Perhaps it is the passing of time and the reaching of those senior years.  Whatever the reason, reflections of people from the past can bring the fondest of memories.  In a life of just beyond seven decades, there have been an unrecognized number of special people whose lives have intermingled in some way.  Unfortunately, many of those people are buried in the recesses of memory and rarely brought to active thought.  Fortunately, on the other hand, the benefits of what each person brings to another person’s life has at least some small measure of shaping who we become.

 John Lennon captured much of this same idea in his song, “In My Life”.

 “There are places I remember – All my life though some have changed – Some forever, not for better – Some have gone and some remain. – All these places have their moments – With lovers and friends I still can recall. – Some are dead and some are living. – In my life I’ve loved them all. “

Among those passing people who had a timely and memorable effect was a guy that came to mind today.  Just call him Dave, though that was not his real name.  In memory, Dave was a stocky man in his thirties when my friends and I were young boys.  He was friendly and likeable.  He was not handsome but had a pleasant appearance.  Interaction with Dave would leave the thought that he was a working-class man who knew what it was to do a job and do it well.  In his younger days he had been a tough and vital player for the football team at the local university.  All the boys at church loved to see Dave.  Each would run to him and stick out a hand.  When Dave took each hand, a battle would begin.  Dave had a powerful grip, and the boys loved to see if any could out-grip him.  None could.  He had a presence about him.  When he was present, it was easy to know he was there.  Sometimes, he was given the chance to lead a song at a church service.  He almost always led the same song; “Revive Us Again”.  It may have been the only song he knew well enough to lead.  He didn’t know music, but when he sang, everyone one wanted to sing with him. 

A description of Dave would not be complete without noting his tender heart.  A guest speaker, who had done some mission work in a third world country, was speaking to a group of men from church, and telling of his experiences.  The speaker related meeting a young girl, who was not quite twelve years old.  He said she was pregnant with her first child.  Almost immediately, there was a sniffling sound.  We all turned to see Dave, who had tears running down his face.  The tough old football player was “cut to the heart”. 

Dave was a good, fun guy that would have been remembered, but there is one special event that remains imprinted in my memory.  It was the summer of 1974 (If I remember correctly), and a group of us were playing softball in a summer church league.  I don’t remember who we were playing, or even if we won the game.  I do remember a couple of innings during the game.  I felt good and had hit a deep ball or two, but nothing worthy of note.  Dave had batted well, earlier times at the plate.  So, he stood in the warm-up circle taking practice swings to be ready to go again.  As he prepared to step to the plate, someone hollered, “Knock it out of the park!”  He turned and said he would try.  The first pitch was knocked foul.  He readied for the next pitch.  Dave drew back, looking like a spring that was ready to suddenly unwind with force.  He swung.  He connected with the ball.  The ball sailed extremely high and landed well beyond the outfield fence.  We all hooped and hollered as he trotted around the bases.  As he came back to the bench, Dave acted as if it wasn’t a big thing, but he was smiling.  He looked at me and said, “Your turn.”

As I began my walk to the plate, I turned to my friend, John, and told him I was going to do what Dave had done.  The first pitch was a ball.  The second pitch looked great, and I swung the bat with all I had.  I connected.  I knew it was a good hit, but didn’t know how deep it would fly.  Heading for first base, I knew it did not sail as high as Dave’s hit.  I was ready to stop at first base or even go back to the bench, but as I watched the ball it cleared the right field fence with just a few feet to spare.  It was the first time I knocked one out of the park.  Truly, it was the only time I knocked one out of the park.  It was just a small-time softball game with a bunch of amateurs in summer league.  Still, it was a special moment for me.  For a short time, I was the king of the softball field.

In reflection, there is wonder.  What brought me (a mediocre ball player) to think I could knock one out of the park.  I am sure that it was Dave’s influence.  If he had not been the fun, encouraging guy that he was, I would not have even tried.  Yes, it was only one time at bat.  No one else would even remember the event.  Dave probably had no idea what his influence was on that day, or what the memory of that moment meant to me.

Again, it might be age and the passing of time that bring special moments from within mental memory books.  For sure, there are many other small moments in our journeys that have brought us to where we are.  There have been too many people to begin to count them all.  Some are dead, and some are living.  Some are far, and some are near.  Perhaps we should tell them how they have affected our lives, or maybe expressions are not really needed.  For maybe it is enough to simply know that every connection with another person makes a difference.

Today, you may well be making a memory that influences the life of another person.  Make it a good one.  “Moreover, I will be careful to ensure that you always have a reminder of these things after my decease” (2 Peter 1:15).

Russell L. Dyer            

October 16, 2025       

There are always changes as time moves forward.  Many people come and go.  To the point, things that are precious today may well be gone tomorrow.  In spite of unstoppable change, there are people and things that we would like to keep with us indefinitely.  

There are plenty of warnings and reminders about the nature of loss and destruction.  Yeah, it may seem to be depressing and even morbid to think about loss. For even as the often-quoted adage reminds us, “This too shall pass.”  The old song from “Showboat” likens the passage of time to the flow of water as the lyrics state, “But old man river, he jes’ keeps rollin’ along.”  The good, the bad, the indifferent, they all flow to the past.

When I was about ten or eleven years old, my father gave me a watch.  It was not just an ordinary wristwatch that could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.  It was an old watch.  It was a pocket watch.  It was my father’s watch.  It had been his father’s watch.  I loved that watch.  I had seen it and admired it for some time.  My father had kept it in his top drawer, and I would often take it out of the drawer to study it. 

The watch did not have a pop-up cover.  The time was always obvious through the glass crystal on the front.  A small second hand had its own place on the lower part of the face.  The winding stem had a simple “u” shaped connector over it.  Attached was a short chain with a “buffalo nickel” at its end.  On the back of the watch was the engraving of a train engine.  The back could be unscrewed so that all the workings could be seen.  Many times, I removed the back, simply to watch the spring rock the wheel that caused all the other wheels to move in their separate motions.  I loved watching the watch work.  I showed it to my friends and carried it in the “watch pocket” of my jeans. 

That pocket watch was special to me for two main reasons.  Number one: It was a gift to me from my father and it had been his.  Number two: Before my father owned it, the watch had been the property of my grandfather.  It had been given to my father by his father.  Being the third owner in the family was a point of pride to me.

As sometimes happened in old watches, the mainspring broke and needed to be replaced.  My mother had it in a drawer with another watch that needed repair.  Before we could get it to the watch repair shop, our house was burglarized.  Among the things stolen were the watches waiting to be repaired.  I was angry.  I felt that a part of my history had been stolen from me.  No thief was ever going to appreciate the value of that watch.  I even imagined it being discarded as valueless when it was realized that the timepiece was broken.  Of course, I never saw that watch again.

