Johnny was going home one day past his grandfather's house with a couple of his chums.  As they passed the house they spied the old gentleman out on his sun porch in his rocking chair with a big black book (the bible) on his lap reading rather intently.

"What's your grandfather doing", asked one of Johnny's friends.

"Oh, grandpa - he's cramming for the finals", Johnny replied.

Our Lord and Savior is patient with us my friends. He cultivates us and tends to us, even when we ignore him, even when we fail to trust him, even when we produce nothing for him.

But not forever can we put off the day when we are called home for the finals - home to account for what we have done and what we have not done.

There was a king who held court every day. He would sit on his throne wearing his robe and crown as the people of his country would come to him stating their needs and requests. Each day, in addition to all the people who would come to the throne, there was also a holy man dressed in a beggar's robe who would come to the king. The holy man would hand the king a piece of fruit which the king would receive and then hand over to one of his assistants. Then the holy man would leave without ever saying a word to the king. This went on for many months and even years. Then one day something happened that no one expected. No one knew that a monkey had gotten loose in the palace. When the holy man presented his gift of fruit to the king, the monkey jumped up on the stage and grabbed the fruit out of the hand of the king. Then the monkey took a bite out of the fruit and all were amazed at what they saw, because precious jewels fell out of the fruit. The king quickly turned and asked his assistant what he had been doing with the fruit. The assistant said that they had been throwing the fruit through the window of a locked room. When they opened the door of that room they found among the rotten and decaying fruit a fortune in jewels.

We fail to take the grace of God seriously. Perhaps because it is a free gift that comes to us in the form of a cross. It does not seem very valuable. Let us pray that God will give us a new understanding of his grace and mercy in Jesus Christ.

Adapted from William A. Miller, Make Friends with Your Shadow (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House), p. 128. Used by permission. 

Pride is the first of the seven deadly sins. One falls into pride when one lacks trust in God and his mercy and becomes arrogant, hypocritical, and self-centered. Reinhold Neibuhr, who has been referred to as the twentieth-century theologian of sin, summed up humanity's basic sin -- our unwillingness to acknowledge our creatureliness, our self-elevation, in one word: PRIDE.

Neibuhr described the four types of pride:

1. The pride of power wants power to gain security for self or to maintain a power position considered to be secure.
2. Intellectual pride rises from human knowledge that pretends to be ultimate knowledge. It presumes to be final truth.
3. Moral pride claims that its standards for virtue test and measure all righteousness. Neibuhr observed that most evil is done by "good" people who do not know that they are not good.
4. Spiritual pride is self-glorification. It claims that "self's righteousness" conforms to God's righteousness.

Abraham and Lot decided to part ways, with Lot to have choice of the direction he would go. A Sunday school teacher, reading this story from the Bible, came to the place where it says, "... and Lot lifted up his eyes ..." At this point, a small boy quickly interrupted: "He didn't lift them up high enough. Did he?"

The boy was right about that. Lot lifted up his eyes high enough to see the well-watered plain which promised easy living, but not high enough to see God's better way for his life. So, as it is written, "he pitched his tent toward Sodom." This decision was his undoing and his ruin: the Sodomites got to him.

You and I are called to lift up our eyes - also. And we should be sure that we lift them higher than some rich and fertile plain, that we lift them up all the way - all the way to God and to his better will for our lives. The Old Testament psalmist had the right idea when he wrote: "Unto thee do I lift up my eyes, O thou who dwells in the heavens."

If there is ever a time, among all times, when we should really lift up our eyes all the way, it is the time of Christian worship. To this time we now come. In faith and loving trust, let us lift up our eyes all the way to our Lord.

I do not come because my soul
is free from sin and pure and whole
and worthy of Thy grace;
I do not speak to Thee because
I've ever justly kept Thy laws
and dare to meet Thy face.

I know that sin and guilt combine
to reign o'er every thought of mine
and turn from good to ill;
I know that when I try to be
upright and just and true to Thee,
I am a sinner still.

I know that often when I strive
to keep a spark of love alive
for Thee, the powers within
Leap up in unsubmissive might
and oft benumb my sense of right
and pull me back to sin.

I know that though in doing good
I spend my life, I never could
atone for all I've done;
But though my sins are black as night,
I dare to come before Thy sight
because I trust Thy Son.

In Him alone my trust I place,
come boldly to Thy throne of grace,
and there commune with Thee.
Salvation sure, O Lord, is mine,
and, all unworthy, I am Thine,
for Jesus died for me.

My introduction to California was complete when I spent almost an entire weekend on the freeways.  I know now what T. S. Eliot was talking about in one of his choruses from The Rock:

And now you live dispersed on ribbon roads,
And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor
Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance,
But all dash to and fro in motor cars,
Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.

Bumper to bumper, headlights glaring, nerves frayed, energy wasted, tempers flaring -- there we were, all weekend -- “dispersed on ribbon roads.”

It came to me that perhaps this is the best symbol for modern persons: ribbon roads. We spend most of our time in our cars.  We know the roads, but we aren’t settled anywhere.

Even those who have lived for years in one place may experience the same rootlessness -- constantly on the move, but not certain of direction.

The ancient psalmist provides good news:  “Commit your way to the Lord, trust in Him, and He will direct your path.”

George Matheson was a great preacher and hymn writer who lost his sight at an early age. He thought of that infirmity as his thorn in the flesh, as his personal cross. For several years, he prayed that his blindness would be removed. Like most of us, I suppose, he believed that personal happiness would come to him only after the handicap was gone. But then, one day God sent him a new insight: The creative use of his handicap could actually become his personal means of achieving happiness!

So, Matheson went on to write: "My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn. I have thanked Thee for my roses, but not once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross, but I have never thought of the cross itself as a present glory. Teach me the glory of my cross. Teach me the value of my thorn. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow."

Congratulations, George Matheson! Congratulations on finding God's kind of happiness -- the kind of happiness that is not only a future hope, but also a very present reality. So may it be for us all.

