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PASTOR RUDY/ SOUL MINING/ DECEMBER 15 2023

One blaring characteristic trait of mine is that I don’t hide my feelings very well. One look at my face and you know exactly how I am doing! Nobody will ever confuse me as being, “The Great Pretender.” I not only wear my heart on my sleeve, I also display quite publicly a few more bumper stickers of adjectives across the rest of my body. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I am a walking billboard of about a million more!

When I was about six or seven years old, my family spend the day up at Lake Hopatcong, New Jersey. During the day we would go swimming and as evening came, we would go to the amusement park on the other side of the water called Bertrand’s Island. One summer night I had an experience with fright and fear there that I will never forget. I used one of my ride tickets to board what was advertised as, “You Drive It Boats!” I must have missed the part that tried to define the fact that I would be driving and this wasn’t just a sit back and go along with the flow type of happening. When I realized what I had gotten myself into, I pressed the gas pedal so hard that I literally jumped the rope that kept the boats at bay. Before you know it, I was heading towards the middle of the lake and I was terrified. I immediately got up and began to scream at the top of my lungs, “Help Me! Help Me!” My siblings are cracking up at their older brother now acting like an idiot but I was in over my head and I was not about to tackle this obstacle on my own. I wanted a rescuer and I needed them now! What I got was a teenage lifeguard who was forced to swim into the water and come out to my boat and let’s just say, she was angry for me getting her wet. She climbed in with me, glared with eyes of fire and scolded me to sit down and shut up. She drove the little dingy back to safety and I was never so glad to get back on dry ground. Everyone was laughing at me and even my parents were visibly embarrassed, but I was not playing around because I needed somebody to save me and even though she did it with a grudge the size of the giant roller coaster overshadowing us, I was no longer in any danger.

The name Jesus in Hebrew is Yeshua. It comes from the personal name for God in Hebrew, Yahweh, and the word for “to save” or “to deliver,” yasha. Yeshua therefore means “God saves,” “God delivers,” or “God helps.” Jesus’s name points to his role and the primary reason for Christmas!

Luke 2:10-11

“I bring you good news of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”

The herald angel assigned by God pronounced that night on a Bethlehem hillside good news of a “Grand Opening” that should have been a sold out event! A new Hero was being birthed in the city known as “The House of Bread.” Someone who could truly provide us with a hope and a future no matter what tyranny of government hijacked the political thrones of earth. There was a new Kid in town and He was going to do more than just clean up Dodge City. This King of Kings was going to transform we human beings from the inside out. We who had been full of sin and shame would now become containers of grace. But the royal birth of God’s only Son tiptoed quietly by with a silent thud while the rest of the world slept. How could this be? Where was everyone? Why weren’t the streets filled with celebration? People who celebrate so many empty occurrences that are deficient of any substantial substance missed this one and botched it good.

What does it really mean to call Jesus, the Savior? Why do we need a Savior? What do we need saving from? How does Jesus save us? The salvation Jesus offers all humankind is far more expansive and expensive than simply cheap forgiveness and a ticket to get yourself a, “Get Out of Hell Free” card. Salvation is a biblical term used about 150 times in the New Testament alone, and one that Christians of all shapes, ages and sizes use in hymns and worship songs!

The Hebrew word “Yasha” and the Greek word is “sozo,” both of which can be translated in their various forms as saves or saved but they can also be translated as delivered, rescued, or helped. We find the word “saved” is used to define the remedy for physical healing, the redemption to forever forgiveness via a regenerated heart, the rescuing from one’s enemies who long to destroy us and being removed just in time to escape safely from disasters. Earlier, I used it of what an angry teenage girl did for me that night in the middle of a dark lake. I was in a predicament that I was not able to get out of in one piece on my own. If I was ever to taste real peace again, I needed someone on the outside to venture into my mess and get me to shore safely.      

Christians have not just been rescued from their past misdemeanors. The beauty of Christmas is that Jesus was willing to leave the confines of Heaven where He was worshipped and adored and come to a planet that would eventually nail him to a cross out of hatred and jealousy. If you think that you can’t make everyone happy and get frustrated by it, our Lord was perfect in every way and yet was still despised and rejected. The darkness will always scorn the Light because when God flips the switch of grace and mercy and brightens up the interior of our souls, sin can’t hide in the closets anymore.  The good news of Jesus is not that we’re sinners, but that He’s our Savior. In both the Old and the New Testaments, the words most commonly translated as sin in Hebrew, “hata,” and in Greek, “hamartia,” means to “miss the mark.” For us to escape drowning in the sea of our own mishaps, we would have to hit the bullseye and split the arrow not just once as Errol Flynn did in Robin Hood. But we would have to bat 1000 and accomplish this feat every single time. This morning when I jammed my little toe into the chair before me, I said a bad word that was far from holy. The moment we go off the course of traveling the narrow way, we jump the rope and now need a rescuer! You can be quiet if you want to, but I make no apology for yelling, “Help! Help!” at the top of my lungs. 

When the Christmas angel got on the midnight microphone in that little town of Bethlehem, he was making it clear that this special bulletin was for everybody. It wasn’t for just a certain race, or class of clientele, it was for all of us. The rich and poor. The highly educated and the blue collar force. Those who went to church and those who slept in. Christmas teaches us clearly that the heart of God is always tuned to hear the cries of the lost. The goal of God is to restore us back to where we belong! We were created not for fear but for faith. We were destined to live in community with the Lord and one another. There was never supposed to be outsiders until some decided to jump the rope and wander beyond the borders of life and everlasting love.

All of us are outcasts, for every single one of us has sinned and has fallen from grace and we will drown in our own muck if we don’t humble ourselves and admit that we can’t do this on our own. Like that summer night in Bertrand’s Island, I didn’t care what anyone else thought. I just wanted to be safe again. When Jesus came, He didn’t come with a chip on His shoulder for having to enter into the inconvenience of where I was. Jesus loved me enough to go the distance and unlike the lifeguard, when He got to where I was, He held me close and promised that I would never be alone again. Who doesn’t need a love like that? Maybe this Christmas is the perfect time for a rescue!

