Here in WW each year Oklahoma's tallest scarecrow goes up in October, to signify Halloween in the daytime. Then it changes in December to a lighted angel only visible at night, who represents the LORD's messenger to those shepherds in the fields outside Bethlehem. His heavenly soldiers then were a choir instead of an army.is robed like a priest rather than in military uniform. And you can tell it's a divine being by the halo over his head. Also, the angel is male just like all those in Scripture. How they ever became females in today's culture is something I still don't comprehend. For they were heavenly warriors in the Old Testament. I am glad that in the New they seem more gentle, even saying "FEAR NOT, for behold I bring thee good tidings of great joy." Maybe that set the standard for manhood in our civilization to be "gentlemen." That's an angelic posture today.Then the gender swung clear over to feminine as even more gentle.
"And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God" is St.John's statement in ! Jn.4:3a. So this season remains Godly by focusing on the Nativity, as I see it, despite many distractions. Christmas brings us the birth that divides all time and provokes my thought about the home town of Jesus. If it was His place of birth, it was Bethlehem or "city of David" though He did grow up at Nazareth. In my first year at OU I took a course entitled "Introduction to Philosophy" with the department chairman as professor. That was so long ago I can't remember his name. But I still recall his discarding that trip of Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem as a tale made up by Christians. "Believers had to fit Jesus' birth into prophecy in order to claim Messiahship," he taught us. Yet, it was obvious that Jesus came from Nazareth, up north in Galilee. Everyone called him a Nazarene or the Galilean. "And when did Jesus ever mention Bethlehem or visit there?" But because the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem, which had earlier been the home of king David, Christians invented the account of a decree by Augustus Caesar that resulted in His birth taking place there. Now I didn't buy that argument because the Bible carried a lot more weight with me even at age 19 than any Phd professor. But most of the class seemed to go along with him suggesting the Messiahship of Jesus was staged that way. It sounded so "intellectually superior." I would later encounter numerous other assaults of doubt as I learned that in the nineteenth century many scholars had denied almost every historical fact of the Gospel. A "Quest for the Historical Jesus" had been deemed a futile search by humanistic skeptics in Europe. And the Communists in their atheism claimed that He was "only a fiction" (Soviet Encyclopedia);someone who had never even existed. Then globalism started dropping the AD from our calendar dates which is "anno domini" (year of our Lord) and substituted CE (which means only "commo era"). Even the festive season became so commercialized that the Baby was thrown out with the bath of glitz, tinsel and shopping. Still it is a joyful time of giving (i.e John 3:16) that tells how GOD really did come down to earth "in the flesh" to dwell among us for the salvation of lost souls. By living a perfect human life and then offering it on the Tree to make atonement for all those who will accept His Sacrifice, the purpose of that lowly Birth is being realized. It lifts us from Mary to "Merry" as describing our joyfulness. Thus 1 Jn 4:3b&4 continues: "And this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come and even now already is it in the world. Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because GREATER IS HE THAT IS IN YOU THAN HE THAT IS IN THE WORLD."
As A part of Prison Fellowship ministry, Niece and I buy gifts for children of inmates. We welcome your support with toys or money. If anybody wants to take an angel off the Angeltree and doesn't have transportation to buy the gift, we'll be glad come by and pick up your money and make the purchase and deliver the gift in your name.
I missed PV's parade of lights Saturday evening but am looking forward to seeing it on channel 2 local TV this Sat. at 7pm with Ron Jarman co-announcing with another gentleman. Because of a parade schedule change, Rotarians didn't get to ride those John Deer lawn mowers this year as in the past. Brett Agee had our program Friday. It was about PV Main Street's effort to preserve historic buildings in our downtown area. Some have already had to be demolished because of long neglect. Yet I'm so thankful no buildings are blowing up here as in the middle east; at least not yet. Though we did have another gas explosion in that home on Florence. Niece and I drove by to see what was left of it as we thought of the guy who survivied the blast. I still look at the vacant lot where one blew up completely across from Jackson school a couple of years ago. Thankfully no one was in it. But think of living where suicide bombers are deliberately causing such disasters, a climate of events becoming more widespread every day! What a time in which to celebrate the Prince of Peace being born. I searched in vain to find any mention He might have made about Bethelhem being His hometown; but calling Himself the "bread of heaven than came down to give life to the world" certainly fits the meaning of that name, "house of bread." It was 55 years ago that the philosophy professor shook me up about where Mary delivered Him. Ephratha's an even older name of the town, but "House of Bread" proves to me that it was Bethlehem.
