Sleep In Heavenly Peas (Honey, Why Are The Cattle Are Glowing?)

On numerous occasions my wife has said to me, “That’s NOT the way that song goes!” I am notorious for singing (make that – trying to sing) the wrong lyrics to songs.

More than once I’ve been flabbergasted to find that the lyrics floating around in my head are the wrong ones. And apparently a lot of people get the words kind of goofy. When you do a quick Google search of “misheard lyrics” or “Mondegreens” (more on the meaning of that word in a moment), you get quite a few hits.


For instance, we may sing, "She's got a chicken to ride," but that is not what John, Paul, George and Ringo had in mind when they wrote “Ticket to Ride.”

And when Bachman-Turner Overdrive sang “Taking Care of Business,” they had no idea that some little old lady in a bakery would be singing, "Baking carrot biscuits, everyday!"

And did Crystal Gayle have any idea that her song “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue,” would be sung as “Donuts make my brown eyes blue?" (Was probably the same bakery lady that sang the previous song).

And who would have ever dreamed that “There’s a bathroom on the right” isn’t exactly how Creedence Clearwater’s song “Bad Moon Rising” goes. “There’s a bathroom on the right” is a lot more comforting than knowing "there's a bad moon on the rise." That sounds a little spooky.

And titles can get discombobulated and come out a little comical too. It was my friend Jim at church who, with a bit of a grin, talked about “"Gladly, The Cross-Eyed Bear." I’ll let you figure that one out.

But it’s primarily during the Christmas season that lyrics get jumbled and mumbled, mangled and bangled and come out down right funny. Wrong words run rampant!

So when I try to sing that song made famous by Bing Crosby, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” its:

I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
I’ll be there, with some fake hair
I won’t even look like me

(I guess deep down inside I don’t want snow or mistletoe or presents under the tree, I want hair on top of my head!)

Because of our ignorance of some of the phraseology of the old Christmas songs and with the limited vocabulary of little kids, misheard lyrics flourish. The website “http://wordinfo.info” gives the origin of the term “Mondegreen”:

The term 'mondegreen;' representing a series of words resulting from the mishearing of a statement or song lyric, is generally attributed to Sylvia Wright, who is credited with coining the term in a 1954 Harper's column. Ms. Wright was not pleased to discover that for many years she had misunderstood the last line of the first stanza in the Scottish folk ballad "The Bonny Earl of Murray," which is written as:

Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands,
Oh! Where ha'e ye been:
They ha'e slain the Earl of Murray,
And they laid him on the Green.

Ms. Wright misheard this stanza as:

Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands,
Oh! Where ha'e ye been:
They ha'e slain the Earl of Murray,
And Lady Mondegreen.

So I guess I pull a Mondegreen when I start the second verse of “Away in A Manger” with, “The cattle are glowing…” Although I guess some people think that “The cattle are lonely…”

And why on earth would you want to, during a “Silent Night,” sleep in heavenly peas? I hate peas. I’ve always hated peas, I will always hate peas, and heaven won’t change my mind about peas.

And for all the gentlemen out there? Well…

Get dressed ye married gentlemen,
Let nothing through this May.

Someone wants to “Deck the halls with Buddy Holly,” and after falalalalalalalalalling, they will “see the blazing Yulbie Forest!” That’s so gnarly. But what’s a yulbie?

And you know that big, purple dinosaur called Barney? Some kindergartner, obviously in love with that brontosaurus, sang “The First Noel” and turned Barney into royalty:

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Barney's the King of Israel!

And either the shepherds washed their socks by night or they walked their fox by night…maybe both. Perhaps after walking their foxes they had to wash their soxes.

And New York may not know it, but they have a king:

Hark! The herald angels sing,
Glory to the New York King.

And that old hymn continues (from the mind of a 6 year old):

Joyful oily nations rise;
Join the triumph of disguise.
With the jelly toast proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem.

Burl Ives (in the form of a jolly snowman) sang “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” on that animated “Rudolph, The Red Nosed Reindeer” movie. But somebody from Wisconsin must have altered the lyrics:

Have a holly jolly Christmas,
It's the best time of the year.
Well, I don't know if there'll be snow,
But have a cup of cheese.

And can’t you just see some little red haired girl with pigtails and freckles singing her heart out (albeit off key):

Joy to the world!
The Lord has gum.

(Maybe she was looking at little Johnny over in the next pew chewing on some Bazooka Bubblegum.)

And when Santa shows up in town, we better watch out because “he’s making a list of chicken and rice” (He’s evidently on a diet).

And who knows who came up with this form of “Silent Night”:

Silent night, holy night;
All is calm, all is bright.
Round John Virgin, margarine child;
Holey and lint, sewed tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peas;
Sleep in heavenly peace!

(Someone else besides me was thinking about peas!)

And who hasn’t heard a whole season full of Mondgreens when it comes to “The Twelve Days of Christmas?”

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My tulip sent to me:
Twelve drummers drumming,
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lawyers leaving,
Nine lazy Hansons,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven warts on women,
Six geezers ailing,
Five gold Onions!
Four colanders,
Three French hens,
Two turtle gloves,
And a cartridge in a pantry.

I’ve always felt they should just start that song on the twelfth day and call it quits. It just goes on and on and on and on and on. Kind of like “Father Abraham” in children’s church: right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot, right elbow, left elbow, turn around, sit down, fall down. And does Miss Piggy grate on anybody else besides me when the Muppets sing this song???

I love winter, I love hiking in the woods and meadows on a really cold day and beholding the beauty of God’s creation. But I never knew that you had to watch out for spiders and alligators and a creepy circus clown snowman. Note these Mondgreens from “Winter Wonderland”:

In the meadow we can build a snowman;
Then pretend that he is sparse and brown.
He'll say, "Are you merry?"
We'll say, "Nomad!
But you can do the job when you're in town!"

Later on we'll count spiders
As we think by the fire
To face, I'm afraid,
The plans that we made
Walkin' in a winter wonderland!

Here’s the clown/alligator variation:

In the meadow we can build a snowman,
And pretend that he's a circus clown.
We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,
Until the alligators knock him down.

(Must be some of those Arctic Alligators you see on the internet)

Well, I hope you got a chuckle out these. Have a wonderful, wonderful Christmas. Don’t get stressed out…if you do, just go take a nap in some heavenly peas. And remember: Jesus is the Reason for the Season! “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whosoever believes in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

My Car Don’t Have No Manly Horn

I was sitting at the intersection of 1st street and 5th avenue west in Duluth waiting for the stop sign to turn green. I had just dropped my wife off for work and was headed to work in CubicleLand and my thoughts were apparently in a galaxy far far away. I suddenly heard the car behind me honk its horn and I was pulled back to reality and realized then that the stop sign wasn’t going to turn green (or any color for that matter). I proceeded through the intersection like I knew exactly what I was doing and eventually made it to work.


