A Passion Not for Christ

    We were at a church potluck recently when a man we have known for many years sat at our table. When he learned that the young woman next to me was a nurse, I knew we were in for a long monologue about the great passion of his life--nutrition. For many years he sent editorial letters to the local paper expounding on his theories. Thankfully, he now has an online forum where like-minded, food obsessed people can share ad nauseam. Not that there is anything wrong with nutrition, it is a harmless, potentially healthy, pursuit. The problem is that the thing for which he has endless enthusiasm and enough excitement to prompt him to share it with total strangers, is nutrition--not the Lord. From the editorial letters he used to send, and in-person conversations, though he is not saying anything inappropriate, you really cannot tell that he is a Christian.

    From knowing his wife, the patient way he deals with their adult special needs son, and his faithful attendance at church, I assume he is a believer, but that is not the passion of his life. When I die and at last see Jesus (not to underestimate His grace and compassion) I want to be welcomed with, "Thanks for loving me so much" not "Oh, the nutrition person." Healthy eating can help us feel better in this life, but Jesus made it plain that human effort does not change the expiration date He chose for us (Mt. 6:27). And when Jesus said "after such things the Gentiles seek," (Mt. 6:32), it was an observation, not a recommendation. His command, even to the poor of His time who did not know where their next meal was coming from, is not to worry about what we eat, drink or wear. (Mt. 6:31). Focus on food has no eternal value because all the food in heaven will be good for us. 

    Fortunately for him and us, the nice nurse was willing to converse with him. It makes me wonder if the things I share about the most, reveal my love for the One who loved me with such compassion that He gave up everything to save me. Lord you have given me blessings too numerous to mention and time to pursue my hobbies and interests, like writing. But help me to make you the overflow of my mouth, my mind, my heart, for that passion should go only to you.

Can't Write, Gotta Write

     Most months I like to have at least four blog posts for my few followers and my own sanity, so I am watching with despair the dwindling October days. For good or bad, I am still having ideas for blogs, but I have not had time to write them because I am too busy writing. A friend from church, Beth, manages a ministry called Promise Clubs for special needs adults and children. There is a written curriculum for the meetings, but she asked me to write a devotional for the adults/caregivers using the same curriculum. (Ridiculously hard to spell, in future references, I am subbing the words materials or program.) There are 13 weeks of lessons with four devotional studies per week. This is actually a paid writing gig! Who knew? 

     So the reason I have had no time to write is that I have been too busy writing. I have never written devotionals, so I slavishly copied the format from the sample she gave me, which is only about 14 lines of text on a 5 x 7 page. Although I need to tie them to the Bible story in the materials, I can choose my own verse references and make my own aim and applications. Since I am a word miser, keeping it short is fine with me. When I sent Beth my devotions, she liked them but said it is okay to go deeper into the weariness, loneliness, and frustration of special needs homes. Since my Mom was mentally ill and my brother is mentally disabled, I did not need to imagine those feelings, I lived them. 

    I am enjoying this writing project, in many ways they are like condensed versions of my blog. And I have been surprised to find that my take away and applications from the familiar Bible stories are not at all what I expected I would. The Lord has been faithful to help me find the direction and the words to get started on each day's lesson. I really have nothing to write without His input, so I just have to wait for his timing. When my subject matter is the Bible, I need to be subject to the Master who wrote it.

 

Loopholes

    There has been a fad in recent years of churches changing their names. In Kalispell, what was the Christian Center is now called Canvas, the Alliance Church on the west side of town became Adventure, Evergreen Alliance allied with a different group entirely and is now Trailhead. A name that always amuses me as we pass through Polson, is a church called Movement. I can't help but think of the Red Green Show where the name of the Possom Lake newspaper was the Daily Movement. My church home, Central Bible Church, wants to keep the Bible in the center of our name just like it has always been in our theology.