Remember when street people said "braad" to speak of cash? Don't ever hear that crass comparison anymore. It didn't appeal to me because there's something sacred about bread that money just doesn't have. In Scripture the word "meat" is often used for food, though we pray instead for our "daily bread" in the Lord's Prayer. It makes me recall a childhood verse: "Back of the bread is the flour, and back of the flour the mill. While back of the mill is the sun and shower, and the Heavenly Father's will." But when I think of our whole civilization, the word "energy" seems to fit the menu. Energy feeds our world and makes it go round. Still even that goes finally back to the Creator's provision in coal, gas, oil or even nuclear power. Now there's news of a gCell that can separate hydrogen from oxygen out of water so efficiently that great energy is left available. I've just heard of this, and the Edison Device that will make it practical for residential and commercial use. Boise ID is the home base for it. Wow, what a possibility. My first thought is "Will it free us from oil addiction and all the global stress that creates?" What a Godsend it could be, if true. Most of us say "If it looks too good to be true, it probably is" and I agree; accept for the Gospel which is a utterly true as the Birth of that Babe in Bethlehem.
Once again I'd like to mention that for anyone who would like to give to the children's Angeltree this year and doesn't have transportation, we will be glad to come by and pick up their money and purchase the gift for them.
We keep hearing that obesity has become a serious health problem in this land. But one prominent white bearded fellow who always wears a red suit still seems to defy the risks. You know I mean Santa. There's a saying that "It ain't over till the fat lady sings." I think it's taken from opera as referring to a corpulent prima donna, but it might even refer to the late Kate Smith who could sing "God Bless America" like no other. She was an American icon. Anyhow, the "fat" isn't in derision because it's been ok in America during past times. Remember Fats Domino, the musician; or Chubby Checker, the dancer; or Tony Guillento, the wrestler also called "Ten Ton Tony?" Then there was the rotund Jackie Gleason, a comedian who laughed with his whole body just like Santa's "big round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly." In fact a skinny Santa Clause is hard to imagine. So I looked in the Bible to see how "fat" is mentioned and found it is quite a favorable in the very first reference: "Pharoah said to Joseph, take your father and your households, and come unto me: and I will give you the good of the land of Egypt, and you shall eat the fat of the land." This Genesis 45:18 is the first mention of fatness, but subsequent texs continue with fat as meaning good. Even the land of Promise is so described. Thus it seems to me that we need a reprieve each year from this scorn of obesity that our culture now holds. And certainly no shame should be attached to obesity any more than other health problems. In fact, it appears that the cause is mostly genetic. Yet we use it for an expression depicting greed i.e. "fat cat." Or we equate it with surfeiting and gluttony, terms that better fit our own behavior in this season of over feasting. So here's cheers for jolly old St.Nicholas, belly and all. And listen to that chorus about his dangerous sleigh driving: "Grandma got run over by a reindeer, coming home from our house Christmas Eve. Some folks say there's no such thing as Santa. Now me and Grandma really do believe." I'll bet it was a heavy reindeer, too. That would make us all believers, cause it aint over till the fat guy finishes his grand finalle in a worldwide midnight sleigh ride."
