Ed Decker

As I look back on almost 88 years of life, it is getting harder and harder to remember when America was once the leader of the free world. Its freedom and prosperity had people across the globe looking at it as one of the greatest places on earth.

The America of today would is as alien as outer space invaders to those of us who lived the years I have lived.

We began as a nation of immigrants, mostly from the European nations and the British Isles.

My father’s family came to America in the mid-1700s from Holland and Germany. I grew up on the family farm that was home to generations of Deckers before me.

My mother’s Jewish family immigrated in the late-1800s from Russia, escaping slavery and death in what has been called the First Holocaust. The majority of the rest of her family died in the German Extermination camps during the Second World War.

This evil was not just part of my mother’s family history but went back to before the Civil War in the Catskill Mountains. As a child, I sat and wept at the table in the secret room in our barn where escaping slaves stayed while awaiting the guide for the next leg of their trip on the Underground Railroad. My forebearers risked being burned out or killed for their stand against slavery.

We were then and still are a nation of immigrants, but those days were times of learning to live and interact with many people groups and settling in as simply, Americans.

We fought together in the same trenches of two major world wars and proudly saluted the flag. I remember the Fourth of July parades and picnics in my small country village. There were no strangers or protesters back then.

I went to a one-room schoolhouse where Mrs. Jones taught all eight grades, one row at a time. We drank from a single bucket of well water, using the same dipper and nobody died. We used the outhouse out back, both summer and winter. In the fall, our families filled the woodbins for the potbellied stove in the middle of the room.

An old man from the farm next to the school would have the stove up and pouring out heat when we children and our teacher would show up for classes. I no longer remember his name, but he was there every morning. Faithful; always smiling.

My sisters and I walked each way or rode on the broad back of Buck, our farm horse. In the deep snow of those mountain winters, we often wore snowshoes to get there.

Every Sunday, our small country church would be filled with all our neighbors, many of the men coming straight from the barns in their work clothes.

When I was growing up, we had a wall-mounted phone that you cranked to get the local operator. I would just give the name of the person I wanted to speak with, and she would connect us.

I saw my first TV when I was a teenager. It was a giant box with a 13-inch round, Black and white screen filled with “snow’.

Only the wealthy had the color TVs that began to show up around the time when I was finishing high school.

Only a small number of graduates went on to college. When I went to a State College, my annual tuition was around $200.00

Divorce was rare and abortion was almost unheard of. Most families prospered and enjoyed the life of a full family of parents and kids. Families took care of the needy and elderly.

The same was true for Black families where up until the mid-sixties, 78% were two-parent families living together. Today, it is closer to 25%.

Today, approximately 50% of White families are single-parent families, with a divorce rate of just under 50%.

Exact and detailed statistics are available on the web. Just google the data you want deeper information on.

Because my father had become a welder in the shipyards on the Hudson River, we moved to Jersey City, N. J. where I was electrified by the crowds of people, the clanging trolleys, and the horse-drawn carts selling ice for the city’s many iceboxes.

I remember the movies for fifteen cents and the serials afterward, like Tom Mix and The Lone Ranger. I tried to go only when there was a double feature. I watched the paper boys on every busy corner hawking the Jersey Journal. And no- I didn’t fit into the teenage lifestyles there and at first, found myself like a stranger in a strange land. I never did get a duck haircut or pegged pants. When we first moved to the city, I wore the knickers that were my everyday pants in the country. Needless to say, I did not set a fashion trend. Nor did my knee-high socks.

On Sunday, December 7th, 1942, we were coming home from a visit with friends in my father’s 1938 Ford Model A sedan when we heard on the tinny-sounding radio that Pearl Harbor had been bombed by the Japanese. I can still see my mother gasp and cry in the front seat while my father was trying to comfort her. Across the nation, preparation for war began the next day.

My father tried to enlist along with thousands of local men but was turned down because he was a welder in the shipyards. He became our Neighborhood Air Raid Warden. We lived with our windows that were blacked out and used ration books for food and gas and practiced going into the Air-raid shelters. Dad’s car had the top half of the headlights painted black to keep from alerting enemy aircraft.

