Newsletter Contributions From 2010

Rip to Open
by Ken Miller

A few chunks of stubborn snow still hide among the trees on the north side of our house. Kathy tells me there is a bit of green grass near the garage. The abrasive caw of the season’s first crow echoes through the woods and I inhale deeply the moist promise of new life. Soon, buds will pop out on the tree branches and chubby robins will bounce around our yard looking for lunch. Everything in the natural world has changed.
It’s been over two thousand years since everything in the spiritual world was turned upside down. On that, the darkest of afternoons, an innocent man, the Lamb of God, the Son of God, giving His life for you and me, spoke from His position on the cross, “It is finished.” (John 19:30)
In those moments, the earth quaked and the sun went black. From the temple could be heard a commanding rip, like a summer storm cracking the sky. The thick, heavy curtain measuring 30 high by 30 feet wide, separating the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place, had been torn from top to bottom by divine fists announcing the rock splitting arrival of the “new and living way.” (Heb 9:1-3, Matt. 27:51, Heb. 10:20)
Until that grand rip, we common folk were not allowed into the Most Holy Place at all! Only the high priest was allowed to go in and only once a year and only under certain conditions. (Heb. 9:7) Thankfully, the rigid rules, regulations and rituals of the “old way” were reduced to mere shadows when confronted by His redemptive sacrifice.
That rip opened the way for you and me, dearly beloved of the Father, to enter into the Holy of Holies, His presence, with confidence, via the blood of the Lamb. No more need for cringing or skulking around with eyes down cast. Jesus became our High Priest. Forgive my grammar, but I don’t know how a Friday could be made gooder.
Then Easter Sunday came along and crushed the enemy’s plan like a brittle twig under a hiker’s boot. Jesus not only ushered in the new and living way, but He rose from the dead. We serve a risen Savior; He’s in the world today.
In his book, The Reality of God, Louis Cassels wrote: “God is not merely an idea to be believed in and talked about, but also a reality to be encounter, experience, known and loved.” This Easter season, may we each grow in the way we encounter, experience, know and love the living Jesus. Amen.
Tattoos “R” Us
By Ken Miller


The South Dakota sun was toasting the back of my neck as my dad and I crossed the intersection looking for shade and a place to have lunch. It was the first week of August and Bike Week in Sturgis, SD had swollen its population of around 8,000 to some 250,000 motorcycle enthusiasts. Everywhere could be heard the “potato-potato-potato” of the Harley-Davidson machines.
We were only half way across the street when a man blocked our path. His question caught me off guard for a moment. “Would you like a cold cup of water in Jesus name?” The Christian Motorcycle Association was handing out cold water and blessings on that hot and dusty day.
We reached the corner of the next block and continued our search for food. Even though the sidewalk was crowded and the rumble from the seemingly endless line of bikes to my right drowned out most sound, I kept hearing a buzzing noise coming from some of the shops on my left. I poked Pop, to get his attention and yelled, “What is that buzzing?”He called back. ”Somebody’s getting a tattoo.”
The thought of an ink filled needle repeatedly driving deep into my dermis at the speed of “buzz”, made me queasy. I can hardly give blood at the clinic without wondering if I will remain in the chair or get up close and personal with the floor.
So what is all this tattoo talk doing in a church newsletter? One of my favorite scriptures tells how, even in my lowest times, even when I am feeling forsaken, the Lord says he has not forsaken me. In fact, he says, he has tattooed my picture (your picture) on the palms of his hands. (Isa. 49:14-16, Amplified Bible). I doubt this scripture is talking about one of those dreadful drivers’ license photos. These pix are A-number-1-drawn-by-divine-digit engravings. And they are in the hands of the One who loves us.
I don’t know about you, fellow Pilgrim, but when the battle comes, disappointment knocks and feelings fly all over the place-it will be good to know that He has my picture on the palms of His hands. Amen.