Now for heavier things. Senator Trent Lott and Cardinal Law should both step down in thiw writer's opinion. Lott because he's too big a burden for our fine president to carry and Law because he's the same for the Catholic church. None of us are indespensible in the divine purpose. And a willingness to step aside is surely the humility seen in our Lord who prayed "Father if it be possible, let me not drink this cup. Nevertheless, not my will (career) but Thine be done." So His own well-being was not to be considered; only GOD's Kingdom. How contrary that is to rules in this world, even natural laws. I watched Discovery's report last Friday night about the six million year old bones of a hominid found in Kenya. It was a creature more like modern man than even the three million year old skeleton of Lucy that anthropologists found back in 1974. She had been designated the mother of all humans at the time (and the Beatles were singing "Lucy in the sky with diamonds;" hence her name). But she still didn't walk erect but stooped like other primates. Yet this latest find walked as upright as humans of today. How amazing, though he learned that posture living aloft in the trees rather than on the ground, much as Orangatangs of today. Well I thought of Eden being full of trees, and how Adam and Eve heard the sound of Yahweh walking through the midst of them. That second creation story suggestes to me that walking upright was a part of being made in the image and likeness of GOD and that homo sapiens have never been down on all fours; which the discovery twice as ancient as Lucy would suggest eventually archeology will fully confirm. Thus man's deepest quest isn't just the "struggle for survival" that evolution has propounded. He's always risen above other creatures toward a higher destiny. Just as the Living GOD has walked on this earth again to restore Paradise through the One born in Bethlehem. Becoming like us, a human, He calls His creatues back to the original uprightness that was in even our physical creation.
In you know someone wanting to purchase a brand new two story home for Christmas, have them call my beloved wife, Niece.
Maybe a domino effect will result from Cardinal Law's stepping down, followed by Al Gore and surely Trent Lott next. If the embattled prsident of Venezuela joins them, there might be hope that even Saddam Hussein would remove himself in the face of overwhelming force. Well, I know that I'm just dreaming, but what a beautiful dream compared to the alternative of warfare again with Iraq. It's also about as far fetched to hope that he will comply in the full disclosure of his weapons now demanded. Yet the building up for a war there is our last resort to force his hand, as I see it. Thus, the peacenics now appearing in Hollywood and elsewhere are only making war a more sure thing by weakening the pressure on him. I was pleased to see Jimmy Carter get the Nobel peace prize last week, but his allusions to this president's bold policy just help take away from whatever peace we'll have, I say. Even now it's not too late to pray for a miracle.
What a heavenly power there is in Christmas carols. I grew up when caroling was the custom and churches went out to share their joy with those who were sick, home bound or elderly. It still delights me to see children going into nursing homes and singing about the holy birth. To me, it began with the sky full of angels that night above the shepherds who were keeping their sheep near Bethlehem. Luke reports that one angel had come down to deliver GOD's announcement. Next, the heavenly host appeared singing "Glory to GOD in the highest and on earh, shalom to men of good will." Then "after the angels had gone back into heaven, the shepherds said one to another 'let us go even now and see this.'" I've wondered about them leaving the flock unguarded, but I feel that the angel who told them may have also stayed with their sheep for them. Angels can be enablers too, though their name means "messenger of GOD." Though I'm no great singer, it does bring me much joy to conduct "sing alongs" in prison and nursing homes; especially choral Scripture verses that I learned for the Bible Schools where I served as pastor and the many youth camps I helped to lead. So I don't need a songbook because they are all still inside of me ready to be recycled. And anyone can pick up the words to join in the second time around. "Psalms, hymns and spiritual songs" are for congregations in worship. Psalms are all Scripture, hymns have some Scripture theme, and spiritual songs are from personal experience of believers. But Ep.5:19 says "Speaking to yourselves in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing ad making melody in your heart to the Lord." So I tell my captive audiences (prison or nursing home) that they don't have to be at church when they are making melody inwardly. "These short choruses can be sung in your mind and heart even at midnight, since only you and GOD hear them. You will bless Him with true worship just like those angels did on Natiity night."
Sometimes it seems to me that memories of souls long departed are like angels: "Precious memories, unseen angels, sent from somewhere to my soul. In the stillness of the midnight, precious sacred scenes unfold." Since my grandmother Hightower's birthday was Christmas Eve, I'm thinking of her more now days, though she died way back in '68. Her first name was Amy and she reared three girls and three boys, of which my mother Blanche was oldest. Now I have a niece, Dr.Amy Oden, who is making her mark in the academic world as a seminary professor in Washington DC. But I want to say more about grandmother Amy in another column. She made her mark in Pauls Valley after her husband Edward Glen died way back in '29. He'd served as the seventh mayor of this city but died unexpectedly leaving her with six kids to support. With hard work and solid faith they all made it through the great depression. Just lately the widow of her youngest son John died in Novemer. Margaret had been head nurse at PV Gen. Hospital, and was the last one of the Hightower family She was given a very fitting graveside service conducted by Dr.Harry Millard, and the song she requested was sung "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Dr.Amy Oden's mother, Jane, was there and then flew on to visit our grandmother's namesake in the national capitol at Wesley Theological Seminary. But next I'll say more about "Gram."