There is an often-presented idea, reminding us that things are just things.  Maybe, at some level we accept the premise.  At the same time, we cannot fully convince ourselves.  Perhaps we even quote Jesus.  “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19-20).  Still, to infer that physical things have no value is not exactly true. 

The value of things, and much more people, should never be doubted.  Whether value is tied to actual and practical use, or is held in sentimentality, there is realized value.  The stolen watch had only a small amount of practical value.  With a small amount of money, a very accurate and usable watch can be purchased.  The sentimental value of that old pocket watch was beyond measure.

Perhaps a twist on another scripture may address the sense that is here involved.  Again, it was Jesus who said, “And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28).  So, I may have learned, a thief may take a cherished item from you, but that thief cannot take that value of the item that remains in your heart.  In other words, time and circumstances may rob us of people and “things”, but they cannot rob us of the memories.

So, when people or things are gone from our tangible living it might be good for us to cling to the words of a song often associated with the late Bob Hope.  “Thanks for the memories.”  May we always have the realized and undiminished value of our memories.

Russell L. Dyer

August 14, 2025

Several years ago, when the children were still living at home, we took a walk through our neighborhood together.  It was Mother’s Day.  We had only walked about a half of a block when we came across a ten-dollar bill in the street.  No one else was on the street, and we had no way of knowing whose it was.  So, we just took it and continued our walk.  Of course, there was shared excitement about the found money, and we talked about it.  The conversation funneled into a discussion of what we could do with the money.  It then morphed into how we had occasionally found “dropped” change in a street or in a parking lot.  It was suggested and agreed that we would make it our determined action to look for dropped money for a year and save it.  So, the “ten spot” was placed in a container to be joined by any other money we found.  At the end of the full year, we would then see how much money we had collected.  Thus, it began.  At the end of the year, we emptied the container, counted the money, and learned that we had found a total of seventeen dollars.  Note, the sum of our “found treasure” was not really a substantial amount of money.  It was still something of fun endeavor to find what had been lost, accidentally discarded, or not worthy of a search.  We did not repeat our adventure, but we still watch for change that has been lost along the way.

Run time forward about thirty years. 

Jasper, our dog, and I were on a walk on a recent day.  As we rounded a corner, I looked downward to see a twenty-dollar bill in the debris next to the curb.  No cars were near, and no houses faced the nearby area of the street.  So, I pocketed the money and figured to give it to my wife.  Jasper agreed with my choice.  It was fun to return home and hand the money to my wife, with the explanation of where I got the money.  Again, twenty dollars is not a large sum of money, but it was at least a little bit exciting to deal with an unexpectedly “found treasure” of that size.  It was unusual and made a great story to tell.

On a more recent walk with Jasper, another treasure was found.  Pausing to let Jasper sniff something, I happened to look downward and saw something dark on the concrete street.  Looking closer it appeared to be a brownish-copper disk.  Yes, it was a penny.  Scooping it into my hand, the dirty copper appearance became more obvious.  From the looks of that penny, it may have been on the street for a while.  The penny was a bit discolored and heavily scarred.  The images were heavily scarred from the roughness of the street and apparently having been pressed by many car tires.  While the words and date on the coin were almost unreadable, it was still recognizable as a penny.

Three things came to mind as I examined that little treasure.  (1) No one else had picked-up that penny. Admittedly, it might have been unnoticed. (2) Even if it was recognized, it may not have seemed worth the effort to retrieve it.  It was only a penny.  (3) It was so scarred and abused that it might not even have the value of a penny.

None the less, it was placed in my pocket, and later it found a place on my desk.

On a later day, finishing my morning reading of the Bible and the local paper, that scarred penny caught my eye.  Only, in my mind, it became a representation of something more.  I wondered how many scarred and discarded lives are left in the road of life, not considered to have enough value to be “picked-up”.  I wondered how many times I had counted lives as not worthy of my effort.  Perhaps those lives had been so abused and scarred that it was hard to see much value in them.  Then I remembered the many stories of the people that Jesus touched.  He saw the value in them.  So many had faced the harshness of difficult lives.  Some were products of their own making.  Each of them carried the marring scars that were covering the possibilities of valuable life in them.  But Jesus reached for them, and the value was there.  The words He shared with some fishermen are a testimonial of the treasure He saw, and still sees, in every life, “I will make you become” (Mark 1:17).   Even a scarred and abused penny can be a treasure.

As this little is being written, Jasper and I have just returned from another walk.  Yes, again I found another heavily scarred penny, lost in the street.  And yes, I put it in my pocket.  A little later, I noticed three more pennies in the street.  The three pennies were in much better shape, and yes, I put them in my pocket too. 

Every “penny” needs to know it is a treasure.

Russell L. Dyer

6/19/2025

Everyone has secrets.  There are thoughts and experiences that are held deep in the recesses of mind.  Sometimes those thoughts are buried as deeply as possible, with the desire that even the thinker will never consciously recognize them again. 

So, as a contrast, think about the truth behind such things.  It really is simple.  For, the fact is, a secret is only a secret until it is told, seen, or in some way recognizably shared.  After any kind of recognition or revelation, it is no longer a secret.  For even when a thing is shared in confidence, if it is shared confidentially one time, what is to prevent it from being shared in confidence (even with good intentions) again and again.  It may not be in the class of gossip.  It may just be a fire in the bones, longing to “get out”.  Personal secrets are best kept personally, if they are to be kept as secrets.

Beyond personal matters, there are larger secrets of groups, organizations, or even nations.  The well used adage of security during wartime is: “Loose lips sink ships.”  The security of many people may depend on secrets being kept to never reach the ears of enemies.

When there is a secret, it means that something is hidden.  Whenever it is known that there is something hidden, there is a seemingly natural desire to uncover the secret.  So, when curiosity is aroused, its driving force is one of the most powerful motivations of the human spirit.  It may be a common saying which offers the reminder of curiosity killing the cat, and so reality boldly tells that curiosity can truly push in a dangerous or even a destructive direction.  In contrast to the negative, there is also a more beneficial side to this driving force.  Consider what has been added to the volume of human knowledge and experience out of curiosity.  Armed with curiosity, explorers launched small ships into the unknown to find new lands in unexplored parts of this world.  Further, there is knowledge of the far reaches of space and the depths of this world’s oceans.  No reminder is needed to tell of how technology has changed so many aspects of the functions of life and work.  So much of what is taken for granted in the present began in the curiosity of someone’s mind.  Nothing is thought of flipping a light switch, adjusting a thermostat, or starting a car.  When something is yet unknown, or seemingly hidden, it is a secret that an innate desire longs to uncover.

Truly, not all secrets are treasures to be uncovered.  Some of them are purposely private matters and are best to be held in such reserve.  Note, there are questions that ought to be asked before sharing a secret.  Will it do harm to another person when it is shared?  Will telling the matter breach a trusted confidence?  Will the benefit of sharing outweigh any negative consequences that may result?  Are the ones to whom a secret is revealed ready to handle what may come as a result?  There are probably many other questions that ought to be asked.  Such questions are just a reminder that revealing a secret is not always a simple matter.