The point I want to make here is this: God's kind of happiness, as defined in the Beatitudes of our Lord, represents a radical reversal of almost everything we have ever been taught about the meaning of happiness! Look at the Beatitudes again and contrast them with what we have been taught. "Happy are those who know they are spiritually poor." We have always been taught to define happiness in terms of wealth. "Happy are those who mourn." We have been taught that happiness means never experiencing anything that causes us grief. "Happy are those who are humble." We have been taught that happiness is defined in terms of aggression and the competitive spirit. "Happy are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires." We have been taught that happiness lies in the desire to conform to the values of our own society.

"Happy are those who are merciful to others." We have been taught that the quality of mercy is a sign of weakness. "Happy are the pure in heart." Tell that one to the guys and gals at work! "Happy are those who work for peace." We have been taught that happiness is defined in terms of preparedness for war. "Happy are those who are persecuted because they do what God requires." We have tended to call such people fools or fanatics! "Happy are you when people insult you...and tell all kinds of evil lies against you because you are my followers." We tend to say, "Don't get mad, get even!" We say it again: God's kind of happiness reverses almost everything we have been taught about happiness. But if one of us has to be wrong -- either us or God -- you can be sure that it isn't God.

I once read something called "Deal's First Law of Sailing." It goes something like this: "The amount of wind will vary inversely with the number and experience of the people you have on board the sailboat." And the second law is like unto it: "No matter how strong the breeze when you leave the dock, once you have reached the farthest point from the port from which you started, the wind will die."

Those who have the hobby of sailing can attest to the validity of these "laws." In fact, the art of sailing is a good analogy for the receiving of God's grace. While sitting in a sailboat, have you ever tried to make the wind blow? It cannot be done. Neither can you, by your own efforts, cause God's grace to come upon you. While sailing, you are entirely at the mercy of the wind (along with your skill at capturing it). You may capture the wind in your sails for a time, but it can disappear suddenly, leaving you stranded in the middle of the lake, and, if you do not have a motor, too embarrassed to ask for a tow. Sailing is a humbling experience. You may use the wind to take you where you want to go for a time, but it can shift directions without warning. Sailing makes you aware of your dependency.

That's Jesus' message in John, Chapter Three. You cannot capture the grace of God, you can only receive it. God's Spirit moves where He wills, and the birth from above is just that: from above. It is the work of God's Spirit within us, not something we do for ourselves.

Life magazine set out to record what various kids thought about God. They handed out cameras to 56 kids between the ages of 8 and 13, and they asked each kid to go out and take pictures that reflect who God is. Anything that made them think of God was fair game for a photo. One nine-year-old took a picture of his social worker's office. She was nice to him, and that made him think of God. Other children took pictures of people they love, or things that make them happy. But some of the children's pictures reflected the kids' disillusionment with a God who didn't seem to hear their prayers or feel their pain. One nine-year-old, identified as Chris G., used up all his film taking pictures of the sky. When an interviewer asked him why he chose this as his subject, Chris answered that the sky is where Heaven is, and his little sister, Tina, was in Heaven. As he explained, "There was a fire. My mom got out, but she (Tina) didn't. She died at a bad age." The interviewer asked, "If God is as powerful as you say, Chris, how could God let that happen?" "He was probably working," the child replied. "Maybe God didn't know there was a fire?" the interviewer suggested. But Chris replied, "God knows everything. He knew, but He was working."

To tell you the truth, I wouldn't know how to answer Chris' concerns. Anymore than I would be able to answer the parents of those infants slain by the tyrant Herod. All I know is this, and I will stake my very life upon it: It is not God's will that any child should die. Now we see through a glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face. There is much we do not understand, but God is the God who revealed Himself in the manger of Bethlehem. God is a God of love, mercy, hope and peace. God does not coerce by force, but leads by the example of love, the love showed by Jesus Christ upon the cross of Calvary. If you want a leader for your life if you want a Lord for your life, I can recommend no other.

Washington, D.C. March 30, 1863

Senator James Harlan of Iowa, whose daughter later married President Lincoln's son Robert, introduced this Resolution in the Senate on March 2, 1863. The Resolution asked President Lincoln to proclaim a national day of prayer and fasting. The Resolution was adopted on March 3, and signed by Lincoln on March 30, one month before the fast day was observed.

By the President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

Whereas, the Senate of the United States, devoutly recognizing the Supreme Authority and just Government of Almighty God, in all the affairs of men and of nations, has, by a resolution, requested the President to designate and set apart a day for National prayer and humiliation.

And whereas it is the duty of nations as well as of men, to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions, in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord.

And, insomuch as we know that, by His divine law, nations like individuals are subjected to punishments and chastisements in this world, may we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war, which now desolates the land, may be but a punishment, inflicted upon us, for our presumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole People? We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved, these many years, in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power, as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!

It behooves us then, to humble ourselves before the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness.

Now, therefore, in compliance with the request, and fully concurring in the views of the Senate, I do, by this my proclamation, designate and set apart Thursday, the 30th. day of April, 1863, as a day of national humiliation, fasting and prayer. And I do hereby request all the People to abstain, on that day, from their ordinary secular pursuits, and to unite, at their several places of public worship and their respective homes, in keeping the day holy to the Lord, and devoted to the humble discharge of the religious duties proper to that solemn occasion.

All this being done, in sincerity and truth, let us then rest humbly in the hope authorized by the Divine teachings, that the united cry of the Nation will be heard on high, and answered with blessings, no less than the pardon of our national sins, and the restoration of our now divided and suffering Country, to its former happy condition of unity and peace.

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this thirtieth day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the eighty seventh.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln
William H. Seward, Secretary of State.

The following quotation is from a Christian man who has been an invalid all his life, one of those lonely and obscure people who live in constant pain, who do not know what it means to be able to use their physical body in any way without pain and suffering:

“Loneliness is not a thing of itself, not an evil sent to rob us of the joys of life. Loneliness, loss, pain, sorrow, these are disciplines, God’s gifts to drive us to his very heart, to increase our capacity for him, to sharpen our sensitivities and understanding, to temper our spiritual lives so that they may become channels of his mercy to others and so bear fruit for his kingdom. But these disciplines must be seized upon and used, not thwarted. They must not be seen as excuses for living in the shadow of half-lives, but as messengers, however painful, to bring our souls into vital contact with the living God, that our lives may be filled to overflowing with himself in ways that may, perhaps, be impossible to those who know less of life’s darkness.”

