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I really enjoy watching the hesperian (that would be west) skies as the sun slides colorfully out of sight to the left (that would be south) of Mount Diablo.  The sky is in a slow, continual, delightful metamorphoses  –  Each sunset is . . . well . . .

creatively dynamic!

And best of all! – No advertisement!  – –

                                                Or is there!?

 _____________

This sunset has been brought to you courtesy of . . .

The Creator of the Universe

Call on Me and I will answer you (Jeremiah 33:3)

24 / 7

The heavens are telling of the glory of God  – His invisible attributes are clearly seen . . .

(Psalm 19:1; Romans 1:20)

Old John and the Forest Fire (Part 6)

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;

From where shall my help come?

(Psalm 121:1)

Part 6 of 8

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By about 8:30 in the morning, Jerry and his family had finished tying their packs shut, dumped water and dirt on their campfire to make sure it was out for good, and started the 2-day hike back to their car.

Around 10:00, they began to notice smoke blowing over the ridge to their left.  They were still in the valley hiking downstream, and there was very little breeze.  But, they could see that a wind was blowing the trees high up on the ridges around them.

By noon, the smoke had thickened and was filling more and more of the sky in the direction they had to hike in order to get back to their car – and home.  Shortly, Jerry came to the terrifying realization that he and his family were not likely to be able to get back to their car by the same trails on which they come just a week ago.  In fact, they had to make some serious decisions.  If they were going to get out, they were going to have to get rid of quite a few of their supplies.  They would have to lighten their loads in order to start a far more difficult hike north – up and over the ridge to their right.

Jerry and his son, John, put the bare essentials they would need into their two packs.  This would leave Annette and Sue free of the extra weight they had been carrying, making it easier to travel as quickly as possible.  Leaving what they would not be able to carry, the four of them left the trail and started north – up the mountainside and away from where the smoke seemed to be coming.

It was definitely slow going.  The underbrush was thick and course, and there were rocks and boulders scattered everywhere along the mountainside.  It was definitely not like hiking on the well-kept trail.  By about 4:00 in the afternoon they had reached the top of the ridge.  Beyond, they could see a rough, forested downslope and then, like a giant barrier sticking high up into the sky, Baldcrest.

But behind them, now they could see more than the smoke that was quickly filling the air with the thick smell of burnt timber and undergrowth – They could see the frightening flames that were already working their way up the backside of the next ridge behind them.  And a few ashes were beginning to fall around them like ugly black snowflakes.  It would not be long before the fire was raging down into the valley they had just fled, and up toward the ridge where they now stood.

They had become unwilling witnesses of a raging forest fire –up close and in a very personal way.  For a brief moment, they wondered if their car was even a car anymore – because, that's the direction the fire seemed to be coming from.  And this fire seemed to be bent on chasing them until it could catch them.  It extended all the way from the south around and out to the west of them, filling a good part of the horizon behind them with a horrifying mixture of grey-black smoke and red-orange flames.

[To be continued - jad - Part 7 on Nov. 4th in the pm]

Old John and the Forest Fire (Part 5)

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;

From where shall my help come?

(Psalm 121:1)

Part 5 of 8

__________

It was a little after 10:30 that night when Old John spotted what he did not want to see – a small reddish-orange glow just beyond a couple of ridges to the south-west.  He quickly picked up his radio's microphone and called headquarters to report the direction and approximate distance to the place where the fire had started.  No hikers were reported to be that far over, and the cause of the fire was definitely the lightening strike.

But, a serious problem was developing fast.  The wind was picking up and would  fan the fire, likely driving it right across the place where he had parked his old 1953 Ford pickup.  Because of the darkness, the fire – fanned by the increasing wind – would have an eight to ten hour jump on the first fire fighters who could reach that remote area.  The ever-present dry brush and dead branches, which covered the forest floor like a thick worn out carpet, would make a very inviting meal for the ever-hungry young fire.

When Old John realized what the most likely path was that the fire would take, he became very concerned for the safety of the four people he knew were camping over there.  They would be in a valley that was directly in the path of the fire.  Most likely, the fire would be racing over the ridge to the south of them by mid-morning.  This would definitely cut off their path to where they most likely left their car.  And any other way out would be long, difficult, and dangerous – even if you were very familiar with the forest.

Old John had to find a way to get their attention, and get them to safety.  And he would have to do something very soon!

[To be continued - jad]

The Paradox of Freedom Through Bondage

I was born in and into heinous bondage – as are we all.  Blinded, I did not recognize my bondage.  Why? – My cage – indeed the prison cell, which contains us all  – is so large.  Our cell is this finite world in which we live.  My chains were my commitment to this world and everything in it – beautiful things; wonderful experiences; emotions and passions; desires, needs and wants.  All these otherwise good things had been distorted by sin and the prince of this world.  They blinded me to my wretched condition.

Paradoxically, my freedom came in the form of bondage – bondage to Christ.  He alone could and did rescue me from this prison, and from its chains.  He made me a citizen of His infinite and eternal kingdom.  He accomplished this marvelous act of love by revoking the claim that sin, this world, and the prince of this world had on me.  Paying the penalty of death – separation from God – (as only the infinite, all-powerful, and perfectly just God could), He threw the lifeline of His gospel (the promise and sure hope of eternal safety) to me.  He enabled me to jump to it, grab ahold of it, and to cling to it – the anchor of my soul.