When the car behind me honked its horn, it’s then that I thought, “Wow, I hope my car horn doesn’t sound like that!”

But it does.

My car don’t have no manly horn.

I have an older Chevy S-10 pickup and that horn sounds fine. But my wife’s car is the one we usually drive to and from work each day. It’s a Hyundai Elantra.

And as the commercial instructs, it’s pronounced “Hyundai like Sunday.” It’s not “high-yun-die” or “hi-ya-yippe-ki-yeah!” or “hey-you-lookin-at-me?” It’s just “Hyundai like Sunday.”

And “Elantra” is French for “I may not be a Honda, but at least I’m not a Yugo.”

The other day we were stopped behind one other car at a stop light where our neighborhood street (44th avenue) meets the main business district street (Grand Avenue). We turn left so we always have to wait for the light. And it’s usually about a half an hour before we get the green light so I eat breakfast and Kay puts on her make-up. When the person in the car in front of us started to creep out into the intersection while the light was still red (she obviously finished her pancakes and sausage), I knew immediately what she was going to do – SHE WAS PLANNING ON TURNING LEFT ONTO A TWO WAY BUSY STREET ON A RED LIGHT!

Kay and I both just sat aghast at such brazen and anti-societal behavior.

But I was ready for her.

Shaking off my aghastness (and after giving my bowl of Wheaties to Kay), I honked the horn with determination.

It sounded just like the horn on my trike when I was three, or like a deathly-ill Road Runner cartoon figure. It was obviously Hyundai like Sunday’s attempt at imitating Tiny Tim’s falsetto voice.

I wanted it to sound like the horn that went off when those monster Mar’s machines came up out of the earth on “War of the Worlds.” (Where Tom Cruise and his family ran for their lives while people around them turned to baking powder). Or I so wanted it to sound like, you know, a Kenworth or a Peterbuilt or a Mack Truck. Or maybe something like the Duluth Aerial Lift Bridge horn. Now THAT’S a horn.

But it was just a sickly “bep.” Not even loud enough or scary enough for me to add the second "e" to beep.

It obviously didn’t scare her because she just kept right on going. And I think I saw her laughing! (By the way, if I tried that, even though you couldn’t see any law enforcement vehicles for miles, as soon as I got out into the intersection a SWAT helicopter would be swooping down on me.)

And before I finish, on that “me-waiting-for-the-stop-sign-to-change-colors” thing. A few years back I stopped for a stop sign where no stop sign was! The one that marked the intersection of 40th and 6th got moved to 40th and 8th. But one day on my way home from work (while I was day dreaming) I just stopped at the corner of 40th and 6th. 40th Avenue West is a real busy street and for whatever reason the guy behind me didn’t like it that I had stopped where no stop sign was! Go figure. He just zoomed around me like I was some kind of an idiot.

I’ll never figure out why some drivers get so mad at me.

Our Government, Which Art in Washington, Hallowed be Thy Legislation…

I don’t know, maybe its time for the peasants to pick up the pitchforks.

Why do I say that? Because our government seems to be so sorely out of touch with Mr. & Mrs. Average American.

The professional politicians enact law after law and program after program. And yet if they ran a Fortune 500 company the way they run the government; it would soon make the Fortune-less 500 listing.

The same accounting practices that got Ken Lay and Bernie Madoff in deep legal trouble with the Feds are being practiced by Congress at this very hour.

We’ve taken a sledge hammer to our grandchildren’s piggy banks. You don’t have to be an Old Testament prophet to see that our spending and national debt is simply unsustainable.

And yet “We The People”, the ones who work hard, pay the bills on time, live within our means, fix up our houses, and don’t expect a handout every time something bad happens, are viewed as incapable of knowing what is best for our country. “We The People” are thought of by Washington and Hollywood as “Fly-Over Country” -- that great center of the nation sometimes so disdained by politicians from the east and performers from the west. Fly-Over Country to them is “Hicktown USA.”

When the healthcare bill passed last March I called my mom. She’s 84 years old and grew up during the Great Depression. Both my mom and I were pretty disappointed the way that things had gone with the vote on that 2,000 plus page bill. When the chips were down, Congressman Stupak of Michigan folded like a tent and his Pro-Life stand didn’t prove to be much of a stand after all.

I mentioned to someone how disappointed I was that the bill had passed. The reply? “Well, at least it’s moving.” (The “it” they referred to was the decades-long legislative battle of trying to enact national healthcare.)

It’s moving alright. It’s a ginormous boulder of economic ruin gathering steam as it rolls downhill directly toward my children’s and grandchildren’s future.

Don’t get me wrong. I totally understand that something has to be done about the skyrocketing cost of healthcare. I have worked for 20 years in the supply chain operations department of a large healthcare facility and see the rising costs. Something has to be done. But that “something” is not to nationalize healthcare. When has a federal program ever brought down the cost of anything? The government is collecting 10 years of taxes to pay for 7 years of the program – and they say it’s going to lower the cost of healthcare? There is no such thing as a free lunch and there is no such thing as free healthcare…somebody somewhere has to pay for it.

To paraphrase William Kristol, "This legislation puts the government in the driver’s seat of a giant, poorly-constructed bus in which we are simply helpless passengers.”

Matthew Continetti wrote this, “The people voiced their opposition in rambunctious town hall meetings and at a massive march on Washington in early September (2009). (But) they were mocked and vilified for their efforts.”

No wonder the Tea Party political phenomenon has taken the country by storm and astonished the Washington insiders.

It is my belief that in 10-20 years we will look back at the good old days of 2010 Healthcare. We definitely have some things to fix but let’s not vilify all of healthcare for political gain. The advances being made today in medicine are incredible. A few months ago one of my coworkers was helping with the supply chain process in the Special Procedure’s lab (where they put in stents and coils and do other amazing feats). He emailed and said he was watching on a monitor as they were shooting glue into a guy’s brain to stop an aneurysm. I probably didn’t put that in the correct medical terminology, but wow, what incredible progress is being made in medicine today!

And all we do is complain because we have to sit for an extra 30 minutes in the waiting room. Go on a trip next summer with my boss’s boss to Cameroon (West Africa) and have a good look at their healthcare. If you do, I bet the next time you visit your doctor here in the states you’ll give him or her a big hug!

