Through the years, I have known many professional ministers who experienced sudden, involuntary occupational changes. On one occasion, instead of preaching and doing pastoral work, my friend found himself heralding the merits of a particular luxury motor-car company. Remembering a similar transition long ago in my own life and wishing to encourage my friend, I wrote him the following light-hearted note to which he responded favorably. Knowing that numerous other gracEmail subscribers are similarly situated, I decided to share my note more broadly. __________________ "What are some … [Read more...]
NURSERY THEOLOGY
For those privileged to be born in Christian homes, good theology begins in the nursery, where it is communicated--one suspects--most often in song. What better introduction to truth as a whole and in all its aspects than this: Jesus loves me. This I know, For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong; They are weak but He is strong. There we have it--“Truth” for all, Jews and Greeks. For the Jews it is faithful Relationship, love in all its orbs, reason to say “Amen,” For the Greeks it is sober Reality swaddled in propositions, freely knowable and told in the Bible. Then the … [Read more...]
TELLING THE BIG STORY
Christian theologians from all over are calling for a "big picture" story that takes the spotlight off us and shines it directly on God's enomous plan to redeem the whole world! In my book, THE DIVINE RESCUE, I tell what Max Lucado calls "'the sweetest of stories' -- God's relentless pursuit of his fallen people." With this book, says Max, "the drama is captured on paper." John Michael Talbot, the beloved Franciscan singer, calls THE DIVINE RESCUE "scholarly, heart-warming, and approachable for the average Christian." Meanwhile, author-poet Calvin Miller, whose books include THE SINGER and … [Read more...]
POWERS SEEN AND UNSEEN
As anyone could see, the power all belonged to Nicolae Ceausescu, ruthless dictator of communist Romania. The powerless man was Christian pastor and humanitarian activist Petru Dugulescu. His weapons were words--about truth and dignity and freedom. Words written in poems and essays. Words spoken in sermons and conversations. And, so you see, Petru Dugulescu endured years of persecution, including multiple assassination attempts, always under the hostile eye of Securitate, the Romanian secret police. Even in a world of secrets and shadows, these things were plain to see. But Petru Dugulescu … [Read more...]
NOVEMBER 22, 1963
If you are an American and are 63 or older, you probably remember exactly where you were and what you were doing on November 22, 1963 when you learned that President John F. Kennedy had been fatally shot. Today's generation might think of the radical jihadist attack on New York and Washington D.C., since remembered as "9/11." November 1963 found me on leave from college and at work in my parents' family bookstore, earning money to return to school a year later. I went to lunch alone that Friday, a sheltered nineteen-year-old in an innocent world. What happened in Dallas during that lunch … [Read more...]
TRIP TO PERU
TRIP TO PERU Edward Fudge Imagine three Californias and you visualize the size of Peru, where people already lived busy lives when Abraham left Ur of the Chaldees. The Incas were its best-known inhabitants, ruling and thriving from approximately 1,200 A.D. until the Spaniards slaughtered Tupac Amaru, the last Inca ruler, in 1572. This is the land of Machu Picchu ("ancient peak"), the lost city of the Incas, and Lake Titicaca, the world's highest navigable lake at 12,725 feet. Peru, like Roman Gaul, is divided into three parts. Along the Pacific lies the desert coast, where one also finds … [Read more...]
REFLECTIONS FROM THE COCKPIT
REFLECTIONS FROM THE COCKPIT Edward Fudge I pull the seatbelt snugly in place and adjust the earphones. Spread before me are 30 gauges and dials, 50 toggle switches and a dozen other electrical controls. I am sitting in the co-pilot's seat of a nine-passenger Mitsubishi twin-engine turbo-prop on a business trip. My only job is to keep my arms and legs out of the way while Earl, the pilot, takes care of the flying. I am impressed with his skills -- and am reminded of several spiritual truths as well. Looks can be deceiving, I quickly learn, as Earl avoids a tall and picturesque column … [Read more...]
EARLY MORNING SPRING
EARLY MORNING SPRING Edward Fudge Now that Springtime 1997 has come to Houston, I am trying a new exercise regimen. Rather than walking in the evening, I like to face the outdoors head-on at about 6:00 a.m. My neighborhood trek takes about an hour and covers three miles. The first mile is thoroughly residential. The next passes a couple of schools separated by soccer fields and baseball diamonds, then fades into open road surrounded by the Gulf Coast version of woods. The final mile completes an approximate circle through a different residential area and back home. At 6:00 a.m., God's … [Read more...]
ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH
ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH Edward Fudge Cedar logs crackle in the stone fireplace as their unmistakable scent wafts throughout the cabin. Firelight shadows dance on the ceiling and walls. Human voices speak softly concerning loved ones and matters of mutual concern. Somewhere outside, a pack of coyotes howl at the moon. We step onto the front deck and gaze upward. Millions of stars bespeckle the heavens, bearing silent witness to the Creator's power and presence. From the distance comes the wind's soft whisper, increasing in volume as it crosses the mountain forests of majestic Douglas firs and … [Read more...]
WHAT GOD TOLD ME, BESIDE A LAKE IN MAINE
WHAT GOD TOLD ME, BESIDE A LAKE IN MAINE Edward Fudge Around me, red, orange and yellow leaves flutter silently to the ground, contributing their variegated tones to the multicolored October carpet. The blue sky and white clouds appear twice this morning, first in the sky and then in the mirror stillness of the lake. I hear a splash. A fish breaks the water's surface to snatch some breakfast morsel. A wild goose circles in majestic observation overhead. From the small island in the center of the lake comes the unmistakable cry of a loon. Behind me up the hill a thin column of smoke … [Read more...]