How Malachi Changed My Life

It was a hot, humid day on July 5th of my 13th year.  My father and I had worked hard to pour a large concrete slab by a barn on our dairy farm.  It had been a really tough day and now it was time to milk the cows for the afternoon.  My job was usually to go gather the cows from the various places they may be grazing and head them to the barn.  That day though, my father said he would take care of that if I would go catch his horse.  Riding horseback to round up our dairy cows was a way to combine a bit of pleasure with a routine job and I jumped at the chance not to have to head out in the 100 degree plus heat.

It was no problem for me to catch our horse, Stockings, named for his two white 'stockings' on his front legs.  He was pretty much a family pet who could not resist an edible treat if I took it to him.  I tied him to a metal farm implement that we hooked to the back of our tractor to move heavy objects.  It was standing by itself, like a tripod near the shed where we kept the saddles and tack.  Stockings began to munch grass near the shed and I headed toward the back door of our house to cool off.

Half way to the door I heard a clanking sound and the sound of hoof beats.  A sick feeling hit the bottom of my stomach, I just caught a glimpse of Stockings as he ran full speed past the front of our house and down the one lane country road that we lived on.  I called for my father as I had a feeling something was terribly wrong.  We found the heavy metal tripod I had tied Stockings to about twenty feet from where I had left him.  As he had grazed he pulled the rope around his neck and it had pulled on the tripod and it had tipped over.  The sound spooked him and he began to run away from this thing now dragging at his heels.  The rope had broken but in his fright, Stockings had kept on running. 

He now stood in the middle of our road in an awkward stance.  As my father and I approached him, we began to see drops of blood on the pavement.  The drops turned into scattered pools.  My father was ahead of me and I heard him exclaim, "His foot is nearly cut off."  As the metal implement fell at Stockings feet, his left rear leg had caught a sharp edge on the tripod.  The edge had caught him about six inches above the hoof and it had cut everything from the back of his leg to the bone.  His left rear hoof now flopped painfully when he tried to put weight on it.  We looked at him in stunned silence.  I felt awful.  One the rules my father had taught me in handling horses was never tie them to something they could hurt themselves on. I had broken that rule and now the consequences were painfully clear.

A vet looked at him and said there was nothing that could be done.  We tried to nurse Stockings over the next day but it was clear that he was in too much pain with too severe and injury to ever recover.  I watched from our back porch as my father walked up to Stockings, with a rifle in hand to put him down.  My dad did not look at him except to pull the trigger.  Stockings fell quickly and silently. My father walked slowly to the back porch.  There were still tears in my father's eyes as he put the rife away.  I wished in that moment that I had not been born.

Though there was no blame put on me by my family, I had plenty to put on myself.  I vowed I would learn from this, I would be more careful.  I would work harder and without being asked I would get up every morning at 4:00 am like my father did and help him with the whole morning milking instead of just the morning chores I usually did. I would somehow make up for this.  But the guilt of that day faded to a dull remorse and many times I would wake up and realize I had not kept my vow.  The guilt remained and I learned there is no making up for a loss of life.

I did not know what to do with that experience until some time later.  I had goal of reading through the Bible cover to cover before I got out of high school.  When I got to Malachi, I came across a verse that gradually dawned on me as a way God had for me to deal with this.  Malachi 3:17 says, "They will be mine," says the Lord Almighty, "in the day when I make up my treasured possession.  I will spare them, just as in compassion a man spares his son who serves him."

That verse began to change my life.  I realized my father and my family had shown me compassion.  There was nothing I could do that would make me not be my father's son. My father was not raising me to be a mistake free hired hand but to be a son who worked with him.  There was compassion and forgiveness from my heavenly Father to deal with even this kind of guilt.  I began to give it to Him and know His "sparing" of me and the release of the guilt. 

From time to time my failures grow painfully clear to me but I am reminded that my Heavenly Father is not in the business of making me a hired hand but a son who serves Him.  I am to Him, even with all my flaws, His "treasured possession."  And if you are "His" then He says the same thing over you and He wants to do the same thing in you.  And that is how an obscure verse from Malachi changed, and keeps changing, my life.

For the journey...

Tim

Calling Remembrances

I have thought a lot about college this week.  On Monday I took a group of Senior Adults to the Bush Library in College Station.  We made a pit stop by the Baptist Student Ministry building and had a brief tour.  Earlier on that trip, someone had asked me where I had sensed a call to ministry.  While we were at the BSM building I got to tell the whole group, it was right here at this spot that I felt called.  I did not know it was to ministry at that moment but I knew that God was working on me.  It was by the door of the old Baptist Student building; there was a sign up sheet there for a discipleship group.  I stood there an pondered it.  I knew if I signed up for this, I would have to get serious about my relationship with God.  I had never done anything like this before.  I would have to move from the faith of my parents to my own walk with God.  I thought about it a moment, then with a lot more emotion than it would seem to merit, I signed my name.  From that moment on, I can say that decision naturally led to another decision and another and another that put me where God has me today.  It was not a typical calling - I do not know what would be typical - but that was my calling.  I stood near that spot again this week with our Senior Adults and wanted to say much more about it but the emotions welled up in me again and I could not speak.  I am still amazed at what God has done and that he would reach out to me.

