Who I Am?

I go into a country where I don't have citizenship...

I do work no one in that country really is doing or wants to do....

Sometimes I have temporary documentation to do some types of work, but I do other kinds mostly...

Sometimes I have no documentation but sneak in....

I don't get paid a lot, and what I do get paid I send to family back in my home country...

I try to blend into the background as much as possible and let citizens of the country I'm in arrange transportation, medicine, and sometimes even shopping for me...

I try to do my work as inconspicuously as possible but my accent, skin color, religion and culture are very different than those around me...

I bring contraband into the country....

Many government officials want me gone and would imprison me or at the least deport me if they found out what I was up to....

I am human. I have needs. I have fears here. I miss my family.  I have wants, desires and dreams.

In country, I am an illegal, an alien, and in a very strict sense, a lawbreaker.

Who I am? I am a missionary. Your church funds me. You give money to me through your church.
So that makes it okay, right?

Complicated?

"Judge not, lest you be judged."  Jesus said that. Are our problems political? Then they need a political solution. Are our problems economic? Then they need an economic solution. Are the problems we face about culture, race, or religion? Are the problems arising from a spiritual vacuum where we have forgotten God and thus forgotten how to be human because we don't tie humanity to the image of God?

So tell me, what does it mean to be human, made in God's  image, to everyone not in your family, church, or political party?

Think before you answer.

Every time,
Cos

Kept From Singing?

Circumstances, which will be another article sometime, caused me to look up a song this week. An old friend, a troubadour, who had passed away a few years ago used to sing it when he toured. I had occasion to hear the song on satellite tv and it reminded me of him. He sang a solid, faith-based, Jesus following version of it. The one I heard on the satellite had changed the words somewhat to make sure God was left out lest anyone be offended. The song has stayed with me all week as I sang it, or at least the parts I could remember.

Then the tornado hit Moore, Oklahoma.

Then I remembered the words of the song again. Read them yourselves, pay close attention to the second  and third verses, though all speak volumes.

                 How Can I Keep From Singing
                                    Robert Lowry
                                     circa @ 1869
                                 
My life flows on in endless song above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, tho' far off hymn that hails a new creation;
Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear the music ringing;
 It finds an echo in my soul---How can I keep from singing?
     
What though my joys and comforts die? The Lord my Savior liveth;
What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that Refuge clinging
Since Christ is Lord over heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?

 I lift my eyes; the cloud grows thin, I see the blue above it;
 And day by day this pathway smooths, since I have learned to love it.
 The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart, a fountain ever springing;
 All things are mine since I am his---How can I keep from singing?  

God is not mad at Moore. His heart breaks this day for human pain and loss. It does every day. I know indirectly some of the faith history of Moore. It is home (or very close) to some huge churches from several different denominations.  They will help their family, friends and  neighbors, loving them through this tragedy.
Many in Moore, especially the parents of children lost cannot sing today, maybe not for a long time--if ever.

Till the new creation is the present reality; till the clouds grow thin; till the peace of Christ makes all hearts fresh---  we will sing for them.                                                                                                                                          

Cos
                                 

A Little Death

                                               A Little Death


The world will little note and no one outside of family will long remember but something changed last week. It wasn't catastrophic, horrendous, just sad, just a little death. But even the little ones must be grieved.

By any measure seventy-one years is a long time. My father, Lee, turned 88 the last week of April. The first week of May he sold off the last of his cattle. It signaled an end of an era, he was the last of a long line of Cosby's who farmed and ranched. There are probably other distant cousins in and around Milam County or back south in Tennessee and Alabama, but Lee's, V.C.'s, and Thomas' branch of the tree has no farming or ranching with it now. My granddad, V. C. (Virgil Carter) moved his wife and nine sons from Rosebud to Milford about 1941. They rented a farm and set about living off cotton, maize, corn, a garden, chickens and a few head of cattle. Typical for the day and times. My dad was connected to that rented farm from 1941 to 2013. He helped granddaddy farm it and rented it himself when granddad got too old to farm it. It was sold a few times and was divided up but the owners always kept Dad to manage what was left of it. He quit crop farming about seven years ago but he kept a few head of cattle on the pasture. But it was time. Old tractors to maintain for mowing and hay hauling were costly to keep up. Old pick-ups crawling over ruts that passed for roads won't last forever.  Old legs that used to hold up 230 lbs on a 6'4'' frame and  pin 800 lbs cows against a corral fence to vaccinate them were a bit unsteady on uneven ground now supporting only 185 lbs. Seventy-one years is a long time. It passed too quickly. A direct connection to the land becomes an indirect one and in time even that is broken. A part of Dad died last week and a part of me died too when he told me. Were I wealthy I would have just bought the place just to keep us connected to it. But no Cosby will turn a plow this season. No "he-yaw" called out to drive a cow or calf in the right direction. Just memories, good, hard, lasting memories.

