Pilgrims and Thanksgiving

During these hectic holiday preparation days, it is easy to forget the true meaning of Thanksgiving as celebrated in the United States of America. The loud voices of political correctness often drown out the voices of those Pilgrims who risked everything for a new life in a new world. While we may have a general idea about Pilgrims and their funny clothes and odd habits, we often fail to remember that they were real people, and faced tremendous hardships and adversity with amazing faith and strength of character. Even politically correct authors, like Sarah Vowell, in her recent interesting book about the Puritans, The Wordy Shipmates admits her admiration of them for their faith, tenacity, and perseverance.

On August 1, 1620, the Mayflower set sail from England. It carried a total of 102 passengers - all of them seeking freedom – primarily religious freedom. Of those 102passengers, 34 of them were children. According to the Mayflower Compact that they all signed, they undertook their voyage "for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian Faith."

The grueling journey to the New World took 66 days in a ship no larger than a basketball court. Planning to arrive in northern Virginia, a storm at sea blew them off course. And when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, Massachusetts on November 11th, they found (according to William Bradford's detailed journal) a cold, barren, desolate wilderness. There were no friends to greet them, he wrote. There were no houses to shelter them. There were no inns where they could refresh themselves. But they did not despair. Their first act when setting foot upon land was recorded by Bradford:

"Having thus arrived in a good harbor and come safe to land, they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of heaven, who had brought them over the vast and furious ocean, and delivered them from all the dangers and miseries thereof, and permitted them to again set their feet on the firm and stable earth.'"

During the first winter, half the Pilgrims died of starvation, sickness, or exposure. Six died in December, eight in January, seventeen in February, and thirteen in March. Thirteen of the eighteen wives died; only three families remained unbroken. Bradford's young wife drowned when she fell overboard. Yet when the Mayflower returned to England in the spring, not one of the remaining Pilgrims went with her. They were dedicated to their God and the freedom to worship Him as they wished. Like the Pilgrims, we must learn that:

Psalm 92:1 says, “It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord. . ..” In Scripture, we see that God blesses things that are good. From the beginning of creation, we witness this pronouncement “and God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1:4) God then blessed His “good” creation. (Genesis 1:28) It follows then, that if “it is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord,” then God will bless a grateful person.

The Bible has a lot to say about thanksgiving, mentioning it nearly 140 times. In the book of Psalms alone, we are told over 30 times to “be thankful” and "give thanks unto the Lord.” Psalm 92:1 says, "It is good to give thanks to the LORD, And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High." Nineteen out of the twenty-seven books of the New Testament mention the need for thanksgiving. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 says "In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

A few years ago, Jodi and I visited Plymouth, Massachusetts. We spent an afternoon at Plimoth Plantation (www.plimoth.org), the re-creation of the original colony of Pilgrims. There, in the original setting, surrounded by people playing the part of Pilgrims, I gained a better understanding of the hardships these people endured. Although they were not wealthy members of the ruling class in England, they left behind security – homes, jobs, and families - to pursue a dream: To find a place where they could put down roots, raise their children, and worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience, not according to the mandates of the King of England.

The word “worship” comes from the Old English words for “worth-ship,” meaning “the ascribing of worth, worthiness, or honor to a person, place or thing, ardent devotion; adoration.” Worship truly flows from a heart of gratitude. The liberty to worship God freely, according to your own convictions, has been a fundamental right of our citizens since the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. To them, worship was a good thing. They valued the ability to worship God more than the security of home, even if it meant traveling through the perilous ocean to a wilderness land filled with unknown dangers.

The Mayflower II, built in the 1950’s and now docked in Plymouth Harbor (you can take a virtual tour at http://plimoth.org/features/mayflower-2/journey/), is an exact replica of the original Mayflower. At first glance, it is not easy to imagine that such a small vessel could hold a cargo of supplies and over 100 passengers while crossing the Atlantic. While aboard this summer, I couldn’t help but think about the hardships, the seasickness, the storms, and unknown danger lurking ahead of those Pilgrims in 1620. It must have been terribly difficult to maintain an optimistic outlook and express gratitude. But since worship was so important to them, it is not surprising that one of their first acts after landing at Plymouth Rock was to make the following declaration:

“May not and ought not the children of these fathers rightly say: 'Our fathers were Englishmen which came over this great ocean, and were ready to perish in this wilderness: but they cried unto the Lord, and He heard their voice, and looked on their distress. Let them therefore praise the Lord, because He is good, and His mercies endure forever.'”

Billy Graham wrote, "Giving thanks to God for all blessings is one of the most distinctive marks of a true Christian. A heart that is attuned to God naturally pours out thanksgiving. Some things the believer thanks God for are material blessings, the people in your life, His promise of presence and care in the midst of trials and even persecution, salvation, and His continued presence and power in your life."

Weeds grow without effort. But if you want a beautiful bouquet of flowers, they must be planted and nurtured. You must cultivate the soil, keep the pests away, provide proper nourishment, and pull the weeds. That’s the way it is with gratitude. Like weeds in our hearts, taking things or people for granted comes naturally. But gratitude must be nurtured. As we mature in our faith, we learn to appreciate the Lord and others who have blessed us. That appreciation will result in our verbal expression of thanks.