On Tuesday, I got some good news about our local Baptist Student Ministry.  Lori Huber, who has volunteered to take care of the weekly lunches that are served at the BSM, reported that there was a record crowd there that day.  Around 50 students came to have lunch together at the BSM, more than have ever been before.  There is a real opportunity there.  I wonder how many are making their own transition from the faith of their parents to their own walk with God.  There is a great opportunity there and one we need to pray about and act upon.

On Wednesday, we all heard of the shooter that was on campus at Victoria College, not far from the BSM and Guadalupe Association Office building where the 50 plus students had gathered for lunch the day before.  A great tragedy was averted; no one was injured.  Many students were shaken.  One of our Northsiders who is a freshman spent over an hour in a closet hiding from the shooter.  The Victoria Advocate reported the shooter was upset about an argument concerning religion.  What a different, unpredictable and dangerous world college students now face.

I am amazed the God of all creation reached out to me when I was in college. I wonder who else He is reaching out to this very week, perhaps even calling.

For the journey...

Tim

And a Child Will Lead Them

In my searching through things for last Sunday's sermon on the anniversary of 9/11, I came across an amazing story that may be the best example I have heard of in living out Matthew 5:43-48 (loving enemies, praying for those who persecute you).  In May of 1987 tensions were high in the Persian Gulf especially between Iraq and Iran.  This was before the Gulf War over the invasion of Kuwait.  The USS Stark was patrolling the gulf protecting our interests when it was hit by a missile fired from an Iraqi jet.  The pilot did not think the ship was an American vessel even though the crew of the Stark identified themselves by radio.  Thirty nine seamen were killed.

As the bodies were brought home, five year old John Kiser was seen in newspaper photos holding his hand over his heart as his father's coffin was transported.  His mom later said in an interview, "I don't have to mourn or wear black, because I know my husband is in heaven."  Later on, at the urging of young John, she sent a letter and an Arabic New Testament to the Iraqi pilot.  John guided the wording of the letter to say, "To the man who attacked the Stark, Dad's ship, in the hope that it will show that even the son and the wife do not hold any grudge and are at the same time praying for the one who took the life of our father."

That is a challenging example for us to follow.

For the journey...

Tim

The Anniversary We Cannot Forget

I had just gotten into my car after a morning workout at the local park, the radio had a report that a plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center.  Details were sparse but it was thought to be a small plane.  What a tragic accident I thought.  I had to get home and get a shower before I went  to a Ladies' Prayer meeting at which I had been invited to give a devotional.  By the time I got out of the shower and turned on the TV I saw the second plane hit. I won't forget that feeling.  It was unlike any I ever felt before.  I went on to the prayer meeting and of course our agenda for that day had changed.  The world as we knew it changed.  I remembered trying hard not to cry as I led this small group in prayer.  I could not help it.  I was glad there was a prayer meeting set up.  There was comfort at least in that.

No doubt many of you clearly remember that day nearly 10 years ago.  We will gather this Sunday on the anniversary and I will preach what I preached 10 years before.  God's word never becomes obsolete, neither does His comfort nor His conviction.  We will do more than remember, we will seek "A Way to Pray Forward."   What kind of people should we become if we really follow Jesus' words in Matthew 5:43-48.  It was a challenge for me to preach that then, it is just as much a challenge to preach it now.  Pray for an open heart and join me Sunday.

For the journey...

Tim

Too Hot to Make Sense

I cannot remember it ever being this hot, this long.  This kind of heat wears us out.  It can work on your mind and your attitude.  I drive past the guys pouring concrete on Sam Houston Street and I am glad I have mainly an inside in the air conditioning type job. 

What is the hottest, most miserable you have ever been?  A day stands out in my mind from my high school days, working with my father in our dairy and ranch operation.  It was a hot dry August day when we discovered that a windmill we had to provide water for our cattle was not working.  On that particular property, that windmill was the only source of water.  We had to "pull" it which meant we had to pull all the pipe out of the well and replace worn parts until we could get it working again.

The windmill was in a place of no shade, no breeze, high humidity and full sun.  It was hard and frustrating work pulling up a long string of pipes up with a block and tackle. Each joint in the pipes was rusty and hard to break apart.  The pipes grew hot in the sun and the pipe wrenches got so hot you had to wear gloves just to handle them.  It was just my father and I working on it.  I have already told you I am not much of a plumber.  In the peak of the afternoon sun and the height of our frustration, my father let out his exasperation with the statement, "There is just no sense in it being this hot!"

I knew what he meant even though I look back now and see that is not a logical statement.  At that moment we were beyond logic, it was pure emotion.  We finally got it fixed after two days.  The water flowed again and we looked for jobs in the shade and had a new found appreciation for electric pumps.

Maybe you have been there too.  Not working on a windmill but where the difficulty of life just does not make sense.  We wonder why we have to go through what we are facing.  We are discouraged and our thoughts are bleak and full of dread and misery.  We can't change our circumstances and we feel hopeless.  Where can we turn to face what we are having to go through?

Maybe God wants to help us in the very place where things are not making "sense" - our thoughts.  God does want to help us and can change us.  We don't often think of Him changing our line of thinking but the Bible often points to that.  That is where we are headed this Sunday.  We will look at how God wants to change our thought lives, even when life doesn't make sense.

For the journey...

Tim