His Only Son

Well, we’re right in the midst of that season where our time, money and energies seem to be consumed by everything but the true meaning of Christmas. So I take the liberty of offering the following poem, which is actually a rather true story about one late night in my own parenting past. It was one of those amazing moments when what you know and what you feel suddenly collide with a staggering eternal truth. My prayer for you this season is that you may have a similar experience and that, if only for a moment, all the glitter and commercialism will fade away and the true wonder of that first Christmas comes shining through for you. That’s the moment when all the presents and parties and trees suddenly cease to matter and you come face to face with the Jesus whom God sent to us on that first Christmas day. Merry Christmas to all!

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

His Only Son
It was Christmas Eve around midnight
the presents were under the tree
The stockings were stuffed, but
somehow it just didn't feel like Christmas to me
We had read the Christmas story together
before the kids went to bed
But all night I had felt kind of empty
somewhere in my heart or my head
The magic of Christmas was missing
it had faded for me through the years
As tradition became repetition
Until I no longer held Christmas dear
Instead it seemed more of a bother
and an expensive bother at that
Nothing more than an inconvenience
more mess, more bills, more fat
It was late, far too late, I imagined
and the end of a very long day
But I figured I better look in on the kids
before I hit the hay
In my son's room I had a strange feeling
as if something was left out of place
Then I noticed the moon light streaming in
and how it lit up his young face
I thought to myself, "sure, it's Christmas,
there must be sugar plums dancing in there"
I gave him a kiss as I reached down
to brush back a wisp of his hair
Then I knew, in an instant, I saw it
what really happened on Christmas day
As my heart raced back to another child
long ago and far away
To a boy who was sleeping, as mine did
on that very first Christmas night
I saw his peaceful face awash
in the very same moonlight
Then I realized, finally, what God did
and the depth of the terrible price
God paid when He offered His only Son
for us all as a sacrifice
Of course, now I saw it so clearly
in the light of my love for my son
My own flesh and blood, whom I certainly
never would give up for anyone
But that's just what God did with Jesus
he sent Him to suffer and die
God sent Him because of His love for me
as I saw it I started to cry
And me, I was tired of Christmas
but I just didn't know what it meant
I had gotten too busy to notice the Savior
I knew that God had sent
I was filled with the joy and wonder
which eluded me all of these years
Now it was there, I could feel it
as it came flooding in through the tears
There, alone on my knees, in the darkness
I finally understood
That on Christmas God gave the greatest
gift of love that anyone could
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Thankful Heart

Just a quick wish to all for a happy Thanksgiving. Take time to celebrate and cherish relationships during this long weekend and make the effort to express gratitude to all those who have played important roles in your life. Today I offer a Thanksgiving grace which I wrote during the best of times and with the best of people. May you have a blessed holiday weekend with safe travel, wholesome feasting, and amazing time with those who will share your table. Let us also not forget that the original Thanksgiving was all about thanking God for His providence and blessing. Each of us, regardless of their situation, still has much to be thankful for so count those blessings and share them with others.

Thanksgiving Grace
For what we are about to receive
And all of the blessings You give
May we be thankful to Thee, Lord
This day, and each we live
Thank You for this meal, oh Lord
And for the loved ones who are near
Please watch over those we care about
Who could not join us here
As we recount our blessings
And the honor that You are due
We give thanks, oh Lord, this special day
And all our praise to You
By Frank Carpenter ©

Out of the Ashes

I live in southern California, which was so recently ravaged by multiple wild fires. Having experienced that terrible smoke-filled week has given pause to reflect upon what was lost, what was saved, and the plight of so many neighbors and fellow citizens in the midst of disaster and its aftermath. Our hearts go out who those who have suffered loss and pain and I continue to keep them in my prayers. My words can but little console them, but my hope is that, as an extended community, we will see to their immediate needs and offer the support they need to begin again. My own heart was drawn back to the Laguna Beach fire of 1991, which struck closer to my own home, family and friends. At that time, as is so oft the case, I responded with a poem. So I take the liberty of offering those thoughts today. When disaster strikes it often sharpens our emotions and priorities and compresses the time available to consider them. Those are the times when we instinctively make choices regarding the true value of all that surrounds us. On that fateful night, as I rushed out of the house to assist others in greater need, I observed my young children packing their wagon with their most precious possessions. I will never forget that image. The fact is that disaster, even impending disaster, forces us to prioritize and we can’t help but wonder what each of us might pack into our own wagon when the time comes to choose. In the end, however, stuff is merely stuff and only people really matter. As you consider your own wagon load of priorities, I hope and pray that you’ll pause to thank God for what and who you have … and all those things that may not even be worth saving.

Out of the Ashes
When disaster rears its terrible head
and the flood or the fire is near
When there is only time to save a few things
and we race to do so in our fear
Suddenly, all of our values
and the value of what we possess
Are redefined during the crisis
in the light of our plight and distress
Then the treasures that we have hoarded
through the years are left strewn on the floor
Dumped out to make room in the boxes

for the things which mean so much more
Photos and trinkets long forgotten

are dragged from dusty their nooks
To be carefully packed with precious things

price and comfort are overlooked
Gold and silver and stones expensive

are discarded for mere strings of beads
Which have no market value but

somehow, fulfill more emotional needs
When, at last, we can tarry no longer

we rush with loved ones and pets in arms
To havens of safety or higher ground

and out of the path of harm
And count ourselves fortunate, after all

in the light of that terrible cost
Even there, in the face of disaster

merely thankful for lives not lost
We gaze into the eyes of our loved ones

of family and friends who are near
Knowing well that the house can be replaced

losing people is what we fear
For insurance can never replace them

so if they are safe we can get by
All of the other things pale in value

though they might bring a tear to one's eye
As we go back to sift through the ashes

of the homes that were filled with our lives
We discover our greatest possessions

are our children and husbands and wives
Certainly hindsight reveals a thousand things

which we might have carried away
But there is no reason to torture ourselves

we've no choice but to wake up each day
And thank God that our friends and our family

were spared from that terrible foe
For often disasters are not so kind

as each of us in our hearts knows
So as we survey the path of destruction

and add up the weight of its cost
Let us pause to thank God for His mercy

remembering all that we could have lost
By Frank Carpenter ©

Gone But Not Forgotten

Some thoughts today on the cherished memories of some men who have departed my life during the past few years. We all deal with loss and pain in different ways and my system for processing complicated emotions is to write about them. This works for me because I am a slow thinker of sorts and use the retrospective tool of creative writing to wander through my memories and thoughts and make sense of them at my own speed and in my own time. Part of that process is the revisiting of specific themes and events to repaint them through the dearly bought wisdom of hindsight. Since my thoughts eventually congeal into the written word it has also been rewarding to discover that many others have used my writings to help sort out and communicate their own experiences as well. In a sense, it’s a gift that keeps on giving.