And whoever calls upon the Name of the Lord- will be saved!

RUDY SHEPTOCK MAY 20, 2023

I have spent the last 10 days in Florida visiting my Daughters and five of my Grandkids who live down here in the Sunshine State. I have to be honest with you, while I know it is many a person’s dream to live here in the eternal land of heat stroke, I have never been one of them. Don’t get me wrong, I would be with my family wherever they may call home, but living in an oven is not my idea of paradise. And as a native of North Jersey, I think that way too many have migrated to Tampa and Orlando and Daytona Beach bringing the phenomenon of rubber necking and bumper to bumper travel and nonstop traffic with them. I hate the time being stuck in a car moving one inch at a stretch. I joke about the 4:30 PM standstill daily on Route 61 as you enter Shamokin because it some days may be 6 cars deep!

Bono wrote with such convicting and compelling lyrics that he still hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Dorothy Gale went all the way to Oz and back searching for answers somewhere over the rainbow. Johnny Cash used to sing, “I’ve been everywhere Man,” and proceeded to list the towns that he inhabited like one would spit out a grocery list. John Denver philosophically pontificated that he was looking for space and to find out who he was. Diana Ross asked us if we knew where we were going to and if we liked the things that life was revealing to us as we walked the path before us. The Beach Boys lamented that they just wanted to go home and leave sailing on the Sloop John B to the real sailors. I am not here in Florida because of the weather, the attractions, the palm trees, or the orange juice. I am here only because I have a real relationship and love some of the wonderful family that calls this sauna home.

I wish I wasn’t so restless. I have battled being satisfied with who I am, where I am and what I am with the ones I’m with my entire life. I can share without hesitation that it is not money or possessions I seek. It has never been about titles or gadgets or cars or houses for me. I can honestly report that God has always done an excellent job providing all our needs. I didn’t say wants. I said that God makes sure that if we don’t have it, we don’t need it! It is one of the reasons I think we pay athletes and entertainers way too much salary. How many houses can you live in at one time? How many vehicles are you able to drive? What good is it if you gain all the things that the almighty dollar can buy but still forfeit your very soul in the process?

One of the hardest things about being here in Florida is that the whole state reminds me of my Dad. My parents had moved from Jersey to Interlachen, Florida back in 1983. I waved to them as they hit the highway. My Dad hated the cold. Unlike his oldest son, he didn’t revel in the white precipitation flakes that fall from the sky. Of course, I came to visit the family over the years but I never had the urge to relocate. In 2000, the year my father passed due to a horrible battle with cancer, I actually spent 7 months on the Cape May Court House to Tampa shuttle via Spirit Airlines. I was honored to be holding his hand when he took that last labored breath that ushered him into the arms of Jesus. When I left Florida after Dad had graduated to glory, this visit back now is only my third time here in Gatorland in the last 23 years. My heart yearns for reunion. I know I have never been whole since that September. Have you ever had a hard time being in a certain area because the memories cause such heartache? While I am here with Leah and Abbie and five of my grandchildren having a blast and making awesome new memories, I just can’t shake the pain of letting go of the old ones. Honestly, I am looking forward to coming back to Shamokin. While our little Coal town isn’t much to look at from the outside these days, I still see and feel God there and for now, it is my home.

Maybe restlessness isn’t such a curse after all. Could it be that the Lord provided it as a gift to never get too attached to this side of heaven? If you know me, you know that I always joke about ever resuscitating me should I die in your presence. I have no desire to spend just 90 minutes in heaven and then be brought back. If you snatch me out of glory after I’ve been there, I’ll fight you! I have no fear of what is ahead of us after our body conks out. My last breath here will usher my first breath there and it will be wonderful to never have to say, “Goodbye,” again. It’s not the climate or the environment of the everlasting that I yearn for. It’s the company I will keep forever!

The Christian Contemporary Music Artist Steven Curtis Chapman sang, “We are not home yet.” The Christian band Mercy Me challenged us to, “Only Imagine,” what that moment we see Jesus will be like. They also added a tune entitled, “Homesick,” because no matter how good a day is here in Florida or Pennsylvania; it will come to an end. We might make the good times roll but we are not powerful enough to make the feelings go on and on. Perhaps the biggest reason we all need faith in the living God is because we are powerless to transport ourselves from here to there. Is there anybody here who can rescue us from our own brokenness? God, in the very Psalm of 23, has promised that He would escort us through the shadow of the valley of death so that we would have nothing to lose and nothing to fear but everything to gain. How about you? A timeshare secured in the promised land is one you will never need to weasel your way out of.

Two days from now we will be leaving our own flesh and blood behind us. Those precious sloppy wet smooches with our grandkids are priceless but they will have to last until we are reunited once again. Home is not necessarily where your heart is but where God lands you for such a time as this. All I know is I too am still searching to find the answer to soothe the separation anxiety that ties my souls into knots. But I pray that we will be wise enough to understand that earth can’t give us what it is incapable of producing. You don’t go to McDonalds for a whopper! And the palm trees are not about to grow in Northumberland County. But if God is with us, we can be alive wherever we are planted. We can find blessings even amidst the neighborhoods that cause agita. Take this world and give me Jesus because wherever I am, He will be right beside me holding my shaky hand. Home is where my feet land for now. Home is not a building as much as it’s a companion who promises that He will never leave us nor forsake us. I wonder what God’s welcome mat looks like?

SOUL MINING JUNE 2, 2023

Shamokin helped beautify 2^nd Street by upgrading the playground that sits to your right as you make your way into town. I was told that there have been many complaints about investing such nice equipment on a not so nice part of town. I live on 2^nd Street by the way and so I will take offense to that remark as I believe that if you want something to become dilapidated, simply do nothing and let your little neck of the world go racing downhill.

