Nov. 29, 2007

Today's Picture:

Picture Caption: Okay, I'll admit it: I'm having a bad day. But that soup just made it a lot worse. 

From "101 Amazing Truths About Jesus That You Probably Didn't Know"

Jesus's family tree included murderers, sexual deviants, and genocidal maniacs.

It must have embarrassed Jesus on occasion. What, you ask? His forebears. Some of them were real hellions. Few were saints. A couple were genocidal maniacs.

     How would you like those skeletons in your closet?

     Probably all of us, at one time or another, have discovered an unsavory secret or two in our genealogical attics. I have only one that I know of. My family rarely talks about it. When my dad casually asked the person involved about a certain relationship he had with another woman, Dad later told me, "He looked at me with such hatred in his eyes that I decided then and there never to bring it up again."

     But really, this wasn't much. Perhaps my relative only engaged in a strange relationship. At worst, adultery. Compare that with the deeds done in some families, and it's almost laughable.      Next to the fellow who has murder, lying, cheating, abuse, adultery, incest, and even genocide in his family tree, it's pretty mild.

     But Jesus did have those things in his familial past. His genealogy in Matthew 1:1-17 gives us an astonishing insight into a Savior who had a lot to hide-if he had wanted to. But he didn't. He laid it all out for us-all the sinners, saints, and ain'ts of his family history.

There's Abraham, the ancient patriarch who lied twice to potentates to protect himself-and in so doing almost caused his wife to commit adultery against her will. His son Isaac did the same thing. And then there's Jacob, whose name essentially means "cheat"-which he did to nearly everyone dear to him without flinching.

     Judah and his daughter-in-law Tamar committed incest. Ruth the Moabite, who was descended from the sexual union of Lot and his daughter, was a product of incest.

     Next we find David, who committed adultery with Bathsheba and later had her husband murdered to cover it up. Solomon, the wisest, richest man who ever lived, in his last years deserted the God who made him wise and rich and became a pagan idolater. And Manasseh, later in the messianic lineage, gained the reputation of the bloodiest king in all Israel, murdering people left and right in his awful reign of terror. In fact, if you take a hard look at it, the sinners in Jesus's genealogy far outweigh the do-gooders by a wide margin.

     Why is this? Why would the Savior of the world and King of heaven be burdened with such a tainted lineage? Perhaps for only one reason: Jesus was one of us. Perhaps God gave Jesus these forebears to remind him what he was sent to do: to save sinners. Another beautiful truth is that many of those sinners in Jesus's family history also went down in history as some of God's greatest saints: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David . . . even Manasseh turned back to God at the end of his life.

     Write it on a billboard if that what it takes to really get it: all saints started out as sinners, and any sinner can become a saint-by simply entrusting himself or herself to the one in charge of the "Transformation Express."

From "Daddyhood"

The Diaper Disaster

     I learned to change diapers my first-time-around as a father. Just grab a leg, whisk up one of those wet towel things, pull the baby skyward, refuse the impulse to vomit, and wipe away the green stuff. It'll take several wipes, maybe seven or eight, but you'll get it sooner or later. Then lay down a new diaper. Open it, and lie the baby on top, her tushy in the middle of the diaper. Okay, she's wiggling. That's solved by setting your hand on her stomach and holding her in place. Not too heavily now, you don't want to suffocate her. Finally, peel those two tabs on either side of the diaper. Oh, they're on the top? You'll have to shift the diaper around. That's it. Good. You've got it. What's the big deal? 

     With Elizabeth, the latest baby, my usual problem wasn't changing her. It was after  dispensing with the used diaper, I had to find a new one. My wife informed me she kept them in a special place - in a cute cloth diaper thingy hanging from the front of Elizabeth's crib. But naturally, I forgot that at that moment because I didn't listen to my wife in the first place, being a self-centered male who didn't think it important at the time, so I careened about for ten minutes, muttering under my breath, "Why don't we keep them in a regular place?"

