I had a topic in mind for this week’s message, but then I heard Jimmy Smothers speak from our pulpit this past Sunday morning, and I knew that God was urging me to offer my thanks to Jimmy for sharing with us. His personal story is heartbreaking and painful to contemplate, but he delivered it with a fresh honesty liberally sprinkled with his own witty one-liners, and before we knew it, we had heard a beautiful message of redemption. He helped me realize that I needed to examine my own life in search of chains that might be keeping me from being the person God meant me to be.
If you missed church on Sunday, I’m sorry. I believe this was a message each of us needed to hear. Jimmy leads a ministry at our church each Saturday evening called Peace in the Storm. This ministry welcomes those who are bound by the chains of addiction and those who love and care for them. Several of his points really hit home with me, but one particularly caught my interest. He said that addiction is the one disease that the addict (patient) must self-diagnose. Unless an addict recognizes the disease and chooses to break the addiction, no amount of medical treatment can heal the torment.
I can’t quote him exactly, but I was surprised by the number of people in our society who are grappling with this insidious disease. He defined addiction as an inappropriate response to a certain thing. By that definition, I come very close to being addicted to chocolate. All kidding aside, food addictions are quite prevalent in our society, and if we are honest, we all have habits that could border on addiction.
For some, it’s much worse, and I can attest to the reality that addictions place a heavy burden, not only on the addict but on those who love them. We’ve had first-hand experience with the pain that accompanies substance abuse and have friends who have also known how
devastating it can be.
Many people today are convinced there’s nothing wrong with using a little marijuana to take the edge off the problems of life. After all, it’s legal in many states now, including Missouri, so what’s the harm? The harm is that using any drug to escape reality is harmful to the body and soul. Satan has existed since before the beginning of time, and he wants as many minions as he can garner. Addictions are an easy way to accomplish that. They come in many different forms and can be introduced in countless ways. I’m grateful that we have a ministry within our walls that provides a place where people caught up in the cycle of addiction can find help and hope. And I pray that each of the people who are learning how to deal with those addictions will, at some point, feel welcome to be a part of Aldersgate worship.
A number of years ago, our daughter and son-in-law, after becoming disgruntled with church politics, joined another couple playing music in the park on Sunday mornings. At first, it was bluegrass, then they started throwing in a few contemporary worship songs. Eventually, that little gathering in the park became a storefront church, and then they grew into a stand-alone building. Most of the attendees were long-time bikers, as in motorcycle. They were a little rough around the edges and didn’t feel comfortable walking into a church on Sunday morning. But a sing-along in the park was just fine. And while they were there, they learned about Jesus.
It’s amazing what an acquaintance with Him can do for a human life. I hope that we will always be the kind of church that welcomes people who look differently, act differently, maybe even smell differently than we do. What it really comes down to is that they want to be accepted and loved as much as you or I.
Thank you, Jimmy, for reminding me of my purpose in this life…to be more like Jesus!
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!


Some of you are aware that my husband, Ken, experienced a pulmonary embolism last fall, but before that occurred, he was dealing with a chronic light-headed feeling, which sometimes escalated to temporary dizziness, not as extreme as vertigo, but serious enough to prevent many of the activities he enjoyed. He was in the process of testing to learn the source of his lightheadedness when the blood clot sidelined him, and we had to redirect our focus.
We don’t know for sure what caused the damage to the vestibular system, but physical therapy and new lenses have worked wonders to improve his condition. The therapists really put him through his paces. At first, it was simple eye exercises, following moving objects with eyes only, then moving the head side to side and up and down while remaining focused on a motionless item. From there, he was asked to walk down a long hallway with a card of words in each hand, held out to his sides, looking back and forth to read a sentence, word one on the left card, word two on the right, and so on. Then the left card was angled above the head and the right down by his hip so that he was looking diagonally up and down to read the sentences. And, you guessed it, he had to reverse the hand positions and repeat the exercise. It kept getting more complicated from there.

Tuesday morning. And this comes following major destruction and loss of life in several states, including our own, on Friday. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought to myself, and sometimes verbalized, how truly “weather weary” I am. We’ve been blessed, thus far, with only downed limbs, power outages, and lots of leaf clusters throughout the yard. Others nearby have seen much worse.



I recall, in the late 1980s, our family doctor informing Ken and myself that the cholesterol level in our bodies was high. We had no idea what cholesterol was, but the doctor convinced us that if we didn’t adopt wheat bread into our diet and cut out anything else made from white flour, we were a heart attack waiting for a place to happen. That was all the warning I needed—whole wheat bread became the staple of our kitchen and even that was used sparingly. And, somewhere along the line, all the other white things we loved were removed from our diet; potatoes, rice, pasta (That was a hard one. We tried the whole wheat version, but it just wasn’t the same.) Today, our doctor wants us to eliminate even the whole wheat versions, claiming that bread of any variety is bad for the body.


And let us not forget, as many of our neighbors have been learning lately, the structure of the Bradford is not conducive to providing strength. All its limbs spring forth from one central location and grow upward rather than alternately growing from a thicker main trunk and spreading outward. The central conjunction of all those branches invites moisture, eventually producing rotted wood. This unique pattern makes the species weak and easily broken when covered in ice and snow or battered by strong winds. Many a home has been invaded by a Bradford branch during one of our powerful and unpredictable weather systems. It’s not unusual to see half a tree where there once stood a lovely Bradford.


While our mundane problems are, hopefully, short-term, there are much bigger things at stake in our lives. Our culture is trying in very inventive and seductive ways to divert our attention away from Jesus, to shove our faith into obscurity. No sooner have we suffered through the memory of a crucifixion and then praised God for the resurrection of His son, than we hear horrific news stories about how God’s children are behaving toward one another. It seems we had little time to embrace the enormity of the gift we were given when evil slipped right back into our midst.
I just couldn’t get my mind wrapped around the traditions this year. I think it was partly because I have to think ahead when writing or else everything I submit will be after the fact.


The time has come. The promise that began in Bethlehem some thirty-three years earlier is nearing fruition. A great storm is brewing—not the kind we experience here in the Ozarks in springtime—but an emotional storm of doubt and betrayal. Just a few days earlier, Jesus had been heralded as a king and now, the same crowd has adopted a mob mentality. Just a few rabble-rousers turned worshippers into haters, clamoring for the death of a man who had never committed a crime. And the kangaroo court allowed it to happen.
The day had become dark as night and the heavens roared in anger that this perfect one had to die. And at the instant when he breathed his last breath, the temple curtain was torn in half. The curtain that separated man from God was no more. Jesus had opened the pathway for all mankind to come freely to Him who would forever be our guide, our comforter, our merciful friend, our Savior.
But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Our tale begins this past week when Ken and I began a great new challenge; a beautiful, but slightly used, puzzle shaped like a large lighthouse that contained paintings of multiple smaller lighthouses within its borders. Understand that I am a major admirer of real-life lighthouses. If I discover we’re within a hundred miles of one, I’m ready for a detour from our planned route. So I was really anxious to see this project completed. About halfway into the construction of the puzzle, I began to have doubts that one of the key pieces had been in the box. This sometimes occurs with our flea market finds.
How often do we, in a moment of weakness, turn away from God for the lure of something better, bigger, more impressive, more fun? Judas represented all of us. But God gave us a way back. Now the choice is in our hands. Who do we follow?