Echoes From the Campfire

Where one fire burns high and clear upon the altar of the heart, there is small room for any other.”

                    –Emerson Hough  (54-40 or Fight)

       “For our God is a consuming fire.”
                    –Hebrews 12:29(NKJV)
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I have had the fortune of teaching several classes regarding the Holy Spirit.  One unit that is included are the “Symbols of the Holy Spirit” which include oil, wind, water, and fire along with some others.  There is a story I would like to share with you from the writing of F.E. Marsh and is taken from his wonderful book, “Emblems of the Holy Spirit.”  
       Fire is a wonderful symbol of the Spirit.  Fire inflames, fire warms, fire consumes, fire hardens and also softens, fire purifies, fire cheers, fire fuses, fire illuminates, and what I want to share today is the fact that fire moves.  Luke tells us that John the Baptist preached, that Jesus would “baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” (Luke 3:16)  

          A man had a factory!
          He walked round the outside and then walked round the inside.  There were the shafts, all properly set, the cogs, all sharp and clean, the great engine all complete.  The machinery was all there, but it didn’t move a spoke.
          He was looking disgustedly at the factory when a man came up and said, “Your factory?”  “Yes,” he replied.
          “What do you make?”    “That’s the trouble:  I don’t make anything.”
          “Doesn’t it run?”   “No.”
          “What’s the matter with it?”    “I don’t know.”
          “Ah,” said the man, “I’ll tell you; you want to get some hook-nosed oil-cans, and some imported oil,” and he employed me to go round and oil the machinery and all the bearings.
          Then he came down again, walked round inside and outside.  Nothing moved.  A man came up to him and said, “Your factory?”    “Yes,” he replied.
          “What do you make?”      “Don’t make anything.”
          “Don’t it run?”     “No.”
          “What’s the matter?”       “I don’t know.”
          “I’ll tell you; you want to fresco it–side walls and ceiling–and I would recommend you to put a couple of barefooted angels with trumpets eternally ready to blow–and do it properly.”
          So he put workmen in and frescoed the factory, putting a couple of angels on the ceiling, with trumpets at their lips ready to blow.
          Then he came down and looked it over again, but still it did not move, and while he was looking a man came up and said, “Your factory?”      “Yes.”
          “What do you make?”     “Nothing.”
          “Why?  Don’t it run?”      “No.”
          “What’s the matter?”      “I don’t know.”
          “Ah,” said he, “I’ll tell you.  It has no steeple.  You want to put up a nice steeple on one of the corners, and I’d advise you to put in a fine pipe-organ, and get a quartette choir at the same time.”
          So he set men to work, got the steeple up, with a chime of bells that was marvelous, put in a pipe-organ with lots of pipes, got a quartette choir that would beat anything you ever heard, specially on the “Amen.”
          Then the man came down, saw the steeple and the organ, and heard the choir and the chimes.  But not a thing moved.
          “This your factory?” said a man who came up.      “Yes.”
          “What do you make?”     “Nothing.”
          “Don’t it run?”      “No.”
          “Ah,” he said, “you want a picture of the thing taken.  Get a photographer to take a picture, have a lot of big copies made and framed and hung up all round–in the railway stations, in the hotels, in the barbers’ shops, and so on, telling all about the time the thing is expected to move.  Say it will move at 11 o’clock in the morning and 7 o’clock at night, and the people will come to see it move.”
          So he got a great big picture taken, and had copies hung up at all the places the man told him about.
          Then he came down, walked around inside and out; but couldn’t see a hair moving.  He was perfectly disgusted.  Not a cog trembled!
          Just then a working man came up, a hard-handed man.  He took off his hat–he was very polite–and said, “Beg pardon, sir, is this your factory?”
          “Who told you to ask me that?” grunted the owner of the factory.
          “Beg pard, but is that your factory?” repeated the man.      “Yes.”
          “What do you make?”       “Don’t make anything.”
          “Don’t it run?”      “Run!  No, it don’t run at all–except into debt!”
          “What’s the matter, sir?”       “I don’t know.  A man told me to get some hook-nosed oil-cans–and there they are.  Another man told me to fresco it, and put in a couple of angels.  I frescoed it, and if you will come in and have a look you will see two bare-footed angels on the ceiling ready to blow their trumpets.  Another man told me to put on a steeple, to get a pipe-organ, to engage a quartette choir, and I did.  Do you hear those chimes?  See that organ?  Listen to that choir chasing that ‘Amen’ up and down!  Another man told me to get a photograph taken and hung up.  I have hung it up!  But the machinery don’t move a spoke, and I am disgusted with the whole business.”
          “Well,” said the working man, “pardon me, sir.  I have never been to school, and I don’t know anything about those angels; but I would like to ask you one question:  Did you every put any fire under the boiler?”
          “Why, I never thought of that.”
          “Well,” said the working man, “if you will take the chances–it will scare the choir, likely–I will put some fire under the boiler.”
          “Oh,” said the man, “go ahead.  Move it somehow.  Make something of it, if it’s only ashes!”
          So the working man went inside, took off his coat, opened the door of the furnace, put in the wood, threw on the petroleum, put in the coal, lighted a match, got the fire going, set on the draughts, shovelled in some more coal, and pulled back the throttle valves.  The steam rushed into the cylinder, hit the end of the piston rod, the great wheel began to tremble, it revolved, and the machinery all over the factory began to move.  A little more coal–and more–and more–and more, while faster–and faster–and faster went the machinery.  The quartette choir got scared, and went out of the back door.  The whole machinery was moving.  Something had happened.  Praise the Lord!

There is often too much of man involved in God’s work and not enough of the fire of the Holy Spirit to get it moving.  Plans are all right if under the direction and moving of the Holy Spirit.  Programs are as well, but we must not ever leave out the working of the Holy Spirit.  It is the Holy Spirit that moves, energizes, controls, and directs the Church.

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

Miles has arrested the corrupt marshal of Silverton and has been holding him in jail until the train departs for Durango.  During the night, the marshal’s deputies tried to break him from jail only to face the justice of Miles’ gun and their own folly.  Miles and Morgan Appleby, Wells Fargo agent, are in the process of identifying dead bodies while waiting for the doctor to appear.  It’s one hour until the train leaves the station.  Will Miles make it with his prisoner?  Join with me in another exciting tale from yesteryear.
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       A man burst through the doorway, cursing when he saw the bodies.  I didn’t know him, I reckoned him to be the new doctor in Silverton.  After surveying the bodies on the floor he looked over at Morgan standing beside me, then his gaze went to me.  “I don’t know who you are, Mister, but Marshal Johnson will have your neck for this!”
       “He payin’ you?” I asked in a congenial manner.
       That stopped him for a moment, then he asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
       “Are you on the take?  Do you cover for Johnson and his deputies?” I replied, then added.  “I just want to know if I need to arrest you for being a part of Johnson’s crooked schemes.  Oh, and by the way, I’m Deputy United States Marshal Miles Forrest, and I have your marshal locked up and under arrest.”
       The doctor didn’t take well to that news.  “On what charge?”
       I pulled on my moustache, “Oh, murder, attempted murder, extortion, interfering with the duties of a federal officer, misuse of his office, and anything else I can think of before arraignin’ him in Durango.”
       He glanced out towards the street.  “You’ll play Hades getting him to Durango.”
       I gave him my best smile.  “Looks like it has already started.  Now, all I need for you is to identify these men by name.  Give them to Mr. Appleby here, then you can get on your way.  If I miss my guess, I think there are some wounded men about.”
       Morgan helped the doctor with the men lying on the floor.  The one who had been holding the dynamite was unrecognizable, but most likely was a deputy named Sawyer.  I looked up at the clock on the wall and was sort of surprised that it was still working.  I had less than an hour before the train would leave.  Time to be retrieving Johnson from his cell.
       “Why don’t you go ahead and leave, Morgan.  It’s time for me to take Johnson to the depot.”
       He wanted to help me, but I convinced him that he would only be a target.  I told him that I would leave the jailer locked up.  I wasn’t going to bother with him on this trip.
       Johnson was standing up by the bars when I walked in the cell room.  He only had one boot on, and I could see that when he moved he was in pain.  The wrist was definitely broken, and I wasn’t sure about the shoulder.
       “Where’s my boot?” he hollered.
       “You don’t need it,” I informed him.  “Just be careful of where you step.”
       “I need a doctor,” he moaned.
       “There’s a good one in Durango.  I’ll make sure he sees you.  Now let’s go.”
       We moved on through the cells out into the office which was now clear of men and only dead bodies lying on the floor.  When we came to the entrance I thrust the Greener up under his jaw.  “I see any of your men makin’ any kind of move and I pull the trigger.  Savvy?  It won’t be a pretty sight.”
       As we began to move down the boardwalk we gained quite a crowd, following and watching their town marshal limp down toward the station.  It was just in front of us when three men walked out in the street to stop our progress.  I pushed the barrel up under Johnson’s jaw.  I leaned toward him whispering, “Ever think that they might want you out of the way?”
       He tried to swallow.  I didn’t stop, but kept moving forward, the three men moved to the side two to one side and one to the other, causing me some discomfort.  I couldn’t watch them all.  They allowed us through, but now they were to my back.  I turned Johnson to the side making him walk sideways down the street.  He stumbled and almost fell causing the shotgun to dig into his throat.
       “Easy there, Marshal.  This gun almost went off.”
       We stepped onto the passenger car and entered.  I pushed Johnson down against the side of the car.  He let out a yelp, then a groan.  I wasn’t really concerned.  Looking out the window, I watched as two of the men walked to the front of the car and entered, sitting down in front.
       They had just sat when the train lurched, then proceeded to move on away from the station.  I sat down in the seat behind Johnson.  I surely hoped that the two wouldn’t start anything on the train as there were several passengers aboard–all their eyes in my direction.
       As the train started moving down the canyon, I thought to myself that this might prove to be an interesting trip, then smiled whispering a little prayer.  “Okay, Lord, You can stop stirrin’ things up now…

 

Echoes From the Campfire

Great canyon walls towered above me, and I drank of their coolness.”
                    –Louis L’Amour  (Silver Canyon)

       “The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer.”

                    –2 Samuel 22:2 (NKJV)
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There are many themes presented in the Psalms.  Departing from our regular verse study in the Psalms, I want to look at two of those themes.  The first one confronts all of us; we are all guilty of it and cannot get away from it–SIN.  It is one of those terms that is being removed from our vocabulary, and if used it is referred to as a “mistake,” having “messed up,” or even with a shrug as if to say that perhaps sin is in the eye of the beholder, and that it is only a “bad habit.”
       We take sin all too lightly, yet it is the sin of man that put Jesus on the cross!  It was because of sin that the Father sent His only begotten Son to die a cruel death to appease the wrath of God and His justice.  Sin is foul, yet we far too often dismiss it.  I went with my son-in-law Greg once to the dump in Maryland to get rid of some items.  Inside the large room was the foulest smell I ever encountered.  Those working there wore gas masks.   That is what sin is like to the nostrils of God.  Look at a pile of vomit, that is the illustration I would give to my students–that is sin.  Foul, evil, disease causing, and death is sin.
       “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23).  Sin pervades our heart, and no one is left out.  A London columnist once asked, “What’s wrong with the world?”  In response, G.K. Chesterton replied with a letter to the editor:  “Dear Editor:  What’s wrong with the world?  I am.  Faithfully yours, G.K. Chesterton.” ((William J. Petersen)  The Psalms speak of sin and its results:

               “My heart is stricken and withered like grass, so that I forget to eat my bread.” (102:4, NKJV)
               “For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” (38:4, NKJV)
               “When I refused to confess my sins, I was weak and miserable.”  (32:3, NLT)
               “Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight.” (51:4, NKJV)
               “Make me hear joy and gladness, that the bones You have broken may rejoice.  Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.” (51:8-9, NKJV)

       Sin, in the Psalms, comes from three different Hebrew words.  The first (pesha) means rebellion or mutiny against God.  The second (hataah) means missing of the mark.  And the third (avon) means a curving from God’s path which makes us twisted.  In short–we sin.  We all sin.
       There is another theme, but not everyone takes advantage of it.  It is not in the heart of man, but it is required if we are to see God and face Him righteously.  That term is forgiveness.  Man sins, but he does not have to accept the forgiveness of God.  It is there, freely given, offered by God Himself through the sacrifice of His Son.

               “Who forgives all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases.”  (103:3, NKJV)
               “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”  (103:12, NKJV)
               “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Blessed is the man to whom the LORD does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.” (32:1-2, NKJV)

As there were three words to denote sin, there are also three Hebrew words used for God’s forgiveness.  First, (nasa) meaning that our sin has been taken away like garbage.  Second, (kasah) which means our sin is covered, atoned for by the blood of the Lamb, and the third (hashav) meaning our sin is no longer charged against us–the record is clear and the bill is paid in full.
       All sins can be removed, because all have been paid for.  “There is nothing–no rebellion, no shortcoming, no perversion of His ways–that cannot be forgiven.” (Petersen)
I would encourage you to go through the Psalm noting the mention of sin and then also of forgiveness.  We all sin, but there is the offering of forgiveness for all if we reach out and accept it from the Lord.
       
               “No condemnation now I dread; Jesus, and all in him, is mine!
               Alive in him, my living head, and clothed in righteousness divine,
               Bold I approach the eternal throne, and claim the crown, through Christ my own.
               Amazing love!  How can it be that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?”
                         –Charles Wesley

 

Coffee Percs

The hot coffee from the thick porcelain cup, which had a chip out of the handle, steamed his still unshaven face.”

                         –Stephen Bly  (It’s Your Misfortune)
 
Mornin’, I took advantage of my age and my retirement and decided to sleep in this mornin’.  Hope I didn’t keep yuh waitin’ too long; I’ll have the coffee a-perkin’ before yuh know it.  Whist yur a-waitin’ let me sing to yuh, well maybe not sing, this little ditty I found.
 
          An ode to coffee… Black.
          Leave the sugar on the rack.
          Leave the cream in the cow.
          This coffee…  It beckons to me:
          Drink me the way I was meant to be.
 
Sorta catchy, ain’t it?  Now tell me yur woes, and I’ll fetch the coffee.
       Yuh know, Pard, things jist ain’t the same no more.  With all the foolishness that abounds it’s hard to find any common sense, an’ then yuh add to that anything more than mediocre is hard to be a findin’ nowadays.  It seems like we’ve become obsessed with gadgets so we don’t have to be doin’ no thinkin’ our ownselves.
       No, I hear the perkin’, I won’t let the coffee boil over onto the stove top.  But these gadgets, let me tell yuh.  My daughter bought a new steel mount, it rides real nice let me tell first off, but it is full of them gadgets, beepin’, pingin’, buzzin’, dingin’ and dongin’.  Why there’s something goin’ on all the time, this ol’ fence post couldn’t even get my philosophyzing done on the trip.  Why, Pard, I even heard tell that there’s vehicles out there now that drive themselves, and park themselves.
       Here yuh go, steamin’ hot, black as the darkest night, and stronger than an ol’ mule’s shoe.  Take a sip, drink it down real slow, and it’ll calm those woes yur a-carryin’.  Ahhhh, glad I decided to get up…   But back to what I was sayin’, I’m a-thinkin’ that those new fangled gadget keep us from thinkin’ real hard.  Why a person don’t need to remember nothin’ no more, just push a button on some sort of gadget and the answer comes up.  And as fer as drivin’ itself folks are already a-doin’ that with the Lord.  They don’t need Him as long as they can hear a ding, or feel a buzz, or ask that crazy woman Alexa, or simply put ol’ Google.  Why need the Lord, man has provided all that we’re a-needin’.  All except a clean heart.  And let me tell yuh, Pard, ain’t no artificial intelligence can do that.  Nosiree, only the blood of Jesus can bring salvation.
       Yuh be havin’ yurself a good day.  I’m slowly gettin’ back into some kind of routine.  It may still take a while.  In the meantime, yuh be checkin’ yur cinch when yuh mount, don’t be lettin’ anyone put a ding-dong on yur saddle to remind yuh.
        Vaya con Dios.