   The first few chapters of this year's Bible study of Romans shows Gentiles looking away from God to sin for satisfaction, and the Jews looking to the Law for righteousness. Neither of those things work, but fellowship with our own kind makes us feel good about ourselves, so I have a suggestion for a name that might make a church incredibly popular-- The Loophole. We are born looking for loopholes. Adam found a loophole when he blamed Eve (and the Lord who gave her to him) for his disobedience. Eve looked for a loophole when she blamed her sin on the serpent. Even non-verbal toddlers confronted for committing a no-no like writing on a wall, book, or themselves, will point to a sibling, the dog, even mommy. Grown up Christians do the same thing every time we justify our sin. And worldly culture, though scoffing at the very idea of sin, automatically blame shifts when they get caught doing something even they realize they shouldn't. 

    Since it is in our nature to look for loopholes, and church names now make trendy, but vague, statements about ideology, The Loophole is certain to be seeker friendly. They could still use the Bible, but instead of expounding on its teachings, they could explain them away. However, I would not want to go to a church full of people who take no responsibility for their own bad decisions. Who wants to fellowship with felons, forecasters (weather/economic/pollsters) and politicians? I will stick with the saved sinners I spend time with now, and when the Bible bumps me in the behind, I may still blame shift, but I don't have enough faith to believe that God's holy Word leaves us loopholes.

What the Sign Reveals

 

    For months there has been a portable flashing speed sign similar to the one above, on one of my main routes into town. Supposedly, it is because of a work zone several blocks ahead, although the speed limit on that part of the road has been posted at 25 mph for decades, probably since automobiles replaced horses. But somehow, driving past a sign that displays 25 mph and has the audacity to flash if you are going even one mph over the limit has been a revelation to me, not about my speed, but about my stinkin' thinkin' towards authority. 

 

•   I have blown raspberries at it. 
•   Rolled my eyes.
•   Argued with it:  Gimme a break. I'm only 1 mile over!
•   Gloated: See, I'm going 25. Happy now? 
•   And I get really rude when I'm under the speed limit.

 

    The sign reminds me (but probably not normal people) of Simeon's prophecy to Mary in Luke 2:34-35 when Jesus was brought to the temple for circumcision. "This child is destined to cause the rising and falling of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed . . ." What the stupid flashing sign reveals to me is not the speed limit, I already know that. As I speak against it when I drive past, it reveals my unwillingness to be told what to do, even by an innocent, inanimate object. It flashes into my consciousness the thoughts of my heart. 

   Perhaps I should keep that visual in mind when I condescendingly condemn the hardness of the religious leaders of Jesus time when the truth was standing right in front of them. When He gave sign after sign that He was who He claimed to be. When he told them that breaking one commandment (even by just 1 mph) meant their righteousness was not enough. The sign is correct when it says "WORK ZONE", every time I  pass it, the Spirit goes to work on my heart.

 

 

Dancers at Rest

     Though it is usually my favorite season, I am starting to see autumn as the opposing team trying to run out the clock on the good weather we need to complete our home siding and painting project. I had also begun to believe I was no longer capable of writing poetry, but today I wrote this . . . I did not specify good poetry.

 

Dancers at Rest 

 

Almost as if they're taking turns,

the leaves blush red as autumn burns

its annual invitation on

the rings within the tree. 

 

Not all at once, but branch by branch,

their costumes change before the dance.

The leaves like lilting music sway

till, one by one, they're swept away.

 

I'm glad they have this final time

to dress their finest, soar sublime, 

uplifted by the cool, fall winds,

then float to earth to join their friends.

 

Through spring and summer we have made

a leafy refuge of their shade.

And I, with many seasons blessed, 

can understand their need for rest. 

 

9/18/26 

 

 

 

Et Tu, City Brew?

    That catchy title refers to Caesar's question to Brutus in the Shakespeare play "Julius Caesar." As Caesar is being betrayed and stabbed by Roman senators, he asks his friend Brutus if he is betraying him too. Et tu, Brute'?, meaning you too Brutus? The answer was, yes. I chose it as a title because: 1) Using Latin makes me sound smart 2) Brew sounds like Brute' 3) It is the second business to disappoint me in the last few days. In my last post I whined about being let down by Les Schwab, this one is about today's experience at City Brew. I have been a City Brew fan since the first one opened close to where I live. Sadly, that location closed, but another opened in Evergreen. Between being located in one of those black hole spots that kills every business that builds there, and chronic staffing problems, that one closed too. The only remaining City Brew is near the hospital and, after today, I'm not so sure about that one.