The author G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936) said "When it comes to life, the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude."

In Vermont a farmer was sitting on the porch with his wife. He was beginning to realize how much she meant to him. It was about time, because they had been married for forty-two years. She had been such help, a very willing worker. One day as they sat together, he said, "Wife, you've been such a wonderful woman that there are times I can hardly keep from telling you."

When we think of the first thanksgiving celebrated by the Pilgrims, we assume it occurred during the first year of their residency here. In fact, we know they did have a 3-day feast in the fall of 1621 where wild fowl and venison were served. A letter by Edward Winslow is the only surviving description of the event itself. The hard winter months that followed brought extraordinary suffering and even more deaths to the small band of Pilgrims.

But the first real extended thanksgiving celebration took place a full three years after their arrival in 1620. Those three years were filled with much hardship, toil and suffering. Their days were spent combating sickness, drought, inner conflicts, and the elements. But it wasn’t all bad news. The Indians had taught the settlers how to plant corn, fish for cod, hunt for game, and skin beavers for coats. They had planted gardens, built a blockhouse for their protection, houses for their own comfort, and a meetinghouse to worship God.

Just when things seemed to take a turn for the better, they again got worse. In the summer of 1623, a drought threatened to destroy their vital crops. So the colonists prayed and fasted for relief. When the rains came a few days later, disaster was averted, and their crops were saved. Not long after, Captain Miles Standish arrived with staples and news that a Dutch supply ship was on its way. Because of all these blessings and answered prayers, the Pilgrims held a day of thanksgiving and praise. This 1623 event appears to have been the origin of our Thanksgiving Day because it combined a religious and social celebration. It was a time for expressing gratitude to God and sharing with their native American, Indian neighbors. Governor Bradford made the following proclamation:

"Inasmuch as the great Father has given us this year an abundant harvest of Indian corn, wheat, peas, beans, squashes, and garden vegetables, and has made the forests to abound with game and the sea with fish and clams, and inasmuch as He has protected us from the ravages of the savages, has spared us from pestilence and disease, has granted us freedom to worship God according to the dictates of our own conscience.

Now I, your magistrate, do proclaim that all ye Pilgrims, with your wives and ye little ones, do gather at ye meetinghouse, on ye hill, between the hours of 9 and 12 in the day time, on Thursday, November 29th, of the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and twenty three and the third year since ye Pilgrims landed on ye Pilgrim Rock, there to listen to ye pastor and render thanksgiving to ye Almighty God for all His blessings."

The provisions for that thanksgiving feast included: "twelve tasty venisons, besides others, pieces of roasted venison, fruit pies, roasted wild turkeys, plums, nuts, grapes, corn, popcorn, vegetables of all types, fish, roast pork, etc. But before all this, the first course was served: on an empty plate in front of each person were five kernels of corn. . .lest anyone should forget" (the hardship of the previous winters.)

We should never forget our heritage as Americans, regardless of the diversity of our backgrounds. In fact, our diversity can celebrate the fact that many of our ancestors, whether from Europe, Africa, Asia, the Americas, the islands of the sea , or parts in between, endured suffering, so we could enjoy prosperity. Moreover, for followers of Jesus Christ, we should never forget that we are citizens of a greater kingdom, without natural or civic boundaries. We have a lot to be thankful for. With those realizations, we will never take our blessings for granted.

Born with neither sight nor hearing, Helen Keller (1880-1968) could have become a bitter recluse. But the persistence and love of her teacher, Anne Sullivan, reached through to her heart. Helen Keller's gratefulness to God for what she had been given made her one of the most influential women in the history of the world. She said "So much has been given to me, I have no time to ponder over that which has been denied."

Helen Keller was deaf and blind from an early age. But she saw and understood more than most people with all five senses. Many people fail to recognize God’s blessings and presence in their lives. Those who have been helped the most are sometimes the most ungrateful.

Benjamin Rush (1746-1813) was an American patriot and signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was a physician, educator and politician. He worked relentlessly for the abolition of slavery and the humane treatment of the mentally handicapped. His insight into the human condition is revealed in this quote: "I have found the least gratitude from those families in which I had performed the greatest services."

Sometimes, oddly enough, the opposite is true. Because sometimes it is people who begin life with a real deficit, (like Helen Keller: physically, socially, or in life circumstances), that are the most grateful to God and others when blessings do come their way. If you’re born with no ability to communicate, and someone gives you the gift of speech, you are grateful. If you are born without the ability to ever walk, and a surgeon’s skills change that, you appreciate every happy step you take. If you are born into a “family” that isn’t a real family, but a nightmare of abuse, and someone takes you into their loving family, you never take that privilege for granted, like the rest of us sometimes do.

Let’s never forget “it is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto His name.” Always remember gratefulness produces peace, faith, contentment, and a positive attitude. We can cultivate a thankful spirit by trusting God, and learning lessons from the pilgrims, Helen Keller and others about being thankful. But we need to develop thanksgiving in our own hearts, in our own time, in our own circumstances. Difficult circumstances are occasions for us to grow better or bitter. We grow better with a thankful spirit and a heart that is grateful to God.

The thankful heart enjoys blessings twice - when they're received and when they're remembered. The thankful heart will overflow with blessings given and received. May you have a blessed Thanksgiving!

