the Chapel blog

By: Judith Hargett

The part of my brain that produces common sense had apparently taken a temporary leave of absence and was replaced by wishful thinking.  Still, I knew better.  There is no way to do a project in the house that combines a man with a saw that does not result in the need for major cleaning…even when the actual sawing is done outside.  We recently embarked on a small home improvement project.  Soon every surface in or near our house was covered in dust.   The old dust bunnies sought out the newly formed dust and—not surprisingly considering they’re bunnies—soon produced a whole new crop of dust bunnies. Fall cleaning began early.  This would be a good time, I reasoned, to rid the house of a few unnecessary things.  After all, I didn’t want to be guilty of Covetitis, an inflammation of the Covetary Gland. 

            If you heard Pastor Dan Greene’s message recently, you would understand all about this highly infectious disease called Covetitis.  It is easy to self diagnose.   It was covered in the last lesson in his series on The Ten Commandments, each lesson well worth hearing if you missed any of them.  Having fallen under the influence of my conscience, I quickly assessed myself and diagnosed a mild to moderate case of Covetitis.  It’s a condition most of us have.  It may be coveting someone else’s property, talent, health, youth or problem-free (ha) family.  The list of possibilities is almost endless.  But when it comes to coveting things, Dan said something that has been a long-term problem for me: contentment comes from wanting all you have.   My house has plenty of stuff in it I don’t want.  It shouldn’t be this way.  After all, haven’t I carried loads and loads of clothes and knickknacks to Salvation Army?  And donated bags of more stuff for garage sales?  Who keeps refilling my emptied corners and cabinets? 

            It didn’t take long before an opportunity arose to reduce my inventory of non-essential décor.  While emptying our very small China cabinet, which held enough items to cover half a football field, a Willow Tree angel and a small clay rabbit fell out hitting the tile floor.  The angel’s head rolled off into a corner and the rabbit was missing an ear.  I do not believe in luck or omens so did not get a creepy feeling at the sight of a headless angel.  The angel, ironically named “Angel of the Kitchen,” was a gift given by a friend when we moved into our current home.  My kitchen offerings might be considered adequate but not angelic…a fact the headless angel now seemed to confirm.   Yet, I could not convince myself to throw away either the angel or the rabbit.  Instead I spent two precious hours trying to glue the head back on the angel and the ear back on the rabbit. (It’s easier for me to give away than throw away.)  I didn’t really consider this good time management on my part.  I am so very thankful, though, that God is willing to take the time to mend me back together when I “lose” my own head and my ears feel broken by worldly words.       

            There is an old song written by Helen Lemmel that is worth dwelling on when we get caught up in the materialism that is pushed by the world.  The words to the song go like this:

             “Turn your eyes upon Jesus.  Look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”

             Now that is a fine dose of medicine for Covetitis.  Just repeat as often as needed.  The Great Healer is always available to fill your prescription§

By: Stan Crader

The stock market is soaring, or at least it was when writing this blog. Everyone is sharing stock tips. 401Ks are growing in value. Everyone is happy. Investing sounds much better than spending.  In fact, our leaders now call government spending investment. “We’re investing in the future,” they say.

Did you ever notice how some people, no matter how much they have, complain about needing more? And others, appearing to be in great need, seem satisfied? Too often we allow wanted items to migrate to the want list. Satisfaction is more easily found by those who know the difference between need and want.

Back to investing; what is the best investment you’ve ever made? I’ll tell you a story and give you a moment to think. I once considered joining an investment club and attended one of their monthly meetings. My host marched me around a smoke-filled room and introduced me to the regulars. After each introduction I had to endure their perspective on the most popular prospective. I’d never appreciated the minutia offered in that fine printed regulatory requirement until that meeting. The appreciation was short lived.

After everyone had a chance to boast privately of their recent gains the meeting was called to order. For a moment I was momentarily given to the notion that I was in a room full of investment geniuses. Nobody had mentioned having chosen a loser. Surely they had.