     Of course, the day finally came when the diaper thingie was out. Flat out of diapers. Not a single one even lying on the floor, or under the crib. Nowhere to be been, and I was home alone with the baby. I couldn't call out to my wife, "Oh, dear, aren't there any extra diapers somewhere?" Because I think she had told me the night before to get some when I went to Wal-Mart. But once again I'd forgotten, because I had only gone to the electronics department, being a self-involved male lout. 

     Of course, I had to find something, so my typical male mind thought, Ah, maybe there's a slightly used diaper lying in the dirty diaper bin that can serve until we get a new pack. 

     I hurried to the stinking bin where the used diapers had piled up. Thinking I should put on rubber gloves but none were available, I just held my nose and rummaged in the pile with my right hand. In the process, I learned the true meaning of the word, "disgusting." 

     I soon came to the realization that all the diapers there were so soaked and saturated that nothing would work. Why? Because I never changed a diaper till it was so heavy it hung down around the baby's knees. 

     Then real inspiration hit: I could wad up some Kleenexes, use that for a diaper and bind it to the kid while we went off to Wal-Mart to buy some real diapers. 

     I got Elizabeth ready, duct-taped some Kleenexes around her waist and tushy, then rushed to Wal-Mart where I hurtled around in a fever trying to remember where the diaper aisle was, praying the baby wouldn't go until we'd found it. 

     Of course, that was not to be. As I zoomed past the electronics department I suddenly felt wetness on my arm. The baby, safely tucked in my right armpit, smiled up at me as pee dripped down my forearm. Liberal pee. Gusher pee. I wondered if the kid had imbibed a six-pack when I wasn't looking. 

     Finding a sympathetic attendant, she told me where to find the diapers. I darted off while she called after me, "Hey, what's this?" 

     "The baby drools bad," I called back, hurrying out of earshot. But guilt set in and I staggered back. "My baby . . . went." 

     "Isn't she wearing a diaper?" 

     "Not exactly." 

     "What is she wearing?" 

     "Kleenex." 

     "That doesn't work, sir, as you can see." 

     "I'm sorry. Can I go find a diaper before she goes again?" 

     "Do us all a favor." 

     Arriving in the right aisle with Elizabeth now in a cart, I stared at a long row featuring every kind of diaper ever created by mankind. There were 1's and 2's, 3's, 4's and 5's. There were Pampers and Huggies and multiple other brands. I didn't know what kind my wife preferred. Frankly, I didn't care. Pee was again dripping onto the floor under the cart. 

     I soon discovered the numbering system had to do with weight of the baby. But how much did she weigh? 

     Having been at one time a Physics major, my mind zipped through the possibilities.  "Elizabeth was a little more than one. So maybe ones was it." But ones were for babies, weren't they, little babies, tiny babies, the cuddly kind that everyone cooed at and made faces at and loved. Elizabeth was beyond that stage. She spit into people's faces when they baby-talked, "Oo, da widdle liddle babee girlie is so cutie-poo!"

     I hefted her like a bag of oranges. I knew she was less than a fifty-pound bag of dog food, which I regularly had to heave home because we had an eighty-pound Dalmatian galumping down wads of the stuff every day.

     A twenty-pound bag of potatoes? She was less lumpy, but that sounded close. 

     I left Elizabeth and walked down the long aisle, reading the sparse information on the sides of the bags of diapers. I settled on 2's. Meanwhile, another man with a baby arrived looking for diapers. I prayed he wouldn't ask me for any kind of diaper information, but naturally he did. 

     "Do you know what size a baby like mine would take?" 

     "How much does she weigh?" 

     "He." 

     I stared at the baby. Long hair. Pink shirt. Green pants. Red sneakers. Even I knew this guy  had dressed his kid without the mother around. No woman would have let her kid go out like that. So now I knew I was dealing with somebody about the same as me. 

     "The numbers on the packages relate to size of the baby," I said. "Figure that out and you've got it." 

     "Great." He turned to the long row and squinted. I walked away, laughing to myself. Men are such idiots, I thought.

     And then suddenly, with that searing white-hot lightning of realization when you know you've majorly messed up, I remembered I left the baby sitting in the cart in the aisle. What aisle? 

     My heart went to my throat. I thought, What am I going to do? If she's missing, my wife will kill me. My parents will kill me. Wal-Mart will kill me immediately. They'd go to the gun department, get a shotgun and shells and execute me on the spot.