Here’s my really rough plan on how to improve healthcare:

1. If you lay around watching TV and eating Doritos all day you pay a higher premium.

2. If you exercise and get a physical and eat well you pay a lower premium.

3. Require ALL elected officials and federal employees to have the same health care plan we have.

4. Health insurance is only used for big stuff, otherwise its pay as you go (I don’t have car insurance so that it will pay for my headlights or battery to be replaced).

5. Instead of wasting a trillion dollars on a stimulus package, just give every American family $10,000.00 – they then choose either to spend it or put it away for healthcare needs. If they blow it on other stuff, they then have to pay their medical costs out of their own pocket.

Did you know that the healthcare legislation passed this spring, which is perhaps the greatest loss of freedom enacted by our government, was signed into law on the anniversary of Patrick Henry’s famous “Give me liberty or give me death speech?”

Congressman Jim Jordan articulated America’s wonderful place in history so well, “Every other country started with a top-down model…God gave power to the elite, to the kings and the queen…and (finally) it trickled down to ‘we the people.’ In America we said, ‘No. It's different. God gave power and fundamental rights and liberties to 'we the people.’ We started with a bottom-up model. We started with a ‘we the people’ model as our Constitution goes. That is so unique. No other country has started on that premise and it's that premise that makes us special…” (From www.aproundtable.org)

There is an entrepreneurial spirit that runs through our backbone. We want small government and we want to be left alone. We don’t want to contact the government to find out if we can cut down a tree on our property. We want freedom, not a soft tyranny of endless regulations. To quote from Lady Libertas, “The American People have the DNA of Liberty in their veins.”

That is why I found it so appalling when I received the American Community Survey this past spring and found out that I could be fined up to $5,000.00 for not answering such questions as, “What time do you leave for work in the morning?”

My mom and dad worked really hard and never expected Uncle Sam to bail them out when life got tough. My mom related how my grandfather would rant (in his very colorful language) about Roosevelt’s government give-aways and how it was going to ruin the nation. And just like my grandfather, my parents weren’t in favor of government give-aways either. Neither my mom nor my dad had a college education. And yet their common sense far exceeded the college sense of most Washingtonians.

And they pretty much believed in “The Ten Cannots” of Abraham Lincoln:

You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift
You cannot help small men by tearing down big men
You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong
You cannot lift the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer
You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich (socialism is just trickle up poverty)
You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income
You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred
You cannot establish security on borrowed money
You cannot build character and courage by taking away man’s initiative and independence
You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves

Doesn’t it just make good sense to:

1. Require legislators to have actually had a real job.
2. Require legislators to live under the same laws they enact
3. Require that each wasted tax dollar means one dollar less in the legislator’s paycheck (Brian Darling wrote an article titled, “I See Dead People and They Have Stimulus Checks.” I think that’s such a neat title)
4. Reward hard work.
5. Require that the government should support the nuclear family (fatherlessness is a BIG problem in America today…remember to pray for kids who don’t have their dads around)
6. Give unemployment bennies for one year at the most – then require that people have to get some sort of a job, even if it’s sweeping out parking lots or doing the highway clean up thing (I have a four year college degree and both my wife and I, when things got tough financially, washed dishes, cleaned houses and delivered phone books to make ends meet).
7. Require those that have a job that is being subsidized by Uncle Sam to be to work on time or it’s a $100.00 fine every time they are late. Laziness is not a medical condition.

Big Government has become Big Unsustainable Government. One of the cable news channels showed people lined up by the 100’s when they heard that some government program was giving out money. Said one of the people in line, “I came for some of that free Government money!”

Say what?

Our coins have the inscription, “In God We Trust.” But do we?

Sometimes the Lord’s Prayer becomes:
Our Government which art in Washington
Hallowed be Thy Legislation
Thy Great Society come
Thy Bills be done
In Fly-Over Country as they are on Pennsylvania Avenue
Give us each day our tiny tax breaks
And forgive us our tax debts the same way that you forgave the Secretary of the Treasury
And lead us not into the temptation of thinking that what we work hard for all of our lives is actually ours
But deliver us from those evil Tea Party people
For Thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory and our 1st and 2nd Amendment Rights and our Property Rights and our Freedom of Speech and so on and so forth.
Amen.

I don’t really think its time for the peasants to pick up the pitchforks. But I do believe its time for us to be on our knees in prayer for this wonderful country. (Besides – there’s a lot more power in prayer than in pitchforks.)

Both my wife and I served in the military and we both deeply love this nation. No matter where I am at or what I am doing, when I hear our National Anthem sung or I see the flag waving or pass by in a parade I get a lump in my throat.

I am forever indebted to those who have given their lives for America.

This is the land where heroes are born. You know, heroes like my mom and dad and your mom and dad.

Pray that revival would sweep throughout our land from sea to shining sea.
Ask for a tremendous compassion for the poor and the less fortunate.
Find a way to carry out a “Random Act of Kindness” on one of your neighbors.

And Vote November 2nd

***********************************

America The Beautiful (by Katherine Lee Bates)

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain;
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine,
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

A River Runs Through It… (Our Campsite That Is)

Webster defines “camping” as “sleeping on the ground during the rain while fighting ginormous mosquitoes.” A secondary definition is “walking 600 yards to the bathroom in the pitch blackness while aliens stare at you from the woods.”


I love to camp…camping is fun! But my wife got enough of it in the Army, and as a result she doesn’t view it as something enjoyable (unless it’s camping in the mall). So when our daughter asked a couple of months ago, “Hey, lets all go camping together!” my wife was a real trooper and agreed. Our daughter then emailed and asked if we had any requirements. My wife had just one – there just has to be a shower! My requirement? I just wanted a mint placed on my sleeping bag pillow each morning by tent service.

When a lot of people say, “We went camping this weekend!” they really mean that they brought their house with them -- a 32 foot “camper” with a satellite dish on top and where you can push a button and the living room extends out of the side.

In my mind the term “camping” should be limited to:
1. Sleeping under the stars with just your sleeping bag
2. Sleeping in a tent
3. Sleeping in a pop-up camper
4. And maybe you can include those really small travel
trailers like “Scamps”

Anything else is just…well…I don’t know what it is, but it sure isn’t camping. And just one other thing. I recently saw an advertisement in a catalog for a tent WITH CLOSETS! The DNR should have a sign at all state parks that says, “Don’t even think about camping here if your tent has a closet!”

I packed in about 13 minutes…from Friday noon till Sunday noon I needed just one pair of shorts and one pair of underwear and one pair of socks and a sweatshirt. And an extra hat. Extra underwear, not so important. But you always need an extra hat. You never know when a bear might run off with the only one you have and then your weekend is ruined. But I guess the bear would be happy (“Hey hey Boo Boo!” says Yogi, “How do I look in my new Viking hat?”).

