Blood for Blood: Prologue

As promised, here's the prologue to my new novel. You may not  be able to tell it by this, but it's a Christian novel and God will end up right in the midst of the action. I can't wait for you to read this whole story. It turns out that I have become very attached to these characters and I will be surprised if they don't have a long tenure with me in numerous adventures.

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Prologue

     The boy was no longer responsive and was barely breathing. With a fever of 104 degrees, hemorrhage under his skin, and bloody vomitus, the prognosis was an obvious one. Back home, there might be a chance. Here, there was nothing they could do, at this advanced stage, but try to make him comfortable in his last hours. The doctor looked at the father. “I’m sorry, sir. This boy will not make it. He is too far gone,” the interpreter translated. “What?” the father shouted. No translator was needed to know that the father was irate and irrational. “The boy will not make it. He is very close to death now,” the doctor tried again. “NO!” the father roared. “You save my son!” he demanded. 

     The doctor looked at the staff. This would not end well. “Move the boy to a cot in the hospital tent and let’s get an IV started. Maybe some fluids and antibiotics will help.” Though nothing was likely to save the boy, it was reasonable to try to treat the dehydration and the infection. 

     After a night spent at his bedside, the father pacing beside the child, the doctor could see the boy was fading. Again, the explanation of the boy’s condition enraged the father. Couldn’t he see the boy was worse? Couldn’t he see he was barely breathing? Apparently not, as he demanded again that the staff save his son. 

When the end finally came, the doctor looked at the father with dread. “He is gone.” His face went white, then red with fury. “NO! You save him or die!” he shouted. “He die, you die! Blood for blood!” he screamed, as he pulled a long knife from the scabbard at his waist. He lunged just as the aide saw the move and made a leap to tackle him. The aide and the father went down in a mass of screaming fury, but not before the knife had imbedded itself deep in the doctor’s thigh. You die! You die!” the father continued to scream.

     “Blood for blood!” It seemed like that was exactly what had happened. “Get him out of here and find someone who can help with the body,” the doctor said as he looked at the knife protruding from his thigh. “And send someone to help me with this knife, too.” Utter calm under pressure.

     Ramil was devastated by the loss of his son and enraged that the American doctor had not saved him. He had walked for days, carrying the boy down from the mountains. That doctor took one look at Yahriel and made up his mind right away. He wasn’t even going to give him a chance. “He won’t make it,” he had said. Well, he certainly wouldn’t make it if the doctor didn’t try. He gave him those needles in his arms and tortured him all night, and for what? For nothing! Yahriel had died anyway. The son of my heart is gone and it is all that doctor’s fault. 

     Stabbing was too good for him. He should have died, too, Ramil thought, and began to plan his revenge. There was surely someone who would help him. He will die. I don’t know how I will do it, but one day, that doctor will die if I have to hunt him down like a wild animal. I WILL avenge my son!

     Ramil Miagkov spoke of his anger and his need for vengeance constantly. Before long, people were talking. Bad people. That anger, that need for vengeance could be used, they thought. Ramil’s anger made him malleable to the terrorist cell who contacted him. They promised both vengeance and all the assistance he would need. Ramil had never been involved before. He could travel freely without raising international alarms. There was just one little thing he would need to do first. They would make all the arrangements, but it would not be rushed. He must go home, be quiet, and silence his threats. His turn would come, they promised. All things come to those who wait.

The persistent father

On the next day, when they came down from the mountain, a large crowd met Him. And a man from the crowd shouted, saying, "Teacher, I beg You to look at my son, for he is my only boy, and a spirit seizes him, and he suddenly screams, and it throws him into a convulsion with foaming at the mouth; and only with difficulty does it leave him, mauling him as it leaves. I begged Your disciples to cast it out, and they could not." (Luke 9:37-40 NASB)

The next day, after the transfiguration, Jesus with Peter, James, and John, came down from the mountain prayer retreat, and, as usual, a large crowd had gathered. In that crowd, there was a father whose son had seizures. They were severe and unpredictable. No one had been able to help him. In desperation, the father had brought the boy to the disciples (the ones who were not at the prayer retreat). They had tried to heal him without success, but the disciples had not been able to help the boy either. 