Now, my chains are grace, and hope, and mercy.  Each link is forged in Christ's love on the anvil of God's eternal glory.  They carry the weight of His eternal purposes – the work of His passionate heart, the work in which He invites and allows me to participate – a burden that is designed to be both light to bear and a light to the world.

Shine, Jesus Shine!

Old John and the Forest Fire (Part 4)

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;

From where shall my help come?

(Psalm 121:1)

  

Part 4 of 8

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Jerry, Annette, and their kids had been cozying up to their campfire for a couple of hours, drinking warm coffee and hot chocolate, and sharing stories and fun memories.  It was cooling down quickly in the valley, where it had  already gotten dark.  The peaks around them were still lit up by the warm setting sun, and were beautiful to look at.  They were enjoying their last-night's fish fry before having to pack up the next morning and start their 2-day hike back to the car.  They had been saving the trout that had been caught over the last few days for this special time.  And the fish smelled and tasted great.  It was a wonderful finish to a great week.

The night was really clear, and you couldn't even begin to count the stars – a few were very bright, and some were so dim that you could barely sense that they were  really there.  Even though there was not a cloud in sight, they were pretty sure that they could hear the distant low rumble of thunder.  In these mountainous valleys, that could mean flash floods.

Jerry decided that they should pack as much as possible that evening, and be prepared to start hiking out as quickly as necessary, but certainly as soon as possible first thing in the morning.  They definitely did not want to have to be outrunning a flooding river.

So, as soon as they finished the last bits and pieces of a wonderful trout dinner, they cleaned up, packed everything that they would not need during the night or at breakfast in the morning, and settled in for their last night's sleep in this beautifully remote valley.

[To be continued - jad]

Reflections – Late 40's - Early 50's

 I find it intriguing to think about the kinds of things, back when I was a young boy, which seem to have begun shaping my view of the world, and started to create the questions in my mind that I would begin to ask about the world in which I found myself living, and about my place in it.

A few incidents, which occurred generally around the end of the 1940's and beginning of the 1950's, have been drifting though my head.  I was somewhere between seven and eleven years old.

I discovered that my grandma Davis came from a German-speaking family, and I wanted to learn some German words from her.  I remember how she taught me to count: eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, seben, acht, neun, zehn, ... and phrases like Gutten Morgan, dankeschön.

Somehow, which I have never discovered, my grandpa Davis had learned how to count in Chinese.  I seriously doubt that he learned this in his little school house in Baker, Oregon, where he grew up.  At any rate, he taught me to count from "ip" to "sip" (1 - 10).

Grandpa Anderson had lived and worked in Siam (now Thailand) in the very early 1900's.  He had met my English grandmother there.  (She was there with her parents – her father was Captain Robinson, a sea captain sailing ships between the Malay Peninsular and Australia.)  My grandpa told me that there is one word in the English language that comes from the Malay language, "orangutan".  It comes from two Malay words that mean, "hunched over man".

Around this same time in my life, the Korean War broke out.  It was in the news a lot.  We only had a radio then, so all of our news was from the radio or newspapers.  (I don't think we even knew anybody who had a television until about 1953, when a couple of neighbors down the street bought TVs.)  Someone, I think it was my Uncle Larry (he was married to my dad's youngest sister, Catherine), gave me a map of Korea.  I hung it on a wall in my bedroom, and marked all of the places that were being mentioned in the news.  That was my first practical (self-imposed I suppose) geography lesson.  Uncle Larry gave me a surplus Navy short wave radio receiver (An RBO - it covered the broadcast band and up to 15Mhz).  I strung up a long copper wire antenna in the back yard, and listened to as many shortwave broadcasts as I could receive.

(Some 15 or so years later, when I was an electronic technician in the Navy, one of my assignments was to the USS Markab (AR-23).  She had been in service since WWWII, and still had RB series receivers in use in Radio Central, including the RBO.)

One other thing that I clearly remember was my Golden Encyclopedia.  I particularly remember the "map" of the universe in the center of the book.  When you opened the book out flat, this "map" extended all the way across both pages, from the left edge of the left page to the right edge of the right page, and from the top of the page to the bottom - with no margin.  It was black background with various sized white marks indicating the stars and constellations.  What really intrigued me was the question, "what's beyond the edge of the page?  What's beyond and what's behind all of this vast universe?  The way this "map" was printed clear to the edge of the pages implied that their was no known limit.

          A big world was opening up to me.  Bigger than I could have imagined – certainly bigger, grander, and more complex than I could understand, or explain.

Outwitted

Once in a while, something catches our attention that is unusually thought provoking, profound, or perhaps interestingly descriptive of someone, some place, or some thing – perhaps a little nugget of truth.

When I was a college student at San Jose State, I lived in one of the men's dormitories – Markham Hall.  There was a framed plaque hanging prominently on a wall in the sitting room on the first floor, a sort of living room where guests could be entertained.  It was a short poem by Edwin Markham, after whom our Dormitory was named.

Outwitted

He drew a circle that shut me out –

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But love and I had wit to win:

We drew a circle that took him in.