Lost, but Owned
by Ken Miller

From the first day I started to operate my vending business, I have collected keys. Some keys are for machines, others are for storage areas, and still others are for tool cabinets. To save wear and tear on the pockets of my jeans, I clip the collection to my belt using a “key caddy”. The keys dangle at my side, ready for me to grab. After use, the spring loaded caddy returns the key ring to my side.
In the last thirty years, I have only had the key-caddy break three times. The first two times happened in a campus hallway. The resulting clatter was easily recognized. I retrieved the keys immediately. The third time there was no noise at all..
The snow had stopped by the time we rolled into the garage. Stepping from the vehicle, I couldn’t help but notice the silence at my side. Instead of a ring of keys, my searching hand discovered four inches of dangling chain that ended in a broken link. Let the search begin!
Jesus tells three parables of loss in Luke chapter 15 a lost sheep, a lost coin and a lost son. Beyond the inflexible compassion of the shepherd and the father, past the persistence of the woman, the three have this in common. Before the sheep, coin and son were lost-they were owned. (“…my sheep…” v.6 “...my coin…” v.9 “…son of mine…” v.25)
The next day when I arrived on campus, my keys were sitting in the middle of my desk. One of the eagle-eyed maintenance crew spotted the ring of keys on top of a fresh pile of snow near the spot where Kathy picks me up and put them in my office.
Did the fact that I was temporarily separated from my keys change the ownership of those keys? I think not. Does the fact that we all, at times, become temporarily separated from the One who created us cancel his ownership? Once again-I think not.
In her book Beyond Our Selves, Catharine Marshall makes this observation about the word lost when she writes, “Nothing can be lost-that is not first owned.”
Bewildered by what’s going on, dear pilgrim? Plagued by a poor decision? Trampled by temptation? Are you fearful you’ve crossed the line? Take heart, you may be lost-but you are owned. And the Owner is searching for you. Amen.

The Troubled Tree-Hugger
by Ken Miller

The mist was cool and refreshing. Dense vegetation and the sweet fragrance of fruit trees told me I was in a lush garden. My curious musings were interrupted when I heard footsteps and voices coming in my direction. Not wanting to be discovered, I remained behind the leafy fig tree and hoped to listen in on the conversation.
I didn’t catch it all, but I’m pretty sure I heard, “We are now in the center of the garden. Over there are the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the tree of life. You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.” (Gen. 2: 9, 17).
That’s odd, I thought. Staying away from the knowledge of evil makes perfect sense in the life of a Christian, but a prohibition on the knowledge of good because we’ll die? What is that about? I feel secure when things are labeled good, bad, right or wrong. I get insecure when choices are not clear and well defined.
Would it be right to allow an adulterous murderer to remain king (2 Sam. 12:7)? Would it be right to let a woman, caught in the very act of adultery, go free when the law said she was to be stoned (John 8:4)? And Paul, what about meat sacrificed to idols (Romans 14:21, 1 Cor. 8)? Even Peter is giving mixed signals. One minute he knows what is unclean to eat. The next, he’s changed his mind (Acts 10).
Somebody keeps messing with the rules and I think I know who it is. In his book, A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis calls Him, “the great iconoclast.” Yet Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matt. 5:17-20). Then he pulled rank by saying, “You have heard it said…but I tell you…” (Matt. 5:21-48). By doing that, He didn’t let us off the hook, He raised the bar impossibly high (Matt. 5:20). Correctness used to be based on my actions, now He’s looking into my heart (Matt. 15:19). I can not live by His standards!
Before I perish in my predicament, I remember the other tree-the tree of life.
Jesus came to give us a full life (John 10:10). And whether I’m thirsty (John 4: 10), hungry (John 6: 35), or just want a fruit snack (Gen. 2:9). He is the Source. Dear fellow Tree-hugger, let us munch as much fruit of the tree of life as we can. Then go to the streets and invite everyone to His banquet (Song 2:4, Matt. 22:9). His Supply never ends. Amen.
Soggy Tennis Shoes
by Ken Miller