     Then I saw the trail of pee. Ah, nothing like a little pee to lead you back to your prey.

     My eyes followed the little yellow stream down to a whole clothes rack quivering ten feet away.  Ah, that idiot male must have pushed her out of the way to get his cart down the aisle. What a jerk. I glanced back to see him holding a package of diapers and quizzically looking around for help.  Just desserts, as far as I was concerned. 

     I found Elizabeth wailing under the clothes still in the cart, soaked but whole.

     I tore open the 2's pack, pulled out a fresh new diaper, and changed her there on the spot. She cooed with pleasure.

     I spotted the attendant from before walking down toward me with a mop.  "I hear your Kleenex contraption didn't work down here, either." 

     "Sorry. But I got on a new diaper." 

     "Before you paid for it?" 

     "Well, I thought . . . " 

     "Men," she muttered and began mopping.  "What idiots!" 

     I considered pointing out the moron still in the diaper aisle, but I didn't want to cast aspersions. 

     At that point, I walked back and bought sixteen more packs of 2's, 3's, and 4's. I vowed never to run out of diapers again. 

     Mark's Comment: Before you get married, you should sign a prenup agreement that states your agreement or non-agreement about changing diapers. Get it in print, notarized, etc. Because if you don't, you will be changing diapers. A lot. And just as it's true that "all's fair in love and war," so it is when changing a diaper. Also, my best advice about changing a diaper for fathers, it's not the stench, it's not the mess, it's not having to wipe it all up. What will really help you is how your wife will look at your finished job, cluck her tongue, shake her head, and say, "Where on earth did you learn to change diapers?" This is your best chance of never having to do it again. 

     Elizabeth's Comment: I don't remember any of this. 

Prayer and The Political Debate

     I have been praying for sometime that the main-stream media and especially CNN and their ilk would be exposed for the partisan stance they take on politics. I'm not endorsing any candidate, Democratic or Republican, but I have noted that the MSM consistently supports left-leaning causes and leaders. 

     Last night, and of course many times in the past, I had a prayer answered. I didn't see the Republican's YouTube debate, but I have read much about the "planted questions" from various Democratic candidates. CNN claims they didn't know about these, but it seems remarkable that of thousands of entries they would pick these among others, especially when much of the information about the questioners was available right on the Internet. Either CNN is totally incompetent, or partial to the point of trying to make any Republican candidate look bad. Either way, it's not good. 

     I believe that God is in charge, whoever gets elected. We have survived bad administrations in the past, from both ends of the political spectrum, so it's in God I trust, not the MSM or any single candidate. What floors me is how little Americans seem to care about this problem. I suggest we as Christians pray that:

     1. God will continue to hammer the MSM with exposures of their bias. 

     2. That Christians will vote, even if the leading candidates don't line up on every issue the way they may want.

     3. That God will continue to assure us of his control and guidance, even if things do not turn out the way we wish. 

Website: marklittleton.com

Our writer's network website:

heartofamericachristianwriters.com

My literary agency website: winsunliterary.com

My blog: life-ology.townhall.com

Latest books:

101 Amazing Truths About Jesus You Probably Didn't Know(Howard Books, 2007)

The Ten-Second Prayer Principle: Powerful Prayer As You Go(Howard Books, 2007)

Books to come:

What's In the Bible for Teens? (Bethany House, January 2008)

BIble Bathroom Book(Howard Books, April 2008)

The Big Bad God of the Bible(AMG, August, 2008)

The Real Life Kid's Devotional Bible For Boys(Zonderkidz, September, 2008) 

The Real Life Kid's Devotional Bible For Girls(Zonderkidz, September, 2008) 

Nov. 21, 2007

Some Thoughts on Prayer and the World Situation

I've been praying about this giant tornado that hit Bangladesh. It seems to me those people have had so much pain and agony over the years. Some Christians I know bring up the thought that God might be punishing them for their idolatrous religion (I don't know what most of them are-Hindus?). But I really have a hard time believing that God uses the weather to punish people because of their lack of belief. I could see it if a major missions push had been made there and they summarily rejected it. But if we're to start speaking about weather-judgments on people, then what about Hurricane Katrina, the tornado that hit Greensburg, Kansas, the tsunami in the Pacific rim nations, various earthquakes and famines, and so on? I don't think God would do this arbitrarily. Either all weather catastrophes would indicate judgment, or specific prophets would speak about the situation as a judgment (like in the Book of Job when Satan attacked Job, or when God sent various plagues on Israel as judgments for specific sins), or they're just the result of living in a fallen world utterly given over to evil. 

