Echoes From the Campfire

To destroy is easy, to build is hard. To scoff is also easy, but to go on in the face of scoffing and to do what is right is the way of a man.”
–Louis L’Amour (Bendigo Shafter)

“But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.”
–Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NLT)
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Well, spring has sprung–the wildflowers are showing their brilliance here in Texas. I trust that the first day of spring was welcome to you. If you’re up in that snow-country, at least the first day of spring is a promise.
I was doing some research for my next novel. In this novel there will be a character, actually a Methodist circuit-riding preacher by the name of John Lewis Dyer. In his autobiography I came across the following story. The man in the story had an understanding of a real relationship with the Lord. This takes place around 1851, a few years before Rev. Dyer goes to Colorado.

“There was an old Brother Lincoln. He would shout at meeting or at work. Rev. S.C. Thomas, presiding elder, came to the charge to hold quarterly meeting. Brother Lincoln would say, ‘Glory!’ as the service went on. The new presiding elder stopped, and said: ‘If that brother can refrain from shouting, I would be glad; but if he can’t, let him shout.’ The brother said, ‘Glory to God for the privilege of shouting;’ and of course he made use of his privilege. He was a good blacksmith, and every time he laid down the hammer he would say, ‘Glory!’ On one occasion, a man brought a bad horse to be shod. The horse had been tried and given up. He swore he would take him to old Lincoln. Lincoln knew nothing of the horse’s wickedness, took hold of his foot, and was thrown a somersault on some old irons in the corner of his shop. He jumped up, clapped his hands, and said, ‘Glory to God! He didn’t hurt me a bit!’ and took up the horse’s foot, and shod him. The wicked man said Lincoln had a right to shout as much as he pleased. I noticed his obituary; his last word was a shout of ‘Glory!'”

This reminds me of Annie’s Uncle John Swank. When he visited us he might be sitting in a chair, lounging, or resting a tired body. Then there would be a shout of “Hallelujah” followed again by quietness. Sometimes, there gets inside a person an urge. Now, myself, I’m not a shouter, but once in a while I sure get the urge to clog up a spell in the kitchen.
Can you imagine going into Brother Lincoln’s blacksmith shop and listen to the hammer ringing off the anvil along with a shout of “Glory!”? That shop would be a place where revival could happen. Ol’ Brother Lincoln sure didn’t need it, but his shop must have been something else.
How about those last words? Wouldn’t it be great if every Christian, with their dying breath could give a shout of “Glory”? I tell you what, I just might have to do a little clogging thinking of this story.
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Ponder This: “Love implies the crucifixion of self, the absolute putting away and annihilation of self.” -John Daniel Jones

The Saga of Miles Forrest

There was a little soreness where the bullet had grazed my neck, but other than that the week was back to normal; whatever that is. The weather had turned nice again, warm days, but frosty nights. Snow in Durango was gone, but there was still plenty in the high country.
Billington and the Council still had not replaced the marshal. I talked to each of them, telling them that Charlie Gold was available, but the election on Tuesday changed that. He was now the newly elected sheriff of the county. His office was a little nicer than the marshal’s office as it was in the newly built county courthouse. He had two deputies to help him; one stayed mainly at the courthouse and acted as bailiff.
I had my reckonings and I reckoned that Billington was looking for “his man” to be placed in the marshal’s office. Molly told me to let it go, but I was concerned for the people of Durango. Having Charlie as sheriff would help, but he also would have to be out of Durango on county business.
It was time for the bullion to be shipped down from Silverton. I had sent a telegraph to the U.S. Marshal’s office and the Secret Service office in Denver letting them know that I would be going up to meet the shipment, follow it back to Durango, and then ride the rails with it to Denver.
The railroad sure changed how things were shipped and made the trip much faster. In fact, five years ago or so, the shipment could not be made for another month as the passes were still closed. Instead of two days it took four hours. I still missed the ride through the high country though; something about that fresh mountain air and the cold water rushing from the snow made a man feel different–alive might be a good word.
I took Hawk with me, but I wouldn’t have to ride him much. He was such a good mountain horse; I would keep Star for the trip to Denver. He needed to be let out so he could run. Not as good in the mountains as Hawk, but he could flat out run him on the prairie.
The trip up was uneventful. Being Secret Service I was offered a compartment to sit in all decorated with finery, a nice table, comfortable cushioned seat and service with a silver set. I declined, but now sitting on the hard bench I longed for the days when there was a stove at one end of the car with a coffee pot on top.
After unloading I walked Hawk to the Wells Fargo office. They would oversee the guarding of the gold. I wanted to say howdy to the boys working there, also to let them know that I would be on the train. They told me they had heard of the Secret Service, so I reckon it wasn’t so secret.
Mounting Hawk, I rode up to the mill which was about a half mile out of town. There were several wagons ready to be loaded. That would be done in the morning and taken directly to the train. I dismounted at the office, went inside telling the clerk at the front desk who I was. He asked to see my credentials; that was a good sign. Then he went to the door of the supervisor, knocked, opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
Looking out the window was a man about my height, but would make twice of me in the shoulders.
“Excuse me,” said the clerk. “Mister Burleski, this is Miles Forrest to see you.” Then he turned, walked out shutting the door.
The man turned, glanced at me then in a gruff voice said, “Forrest, hmmm, heard of you.” Then he held out his hand. “Want a drink, cigar?”
“No, thank you,” then I took his hand, a firm grip, and he wasn’t trying to impress me with it. “Take a seat. Call me, Jakub, second generation from the old country.”
“My job is to follow the gold from your mill to the mint in Denver. There have been some discrepancies…”
He interrupted me, “Someone is stealing the gold. Don’t play niceties with me, Forrest, I know the allure that gold brings.”
I nodded, then continued. “It doesn’t happen all the time, but enough that someone is putting a sizeable amount in his pants.”
“We have to check every man when he leaves work. After the gold is removed from the ore there is that temptation to put a bit in their bib.”
“What time do I need to be here in the mornin’?” I asked.
He turned back to the window and looked up at the sky. “We will have to wait until daylight so the guards can watch properly. The earliest we can start is 7:30. It will take us most of the morning to load the wagons, get it over to the train station to unload the wagons and load up the rail car.”
I stood up to leave, offering my hand to him. “Come early, I’ll have the coffee on,” he said taking my hand.
Burleski followed me outside to the platform…

