A MORNING IN THE LIFE.......

Following my morning routine, I put on my grubby pants and my ragged shirt.  I told Gracie to go get my boots, (which she never does) I don’t  know why I waste my breath.  I guess I want to feel like I have a Lassie dog.  Timmy could always say “Lassie, go get my boots” and Lassie, knowing exactly which boots Timmy wanted would carefully and quickly accomplish the task. 

John Wayne could tell his dog, go do this or go do that and his dog would “get’er done”.  TV. and movie dogs can save busloads of children, stop the dam from breaking, pull babies from the path of oncoming trains.  I’ve always wanted a dog like that.

But I can say, “Gracie go get my boots”, and Gracie looks at me like I was speaking Farsi and lies down as if to say “Go get your own boots”.

As I lace up my boots, I pause to see if there is something else I need to  do while I am down here.  It’s becoming such a chore to bend down and get back up.

Walking stick in hand we head toward the “tabernacle”.  The quietness and coolness of the early morning woods is refreshing. The sun is peeping through the trees and the little altar invites me to come and pray.  I kneel down to spend time asking God to give me the sweetness, kindness and Christ-likeness for today.  While kneeling there in the presence of God, 72 million mosquitoes decide to make my ragged old body the meal of the day.  Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to be spiritual, pray fervently and love compassionately when you are being eaten by insects?

I quickly finish my prayers and head back to the house.  I decide to pour myself a bowl of cereal to contribute to a semi-healthy  diet and lifestyle I'm attempting to practice.  I pour milk onto  the hard, crunchy, gravel-like substance that is supposed to be cereal and looks nothing like the picture on the box.  One spoonful tells me that this milk was probably placed in our refrigerator by the man who put it together, somewhere around 20 years ago.  The smell was awful and the taste was…..well, you know, it’s probably happened to you.

Forget breakfast, I’ll just run by Jack’s and get a biscuit and gravy. 

I took an uneventful shower and begin getting dressed but as I pushed my right foot into my sock, I realized that it didn’t stop. The small hole in my sock, suddenly turned into a large hole.  Large enough for my whole foot to negotiate.  A small Volkswagen could pass through this hole. 

Ok, I’m on my way now.  Plenty of time to go by Jack’s, get my quick breakfast and make it to work.  But oh, wait…. Some sweet little old lady has decided to drive in the same direction that I am going.  The difference in my driving and her driving is that I want to actually get to Jack’s before I die.  She on the other hand is content to allow 6 of her closest friends to carry her there in a casket.  They would most likely move faster than she is driving in that massive Oldsmobile. 

After what seems to be hours, I arrive at Jack’s.  The line seems to wind around the building and  reach to the downtown area of Clanton.  But patiently, lovingly I stand in line (I hate lines!  I hate waiting!  I hate to stand like cows at a gate,  and sheep before their shearers until my number is called.)  But the thought and smell of the Jack’s biscuit’s hold me steady.

It’s my turn.  I step up to the counter, flash my biggest Christian smile and begin to tell the lady what I would like for breakfast. 

“I’d like a single biscuit and gravy and……”

 “Are you dining in or out”!  She loudly interrupted.

Dining?  Dining?  I’m grabbing a biscuit and gravy on a Styrofoam plate, eating it with a plastic fork and drinking my coffee out of a Styrofoam cup.  That hardly fits with the term “dining”. 

“Yes, I’m dining in”, I said politely.

I start again, “I’d like a single biscuit and…..”

“Do you want the senior discount”?  She asked staring at me like she felt sorry for this poor old man who couldn’t get his order out.

Can I just stop here and say that nothing, absolutely nothing makes you feel older and more useless than after weeks of workouts and walking/running, after months of eating salad and “healthy stuff” instead of biscuits and gravy,  as you stand there with your muscles aching and your bones and joints throbbing, someone asks you if you want the senior discount. What’s the use!?

“That will be fine, thank you”.  I said.  Again, I smile a righteous smile.

“Now what will you have sir”?  She asked impatiently. 

“I would have told you 10 minutes ago if you would just hush lady and let me talk”.  That’s what I wanted to say…but I didn’t.  

“A single biscuit and gravy please, with a small drink”.  Whew, finally got that finished.

I receive my order and make my way to the line of tables. I notice a table away from the crowd and make my way there. I just want to have a quiet, relaxing breakfast away from people.  (I hate people.)  I’ll just relax here, eat my meal in peace and begin my day in a Christ-like manner, I thought, as I sat down……in a glob of grape jelly. 

