How Did This Blog Start?

Jeremiah 2:31

The Voice (VOICE)

³¹ People of this generation, consider again the word of the Eternal.

How did this blog start? I was sitting in a funeral of an acquaintance of mine. As people spoke about him, I realized that he had been a good influence in many people’s lives. At the time I realized that my Christian experience had reached a plateau and stagnated there. In the silence of that funeral I pondered what might give a boost to my experience.

Something I had read from Ellen White swam into my consciousness, “We have nothing to fear for the future, except as we shall forget the way the Lord has led us, and his teaching in our past history.”[i] Thinking back over the past years, I could see many instances in my life where God had led. At times I had followed, but at other times I had chosen not to follow His leading.

My wife, Sylvia, had been reading a devotional magazine called Guideposts and kept some back issues of the annual devotional books Daily Guideposts sitting in the bathroom. Leafing through a volume, I found that writers took a verse of scripture and wrote about a portion of their lives somehow related to that verse.

So I experimented with writing about my own experiences in relation to various passages of Scripture. This practice has renewed my faith and enriched my own experience. I have saved several hundred of these writings on my laptop. A number of them I have shared on this blog site. I like to write about my experiences rather than give an exposition of the verse because this helps me remember the way the Lord has led me.

The very process of writing about a specific incident or idea helps my mind to organize my thoughts about it. I often discover that this process of writing will start in one direction and lead me in a different−and likely more spiritually profitable−direction. You may wish to give it a try yourself. You definitely don’t need a computer to do it. In fact there appears to be a greater benefit in writing something by hand than entering it on a keyboard.[ii]

 [iii]

Lord, thank You for the way You have led me in the past. I know You can and will continue to lead me today.

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[i] Testimonies for the Church v9, p10 quoted from Life Sketches, p196

[ii] http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/a-learning-secret-don-t-take-notes-with-a-laptop/

[iii] http://thxthxthx.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/thx_606.jpg

We Know Not the Hour

Matthew 25:13

The Voice (VOICE)

¹³ So stay awake; you neither know the day nor hour [when the Son of Man will come].

When I was eight or ten, a college student taught my Sabbath School class. He did an excellent job of holding our attention. I vividly remember how he looked at us in all seriousness and said, “We don’t know exactly when Christ will come, but I guarantee you that it will be less than five years before He comes.” He showed us in detail how all of the conditions Christ mentioned in Matthew 24 had been fulfilled. He certainly had me convinced, and I’m sure he believed it just as much as I did.

My view of Jesus’ coming was one of absolute grandeur and magnificence: The entire sky filled with untold millions of heavenly beings, each one shining brighter than the sun, and the redeemed all rising upwards drawn by an irresistible force like a magnet attracting iron. Of course, every one of these people rising heavenward was a great saint and had lived a perfect life before the Lord.

My view of the whole thing was always from a spot solidly on the earth. My teachers and preachers proclaimed this marvelous, perfect character that I must obtain. As I looked at my own life, I knew I was selfish. What kid isn’t? I was deceptive, not harmfully deceptive, but none-the-less not transparently honest. Some of my friends were even more deceitful, but still I hated myself for both of these faults.

A Superman program came on the radio every afternoon around five o’clock. I sat transfixed, listening to the episode. I would imagine it was me flying around and saving innocent people and defeating unthinkably powerful villains. Then Mom would sit me down and ask me if I thought Jesus would listen to Superman if he were a boy in my house. By her very demeanor I knew that, of course, Jesus wouldn’t listen to it. I would admit that Jesus certainly wouldn’t, and I would swear off the program. For weeks I kept the radio off. Then some friends would come over and want to hear that program, and before I knew it I was hooked again. This listening—hearing Mom’s logic—restraining myself cycle would begin again.

No. There was no way that I would be with that ransomed throng rising inexorably to Jesus. He knew too much about me and certainly couldn’t save me. So this persuasive promise the devout college student made to us about the imminence of Christ’s appearance filled my young life with dread. My nights were haunted by the terror of being lost.