My wife packed all her stuff PLUS her blow dryer. I told her that blow dryers were outlawed by section 1, paragraph 6, subsection 12 of the US Camping Code, but she took it along anyway.

We got to Oak Lake campground around noon, or about 30 minutes after our daughter and son-in-law and the three grandkiddies and their dog Auggie. Their pop-up camper was all set up, and we just had to get our tent up before the rain hit. It’s advertised as a “6 man tent” but in fine print it says, “6 Gulliver’s Travels Lilliputian sized men.”


We got the tent up just in time. Because it rained REALLY, REALLY, REALLY HARD for about 2 hours or more. So much so that the little drainage ditch between our campsites looked like the headwaters of the mighty Mississippi. The ground became so saturated that when you went into the tent it felt like you were on a water bed. But it didn’t leak! And despite the rain we had a great time. The youngest granddaughter loved wading in the stream and the grandkiddies and Kay played games in the tent.

Some of my fondest memories of family vacations as a kid were when the weather was bad and we had to sit in the cabin and play cards and other games (I’ll call your 3 match stick and raise you 5 match sticks!)


The weather finally cleared about 7 that evening – we built a campfire, my son-in-law Gus valiantly fought off Godzilla the crazed crayfish that invaded our campsite; we had smores, looked at the stars, found the big dipper, and had flaming meteor marshmallows. I love when they are burnt to a crisp on the outside and then you just plop the blackened layer of carbon and the white gooey center into your mouth.

Sometime that night my wife had to make a trip to the bathroom. When my peaceful slumber was interrupted by her struggle to untie the flashlight hanging from the center of the tent, I got a little irritated. So I untied it for her so on her 100 yard dash she could spot the raccoons and skunks and lions and tigers and bears, oh MY!


The next morning we had pancakes and then we went fishing on the pontoon. And that’s when my daughter latched onto just a monster of a fish! It weighted maybe 2 ounces. We thought about filleting it, but couldn’t find a knife that small. She also caught a little sunfish and she says she latched onto a northern pike or something (she “claims” she saw it jump) but it got away. I personally think she was just hallucinating from the gas fumes from the boat motor.

All I caught was some green bass.


That night we had hotdogs and brats and cooked a can of beans in the fire. It could have been just burned bologna sandwiches, but for some reason food just tastes better around a campfire.

At times I try to attach a Bible verse to some of these little stories so that they have at least some sort of redeeming value. I searched and searched and searched and finally found one from II Corinthians 5:4 (New American Standard Version) that fits just perfectly:

“…in this tent we groan…” :>)

What Do Cows Think About All Day? (The Meaning of Moo)

After doing the pulpit fill-in thing for a pastor friend who was gone on vacation, my wife and I were invited by a couple from the church to stop by their home on our way back to Duluth. They were very gracious and we had a wonderful visit (and some magnificent strawberry shortcake). They had a beautiful home and farm that was situated amongst the rolling hills

And they had a herd of cows.

Which got me to thinking when I drove to work the next day, “I wonder what cows think about all day? And why do cows go, ‘Moo?’”

The little I know about cows I learned from my wife who spent part of her summers as a child on her grandparent’s farm near Beltrami, Minnesota. A lot of what follows may be a little made up, but this is one thing that isn’t: She loved (and I quote) “to walk barefoot through the cow pies when they were all squishy and warm.” Now my wife is very beautiful and talented and we’ve been married for almost 40 years. Perhaps it was the summer strolls through the cow pies as a kid that helped shape her inner and outer beauty.

And who knows, maybe someday cucumber & cow-pie pedicures will become the rage in famous spas throughout Europe.

Or not.

The noun ‘cow’ comes from the old Middle English word “cow” which is the transliteration of the Latin term “cow” meaning “the source of hamburgers and milkshakes.” On the other hand, the verb “cow” means “to frighten with threats and violence; to intimidate and oppress.” Are you kidding me? Cows?

Cows basically fall into two categories:
The ones made out of beef: those are used for grilling
The ones made out of ice-cream: those are used for milk products.

(Perhaps there is a third category…the ones made out of soy: those are the ones that produce “Silk” which is imitation milk and used primarily by yuppies in Seattle.)

Millions of people have read Steven Hawkins best-selling book, “A Brief History of Time.” But very few people ever read his sequel, “A Brief History of Cows.” In it he theorized that at the core of a black hole…was a Black Angus.

There are simply an amazing amount of bovine breeds. The true stuff in the following list is from www.bovinebazaar.com:

The Angus breed came from the highlands of northern Scotland. Originally they wore kilts and played the bagpipes.

The Beefalo is a cross between a cow and a buffalo (or bison). Originally known as the Cowbuff breed, the name was changed when the American Car Buff Association filed suit because it infringed on their name.

The American Brahman is the first breed developed in the United States. They have achieved acceptance for their environmental adaptability, longevity, and mothering ability. Really? Have you ever seen one? They don’t look too motherly to me!

The American Brown Swiss was declared a dairy breed in the late 1800s. Prior to that they were slices of cheese.

Dexters are one of the smallest breeds of cattle and are believed to have originated in Ireland. They developed into a breed of shoes.

The Isle of Guernsey, a tiny island in the English Channel off the coast of France, is the birthplace of the Guernsey cow. About 960 A.D., besieged by buccaneers and sea rovers, the Island came to the attention of Robert Duke of Normandy. He sent a group of militant monks to educate the natives as to how to cultivate the soil and defend the land. The monks brought with them the best bloodlines of French cattle – thus was born the Guernsey cow. (Militant Monks??? Are you kidding me?).

The Hereford breed was established near Hereford, county of Herefordshire, England, nearly 300 years ago as a product of necessity. (McDonalds was branching out in Europe and needed hamburgers big-time).

The Holstein originated in the Netherlands close to 2,000 years ago. The Dutch created this black and white breed. Originally they wore wooden shoes.

Jersey cattle originated from the island of Jersey which was just some 14 miles away from the French coast. They later migrated to New Jersey (and New York) and became known for their really bad attitude (Are you looking at me?!?!). They also make lousy cab drivers.

The Limousin breed originated in the high, rocky Aquitaine region of France. They are an extremely long breed and don’t fit well in the average barn stall.

The Shetland Breed has an ancient lineage, thought to date back to the cattle that the Vikings brought to the Shetlands Islands in the period 700-1100 AD. (The fierce Vikings are responsible for such tiny cows? No wonder we haven’t won any Super Bowls.)