Time and decay bring these "little deaths" to us almost from birth. We die a little at the first bleeding cut our child receives then brace ourselves for more. He changes from a baby to a toddler to a little boy to a young man. This happens in about three days and we wonder how it got away from us. Innocence dies a little each day, hope for everything turning out just right takes a beating in the living of life. We see the death of a loved one, a serious illness, a divorce, a financial struggle and a never ending string of things we do for the last time. The last time you visited Uncle___; the last time you went fishing with _____; the last Thanksgiving with all the family; the last time ....  Life becomes filled with last things, some good, some bad, some sad but all "little deaths" of what once was and what will never be again.

When you live long enough you experience way too many ''little deaths" and the list of last things grows longer than the list of "I'm going to.." How do you keep going? When meaningful, fulfilling things die around you or they are taken from you, what do you do? I'll not try to answer for you. I can only tell you what I did.

I grieved the loss. I remembered and smiled. I remembered and cried. I grieved.

I remembered the Promises. The places and people in our lives give way to time. Time picks them off one by one: the joys, the pleasures, the things we did, the experiences and people of our lives. But the good Lord made promises and they weren't mainly about this world. The Promises of Life: eternal, abundant, joyful where there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order with its little deaths, last things, last times, and death has passed away.There's the Promise of a special place. The old King James bible calls it a mansion in John 14. The Greek meaning is dwelling place, room. In God's promise there is a place, prepared, special that is ours. Neither sales or the passing of time nor the little deaths will take it away. It's the beautiful and ironic language of Revelation 21:4 that promises death itself will pass away.

And I did and will do one more thing.  I will tell the stories of growing up on a farm to my boys and grandchildren. I will tell of adventures on the creek; chopping and hauling cotton; watching mom's strength of mind and practicality and dad's strength of body and relentless (Mom says stubborn) battle against the land he loved, with nature all the time trying to reclaim its fields. With droughts, floods, boll weevils, and 46 cent cotton, Dad lost a few of those battles. The land, nature, and time lost many more battles for 71 years. They will win the last battles. But they will lose the war for a couple of reasons. The Promise of God the Son guarantees it. The memories of children, grandchildren, the history that shaped us and the stories we share will also see to it.


Standing on the promises,
Cos

An Evil Generation Seeks a Sign

I think I know what Jesus was talking about in Matthew 12 and Luke 11  when He taught about a wicked generation seeking miraculous signs. It was the "what have you done for me lately" crowd. The Presence of the most high God in their midst was not enough. Proof, temporal relief and amazing demonstrations of power were required to please their discontented hearts. Their hearts couldn't be dented at that point with the holiness and righteousness of God walking with them. Just give us more fish sandwiches and zap the Romans.

Having said that, Jesus didn't have use of digital camera's and cell phones. I wouldn't be surprised if He made use of the technology to advance His Kingdom. I thought with all the bad, tough news people have had to deal with on personal, national and international levels that I'd share a couple of signs that brought smiles to my face and questions to my mind. These were taken on a recent trip to the metroplex.

Hopefully you can enlarge or zoom to read the whole sign. Sadly, it probably generated a little business. I hate their exploitative industry but you have to admit to their creativity. And no, I will not tell you where it is. In fact, hand in the bulletins when you finish with them Sunday!

This second one made me shake my head and made me a little sad at first. "Have we really come to this?'' I asked myself.  On the other hand....  Is a drive thru prayer better than none? Is this a way to attract the "get God quick" crowd and then teach a better way?  Do you pray with a  person, through a speaker, behind a glass? Do you just drop off a request and drive on?