A young employee secretly misappropriated several hundred dollars of his business firm's money. When this action was discovered the young man was told to report to the office of the senior partner of the firm. As he walked up the stairs toward the administrative office the young employee was heavy-hearted. He knew without a doubt he would lose his position with the firm. He also feared the possibility of legal action taken against him. Seemingly his whole world had collapsed.

Upon his arrival in the office of the senior executive the young man was questioned about the whole affair. He was asked if the allegations were true and he answered in the affirmative. Then the executive surprisingly asked this question: "If I keep you in your present capacity, can I trust you in the future?" The young worker brightened up and said, "Yes, sir, you surely can. I've learned my lesson."

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, 'Who are these, clothed in white robes, and whence have they come?' I said to him, 'Sir, you know.' And he said to me, 'These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.' " (vv. 13-14)

Violet Asquith was once sitting next to Winston Churchill at a dinner party. She said that he sat there for a long time and said very little. She reported that he seemed to be in deep thought. Then he became aware of his environment and began to recognize that she was there. At that point, he turned and asked her how old she was. She told him that she was nineteen years of age. He told her that he was 32 years old. Then he said, "Curse ruthless time! Curse our mortality. How cruelly short is the allotted span for all we must cram into it!" He then went on to speak at length about the shortness of life and ended by saying, "We are all worms. But I do believe that I am a glowworm."

Because of Jesus Christ, all who trust in him as Savior and Lord can make the same claim.

A young soldier, while dying very happily, broke out in singing the following stanza:

"Great Jehovah, we adore thee,
God the Father, God the Son, God the Spirit,
joined in glory on the same eternal throne:
Endless praised to Jehovah, three in one."

The chaplain then asked if he had any message to send his friends. "Yes," said he. "Tell my father that I have tried to eat my meals with thanksgiving."

"Tell him that Christ is now all my hope, all my trust, and that he is precious to my soul."

"Tell him that I am not afraid to die all is calm"

"Tell him that I believe Christ will take me to himself, and to my dear sister who is in heaven."

The voice of the dying boy faltered in the intervals between these precious sentences. When the hymn commencing, "Nearer, my God to thee," was read to him, at the end of each stanza he exclaimed, with striking energy, "Oh Lord Jesus, thou are coming nearer to me."

Also at the end of each stanza of the hymn (which was also read to him) commencing, "Just as I am without one plea, But that thy blood was shed for me, And that thou bid'st me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come," he exclaimed, "I Come! O Lamb of God, I Come!" Speaking again of his friends, he said, "Tell my father that I died happy." His last words were, "Father, I'm coming to thee!" Then the Christian soldier sweetly and calmly "fell asleep in Jesus."

(Anonymous Confederate soldier 1861-65/died in battle in the War Between the States)

In a home of which I know, a little boy, the only son, was ill with an incurable disease. Month after month the mother had tenderly nursed him, read to him, and played with him, hoping to keep him from the dreadful finality of the doctor's diagnosis—the little boy was sure to die. But as the weeks went on, he gradually began to understand that he would never be like the other boys he saw playing outside his window. Small as he was, he began to understand the meaning of the term death, and he too knew he was to die.

One day his mother had been reading to him the stirring tale of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, of Lancelot and Elaine the lily maid of Astelot, and about that last glorious battle where so many fair knights met their death.

She closed the book as her little son sat silent for an instant, deeply stirred. Then he asked the question weighing on his childish heart, "Mama, what is it like to die? Mama, does it hurt?" Quick tears sprang to her eyes and she fled to the kitchen, supposedly to tend to something on the stove. She knew it was a question with deep significance. She knew it must be answered satisfactorily. So, she leaned for an instant against the smooth surface and breathed a hurried prayer that the Lord would keep her from breaking down before the boy and that she would be able to tell him the answer; the Lord did tell her. Immediately she knew how to explain it to him.

"Kenneth," she said to her son, "do you remember when you were a tiny boy how you used to play so hard all day that when night came you were too tired even to undress and you'd tumble into your mother's bed and fall asleep. That was not your bed, it was not where you belonged. You would only stay there a little while. Much to your surprise you would wake up and find yourself in your own bed in your own room. You were there because someone had loved you and taken care of you. Your father had come with big strong arms and carried you away.

Years ago this country witnessed the execution of Timothy McVeigh, the man responsible for the worst act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history. A USA Today poll taken in April showed that 81 percent of Americans wanted McVeigh to be executed -- and 28 percent of that support was from people who are normally against the death penalty. No matter where you stand on the issue of capital punishment, this particular execution has forced itself on our consciousness. One thing that particularly caught my attention was that in lieu of any verbal comment, McVeigh gave a handwritten statement to the warden, quoting a section of the poem "Invictus," which is Latin for "unconquered." That poem, by 19th-century British poet William Ernest Henley (1849-1903), reads in part "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." In case you haven't heard the poem, it goes like this:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

From what we've learned of McVeigh's attitudes and opinions, those lines probably come as close as any to a philosophy of life for him. Even to the point of ending the appeals process, McVeigh sought to be the master of his fate. But of course he's not. And in a letter written just a day before his death, he demonstrated how little he understood that. He wrote that if it turned out that there was an afterlife, he would "improvise, adapt and overcome." As if he or any of us will have the ability to affect our environment after arrival in the world to come! Once we are at the judgment seat of God, none of us is any longer master of our fate.

It's worth noting that when the poet Henley wrote those words, he was not thinking of setting his own standard of morality, as McVeigh appears to have done. Far from claiming the right to be judge, jury and executioner of others, Henley was vocalizing his attitude toward the hurts and setbacks of life. At the age of 12, he developed tubercular arthritis, and his left foot was amputated in his teens. He had other health problems later on, and actually wrote "Invictus" while once again in the hospital, too ill to work. He was, as his poem says, "bloody, but unbowed." For Henley, "Invictus" was an expression of courage in the face of life's difficulties, not a license to kill.