The death of a Stratford teen has saddened this pre-Christmas season as the life of one so young was cut short. So I'm thinking of our Mt.Olivet cemetery where my grandmother Amy Hightower lies buried since '68; especialy because she was born on Christmas Eve, 1874. Her whole family came from Arkansas to Altus Ok and then to PV, when she married Edward Glen Hightower, Rebecca Jane's son. As you enter and proceed into Mt.Olivet, the first large stone you pass on your right is that of Rebecca Jane Highower. She was born the same year as me, only a century ahead, and died in 1905. Ps.13:5 is on that huge marker with no mention of her husband: "I have trusted in Thy mercy. My heart shall rejoice in Thy salvation." Then on the front of that family plot are the graves of both my grandparents, Amy and E.G. who died in '29. "He just went to sleep and never did awaken" was the way Gram told of his passing: "Such an easy way to go." He'd evidently suffered monitary losses in the crash of '29, so Gram like her mother-in-law had done previously, found a way to support the six kids herself. She opened a "room and board" place at 403 N. Walnut that Blanche, Carol, Louise, Ted, Katheryn and John could call home. There was no public assistance back then so the kids all pitched in helping until old enough to get out on their own. They family had farmed out at the Liberty area but Gram wanted them in PV's school system so they moved to town and all acquired a good education. I think my happiest childhood days were spent at Gram's playing on her front porch swing, building roads for our toy with my neighbor friend Ralph Andrews for our toy cars, climbing the steps of First Presbyterian, then later making rubber guns and ammunition from sliced up old inner tubes for the neighborhood battles between the Gibson boys (Joe Baliley and Warren Lindsey), Budgey and Carley Long, Bert Goodasture and Billy Williamson or then more peacefully catching lightening bugs on the court house lawn to fill our jars on those hot summer evenings; but earliest recollections are of eating meals with all the boarders that she served in her big dining hall, prepared by the wonderful black cook named Melissa. (Thus the N word was strictly banned in that place even then) I overheard many conversations of school teachers and other interesting people that I can still recall, and the food that grandmother and Melissa served was fabulious. Standing in line to use that one bathroom was the only drawback I can recall about living there. Most folks called her Mrs.Hightower and somehow "grandma" was never used in the family. In later years it just became "Gram."
So when my dad found employment in Illinois in "35, my mother-brother-sister, and I joined him and stayed for seven years. Then we came back to live at Gram's for our last two years of high school. Then she lived with my parents, John and Blanche, until her death at age 94. What a great lady, the "she-ro" of my life.