Still, there are secrets and treasures that deserve to be brought to light.  There may be some pieces of knowledge that could be a benefit to many others.  Faith and love are two of the large matters that cannot be kept secret.  Love cannot be held in secret, or it ceases to exist within its unshared state.  Similarly, faith that is hidden ceases to be faith.  Each becomes like a light that is beneath an impenetrable cover. 

It must be noted though, when a secret is revealed, it cannot be un-revealed.  Generally, a secret takes a life of its own and grows uninhibitedly.  It becomes like a statement on social media.  Once it is there, it cannot be fully taken back.  At the heart of one of the pop hits of the Beatles we find two imposingly opposing questions: “Do you want to know a secret?  Do you promise not to tell?”  Of course, the hearer wants to know.  At the same time, once it is told or shown, it ceases to have the privacy of a real secret.  Well, love of one person for another should never really be a secret anyway.  Let Romeo and Juliet be an example of error.

Anyway, all of this was simply to be clear.  If you tell a secret, most of the time it will cease to be a private matter.  If it is not something that needs to be shared, keep it a secret.  If it is something to be shared, let it be shared.  Again, a secret is a secret only until it is told.

Russell L. Dyer

6/12/2025

How are you?  One of the first and most common questions we ask when meeting someone we know is: “How are you doing?”  Are you as you think you are, or as you answer?  The New Testament writer, and presumed brother of Jesus called us to consider the good sense of looking at ourselves in a mirror and remember what we have seen (James 1:22-24).  As he addresses the subject, he states that it is still a possibility for anyone to walk away from a mirror and forget the real nature of one’s appearance. 

One day, while going through a workout in a popular gym, my interest was ignited as I watched some of the workout enthusiasts study their reflections.  Large mirrors covered the walls in much of the area, especially the area in which people worked with the “free weights”.  As these people moved weights through their various positions, their eyes were fixed on their own reflections.  Even as the weights were returned to the resting positions, the attention of the individual continued to study the reflection in the mirror.  Some of them would even flex muscles and twist their bodies to capture a moving view of the part of the body each had just been exercising. 

An initial view of these body-conscious, workout enthusiast might lead to the thought that such “bodybuilders” are simply vain worshippers of a perception of the well-developed human form.  That thought might even be correct.  No doubt, there are plenty of narcissists who have fallen in love with their own image in the reflecting pool.    Before we are too harsh, we must admit that if honesty is recognized, it must be admitted that there is at least a little bit of narcissism in each of us.

Perhaps there is more to mirror watching and studying than the initial consideration may have ascribed.  For, if there is a goal to be achieved in any pursuit, including bodybuilding, there must be a way to study progress and examine the correctness of the actions taken toward achieving that goal.  Mirrors help us track, measure, and adjust what we do as we look for positive results.

Consider —

There are all kinds of mirrors.  Yes, it is common to picture the image of the “looking glass” when the word is mentioned.  Broadening the view of application, there may be many means of allowing a person to accurately understand any aspect of life may be considered a mirror.  The wicked queen in the Grimm Brothers’ story of “Snow White” looks to her physical mirror with the intent of being rewarded with our own beauty.  In Michael Jackson’s self-examining song, “Man in the Mirror”, there is the challenge of examining the character and actions of a one’s own life.  Quite often, a trusted confidant may be a truly resourceful “mirror” in an effort to get a clear picture of personal conduct or appearance.

Let me take the thought of the mirror to the personal level.  As a preacher, teacher, and public speaker for about fifty years, I have found a kind of “mirror” to be my most challenging critic.  By “mirror”, I am addressing the visual or audible recordings of something I have presented.  It can be torturous to listen to the recording of my/your own voice and/or watch my/your movements.  Still, it can be an excellent learning and adjustment tool.  What I have often found is that I did not say or do things that exact same way I thought I did.  Such a mirror view can really bring a person down a few notches in an opinion of self.  What is better, that same mirror can help see what needs to be changed.   Let me also say that drawing on that mirror can also show the things that are good.  Every public speaker would be wise to take time to look and listen whenever it is possible. 

Looking in the mirror is about becoming and being the best you can be.  Think about it.  Why do we tend to have reflective mirrors in our bathrooms and (often) near the doors of our homes.  You know why.  We check ourselves.  We adjust our clothing.  We comb or fix our hair.  We look for any spot, stain, or blemish that might mar our appearance to others.  Speaking generally, no matter how good looking or homely we consider ourselves to be, we want to be seen in a positive way.  Thus, we use the mirror to measure and adjust ourselves before we move forward.

There are two keys to the value of a mirror. 

The first key is that of finding an honest mirror.  If there is good to be derived from a mirror, it must give an honest or accurate reflection.  Whether the reflection is literally physical, or more of a work status kind of thing, the reflective information needs to be accurate and understandable.

The second key is that of using the information the mirror provides.  Like any information given to us, the information from a mirror must be put to use if it is to be of any value.  Accepting corrective information requires a humble willingness to apply it.

So, mirrors of any kind are not just about vanity.  They are one of the better tools for seeing self as clearly as possible.  If we want to see ourselves as we are, see our shortcomings, see where we can improve, or even recognize our strengths, mirrors are invaluable.

If you want to find the best you that you can be, take this advice: Take a look in a good mirror.

Russell L. Dyer

1/11/2025

There are stories, whether written or told, that deeply touch the emotions of our lives.  Of course, Jesus told a great number of stories in His teaching.  Some of those stories were little more than a few lines, while others were much more elaborate.  Every story was intended to make a personal point to each of His listeners.  Some people were angered as they made applications to their lives.  Other people were moved to make changes in their patterns of life.  What they had in common was the personal impact of the story.

One of the most emotionally impacting and best remembered stories from Jesus was the one that is often called, “The Prodigal Son” (Luke 15:11-32).   In the story, Jesus tells of a young man, who becomes lost and then is found.  Through the series of self-caused and circumstantial events, listeners and readers see the young man change.  From an arrogant and self-absorbed youth, he is transformed to a repentant, humble, and self-aware person.  At the pivotal point in the story, Jesus uses the phrase, “When he came to himself ….”  The story appears to end with the forgiveness and restoration the young man finds when he repentantly returns to his father.  Then to remind us of the struggles of the human element, the elder brother enters with grievances that focus on the prodigal behavior of his younger brother.  Again, it is the heart of the father and his embrace of both sons that elevates the beauty of the story.

