Strange Place

Depression can be ugly. Believe me, I've been there. You can mask it for awhile but eventually the ugliness breaks through.

But the Man of Sorrows, Jesus, knows every detail, every nuance, every heartache, every gut-wrenching situation and stands ready to help carry us through the darkest hell.

The other night I couldn't sleep. My mind played games. Ruminating can be disastrous.  But words and phrases that came to mind were placed in sentences and random thoughts became poetry, albeit frightening stuff.

Here's what I wrote about the strange place I found myself in:

This strange place in which I stand

Is neither hell nor promised land;

But shards of both now pierce my soul,

O God, please make me well and whole!

This strange place in which I sit

Can be a throne or deep, dark pit;

But hidden from the Son's warm ray

O God, please take the pain away!

This strange place in which I lie

With dread cry out "O let me die";

Now where I lie or sit or stand,

O God, please take my trembling hand.

This strange place so fraught with pain

Beset by loss and seldom gain;

Can be the place You've brought me to

Where all I have is me...

And YOU!

Copyright © 2011 - David W. Fisher 

God has a way of bringing us out into a better place.  During those dark, depressing hours I reread the 18th Psalm where David joyfully states, "He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me." - Psalm 18:19 (NIV)  

Note:  Your comments are greatly appreciated.  Thank you!

GRACE

In yet another "dark night of the soul" God has arrested me and ticketed my awful pride. In those lonely, still, contemplative moments before dusk He spoke loud and clear. Words that cut to the core. I rose, penned these words before they fled and thanked Him for His voice that can still be heard in the midst of the clutter.

Here's what He said:

I stood before a holy God

With blood-stained hands

And broken heart

And in that moment

Saw that I

Had driven nails

That held Him there

My sinful pride

Self-righteous ways

Had caused the Saviour

Needless pain

He could have banished me to hell

For all the hurt

That I had caused

Instead He drew me to Himself

Offered forgiveness

Without cost

And in those Eyes

And on that Face

I read these words

"AMAZING GRACE"

© David W. Fisher – February 2009

Mighty to Save

Mighty to save
Able to keep
Jesus my God and my King
Ever the same
Sovereign and true
To Him our worship we bring
Infinite One
Caring and just

Righteous and holy is He
Uniquely God's Son
Life-giving One
Ever His praises we sing
He is the Almighty King
He is the Almighty King.

Notice the acrostic, MAJESTIC RULE, formed by the first letters of each line.

© David W. Fisher January 2009

Our Wonderful Lord

JESUS

Sovereign Sustainer
Supreme Sanctifier
Savior, Supplier
Our Soon-coming King.

Righteous Redeemer
The Ransom for many
Our Rock and our Refuge
His praises we sing.

© David W. Fisher – December 2008

The Justus Encounter

NOTE: I wrote the following story several years ago and included it in a book that our writer's group, The Writer's Crucible, recently published. I trust you'll enjoy this biblical fiction account:

Greetings, friend. My name is Justus. Each year at this time my mind drifts back to that bitterly cold night when deity took on humanity in a musty animal stall behind an inn in Bethlehem.

We were the last family to secure lodging inside the bustling hotel. When my wife Sarah, my daughter Eunice and I arrived every room was spoken for. The innkeeper graciously lent us a small cot, one blanket and a resting place in the corner of the entrance hall.

Our family had journeyed to Bethlehem to be accounted for. Caesar Augustus had ordered a census be taken throughout the Roman empire requiring citizens to travel to their ancestral hometown. We lived in Bethany, a little to the northeast of Bethlehem, and had traveled by foot to “the city of David”. I was thirty years old at the time and little Eunice was just an infant.

