WHEN THOU PASSETH THROUGH THE WATERS

As I write this particular blog, I happen to be listening to my favorite 24/7/365 radio/internet broadcast, “Night Sounds” with the late Bill Pearce. Tonight’s segment involves the topic of Betrayal. As anyone who closely follows my blog is aware, I have written on this topic in the past.

And though, as a counselor and mentor, I have experienced what I would refer to as betrayal, the implication of my current blog is more expansive; to include any number of negative social, circumstantial and physical dynamics and maladies which all of us encounter during the course of our lives.

It is hard to be set aside. It is difficult to experience financial loss. It is excruciating to lose someone near and dear to us.

And yet, we are reminded of God’s promises.

In Hebrews 13:5 we discover a singular verse.

“I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

And you might immediately respond,

“Well, I have run across similar verses.”

(and)

“What is so singular about it?”

And while I am not a Greek scholar, I understand this verse stands alone in all of scripture for the multiple use of one word. I am told that in the original language the verse actually reads, as follows.

“I will never, never, never leave you, nor forsake you.”

Now, that puts a whole new spin on it! Apparently, God felt the need to reassure us of His abiding presence; (and to do so in a singular manner).


Pt. 2


When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. (Isaiah 43:2)

As I write these words, it’s Mother’s Day, and our pastor shared the most amazing story in this morning’s sermon.

It seems he used to live near Leesburg, Virginia, and he spoke about having fished in the Potomac River as a child. He and his father would often resort to the riverbank at night, and throw out a line. And it so happened that another family, unknown to his father and him, did very much the same thing.

It was nearly dusk one late afternoon when Iva and her three young children drove up to a spot on the river where they’d fished many times before. Stepping from the vehicle, little Eva made it to the river’s edge first, and, without any apparent trepidation, the three year old stepped out into the ankle deep water. And feeling the coolness on her ankles, deeper still.

No sooner than Iva screamed little Eva’s name, the latter was swept off her feet, and the swift current dragged her away from the safety of the shoreline. Iva chose the only course of action which presented itself. Running towards her quickly disappearing child, she dove into a deep place along the riverbank. And swimming in the direction of her floundering daughter, she finally caught up with her. Wrapping one arm around the little girl, she attempted to swim with the other. To no avail.

The duo was being swept down the river at several miles an hour, and gradually found themselves in the middle of the Potomac. Word quickly spread, as several people jumped into their cars and sped down the road which bordered the shoreline. In the course of perhaps a half hour Iva and little Eva found themselves a couple miles from the spot in which they had been swept away from their favorite “fishing hole.”

By this time, a crowd lined both banks of the river, and men and women debated how they should respond to the tragedy. Suddenly, a black man dove into the dark water, and began swimming towards the unfortunate mother and daughter. He had hardly swum five or ten yards before his audience realized what strong swimming skills Henry possessed. Closer and closer the determined man came, and he quickly neared his goal.

Somehow the courageous man managed to grab hold of Iva’s blouse, and then the hem of her trousers, and in a manner reminiscent of the dear mother’s rescue attempt, he used one arm to ferry his charges to the shore.


Pt. 3


As believers, we have been given great and glorious promises that,

“Lo, I am with you always.”

(and)

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

And, as a result, it would be easy to interpret such reassurances to mean that nothing can ever harm or hinder the child of God. However, in spite of some of the most amazing circumstances in which our Lord has intervened, and social media posts I have read, scripture must be weighed against scripture.

What are we to do with the martyrs of Hebrews Chapter 11 or in a more practical sense, (at least to us) young persons whom we have known and loved who “have been taken before their time?”

The Prophet Isaiah had something to offer.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”. declares the Lord.

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways.” (Isaiah 55:8-9)

(and)

“I will give you riches in darkness and treasures in secret places.” (Isaiah 45:3)

I think we are left with the understanding that, (as one of my dear friends once shared with me in relation to the loss of her child) God has placed us here for a season, and when we have finished our assigned tasks, He will call us home. 