Perhaps this special story has such a powerfully emotional impact, because we can see ourselves in the story.  For, if we are honest with self, we all have or have had some of the feelings recognizable in the picture of the young man.  Maybe we relate to the desire to be free of the restrictions found in the control of home and parents.  It might be a sense of wanting to break personal patterns and find a new self.  It could be a moment of realization; one that has brought a longing for the seemingly impossible opportunity to erase all the mistakes and transgressions of life.  With that erasure of wrongs, we then long to have the blessing of a new beginning.  Further, who doesn’t need a loving father who is ready to forgive and restore?  It is a message that easily becomes personal.  Yes, Jesus is relating to every person’s relationship with God.  For many of us, it is also a very real picture of personal relationships with family and others.

There are aspects known in life that are challenging and tough to absorb.  We may long to believe that at some point life ought to slide with comfort and ease.  Such is a foolish fantasy.  Yes, there may be days of blissful contentment.  There will also be days win which we pay high prices simply to get through the day.  Ringo Starr wrote in his song, “You know it don’t come easy.  Got to pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues.  And you know it don’t come easy.”  For sure, there are many times that “it don’t come easy” when it comes to life.

In the naivete of childhood we dream of how easy life will be when we get to the point where we are only responsible to and for ourselves.  Of course, if we live long enough, we come to realize that such a childhood fantasy is far from reality.  There may be those hermits and escapees from community life who become something like islands unto themselves.  Such a life is no utopia.  The old song reminds us, “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”  Yes, the lyrics are a bet trite, but it is still true.  As Jesus boldly stated,” Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends” (John 15:13), the value of what Jesus meant went beyond His own sacrifice.  For, the most valuable treasures of life are found in the sharing of them, no matter the cost. 

When the prodigal son made his way home, he was beginning to see the need of the shared life.  So, as the father saw his wandering son traveling the road home, he was able to rebuild that costly hope.  Later, the father was able to challenge his other son toward that same value.  If we could have asked any of the three men, they may well have agreed with the point.  For none of them did it come easy.

So when a story cuts so deeply into the fabric of our lives there is the privilege to learn and to grow.  As in the story, becoming the people we need to be comes to us by way of meeting challenges, making mistakes, and embracing new opportunities.  It is a part of what is presented in all three characters of Jesus’ story.  How we view our lives and the lives of the people around us cannot help but be affected by the imagery in the stories we hear and share.  Just because it “don’t come easy” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t embrace the opportunity.

Russell L. Dyer

10/16/2024

There is something special to recognize in the legacy of the generation that was a part of the early days and growth of television.  Of course, you will best understand what is meant if you have several decades of age on you.  For, while homes, restaurants, and many other places have well placed televisions offering a constant barrage of entertainment and media information, it was not so in the earlier days television.  TV sets were not so prolific.  How television, and its programming were viewed may offer some insights into our present culture, as well as what we were like in a seemingly simpler time.

For many, there was a growing practice of appointment family viewing associated with the numerical growth of television sets in homes spread across the country.  By the late 1950s, and even more so into the 1960s, there were programs assigned to a time frame, and people often worked their schedules to be in front of a television in order to watch many of them.  It might have been “I Love Lucy”, “The Andy Griffith Show”, “Gunsmoke”, “Bonanza”, “The Ed Sullivan Show”, “The Jackie Gleason Show”, “The Porter Wagoner Show” (when it included Dolly Parton), “As the World Turns”, or many other popular shows that attracted the attention.  Foil bound “TV Dinners” were heated and then eaten on “TV Trays” while a favored show was being broadcast.  Even if the meals cooked on aluminum foil trays were not used, it was still common to gather for an informal meal eaten in front of the electrical box.  The new advertising market, food that was eaten, the slang being used, and even the learned family interaction became a part of the adapting American culture.    

As the decade of the 60s progressed, many of the programs began to broadcast in what was then known as “living color”.  It did take time for color televisions to become the norm.  So, many families still watched in “black and white” and looked forward to the day they could afford a new set and be able to do more than imagine the color of Lucy’s hair.  Further, having a 21” screen was a luxury identifying the family that had it made. 

There should be no doubt that television changed the expectations for entertainment.  For, prior to the 1950s home entertainment was limited to radio.  Visual entertainment was limited to the movie theater or stage.

So, here is a question.  Why were (and still are) people so attracted to television and the programs to be watched?

Consider a note from our history.  From ancient times, we humans have loved engaging stories.  We have always thrilled to hear something that fired our imaginations and drove our desires.  Many a family or civic gathering centered on someone being an entertaining storyteller.  Some became more professional, and people flocked to hear the stories as they were told.  Pictures would form in the minds of listeners.  Visions painted from the unfolding tales would help listeners to not only hear the stories, but to also picture themselves in the events that were being described.

Fast forward to the growing television era.  Arriving at a time when there were already many adjustments in the culture and style of living.  There were differences in many aspects of living, but mostly, the same basic human desires remained intact.  Though the media of telling changed, the love of stories remained.  Television simply brought professional visual and auditory storytelling into individual family homes.

So, enlarge and adapt the question.  What is it that made storytelling, especially by way of television, a common appointment. 

Really, it is not hard to understand. 

In real life, our lives are not always what we want them to be.  It’s not that we despise our lives.  Generally, we are thankful for the lives we have.  So, perhaps we sometimes look at ourselves in the light of a fantasy, and we think about what it would be like to inhabit the stories presented on the television.  It is not just little boys who imagined what it would be like to be Marshall Matt Dillon, and bring law and order by having a faster gun.  There were also those grown men who imagined being Ben Cartwright and displaying nobility while managing the great Ponderosa.  It may be true that comedy was the common connection, there is no doubt that many ladies longed to take the place of Lucy Ricardo and make less ridiculous choices.  Think about it.  Who wouldn’t want to live in a town like Mayberry, where everyone is your friend, and the bad guys are not so bad?

Perhaps the greatest draw of television was the fantasy that any of life’s problems could be solved in one episode.  Thirty minutes, or at most a full hour, was all that was/is needed to bring life into balance.  Still, more than seventy years later, the fantasy remains.  When reality comes back to control our minds, we may begin to realize that our fascination with our television entertainment is just that, and no more.  It is not real.  Even our fascination with the people who play the roles on those television shows comes to understand those people are not what they appear to be in the program.  In a personal interview, Andy Griffith told that people often met him expecting him to be the character he played on the show.  He was not.  It was “only make-believe”.

In contrast, there is an offer that is not fantasy.  It is found in God, through Jesus.  He has called us not to a fantasy, but to a promise of life.  Yes, life will still have its ups and downs.  We will still face problems with people, and with ourselves.  Many of these problems will take more time than a thirty-minute television show to solve.  The personal investment and trust will require more than just viewing from our comfortable chair at home.  If we listen and follow, there is a life of reality and permanency.  It is a life of being and doing.  It is a call to change and opportunity, much like He extended to some fishermen so long ago.  “Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men” (Mark 1:17).  What they saw was more than an entertaining show.

