hitch-hiked home from Wichita. In the early spring of 1940 Connie and I drove his Model A Ford to Riverside, California taking the famous "Route 66" highway. He found a job picking oranges, but I couldn't find one. I hitch-hiked up the coast of California and through Oregon to visit Uncle Johnny Lawry.  I would buy a bus ticket and ride all night, because it was cheaper than a hotel. I finally hitch-hiked back down to Riverside and Connie and I started up the coast in the Model A, but it burnt up.

We decide to ride freight trains back to Kansas. Going out of California we were about 5 cars back of the engine on top of a car when we went through a tunnel. The smoke almost smothered us, so after we got out of the tunnel we moved farther back on the train. We got off the train on one side of Las Vegas, walked through town and caught another freight train on the other side of town.  We got off in Ogden, Utah and spent the night, then rode another freight train to Omaha, Nebraska. We hitch-hiked home to Kansas from there.

The family moved to Poplar Bluff, Missouri, where we lived with Jessie and John Borton in a three-roomed house.  In early 1941 I hitch-hiked to Altoona, Kansas and then to Cooper, Texas where I stayed with Eileen and Charles Wright until Doris and Bill Robertson came and took me to Dallas with them. This ended my hitch-hiking days.

Since my employment with Braniff International covered all but eight months of the period from March 1941 until June 1981, I felt that an account of my tour of duty might be of some interest.  I went to work for Braniff Airways the last part of March 1941 for $70 a month. Since the only other job I had worked at was as an elevator operator for $12.50 a week, I felt that f had it made.

I almost lost the Braniff job because I missed one day, occasioned by the loss of the badge they gave me to get in the gate. They were already tightening security in anticipation of World War II.  I was living with Dorris and Bill Robertson at the time, and we decided that their colored maid must have taken the badge.  When I went back the next day Braniff gave me another badge and all was well.

I had to move to a boarding house when I was assigned to the 12 midnight to 8 A. M. shift. It was a miserable time for me because it was in the middle of a hot summer. I had only a little 8 inch noisy fan to keep me cool while I slept, so I never got much sleep.  The boarding house landlady fed me three meals a day, but the lunch she sent for me was a half of a sandwich and some cookies or fruit.  I worked at the main stock room by myself, my main job being to take parts to the line service stockroom when they requested them by telephone. Between times I filed purchase orders, often falling asleep on the act of filing one. One night I left the windows down on the car used to carry parts to the line service stockroom and it got soggily wet from a hard rain.

When I got on the day shift it was easier. I established a financial plan where I paid the landlady $15 every two weeks for room and board, bought a two weeks supply of streetcar/bus tokens, sent $20 a month home to the folks, and blew the rest of the $34.65 I was paid every two weeks.  Streetcar/bus tokens were 5 cents a piece. I rode the street car to downtown Dallas and transferred to a bus for the ride to Love Field. We would, in 1941, go by cotton fields between downtown and Love Field.

At that time Braniff's main office was in Oklahoma City and our pay checks were often two or three days late.  After Pearl Harbor many of the men I worked with volunteered or were drafted into military service. I was 4F and didn't have to go. Braniff began to hire a bunch of new people and I began to serve a sort of supervisor role (without any pay increase).  I especially had to help the women fit into our work routine.

In 1944 the work schedule for July was posted showing me working Sunday for the second month in a row. I told my boss I wouldn't work it. I didn't, but had to quit to avoid it. He told me I did fine work, but he didn't like my attitude. The personnel manager told me I would never work for Braniff again. Boy was he wrong!

In the next few months I worked for Air Associates, carried U. S. Mail, worked for a sporting goods company, and for Devoe and. Reynolds Paint Company.  In March 1945, I went back out to Braniff with a sort of a "hat in my hand" attitude and told my former boss I would like to go back to work for Braniff. By that time good help was so hard to get that he went to the personnel manager and persuaded him to re-hire me. This time the job was permanent, as it lasted to June 30, 1981.




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Kansas

K is for Kansas. My Dad grew up in and around Altoona, Kansas.  He still has lots of family in the area. Last weekend he went back to attend a cousins 50th wedding anniversary. Here he is with the group of first cousins who were in attendance.

