As I looked through the pictures of the cabin, I saw a guitar on a stand. When BBC we arrived, sure enough, there it was in the loft sleeping area.
I was surprised to find it had all six strings. I was not surprised to find it way out of tune. The fretboard was covered with dust and the strings felt grimy.
But those strings held a pick. After seeing the picture I packed a few picks and a capo. Just in case it was playable.
I brought the guitar down out of the oft and sat in front of the piano. Yes, there was an old upright piano, painted white, in the main room of this remote rustic cabin in the Nantahala Forest. The piano sounded like it had never been tuned, but I C should be able to tube the guitar from a low E.
Once I tuned it, the guitar didn’t sound great, but it was playable. I flat-picked through some bluegrass fiddle tunes I’ve been working on. The action felt pretty good.
What brand of instrument was this? “Delta” was printed above the tuning pegs. I peered into the sound hole and and found the model number as well as the expected “Made in China” notification.
I looked up the Delta D42 online, and it’s a $200 beginner’s guitar with decent reviews. What a treat to find something I can play out on the porch, watching leaves fall like rain all around me.
Wait a minute. That’s not a shadow. It’s moving on it’s own. That’s a slither. It’s a snake. A black snake silently glided through the garden mulch into the woods next door.
“Hey, if you’re here to eat mice or rats, come back any time.”
Yeah, I talk to animals sometimes. I whistle at the birds. My dog patiently listens to my random thoughts as we walk. Why not talk to the snake? My neighbor caught a bunch of mice in his attic. Rats have gnawed at spots on my wooden fence. Maybe he can help me out.
A few days later, he was back. Wait a minute. Do two of them? Two three-foot black snakes. I guess he thought it was OK to bring a friend.
Within a week, the news spread. I counted five of them. They didn’t even crawl away when I opened the garage door. “Hey, I didn’t say you could bring all your family and friends. Get out of here! My wife is going to freak out.”
This is creepy. Ok, so there aren’t any mice in the area. But my yard is not a snake sanctuary. They have to go.
Is that a hawk perched in the pine tree. I chuckled, “Hey, can I interest you in some snakes?”
The sky is just beginning to lighten in the eastern sky. As we (my dog and I) turn the corner and head into the final stretch of our morning walk, the smell of cigarette smoke hits our noses.
Really? At 6 am? Sure enough, someone is out on their back patio, under their pool screen enclosure, enjoying their first smoke of the day. I’ve never smoked, so I don’t understand the habit. I’ve been told it’s a difficult addiction to overcome. Growing up, I smelled it all the time since my mom smoked a lot at home. Now, smoking isn’t allowed in many public places, so I immediately notice it.
On other walks, we notice the slightly sweet smell of marijuana as we walk past a house in the neighborhood. I became familiar with that smell at college a few years ago, even though I didn’t ever try it. Weed isn’t technically allowed either, but that doesn’t deter those who enjoy it first thing in the morning.
Then there’s my neighbor just a few houses up who prefers his tobacco in a pipe. How often do you see someone with a pipe in their mouth? The smell of burning tobacco wafts up the street as he zips along shirtless in his electric wheelchair, beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Just when I think smoking has disappeared from our culture, I notice smoke shops in strip malls and impressive cigar selections in liquor stores, which are right alongside the medical marijuana dispensaries. I suppose there are enough smokers out there (and on my block) to keep places like these in business.
I think it’s interesting that I’m always aware of the smell of a cigarette. It’s neither pleasant nor revolting, but distinctive and noticeable.
One young lady perked up and exclaimed, “The Dollar Tree?”
It was a priceless moment.
From time to time I teach a middle school Sunday School class. This year, the curriculum takes them through the Old Testament books of 1 and 2 Kings. This morning, we covered 1 Kings 12-14, when Israel divided into the northern and southern kingdoms under Jeroboam and Rehoboam, respectively. When Jeroboam sets up two golden calfs in the north, it’s a repeat of the golden calf episode in Exodus. God’s people tend to make the same mistakes over and over.
It’s a challenge to engage any class of young or old with this particular narrative. Metal and wooden idols seem kind of silly to modern ears. So we have to talk about those thing we fear, love, and trust more than God, which are our idols.
