It’s hard to take seriously a town that goes by the name of Sandwich. Yet such a burg not only exists, it’s home to Illinois's oldest fair, since 1888. More notable yet is the train car parked at the corner of Main St. and US Route 34.

Not just any train car, the "Isabella" was the railcar home of President Theodore Roosevelt. From 1900 to 1913, he trekked coast to coast in this Pullman-made beauty, featuring Mahogany-trimmed windows and stained glass. But in 1931, it was auctioned off for $75 to a Mr. Henry Tattrersol, who dreamed of converting it into a diner. Thus, it came to rest in Sandwich, Illinois, and a restaurant was born, though the place has changed some over the years.

We sampled lunch cuisine beneath the train car's domed ceiling. And looking out the same mahogany-framed windows from which Roosevelt peered, it was impossible to deny the sense of the "Rough Rider's" persona.

Here was a guy who—after being shot in the chest while out on the campaign trail—was determined to deliver his speech anyway! Asked if he would finish his campaign, Roosevelt declared, "I feel fit as a bull moose!" Hence the name of his political party and the name of the restaurant in Sandwich.

Roosevelt was equally blunt in his thoughts about matters of faith, at one point declaring, “The nation should be ruled by the Ten Commandments.” He also contended, “A thorough knowledge of the Bible is worth more than a college education.”

With prophetic insight, he opined, “The thought of modern industry in the hands of Christian charity is a dream worth dreaming. The thought of industry in the hands of paganism is a nightmare beyond imagining. The choice between the two is upon us.”

More than a century later, we're still making that choice. Which is a lot to ponder while munching on a burger and homemade chips in a train car fragrant with a bygone courage and conviction.

Lord, make us sturdy!

Forbid we should sit when you’ve called us to stand.

Help us be salt and light in every place you call us.

Amen!

“Choose you this day whom you will serve…but as for me and my house we will serve the Lord.”  —Joshua 24:15

As I look back, it’s embarrassing.

My computer mouse acted sluggishly. You could grab that mouse and whip it diagonally from one corner of the screen up to the other, and the cursor would move, but only sluggishly. At times, it appeared to freeze for a second. But was it my imagination that the lag times were getting longer?

The mouse appeared to be pausing, halting randomly. Because the mouse is such a crucial part of any computer workflow, my productivity slowed down (though my pulse sped up!). Over time, it became apparent I wasn't just imagining things. That mouse was pausing longer, moving slower.

Earlier this week, while editing some audio files, it didn’t just pause. It pooped out.

I powered down the computer and booted up again, hoping it was just a glitch of some kind. No luck. No mouse. No more.

So I scoured the internet for answers, beginning with the manufacturer. Because it’s a wireless mouse, I immediately replaced the battery. But there was still no life.

On a hunch, I decided to swap out the "new" battery from our vast collection, housed in a plastic tub, with one I knew to be absolutely brand new. You can easily guess the end of the story. The mouse powered up immediately and performed flawlessly, as it has ever since. All it took was a power boost.

But what about you?

Any chance you might need a “fresh battery?” I’m not talking about your mouse. I’m talking about your ministry. About your walk with Christ. About your prayer life, perhaps.

We get so busy "doing" the Christian life that it's easy to forget what God (thankfully) remembers: "that we are but dust" (Psalm 103:14). Which means, apart from His empowerment, we're bound to feel sluggish, lagging, and frozen up.

If you're feeling unproductive and just plain weary—as if your batteries are shot—ponder again the promise of Isaiah 40:29. It's time to connect. But don't wait!

He gives strength to the weary, and to the one who lacks might He increases power.

JT and his wife had prayed earnestly for his church’s VBS, prayed that God would bring in kids who needed to hear about the love of Jesus.

But JT was not prepared for God’s answer, nor did he particularly approve of the Almighty’s student selection for the class that he and his wife would lead.

Elliot was loud, undisciplined, and unpredictable. He was also, it strongly appeared, on the autistic spectrum.

