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