Author: Jon Gauger

Sixty years. 

That's how long my parents have now been married. 

From nearly any standpoint, that's just plain remarkable. Number 60 is called the Diamond Anniversary—that's how rare it is.

According to a U.S. Census Bureau report, only about 5% of married couples ever make it their 50^th anniversary.  So a celebration of 60 years together is no small achievement.

In so doing (saying I do and then sticking together) David and Virginia have definitely defied the odds—on many levels.  Yet their six decades together, I know for a fact, are not the product of sheer will power or a gritting of teeth (though I'm sure both have been required at times).  Nor is this milestone simply the byproduct of chance and good health.

In brief remarks at an extended family gathering both Dad and Mom credited the Lord Jesus Christ with saving them and keeping them (and their marriage) together.  Interestingly, each quoted from the Psalms.

Mom selected Psalm 100: 3,4:  “Know that the Lord Himself is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves; We are His people and the sheep of His pasture. Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him, bless His name.”

Dad spotlighted Psalm 13:6: “I will sing unto the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me.”

Sitting there together—all six children and their spouses and their children at this anniversary celebration was a special moment.  Guess you could call it a “once in a lifetime” experience—and not be overstating things.

Of course, no parents are perfect (just ask MY kids).  Nor would my parents claim to have done everything right.  As Joe Stowell reminds us, “We are a fallen race in a fallen place.”  But what a huge advantage we give our children when we give ourselves first to Christ.

Thanks, Mom and Dad!  And congratulations!

Holiness has fallen on hard times. An ad campaign for a Las Vegas hotel promises, “Just the right amount of wrong.”  Yet holiness—or more specifically, its lack—is not just a problem out in the big bad world, but also in the hearts of those who claim to follow Christ. 

In church, we sing worship choruses with gusto, but are nearly mute on the habits of holiness. We dish up sermons by the pound on God's love.  We talk a ton about “felt needs.”  But mere ounces are devoted to holiness.

Holiness lacks flash and fun.  It has no drummer, no distortion guitar, and doesn't seem to fit with a fog machine.  There's no app for holiness. And how do you fit holiness into Snapchat—let alone Facebook?  Which means in a culture like ours, holiness is not just antique…it's a dinosaur.

At its core, holiness means set apart for God's service. 

Conformed in all things to God's will.

I dare you to make a pie chart of all your activities this past week. How many hours—or maybe, just minutes—would you describe as set apart exclusively for God and His service:

• Time spent reading, studying and meditating on God's Word.
• Time spent communication with God through prayer.
• Time spent actively pondering God.

The exercise might just make you a bit uncomfortable (it does me!).

The truth is, holiness requires time. 

Holiness requires soul silence. 

Holiness requires discipline. 

So, many of us just never get started.  Instead we reach for our smartphones, our tablets, our e-Readers and amuse ourselves to distraction.  Rich in toys and technology, we are—many of us—impoverished in holiness. 

But as the Scripture says, “Without holiness, no one will see the Lord” (Heb. 12:14). 

Once, there was a little boy named Tim who loved to fish.  At a favorite campground, Tim had plenty of opportunity in a small lake that yielded lots of action.  What the water lacked in trophy-sized fish, it made up for in volume.  A worm on a hook meant a fish on the line. Yet often, Tim's dad forgot bait.  Or hooks.  Or bobbers.

Enter a quiet couple in the trailer next door—George and Julie.  It was uncanny the way George always seemed to be ready with an extra hook or bobber.  And well stocked with bait—night crawlers he shared generously with Tim, weekend after weekend.

Neither Tim, his mom, or his dad had any idea how all these mysterious “coincidences” occurred until many years later.  That's when George's wife let it out that there was no mystery at all. George and Julie actually planned for our camping weekends.  They stocked up just for us—for Tim.  They looked out their window to be sure he had everything needed.  And when he didn't, their door—and their hearts–swung wide open. 

That little boy, Tim, is now grown up and married.  He still goes fishing in that same lake, armed with considerable experience and a fisherman’s resolve to go for the bigger catch. His dad still goes with him sometimes, but usually it's his beautiful wife, Beth, at his side.

Recently, I watched as he hauled in a 23 inch catfish.  Beth was right there with a net to scoop the thing up.  Me?  I snapped pictures.   

Now, the story of a fish that large made its way quickly around a campground accustomed to sunfish and small bass.  Tim was promptly urged to share his fish photo with our old friend, George, which he did, via a cell phone.  George's text reply: “Beautiful fish.  Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.”

All these years later, George is still looking out for Tim.

They say life's most valuable lessons are caught, not taught—kinda like a fish.  That said, who are you watching out for?

For Moody Radio, I'm Tim's dad…and those are my thoughts. 

He’s the first grown man I ever saw cry.  To me, he is a living legend.

Art Rorheim is 98 and has traveled to more than 50 countries, met several Presidents and continues to memorize large quantities of Scripture as he approaches the century mark.   

