Oasis Christian Fellowship : bethechurch

The Blessing of Reading

If you are reading this, you are blessed.  That remains to be seen you may be thinking.  What I mean is this.  Of the many things we take for granted, (and we do take many things for granted), one of those is the ability to read.  I love to read.  I always have.  Since I was a young child I have loved what books have to offer.  You can read a story and travel all over the world on a great adventure, and you don't even have to leave your easy chair.  Of course there is a lot to be said for traveling and seeing the sights you have read about as well.  But the great thing about books is that you can go on an adventure anytime, day or night, and it doesn't cost you a dime.  Just go to the local library, pick up a book and let your imagination do the rest.

At this point you are probably wondering what in the world sent me off on a tangent about reading. The thing is; I come across people in my work from time to time who do not know how to read.  Even though this happens on a somewhat regular basis, it always surprises me.  The most recent incident involved a very nice lady who stopped in my office to see about a small loan to buy Christmas presents. She was in her early 70's and we had a nice conversation.  As I helped her with her business, it became apparent to me that she could not read the documents that I placed before her.  I explained the gist of what the papers said, and pointed to the places where she needed to sign them.  She was able to write her name, but she in faith, trusted that I was giving her the correct information.

The whole incident reminded me how blessed I am and how I should never take even seemingly small things like reading, for granted.  It also reminded me how lax I am when it comes to spending time in God's Word.  The greatest Book ever written which I should treasure and spend every free minute I have pouring over its pages.  The omnipotent, omnipresent God of the universe, wrote a personal letter to me, and I don't always treasure it as I should.  Please forgive me God.  Please place a burning desire in me to know You and Your word intimately.  I also thank you Father, for blessing me with parents and teachers who spent their time giving me a great gift; the gift of reading.

People Need The Lord

I don't know about you, but I get most of my news from the Internet these days.  I read the local newspaper, but aside from that, I primarily get news of current events from MSNBC.  I also don't know if times are as bad as I think they are, or if breaking news is just available at an accelerated speed.  My heart has been breaking the past few days as I have read the horrifying news of two more school shootings.  The first one being the young lady who was killed in Colorado after being held hostage and assulted prior to being shot by her attacker.  I could just imagine what her family was going through during this horrible ordeal.  The article I was reading showed a picture of the beautiful 16 year old young lady.  She and her twin brother had received cell phones for their birthdays recently.  The last communication from her to her parents was a text message which said, "I love u guys."  A few hours later she was gone, and her family grieves. 

Then if that weren't enough, a couple days later a beloved principal is gunned down by a 15 year old student in Wisconsin.  It was a small community, with only a few hundred students.  The principal probably saved the lives of others as he ran and tackled the boy as he was being shot.  The community which was looking forward to Homecoming festivities and football this weekend, is instead greiving their loss.  They all spoke highly of their principal.  Last weekend he was working at a car wash to help the school raise money for homecoming activities, and now he too is gone.

When I read stories such as these, several things go through my mind.  First, I think of my own children, two of which are in college and one who is in high school.  Is there any way to make our kids safe? What should we tell or teach our children about such things?  The other question which resonates through my mind is WHY?  What makes people so desparate that this kind of action looks like a viable solution to them?  I'm not sure, but one thing I know to be true.  PEOPLE NEED THE LORD.  That is the bottom line.  He can heal your hurts, and bind your wounds.  He is the answer, and we have a world full of distraught people who need to know this.  I think herein lies the answer.  It isn't gun control.  If someone is desperate enough to commit such an act, they will find a way.  I really believe that we need to be more proactive in our individual communities to share the love of Christ to hurting people. Then perhaps these incidents would eventually begin to subside.

What do you think?

Ahhh!!! House Church

You rush out the door at 5:55 pm with your cassarolle dish, covered with a sheet of foil that you borrowed from your next door neighbor, because you neglected to pick up a box of foil at the store.  As you drive the two blocks to your destination, you pray that you don't hit any bumps.  You arrive without incident.  As you head toward the kitchen door, Oscar is barking happily in the window of the stairwell, glad to see you.  You hope you don't trip going up the steps and spill sausage and peppers on Mike and Sharon's back-porch.  As you enter the house, you are greeted by your church family, as the aroma of potato soup and chicken fills your nostrils.  Sherrie aka "nurse Rached" is here tonight taking everyone's blood pressure as they come in.  We laugh and talk as we await the arrival of the rest.  Then we pray, and gather around the family table.  The conversation is lively and diverse.  Mike and Bill discuss classic cars.  Some of the women talk about Reality TV.  I listen to the conversation and laughter and throw in my 2 cents worth from time to time. 