I quickly rose up off the plastic, molded seat so as not to get grape jelly on my clean cloths and in so doing, spilled my drink on the table and in my lap.  

All of those people that I didn’t want to be around were now looking at me and laughing.  The cleaning lady gave me a look like I had just repossessed her home and slowly made her way over to me to clean up my mess.  I swear the Dr. Pepper that I spilled could have ran down stream to the Mississippi delta before this little lady could get across the room with the rag to soak up my drink, which was now not only on my lap, on the table and on the floor but was also soaking into my biscuit and mixing with my gravy.   

While she was cleaning up the drink that I had spilled and I was trying to wipe the grape jelly off my pants I decided that I was no longer hungry and just threw the rest of my “dining experience” into the overstuffed and smelly waste basket and headed for work.

I arrived a bit later than usual, I wonder why, and found that my usual parking space had been taken by someone working at the bank next door.  It must have looked much more inviting than the 532 empty parking spaces on their property.   

Walking up the stairs, because the elevator had a sign on it that advised “out of order” and unlocking the door, turning on the lights and air and making my way to my desk, I thought, “This is really starting out as a crappy day”, but decided that I’d press on and be as kind and helpful as I could with God’s help.  

I pulled out my seat and sat down… and down….and down….coming to a sudden stop on the floor behind my desk .  Who knew that those expensive government chairs could collapse in such a fashion.  You have heard, no doubt the saying “It’s not the fall that hurts you, it’s the sudden stop at the end”.  That is not entirely true. Because during the fall, as I flailed my arms made funny old man noises and looked like, I’m sure, a mouse falling off a cliff, I hit the side of the desk, knocked over the books and papers and bumped my head.  Then, and only then did I come to the sudden stop part.  And they were right….it did hurt.  

Paul, in his writings to the Romans, in chapter 5 verse 3 said, “rejoice in tribulations…”. I don’t know if Paul ever had a day start the way mine has.  I don’t know if there were Jack’s in Paul’s day. I don’t know if the same people who work at the Jack’s here worked at the Jack’s in Jerusalem or if the same manufacturers that constructed my chair made his. I'm almost positive however, that the little lady driving that big Oldsmobile drove some sort of chariot back then.   But I do know that if I do what Paul advised us to do today that people will think I am a blubbering idiot.  They will think this old guy has completely lost his mind. Because if I rejoice in all the tribulation that I’ve had this morning I’ll be rejoicing until I can’t get my breath.  Someone will have to call 911.   I don’t think I can take too much more of this rejoicing  today.  Maybe I should just go back home and tomorrow I’ll just ask for grace and mercy.  Surely God will have compassion on and old man.   

A BUCKET OF PRAYERS

 There is a story that John wrote about while he was exiled on a little island many years ago.  It’s contained in the book we now call Revelations.  Now I’m no authority on Revelations.  I’m not sure I’m an authority on much of anything.  But when I read this account, it just jumped up and blessed my heart so much, I thought I needed to write about it.

In John’s account of this happening, in the 5^th chapter of Revelations, there is a special book that is sealed with seven seals.  Apparently it is a very important book.  No one is found in heaven or earth who is worthy to open this book.  John is troubled about this situation and weeps because there is no one to open the book. 

But then The Lamb stood up, obviously worthy, and took the book.  In verse 8 John tell us that when The Lamb takes the book some very touching stuff happens.  Twenty-four “elders” and four “beast”.  (You can study this and figure out your own call on who these guys are)  fell down before The Lamb and opened up containers full of “odors” or sweet smells.  John tells us that these sweet smells are the prayers of the saints.   

Now I am a father.  The older I get the more I realize that some of the things I do, the way I act, the little idiosyncrasies that I possess, have come down somehow from my earthly father.  For instance, I remember that my Dad kept the cards, notes and letters that his children sent to him.  I still have his Bible and inside the pages of that Bible are notes that I sent him many years ago. 

He kept those notes and cards because they meant something to him, not because they were well written, not because I used prefect English and wrote in beautiful script, but because he loved the one who sent them. I do the same with my kids and grand kids.  I have several drawers of cards and notes that have been given to me and my Bible is crammed with notes and cards from the one’s I love.  