Veterans Day meant both campuses were closed and I had the day off. Kathy was at school and not due home until 5:30. I had just finished putting fresh batteries in the remote for my talking thermometer and it was time to put it back in its place on the deck.
At 2:30 a blustery northwest wind was ripping remaining leaves from the trees and hurling snow and icy rain on the windows, so I grabbed a hooded sweatshirt on my way to the door.
Stepping onto the deck, I slammed the door shut to prevent a chilly blast from pushing cold, white, wet stuff into the house. Hanging the remote on the nail under the railing, I returned to the door and remembered the secure sounding “click” when I pulled it closed. One twist of the knob confirmed my suspicion. The door was locked. Grrr. Irrationally hoping the power of my glower would unlock the door, I glared at the shiny chunk of metal and applied more pressure to the unmoving knob.
After slipping and sliding in the slush around my house and trying all the doors, I came to the conclusion that the only open door into my house was the one inside my locked garage.
I took another sloppy lap around the house and found a dry spot at the southwest corner of the garage. Under the awning, my back against the door, out of the wind, was the perfect place to…to…to…wait?
On the other hand, I reasoned, this could be a wonderful opportunity to be alone with the Lord. No cell phone or land line to ring, no internet pings announcing a message in my in-box. Just the two of us, uninterrupted for three glorious hours!
After ten minutes had passed, I wondered what topic Oprah was discussing on her show.
A few days later, as I was trying to make sense of that afternoon, these questions popped into my mind: Does the fact that I couldn’t sense His presence mean He wasn’t there? Does the fact that it felt like a one-way conversation mean He wasn’t listening?
Thankfully, dear pilgrim, beyond the sand we so easily build upon, there is a Rock whose presence is not dependent on our perceptions. He is the fourth man in our fiery furnace (Dan. 3:25). He is the one who walks with us when we don’t even know He is there (Luke 24:13-15). On this road we travel, no matter how soggy our tennis shoes get, He is with us. He is Emmanuel.

“Let Go of My Elbow”
by Ken Miller

The Friday night meeting of the 1994 Promise Keepers conference in Indianapolis was over and 62,000 men headed for the Hoosier Dome exits. Navigating in a crowd that size, let alone a building that could house that much machismo, was something I did not want to tackle alone. Thankfully, my good buddy Jim Davis had agreed to act as my sighted guide on our trip.
Leaving the main arena was easy, but entering the lobby area was like being dumped in the middle of a thick forest surrounded by tall trees, only the tall trees were moving! I tightened my grip on Jims’ arm to make sure we didn’t get separated in the mass of moving tree trunks.
While I was trying to avoid tripping over roots or getting clobbered by branches, he was trying to keep the others in our Grand Rapids group in his sight. By the time the crowd spilled out onto the side walk, we were both exhausted. I released my death grip. Rubbing his arm, he turned to me. “Don’t worry,” his voice was smiling. “It should be fine once the bleeding stops.”
The next day, sitting in the shade of one of the eighteen wheelers that brought our box lunches, I thought I heard that still small voice give me an invitation. “If you will let go of my elbow, I will take hold of your hand.”
Elbow-clutching is highly functional. In the natural world, it can get me from point A to point B with ease. Spiritualy, it speaks of all that I can do. Its ability to get the job done is limited. Hand-holding in the natural world speaks of relationship. Hand-holding in the spiritual also speaks of relationship. But in the spiritual everything has already been done.
Just imagine, dear Pilgrim, that, a long time ago our great God thought it would make His day to create someone just like you. (Psalm 139, Zeph. 3:17, Isa. 49:15) So He did. And here you are, reading this newsletter. You say you’re broken, unworthy and trashed? He gave His life for you. (Romans 5:6,8) He wants to hold your hand. Amen.