While he was there he was given a story written by my second cousin, Toni Ehrardt. The story takes place during the Great Depression and centers around two little girls. Here is a photo of those two little girls today.

                                  IRENE AND HENRIETTA


Mother's Christmas Program
by Toni Ehrardt

My mother,Irene Dannels Woolery was born in 1925 on a small farm near Altoona, Kansas. Times weren't easy at the Dannel's Place nor most other places for that matter. I remember my mother telling me that most of the time, the family had a nice Christmas dinner of baked chicken, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, hot rolls and pumpkin pie. Possibly, they had gingerbread, fudge and mady taff. I'm just guessing they had milk, water or home-made cider to drink.

For Christmas, the kids, (my mom and her sisters and brothers), usually got a nickel, an orange, and some gift my grandparents made for them. For example, my grandpa made little tractors out of spools and rubber bands and my grandma made rag dolls or teddy bears and made outfits for them.

The family went to cut down a Christmas tree and decorated their tree with popcorn, little ornaments they made at home, church, or school and possibly with little pieces of ribbon or bits of lace. They went to school and church programs and especially enjoyed those things as well as big family dinners with lots of cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles.

Times, of course, got even rougher in the 1930's. I remember my mother telling me that my Grandma Zenella Reeve Dannels, had one dress and one pair of overalls. Naturally, the girls didn't have many clothes either but somewhere around 1939 when my mom was about 14, my grandma promised the girls (My mom, Irene and my aunt, Henrietta, who were still in school that she would make them both a nice Christmas dress for their Christmas program at Buffville School.

My mother always loved clothes and shoes, so she was in a rush to get home from school that day to see the dresses that my grandmother, an adequate and basic seamstress, had made for her and Etta. So the two girls hurried in on that cold Winter day anxious to see their new dresses.

The girls ran to my grandmother and asked, "Where are the dresses you made for us for the School Program? My grandmother replied, "I'm sorry, girls. I simply didn't have the time to make any dresses for you. You'll just have to do with your best dress this time. I'm sorry."

My Aunt Henrietta didn't get so upset but my mother was absolutely devastated. She had imagined a new red velvet dress and she was practically sick that my grandmother hadn't made dresses for them. She was mad too, because my grandmother had definitely promised the girls new dresses for this event, which was one of the most important programs of the season.

About that time, the girls heard a car coming and a car horn honking, honking, honking. They ran to see who it was because they weren't expecting anybody and they also had to hurry to get washed up and primped for the program. They were a little surprised to see their oldest brother, Walter Dannels, and his cute young wife, Stelline (Hoobler) Dannels, coming in the door carrying boxes.

"Are you two coming to our Christmas program?" my Mom asked.  "Sure are!" Walter said, grinning. "Now you two girls better hurry and get all fixed up so I won't be so embarrassed that you're my little sisters!" "Come on," Stelline told the two younger girls. "Now get in there and I'll help you fix your hair!"

All three of the girls crowded into the girls' bedroom and my Mom asked, "Hey, Stelline, what's in the box?"  "Never you mind. Just get your school clothes off and hang them up. And you need to hurry. I've made some sandwiches and cookies for us to eat".  Then Stelline started opening the boxes. She pulled out two of the prettiest dresses my Mom and Aunt Etta had ever seen.

"Oh, Stelline, Thank you! Thank you! We had no idea you were making us Christmas dresses! Oh, they're so pretty!"  "I just love mine, too. They are so cute and stylish. Thank you!"  "Now stop blubbering and get those dresses on," Walter hollered.

The two girls got the dresses on, and they fit perfectly. Stelline also whipped a comb and brush through their hair and sprayed on a tad of Evening in Paris perfume. "You two girls will be the belles of the ball" she told them smiling at their happy excited faces.

About that time my grandparents came in with some eggs and a milk pail to leave in the cellar. "You two girls sure look nice!" my Grandma said. "Wasn't it nice of Stelline to make your Christmas dresses when I really couldn't find the time."