While we have much to learn about idolatry, we’re familiar with Dollar Tree. True, most of the stuff there is junk. But almost everything costs $1.25. Inflation, you know. Between them, Family Dollar and Dollar General, I never feel like I’m more than five minutes away from a discount store. This reality says much about what we value. It’s stuff. It’s the creation rather than the Creator. Once I take a step in that direction, my life drifts further and further away from God, something Paul writes about in Romans 1.
Anyway, because of our discussion this morning, when someone mentions idolatry, I’ll always think of Dollar Tree!
On my walks and drives around the neighborhood, it’s not unusual to see mattresses on the curb for trash pickup. However, I share this one as one of the dirtiest and nastiest I think I’ve ever seen.
It could have been in someone’s garage for a while. Maybe they just never got around to getting rid of it. Mildew grows fast in the humid Florida air. If the house was unoccupied and the power was off, imagine the black mold growing throughout the rest of the house.
I guess it could have been someone’s mattress, but I cringe at the thought. I know mattresses get dirty and accumulate a lot of dust mites and dead skin cells. But this much?
Some friends of mine had a bedbug problem a few months ago. Needless to say, they had to get rid of their mattress and boxspring. They left theirs on the curb, but someone actually took it before the trash guys showed up!
They say you should replace your mattresses every seven to ten years. How old do you think this one was?
I’ve had this picture on my phone for a while now. I walk by this house a couple of times a week, and am always amazed by this garage door.
First of all, I wonder, “What in the world happened here?” I’m guessing the spring is broken, but why is the door hanging crooked like that? Did a rail break loose inside the garage? Did the wheels come off one of the tracks? I’m not sure how to get a garage door to do this.
Next, I wonder, “How come you haven’t tried to fix it?” At least find a way to lower it so it’s not open like this all the time. An open door is an invitation for critters to come in and squat in the garage.
This same house also had elaborate Halloween decorations on display.
So I couldn’t help but wonder, “If you’ll take the time and effort to decorate your yard, don’t you have a few minutes to try and fix the garage door?”
I’m tempted to assume this is a rental property. If so, I guess the landlord hasn’t been by in a while. I’m thinking that code enforcement hasn’t been by in a while, either.
How would you react if you pressed the button to close the garage door and this happened?
On our last return trip from Dallas, we stopped for the night in Pensacola, FL after a full day of driving. I had a reservation at the Fairfield Inn and Suites just off I-10.
The sun was setting as I pulled into the parking lot and walked through the front door to check in. I was immediately greeted by a bubbly, cheerful woman at the front desk. I said, “I’ve got a reservation for the night” as I handed her my drivers license and credit card.
After she tapped on her computer keyboard a few times, she said, “Well, we don’t have you in our system, but I’ll bet your room is at the other Fairfield Inn and Suites just off I-10 in Pensacola.” She called to confirm our reservation, and I drove a few miles back to the correct location. There are two? Well, that’s confusing.
The reception at this hotel was much different. The building looked brand new and I could tell that crews were still working on the landscaping. I walked into a very nice lobby, only to find no one at the front desk. I waited for a few moments, and then started to look around. Past a display of snacks, through two doorways, I saw a woman on the phone, typing as she talked to someone. I waited a few minutes, hoping she would notice me, but she never looked up. I walked a little closer and said, “Hi!” a few times. Nothing.
Finally, the woman happened to look up, and was startled to see me. After she shuffled some papers around, she came out to check me in. She said, “Sorry, I’m deaf.” I felt bad as she explained, “I can only hear in one ear.” She was kind and checked me in, explaining that she was filling out an incident report, she was ADHD, and breakfast was from 6:30 to 9:30 in the morning.
It must be tough working the front desk all by yourself in the evening. And I’ll bet the person on duty is expected to handle a variety of tasks for not a whole lot of pay.
We had a good night and a good breakfast before we hit the road for home.
I got to go see some live music the other night for the first time in a long time. When my wife heard that Mercy Me was going to be at the Saint Augustine Amphitheater, she immediately got tickets for us and a couple extra for my daughter and her husband.