McVeigh sounds an awful lot like the attitude of the legion of demons. The demons knew, once they saw Jesus’ boat land near their home town, that their days were numbered. So, they start bartering with Jesus. What are you doing here? What do you want with us? Please, don’t torture us. (There’s a hypocritical request if I ever heard one. They had been torturing this poor man for years and now they are begging for mercy.) Finally, knowing that they would have to leave their host they asked to be sent into a heard of nearby pigs. When this happens the pigs become disoriented and throw themselves along with the demons over the cliff and into the sea where they drown. McVeigh perhaps felt he could master his own fate even the fate that befalls us in the afterlife. Perhaps he will find what he is looking for but the demons did not; they bartered, got what they wanted, and lost!

The full sermon can be found on Sermons.com by doing a Scripture search for Luke 12, the sermon titled, "God, The Enemy."

When a young 4th century Roman soldier and seeker of the Christian faith by the name of Martin of Tours met an unclothed man begging for alms in the freezing cold, he stopped and cut his coat in two and gave half to the stranger.  That night he dreamt he saw the heavenly court with Jesus robed in a torn cloak.  One of the angels present asked, "Master, why do you wear that battered cloak?"  Jesus replied, "My servant Martin gave it to me."

Martin's disciple and biographer Sulpicius Severus states that as a consequence of this vision Martin "flew to be baptized".  God is gracious and merciful; his love compels us to treat others with mercy and kindness. When we do something for one of Christ's little ones, we do it for Christ.  Do you treat your neighbor with mercy and love as Christ has treated you?

In Scripture we see several purposes for fasting. It's part of the discipline of self-control; it's a way of sharing that we depend on God alone and draw all our strength and resources from him; it's a way of focusing totally on him when seeking his guidance and help, and of showing that you really are in earnest in your quest; it's also, at times, an expression of sorrow and deep repentance, something that a person or community will do in order to acknowledge failure before God and seek his mercy.

We tend to think of fasting as going without food. But we can fast from anything. If we love music and decide to miss a concert in order to spend time with God, that is fasting. It is helpful to think of the parallel of human friendship. When friends need to be together, they will cancel all other activities in order to make that possible. There's nothing magical about fasting. It's just one way of telling God that your priority at that moment is to be alone with him, sorting out whatever is necessary, and you have cancelled the meal, party, concert, or whatever else you had planned to do in order to fulfill that priority.

God’s “glory” is how we describe the sum effect of all of his attributes: Grace, truth, goodness, mercy, justice, knowledge, power, eternality—all that he is. Therefore, the glory of God is intrinsic, that is, it is as essential to God as light is to the sun, as blue is to the sky, as wet is to water. You don’t make the sun light; it is light. You don’t make water wet; it is wet. In all of these cases, the attribute is intrinsic to the object.

In contrast, man’s glory is granted to him. If you take a king and take off all his robes and crowns and give him only a rag to wear and leave him on the streets for a few weeks, when put next to a beggar you’ll never know which is which. Because there is no intrinsic glory. The only glory a king has is when you give him a crown and a robe and sit him on his throne. He has no intrinsic glory.

That’s the point. The only glory that men have is granted to them. The glory that is God’s is his in his essence. You can’t de-glory God because glory is his nature. You can’t touch his glory. It cannot be taken away. It cannot be added to. It’s his being.

It is the nature of God that he makes something out of nothing. Consequently, if someone is not nothing, God can make nothing out of him. Men make something into something else. But this is vain and useless work. Thus God accepts no one except the abandoned, makes no one healthy except the sick, gives no one sight except the blind, brings no one to life except the dead, makes no one pious except sinners, makes no one wise except the foolish, and in short, has mercy upon no one except the wretched, and gives no one grace except those who have not grace. Consequently, no proud person can become holy, wise or righteous, become the material with which God works, or have God's work in him, but he remains in his own works and makes a fabricated, false and simulated saint out of himself, that is a hypocrite.

Jesus often taught by telling parables. These were simple, down-to-earth stories which expressed spiritual truth. Today, on this third weekend of Advent, I want to use a favorite Christmas story as a modern parable. This is a true story, told to me some ten years ago by Dr. Edward Bauman of Washington, D.C.

About 30 years ago a boy named Tony was born into a family in a Midwestern state. He was blind at birth. He suffered from an extremely rare eye problem for which there was no known cure. When the little fellow was about seven years old, his doctor read in the New England Journal of Medicine of a new surgical procedure that showed some promise for correcting this particular problem. A young surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston had developed it. The local doctor and the surgeon began communicating. The boy's full medical record was sent. A decision was made to try surgery. Since Tony's family could not afford the expenses involved, local churches and civic clubs helped out.

Tony had a favorite teddy bear which he kept with him almost all the time. This teddy bear had begun to show signs of wear. One eye was missing; one ear was chewed off; and through several holes the stuffing was oozing out. Tony's mother told him that she was going to buy him a new teddy bear to take to Boston. Tony rejected that offer in no uncertain terms. What good is a new teddy bear when you have an old, familiar, friendly one already broken in? So, the old teddy bear went to Boston and remained close to Tony through all the medical procedures leading up to surgery: the x-rays, tests, and consultations. In fact, the boy and his teddy bear were not separated until the anesthesia was applied.

Throughout this whole period the boy and the young surgeon were becoming great friends. In fact, the surgeon was almost as excited as the family about the possibilities of this surgery. Somehow there was a good chemistry of friendship and trust between physician and Tony. When the surgery was completed, Tony was heavily bandaged and had to remain quite still for a number of days. That is very hard for a 7 year old. But each day the surgeon was in an out of the room encouraging him.

Finally came the day for removing the bandages. For the first time in seven years of life, a little boy could see. Though the vision was blurred at first, it gradually clarified. For the first time Tony looked into the faces of his parents, saw a tree, and a sunset. The young surgeon was almost literally jumping up and down for joy.

Before long it was time for Tony to be discharged and to go home. The surgeon had been dreading this day because the two of them had become such good friends. On that final morning, the surgeon signed the necessary discharge papers. He gave Tony a big hug and said, "'Listen, I own stock in you. I expect to get letters from you regularly. Do you understand?"

Then Tony did something totally unexpected. He said to his surgeon friend, "I want you to have this," and handed him his teddy bear. The surgeon’s first impulse was to say, "Oh no, I can’t separate you two good friends." But something stopped him. With a flash of sensitive genius, the surgeon understood what Tony was trying to do. He wanted to give his dear surgeon-friend the most precious gift at his disposal, so full was his heart with love. The wise surgeon accepted the teddy bear with a hug and a thank-you, assuring Tony that he would take mighty good care of his friend.