Here are some suggestions to help this be your best Thanksgiving holiday ever:

This Thanksgiving week:

• Do a word study on thanksgiving and reflect on the meaning. Find every verse you can about being thankful in the Bible, or quotes from others on the topic.

• Count your blessings, especially as you meet with family and friends this week.

• While visiting with family, discuss how God has protected, provided for and preserved your family through the years. How many family members have memories of God’s guiding Hand?

• How many generations back can you trace your heritage? Were there people of faith in your family’s past? Even if there are negative circumstances in your family heritage, can you find blessings there to be thankful for?

• Choose to give thanks. Decide to express gratitude "in all circumstances" (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

• Thank someone everyday for his or her positive influence in your life.

• Memorize Psalm 92:1 and 1 Thessalonians 5:18.

Organic Spiritual Formation - Chapter 6 Polish, or Lack Thereof

Back on the farm, apples were a favorite commodity. We never grew them for sale, but for our own use. Our apples were grown organically, without any chemical sprays or commercial fertilizers. I learned early on to take a good look at every bite and was generally only alarmed when I found half a worm—because that meant I had probably consumed the other half!

When I started taking horticultural classes in high school, I learned all about chemical sprays and commercial fertilizers that would eliminate the worms and diseases that disfigured our apples. My dad was of the old school, however, and wouldn’t budge on that point. I personally think he was more opposed to spending money on chemicals or fertilizer than he was in favor of organic farming methods. He was a practical man and after all, we had plenty of manure on the farm for fertilizer, and could easily cut the wormy or bad parts out of the apples before we made applesauce, cider, or pies. Besides, I had to admit they generally tasted better than the store-bought varieties.

My ag teacher in high school taught us about chemical sprays for orchard use, and also about the importance of marketing to the consumer. I mentioned my dad’s reluctance to spray our apple trees, and he said, “Your dad could never sell those apples in the store. Nobody wants to buy a wormy or diseased apple.” He was right. All the apples in the store in those days were waxed, polished and red—fit for the teacher’s desk. Unless they are organically produced, commercially grown apples for the consumer market are pampered, sprayed, washed, waxed, and polished before they make it to the grocery shelf. No wonder they cost up to $3 a pound or more these days! What consumers don’t realize is that those are only the best, the primo apples from the tree. Their siblings ended up as apple juice or in the makings for applesauce, apple pie, dried apples, or some type of apple filling for a donut or dessert.

In contrast, organic apples, even those sold in the grocery store, are generally a bit smaller, and lack the eye-popping polish of the commercial variety. The typical orchard run organically grown apple would not win any prizes for appearance. It must be accepted for what it is, worms, warts, blemishes, and all. But for me, an apple is not an object to be placed in a fruit bowl for observation; it is an object to be consumed. And I must admit, I prefer the organically grown variety for both aroma and taste, hands down.

Imperfect apples grow in the real world. Jesus was the perfect Son of God, but he gathered some un-perfect apples around him, including at least one very bad one. After three years of training, they still were not very polished—not much of his perfection had rubbed off on them. And we learn from this that the process of organic spiritual formation is not always accomplished in a well-oiled institutional machine, using polished people and programs. Organic spiritual formation occurs in the real world, with worms, warts, diseases, and all. The transformation from a bad apple to a good one is what Jesus is all about. He works to polish out our imperfections, even though we don’t always look too polished in the process.

The modern world was fascinated with polish. Slick magazines, glitzy advertising, neon lights, patent leather shoes, candy apple red trucks with chrome ornamentation, sparkling jewelry, and shiny cases to display our gilded trophies all contributed to the bling and glitter of the twentieth and early twenty-first century ethos of success. We don’t have to look very far to see that this same fascination has crept into the church.

With the advent of television ministries in the 1950’s, many pastors and church leaders felt the need to improve every component of the worship service in order to compete with growing religious media voices. For most small congregations, the competition was definitely an uphill battle. And it is a battle that existed mainly in the minds of leaders, as there really is no way of comparing the impact or effectiveness of a radio, television or media “ministry” in fostering spiritual formation with the impact or effectiveness of a local church.

During my growing up years, I can remember mom and dad watching Oral Roberts, Rex Humbard, and Jerry Falwell on Sunday morning television before our own church services. Later, when I became a pastor back in 1977, I faced Sunday morning congregants who had already heard singing accompanied by professional musicians and an entertaining message all neatly packaged into a 30 minute program that included some serious time dedicated to nothing but fundraising. I was twenty-two years old, my congregation numbered less than fifty, and our annual budget was less than $15,000.00. “Pastor, Rex Humbard really preached a great message this morning. Did you watch? And that daughter of his can really sing!” Without people and resources, how was I to compete?

But we have tried. In the past few decades we have promoted slicker bulletins, ever more dazzling PowerPoint or MediaShout presentations during worship or the sermon, and tried to outdo each other for the coolest websites and most extravagant buildings. We have choreographed and scripted our services in a minute-by-minute format to pack as much energy and enthusiasm as possible into those sixty or ninety minutes on Sunday morning. As a pastor for nearly thirty years, I have witnessed the evolution and for the most part been a willing participant.

