Do You Love Your Mom?

y mom only had one eye. I hated her...she was such an embarrassment. She cooked for students & teachers to support the family.

There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say Hello to me. I was so embarrassed. How could she do this to me? I Ignored her, threw her a hateful look and ran out.

The next day at school one of my classmates said, "EEEE, your mom only has One eye!" I wanted to bury myself. I also wanted my mom to just Disappear.

I confronted her that day and said, " If you're only gonna make me a Laughing stock, why don't you just die?" My mom didn't respond... I didn't Even stop to think for a second about what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to her feelings. I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her.

So I studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study. Then, I got married. I Bought a house of my own. I had kids of my own. I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts. Then one day, my mother came to visit me.

She hadn't seen me in years and she didn't even meet her grandchildren. Then she stood by the door, my children laughed at her, and I yelled at her for coming over uninvited.

I screamed at her, "How dare you come to my house and scare my children!" GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!

And to this, my mother quietly answered, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I may have gotten the wrong address," and she disappeared out of sight.

One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. So I lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went to the old shack just out of curiosity. My neighbors said that she died I did not shed a single tear. They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.

It read, "My dearest son, I think of you all the time. I'm sorry that I came to your house and scared your children. I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I may not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I'm sorry that I was a constant embar- rassment to you when you were growing up. You see...when you were very little, you got into an ac- cident, and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn't stand watching you having to grow up with one eye. So I gave you mine. I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye. With all my love to you, Your mother."

Seek To Serve

"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting."
(Galatians 6:7, 8)

We really don't have to look far around us today to see that most of society doesn't want to be bothered with things that are spiritual. Rather, their primary concerns lay within the economy and temporal things of life.

So much that we used to hold dear ~ the historical ideals of conduct that were associated with Christian heritage, seem of little importance. Even our television screens and movie theaters portray homosexuality and loose morals as simply another lifestyle and nothing to be worried about.

If we look into the first chapter of Romans, we will see that Paul refers to this in length. We can see that these are the very things that seem to be creeping into the fabric of society all around us.

The only thing that has probably stopped God's judgment on the human race so far is the fact that He still has a remnant (a people that seek to serve the Lord) and be a light in the midst of increasing darkness.

May we forever be on guard as we journey onward, in order that the truth of the gospel will continue to influence the people around us, and ultimately, people around the world.

Freedom and Restraint

For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. For he that in these things serveth Christ is acceptable to God, and approved of men. Let us therefore follow after the things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify another. For meat destroy not the work of God. All things indeed are pure; but it is evil for that man who eateth with offence. It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak. Hast thou faith? have it to thyself before God. Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth. And he that doubteth is damned if he eat, because he eateth not of faith: for whatsoever is not of faith is sin.
(Romans 14:17-23)

We're not always free to do as we like with no regard for our brothers' and sisters' opinions, but we are to pursue the things that make for peace and the building up of one another. We must respect others' rights to think in their own way, even when we strongly disagree with them. Shall we tear up a congregation of God's people over a difference of opinion concerning a nonvital matter?

The kingdom of God is righteous, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. The Christian life calls for self-restraint and patience.

Let's ponder the last portion of Romans 14, verse 23: "Everything that doesn't come from faith is sin".

A Joyful Book

(Philippians1:1-4:23)

As we begin to study Philippians it's important to get a view of the whole before breaking it into parts. Philippians is a short book. Lets take a few minutes when convenient and read it through.

Then as studying verse by verse we'll also have an understanding of where each piece fits into the whole picture.

Philippians is a joyful book. Paul writes encouragement and advice and sends his love to this special congregation. Paul started the church in Philippi and it remained the most faithful of his churches. Here's Paul writing at his best. Let's just relax and experience the Apostle's joy as we read.

Saints...

Paul and Timotheus, the servants of Jesus Christ, to all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi, with the bishops and deacons: Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:1, 2)

Paul reminds his readers of who he is and who they are. Joy springs from humility of heart, which is reflected in the way Paul portrays himself as a servant or slave. He says he is one with no rights of his own, for he belongs completely to Jesus Christ. The readers are called saints, reminding them that they are a people set aside for a sacred service.

As always, Paul greets his readers with a blessing, wishing them God's immeasurable grace and peace.

Where do we expect joy to come from in our life? Do we expect it from humility? How do we think of ourselves and our church congregation? Do we think of ourselves and those in our church as saints of God? When we write, phone, or talk with others, do we try to communicate the blessing of God's immeasurable grace and peace?

"Why Me, Lord?"

"I CRIED unto the LORD with my voice; with my voice unto the LORD did I make my supplication. I poured out my complaint before him; I showed before him my trouble."
(Psalm 142:1, 2)

Many people are confronted with difficulties or crisises in life. Some of them are apt to say, "Why me, Lord? I go to church every Sunday, I tithe my ten percent. I've been as good as most people. Why are you allowing this to happen to me?"