For over ten years that teddy bear sat in a glass case on the tenth floor of Massachusetts General Hospital---one eye missing, one ear chewed half off, and stuffing oozing out of holes. In front of the teddy bear was the surgeon's professional name card. Just beneath his name he had written this caption: "This is the highest fee I have ever received for professional services rendered." A little boy had given the most precious item he had, out of a love-filled heart.

This is a parable of Christmas. 2000 years ago our gracious God, with a heart filled with love, looked out upon a sin-marred, tear-stained world. Had you and I been in charge we might have destroyed the whole mess and started over. But God's great heart was too full of love to allow that. So he gave us the most precious gift at his disposal; he gave himself. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life."

Confronted by such an awesome gift, our only fitting response is to fall on our knees and to enthrone the living Christ as our personal King of kings and Lord of lords.

The Lord's Prayer is an expression of faith. It assumes that human beings are not self-sufficient but dependent on God. It is not a sign of weakness to pray but a sign of our humanity. Prayer acknowledges our need for God. Prayer is surrender. In his book, The Reaffirmation of Prayer, E. Glenn Hinson says that "the key to human existence lies in surrender to God, putting one's self and one's affairs utterly and with complete child-like trust in God's hands."

Grace is God drawing sinners closer and closer to him. How does God in grace prosecute this purpose? Not by shielding us from assault by the work, the flesh, and the devil, nor by protecting us from burdensome and frustrating circumstance, not yet by shielding us from troubles created by our own temperament and psychology, but rather by exposing us to all these things, so as to overwhelm us with a sense of our own inadequacy, and to drive us to cling to him more closely.

This is the ultimate reason, from our standpoint, why God fills our lives with troubles and perplexities of one sort and another it is to ensure that we shall learn to hold him fast. The reason why the Bible spends so much of its time reiterating that God is a strong rock, a firm defense, and a sure refuge and help for the weak is that God spends so much of his time showing us that we are weak, both mentally and morally, and dare not trust ourselves to find or follow the right road. When we walk along a clear road feeling fine, and someone takes our arm to help us, likely we would impatiently shake him off; but when we are caught in rough country in the dark, with a storm brewing and our strength spent, and someone takes our arm to help us, we would thankfully lean on him. And God wants us to feel that our way through life is rough and perplexing, so that we may learn to lean on him thankfully. Therefore he takes steps to drive us out of self-confidence to trust in himself, to in the classic scriptural phrase for the secret of the godly man's life "wait on the Lord."

Martin Luther was once asked what he would do if he knew that the world was coming to an end tomorrow, and he said: "I would plant an apple tree." In other words, Luther, trusting in God's gracious, unmerited mercy would live life just as he had been living it. When John Wesley was asked the same thing, being an obsessive-compulsive type, he said that he would arise at 4:00 AM, preach at 5:00 visit the sick at 7:00, go to communion at 8:00...etc., until the questioner realized that that was exactly what Wesley had planned to do tomorrow anyway! Because we believe that God is like Christ, we can dare to live in faith and hope and love now; trusting God for whatever the future holds, because we believe that God holds the future, and that God's Name and God's Nature are love.

The present decade may well be termed the Age of Anxiety. Anxiety is nothing new. In the Sermon on the Mount we read (Matthew 6:25, 33-34): "Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? ... But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day."

We need not rehearse all the problems with the economy, crime, terrorists, and assassination attempts. The evening news plays the same familiar tune night in and night out. Sometimes we feel that these days we have to take the bad with the worst. Much of the time we feel apprehensive about the future. Feeling uneasy, we sometimes wonder what impending ill will befall us next.

In the light of many troubles, the Sermon on the Mount seems to be a tough saying from Jesus. It states that if our minds were set on God, we would not lack the needful things of this earth. When we are anxious over daily concerns, it often has a paralyzing effect on our religious life. Worrying about items of food and clothing directs our life inward toward ourselves rather than outward toward the Lord.

In his sermon the Lord does not speak out against working, or planning, or saving for the future. But our obsession with having the so-called better things in life and the increased amount of time it now takes to be able to afford them, has, too often, supplanted the art of living. Further, and inexcusable in God’s eyes, work has threatened the worship life of many Christians. Many people are working on Sundays. Others work so long and so hard during the week that they say they do not have time for God on Sundays. Jesus has no understanding of this and says in reply, "Do not be anxious about tomorrow. Seek ye first the kingdom of God, then all else will be added unto you."

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "If a man owns land, the land owns him." In some ways he is right. As we begin to own things in life and acquire better things, there are times that it seems that these things own us rather than the other way around. Our increased bills dictate to us that we must work overtime, work on Sunday, or that both husband and wife need to go to work. Maybe if we decided to own less, we could live more.

Jesus concludes his teaching on anxiety by stating that we are not to be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let today’s troubles be sufficient for the day. In Deuteronomy 33:25 God says, "as thy days, so shall thy strength or we don’t trust in the Lord for strength to meet tomorrow or we don’t." Otherwise, we will constantly ruin the present by worrying about the future.

In Isaiah 41:13 God says, "For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I will help you.’ Worry is an insult to God. Anxiety demonstrates lack of faith. When we feel anxious, we best kneel before the Lord, confess our sins, and surrender our anxieties to him."

The one time seminary professor of Christian ethics at Duke University, Stanley Hauerwas had a novel idea about how churches should receive new members. He has written about the church's need for honesty and has called us to tell the truth as a "community of character."

To this end, he has a modest proposal. Whenever people join the church, Hauerwas thinks they should stand and answer four questions:

1. Who is your Lord and Savior? The response: "Jesus Christ."
2. Do you trust in him and seek to be his disciple? "I do."
3. Will you be a faithful member of this congregation? The answer: "I will."
4. Finally, one last question: What is your annual income?