However, as the results of the Reveal Survey bear witness, I have been forced to ask the question, “How is it working for us?” And to ask even more personally, “How is it working for me?” I remember my first attempts at using PowerPoint to illustrate my sermon and trying to coordinate the slides with the major points. It frustrated both me and my audience. Growing more proficient in the technology with use, I eventually would spend hours each week building a PowerPoint presentation to go along with my sermon, along with a published manuscript which was distributed to the congregation during all three morning services, and also posted to our website. I felt like I was doing a good job of “getting the Word out” and training my congregation. In the end, though gnawing questions made me wonder.

Organic spiritual formation is not a polished, linear process that can be easily reproduced with a curriculum or template that works everywhere. So much depends upon geography, community context, and generational differences. Even the climate makes a difference. I have visited a number of large churches in Southern California that make use of outdoor spaces for everything from small group meeting places to baptismal pools, bookstores or prayer stations. It seems to be working great for them, but that particular strategy would never work for colder climes in most of North America. Jesus interacted in different ways with different people in different places to produce spiritual growth as we shall see in the following chapters.

This is a short excerpt from Chapter 6 of the book I've been working on the past year, Organic Spiritual Formation -- in progress. I hope to have all 12 chapters completed within the next few months. (c) 2009 Don Detrick

A Thing of Beauty

A Thing of Beauty

By Don Detrick with appreciation to John Keats

Dedicated to my teenage bride of 35 years, Jodi

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will shine
Growing in beauty, grace, and line.

I met my beauty while still a youth;
Life on the farm had taught me truth:
Things of beauty time will claim;
That joy subsides, only dust remains.

By nature’s law, emotions fade;
So human beings and all things made.
Though young and short, Keats might have guessed
Of something greater, something blessed;
A law of love, unscathed by years.
A love grown stronger,
Though stained with tears.
A love grown longer,
In spite of fears.
A love transcending earthly ties;
I found that’s where the answer lies.

For in your face and smile I saw;
A visage only God could draw.
And he our hearts together knit,
Though teens we said we’d never quit.

So through the years in joy and pain,
We hold each other and love remains.
I look at you, my precious treasure;
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

A Tribute to My Father

Originally written June 18, 2002, Postcript June 21, 2009 - Father's Day

Last Sunday my sister and I checked our 85-year-old father into the hospital. He was very ill, with a temperature of nearly 104 degrees, yet his hands were blue and he was shivering from cold. “Yes, he is my father. Medical history? Bypass surgery more than a decade ago, prostate cancer, slight stroke last year. Yes, he has been here before, and yes he is taking his meds.”

As I sat next to his bed while my father was being x-rayed, poked and examined in every conceivable way, my heart was filled with a thousand thoughts and memories.

“Do it again, Daddy! Please!” He took me up in his arms and swung me back and forth like an old-time logger working a misery whip.

With his huge hands wrapped around my tiny body, he sang in his baritone voice, “Swing the little birdy in the tree, in the tree, in the tree. Swing the little birdy in the tree, sing, sang to Donnie, whee!!!” When he said “Whee,” he threw me up in the air toward the ceiling. I thought I would explode with a delicious combination of giggles and fright. I loved that game and over the years I saw my dad do the same thing with my own three children.

Another time, another place. Dressed in my blanket sleepers, with a quilt wrapped around me, I was watching my dad fix the broken motor on the mechanical chicken feeder. Mom was gone to a meeting for the evening. I was in his care and too young to understand that the health and welfare of his livestock was the key to our family’s survival. His hands looked so big to my four-year-old eyes, big enough to fix anything. Big enough to carry anything. Big enough to protect me from anything lurking in the dark shadows of the chicken house. “Daddy what are you doing? Can we go back to the house and watch television? Daddy, I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink? Why can’t I help you? Daddy, do I have to go to bed?”

It was the first time I can remember wanting something so much. I needed that red Radio Flyer wagon in the display window of the Western Auto store. It was just like the one Timmy had on the “Lassie” television show. Lassie and Timmy had such a good time playing with that wagon and hauling around everything important to a young boy. I had a collie like Lassie, too – and I just knew she would be as smart as Lassie if only I had a red wagon. “Daddy, can I have that wagon? Please, daddy? Shep and I would love to play with that wagon.”

Then I remember becoming very sick. The doctor came to our house and said I had rheumatic fever. They poked me with needles and hooked up machines that watched my heart. Dr. Bump said that I had to stay in bed for a long rest until I got better – but he also said I might not get better. I was very weak, and had to take the most awful medicine that my dad coaxed down my throat with a mixture of applesauce and sugar.

One day dad came home from town. He had been to the Western Auto store. I was lying in bed on the sofa in the living room. “Donnie, look out here on the porch.” I’m sure my heart really fluttered because there before my eyes was the brand new Radio Flyer red wagon! “It’s yours and you can come outside and play with it just as soon as you get better!”

With help from the Great Physician, and motivation from my dad, after six months I was able to go outside and play with that wagon. My earthly father and Heavenly Father worked together to provide my healing and I have never suffered a heart murmur or any ill effects from the disease that had threatened my young life.