As a boy of nine at Camp Awana, I remember Art telling about his older brother, Roy, who was 13 and dangerously ill.  Spinal meningitis was a rare and new disease in 1928, and young Roy understood the odds.  A new Christian, he pleaded with his parents from his hospital bed on behalf of his younger brother: “Dad, you are a Christian, Mom, you are a Christian, but Art is not a Christian and we have got to win him for the Lord.”

Roy succumbed to his illness, but Art soon trusted in the finished work of Christ.  Recounting this scene, tears formed in Art's eyes.  But I've since watched him cry many times—and always over the same thing: people who don’t know Jesus, people headed for Hell.  

Art Rorheim went on to co-found Awana International, a Bible memorization ministry now active in more than 100 nations. Each week, more than 2 million children and youth, 330,000 volunteers and 260 field staff take part in Awana in 30,000 churches around the world.

Months ago, he lost his wife of more than 70 years, Winnie. Yet Art soldiers on.  He witnesses. Shares gospel tracts. And still memorizes entire books from the Bible!

Though emotion ought never to be manufactured, I’m convinced there’s something highly instructional—and incredibly right—about a heart that weeps for lost people. A heart like Art’s.  Being with him this weekend has forced an inventory of my own heart.  When was the last time I have been so concerned about another’s soul that it made me cry?  I’m ashamed to say it’s been awhile.

What about you?

What do you enjoy reading?  Mysteries….devotionals…Christian biographies?  

When people ask me, I tell them, “Just about everything.”

People fascinated with food are known as foodies.  They'll try just about anything and like most everything.   Well, I'm a bookie—not with bets—but with books.  I'll read just about anything and like almost everything.

I love Dickens and Tolstoy, Arthur Conan Doyle, Louis L'Amour, John Grisham, Clive Cussler and Dorothy Sayers.  In the Christian world, I'm a fan of William Gurnall, J.C. Ryle, Calvin Miller, Tim Keller, Lee Strobel, and—of course—C.S. Lewis. 

These days, I find myself drawn to the Puritans.

They are very much out of favor in our culture.  The very word, “puritanical,” has sadly become twisted to mean nothing more than ridiculously prudish and out of touch. 

But in reading puritan John Owen, I was jolted by his warning, “Be killing sin—or sin will be killing you.”

Through Richard Baxter, I discovered a hundred reasons for thinking daily about heaven—The Saints' Everlasting Rest.

Many Christians know John Bunyan for his Pilgrim's Progress, believed to be the second most printed book of all time, beside the Bible.  Yet in his work, A Few Sighs from Hell, Bunyan 's portrayal of the horror of hell leaves you panting for a swallow of water, and gasping for a breath of cool air.

It’s true the Puritans didn’t get every single point right.  Who has?  Yet they lived boldly, thought deeply and wrote richly. 

Summer is here.  Time to enjoy some good reading.  What better time to discover the Puritans?   Sure their language and writing style can be a challenge at first.  But the view with any satisfying hike or climb usually comes with a challenge.

Given the wealth of their legacy, I say the Puritans are worth reading.  Now more than ever. 

They needed a place to hide.  And fast.

Hearts heaving, horses foaming with sweat, Jesse and his friends dove deep into the cave—along with their loot from the a heist.  For three days a posse hunted these hidden fugitives throughout the cave's many tunnels… unsuccessfully. 

Having just visited Meremac Cavern, in Stanton, Missouri, I now understand how Jesse James and his gang eluded the law.  The place they hid is huge—taller than a 7-story building inside! 

The grand finale (if cave tours have such a thing) is a seating in a vaulted room that features what they call, “The Stage Curtain.”  A video begins to play.  At first, I thought it might be kitschy.  Then came the soundtrack: God Bless America, sung by Celine Dion–and scenes painted themselves on the 70 foot tall walls of mineral deposit.

Imagine my surprise at seeing the text of 2 Chronicles 7:14 blazing brightly,: “If my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”

In the darkness of the cave, I thought of the horror of the recent night club shooting in Orlando, the vitriol masquerading as election year politics, the angst I feel as my country disintegrates .  But above it all, I heard that that sweet simple prayer, “God bless America, my home sweet home.”

Now I get the fact that biblically, we cannot wrap our Christianity in the American flag.  The Almighty is surely under no obligation to restore whatever Christianity might have once defined our Republic. 

And yet….it was hard not to squelch a tear sitting in the blackness of Meremac Cavern—especially as the video ended with Psalms 33:12: “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.”

A verse like that…in a public place like this?

I was blown away.   And to think it all happened in a cave. 

Now that summer is upon us, it's best we made peace with the insects around us.   Why, you ask?  Because….well…resistance is futile.  I was reminded of this when reading Anne Rooney’s book, You Wouldn’t Want to Live without Insects.  In it, she offers insect insight. 

Across our globe, there are six to ten million species of insects, although scientists have only named about 900,000 of those species. Insects are found everywhere in the world—even in frozen Antarctica!

And boy, are we outnumbered. There are 200 million insects for every person on earth.  About 90% of all life-forms on earth (not including bacteria) are insects. 

Wrap your brain around this: the mass of all the ants in the world is greater than the mass of all the people.  Still not creeped out?  Then process this: In a rain forest, insects weigh more than the all the animals with backbones put together!