We will look at this passage in greater detail later, but there is a lesson in the father's perseverance. He did not lose hope because the disciples failed. He clearly understood that Jesus had greater power than the disciples and that a failure on the part of a disciple was not a failure on the part of Jesus. That sounds intuitive, doesn't it? 

It's surprising, though, how many of us become angry with God when one of His servants fails us in some way. We equate man's failure with God's failure (a lie from the enemy of our souls), and allow the hurt, disappointment, and anger to create a stronghold in our lives that becomes a barrier between us and God. It weakens our relationship with our Lord and robs us of the joy He longs to give. 

All too often, we encounter a "disciple", whether clergy or laity, who fails in a spectacular way. They may even have hurt us or one we love. It is easy to assume all ministers, all laity, all disciples, are the same as the one who has failed. We may even, in some mixed up way, equate God with the one who has failed, but how foolish this is. Deuteronomy 31:8 tells us that God will never fail us or forsake us. Even when His answer to our prayers is not the one we want, He does not leave us nor fail us. 

This father took his son to the disciples and, when they failed to help, he took his boy directly to Jesus. He wasn't angry because of the failure. He was simply seeking a solution from the One he knew could help. This father did exactly what we should do with our needs. He was not discouraged by man's failure. His trust and his hope were in Christ alone, and that is exactly where he took his need. 

Do you have a need or concern for which you have been unable to find help? Take it to Jesus, like the persistent father, and let Him do what only He can do. He may not do what you "want", but He will neither fail you nor forsake you. 

The thanksGiving series: making dried celery

The last time I considered buying celery flakes, I actually looked at the price and was shocked. I had just been through the produce aisle and seen the price for fresh celery. Whew! Big difference! Of course, I thought, how hard can this be? I think that a lot, which leads me down paths that are best confessed another time. Fortunately, this little project turned out well. I've been drying my own celery ever since. 

Since my supply was getting low, and because I thought you might want to try this too, I bought some "name brand" celery yesterday at the little grocery "down the road from my house". They only had one kind and it was $1.39. 

I washed and dried my celery, then sliced it in 1/4 inch slices. (Really, I just sliced it on the thinnish side. But 1/4 inch sounds good, doesn't it?) put it on a parchment-covered baking sheet in a single layer. One stalk of celery needed two baking sheets. I put it in a preheated oven at 170 degrees and left it there for eight hours. Maybe nine. When I finally made it home from errand day, feeding livestock, and hauling water (which is not my favorite) I remembered the celery and took it out. It was fine. You might call it leather hard. It was not hard crispy but not at all soft. If you are making celery flakes, you've seen them before. It's like the ones in the store.

I actually weighed the dehydrated celery and one stalk had yielded 1.3 oz of celery flakes. My favorite place to buy herbs and spices is Penzey's, so I checked their catalogue. They don't have a 1.3 oz jar, of course, but a 1 oz plus a 0.3 oz supply of celery flakes sells for $7.34. I saved $5.95! It took me less than 5 minutes to slice the celery, tear the parchment paper, put it on a baking sheet and slide it in the oven. That's not a bad savings for five minutes of work. 

I don't know if this worked or not, but I sliced a thin slice off the end of the stalk and stuck it down in some water. It may or may not root (which would make my savings the full $7.34) but romaine roots pretty well like that, so we shall see. 

This has been a crazy week, and I've been a little disconnected with the savings jar totals, but at last report, it contained $210.81.  With the addition of the celery savings of $5.95, the savings jar total is up to $217.76! 