Anyway, I think the answer is to pray for these people, not condemn them in any way. What for? 

1. Rehabilitation of the living. 

2. Mission help agencies get moving there.

3. God use Christians to show his love. 

Joke of the week from my son, Gardner, age 10:

What kind of cookies do monkeys eat? 

Chocolate chimp cookies. 

From a hopeful book, Daddyhood: 

Tonight, Gardner found me in the living room. He had dressed himself in a black winter cloak that belonged to my wife, and he gripped a stick, which was the handle of an ancient snow shovel that had broken apart. His face poked out of the hood. "What's this all about?" I asked. 

"I'm the Grim Reeker," he replied.  "Like in Halloween." 

"Halloween's over, Gardner." 

"I'm just pretending, Dad. You know, make believe? Didn't you ever do make believe?"

"Most of my life is make believe." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah. So you're the Grim Reaper?" 

"No, I'm the Grim Reeker." 

Had I heard him wrongly? "You do mean the Grim Reaper, the angel of death?"

"He's an angel?" 

"A mythical angel, I guess."

Gardner nodded. "He's the guy who kills people." 

"What -- by making them smell him?" 

Gardner stared at me, his face twisted into s frown. "No, with this stick." 

I asked him to demonstrate. He grabbed our dog Patches, the deaf Dalmatian, and pretended to whack her over the head with his stick. Then he grabbed her tail to pretend to pull her out into the Grim Reekness. 

"So what else does the Grim Reeker do, Gardner? Does he stink things up?" 

Gardner still didn't get it. "No, he just kills people. He takes them to the devil or to God, whichever one they're supposed to go to." 

"So how does he decide the difference?" 

"What?" He gazed at me with his eyebrows clinched. 

"How does the Grim Reeker know which one to take the person to? By their smell?" 

"Why is everything about smell, Dad?" 

"Because it's the Grim Reeker - the guy in the hood with the stick who takes you to the garbage dump." 

"No, Dad, he takes you to heaven or to hell, whichever one you decide to go to." 

"Oh, so we decide?" 

"Yeah."  He turned away to smack another imaginary person with his stick. "Or maybe it's God who decides. I don't know. I'll have to ask my Sunday School teacher." 

"Why don't you just ask me?" 

"My Sunday School teacher is very smart, Dad. She knows the WHOLE Bible."

"Well, so do I." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah."

"I never knew that." 

"What - that I know the WHOLE Bible, or that I'm really smart?" 

"Either."   

I rolled my eyes and lay back down. "Just go and do your Grim Reeking. Thanks for the compliment." 

"What compliment?" 

"Precisely." 

"What?" 

I knew this conversation had problems the moment I learned about the Grim Reeker. "Gardner?" I snapped my fingers. I decided I didn't want him going to school and talking about the Grim Reeker. He might be sent home to take a bath. 

"Yeah?"

"It's the Grim Reaper, Gardner, Reaper, not Reeker. Like when you reap wheat in a field. A Reeker is a person who smells really bad." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah."  I sighed and closed my eyes.

Gardner continued, "So I said the Grim Reeker and that means he really has a bad smell? And he kills people by smelling on them?" 

I opened my eyes just so I could roll them. "Right." 

"I didn't know that about the Grim Reeker. Thanks, Dad. You're really smart, maybe as smart as my Sunday School teacher."

"Once again, thanks for the compliment." 

"Glad to be of service." He bowed slightly, then walked away. Should I try again, or should I just let him go through life worried that one day the Grim Reeker would come for him and stink up his room really bad? 