Casting off the Crust!
by Ken Miller

The Sunday-evening-post-conference staff meeting was in full bloom. God had touched many of the folks who had attended the three day event and excited staff members were sharing testimonies about our Fathers goodness to attendees.
That is, everybody except me. I was sleepy and try as I might, I didn’t have the energy to join in the rejoicing. Soon my head was nodding and my vision was blurrier than usual. Like magnets, my elbows found my knees and my chin found my palms.
The next thing I knew, the staff meeting was over and we were filing out of the room. “Hey, Ken.” The serious voice belonged to Vicki, part of our music ministry. “I want you to know how much I appreciated seeing you praying throughout the meeting.”
Two weeks earlier, while editing a tape, I had memorized the speaker’s definition of humility. He said it was, “…the willingness to be known for who you really are.”
From the stuttering Moses (Exodus 4:10), to Paul, the killer of Christians (Acts 22:4), the Scriptures are full of folks who knew who they really were. The most notable, of course, is our Lord. From His birth in a stable, to His death on the cross, His life defined humility. He knew exactly who He was (Mark 10:22, John 18:35-37)-and exactly who He was not (Matt. 9:11-13).
Turning to Vicki, I thanked her for the compliment, but told her I had, in reality, been dozing. She returned a good natured groan
In the last frame of a 1960’s Peanuts cartoon, with blanket in hand and thumb in mouth, Linus Van Pelt summed it up when he said, “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust-the proof of the pudding is under the crust.”
Surrounded by a world hungry for authentic spiritual food, do we offer crusty, pious platitudes and pat answers? Or do we offer real “pudding” and a heart that can be touched? When Jesus came into our lives, He made all things new and hooked us up with the Great I Am.
As the old cliché goes, “God catches His fish and cleans ‘em later.” No matter how thick our crust, no matter how heavy our baggage, deep our rejection, or useless we may feel, we still belong. We’ve been redeemed, so let’s cast off the crust and let Him be known. “Hide it under a bushel-NO-I’m gonna let it shine!”

Growing in Knowing
by Ken Miller

Early morning sunlight poured through the windows as my grandson, Kendrick, climbed into his booster chair eager to consume the promised bowl of Cap’n Crunch. (For my health conscious readers, he did eat his entire helping of broccoli at supper last evening.)
Reaching for the taller of the two cereal boxes on the table, (the shorter of the two contained an adult variety that I affectionately refer to as rocks ‘n’ twigs), I set the Cap’n Crunch before Kendrick and received an unexpected response. Choking back tears, in a respectful, but broken-hearted little voice, he croaked. “I want the pirate!” In his world, the smiley guy with the chubby cheeks in the naval uniform was a pirate and the pirate was not on that box.
Always eager to rescue, I held the box to the end of my nose and inspected the cover to see what I had given him. It was, indeed, Cap’n Crunch, but the good Cap’n was doing a promotion for Sea World and so was wearing goggles and snorkel rather than his captain’s hat. Kendrick knew Cap’n Crunch-and “goggle-guy” was not the Cap’n.
One of the assemblies we learned to repair in vending machine school was referred to as the “slug rejecter.” As the name implies, it rejects slugs. Oddly enough, it does this by accepting coins. If the round object placed in the coin slot, and then travels through the rejecter, does not prove it’s the real thing (by verifying magnetic content, weight, proper edge serration, diameter, width and more) it will be rejected and returned to the customer. No tests to see if it is a slug exist, only tests to see if it is real.
Kendrick was alarmed because the Cap’n he knew-was not on the box. A “slug rejecter” is set up to know a real coin. Paul knew exactly what he was after when he wrote, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection…” (Phil. 3:10a) A line from a popular chorus says, “The greatest thing in all my life is knowing you.” Jesus defined eternal life for us in John 17:3 when he prayed, “Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”
The Divine hand on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is reaching toward man. Our heavenly Father is the one initiating the relationship. Let us respond today, dear believer, by reaching out to Him. Amen.