June marks my second anniversary since moving to Shamokin from Cape May County, NJ. where the ocean was just four miles away from my home. I have heard all the jokes and I’m not laughing anymore. God brought me here and He didn’t relocate me so I could sit in the corner and eat a steady diet of worms. Right from the get-go, I believed that you can create your own paradise by investing your very best into the grounds in which God has planted you. I take pride in my neighborhood, and you can be sure that we have been using the Shamokin Christian and Missionary Alliance Church as a home base to love on people from where they are so that they can get to Jesus!

I am now in my sixties and have spent lots of time here working with the children. Kids are the toughest audience of all because they have a sense about you. They know whether you really care about them or not. I know they have felt the love from the people of our church because we have offered them the prime cut of who we are. In a day when too many houses of worship pay more attention to their brand and their worship band, I have challenged us to become the hands and feet of the Savior on the streets where we live and move and have our being. I was in Weis’ the other day and ran into some of the young people who come to the Good News Clubs that we continue to hold on Sunday nights through June. I felt like the Pied Piper of Coal Town as we picked out the best watermelons for that night’s refreshments and got the Popsicle brand of ice cream to celebrate the night before Memorial Day. Why is it that we are always looking to do things on the cheap when God offered and continues to give us His absolute best.

Recently, my wife and I bought new basketball standards for the multipurpose room at the church. I wanted the brand that could take a licking and keep on ticking. We are getting the floor lined so that the open gym basketball nights to come will be done right. If they build it, they will come was the theme of the baseball classic movie, “Field of Dreams.” If you genuinely love others like Jesus loves us and do it with passion and excellence, people will respond and begin to be proud of who they are and where they live rather than being dumbed down by the fact that if the adults don’t care, why should the next generation be any different.

Come this Fall, I have talked with school officials to do some Fifth Quarters at the Church after the football games. I oversaw them at other parishes where I pastored, it provides kids with a positive environment to go to between 10 PM and Midnight on football Friday nights. Did I mention that these events would be free? I’m looking for caring adults to pay the bill so that teens can be free to enjoy a good time and not look to booze or drugs to do what they can’t do anyway. Nothing good comes from alcohol and drugs and I have done enough funerals in my lifetime to back up this statement. Let’s make it hard to get addicted in Shamokin and Coal Township. Let’s stop the whining and put our best foot forward so this place can start winning off the field too.

I don’t know how many years that I can keep doing what I do. I’d be lying to you if I said that I don’t feel the aftereffects of the radiation that took a toll on my body during my battle with prostate cancer. I just know that I want to go with my boots on. I would love to be preaching up a storm in my usual passionate style when suddenly, I’m no longer confined to the halls of earth but have been ushered into the presence of Jesus.

I mentioned to the kids that I am going to take them to Knoebels this Summer, and they remind me often that this too must happen. But when we do go, don’t expect to find me sitting in the shade. I am going to be sitting in the front seat of the Phoenix with my hands held high and the wind blowing through whatever traces of hair that remains. When I read the Bible, I see Jesus with the people, walking with them and eating together and experiencing life together. The idea that clergy should inhabit an impenetrable bubble far from the congregation is not a biblical picture. If there are songs to be sung, let me sing the loudest and if there are sliding boards to conquer, then I will meet you on the top rung of the monkey bars.

God so loved that world that He gave His absolute best so that we would know how treasured we were to Him. We don’t need any more lottery tickets that will end up on the floor trampled upon as another missed opportunity. And you don’t need to fly as high as a kite on some artificial illegal substance that in the end will only steal, kill, and destroy the legacy you were created to impart for good upon this planet. The saints of old said that the glory of God is best expressed in men and women who are fully alive. How many days this year would you say that you were running on all cylinders?  There is a hurting and lonely world that needs to know they matter and if you have been filled with the love of God then it’s time to be spilled all over the neighborhoods that we reside in.

So, thank you Shamokin for the new playground equipment and I pray its just the beginning in sewing seeds of life upon the streets that we call home. You can count on me to do whatever I can to shine a light where darkness must be defeated for good.        

I am grateful for the fact that my wife always makes me a nice piping hot cup of coffee every morning. She is always mixing up a variety of flavors when it comes to providing my daily brew and this time of the year includes some of my favorites like gingerbread, pumpkin spice and other holiday blends. Tasting that first hot sip of the new day is one of my absolute favorite blessings! But I usually only savor the first two gulps warm because I am usually doing a hundred other things at the same time. Many days, I will finish that same mug later in the evening when it has become cold but still just as delicious to me. I can never throw it out because I would not want to hurt the heart of the one who prepared it for me with loving hands in the first place.

There is a new worship song out that includes these following lyrics, “So come on my soul! Oh, don’t you get shy on me. Lift up your song, cause you’ve got a lion inside of those lungs. Get up and praise the Lord.” I think about how many moments do we just miss the precious little gifts that God provides us every day because we are preoccupied with what we need to do and in the process, we are blind to the wonders that the Lord has already done for us? I have been in my share of school cafeterias over the years. They can become loud and even scary places for those who aren’t in the know of how to navigate their way through these jungles wisely. I can tell you about something that hurts my gut with every dinner crowd. It’s the amount of food that ends up in the trash, uneaten, not enjoyed and totally taken for granted. I know there were parents behind those meals who assumed that what they were giving to their sons and daughters to quench their appetites would at least be appreciated and consumed. But unfortunately, the haste of a student’s schedule makes waste of their homemade sandwiches and hearty snacks that end up nestled within a garbage bag. And I see heaven looking down and shaking its head over these inept practices that have no real rhyme or reason.