Of course you knew that one bat can eat up to 3000 insects a night, right?  A single swarm of locusts can cover 460 square miles, destroying crops and causing famine.  Each locust eats its own weight in food every day.   Cockroaches can live for six weeks without any food—and four weeks without a head!  Wasps can survive 180 times more radiation than humans.

After the explosion in Ukraine's Chernobyl nuclear power plant, insects survived better than other animals.  Insects are often the first creatures to move back into a disaster zone. 

Nehemiah 9:6: "You alone are the LORD. You have made the heavens, The heaven of heavens with all their host, The earth and all that is on it.”  To which I add—even insects.

And now you know why I say, it’s better to learn to live with insects than to expect to exist without them. 

For Moody Radio, I’m Jon Gauger, and those are my thoughts.

Now…where’s my fly swatter?!

It’s the largest home in America. Can you name it?  It’s Asheville’s Biltmore estate.

When railroad and shipping magnate George Vanderbilt first visited Asheville in 1888, he fell in love with the place and promptly amassed land to construct his sprawling residence.  Forget acres.  The Biltmore sits on nearly 11 square miles!                    

Any sense of scale was out-scaled in the construction of this home.  To ship in the raw materials and labor, a special railroad spur was created.  Every day for nearly seven years, hundreds of workers plopped themselves on top of timbers, tile and stone bound for the construction site. 

By Christmas Eve, 1895, the home was finally opened.  And what a home!  

Imagine 250 rooms, including 35 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms, 65 fireplaces, three kitchens, a bowling alley, and even an indoor pool.  While you and I speak in terms of square footage, this estate boasts of four acres of floor space.  Truly, Mr. Vanderbilt…built more.

But even as we mounted the stairs, trekked through the halls and gawked at the opulence, I heard the voice of One whose estate will dwarf anything Mr. Vanderbilt ever conceived.

Jesus said, “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.”

And if Jesus is the architect and builder, it’s a safe bet those dwellings will be nothing less than spectacular:

What no eye has seen,

what no ear has heard,

and what no human mind has conceived —

the things God has prepared for those who love him

–1 Corinthians 2:9

 

Here’s to living forever in the house that Jesus is building!

The animals are leaving!

A favorite small town nature museum is about to get a make-over.  But maybe not for the best.   Currently on display are more than 50 mounted and stuffed wild animals ranging from a beaver to a bison. They represent life on America's plains and frankly, they are magnificent.

I never tire of crouching down and locking eyes with a trio of coyotes.  Processing the span of a wolf's paw is enough to bring a shudder.  And peering at a mountain lion up close jerks one into a fresh reality of the killing machine these creatures can be. 

But most of these beautifully preserved animal displays are about to disappear in a nod toward modernization.  They will be replaced by interactive displays–touch-screen monitors.  In the world of museums, this has become the de facto standard.

The new displays will share more information, but they will largely insulate visitors from a proper sense of wonder.   Providing more information in the information age might be like dumping water into a water fall.   We already have enough, thanks!

What we lack is a capacity for wonder.   In fact, I'd call it an endangered species.  Wonder is so rare, we don't miss it—and don't know that we should. 

It's almost as if curators and others are afraid to let us draw our own conclusions about the animals.   Or they fear that because the mounted bison currently on display doesn't spin, flash or make noise, it will fail to capture our imagination.  Not so.

Gauging that the back of a bison is as tall as my head is a wondrous reality that comes not from peering at an HD screen, but from standing next to the real thing.  I say, let’s learn to ponder the real thing and leave touch screens for video games.

Give awe some space.  Let it marinate in time–and wonder is the byproduct.

“O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name is your name in all the earth.”  –Psalms 8:1

Spring has finally reached Illinois.  And trust me, this year we had our doubts.

If you are fortunate enough to live outside the Midwest, kindly indulge my excessive jubilation over the sight of leaves on trees.  While you may have been enjoying them for weeks or months now, where we go camping, many of the trees are still only budding.

As I pondered their green grandeur, I was struck by the potential of just one tree. Consider this.   One single tree provides shade that means comfort for picnics…and lower air conditioning bills at home.

A tree provides food.  Caterpillars and other critters lunch and munch on every tree, while armies of ants trek up and down the trunk trafficking food. 

A tree provides homes for animals like birds, squirrels and raccoons.

Then there's the beauty of a tree…the sound of a tree, whether the rustle of leaves, or the whisper of a pine bough swish.

A tree provides a wind barrier a sound barrier, and natural privacy.  We haven't discussed lumber production.  Or paper.  Or, in the case of Maple trees, syrup.  Haven't mentioned apples and peaches and pears and almonds and walnuts or pine cones (with help from a seven year old named Joslynn, I collect them).

And did I mention an average tree absorbs about 48 pounds of carbon dioxide annually, while creating about 260 pounds of oxygen each year?

Now…put all of those factoids into perspective as you read Psalm One's description of a godly woman or man whose delight is in the Law of the Lord:

“He is like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leave does not whither.   Whatever he does prospers.”

Want to provide shade, comfort, protection and life for others? God says,

     “Be like a tree.

      Delight in Me.”