Even if you are not trying to save money, drying your own celery is so easy that it's  a shame not to do it (and now you know how!) In case you are new to this series, the purpose for all this saving is so that we can become extravagantly generous and splurge on giving. Don't forget what it is that God loves - God loves a cheerful giver and that is exactly what we hope to become. 

The Recognition, part 25: intimacy

And when the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent, and reported to no one in those days any of the things which they had seen. (Luke 9:36 NASB)

The cloud descended, the disciples were engulfed, the Lord spoke aloud, and then Moses and Elijah were gone. "And they kept silent." The disciples did not speak about what they had seen and heard. They didn't tell anyone about their experience. They simply kept quiet. 

Because Scripture reports the story, we know that they did eventually tell of their experience, but Luke is clear. At the time, the experience was for them to treasure alone. It sounds like a secret between them and Jesus, doesn't it? 

Imagine that! They saw Moses and Elijah standing and talking with Jesus. All three were in glory, clothed in robes so white that they appeared to have flashes of lightning coming from them. The cloud of God's presence descended and they were engulfed in the presence of God. They heard His voice. It was an incredibly intimate heavenly experience, and the three disciples understood instinctively that it was meant for them alone. What they had just experienced was, perhaps, because they were Jesus' closest disciples, His "best friends", and this treat was not for everyone. 

We may not realize it, but this passage speaks of the intimacy of God with those who love Him. These men were engulfed by God and the experience was not for telling, but for savoring. They would ponder it and treasure it, but years would pass before they actually told what they had experienced. 

Have you been engulfed by God? Have you had one of those life-altering intimate times with our Lord that leaves you in awe of His presence and pondering it for years to come? How precious those times can be, but they only come out of a  relationship with Christ and in a time of utter stillness before Him. He loves us "with an everlasting love". He longs for intimacy with us, but we are the reason that the intimacy is lacking. It is we who are too busy, too distracted, too focused on the world and ourselves. It is we who will have to change if we are to have this divine engulfing, this intimacy beyond all others. It is we ourselves who must be still and silent before our Most High God and allow His presence to descend and engulf us. Though it sounds difficult, and it is, when we are quiet in words and spirit, we will find that the intimacy that results will leave us astounded by His grace, treasuring His presence, and hungering for more. 

Be still, dear ones, and allow the presence of God to engulf and surround you. You will treasure it for years to come. 

The thanksGiving Series: the road to hell

My grandmother used to say, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." I'm pretty skeptical about her theology, since it is sin that paves our road to hell and nothing else, but she meant well. One of the reasons my grandmother used that adage so often was that I sometimes have the tiniest of problems with good intentions. 

On an occasion or two, well okay on many occasions, I have gotten distracted and missed whatever it was I was supposed to do. Today was one of those days. 

I bought celery this morning to dry it in the oven as celery flakes so I could demonstrate how to save money by making your own dried celery. Unfortunately, I got distracted by the novel I am writing, ended up researching Uzbekistani terrorists for longer than I could stand, and developed a very wild twist for the story. The celery is still in the refrigerator, stalk still intact. 

I'm disappointed by my failure because I think it's cool to dry your own celery. I am very certain, however, that these good (but unfulfilled) intentions did not pave the road to hell for me! I did that with my own bad choices. I'm not on that path now, though!

Isn't it amazing that we can be headed right down the road to hell, end up right against the very gates of hell itself, yet our Warrior Redeemer can roll up His sleeves, wade into the fray, and, with His strong right arm, demolish our path of destruction and set us free? It was for freedom that He set us free. That's an odd turn of phrase to me but full of such promise. He set us free and He means for us to stay free. Neither terrorists, nor novel competitions, nor potentially dried celery should distract us from freedom. 

In the midst of all the distractions of life, let's be sure we do not become distracted from the path of freedom. Let's stay free and live free that the world might know the Redeemer who released us from our bondage and freed us from our sin. 