And I remember the joy and collective celebrations going on at Journal Square in the city center in 1945 at the end of the war.

We were a united people back then, but there were dark sides to the panic that set in and one of them was the Presidential Executive Order in 1942 to relocate and incarcerate 125,000 Japanese individuals, two-thirds of whom were American citizens, until the order was rescinded in the fall of 1945. One of my school friends and his family were taken away to such a camp in the south. It is just one of the many stories of American history. None of my Italian or German friends received any such treatment.

Of course, we were birthed in a society that saw nothing wrong in slavery. It was a world-wide system. Our history with the Blacks, the Native Americans, and the slavery of the early Irish are things we as a nation must carry the guilt for and repent.

I grew up hearing about trains filled with Orphans given away at train stations throughout the Midwest. Almost in the same manner as did the slave auctions of earlier times. Most of these children ended up as slaves to farmers and ranchers. That program ended as the Great Depression set in.

The Second World War also brought together both American Blacks and American Whites fighting side by side in the same units and in the same foxholes in vastly larger numbers; greater than any earlier war. It was the beginning of many inner personal battles as these men worked out their own prejudices. It was a difficult and different type of battle when they came home. But it was the start.

It wasn’t just Blacks. Soldiers bringing home Japanese war brides faced the same discrimination that took a generation and more to end. It was 20 more years of marches and protests that finally brought us the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Interracial marriage was another taboo that had to fight its way to the surface and be dealt with and it is hard to imagine what these couples went through.

What was meant to draw us all together in 1964 as one nation for all didn’t work for many and today, we are a nation of division, with anger, and hatred preached in the streets and taught in schools and universities to the point that our nation is as divided on race as deeply as during the civil war days. I have been told that merely because I am a white man, I am a racist by birth and if I would try to defend myself, it then is proof that I am a racist. That, notwithstanding that my father’s heritage has been that of an abolitionist family for generations. I look at my mother’s heritage of victimhood and genocide.

Today, cities like San Francisco are actually trying to give Black residents huge amounts of money, totaling in the billions out of the need to atone for ancestral slavery and white privilege. I have yet to see any of the Japanese who actually were in American prison camps or the Irish or the American natives ask for their share. This is something that will destroy America.

I grew up in poverty and yet I was taught that if I wanted something, I had to personally earn it. Christmas was a few pairs of underwear or socks. Any toys were handmade by my own hands. I did not drop out of school like so many others did.

I worked a full 48-hour work week and still ended up 12th in my graduating class of over 200. And I left with an appointment to Annapolis. But that’s another story.

That was the world of my youth and early years. We are now a nation focused on division rather than national and personal unity and equality. We bend at every accusation of intolerance, even intolerance of sin and evil. We bow down to the accusers from every deviant section of society.

Even large sections of the church have fallen into self-love and sin. Pastors have become self-adoring actors and millionaires while churches have become places of numbers and business and profit. The Prosperity Movement has made millionaires out of the leaders and the faith of its followers as determined by giving “Until it hurts.”

I find it hard to point out the errors of the cults when I see such rampant sin and self-serving within and throughout the Christian churches. So many have turned from the cross and now teach that our truth can be what we want it to be, what our feelings say rather than what the Word says. Thank God for our righteous pastors and churches.

We are told from every direction that we are bigots not to accept as fact that a man can become a woman and a woman a man merely by them declaring it so. Forget that such things are biologically false and totally impossible. I have yet to see DNA proof for any of this transgender nonsense even when the declarer undergoes surgery to remove any outer evidence of his/her true gender.

The thing that bothers me is that it is being taught and affirmed in the earliest years of our children’s lives. Even the apostate Christian churches of America not only go along with such things but embrace them, smugly standing against God’s Word in the matter. Our public school system has thrown out the reason for its existence and is now a place where our children are groomed for perverse purposes.