As I read John’s story I was blown away that God our Heavenly Father does the same thing.  When His children pray, when they call out to Him, when their hearts are breaking under the struggles of this old world, or when they call out to Him in joy and praise…..it means something special to God.  So God takes a container, oh the Word calls it a vial, I’ll call it a bucket, and He places our prayers into that bucket to keep.  He puts them in a special place so He can remember them from time to time.  It may be on a shelf or in a special room or out in His heavenly barn, but He keeps them.

 I wonder if He does what I do.  I wonder on days when it’s raining in heaven and God can’t get out and work in the field, or when He has nothing better to do if He just happens upon that bucket and opens it up and listen to some of those prayers?

But John tells us that on that special day, that all those buckets will be “tumped” over and those prayers will be poured out.  The smell of them, the sweet, passionate, fervent smell of them will fill all of heaven.   

It just almost more than I can imagine to think that the almighty God values my prayers.  The stumbling, bumbling, stuttering attempts I make at communicating with Him are something that blesses His old heart.  I doubt very seriously that I ever get my prayers right.  I doubt that anyone will ever write down one of my prayers and repeat it before thousands of people…..but one day, don’t miss this, one day 24 guys will pour out a bucket full of my prayers on the streets of gold and they will slosh around at the foot of the throne of God and they will make “Daddy God” smile.

That makes me want to pray a little more often.  It makes me want to spend a little more time with Him.  Makes me want to skip the “now I lay me down to sleep” or “God is great, God is good” prayers and do some serious communicating with my Father. 
 

I hope you will find a place today to send up a few words to God that will make Him smile.  And I hope that I will be around one day when they open up those “buckets of prayers”.  May something you and I say to God be something that will make Heaven smell just a little better.  May my prayers and your prayers mix together and be “heavenly air fresheners” that Johnson and Johnson and Fabreze could never come close to matching. 

UN-SUPERHERO'S

 For years I have entertained the idea of writing a novel.  Now if you are reading this you probably realize that my aspiration is a bad idea.  I can’t spell, my grammar is awful, I’m not good with sentence structure and I’m awful with character development just to name a few reasons that this would not work.  But I do think I have a good idea for a novel.

Most good novels have one or two hero’s.  These are strong, brave, smart, courageous people who take matters into their own hands and do super stuff like saving the world or stomping out evil villains.  In our society we think of solders, law enforcement officers, firemen and the like as those superheros.  But my book would present a different concept.  

 

I would first present the reader with the characters of the story.  There would be the town chief law enforcement official.  I would develop this character as strong, smart and a man who can take control of any situation.  Another character would be a buff, muscular, fearless firefighter who is looked up to as a man who can do anything from carrying little old ladies down the ladder from a burning building to saving cats from trees. He would be the one people would turn to in any emergency.  I might introduce a city or county leader who has a cool and calm demeanor and can lead his people in things that need to be done to keep themselves safe.  Another might be a war hero who is back home and ready to lead the people he has served. 

But then I’d introduce the reader to some other folk.  These guys would be the “not so special” people of the town.  Perhaps the town drunk.  Perhaps a guy who has lost his job and his home to bankruptcy.  I might introduce a single mother who is struggling to make ends meet or a troubled teen with more questions than answers.  I might acquaint you with an elderly person considered by the populace as useless, helpless and a imposition on their community. 

Then I’d drop all of these people into a disastrous situation.  It might be a train wreck, a plane crash, a civil disturbance or some other circumstance that would challenge and endanger the community.  Then we would watch as the normal leaders and hero’s fall apart and lose control of the incident and unceremoniously, the common, every day, no-bodies, step in, take over and heroically save the day. 

These un-superheros would somehow turn into SUPERHEROS.  They would be right up there with Superman, Batman, The Green Lantern or whatever other champion you might envision.  Through their common sense approach and their unassuming, clear headed thinking they would “get’er done”. 

Of course that is just the short version of the book.  But can you see the attraction here?  I can see you right now associating yourself with one of these un-superheros? You are wondering who would play you in the movie version.  Which movie star would they cast in the role of you?    

 Good idea for a book?  Maybe, but I think it’s already been done.  As I read the little book called “The Acts of the Apostles” I see that someone, a doctor named Luke, has taken my idea and with the help of The Holy Spirit, developed it into a best seller.

He tells how fishermen, tax collectors and “table waiters” move in obedience to the Spirit’s leading and not only beat the bad guy but literally “save the world” by introducing them to Jesus. Luke tells how God uses the little guys, the unknowns, the untrained, the uneducated of this world to accomplish His goals.   