Several people stood and shared their best investment story; again, no losing stories. At that time I had invested in one company, International Harvester, they’d recently introduced a new diesel engine. I bought it at $4 and sold at $8, I’d doubled my money. The problem was I’d only bought 200 shares. I’d sent the proverbial boy to do a man’s job. But the boy made money, enough to take his family to Florida for Christmas (and stay with in-laws).

Eventually, I was asked if I had an investment story to share. It felt like I was being evaluated and my invitation to join the erudite group depended on the investment experience I might bring to the group. The combination of olfactory offensive cigarette smoke and my recent experience with International Harvester combined to provoke my memory.

My grandfather had started an International Harvester dealership in the 1940s. It was while working there that I heard of IH’s new diesel engine. And the cigarette smoke reminded me of an investment my grandfather had made. One day after I’d followed in his footsteps while he tilled the garden we were sitting together on his cistern. He pulled out a can of Prince Albert and meticulously rolled a cigarette, lit it, leaned back against the cistern pump, and took a long drag that clearly brought him great pleasure. After letting him know that I looked forward to the day when I could do the same, he tendered a challenge.

He said this, “I’ll give you $100 if you don’t smoke until you’re eighteen.” The year was 1959, to a boy getting fifteen cents per week for allowance; $100 was a gold mine. I agreed. He subsequently made the same offer to all of his grandkids. Fourteen years later I collected. To my recollection, none of his grandkids ever smoked. I wasn’t asked to join the prestigious group; I wouldn’t have joined anyway. The group’s lack of appreciation for my best investment story told me volumes about their character.

Now that you’ve had a moment to think, what’s your best investment story?

Stan Crader is a long time Cape Bible Chapel member and author.  This article was originally posted on his blog www.stancrader.com.

Best Investments –    

It had whiskers and a twitching tail and was looking in our window much like the humans who stare at captive zoo animals.  Black cat, who usually runs as soon as we open the back door, sat calmly as if knowing we would not chase him from our current, relaxed positions.  Husband immediately warned me against any ideas of making black cat into a pet.  He holds a grudge about the absence of a dog in our lives and believes I am responsible for this lack of companionship that could be offered to him by a tail wagging, slobbering mass of canine presence.  I merely point out the responsibilities and impracticalities of dog ownership, never telling husband what he can or cannot do; though that would undoubtedly change should he ever want to adopt a snake to fill the vacant pet position.

            But, to get to my subject.  If you were in church Sunday, you would have immediately noticed our college students have returned.  Not only because their favored pews were filled with shiny, non-graying hair; but because there was an unmistakable energy that only this group can provide.  These students come from different states, even different countries, and very diverse backgrounds.  A few live close enough to go home occasionally, but most will be spending the majority of their weekends locally. They need connections in their new community.

We want to make our students, and all our visitors, feel welcome.  We don’t want them to feel like stray cats looking in the Cape Bible Chapel window at the safe and contented members figuratively stretched out on their favorite pews.   Make a point to welcome them, offer a hug, ask about their studies, invite them to lunch, or become a mentor parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle or even cousin.  They need relationships with people of all ages.

Now, excuse me.  Black cat has placed himself beneath the bird feeder, licking his lips.  I’ve got to shoo him away.  He is not permitted to eat or terrorize our feathered guests.  Likewise, we do not want to see our young students terrorized and devoured by the prowling evils in this world.  Let’s try to keep them well fed spiritually, physically and emotionally while they’re in our care.§

“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.  Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in various forms.” 1 Peter 4:9-10

 by: Judith Hargett

How big can a hummingbird’s brain be?  Well, needless to say… and like most people who use that phrase I’m going to go ahead and say…though it’s needless.  A hummingbird brain can’t be very big based on the limited space provided for containing it.  Yet, they seem to use what brain they have in a most efficient manner.  Once the little hummers find a feeder, they appear to “reason” there should be one in that same spot the next year.  And when the feeder is empty, they hover in front of the window as if they know that some “thing” on the other side of that glass provides their sweet refreshment.