As I sat and waited, more memories came. I was ten years old and an insurance salesman stopped by the house on his regular rounds. He was always trying to sell dad a different policy, but he was always treated like a friend, invited into the house for a cup of coffee and a piece of my mom’s pie. In fact, pretty much everyone who came by was treated the same way. From the ubiquitous salesmen, to the field agent, to the preacher, no matter how busy my dad was or what he was doing, it was momentarily laid aside for some polite conversation and some of my mom’s ever-available dessert. My parents had the gift of hospitality and they passed it along to their children. It is part of our inheritance – their legacy to us.

Although not old enough to participate in the conversation on that day, I was old enough to eavesdrop and understand much of what was being said. I knew times were hard and things were bad on our farm, but until that moment I didn’t realize how bad.

“We lost thousands of chickens ready for market during that last hot spell,” my dad was saying. “Besides that, the price we pay for everything keeps going up, while the price the co-op pays us keeps going down. I don’t know how we are going to make the mortgage payment and pay the bills, let alone buy another insurance policy. I just don’t understand it. You try to live right and work hard, and then things like this happen.” His voice trailed off.

That day I grew a little bit and learned a lot more. I’d never seen my dad cry before, but there were tears in his eyes and his voice trembled as he talked to the insurance man. I’d always seen my dad as invincible, never afraid of anything, able to pull us through any situation. But that day I learned that he was vulnerable to discouragement and I needed to do what I could to help pull our family through some tough days.

As they often do, things improved in time. Now I was thirteen. Dad and I were riding in the truck, going to McMinnville to buy supplies. “Son, you’ve worked like a man this summer. We couldn’t have accomplished what we did without your help.” My dad was a man of few words and even fewer words of praise. As if he had reached his absolute spending limit on such extravagances, he next did what he normally did as we rode together.

“Oh I want to see Him, look upon His face. There to sing forever of His saving grace. On the streets of glory, let me lift my voice. Cares all past, home at last, ever to rejoice!” On the seat of a tractor, or the seat of a pickup truck, my dad always sang. He loved the old hymns and gospel songs.

But my mind wasn’t on the song; it was on his words of appreciation. To tell you the truth, spending most of your summer daylight hours at the controls of a tractor isn’t exactly torture for a teenager. But at least for a few moments, I felt vindicated; like I’d paid my debt to the family for all the times I’d been a slacker and complained about life on the farm. A little bit of praise goes a long way to improve a thirteen-year-old boy’s perspective on life. But that wasn’t all.

“Hey, where are we going?” Instead of pulling into the feed and farm supply store, we were parking in front of the local Honda motorcycle shop. I had to pinch myself to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. I couldn’t believe it as we walked in together and I saw my dad plop down cash money to buy me a Honda 90. I wouldn’t have been happier if someone had given me a million dollars!

Fast-forward another five years to 1973. An eighteen-year-old high school graduate is spending a hot August day loading his car with most of his worldly possessions. He has seldom been outside of his own state. But tomorrow he will leave this home where he has spent his entire life and begin the drive to Dallas, Texas. There he will attend a Bible college he knows only from a catalog he has pored over and prayed over.

“Son, I know you’ve got to do what you feel called to do. You do your best and stay in touch. But I want you to know there is always a place for you right here if you should change your mind. You might be able to use these. I can remember my dad using these same titles in the ministry, studying them for his sermons.” He handed me two brand new books: a Matthew Henry commentary and a topical Bible, both purchased (by him for me) from a traveling Bible salesman.

I was shocked. I knew dad really wanted me to follow in his footsteps on the family farm. At the very least he had encouraged me to get a back-up profession like a teaching degree or perhaps even go to law school after college. But that day he gave me a precious gift – the gift of affirmation and the freedom to go and be the person I believed God was calling me to be.

Ten years later I was packing again – this time a moving van. Jodi and I were leaving behind our home church where we had spent the past four years as associate pastors. In fact, for the past six years we had lived and ministered close to the home place with both of our parents nearby. Kristi and Mark were born during this time, and Jana was in the hopper. Now we were moving to Toledo, Oregon – a new church assignment. Even though I had more details to take care of, more boxes to pack, and more furniture to load, I took a few moments and drove out to the farm.

I wanted to see my dad. More than that, I wanted his blessing. Over the past years, our relationship had grown and in the process I’d grown to appreciate his friendship and advice. Now I was moving his precious grandchildren more than a hundred miles away.

As usual, he was busy at work when I arrived, but not too busy to talk. We walked and talked and did a few chores together. “You know, I talked to the District Superintendent a few years ago about you.”

Trying to hide my surprise, I said, “Oh, you did?” I couldn’t imagine my dad having a conversation with the Superintendent of the Oregon District of the Assemblies of God, and certainly couldn’t imagine him keeping it a secret for the past few years.

“Yes, I was over at the District Office to fix the roof for them and as he was showing me the leaks, he was talking about you. He said he thought you’d be pastoring one of the greatest churches in the Northwest one day. And I agreed with him. Son, I know we’ll miss having you around here, but I think you are doing the right thing by going to Toledo.” Once again my father gave me words of affirmation, a gift I have since treasured through some rough moments in the ministry.

“Mr. Detrick, we are going to have to keep you overnight and run some more tests. Your lungs are clear, but your heart is going in and out of a fibrillation and there are some other things we need to check out. Maybe your son here can gather your things and the nurse will move you down to another room.” The doctor’s pronouncement brought an end to my trip down memory lane. But it did not diminish the admiration I felt for the old man we were wheeling down to room 130.