There are enough Superhero’s in the world.  What we need are a few good, obedient, un-superhero’s who are led by the Spirit and looking for an opportunity to do something extraordinary in an ordinary way.    

WALKING WITH GRACIE

When Gracie goes walking with Keva she stays pretty close.  She will not let Keva get out of here sight.  I guess she thinks she is being the "protector".  But when Gracie and I go walking it's a different story.  She will hang behind or wonder off somewhere getting into whatever she can find and that's ok with me.  I think I'm past the point where I need a little dog to take care of me. 

Sometimes she will sniff around the creek where the deer crossed early this morning.  Sometimes she will jump a rabbit and chase it for a few feet until she gets tired or disinterested.  Often she will return to the same crossings or spots that she visited on the previous trip.  There is a story there in itself.  Often I return to sniff of things that are bad for me or things that have done me no good in the past. I should leave those things alone. But that's a different story for another time.  Let's move along. 

I really want Gracie to stay close.  You see, she is small and already she has jumped a coyote and a big ole ground hog and it was all I could do to keep her from getting hurt or worse.  There have been times that she wondered away.  She forgets where she is going or what she is doing. She has had her mind on other things.  So I tend to watch her as closely as I can.

This morning she and I were walking down in the "tabernacle" in the early morning cool.  I had finished praying and turned toward home.  I notice that she was not bouncing along beside me or running on ahead so I turned to look for her. 

There she was, way back down the trail.  She was sniffing and looking and playing around but she was on the trail and headed in the right direction. 

You know, that's what I want for my kids and grand kids.  Oh, I know they won't be as far along the road as I am.  After all, I had a pretty big head start on them.  But I want them to be following along down the right trail. 

I've tripped over my share of stumps along this way.  I've fallen into some pretty cold waters and been tangled in briar's and vines until I thought I'd never be free.  But I am on the right trail and headed in the right direction.  I know that because I'm following in His footsteps. 

Paul, in I Corinthians 11:1 said "Be ye follower of me".  Oh, he wasn't setting himself up to be a big shot.  He didn't think he was better than anyone else or a super hero Christian.  I believe he simply knew where he was going and wanted his people to follow. 

Like Paul, it makes me feel good when from time to time one of the children or grandchildren say something, do something or act in a way that lets me know they are on the right trail.

I just want to tell you this morning that I know where I'm going. Oh, I've never been there before but I'm positive that I'm on the right track. My nose is to the ground.  I have the scent.  My eyes are on the horizon, scanning, looking, straining to see that beautiful place where I'm headed. 

Don't get angry at me children when I whistle or call out to you from time to time.  I'm just wanting to make sure you are on the right trail. Go on and chase your rabbits.  Go on and do a little exploring.  But never lose sight of the trail.  And make sure you leave a clear path for those who are following along behind you.

"Come on Gracie.  Let's go to the house"

"Come on Children.  Let's go Home". 

NUMBER 7

If we have talked for any length of time or if you have read very much of my writings, you know I have some “weird” praying habit.  Oh, it’s not weird that I pray.  I guess it’s how I pray that’s weird. 
 

I’m certainly not Hebrew but I take a lot from the way I understand that they prayed.  Most people will kneel  beside the bed or by the couch or someplace in their home when they pray.  My place of prayer, my altar however is made of 12 rocks.  They are not large rocks mind you.  Old people can’t carry big rocks very far.  These are just some rocks I picked up while working around the farm.  I’ve stacked them on a little ridge out in the woods behind my house.  It is here that I go each morning, usually before sun-up, to meet with God. Gracie and I take our little “walk-about” and say good morning to God and get our heads together.  We stroll out past the barn, down by the creek and end up at the altar for our morning talk with The Father.  Not sure how much talking Gracie does.  She is more into sniffing for critters than she is into praying.  

On and around this little altar are other rocks.  These rocks represent those for whom I am praying.  Each member of my family has a rock.  My wife, my kids, my kids-in-law, my grand kids and other family members are represented there.  Many of the folks in my church have a place around the altar, especially if I know they are going through some hard times.   

When I am praying about a specific thing for a specific person and when God answers that prayer for that person I try to take their rock and give it to them.  It most likely means nothing to them, but to me it means that God has answered another prayer.  It’s kind of a victory present. 

 

I've been able to give a few of those rocks away recently. A friend going through a tough patch, another friend whose baby girl was really sick, even got to give a rock to my sister not long ago. But back to the story.  