Until then, He will hold us safely in the hollow of His hands, and we will be given grace to face every circumstance and every challenge with which we are confronted.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

THE BOOK OF ACTS. CHAPTER 26

Then King Agrippa spoke to Paul,

"You may speak for yourself."

Now, Paul, with a wave of his hand, attempted to defend himself.

"King Agrippa, I wish to respond to those Jews who have accused me. And I would like you to know how blessed I am to speak to you, in particular. I realize that you are personally aware of the traditions and controversies which exist among the Jews today. Please give me your attention and be patient with me.

“My people, the Jews, are familiar with my life, and that I lived in Jerusalem as a young man. They are all too aware of who I am, what I have done, and what I believe, and they could easily provide the necessary information, (if they only would). They could testify that I served as a Pharisee, and was among the most conservative members of Jewish society.

“Today, I am accused due to the expectation which I have invested in the promise that God swore to our ancestor, Abraham. This is a promise which the twelve tribes of Israel has believed, and a promise which inspired them to offer zealous service, until the season of its fulfillment. It is due to this very expectation, your majesty, that I have been charged with these baseless accusations! Why does it seem implausible to you, good king, that God is capable of raising the dead? At one time, I was convinced that it was my responsibility to stand against the blessed Name of Jesus, and I did so with all my strength and cunning.

“I did the following things in Jerusalem, (as well as other cities and provinces). I detained a myriad of believers, shackled them, and cast them into prison, all this on the authority of the Sanhedrin. And as Christian believers were brought before the courts, and some ‘earned’ the ultimate penalty, I not only served as a witness, but cast my vote against them.

“In all the synagogues, I tortured Christians, and I compelled them to deny the Lord Jesus. I vented my anger against those whom I considered heretics, and I followed them to the most far flung cities on earth in order to take them back in chains, and have them incarcerated.

“And then there came a day which I will never forget, your majesty. I was traveling to the City of Damascus, and was involved in this same pursuit. I should tell you that about noon I was bathed with light, light so much brighter than the sun, and which cascaded down upon me, and my traveling partners. We all dropped prostrate to the earth, and a voice said to me in the Hebrew language, 'Saul, Saul, why are you torturing Me, and causing Me such unendurable pain? You should stop violating your own conscience.'

'Who are you, Lord?’ I asked. And the voice spoke again. 'I am Jesus Christ whom you are victimizing. Now, stand up. For I have appeared to you for a specific reason. I have chosen you as a love slave, and a witness to the miracle you have experienced today, and to other visions which you will experience in the coming years.’

‘I will protect you from your fellow Jews, as well as the Gentiles to whom you will minister. I am sending you to bring sight to their eyes, to turn them from abject darkness to overwhelming light, and from Satan’s dominance to God’s love, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and assume their rightful place with all of those, (past and present) who have been made holy, and justified by the faith they have chosen to invest in Me.'

“After this event, King Agrippa, I found myself unable to disobey the Lord. In Damascus and in Jerusalem, throughout the entire district of Judea, and to the far flung Gentile nations, I have preached that men should repent, turn to the living God, renounce their sins, and live out their lives in a manner which proves their hearts have been desperately changed.

“This is why the Jews detained me in the Temple, and attempted to murder me. Even to this very day, God has never failed to help me, and I have been appointed as a witness to rulers and paupers, neither adding nor subtracting anything from what the prophets prophesied, that is, that Christ would be tormented, and be hung on a cross, that He would be the first to experience resurrection from the dead, and proclaim the Gospel message to not only the Jews, but to the Gentiles!"

While Paul was in the process of defending himself, Festus exclaimed,

"You are absolutely insane, Paul! All your education has driven you to distraction!"

Now, Paul responded to his accusation.