So, don’t get lost in the fantasy of the television stories.  Remember, they are just entertainment.  Follow the better attraction offering reality with a place for life, now and eternal.  “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

Russell L. Dyer

September 12, 2024

There was an unplanned piece of travel that opened the door to the proximity of family history.  It was late April in 1984.  We had finished a Sunday speaking appointment in a small town in Texas.  My grandparents lived less than three hours from where we were.  So, we decided to take a few days to visit with them.  They were staying at their warm weather place.  Actually, what they owned was a fairly basic “fishing cabin” at Oak Creek Lake; about thirty miles south of Sweetwater, Texas.  Why the word “Oak” was in the name is a bit of a mystery to me.  There were plenty of Mesquite trees, some Mimosa trees, and a few other species.  Maybe there were some Live Oak trees, but they were not abundant in the area.  Enough about the trees.  We were happy to take our two children and be at the lake and with my grandparents for a while.

Anyone who has connections to such a place as comes to my mind, it truly blessed.  For, from the times before I can remember, my grandparents’ cabin was a special place in my life.  It was remote, fairly primitive, and very different from our city life.  The locale was, and still is, a microcosm of the rugged landscape found in much of West Texas.   They came to call it “Mesquite Retreat”.  Yes, it was an obvious and yet somewhat audacious name.  After all, a retreat was supposed to be a place of comfort and special care.  The most common ideas of comfort were quite foreign to that cabin.  It was one main room that included the kitchen, a single bathroom, an added back room, and surrounding screened porches where we all slept.  There was a lost of togetherness and very little privacy.  Still, as primitive as it was, the place really was an escape from the pressures of ordinary life.  During the summer, my mother would take my sisters and me for a visit to that lake retreat.  We would stay for only a couple of weeks.  It was always among the most memorable days of each year.

Adulthood, marriage, two children (at that time), and work had lessened the times as well as the ability to spend time at the lake with my grandparents.  So, as we made our visit, in 1984, we found renewed attachment to the place and the relaxed spirit it invested within us.  During our visit, we did a few repair jobs, including some new roofing on the front porch.  We also dabbed some tar on places that had been hit during a recent hailstorm.   At some point in our repair work, I looked behind me to see that my eighty-four-year-old grandmother was also on the roof and dabbing tar.  I couldn’t convince her to climb down from the roof.  She was quite a worker, and just a bit stubborn.

On another day, during our visit, we all loaded into my grandparents’ car and took a drive around the countryside.  My grandmother took the role of tour guide as she pointed to places that held some significance.  Being directed to a certain road, she called on me to stop the car near a particular field.  She pointed to an area near a small group of trees.  As we looked in that direction, she offered a piece of personal and family history.  The place to which she pointed, she explained, was the place where my grandfather’s family settled when they first made their way into that part of Texas.  My grandfather was born in 1896, and he was only a baby when they arrived in the area.  Thus, the year would have been about 1897, about 87 years prior to showing the place to me.  She further explained that the family didn’t have much.  They had lived in very basic circumstances.  In their first year or two they used their wagon and a “lean-to” amid the scarce trees as their home.  I couldn’t help but recognize that while my grandmother recounted the story of my grandfather’s family, we were travelling in a modern car with all the modern conveniences a car had to offer.  The rugged and primitive life being described seemed to be very distant.  At some point it struck me that we were talking about the man who was riding in the car next to me.  Having him there brought to realization that the carefully described, primitive life was really not of such a distant past after all. 

It was only a decade later that both of my grandparents were gone.  Frozen in memory, those stories of that life didn’t seem to be so distant after all.

Several years passed and my family was in the hometown of my youth for a visit with my parents.  My wife, children, and I took a walk and found our way to the elementary school I had attended.  The school was not in session and locked tight.  So, I pointed the children to some of the rooms that were in my memory.  As I lifted each of the children to look through the windows, it was obvious they thought they were peering into ancient history.  Yet, to me it seemed like it was only “yesterday”.  It was only a few years after the day of our visit that the aged school was replaced at a new location, and the old building was removed.  All that remains are the memories in the hearts of those of us who shared our time there.  Again, it seems so much a part of who I am, and as if it was only yesterday.

John Lennon wrote, “There are places I’ll remember all my life, though some have changed.”  We all have them.  And so, it is.  The ever-forward progression of life leaves very special times as vitally enjoyed memories.  Without them, we would be wandering without direction and bereft of much of our joy in living.  And though these special times, people, and places may seem to grow distant in the passage of time, they may all remain ever near at they remain in the heart.  It is true, we may not be able to physically return to those places and times.  We may not be able to bring back the loved ones who are now gone.  We can still share the power of them all; and leave a reminder of them with the people we now have with us, to remain long after we are gone.

The bold apostle, Peter, knew the value of keeping the past near.  He wrote, “Yes, I think it is right, as long as I am in this tent, to stir you up by reminding you, knowing that shortly I must put off my tent, just as our Lord Jesus Christ showed me.  Moreover, I will be careful to ensure that you always have a reminder of these things after my decease” (2 Peter 1:13-15).  What we have learned and lived in the past days is not to be discarded or lost.  It is not to be ignored or considered of no value.  What God has done for us and with us is important.  When it is important, it is to be shared.  It is all really not long ago, and definitely not far away.

Russell L. Dyer

August 26, 2024

Jesus described a situation that included an intangible and impenetrable distance.  “And besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who want to pass from here to you cannot, nor can those from there pass to us” (Luke 16:26).  He did so to make an effective point.

Still, it is good to develop the confidence that not all gulfs and distances are un-crossable.

If you have thoughtfully stood on the seashore and stared across the seemingly unending plain of marine colored water, you know how separated the shores of the world may seem.  In ages of the past the distance seemed impossible for all but a few adventurers.  In the present, crossing those great and distant gulfs is common and is done with little thought.  So, as we imagine and consider great gulfs, it might be good to remember that in many cases, distance is relative to personal perception. 

Many parents have had the experience of putting a child in a car to begin a journey with some level of acceptance by the child.  Before long that child may want to know, “How much farther.” How can it be explained that the trip has a distance and a bit of time yet to go?  No matter what answer is given to the child, the distance will seem to be too far.

Maybe even the distance life may appear, at times, to be like the crossing of a great gulf.  Perhaps, the lyrics of the song by the Los Lonely Boys fits into our pondering.  “I’ve been locked up way too long in this crazy world. How far is Heaven? And I just keep on prayin’ Lord, and just keep on livin’.  How far is Heaven?  Yeah, Lord, can you tell me? How far is Heaven?”

The primary way that we view separation is by relating it in terms of geographic distance.  We may even tend to describe how far we are from another person by using terms of recognized segments of time and travel.  For example, a relative’s home is often stated in how long it takes to drive there from a personal place.  It might be said, “Mom lives across town, about thirty minutes from me.”