To that end, I offer today’s poem which I wrote some months ago on the anniversary of the passing of a dear friend’s father whom I was close to as well. Incidentally, he passed away during his stay at a convalescent home where my own father had lived for some time as well. Yes, it’s a true story and I really did write the poem while sitting the little patio at that facility. I hope some of you may find some relevant solace or wisdom in my words or pass this on to others who may have need of it. I also encourage readers call, write or visit those in their own lives who may be in just a situation. Remember, that you are the owner, caretaker, and defender of your memories and sometimes they need a little maintenance as well.

Gone, But Not Forgotten
I stopped by the convalescent home for a little while today
Where I paused to sit and think a spell, since it was on my way
I’ve had no one to visit here, these past twelve months or so
But that doesn’t seem to matter like it did a year ago
Because I still cherish memories of those who once dwelt here
Which I intend to honor with the passing of the years
I must confess their tenure here was bittersweet at best
As a final, unforgiving stop before they were laid to rest
Restless they, and sick those men who once resided here
When I came to visit them in hopes of offering some cheer
And while the passing time diminishes the acuteness of their loss
Each week brings some small memory to remind me of the cost
Associated with their passing, in wisdom or camaraderie
Or wealth of anecdotal wisdom, wrapped up in my own history
For when we lose a friend or father or some special relative
We lose a puzzle piece of life which only they could give
Time tends to heal the pain of loss and sweeten cherished memories
Yet sometimes we need to ponder them as I have through this reverie
Which brings me back to this place, where old friends have passed away
Gone, but not forgotten … as I’m reminded here today
By Frank Carpenter ©

Vessel of Prayer

Today I offer something simple which occurred in my personal life recently. I’ve started a new job with a bit of a commute and the rest of this true story is self explanatory so I’ll just let it speak for itself. These are the little moments that make all our efforts seem worthwhile and bring a touch of the divine to our simple existence. I can only hope and pray that you may so blessed as well.

Vessel of Prayer
I have a travel coffee mug
That I fill at home each day
To drink while I commute to work
Lest I grow tired on my way
An unpretentious little vessel
Of plastic and stainless steel
Yet, today it seems as solid gold
And holds new-found appeal
Since last night as she washed my cup
My dear wife let me know
That each day as she washes it
She prays for safety as I go
She thanks God for the drive I make
And for the work I do
And asks Him to watch over me
While I’m away the whole day through
I was dumbfounded by her statement
By the beauty of her words
As they expressed the sweetest sentiments
Perhaps that I have ever heard
That humble little travel cup
Filled with but fluid days before
Has now become a vessel
Of prayer … and so much more
As I’m off to work again
With my mug of steaming tea
I have assurance that I’m truly loved
And God is watching over me
By Frank Carpenter ©

Taking the Bait

Today’s musings grew out of a fly fishing trip I was on recently. As I stood on the bank of a river in the Sierras casting my line, it struck me how much we have in common with the very trout I was attempting to capture. The brightly colored artificial flies we employ in such an activity provide a thought provoking metaphor to the counterfeit lures in our own lives which so easily ensnare us in the nets of temptation. Any man or woman who is serious about living a righteous and honorable life, and staying true to their faith, ought carefully to consider the subject of temptation, and fishing promises to offer some valuable insights thereto. Temptation begins with natural and often necessary desires. All living things eat and reproduce and it is inherent in their nature to do so, just as it was for the trout who were my chosen quarry and inspiration for this line of thinking. As humans, we have those same basic desires, compounded exponentially by our more complicated lives and innumerable opportunities. However, let’s keep it simple for now. The fly fisherman uses a fly constructed from thread and feathers to emulate an actual insect. He then completes the illusion by employing a rod and line to deliver the fly to the fish in such a way as to make it appear and act as natural and appetizing as possible. Of course, the goal of all this deception is to deliver a hook to the hungry fish, so as to facilitate its eventual demise. And so it goes in the realm of human temptation as well. The angler, the quarry and the bait have all been upgraded, but the game remains the same … and the stakes are significantly higher.

As we swim through our own daily lives, we are bombarded by a steady stream of temptations, each constructed and delivered with a cunning which more than rivals the most` gifted of human anglers. In this crazy modern world of advanced technology, media and illusion we can scarcely be too careful about what bait we are willing to take, and wise is the person who steps carefully through the choices available in the seemingly endless labyrinth of options and opportunities. They may look like food, love, power, beauty or security. They may promise to satisfy. But you can bet that, more often than not, there’s a hook in them. I daresay some folks will take offense at being compared to a fish. My only response to them is, well, to compare them to ostriches. Any way you slice it there’s something fishy going on and I beg you to heed my words if you don’t want to end up in the proverbial, or perhaps literal, frying pan.

I hope and pray that you may choose wisely as you swim through the waters of life.