"I am not insane, your excellency. I tell you the absolute truth. The king is well aware of these things, and I think I can speak liberally to him. I will never believe the life, ministry, death and resurrection of the Christ has taken you unawares; for none of these things happened in a closet.

“King Agrippa, do you believe the things which the prophets wrote and left behind to inform and benefit us? But I am convinced you have read, and believed them these things.

Agrippa responded to Paul’s defense. "Much more of your monologue, Paul, and I will have little or no choice, but to accept this Christ of yours!”

And Paul replied to the king’s sarcastic statement.

“Whether it is by choice or by force, I wish to God that both you, and everyone else who is listening to my message this day may experience what I have been blessed to experience; but without these chains.”

Now, the king stood up, as did the governor and Bernice, and those seated around them, and when they departed the throne room, they spoke among themselves, and conjectured that,

"This man is guilty of absolutely nothing, and has done nothing to deserve either imprisonment or the ultimate penalty."

And Agrippa added,

"He might actually have been released from his chains, except for his appeal to Caesar."



 The McDonald New Testament Paraphrase. Copyright 2018

LESSONS FROM RUDY

I haven’t watched the movie, “Rudy” in a long time. 


I was looking through my dvd’s today, and thought, “My wife is at a bowling tournament with our grandson” (and) “I have nothing but time. I think I’ll watch ‘Rudy.’”


(I don’t know why they have to mess up quality movies with a couple random ‘GD’s. I guess it’s so they can give it a PG-13 rating. However, I figure I can always mute the sound when those words are about to be spoken. After all, by now I know exactly where they are in the movie).


There’s a scene at the beginning of the movie in which Rudy, and his best friend, Pete, are conversing on their lunch break at the steel production factory where they work. 


Suddenly, Pete lays a cupcake on the table, (which he has procured from a nearby vending machine), takes out a birthday candle from his pocket, lights it, and signals for Rudy to blow it out. Having done this, Pete hands a brown paper bag to Rudy, and tells him to open it. Now, our young hero reaches in the bag, and pulls out a used jacket which bears a Notre Dame monogram.


Rudy has a vision of enrolling at this prestigious university one day. The eighteen year old beams with gratitude, and says,


“Pete, you are the only one who ever believed in me.”


To which Pete responds,


“Well, my father always says, ‘Having dreams is the only thing which makes life tolerable.’”


I know I have found this adage to be true. Every day I breathe an almost silent prayer,


“Lord, please don’t let me miss whatever still remains of my destiny.”



Pt. 2


And then there is another scene in the movie in which Rudy has just arrived at Notre Dame University, and he is speaking to a priest.

“My whoIe Iife peopIe have been teIIing

me what I couId do, and couIdn't do.

I've aIways Iistened to them,

and beIieved in what they said.

…I don't want to do that anymore.”

As a counselor, I deal with people, lots of people, who have been almost irretrievably impacted by their parents, or siblings, or extended family or authority figures, some in a very positive way, but most in a very negative way.

In many cases, my clients have not only been told what they could, and couldn’t do, but what they are, or what they are not.

In scripture Jesus said, “My words are spirit and they are life.” Well, words can also be spirit and death. There has been an abundance of death spoken over an abundance of people over an abundance of time.

I admire people like Rudy who have discovered a way to break out of the cycles with which others have imprisoned them, and sentenced them, as it were, to a life of flawed mindsets and dysfunctional behavior. For these are the people who find the wherewithal to do marvelous things, and to make an inestimable difference in the lives which God intends to set in their pathway.

By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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LOOKING INTO THE FACE OF JESUS

A friend of mine invited me to participate in a quarterly Sing at his church tonight. I was privileged to have the opportunity to sing, “It Is Well with My Soul.”


And since the focus in this particular story relates to a miracle, it is relevant to tell you that I got my own miracle tonight; separate and distinct from the larger story I am about to tell you.


