Author: Ira Paine

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Extortion turns wise people into fools, and bribes corrupt the heart.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:7 (NLT)
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     “What about the rifles?” I asked, perhaps a little too sharply.
     “Senor Miles, I think that one of them has been moved,” he paused, then continued on a little sheepishly.  “Perhaps, even used.  I plan on checking it when I get back to the office.”
     Charlie and I had never bothered to lock up the rifles and shotguns that we kept in the rack in the office.  Perhaps it was time for us to do so, but as of yet no one had bothered them, that is, no one until possibly now.
     “Senor, after seeing it moved, I looked around the office for tracks from the outside.  I am sorry, I should have checked the guest’s boots.”
     I started pulling on my moustache.  “You saw the rifle had been moved, and I reckon he could have taken off his boots outside.  Hmmm,”
     “When I get back I will check them, they will be dry by now but perhaps there will be mud or something else on them,” he said apologetically.
     Molly was heading back to the table with a giant piece of chocolate pie.  “It was the last piece left, and I saw no need to cut it into smaller pieces.  Do you think you can handle all of it?” she asked with a grin.
     Picking up his fork, he started to cut into the pie.  The front door opened and in walked Doc who made for our table.  
     I got up, putting on my coat.  After grabbing the Greener, I leaned toward Lucas.  “Go ahead, ask him.”
    Doc was pulling out the chair then plopped down.  Lucas looked strangely up at me.  “Ask him what?”
     “Remember, the question that you were asking me?  Now is the time to ask Doc.  I’m headin’ up to the jail.”
     “What question is that?” inquired Doc, pulling at his ear. 
     Lucas was frowning, his young forehead even had a crease in it.  “Si, what question?”
     I started to walk away, then stopped.  “The one you were asking the other day, whether or not Doc had spoken with Methusaleh.”  Then I hurried on out the diner not understanding any of the epitaphs coming from Doc.
     Hurrying on up to the office, I wanted to check the rifle Lucas mentioned.  He said he did not touch it, but noticed that it was not sitting properly in the rack.  I wanted to see if it had recently been fired, then check the boots of the Feeney brothers.
     The good Lord had been watching out for me.  If it was one of the Feeneys; he probably hurried his shot then rushed back to the office.  I had trusted them and hoped I was wrong.  Both the men were in the cell lying on the cots.  Lucius swung his legs off the cot sitting up after I walked in.  
     “What’s up, Marshal?” he asked, but I didn’t reply but went directly to the gun rack.  
     I quickly saw what Lucas had mentioned.  Pulling the rifle from the rack, I smelled it then levered a bullet into the chamber.  I was surprised when a spent casing popped out.  For sure it had been fired recently.
     Placing the rifle on one of the desks, I went to the cell room.  “Let me see your boots!” I barked.
     Mort was sleeping or feigning sleep, but Lucius spoke right up.  “Our boots?  What’s the reason for that?”
     “Just place them at the cell door,” I ordered in a not so gracious manner.
     Lucius pulled his off, then reached for Mort’s that were sitting on the floor at the foot of the cot.  “What’s this all about?”
     While Lucius was grabbing his brother’s boots I checked his.  Nothing.  Then looking at Mort’s I saw mud but it was dry, probably from yesterday.  
     I could tell that Lucius was perplexed, but then he spoke up, “Marshal, I plumb forgot, but this morning when you were out…

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Once you condemn yourself, you have no reason to want to change. It’s like being blinded by your own sorrow and never taking the time to realize that the hole you’re digging only gets deeper unless you look up and see the light.”
                    –Ken Pratt  (The Jester’s Magician)


       “As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”
                    –2 Corinthians 6:10 (NKJV)
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               “Those who mourn are fortunate!  For they shall be comforted.”  –Matthew 5:4 (TLB)