Taking the Bait
Casting in the quiet waters of a mountain stream today
I got to thinking on the devil, and how he has a way
Of selecting just the perfect fly to offer each of us
And how skillfully he throws his line so as not to shake our trust
He knows our every weakness, and the perfect time of day
To dangle his temptations and let them drift our way
Is it power? Is it money? Is it sex that we desire?
Satan has the perfect counterfeit, any angler would admire
And he doesn’t throw them at us, merely lets them float nearby
So we can see how beautiful they are and warm up to the lie
As we fantasize about them, well beyond the second look
And even once we take the bait, he doesn’t set the hook
Until it’s good and swallowed, buried deep within our hearts
Then he slowly tightens up the line and the real battle starts
Even if we extricate ourselves from sin that day
There is always damage from the hook inflicted on the way
Then Satan merely changes flies, ties on another sin
Casting more skillfully than ever, and the game begins again
Like foolish fish we play our part, and some folks never learn
They wind up in the frying pan and know what it is to burn
So as we swim through life today, we must be vigilant and wise
Lest we fall prey to the evil one … by striking on his flies
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Unforgiving Minute

Life is an endless series of moments, of minutes if you will, and many of them come with choices to make. They will consist primarily of small, seemingly insignificant choices, but some will turn out to be life changing ... even life defining. The secret, therefore, to living a life of honor, value and significance lies in the management of those choices. For every choice counts and move us in a particular direction. I love the end of Rudyard Kipling’s classic poem “If” which concludes with the words:
“If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run
Yours is the world and everything that’s in it
And, what is more, you’ll be a man, my son”
That “unforgiving minute” can take many forms, but as the sands of the hour glass slip through our fingers we must make decisions which will betray our true selves and shape our destiny. Regardless what we have said about ourselves or our beliefs, those choices we make moment to moment shall tell the story of our lives. Like gentle adjustments in the wheel of a ship, they direct our course and even seemingly minor corrections can make the difference between a safe passage and a disaster. There are potentially bad choices which we can back away from or easily correct, yet some will come along which must be bourn for a lifetime. So let us choose carefully, lest the unforgiving minute should catch us unawares. Let us seize each moment, each minute, and make it count.

The Unforgiving Minute
It matters little what folks think
Or how we compare with the rest
In the end, a man must prove himself
When it comes his time to test
For there are moments in each life
When words are simply not enough
When the mettle of a man is tried
And life will call his bluff
Then he finds himself come face to face
And standing all alone
Before the things he fears the most
And his true character is shown
When all his days and months and years
Shall finally culminate
In the unforgiving minute
Which is dealt each man by fate
That moment when he proves himself
To be either false or true
To that which he has long professed
And stood for hitherto
That single unforgiving minute when
His whole lifetime comes to bear
Showing him, at last, triumphant
Or pitching him into despair
Is the moment each man dreams of
And the moment each man fears
The sudden, unforgiving minute
Which defines him all his years
By Frank Carpenter ©

For the Glory

Once again I find myself in the company of folks who are wallowing in seemingly overwhelming adversity in their lives. Some are dealing with cancer and such physical maladies while others have become burdened by emotional and relational stress. Either way, I found myself pondering today’s poem. The bible promises that “all things work for good for those who love the Lord,” but that can be difficult to remember in the midst of adversity. So I offer these words to all who so need comfort in their trials today.

For the Glory
I’ve asked myself why a hundred times
And I’ve asked God a hundred more
How could he allow us to suffer so?
What purpose could this be for?
But the Lord doesn’t always explain things
In a manner which makes sense to me
So I have learned to put my trust in Him
In His counsel and sovereignty
He has promised all things work for good
And that He will be glorified
But it’s hard to see the glory
Through all the tears that I have cried
However, I know that the glory
Is shining somewhere up ahead
Somewhere just beyond my troubles
And we can trust in what God has said
So each day I search for the glory
In the trials that come to me
And they don’t seem so difficult to bear
In the light of eternity
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. This is the day each year when we, as a nation, celebrate the mortal sacrifices of our service men and women who have lost their lives in defense of this great nation. The exact origin of this tradition remains a little unclear, but it certainly grew out of the Civil War and some type of official celebration began shortly thereafter. At first it was Decoration Day, when the graves of fallen soldiers were decorated to honor them. Then it seems to have grown from there. For those of you interested in such history, I have pasted below what seems to be the actual history of Memorial Day for your further reading. At this time, however, I only wish to encourage any who read these words to remember those who have paid the ultimate price for the freedoms we all enjoy. Remember, also, that brave American men and women are out their risking their lives at this very moment on our behalf. I will not here endeavor to engage anyone on the politics of our current conflicts overseas, except to state our countrymen have died there and continue to live in harm’s way so they, both the living and the dead, deserve all of our honor, respect and support. Today is the day to hang up your flag, to say a prayer, perhaps even make a phone call or write a letter to those who have lost loved ones … or live daily with the fear thereof. Please don’t let this day pass without some act or thought of patriotism and gratitude. To that end, I offer the following poem in honor of those who paid the ultimate price for this great nation and our personal liberties.

Song of Freedom
Still ringing are the battle cries
Of freedom from the past
Sung out by brave young men who spilled
Their blood and breathed their last
Still waving is the flag
They proudly served and held aloft
Yet, we must be ever wary
Lest our resolve grows dim and soft
Our children need to know the legacy
Of freedom which is theirs
As the gauntlet passes on to them
For they are freedom's heirs
Sons and daughters of a liberty
Which was born of trial and strife
Paid for dearly by the countless men
Who gave both limb and life
We must keep the fire burning
May we never let it die
So our children's children's children
Know the sound of freedom's cry
It's not enough to just be born here
We have to guard our liberty
And pass it on so generations
In the future will be free
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.
Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country.
Information from : http://www.usmemorialday.org/backgrnd.html