As I think back of those long ago days, I don’t remember this teacher being excited about Christ’s return any more than I was. He very ably brought out a sense of urgency. He could talk about the marvels of heaven and the new earth. He stressed that being ready for Christ was absolutely necessary, but I fear that he didn’t have the thrilling hope of redemption. He, too, was burdened with guilt. He had never experienced the marvelous certainty and peace that God’s grace makes possible for each heart who accepts Him. I wish he could have assured me that Jesus died to make me ready for translation and a place with the ransomed.

Lord Jesus, thank You for saving me. Thank You for Your grace that provides me with the marvelous hope You have given me. Thank You that Jesus is coming when I least expect it. Come! Lord Jesus.

Silence Can Be Golden

Amos 5:13

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

¹³ Therefore, the wise person will keep silent at such a time, for the days are evil.

We had been called to teach at Ikizu in Tanzania. I finished my Master in Mathematics degree in January 1967. The mission board was anxious to get me out to Africa because the school year starts in January there. Only one thing was lacking: a Tanzanian work permit. The mission board was also anxious to get me on African soil because my salary would be cut to a third of what they were paying me in the U.S. They discovered that American citizens didn’t need a visa to go to Zambia, which is adjacent to Tanzania, and, furthermore, my parents were working at Rusangu in Zambia. So they flew us out to Zambia.

I was getting very restless sitting at Rusangu and twiddling my thumbs. We had been there six weeks already with no sign of progress in getting the work permit. The mission board had not paid me anything for six weeks because they weren’t sure whether I would actually get the permit and didn’t know which organization to charge my salary to.

Then by the action of some personal acquaintances in Dar es Salaam, they at last got the permit and faxed me a copy. I had to go from Rusangu down to a Zambian consulate in Livingstone to get a Tanzanian visa. It didn’t make sense to me then, nor does it make sense to me now. With very few kwacha in my wallet, I took the train down to Livingstone

It was nine o’clock, opening time, when I walked, permit in hand, into the consulate. It was one very large room with one small ancient wooden desk over near the window. Four straight-back wooden chairs sat over against an adjacent wall. Otherwise the room was bare. I walked up to the consul, greeted him politely, explained my mission, and handed him my permit. He smiled warmly, took the permit, and told me to return at four o’clock (closing time) to pick up the visa. Not yet used to recently independent African countries’ bureaucracy, I was disappointed. Nevertheless I thanked him and walked out the door.

Since I hadn’t been paid for over six weeks, I barely had enough money for one night at the hotel, the train fare back to Monze (Rusangu), and a meal or two. No one used credit cards in that part of Africa at that time. So I felt concerned but not overly so.

The consulate closed at four o’clock, so I arrived at 3:45. I walked in and greeted the consul cheerfully. He returned my greeting cheerfully and told me that it was impossible to get the visa today; I needed to come back tomorrow. I explained my financial problems to him, and he listened sympathetically.

“Sorry!” he said, “It’s impossible to get it today. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He turned back to his desk and sat staring vacantly at it. Stunned, I didn’t know what to do. It was obvious that more talking would probably just get his back up. After standing silently near his desk for a couple minutes, I walked over to one of the chairs against the wall and sat down and prayed.

About two minutes before closing a South African truck driver walked in. He requested his permit to transport goods up to Lusaka. He waxed eloquent in how badly the load was needed at the capitol. The consul rifled through a pile of papers on his desk and pulled out the one for this shipment. He looked at it briefly and said, “I’m very sorry, but this one is not ready. Come back tomorrow.”

The truck driver explained how he had been coming in there for three weeks now, and things were getting desperate. The consul was sympathetic but unyielding. My heart sank into my boots as I read what my future might be. I prayed silently as I sat there. It was obvious that he expected a bribe but equally obvious that he couldn’t blatantly ask for one.

Closing time came and went. I sat, prayed silently, and looked at the floor. The consul sat silently and stared at a bare part of his desk. Finally about 4:20, he began to get fidgety. It was obvious he wasn’t used to having someone just sit there silently. It was also evident that he didn’t know how to get me to leave his office.

He picked up his phone and dialed one digit on it. After waiting an appropriate length of time he said, “What is the number for Clarke?” He listened some more, and it was obvious that this was purely an act. He pulled out my paper from the pile, wrote a number on it, stamped it. Then turning towards me he smiled, “Your visa is ready.”