Exhausted from the trek, Sarah and Eunice quickly dozed off. I sat on the floor by the cot but sleep eluded me. About an hour later another road-weary couple burst into the inn. The woman was obviously “great with child” and her husband – I assumed they were married – requested a room. The tired innkeeper advised them that there were no vacancies but that they could find shelter in a stable behind the inn. He offered them a horse blanket or two to ward off the cold but they declined. As they left I felt constrained to hand them our only blanket, the one the innkeeper had lent us. They hesitated momentarily but accepted my offer. I finally nodded off to sleep, my head resting on the corner of Sarah’s cot.

After a brief nap I awoke to the raucous clatter of a dozen or more shepherds. Some even had lambs in their arms as they burst into the inn. They were talking excitedly and inquired where the Saviour, the Messiah, could be found. The innkeeper, hearing the commotion, stumbled to the counter. “Where’s the Messiah?”, they queried. “A host of angels announced on a hillside outside of town that a baby has been born in a manger and He is to be our saviour.” The bewildered innkeeper re-directed them to the stable out back.

The sheep herders had awakened Sarah and little Eunice with their exuberance. Eunice was crying and Sarah was frustrated by the interruption. Me? I was wishing they’d hurry up and go out to the stable to find this promised Messiah.

Imagine a band of angels announcing a newborn King to a motley crew of shepherds. Sounded kind of crazy to me. Guess I’m a sceptic at the best of times. I get irritated by people who get their directions from heavenly voices. The commotion died down as the shepherds went to investigate but then built to a crescendo as they discovered that the Messiah had, in fact, been born in a cattle manger of all places. They woke everyone in the inn, the whole town I’m sure. We didn’t get back to sleep. What a night!

The next morning we registered for the census after sunrise but I was grumpy for the rest of the day. You know how you get when you don’t have a good night’s rest, when you’re in someone else’s bed or on the floor.

This Messiah, Jesus, grew up in his father’s home in Nazareth. Mary and Joseph were his parents, the couple I had given the blanket to. I discovered later that they weren’t even married that night. Scandalous! I learned that she had become pregnant by the Holy Spirit. Now that was hard to believe! I’d never heard anything like that before but, as I said, I was sceptical of everything.

Back in Bethany we heard a lot about this man called Jesus. He helped in His father’s carpenter shop until he was about thirty years old. Then he began preaching around the countryside. He visited our town several times. Mary, Martha and Lazarus, neighbours of ours, were friends of his. One day Lazarus died and his heartbroken sisters sent for Jesus. They were upset when Jesus didn’t arrive until four days later. According to the townsfolk He supposedly raised this man Lazarus from the dead. If you ask me, he was likely just asleep, unconscious or in a coma but not dead. Raising a man from the dead was a little far-fetched for an unbeliever like me.

That all changed one day, an event that’s indelibly etched on my mind. Our daughter Eunice was about thirty-two years old at the time. She hadn’t married, was still living with us and was working as a seamstress. She became violently ill one evening and we thought she would die. She was bleeding profusely and was very feverish. Several times we thought we had lost her.

Sarah ran to Martha’s house and was surprised to learn that Jesus was staying with them. Hearing of Eunice’s condition, Jesus came quickly. Our eyes met as He came through the doorway and I knew in that moment that He was more than just a man. I was strangely moved! He quickly made His way to the room where Eunice lay and gently placed His hand on her forehead. Immediately the fever vanished. The bleeding stopped. Eunice sat up in bed, instantly healed and I bowed before this man called Jesus, a changed man.

Belief filled my heart where scepticism and doubt once ruled. Jesus prayed with our family, pronounced His blessing and quickly was gone. I’ll never forget the look of compassion in His eyes.

The next morning the thought crossed my mind briefly that I should tell Jesus that it was my blanket that cradled Him on that cold, frosty night in Bethlehem but I quickly realized that He already knew. He was God and He knew everything. I was changed forever by this encounter with the One I had rejected for so long.

Don’t be a doubter like me. Investigate His claims. Read the biblical account of Christ’s life. Seek out a Christian pastor or friend if you want to know more. Jesus Christ is everything the angels said he would be and He will change your life. Just give Him a chance.

