FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

For the love of God. Where is the love of God in the world today? Is love reserved only for our family members? Should we only love those who we agree with or only people who look like us, or act like us? Should we only love those who commit sins we can relate to? Is a certain sin worse than another just because we have never committed that one before? 

We all need to ask ourselves these questions, and ask Jesus to change our hearts of stone into hearts that overflow with love for every person on the planet; No matter what religion they practice, no matter their social status, no matter the color of their skin, no matter how they may treat us, and no matter what degree of sinner they may be. 

We don’t have to agree on everything to love each other. We don’t have to look alike to love each other. God made us all, and God loves us ALL, and he commands us to love each other. Look what Jesus said in the book of John.

John 15:12
12 This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you.

He also said we are to love our enemies. 

Luke 6:27
27 But I say unto you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,... 

Brother Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Love is the only thing that can turn an enemy into a friend.” How can love do that? 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 answers that question.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8
4 Love is patient, and is kind; love is not jealous; love does not boast, is not prideful, 
5 Love does not behave itself unseemly, seeks not her own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil; 
6 Love does not rejoice in sin, but rejoices in the truth; 
7 Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 
8 Love never fails:

That’s a beautiful truth. “Love never fails.” Love is the answer. It always has been, and it always will be, but a love that “covers a multitude of sins” is hard for humans to grasp (1 Peter 4:8). In the same way that disagreement doesn’t equal hate, loving everybody doesn’t mean you have to agree on everything. That’s where people are confused. True love is balanced, and it can only exist in our hearts if the God of Love puts it there. 

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I'M NO SAINT

“I’m No Saint, but”.... That’s usually the way the quote goes. Have you ever heard someone say that? Perhaps you’ve said it yourself. I’ve heard it many times over the years, and yes, I’ve said it myself. What does it mean? Well, when most people say it, they mean they are not perfect. Are saints perfect? Do you have to be perfect to be a saint? What exactly is a saint anyway? We’ll see what the Bible says in a minute, but first, let’s do an internet search to see what definition we come up with.

The first search result is from the Oxford Dictionaries  

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SAINT

[sant]

NOUN 

1. a person acknowledged as holy or virtuous, and typically regarded as being in heaven after death.

2. used in titles of religious saints:

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The second search result comes from Dictionary.com. 

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SAINT

[seynt]

NOUN

1. any of certain persons of exceptional holiness of life, formally recognized as such by the Christian Church, especially by canonization.

2. a person of great holiness, virtue, or benevolence.

3. a founder, sponsor, or patron, as of a movement or organization.

4. (in certain religious groups) a designation applied by the members to themselves.

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It seems there are several definitions of the word “saint.” Most of them are along the lines of the sainthood teachings of the Catholic church, but none of them agree with what the Bible says a saint is. Number 4 from Dictionary.com comes close though. It says, “(in certain religious groups) a designation applied by the members to themselves.” Some “religious” people do call themselves saints because that’s what the Bible calls us.

1 Corinthians 14:33 For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints. 

Psalm 50:5 Gather my saints together unto me; those that have made a covenant with me by sacrifice. 

If you have been born again, you are a saint. You have made a covenant with God by sacrifice.

Romans 12:1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.  

Ephesians 2:19 Now, therefore, you are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God; 

That’s awesome! We are the saints of God. That doesn’t mean we are perfect or without flaws. It’s a name God uses to describe us, like the word Christian, which means follower of Christ. The word saint means holy, but it’s God who makes us holy, not we ourselves. It’s all God. 

So the next time you hear someone say, “I’m No Saint,” you’ll know what they probably mean, and you’ll know what the Bible says. The followers of God are called saints.

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BILL, IN THE WOODS, WITH THE ROPE

Back to my years at Gift School, and a couple of funny memories I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I told you about my friend Bill saving Mark from drowning in an old frozen pond in the woods. Well, Bill was a lot of fun to be around. I don’t know how much older he was, but he was in a higher grade than me. He was tall and thin and full of energy. He was always getting us chased by some older students.