As Kathie L. accompanied me on the piano, and I sang a song which I have sung as a ‘special’ in my church many times, I realized that I was expending virtually no effort on the notes which were meant to be held for a lengthy amount of time; whether I had taken a sufficient breath, or not.


For instance, on the chorus,


“It is well”… (long and expansive ‘well’) “with my soul”… (long and expansive “soul”).


I had just never had an experience exactly like this before. 


At any rate, we will now rejoin our major story line.


A couple of people chose to recite poems or testify, rather than sing. One lady named, ‘Doris’ told a story unlike any other I have ever heard in my seven decades on this planet. 


After the Sing concluded, I walked up to the young woman, introduced myself, asked her for her email address, and told her I would forward a couple of blogs to her, and the web address to my blogsite.


Followed is the text of my email:


“Doris, I was captivated by your story. I have never met anyone who has literally met Jesus face to face; (though I had my own encounter with an angel). As a mentor, I speak about Jesus' incarnation, and how that when He ascended into heaven, He wore a body that He never took off again.


“Of course, we will look on the scars in his forehead, and hands, feet and side. My implication is that when you saw our Lord face to face that day... that was the only place He was at the time. He limited Himself to a body to identify with, and die for His creation.”


But I’m getting ahead of myself. Allow me to share Doris’ story with you. (While I cannot give you a verbatim account, I think I can provide you a pretty decent paraphrase).


Pt. 2


Doris walked to the front of the auditorium, stepped onto the stage, and began.


“Hello all. I almost want to apologize, but I won’t. I’m barefoot, but I hardly ever wear shoes in church. It’s one of those ‘holy ground’ kinda things with me.


“I’m not up here to sing. I just want to tell you a story. It’s a good story. It’s an amazing story. You see, my husband and I were in _____________ , (I missed the name of the city), and I noticed a man park his bicycle outside of a particular mall, and began chaining it up. He was evidently a homeless man, and I have always had a heart for the homeless, and have often given them money.


“At any rate, ‘John’ and I walked around the mall for a few minutes, and then went back out to our car, and drove to another mall several miles away.


“Well, oddly enough, as we pulled up to the second mall, I noticed the same man doing the same thing I had seen him do at the first mall. He was chaining his bicycle up, as if he was preparing to go into the building. 


“And then it occurred to me. There was no way this man could have peddled from the first mall to the second mall in the amount of time it took our car to get there. We had just driven to this place, and it required perhaps twenty minutes to get there.


“About this time, I looked at John and said, ‘Here. I want to do something for that homeless man. Take this $5 bill, and walk over and give it to him.’


“Well now, I regret to tell you that my husband wasn’t real cooperative, and he basically told me to, ‘Do it yourself.’


“Well, I took him up on his challenge, and I found myself walking over to the homeless man. I was perhaps 15-20 feet away when the man spoke.


‘You don’t need to give me anything.’


“His words seemed a little odd to me, but I continued walking up to him. As I arrived next to the fella, he was just standing up from chaining his bicycle to a lamppost.


“Suddenly, I found myself looking into the face of someone very familiar, and I can tell you, I was absolutely mesmerized. For you see, I found myself…looking into the eyes of Jesus!


“I was absolutely overwhelmed, and could not move nor speak. I cannot tell you what I did next. I may have handed him the $5 dollar bill. Eventually, I apparently offered some excuse, and walked dizzily back to my waiting husband.”


Afterward


Doris included the final encouragement to the members of her church, as her story came to an end.


“My friends, we are surrounded by angels. Not only that, but Jesus is still walking around on this earth! He is not done with us yet. He is not aloof from His creation. He is still present in our midst.”

By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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THE AGED POET AND THE YOUNG PRESIDENT

I was looking over my homepage of Facebook this morning, and I came across a post which a new social media friend, well, posted. There was a beautiful photo of a valley and sunrise, and captioned with a lovely poem which reminded me of yet another poem by one of the Poet Laureates of our time. And I could not help but make the comparison, and as a result, I recounted a rather ancient memory of mine.