Stricken by the poignancy of the moment, and the reversal of our roles, I was reminded of Malachi’s prophecy. When I was a boy, I really didn’t understand my father. I saw him as a good provider, but a workaholic. And I’m not sure he always understood me – especially during my longhaired teenage years. But over time, and by the grace of God, my heart has been turned to his heart and his heart has been turned to mine. That’s really what our Heavenly Father wants from all his children as well.

As if you couldn’t tell, my father has a giving heart. That’s how he has always expressed his love, by giving selflessly, expecting nothing in return.

But over the past few years he has grown to express his love in other ways – hugs, and kisses, and the precious words, “I love you.” As we were leaving him behind in the hospital room last week, his parting words were for his ailing bride of 63 years. I knew part of the pain he was feeling at that moment was his inability to be at home to care for her: “Be sure and tell your mother how much I love her.”

POSTSCRIPT:

Little did I know when I wrote this seven years ago, that both my mother and father would be in heaven within six months. I am thankful I was able to deliver this tribute to my father personally, and see the tears in his eyes as I read it to him. Up to this point in their lives, my parents continued to live on the same farm in Newberg, Oregon where my dad had lived for 75 years, since moving there as a boy in 1927. Although their health was failing with age, they still lived independently, Dad still drove, and they made it to church every Sunday.

Within a few days of writing this, my mother was hospitalized and placed in intensive care. A combination of cancer, diabetes, and low sodium levels left her in a near comatose state. Dad had recovered somewhat and drove to the hospital daily to sit by Mom's side. One day, the nurses came into the room and found Dad slumped over in a chair. He had suffered a stroke. So within the course of a week, my parents went from living independently to being hospitalized--and they never came home. Because of the severity of their health conditions and their need for constant care, they were moved from the hospital into a care home.

Although this was a difficult time for our family, two poignant memories stick out in my mind. First, after Dad’s stroke, family members gathered around his hospital bedside. The doctors did not know the severity of the stroke or the prospects of recovery. Nearly 86 years old, Dad was in a very weakened condition and in a comatose state. We knew he might be able to hear us so a number of us spoke to him and told him how much we loved him and prayed for him. Then, our youngest daughter Jana said, I want to sing to Gramps. She began to sing, “On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross.” As she did, the most amazing thing occurred—Dad started to sing along! We all joined in and then began singing, “Amazing Grace.” Although his voice was weak and trembling, he didn’t miss a word. Nor did he open his eyes or show any other sign of being cognizant. When the singing stopped, we all stood in amazement and tears, while Dad slept on. He didn’t really awaken until days later.

Mom and Dad shared twin beds at the care facility. Mom went to heaven on August, 28, 2002. Before she died, Dad crawled into her bed, and gently cuddled next to his bride of 63 years. He was so sweet as he stroked her forehead and hands, and repeated, “I’ll meet you in the morning, on the other side. I love you and tell all the family I’ll be coming soon.”

A few months later, on November 12th, Dad went to be with the Lord and to see those family members who have gone on before. I spent the night sleeping in the room with him the day he died. Although he has been gone for nearly seven years now, hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about him and his impact in my life. They say that grown men are just little boys in a bigger body. Even today, when I close my eyes, I can see my Dad holding me, a little boy in his arms, swinging me way up high as I giggle and say, “Daddy, do it again!”

(c)2009 Don Detrick

Memorial Day - Remember the POW's

Remember The P.O.W.’S.

(c)2009 Don Detrick

MAIN THOUGHT: It is good for us to remember the sacrifices and challenges of others.

Then those who feared the LORD spoke with each other, and the LORD listened to what they said. In his presence, a scroll of remembrance was written to record the names of those who feared him and loved to think about him. "They will be my people," says the LORD Almighty. "On the day when I act, they will be my own special treasure. I will spare them as a father spares an obedient and dutiful child. Then you will again see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not." (Malachi 3:16-18 NLT)

Recently we’ve been bombarded by news about how some of our soldiers mistreated or abused Iraqi prisoners of war. While we’ve come to expect that type of behavior from our enemies, we are shocked to discover that type of behavior from our military. Under the Geneva Convention, there are rules of war and there are rules about the treatment of prisoners of war that civilized society should follow. However in all of the rhetoric from both sides of the political fence, it is easy to forget the sacrifices made by those who have vigilantly served to secure our freedom.
That’s what Memorial Day is all about: remembering.

Many of us can remember - just after the Viet Nam War ended - seeing bumper stickers stating, “Remember The P.O.W.’s.” During the Viet Nam era, the news of the war dominated the daily news. But once we pulled out of Viet Nam, people soon forgot about the conflict and the soldiers. But family and friends of the Prisoners of War did not forget. If your husband or father or brother did not return home with the rest of the troops, you would never rest until you knew where they were. You would never give up hope and never stop praying until you knew they were either safe or dead. That was the reason for the bumper stickers and billboards and advertisements urging us to “Remember The P.O.W.’s.”