Integrity

Did you ever wonder how some people can do certain things that you wouldn’t even dream of doing because those things just aren’t right? Or have you noticed the way some men or women seem to become comfortable with worse and worse choices over time. Chances are that others may even have had similar questions about yours or my actions from time to time. Most folks aren’t born dishonest, but in the course of making a series of poor choices they tend to come more easily over time. When we observe those who seem to tumble over the dark edges of integrity more closely, we discover that it is usually more of a slide than a fall. One careless step is taken at a time, but those small steps pave the way for the inevitable ethical fall from grace which has become so prevalent in our culture. Outright theft begins with petty larceny. Infidelity begins with impure thoughts and soft porn. Small lies grow into larger ones. The list goes on and on. Indeed, our lives are a constant series of tiny choices, each of which helping to determine our direction. And, in the end, direction determines destination. When we make an honorable choice, our lives travel ever so slightly in that direction. The same is true with our less honorable choices. It’s all about trajectory. Each of us has a conscience. The more we exercise it, the stronger and more defined it becomes. However, when we neglect or abuse it, it becomes impotent over time. A little fudging now and then seems like it wouldn’t hurt. Sure, everyone drives a little over the speed limit and cheats some on their taxes. It always starts small, but once we discover how easy it is to bend the rules, we begin to assume that all the lines of morality are elastic in nature. From there it’s a short trip downhill. We have all known folks who have taken that downward spiral and it is rarely becoming. The real danger is that if you dance around the edge of the quicksand for too long, you’ll eventually end up neck deep in it ... and then it can be too late to save you. Those better choices we have the opportunity to make each day can have an impact on our lives as well. They make us better people, better citizens, better parents, better human beings. Isn’t that who we want to be? Isn’t that the legacy we want to leave for our children and grandchildren? Let us consider carefully, therefore, all those little choices we make during the course of each day and make absolutely sure that they lead us down the path of integrity. That is where we want to end up, and no one leaves this world regretting an honorable life.

Integrity
So often we can justify
any action we might take
We bend the rules far beyond
the point where they should break
Defending actions wholly
unacceptable, in fact
Except, of course, if it is us
who perpetrate the act
At first, we start with little things
misdemeanors and white lies
Then, as our character erodes
we see with different eyes
Overlooking more and more
until we barely see
What would have been so crystal clear
when we had more integrity
But as the sediment builds up
within a person's heart
He discerns his actions differently
than he did back at the start
He discovers that the world owes him
a little something more
And finds himself involved in things
he never would have long before
But another creature has evolved
from the one he used to be
With a conscience worn and twisted
and without integrity
It didn't happen overnight
indeed, the change is slow
As he discards a host of values
which were cherished long ago
We all fudge when it's convenient
and cheat a little, what's the harm
As long as no one seems to care
and we cover it with charm
But every time we cross the line
we drag it just a bit
Until we can't remember where it was
or why we needed it
Then we reach a point where honor
has no value or appeal
And a man who has no honor
is a man who's free to steal
Who can justify his actions
to himself so easily
Once he has ground off all the teeth
of his own integrity
And each of us is wandering
somewhere along that road
Making moral choices every day
which can build or can erode
And he, who chooses wisely
proves himself a man indeed
For he confirms that he is more
than just a slave of greed
The road will fork uncounted times
throughout each man's history
But the sweetest destination
lies down the path of integrity
By Frank Carpenter ©

Seaside Solace

I have had occasion of late to revisit the subject of grief. Since I am no stranger to that bitter friend it often figures prominently in my own writings, whether they involve my personal experiences or those shared with others. My most recent foray down the more difficult side of memory lane led me to some observations which had not previously occurred to me. I wrote those previous three sentences several hours ago, intending to explore this subject and conclude with the poem below entitled “Seaside Solace,” which I penned after my father’s passing a few years ago. Strangely, just as I sat down this evening complete these thoughts I received a phone call informing me that my father’s oldest and dearest friend had passed away last week. This comes as a somewhat disconcerting coincidence, in the very midst of my little essay on grief. I suppose, at the very least, that it serves to make my words all the more poignant this evening. So among other things, this will serve as a tribute to Lou Pappan as well.

As I mull over this most recent turn of events, we will return to the point of my original observations. In times of grief we tend to turn to areas of passion in our lives to help us deal with heartache and pain. We find comfort in that which we find most familiar, especially if those things are natural stress relievers for us. Each of us is wired differently so we tend to respond to varying occupational therapies. Some folks look to music or art, others to exercise or reading. Some people crave relationship while others seek solitude to work out their feelings. It can come as no surprise that grief, like so many other issues, drives me to write. That is because I think slowly and find it comforting to work out my feelings on paper. I believe it was the author E.M. Forester who once wrote, “How can I know what I think until I see what I said?” Those words capture beautifully the therapeutic value of the written word for those like me who use it to come to terms with their own thoughts and feelings. My heart is also deeply wrapped up in the ocean, which I find to be utterly relaxing and inspirational. No wonder, then, that after my own father’s passing I found myself down at the shore penning the words of the poem which I offer you today. Perhaps it can be a comfort to others as well.

In closing, I encourage each of you to consider carefully what your areas of passion and interest are. These are the things to turn to when you have need of comfort in your own life. Sometimes it helps to have our hands or minds occupied while God is working on our hearts. Even when there seems to be no joy we can still find peace through our passions. I wish you all the best today and encourage you to send this on to others if you know people who could use these words of comfort. I also leave you with a photo from my own recent beach wanderings.

Seaside Solace
I brought my grief-stricken heart to the ocean
Back to my favorite of places once more
Carried it down to the water’s edge
And laid it gently upon the shore
To let the cool, cleansing sea
Begin to dissolve the plaque of despair
While the ageless motion of the waves
Washed away the silt of care
Letting the music of the surf
Flow through the deepest parts of me
Until solace ebbed within my heart
And sorrow drifted out to sea
By Frank Carpenter ©

Just One Kiss Away

Last weekend we had the wonderful experience of attending our niece’s wedding. In fact, they had even asked me to recite a poem as part of the service. The real purpose of today’s entry is to share that poem and make it available for the family. However, I would also like to take this opportunity to explain why this particular poem came so easily to me and why it was such a pleasure to compose. James and Danielle, the bride and groom, are both mature young people who share a strong and saving faith in Christ. I believe with all my heart that such a foundation is the only sure thing to build a life upon. They also come to their nuptials without the inordinate quantities of relational baggage so many folks seem to begin with, but they also engaged in extensive pre-marital counseling just to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting into together. Their relationship is built upon a lifetime of wise choices that will serve them well throughout the years to come. James and Danielle are just the kind of people who give you hope for the future and rarely have I walked out of a church feeling better about a couple or their prospects.

So this is for James and Danielle. We wish you all the best for your life together and the brightest future imaginable. May your marriage serve as a beacon of light and love to others for all of your years to come.