You heard me correctly. When people join the church, Dr. Hauerwas thinks they ought to name their Lord and Savior and tell fellow church members how much money they make. It is obvious why Hauerwas was a professor and a pastor. His idea just wouldn't work, especially in the American church. Most church members believe salary figures are more sacred than prayer, and would quickly tell an inquisitive minister to snoop around somewhere else. What's more, parish experience tempers the questions a minister asks of church members. Most pastors quickly learn how to dance around the issue of money without ever naming it.

Leadership is influence, the ability of one person to influence others. One man can lead others only to the extent that he can influence them. This fact is supported by definitions of leadership by men who have themselves wielded great influence.

Dr. John R. Mott, a world leader in student circles, gave as his definition: "A leader is a man who knows the road, who can keep ahead, and who can pull others after him."

President Truman's definition is: "A leader is a person who has the ability to get others to do what they don't want to do, and like it."

Lord Montgomery defines it in these terms: "Leadership is the capacity and will to rally men and women to a common purpose, and the character which inspires confidence." I like that: The capacity to rally and the character to inspire. Montgomery enunciated seven ingredients necessary in a leader in war, each of which is appropriate to the spiritual warfare:

1. He should be able to sit back and avoid getting immersed in detail.
2. He must not be petty.
3. He must not be pompous.
4. He must be a good picker of men.
5. He should trust those under him, and let them get on with their job without interference.
6. He must have the power of clear decision.
7. He should inspire confidence.

Dr. John R. Mott was the head of the YMCA saw these ingredients as important in leaders:

1. Does he do little things well?
2. Has he learned the meaning of priorities?
3. How does he use his leisure?
4. Has he intensity?
5. Has he learned to take advantage of momentum?
6. Has he the power of growth?
7. What is his attitude to discouragements?
8. How does he face impossible situations?
9. What are his weakest points?

I was spending the night in the hospital room with my mother.  Fifteen years before, she had won a tough, ravaging battle with cancer. Now it had struck again.  She had a mastectomy that morning and had been sedated all day.  In the middle of the night I was dozing, but her stirring brought me to alertness.  I had the feeling that she wanted to talk, and that she wanted to talk about real things - not just make time passing conversation. 

How did she feel? What was she thinking?  There was a lot of deep sharing.  I hope I never forget that night and what she said. "When you give your life to the Lord, son, everything has to be alright no matter what happens."  It was her way of expressing confidence that she was O.K. In God's hands.  She had known God's love and care in the past, and she could trust him now.  Mom taught me that trust is a verb.  We trust and rely on God to be true to His promises.

Zig Ziglar said that he invited a friend to go to church with him. The man answered, "Well, I'd like to go. But the church is so full of hypocrites." Ziglar replied, "That's okay. There's always room for one more."
 

On May 2, 1962, a dramatic advertisement appeared in the San Francisco Examiner: "I don't want my husband to die in the gas chamber for a crime he did not commit. I will therefore offer my services for 10 years as a cook, maid, or housekeeper to any leading attorney who will defend him and bring about his vindication."

One of San Francisco's greatest attorneys, Vincent Hallinan, read or heard about the ad and contacted Gladys Kidd, who had placed it. Her husband, Robert Lee Kidd, was about to be tried for the slaying of an elderly antique dealer. Kidd's fingerprints had been found on a bloodstained ornate sword in the victim's shop. During the trial, Hallinan proved that the antique dealer had not been killed by the sword, and that Kidd's fingerprints and blood on the sword got there because Kidd had once toyed with it while playfully dueling with a friend when they were both out shopping. The jury, after 11 hours, found Kidd to be not guilty. Attorney Hallinan refused Gladys Kidd's offer of 10 years' servitude.

Modern taxes are a recent development, but the practice of taxation is an ancient one. The comment, "There is nothing more sure than death and taxes" has won sympathetic agreement down through the ages.

Now, certainly, any thinking person will agree that taxes are a necessity of governmental life, but we seldom approve of the methods for collecting such taxes. We are always sure that there just has to be a better way! And this has been the attitude throughout recorded history. Away back at the time of the division of the kingdom, Adoniram, a tax collector for King Rehoboam, was stoned to death for his activities!

We have mention throughout all of the Bible of the taxes imposed on the people, either by God or by conquering nations, but the title of "tax collector" seems to be a strictly New Testament term. The problem goes back to the Ptolemaic rule over Palestine, after the death of Alexander the Great. Under Ptolemy, the taxation of each city was leased to the highest bidder and that sum was then to be paid to the royal Treasury. If his collection fell below the required sum, the tax collector had to make up the difference. Any amount that he collected above this required sum he was allowed to keep. Although the tax collectors generally had a better than average education, since they had to know how to read, write, and figure sums, they also had to be men who were not above using cunning or violence to collect the taxes.

Many persons tried to cheat them, and used many ingenious ways of doing so, so the tax collector had to be just a little bit smarter, to keep ahead of them. And, if cunning didn’t work, a show of violence could be counted on to do the trick. One tax collector beheaded twenty persons when they refused to pay their taxes, and then confiscated their possessions!

In New Testament times, Roman officials were directly responsible for the collection of regular taxes, such as poll and land taxes. There were many other taxes, however, which were farmed out to private contractors for a period of five years. Usually, these contractors were Romans, but, occasionally, they were Jews.

Tax collectors as a class have never enjoyed a great popularity, but those who operated in early New Testament times were particularly despised. You see, even though the Jews had a long history of domination by others, and, at some periods, had even accepted this domination and had risen to eminence within a captive state, this was never the feeling that they had toward the Romans. It’s true that many Jews recognized the many benefits that they derived from the Roman system, but still their captors were harsh, cruel people, and were held in hatred and fear. So, any Jew who had sold out to the Romans was doubly hated, as an apostate and a traitor, taking away from his own people to give to the hated Romans! The rabbis regarded tax collectors as the same as robbers and refused to allow them to be judges or even to give witness.

We know, of course, that Matthew was a tax collector, and that Jesus often dined at the homes of these men, a fact which the Pharisees played up to full advantage. Zacchaeus was a tax collector who saw the error of his ways and offered to restore by fourfold his deceitful gains and to donate half of his capital to charity!