I remember one day he was going to do something to a group of older boys. He knew they would chase him, so he told us to go in the restroom, and wait for him to run in. Then we would all hold the door so they couldn’t get to him. We went to the restroom and waited. In a few minutes, we saw him running toward us as fast as his long legs could carry him. As soon as he came through the door we slammed it shut. We couldn’t get it to close all the way for some reason, so we kept pushing, and shoving. When Bill started yelling, I realized why we couldn’t get the door to close. We had shut it just a second too soon, catching his foot in the door. I’m sure it was pretty painful to him at the time, but thinking about it now is so funny, I can’t stop laughing.

Another time, we were playing in the woods, and Bill had a jump rope. He laid it on the ground across the path, between two trees. Then he covered it with leaves to camouflage it, so nobody could see it. He told us to hide behind the trees, and he would go get the older boys to chase him. He said he would lead them down the path, and as soon as he ran past us, we should pull the rope tight, tripping whoever was chasing him. It sounded simple enough, but I guess he forgot the fiasco with the bathroom door, and we were only second graders.

We waited for a few minutes, and we heard Bill coming. He was yelling something, and for some reason, just as he reached the rope, we pulled it tight and tripped him instead of his pursuers. He hung his foot in the rope, and went, face first, down on the ground, and rolled like a barrel. All I could see were arms and legs and leaves flying. I’m sorry Bill, but I still laugh every time I think about it. That was so funny.

I’m sure all of us have bad memories we wish we could forget. I know I do, but I have so many good ones. When I’m feeling sad, I try to remember some good times in my life. When I do, I find myself traveling back to my early childhood. I have great memories of my grandmother and my school days.

When I think about all the fun I had with family and friends, sometimes I smile, and sometimes I laugh out loud. Then, if I haven’t yet, I write them down because I know someday those memories won’t be as easy to pull up on my old worn-out computer we call a brain. I wish I could upgrade my hard drive, my memory, and even the case, but that will come later at the second coming. Then Jesus will upgrade it all for me; a new body, and a new mind, with a new source of energy and ultimate memory. I’m looking forward to that day, but until then, I have that promise and my memories. Thanks for these two, Bill.

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GRANDMA AND THE OLD CLOCK

More memories from my school days at Gift are still rattling around in my head. This time we go back to Kindergarten. The first grade was not in the same building as the second through eighth-grade classes, and the Kindergarten class wasn’t either. In fact, it wasn’t even in the same lot. There was the School, a big, brick, and concrete building. The first grade was in a mobile home that had been converted into a classroom. It was located behind the school. The Kindergarten class was in a house on the other side of the playground, and across a field with some trees.

I remember playing outside in the sandbox. It was fun, but I liked exploring more than digging around in a sandbox that a cat had used for a litter box. I went all over the yard, as far as I was allowed to go. One day I found an old alarm clock in the weeds. I was always intrigued by things like that; things I could take apart to see how they worked.

I went and showed it to one of my teachers, and she said I could have it, so I took it home. When I got there that evening and started playing with it, my grandmother asked me where I got it. I told her, but she didn’t believe me. I don’t remember telling a lie until a few years later in life, but maybe I did. Whatever the reason, she told me to take it back, and tell the teacher I had stolen it. 

I took it back the next day and tried to give it to the teacher. I told her I couldn’t keep it, and I told her what my grandmother had said. My teacher came to see my grandmother at our house and straightened it all out. My grandmother apologized to me, and I got to keep the clock. 

My wife and I have raised three kids of our own now, and I think I understand a little of what my grandmother went through raising me and two of my sisters. It’s not easy. I remember several times when I thought my kids had lied, but I found out I was wrong. All I could do was say “I’m sorry” and move on. I hope they all understand that no parent is perfect, and if they haven’t already, I hope they’ll forgive me for the times I was wrong while trying to prepare them for adulthood. If they don’t understand now, they will as they raise their own children. I pray they will always trust God, and allow him to guide them in this very important responsibility.