In stark contrast of size are the crows that have discovered they like the taste of the suet cakes we provide.  Crows are smart birds, and we don’t mind having a few come around.  Makes us feel like we’re living in the country.  But between the crows and the woodpeckers, a suet cake can disappear quickly.  Unlike the government, we can’t print more suet cakes to appease the feathered populace so we were a little concerned when we watched one of the crows work diligently at opening the suet cage.  Undoubtedly this was so he could take the whole cake home for the crow family supper.  He eventually gave up on “breaking and entering” but not before removing significant chunks of suet.  I suspect he is now meeting with the crow engineers to “hatch” a plan to outsmart the humans who can’t even fly on their own no matter how hard they flap their arms…and gums.   Oh the freedom flying would seem to offer us.

Thinking of freedom reminds me of a young marine I was visiting with recently.  He said he didn’t expect to be deployed because we were “at peace.”  Hmm.  So, this is what peace feels like?  I’m not sure our enemies have been adequately advised that we’re not currently available for attacks.  And we know there is an enemy who will never leave us at peace.  That enemy is the devil and his evil minions.  As long as satan roams this earth, he will seek those whom he may devour as we are told in I Peter 4:8: “Be self-controlled and alert.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”

            When I was a child I was able to fly in some of my dreams, usually when I needed to escape from a lion…never when a snake was involved. (My feet always stayed rooted to the ground if a snake was after me.  Waking up was the only thing that could save me.)  Flying in my dreams was a great feeling.  I can only imagine what it might feel like to fly for real.  Isaiah gives us a preview of what that might be like when he spoke to God’s people who had been taken captive by the Babylonians.  In Isaiah 40:28-31 he says, “Do you not know? Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  Such encouraging words!

Oh, I see the hummingbirds circling the feeder; their tiny wings beating frantically.  The sugar water must be getting low, and they fight each other over the remaining drops.  In contrast, Christ followers have a never ending source of nourishment.  We can feed on His Word any time; it is impossible to overeat.  Yet we can be just as greedy as the tiny hummingbirds if we don’t share that Word with the many empty humans that circle around us every day. §

By: Judith Hargett

It was a very annoying sound.  Not the most annoying; that’s reserved for the whine of a mosquito that sets up camp next to your ear right after you turn the light out at bedtime.  No.  This noise usually came in the middle of the night.  It seemed to be reserved for my ears alone as husband never heard it.  It was a gnawing noise, and it sounded like it was coming from the bedroom floor vent.  I imagined a family of mice having their midnight snack just a few quick steps away…and you can’t imagine how quick those steps truly would be should my foot come down on a fuzzy little head.  But removing the vent cover revealed no sign of mouse habitation.   Husband, in an effort to appease me, removed the cover from each floor vent in the house and did a thorough examination revealing not even a reclusive spider.  Clearly we had an infestation of poltergeist mice, or poltermice as I began referring to them.

Our home is built into what was once a tree-covered hill.  Thick woods still rise up behind it.  We invaded territory that was occupied for many years by native wildlife.  It is not unexpected that they occasionally return to see what the new residents might have to offer in the form of hospitality.  Admittedly, they are not always welcomed equally.  Though we put out food and water for the birds, we’re not as generous toward squirrels and raccoons.  Much like grown human children who should be out making their own living, they don’t see why they should be excluded from free food and usually ignore our fussing and fist shaking.  Again, much like grown human children.  Eventually a live trap is put in place after animal predations go too far.  A recent occupant of the trap was a possum.  (Opossum if they’re of Irish descent.)    Husband likes possums and typically doesn’t consider them a pest and therefore not needful of the standard relocation program.  So he opened the door to give possum his freedom, but wary possum just stayed where he was not realizing freedom was his for the taking.

Our world is filled with people like that possum who don’t realize that eternal freedom as well as earthly provision are easily within their reach.  It is the responsibility of each Christ follower to share the good news about freedom that is recorded in God’s Word.  The Gospels are filled with this good news and of course The Great Commission charging us with this duty (see Matthew 28:19-20) comes to mind.  Look also in the Old Testament at Psalm 146:7 for a fine verse: “He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry, the Lord sets prisoners free.”  What encouraging words!