To tell you the truth, there are many things in life that are easy to forget. Even important things, like birthdays and anniversaries can be easily forgotten if we get too busy or preoccupied with other things. A few weeeks from now Jodi and I will celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary. I am planning a little getaway for us to Tanglewood in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts. We will visit the Tanglewood Music Festival, summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra—and enjoy a live broadcast of Garrison Keilor’s Prairie Home Companion radio show. Someday we will go to Paris or maybe even Antarctica. For now, a trip to the Berkshires is good. But we will remember our anniversary. I will not forget! And I remember that my parents were married for 63 years and never went to Hawaii or Europe – they should have – but they didn’t. Other things, like putting the needs of children or grandchildren above their own, were always more important to them. Unfortunately for many people, those most important things are the things most easily forgotten.

We usually remember the things that are most urgent, most important to our heart – or our own personal needs. You might forget your grandparent’s anniversary, but you aren’t likely to forget to eat lunch today! The urgent things press upon us and clamor for our attention. Like the cries of a hungry baby in the middle of the night, we aren’t likely to forget the urgent and pressing needs of the moment because they make a lot of noise and are difficult to ignore. But sometimes the things that are truly most important simply don’t demand our attention. That’s why we need reminders.

This is Memorial Day weekend. Many Americans have no idea why we celebrate Memorial Day - viewing it only as a reason for a 3-day weekend. Memorial Day has traditionally been a day of remembering the many heroes who lost their lives during the Civil War and other wars in which the United States has been involved. All told, more than 1.1 million lives have been lost in America’s wars since our nation’s beginning. However, for many people, Memorial Day is also a time to honor all loved ones who have passed on before us. Years ago it was known as Decoration Day, but is now known as Memorial Day.

It is a good thing to use ceremonies or holidays or special observances to help us remember important people or events. Referring to the emblems of communion, Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of Me." (Luke 22:19 NLT) The word “remember” or a form of it is used more than 200 times in the Bible. Like the signs, “Remember The P.O.W.’s”, I’d like to remind you of the P.O.W.’s the Bible challenges us to remember.

1. Remember the poor. - Galatians 2:10

Galatians 2:10, “we should continue to remember the poor.” (NLT)

Have you ever been resource challenged? Have you ever had more than enough? Most of us live most of our lives somewhere in the middle ground. I think one thing we will miss is the tremendous perspective given to my generation by our parents and grandparents who lived through the 1930’s period known as the “Great Depression.”

The man who has 12 children is richer than the man who has $12 million. Why? Because the man who has 12 children doesn’t want any more, but the man who has $12 million is always grasping for more money.

· “Whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone, especially to our Christian brothers and sisters.” (Galatians 6:10 NIV)

· "Love your enemies! Do good to them! Lend to them! And don't be concerned that they might not repay. Then your reward from heaven will be very great, and you will truly be acting as children of the Most High, for he is kind to the unthankful and to those who are wicked. You must be compassionate, just as your Father is compassionate.” (Luke 6:35-36 NLT)

· “Don't forget to do good and to share what you have with those in need, for such sacrifices are very pleasing to God.” (Hebrews 13:16 NLT)

When we are having financial struggles, remember that God has promised to supply all of our need. Also remember that Jesus has a special blessing not only for those who are poor, but for those “who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3 KJV) The New Living Translation says, "God blesses those who realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them.” When we come to the end of our human resources, we begin to realize our need to depend upon God and with that comes God’s peace.

Last night our daughter Jana, who serves as a minister on staff at Shoreline Community Church in Seattle, participated in an outreach to people on the streets of Tacoma, providing personal items, prayer, and care to those in desperate need of the love of Jesus—including those involved the area’s thriving sex industry and strip clubs. Joining Jana was her friend, Tiffany Ziesemer, who serves on staff at Life Center in Tacoma and is a firecracker of a young Christian leader. These young single women in ministry are doing more than just talking about the platitudes of the Christian faith, they are making a difference in Jesus’ name.

2. Remember the orphans and widows. - James 1:27

“Pure and lasting religion in the sight of God our Father means that we must care for orphans and widows in their troubles, and refuse to let the world corrupt us.” (James 1:27 NLT)

Have you ever felt abandoned, or all alone in this world? All people who are poor, orphaned or widowed face many challenges. Perhaps the greatest challenge is the feeling of being abandoned or forsaken – being alone and not knowing where to turn for support and provision.
We sometimes need to be reiminded that life is short, God is good and we belong to Him. We all face feelings of abandonment and challenging circumstances from time to time. But those who are orphaned or widowed, or single parents can feel that way most of the time. Scripture gives us comfort and hope:

· “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing.” (Psalm 68:5-6 NIV)

· “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the LORD will hold me close.” (Psalm 27:10 NLT)

When we were pastors at Bethel Church in Chehalis, Washington, Tiffany Ziesemer was in our youth group and a dynamic teenager who loved Jesus and showed it in many ways. Tiffany started out in life as an orphan. Her parents, Gary & Naomi, worked through Lovebasket, a Christian adoption agency based in Missouri. Tiffany was 17.5 months when she was adopted, but the process of adopting her took 3 years and began before she was even conceived. Her mother was very beautiful – that is all that is known about her parents – on her adoption papers simply said, “Abandoned.” Tiffany may have been abandoned by her birth parents, but she was not abandoned by God. And in a few weeks, Tiffany is getting married to another young man from our church in Chehalis, Derek Bluhm!