Nestled within our yearly calendar is a holiday that just begs us to remember all that we have and not get suffocated by all that we don’t. I know the retail businesses jump right from Halloween to Christmas but we must fight the temptation to get sucked into a consumer mindset. How many big screen televisions does one household need? How many more gadgets, doo-dads and the latest edition of a smart phone that actually does your taxes and cleans your over can we use? It always cracks me up when my wife and daughters would look into their closets chock full of enough clothes and shoes to outfit a small city and say with the most serious of expressions, “I have nothing to wear!” And even I have to admit that I pretty much wear the same shirts and pants every other day and yet I have so much hanging on hangers that never sees the light of day. Stuff holds us back. Possessions anchor us down. Could this be the season that we practice the principle that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

I’m not a fan of all you can eat buffets. It just encourages the old adage that our eyes are bigger than our stomachs. You might have Bettie Davis eyes but it becomes unattractive when meshed with Fred Flintstones portion sizes. I have seen participants pile up their plates with enough food that is just begging for a belly ache. And the reason that the roast beef is not being digested properly is because there is more shrimp to be peeled and a whole stack of crab legs waiting to be dipped in butter. If you have ever been overseas on a trip to a third world country, you understand that sometimes feeling a little guilty isn’t such a bad thing after all. How can we be truly grateful for a home made piece of pie if there are another dozen more warming up in the bullpen?

I’m not a minimalist by any means. One look at my office and you know that I am a collector of memories. If I can tell a story about something someone gave me, I can’t throw it out. But the moral of that story is that all that we own must not own us. Living for the bigger house, the sportier car, the 6 figured salary has proven that it never satisfies the cries of our soul. What if we forgot about ourselves and focused more on those precious family members and friends that we still have access to in our lives? What if gratitude became more about the people and less about the number of packages that I can put my name upon? What if I stopped what I was doing and actually had the whole cup of coffee while the steam still rose from my cup?

It was Thanksgiving 1999. This was usually the time of the year that I would pack up the minivan and gather all the kids and head down to Florida to spend the holiday with my parents and siblings who moved their back in 1983. On a side note, I have no desire to relocate to a climate that doesn’t provide all four seasons. If there is no chance of snow, I don’t want to go! As you may know from my other writings, I have an unusually large family. We all gathered around a humongous table and got ready to share the goodies together. My Mom is Italian so Thanksgiving is a feast for the ages. After dinner, we all would go out and play a huge family game of football. But that particular Thursday, my Dad wanted us to go around the table and have everyone share what they were grateful for. I rolled my eyes because the timing on that taking place could roll right into Sunday! Unfortunately, my Father didn’t get his wish and we hemmed and hawed until we were free to go outside.

None of us knew that this would be our last Thanksgiving with Dad. By the following year, he would have already graduated to glory, taken at a young 67 by cancer. Why didn’t we slow down and linger with each other? Why did we feel the need to rush on to that which was next when what my Father wanted to do would have been an invaluable memory? When will we ever learn that loving people and not missing the magic when we are together needs to be paramount in our lives?

Every Wednesday night, the church that I pastor holds a Family Fun Night. Next week, November 16^th at 6PM, we are having a taste of Thanksgiving night together. The day when everyone would gather around the table nightly to share more than a meal but to invest into one another’s lives is long gone. We all need the human touch and to have someone love us enough that our story genuinely matters! If you would like to join us, consider yourself invited. It is free and there are no strings attached. The Shamokin Christian and Missionary Alliance Church is located were 2^nd and Arch Street collide. So come on out and don’t you get shy on me. We don’t have forever to get it right!   

FRIDAY OCTOBER 14, 2022

I love to read. I was one of the first kids in my class to master the simple world of Dick, Jane and Spot. Thank God that there would be many more interesting and fulfilling tales along the way. These days my eyes are not what they used to be so I use my phone and an application called Audible, but it allows me to continue to read at least one book a week. If listening to the story is second rate, I would argue that many times I have the privilege to hear the novel being read by the author themselves and it adds lots of depth and insight that I might miss if I was using my own interpretation as I ride my way through the pages.

The very first book that ever made an impact on me was read to us back in Catholic School in the 1960’s. As a matter of fact, it became my favorite time of the day when Sister Noel would read to us from Charlotte’s Web by EB White. I was engulfed right into the wonderful world of Wilbur the pig and Charlotte the compassionate and loving spider that saved that little piggie many times along the way. It was a story of unconditional love and the value of even the runts of the litter. It spoke to my heart of real friendship and how even when you care about somebody, you can’t keep them locked within a box of your own expectations. I can’t remember why I came into a room, but Zukerman’s wonder hog will forever hold a dear place in my heart. There are many Wilbur’s out there who with a little tender attention are ready to become an essential part of your story.

Another classic from my youth was The Velveteen Rabbit. I am 63 years old but in so many ways I still feel like that stuffed little bunny who may not look much, but has experienced the trials the triumphs of loving and being loved. What does it take to be real? How can we know that we are loved and not just used? And is it worth all the pain and the wear and tear to experience relationship at its deepest core? Before there was Disney’s Toy Story, there was Margery Williams’ powerful parable of the miraculous fruit produced when you don’t care what you look like as much as you are determined to do whatever it takes to communicate sacrificial devotion. Jesus shouted out His love for us by being willing to die on the cross. He was mocked, beaten, shamed, ridiculed and pronounced a common criminal, but nothing prevented Him from pursuing what needed to be done so we could be together forever.

As I got older, the Play by Thornton Wilder, “Our Town,” resonated with my soul as a sixth grader. Life rarely stops or slows down unless we are willing to jump out of the rat race and seize a few precious moments to reflect on why we are here on earth in the first place. Shamokin is just another Grover’s Corners and people come and go and repeat their daily chores like clock work. We all need an Emily Webb to sober us enough that we would wake up to the real treasures of life before it becomes too late to do anything about it. The soliloquy Emily shares at the conclusion had me bawling my eyes out the first time I ever read it and it still renders me speechless today. “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?” Unfortunately we know that the tyranny of the urgent robs most of the masterpieces and miracles that can be had if we would just stop, take a look around and realize that without love, nothing is of lasting value at all.

