daily java

Daily Java: 

When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, ‘At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! I will go home to my father and say, “Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.” So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.’ But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began. (Luke 15:17-24)

Why do people do what they do? And if they do good things for another reason, say, fear, is it still a god thing. Does the motive have to match the act?

The son took all his father’s money and left and promptly threw it all away. Half of the money the old man had worked for and saved and was going to bless his sons with when he died was gone, wasted.

But when the son was completely flat broke, he was hungry. And he got to thinking about his father’s house where even the servants (at least in his mind) sat down to a banquet each night. They were never hungry, they were never cold, they were never alone. Even the servants were happy.

So he made a little speech which I believe he never really thought his father would require. But just in case, he asked if he could come back as a servant. After all, he had wasted his inheritance and had no right to what was left.

But his reason for doing so was not sorrow at hurting his father, nor was it guilt for hurting his brother or his family. It wasn’t even really a desire to make things right.

The reason he wanted to come back was that he was hungry. That’s really about it.

However, the father really didn’t care what his motive for coming back was. He just wanted his son back. The son came in with his little speech and the father brushed it aside and said in effect, “Nonsense, you were never not my son. And you are more than welcome to come home.”

That was all. No long period of probation, no plan of restitution, no punishment. He didn’t make the son become a servant and gradually, after his trust was restored, he could move into an associate sonship, then after many years of faithful service and all, he could once more become a son.

No. he just said, “My son is back and let’s celebrate.”

Were there repercussions? Probably. The other brother was mad that he got taken back so easily. He felt there ought to be a probationary period or something. And the son had, after all, spent his inheritance. It could even have been that the older brother was mad that it had all been so easy for his brother to just take off, bust himself and come back. He may have never dreamed it would be that easy and was mad he hadn't thought of it himself.

But the overall reason the son came back was that he was hungry. That’s all. And the father accepted that reason.

I have come home in the past because I was hungry and lonely and I was accepted and loved. If people on earth could do that, how much more could God?

part of a line

Now that you belong to Christ, you are the true children of Abraham. You are his heirs, and God’s promise to Abraham belongs to you. (Galatians 3:29)

There were people who were instrumental in bringing me to the Lord and in putting me into ministry. And in turn, I have put people into ministry. And they have done the same, as will the people they have touched.

There are people who brought you to the Lord, and hopefully, you have done the same, as will the ones you touch.

All of us are part of a line. And that line begins with Abraham. If we are children of God, we are all spiritual descendants of a man who lived during the stone age more than five thousand years ago. He lived in a country far away, spoke a language that would be unintelligible to us, wore clothing we would consider strange and lived a lifestyle that we would find truly alien. The only thing he has in common with us is his humanity and his faith in God.

Yet he is our spiritual father. The Bible says that, as the children of God, we are his children too. Just as God is our heavenly father, we trace all of our physical spiritual roots back to Abraham.

And as he was faithful, so we strive to be faithful. The Bible tells us that his faith was what saved him, and it is that faith that was handed down to us.

Our service to God is not measured in things, in commands kept, in boxes checked. It is measured in faith. When we believe and have faith in his ability to save, we are saved. We are his.

My father died last year in February. He was probably the most influential in bringing me to a knowledge of God. He had his failings and his blind spots, but so do we all. My children see mine and their children will see theirs. It is the way life goes.

In that same way we see the faults of Abraham. He had trouble trusting God at times and twice lied to save his life. But at the same time, his acts of faith were so strong. And he was known as the father of all who believe (Romans 4:16).

When we come to Jesus, we stand in that line of faithful people. My relatives were all active in their churches going back a long ways. Sister Ella’s were the same, I suppose. There is a line both of us come from that is long and faithful.

Of course, not every relative followed Jesus. Some didn’t and some won’t. But in general, we have.

And it is that line, that huge crowd of witnesses that Hebrews 12 mentions, those who have come before us and stand waiting for us in heaven, that keeps us going strong.

I do not want to let them down. Neither do I want to let my Father down.