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GOD PROTECTS AND PROVIDES

Another memory of my early childhood took place when I was somewhere between three and five years old. My sister and I live with our grandmother in a small house in Theo, Mississippi. We didn’t have running water, but God had put a spring in the woods behind the house. I don’t remember me and my sister going there many times, though. It was a good distance from the house and down a steep hill. 

I remember a man in an old green car bringing us water in glass orange juice jugs. His name was Jimbo. We helped our grandmother carry those jugs of water, that God had provided for us, into the house, and into the kitchen, where she put them on the counter, beside the sink. 

At some point, we got a water faucet outside, by the front porch. Then we didn’t have to carry water from the spring or have someone else bring us water. We were living the life then. It reminds me of the time God made water come out of a rock, to provide for his people in the wilderness.

One day I went to get some water from the faucet and saw a spider hanging there. When it saw me it quickly climbed up its web and went inside the faucet. I had my own “Itsy, Bitsy Spider.” At least that’s what I thought at the time. I was quite a bit older before I realized that a water spout and a faucet were two different things.

I remember a lot that happened while we lived there, in that little house in Theo. I remember my Aunt and uncle, and cousins coming to visit. Our cousins were older than us, but they would always make a mess in our kitchen, and leave without cleaning it up. After they would leave, we would help our grandmother clean up, and get the place back like it was before they came. We loved our home that God had provided for us.

One time, while our uncle and his family were visiting, my sister ran into his open car door and cut the corner of her eye. She did the same thing with our dad’s car door. I don’t remember which one happened first, but she ended up with almost identical scars on both eyes. She was blessed that her eyes were not badly damaged.

My grandmother kept food beside the bed for us in case we woke up hungry, and I remember waking up and eating in bed. I never remember going hungry. God has always provided food for us as far back as I can remember. 

Our neighbor would get drunk some nights and would be mean to his wife, and son. I remember waking up on more than one occasion and seeing them sitting in our living room in the middle of the night. God provided a safe place for them while that man was drunk.

Another time, a man was mowing our yard, and my grandmother was outside doing something. The mower hit a wire clothes hanger and flung it right into her leg. It made a big bloody mess. She came in with the wire sticking out of her leg, and if I remember correctly, she had to get some pliers to pull it out. She bled like a stuck hog, but thankfully, it didn’t do any real damage.

A few years before that, when my sister was two years old, she had a bad accident. It was winter, and we had a wood heater. Somehow she fell over on it, and just laid there screaming, with her head touching the heater, for what seemed like forever. I don’t even think she went to the doctor, though. They just put something in a tube on it and fixed her right up. To this day, though, there is a spot on my sister’s head where no hair will grow, but thankfully, it’s only about the size of a quarter, and her other hair covers it. 

We were in the garden one day, and my aunt screamed, grabbed me, and pulled me back. She saw the snake just before I stepped on it. I could have been bitten, but thank God I wasn’t.

Another time, when I was five years old, I was on the front porch, and a hornet stung me right between the eyes. I was allergic to bee stings, and I started swelling fast. There was a house church in our neighborhood, and they happened to be having service. My grandmother, and my mother, took me there for prayer. I remember everybody praying, and all the while, my eyes were swelling tighter, and tighter, until I couldn’t see anymore. I must have passed out because that’s the last I remember about that. 

For years, I thought God didn’t answer their prayer, but he did. They were praying for me to be okay, and not die. I did tell you I was allergic to bee stings, didn’t I? As a matter of fact, I was stung several more times over the years, and now I’m barely allergic at all. I guess my body has built up an immunity to the toxin. God knows what he’s doing. We can trust him, and as we look back at our past, we can see many times when God took care of us, protected us, and even though we may have suffered pain, he often saved us from something much worse.

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My Blogs
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com
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© 2016 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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