If you have little ones, please read to them. If you are older now, grab a book and jump into a whole new world that just may rewrite your own resume. Read it all. Fiction and non fiction. Don’t be afraid to venture into new horizon’s that you wouldn’t go unless the tale as old as time was revealed to you with words, rhymes and pages. I lead a Book Club every other Thursday at 1PM at the Shamokin/Coal Township Public Library. Dialoguing with others about the narrative that we are devouring is fascinating to me. I would love to do a Book Club with junior high or high school students that also love to read. If you know somebody who would appreciate that opportunity, please let me know. You can email me at pastorrudysac@gmail.com. What are some of the best sellers that have made a lasting impact upon you? What are you reading now? Never underestimate the power of stories. Jesus was an expert in telling them and with every new illustration that He gave, eyes were opened, hearts were healed and futures were drastically altered. Keep reading! It isn’t over yet!   

If I gave you a choice of roles to play in an upcoming story being written, which one would you choose to sink your teeth into? Would you want to play the Hero, be the Villain, act like the Victim or take on the responsibility of the Guide who helps the Victor find his or her way? In this crazy world we are living in right now, who are you behaving most like as you fulfill your piece in the cosmic puzzle?

I have just finished Viktor Frankl’s masterpiece, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” for the umpteenth time. While Frankl was imprisoned in a Concentration Camp during World War II, he discovered that while enemies can take many things away from you, they can’t steal your will. Frankl wrote, “Anyone who has a ‘why’ to live for can survive almost any how!” The Nazi’s took his clothes, his possessions, his family, his dignity but not his desire to live. It begs the question, “Do you know why you are alive for such a time as this?” How we answer truly defines where we will put the best of our energies in the moments we have remaining on this earth.

Let’s face it. Most of us have valid reasons to be upset at life, disappointed in God, and tempted to become bitter by the basic happenings we have encountered through the years. Life isn’t fair! Did you know that? Bad things happen to caring individuals. Good things happen to cheaters and thieves. The day of reckoning is not to be had this side of heaven. Those who quit fighting the crooked system become victims and blame everyone and everything for why they just up and quit.

By the way, nobody wants to camp out next to a whiner and complainer. We all have our days of venting and exhaling the negative vibes that have infiltrated our system, but nobody should wear the label of, “Woe is Me!” Victims are very draining citizens who literally will eventually exhaust your patience. And by the way, nobody is clamoring to read a book or watch a movie that features a victim who has checked out of real life and believes that they deserve to be miserable.

Victims unchecked become Villains. An unforgiving spirit will poison your soul. Believing you are entitled to all of life’s goodies that for one reason or another passed you by can easily turn you into the Big Bad Wolf. The mantra of the Wicked Stepmother is, “If I’m stuck in a life that I hate, I am going to ruin everyone else’s party also.” As I have already shared, all of us have been given the short end of the stick somewhere along the way. God didn’t give me cancer. God didn’t make our babies die. God didn’t make your spouse leave you or your kids abandon your company. That was the result of being given free will to choose. Humans are not robots although some robots pretend they are people. Check the address of where we live. This isn’t Paradise. We are all broken in some way shape or form. None of us is perfect. Rather than go down the dismal path where we long to wipe any resemblance of a smile off every face, perhaps we stop waiting for fate to accomplish what God has enabled me and you to do.

Where have all the heroes gone? Where are the wise men and women of experience who come alongside the fighter and assist them in getting to the finish line? Heroes choose to live in spite of the surroundings they find themselves in. Robin Hood doesn’t throw in the towel in Sherwood. George Washington didn’t allow a little over crowding to keep him from sailing. The Miracle Mets of 1969 didn’t allow the 100-1 odds stop them from becoming world champions. If we listen closely to the voice of the Spirit, I’m guessing He is saying that we have too many villains and an overabundance of victims but not enough of those who are ready to “carpe some diem” in 2022.

Politics is not going to get it done. I gave up on looking to government to change our world many years ago. Pride and the stubborn ego of power-hungry parties is killing our Country. When Washington DC and those who are looking to inhabit the positions of leadership are willing to humble themselves and realize that they are the servants and not the ones to be served, we can finally start moving in the right direction.

Churches should be the enabling force but more often than not, they just complain along with everybody else. Prayers only work when Believers are moved and motivated by the Lord to positive action in doing what is right by the God we claim to love and serve. And our children are murdered while we turn up the noise of fear and hypocrisy! Lord have mercy on us all!!! If every God follower would be intentional about being like Jesus to those He puts in our paths, this world could become very different, very quickly. God is not asking us to change the world. But He is calling us to stop with the reasons why Shamokin is not a great place to live and raise a family and be part of the solution that inspires the culture to become more courageous than cowardly in the days ahead.

I want to be a Hero, Lord, right here where I live. How about you? I want to be a guiding light to those who believe that Camelot is not a pipe dream. How about you? The devil has plenty of advocates and there are too many of our population that believe the air can never be put back into the balloon. What if we just started living like we are loved by God and placed on this planet so that our lights may shine? The trash talkers are never going to be quiet. The naysayers will only take No for an answer. But I believe that if Viktor Frankl could live an amazing adventure in the middle of so much evil, death and dying; so can we.

And before I close, I want to say Thank You to all the Men and Women who gave the ultimate gift of life to preserve something worth living for here in the United States of America! Memorial Day is not a Holiday, it’s a holy day to show our gratitude and appreciation for the Heroes and Guides of yesterday. Now we are in search of Heroes and Guides for today and tomorrow!

Here is my word for all of us today: “None of us have arrived!” We all have room to grow. My Dad used to say that if you were the smartest person in the room that it was time to find a new room. Life is a series of new adventure steps. Things become very boring very quickly when you act like that there is nothing new to learn. Situations can also become quite dangerous when you feign yourself to be an expert in an area that you never even took the time to begin.

Skiing brings out the pride in all of us. Especially when everyone knows they make the better equipment for those that have a more advanced level of ability. Why would  I want to use the kindergarten stuff when I’m ready to graduate to extreme sports? And who wants to go down the “Bunny Hill” when you can live to tell the tale of conquering the “Widow Maker?” Like so many other people tied up by their own pride, I nearly killed myself trying to prove that I was a better skier than we all knew I really was. Only the grace of God allowed me to see another sunrise.