The death of a Stratford teen has saddened this pre-Christmas season as the life of a girl so young was cut short by that auto accident. Now I'm thinking of our Mt.Olivet cemetery. It's where my grandmother Amy Hightower lies buried since '68;. And she was BORN ON CHRISTMAS EVE in 1874. Her whole Allen family came from the east to Altus Ok and then to PV, when she married Edward Glen Hightower, Rebecca Jane Hightower's son. As you enter and proceed into Mt.Olivet, the first large stone you pass on your right is that of Rebecca Jane (where my sister get's her name). My great grandmother was born the same year as I was, only a century before, and died in 1905. Ps.13:5 is on that huge marker with no mention of her husband: "I have trusted in Thy mercy. My heart shall rejoice in Thy salvation." So the Lord made her strong enough alone.Then on the front of that family plot are the graves of both my grandparents, Amy and E.G. who died in '29. "He just went to sleep and never did awaken" was the way Gram told of his passing: "Such an easy way to go." He'd evidently suffered monetary losses in the crash of '29, so Gram like her mother-in-law had done previously, found a way to support the six kids herself. She opened a "room and board" place at 403 N. Walnut that Blanche, Carol, Louise, Ted, Katheryn and John could call home. There was no public assistance back then so the kids all pitched in helping until old enough to get out on their own. The family had farmed out at the Liberty area but Gram wanted them in PV's school system so they moved to town and all acquired a good education. I think my happiest childhood days were spent at Gram's playing on her front porch swing, building roads with my neighbor friend Ralph Andrews for our toy cars, climbing the steps of First Presbyterian, then later making rubber guns and ammunition from sliced up old inner tubes for the neighborhood battles between the Gibson boys (Joe Baliley and Warren Lindsey), Budgey Long, Carley Long, Bert Goodpasture and Billy Williamson or then more peacefully catching lightening bugs on the court house lawn to fill our jars on those hot summer evenings; but my earliest recollections are of eating meals with all the boarders that she served in her big dining hall, prepared by the wonderful black cook named Melissa. I overheard many conversations of school teachers and other interesting customers that I can still recall, and the food that grandmother and Melissa served was fabulous. Standing in line to use that one bathroom was the only drawback I can recall about living there. Most folks called her Mrs.Hightower and somehow "grandma" was never used in the family. In later years it just became "Gram."
So when my dad found employment in Illinois as a taveling salesman in '35, my mother-brother-sister and I joined him there and strayed for seven years. Then we came back to live at Gram's for our last years of high school, after which she lived with my parents, John and Blanche, until her death at age 94. What a great lady to remember at Christmas. She was truly a "Hightower" as PV's old tower reminds me. It was built in 1903.
Powerball seems to be the growing game of chance these days; especially with that Whittaker guy in W.Va. who won the biggest ever jackpot. It would have been 315 million dollars if paid over 29 years, but he wanted it all now so settled for only 170 million, of which he had a check for ten million in hand. And he sure didn't need that because he was already a millionaire president of his own construction company. Yet he must believe it was from divine Providence, for he thanked God and promised to pay a tithe to three Church of God pastors. Now that example will surely make a lot of other tithers, won't it. And his wife must be a religious lady because she's already planning a pilgrimage to Israel with her part of the winnings. That will greatly glorify gambling as I see it. In fact there'll be an aura of sanctity around Powerball in the minds of those who play it now. How fast the entire industry is growing across America here in these last days. Until now it had seemed that the Catholics were the church were games of chance were accepted. But now they're spreading to others also. In fact it's hard for me to find Scripture that specifically condemns gambling. Lots were cast to find the divine will in Bible times. But I see the one that was cast to pick an Apostle replacing Judas Iskeriot as demonstrating the folly of that method.: Matthias was chosen, but never is mentioned again. St.Paul was obviously the real divine choice of number twelve. So Jack Whittaker's $100 investment toward that Powerball jackpot had nothing to do with real faith. Instead, the devil is using it to delude and mislead multitudes of money hungry souls. They even cast lots for our Lord's seamless robe that was taken when He died. I suspect that it was Satan's final insult to Christ Jesus, as the little song says "Soldiers gambled for His garment, while the sun turned dark above. But the men who crucified Him were forgiven by His love." Yes, there did had to be some way to avoid tearing it into equal parts for each soldier. Thus mere chance may have to decide some things for us humans, but should never be turned into games that are played just for the thrill as I see it. I always liked Einstein's dictum about nuclear physics, "God does not play dice with the universe" even though Heisenberg's "uncertainty principle" seems to prove he was wrong. It means that not even God can know how things will turn out in specific details. That makes Chance the ultimate factor, which has become the false deity of this postmodern age replacing the Creator with "random mutation" as the source of mankind.