Following dinner, we adjorn to the living room as we enter the next phase of our time together.  Tonight the topic for conversation is being a "missional" church and the difference between being "missional" and simply being a church which supports "missions".  As usual, The Holy Spirit guides our discussion, as people share their thoughts and their experiences.  The time goes by quickly.  Before we know it, we are 15 minutes past our proposed ending time of 8:00.  That is ok though, as we love this time together.  We pray, and gather our now empty dishes, and say good-by, until the next time we gather.  As I drive away, my heart is filled with peace and gratitude.  I thank God for my house church family.  House church is like a healing balm, in the midst of my hectic week.  I love it.

If you have ever considered becoming part of a house church, I encourage you to toss your inhibitions, and give it a try.  I promise you will be blessed.

 

House Church/A Little Heaven on Earth

The scriptures say that wherever two or more are gathered, God will be there in our midst. One only has to become part of a house church to see that this is so true.  There is just something about meeting with a group of people in someone's home that seems to bring out a special measure of God's anointing.  I believe there are many factors which cause this to be true.  First of all, you are in someone's home. You are relaxed and it is so much easier to lower those "walls" that we tend to put around ourselves. It seems to be easier to open up in a smaller group setting.  We can be "real" with one another.  If we have had a bad day, we can share that, and draw strength from one another.  This too is scriptural.  God tells us to "bear one another's burdens."  It is healthy both physically and spiritually to get things off our shoulders.  It's like therapy, only you don't have to pay a hundred dollars per hour.

A big part of our house chruch gathering takes place around the dinner table.  Sharing a meal together, just seems to be conducive to great conversation, and sharing, and believe me the topics vary greatly. We can go from deep spiritual discussions, to who got voted off Survivor, in the blink of an eye.  We have great converstaions. 

Once we have finished our dinner, which takes the better part of an hour, (Good food and conversation can't be rushed), we usually move to the living room and spend another hour or so reading, discussing God's word, praying and sharing whatever the Lord puts on our hearts.  As good as the first hour is, this hour is even more satisfying.  I guess it is mainly because "God shows up."  Don't misunderstand me.  I know that God is always with us, wherever we are.  But during this gathering, when we pray, open the scriptures, and begin sharing what the Holy Spirit is revealing to us, there is NO doubt who is directing this time together; it is God Almighty.  The way things flow, and how one person can say a word which ministers to someone else just confirms that The Lord is there.  It is really hard to describe, but God is definitely in the room, of that I have no doubt. It is simply awesome. 

I love this time that I spend with my Church family.  I would encourage anyone who is looking for a deeper walk with Christ and wants to be a part of something that will change your life, to try house church. You will not be disappointed.            

To Those Who Sit In Darkness/ A Christmas Memory

Anyone who knows me, knows that I tend to get nostalgic at certain times of the year.  Christmas it seems, brings a flood of memories for me.  It has to be my favorite holiday. I was thinking back to the Christmas plays we used to do at church when I was a kid.  They varied over the years, some were good and some were probably not. I remember one incident when I was about 5 years old. They used to give the kids "pieces" to say, as they called it.  I remember being so scared that when they called my name to come up and say my piece, I hid behind my Mom and didn't go up.  The poor lady who was calling our names finally said, "he must not be here," which was music to my ears. Whew, that was a narrow escape.

  However, as time progressed and I got a little older, I found that I liked to get up in front of people. Heck I turned into a ham, which was a far cry from that first miserable experience. A few years later, when I was about 11 years old, I had the most awesome experience I ever had doing a Christmas play.  The play was called "To Those Who Sit in Darkness."  The premise of the story was this;  It was set in Bethlehem the first Christmas following Jesus crucifixion.  My family was poor, because my father Aaron was a drunk, who spent his time gambling and drinking.  My mother Phoebe was a dear saint of a woman who tried her best to make our home a happy one, in spite of her husband's many flaws.  By the way, Aaron became a drunk because he had been a talented wood carver, and his hands had been crushed in an accident, so he was crippled and tried to bury his sorrow in alcohol.  My character Timothy, was a 12 year old blind boy, who tried to carve like his Dad to help provide some money so his Mom could keep them fed.