When we find ourselves starting to think like this, it sometimes helps for us to ask the same questions about other aspects of our life.

"Lord, what have I done that's so grand that You should have blessed me with a home to live in, a car to drive, a television to watch, a meal on my table three times a day? Why have You given me all these things? Why me, Lord?"

"Lord, why did You permit me to be born in America with all its plenty? I could have been born in Pakistan or some other far off poverty-stricken country. Why me, Lord?"

"Lord, why did You give me the opportunity to have a job when so many, who are as deserving as I, are without work? Why me, Lord?"

"Lord, why have you given me good health? Others have died at my age of heart attacks or are crippled with arthritis. Why should I escape ill health when other Christians do not? Why me, Lord?"

"Lord, why have You spared me from the sorrows that strike so many families? So many lose loved ones, yet I haven't. Why me, Lord?"

When we think of all the ways the Lord has blessed us, though we don't deserve it, how can we possibly complain about the relatively insignificant things like a broken down car, a tv on the blitz, the dryer not working, and all the other things that go wrong from time to time in our lives?

If we could only learn to count our blessings, instead of questioning God, we would be thanking Him instead, and saying, "Why, Lord, have You blessed me in such a loving way?"

Blessings In Disguise

By Tony Snow -
(Pres. Bush's former secretary)

Blessings arrive in unexpected packages, in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases---and there are millions in America today---find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence "What It All Means," Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.

The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the "why" questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer.

I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.

But despite this,---or because of it,---God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.

Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.

To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life, - and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non believing hearts - an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live fully, richly, exuberantly - no matter how their days may be numbered.

Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease,---smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see,---but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance; and comprehension - and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.

'You Have Been Called.' Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet, a loved one holds your hand at the side. "It's cancer," the healer announces.

The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. "Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler." But another voice whispers: "You have been called." Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter, - and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our "normal time."

There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.

The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.

There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue,---for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.

Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.

We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two peoples' worries and fears.

'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted forward into God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love.

I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was a humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. "I'm going to try to beat [this cancer]," he told me several months before he died. "But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side."

His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity,---filled with life and love we cannot comprehend,---and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.

Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?

When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up,--- to speak of us!

This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.

What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand." T. Snow

Who Should Judge?

"Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubtful disputations. For one believeth that he may eat all things: another, who is weak, eateth herbs. Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not; and let not him which eateth not judge him that eateth: for God hath received him. Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? to his own master he standeth or falleth. Yea, he shall be holden up: for God is able to make him stand."
(Romans 14:1-4)

As brothers and sisters we shoud go along together and put forth an effort to understand each other, even though we're different. Some people seem born to be fundamentalists, while others live only to follow the new. This is true in agriculture, business, manufacturing processes, and scientific methods.

Paul advised the weak not to be critical of the strong, and vice versa. No Christian should hold any other Christian in contempt. We're all to extend understanding and fellowship to Christians who differ with us.

We still hear arguments between vegatarians and meat eaters. Paul was right in asking, "Who are you to pass judgment?" (v. 4).

Whose servant do we think other Christians are, God's or ours? Are we content to leave judgment in God's hands? Do we try to understand behavior that's different from ours? Do theological and doctrinal differences separate us from others in God's family?

Reason For Confidence

Beware of dogs, beware of evil workers, beware of the concision. For we are the circumcision, which worship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh.
(Philippians 3:2, 3)

Paul refers here to teachers of Jewish legalism. He warns early Christians to beware of those who claim that strict adherence to Jewish ritual--- represented here by circumcision---is required in order to claim salvation. This warning extends to us today. Not that we're in danger of Jewish ritual, but the warning is for anyone who might trust religious ("churchly") works for salvation.

A couple of questions to ask ourselves:

Is our faith in Jesus as Savior? Or do we feel "safe" because we attend church regularly and live as good a life as the next person?

Pride in Religious Effort

(Philippians 3:4-7)
Paul knows the temptation to seek a more tangible security. Faith in Christ isn't something you can hang on the wall like a perfect attendance plaque. A specific list of religious dos and don'ts is concrete, for we can see exactly where we stand. But Paul knew the inadequacy of trusting the Law. Before knowing Christ, Paul was religiously perfect. He lists his credentials for us. But that very same religious zeal drove him to persecute Christians. Meeting Jesus on the road to Damascus changed everything for Paul. Now he counts all his religious effort as wasted. All that matters for him is to know Christ.

May the Lord help us value our relationship to Him above all else. May He help us not to pride ourselves in "religious" effort.

Prison's Polished Jewel

Note: this is much longer than usual...I hope you enjoy it, anyway...

