From Death to Life, Part 4: New Dream

Attending a new church is one thing; going to an evening service-other than Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve-was, for me, another matter entirely. By myself, not knowing what to expect, I drove across town to a building that appeared to be not much bigger than where I lived with my dad.

I cautiously approached the front, where I was greeted by folks who seemed genuinely glad to see me. So far, so good. To my left were a few classrooms, followed by the all-important bathroom. Inside the small sanctuary were pews, a small platform, and a side room that became significant later on.

I sat with this family who had opened up their home and, more importantly, their hearts to a lost young man. One with no direction. Loving someone who cannot love you back is true love.

The pastor of this church doubled as song leader, accompanied by a woman on the piano. She certainly knew how to play. None of the hymns we sang were familiar. I was used to singing out of a hymnal,-just not the one this church used. Different church. Different people. Different songs. Different, for sure.

I don’t remember the sermon, only that there was no invitation to become a Christian. That was fine with me; I wasn’t ready. The small turnout of around 50 were real people. They seemed to also have what the family I was with had: a genuine interest in me as a person. And no one was trying to get anything from me.

Service over, back to my house. Another week of questions, more questions, and some arguing as my visits continued. Another invitation to attend Sunday service, which I accepted.

The second Sunday evening service was, as I recall, pretty much the same as the first. Same nice people, same hymnal with different songs. Just a different message, with no invitation.

Around this time I asked this now-familiar family for prayer for a job. Young men then-as now- needed their own spending money. A few days later I was hired at a local drug store, a real answer to prayer. This store had a lunch counter and, interesting to me, underground storage bins for overstock. Going below the main floor to store/access merchandise was a space saver-and kind of fun at the same time. To this day I enjoy watching movies with secret passageways and entries.

Getting this job after prayer was an attention getter to someone looking for answers It also caused me to do a better job of managing my time. My part-time income eliminated outside assistance from my Dad.

Being turned down by two colleges meant I was going to the local community college. I could go to school and work part time. With Mom working there I had no tuition, just books. Nice.

Once again I was invited to Sunday evening service with this family. The date was August 17, 1969. Some will remember this date as the last night of some music festival called Woodstock. For me this night was to be beyond anything I had ever dreamed before: A night with a new dream.

I’ll tell you about it in my next post, on August 17th.

© Hubert Gardner Ministries 2019-2024

From Death to Life, Part 3: Searching Questions

Having previously shared about meeting a Christian in high school, the summer after graduation became a time of searching. Searching for something-or someone-to live for. A purpose.

What I was searching for wasn’t in drugs, alcohol, or sex. The effects those things were having on participants-people I personally knew-was reason enough to avoid them, though all were available. Someone, somewhere, was surely praying for me.

One reason to avoid the drugs and alcohol was to be in the best physical condition possible, to live out my dream of being a major-league baseball player. My previous post stated that I didn’t make my high school baseball team because I was a senior, with no experience. Having no meaningful purpose in life, I held onto my dream. A dream that was soon to end.

Seeing a major-league tryout invitation in the paper, I responded by attending, along with dozens of others my age. Baseball is more than running (in which I did well), resulting in me failing the tryout. My dream was ended. Over. What now?

As it was an opportunity to share the love of God with me, I kept getting invited over to this family’s house, nearly every weekday throughout the summer. Despite the father later claiming that I was an atheist, I wasn’t. An atheist denies the existence of God, whereas I certainly believed in God, even to the point of serving as an acolyte for one year in the church I attended. I’m further proof that just going to church doesn’t make one a Christian. Religious? Perhaps. But a Christian? No.

June became July, turning into August, consisting of more visits, more questions about God and the Bible, arguing on my part, and a growing hunger for what this family had. Interestingly, not once did they invite me to church throughout June and July. 

In either late July or early August, I was invited to come to this family’s church, to attend their evening service. I was attending morning services at a denominational church in a nearby city. Agreeing to attend, I prepared for Sunday evening, August 3, 1969.

