Cow in Pasture: The Saga 

PUYALLUP, Washington. Anyone got any road flares? 

On Saint Patrick

Christ be with me,

Christ within me,

Christ behind me,

Christ before me,

Christ beside me,

Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort and restore me.

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ in quiet,

Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of all that love me,

Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
--St. Patrick's Breastplate

Patricius Magonus Sucatus had left an incredible story, though obscured by dressed up legends and traditions now held on today, the date of his death, the celebration of his life. He had come from an upper middle-class family, and then a nominal Christian, was taken captive by Irish raiders in the late 4th century. In Ireland Patrick was sold into slavery and put to work as a shepherd tending to flocks of sheep; interestingly, it was there on the popular location of Foclut, in eastern Ireland, that he became close to the Lord, building on the relationship with fervant prayer from morning to night. One can research Patrick's life on the Web in various sites, and in library's across the globe, but by the Lord's will I think it was meant to be that we should not know anymore about this Christian who ministered to the Irish after having fled to his homeland and returning by the directions God had sent him in dreams.

In two letters, one called Confessio, a letter to certain church leader in Rome who though Patrick to be some bumpkin who was not capable to be a minister of the Gospel, and the other one was a letter to a British officer called Coroticus. Even Patrick himself acknowledges that his Latin and his education is limited and says of himself in the first sentance in that letter that he is "a most simple countryman, the least of all the faithful and most contemptible to many" and "therefore for some time I have thought of writing, but I have hesitated until now, for truly, I feared to expose myself to the criticism of men, because I have not studied like others, who have assimilated both Law and the Holy Scriptures equally and have never changed their idiom since their infancy, but instead were always learning it increasingly, to perfection, while my idiom and language have been translated into a foreign tongue." But he was quite confidant in the Lord, knowing that the servant is not greater than his master, writing to the the bishops and deacons, reminding them that it is the Lord who he looked to not at his own works (the Italics are mine):

But had it been given to me as to others, in gratitude I should
not have kept silent, and if it should appear that I put myself before others,
with my ignorance and my slower speech, in truth, it is written: 'The tongue of
the stammerers shall speak rapidly and distinctly.' How much harder must we try
to attain it, we of whom it is said: 'You are an epistle of Christ in greeting
to the ends of the earth ... written on your hearts, not with ink but with the
Spirit of the living God.' And again, the Spirit witnessed that the rustic life
was created by the Most High.

I am, then, first of all, countryfied, an exile, evidently unlearned, one who is not able to see into the future, but I know for certain, that before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in deep mire, and he that is mighty came and in his mercy raised me up and, indeed, lifted me high up and placed me on top of the wall. And from there I ought to shout out in gratitude to the Lord for his great favours in this world and for
ever, that the mind of man cannot measure (The "Confessio" of Saint Patrick, www.robotwisdom.com/jaj/patrick.html#forty1).

Working Daze: Don't Shake Hands With A Razorblade Knife

I had quite an interesting shift last night. During the rotation, an older fellow from the Red Team told me as he was preparing to leave his post and hand it over to me, "Yeah, it's been a real hassle today... I'm always glad to see you guys come in." Certainly, after 12 hours one sure doesn't mind to see the next shift arrive. I always manage to pray before and during work, but especially before, that I will learn something new and continue to be willful on the job; having said that, I always do learn a thing or two, or more, and I fortunately feel willing to work. There's a slogan on one of the Milgard Windows T-shirts which says (pun intended all the way), "No Pane, No Gain".

So when I cut my hand with a razor blade knife, reached for a first aid kit a few moments later, and passed out from feeling light-headed (it wasn't because I saw my own stinkin' blood!), hitting my head on the concrete floor, with the blood on my left hand oozing out, there is something to be said about metal gloves and most emphatically the seriousness which the company makes of any injury (including my minor cut).

I was zoomed to the hospital, the 'zooming' being the sound of a co-worker's truck's muffler, and dropped off to fend for myself and the paperwork I had to sign before any treatment. The doctors down at the clinic are quite nice; they tell you to lay down and get comfortable on the job. That's the first and hopefully the last time. I was stitched up (with one fine, nylon stitch) and given a tetanus shot, the first one I've taken in probably ten years, rocked and rolled down the one, two, three hallways to take a CAT-Scan in that souped up machine of magic. One childhood recollection for this entry is: The last CAT-Scan I had was back in Kindergarten when a classmate jumped on my spleen and stretched it, unintentially of course; kindergarteners are unfamiliar with spleens and the human anatomy, at least we were back in the day.