There are also those special times in which distance may be considered by less mechanical means, and more by emotional/intellectual distances.  There was a scene from the old television show, M*A*S*H, in which two of the characters, Hawkeye and Winchester, discussed their relationships with their fathers.  It may not be the exact quote, but it went something like this: Winchester said, “Where you have a dad, I have a father.  You are close to your dad even though you are thousands of miles apart.  My father and I have been thousands of miles apart when we were in the same room.”  He might well have said that there was a great gulf between his father and him. 

In the non-geographic gulfs, a lot of societies have recognizably great gulfs or distances between the various and determined groups.  Race, gender, education, money, profession, and any number of real and arbitrarily determined divisions create the opportunity to separate.  Many of the divisional gulfs may never be fully crossed by all.  Yes, there will always be those who fearfully stand on distant shores.  At the same time, we may find that even the greatest gulfs may be crossed by the bold, and those who care enough to try.  For thousands of years, people of adventure have boldly sought to go to places that they believe “no man has gone before”.  Where would we be if there had been no desire to reach across, and even find the way to shores beyond the known horizon?  Transfer that bold, desirous, and caring spirit to those gulfs or distances that are more measured by the heart than by the geographic distance.  Again, it may be too simplistic to simply challenge us all to just “get along”.  Even so, it is a place to start.

The greatest gulfs really are the ones we find between the hearts of people.  Those gulfs, though not as tangible as the ones in physical designations, are yet very real in effect.  Even more, the greatest courage may be found in those who dare to cross those gulfs.  For therein such a pursuit, we are exposed as truly open and vulnerable.  At the same time, we cannot ignore the benefits found in such a crossing of that gulf.  It is almost beyond description to know the result of building a bond that blesses. 

Why not cross the great human gulfs and make a better life for all?

Russell L. Dyer

July 22, 2024

It’s Just a Backyard!

It may be just a backyard, but for those who claim ownership if it, it is often much more.

On a recent morning, I was sitting at the table and finishing my daily morning readings.  I had read some pages from the Bible, in the latter part of the book of Numbers.  That section is not the most riveting portion of scripture, but it is where my reading took me. When I finished my scripture reading, I grazed through the online version of daily newspaper, finishing with the comics.  It has been my common routine for quite some time.  It is also a solo act. 

Lost in my thoughts, I was pondering the status of life and all the apparent challenges to be addressed.  About that time, the words of Brian Wilson’s internal song slid across the crevices of my wandering brain. Perhaps those words relate to many of us in the pressured events of our lives.  Consider his words.  “There’s a world where I can go and tell my secrets to: In my room – In my room. In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears. In my room – In my room. Do my dreaming and my scheming; Lie awake and pray; Do my crying and my sighing; Laugh at yesterday.  Now it’s dark and I’m alone but I won’t be afraid; In my room.” 

Perhaps, I too was looking for a place to escape. For, when all the reading was done for the morning, my attention was taken from the table activities to the out of doors.

It was a beautiful morning.  The sun was rising higher in the sky.  The temperature was warm and comfortable, as it often is in the late spring.  It was the kind of day that draws just about anyone out of the house.

I passed through the back door, crossed the covered patio, and stood amid the green grass of our moderately large back yard.  In that moment, I reflected on the present day as well as the more than thirty years of history that have transformed the nature of our backyard.  I was awash with memories.  Both of our daughters had their weddings in that yard.  More than two hundred people gathered for each of the ceremonies.  We had worked, played, cooked, and simply lived in that yard.

As I paused for a few moments to absorb the nature around me, I couldn’t help but notice the amazing array of springtime colors that filled our vista.  Flower beds line the perimeter of most of the yard, and each is packed with an eclectic display of style, type, and color.  Along with the plant life, there are also several unique objects to add character to the display.  Bicycles, rocking chairs, old doors, a wind spinner, an old gate, and a variety of small characters can be seen scattered through the various areas.  Each area is backed by a standard, six-foot, wooden fence.

Enclosed by that fence, a commonly described “privacy fence”, that backyard is something of an island; separated from the rest of the world.  While filled with memories of family, friends, and various events that island is a place of peace, as the outside cares and troubles are far removed.   

In my thinking, Brian Wilson may have had his room, but I had my backyard island.  As stated, I was feeling a bit burdened.  That backyard island was the respite that I needed.  There would be time enough to return to the rest of my world.  Perhaps that return with a refreshed spirit would find that the perceived burdens would not seem to be quite so heavy. 

Maybe we all need an island.  Maybe it is a well decorated backyard, a private room, a safe space, or simply a person of trust.  Whatever, whomever, or wherever it may be, may it be the place that is answers the needs.

One of my favorite passages of scripture reminds me that we do have a place to go. “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).  I see a parallel.  I hope you do too.

Yes, it is just a backyard, but what a place to go!

Russell L. Dyer

July 1, 2024

“Therefore, when He had risen from the dead, His disciples remembered that He had said this to them; and they believed the Scripture and the word which Jesus had said.” – John 2:22

We had been gone for several days.  I had been to a personal speaking engagement in West Texas.  My father had travelled with me, and we had taken the opportunity to visit several of our family members who all lived in the general part of the state.  It was time to return home, and I was anxious to see my wife and children.  We rose early, left our hotel, and hit the road.  We stopped at a roadside diner for some breakfast.  We ate our order, determined it was adequate, and then returned to the road.  As we pointed east, it was still a little before sunrise.  My father heavily suggested that we take some of the “back-roads” to avoid the interstate highways.  So, we did. 

We had not travelled far when my father interrupted the news on the radio to get my attention.  He was looking through the window as he spoke.  Over the years, his eyesight had been diminished by macular degeneration.  So, there were real vacancies in what he could see, and yet I am sure he saw more than I did.  After a pause, he somewhat rhetorically said, “Isn’t that beautiful?”  I looked across the vast vista of the Texas landscape, captured in early morning light.  There were gnarled Mesquite trees, some sporadic wild grass, and a lot of rugged land.  Remember, I was anxious to get home.  It didn’t look all beautiful or attractive to me.  He didn’t turn his head from the window.  I put my eyes back on the road, checked our speed, listened to the news, and thought of getting home.

Many years earlier, in my junior year of high school, I took a class in Trigonometry.  I thought I was a math genius.  Most math had come to me with minimal effort.  The teacher of the class was Mr. Harrison.  He was an interesting man, and a pretty good teacher.  He seemed to really understand the math.  I learned that some of those Trigonometry problems were lengthy and complex.  There were problems that took a full page of equations to arrive at a final solution.  It was tedious, and time consuming.  Once in while Mr. Harrison would stop at my desk, look at my work, and point to some error I had made in my calculations.  He noted the were points at which I had used the wrong formula.  I would sometimes point to my final solution being correct.  He would agree, and then tell me that solving the problem was more than just getting the right answer.  At the time, I thought he was just making me do a lot of extra work.