Thanking him profusely, I picked up the visa and permit and walked out the door.

Truly, Lord, there is a time when silence is the only appropriate action. Grant me the wisdom to know when that is.

Birds Neither Plant nor Reap

Matthew 6:26

      The Voice (VOICE)

²⁶ Look at the birds in the sky. They do not store food for winter. They don’t plant gardens. They do not sow or reap—and yet, they are always fed because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are even more precious to Him than a beautiful bird. If He looks after them, of course He will look after you.

Sylvia and I left the U.S. to work in Tanzania right after I finished my master’s degree in Mathematics. We went to Ikizu Secondary School where I taught mathematics and a long list of other subjects that I was less prepared for.

At the beginning of our second year, we received a letter from the mission board chiding us for not pointing out that they weren’t taking rent out of our salary. I pointed out that I was very new and had no idea what things were deductible from my salary. That, of course, didn’t matter. They wrote us back stating that they were going to deduct present and past rent from our current salary explaining that I owed them more than several months’ salary. They wrote further that they understood that we probably couldn’t live on nothing for several months, so they would be sending us the equivalent of $20 a month until the back rent was paid. Even in 1968 in the heart of Africa, this was not much money!

For the next six months we lived on $20 a month. We had no children. We bought no clothes. We did no traveling. We had no vehicle and its related expenses. Fellow missionaries chipped in by taking us to the open-air market in Musoma to buy food. We lived mostly on the 3-B diet: beans, bread, and bananas.

Toward the end of that time, my parents, who were missionaries in Zambia, drove up in their VW Microbus to visit us. Mom looked at me critically and encouraged me to go see a doctor. She insisted I was way too thin and probably had some tropical parasites feasting on my insides. I didn’t have.

Actually, during this time we lived well and healthfully. We got sufficient sleep and never went hungry. As Christ promised in His Sermon on the Mount, God looked after us just like He looks after the birds of the air. We learned faith in Christ’s promises.

Thank You, Lord, that You look after us so well in spite of financial and other setbacks.

Thanks to BareFootRunning.com for the picture

Do Not Allow Division

1 Corinthians 1:10

The Voice (VOICE)

¹⁰ My brothers and sisters, I urge you by the name of our Lord Jesus, the Anointed, to come together in agreement. Do not allow anything or anyone to create division among you. Instead, be restored, completely fastened together with one mind and shared judgment.

Yesterday we went with a group of seniors in our church to tour the Getty Center Museum. It was built by the estate of the late oil magnate J. Paul Getty. It houses a magnificent collection of paintings, statues, and furniture from the houses of European nobility representing the last 700 years. Its most recent acquisition is an Edouard Manet painting that cost 65 million dollars.

We had the privilege of riding there and back with a retired pastor. On the way he told me of how the conference has sent him from one church to another over the recent years. When he arrived at each church, he invariably found that the congregation was seriously divided. Usually within two years he would have sorted out the divisions and brought the congregation back into unity.

I asked him how he was able to bring about the reconciliations. He told me that when he arrived at the church, the first thing he would do was to call a meeting of the church elders. Then he would work with them to urge each of them to yield to the Holy Spirit to direct their individual lives. Then as the elders would submit to the leading of the Spirit, they would put away their differences. Once this happened the rest of the church would follow and put away their differences. In his experience, a division in a church always results from the elders’ problems.

In one instance the head elder was having an affair with his secretary. In this case, after much counseling, the elder was led to see how his infidelity was causing major problems in his church. He voluntarily resigned his position. Over the next year the pastor continued working with the former elder about his fidelity problem. Eventually, the man made a public confession to the church and asked the church for forgiveness. This included his apologizing to his ex-wife and his secretary. He and his former wife were actually reconciled and reunited. As the church saw the transformation in their former elder, they, too, united as a cohesive church again.

Holy Father, may Your Spirit help us fulfill Christ’s prayer, “As I return to be with You, holy Father, remain with them through Your name, the name You have given Me. May they be one even as We are one.”

Are There No More Prophets?