The building has been razed now, and another one now sets in its footprint, but I remember sitting in my sixth grade classroom, in the school annex, over sixty years ago. And as I write these lines, I suddenly recall the exact seat in which I sat that day. Third row, third seat. 


It was January of 1961, and Mr. Ball stepped up to the black & white television set; which at that time featured all of three channels. Having adjusted the ‘rabbit ears,’ he clicked the ‘on’ knob, and adjusted the focus.

This day was all about pomp and ceremony, and the inauguration of a new president; the 35^th President of the United States of America. Prior to his swearing in, and subsequent speech by John F. Kennedy, an aged poet stepped to the podium. Millions knew his face, and multiplied millions more had read his poems. 


Today, the beloved poet has chosen a relevant poem to read to the assembled audience, and to the hundreds and hundreds of thousands more watching in their homes, and schools and businesses.


87 year old Robert Frost began reading his, “The Gift Outright;” a poem which celebrated the birth and worth and potential of the United States.


Pt. 2


“The land was ours before we were the land’s 
She was our land more than a hundred years 
Before we were her people. She was ours 
In Massachusetts, in Virginia, 
But we were England’s, still colonials, 
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, 
Possessed by what we now no more possessed. 
Something we were withholding made us weak “


The sun was exceptionally bright that day, and the ancient poet was having a great deal of trouble making out the words of his poem. The pace of his reading slowed now, and he set aside his notes, and quoted the remainder of the poem from memory.


“Until we found out that it was ourselves 
We were withholding from our land of living, 
And forthwith found salvation in surrender. 
Such as we were, we gave ourselves outright 
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war) 
To the land vaguely realizing westward, 
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 
Such as she was, such as she will become.”


Even at the innocent age of 11, I think I realized the import of what I was seeing, and I could not help but admire the tenacity of the old man, and I found myself swept up by the tenor of the words which he read, and subsequently quoted from memory. And I recall thinking, “It’s a good thing he memorized his own poem!” (and) “He certainly would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t!”


And while I was already acquainted, and enamored with the President Elect, (at least from a distance), and though I admired his inaugural address, especially the words, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country,” somehow my soul was still in the process of being stirred by the words of that aged poet.


“To the land vaguely realizing westward, 
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 
Such as she was, such as she will become.”

Poem by Robert Frost

By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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THE HAND ON MY SHOULDER

My wife and I attended a local church several years ago, and I also happened to serve as the staff counselor there.


A few years into my tenure, our pastor contacted an evangelist friend and invited him to conduct a one week series of revival meetings; which he summarily did. On the final night of his series, “Pastor Lynch” invited whomever would to join “Rev. Jensen” at the front of the church for a final prayer; to send him on his way.


With this, Jean and I strolled to the area just below the pulpit, and joined perhaps fifty others as they surrounded the good minister. And as is the case in such evangelistic environments, each person, in turn, placed a hand on the shoulder of the person closest to the next person closest to the “identified individual.”


And since I was among numerous others which comprised one of the concentric rings which surrounded the evangelist, I was not surprised when someone behind me placed his or her hand on my right shoulder.


However…


As the communal prayer ended, and people began filing back to their pews, I realized the hand …was still on my shoulder. The realization that the hand remained unmoved struck me so strange that I found myself reticent to look around. But since it was time to make my exit from the front of the auditorium I had little choice, but to “do a 180” and head back to my seat.


As I turned and cast my eyes on the space from whence the arm and adjoining hand were extended, it was all too apparent that


…there was no one there!


And yet, and yet, the weight of the hand remained on my shoulder. 


And it was at this point that I realized I had either transcended the laws of gravity, (as the weight of the atmosphere exerts the same relative pressure on an entire body at sea level) or I had unknowingly sustained nerve damage on or about my deltoid muscle which accounted for the unusual sensation. (By this time I was racking my brain for any rationale for such a one of a kind experience).