I’ve been to the amphitheater for a couple of high school graduations, but never for a concert. It’s a really nice outdoor yet covered venue. The website says it seats just under five thousand. We had seats in row X, so I guess that would be twenty-four rows back, not including the many seats on the floor in front of the stage. The distance is not a problem since everything is also projected on an enormous screen in back of the bands.
We arrived when the doors opened after pizza just up the road at Mellow Mushroom. Official parking was sold out in advance, but a shuttle picked us up from the free parking offered at Anastasia State Park. The long lines made me wonder just how early people arrived to get in.
Security was tight. They checked bags and waved wands over us as we held the contents of our pockets in our hands. A very nice woman scanned the tickets on our phone, and a friendly usher took us to our seats.
As I watched others arrive, I learned why so many came so early. I’ll bet half of the crowd bought supper at the concession stands when they arrived. I watched people carry in all kinds of sandwiches, nachos, pizza, popcorn, and beverages. One could easily spend as much on food as for tickets. (A plastic cup of water was $4.) We were supposed to return them for reuse, but just between you and me, we brought them home with us.
Once we sat down, I watched as merchandise advertisements flashed across the enormous screen. The two warm up acts were Andrew Ripp and Crowder, whose songs we hear on Christian radio every day. All three of the performing groups had t-shirts, hoodies, CDs (yes, they still sell CDs), drink bottles, books, and other items for sale. Again, I could easily spend as much for merch as I did for a ticket. A seven-day cruise with the featured group was advertised for January. The bands also supported Children International, so concert attenders could sign up to sponsor a child. The business end of the contemporary Christian music industry is alive and well.
Four sound and light technicians ran an amazing control board. Lighting effects were coordinated with each musical number. Lyrics were displayed in perfect sync with the singers. Stage crew supplied the right guitars for various songs. It takes many people to put on a concert like this!
I enjoyed all the performers. Everyone on stage was so talented, bringing songs they had no doubt done many, many times before. I think they looked like they all enjoyed their work, even though they had no doubt done these songs many, many times before.
I’m still searching my memory to remember the last concert I went to. As I do, I remember some from the past.
Chicago (twice, once with the Beach Boys)
Maynard Ferguson (many times going back to high school)
Steven Curtis Chapman with the Afters and Geoff Moore
Phil Wickham (before he made it big)
Relient K several times with my daughters
Russ Taff
Amy Grant
Hillsong
I’m sure there are more. The longer I think, the more I remember. Lol.
Having performed in front of people, I appreciate the talent and hard work of these artists. Having written this, I’m determined to pay more attention to and go see musical talent that performs near me.
I was reading Psalm 115 this morning and I was struck by how interactive the Christian faith is. It is not just words on a page. It’s not just stories in a book. It’s not just images of biblical truths on t-shirts or coffee mugs. We experience the truths of the faith because God interacts with us in sensory ways.
The psalmist backs into this by describing idols made by human hands. They don’t say anything, see anything, hear anything, smell anything, feel anything or go anywhere. They are good for nothing. On the other hand, God does all of these things and more. That’s why we can trust him to help, protect, remember and bless us.
It’s not subtle. God is dramatically different than anything else you can fear, love, or trust.
He speaks. He speaks words that create life, hope, and peace. We know that all he has to do is say the word, and something happens.
He sees. He sees what’s going on in the world and in our lives. He looks into our hearts and see what we truly desire. He can also see what we ultimately trust.
He hears. He hears our complaints, laments, questions and cries for help. He hears our praise and thanksgiving. He hears every request, too.
He smells. Prayers and sacrifices wrapped in smoke are a pleasant aroma to him. The stink of death doesn’t deter him from giving us new life.
He feels. He feels the touch of the desperate who need healing, the worship of the thankful, and the pain of the nails that held him to the cross.
He walks. He walks through crowds, on top of the water, and up the hill to a cross.
Created in his image, we see, hear, taste, smell, and feel, too. If we’re paying attention, each of our senses connects us to the Creator. They give us sensory access to his divine power and nature.
So what did I see, hear, touch, smell, and taste today? And how did it remind me of my God, who is so much more than any idol I might craft in my mind or heart?
Waite for it... 