We are no longer one nation under God, but one nation under demonic attack. Rev. Franklin Graham, head of Samaritan’s Purse and of The Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, addressed the National Religious Broadcasters convention in Orlando, Florida, on Monday, May 22, and proclaimed Every ‘demon from hell’ has been ‘turned loose’ in society

God’s Word says that we are of one blood, across all nations and every people group. He gave his son, Jesus as the ransom for each of us. He loves each of us. He died for all of us, not just some. All. We need to bring America and the church back to the roots from which we came and do good, not evil in his eyes.

We need to look at everyone and every act of society through the eyes of Jesus. He even loves the people who hate and despise and seek to destroy. We need to be filled with His love and we need to be accountable to Him for what we do with our lives.

It was so many years ago.  It was summer and we were traveling through Utah with the old Saints Alive School bus and a bunch of young Christian volunteers, witnessing in the streets and teaching in Churches and public venues throughout Utah. We were in the [then] small town of Moab.

I was there to meet with the late Keith Greene, wonderful Christian singer and head of Last Days Ministries.  Keith had recently published the “Catholic Chronicles” and we were talking about doing a series called “Th Mormon Manuscript.”

Keith died in a plane crash before we got the project off the ground, but I eventually finished it. Both are available at Saints Alive. Keith was a beloved man of God who led so many thousands to profound new lives in Christ.

While in Moab, I was speaking in a small public venue and just before we began the meeting three bearded men came in with their polygamous wives. I marveled at the pioneer clothes, the hair styles, and the color coordination of the wife groups

They were very attentive to my message and at the end of the meeting, one of the men came up and asked me if he gave his life to Jesus, what would he do with his 8 wives.

I told him that he would keep his first wife and provide for and love his other wives as sisters, but those other benefits would have to cease.  He quietly stood there for some time, visibly shaken and finally told me, “I can’t.”

Around the same time, an older man I knew a while I worked at The Boeing Co. stopped by to visit me. He told me that he was a close childhood friend of the LDS Prophet, Spencer W. Kimball.

He said that he went to Salt Lake and visited his childhood friend at the church headquarters and shared the simple Gospel with him.  He boldly offered to pray with him and asked if he would receive the real Christ in his life. The Prophet shed tears and whispered, “I can’t.”

Now, let’s jump ahead some years to a face-off with the LDS leaders in Tonga. We had gone to the LDS headquarters on my arrival in Tonga and called the LDS leaders to repentance.

I stated that there were two kinds of spiritual leaders, Those who were righteous and led their people to spiritual life in Christ and the unrighteous, who led their people to spiritual death. I said they were unrighteous leaders and I called them to repentance.  

Issy Taukolo, our local leader, spoke to the Tongan head of the Church in their native language, asked him to come to Christ and the man teared up, sobbing. Then he said, In Tongan, “I can’t.”  Issy asked him why. He replied, “They own me.”

I have lost count of the Mormons to whom I have witnessed Christ and asked them to come to the real Christ, only to hear those same exact words, “I can’t.” It’s well in the hundreds who have repeated those two words, often with tears streaming down their faces.

Those specific words are the evidence of demonic control, and the trigger is the witness of the true Jesus.  This is a spiritual battle, and it must be fought in that realm. Logic and truth have no power to break through the “I Can’t.”

But on Ephesians, Chapter Six, you can find that your spiritual weapons are there and ready to use.

Ed Decker

Ed Decker

info@saintsalive.com

For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world;

but that the world through him might be saved. (John 3:17)

Much of human heartbreak stems from feelings of condemnation. People feel inadequate, insecure, and unloved. Often these feelings run contrary to what they know to be true. They may know they are loved, for example, but feel they are not.

Psychiatrists and counselors spend countless hours trying to get their patients to overcome feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. They devise new theories and therapies and, while their efforts sometimes bear remarkable fruit, these practitioners admit no magic cure exists, and they confess that their work is strenuous and taxing.

Of course depression, feelings of guilt, and fear are often deep-rooted. Sometimes they are physically generated and require medication and persistent counseling. Psychoses and neuroses are real diseases that don’t respond to simple solutions. Outside of a miracle, no magic wand will cure such illnesses.

Having said all that, however, far too many people–people who are not severely emotionally ill–suffer emotional stress. Born again Christians are no exception. Our churches are filled with people who hurt badly and often find little relief. Counseling is a primary and worthy function of the Church, but a function that strains pastors and Christian workers, diverting them from other tasks–evangelism, for example.