© David Fisher – December 2008

Confessions of a Recovering Legalist

“My name is David and I’m a Recovering Legalist.”

Thus began another LA (Legalists Anonymous) meeting with myself and God. Just the two of us. My detractors never attend. They’re free now. They no longer battle legalism. They’ve graduated. I meet them regularly in my day to day routines. Most of them tend to infuriate me so it’s better that we’re not all in the same room together.

For half a century I’ve battled this addiction with seemingly few results. Like most addicts I find myself scrambling to justify my problem. Defending legalism is like trying to harness a hurricane or tame a tsunami. It’s impossible yet I won’t give in. I’m riding this ridiculous hobby horse that keeps trying to buck me off.

My greatest difficulty rears its ugly head when I attempt to biblically prove my stubbornness. All manner of misinterpretation and juggling of the biblical text takes over. I’m right and I’m going to prove it, so help me God. But what if God doesn’t want to enable my addiction? Even though I think He and I are co-leaders of a crusade I know in my heart that He’s often positioning Himself with my opponents and not with me. That hurts.

Every so often my most raucous rival will join the fray and a debating debacle is launched. Who’s going to come out victorious this time? Me, of course, because I’m right and I’ve got all the proof I need or so I think.

My rivals? The emancipated, once-bound converts who have traded their former legalism for liberty, of course. These crusaders fearlessly flaunt their newly discovered freedom quoting the same scriptures that I’ve employed for decades. “Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” (Galatians 5:1)

I’ll never forget a mid-week Bible study with some of these friends who had suddenly been loosed from their chafing chains. Rather than simply enjoying their newfound freedom and using it to enhance their Christian walk, they took great delight in dissing the poor saints who were still bound with the yokes of traditionalism, fundamentalism and legalism.

Suddenly all the long-standing taboos were dropped. Alcohol was no longer frowned upon and “moderation “ became the buzz word. Dancing no longer “led to sex” but was tolerated and even encouraged. Frequenting the movies was now acceptable and we weren’t sent on the crazy guilt trips that so often plagued us as kids. “What if the rapture takes place while you’re in the theatre?” “Would you want Jesus to find you there?” “The movies are so loud you might not hear the trumpet.”

Now, over 50 years later, I’m grappling with the same problems although I sense I’m in the minority now. To voice my disapproval of these vices dates me and entrenches me firmly in the old-fashioned camp. It seems that most Christians feel I need to be liberated – set free.

Is there a balance between legalism and liberty? Of course there is! My problem is in suggesting that everyone should find the same middle ground as I seek to discover. Friends who agree with my warped view become friends for life. Others continue to be suspect.

I need to be constantly reminded of the apostle Paul’s words when he wrote the Corinthian believers. The Amplified Bible renders it this way, “All things are legitimate [permissible--and we are free to do anything we please], but not all things are helpful (expedient, profitable, and wholesome). All things are legitimate, but not all things are constructive [to character] and edifying [to spiritual life].”

So I continue to struggle, seeking to keep my legalistic tendencies to myself without imposing my rules of conduct on others. When asked recently to join other Christian men for an evening of “wings and beer” the sounds of battle began to rumble within. Fortunately I was busy doing “profitable” things that evening and my legalism could again be masked and my absence excused. How long will the war continue?

“Help! My name is David and I’m still a legalist…but I’m getting better…I think…I pray.”

Hues

Hues of green and gray and white
Splashed together - what a sight!
Only God's creative act
Forms such beauty
That's a fact!

~ David W. Fisher, July 2008

Slipping Into the Shadows

Darkness surrounds me
Discouragement buffets me
Despair is waiting just 'round the next bend,
Can't seem to shake it
Don't want to fake it
Slipping into the shadows
Where fear bares its teeth.