The Texas Longhorn Cattle Breed became the foundation of the University of Texas football team (and later the American cattle industry). Their horns are highly prized for hood ornaments on Volkswagen Beetles.

Many mysteries surround this fascinating animal:

Do they sleep standing up?

When they laugh does milk shoot out there nose?

Do cow magnets really increase gas mileage? That was a rumor back during the gas shortage of the 70’s. Cows swallowed these small sausage shaped magnets to attract any metal pieces they might have ingested while grazing (which proved fortunate for my wife). But if you took them out of the cow and taped them to both sides of your gas line it was supposed to increase your gas mileage. If I remember correctly, I tried it and it didn’t work.

And why do cows go moo? A couple of answers need to be weighed seriously:

“Because if they said ‘Shazam’ no one would take them seriously.”
(Jez on http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20061101104328AAhjKAH)

“So they can be herd!”
SOTHC on http://www.funtrivia.com/askft/Question78852.html

“The reason why COWS GO MOO is because they have trouble getting their tongue around saying the letter N. If it weren't for this unfortunate speech impediment we'd understand that they were trying to say MOON…Cows, or COSMOCOWS as they prefer to be known, have been exploring the lunar surface for years. Their hooves are perfectly adapted to the dusty lunar surface…Everyone knows the MOON is made of CHEESE and that the cow JUMPED over the MOON but few are aware that today a herd of about 6,000 COSMOCOWS live on the GREEN crater, close to the Mendeleev crater on the FAR SIDE. They are quite independent and wander around looking for things to chew.” (www.cowsgomoo.co.uk/)

So just what is the meaning of moo? To us it may sound silly, but it’s as important to them as “What is the meaning of life?” is to us. After a recent exhaustive study at the University of Wisconsin, scientists came up with the world’s first bovine translator (The Bovilator). And after analyzing thousands and thousands of cows from hundreds of breeds across the US, they discovered that “Moo!” is simply the equivalent to our, “Yo Adrian!”

And what do cows think about all day? They probably aren’t thinking about where the stock market is at or how much oil is gushing into the gulf or the state of the economy or what’s gonna happen tomorrow. They are probably just chewing the Philippians 4:11-13 cud, “Not that I speak from want; for I have learned to be content in whatever pasture I am in. I know how to get along with very little hay, and I also know how to live in lush green pastures; in any and every state (whether North Dakota or Texas or California or Wisconsin), I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

At least those contented Kemps cows are thinking that. :>)

Double Nickles

I just turned 55 in February. I would have been 56 but I was sick a year. (I can still see the twinkle in my dad’s eye when he would use that line). My grandson Noah called me the morning of my birthday and said, “Hey Grampa, you’re the speed limit!!!” I thought that was pretty funny until one of my coworkers said, “Which speed limit?” I am exactly one week older than my wife. But while I look years beyond my age, she looks year prior to her age. More than once when my wife and I and two daughters have all been together, a stranger has said something like, “Oh, and these must be your three daughters!” Several years ago I pulled into the sort-of-fast food place for a breakfast sandwich on my way to work. When I drove up to the window to pay, the young woman mentioned a price that I knew was lower than what it normally should have been. When I mentioned that to her, she said, “Oh…I gave you the senior citizen discount!” With my happy balloon deflated, I just drove off to work. I have had many wonderful birthdays, but there are two that, for some reason, have been hard-wired into my neurons – the 21st and the 40th. On my 21st birthday (or around my 21st) our very good Army friends (Doc and Lila) took my wife and I out to eat at Three Thieves Restaurant in Colorado Springs. The steak was wonderful (it almost melted in your mouth), and at the end of the meal they surprised us with a birthday cake. On my 40th birthday all three of my daughters presented me with a peanut butter flavored cake with all 40 candles lit! My wife is a wonderful cook and thought that, because I like peanut butter so much, she would try a peanut butter flavored cake. But for some reason the flavor of peanut butter doesn’t translate too well into a birthday cake. And it was a mad scramble to get all forty candles lit before some melted down to a puddle on the frosting. I think it was after that birthday they just started using the wax candle numbers so that the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off. Some people are bothered by their 20th birthday (I’m like so old!) or their 30th (I’m like so dead!) or their 40th (I’m like so bald!) or their 50th birthday (I’m like so old, dead, and bald!). Those milestones didn’t bother me. But I honestly can’t believe I’m approaching 60. By the time I retire at 65, cell phones will be the size of a grain of sand and Bret Favre will be the first 50 year old quarterback starting in the NFL! All seriousness aside, time really does fly by. You turn around and you are graduating from high school. You turn around again and your kids are graduating from high school. And you turn around again and your grandkids are graduating from high school! Peter mentions that “a thousand years is as one day, and one day as a thousand years” (II Peter 3:8). The one day equaling a thousand years certainly seems like that when you are 8 years old and wanting Santa Claus to speed things up a little bit. But life really is short. Whether we live 20 years or 120 years, it’s a little blip on a scale of an eternity past and an eternity future. Someday (unless the rapture comes first) your body will return to dust. On the old TV sitcom “The Danny Thomas Show,” the son asked his father, “Dad, where do people come from?” Danny Thomas replied, “From dust.” His son followed up, “And where do they go when they die?” “Well,” said Danny, “they return to dust.” His son responded wryly, “Well dad, you better look under your bed, because someone’s either coming or going!” Maybe you have plans for tomorrow or next week or next month or next year or even for the next decade. But (and I certainly don’t want to sound morbid here)…you don’t have tomorrow! James admonishes us, “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow, we shall go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit.’ Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a fog that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” (James 4:13-14). Perhaps you’ve seen the little video called “The Dash Movie” (www.thedashmovie.com).The decisions we make during the “dash” of our lives (and sometimes it goes by as fast as the 100 meter dash) are important. Because we are “just a fog that appears for awhile” we shouldn’t gamble with tomorrow (http://nothingstoohardforgod.org/). Dan Vander Ark 

How To Have A Successful Sunday (Even If You Are The Pastor)