 Prayer is not a quick, drive-in fix but a long, deepening relationship.  It's not just getting an answer but discovering Jesus is there with you in the troubles. It's not asking and receiving what you want but finding in Christ you have all you need. It is about applying His strength to our spiritual battles. And yet, often our  loving Father does answer our prayers in positive, affirming ways. If we are too busy to spend time with Jesus in prayer to discover all these and more, well, then we are indeed too busy. Can you learn all that and the thousand other things prayer teaches with a drive in prayer service? I don't know. I know we can make prayer harder than it is. Can you pour out your heart to God in a drive thru? I sure do while I'm driving. I know we can neglect prayer and its lessons pretty easily. Would a drive thru get you back on track and be a step toward sitting down with Jesus to talk and listen?  I don't know. What do you think?

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign,
Cos

Again, again

Only a few hours had past from posting a prayer on this blog concerning the Boston Marathon bombings entitled "Again" that it happened again. The West fertilizer plant exploded with devastating and deadly fury. Again people had their lives changed literally in the twinkling of an eye. There were losses at every level of humanity and with every loss came a dozen questions flooding the soul, mind, psyche, and heart. How, why, why, why, why, who, how, what, what again. How did it happen? Why did it happen? How do they move on? Who did you know? Again and again we ask, again and again the answers aren't adequate. The more honest simply admit: "I don't know."

Before the shock had worn off and the grief process started for Boston and West, news of the Colorado avalanche, the China earthquake, the mid-west floods and the shootings in Seattle tended to push the last horror off the news with the new horror. And the questions, grief, and prayers started again. Can that amount of pain and suffering be absorbed? Can some well-intentioned but theologically poorly informed saint really glibly say in the face of such tragedy, "well, the Lord never puts more on us than we can handle." Really? Who can handle the cruelty, arbitrariness, timing, and pain that life can inflict? I can't handle all that  much I guess. My heart breaks; my mind shuts down; my anger rises; my soul is confused.  I grow numb.

So what did I do? I started with prayer. I didn't know how to pray really but I bounced familiar words off the ceiling and read some Psalms as prayers. Psalm 27, 31,42,46,80,90,103,120...well you get the idea. I took the nearest disaster, West, and inquired with phone calls to see how I (we) could help. I went and checked on a couple of our White Bluff volunteer firefighters who went over that horrible night. At that point I was told to seek donations and prayers, and stay away a few days. We organized the church to make donations and offerings. Manpower available when and as needed. (I must say I am very proud of the church I pastor. We average about 200 in worship and these folks gave over $5500 the first Sunday\week and will take an offering again on the next Sunday.) Then I read my prayer again from the Boston bombings. Some, if not much of that prayer was answered on many levels. Seeing that I looked at the title again, "Again," and had a thought.

I went to the Bible and looked up how the word "again" was used in scripture and thought of how we use it in our daily lives. Just a simple word, 'again,' but listen again...

Roy and Dale used to sing "till we meet again."
Genesis 8-9 say "never again" five times.
My granddaughter says "again" into the skype camera when she wants her MiMi to play giddy up horsey again.
Buck Owens sang about being "Together Again" to his lover in the old country song.
"It happened again" is in some versions of the Bible and on our lips regularly.
John 3 tells us we must be "born again."
We know what it means for something, whether good or bad, to happen 'again and again.'
Paul tells us to "again rejoice" and also go to some effort to "remind you again."
And Jesus "rose again" from the grave.

I believe this: This world is sick with sin. It will burden us again and again with pain and sorrow; weeping and grief. Good people will rise up again and meet the pain, sorrow, horror, grief and death with courage, sacrifice, compassion, love, and goodness. There is coming a day when these tragedies will happen never again. So let me also remind you again, especially you who have lost so much, that you will laugh again; you will hope again; you can love again. And for all who have lost so much, in Christ, you will see them again.

In the meantime, seek again the face of Christ, till He comes

Again.
Cos

Again...(a prayer)

Dear Father,
     It has happened again. We knew it was possible, even probable, but when it happened we were stunned.  Grant us your grace in our shock of Boston's bombings. May this grace be especially real and near to those so devastatingly close to the act of terror. Our words aren't enough to express the loss, the shock is too raw, too soon. Our words may never catch up with our grief. They seem to catch up more quickly with our anger.

We cry out for healing, relief, and comfort--so deeply needed by the victims of the acts of cowardice. But we also cry out for healing, relief, comfort, and answers in a world seemingly exploding with evil.  Remind us of your loving presence, in, especially in times of trouble. May we be quick to remember that there are evil forces loosed in our world seeking to devour and destroy that which is good, and right and noble. May we also quickly remember that in this world where we have tribulation, through your Son you have overcome evil and have been given the power of truth, faith, mercy and love for us to resist evil and prevail against it.