Having never attended this kind of church, I had no idea what I was getting into. Join me as I come face to face with a group of people with something I didn’t have: love and peace. Not the love and peace being shouted and sung by my generation then. A different kind of love and peace, for sure.

Next: Part 4: New Dream. Enjoy this journey with me.

© Hubert Gardner Ministries 2019-2024

From Death to Life, Part 2: Searching Summer

With high school over my future lay before me, requiring some decisions on my part. Life is made up of decisions, the results of which determine our direction and, ultimately, our destiny.

Being expected to go to college I had applied to a handful of schools, including a few in-state. My Mom being on staff at the local junior (now community) college meant that my tuition would be free. If acceptances from schools included those far away would I leave the area, or choose the convenience of a 10-minute commute to  classes at the junior college? 

Something besides high school ended that year: my days of playing amateur baseball. To some this would be just part of life. To me, however, baseball was more: it WAS my life. I lived for baseball. The ending of football season meant baseball season was right around the corner. In one sense, baseball was my god.

In the spring of my senior year of high school I had tried out for our baseball team. Things were going well until the coach took me aside to advise me that if he played me he’d have me for one year, but taking a junior meant playing him for two years. My tryout effectively ended at that moment. Being too old to play another summer season, my playing days with/against guys I knew were officially no more. 

Done. Finished. Over.

Aside from the most important thing in my life, baseball was a means of escape. An escape from the deteriorating family life that resulted in my mother leaving our home, just six weeks prior to my graduation. Coming home from school one day I found half of our furniture gone with my mother, who had moved near the junior college she worked at. With my older brother-and only sibling-already gone, it was just Dad, Casper (our dog), and me.

There was one shining light in my darkness. In my previous post I mentioned the family whose (as it turned out) youngest daughter was in our school choir. Those summer days at their house was a difference maker. Peace vs strife. Rest vs. agitation. Unconditional love vs the emptiness in my heart, even though I knew nothing about unconditional love at the time.

Something needed to change, whether I could define it or not.

If you’ve just joined me on this journey from death to life, go back and read my previous post. Then continue with the next post, coming soon. Hint: sometimes what seems to be a closed door forces us to focus on the open door before us, that leads to life. 

© Hubert Gardner Ministries 2019-2024

What Really Matters in a House

Leave it to Beaver was a popular television series, that aired from 1957 to 1963. Those who watched the original programs or reruns may recognize the outside of the Cleaver residence. Nice house for the day.

The truth about the house is that the outside was just a movie set front for the Cleaver residence. There were no actual rooms inside. No places for children to explore. It was a made-for-TV front. Nothing more than a house’s front, that had no place to enter and enjoy.

People’s lives are like houses. The body is the outside, hiding the real person on the inside. The outside roof may be well designed and insulated, but I wouldn’t want to live on it, would you? There may be beautiful windows, allowing light to shine in on the interior, but outside windows fail to convey how charming the inside rooms really are.

Getting to know the inside of a person is like coming to appreciate the interior of a beautiful home: the inside-not the outside-should be the focus. Instead of living and dining rooms, kitchens, and bedrooms, the “rooms” in people contain dreams, aspirations, gifts and talents, as well as hopes for the future. All worth knowing and appreciating.

As with houses, our focus on people should be them, not the outside of the “house” they live in. Sometimes changes to our outside cause some peoples’ focus to be on that, rather than what’s on the inside. No matter how much “paint” or changes are made to ones outside it’s just that-the outside. 

Over time a house’s front may undergo many changes. The same is true concerning a person yet, like a house, the person’s real value is found in getting aquatinted with and appreciating his/her “rooms”-those things of great value which make that person special in the eyes of the beholder. 

The inside of a house-and person-is what really matters to those looking for real value. The fake fronts, the facades? Let’s leave them to Beaver.