Some things I have learned from approximately 25 years of pastoring... When your church sanctuary is filled with a swarm of bees on Saturday, don’t even think of canceling church on Sunday – a “buzzing” church is good. If the LCD projector suddenly flips the words to the songs upside down, don’t have a cow. The next Sunday just use the hymnal or chorus book (and have the congregation hold the hymnal upside down for just one song in memory of the demon possessed LCD projector). Count it a good Sunday if you don’t trip or fall off the platform when walking up to the pulpit. This never happened to me but it did happen to a pastor acquaintance, so I was aware of the possibility. Practice that maneuver throughout the week if necessary – draw a little map and take notes. If it’s like 95 degrees outside and you’re having a July wedding inside with no air conditioning and the bride’s family doesn’t want the ceiling fans going because it will blow out the candles, make sure your notes have been laminated so the giant puddle of sweat running off your face and onto your notes won’t obliterate the words. And wear swimmer’s goggles so the sweat doesn’t cause your eyes to burn. Make sure your zipper is up. It’s the book of Revelation, not the book of Revelations. If you think otherwise, talk to my wife. If you put your foot through the ceiling directly above the front pew on Saturday, just be honest with the people on Sunday – point heavenward and say, “Yep I did that!” (I really did do that – but I don’t have time to explain it right now). Try not to laugh when your young daughters stand on the back pew and practice their smiling paper bag puppets when you are preaching. On second thought…go ahead and laugh. Don’t sing hymns with really high notes – I find that you get light-headed and almost faint when you do. Also pay attention to which verse you’re on when leading worship – if you forget, just sort of mumble something when the next verse starts and listen to where the congregation is at. A good leader always follows. Don’t not allow dogs to visit your church. And make sure you send them a letter thanking them for visiting. If you are having people write their prayer requests on a piece of paper and then you want them (like on a New Year’s Eve service) to put that piece of paper on the big nail on the big old rugged cross that you have leaning on a wobbly pulpit at the front of the church; if you do that then make sure you don’t have the cross leaning on a wobbly pulpit at the front of the church. It WILL come crashing down and ruin the solemnity of the evening. Pay attention to the kids – talk to them at least as much as the adults. If your really young daughter (sitting with her mother) is like all fidgeting and won’t sit still and stands up on the pew a few minutes before the big wedding starts that you are officiating at and states loudly (after her mother says firmly, “Sit still!), “But mommy my panties are stuck in my butt!" Then (as the pastor's wife) don’t be embarrassed. Just crawl under the pew and pretend you are looking for spilled Cheerios. Young kids in the church will put your picture on their bedroom door right next to Superman…make sure you don’t let them down. Kids take better sermon notes than adults – and they’re funnier. And make sure you save those notes and pictures if they give them to you. They are more important than business meeting notes. Try not to hate Green Bay Packer fans. Remember, God’s grace is sufficient for you! Hate the sin, but not the sinner. :>) Love people. A lot of them have had a really rough week. If a couple of little girls come to visit your church and ask if you are the manager, just say, “Yep” and make them feel welcome. BE YOURSELF! If you don’t act churchy, that’s probably a good thing. Oh, when you have communion and you give each of the four deacons a tray of cups, but then when you go to give each of them a tray of bread… Well, when you take the cover off from the stack of four bread trays and look in horror at the top tray of bread and nothing is there… So you figure, well, it must be on the next tray. So you take off that top empty tray, but nothing is on tray #two, so you figure, well, it MUST all be on tray #3 directly beneath. But when you open door #3, excuse me, I mean uncover tray #3 and lo and behold NOTHING is there either! (And you begin to sweat big-time while the congregation is watching their pastor search in vain for the bread). So you figure, IT JUST HAS TO ALL BE ON TRAY #4!!! OH PLEASE LORD, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEAR THE CRY OF MY HEART!!! But to your chagrin, IT’S EMPTY ALSO! Then what do you do? (This is a test): A) Look around for Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother and have him testify, “There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes: but I doubt this will bail you out, Pastor!” B) Have one of the ladies sprint to the kitchen and grab a loaf of Wonder Bread? Or C) Crawl into the pulpit and wait till everyone leaves?....I prefer C. Don’t be afraid to jump rope with the kids. They think it’s cool that some old preacher guy can do that, and it does your heart good. Don’t be impatient with sheep. Remember, its natural for sheep to stink. It’s why they need a shepherd. In the winter, go sledding with the kids before the Wednesday night adult Bible study. Even if you do get cold and wet and the Bible study starts 15 minutes late. The adults have probably heard about Romans a zillion times anyway. Work really hard at remembering people’s names. When you remember their name you are telling them that they are important to you. Make sure you are especially patient with young moms who care enough to bring their kids to church and are struggling with them in the service. Don’t get all hot and bothered if the ruckus or crying baby interrupts your sermon. They’re more important than you anyway. If you said something wrong or stupid from the pulpit, just admit it and don’t make excuses. And ask the congregation for their forgiveness. They don’t expect their preachers to be perfect. They just want them real and honest and transparent. Listen well and talk little (except when you’re preaching). Preach with a rainbow colored clown wig on. Its nice preaching with hair, even if it is polyester. Don’t beat up the sheep on Sunday morning. The world works hard at doing that all week long. They come for healing and encouragement. If you’re a sheep-beater, find another occupation. Love people. Put your arm around them and pray for them. Let them know God cares about them. Don’t be ashamed to cry for lost souls from the pulpit. And don’t be embarrassed to shed tears for people who are hurting. Don’t give up! There are too many people out there that need your kind words, your sincere prayers, a gentle hug or a firm handshake. Tear up your letter of resignation. Remember, Jesus loves shepherds! And besides, something funny might happen next Sunday...:>) (And sheep...remember to pray daily for your shepherd) Dan Vander Ark Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved http://onetoomanypotatoes.blogspot.com 

