Teresa's Picture

                                                           Teresa’s Picture

Take away her robe, habit, beads and she’ll look like any other grandmother.  But that would be her appearance only.  Now watch her give herself in prayer, caring, loving and helping the worst of all sick people on the planet.  Her eyes seem swollen from too many tears, her face wrinkled from frowning in sorrow, her hands so gnarled from a million washings of deseased bodies and her back is bent from trying to carry people to feeble to stand.

Okay, so she couldn’t heal the sick like a big name tele-evangelist or she was not a dynamic crusade speaker or she didn’t write a best selling book but she sure looked like a genuine Christian out on the earthly battlefield of human suffering waging war with humble hands of mercy.  I liked her, I liked her a lot.  I am certain she was a Christian.  Not because she was Catholic or worked her way into Heaven but she loved Jesus and let Him live through her.  She said before she died, “I am ready to go be with Jesus.”  Paul wrote in I Cor. 2:9, “Eye has not seen, ear heard nor though entered into the mind of the things God has prepared for those who love Him.”  She sure seem to love Him and those who He loved.

Now for a moment forget religion, denominations and trendy cults of the day.  Jesus said, “If anyone will deny themselves, let them take up their own cross and follow me...”  So little frail Teresa followed Him into the ghettos, slums and stench of poverty, sickness and death where the pious only show slides of.  Seemed like something Jesus would do out in the highways and hedges of life, doesn’t it?

I don’t know about her doctrine or politics, which are fuel for factions at this time.  I just know when I asked a group of young folk who emulates a true active Christian today, repeatedly they’d say, “Mother Teresa”.  Catholic, Protestant, Charismatic, Baptist, Jewish, Gentile?  What are those names anyway?  Oddly, one individual filled and controlled by the Holy Spirit of God transcends those religious lines.  The Billy Graham’s, Mother Teresa’s, Apostle Paul’s and many others like them who are so given to Christ Jesus are distinctly different than modern merchants of church.

I am thankful for her life and I am a Baptist.  But I refuse to deify her now, yet I can eulogize and edify her life and work.  God raises one person up and lowers another down.  Success and failure are in His holy hands.  With six billion people on earth we were allowed to see a common woman of faith touch many lives that most wouldn’t dream of reaching out to in life.  She never had any children of her own but lots of brothers and sisters it seemed.  Maybe though when the pictures are eternally developed, this tiny mother will have had more children than them all.  Good-bye Teresa and thanks for the pictures of servant-hood.  We’ll cherish them for eternity.

Larry D. Sparks

September 8, 1997

RESPECT FOR THE SENIOR CITIZENS

RESPECT FOR THE SENIOR CITIZENS

            While IN the country of Bulgaria two weeks ago we visited the only nursing home in Sliven, a city of over 90,000.  There was about 120 residents who were from the area in and around Sliven.  These folk were kind, gentle, granparently people much like the Senior citizens of Shawnee.  One lady was hard hearing but had a sharp mind and memory.  She took no medication, walked briskly and was 105 years old.  The things this little lady had seen in her life would fill a book.  Life under the stress of communism, gardening, hard winters and the face of a new Bulgaria.

            What a wealth of knowledge is surrounding us each day.  Wrinkled, gray, stooped but these are the very age spotted hands that passed the baton of prosperity to our generation.  Many have endured war, depression era, dust bowls, isolation and life without computers.

            I watch them volunteer at the hospital daily.  They work hard, give much, ask little, complain seldom and whether in auxiliary or chaplaincy, we depend on them.  Until recently 102 year old John Merrill volunteered.  I saw him at the Little Olympics helping out.  His presence an inspiration.  Tom Stephenson, 89 years old, Chaplain Volunteer, never misses chapel.  James Maxwell, near 80, still prays with patients.  Look at all these sweet ladies greeting, sorting, guiding and helping in a million ways.

            I gather at the PAL meeting each month at the EXPO as the Seniors coffee up, chow down and reach out.  The thing that is most evident in each meeting is their appreciation.  Sometimes this generation lacks.  Yes, they are the walkers at the mall, the porch sitters on the summer evening and if you are able to listen, the sharers of good wisdom.