Anyway Aaron comes home drunk again, and a fight ensues between he and his long suffering wife, Phoebe.  Then there is a knock at the door.  There is an older woman and a young girl at the door.  They apologize for intruding, and ask if they can come in and warm themselves by the fire.  Phoebe the gracious host invites them inside.  She said she was sorry that she could not offer them some warm milk, and Timothy, who is unable to contain his anger toward his louse of a father, lashes out with a verbal tirade and says, "we have no milk, we have no bread, my father spends all our money casting dice in the wine shop."  Phoebe is horrified at Timothy's outburst.  Aaron picks up a stick from the fireplace and basically tells Timothy to shut up or he will beat him. (Sounds kind of heavy for a 1960's church program, huh). 

Anyway, allow me to fast forward a little.  The visitors turn out to be Mary the mother of Jesus and the young girl is the young lady that Jesus raised from the dead in Capernaum.  After a lot of great dialoge between these characters, Pheobe is stunned and asked, why they picked our house to visit.  The young girl explains, that each year in honor of her son Jesus, Mary plans to visit the neediest family in Bethlehem.  Mary said "it is so."  "I asked to be directed to the poorest and neediest family in Bethlehem, and the people sent me here to the home of Aaron, the drunkard, and the gambler."  By this time the previously hard hearted Aaron, is reduced to a sobbing heap, being comforted by his wife, and Timothy, confused by all that is happening, asks Mary what is going on.  She tells Timothy "My Son is here, Timothy, do you not feel Him here." Aarons previously crippled hands are healed.  Timothy is overcome with joy, and Mary tells him to look at the stars, to which the previously blind Timothy does, and he receives his sight.

This is a shortened version of the story of course.  But I will never forget how real it was for me, as we portrayed those characters.  It was almost like an "out of body experience."  The Holy Spirit was "In the House" that night.  It was really a turning point in my young faith.  I think it was one of the first times that God became really REAL to me.  It is hard to explain, but I imagine every believer has that one defining moment that they knew for sure that God is real.  This was one of those times for me.

So with all this being said, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.  If anyone else has a Christmas memory they would like to share, please do so. God bless...

   

My Mom and the Double-Mint Gum

I believe the human mind, is one of God's most wondrous creations.  It's hard to fathom just how the brain manages to store a life-time of information, which can be recalled at the slightest stimulus.  A sight, a sound or a smell can evoke a long forgotten memory.  This is exactly what happened to me today.  I rarely chew gum, but somehow either through trick-or-treat, or last weekend's band competition at Marshall University, I ended up with some double-mint chewing gum.  Today after lunch I reached in the "food/medication" drawer as I call it in the credenza behind my desk, and pulled out a stick of double-mint.  The minute I removed that familiar green paper, and peeled back the foil, the smell made me think of my dear mother.  Mom always had a pack of double-mint in her purse.  She always carried a small zip-lock "goodie bag" in her purse, containing double-mint,  as well as Brach's peppermint and butterscotch candy.  I can remember as a young child as we headed to Sunday School, reaching in Mom's purse (with her permission of course) and getting a stick of gum.  Sometimes she insisted on it.  I guess she didn't want me to have "stinky breath" and gross out my Sunday school teacher, I'm not sure.  But I can remember it like it was yesterday, driving up route 7 to the Laurel Cliff Church, with a fresh piece of double mint cracking and popping in my mouth as I chewed.    

For some reason this time of year makes me kind of melancholy.  Memories come back to me of days gone by.  My dear Mom was a wonderful lady.  She wasn't perfect, but then none of us are.  She had the arduous task of raising 2 kids by herself, when my father passed away, at the young age of 36.  She became an expert at stretching a dollar until George Washington's eyes bulged.  Not that she was a tight-wad, but we just didn't have a lot of money.  Despite being on the lower end of the economic scale, I NEVER felt poor.  She made us a good home.  She was always there for us, and she was a great country cook.  I guess I should also thank her for teaching me to cook.  That's where I first learned my love for cooking.  Watching mom make something tasty from whatever ingredients she had on hand.  I guess that's why I don't always follow a recipe exactly.  It's fun to experiment and come up with something new.  Sometimes you hit upon something really tasty, and other times, well, other times the dog may not even want it.