Echoes From the Campfire

Many men were like that–stones in the path, weeds to tangle weary feet–thorns that lacerated and poisoned.”
–Zane Grey (Arizona Ames)

“Corrupt people walk a thorny, treacherous road; whoever values life will avoid it.”
–Proverbs 22:5 (NLT)
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“Only fools say in their hearts, “There is no God.” They are corrupt, and their actions are evil; not one of them does good!”
–Psalm 14:1 (NLT)

“I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.”
–Stephen Hawking

How does one harden their heart so? Where was it along the journey of life that a person, such as Hawking, says “NO” to their Creator and refuses to listen to the wooing of the Holy Spirit? There is a point, where the Spirit will no longer seek after an individual.
Perhaps part of the blame is the lack of convicting power in today’s preaching. A couple of things to ponder. Why doesn’t the Spirit convict people today when a preacher brings his message? Maybe because the preacher isn’t on the “same page” with the Spirit. How much time does the preacher put in prayer for his sermon? The Spirit should bring conviction when the Word is being preached. Just perhaps the Word isn’t being preached, but one of compromise, tolerance, and the building of personal self-esteem.
Listen! Whenever truth is preached it will bring conviction of sin. Whenever there is a strong presence of God there will be the conviction of sin. Compromise of the truth will not bring conviction, in fact, it will grieve the Spirit and drive Him away. Legalism, ha! The purpose of the Law makes a person conscious of sin! “For no one can ever be made right with God by doing what the law commands. The law simply shows us how sinful we are.” (Romans 3:20, NLT) The Law convicts man; perhaps that is why there is such a demand not to post the Ten Commandments.
When a person is confronted with the truth and the convicting power of the Holy Spirit; that person will either cry out to God, or he will hardened his heart against God. The Holy Spirit will either convict a person or He will enrage a person to the point that person turns completely away from God.

Coffee Percs

I smell the hot coffee;
It floats on the wind.”
–Red Steagall

Don’t you be a-tellin’ me, pard. I know it ’cause I did it. Once in a while, in fact many times, a person has to show some appreciation to their life travelin’ pard. So this mornin’ I took the liberty of makin’ coffee that would please her. Annie is fond of coconut, so I purchased some coffee, called Hawaiian Grog, that is coffee and coconut. I ground it all up and that’s what’s on the table pardner.
She and I have enjoyed the aroma of coffee on many occasions together since we met a few years ago (48). Sometimes at home, sometimes around a campfire, sometimes from an old thermos, and I could go on. Today, is her birthday! Yep, hard to believe, but it does come ’round once a year. Now, she ain’t the type to worry over the years, but still, I think I’ll keep her age to myself. No, I haven’t forgotten how old she is! Let me give you a hint. As of today, she is two years older than me. That’s right; hard to believe ain’t it?
Hmmm, my ol’ gizzard just can’t bring itself to say “ahhhh” but the coffee’s tolerable. At least it ain’t weak. Yur cup’s empty, so mustn’t be any displeasure in yur mind. Let me tell you a story about the first birthday I can remember with Annie. Yep, it was a few years back. Her Dad must have been part prophet for he sent her money for her birthday tellin’ her to take me out for supper. He knew I was most likely a good find (sure hope she still thinks so). Also, we had been datin’ steady for ’bout six weeks and she mentioned that we ought to slow down and not date. Well, I was asked by her roommate to get her over to the Student Union for a surprise party. I thought she might turn me down as I was tryin’ to lasso her, an’ tie that knot tight so she couldn’t get away, but I managed to talk her into goin’ with me. She was certainly shocked.
Ahhhh, that’s not for the coffee, that’s for the good memories. Thanks for stoppin’ by and listenin’ to an’ ol’ fellow talk about his sweetie. Fact is, after you move on down the trail, she an’ I are goin’ have some coffee.
By the way, check yur cinch. That’s one thing that she an’ I learned a long time ago. Don’t go out a-ridin’ anywhere without checkin’ our cinch.