My Grandpa Earl Dannels said, "You girls look dandy. I'm really going to feel proud tonight!" "Oh Stelline, you've made this the best Christmas Program ever!" the two girls said, smiling widely.



Note from Toni Ehrhardt: My Aunt Stelline (Hoobler) Dannels passed away in 1968, much too young. She had a special talent of looking at a dress and the person who wanted it and sewing it up in no time. Everything she made looked like it came from Vogue. She also was a very good cook. I remember especially that she made wonderful Turkey Pie. She is sadly missed by her children and family.

Stelline Elizabeth Hoobler was born November 30, 1916 in Jasper, Alabama and died May 13, 1968. She was buried in Evergreen Cemetery, El Centro, California . She married Walter Louis Dannels December 4, 1935 in Erie, Kansas. He was born April 24, 1914 in Altoona, Kansas and died August 19, 1998. He was buried in Evergreen Cemetery, El Centro, California.

The ABC Wednesday Meme is a fun way to see some great blogs.

Reflections On Our Flooding - Victor Issa

Victor Issa is one of the top sculptors in America today and is known for his remarkable ability to make bronze appear alive.  He attended Union College in Lincoln, Nebraska at the time I was there.  His studio is in Loveland, Colorado where I lived for 8 years.

Last week, Colorado experienced terrible flooding.  The Loveland area where Victor lives and works was very hard hit as was Estes Park where he has his Living Bronze Gallery.  He wrote an article about the flooding that I found very meaningful and I want to share it with you.

Reflections On Our Flooding
by Victor Issa

In some parts of the Front Range, life is returning to semi normal. At home and at the studio, we were only affected by temporary road closures, delayed work and delayed deliveries.

Yet others were stranded, placing them in great danger, losing property, and some did lose their lives. Some reports have documented the loss or damage to over 18,000 homes, and up to 8 lives have been lost due to this enormously destructive storm. All loss brings pain and sadness, and we join our prayers with others for all those suffering at this time.

While I am deeply grateful that the flooding had little effect on us, I must admit a discomfort at the tendency to offer a blanket: "Thank God" for such outcomes. Before you become angry or dismiss my comment, please read on. I believe this is an important matter.

My knowledge of, and faith in God has never been deeper or stronger in my life. I know beyond a doubt that God is intimately interested in me, and cares about my entire being as He does about all His created beings. What concerns me is this. If I am so quick to thank God for preserving and protecting me and my property, wouldn't I become as likely to blame Him for not protecting my friends and neighbors, those who experienced great loss? If He is to be attributed credit for the good, doesn't that also leave Him open for blame? Is this where the expression "Acts of God" came from? For example, where does the credit or blame lie when we make conscious or unconscious choices regarding the risks we chose to take?

The facts are always a bit more complex and nuanced for a simple reason; they involve humans with free will. We are always making choices, taking in as many factors as possible based on our own life experiences and on what we learn from the experiences of others. Those choices bear fruit. And even then, there are events that apparently occur completely out of the realm of our choices, with blessed or harmful outcomes.

We speak of God as Love, which is completely true. But love cannot exist in the absence of free will. And when free will is involved, unlimited variables enter the picture. While this is a HUGE risk for God, it was the only way He/Love can operate.

So where do these disasters come from, and why do they affect some but not all?

The answer is multi faceted. To begin with, I believe this is a "broken" world. It is not what God created or what He intended. It "broke" when His creation exercised their free will and explored rebellion. The long term plan includes redemption and repair on all levels. But in the meantime, humans are still involved and in charge on a daily basis making billions of decisions that affect their own lives and the lives of others on this planet.

While God is all powerful, His power is limited. There are things He can never do. He cannot lie. He cannot control my will without my consent. And He cannot force me to love Him. This is the ultimate beauty of God. He makes room for me to think, to be, to chose and to love. I can see destruction caused by a broken world (including the natural world) and I can understand that He is faithful to whom He is, Loving enough to take the biggest risk of all, risking the universe over the principle of Love that cannot be stopped or changed.