We all could do more to remember “the widows and orphans.” If we could see through the eyes of Jesus, we would know that they have so much to offer. We all can do more to show the love of Jesus to others. And we are never too young or too old to do so. In countless congregations, there are unsung widows and widowers who are using their gifts and talents to bless and serve others. I am privileged to know many of them, like our friend Jen Annan from Bethel Church, who, though an octogenarian now, unselfishly give of their time and talents in various ministries in the service of Jesus Christ.

3. Remember the suffering of others. - Hebrews 13:3

“Don't forget about those in prison. Suffer with them as though you were there yourself. Share the sorrow of those being mistreated, as though you feel their pain in your own bodies.” (Hebrews 13:3 NLT)

Our daughter Jana also spends a considerable amount of her free time ministering to female prisoners at the King County jail. Our son Mark and daughter Kristi and her family care deeply about the needs of the homeless and suffering people around the world and often minister and give in practical ways. Our son in law Jesse is a registered nurse and did an internship at the Mission of Mercy in Calcutta. It is encouraging to see members of younger generations who vigorously embrace compassion and service to others as core values.

But there is more than one kind of prison, you know. There are those trapped in a prison of fear, feeling chains of anxiety and worry holding them back from experiencing the freedom of faith. There are those who are living in a prison of intimidation or frustration, feeling that they can never measure up to their own expectations or the expectations of others. So they live in isolation, silently suffering and seldom leaving the security of their own cell. Others are trapped by various bondages and addictions. Jesus wants us to remember those who are suffering in any way and help them in any way we can.

We often don’t look beyond a person’s outward appearance to recognize the pain on the inside. The next time you are tempted to just pass someone by, I challenge you to dig a little deeper – to ask yourself if this person might be a person Jesus is asking you to help in some way. We are to remember the poor, the orphans, the widows and the suffering. But we are also called to help the prisoners, the oppressed, the weary and the strangers that cross our path.

One of my favorite professors at Eugene Bible College was R. Bryant Mitchell. He studied pre-med at UCLA and graduated from Biola University, L.I.F.E. Bible College and Drake University. Dr. Mitchell had served as General Superintendent of the Open Bible churches and as their Director of Missions.

His brother, Hubert Mitchell had gone to the Island of Sumatra (Western Indonesia) in 1934 as a missionary. Sumatra is the fifth largest island in the world, larger than California and Nova Scotia combined with a population at the time larger than the combined states of California, Oregon and Washington. Conditions were primitive there, and World War II was threatening the area.

Evangelism in the jungles was difficult, but God was blessing with a harvest of souls. During the steaming hot days of the summer of 1940, Hubert and his wife were expecting another kind of harvest, the birth of their second child.

Hubert's wife, Helen, had been an accomplished soloist, often singing for Aimee Semple McPherson at Angelus Temple. Things seemed to go well during this pregnancy and on September 14, 1940 she gave birth to a little girl, Jean Marie. The next day, however, Helen had a severe headache, which turned into a coma and convulsions. Without adequate medical care, Helen soon succumbed. Little Jean Marie was just three days old when her mother died.

The Mitchells were talented people, and could have led successful lives and careers at home in America, but they chose a life of service to the Lord. They had a great impact on reaching the people of Sumatra. So great had been their influence that the head of the Dutch bank took care of all the funeral arrangements. Due to conditions, the funeral had to be held on the same day. All the city officials attended the service. "Before coming to Sumatra, Hubert had written the music to the famous poem of Annie Johnson Flint, 'He Giveth More Grace.' The song was sung at the graveside. There were only a few dry eyes as the words were sung by another missionary couple. As the song was sung, Hubert said he 'felt the sting of death being drawn out, and he then spoke to them all in Malay with the anointing of God's Spirit upon him.'"[1] News of Helen's death took six weeks to arrive in America by letter. This was the first public performance this song that has blessed so many for the past 64 years. Here are the words by Annie Johnson Flint:

He giveth more grace, when the burdens grow greater.
He sendeth more strength, when the labors increase.
To added affliction, He addeth his mercy.
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.
His love hath no limit, His grace hath no measure.
His power hath no boundaries known unto man.
For out of his infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance.
When our strength has failed, 'ere the day is half done.
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father's full giving has only begun![2]

God gives – He provides for the poor, the orphans, the widows and the suffering. He often uses us as channels of His provision. Won’t you ask the Lord to help you Remember the P.O.W.’s, and look for opportunities to be conduits of God’s resources, providing for those who are hurting?
Without God's provision, it would be impossible to sing the words "He giveth and giveth giveth again" at your wife's funeral. The "peace of God" passes all human understanding! We all need to be reminded about that, don’t we? Here are a few more reminders to consider this Memorial Day Weekend:

· We need to be reminded that life is short: Psalm 90:12 "Teach us to number our days. . ." A visit to a cemetery, hospital, or care home can remind us that life is fragile and short.

· We need to be reminded that Jesus is Lord and God is in control.

· We need to be reminded that while we can’t always change our circumstances, we can change our attitude.

· We need to be reminded that prayer changes things.

[1]Mitchell, R. Bryant and Lucille M. "Heritage & Harvests." Des Moines: Open Bible Publishers, 1995, p. 49.
[2]Gariepy, Henry "Songs in the Night." Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1996, p. 5-6.