Mark's Comment: You think President Bush garbles words and sentences and things? You see my son.  I don't even try to correct him any more. In fact, I pray, "Please, God, I need a laugh. Please send Gardner with a garbled up word or two."  God always comes through. (Although, perhaps I shouldn't blame this on God.)

Gardner: Watch out, the Grim Reeker could be coming to your house tonight!

My Re-Comment: So keep some of that spray stuff that makes the bathroom smell like flowers, so when he leaves, you can eliminate the odor. 

From the book: 101 Amazing Truths About Jesus You Probably Didn't Know, Howard Books, 2007. 

Sometimes Jesus' Disciples Really Disappointed Him

Jesus's disciples witnessed miracles of power, heard words of incredible wisdom, and experienced a love of giant proportions; yet they still doubted, still questioned, still wondered. They were people just like us-skeptical, fearful, unsure.

When Jesus ordered his disciples to cross the Sea of Galilee in a fishing boat, they knew precisely what to do. They were fishermen. They had done this a million times. They pulled out the oars and began rowing for all they were worth.

Jesus, perhaps exhausted from teaching and healing all day, fell asleep in the stern of the boat. I imagine the rowers even working to keep the oars from squeaking too loudly, so as not to wake him. They knew what he'd been through-jostling crowds, insistent followers, hopeful but prodding supplicants, and shrewd and rumor-spreading critics. The disciples decided to let Jesus sleep till the cows came home or the boat reached shore, whichever came first.

But then something unexpected happened. A vicious storm whipped the waters into a cauldron of foam and fury (see Matthew 8:23-27). The Sea of Galilee, because of the steep mountains that surround it, often is lashed with sudden and powerful storms. The valleys in the mountains act as funnels for the wind, and the sea churns up quickly.

As the men oared with all their strength for land, menacing waves engulfed the boat. Water sloshed over the sides, and the fishermen bailed furiously. But the storm was too much for them. Picture the scene:

"We're going to sink!"

"We've got to do something."

"But what?"

Suddenly every eye fixed on Jesus, sleeping soundly (if wetly) in the back of the boat. How could he not have awoken? Could it be he was that tired?

"Should we wake him up?" one shouted over the howling wind.

"Maybe he can do something," another said.

"Like what?" others wanted to know.

"Maybe he can get us to land quickly," the first answered. "Or stop the boat from sinking."

"Yeah, right," one of the less confident disciples answered. "He'll probably just be mad we woke him up."

One of them finally corked up the courage to shake Jesus awake and ask for help. Can you see this disciple stumbling through the quickly filling boat to give Jesus a gentle tap? "Uh . . . Lord?"

Jesus just snored on.

"Master!" A little shove this time.

"Jesus, we're going to sink!" This time the guy fell into Jesus's lap as the boat lurched from the slap of an angry wave.

Jesus woke up, glanced around at things, quickly sized up the situation, then stood and commanded the wind: "Quiet! Be still."

Do you think it was a sigh, a whisper, or a bellow? We don't know. But immediately the wind died down, the waves stopped frothing, and the sea became smooth as glass.

Then Jesus said, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

The disciples probably paled, or maybe blushed-but among themselves they must have gaped with astonishment, whispering to each other and wondering what sort of man this was who could stop a storm.

Who wouldn't be amazed?

But do you know what I think is the most astonishing part? How long they waited to arouse Jesus. When Jesus asked them why they had so little faith, I wonder if he didn't mean their fear of the storm but rather their being afraid to wake him and get him involved. Did they think he'd be angry, or that he'd chew them out for waking him out of happy dreams when they should have simply bailed harder?

What was Jesus' point? Perhaps: why didn't you wake me sooner, when the problem didn't require a major miracle?

How often, for many of us, prayer is the last resort. We don't kneel before the throne of grace until our situation requires miraculous intervention. What we don't realize is that God wants us to come to him first, not last.

What encouragement there is in the approachable God of the Bible! He never chastises us for coming to him about a problem. He never shouts that he doesn't have the time or snaps, "Whaddaya want this time?" No, God is utterly and always accessible, whenever we need his help.