So Migard is right, "No Pane, No Gain". And I've learnt that you should not do two things with a razorblade knife: 1.) You should not scrape from the bottom up. 2.) You should not shake hands with it.

The First and Last Guitar Shot 

Early Morning: A 6 AM shot of Mt. Rainier via my back yard. 

Words and Stories At The Rietzugs

"You therefore must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier" (2 Timothy 2:3-4).

I was at the RIETZUGS house--"The Church Across the Street"--this morning. Henry introduced a message by another pastor (whose message was delivered on CD) called "Can God Use Me?". The entire premise of it encouraged our discussions and open testimonies toward the response to the question; yes, God gives us purpose, the "where-with-all," to be connected to His Kingdom through Christ.

There were about 30 or 40 people there including the small children attending in the kitchen and front room as the adults and a couple infants gathered around in the living room as the morning unfolded. Throughout the official time of the meeting, I was eager to give some testimony, thinking of countless instances in the last couple weeks where I've seen the work of God bless and teach me and others (family, coworkers, friends) some truly amazing and wonderful things. But thankfully my tongue was kept bridled for the most part, aside from some prayer requests and hushed grunts of agreement during the church time. (Reminded by Steve Rogers in South Dakota that "church" means assembly, I can't forget it.) God uses our words in very special ways, that if I had tried to speak out as many times as I wanted I would probably have tarnished the purpose of exhortation and merely spoke on my own behalf. Praise Yahweh that I obeyed and listened instead of chattering on.

However, I did bring my guitar to the Rietzugs home, feeling compelled that morning around 9:00 to take the lyrics of a song I wrote last December inspired by Matthew 25 (the parable of the sheep and goats), called simple enough "Living Among Goats". It sounds quite light out of context, but it's not really about anything most want to hear. The point: It is a song for Christians who must be aware that, while they are the sheep who are on the right hand of God with the inheritance of eternal life, the unsaved souls living among the living are the goats who are on His left, receiving everlasting fire and separation from the Lord. I didn't make any mention of the song at all except when Anne met me at the front door with my guitar in hand. I had told her that I felt some inspiration to bring the lyrics with me (sort of winging it, if you will accept that expression). We took Communion in the last few minutes of the meeting and we all finished partaking of the bread and juice. (Funny, there is usually never any wine at all during most traditional Communion times, when it is wine that the Jews and Christ used in past and the Last Supper. But of course, it is the blood the Savior that is being represented, so the material is not crucial!)

Then, without missing a beat, Henry said to me from across the room, "Matthew, do you want to share your song with us?" I suppose his wife, Anne, told him about it. "It'll be a post-Communion song," he said. And then I went to fetch my guitar, and sat down on the piano stool and introduced the folks around me to the topic and some history behind the inspiration. It came to be because of the people I saw around me who are not saved, some family and friends out and about in the world and people I see meandering around me as I drive and walk down the roads and sidewalks of this world. Trouble is, many Christians do not feel obliged at all to exemplify Christ in truth and deed as they are content to look and sound religious, but the afterlife is very real, and the Judgment Day is very real. We're living among goats, my brothers and sisters; they're pretty close to us too. We must lead by our own example of faith and living that faith which is built on the God of all creation. We are not perfect, for if it wasn't for the mercy and plan of God, we could still be chained to sin and strife as this world is, therefore, we ought to not reflect that way of thinking. "We loved Him because He first loved us," says 1 John 4:19.

After the service, I talked to a few people. With Bob and Lydia, a married couple who I had met over a year ago through the services held at the Rietzugs' hosting of the "Church Across the Street," I learned that he is a pilot and goes overseas to the Middle East, and various other regions I dream about. I asked him how one might go about going the Israel or India (or any other country outside the cushiness of the U.S.A for that matter), being hypothetical but clearly speaking about myself without saying "How do I do this?". Of course I knew that I would need to have a passport or Visa to travel abroad but I looked for some outlet, such as a company or organization, that would provide a real purpose for being in a foreign place. Simply put, I wish to minister to people. And so, talking with Bob, whose job demands that he leave this country, I learned what I had already really knew, that if God wants a man to go abroad for the gospel then He will have that man go regardless of that man's feelings of wanting to or not wanting to go.

I had some good encounters today, by another gift brought to me by my Father, all things work out for good. Now, what's for supper? Steak? Yeah, I can grill. You know it.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths" (Proverbs 3:5-6).