Psalm 74:9

The Voice (VOICE)

⁹ We no longer receive signs,
    there are no more prophets who remain,
    and not one of us knows how long this situation will last.

Many years ago our church received a new pastor. He spent his first few weeks visiting as many of his new flock as he could possibly find. One of the questions he asked us was what topics we would like to hear him preach about.

This visit was subsequent to a number of high level meetings in our church that consumed over a million dollars and resulted in “defrocking” the powerful preacher and much loved and respected theology professor, Desmond Ford. I was not part of these meetings and possibly misunderstand the purpose of these conferences, nor do I know Ford. But the way it was explained to me, a layman, was that Ford denied the cardinal doctrine of the church concerning the 2300 days of Daniel 8:14 and the investigative judgment. It is one a very few doctrines that distinguish us from other churches, if not the only one.

Since then other issues have arisen, some peculiar to certain churches or regions, some global in nature. These include, but are not limited to

·         How we explain the origin of the earth and the universe

·         Whether we should ordain women to the ministry

·         How we relate to LGBT issues

·         How we handle converts who are involved in plural marriages

·         The wearing of jewelry and related adornments

Addressing the question the pastor had asked me about sermon topics, I mentioned that it had been a couple decades since I had last heard a sermon on the 2300 days and more generally on traditional Adventist interpretations of prophecy. I mentioned the fact that Ford had been defrocked for denying the doctrine. I encouraged him to preach about it. His response was a condescending, “Yes brother.”

Needless to say, I have never heard anything about this doctrine from the pulpit since. We have had a score of pastors ministering in our church, and none have so much as hinted at the place of prophecy in the Adventist church. “There are no more prophets who remain”?

Dear Lord, I lament with the psalmist the apparent absence of prophetic guidance in our church today. At the same time, I fear that we might treat anyone You would send to us like we did the last prophetess You sent:  We banished her to the continent where criminals against society had been abandoned.

Blessed Are the Dead Who Die in the Lord

Revelation 14:13

The Voice (VOICE)

¹³ Then I heard a voice call out from heaven.

A Voice: Record this: “Blessed are the dead who have died in the Lord from now until the end.”

Spirit: Yes, they will rest from their labors because their deeds remain with them.

At 4:42 this morning, Tuesday, January 13, 2015, Grace Iva (Oblander) Nelson passed to her rest. She was 98 and had lived a long, good life, and she passed away quietly.

Grace was orphaned very early in her life and spent time in several foster homes. She attended Broadview Academy near Chicago, Illinois, where she met her husband Roscoe Nelson. As happened to so many young couples in the World War II era, Roscoe was drafted and shipped off to war shortly after the wedding bells were silent. Their oldest child, Sylvia, was born almost 2 years to the day after the wedding.

At the end of the war, Roscoe returned from service in France. The young couple set up housekeeping in rural Montana where they ran a sanitarium in an old hotel. Their second daughter, Elvina, was born in Montana. Roscoe took advantage of the GI Bill and went to Walla Walla College in southwestern Washington. Grace set up housekeeping in a tent, and the family survived there for two long, cold winters and the suffocating summer between. Roscoe graduated with a degree in theology and longed to be a preacher. However, hundreds of GI’s had also returned from war sensing a strong call to the ministry. So Roscoe taught school and worked odd jobs including logging for a number of years. Finally he got a call to the ministry in Michigan where he worked for the rest of his career.

After their son Judson was born, Grace earned a diploma in nursing and worked for many years as a nurse once her children were all in school. Grace suffered from a severe food allergy for many years and had to subsist on potatoes, beans, cabbage, apples, and celery. But she was cheerful throughout. She undoubtedly suffered a lot of worry when I began dating her daughter. I was a rebel at heart and liberal in outlook. She would tell her coworkers that Sylvia was dating a fellow from Africa. When she would see their eyebrows rise and a worried look flash across their faces, she would add, “He’s red-headed!” and the worried look would subside.