Now back to our possum captive.  Husband left the cage door propped open so the homely marsupial could leave at his leisure, which he finally did.  But what about our poltermice?  What was he going to do about those vermin? (Some of you might think mice are cute and even harbor them as pets, but the Lord declared them unclean in Leviticus 11:29 and I think there is good reason to believe they should be avoided like the plague…because indeed they have been known to cause a plague.)  Having determined that no mice were actually in the house, husband took his search outside.  He soon discovered where the beady eyed, whiskered pests had chewed the covering off a drainpipe that runs beneath the house.  This apparently offered access to a cool dark place close to the bedroom window where their evenings could be spent away from the piercing eyes of owls or the deadly pounce of one of the feral cats that roam these hills.  The opening to their luxury quarters was soon cut off.  So far, no more noises from the poltermice.  The nights are once again quiet.  But I tell you the sound I would like to hear in the middle of the night: the Lord’s trumpet we read about in I Corinthians 15:52: “In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet: for the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.”  Yet, when that happens, the door to freedom will be closed and the unsaved, like our trapped possum, won’t even realize it.

By: Judith Hargett

I was about to crawl into bed . . . no, wait.  Crawling sounds like I’d worked hard all day and could barely move.  I’d also better eliminate “climb into” as an inaccurate descriptor.  Let’s just say I was slipping . . . no, I was just entering the bed recently when I noticed a tiny spider advancing up the wall behind the headboard.  I am not particularly afraid of spiders.  After all, the lovely Charlotte of Charlotte’s Web was one of my favorite childhood characters.  Still, my imagination quickly positioned this arachnid stranger directly above me on the ceiling where it would parachute down as soon as I closed my eyes and dangle right above my face waiting for my eyes to open, or worse, my mouth.  To thwart Spider’s plan, I grabbed a coaster from the nightstand and gave the invader a little shove.  Spider hit the floor running and disappeared beneath the nightstand.  My concern immediately switched to my shoes which were next to the bed; a potentially cozy habitat for the many-legged nuisance.

But back to Charlotte for a moment.  If you are familiar with her story, you may remember that Charlotte was a barn dwelling spider.  She befriended the very lonely Wilbur, a young pig being fattened for the farmer’s table.  Charlotte saved Wilbur by spinning admirable comments about him in her web, such as “Some Pig.” That got me to wondering.  What would I like a thoughtful and creative spider to spin in a web about me?

Since I believe Jesus sacrificed Himself to save me, I don’t have to worry about being fattened up by sin so satan can feast on me, for as John tells us in 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”  Confessing sins right away makes for a good spiritual diet plan; keeps us from getting weighed down with guilt and enticed to gorge on a steady helping of misconduct.

I’m going to look in Galatians for some good words for my web.  Let’s see.  Romans, then the two Corinthians . . . ah, here’s what I’m looking for in Galatians 5:22: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”  Hmm, a believer’s life should bear all that fruit, though we know the Lord places a special emphasis on love.  What would a discerning spider write after observing me when others weren’t around to hold me accountable?

While considering what the convicting answer might be to this question, my husband appeared and asked why my shoes were on top of the furniture.  I told him about the huge spider that was hiding beneath the nightstand.  (It had grown very large in my mind by this time.)  Husband retrieved a flashlight and went in search of the potential perpetrator.  He didn’t find Spider but a great deal of dust was located.  (I long ago realized I was losing the war against dust.  Occasionally I will engage it in a skirmish, but the enemy has had centuries of training and continues to out maneuver me.) With Spider at large, I decided if I woke up one morning to find a web stretched across the ceiling with the words “Loving Human” woven into it, I would be so very pleased.

I was watching an instructional DVD on how to have a church service the other day, and the topic of excellence came up. The presenter’s church is adamant about excellent presentations: engaging sermons, good jokes, compelling videos, talented musicians, seemless flow, pristine audio, etc.

So how important is excellence–as described above–to you in terms of a weekend worship service?