I am so thankful that Mom introduced me to Jesus, when I was a youngster.  At the age of 14, I finally came to the conclusion that I wanted to accept Christ and be baptized.  My Mom had never been immersed, and so she decided that she wanted to do that as well.  It was a warm summer day on June 12, 1972 when my mom and I were both baptized in a pond at Hershel McClure's farm.  I was able to share a unique experience with my mom, and I treasure that to this day. 

The last few years of Mom's life were difficult as we watched Alzheimer's take it's toll on her memory.  I still think of mom pretty much on a daily basis.  Even though I miss her terribly, I have so many good memories to keep with me.  As I kissed her forehead and said my goodbye at her funeral I was more at peace than sad.  She was tired, and ready to go home. I knew she was with the Lord she loved.  I took comfort in that, and I have many wonderful memories I hold in my heart.  Even the small ones like that of a boy getting a piece of double-mint from his mom's purse.

Dignity and Courage

In December of 1955, a tired Department store seamstress, on her way home from work, in a simple act of courage, said NO, and refused to give up her seat on a city bus.   As I have watched the memorial services for Rosa Parks over the past few days, it has made me consider how much character and courage that simple act must have taken.  She was arrested, harassed, and threatened with death.  Eventually she and her husband moved to Detroit, where she continued to work toward the cause of racial equality.

She did the right thing without thinking about the cost.  Re-visiting History, and thinking about Mrs. Park's life has made me consider my own convictions.  Do I always try and do the right thing, even though it may cost me?  Do I swim against the current, if the stream is flowing the wrong way?  My faith reminds me that Jesus did the right thing, regardless of what others thought.  Even though I would like to think that I do, in reality, I know there are times when I don't. It's just easier to take the path of least resistance.  This of course is not acceptable.  If I want to continue to grow in my relationship with Christ, then I MUST do the "hard stuff."  How can I go to the next level in my walk, if I don't choose to go the extra mile even though it may be uncomfortable, or something I don't want to be "bothered with".  We say we want to be used by God, but as soon as God asks us to do something outside our comfort zone, we get scared or we complain. "God this is just too hard."  It's a wonder that God doesn't just give up on us sometimes. Thankfully, He doesn't.  He continues to teach us, and love us until we begin to get it right.

My prayer for the body of Christ, is that we will begin to seriously consider whether we are "being the Church" to those around us.  I pray that I will reach out to the people that God places in my path, even when it isn't convenient.  If we as "the church" were to practice this consistently, what an impact we could have for the cause of Christ.   

I have a Dream

I am not a political activist, nor do I normally get directly involved in "causes".  However, as I sit and watch all the media coverage of the disaster on the Gulf coast, I have to ask myself, "have we really made any progress in civil rights?"  As a young child in the early 1960's I remember those horrible images on television, of our black brothers and sisters being attacked by guard dogs and having water hoses turned on them.  We look at those images on old news footage and think, we have come a long way since then.  But have we??  When I look at the the poor citizens of New Orleans, who didn't have a way to evacuate the city, what do I see?  Perhaps not images of guard dogs, but something even more sinister. Apathy.  Why was the response of the federal government agencies so slow?  Why did it take 5 days to begin getting help to these citizens?  When a disaster hits another country, the USA is there within hours, not days, dropping supplies, and giving assistance.  I saw on one news report that help arrived from Cananda sooner than it did from our own country.  I have to ask myself.  If this disaster had happened in an affluent white neighborhood, say West Palm Beach, would people have been sitting on the roof of their million dollar homes, for nearly a week waiting for help.  I seriously doubt it.  Granted the storm was more than they expected, but give me a break, why the slow response?

I am reminded of the words of Jesus, when He said, "whatever you do to the least of these, you have done unto me."  Understanding that Christ was not referring to "the least of these" meaning that they were less important, but he was referring to their condition. The poor and down trodden.  Those who needed help. In essence, we have once again, spit in Jesus' face.

It really saddens me to think that our country is still as divided as it was years ago.  We are just more subtle, and we hide it better.  "God forgive me if I have been guilty of apathy."  "Help us to truly live by the creed that Abraham Lincoln stated in the Gettysburg address, that we are DEDICATED to the proposition that "ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL." "Please help your people to become united."

That is the name of our country after all. "THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA"