Author: Ira Paine

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Dreaming all the time instead of working is foolishness.  And there is ruin in a flood of empty words.  Fear God instead.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:7 (NLT)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
     I tried to get comfortable, but that’s hard to do on those old wooden bench seats in the passenger car.  I used my jacket, and Osian gave me a blanket to help cushion my hip as I sort of slouched down on the seat.  The conductor frowned that I was taking up two seats, but my badge made him not say anything, just grunt.  John Smith was with me and I will say he helped me up the steps and into the car.  I didn’t handcuff him, but also didn’t give him a gun.
     Osian had brought us to the station in a carriage he picked up from one of the liveries in town.  I appreciated the fact that he personally drove me to the station and didn’t delegate it to one of the deputies.  If he survived, he’ll make a good lawman.  Bill Martin, according to Doc Minton, would be laid up for over a month, and probably longer before he could go back on regular duty.  He could help out Lucious in the jail, and do paperwork for Osian.  Then again, he might decide that his marshaling days are over.  I wasn’t able to see him before I left, but told Osian I’d be back in a couple of months and that the Sheriff would be making his scheduled rounds.  But I also told him that if there was something urgent not to hesitate to contact me.
     Molly would be waiting for me when the train came into the station as I had sent her a telegram, or had Lucius do it for me.  I also sent one to Charlie telling him that I was bringing John Smith with me.  I had sort of come to the thinking that he should be set free.  I gave Charlie the name of Jesse Moreland, the rancher who Smith said he worked for.  I’m sure Charlie would be checking that out.
     “Thank you Lord,” I muttered a short prayer as the train pulled from the station.
     “What was that?” questioned Smith, turning partially around as he was in the seat in front of me.  “Were you talkin’ to me?”
     I smiled, adjusting myself.  “No, just a little prayer thankin’ the Lord that I’m on this train headin’ home.  I remember the time when it took two days to get down to Durango.  I wouldn’t be able to make that ride in my current condition.”
     “Hmpf, from what I heard Doc say you shouldn’t be makin’ it now.”
     Shakin’ my head, “Nope, it’s time to be gettin’ home.”
     He was still looking back at me.  “You have something else on your mind, Smith?”
     “Uh, Marshal, I just want to thank you for not makin’ me ride in cuffs.  They’re not comfortable, an’ well, it’s downright embarrassin’.” 
     I looked him right in the eyes, holding my stare for several seconds before answering.  “Mr. Smith, I’m takin’ you at your word.  I’m hopin’ you’ll not disappoint me and make me shoot you before we get to Durango.”
     “No, Marshal, you can trust me,” he paused and was silent, still looking back at me.  Then he spoke again, “And I reckon yur right, the Lord is good.  I could be dead.  You could be dead,” he paused, then shaking his head he turned back around.
     I was plum tuckered out.  My wounds hurt, especially the one over my hip.  I couldn’t find a position where I was comfortable and able to find relief.  I had to trust Smith, and the Lord, for I knew I would sleep most of the way.  The Greener was leaning against the side of the car not far from my head and I laid my hand on the butt of my pistol.
     I woke up at the water stops due to that blasted horn blowin’, but went right back to sleep and didn’t wake up until the stop at Hermosa.  From there it wasn’t far into Durango.  Arriving at the station, I saw Charlie with Lucas waiting.  I couldn’t see Molly but I was certain she was there.  Smith had to help me to my feet as I was stiff from sitting and my hip was throbbing.  He grabbed my shotgun, and my eyes opened wide, waiting.  “It’s alright, I’m just carryin’ it for you.  Put your arm around me shoulder.”
     He had the Greener and if I put my good arm around his shoulder, I would be helpless.  Guess I had to trust him.  I prayed silently, “Lord, don’t let me be wrong.”
     As soon as Charlie saw me on top of the steps, he rushed to help Smith get me down.  Once reaching the platform, I took the Greener from Smith who released it willingly, then looked for Molly.  She was walking toward me from where there was a buggy.  My face lit up with a big smile.  Such was the reason for coming home.  “Come here,” I said, opening my arms.  She hesitated, looking me over and worried about my wounds, then gently pulled me close to her.  Oh, the comfort, that did more for my aching wounds than any salve the doctor could have given me, and it calmed my soul much better than laudanum ever could.
     “Let’s go home, Miles.  I’ve stew on the stove, and Emelda sent up some of her cheese enchiladas.”  We moved slowly to the buggy, with Lucas following behind.  Between the two of them they got me situated.  Lucas told Molly that he’d be up in a little while to take care of the buggy.
     I groaned as I sat back, but there was a smile on my face…

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

The fragrance of young grass responding to the rains made a magic like nothing else ever known. It rose upon a new warmth, gentle, moist, and living, from the unlocked vitality of the earth itself—the smell of hope, of promise, of a world reborn. Under the ground and upon it and in the air, every winter-deadening thing awoke, turned young and eager; and human hearts rose singing in answer.”

                    –Alan LeMay  (The Unforgiven)

       “‘But let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth.  For in these things I delight,’ declares the LORD.”
                    –Jeremiah 9:24 (ESV)
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Always wanted to sing, never was much of a hand at it though.  In my teenage years the youth of our church would go to Denver for YFC meetings where they often had singings or if the Blackwood Brothers were nearby go listen to them.  A couple of my friends and I thought we’d give it a whirl.  We had a trio and sang in church.  Of course the church folk enjoyed seeing the youth involved; either that or they were too polite to say anything.  One day we taped ourselves and played it back.  Needless to say, that was the end of my singing days.  That to some would be a song in their ears and they were probably singing praises that I wasn’t taking it up as a profession.  
     Psalm 149 is a song of praise.  It is a call to praise God and “was used by the army of Israel as well as by the people in their worship of God” (NKJV Study Bible).   It is a new song, one that comes from the heart, one that comes from being in the family of God.  I believe that much of our praise is phony and we praise only when God intervenes in our lives, but we should be giving Him the praise all the time.  Matthew Henry wrote, “Be not afraid of saying too much in the praises of God; all the danger is of saying too little.”

          1 — Praise the LORD!  Sing to the LORD a new song, and His praise in the assembly of saints.
          2 — Let Israel rejoice in their Maker; let the children of Zion be joyful in their King.
          3 — Let them praise His name with the dance; let them sing praises to Him with the timbrel and harp.
          4 — For the LORD takes pleasure in His people; He will beautify the humble with salvation.  (NKJV)

     “Praising God is the highest privilege afforded to the saints.” (Steven Lawson)  If we have been born again, we have been given a new song.  Your song, my song, are similar in that respect but after that we sing from our own experiences with the Lord.  We are similar in that we recognize the glory of the Lord, of who He is, but each of us have been ministered to by the Holy Spirit in different ways, thus giving us a personal song.
     George Wood puts it this way, “Your solo is quickly surrounded by the voices of the mighty choir to which you belong.  Sorrow banished.  No tears.  Just joy–undiminished infectious joy.”  Worshiping God, giving Him praise should never become ritualistic, but should come from who we are in Him.  Remember, praise is an act of the will.  We must choose to praise Him.  We are no longer in bondage to sin, we are no longer exiled from His presence.  Why, just to think of that makes me want “to clog in the kitchen” (private joke).  But there is truth.  I’m no waltzer, and I surely don’t tip-toe through the tulips, if I do any dancing it will be clogging, or maybe now at my age, “shuffling in the hallway.”
     Lawson relates that we are to sing a new song which is the song of the redeemed.  However it can “be an old song sung in a new day with a new awareness of its truthfulness and importance.”  By praising we are “boasting in the Lord.”  Paul writes, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord,” (1 Corinthians 1:31, ESV) and again in 2 Corinthians 10:17, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” (ESV)  Brag on what God has done for you.  Praise Him, boast on His glory, His working in your life, what He has done and what He will continue to do.  
     Just because I cannot carry a tune.  Just because I sound more like the howling of a wolf does not mean I do not praise or sing.  My heart is always singing.  I recall the words to a song we sang often in church when I was growing up:  

          “I have a song that Jesus gave me,
          It was sent from heav’n above;
          There never was a sweeter melody,
          ‘Tis a melody of love.

                In my heart there rings a melody,
               There rings a melody with heaven’s harmony;
               In my heart there rings a melody;
               There rings a melody of love.”
                        –Elton M. Roth

I try to begin each morning with praise and thanksgiving to the Lord.  Another night, another day He has given me.  Songs ripple through my soul, and though I don’t always verbalize them, for the sake of your ears, they are there–my song of redemption, my song of praise.  Say, why don’t you add yours to it?

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

It’s also poor manners not to offer a stranger a cup of coffee after inviting him into a camp, and you’re hopeful these men will conduct themselves decently.” 

                    –Robert Peecher  (Through a Land Accurst)
 
Grab yur cup and sit yurself down an’ take a long swaller.  Pard, yur gonna need it after I tell yuh what I’m fixin’ to tell yuh.  Jist when yuh think yu’ve heard it all, well, at least most of what is worth hearin’ something else comes down the pipe to make yuh git the trembles of what this might mean.  Go ahead, take another swaller an’ I can fill yur cup up again before I tells yuh what I’m gonna tell yuh.
     Ready, an’ I got this from Glenn Beck, “Soul-erasing interview with murdered victim proves we’re slipping into post-human dystopia.”  Yep, I see yur eyes a buggin’ out.  I went to the dictionary to make sure I knew what “dystopia” was.  This is what I read, “An imagined state or society in which there is great suffering or injustice, typically one that is totalitarian or post-apocalyptic.”  My mercy… are we speakin’ of the man of lawlessness appearin’ and rulin’?
     Beck asked this question, and I want yuh to ponder it some whilst yur workin’ on that third cup.  “What does it truly mean to be alive if in death you’re more useful?”  Here’s what took place.  Yuh remember that scoundrel of a so-called journalist Jim Acosta?  Well, it seems that he had an interview with a dead man, and now get this, the dead man talked with him.  Yep, the dead man was AI generated.  Makes yuh wonder who programmed the dead man to answer, or if it programmed itself.  Think if it, Pard, interviewing the dead an’ all sorts of nonsense could be made up; yuh talk about manipulation.  Plus the idea of speakin’ with the dead is jist plum evil.  Ol’ King Saul found out about that when he wanted to bring Samuel back.  My mercy, when Samuel appeared it put the heebie-jeebies into Saul along with the witch who sure wasn’t expectin’ Samuel to show up.  Evil, conversin’ with the dead.
     Back to the AI conversation.  The dead man, answered Acosta’s question about gun violence with this, “We need to create safe spaces for conversations and connection, making sure everyone feels seen and heard.  It’s about building a culture of kindness and understanding.”  An unrealistic utopia, one that socialism promises, but fails over and over.  
     And that’s not all Pard, the Mouth of California, yep, ol’ Pelosi herself stated that the priority of the Democratic Party is to, “push to expand transgender surgeries for minors.”  Pard, that’s playin’ with fire, the fire an’ brimstone from heaven.  Plus there’s the push for Denver to hold the Gay Olympics.  Why I never heard of such a thing.  It seems that Denver has a $50 million deficit and is expecting a $200 million one in 2026.  Mercy, what happened to the revenue from all that “pot”?  I thought they were supposed to be part of the mainstream, but they have to have their own month, their own special days, and now their own olympics.  
     Pard, what’s that sound I’m a-hearin’?  Could it be, surely?  Gabriel turnin’ up his trumpet.  Check that spiritual cinch an’ get ready for the ride.  Pard, there’s a great day a-comin’ an’ I reckon it’s a-comin’ soon!  Hmmm, Pard, if an AI came into camp, a dead man, would yuh have to be offerin’ it a cup of coffee?
     Vaya con Dios.

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

These are hard times and a man must remain vigilant at all times.”
                    –John Deacon  (The Provider–4)

       Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.”
                    –Titus 2:13 (KJV)
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Are you ready should the trumpet sound today?  Paul writes, “For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.  After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.  And so we will be with the Lord forever.” (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17, NIV)
     I was doing some research and the hymn, “Lo, He cometh!” appeared.  It was written in 1752, by John Cennick and it is even more apropo today than when it was written.  Every day that passes brings us one day closer to the Lord coming for His saints.  (And let me give a personal ad here–my new devotion, “New Trails Through the Old Hymns,” should be ready by the end of August.  Be looking for it and get yourself a copy.)

          Lo, He cometh!  countless trumpets
          Christ’s appearance usher in:
          ‘Midst ten thousand saints and angels
          See our Judge and Saviour shine:
          Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!
          Welcome, welcome, Lamb once slain.

After writing my devotion yesterday morning this fits right in.  Are we looking for His coming?  Whether we are or not, He is coming!  We don’t know when, but we are to be ready; ready to meet with Him.  We need to be welcoming and looking for Him.  From the time Jesus ascended into heaven, the saints have been looking for His return.  It may not be today, or this week, or this year; yet it come be this very hour–be ready.

          Now the song of all the ransomed,
          “Worthy is the Lamb,” resounds;
          Now resplendent shine His nail-prints
          Every eye shall see His wounds;
          Great His glory, great His glory!
          Every knee to Him shall bow.

We, as the ransomed, should be longing for His coming, but sadly, too many are heavily involved in this world.  We are fulfilling our own desires, and seldom turn an eye to the sky.  Do we really welcome His return or are we so involved with our affairs that we say, “not yet, Lord”?

          Every island, sea, and mountain,
          Earth and heaven flee away;
          All His enemies confounded
          Hear the trump proclaim His day;
          Come to judgment!  Come to judgment!
          Stand before the Son of man.

It is going to be a frightening day for those who did not accept Christ while they had a chance.  The Day of the Lord will cause men to tremble and all will bow before His presence.  The old enemy, Satan, will be bound for a thousand years in the pit that is bottomless.  Christ will reign, the curse will be removed.

          All who love Him view His glory,
          In His bright, once-marred face:
          Jesus cometh; all His people
          Now their heads with gladness raise:
          Happy mourners!  Happy mourners!
          Lo, on clouds He comes, he comes!

“Look, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of Him,” so wrote John in Revelation 1:7 (NIV, I capitalized personal pronouns).  Yes, our redemption is near, look up, be ready!

          See redemption, long expected,
          On that awful day appear;
          All His people, once despised,
          Joyful meet Him in the air:
          Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!
          Saviour, now thy kingdom comes.

Now we wait, longing, enduring, but expecting.  We occupy the day, working for the Kingdom while at the same time look heavenward for His appearing.  John writes, “Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known.  But we know that when He appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. Everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.” (1 John 3:2-3, NIV)