And as I walked back down the aisle, and reclaimed my seat, the weight of the hand remained. As the service was dismissed, we made our way out the front door, I slid into the passenger seat, and we drove the 1.5 miles to our home, the extra pound of flesh and blood sat heavy on my shoulder. It was only after I flopped down in my recliner, and a few minutes elapsed that the strange sensation finally dissipated.



Although I can’t be altogether certain why our Lord afforded me this unique affirmation of His love and leading, I have never doubted that His hand has rested upon my life and ministry. As it fell together, the years ahead would be fraught with many trials and troubles, as well as triumphs.


I so often associate the miracle of that night with one of my favorite hymns.


All the way my Savior leads me
Who have I to ask beside
How could I doubt His tender mercy
Who through life has been my guide

All the way my Savior leads me
Cheers each winding path I tread
Gives me grace for every trial
Feeds me with the living Bread

All the way my Savior leads me
O, the fullness of His love
O, the sureness of His promise
In the triumph of His blood

And when my spirit clothed immortal
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages
Jesus led me all the way
Jesus led me all the way

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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STANDING IN FOR ROSE

I step out my front door about 4am almost every weekday morning, and walk the streets of my neighborhood, or adjacent four lane highway. And while I can’t say I’m losing any weight, at least I’m not gaining any either.


Odd, how one’s sensibilities seem to be heightened in the wee hours of the morning; at least within the ‘confines’ of the great outdoors. For I have had several unexplainable experiences during my nightly treks.


The sense of smell. More than once I have been walking along the sidewalk, and a vehicle has sped by. And suddenly, close behind the passing vehicle, the fragrance of perfume, or the odor of a cigarette. Perhaps my heightened sensitivity to smell during the wee hours has everything to do with the relative quietness of the evening, or the lower temperature, or great humidity. 


However, none of the foregoing factors can explain my having seen things which I never expected to see during the course of my life on earth.

The ethereal, momentary appearance of my dearly departed pooch. The equally brief appearance (and disappearance) of what I am convinced was one of God’s heavenly beings. 


And then there was a woman (for lack of a more adequate characterization) and her dog, adjacent to the sidewalk. She was standing in the landscaped area of a bank, and singing the most eerie song known (or unknown) to mortal man. (Needless to say, I “kept on keeping on”).


I don’t know why I have been privy to more miracles than you “can shake a stick at.” I only know I have, (and so many more than I could begin to recount here). To be sure, I’m nobody special, and I certainly haven’t done anything deserving of even one sign or wonder.


Pt. 2


But, among the most amazing of miracles which I have experienced is a series of “near misses” which have accompanied me during my young, middle and older adult years.


During the course of my job at a phosphate mine, and while working the evening shift, I walked between a dragline and its massive swinging bucket, as it did what it did best. However, in spite of the darkness which surrounded me, the operator witnessed my predicament and dropped the twenty ton bucket against the slope of the deep pit which he had been digging. I was only moments from certain death.


Then, there was the time when I was driving home from work one day, and managed to flip my car on a rain-soaked road. Having rolled off the road and onto the shoulder, it came to rest on its wheels; resulting in plenty of damage to the automobile, and little or none to me.


Then again, in the past couple of decades my wife and I were nearing our house one day, along that same stretch of road which I walk on a recurring basis, when a car ran a stop sign; perhaps fifty feet ahead of us. My wife immediately locked up the brakes of our 1980 something green Oldsmobile. In the other car, two little children stared out their rear window at us; abject terror registering on their faces. 


There was no question. Someone, or multiple someone’s were about to die. However, as I sat on the passenger side of the vehicle I was struck with the strangest possibility of escape. Assuming the position of driver from the unlikeliest of positions, I wrested the steering wheel from my wife with my left hand, and I managed to steer our car behind the offending vehicle. 