Best Wishes,
From Uncle Frank

Just One Kiss Away
James and Danielle, what a pleasure it is
To stand up here with you today
And to have observed as God drew you together
In His own remarkable way
You have known each other for such a long time
Yet God in His infinite wisdom knew
That though you were destined to be together
He wasn’t quite finished with either of you
So He sent you both into exile
To let you grow and mature apart
While He put the finishing touches
On each of you and readied your hearts
Then, in God’s perfect timing
He brought you back home once more
To the old, familiar neighborhood
Where you had known one another before
And where you rediscovered each other
In the light that maturity brings
Kindling a whirlwind romance
That soon grew into a beautiful thing
It didn’t take you long to determine
That your love was meant to be
And that the Lord had brought you together
To be joined in matrimony
Which brings us to this afternoon
As we have gathered together here
Before the Lord, your friends and family
And all of the people whom you hold dear
To celebrate all that God has done
And witness the vows that you
Are making to one another today
As you begin your lives together anew
May you honor each other always
Strive to live in an understanding way
Speaking the truth in love and grace
Willing ever to kneel and pray
May you be patient, kind and forgiving
Through the inevitable struggles and trials
Learning to trust one another completely
And trusting in God all the while
And may the Lord’s hand of blessing
Rest upon you throughout the years
While you face the adventure of life together
That lies just down the aisle from here
As you go rest assured that you carry
Our fondest hopes, prayers and wishes today
Into your happily ever after
Which is now just one kiss away
By Frank Carpenter ©

Reflections on Easter Week

Well, if you’re into religious holidays, this is certainly a red letter week. We had Palm Sunday last weekend. Today is Holy Thursday, followed by Good Friday and Easter. And, of course, we had April Fools Day. Religious holidays, while good reminders of the truth, can often cloud it as well. We are so easily distracted by the food, the fun, the ritual and social aspects of any holiday that it’s easy to leave God out of such a day - even a religious event. All celebrating, church services, egg dying and palm waving aside, I would like to redirect our focus to the person of Jesus Christ, whom we truly celebrate this week. This is the week that dozens of prophetic scriptures were fulfilled through His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), his eating of the Passover, His betrayal, His mock trial, His death on the cross, and finally His resurrection. We must remember, amidst all the other hoopla, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He actually lived, actually died for our sins, and actually rose from the dead. If any of those facts are untrue, then everything else we celebrate this week is pointless and we might as well sing our hymns to the Easter Bunny. If we do not accept Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, then we are all April Fools and that would be the only relevant holiday. Let us come back to the person of Jesus Christ. A lot of dramatic and public things happened during this, the last week of His life. However, I am most deeply moved by that quiet moment after the Last Supper, and just prior to His betrayal, when Jesus knelt in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed. In that scene of anguish and compassion I most clearly see the Son of God choosing to suffer and die for me personally. Easter is a time to celebrate God’s victory over death through the resurrection, but the foundation of that victory is His great mercy and the sacrifice of His only Son on behalf of an undeserving world. If you have further interest, I have pasted below a partial list of prophesies fulfilled by Jesus during the final week of His life. Have a happy Easter and don’t be an April Fool.

Gethsemane
Jesus knew his time was drawing near
On the eve of that final day
With the weight of the world upon his heart
He came to the garden to pray
He alone knew His Father’s will
And understood His redemption plan
And though He was truly God incarnate
Still, He was fully a man
He knew that pain and suffering
And betrayal were moments away
As He pleaded with God and wept He knew
There simply was no other way
There, in the garden, that fateful night
With the lights of the city in view
Jesus, the Son of God, considered
All that He must go through
The tears of His sorrow freely flowed
That night in Gethsemane
For He understood his path must lead
To the cross at Calvary
He was Christ, the Lord, the King of Kings
Yet, He knelt upon human knees
And willingly chose that night to die
Because of His love for you and me.
By Frank Carpenter ©

Partial list of Prophesies Fulfilled During the Final Week of Jesus’ Life:

Triumphal entry in Jerusalem on a donkey Zechariah 9:9, Mark 11:7–8, John 12:13–15
Betrayed by a friend Psalm 41:9, Mark 14:10, 43–45
Betrayed for 30 pieces of silver Zechariah 11:12, Matthew 26:15
Betrayal money returned for a potter’s field Zechariah 11:13, Matthew 27:3–10
Accused by false witnesses Psalm 27:12, Matthew 26:60–61, Mark 14:57
Offers no defense Isaiah 53:7, Matthew 26:62–63, Matthew 27:12–14
Struck and spat upon Isaiah 50:6, Matthew 26:67, Mark 14:65, John 19:1–3
Hated without reason Psalm 109:3–5, John 15:24–25
Soldiers divide His garments and gamble for His clothing Psalm 22:18, Matthew 27:35
Pierced through hands and feet Zechariah 12:10, Luke 23:33, John 20:27
Executed with malefactors Isaiah 53:12, Mark 15:27–28
Agonized in thirst Psalm 22:15, John 19:28
Given gall and vinegar Psalm 69:21, Matthew 27:34, 48, John 19:29
No bones broken Psalm 34:20, John 19:32–36
His side pierced Zechariah 12:10b, John 19:34
Buried with the rich Isaiah 53:9, Matthew 27:57–60
Deserted by His followers Zechariah 13:7, Mark 14:27,Matthew 26:56
Resurrection Hosea 6:2, Psalm 16:10, Psalm 49:15, Luke 24:6–7
Ascension to Heaven Psalm 68:18, Luke 24:50–51, Acts 1:11, Ephesians 4:7–10

Second Chances

For any of my readers who might have wondered, I write most of my poetry longhand in small leather-bound books that are just the right size to fit in my pocket. Along with poetry, I also take notes, make lists and fill the pages with all manner of jotting, doodling, etc., including card game scores, Christmas lists and movie times. Thus, these books each represent a snapshot of my life at any given moment. A little over five years ago I inadvertently left one such book in my trouser pocket and it went through the washing machine. Needless to say it ended up fairly mangled. However, I salvaged it as well as possible and laid it up on a shelf to dry. Low and behold, I rediscovered that little book this past weekend and also discovered that it was a time capsule from the most difficult period of my entire life. Back in the end of 2001 we learned, rather abruptly, that I had serious heart disease and I was thrust into some very frightening hospital stays which resulted in two rounds of angioplasty. Since I was just over forty, even the doctors were surprised by my condition and we had to make a lot of emotional adjustment to some shocking medical realities. By the way, I’m much better now so I will digress no farther on that part of the story. At the same time, my father was being diagnosed and treated for what turned out to be a life-ending condition and my brother was going through a difficult divorce. Needless to say, my little book of notes, poetry and commentary captured that period in my life with several months in either direction for perspective. How strange it has been during recent days to pry the mangled pages apart and attempt to decipher the events and meaning from that stage in my life. Which brings us to today’s poem.