            They gather early at Carl’s Jr. and other local places to sip coffee and talk about good ol’ days.  Men, women blend at the Senior Citizens Center daily forming a fellowship that is nearly family.  Whether in Bulgaria or Shawnee our mature generation deserves some respect, recognition and above all a little time.

            Remember, Moses didn’t lead the Israelites out of Egypt until he was 80 years old.  Col Harlan Sanders was on retirement when he started his KFC business.  Never say too old, there’s a lot of ideas, input and resources left.  The Psalmist wrote, “Do not forsake me when I am old and grey.”  Ps. 71:18.  God will not forsake, neither should we.

Chaplain Larry Sparks

An Essay on Human Kindness

                                                    An Essay on Human Kindness

                                                                   Larry Sparks

It is not our nature to notice the severe pain existent all around us.  For that to happen we would need to slow down, perhaps pause long enough to study the facial expression of the one nearby and look long enough in their eyes to see the tears from a swollen heart.  Kindness is not an innate virtue in human nature.  We must see an example before us and work at the discovery of ourselves in contrast with the picture we have seen.

There are few good Samaritans on life’s journey.  It is expensive, time consuming and tends to bruise the inner man when we stop to care for the hurting.  It is far easier to be a Levite or Priest, passing by on the other side.  As we view them we feel quite at peace to comment on their predicament or criticize their foolishness.  I doubt we could ever imagine ourselves lying at the side of the road, beaten, robbed and alone.  Besides, we would call an ambulance with our cell phone and charge the treatment on our master card.  Yet, it is always intriguing to analyze these poor souls in such a pitiful state.  “I would...”, “they should have...”, “why doesn’t someone...”, “are there no government programs for such?” and on and on we indulge.

Dried blood, salty tears and a stench of human failure are not attractive to us.  If only there was a committee formed or an organization designed; I would surely donate something.  Well, Jesus said the poor you’ll have with you always and when he told the story He didn’t have me in mind?  You see, God knows how busy I am, how limited I am financially and I have stress of my own.  Who needs more depression?  Not me!  I never want to be the hero in anyone’s story.  Besides, I like myself most of the time and I have nothing to prove to anyone.

I suppose we are all better spectators than participants in this kindness thing.  Watching others is very inspiring, creating marvelous illustrations for me to relate to others.  Who needs the inconvenience of a scarred and broken body to mess with?  I mean, we love the talented, athletic, beautiful, famous and rich; not the pitiful person who can’t even carry a piece of wood.  Yada, yada, yada, don’t we have all the answers and excuses.

However, I have wondered if at one time a carpenter from Nazareth was not walking down the Jericho road toward the Temple on some business for His Father.  When suddenly thieves attacked, robbed, beat and left for dead this poor humble carpenter.  And as He lay there in a near death decent, too weak to cry out, too immobile to do anything but bleed and believe His time had not yet come; so surely help would arrive.  Squinting through swollen eyes he saw his savior coming.  He even recognized him from the Temple.  This pious priest would do the God-thing and rescue Him.  Oh, but wait...he’s staring, perhaps praying...he comes...no he is going on shaking his head as he hurriedly walks on.

A few flies circle the crust of blood on his lip and nose.  “Help me Lord...” how quickly the prayer was answered for here approaches the most religious, hands-on people Jehovah ever set aside, the Levite.  He is shaking his head, he is staring rather covetously at my cloak and sandals.  “Hurry, I’m just about to pass out my Levitical friend...”  Silence, then footsteps trodding ahead.  I am so in pain, its getting dark and religion hasn’t delivered me today. 

I must look hideous lying here in my own blood, face swollen, arm broken and clothes torn.  I look like a beggar, or servant, not a King.  “Father, into thy hands I...” Whoa my friend, don’t die on me.  Up, on my beast; this is going to hurt, plop!  “What awesome eyes you have.  Who would hurt such a man with so gentle a face?  What’s our world coming to?”

“Now off to the inn at Jericho, a good meal, soft bed and first of all, get this poor man some medical help.”

Daylight arrives early for the tired Samaritan but pressing business in Jerusalem must be carried out, “Here, innkeeper, feed and nurture this man.  Here is some denarius, if not enough, I’ll be back in seven days and take care of the remainder.  That’s all I have for now, but take my word, I’ll be back for him.”