     Arthur Pink tells us that, “Mourning is ever a characteristic of the normal Christian state.”  What?  Sorrow is my lot?  Yes, and no.  We must remember that this is a spiritual issue, not just natural.  This is the sorrow over sin–that inner war that we all fight–the flesh versus the spirit.  This is a perpetual war.  This is the war that Paul speaks of in Romans 7, when he cries out, “What a wretched man I am!” (7:24, NIV)  This is the sorrowing over our sins with a godly sorrow.  “It is mourning over the felt destitution of our spiritual state, and over the iniquities that have separated us and God, mourning over the very morality in which we have boasted, and the self-righteousness in which we have trusted; sorrow for rebellion against God, and hostility to His will; and such mourning always goes side by side with conscious poverty of spirit.” (A.T. Pierson)
     We mourn because we cannot do good in ourselves.  We have the propensity to wander; even wander against the grace that is shed out for us.  We pray, repent, are relieved, then wander again.  We want to have a close relationship with God yet we lack that intimate communion with Him; we see the shallowness of our love–and we mourn.  Ahh, but take hope, as the early church leader Basil said, “Holy mourning is the seed out of which the flower of eternal joy grows.”  Thomas Watson tells us that, “Man must pass through the valley of tears to get to paradise.”  The great shepherd and psalm writer David reminds us, “For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5, NIV)  Yes, that is the blessedness of spiritual morning–joy, does indeed, come in the morning!
     That is the truth of this wonderful beatitude.  This life brings sorrow, sin, and strife.  “The mourning that is blessed is the realization of God’s holiness and goodness that issues in a sense of depravity of our natures and the enormous guilt of our conduct.” (Pink)  This is where Paul continues, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God–through Jesus Christ our Lord!  There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 7:23-24; 8:1, NIV)  It is because of Christ, that we are no longer condemned, our mourning can cease and we will recognize our blessedness in Him.
     We see the truth of this in the words of Jesus when He speaks to us this story.  “And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’  I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:13-14, NKJV)  The psychologists and the pseudo-intellectuals of our day tell us to remove guilt.  Yet it is that guilt–the conviction of the Holy Spirit–that brings us to true mourning and thus to the true realization of genuine comfort.
     Have you ever felt sorrow over a friend or loved one in mourning?  Have you ever been shown comfort from such a one when you have been in this state?  Oh, what a blessedness it is.  But even more so, when we mourn, in the natural or the spiritual, we see the comfort and passion of God towards us.

               “Happy day, happy day, When Jesus washed my sins away!
               He taught me how to watch and pray, And live rejoicing ev’ry day.
               Happy day, happy day, When Jesus washed my sins away!”
                        –Philip Doddridge

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

A good life doesn’t require much. Quiet moments with coffee, sitting across the table from a loved one, will take you most of the way.”

                    –John Deacon  (Lobo)
 
Get yurself in here Pard!  There’s a little chubby flyin’ imp shootin’ arrows at people.  Nah, I’m jist a-joshin’ yuh, but there’s a whole lotta nonsense goin’ on today with the foolishness of cupid.  The Greeks with all their so-called wisdom shor enough did have plenty of foolishness as well, but that’s a story for another Saturday.  Soon as I get yur coffee poured I’m goin’ be philosophizin’ with yuh some.
     Ahhh, let me take a large swaller befores I get started.  Love, what is it?  Most people have it all confused and even for us unconfused ones it is still a grand mystery.  The missus will tell yuh–“honey, I love yuh,” then go right around and say, ‘oh, I jist love these shoes.”  What does that make a person?  Tell me if’n yuh know, an ol’ worn out shoe?  I love ice cream, plain ol’ vanilla–I love the cats–I love my wife–I love God.  Hmmm, and then throw on it the idea that I jist love my coffee along with a piece of pie.  Love, love, love…
     Don’t be sittin’ thar with yur mouth open – at least be fillin’ it with that strong coffee.  I want to be tellin’ two things that I think is true of love.  Shor thar’s more, but I want to tell yuh two things I think is true.  First un, love is a mystery.  No question since yuh can’t rightly define it, it must be a mystery.  It’s sorta like a package that yur given.  Finely wrapped with pretty paper, the edges all perfectly tucked in, an’ it’s all wrapped with a pretty ribbon an’ gorgeous bow.  See, love will sometimes come at yuh as a pretty package.  It gets yur attention; yur heart goes pitter-pat, and yur gizzard thump-thump.  My, my, yuh even might start to drool an’ that’s all ‘fores yuh begin to unwrap it.  
     It’s done up so nicely yuh don’t tear it open, but yuh begin to gently unpeel it until all that’s ‘fore yuh is a box full of something.  Pard, that’s it–it’s full of all sorts of things.  Things that’ll make yuh laugh, some that’ll make yuh cry.  Some will be bringin’ yuh joy, an’ some will have sadness attached to it, but Pard, as shor as yur sittin’ there drinkin’ coffee it’s all love.  Funny thing how folks say they fall in love, an’ I ain’t a-doubtin’ them none, but what I don’t gather in my thick-skull is the fact that they can fall out of love as well.  Don’t register with my pea-brain.  If’n it’s love how do yuh fall out of it?  My ain’t it a glorious thing that the good Lord don’t fall out of love with us–He’s jist not all that fickle.
     Let me take another sip, then I be goin’ on.  Mmmm, pure delight–just like love.  Now, here’s the second thing I know ’bout love.  Not only is it a mysterious phenomenon, but in my way of thinkin’ it is also a gift.  Jist like that thar package I mentioned.  It’s a wonderful gift.  Why is it yuh can love one person an’ not another?  Now, that’s jist bein’ real.  Only the Lord loves everybody the same, an’ I realize that it don’t say nothin’ in the Good Book ’bout it bein’ a gift, but it has to be.  Thar’s some folk out there that are jist plain unlovable.  Only the Lord can give yuh the gift to love them.  Some of these folk that get up an’ spout off, “I love y’all,” jist fried my bacon.  They don’t!  They say it, they might think they mean it, but they don’t know a lick of what they’re talkin’ ’bout.  Now, true, one of them true evangelists that is called in the Church might have that special love, an’ I know we’re supposed to love, but it’s downright hard sometimes, that’s why I’m a-sayin’ that it has to be a gift from the Lord to love everyone.
     Now, I’ve done run out of space, an’ yuh’ve run out of time an’ need to be gettin’ on down the road.  But say, Pard, did yuh love my coffee this mornin’?  Did it give yur gizzard fits?  Let me tell yuh as yur a-leavin’ that Annie and I are spendin’ our fifty-sixth Valentines together.  My mercy, Pard, that’s love.  The good, the bad, along with some ugly.  She’s stuck with me through all the dust that’s been thrown up over the years of travelin’ this journey of life.  Whoooeee, and I wouldn’t trade it for nothin’.  My ol’ rundown heart still palpitates with thought of her, an’ her bein’ by my side.
     Pard, yuh take care this week.  Tell someone yuh truly love them, then act like it.  I love yuh ‘nough to be tellin’ yuh to check yur cinch.  No need to be reachin’ those pearly gates ‘fore yur called.
    Vaya con Dios.