    My coffee place picks have a lot to do with perks, and I had received a $5 off a drink purchase that was only good for a few days. I had never seen the City Brew parking lot so empty at noon before, and at the tables where there are usually students and businessmen on computers, Bible study and knitting groups meeting, I was the only customer. Since I drank my emergency freezer frappe that helps with my migraines yesterday, I ordered a follow up frappe. I gave the girl my phone number (twice, slowly), showed her the offer on my phone, and ordered my drink (twice, slowly). She charged me full price. I explained it again. She and the other young woman conferred and said the discount only applied to hot drinks. I explained (twice, not so slowly) that it did not say that, and the offer has never worked that way before. Meanwhile I got on my City Brew app, started to order the same frappe and it applied the discount. Finally, an older woman came out of the back, easily found the coupon in my account and took my order. Then the girls made my drink (slowly). The only other customer who came in after me got tired of waiting, asked for her money back, and left (quickly).

    This does not bode well for the future of our lone City Brew. I definitely will not be requesting their gift card for my birthday. I understand what it is like to be new to a job, that excuses the slow and don't know part, but employees who make up explanations roast my beans. It is not like getting stabbed or anything, but lying to me in a business filled with the aroma of so many happy memories feels a little like betrayal. First Les, now--You too, City Brew?

 

Do Less with Les

    For many years I have both patronized and referred friends to, Les Schwab for tire issues. Frequently, they will repair a tire for free and just tell you to remember them the next time you buy tires. No charge. No pressure. But because of what happened to a friend of mine last week, I am planning to do less with Les. A longtime friend went to the Evergreen Les Schwab for a leaky tire. We have been providing vehicles, maintenance and tires for her for decades because, for many years Tracy found and fixed up inexpensive older cars for her, she worked hard but had low income, and because she has such a timid personality that she is often taken advantage of. Predatory salesmen can sense this like a shark smells blood in the water. The tire tech said her tire was unrepairable because she drove on it flat. (That may be true, this is the same friend who added antifreeze to the oil in her last vehicle--twice.) By the time she thought to call us, he had already sold her four 50k mile tires to replace the 50k mile tires we bought her two years ago, he recommended siping, and of course, they charged her a disposal fee for tires that only had 11,000 miles of use. Total $580. She finally texted when he also tried to sell her wheels, and she realized $900 might be close to what we paid for the car in the first place. Frankly, I expected more of Les.

    Reed told her to ask for her/(our) tires back. They told her they would look for them, but of course, didn't actually look until Reed showed up the next morning. By that time, they said the unrepairable tire and one other had, by amazing coincidence, been put in the trailer that had already been taken away, so there was no way to check their actual condition. But two of the four tires were in a trailer that was still there, and they managed to locate them. The salesman assured Reed he had offered my friend alternatives, but the power of persuasion is usually more about the way than the words. 

    Since Reed and I, of necessity, drove for many years on used, mismatched tires, I asked Tracy how important it was that tires match. He said it's very important--for race cars--but for the way most people drive, mismatched tires won't harm the transmission. And since my friend's car was a 1999 Subaru with 196,000 miles on it, the transmission was probably about as broken/broken in as it could be. The odd thing about the siping they talked her into, at $18 per tire, is that one of the sources AI cited explaining why it is not always helpful and may actually shorten the lifespan of the tire, was the Les Schwab website. Reed's experience with siping, except on winter tires, which we already bought her, supports that conclusion.

     When Reed picked up the two remaining tires, he "suggested" they refund the disposal fee. The manager said they would also refund the siping charges. I tried to send a complaint email to Les Schwab but, oddly enough, when I clicked Submit, it said something went wrong and deleted all the information I had spent 20 minutes including. I know my friend would like to let it drop, she is embarrassed about the whole incident. And since the email address of Les Schwab Corporate is harder to find than an honest politician, I will have to be satisfied with poison pen posting here. But I hate to see anyone taken advantage of, the age and condition of her car were ample evidence of her limited income, and there are many more like her in that part of Kalispell. I hope the upseller got upbraided by the manager, and for future friends with tire troubles, I'll suggest they do less with Les.