It may not have been a white Christmas here in Garvin county, but it was a bright one instead with the sunshine. And that seemed wonderful after a soaking rain on Christmas Eve. Now we're looking at 2002 as history. Since the number is balanced, I wondered if events would be that way also. We had such a year in the previous century. It was 1991 and that was the Persian Gulf war fought and won so swiftly. Yet we've seen in 2002 that it really never ended. And now some say we've been in WW III without realizing it. Surely events are building up to Armageddon with Iraq and N.Korea and the whole Axis of Evil. But did you see that report of our two airmen on trial for bombing friendly forces (Canadian) in Afghanistan? They had been required to take the drug speed for flying the mission. Can you imagine our military leaders making such demands and then blaming the pilots for overkill? Just think, as we fight meth here at home they were relying on it over there. It's like some who are insisting we use torture to interrogate captured terrorists. Are we going crazy just like the enemy? GOD help us. Pray for our president as political pressures build toward 2004, that he can keep his cool. I was absolutely disgusted with a mimic on TV mocking him. Bob Novac was on the panel, so he's off my list of those to trust. It's no time for jokes.
I called 2002 the year of balance because the numbers look like a weightlifter's barbell. Of course that had nothing to do with it's content of history. Yet I do see a fuller religious awareness as we've learned so much more about Islam, which will soon be the world's largest faith unless Christians become more evangelistic. Oh that the death of those three missionaries in Yeman yesterday could trigger such a revitalization in all banches of the Lord's church. And knowing about Judaism or Islam is the starting place as I see it. We hear now of Ramadan in the news each year in November. It's a month of fasting for devout Muslims, who celebrate things mentioned in their Koran (especially it's claim of Muhammad making a onr night journed to Jerusalem and clear on up to the Allah in the seventh heaven).Then usually in December we've heard of Hanukkah (which celebrates with lighted eight candle menorahs all those nights a single one burned continuously in the Hebrew temple). Most recent is Kwansaa, begun in 1966 based in part on traditional African harvest festivals but particularly emphasizing the role of the family and community in African American culture with each day dedicated to a particular principle (unity, self-determination, collective work and responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity and faith). Like the menorah, a candle is lighted each day on the candelabrum starting Dec.26th. So we keep gaining more balance in our understanding of others. But the religion of this new Realian movement based on cloning to achieve eternal life provokes my hostility. That 31 year old American named Bridgett somebody claims to have mothered a clone. If it's only an exstension of herself, does it have a soul of it's own? The former sportscaster who is telling her extra-terrestials have revealed to him the origin of human life is no priest or prophet. But she admits he's saying what she had already figured out. So that cloned child will be eventually cloned for on and on? Noterity yes, but not immortality. If she shows us a child, let the DNA prove it's her exact duplicate, I say. Should she really have a clone, let's hope the babies hair doesn't look striped like her's, red and gray. Taking a look at Christmas for Christians, we often heave a sigh of relief when the big day is past. Yet traditionally there are twelve days in the season which only begins on Dec.25. When I first went into the ministry, few Methodists knew that. But we gradually began to follow liturgy in our worship with the seasons of Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Eastertide and Kingdomtide. Each had a specail color and the color of Advent is purple, which doesn't fit the Christmas red and green. Advent hymns were supposed to be about looking for Christ's coming instead of His birth. But popular demand was for carols and we sang them. So that liturgical season was swallowed up by Christmas. Thus I came to feel that the "Twelve Days of Christmas" actually began Dec.13th, liturgy or not.
Now we face a new year and there's one resolution I've stuck with for 2002, so here it is again for 2003: read something from the Bible every day. It doen't have to be according to any schedule. Just open the Book and take a look. There's inspiration in every page, though continuity helps. But we get so absorbed in TV or other distractions that we miss out on it far too much. Shortly after inaugeration, when president Bush was asked how he began each day he said "I read some Scripture." That's the book on which he laid his hand to take office too. If a man as busy as our president can take the time, so can all of us Americans. The printing press was invented just a few years before the Protestant Reformation began in and churches in Germany and elsewhere established schools teaching the citizens to read. It was so they could read their own Bibles. Before that there were only hand written copies of Scripture which were read by priests at worship to illiterate worshippers. The reason we're mostly literate now was so that we could know the holy book. Paul commended young Timothy, "from a child thou hast known the Scriptures which are able to make thee wise unto salvation." Sad to say, our public schools no longer give heed to such a standard. But each believer must for self and for family. My dad read it to us and I did to my kids. And I hope they do also.