There seems to be no end to the enemy's schemes and explosions of hate. May we always know that even so, the weapons of our warfare far outnumber his. Grant that your church always move toward the trouble with grace and hope and love as so many brave souls did to attend to the victims in Boston.  We are so thankful for their courage and help. But we also ask that you move swiftly with justice and bring to justice those who would so seek to hurt so many innocents.

We have grown tired of the pain, suffering, and injustice we see when your truth of salvation is ignored or refused.  May the enemy grow tired and weary, more so than we, in the face of a people, of a church that never runs out of worship, praise, hope, love and service even when it has to be expressed through tears of sorrow.

And as we cry, grant that with one tearful eye we cry with grief for the pain of victims,  for a world at war with itself, for the lost-ness of people who don't know the joy and peace of your salvation, for the destruction that follows behind evil, but with the other eye may our tears be tears of resolve to rise up with love, truth, courage, faith, and all that expresses the heart of God and stand in a fallen world with a cross shaped commitment to proclaim the glory of God and the endurance his truth secures.

Now turn us loose, dear Father, as more than conquerors through him who loves us; equip us with your full armor of truth, righteousness and the gospel of peace and salvation. Encourage us with the thought that in your Son we have already triumphed.  Renew our hope, not in the goodness of man, but in the holiness and righteousness of Christ as we look forward to the day when when prayers like this are never prayed--again.

In Jesus' strong and holy name,
Cos

Theology's Gone to the Dogs

                                                 Theology's Going to the Dogs


 I live in a split home. Those two free moral agents that occupy and exercise limited rule over the boundaries of our estate are at odds with one another. I'm speaking of my dogs. One is definitely a Calvinist, the other strictly Arminian.

Let me explain how I know this. One day last week I went out to walk the dogs. I go out from the side of the garage and walk to the backyard with their leashes in hand. I unlock the gate and call for the dogs to come. The male, responding to what he believes are words from his god, (me) comes joyfully to the gate. He finds it closed, but the latch is not latched, it is merely leaning on the latch. It looks closed. But knowing the call of his master and the character of his master, and seeing the leash that leads to the bliss of walking, he jumps and  pushes with nose and feet and effects his freedom. He has taken this step by faith. He has heard the call to come and he comes freely and gleefully exercises his free will to join me in a journey, an adventure with his god (me).

Now the lady dog responds at a more leisurely pace. She is a sweet, pleasant soul and sometimes stubborn. Did I mention she was female? Anyway, upon her arrival to the gate, she finds it has swung back to its original position after the exit of the male dog. It is not fully latched, merely leaning on the the latch. For her it looks closed. I call to her "come." She sits down inside the gate and looks longingly, mournfully for her god(me) to come and execute my sovereign will to expedite her exodus. I begin to move away from the gate with the male dog. She cries out in prayer (barking) and yet does not move. We move further away and even give loud and enthusiastic words of encouragement to push, lean, jump or in some way exercise free will and initiative against the dark forces (unlatched gate) confining her to the backyard. She remains inside the gate, waiting for her god(me) to come back and receive her to myself. We are now some fifty yards away and her will is steadfast as her cries are mournful. I return and spend time teaching sanctification to the lady dog. I show her repeatedly how the gate may be moved and convince her that it is her god's (me) will for her to jump on the gate with her paws and open it. She finally does and we begin our faith walk together.

Obviously, I have a Calvinist and an Anminian dog. Upon our return from our walk we discussed these issues and both made their cases. The male made his defense for free choice and his experience was born out by the longer freedom and joy he experienced by simply giving a push in the direction toward his god(me). The female made her defense by pointing out that her belief in her god's(me) absolute sovereignty was born out by the fact that her god(me) did in fact return and set her free thus confirming her beliefs. Neither would give in and neither would win this argument. I fed them and retired to the house(heaven).

I'm not sure how these two dogs raised in the same home with the same god (me) came to two totally different conclusions about my will but they did. I see their points of contention with the other and agree with some of their points and disagree with others. At my advanced age,  I view it somewhat philosophically. For a river to flow two banks are required. God is sovereign; man is free to choose and is responsible. So what does one do? This I know: stay in the flow of God's will to love one another and do justice. The last I checked, there is a river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. (Rev. 22: 1-3)

Stay in the river,
Cos