Last night I got a call from Kimberly about 11 or so.  She told me they were on the way to the hospital for the delivery of her third child.  I didn’t sleep much after that.  I know they were three hours or so up in North Alabama, but I felt like I needed to “help” all I could and hold them up in prayer.  Finally, after a few hours I went to sleep, waking off and on and just mentioning them again to God (In case He forgot). 

As I knelt beside my altar this morning I picked up the rock that I had placed there for my seventh grandchild even before he was born.  Since I have known of his coming, he has had a rock on the altar along-side his Dad and Mom and his big Sister and Brother’s rock.  I picked up the little rock and held it in my hand and asked God to give him strength and to anoint him and make him useful in His kingdom.  Grandma’s prayer last night expressed similar request.  She prayed “Lord, give us a healthy baby boy”.  

After finishing my prayer I walked back to the house and no sooner had I walked in the back door than I got a text and a picture from Matt announcing the arrival of little Titus Michael Standridge.  (Isn’t modern technology amazing?) 

In the picture little Titus looked like he had experience a bad night.  His little eyes were puffy and his little face was red.  (Ever notice how new born babies look like they’ve been on a three day drunk?) But he looked really good to me.  

I hope I’ll be around long enough to watch Titus grow into a strong leader.  I hope I can see him be a rock for his family.  But whether I see it or not, I just sort of believe it will happen.   

I’ll write him a "blessing" in a little while and this weekend Beba and I will get in the Toyota and travel  up to see him.  God willing, I’ll hold him in my hands and pronounce the blessing over him. (There’s that Hebrew influence again).  Guess I said all of this just  to say a big welcome to number 7. You know, I think I like this kind of stuff and  I’m really getting into this thing of being a Grump. 

FORGET THE ALAMO, REMEMBER ZIKLAG !

I love stories.  I love to read stories and to tell stories.  I guess that proves I'm getting old.  My Dad loved to tell stories too. I got a lot of the stories that I tell from him.  Jesus loved stories as well.  Much of what He taught was at least predicated by a story. 

Even though in "teaching" school they tell you NOT to use "war stories" or personal experiences, I still find that this is a way of getting your audience to listen and to relate to the truth that you are trying to get across to them.

I guess this is the reason I love teaching from the Old Testament so much.  The Old Testament is full of stories.  The one I will share with you now is one of my favorites.  It is full of truth and encouragement, which I hope is what you get from this little writing. 

It is found in the book of I Samuel, the 28th through the 30th chapters.  I hope you will read these portions of scripture and then you will understand what I'm getting at a little more clearly.

David had be pursued by Saul for some time.  He had been hunted like a rabbit throughout all of the land of his birth.  So in desperation, he took 600 followers, men who would fight with him and for him, and ran into the country of the Philistines.  He was befriended by a king named Achish. 

Achish gave David a small place in which he and his men and their families could live.  The name of the town was Ziklag. All went well here, they were out of the way of the Philistine king and they were out of the country and away from Saul.  And even though it wasn't home, it would do.

One day King Achish went to war with the Children of Israel. His men left their homes and gathered together to go into battle with the Israelites.  David and his 600 warriors also left their home in Ziklag and met with the king's men to fight.  But the princes of the Philistines refused to allow these runaway Israelites to join them in battle.  They reminded Achish of the song sang by the Israelites a few years back, "Saul has slain his thousands but David has slain his ten thousands".  Those ten thousands were "us" they said.   So David and his men were forced to return to Ziklag and not allowed to go into battle with the Philistines. 

When they returned home they were met with a devastating site.  Their city had been ransacked and burned.  Their cattle and possessions had been taken and their families kidnapped.  They did what any red-blooded warrior would do.....they sat down and cried.  In fact, the Word tells us they cried so much that they could not cry any more. 

But David went to the Lord.  He determined that he would not take this lying down and asked the Lord to help him.  With God's blessing he pursued the "bad guys" and took back the things that had been stolen.  All the families, cattle and possessions were restored.

Which leads me to ask you, "Have you been ripped-off"?  I bet if you are honest you will admit that your spiritual life right now isn't what it use to be.  I bet that somewhere along the way your happiness has been hijacked, your righteousness ripped-off, and your peace plundered. 

Just stand in front of any given congregation on Sunday morning and look at their faces.  Even more, look at their faces on Monday morning. It's as though someone has broke in at some point in their life and taken advantage of the "five-fingered discount" of their Christian desire.  Their joy has been "jacked", their power has been "pinched" and their excitement extricated. 