The Recognition, part 24: hearing and obeying

Then a voice came out of the cloud, saying, "This is My Son, My Chosen One; listen to Him!" (Luke 9:35 NASB)

The word translated as "listen" is, according to Thayer's, used to indicate much more than just hearing with our ears. The idea is that we are to not just listen with our ears to the words of Jesus, but we are to understand them so that we can obey His words. "Hear and obey" was the instruction God gave the disciples, and it is a good instruction for us, as well. 

Since Jesus is in heaven, how do we hear His words now? We read and study our Bibles, with special emphasis on the "red letters", the words that Jesus spoke.  This is not a "scanning" read, but a slow, deliberate reading that seeks to understand all He had for us in every word. This is a reading that longs to incorporate the words on the page into our flesh and blood lives, that meditates on the words, and hides them in our hearts through Scripture memorization. It is "listening" that allows the words to transform us. 

It would be really nice if the disciples had responded to God's command to listen and obey with instant compliance, but that's not what happened. Understanding came slowly. Change was gradual. So, too, it will be with us and those we love. The life of a disciple is a journey. We do not begin with maturity, but, along the way, we should develop maturity. 

As you look back over your life of faith, do you see clear evidence of maturity, of increased faith and faithfulness? If not, perhaps the problem is not a lack of hearing but a lack of obeying. God's instruction was not just to listen, but also to obey. May we and those we love do more than hear the words of Christ. May we also be so filled with His words that they spill out in our lives as obedience, demonstrating the truth of Jesus to all who see. 

The thanksGiving series: Maggie helps give thanks

Maggie the Wonder Dog has a past. I hate to bring it up, since we like for the past to stay very firmly in the past, but she had a little temptation today that threatened to drive her back to her evil ways. Maggie, dare I say it, was overcome by blood lust. Chicken blood lust to be more specific. When she was younger and much less wise, she noticed how fast a chicken would run when she chased it. One thing led to another, as these things will do, and before she knew what had happened, she found herself deeply involved in chicken-shaking. She would not only chase the chicken; she would catch it and shake it for all she was worth.

It is a sordid tale, but as time progressed, she found that shaking a chicken was not enough. If she grabbed the chicken by the neck, the chicken would squawk and fight like always, but the more she shook it, an unexpected thing would happen. The chicken would suddenly go limp. Maggie had broken its neck. Before she was done, she began to sink her teeth into the chicken and draw out its lifeblood.

It was not an easy thing to break Maggie of this blood lust. No amount of scolding helped. Even a shock collar was ineffective. The only thing that was effective was to restrain Maggie with a leash when the chickens were out. Restrained was exactly what Maggie was. She was not relieved of her blood lust. She was simply restrained. The penalty for chicken killing on this farm has always been severe, but somehow Maggie encountered the grace that gave her that restraint. 

Maggie is older and wiser now, although she is still a dog. Chasing chickens is part of her nature and it will likely always be a problem for her. As a result, the door to the chicken coop stays firmly closed when she is around. 

Today, she was at the barn during feeding time. She raced past the chicken coop and noticed a large tail feather. She sniffed all around it, nosed it a bit, and finally picked it up in her mouth. Lest someone notice, she took it to the pecan grove where she could enjoy her feather in private. She licked that feather until it was completely soaked. I expected her to go back to the chicken coop and stay there, waiting for her chance. Instead, she dropped the feather and moved it away from her, removing her temptation. As she moved away from her temptation, I thought about those days gone by when I cared little for the things of God and quite a bit for the ways of the world. Those things have been put away and it is the love of Christ that keeps them away. As I watched Maggie with her feather, I remembered how costly the ways of the world are and considered how much money I've saved by letting go of that old lifestyle and those old worldly ways.

Im not sure how to quantify it for the savings jar, but the saving jar would not be possible without this laying down of a life I didn't need in order to have the life I could not do without.  As you look at your savings and consider ways to save even more, don't lose sight of the incredible gift of freedom God has given. Make sure that, thought it may not fill your jar, the love of Christ infuses everything you do with the sweet aroma of freedom