Nothing excites me
Everything frightens me
When will this cloudy sky turn into blue?
Frustrated, angry
Wondering...why me
Groping round in the shadows
God's hiding from me.

This is the heartcry
Of many who pass by
How can I ever escape from this pain?
Father can see you
Jesus will free you
From dark, fearful shadows and
Fill you with Light.

- David W. Fisher - June 16th, 2008

Dark Night

Tossing, turning
Can’t get to sleep
Rehearsing what may happen
But never does.
Every hour
On the hour
Will morning ever come?
Suddenly night is gone
A new day has broken
I arise and
Put on my clothes
But can’t
Put off the blackness.
Friends come alongside
Some understand
Others don’t.
I write when
Nothing else helps.
I wrote an author
Who understands.
Just that simple act
That only took five minutes
Lifted the burden
Tore away the curtain
That veiled His face.
Rain began to fall
Outside my window
But the sunshine of
God’s love
Beat upon my spirit.
I had turned the corner
I would be alright.
God is still on the throne
He will care for His own
He did today
He will tomorrow.
I will rest in peace
Tonight.
Because God will be up
All night
And I gave Him
My concerns.
Good night!

~ David W. Fisher - 2007

Seasons Change...God Doesn't

Thank you Saija for this excellent graphic!

As I read these words, "He changes times and seasons" my poetic juices began to gurgle beneath the surface...

He changes times and seasons
According to His will
He always has His reasons
And they are best but still...

We question things and wonder
Why God allows the pain
The storms, the rain, the thunder
Are meant but for our gain.

The icy cold of winter
Yields to the warmth of spring
Our trials though they seem bitter
Will end and sweetness bring.

God changes times and seasons
And when the pain we've stood
We'll learn the Father's reasons
He planned them for our good!

~ David W. Fisher, May 2008

Night Sounds

Four nights a week I arrive at my job at Christian Horizons, visit with the staff briefly, check the communications book and go to bed. Sounds easy? Usually it is!

I’m there as a back-up for the Night Awake staff who prepare meals for the next day, tidy up, do laundry and make themselves available should one of the individuals we serve wake up and need assistance.

Our home is very unique. We presently have three men living there and that number will increase to five in the next month or two. All of the men are coming from institutions where they would not have received the loving care and support that Christian Horizons provides.

Often my sleep is interrupted when the night staff person is called to tend to an individual. I lay there quietly listening. Some of the men we serve aren’t verbal so it’s usually a one way conversation – a monologue.

I’ve been deeply touched and richly blessed by what I’ve overheard. As I’ve eavesdropped on these “night sounds” I’ve sensed a warm, compassionate spirit on the part of the staff. Usually what they’re called on the do in the middle of the night isn’t pleasant. Stripping wet bedding and sponge bathing or showering one of our men after an “accident” is commonplace there.

Often I’ve been rebuked in my own spirit as I’ve pondered what my reaction might be if the tables were turned. If I was “ministering” to their needs and another staff member was comfortably laying in bed? Would I resent the interruptions to my middle-of-the-night schedule? Sad to say, I likely would.

I’ve also been wondering how Jesus Himself would treat these special individuals, His creation, His people. By faith I can see the loving look in His eyes, feel the tender touch of His hands and detect the warmth in His voice. The Great Shepherd of the sheep would lavish His love and kindness on these men.

Each morning I’m awakened when the 6:00 a.m. staff person arrives. He or she assists the one who has spent the night serving. As they interact between themselves and together carry on the work God has called them to, I again sense true Christian love emanating from these caregivers.

Don’t get me wrong! I’m not trying to say that our staff are always “saints” and never get frustrated. Of course they’re not and of course they do. But, as a rule, I’ve been listening in on some pretty powerful “night sounds” that have significantly impacted me.