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

It [the wilderness] was no place for a fellow who didn’t have a lot of sand in his craw and a boundless store of hope in his heart.”
                    –Ernest Haycox  (A Rider of the High Mesa)

       “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
                    –Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)
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Progress marches on, so they say.  Sometimes it is for the good, but often it is greed, selfishness, and vanity that pushes it forward.  I am often reminded of the verse in Romans, “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time” (8:22, NIV).  There is a new house coming in where we live.  Now I don’t begrudge folks wanting to live out here where we are, but I hate to see the forest being torn down.  What was it John Denver sang?  “More people, more scars upon the land.”  Sigh.  Progress??
     With that being said, my mind goes back to the pristine forests of yesteryear.  The wilderness.  If you have found yourself in a wilderness, no matter what type, stop and look around.  Take a moment and see.  What is there?  Is it fearful or oppressive?  If you are truly in the creation of God’s making know and realize that you are standing in the Great Cathedral of His voice.  Standing there, gazing around, remember, “God, who made the world and everything in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands” (Acts 17:24, NKJV).  Perhaps that is one of the things to learn why you are in this particular experience–learn to worship God for Who He is, not what He does, or where you might think He resides.
     Yet even knowing that this is God’s place, the terribleness may be seen.  There is a vastness in its solitude; traveling through it can cause fear to deepen and even overwhelm you.  Gaze into the immense canyons and gorges, stare into the heat waves as they float above the desert floor, behold the awesome wonder of the majestic peaks as they push through the clouds, and even take time to look out over the vast, seemingly endless plains.  The dreadful, majestic power of nature looms over you as you traverse through it.  And still–God is transcendent over His creation.
     The wilderness may suggest danger, it may also beckon you to come to it.  Moses requested of Pharaoh that the Israelites be allowed to enter so they could offer sacrifices to God.  There is more truth here than what is seemingly on the surface.  Cannot one worship God anywhere?  Isn’t it more comfortable in a nice building?  The issue is that the wilderness demands attentiveness, focus, and sacrifice.  It demands diligence and solitariness, endurance and fulfillment.  To enter the wasteland of the wilderness may be to die to self so that you may live unto God.  Maybe that is the allusion that Paul leaves in Romans 12:1-2, to become, now, a living sacrifice.
     I have pondered many times why the Israelites had to go to the wilderness to meet with God and offer sacrifices to Him there.  Could they have not done this in the safety of Egypt?  Maybe it was because they could not properly meet with God in that location.  Possibly the atmosphere “of the world” would be a great hindrance to them; that part of worship required them to come apart and be separate.  In Scripture, Egypt often represents “sin” or “the world”; it was a place of bondage and oppression.  Is there part of the world involved when you try to worship?
     One more thought this morning–their leader was a man of the wilderness.  Moses knew life there.  He knew what it was to meet God in the wasteland, the desert, and the rocky crags of the mountains.  Could it possibly be that to really come to know God a person must face the same perils as the wanderers of the wilderness?  Perhaps God has now placed you in the wilderness to understand what worship truly entails.”