There is no denying that God has and does intervene directly into events that are actually miraculous. We don't always understand what is behind the inexplicable, but I have learned that trusting in, and surrendering to God (after we have made the most informed choices) can reap great rewards even in the presence of great disasters. (All things work together for good...)

There will come a time when destruction, death and disease will end. He will say: "It is enough!" The greater purpose of vindicating the Character and Nature of God against the accusations of the fallen angel will be fulfilled. This fallen angel, who introduced the rebellion through his pride and his choices, will be convicted and destroyed along with those who chose to believe him. Then this planet will be recreated as originally intended, and never shall the universe be visited by rebellion again, for its fruit has been completely revealed to be nothing but destructive.

My part moving forward? Seek a closer, more honest walk with God, relieve suffering where it visits my world, and continue to grow in faith, grace, gratitude, compassion and love. And I chose to live daily with the hope of the complete restoration of all things, and an eternity in close relations with God, and with all who seek the same.

Wishing you peace in your hearts, and a deeper glimpse into God's heart of Love through all things.

© Victor Issa
September 21, 2013

Get Out Of Your Comfort Zone

What is your comfort zone? Do you like to be comfortable? I know that I sure do. Last year my leg started to really hurt. It was very uncomfortable. After several months of pain I finally went to see the doctor. After doing x-rays and other tests, he informed me that I have arthritis. The only treatment is medication to relieve the pain. I was happy that there wasn't a more serious problem, but a bit disheartened that this problem would never go away.

Going to the doctor got me to thinking about how disease parallels our human nature. We are sick spiritually, and God wants to heal us so we won't be sick with sin. The Bible tells us in 2 Corinthians 5:17 that "anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!" We have all heard the term “Born Again” to describe the new life. It is probably one of the most common phrases in the Christian vocabulary. What is a "Born Again" Christian?

In 1 Peter 1:23, the Bible tells us, "you have been born again. This new life did not come from something that dies, but from something that cannot die. You were born again through God’s living message that continues forever". To be "Born Again" means to have a new life.

There is a law of life that states, "everything that is new eventually becomes old". That law has been painfully brought to my attention over the last couple of weeks as I have been going through lots of old pictures.  I recently read an appropriate quote, "youth is a disease from which we all recover". I am recovering nicely, thank you very much.


The next time you are in a big parking lot such as at the mall or at Wal-Mart take a look at the cars. There are some nice new cars. There are some that are in need of some body work. There are a number of old work vehicles. Here in rural Arkansas, there are lots of beat up pick up trucks in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Every car in the parking lot was once a new car. My Daddy has lots of antique cars. They all have something in common. Whether they are nicely restored or are nothing but a rusted out hulk, they were all once new.


DADDY'S 1940 BUICK LIMITED

What happens when the new wears off of our "Born Again" experience? What happens when our new life isn't so new anymore? We get in a rut. When we are in a rut, and are just going through the motions, don’t you think God notices?

All of us have a comfort zone in our life. To get out of the rut, we have to move outside of our comfort zone.


How do we get outside of our comfort zone? Here is a list of ideas that I came up with. Everything on the list may not be for you, but maybe it will help you get some ideas how to get out of your comfort zone, and get out of the rut. Maybe they will help your new life to actually be new again.

1. Expand your circle of friends
2. Study a subject you haven’t studied
3. Examine your core beliefs
4. Listen more and talk less
5. Try doing something that you have been afraid to do
6. Eat between meals - spiritually - don’t let religion be rote
7. Make your own list
8. Don’t be afraid of other religious viewpoints – truth withstands
9. Don't worry about what other Christians are doing
10. Hug somebody
11. Go on a mission trip
12. Don’t be afraid to express yourself
13. Be very gentle when you express yourself
14. Tell people you love them
15. Loosen up, don’t be rigid
16. Affirm a leader
17. Smile, be happy
18. Read a version of the Bible you haven’t read before
19. Visit another country or culture
20. Change the order you do things
21. Help somebody who isn't expecting it
22. Don’t be afraid of change – it isn't inherently evil
23. Call someone you haven’t called for a long time
24. If someone invites you to their church--- GO
25. Learn a new song. Buy a new CD
26. Be more gracious
27. Visit someone you have never visited before
28. Read a Christian book you haven’t read before
29. Take time to do something you really enjoy
30. Give a totally unexpected gift to someone
31. Ask for other peoples opinions
32. Volunteer to tell the children's story
33. Pray instead of being critical
34. Let go of resentment
35. Shake up your prayer life. Pray at different times or ways
36. Say thank you more often
37. If you see your devotions are in a rut shake them up
38. Sit somewhere different in church
39. Intentionally use different phrases when you pray
40. Never forget what Jesus has done for you