If you, in reading Ephesians, feel overwhelmed by the profound mystical realities of the worlds around us as well as the world within us, let me urge you to read the last chapters of the book first. You will find something your size. In fact, it will appear so personal that you will wonder if Paul has been reading your mail, or at least your diary! Once more we must look at Paul's opening sentence: "Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God ." Two facts have been generally accepted. Paul is in prison---an abandoned well whose walls are as thick as the earth around it. He is in physical distress. Why? First, he is an apostle. The word apostle means "one who is sent." Like an arrow from a bow or a bullet from a gun, Paul has been, hurled into this prison by God. Knowing that we would doubt that God would allow such a thing, he says, "by the will of God." If anyone is in the will of God, he is in the will of God whether he's in a prison or a penthouse.

Why would God allow Paul's imprisonment? I'm sure Paul had asked this question many times, just as we do. But he thought about it long enough that he could see God's purpose in all things. Just as the hammer makes sparks when it strikes the flint and not the feathers, so illumination comes from the hard times of life, the painful encounters. Faced with unyielding "stone walls" around him, Paul is forced to look to the skies, the vast expanse of the heavens. He's forced by the stern realities of the prison of Rome to look to the ultimate reality of the purpose of God.

The letter to the Ephesians is the high mark of Paul's writings. Written slowly, thoughtfully, it shines as a polished jewel.

His letter reflects the brilliance of his revelation. Little wonder that the word together is so much a part of this letter. Paul has been able to bring together the mystical reality of the eternal church and the practical reality of the local observable church. He blends them into one picture, the true church. He blends the will of God and the willingness of man into one picture---reality.

If you shop vigorously in antique stores, you may find an old-fashioned stereoscope. Buy it. It will straighten out most theological problems. Lest you think that a stereoscope is some new electronic import from Japan, let me hasten to tell you that it was one of the toys of my childhood. Obviously we had no television or any radio. We had played all the old phonograph records until they were too scratchy to be enjoyable. But we had the stereoscope, an optical device for looking at special postcards. The stereoscope had two lenses. The postcard had two pictures, each taken from a slightly different angle. When the postcard was placed in the holder and properly focused, the two pictures blended into one, and presto! We had a three-dimensional effect.

We had pictures of battlefields in World War I where you could almost smell the gunpowder and hear the exploding shells. They were lifelike. Opposite views of the same scene, blended together. Of course, you could look at the pictures without the lenses, just with the naked eye. You could see the two pictures, but you could not grasp their relationship, not without the lens. In Paul's theology, Christ is the lens through which we view the conflicting pictures of our world, our universe. Without Christ, they remain in conflict-then and now.
Law and grace.
Mercy and justice.
Sovereignty of God and free will of men.
Literal Israel and spiritual Israel.
Timelessness and the world of time.
God's foreknowledge and man's responsibility.
The permissive will of God and the perfect will of God.

The list could go on. Conflicts invade every thoughtful mind. But, and here is the sad part, the blindness of human wisdom keeps us from seeing both sides. We build walls around our concept of truth, our understanding of the church, and try to protect our ideas. Edwin Markaham's lines, though intended to be personal, are also profoundly theological: He drew a circle that shut me out, Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout . (Outwitted)

And so the lines are drawn. Black and white, East and West, liberal and conservative, evangelical and liturgical, male and female, young and old. Our circle of understanding becomes a wall around us. It not only keeps others from entering the fellowship of our life and thought, it also keeps us from entering theirs. Any search for truth beyond our circular wall is branded "heresy." Our very defense of truth keeps us from seeing the truth. Paul himself is a good example of this provincialism. In refusing to accept God's people outside his circle of understanding, he shut himself off from God. In persecuting those who did not fit his theology, he was actually persecuting Christ. So the voice from heaven spoke to him, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting" (Acts 9:5, NIV).

No wonder Paul prayed for the eyes of the Ephesians to be opened. He knew what this eye-opening experience had done for him.

Edwin Markaham's poem is more than the first two lines . and it would be great if our life story would be more than the first two lines that shut people out. Here are Markaham's lines: But love and I had the wit to win. We drew a circle that took him in. (Outwitted)

In the Ephesian letter Paul is drawing such a circle. As I mentioned earlier, it seems that Paul's letter to the Ephesians is an outgrowing of his vision in which he was lifted up to the third heaven. The perspective he got from this was so great that its explanation would not only have been impossible, it would have been unlawful. That is the reason Paul prays for the people that their eyes may be opened just as his had been (Eph. 1:18).

During the World War II, a young airman made his first flight over Europe. While in school he had studied a map of Europe, learning the boundaries and national differences. Now in the air, things looked different. His exact words to his family were: "When you get high enough, all the boundaries disappear."

Paul had reached such a height. And he urges us to aspire to it. In fact, he tells us how we can---together.