A couple of years later, in college, an English Composition teacher would press on me the importance of getting the words and grammar in their proper order.  He taught that making an image clear when you are writing is more than just the general idea of making a point.  It relies on the use of words to paint an understandable and accurate picture in the mind of the reader. Again, the importance of another message slipped past me.

Could it be that life is often no more than achieving certain goals?  Some goals may be large, while others are quite small.  Maybe we need some reminders of the journey’s value toward reaching those goals. 

It took me a while to realize that simply reaching a perceived goal is not the full picture of life. 

Mr. Harrison helped me learn that getting to the correct final answer is not the greatest benefit of math.  All the figuring and computation to get to the solution is as much value, if not more than the final answer. 

The English composition teacher helped me understand that it is not just having the right words to complete the thought.  Effectively communicating the full and accurate picture of your thoughts to another person demands careful, creative, and organized expression.  Proper grammar is a must.

More than any of these other mentioned lessons, my father taught me something of life’s beauty.  We often hear the old adage, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”  It definitely is.  As he looked to the rugged and almost barren countryside, my father could see his own journey of life.  There, about us, was the vista of his childhood and youth.  Images of history were alive in his mind.  It really was not the beauty of the landscape, but the value of the life that was drawn from where he had been.  At the time, it was to me simply a passthrough on my way to a destination. 

So, my perception changed.  Remember, there is something to learn in these events.  My heart has changed with my perception.  The beauty of learning is in the journey that gets you to the destination.

We owe a debt of gratitude to those teachers who challenged us to go the extra mile in understanding the working toward the completion of the present assignment.  We owe an even greater debt to those parents who shared the beauty of their journeys that brought them to where they are. 

For me, I cannot see that landscape of my father’s youth without appreciation for the beauty of the man he became.  Perhaps we can share with our own children, and they will ultimately  gain some of the same value of the journey that comes long before the final destination.

Russell L. Dyer – 4/24/2024

“He being dead still speaks”. – Hebrews 11:4

As parents, we may often wonder if our children are really hearing us.  As children we cringe and disparage challengingly corrective words which seem too harsh.  Then there comes that day in which the children become the parents.  Words that were sworn to never be used toward the next generation become the words of choice.  Really, choice may not be the most accurate description.  Those words seem to simply well up from some previously hidden place, and with very little thought attached to them.  It can be shocking.  Hearing the detested words of parents flowing from your own lips can be thought provoking.  Maybe there is then a new understanding of circumstances.  More, it may be that there is an embedded voice that we hear.  There is a truth in life.  The words and influence of those powerful examples in our lives often speak to us and through us, even though those parents and others may be long departed.  Fortunately, it is not just the words that were thought to never be expressed.  It may just as well be the words of love, courage, and wisdom.

There is the Old Testament story of the day before King Saul died.  He was in turmoil, and needed something that he did not find in the people around him.  He longed to hear the words of his old mentor and advisor, Samuel.  Years before that day Saul had rejected the instructions from Samuel.  In his hour of trial, the longing to hear the old prophet called to him.  It didn’t matter that Samuel had been dead for some time.  The strength of the past relationship called upon what he had seen and heard, regardless of how he had considered it in the past.  As unpleasant as it was, it was what Saul wanted and maybe needed.

Typically, we strive to weave our own unique paths through this life.  If we are honest with ourselves, we have to recognize that we have not walked an untread path.  There were others who walked before us.  As the faithful people of the past are described, the writer of Hebrews refers to the life and righteousness of Abel.  Though we know little of his life, and mostly remember that he was killed by his brother, it is his devotion to a righteous life that continues to speak.  Dead for thousands of years, his voice is still heard. 

In all civilized societies, and maybe even in those that are not so civilized, we hold tightly to the words of those who have walked the path before us.  In this country, we often quote our heroes.  Whether it is the well placed words of Thomas Jefferson, the challenging words of Patrick Henry, the final words of Nathan Hale, or the common statements of many others, we are reminded of our origins and the sacrificial work it took to establish this nation.  Perhaps no one in our history has been more quoted than Abraham Lincoln.  In such a way, he still speaks.  There have been many who have shared their insights of the growing pains of strife that have helped get us to where we are.  Their shared words of every cause have made a memorable mark.  It may be that few of those speakers were thinking of the lasting value of their words.  Still, their words expressed something of their personal visions as they looked well beyond their own times.  As Katharine Lee Bates shared, “O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years.”

Here is the reality.  There are special people who though they are long dead, still speak.  They speak because we remember.  One of the great values we can hold in our lives is the ability to draw upon the voices of those who are long gone.  Perhaps we ask, “What would Mom, Dad, or someone else say about these things.  Even if we don’t ask, the voice can still be heard. 

It is a blessing to be able to say, “I sill hear you.”

Russell L. Dyer – 4/16/2024

The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. – John 3:8

Maybe age has something to do with it.  There just seem to be so many things that I think I will not fully understand about this world.  Perhaps, you too wonder why things in the nature of the world are just as they are.

I stepped through the doorway and onto the covered patio at the rear of our house.  As usual there was a pretty good breeze blowing.  The sun was shining.  It appeared to be a pretty decent day.  Then a sound caught my attention.  It sounded like sporadic rain was hitting the roof of the patio.  The roof is covered with those translucent panels.  The sound of any rain on those panels seems to be magnified when standing beneath them.  Anyway, I paused to listen and wonder how it could be raining on a sunny day.  Within a couple of moments, I realized that it was not the sound of rain I was hearing.  It was one of clever wonders of springtime nature. 

Across the street from my front door, in my neighbor’s yard, there are two Maple trees.  Every spring, those trees burst forth with an abundance of seeds.  It was those seeds, being blown across my patio cover, mimicking the sound of rain, that caught my attention.  The unique seeds of Maple trees have a design that are made for the springtime winds in the area.  As children, my friends and I loved them.  My father even taught me how to make some fun noises with them.  We called them helicopters.  The seed is on one end and a broad blade constitutes the rest of its body.  Whether caught in the strong March winds, or simply floating on a minimal breeze, the spinning effect is much like the whirling blades of a multitude of helicopters.  Those seeds land on any happenstance place.  Lawns are dotted.  Cars are masked.  Sidewalks are carpeted.  Rains wash many of them into storm sewers.  Many of them are left in places in which they cannot grow, but there they turn into the natural habitat for some other plants to grow.  If all goes well, some of those spinning seeds make their way into just the right place, and a new Maple tree begins its long life.

So, back to the sound coming from the patio cover.  As stated, it wasn’t the sound of rain.  It was that clever wonder of springtime nature.  Through the translucence of the overhead patio cover I could see the shape of those “helicopter” seeds.  I stood for a moment as I wondered at the sound.  Then I pondered at the journey.  How could so many of those seeds make it so far from the trees, rise over the house, to finally land above my head.  Then, even as my mind wandered a brief breeze stirred many of those fluttering seeds, drawing them into flight again.  Amazed, I marveled at the wonder of these precious opportunities of the future.  The question arose, “How can these things come to be?”  As my mind often does, I thought of a song.  It was Bob Dylan’s song “Blowin’ in the Wind”.  The words registered.  “The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind.  The answer is blowin’ in the wind.”  But what does that lead me to understand?