Instead of singing along with the worship band, Elliot cried—the noise being too much. When others waved their worship streamers to the beat, Elliot thrashed his entire body. Instead of merely laughing politely at jokes, he roared so loudly that those around him (and those far away) gawked at the disruption. At times, he howled mournfully, a lone wolf in despair.

It was impossible to tell whether Elliot heard or understood a single word shared during the Bible lessons. But early on JT’s wife, who understands these things, made Elliot the special object of her care.

At song time, she helped him do the motions. At class time, she graciously overlooked his outbursts. In a word, she loved Elliot. Loved him with the love of Jesus. And few little boys have needed it more.

Elliot’s mom died last year.

But for one week, this island week of craziness called Vacation Bible School, a loud and unpredictable Elliot found the thing he needed most.

Go and learn what this means: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.”

 — Jesus, (Matthew 9:13a)

Have you ever met anyone who has shipwrecked their faith?

You've likely heard of the "exvangelical" movement. These people grew up in evangelical churches but have since "de-identified" from evangelicalism. They've walked away from their faith.

According to a Religion in Public blog, between four and five percent of the American population can be classified as exvangelical. Personally, I’m weary of reading their stories. What’s behind this trend?

https://religioninpublic.blog/2021/03/01/exvangelicals-a-note-on-size-and-sources/

Actually, it’s nothing new. Paul saw it coming in his day, which is why he wrote in 1 Timothy 1:18,19, “This command I entrust to you, Timothy, my son, in accordance with the prophecies previously made concerning you, that by them you fight the good fight, keeping faith and a good conscience, which some have rejected and suffered shipwreck in regard to their faith.”

For many, the greatest danger in shipwrecking our faith is the presumption that it’s inconceivable. “Not me,” we insist.

But a shipwreck is possible for every one of us! Not just possible, it's probable! Consider: if you are floating in a boat, you are surrounded by that which could kill you! The same is true spiritually.

• The world wants to shipwreck your faith.
• The flesh wants to shipwreck your faith.
• The devil wants to shipwreck your faith.

With all that opposition, how do we avoid a personal spiritual shipwreck? Paul offers three keys in his instructions to Timothy—and us.

Key #1: Prepare to fight (verse 18). We're not called to "love the good rest" but to "fight the good fight." Avoiding shipwreck is a struggle for which we must prepare.

Key #2: “Keep the faith” (verse 19). When circumstances turn hard and answers are few, we don’t chuck our faith. We keep it. We keep holding on to Christ.

Key #3: "Keep a good conscience" (verse 19). We don't violate what we know to be true about Christ and His Word. We stay with the stuff.

Consider: No one ever drifts toward the Lord. We drift away from Him. Shipwreck is not merely possible. It’s probable!

If only there were a warning sign. Or maybe, this is it!

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-and-black-sunken-ship-2056194/

It happened at Hogansville.

I refer to the Georgia town 60 miles southwest of Atlanta. From a glance out the window, there isn't much going on in Hogansville, population 3,267. Unless, of course, you're into hummingbirds. Here, Hogansville shines. Since 1998, they have faithfully hosted an annual Hummingbird event, billed as "Midwest Georgia's Favorite Fall Festival."

But it was a sign on a tree—not a bird at a fair— that caught my eye on Interstate 85 as we rolled past the outskirts of Hogansville. The letters popped out in fire engine red on a day-glow yellow diamond shape. There were just three words on that sign nailed to the trunk: "Save Me Jesus."

Not sure it was by design, but I found a certain irony in the wording of that sign. To save us is precisely why Jesus was nailed to a tree.

1 Peter 2:24 declares of Jesus, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree (cross), that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

"Save me, Jesus." Have you prayed that prayer? Have you asked Jesus to rescue you from the self-centered (sinful) lifestyle we all fall into? Have you asked Him to take charge of you—to be your Savior—and to help you turn away from your me-monster lifestyle?

If you haven’t, if all you have is a vague sense of religiosity with a dash of Jesus thrown in—this is your moment, and this is your prayer.

Consider it—your sign.