Here's the word and the concept. We need to bring together the telescopic and the microscopic---the far and the near---the universal church and the local fellowship. Each without the other is an anachronism.

It has been well said that when we pray the Lord's prayer, we say, "Our Father." At that moment, we are either missionaries or we are hypocrites. We can't claim the family without claiming the Father, and we can't claim the Father without claiming the family. They go (would you believe it?) together.

A local pastor met a man who was an aggressive missionary. He traveled throughout the world trying to win people to Christ. "When you're home," asked the pastor, "where do you attend church?" "Oh, I am a member of the invisible church of God."

"I see," said the pastor. "And are you able to pay your transportation and living costs with invisible dollars, given to you by invisible people?" "Of course not. People want real money. And real people must give it." "But if we're receiving from the body without giving to the body, are we not a parasite on the body? You believe in a visible church, but you don't want to be a part of it."

Any student of the New Testament knows that the principal heresy to attack the church was Gnosticism. Basically, the Gnostics believed that God was mystically revealed and Jesus could not possibly have been God because he had a physical body; he ate, slept, and got tired, just as all of us do. Many of Paul's letters, especially Galatians and Colossians, were written to combat this idea. Jesus was God in the flesh, in him dwelt the fullness of the Godhead bodily.

The independent missionary to whom I referred earlier was an evangelical Gnostic. Though he believed in Christ, he did not believe in his body, the church. He didn't feel he had to relate to it. Paul speaks to this in the last four chapters of his letter.

One evening, purely by chance, I bumped into the "world renowned" concert pianist, Van Cliburn. We were eating at the same restaurant late one night, so I took the occasion to talk with him.

As we talked I noticed he was drinking milk from little half-pint cartons, nothing else. He had finished a concert, and in the course of our discussion of it, I asked, "And afterward you drink only milk?"

As he wiped his mouth and arose to leave he responded, "Yes, I take only milk afterward. It settled my stomach."

After he had gone, I stared at the little orange milk cartons. "Little cartons," I thought, "do you realize what has happened? And you, sixteen ounces of Foremost milk, do you know what has happened? You have moved out of the limited world to a wider world. Milk, yesterday you were in a cow. Today you are in Van Cliburn. Yesterday you were only part of Betsy's mooing---tomorrow you will be a part of Van Cliburn's music. Yesterday---in the green pasture. Tomorrow-in Carnegie Hall. A miracle. Your path has taken you from the udder of a cow to a cardboard prison, and now to the brain of a genius."

Does this make sense? To me it is not only sense, it is wisdom. It is a parable of the church.

When we leave our limited, labeled, theological prisons and become a part of the body of Christ, we experience a transition more dramatic than any carton of milk ever had. And now, we are part not only of the family of God around the world, but also of the whole family in heaven and earth. Our spiritual inheritance reaches back before the foundation of the world. God had a destiny for us, and now that we have accepted his calling, we are called into a whole new series of relationships.

While thinking of this, Paul's body is in a grim Roman prison, but his spirit has camp meeting time with all the saints of all times. He explodes into a prayer of praise:

For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that [you] may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God (Eph. 3:14-15, 18-19). Then the doxology: "Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen" (Eph. 3:21).

Many devout men and women have added great dimensions to our faith. In the Old Testament, we learn of the law of God through Moses, the love of God through Hosea, the universality of God through Isaiah, the nature of God through the Psalms, and judgments of God through Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Then, in New Testament times, we learn who God really is through Jesus Christ. But even after this earthly stay, we learn many things about God's plan through godly men and women. Many have broadened, lengthened, deepened, and heightened our understanding of the Bible. The list is long: Augustine, Luther, Knox, Savonarola, John Wesley, D. S. Warner, Albert Schweitzer, and Kagawa. Even in our own time there are people who push back the borders of our ignorance. If they are "in Christ," and I am in Christ, I claim them all. I don't need to be labeled by them. If a lantern shows me the path, I don't deify the lantern. I follow the path. I don't call myself a lantern because I've been blessed by it. I'm simply a Christian walking in the light.

Our denominational walls are crumbling. We are, to the surprise of many, finding brothers and sisters who, until now, were huddling behind walls of doctrines. They realize that separating themselves from others who belong to God is wrong. In a national church meeting, I spoke of the Spanish Church. My Spanish brother interrupted me. We have no Spanish church. We are a part of God's church and we are merely the Spanish-speaking part of it. Wonderful. Language may be different, but it is no excuse for separation. Return to my illustration about Van Cliburn's drinking a carton of milk. When the milk left its little cardboard container and entered the body of the musical genius, it became a part of his whole body. Within minutes it was in his bloodstream, nourishing not only his skillful fingers, but also his tibia and toenails.

What a joy to be free in fellowship. What new dimensions of understanding wait for us as we open our arms and our hearts to others?

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