I’m reminded of the words of the compassionate but confronting Jesus who once said, “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.” – Matthew 25:40 (NASB)

“Thank You, Father, that I’ve been placed in a position where I can see and hear Your love demonstrated in tangible ways. May the love of Jesus be sensed by these individuals who all too often have been shoved to the sidelines. May our hands be Your hands reaching out. AMEN!”

Gray

Today was gray! Dull! Lifeless! Lacking vitality! The kind of day when you’d rather sleep than be outside…or look outside.

A suicide sky! No trace of the sun! Nothing! Just a wet, muddy, chilled-to-the-bone, damp existence!

How does anyone rise about this soupy, insipid stuff? A cold porridge kind of day. Imagine 365 days of this. I can’t.

Hope reigns supreme on these days. Hope that the sun will peak through…maybe tomorrow. Perhaps a bird will grace us with a song. Maybe a crocus will crack through the traces of snow and declare that spring actually IS here.

Life without hope must be unbearable. But we do have hope! Our tomorrows may not always be bathed in sunlight but the Son has arisen in our hearts and He can dispel the gray.

Hurray!

Fighting Off Fear

Tonight the boys were playing in the side yard. Daylight had bid farewell and dark shadows began to steal across the evening landscape.

Moments later Carol called them to come. No response! Nothing!

We jammed on our boots and trudged through deep drifts of still-lingering snow. We could stay on top of the hardened snow for a dozen steps and then, without warning, sink into the depths. Hope was sinking too.

With repeated calling out of their names we hurried, fast as we could, to the creek which traverses the corner of our lot. Fear was taking control. Carol shone the flashlight into the icy water and asked if it was deep enough for someone to drown. She hated my answer.

Still calling out, we continued our search. Each step wore us down both physically and emotionally. Carol begged me to pray. I did! Where could they be? They were just in the yard minutes ago.

Fighting off the impending terror we stumbled back to the house, begging God that two boys would await us. We made it back but they hadn’t. No coats, no boots, no boys.

Just as we reached for the phone to call 911 they appeared under the spotlight in the front corner of the yard. We were relieved beyond belief. They were reprimanded sternly.

But they were home! Safe! The terror slipped off into the shadows. We cried.

"Father, when we stray does it break Your heart? Do You celebrate when we return? Keep us close, O God. AMEN!"

Reflections on "Good" Friday

GOOD FRIDAY

How could a day so dark and gruesome
Ever be described as “good”?
When the sinless, spotless Jesus
Gave His all, His life, His blood.

But, ah, the “good” accrued to sinners
We, ourselves, deserved to die;
But the blood of His atonement
Rent the veil and brought us nigh.

Now we stand, redeemed, forgiven,
Ransomed, justified and free;
Guaranteed a place in heaven
With the King eternally.

All the “good” that we could muster
Never could our sin debt pay;
But by trusting in His merit
We have LIFE this “Good Friday”.

~ David W. Fisher, March 21st, 2008

Lunches That Make a Difference

According to my wife Carol, the best thing about summer holidays, Christmas and March break is the hiatus from preparing school lunches.

“What do I pack today? What will Matthew eat?” The kids bring half of what Carol packs back home or trade good food for junk. Much of the food that leaves our home never enters our kids’ stomachs. At least that’s what we suspect.

I know that other moms share the same frustrations. Why can’t every school have a cafeteria so someone else can plan nutritional meals…and prepare them?

Two thousand years ago a young mother prepared a snack for a young boy as he left for a day of hiking and, as it turned out, sharing his lunch. Little did mother know - as she baked those barley loaves and salted the previous day’s catch of fish - that her son would voluntarily share his meal.

When the disciple Andrew approached him on the Galilean hillside he willingly gave up his packed lunch and before the afternoon was over, Jesus had fed thousands with those five loaves and two small fi

Jesus has a knack for taking the mundane and turning it into the miraculous. Give him one meagre lunch and He’ll feed a multitude. Give Him a broken life, He’ll mend it and make it into something beautif

Give Jesus your life, your struggles, your pain, your heartaches, your unanswered questions and yes, even your lunches, and allow Him to transform them and you. That’s what He came to d

“I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” – John 10:10(b) KJV

Note: This article appeared recently in Kimberley Payne's TODAY'S FAITH column in the Millbrook Times.