Having missed the automobile by all of a foot, our car immediately went into a 180 degree spin, and finally came to rest next to the border fence of a nearby home; our frontend facing in the direction which our backend had been facing only moments before.


Pt. 3


But allow me to digress a moment.


"Rose" was a classmate of mine, though a year behind me in school. And while I don’t recall exchanging so much as one word with her, we were both members of our high school chorus. 


Rose was the daughter of a local minister of music, and his wife, was a fine Christian girl, was a member of several high school academic and vocational groups, and was blessed with plenty of friends.


Sadly, at the tender age of 17, and just three months before her high school graduation Rose was involved in a one vehicle accident, and succumbed to her injuries. 


I mean, who can account for it? The loss of such a person of excellence and rich potential? Not only this, but it seems she surrendered her life to providence “first time out; at such a young and inestimably unfair age.

Yes, I have experienced a significant number of what I often refer to as “near misses,” (or near death experiences) during the course of my life, and I have only recounted a few here.


Did I mention my sensitivity to my environment seems to be heightened in the wee hours of the morning? Then, last night perhaps one of the most amazing, although subtle miracles I have been privileged to experience.


As I was in the process of completing my hour long walk, I heard, (or rather perceived) the voice.


“I want you to stand in for Rose.”


(Even as I type these words, a shiver runs up my spine).


Afterward


Granted, it was only a perception. But this perception literally “came out of nowhere.” I hadn’t been thinking of Rose, nor any of several long lost classmates who “left us before their time.”


…“I want you to stand in for Rose.”


As someone who has been directly associated with various helping ministries over the course of half a century, (including the roles of pastor, professor, youth leader, mentor and counselor) I like to think I have made a difference in multiplied thousands of lives.


Yet, in spite of everything which has already fallen together in my life, hardly a day has gone by that I haven't whispered the following prayer:


“Lord, please don’t let me miss out on whatever still remains of my destiny. Please don’t allow me to miss out on each and every circumstance and event you have planned for me, and the people whom you have yet to set in my pathway."

Lately, I have added an additional line.

"Please Lord, help me to make Rose proud."

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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ANGELS AMONG US

Several months ago I found myself doing what I do almost every night, well, every morning if you call “dark city” morning. I jump on my slow, but trusty bike and head off on a 10 mile trek.

On this particular morning I happened to stop at an intersection, preparing to cross a 4 lane highway, and looked to my right. And strangely enough for 4am, I could just make out the form of a fella walking towards me on the sidewalk; perhaps 50 feet away.

Well, not being overly concerned about the man walking in my direction, I glanced one more time to my left, and prepared to “high tail it” across the highway. Mind you, no more than 2 seconds had elapsed since I had noticed the guy walking towards me on the sidewalk, and as I began peddling, I glanced back to my right.

And where a moment before there was what appeared to be a six foot, 170 pound man,

… only thin air greeted my gaze.

And since I peddle this same route every day it’s a familiar environment for me,

… (and this is the “wild card,”)

I’m aware of a 6-8 foot high wall that runs along that sidewalk, and which borders a gated community. There had been absolutely nowhere for “my friend” to go. He certainly didn’t vault the wall in record time, and since there are plenty of street lights along that stretch of highway, I would have seen him had he walked across the street.

And oddly enough, a couple of weeks after this experience, two women died in a one car vehicular accident at this intersection. I have mused that perhaps the angel was about to receive them 'home,' and had been doing a "dry run."

However, in relation to yours truly, over the past year I have experienced a rather difficult season; something relating to rejection, and which kicked me in the figurative rear end. And as I reflect on it now, I think it was after this angelic visitation that the dark emotions with which I had contended began to lift.

I believe in angels, seen and unseen, and I’m thankful for their ministry to God’s people.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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TWO BILLION DEARLY DEPARTED FACEBOOKERS

I have often thought about the stuff of daily living which we use on a daily basis, the stuff with which we surround ourselves; the modest little possessions which we take for granted. A rocking chair, a pair of reading glasses, a handkerchief, a set of car keys, a leather wallet, a class ring.