As she found time, Grace studied the Bible and Spirit of Prophecy carefully. Roscoe called her the theologian of the family. After he passed away we gave her Philip Yancey’s book, What’s so Amazing About Grace. Since it hadn’t been printed by an Adventist press, she was concerned about reading it. She put it on her shelf and left it there for more than a year. The title, however, really intrigued Grace, and she finally took it off the shelf and really enjoyed reading it.

The grace of God became a very real part of Grace’s life experience. The family loved her visits with us and she enjoyed playing dominoes with us. And she loved the family. When one of her grandsons kissed her towards the end, we watched tears fill her eyes because she knew of the battle against alcohol that he is fighting.

Until quite recently, she walked around with a walker at times and prided herself in being fairly independent. She fell and broke her arm just about exactly a month ago and has declined rapidly since then. She never lost her sense of humor. She was in hospital recently with an extremely high white blood cell count, so we had to wear masks and special clothing when we visited her. When we left the room one time, I remarked to her, “Hurry and get out of here so that I can kiss you on the mouth!” She smiled broadly at me.

May she rest in peace until the time when I promised I would join her in the great resurrection. God, keep us until that time.

God Is Not Far From Us

Acts 17:27

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

²⁷ He did this so they might seek God, and perhaps they might reach out and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us.

As a child I used to point up and imagine I was pointing toward heaven. It didn’t take too long for me to realize that on a round earth this is an illusion. If everyone from all over the world who pointed up was pointing towards heaven, then heaven would be in every direction. By pointing upwards we are simply acknowledging that heaven is a place we cannot reach by human means.

It should be obvious that if God created the universe, then He is not in the universe. In fact, as a creator He has probably created many universes. When He created our universe, He created it specifically for us humans. The first commandment God gave Adam and Eve was to be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. Once humans had “filled the earth” were they to quit being fruitful? A possibility is that God intended, until we sinned, for the race to fill this universe.

Where might these other universes be? If God is outside our universe, then He would also be outside the other universes He has created. To use a common analogy, we can consider each universe to be a cosmic sheet of paper. They could be stacked one upon another like pages in a book. To pursue this analogy, just like you can put your finger down on any word or symbol on a sheet of paper, God can put his cosmic finger down on any person in the universe. The person would only be aware of the finger if it actually entered our universe. Thus God could be less than a millimeter from us, and we would be unaware of his being there. As Paul intimates in his sermon on Mars Hill, “He is not far from each of us,” even though we might be totally unconscious of His proximity.

I encourage you to read an 1884 satirical novella of societal problems, Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A Abbott. It is free online and available in printed format. The book gives a very understandable introduction, in narrative format, to viewing one’s universe from outside of it.

Thank You, Lord, that You are truly not far from any of us and that we can find You when we search for You.

You've Heard It: "I'm GOOD!"

Mark 10:18

New International Version (NIV)

¹⁸ “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone.

We spent two terms of service in Africa, one of five years, the other of four. Each time when we returned to the United States, we experienced significant culture shock.

For example, when we greeted someone, we would often ask, “How are you?”  Almost invariably the answer was “Good!” This really rankled. I was used to people answering “fine!” or “well!” But “good?” That sounded pompous, even presumptuous. I got this mental picture of the “good” person polishing her halo or brushing his fingernails contemptuously on the lapel of a jacket. To me it smelled of the “ugly American” attitude.

Every time someone answered this way, Jesus statement in this verse crossed my mind. Of course, I mentioned my reaction to some people whose knowledge of English usage I valued. They would condescendingly remind me that the word ‘good’ is simply a synonym of ‘fine’ or ‘well.’ It is so ubiquitous that once in a while I find myself responding “Good!” when asked about my state of being. Then I catch myself and shudder.

Moving to California I suffered more culture shock. Sitting at table with someone, I would offer him or her dessert or bread or something else to eat. The usual response is the gloating statement, “I’m good!” Confused, I explain, “I wasn’t concerned about your state of being, whether you are good or bad; would you like x?” Again the baffling reply, this time with added emphasis, “I’m GOOD!” On rare occasions when I have the audacity to inquire a third time, the response is an even more emphatic, “I’m REAL GOOD!”

It is truly rewarding to live amongst so many good people.

Thank You, Lord, that You are indeed really good and, furthermore, that You are so very good to us!