I have pastored, counseled, and taught in the Body of Christ for more than 45 years. In my opinion many of the emotional battles Christians fight are unnecessary. Often Christians simply knuckle under to condemnation–condemnation they should never have received in the first place.

Where does condemnation come from? 

One of the first things Christians learn is that condemnation does not come from God. Before we were born again, we often thought God “was punishing us” when we faced difficulty in our lives. Even after conversion we sometimes givve way to the temptation to believe that. But very soon, mature Christians (correctly) convince us that God is not angry with us.

He only acts lovingly towards us: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)

If we find a home in any part of the healthy Body of Christ we slowly realize that Christ took our guilt and condemnation upon himself. We realize we have been declared “not guilty.”

But though we know the grace of God intellectually–or even if we experience it, holding on to it is another matter. At times, we cannot seem to hold on to the knowledge that our unrighteousness is covered by Christ’s righteousness. We feel guilty, unlovely, fearful, frustrated, and rejected.

It is as though we have come to see our salvation in two parts: We are indeed saved and heaven bound because of Christ; but we must walk in painful dissatisfaction because we are still carnal.

In a sense that is true. It is certainly true that sin causes guilt and guilt causes worries and fears. But if we mistakenly believe that we cannot have peace and happiness until we rid ourselves of sin, we miss the whole point of the Gospel.

While it is true that outward holiness is not optional for a Christian, we do not have to wait until we have overcome our sinful nature in order to dwell in full peace and forgiveness. In fact, focussing on our sinfulness will only make things worse!

Sources of condemnation 

God identifies “the accuser of the brethren” as Satan. (Rev. 12:10) However condemnation is delivered to us through spouses, coworkers, friends, and even perfect strangers. Sometimes the criticism is ugly and overt; sometimes we read it in a glance.

Make no mistake, condemnation, like a missile, flies relentlessly toward us. Sometimes it is malicious, sometimes benign, but always deadly. We cannot prevent the missiles from coming our way. But we can learn to refuse to accept their delivery!

By far the most consistent attack comes from within. We are our own worst enemies. Thoughts arise within us to condemn us. We must learn to reject those as well. This is job number one! We must unfailingly send those thoughts to the cross and cover them with the blood of Christ.

A lesson I learned from a friend. 

Back when I was first saved in 1975, I came under a lot of good teaching about “the righteousness of the believer.” At some point I woke up to the sound doctrinal revelation that–in God’s eyes–I was as righteous as I would ever be. You see, righteousness is not a part-time thing.

There are only two kinds of people in the world, righteous and unrighteous. According to God’s word, all of man’s attempts to be self-righteous amount to nothing:

But we are all as an unclean [thing], and all our righteousnesses [are] as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. (Isa 64:6)

I came to understand that my righteousness before God was imputed. Paul the Apostle said it this way (actually he quoted King David):

Blessed [are] they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. (Romans 4:7)

And Isaiah wrote:

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness…(Is. 61.10)

All of this came home to me one day during a conversation with a young pastor, a man who has since become one of my dearest friends. He was under unjustified accusation from some of his parishioners. As we talked about the situation, I watched as something boldly rose up within him and he said, almost in anger, “I will not receive condemnation!”

 He did not say this in a way to defend himself or the charges against him. It mattered not at that moment whether his accusers were right or wrong. What mattered was that condemnation was aimed at him and he–because he understood who he was in Christ–also knew that it was as wrong to receive condemnation as it was to give it!

Since the day I saw that drama played out on the face and in the voice of my friend, I have often heard myself say (even when no one was around me) “I will not receive condemnation!”

What I am not saying

 
I’m not talking about listening to legitimate criticism. I’m talking about being a sponge that absorbs ungodly condemnation.

How to refuse condemnation: 

In order to stand firmly against condemnation, we should remember four things:

1. I belong to God and He is the vinedresser (John 15:1) 
2.  God never comes to me with condemnation, only loving invitation to change. 
3. It is as sinful to receive condemnation as it is to give it. 
   