Although we often grumble about the taxes we have to pay, especially in April of every year, I’m sure we are all aware of the necessity of the taxation procedure to keep the wheels of our governments running smoothly. Today’s tax men, who work for the Internal Revenue Service, are educated, trained men, who are not to be anathematized, even when we might be disgruntled. Rather, they are an important part of our economic picture, and as such we owe them thanks for keeping our country in a state of relative solvency.

To encourage both the faithful and unfaithful to attend church this year, every Sunday will be a "No Excuse Sunday" and the following will be provided:

Cots will be placed in the vestibule for those who say, "Sunday is my only day to sleep."

Murine will be available for those with tired eyes from watching TV too late on Saturday night.

There will be steel helmets for those who say, "The roof would cave in if I ever came to church."

Blankets will be furnished for those who think the church is too cold, and fans for those who say it is too hot.

We will have hearing aids for those who say, "The minister speaks too softly" and cotton for those who say, "The preacher's too loud."

Score cards will be available for those who wish to list the hypocrites present.

Some relatives will be in attendance for those who like to go visiting on Sundays.

There will be TV dinners for those who can't go to church and cook dinner also.

One section of the church will be devoted to trees and grass for those who like to seek God in nature.

Finally, the church will be decorated with both Christmas poinsettias and Easter lilies for those who have never seen it without them.

Pastor Mike Cope tells of inviting a college student and his girlfriend back to his home after church, to have lunch with him and his wife. "When we got to the house, I took off my suit coat and invited him to do the same. The boy hemmed and hawed for a long time until he could pull me aside, and what he whispered to me then reminded me of the way I used to live when I was in college." It seemed he had only ironed the cuffs and collar of his shirt. If he took off his jacket, his girl would see the rest of his shirt and know what a slob he was. He had only ironed the parts that showed. That was one of the major, ongoing complaints Jesus brought against the Pharisees, the religious leaders of his day. That they were phony. That they were not what they seemed to be. That they were hypocrites. That they only ironed the parts that showed.

We may sweep the world clean of militarism, we may scrub the world white of autocracy, we may carpet it with democracy and drape it with the flag of republicanism. We may hang on the walls the thrilling pictures of freedom: here, the signing of America’s Independence; there, the thrilling portrait of Joan of Arc; yonder, the Magna Carta; and on this side, the inspiring picture of Garibaldi. We may spend energy and effort to make the world a paradise itself where the lion of capitalism can lie down with the proletarian lamb. But if we turn into that splendid room mankind with the same old heart, deceitful and desperately wicked, we may expect to clean house again not many days hence. What we need is a peace conference with the Prince of Peace.

Andrew's act reminds us dramatically of how important children and their resources are to Christ and his church. Andrew's act shows us graphically how crucial it is for us in our words and deeds to bring children into the presence of Jesus.

Many years ago in Missouri, a minister made a bad mistake in moral judgment that later came back to haunt him and to hurt many others. Through trickery, conniving, and scheming, the minister stole a man's dog. That's bad enough, but to make matters worse, he included his two little boys in the deception. The two boys helped their dad disguise the dog so the rightful owner could not claim him. The boys enjoyed the trickery and plotting. The boys thought it was great fun to take away the man's dog.

Some years later, the minister realized that in that one deceitful act, he had taught his sons how to steal and turned them away from the Christ-like spirit of love and kindness and goodness and respect for others. And he said, regretfully: "it was a terrible mistake on my part. I was able to keep the dog, but I lost my sons."

Oh, by the way, the names of those two little boys were Frank and Jesse James! They grew up to become two of the most notorious outlaws and robbers of the old West. Their minister dad never forgave himself. That's a dramatic example, to be sure, but it is true, so true, that our children do indeed watch us closely and learn so much from what we do.

Jim Smith went to church on Sunday morning. He heard the organist miss a note during the prelude, and he winced. He saw a teenager talking when everybody was supposed to be bowed in silent prayer. He felt like the usher was watching to see what he put in the offering plate and it made him boil.

He caught the preacher making a slip of the tongue five times in the sermon by actual count. As he slipped out through the side door during the closing hymn, he muttered to himself, "Never again, what a bunch of clods and hypocrites!"

Ron Jones went to church one Sunday morning. He heard the organist play an arrangement of "A Mighty Fortress" and he thrilled at the majesty of it. He heard a young girl take a moment in the service to speak her simple moving message of the difference her faith makes in her life. He was glad to see that this church was sharing in a special offering for the hungry children of Nigeria. He especially appreciated the sermon that Sunday—it answered a question that had bothered him for a long time. He thought as he walked out the doors of the church, "How can a man come here and not feel the presence of God?"

Both men went to the same church, on the same Sunday morning. Each found what he was looking for. What do we look for on Sunday morning?

Football in the fall. Basketball in the winter. Baseball in the spring and summer. This pastor has been an avid sports fan all his life. But I've had it! I quit this sports business once and for all. You can't get me near one of those places again. Want to know why...

• Every time I went, they asked me for money.
• The people with whom I had to sit didn't seem very friendly.
• The seats were too hard and not at all comfortable.
• I went to many games, but the coach never came to call on me.
• The referee made a decision with which I could not agree.
• I suspected that I was sitting with some hypocrites; they came to see their friends and what others were wearing rather than to see the game.
• Some games went into overtime, and I was late getting home.
• The band played some numbers that I had never heard before.
• It seems that the games are scheduled when I want to do other things.
• I was taken to too many games by my parents when I was growing up.
• I don't want to take my children to any games, because I want them to choose for themselves what sport they like best.

I am steadfastly for monogamy. Adultery is almost certainly going to make a dent in trust and intimacy, and in many cases I've known, it has destroyed them altogether. A woman who is conducting a secret affair has to become deliberately deceitful...like a CIA agent or spy. She can't just come home and spill forth the events of her day. She's got to think, What can I safely talk about, and what have I got to keep to myself? So even when the infidelity isn't discovered, it changes who you are. A person goes from being a candid, open human being to a secretive, hidden one.

Some of you may remember Dave Dravecky, former pitcher for the San Francisco Giants. At the peak of his career in 1991 he lost his pitching arm to cancer. Those who watched his 1989 comeback will never forget the Montreal game. Dave's left arm snapped with a deafening crack that could be heard in the stands. The comeback quickly ended. It was a devastating experience. It is bad enough to have cancer, let alone face the amputation of an arm, but then on top of that, to lose a promising career as a major league baseball player. Naturally Dave was filled with many questions.