Can you imagine if there were various colors that defined the many levels of lifestyles that it was up to us to choose to live our life today? The “Green Circle” would mean, “Beginner Friendly.” “The Blue Square” would indicate “Intermediate/More Advanced Tests” ahead. The “Black Diamonds” would lead to the “Fasten your Binders, Here we Go” opportunities. The “Double Black Diamonds” signs would point you to the ”Ready To Meet Jesus Today” runs. No matter what road you choose to roll on down, remember that it’s up to you how far you will go and how much you will grow. We are living in a day when it is to tempting to play it so safe, we aren’t even working up a sweat in unwrapping the gift that each day of life truly is.

Even though you might be impressing others on the outside, God always looks at the heart! This is no time to get lazy. We must not become complacent. Comfort is overrated. Being a student is a forever venture. We are not infinite. We are not perfect. We could all do better. The minute we start settling for sleeping in rather than stepping it up, our soul is in trouble. Age is no excuse to mail in tomorrow before you have properly addressed the package! The pandemic may have been a challenge for all of us these last few years to take on new excursions but too many citizens have shut down when adjusting the load on the road would have been a much better option. Let’s stop focusing on what we can’t do and let’s get creative about the hills that are still calling our name to swoosh its trails.

Growing and ‘going for it’ guards us from becoming guilty of the biggest sin in America today and that’s apathy! The nice thing about apathy is that you don’t have to exert yourself to show you’re sincere about it. The bad thing about apathy, however, is everything. God didn’t create us human beings to have others think for us, do for us, use us and abuse us. Each person has so much to offer. We have the entire future unwritten and we can’t muster the energy to even find where we put our pen. Could it be that we are tuning in lullabies when revelry is a much wiser choice.     

Back to the slopes of Vail, Colorado. I was on a ski lift. Others have written songs on the ride up the mountain inspired by the surrounding beauty. I fell asleep. I was in a deep sleep. I missed the entire experience because I was so dead tired, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They woke me up as the lift was making its turn to return to the bottom. I literally had to jump off and let me tell you, that command to get off and get down snapped me back to full attention. What might have to occur in life to shake us out of our dreaded stupor?

Unfortunately, apathy can be chic. Rolling one’s eyes can look cool but it’s cruel to your heart.  “It Just Doesn’t Matter,” was Bill Murray’s battle cry in the 1980’s. Apathy is counterfeit insight. Political correctness wants to drain the blood from your body. Today’s tolerant movement is quite intolerant to anyone who disagrees. Anyone who doesn’t comply is just defined as stupid for not getting the inside scoop! Apathy holds an important chair in present-day cultural discourse, funded by the appeal of “Hmmm.” I’m sorry but the answer, “You’re right and You’re right and You’re right,” can’t be right! Truth by its very nature demands that everyone can’t be right! And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be wrong.

I heard of a man who had to take an international flight and wanted to sleep. Someone gave him the sedative Ambien, but he was skeptical. He took one pill and nothing happened. He took a second and still nothing. He took a third pill and this time washed it down with a glass of wine. When he woke up, he was sitting in a strange terminal, in a wheelchair, with drool on his shirt. He had slept so hard, the flight attendants couldn’t wake him up when the plane landed, so they just wheeled him out of the plane and left him at the gate.

Apathy is like spiritual Ambien, and because of a passionless population, too many of us have become just like the airline sleeping zombie. Are you so asleep to the reality of the fact that life here on earth is not forever that you won’t even allow the God who made you have a legitimate crack at waking you up? Numbing yourself up to the call of the adventure only makes you miss the wild of the wilderness. Regret is a terrible prize at the end of the race. It is important to understand that awakening is a gift and not an achievement. Sleep happens to us, and wakefulness is given to us in the morning. The one person in all the world that you cannot wake up is yourself. So today I have the honor to wake you up to grow for it! Your life depends upon it!

Love has got to be more than just physically making love or else we’d be in a big heap of trouble right now. This year we will celebrate our 40^th Wedding Anniversary but this past year has had me battling prostate cancer. Testosterone feeds the enemy and so as part of the treatment, I’ve been receiving hormone shots which denies the adversary access to my maleness. One of the casualties has been any desire or drive for intimacy. In many ways, I’ve returned to my pre-puberty days. Many women might have declared that to be grounds for divorce. Other ladies might have used rationale to open the doors for extramarital affairs. My amazing wife has stood beside me through every step of this uninvited adventure and together I believe our love and respect for each other has actually grown deeper in this desert.

Did I mention that this season is also the first time since 1986 that we have had no children under 18 in the home? Our oldest Son Rudy is a married Minister out in Ebensburg, Pennsylvania. He and his wife Lindsey have three beautiful children of their own. Our two Daughters are both married and serving the Lord in Florida and New Jersey. The older Leah has three girls including a set of twins and the younger Abbie has twin boys. That makes eight grandchildren for those keeping score. Our youngest Son, Joel, is a college student in Indiana. He is not ready for marriage or children yet. I am not about to push him, but he knows that his Parents love him and support him as he goes after his dreams. I share all of this to let you know that Terri and I have had to come up with creative ways to continue to communicate our love for one another. Our love has not died even if the body won’t cooperate. I feel the need to write about this because I fear that there might be just a tad too much emphasis placed on sex and not enough weight put upon the promises and commitments made when couples said their vows on their wedding day.