   
4. The accuser of the brethren is relentless in his attempt to bring us down and he will use anyone who is unwise enough to be a conduit for his condemnation

Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from Condemnation and death unto life. (John 5:24)

It is time to read Ephesians, Chapter 6 Again and apply it to our lives.

Put all the Full Armor of God

The Full Armor of God  Ephesians, Chapter Six

¹⁰ Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. ¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. ¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 

¹³ Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. ¹⁴ Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, ¹⁵ and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

¹⁸ And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. ¹⁹ Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰ for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should

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I’m not sure who said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”  I know some PHD wrote a book or two about it. Usually, I can’t do a thing about the big stuff and wasting my time and energy sweating about the big stuff gets me nothing but indigestion. My wife handles all the big stuff, anyway. It’s the small stuff that keeps my interest.

I wonder where our daily newspaper gets its rubber bands.  When my paper is ‘rubber-banded’ in one, it is always dirty. Do they buy them that way from a used rubber-band place or are they using so much ink that just putting one on gets it all dirty?

I personally like the ones the Post Office uses. They are wider, thicker, and almost always new and clean. I use them around the house for all sorts of things.  I put the newspaper ones in the trash container before I even get back in the house.

I have never figured out why anyone would enjoy using toilet tissue mounted with the leading sheet under the roll. It makes no sense at all. When the leading sheet is over the top, it is easy to get at. No groping around under the roll, usually mounted in an awkward, hard to reach spot, anyway.

When I’m out at someone else’s home or at a restaurant, I feel compelled to correct any roll that is improperly mounted. It is just something that would nag at me the entire time I am there if I didn’t do that.  I do not tell other people [oops] about that little quirk.  Don’t they know that the patent for TP has the roll going over the top?

I also find myself often taking a paper towel and wiping down the sink splashes in restaurant and airport restrooms. I just do not understand how some people can be so thoughtless of others.

I don’t like the way some people load dishwashers. When we have guests for dinner, the ladies want to help clean up and I’ve gotten so I wish I could tell them not to.  I know better, though.

There are ways to load a dishwasher and ways not to.  I must wait until they leave and reload it. There is a system and I doing it right, you know. Gotten so I do most of the cleanup lately.

I always wonder of the bread they put on my table at a restaurant includes the bread from an earlier table that someone else didn’t eat.

I wonder about doctors who make me sit for an hour and a half in the waiting room with sick people ever had to do that themselves.

I read the obituaries every day. I’m Ok if most of the people listed are older than me, but I have a bad day when most are younger. I have come to realize that at my age, most are. Now I have more descendants now than I have friends. They’re going faster than I like. 

Planning ahead, a few years ago, I asked one friend to speak at my funeral.  When he died and I spoke at his funeral, I asked another friend there to take his spot at my farewell. He reluctantly agreed and then died the next year. I asked another friend who had been at both funerals if he would speak at mine and he vigorously shook his head and screamed, “not on your life!”  I thought that it was an odd statement, considering the subject.

I finally resolved the issue by recording my own farewell message, including my special rendition of a few Jimmy Durante songs. The big question is how can I be sure the kids will actually play it

Now I keep my pre-paid cremation card in my wallet, just in case my dentist kills me the next time he does one of those deep cleaning jobs on me.   

My wife said, “Ed, stop worrying about this. Just slow down, you will last longer. And Ed, be nicer to the kids. They will be choosing our rest home.” 

It annoys me that the lights in my area are the most unsynchronized lights in Washington. I am convinced that they are designed to force stop me at every single intersection, even when there is no cross traffic.

There must be a hidden device on my car that some sadistic traffic controller has placed there, just hoping I drive out.  I think he sits there, watching me on his traffic computer and then with cackling joy, pops the red-light button at every light I approach.  

Well, the laugh is on them. My son took the cars keys away from me after my seizures came back. They will not have me to persecute any longer. I finally get the last laugh!

I have yet to figure out how a golf ball that I hit straight down the fairway can suddenly pick up speed and veer off at a sharp angle, usually ending up hitting a roof of a house where the occupant is standing in the yard.  Never a vacant house, where I can quietly sneak by.