I know it’s March so I beg you forgive me for offering a poem today which is entitled, “What I got For Christmas.” This is a poem about second chances and the perspective which comes from facing life-threatening issues. It also serves as a reminder that we have no guarantees in life. In fact, we’re all terminal … some folks just have a lot more time than others. Most of us tend to live life like we’ll definitely make it to a ripe old age, and most people do. The problem is that none of us can be sure who might turn out to be an actuarial anomaly. The important point here is that when we find ourselves thrust into such dreadful situations most of the details of life that take up so much of our energy suddenly matter very little, while faith, family and friends come rushing to the forefront of our priorities. On the faith front, let me just say that only a saving faith can provide eternal fire insurance. For more on that aspect of my commentary, I encourage you to Google my other poem, “Brimstones and Chicken Bones.” Please don’t wait until you’re sick to tell your spouse and children how you feel about them. Then set out to prove it every day. The same goes for friends and extended family.

Clearly, I’m a big fan of second chances. However, when you get one it reminds you that not everyone does, so we need to live our lives in such a way as to have no regrets. Get it right with your family, do your business with God and be thankful for each day as it comes. Again, I apologize for using a poem with Christmas in the title during the spring, but this message found me and I felt compelled to share it at this time. Have a wonderful day … and make it count.

What I Got for Christmas
I already have my gift
For Christmas time this year
God gave it to me early
Knowing Christmas day was near
What I received is priceless
Something I could never buy
God gave me a second chance
When He could have let me die
Through the valley of the shadow
God brought me mercifully
Showing me what matters most
He gave the opportunity
To better understand the value
Of the people I hold dear
To reconsider my commitments
And why He placed me here
When I awake on Christmas morning
Hug my children and kiss my wife
That alone will be gift enough
Because I love my life
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Knowledge of Good and Evil

I am reminded, as I write, of the 1956 Alfred Hitchcock movie with the title, “The Man Who Knew Too Much.” Upon reflection, that actually describes most people as well. I recently re-read the beginning of the book of Genesis and was intrigued by the original sin of Adam and Eve and the fall of mankind. In that ideal environment they basically had one negative command: Don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil … or you will surely die. It seems simple enough. All they had to do was enjoy all the fruits and wonders of creation in an idyllic garden setting and leave one tree alone. However, they just couldn’t do it. They were deceived by Satan (the serpent), they ate the fruit, and the party was over. That familiar situation invites all manner of commentary and theory, but I wish only to dwell upon one issue today. Clearly good and evil existed, even then, or there would be no such tree. Adam and Eve were basking daily in the good of creation and relationship with God. The wise creator most likely understood that their lives would be far better if they could remain blissfully ignorant of evil. However, rather than hide it from them like a parent with child-proof cupboards, He merely commanded them to avoid evil. I think we were created, at least originally, for good. Thus, when we partook of that cursed tree it perverted and corrupted our existence. We didn’t need to know all the details of evil and that very knowledge is what separates us from the holy God. We live in a world brimming with the knowledge of good and evil, which manifests itself throughout our various modern forms of media. Evil not only exists, it actually seeks us out and forces itself upon us. Without belaboring that point, let me simply say that even as a relatively clean-living man I have inadvertently seen and heard enough evil to last three lifetimes. It is that knowledge, much like computer viruses, which infects our minds and serves to drive a wedge between us and God. For there is not room in our hearts and minds for both God and the conscious knowledge of evil at any give time. Thus we are, in a very real sense, the men who know too much. Worse yet, that knowledge is like a cancer that slowly eats away at our integrity, nobility and moral character. The concept of “you are what you eat” applies in the area of experiential knowledge as well. We are what we hear and see. Or, at the very least, we are in the process of becoming so. What can be done? God offered us a cure in the person of Jesus Christ, who is the antidote to evil. He erases our transgressions, pays the price of our sins and paves the way for a renewed innocence which allows us to once again approach the throne of a holy God. Knowledge of Jesus comes from the bible and through prayer.

If you feel your life slipping in the wrong direction or feel that you might not be turning into the person you had hoped to be, a good place to begin would be to consider the knowledge of good and evil and whether you have forbidden fruit in your own life. If that is the case, it might be time to chop down whatever trees bear such fruit and search for the tree of life instead. Don’t be “the man who knew too much.” There is a better man in you waiting to be discovered, one who knows what needs to be known and abhors what should be left unknown. I think a great filter to test the content of our media input is found in the bible in Philippians 4:8. It reads as follows: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.” That’s a good start. So I leave you today with the following poem which grew from this very subject. Remember that you control what flows into your heart and mind and that will determine the trajectory of your life.

The Knowledge of Good and Evil
Long ago, in the Garden of Eden
there stood two particular trees
The first one was the tree of life
where Adam and Eve ate as they pleased
But the second tree was forbidden
as was the fruit it bore
The tree of the knowledge of good and evil
God declared they should abhor
Of course, we all know the story
Eve was deceived and Adam as well
They ate the forbidden fruit and sinned
and that is how mankind fell
It was the knowledge of good and evil
which a holy God could not abide
And it separated God from man
who felt ashamed and fled to hide
The knowledge of good and evil
was far more than man needed to know
It robbed us of our innocence
thus God had forbidden it so
Worse yet that dreadful knowledge
which has brought us so much strife
Robbed us of those blessings
we could have known from the tree of life
So it is in this present world
where knowledge of good and evil abounds
Mercilessly pursuing us
from wherever it may be found
And if we allow our hearts and minds
to be filled and poisoned by
The knowledge of good and evil
something within us begins to die
For that is the fruit of rebellion
which the holy God counts as sin
And it cannot be tolerated by
the Holy Spirit who dwells within
If we are to know the tree of life
and the blessings God bestows
Then we must chop down the forbidden tree
in our hearts before it grows
For man was never intended to know
or have such ready access to
The knowledge of good and evil
as our God understood and knew
We were designed for higher purposes
intended for nobler thoughts
And our hearts only respond to God
when we partake of the trees we ought
If we desire to eat from the tree of life
and God’s blessing and power know
We must ask the Lord to cleanse us
of that knowledge He abhors so
We must turn from the forbidden tree
and the darkness which it brings
To fill our hearts with the word of God
fill our minds with loftier things
Only then can we enter God’s presence
or begin to discern His perfect will
Yet we must ever keep our guard up
against the knowledge which beckons still
It’s been the bane of human existence
since that day of original sin
But Jesus shattered its power upon the cross