I find that amazing. Why would the God of the universe ever concern himself with my problems, my needs? And yet that is the essence of the gospel, isn't it? The God of all creation cares about you and me. No, more than that. He loves us so completely that he sent Jesus to pay the ultimate price to obtain our friendship and faith in him. Nothing-absolutely nothing-is too small for his attention, and nothing-absolutely nothing-is too big and complicated for him to take on.

Why is God like this? Because he was one of us, too. Jesus knows what it's like to be human. He understands our fears and our worries. And he wants us to know that his understanding leads not to contempt but to compassion. Even when we wait too long, he remains ready to take action.

Jesus's Family Thought He'd Gone Off the Deep End

From the book: 101 Amazing Truths About Jesus You Probably Didn't Know, Howard Books, 2007. 

Mary was a Jewish mother. And what is a Jewish mother most proud of? Her firstborn son, of course. He's the one she compares everyone in the family to. "Now, Joseph, you need to follow Jesus's example. Why just the other day . . ." "If you kids were like Jesus, you would never say such things!" And so on.

Jesus was a dream kid, too. He always did everything right. He was sinless, and he never sinned against anyone in his family. So they surely held him in the highest esteem, correct?

Well, not exactly. Undoubtedly, the usual jealousies occurred in that family. "Oh, Jesus is just perfect! That's what you think, Mom, isn't it?" And, "If I hear of one more good deed Jesus did, I'm going to spit nails!"

Yes, and then there's the utter uniqueness of Jesus. Surely Mary and Joseph must have told the rest of the family about the remarkable way in which Jesus came to be born. Even if they didn't give too many details, perhaps they scolded the kids about calling Jesus names or complaining about him with words like, "If you only knew who he is, you wouldn't say such things." "Well, who is he?" "It's too complicated-I'll explain it when you're older." I can imagine conversations like that happening all the time.

Finally, though, Jesus went off to do his own ministry. He healed the sick. He raised the dead. He spoke in a way no one had ever heard before. Crowds followed him. People called him the "son of David," and "the Messiah," and, "the Son of the living God."

Unfortunately, those family members knew Jesus long before he ever became famous. They'd been around him from day one. And even if he was sinless and unique, he still didn't seem like rabbi material. He had hardly any education. What did he think he was doing, going around rabble-rousing and performing these amazing feats and miracles no one could seem to explain?

Maybe that's where it started. After calling and commissioning his twelve disciples, Jesus came down from a mountain and entered into a house with his disciples. But lo and behold, such a crowd formed that Jesus and his disciples were not even able to eat (Mark 3:20). "When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, 'He is out of his mind'" (Mark 3:21).

Or in less kind terms, "He's a lunatic. Someone get him off the street and into a twelve-step program!" 

And why did they think this? Because crowds followed him, he healed them all, and he preached? But who were in those crowds? The wannabes, the disciples, the complainers, the critics, the skeptics, the homeless, the needy, the weirdoes. Jesus's own family thought he had to be crazy to hang out with these nuts. Why didn't Jesus conduct a respectable ministry, go to school, become a rabbi, and teach in a synagogue?

No, he walked out there, waded into the throng of needy people, and began fixing everyone and everything in sight. This couldn't be God's work; it had to be some kind of trick Jesus had learned on the road, or maybe even-perish the thought-what the Pharisees themselves said: "He is possessed by Beelzebub! By the prince of demons he is driving out demons" (Mark 3:22).

Well, what do you do when your family or other loved ones misunderstand, misjudge, and sell you short?

You do what Jesus did: you live with it. You give them their say, and then you go and do what God has called you to. That's how Jesus handled it.

Sometime later Jesus' family came around. James (author of the book of James) and Jude (author of the book of Jude) were both brothers of Jesus, born to Mary and Joseph. Mary loyally stuck with Jesus to the end, even praying at the foot of his cross as he died his agonizing death. After the initial shock and coming to grips with the reality of Jesus's incredible ministry, perhaps his family went back home and reconsidered. Eventually they realized this couldn't be the work of a lunatic, or even a liar. He had to be the real thing: Lord. 

A Tip on Ten-Second Prayer

(Based on my new book, The Ten-Second Prayer Principle: Praying Powerfully As You Go - Howard Books, 2007).