The God of Elijah

The wicked king Ahab
Makes others' sins pale
He’s forsaken My ways
And now worships Baal.

Get over to Kerith
And there by the creek
I’ll send you your groceries
Each day, not each week.

Don’t question the method
I use to send bread
These scavenger ravens
Will do what I’ve said.

The drought you have forecast
Will dry up the land
There’ll be no more water
Except by My hand.

Just wait there and trust me
Be patient and true
In the fullness of time
You’ll know what to do.

A Zarephath widow
And her only son
Will offer you lodging
But wait, I’m not done.

In the midst of the drought
There’ll be flour and oil
Enough for each day
And it never will spoil.

And there you will see
My great power and might
So trust me today
Don’t give up the fight.

Now just like Elijah
The prophet of old
My people can trust me
With faith strong and bold

I’m Jehovah Jireh
Your needs I’ll provide
I’m sovereign and faithful
I’ll walk by your side.

So lay aside doubting
Your burdens I’ll bear
The Lord God Almighty
Has you in His care.

David W. Fisher
February 8th, 2008

NOTE: This poem was written this week while preparing to speak on a passage from 1 Kings 16 & 17. I've always been encouraged by the story of Elijah being fed by ravens.

A New Day

This incredible sunrise photo appeared on my friend Stephen Weber's devotional web site Daily Encouragement today. Just seeing the picture caused the following lines to well up in my spirit. I trust they will bless you. Check out Stephen's site here.












SUNRISE

The sun arose this morning
And God is on His throne
No need to fret or worry
The Father loves His own.

So bid farewell to doubting
And welcome trust anew
Rest in the truth of scripture...
The Father cares for YOU!

~ David W. Fisher
January 29th, 2008

Mighty To Save

The last hour of sleep is often my best time of the night. This morning, after a fitful sleep I awoke with a song in my heart. Quickly I typed out the lyrics on the computer before the events of the day could wipe my hard-drive (brain) clear. I was refreshed and encouraged as I sang the tune over and over in my head.

Driving home an hour later I had the lyrics for the chorus and, again, went straight to my computer to enter the data.

When I arrived home from my doctor's appointment in Toronto this afternoon I got out my trusted SONY and tried to film the Pilgrim (me) playing my song at the keyboard. That's when my technical know-how hit a brick wall so you'll have to wait for the video (at 11) or later.

Here are the lyrics, dear friends, and I trust that they will be a blessing:

MIGHTY TO SAVE

Stumbling through this pilgrim land
Holding to His nail-scarred hand
Confident that victory has been assured.
As I face each fiery trial
Challenges with every mile
But praise God it's by His grace I have endured.

Heaven's gates are now in sight
Where the risen Lamb's the Light
And my Jesus waits to welcome me I know
So 'til then I'll watch and pray
Trusting Him to lead the way
Telling others why I love my Saviour so.

Chorus:

I know He walks with me
Thrilled that He talks with me
On this long journey
From the cradle to the grave
The all-sufficient One
God's well-beloved Son
He's my Redeemer and
He's mighty to save.
He's my Redeemer and
He's mighty to save.

(repeat chorus)

~ David W. Fisher
January 28th, 2008

In Praise of Plodders

One of Warren Wiersbe's many books is entitled "In Praise of Plodders."

I'm grateful that somebody sees something worthwhile in plodding because that's what I've been doing this week. It seems like nothing has been accomplished. The week appears to be a write-off in human terms but God has, no doubt, sovereignly seen something of value and that's what counts.

Plodding...

A plodding pilgrim
Heading homeward
Looking to Jesus but...
At times distracted
Rejoicing often but...
Not always
Trusting daily but...
Doubting often
Growing weary but...
Never quitting
You've been there?
Me too!