Most ceremonies include this pledge, “Through sickness and in health.” When we get married, the majority of men and women are in their prime and getting dashed by an unwelcome disease isn’t even on the radar. Brides are radiant and shine like a brilliant sunrise. Grooms probably will never look any better than they do on that day, because for us guys, it mostly goes downhill from there. But if you live long enough, life has a way of trashing our trophies. Outwardly, we begin over time to fall apart no matter how many grape nuts we might eat for breakfast. Hair gets lost. Weight is gained. Eyes grow dim. Hearing becomes harder. What we choose to allow to happen inwardly truly makes all the difference. On our calendar, the shortest days of the year are in December, but because of our creativity, we still decorate with colorful lights in such the manner that it becomes the most wonderful time of the year. Relationships are very much the same. If we invest the quality of our efforts even if the quantity of what’s available has been drastically reduced, it doesn’t mean that love can’t grow deeper even while the walk we are taking seems lots steeper. But as long as I have my wife’s hand to hold tightly on to, it is a reason to rejoice. I can complain about what we are not or I can celebrate all that we still are. I am not alone. I am not what I once was, but I am still man enough to love my wife no matter what cards this life deals me. And I intend to do so.

I am not discounting the art of lovemaking. The Song Of Solomon assures us that God is the author of sex and at its best, its worth shouting about. I am advocating that there are also many other valuable means to communicate one’s love for their partner. One of the most obvious yet underused avenues is the use of words. Sentences can either be chock full of life or loaded with destructive bombs. Sarcasm is more deadly than most recognize. Criticism that isn’t constructive isn’t healthy. Most of us are starving for affirmation and encouragement. Kindness shouldn’t be used as a reward. The tongue that is dipped in poison creates lips that nobody longs to kiss. Too many spouses could use a little mouthwash to clean up their diction. I long for my words to be a source of life for my wife.

There is more to touch than making love. A hug, holding hands, an affectionate pat can be just what the doctor ordered. In a world that has attempted to hijack contact because of those who have abused the privilege, we are human beings and we can’t live without positive interaction, so I want my hands to be a place of safety and my arms to be that of protection for my Terri. I know that I thrive when I am close to her.

We can show our delight for one another by simple acts of service like when my wife makes me coffee every morning. I don’t expect her to do it, but it means so much to me when she does. Saying, “Please” and “Thank You” go a long way also. God so loved us that He gave and if our Creator wasn’t too proud to do for us, why would we think that we are too high and mighty to wash the feet of the one we share our name with? Love doesn’t keep score. It looks for opportunities to knock it out of the park for our partner. I can’t believe that after all these years and the many crazy ups and downs, she still chooses me. I want the world to know that I love her and wouldn’t want to walk this adventure with anybody else. Love should never be kept a secret. I’ll shout it from the mountain top because I want the world to know. Would you do the same for your sweetheart? I only hope the answer is a resounding, “Yes!”

Next Monday is Valentines Day and then Tuesday is Terri’s Birthday. We may not have a ton of money or live in a mansion or drive fancy cars. Our home is right here in Shamokin, Pennsylvania. My body may have betrayed me, but my heart still belongs wholly to my wife. As many of you know, I host the Morning Radio Show on WISL 1480 and you can be sure that I will be dedicating this song to Terri! It is our song! “Believe it or not, I’m walking on air, I never thought I would feel so free, flying away on a wing and a prayer; who can it be? Believe I or not it’s just me!”

Love grows as long as you are willing to care for the garden. My prayer is that all of you who are reading this will get even more imaginative with one another. Refuse to lose. I am cheering for your love to win! Happy Valentine’s Day 2022! 

My 4-year-old granddaughter Lucia had been begging me for weeks to watch the new Disney Movie, “Encanto.” She has recently moved to Florida with my daughter Leah, my son-in-law Jeff and her twin sisters, Adelina and Claire. It is a sad season for me because just a few months ago, we would have been able to watch this film together. Of course, if we did end up going to the Movie Theater, I would have missed a good chunk of it because I would be taking my obligatory nap. Once they turn the lights out, and I sit in those soft seats, it is so hard for me to keep my eyes open! I guess I could be happy that I saved a bundle from the concession stand purchases. When did popcorn become as costly as solid gold? But now with Luci so far away, that date didn’t happen. She saw it without me, and I finally viewed it from my recliner at home.

“Encanto” is all about the Madrigal Family who are quite the extraordinary bunch. Under the leadership of the matriarch Abuela Alma, all of them live together in the magical and miraculous “casita” which is nestled in the mountains of Columbia. We learn early from Alma’s granddaughter Mirabel through song that each member of the family has been given a supernatural gift received by entering via a door with their name on it. These talents range from superhuman strength, unbelievable hearing, the power of healing touch, the ability to talk with the animals, insight into seeing the future and controlling the weather. There is the obligatory Disney Princess named Isabela who is practically perfect in every way and can make flowers grow out of nothing. Isa is my Granddaughter’s favorite. She is not exactly the kindest soul of the household, but she has a sassy spirit and desires a depth that she knows is missing and comes around to be a gamechanger in the end.

Mirabel has no gift. When Mirabel’s time came to receive her miracle, she missed out on the bounty. Mirabel is just your every day teenager trying to make a difference in a world that often overlooks those who work hard, show lots of heart and is kind to everyone no matter what they can or cannot do. Mirabel knows that something is amiss in the world of the Madrigals. The magic is slowly being drained from the home they dwell in and while Abuela Alma refuses to deal with reality, Mirabel will not stand idly by while her relatives begin to fall apart.

If this society needs anything right now, it starves for those men and women and children who will stay true to who God made them to be. From the time we enter this world, it seems everyone wants to critique us, change us, improve us, refine us and eventually put us into our place. Instead of championing what we can do well, we are labeled by our disabilities and our shortcomings. I believe with all my heart that one of the dirtiest words in our dictionary is “compare.” God made each and every one of us something special and we long to ditch that identity so we can blend in with everyone else and by doing so we disappear. Mirabel never disappears. As a matter of fact, she is the only one of the lineage who looks for Bruno who did check out because he became so petrified of using his favor wrong, he never even gave himself the opportunity to get it right. There is a catchy song in “Encanto” that I can’t get out of my mind. Its lyrics boast, “We don’t talk about Bruno, no, no, no!”