And so we do what David and his mighty men did....we sit down in the ash heap and cry.  We complain and moan and mumble and look forlorn.  You can say "amen" now if you'd like or "oh me".  Because you've been there and done that just as I have. 

But what should we do?  It's obvious.  We should follow David's lead.  We should return to God and ask His direction.  We should buckle on our "war gear" and hunt down the rascal that took our belonging.  We should fight for our rights. 

God didn't save you so you would be cowed down and pushed around by Satan.  He did not give you His Holy Spirit so that you would be the Devil's "whipping boy".

Do the words "You shall receive power", not mean anything at all to us anymore? 

I'm not a big fan of Albert Einstein, but I like something he said once.  Hear this quote from him, "The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything". 

I know you are under the guns.  I know you have been attacked and the things you valued have been taken away.  But do not sit idly by and just take it.  Get up, load your guns and by the help and grace of God, take back what the enemy has taken from you. 

Read what the Word says about David and his men, "And David recovered all....and there was nothing lacking to them, neither small nor great, ....that they had taken.  David recovered all".   (I Samuel 30: 18-19)

In the Texas Revolution of 1836 brave volunteers were slaughtered in the battle of the Alamo as they defended that little spot against Santa Anna's army.  Latter, as Sam Houston led his men in the Battle of San Jacinta against the Mexicans they were heard yelling "Remember the Alamo".  It was a phrase used to remind those shoulders of what happened at the Alamo and encourage them to fight harder. 

Even thought I admire those men who fought and died at the Alamo, remembering them and following the lead of Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and William Travis will do us very little spiritual good.  What I would encourage you to do is remember what happened at Ziklag and follow the leading of David.  If you recognize that the Devil has taken something from you, call out to God and fight for what is yours.  Don't sit by and cry over your loss, pick up what you have left and pursue the enemy.  Take back what has been stolen from you.

REMEMBER ZIKLAG !

HAVE SOME BREAD

Sunday morning came and I was to teach a Sunday school class on "The Bread of Life".  I had studied the lesson and decided to spice it up a bit.  I asked Buddy to cook us a loaf of bread.  My wife called up "Cakes and Candies" and ordered another couple of loaves. 

So as everyone gathered around the tables for the lesson, we placed the hot, wonderfully smelling, bread before them.  The coffee was prepared and we were ready to go. 

But guess what.  Some people didn't want any bread.  We had homemade chocolate bread and homemade orange glazed bread, we had banana nut bread and peach bread but some folks didn't take any. 

Why would people not want at least a little slice of confectionery delight on a cold Sunday morning? Here some of the excuses.

• I ate a pop tart for breakfast and I'm full
• I ate a good breakfast of bacon and eggs and I'm full
• I didn't see that you had bread for us, so I missed it
• I don't like bread

That was OK with me because I got to take some of it home with me and I like bread. 

But the excuses made in regards to the Sunday morning bread are about the same excuses made by people toward the "Bread of Life".

• Some won't try "The Bread of Life" because they are so full of "junk".  These folk fill their mental and spiritual "bellies" with so much useless filler that they don't have place for The Bread of Life.  Isn't it a shame that when they could have the peace and joy that comes from knowing Christ that they will settle for T.V. shows, movies, computer games, video games, you name it.  It's all just filler and there is nothing good about it. 

• Others miss the Bread of Life because they are full of "good stuff".  They fill their lives with helping others, community projects, charity events, religion, even church activities.  These people sacrifice the Best for the good.  They are so full of good stuff that they have no place for The Bread.

• Some can't see the Bread.  This is a sad situation.  We are suppose to be the ones who deliver this Bread, we should distribute it to our friends, neighbors and family.  But when they look at us and our lives they don't see the Bread.  They can't see the Bread because there is too much of "us" in the way.  There is so much of me in my life people can't see Jesus.

• And some simply exercise their freedom of choice.  They see The Bread, they even have plenty of room for The Bread. They have seen how The Bread looks in the lives of others.  They have smelled it's aroma in the lives of Christians but they have made a conscious choice to reject The Bread.  God gave them that choice.  He allows them to make that choice even though it is not the choice He has planned for them. 

I hope you are hungry this morning.  The Bread Himself once said, "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled". This Bread is a free gift made especially with you in mind.  Eat up.