I have tried to trick the ball and compensate by aiming at a house, but then it goes exactly where I aimed it. It is demonic.

Sometimes, a little article on an off page in the newspaper stays with me for days. I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating over it.  Here are two that had me awake at 3 AM this morning.

Just the other day, I read that the Governor, out of his compassion and in a cost savings effort, was planning on releasing 6,000 inmates from the state prisons.

In another article, cleverly hidden in a different section of the paper, it was announced that the state would be stopping its parole monitoring of low-level offenders after their release.

This is being done, to reduce the number of parolees returning to prison for violating their parole, because if they aren’t monitoring the parolees, the state will not know if they are violating the terms of their parole.

Does anyone but me, and most of the owners of convenience stores throughout the state feel like these are really, bad ideas?

Bibles are forbidden in schools, all government facilities, military bases and academies; forbidden in some of the countries we defend with the lives of our soldiers. Most courtrooms keep a copy for ‘swearing in” people to testify they will tell the truth, while all now let the witness affirm they will tell the truth, without swearing on this unpopular book.

Most churches put the scripture references on big screens and few people tote their bibles there any more. Employees have been told to remove it from their work places and kids have been sent home for reading it at school during free choice reading times.

Are we losing the Bible to Political correctness? Or are we going to stand firm on its use and power? Where is your bible?

We are subject to a government doing everything in its power to remove the Holy Bible from public life and use. Yet, this act flies in the face of historical evidence of its importance to American life and liberty.

Did You Know That:

Congress formed the American Bible Society. Immediately after creating the Declaration of Independence, the Continental Congress voted to purchase and import 20,000 copies of scripture for the people of this nation.

Patrick Henry, who is called the firebrand of the American Revolution, is still remembered for his words,

“Give me liberty or give me death.” But in current textbooks the context of these words is deleted. Here is what he actually said: “An appeal to arms and the God of hosts is all that is left us. But we shall not fight our battle alone. There is a just God that presides over the destinies of nations. The battle sir, is not to the strong alone. Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it almighty God. I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.”

These sentences have been erased from our textbooks. Was Patrick Henry a Christian? You be the judge. The following year, 1776, he wrote this:

“It cannot be emphasized too strongly or too often that this great Nation was founded not by religionists, but by Christians; not on religions, but on the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For that reason alone, people of other faiths have been afforded freedom of worship here.”

Consider these words that Thomas Jefferson wrote on the front of his well-worn Bible:

“I am a real Christian, that is to say, a disciple of the doctrines of Jesus. I have little doubt that our whole country will soon be rallied to the unity of our Creator. ”

He was also the chairman of the American Bible Society, which he considered his highest and most important role.

On July 4, 1821, President Adams said,

“The highest glory of the American Revolution was this: it connected in one indissoluble bond the principles of civil government with the principles of Christianity.”

There is more. In 1782, the United States Congress voted this resolution:

“The Congress of the United States recommends and approves the Holy Bible for use in all schools.”

William Holmes McGuffey was the author of the McGuffey Reader, which was used for over 100 years in our public schools with over 125 million copies sold until it was stopped in 1963. President Lincoln called him the “Schoolmaster of the Nation.” Listen to these words of Mr. McGuffey:

“The Christian religion is the religion of our country. From it are derived our notions on the character of God, on the great moral Governor of the universe. On its doctrines are founded the peculiarities of our free institutions. From no source has the author drawn more conspicuously than from the sacred Scriptures. For all these extracts from the Bible I make no apology.”

Of the first 108 universities founded in America, 106 were distinctly Christian, including the first, Harvard University, chartered in 1636. In the original Harvard Student Handbook, rule number 1 was that students seeking entrance must know Latin and Greek so that they could study the scriptures:

“Let every student be plainly instructed and earnestly pressed to consider well, the main end of his life and studies is, to know God and Jesus Christ, which is eternal life, John 17:3; and therefore to lay Jesus Christ as the only foundation for our children to follow the moral principles of the Ten Commandments.”

Yale historian Harry S. Stout’s wrote an article in Christian History magazine titled, “Christianity and the American Revolution”. Here is what he said about America at the time of the Revolution.