He trods ahead from the inn, thinking how good God is to him for allowing him an opportunity to help someone.  “I hate to get around the Temple again but that’s where my business is done.  Why, the last time there a Priest ran me out of a certain section of the Court and a Levite so-and-so cursed me in Hebrew.  He didn’t think I knew what the words meant, but I certainly did.”

Now as darkness falls once again on the Jericho inn, an injured guest raises himself on his elbows and utters a “eulagogos” or a blessed word for the man who saved his life.  “Perhaps, one day I can do the same, only for your soul, Mr. Samaritan.”  Sleep comes finally.  Thank God, He never sleeps.

To be a Samaritan you must come close to the injured in life.  You must get dirty, be willing to see your clothes stained with some poor souls blood and not question whether they deserve it.

Just a story, an illustration, an over-active imagination?  Perhaps, but as I stare across the street I see many a bleeding soul who waits for me to cross over with a loving hand and some good news.  There is oil in my flask, water in my jug and a few coins in my purse.  I’m scared but I’m ready.  “Want to cross the street with me?  There’s too many for me to carry alone.”

I am not by nature kind but the one who lives in me has given such kindness of heart and courage to carry it across the street.  There is a sign outside the Jericho Inn that reads “Vacancy”, lets go fill the rooms full.

A VERY IMPORTANT BABY

A VERY IMPORTANT BABY

The annual number of births in the world is roughly estimated at 95 million or 3 babies every second.  More than 3/5 of the births are in Asia, 1/5 in Europe, 1/10 in Africa and 1/10 in America.  That is crowding into our 7 billion people here on planet earth.  The average weight of a boy is 7 4/5 lbs, and 7 2/5 for a girl.  Less than 5 ½ lbs is considered premature.  The heaviest baby (according to Guinness) weighed 24 lbs. 4 oz., and was born in Turkey in 1961.  The lowest weight was 10 oz. born in 1938, little Marion Chapman of England.  On her 21st birthday she weighed 106 lbs.  Now there are test tube babies and who knows the future with cloning.

Two-thousand years ago a baby boy was born outside a small town named Bethlehem.  No hospital, no midwife, no flowers nor family; just a carpenter, his young wife and a baby boy.  He was not premature or a late term, in fact He came at the precise time (Gal 4:4).  This little infant changed B.C. to Anno Domini and influenced Heaven and earth.  How important was this child?

Consider this; it has been estimated since the time of Adam some 40 billion people have lived.  Of this number approximately 7 billion are living today.  There were never a billion people on earth until 1830.  The Sociologist and anthropologist have separated these billions of people into endless categories of race, culture, geography, religion, politics, economics, etc.  The sobering thought is that God has placed these people in one of two categories, the redeemed and the lost.  Furthermore, this mass of humanity will have their eternal destiny dependent on one person . . .  that baby born in a manger 2000 years ago.  His official name is THE LORD JESUS CHRIST. 

In the Old Testament He made man in His own image (Gen. 1:27) but in the New Testament He made Himself in man’s likeness (John 1:14).  One might try to ignore Him or deny Him or debate His claim to deity but we must confess He was one very important baby.

Larry D. Sparks

Pastor of New Beginnings Church

Chaplain Shawnee Regional Hospital

The Harder Things to Mend

The Harder Things to Mend

Sometimes we hurt, often we hurt another deeply, agonizingly painful and lasting yet, when confronted, our pride arises, defenses spring up and justification begins.  We will learn from this but only after man a sleepless night, long ponderous thought, and hopefully much prayer.

It seems so hard to see through godly eyes, face the truth and accept our part, though it is not the whole, it is some part of the blame.  Maturity comes from these struggles.  However, some never grow because it is not properly addressed.  At the end every bad experience and crisis is wisdom, if – we respond rightly.  That is not easy.

Surely we know what to do?  It comes not in flow but trickles in like a slow leak; our hard conscience finally is soaked with guilt.  We see the truth, that which is of true value, people, particularly people we love.  Losing them would be the greater loss, re-connecting the greater gain.  Now, a question so many other areas of life but that would be for another time.  For now peace, yes sleep, sweet rest.  Not an end, a new beginning.

Larry Sparks