Author: Jon Gauger

“So I was feeling….I dunno…restless.” “What do you mean, ‘restless?’ I asked my friend, Jack. “Like…I’ve been stuck in a spiritual rut.  Not really doing anything for the Kingdom.  No spiritual passion.  No hunger to witness.  Just…stuck.” Jack tends to be brutally honest.  He also tends to be right in the middle—or just done with—a story worth hearing. “So I gave God a dare.” “You what?” I asked Jack, now more than a little curious. “I admitted that I wasn’t really doing much of anything spiritually significant.  Admitted that I hadn’t been witnessing and seemed to have lost the passion. …

I just put the finishing touches on a sermon focused entirely on hell. Not exactly my idea of fun.  But as I have complained about the paltry attention hell is given in today’s pulpits, I felt compelled to “search the Scriptures” and focus on this awful eternal destiny. It didn’t take long to arrive at what may be the most disturbing story in the entire Bible.  Luke 16 takes us to the gates of hell itself where a formerly rich man is now doomed to unending agony.   What we encounter in this passage is the closest thing we have to…

Smoke….flash…bang!  The impact rattled in my chest as much as it rumbled on the field. I’m speaking of the Cantigny Revolutionary War Reenactment we witnessed, courtesy of the North West Territory Alliance. Envision more than 400 Revolutionary War actors in full costume.  Mix in cannons, muskets and rifles blasting away and history definitely came alive.  Period blacksmiths and shopkeepers offered wares of all kinds, including leather goods, wooden ladles, pewter mugs, knives and bonnets. Of particular interest to me was a writing desk where you could scratch out letters with a period quill and ink.  The guide even provided hot…

    Would you accept a dinner invitation from folks living at the home of “Simon the leper?”  Having personally visited a leprosy clinic and seen feet without toes and stumps without hands, I’m not sure I’d even show up.   But Jesus did.   There at the home of Simon the leper, He sat down to eat.  Matthew 26 records that at some point during the meal, a woman approached him carrying an alabaster vial of very pricey perfume.  She promptly poured it on his head as he lay reclining at the table.  Not some of it.  All of…

Confession: On Sunday mornings, I often sing the worship songs without actively giving God true praise.  I mouth the words…but fail to process them.  I sing the tunes, but don’t engage them.  Is this a lack of gratitude on my part?  Perhaps.  I suspect it's more an issue of distraction (I can’t imagine God is somehow okay with that). Nine-month old Ava showed me up last Sunday.  Attending church service on the grounds of King Camp we sang hymns and choruses—typical Sunday morning fare.   I was once again…well, distracted. Part of the distraction this time was Ava herself.  This blue-eyed…

Imagine a tree five-feet in diameter whose massive trunk stands poised to pummel the ground.  (I was actually there and took pictures!). The word, “thud,” doesn’t begin to describe what happened when the last of the chainsaw’s work was done. Our kids spent a surprising amount of their summers under that massive Oak which was almost a family friend. For shade, beauty and protection (you could sit by your campfire under its thick boughs and scarcely feel a drop of rain) this tree was in a class of its own.  So why did it have to be taken down?  I…

Her voice gives her away.  When Frieda calls, you can tell that she is mentally challenged.  Words are sometimes garbled.  Or mangled.  Pauses between phrases or sentences are often so unnaturally long, they create confusion—and plenty of unintended humor. But Frieda is friendly and faithful—more than most.  She is also in charge of the Christian worship service at a local senior center.  Without fail, she calls once a quarter inviting me to speak. As she welcomed everyone to this week’s service, she said, “I’d like to give credit to everyone who helped.” She then listed a bunch of names, including…

At 25,000 feet, clouds look different.  They just do. From the window of a jet, the view is completely unobstructed.  No cluttered skylines, no haze, no polluted air, just crisp viewing.  But the skyscape I like best is seen at much lower altitudes.  I love it when the plane lofts just high enough that is enshrouded in the misty vapor of the first cloud layer. Wispy trails rocket past the window reminding me of just how fast the hollow metal tube in which I’m seated is actually traveling.   But once we reach cruising altitude—say 25,000 feet—the clouds look much…

Unrelenting action, high-tech weapons and exotic locations. Stingray had it all. At least it seemed to when I was five. The mid-1960s television drama featured high-functioning marionettes, not live actors, to portray a futuristic submarine fleet of crime fighters. Powered by imagination, laced with explosions, Stingray delivered a solid half-hour of undersea thrills. I loved it then. I love it now. Enough that I bought the entire five-disc series on DVD and now share this magical underwater past of mine with our grandkids. You’d think that in an age of green screen, CGI and 3D animation Stingray would be sunk….

Smart folks do not let smartphones near water. (And now the story). Recently at our campground, eight-year-old Joslynn and I chugged around the lake in a paddle boat.  Fun!  Back on shore, Joslynn immediately asked if we could take the kayaks out for a spin. Point of clarification: paddle boats have broad flat bottoms and are virtually impossible to capsize.  By contrast, kayaks are unstable, and easily dunked.  This insight came to me later, rather than earlier. In approximately 18 inches of water, I managed to roll the kayak, thoroughly soaking myself—and the iPhone in my pocket. Rocketing out of…