Simply, there is within each seed a nature that is emboldened in the wind.  It was brought to be with purpose and power.  Like the helicopter seed, the wind has design and reason.  As the wind blows, we cannot see it.  Still, we feel it and even see what it does.  Its force is there.  We c sanee the results of it.

There are those who will give some scientific, or meteorological explanation to the wind.  They may have something.  I think I would choose to be like the seeds.  The seeds simply live within the vibrant life it shares with the wind.  It may be that we will complain at the mess, or pause to be amazed at the windy show.  Whatever the case, we cannot avoid the view of the future, and of what is truly seen when it is “blowin’ in the wind.” So, the next time the “helicopters” are flying, look to the design and the future it brings. God knows what He is doing.

Russell L. Dyer – 4/7/2024

Then he said, “You know that the kingdom was mine, and all Israel had set their expectations on me, that I should reign. However, the kingdom has been turned over, and has become my brother’s; for it was his from the Lord.” – 1 Kings 2:15

It’s a fact.  The situations of life often become something quite different than they were imagined.  If you can remember when you were still a child, you may be able to remember some of the dreams and ambitions you had for the future.  Reality can often be a rude awakening.  When Mandi, our youngest daughter was a small child she would often appraise the circumstances surrounding her and would cry, “It’s not fair!”  I would then comfort her with fatherly love with the words, “Life is not always fair.  Get used to it.” 

She was not alone in her assessment.  People from every status of life had struggled with the disappointment and lack of what is perceived to be fair.  Even King David’s family struggled with it.

Adonijah thought he would be king in Israel.  He was actually the fourth son, and thus not the first in line for the throne.  Still, his selfish ambition was not limited.  He saw the disruption in his family.  He knew about the treachery of Amnon and Absalom.  It may be that Kileab was already dead as well, as he is not mentioned again.  So, it would seem that Adonijah had a clear path to the throne. 

As David’s age and feeble status left him diminished in his ability to effectively reign, his ambitious son found some supporters and seized the throne.  At the same time that Adonijah was in the midst of his celebration, others were working to put the God ordained ascension of Solomon into place.  Of course, Solomon’s kingship was going to be.  In the ensuing events, the ambitious brother claimed submission to his younger brother, and life appeared to gain a sense of order and normalcy. 

Appearance can hide some dangerous contention. Between Adonijah and Solomon, there was still an underlying tension.  Ultimately, a young woman, Abishag, who had been close to David, became a game piece in a power play.  The life of Adonijah was not what he would have wanted, imagined, or believed he deserved.  In essence, he told the king’s mother that things were not the way they were supposed to be.  He pulled Bathsheba into his plan, but Adonijah’s move did not fool his brother. So, his sense of life being unfair, and his lack of acceptance simply brought the frustrated man a death sentence.

It may be that when we look at where life has brought each of us, we may find that it is not what we previously wanted, imagined, or even believed we deserve.  Still, we are where we are.  While there is nothing wrong with working for better situations, we still need to be aware of all our circumstances.  Kicking against our surroundings will typically only make our feet hurt and cause us more problems.

Okay, so things are not the way we think they ought to be.  We can look for change, and maybe even work in that direction.  At the same time, if we are wise, we will also accept where we are, and live our best where we are.

Russell L. Dyer – Written: December 6, 2020 — Posted: 3/24/2024

He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” – Matthew 16:15

One of my mother’s favorite sayings was, “I think he is talking just to hear his head rattle.”  Maybe we have all been in the company of certain people who seem to enjoy talking with no obvious purpose other than just talking.

To be seen, to be heard, and to be accepted are three of the great personal desires in community life.  Yes, there is a certain kind of anonymity desired.  It is a longing for privacy by even the most celebrated person.  Many years ago, Dan Blocker was well known for his role as Hoss Cartwright on the popular show, Bonanza.  In an interview, he commented that the downside of such popularity was that he could not even take his sons to a baseball game without being constantly pursued by fans.  At the same time, he knew that he loved the job of being seen in television and the movies.  While we may not express the Norma Desmond line, as played by Gloria Swanson, in “Sunset Strip”, “Alright, I’m ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille.”  Generally, we still want to be recognized.

As Jesus conversed with his followers, He asked the pointed question, “But who do you say that I am?”  It mattered.  He needed to be seen.  He needed to be seen for who He was.  Who He knew He was, was most assuredly important.  Still, the value is diminished if He cannot communicate, and be recognized for the person He is.

A hallmark of the 1960s was that of those people who “dropped out” to go in search of “who they were”.  Not really intending to be cynical, there is a question that comes to mind.  How would you know if you found yourself if you didn’t know who you are? Really, there were probably a lot of mothers who could have readily let them know.

The personal question of the matter still begs for a response.  “Who do you (other people) say that I am?”  It may not be the most comfortable question to ask, but it is an important one.

It is a good thing to have an “honest” evaluation of yourself.  Perhaps a better word for it is a “correct” evaluation.  For, we can be honest, and still be wrong.  It may be a little bit like listening to a recording of our own voices.  When we hear our voice for the first time, we may wonder who it is that is speaking, or think something is wrong with the recording.  Of course, the truth is that we hear our own voice quite differently than others hear it.  In the same way, we may be perceived differently by others than we perceive ourselves.  If you think about it, when we are challenged to evaluate ourselves, we need some help.  We need to know what others honestly think.

Perhaps the “Golden Rule” is a good place to start.  Let behavior toward others be directed by how we would like to be treated, and then how we are seen will be enhanced toward the positive.  We can build how we are seen by the doing of things that build a positive image.  Consider how people saw Jesus.  The general population saw Him as messenger of God, as well as an opportunity to be physically and spiritually blessed.

It is important to find a source and examples for what we want people to see.  Let there be a source.  The example of Jesus and the powerful guidance of the scriptures are always the right choice.  For well more than a century, people of character have leaned upon the defining phrase introduced by Charles Sheldon in his well-worn novel, In His Steps.  He leaves us the challenge to always ask, “What Would Jesus Do?”  Making it personal sets us in the light to be seen in the very best of ways.

How do you want people to see you?  Do that!

Of course, we cannot control everything people think about us, or any subjective perceptions they may have.  There may well be people who malign even the best intentions we have.  Most people will assume we are what we show to them.

We want to be seen, and we will be seen.  How we are seen is valuable.  Give it your best, and then see how people respond.  If you watch them, you will have the answer to how you are seen.

Russell L. Dyer – 3/22/202