Tribute to a Friend

Recently I conducted the Memorial Service for my dear friend Watson Atkinson. He went to be with the Lord following a massive heart attack suffered while visiting in the Philippines. Watson was buried over there but his memorial service was held here at our (and their) home church, Auburn Bible Chapel.

Please pray for Watson's wife Noemi and their daughter Jenalyn as they continue to grieve the loss of a husband and father.

I wrote the following poem/song while preparing my message for the service. Watson had a real heart for World Missions so the first stanza can be taken two different ways. He was "ready to go" if the Lord should call him "home" but always "ready to go" if He sensed the Lord's call to a foreign land.

Anyhow, here's that poem I penned:

Ready to go if my Saviour should call me
Ready to go to that land far away
Ready to bow at the feet of my Master
Ready to go and it may be today.

Now I am feasting on manna from heaven
Now I am looking on His lovely face
O what a wonder that Jesus has saved me
Only because of His marvellous grace.

I know that you are now grieving my passing
And if I could here's what I'd like to say
Don't hold too tight to the things that are fleeting
When you are gone they will all pass away.

O what a thrill just to bask in His glory
Troubles and heartaches are finally o'er
Trust Him today and receive of His goodness
Soon we shall meet on this heavenly shore.

David W. Fisher
January 8th, 2008

Note: The poem/song was written as though Watson were speaking and, knowing him as well as I did, this accurately reflects his heart.

That Night

What we celebrate:

Mary conceived
Joseph protected
Innkeeper accommodated
Straw cradled
Baby slept
Cattle lowed
Shepherds watched
Angel announced
Shepherds trembled
Angels sang
Shepherds visited
Mary pondered
Salvation birthed
Mankind delivered
Prophecy fulfilled
God smiled.

~ David W. Fisher
December 19/07

My Financial Career

The following thoughts were posted on Pilgrim Scribblings earlier today:

One of Canada's most recognized writers from a past generation was Stephen Leacock (1869-1944). Born in England, Leacock's family emigrated to Canada and settled on a farm near Sutton, Ontario. Many of his summers were spent in Orillia, Ontario, not too far from where I live.

The short piece of Leacock's work that I recall most vividly is his "My Financial Career." Check it out here. Banks and Leacock weren't good friends. Likely enemies. I can relate! My first job after graduating from my 2nd year in Grade 12 was with the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce. I persevered for two months then made a withdrawal. I removed myself from the bank and deposited myself in the family business for 7 years before buying the local Christian bookstore which I kept afloat with God's help for 15 years with frequent visits to the bank manager. How I despised those visits!

When you live on the edge, with no visible means of support, eking out a hand to mouth (God's hand to my mouth) existence, banks can be a life saver or a curse. You're always waiting for "the call" when the crusty clerk calls to say that your cheque was made of rubber. The bank statements arrive in the mail and you quickly shred them and line the bird cage with the pieces. You never read them. You hate bad news!

With modern technology we can stick a plastic card in a metal machine and get paper money for free or at least that's what my kids think. Insert the card, enter your PIN and the amount needed than pray fervently that NOT APPROVED doesn't flash on the screen. I've seen those dreaded words far too often., this morning for example, and this may have prompted me to write this post.

You only have $5.00 left in your pocket and you need gas in the car. You know your credit card is maxed, your chequing account is taxed and you have to make a choice. Rather than suffer embarassment twice you choose to pay cash and go without milk. How come the outstanding balance owing on your card is always higher than you thought and the available balance in your bank account is always lower than you guessed?

It's not that the bank employees I've dealt with in recent years have been hard to deal with. On the contrary they have been exceptional. They had to be to deal with me! All twelve managers in the last eight years have been understanding women. Not a guy in the group. I wonder why. Of course it takes a month or two to explain what "living by faith" is all about. A foreign concept. You work but you might not get paid. Such uncertainty! When the tellers see me coming they know that I either have to do some juggling or another miracle has happened. Some unknown donor has taken pity and sent along a charitable gift.