This past week, my wife and I sponsored our Heart of America Christian Writer's Network conference in Kansas City. This is often very costly, bringing in editors and agents from all over the U.S., renting facilities, providing meals, and so on. Last year when we put on the conference, we barely broke even. And even though we're not in it for the money, it is nice to show a profit since we are a normal for-profit company. 

Two weeks before the deadline on November 1, 2007 for registrants to get in their materials and checks, we had forty people signed up. I worried a lot and told a friend, "We're going to get killed on this one." I figured we needed at least 70 paying registrants just to break even. As I fretted and worried, it seemed God said to me, "Why don't you just pray and leave it in my hands?" I knew this was probably right on, but I also - through many tough experiences - know that God doesn't always do as we ask. Needless to say, I prayed one of my short, ten-second prayers: "Help, God!" 

The next week, a flood of conferees sent in their registrations by mail and phone. We ended up with more than 90 conferees. The conference went great and I just came away amazed. Once again, God came through.  He always does. 

Remember: you don't have to pray for hours to get God's attention. Like Peter's prayer when he ventured out of the boat in the middle of the storm as Jesus walked on water only yards away, he lost his faith and promptly began to sink. He cried out the shortest prayer in the Bible, and one we all pray sooner or later: "Save me, Lord." Jesus reached down, pulled him up, and said, "Why did you doubt?" 

God will answer a ten-second prayer as much as any other. So when you need to pray and don't have the time to get alone somewhere, on your knees, and with the Bible open before you, just shoot your prayer aloft. God will hear and answer. Usually, I find, you'll also be amazed. 

Applying Prayer to Today’s Events:

One of the things most on my heart these days is praying about events in the U.S. and world that have come to my attention.  The recent flap about he governor of Georgia praying for rain strikes me as a perfect example. Georgia has experienced a six-year drought that has turned it into a disaster area. When the gov finally told his fellow Georgians about the things he enacted to help the state, he also mentioned that he began to pray for rain and he advised them to do so, too. Immediately, a firestorm of criticism followed. How dare an elected governor say such a thing to the public, mixing politics with religion?

Well, I have read that Gen. Washington prayed at Valley Forge, Lincoln often prayed about the raging Civil War, and George W. Bush has let it all hang out about his spiritual life, so much so that it won him vilification on a massive scale by his enemies. Today, he is one of the most hated presidents in U.S. history.

And yet . . . Iraq appears to be turning around. Our economy continues unabated at expansion on a scale not seen for decades. He got legislation passed about “the fence” on the Rio Grande. And numerous other good things have happened. 

Presumably because he and others prayed.

But to some, this is the height of lunacy. 

Now, people like me, having heard about the Georgia situation for the first time, took a few seconds to pray for rain. And lo and behold, rain happened. Boy, that was a fast answer.

Nonetheless, the news media now is saying it may be too late. Of course, they have to say that. It was all coincidence. There is no God out there who hears ridiculous prayers from governors, presidents, and regular people like you and me. He was too late. It’s all proof that God is not only dumb, but a procrastinator, too. 

Still, it rained. After a ringing cry for prayer went out from the gov.

I’m looking forward to how the God-whackers explain this one. Especially if there’s more rain. Especially if other leaders step forward and tell us they’re praying about other things – illegal immigration, the fuel problems, Iraq, healthcare . . . and lo and behold, those things get done. 

Naturally, there will always be reasons the answers came too late, or didn’t do enough, or are just plain old stupid. Moses parting the Red Sea is a myth, after all. Elijah bringing down the lightning at Mt. Carmel is simply some “old story.” And Jesus doing miracle after miracle of every kind, from healing and casting out demons to walking on water, stilling the storm, and feeding five thousand people with a little boy’s lunch – they were all “tricks” foisted on a gullible public. 

Just the same, it rained. That’s proof enough for me. 

Check Out:

Marklittleton.com

Winsunliterary.com(my literary agency)

HeartofAmericaChristianWriters.com(our writers' network)

Another blog: Politiciansunclothed.townhall.com

God bless.

Mark Littleton

mlittleton@earthlink.net