And no, it is not for the sake of the items themselves that I consistently conjure up this recurring thought; since there is little or nothing, in itself, which is fascinating about these inanimate objects.

My musing is, rather, confined to a question which “tickles my fancy” and “knocks on my door” at the most unexpected moments; when I have just finished counseling one client and I am waiting for another to walk across my threshold, as I am walking out my door to retrieve the mail, after I have retired for the night, and I am meandering through the ethereal twilight which separates wakefulness from restful sleep.

That question?

“Where, after all, are all the small, mundane personal possessions of my grandparents, and their parents, and grandparents before them?”

And, a natural follow up question might well be,

“And what will, ultimately, happen to some of those same, or similar objects which we use today; after we have gone on to our reward?”

Granted, I have garnered a few miscellaneous objects which belonged to those who went before me; (and which I intend to pass down to my own children).

An eight piece carnival glass setting originally owned by my great grandmother, (my cousin has her handkerchief), a century year old Victrola player, a prized possession of my grandfather, who once, no doubt, enjoyed listening to it before retiring for bed, several landscapes which my father painted, and numerous audio tapes on which he recounted his childhood memories, and his military exploits.

Pt. 2

But where, oh where have the vast bulk of those ancient items owned by our ancient ‘great great’s’ gone? 


Were they carted out to the trash heap, and, subsequently, dematerialized in a great bonfire? Were they used ‘til they were unusable, and left behind a bedstead in some old crumbling house? Or does some of that ancient jewelry still grace the hands and necks of those who will only be raised to live again at the resurrection of the dead?


And while I expect a few people have thought the thought, I have never met or spoken to anyone, thus far, who has admitted to doing so. 


What ever will become of the social media pages of the two plus billion men, women, boys and girls who are presently subscribers to sites like Facebook and Myspace; after they make their final departure from the land of the living? 


After all, the time will come when every living soul who ever subscribed to these, and other social media sites will cease to live and breathe and move. (Yeah, they will).


I mean, several of my Facebook friends have recently taken that long journey, and all but one of them still exists in Facebook land. A military friend who left us far too early. A Frenchman whom I never met in person, but whom I liked from afar. An internationally acclaimed Flamenco dancer who literally danced ‘til he dropped; (and wouldn’t have had it any other way). A transplanted Scotsman who lived in Brazil, and who chose to pursue that “permanent solution for a temporary problem;” his three daughters having preceded him, two having chosen the same pathway, as their father after them.


There are moments when I am inclined to type in their names, and, on special occasions, I still bring up their pages. And I still find myself wishing this one or that one a “Happy Birthday in Heaven,” or “I sure do miss our conversations.”


Perhaps, I overthink stuff like this, but I have wondered whether the various social media sites will, one day, half a century hence, “clear the books” of names like… yours and mine. 


And I have mused how they might identify the dearly departed subscribers who have long since typed out a message, or posted a photo. Perhaps, they will create a program to distinguish the living from the dead, based on the subscriber pages which have remained dormant for decades. (Or perhaps they will hire a myriad of temporary employees to search for those “Happy Heavenly Birthday” greetings on a couple billion all too quiescent pages).


But so much like those old rocking chairs, and handkerchiefs, and wallets, and rings of our ancient ancestors, there is little doubt that the final vestiges of a couple billion dearly departed lives, (those now reading these words included) will be subtracted from the World Wide Web, and the social media sites to which they once subscribed, and on which they interacted on a daily basis. (And it goes without saying that those who will subtract our names are, at this writing, yet unborn).


Ultimately, I think the only way you and I will continue to live, and move, and breathe on this earth, (and which needs little elaboration), the only way future generations can “take us with them” is to, by our impactful words, and actions, replicate ourselves in the lives of those whom God sets in our pathway.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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