gave us power not to give in
So when we hear the serpent whispering

all those same delectable lies
Let us flee from the knowledge of good and evil
Lest we’re tempted to compromise
By Frank Carpenter ©

Shell Seeker

I am reminded this morning of an old image that my wife and I have always cherished. Once upon a hazy morning by the seaside I sat for an hour or more observing as my daughter, who was quite young at the time, gathered shells and shiny stones by shore. It was a time of reflection set in the midst of a busy period of work and parenting. On that particular morning all she wanted to do was wander aimlessly along the sand and collect the assorted natural trinkets which generally only have value to a child. Yet, as I watched her I began to realize how little many of my own material desires and possessions were really worth. Indeed, we adults squander much of our lives collecting and paying for trinkets which, in the larger picture, are as worthless as the bucket of shells my daughter was so proud of. She, in her own childish way, saw the beauty in the simplest objects in nature and I daresay that they brought her more joy than much of what I had worked so hard to purchase. I learned a valuable lesson that day, through the wisdom of child whose capacity for joy and wonder greatly exceeded my own.

Such moments have helped to slowly bend my own value system so that I better understand what really matters in life. There are times when I am driven to sacrifice for the wrong things and work too hard to keep up with the Jones’. Then I try to remember the great wisdom of a little girl who understood true beauty and who taught me that the world is filled with shiny stones whose value is often unrelated to their price. I can only hope that you have had someone young enough and wise enough in your own life to teach you such lessons … and that you were willing to listen. May your day be filled with the wonder of simple things.

Shell Seeker
Down where the water meets the sand
She wanders happily
In search of shells and stones
And other treasures from the sea
Each prize borne in a bucket
Swinging from her tiny hand
As I watch my young shell seeker
Finding treasure in the sand
She takes me back to sea shores
And lazy mornings long gone by
When I combed the shore for treasure
With the same look in my eye
And I realize that nothing
I have bought with what I've earned
Has more value than her treasures
And it's high time that I learned
To stop, from time to time
And hear the waves upon the shore
To feel the wind upon my face
And be a shell seeker once more
By Frank Carpenter ©

We Must Take Them

There is clearly something in our make up which causes us to respond to nature. Whether the majesty of a mountain, the beauty of a sunset or the intricacy of the smallest flower, we were born to appreciate the wonders of creation. As an increasing number of our fellow humans beings live out their existence in the midst of urban and suburban sprawl they begin to lose touch with the out of doors. I refer, of course, to the real outdoors that was planted by God rather than the landscaping of sculpted niches of open space so many people have access to. I live in a place where it seems nearly tropical because so many palm trees have been planted, but that can hardly be considered when most of those trees emerge from tidy uniform holes in the concrete sidewalk. Indeed, no matter how much we advance our civilization or progress technologically we humans still have an inherent need for wilderness experiences of one kind or another. Some folks live in areas adjacent to the wilderness. However, for most of us it takes a little more effort to really get outdoors. Yet, when we finally do, we usually discover it was well worth that effort.

I believe that effort is even more important in the case of our young people. Indeed, children can’t set their own schedules or provide their own transportation so they are at our mercy from the standpoint of outings and vacations. Both as a father and a Scout leader I have had the privilege of getting young folks outdoors and seeing how they respond to it. Modern kids of all ages now live in a world of increasing technology and mounting pressures to perform in and outside of the classroom. Throw in cell phones, television, radio, mp3 players and such other distractions and you end up with an entire generation of young folks who have become unaccustomed to the therapeutic value of wilderness experience. We have to take them out of the noise and distraction of the city for them to appreciate what it means to enjoy the peace and quite of nature. In fact, the very term “peace and quiet” tends to lose its reference point when we don’t get outdoors. Nowadays, that phrase is more liable to conjure up thoughts of napping on the couch with the television off. Yet, those who know better understand that there can hardly be any substitute for the sound of a waterfall or wind in the pines, or the reflection of mountains on a lake. The song of a few common birds or three crickets in the side yard can hardly compare to the symphony of a twilight forest. No, we were made to be outdoors. Certainly, I don’t suppose that we should all live in teepees or caves. I merely mean that we need to get out of our homes and apartments from time to time and visit the places where animals still run free and the sun sets over a hill instead of city skyline or housing tract. It is our sacred responsibility as adults and mentors to be sure that the children in our sphere of influence are immersed in the wonders of creation face to face … which is the only true high definition, surround sound experience. For let me be clear: the Nature Channel is not really nature, nor is the Discovery Channel truly discovery. Those are videos of other people being outdoors. Our children need see the outdoors for themselves, but they cannot do so alone, and they will not do so without our leadership and inspiration. We must take them.