During his struggles, letters of encouragement poured in from all over the country. Most were letters of encouragement. Some were looking for answers to life's questions. They had seen him keep his faith, and they wanted to know how he had done it. But one day he received this letter:

Dear Mr. Dravecky, If there is a God who cares so much about you, why did he allow you to have the surgery in the first place? I have lived 41 years in this old world and have yet to see any piece of genuine evidence that there is anything real about any of those religious beliefs you talk about. God certainly does not love me and has never done a single thing to express that love for me. I have had to fight for everything I ever got in life. Nobody cares about what happens to me and I don't care about anybody else either. Can't you see the truth that religion is nothing more than a crutch used by a lot of weaklings who can't face reality and that the church is nothing but a bunch of hypocrites who care nothing for each other and whose faith extends not to their actions or daily lives but is only just a bunch of empty phrases spouted off to impress others?

A cruel letter, isn't it? How would you have responded to it? He sent a letter to the man and said that he had faced his own doubts and that faith was not always easy. He wrote, "I am convinced that there is a God. That no matter what happens to me, there is a purpose for it and behind that purpose stands a loving, caring God." Dravecky had come to know the same Lord who came back for Thomas. The same Resurrected Jesus who stood before all the disciples and said, "Peace be with you, Thomas. Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."

We all have doubts: Thomas, Dravecky, the letter writer. No one is exempt. What Jesus says to you is: You will be blessed if in the midst of those doubts you believe.

In the "guilt versus grace" discussion it seems that most people have a deep sensitivity about their own guilt, flaws, and inadequacies. Most of us don't need to be told we are hypocrites; we already know this about ourselves. We can identify with the feelings expressed by Jules Feiffer in his poem first published in The Village Voice.

I felt like a fraud,
So I learned to fly an airplane.
At 50,000 feet I thought,
"A fraud is flying an airplane.”
So I crossed the Atlantic in a rowboat.
I docked at Cherbourg.
And I thought,
"A fraud has crossed the Atlantic in a rowboat."
So I took a space shot to the moon.
On the way home I thought,
"A fraud has circled the moon.”
So I took a full page ad in the newspaper,
And confessed to the world that I was a fraud.
I read the ad and thought—
"A fraud is pretending to be honest.”

A farmer repeatedly invited a friend into his apple orchard to taste the fruit and make some fresh cider. But, just as often, the friend said, “No, I would rather not.”

Finally, the farmer said, “I guess you are prejudiced against my apples.”

“Well, to tell the truth,” his friend said, “I have tasted a few of them and they are very sour.”

The farmer then asked which apples his friend had eaten. “Why, those apples which fell along the road over your fence,” he replied.

“Ah, yes,” said the farmer, “they are sour. I planted them to fool the boys who live around here. But, if you will come beyond the gate into the middle of my orchard, you will find a different taste.”

On the edges of Christianity are some very sour apples—conviction, self-denial, and purity of life—which keep off hypocrites and mere professors. But in the middle of the orchard are delicious fruits, sweet and desirable. The nearer to God, the sweeter the joy.

It may come as a surprise to Christian listeners, who are used to thinking of Pharisees as hypocrites and enemies of Jesus, that in this passage it is Pharisees who warn Jesus to flee from Galilee because Herod wants to kill him. Not all Pharisees were hostile to Jesus. While Jesus and the Pharisees did not see things eye to eye, we find in Luke and Acts that Pharisees are often in the company of Jesus and not always antagonistic. Jesus is often invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner (Luke 7:36, 11:37; 14:1). In Acts 5:33-39, when the Jewish Sanhedrin wanted to kill the apostles, a well-known Pharisee, Gamaliel, counsels them to be careful how they treat these men. If the undertaking of the apostles is of human origin, Gamaliel says, it will fail; "but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them in that case you may even be found fighting against God!" Some Pharisees had even become Christians (Acts 15:5). And of course we know that Paul himself was a Pharisee. In fact, in his defense before the Sanhedrin he uses the present tense and says, "I am a Pharisee" (Acts 23:6).

Integrity is more than not being deceitful or slipshod. It means doing everything "heartily as unto the Lord" (Col. 3:23). In his book Lyrics, Oscar Hammerstein II points out one reason why, a reason Christians have always known:

"A year or so ago, on the cover of the New York Herald Tribune Sunday magazine, I saw a picture of the Statue of Liberty . . . taken from a helicopter and it showed the top of the statue's head. I was amazed at the detail there. The sculptor had done a painstaking job with the lady's coiffure, and yet he must have been pretty sure that the only eyes that would ever see this detail would be the uncritical eyes of sea gulls. He could not have dreamt that any man would ever fly over this head. He was artist enough, however, to finish off this part of the statue with as much care as he had devoted to her face and her arms, and the torch and everything that people can see as they sail up the bay. . . When you are creating a work of art, or any other kind of work, finish the job off perfectly. You never know when a helicopter, or some other instrument not at the moment invented, may come along and find you out.

The following strengths, if not properly maintained, can become weaknesses:

• A person who calls himself frank and candid can find himself becoming tactless and cruel.
• A person who prides himself on being tactful can find eventually that he has become evasive and deceitful.
• A person with firm convictions can become pigheaded.
• A person who is inclined to be temperate and judicious can sometimes turn into someone with weak convictions and banked fires of resolution . . .
• Loyalty can lead to fanaticism.
• Caution can become timidity.
• Freedom can become license.
• Confidence can become arrogance.
• Humility can become servility.

Twelve reasons why a local clergyman stopped attending athletic events:

Every time I went, they asked me for money.

The people with whom I had to sit didn't seem very friendly. The seats were too hard and not comfortable.

The coach never came to call on me.

The referee made a decision with which I could not agree.

I was sitting with some hypocrites—they came only to see what others were wearing.

Some games went into overtime, and I was late getting home. The band played some numbers that I had never heard before. The games are scheduled when I want to do other things.

My parents took me to too many games when I was growing up.

Since I read a book on sports, I feel that I know more than the coaches anyhow.

I don't want to take my children because I want them to choose for themselves what sport they like best.