So I remain strong and in that line of faithful and I remain faithful. And I serve God.

the strangest sense of my life flashing before my eyes

At my father’s funeral, there was the strangest sense of my life flashing before my eyes.

As the service wound down, and the minister giving the eulogy came to a close, there was the viewing of the body.

I moved up towards the front, but without realizing it, put myself right in the path of people coming up to the coffin.

I found myself in the position of shaking hands with a couple of hundred people.

Now I have been a minister for almost 40 years and have shaken the hands of countless tens of thousands of people. But this time was different.

There were people from all parts of my father’s life that came by. And by extension, they were from all parts of my life.

People I had not seen in decades or more walked by and told me hi. In each instance, they would tell me who they were, and it would astonish me.

A woman who I had last seen as a baby, cousins, old friends from my Jr High years, other various and assorted relatives and friends – all came by me and said hi.

It was, as I said, the strangest feeling. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, as if everyone I had known chose those few moments to say hi one last time in my life.

Ella told me that when her dad died at the age of 85, he spent the better part of a day saying hi to a group of people who came into his hospital room. They started with recent acquaintances and pretty soon, over the course of the day, moved to people he had known as a little child.

All of these people were long dead and the reunion was all in his mind. But he saw and said hello to each and every one.

I was not dead nor was I even sick, but the ethereal and surrealistic quality of the meetings was strong and struck me strangely.

I was tired from the long trip down to Tyler, TX, I had just come off a 21 day fast that had left me somewhat weakened, there was the strain of my father’s death and funeral and my mother’s grief. These were all things that worked together to make for a strange experience.

It was not unpleasant, but it was odd. In many cases, I wanted to say, stop. Come back and let’s talk, but there were 150 more people in line. Or they had come a long ways to attend the funeral and had to get back.

Few if any of these people were at the dinner. So except for the brief glance and introduction and my own surprise, there was nothing else.

It began to dawn on me that there are some people that I wold love to hear from, to see, to talk to in real time and not just on Facebook. Now I might have nothing in common with these people, but the desire is great.

The desire is great also to go back to Texas City and Freeport and see where I came from, to reconnect with my roots. I suppose there would be no good in it, but I want to. If nothing else, for some kind of closure.

I am getting older and I do not want to die far from home. I know it makes no real difference, but it has been weighing on me lately.

my father

Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you. (Exodus 20:12)

I just got back a couple of hours ago from a 1500 mile round trip to Tyler, TX, to help to bury my father, John, Sr.

He died this past Tuesday of complications related to his Alzheimer’s, cancer and pneumonia. He was 82. All together, the combination of things was just too much for him. My mother, Ruby, was with him when he died.

Ella and I drove the 750 miles to Tyler Wednesday and we had the funeral Friday. There were probably at least one hundred people there. My brother, GW, and I spoke and gave some remembrances of our time with him.

I saw people I had not seen in forty to fifty years and, as it happens so often at funerals, we had a good visit. I will not see them again until we have another funeral, and if it is mine, I won’t then.

My father was a good man. A deacon and an elder in the church, a Bible class teacher, an occasional preacher and a mentor in many ways, he was a great example to me. We often didn’t see eye to eye, as we were different types of people. He was old country and I wasn’t.

He was a hard worker who climbed electrical poles for Houston Lighting and Power for years. Even though his knees were bad, he continued until finally the company promoted him. he would work all day then sometimes at night helping other people. He and my mother were invariably hospitable.

He retired early and he and my mother  traveled around with a group of retirees who went to help small churches and Christian colleges (all affiliated with the Church of Christ) to do things needed.

I could not have had a better role model. And I hope that my model will be remembered by my children, Sam and Abby, as long as they live.

He will always be with me. And I honor him. And I loved and love him.

One day I will see him again. The song at his funeral was What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see, And I look upon His face, The One who saved me by His grace; When He takes me by the hand And leads me through the Promised Land, What a day, glorious day that will be.

Praise the blessed name of Jesus for John Thomas Cliver, Sr.