Will there be financial institutions in heaven? I'm banking on the assurance that there won't be any such thing. I pray that there won't be. No need! The Giver of every good and perfect gift will be enthroned there. We will have all we need...in Him.

'Til then I guess I have to make my treks to the TD Canada Trust after waiting for the mailman's miracle deliveries either to make a deposit or arrange a loan to carry me 'til the next miracle.

Am I stressed? YES! Do I need to be? NO!

I've been writing this while waiting for the mailman to arrive. It's two o'clock. He should arrive soon. Maybe this is the day!

Excuse me while I check the mailbox.

AND PLEASE PRAY...

THANKS!

An Atheist's Lament

Tonight I put a few lines together and called it An Atheist's Lament on Thanksgiving Day. How sad it must be to have so much and yet not believe in the God who is the giver of every good and perfect gift. Sad to say, the words of this poem could be true of many people during this Thanksgiving season.

Today I am thankful for friends and great food,
I don't have to work so I'm in a good mood;
Our family will be here and we'll watch the game
We'll be feasting on turkey, it's always the same.

And when it's all over, I've said my "goodbyes"
I'm sick to my stomach, I've got bloodshot eyes;
The bottles are empty and my mind is blank
But saddest of all...I've got no one to thank!

Note: For the believing Christian, Thanksgiving should be one of the most joyous days of the year. The Father has blessed us bountifully and we have so much to praise and thank Him for.

Sin Soup

Last night I began reading Jerry Bridges new book, Respectable Sins. I was reminded again that we tend to categorize sin and use synonyms that make the word "sin" more palatable. SIN is SIN! Don't fool yourself! Call it what it is! We can't escape its reality but we can get freedom over its clutches.

I've had an idea percolating in my mind all day and I've finally put it in writing. I'm serving it up here for all to sample.

Here's that little rhyme mixed with some thyme:

Misdemeanours, mistakes, misdeeds, indiscretions,
Mix them together and add some transgressions;
Throw in some seasoning to make them more tasty,
Boil, then let simmer, now don't get too hasty.
When you smell the aroma from the things you've put in
Just take off the lid, there's a pot filled with SIN.

~ David W. Fisher
November 17th, 2007

The Rocky Black & White

The rocky black and white

Stark against the clouds

Can leave me cold and damp

While it the brightness shrouds

But far above the jagged rocks

God is enthroned and hears the knocks

When I am overcome with fear

And long to sense Him close and near

He answers with a powerful word

And I'm at peace...

Thus saith the Lord.

~ David, September 24th, 2007

Autumn Splendor

Crispy fallen leaves blanket the forest floor
Sun beams catch the rising mist
making it suddenly visible
Cooler air filters through the wooded bush
Squirrels scurry to bury their new-found treasures
Summer is over and we can't call it back
Autumn has arrived.
If only we could freeze it before the
Real deep freeze arrives.
Fall beauty is unsurpassed
Seasons change
God doesn't
He is immutable
And I'm thankful
For that!

~ David

Pilgrim Reflections

Reflections as I close another day on life's pilgrimage:

The journey's long, the going tough
And oft' the pathway's very rough
But sovereign grace will be enough
'Til I get home.

The storms may rage, the billows roll
And fears assail my troubled soul
But I won't let them take their toll
While here I roam.

The Lord is strong and holds my hand
And while I sojourn in this land
A member of the pilgrim band
I'm nearing home.

Encouraged by my brother's prayers
That lift me o'er my daily cares
Every burden Christ now bears
'Til I get home.

When I arrive on heaven's shore
The cares of life concern no more
I'll praise my God and Master...for
I'm finally home.

~ David W. Fisher, September 14th, 2007