Here Come De Judge
by Ken Miller

If you happened to be tuned in to NBC-TV any Monday night in the late 60’s or early 70’s, you would find the contemporary humor of Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In. If you happened to be with me, in my living room, I am the one sitting on the floor in front of the TV guffawing at the non-stop slap-stick being beamed at me from Burbank.
Ernestine (Lily Tomlin) is seated in front of her antiquated telephone switchboard. “A gracious good afternoon. This is Miss Tomlin of the telephone company. Have I reached the party to whom I am speaking?”
The next sketch could find Sammy Davis, Jr., donning a judicial robe and wig strutting across the stage warning everyone of his arrival with the catchphrase, “Here come de judge.”
The sun was peaking over the eastern horizon when a noisy crowd poured onto the temple courts sneering and pushing a woman ahead of them. They interrupted a man who was already speaking to some folks gathered around him.
“Teacher,” they said. “This woman has been caught in the very act of adultery.”(John 8:4) Their iron-clad accusation caught my attention. In the USA, a man/woman is innocent until proven guilty. And being caught in the very act is hard to defend. I stood at the back of the crowd as they continued. “Now Moses in the Law commanded us that such [women--offenders] shall be stoned to death. But what do you say [to do with her-what is Your sentence]?” (John 8:5) I dug around in the bag slung on my shoulder until I found a rock-perfect for throwing. She had indeed broken the law and now it was time to pay.
We all know how the story ends. At His challenge to the leaders of the law, rocks began thudding to the ground and the crowd dispersed. In the face of His grace, I felt my rock slipping through my fingers.
“When Jesus raised Himself up, He said to her, Woman, where are your accusers? Has no man condemned you? She answered, No one, Lord! And Jesus said, I do not condemn you either. Go on your way and from now on sin no more.” (Jn 8:10, 11) My rock joined the others scattered on the ground. This man truly is the son of God.
As I turned to leave, I heard His voice. “Ken. May I have that bag? When you’re in me, you won’t need it anymore. Go on your way and judge no more.” Amen.


Some Trust in Chariots
by Ken Miller

The king was agitated. He assembled his counselors and commanders together and told them to take a census of all the fighting men in Israel. Reluctantly, a census was taken and a report was given to the king. Taking a head-count seems logical to me. How else could a king make a decision for fight or flight? (1 Chronicles 21: 1-7)

Some trust in chariots.

Human nature had been running full throttle. Many were filled to overflowing with joy that knew no bounds. At last their captivity was over. They were free. Even Grumpy Gramps The Pessimist was heard mumbling, “Praise the Lord.” Then news reached the folks at the front that the enemy was close. (Exodus 15:19)

Some trust in horses.

The silence of the cool dawn was interrupted by the occasional snort of the war horses arrayed along the rim of the valley. A vast army had gathered to make war on Jehoshaphat and all the inhabitants of Judah. The army was very near when the king heard the bad news.
In this case, the king called a fast and an assembly in front of the temple so everyone could pray. “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you." (2 Chronicles 20:1-12b)

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” (Psalm 20:7)

When trouble is on the way, it seems like the first thing I want to do is “count the troops.” But then I hear that still small voice singing a little chorus behind the noisy saber rattling: “I trust in Thee, O Lord…my times are in Thy hands.” Amen

Feathers, A Shield, And
A Two-Legged Safe Place
by Ken Miller

The house was buzzing with activity. Our family had gathered to celebrate two birthdays: my dad’s and daughter’s. The three grandkiddies were racing around squealing at the sight of the colorful packages that were not for them.
Lindsey and I were chatting about something in the kitchen when Jaylen, two and a half, raced around the cabinets to the front door. A few moments passed and the sound of his running footsteps could be heard as he rushed back into the kitchen straight into his moms arms. Lindsey picked him up and gave him a big hug and kiss as he sat on the island, with his little arms wrapped around her neck.
A few seconds passed and he released his hold on his mom and made it known that he wanted to be back on the floor. “He just needs to know his mommy is here,” Lindsey said. And off he went to see what his brother and sister were up to.
Whether the game is baseball or softball, a runner, caught between third base and home, attempting to out run the ball, longs to hear the umpire shout SAFE!
Our heavenly Father is indeed our Safe Place. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart” (Psalm 91:4) When our load becomes to heavy to carry, Jesus is waiting with his invitation. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matt. 11:29).
But does that mean there is no need for two-legged safe places? I think not. In fact, Paul wrote: “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Gal. 6:2)
As we travel this road together, dear Pilgrim, let us share one another’s burdens and rejoice in the assurance that, indeed, together, we are in a Safe Place. Amen.