The Ancient One

Christ is an ancient rock, unmarred by the erosion of time.
His love has reached past beginning and end, in an unending line.
Yahweh’s eternal purpose will never be thwarted.
And one glorious day, His saints will be departed

From this present earth, then it will disintegrate.

Satan and his demons will then burn in the Lake.

My Lord, the Messiah, has created the countless stars.
By His word did He alone design the span between near and far.
With a single breath and joyous heart His breath entered dust.
From that time, the climax of His creation, He did think of us

Yet despite this love, our race rebelled

Going against God, and sprinting toward Hell.

My God, the Never-ending, then took on flesh.
Despite man’s feeble efforts, Jesus gave His best.
Offering up His life, the Blessed Redeemer did.
And the powers of darkness and evil hid.

Because our God is gracious, we can rely on His death.

So with Him we may eternally dwell, after our last breath.

His love and passion are bursting around
The heavens, the galaxies, the oceans, the grounds.
A place He is not cannot be found.
Every knee will bow, at His name, the Renown.

None can hide from God’s perfect will.

In His peace, in His love, I will be still.

The Father of all things, the Creator is, and in Him all was known.
Out of His heart and through His actions, grace and mercy shone.
Earthquakes and tidal waves, lightening from above
Can never, under any endeavor, over throw His love

Because His right arm holds the Earth in space

Strong enough to destroy all creation, yet loving enough to show us grace.

Here's to You, Officer Simmons

Middle school tends to be a time of awkward growth, unacknowledged crushes, introduction to illegal substances, young drama, and searching for a place to fit in. Where did I find my niche? With the kids who started fights.
It was so easy... "Hey man, [so and so] called you a [name]!" And before you knew, some kid was getting pounded in the face with fists.
I think I witnessed more vile acts in junior high then I did in high school. Knowing that things get progressively worse as time goes on, I do not want to imagine what middle school will be like for my kids.
While in middle school there were two larger-than-life forces fighting for me. I will not lie; at times I literally felt there were two armies: one of dark and another of light, trying to get my attention and strap on their boots and fight with them. More often than not, I chose to fight with the bad side I suppose. I would be the instigator, the bully, the liar, the test-cheater, the teacher basher, the class clown, et cetera. Still, oddly enough, I would also be the kid with the bible, the kid who knew the answers in history class to the biblical questions, the kid you could come to and ask for prayer. Thus, undoubtedly, severely skewing my peers' view of what it meant to follow Christ. Especially since I invited most of my friends to my church for Wednesday night youth services.
I could tell of crazy stories, good and bad, for quite a while on my experiences of sixth, seventh, and eighth grade, but I choose this one, because he came to my mind today, and I pray he is still doing well.

**
There were plenty of school officers in the Anderson Public School Corporation in Anderson, IN; full fledged officers with police authority, due to crime, drugs, fights and whatnot. But Officer Simmons was a calm, cool, and collected guy. I never remember him losing his temper like so many faculties did with the unruly children. I do remember this one time in the cafeteria.

I was sitting with the usual crowd I sat with. We were up to no good I am sure, probably making fun of kids and making cruel jokes that would knock you off your chair. Cruel jokes that would only be funny to a seventh grader who would be drop kicked by his parents if they were to hear them.

I went to the area to dispose of my trash and give my tray to the cleaning ladies, and Officer Simmons stopped me.

"Hey, man, how come I hear you cussing and stuff? Really, I almost expect it out of the other kids in here, but not you."

"Ha, uhh, what do you mean? I wasn't cussing!"

"C'mon, man. Cops are trained to tell when people are lying, and I heard you. I have seen you with your Bible and stuff around here before. What are you doing? I expect more from you."

**
As time went on, Officer Simmons and I would have these encounters at the same spot by the tray cleaning area at South Side Middle School. He would ask me to give him Bible verses and he would share what his pastor preached on that Sunday. Unfortunately, these encounters became sparse. What really amazes me thinking back is that he would ask ME to pray for him and encourage HIM with scriptures! "How absurd!" I would think. "He is the older guy, the cop!"
Isn't it amazing? The guy still needed encouragement and help, and he was not afraid to ask a chubby rotten kid for it. I think of Officer Simmons when I am hypocritical and looking down my nose at people. I wonder if he still remembers me and prays for me.

I have only seen him twice since I left middle school. Once he pulled me over at 2AM because I was swerving in the road because I knocked my McDonald french fries on the floor and another time when I worked at the go-kart track and his kids rode the youth track. I am not sure if knew why he remembered me, but he did. And that has always had an impact on me.

So, to my readers, my application is this: We should try to become more like Officer Simmons... polite, kind, serious about the faith, not afraid to ask for help when we need it, and encouraging to others.

Throwing Soap--You Know What to Do.

There I was, all cuddled in my recliner with a solitary lighthouse shaped night-light being my source of light to read my book.

There he was... standing just outside of my door, talking on the phone.  He wasn't loud... but his deep toned voice carried through my thin-wood door, bouncing off my hard-tile floor right into my ears.  Much to my annoyance, I may add.  I tried to focus, but still couldn't.

I knew how to make him stop, but would I do it?  It required action, accuracy, and overcoming the struggle of whether or not to go through with it...

So I reached to my box of toiletries, found a heavy bar of soap, and threw it at my door as hard as I could...

Ahhh, silence! I thought, and went back to reading my book.  He had walked away after the thundering boom of Irish Spring soap nailing a thin wooden door.