“Over the span of the colonial era, American ministers delivered approximately 8 million sermons, each lasting one to one-and-a-half hours. The average 70-year-old colonial churchgoer would have listened to some 7,000 sermons in his or her lifetime, totaling nearly 10,000 hours of concentrated listening. This is the number of classroom hours it would take to receive ten separate undergraduate degrees in a modern university, without ever repeating the same course!

Events were perceived not from the mundane, human vantage point but from God’s. The vast majority of colonists were Reformed or Calvinist, to whom things were not as they might appear at ground level: all events, no matter how mundane or seemingly random, were parts of a larger pattern of meaning, part of God’s providential design.

The outlines of this pattern were contained in Scripture and interpreted by discerning pastors. – [Today] taxation and representation are political and constitutional issues, having nothing to do with religion. But to eighteenth-century ears, attuned to lifetimes of preaching, the issues were inevitably religious as well.”

Times have changed, the world is different from those days, yet we all have the same hopes and desires, the love of God, family and the freedoms that such a spiritually based birth gave us here in America.

Yes, we are a great nation, but it was earned by the sweat and toil and prayers of men and women like these. Let’s not forget this!

One of my sons called last night to tell me that the steelhead run is the best in over 30 years, and we should go out my favorite hole and pick up a few. But my mind didn’t focus on the great fishing I have experienced in years past, but on the long climb down a steep hill to my particular spot and the aching that would go along while standing in a cold river for a few hours and the pain of climbing back up that rocky hillside. No fish is worth it anymore.

I was brushing my teeth this morning and took a second look at the guy in the mirror, and I was shocked at what I now see there. My golden years are turning into molding years, more rust than gold. My blonde hair is now pure white. Those wrinkles are not scars of battle but ruts of old age and perhaps smiling too much.

I can no longer do many of the activities that I used to enjoy. I now judge any outing on how far I must walk, how many stairs are involved, and where I can find the closest bathroom. I find that I have made a lot of decisions over the last few years based on what I can’t do rather than what I can do. I can’t ski as I used to ski, and I can’t run the way I ran as a youth. I cannot get on the back of a horse even with the help of a ladder, let alone run it through some jumps. I wouldn’t even try.

Who am I kidding here? I can’t hear or see like I did when I was just 80! I can’t hear or see the way I did 50 years ago. I can’t hike up the mountain trails the way I did a few years ago, and I never go out for a late meal anymore. My dining out now revolves around early bird specials or two-for-one dinners. We hurry home, so we don’t miss Wheel of Fortune.

I now plan on going home even before I get wherever I’m going. I can find something nice to say to everyone I encounter. I can listen with an intent ear, and even when a hurting friend talks so low that I can’t hear the words, I can nod and share the hurt I see.

Having said all that, my mouth still works, and I can smile at everyone I run into as I roam about through each day.

I know we are usually in too much of a hurry to get where we are going to make eye contact and say a few kind words to the checkers and baggers at the grocery store or the waitress and busboy at the restaurant or that neighbor standing in their driveway. Maybe you could have introduced yourself or that stranger who came to your church last Sunday.

But I promise you that if you do that one simple thing, your life will change for the good, and the gold will begin to bust out through the rust.

Let me share just one small example from so many hundreds of such occasions. Last Thanksgiving, we went to a wonderful restaurant for dinner. On the way out I took a slight detour and stopped at the kitchen, and thanked the cook staff for the delicious meal they provided. I received a lot of high fives. And a lot of smiles. After we left the restaurant, the manager caught up with us to thank me for taking the time to bless the cook staff. He said that with the hundreds of tables they were serving that day, I was the only patron who took the time to do that. It was a small thing but impacted people who were working hard and just needed a kind word.

I pray each morning that I have an abundance of what I call “people gifts” so that I can give them away in loving all my neighbors as myself, bringing kindness and love to those I meet who need it. And I assume they all need it.

Try it the next time you run those errands that take you around the neighborhood. It will bless you and those whose paths you cross. Then watch out. When you walk into a place, the people will already be already smiling.