Copyright © Hubert Gardner Ministries 2018-2024

Is God Seasonal?

Ready or not, Christmas is just around the corner. Amidst the overemphasis on material giving, Christmas is a time of year when even non-Christians give thought to God. It's a time when many seek out a local church to (hopefully) find purpose for their lives. Whether perceived or otherwise, for some it begs the question, "Is God seasonal?" Is God more real at Christmas than other times? Does God reveal Himself more during Christmas than, say, in the middle of summer? After all, Christmas must be high up on God's list of favorite times of the year, since it's about the birth of Jesus, God's Son.

The truth be told God sees things differently than we often do. You see, God doesn't change from one season to another (Malachi 3:6). You can count on God being the same on April 15th as on December 25th. Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall God's the same.

God will be as real to you when there's no Christmas tree or giving of presents, as you may perceive Him to be during this special Christmas season. He's not dependent upon lights, cookies, and special church services to make Himself real to anyone who truly wants to know Him.

Perhaps you know someone who needs to know Jesus, the Savior of the world, right now. Christmas is a time when talking about Jesus is easier than other times of the year. Take advantage and share God's timeless love with those God lays upon your heart to do so-without being pushy.

On the other hand, perhaps you're one of those feeling especially lonely at this time, when others seem to be enjoying this season with family , friends, and neighbors. Perhaps you're that lonely neighbor with no one to be with. No doubt about it, that can be a most difficult time-especially if you're single, recently divorced, or widowed.

God knows your situation. He also wants you to have and walk in the joy of having His life in you. Ask God to send someone across your path to help you. Perhaps you can attend a local church service during this Christmas season. As I write this, Christmas is just a week away. It's not too late to allow the God of all seasons, Who never changes, to give you real love, joy, and peace, through believing on the risen Jesus, Whose birth we celebrate on December 25th, Who's the same every other day as well.

The Most Misunderstood Word

A lot of words are misunderstood by the hearer, sometimes even by the one speaking. Years ago, under the former Soviet Union, communist leaders declared their wish for peace. Sounds good, right? The only problem with that is that peace, to communists, was them being in charge over the rest of the world. The fall of the Berlin Wall on November 9, 1989, proved that communism's idea of peace didn't work-and never will. Even more misunderstood than the word peace is, in my opinion, the word love. People talk about how they love this food, that drink, their favorite sports team. Some love cold weather, others just love hot weather. I've met a lot of people who love hiking, fishing, hunting, and/or cooking. And let's not forget the love for ones pet, as in puppy love.

Then there's love for God, family, and fellow man. All of these areas referenced with the single word of L-O-V-E. How can one truly say, however, that he/she truly loves sports more than his/her own family. Yes, I know that too many men, as well as a few women, fall into this category. But it's still wrong. Speaking now to men: The team you claim to love won't divorce you for failing to spend time with it by television or cable. But you stand a good chance of alienating-even losing-your family by  neglecting them game after game.

In the english language we have one word for love: love. The Greeks have four words for love: Agape, Storge, Phileo, and Eros, Agape is the God-kind of love; Storge is  (non sexual) love, based on affection;  Phileo is brotherly love. the city of Philadelphia is called the city of brotherly love. Eros, the last kind of love is sexual love, between a man and woman, within marriage.

One word meaning so many different things in the english language. No wonder people find learning English so difficult. In this instance I think the Greeks got it right. The love I have for my dog may be Storge, but it's certainly not Agape. No, Agape is reserved for human beings, an outgrowth from God-Who is love-and His love inside me.

When it comes to God, I Agape Him. Agape is the highest kind of love because God, Who is Love, is in me, enabling me to love Him in return. The love I have for God is far above any of the other three types mentioned. Yet, on the surface, love is still spelled the same.

I think that It's too late to change our English language to show the different meanings of the word love. But at least we can agree that, perhaps, love is the most misunderstood word.