So Close...And Yet So Favre

A Brief Theological Perspective on the 2010 NFC Championship Game, #4, Lutefisk, Adrian’s Woes and the Meaning of Life ************************************************* Well…in case you haven’t heard….we lost. 31-28 in overtime in the biggest game of the year. I wasn’t able to watch the war – I certainly planned on it but when I got home Sunday at noon the overhead garage door busted and the basement family room dehumidifier was all iced up. So by the time I fixed those two things the article I planned on writing in the afternoon (and that had to be finished that day) got pushed into the evening. So every 30 minutes or so I cringed, hit the button on the remote to see the score, and then turned it off. Toward the end of the game my wife just hollered down the updates. And when she came downstairs and told me that Favre had just thrown an interception and it was going into overtime I covered my ears, said “LALALALALALALALALALA” real loud and just ignored her. She could tell I was upset and was visiting the State of Denial so she just snuck back upstairs. Perhaps the broken garage door and the iced up dehumidifier were signs of things to come. For sure the Vikings’ anti-turnover machine was either broken or frozen or something. I have been a Minnesota Viking fan since the 7th grade and the Bud “Stone Face” Grant days of old Met Stadium. The first quarterback I remember was Joe Kapp who was with the Vikings from 1967-1969 AD. Speaking of Joe Kapp (hang on for just a moment of college football trivia), he may have lost Super Bowl IV but did you know that he was the coach of the University of California Golden Bears for that really crazy “BIG PLAY” in November of 1982? It is probably one of the top two greatest college football plays ever (right up there with Doug Flutie’s Boston College Hail Mary pass that defeated the Miami Hurricanes). The BIG PLAY was that wild five-lateral kickoff return with 4 seconds left that beat John Elway’s Stanford Team. With Stanford thinking they had won and with one hundred and forty-four members of their Stanford marching band streaming onto the field midway through the kickoff return, they were suddenly met by the advancing Cal Bears at about the Stanford 20 yard line! Kevin Moen, the last Cal player to get a lateral, ran the ball through the scattering Stanford band members and into the end zone for the incredible touchdown. Moen finished off the touchdown by running into Stanford band trombone player Gary Tyrrell. His smashed trombone is now displayed in the college football hall of fame!!! Joe Kapp was probably on the sidelines thinking, “Why couldn’t that have been Super Bowl IV?” This was the lead in to an article written by Tex Maule in Sports Illustrated in November of 1969: “The Vikings, with Joe Kapp on the beam and the four Norsemen lowering the boom on opposing quarterbacks, are not only leading the NFL's Central Division but may be building a dynasty. Color it purple.” How about we just color it “heart-breaking” instead: January 4, 1970 - NFL Championship - MN 27, Cleveland 7 (This was before the AFL and the NFL merged to become the No Fun League) January 11, 1970 - Super Bowl IV - Kansas City 23, MN 7 December 30, 1973 - NFC Championship - MN 27, Dallas 10 January 13, 1974 - Super Bowl VIII - Miami 24, MN 7 December 29, 1974 - NFC Championship - MN 14, L.A. Rams 10 January 12, 1975 - Super Bowl IX - Pittsburgh 16, MN 6 December 26, 1976 - NFC Championship - MN 24, L.A. Rams 13 (I guess we didn’t learn our lesson in 1974 and decided to beat them again) January 9, 1977 - Super Bowl XI - Oakland 32, MN 14 January 1, 1978 - NFC Championship - Dallas 23, MN 6 January 17, 1988 - NFC Championship - Washington 17, MN 10 January 17, 1999 - NFC Championship - Atlanta 30, MN 27 (OT) January 14, 2001 - NFC Championship - N.Y. Giants 41, MN 0 (Two days later the Giants were still scoring) January 24, 2010 - NFC Championship – Aints 31, MN 28, (OT) But there’s one infamous divisional playoff game that’s not listed above. It was that December 28, 1975 game against the Dallas Cowboys in which the notorious “Hail Mary” pass took place. Roger Staubuch hit Drew Pearson with a really long pass with just a few seconds to go. But Pearson clearly pushed off on Nate Wright and should have been penalized and the winning touchdown nullified. How can I say that with such conviction and certainty? Because when you play CBS’s post game interview with Drew Pearson and the celebrating Dallas Cowboys backwards and listen real close you can clearly hear Tom Landry saying, “Pearson Pushed Off, Pearson Pushed Off, Pearson Pushed off.” We may be 0 and 4 in the Super Bowl, but we have the only team mascot in the NFL (Ragnar Juranitch) that has the world record for shaving himself with an axe…under 9 minutes! My Green Bay Packer friend Tom tried to console me the other night. “Hey Dan,” he said, “Did you know that Perkins now has a new Vikings meal? It’s called the Five Turnover Special.” Friends like him are hard to find. And he tried to cheer me up a day later when he emailed me an updated American Medical Association poster on choking hazards. The international symbol of choking (a little picture of a guy choking) was being replaced with that Minnesota Viking profile emblem. He is truly a thoughtful friend! He should create sympathy cards for Hallmark. Which reminds me about another one of my Green Bay Packer friends. A few years back Grant Gonyo tried to cheer me up when we lost to Atlanta in the 1999 NFC championship. Grant called me 2 ½ seconds after Morten Anderson kicked the game winner for the Falcons. “Hi!” he said gleefully, “I wanted to wait at least until the ball landed in the stands before I called (hahahaha) just to say (hahahaha) that I feel your pain (hahahaha).” He (along with Tom) has the gift of empathy. I heard on the radio about a Minnesota Viking fan that, sometime in the 1970’s, decided not to shave again until the Vikings win the Super Bowl. His kids have never seen him without a beard. I don’t think his grandkids will either. I remember when the New Orleans Saints were the “Aints” and some of the fans actually sat in the stands with paper bags on their heads. And when Bum Phillips came from the Houston Oilers to become the new Aints head coach, Houston fans lamented by sitting in the stands with bags on their heads and saying, “They got the Bum, and we got the bags!” (Just a little Bum Phillips humor: when asked about Earl Campbell -- his very gifted running back – and his inability to finish a one mile run in training camp, he said, "When it's first and a mile, I won't give it to him!") But unfortunately for us, the Saints certainly ain’t no longer the Aints. My feelings about #4? I like him. But whether you love him or hate him, you can’t deny Favre’s passion and enthusiasm for the game. When he played for the Packers, I hated the CheeseHeads but actually liked Favre. And I think his Sears commercials are really funny. Thanks Brett for a truly wonderful season. But just make up your mind before next October as to whether or not you will play in 2010. Hold it…I changed my mind…I guess I’m not sure if I do like him…I’ll get back to you on that. And here’s my suggestion for a cure for Adrian’s fumbleticulitis. NASA uses a secret concoction of Lutefisk and Lefsa to glue the heat shield tiles onto the underside of the space shuttle in an environmentally friendly way. Adrian, just smear your hands with the stuff before heading into the game. Its NFL legal and it will work wonders. And the noxious aroma will drive the defense bonkers (what IS that awful smell?!?!?). In the Bible the number 40 is a very significant number and appears quite often. It’s related to a time of trial or testing. And do you know what else is theologically significant about the number 40? Each period of 40 is followed by a time of blessing! Brett turned 40 this year. It’s been like three weeks over 40 years since our first Super Bowl loss. I have 40 hairs left on the top of my head. Are you putting two and two together? So I pretty much figured that Favre was Joshua and we were on our way out of the wilderness and headed for the Promised Land! Can I get an “Amen!” brother? And when we defeated the heathen Dallasites and their young king TonyRomeo by 317 points, I thought, “Could it be?????” Nope. 4 points to few nope. Coach Childress must have forgotten his “How to Defeat Jericho” manual and had the Vikings march around the Superdome only six times instead of the required seven. Or maybe they forgot to blow the trumpets or something. Someone asked me in a meeting last week if we are under some sort of curse. (And by the way, is it the same one that Buffalo is under? I don’t think we are under the same one. Buffalo’s curse is….well it’s just that…they’re Buffalo). I think we are. Back on June 8, 793 somewhere near England the Norsemen sacked the entire island of Lindisfarne. I figure if a bunch of us fly over there this summer and buy each islander a Helga hat, that should cure our Super Bowl woes. My former friend Tom made one final attempt at consolation and again tried to relieve my pain and bring some sort of meaning to my life. So he emailed me some trivia about Favre. Seems that Brett’s last pass with the Atlanta Falcons, the Green Bay Packers, the New York Jets and the Minnesota Vikings was an interception. I replied by email and said that if he saw it on the internet then it had to be true. (And I guess it’s mostly true except that the interception with the Jets was his second to last pass. Like that makes a difference). So close.................................and yet so Favre. Oh well…life is good…and there’s always next year! :>) Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved Dan Vander Ark  onetoomanypotatoes.blogspot.com