Let’s resolve to get out of our comfort zone. Ask God every day for a new life.

Jewels

J is for Jewels. About a month ago Marjorie Maurine Jordan Burden passed away. She was born in 1922 on an Indian Reservation in Winnebago, Nebraska.  During World War II she was a real Rosie the riveter, working at Schrillo Aero Tool Engineering Co. in Los Angeles, California. She married in 1951 and had one child, Conrad in 1952. Her son had numerous health issues and passed away in 1956.  She spent the final years of her life at Peachtree Assisted Living in Mena, Arkansas.

I attended church with her since 1999. She was a quiet little lady who never talked about her past. She had no family in the area. When church members were going through her meager possessions while cleaning out her room they found file cabinets full of writing and family genealogy research. The following story was found in her writings and was read at her memorial service. It was a heart wrenching moment, but the story was so well written that I thought I would share it with my readers.

MY JEWELS
by Maurine Burden

"The disciples of Christ are called His jewels, His precious and peculiar treasure"

Many of us have treasure chests and in them we accumulate the treasure of our life's experience.  I have an old trunk that might well be called my treasure chest.  It is not richly carved like some old treasure chests that I've seen, but it holds my collection of treasures.

With the passing events of time, one by one these treasures are collected and placed in the chest for safe keeping. I had two dolls when I was a child that shared many of my childhood experiences. But there came a day when I washed up all of the little clothes, dressed the dolls in their best, bent over the old trunk - then for a brief moment before they were put away - I recalled the happiness we had had. As I closed the lid there wasn't the slightest wish to have those days back again, nor possible need for them in the future. Childhood was gone. Before me were other days and other experiences which would have to be met. And in the evening of those other days there would be other mementos to be put in my chest.

I said that I had "a" chest - now I have "two".  This second one holds my most precious treasure.  Well I remember the night I placed this treasure in the jewel box.

For days we had plead with God to preserve the life spark in this little body.  But now the anxious pleading had ceased.  God said that the time had come to place my precious treasure in the case for safe keeping.  As we entered the room this evening one of the first things that caught my glance was a beautiful little casket.  "Casket" means a place to put jewels.  What a beautiful little chest to put this precious jewel in - nothing so beautiful as this for my other treasures!

As with the dolls, so these little clothes had to be cleaned.  Tenderly we dressed the little body for the last time.  The little shirt, the pants, the socks, - each had a special memory.

When I lifted his cold little body to place it in the jewel box, for a brief moment I hugged him to my breast and was happy, terribly happy.  I recalled, as with the dolls, those former days.  Carefully I placed him in his resting place.  There was no wish to have those days back nor possible need for the future in this life.  As with childhood so these days too, were gone.  The time had come for this treasure to be placed in the chest.




Because I put my treasures in the old trunk doesn't say that they cease to be mine anymore; neither with my other jewel - it will always be mine.  However this chest God has placed beyond my reach, but I know it is safe for He has marked it's resting place.  We are sharers in "that blessed hope" of being united again on the resurrection morning.

Lest you should misunderstand, there were tears in this experience - lots of them - and it would not have been so easy as it was, even at that, had I not realized that he was now free from sin's power.  No wonder God says. "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints".  Polished and placed beyond the reach of sin as they wait the call of the Lifegiver.

It was as if God had said, there is much work to do and one cannot wear his jewels while he works.  I will take care of them for you but now we must hurry...  I have other jewels, some are lost. Will you ready yourself and help me find them before they are swept away? The urgency of His message impressed me.

Get ready! Get ready! Get ready!

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