We Must Take Them
We must take our children
Out of town and out of doors
To the forest and the mountains
The desert and the ocean shores
We must take them into nature
Let them feel and hear and see
All the wonders of creation
It’s our responsibility
To ensure that children understand
The world we all must share
They should experience its beauty
So that they learn to care
For the creatures and the places
Which are still untouched and wild
This is among the greatest gifts
That we can give a child
For to know the open spaces
And to breathe the open air
Is to understand creation ...
But we must take them there.
By Frank Carpenter ©

To Be There, Reflections on Valentines Day

Well, here we are at Valentines Day once again. As I ponder this strange little holiday we share it comes to mind that we often miss the point in the area of love and romance. I certainly appreciate any opportunity to celebrate with and about the special people who share our lives with us. We celebrate monthaverseries, for heaven’s sake. However, a night of flowers and candy is hardly to be considered love in the big picture. True love is wrapped up with longevity and relationship. We’ve grown so accustomed to the Hollywood version of being “madly in love” one minute and then suddenly no longer in love. For the record, that is not love. That is lust, or infatuation at best. If you can truly call something love it must stand the test of time. I had occasion in the midst of some errands last night to visit some important venues from the annals of my own love life which brought this point home to me. First I drove by the bench where my wife and I first kissed some 26 years ago. Then I wandered through the courtyard of the church where we were married and down past the swings on the beach where we seemed to end up at the close of many a date. Those simple, yet special, places represent important chapters in the history of our life together. We recently celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary and that was another important milestone. In my opinion that kind of history is how we can measure the depth of love. In much the same way real love also has a future as well. Along with shared memories come shared hopes and dreams and plans which constitute a defined romantic trajectory. In the end, love is really just two people who are mutually attracted and committed and traveling through life … together. Far too often when I hear people say, “I love you” it seems like what they really mean is, “lie down, I think I love you.” Clearly folks have a tendency to squander those precious words far too hastily. Love means being there through the good and the bad and the happy and sad and whatever life brings us.

By all means, buy flowers and cards and candy. Go out to dinner and take a long walk under the stars. However, I feel with all my heart that we should find a way to live like that all year long. The real wonder of love, after all, isn’t found on the inside of a greeting card. On the contrary it lies in sharing the big blank page of life and writing our stories upon it together. May you have a happy Valentines Day, but let it be the launching point for the deeper kind of love which goes the distance. I close today by offering a poem I wrote for my own Valentine some years ago. The sentiments still hold true … as does my heart.

To Be There
Just to be there is all that I ask for
When the sun dips its head in the west
When the sapphire day is smiling
That is my only request
To be there when you laugh for no reason
Or you stare at the stars in the sky
All that I ask is to be there
To see the light that shines in your eye
To be there when you listen to music
Or you wander outside in the rain
I simply want to share these things
Just to be there again and again
All that I ask is to be there
When the storms of life darken your way
To offer a shoulder for you to cry on
Hold your trembling hand when you pray
All that I ask is to be there
Just to share in what life has to give
Just to be there and to be together
For to be there with you is to live
By Frank Carpenter ©

God Be With You

Allow me, if you will, to wax somewhat parental. I came across today’s poem recently, which I wrote in church the first Sunday after we dropped our youngest off at college for her freshman year. Now, in her third year, she’s off to study for a semester abroad in Europe and I find that these same sentiments still hold true. All the more so as our oldest is now married and has settled out of state … which is fine. As parents, we do the best we can for the time allotted and then we have to nudge them out of the nest so they can soar on their own. That is a difficult time for many parents. Yet, after all, our job isn’t to raise kids to be kids, but to be adults. So by definition they ought to leave that nest, get out of Dodge, and learn to live on their own. That’s the goal. We’ve been blessed with great kids who have earned our trust and their own freedom, thereby making the whole process much less painless because we don’t have quite so much to worry about. Our personal philosophy has always been that our children were just on loan from God anyway, making the parenting process more an issue of stewardship. So, now that they’re grown we turn them over to God and trust that He will watch over them when we are unable to. This approach gives us a great deal of peace about the situation. Maybe you’re not in our particular stage of life. However, most of us have relationships that span across some distance and sometimes we just have to trust that God is watching over our loved ones; whether they are climbing stairs or mountains, driving golf carts or stock cars, drinking water or whisky, teaching or learning. Whatever their varied situations, they are beyond our control and often beyond our assistance as well. We think of them fondly, we write and call, we pray for them. Yet, when those whom we care about are far away we must trust them to the tender care of the One who is ever with them. That’s when a few simple words bring a world of peace and comfort … may God be with you.

God Be With You
As I sat in church this morning
Without you by our side
I must admit, I’m a little sad
But also filled with pride
I’m excited for your brand new life
Though it is far from me
Because it’s the life God chose for you
Filled with opportunity
So though you are not with us
In our old familiar pew
I know wherever you may be
God will still be there with you
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lest Ye Be Judged

We all tend to be rather opinionated, myself included. In fact, if you’ve been reading this site, it’s obvious that I may well be the prince of opinioned. It is with a humble heart, therefore, that I urge us to consider together the subject of judging others. It seems to be human nature to judge. Try this experiment: Ask anyone you know about someone else and listen to their answer. You will almost certainly get an earful of judgments, even if they are minor. We are usually so quick to point the finger at others, yet upon closer examination we may be guilty of the same things, or worse. In a world of self-righteous finger pointers, we have need of men and women of integrity who are willing to examine their own lives more closely. Little effort or thought is required to speak harshly of another. However, the greater challenge is holding ourselves to a higher standard for the purpose of setting an example. Far better, sometimes, to hold our tongues and let our actions speak for themselves. Then, when we absolutely must speak, our words will carry all the more weight. Here, I defer to the expert who wrote the instruction manual on human living. In the book of Matthew, Jesus said the following: “Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, `Let me take the speck out of your eye,' and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.” (Matthew 7:1-5) I think that about covers it. Let us, therefore, live well and refrain from speaking too hastily about others ... lest we be judged by our own standards.

Lest Ye Be Judged
Judge not, lest ye be judged
What others may say or do
For as you apply your standard to them
So it shall be measured to you
Where I find fault with another man
So fault shall be found with me
Each word I utter in judgment raises
My own responsibility
Judge not, lest ye be judged,
Show mercy as you would be shown
We dare not sit in the judgment seat
Which is reserved for God alone
Heap not the burning coals of wrath
Upon your own foolish head
By hastily judging another man
On what he has done or said
For all have fallen short of the mark
And failed by some degree
So what right have I to judge a man
Who is no more a sinner than me
Each man will have to answer to God
When he meets the Lord face to face
So rather than judge another man
Show grace as you would know grace
By Frank Carpenter ©