Frisky Business

(By Courtney Brewer, daughter of Dan & Kay) For our sixth wedding anniversary my parents gave my husband and I the cutest card (my mom just seems to have a knack for finding the perfect one.) On the front was a picture of two chocolate lab puppies – and one of the puppies was kind of chewing on the other puppy’s mouth. The heading on the card read, “You may not be newlyweds anymore…” And when you opened it, the inside read, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be frisky. Happy Anniversary!” I loved the card and so I placed it on the kitchen table to display it for all to see. A few days later my seven year old son (who at times seems to be able to read way beyond his age level) and I were having breakfast together. He was eating his bowl of Cheerios with a mountain of sugar on them. And I was eating an English muffin with peanut butter, still sort of groggy, waiting for those first few gulps of coffee to help awaken my brain cells. My son picked up the anniversary card and read it out loud to me. He then looked over at me and said, “Mom, what does “FRISKY” mean?” I didn’t need the caffeine anymore – because instantly my heart began to race! This is one of those difficult questions that kids ask. The type that parents normally think about for awhile and have well-thought-out answers prepared for. You know, like “How does Santa deliver all those toys around the world in one night?” I was most definitely not prepared to answer this question...especially at 6:00 in the morning!!! So I took a giant gulp of coffee and began to tell my son what “FRISKY” meant. “Well Bug, it means that when a mommy and daddy love each a lot that they hold hands and cuddle and kiss a lot.” “Oh………….ok” was all my son said! Whew…that was a LOT easier than I expected. My son then looked over at me and said, “Mom, I am NEVER getting married!!!” All I could do was laugh and be thankful for my son’s innocence…And also thankful that his wedding plans were on hold until at least the third grade. *************************************************************** Hold it…Update by Dan/Dad – February 1, 2010: Courtney emailed me and said that Noah is sharing his markers with a little red-haired girl in the first grade…perhaps there is going to be a 3rd grade wedding! Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved Dan Vander Ark onetoomanypotatoes.blogspot.com

It Is What It Is!

Charlton Hesston, played by Moses, was on the verge of leading 2 million slaves out of the iron grip of Egypt. The Israelites had been enslaved for 400 years (which by the way is about as long as its been since the Minnesota Vikings have been to the Super Bowl), and desperately needed a deliverer. For forty years Chuck, excuse me – I mean Moses, had been a shepherd in the land of the Midian (which I think is about 200 miles south of Kadesh-Barnea on I-63). But one day he happened to see a bush on fire on the side of the mountain and for some reason it wasn’t being consumed by the fire! He figured that it must have been like one of those fake gas fireplaces where the logs never burn up. So upon witnessing the miraculous sight, he drew nearer to see if he could spot any sort of gas line. And when he did…God spoke to him. “Moses! Moses! Take off the flip-flops from your feet – for you are standing on Holy Ground!” Moses did so, but he was immediately embarrassed when he noticed a big hole in the bottom of one of his argyle socks. Jehovah then proceeded to commission him to be the leader of a slave nation who would deliver God’s people from the world’s foremost superpower. Moses argued with the Lord for a little while (I can’t speak, I’m too old, my socks don’t match, I don’t like Manna Burgers, etc, etc) but God slammed the door shut on all of those excuses. (Just so you know….I tend to avoid these chapters because I’m inclined to make a lot of excuses also). Finally, Moses said, “If they ask Who sent little old me….what shall I tell them?” (Pause here for just a moment to let the suspense build. Close your eyes. Listen! In the background you can begin to hear the slowly building crescendo of kettle drums and cymbals and whales singing). Suddenly, God thundered with His Majestic Voice, “Go and tell them this: “IT IS….WHAT IT IS!!!” Moses: Ummmmm…say what? God (even louder and with the drums thundering even more and the whales humming “I Dreamed A Dream”): “IT IS…WHAT IT IS!!!” Moses: Ah Sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but just what does THAT mean? And I don’t mean to nitpick, but I’ve got 2 million complainers that somehow I have to get past Yul Brynner’s chariots. I was hoping for something a just little more inspirational…you know, like Winston Churchill’s WWII speech, “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the fields, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!” Or Martin Luther King's “I Have A Dream!” speech. But “It is what it is?” Doesn’t that just mean that we can’t change anything and that we’re stuck in our circumstances? That’s pretty depressing! You don’t have any other speeches do you? That’s just not gonna inspire anyone. God: Ummmm…well OK, I guess you’re right. Not too much faith-building pizzazz in that. How about this, “Save the Earth! It's the only planet I created with Chocolate!” Ok, so Exodus chapters 3-4 didn’t really go like that. But Moses did want something to bring back to the people. They were desperate for a Deliverer. And this is what’s recorded for us in chapter 3 verses 13-14: Then Moses said to God, "Behold, I am going to the sons of Israel, and I shall say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you.' Now they may say to me, 'What is His name?' What shall I say to them?" And God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM"; and He said, "Thus you shall say to the sons of Israel, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" Those five words, I AM WHO I AM, were all Moses needed to hear. God is the same yesterday, today, and forever! He provided miraculously for His people in the past and He will do so in the present and in the future. He is not the “Great I Was” or the “Great I Will Be.” He is the Great I AM! His miracles are not just for Sunday morning church services, they are for working people in working places on working days! He is TODAY’s God Who cares intensely about your bills, your health, your family members and your soul! He is the ever-present God Who cares for you where you are at right now. What He did in the past He will do in the future and in the present! He cares for you…bring Him your problems today (I Peter 5:7). God is able to change the unchangeable. It is what it is…but only if you take God out of the equation! Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved Dan Vander Ark onetoomanypotatoes.blogspot.com