Is there a Bruno in your family? Someone who didn’t measure up. Someone who got left behind in the dust. Someone who got written off as dead while there was still a heartbeat. I have felt like Bruno. There have been times I tried so hard to make my family happy, I only set myself up for one disappointment after another because it was never enough. I didn’t do it the right way. I didn’t do it their way. I found myself cheering for Bruno who was still hungering for love and affection even though on the outside he portrayed himself as a hermit. Things are not always as they seem. Maybe we should stop talking about Bruno and do what Mirabel had the courage to do. She talked to Bruno.

The house does fall apart, and everyone cracks under the pressure that has been put upon every member of the family. We discover that Abuela Alma has put more emphasis on what her offspring can do rather than who they are. We also see the danger of favoritism and how damaging loving one child over another can cause. Kids aren’t stupid. And stop using the resilient card because we all need to be loved. We all need to know that we matter and would be missed if we were not present at the dinner table. One of the things that I know God has given me a sensitivity to is when people feel left out, bullied, intimidated and forgotten. Like Jesus did for me, I seem to rally around the underdog because I was that person who almost kissed it all goodbye because I wasn’t feeling the love from the sources that it was supposed to be supplied from. God literally saved my life. I know my miracle was God wanting me when nobody else would or could. Never underestimate the power of love.

I am a living “spoiler alert.” You don’t want to sit next to me at a show because I will talk your ear off about what I perceive is happening on the stage. After I read a great book, I want to shout it to everyone I know not only how good it was but how it ends. I hope I haven’t ruined “Encanto” for you. But I am grateful for a granddaughter who knew that her Pop Pop would love it. I wish life was a musical. I have been known to break out in song just about anywhere I am. But let me close with more lyrics. I love the message of the song, “All of You.”

“But the stars don’t shine, they burn. And the constellations shift. I think it’s time you learn. You’re more than just your gift.”         

You are loved not because of what you do but because of who you are!  

My mother was once a Nun in the convent. She had a deep and devoted faith in God and had hoped to someday be a missionary to work with children in an orphanage in China. Life had other plans and she ended up marrying my dad and had me as their firstborn child. For that last decision, I am eternally grateful. Still, even though my Mother traded in her habit for the home life, the yearning to be wholly available to the Lord to do something extraordinary never left her soul.

Fast forward to 1965 and the premiere of the movie, The Sound of Music. As many of you know, Julie Andrews played Maria von Trapp who was sent to the villa of the retired naval officer and widower to become the governess to his seven children. Music and love were reintroduced to the family and after marrying the Captain, they find the faith and fortitude to survive the loss of their homeland to the Nazis. When that film hit the big screen, Mom became obsessed with the story. At the time she was the mother of four children, and she didn’t take us to see the movie once or twice. She brought us to see it seven times in the first few weeks. When she got us all home, she made us sit down on the living room floor and learn all the songs. To this day, I know every word and can sing it backwards and forwards. And as for the movie dialogue, I have that down too. The one line that has never left me was when Maria runs back to the Abbey because she is overwhelmed and confused. Maria is looking to hide away but Mother Superior challenges the young woman to do otherwise. Before the wise old Sister sings the showstopper, Climb Every Mountain, she tells Maria, “When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.” I have lived lots of life ever since then, but in the wake of many slamming doors, I have always searched for those open windows.

People make lots of promises. Spouses make vows to one another on their wedding day. Parents pledge that they will take us with them the next time around. Friends swear that they will never let us down. But no matter what, no matter where and no matter who, contracts are broken, and dedications destroyed. Good and faithful workers get replaced in a heartbeat. Older and worn-out individuals are swapped for a younger model. Hearts are busted in two. Souls become inanimate numbers on a page. And the ones left in the dust scamper to attempt to pick up any pieces of dignity so they may survive for another day.

I have lived lots of life these last 62 years. And like Maria von Trapp, it would have been so easy to run away from the chaos and confusion and allow the collapsed covenants on the troubled trail make me nothing more than cynical and hard hearted. But when the misery of midnight might hijack my heart, the morning music from somewhere draws my true self to walk on. When earth shuts down, heaven opens. When lying lips look to deceive the daylight away, the truth of God assures me the sun will rise again. If the hills are alive with the sound of music, I must not get too depressed in the dryness of the desert. Maybe today it is time to tune in and turn on so you can turn up the notes that guarantee you that your story isn’t over if God hasn’t pronounced, “It is finished!”

I thought I was going to pastor the Lighthouse Church in Cape May County until the day I went to heaven. I had the place picked out where my ashes could be laid on the day I graduated to glory. I thought I knew where this song was going because I had sung it so many times before. And in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, everything changed, and portals were plugged up and the wide-open lanes got lost. I didn’t panic, I prayed and immediately searched for that open window. I wasn’t ready to leave the concert and asked God to write me an encore. This is how I found myself in Shamokin. When the dog barked and the bees wanted my confidence to be stung for good, I simply remembered God’s my favorite and faithful One and suddenly I wasn’t feeling bad at all. I was ready to follow this new divine rainbow and discover the pot of gold lying right here in Coal Township, Pennsylvania.

Just this past week, the Radio Station I was with for the last 22 years informed that my services, while appreciated, were no longer needed. The new management was heading in a different direction. My Wednesday Night program was kaput! I didn’t even have the chance to feel sorry for myself before my phone rang again and John Treese of WISL 1480 was offering me the opportunity to do their Morning Show. I smiled and said a simple prayer of, “Thanks Lord.” If I’m not dead, I’m not done. The window flung up, the shades were drawn back, and God’s hope got in my eyes. When you know the place to look, you can still go and write that book. Human beings will let you down, but God is good at lifting us up if we surrender the temptation to put our fists though the wall and give the Lord a chance to highlight the skylight.

Mom never was that Missionary to China, but she led me to the music here in America. And I can hear the orchestra tuning up for the next showstopper. My heart still wants to sing every song it hears or at the very least, play the wonderful oldies but goodies on the radio. I want my ministry to beat like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees. Come on Shamokin. Do you hear the sound of music? People will continue to scratch your records but I’m going to crank the jukebox that Jesus blessed me with until my days are done. Forget about that locked door. It’s time to wander over to that wide open window.