Pioneer Day

It was on July 24, 1847, that Brigham Young led the first group of Mormon pioneers into the Salt Lake Valley.  Pioneer Day is an official holiday in Utah: parades, fireworks—and, in Provo, the first-ever Temple to Temple 5k.  Over 5,000 people are running from the Provo LDS Temple to the City Center LDS Temple, which is under construction in downtown Provo.  According to the website, the purpose of the race is two-fold—to remind participants of the Mormons' journey west from Illinois, and to honor one's ancestors:

Temples are special places where families can be sealed for time and eternity. They allow us to perform ordinances in behalf of our ancestors, if they choose to accept them. We invite you to use this chance to remember a specific ancestor who is important in your life that you plan to run for. Tags will be available for you to put their names and stick them to your bib.

Registration for the Temple to Temple 5k was closed early due to the overwhelming response, but maybe I'll get in next year.  I would be glad for the chance to remember my ancestors.  Their eternal destiny, however, was determined the moment they died.  There is no proxy ceremony that can add to the perfect blood of Jesus, itself enough to purchase their pardon from a holy God and a home in heaven.  The only question is: did they place their trust in Jesus?  (And, have you?  Learn more here.)

But while I'm on the subject of Utah culture, here's an invitation that was taped to my door one day:

Also, don't miss this amusing list of my state's idiosyncrasies.  It's good reading on Pie and Beer Day—I mean Pioneer Day.

Farming and Ministry

This intimate song from Peter Rowan evokes all kinds of memories and feelings for me.

Among them, this biblical thought (see I Corinthians 3)...
How much in common has the gospel ministry with farming!

You bust the sod,

You trust in God,

And you work night and day.

Barefoot Country Road

"Barefoot Country Road"

from Dust Bowl Children, Peter Rowan

The Essence of All We Create

With sunshine soaking into my winter-weary bones and robins bustling about nearby, I lounged on my patio a few weeks ago and committed a bit of poetry to memory.

Yes, I realize this sort of thing is normally done by people three times my age.  In my defense, I was not sipping Ensure, nor was a crocheted lap rug anywhere in sight.

And after all, what better time than spring for Greenleaf?  John Greenleaf Whittier, that is.  An excerpt of his "The Eternal Goodness":

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
God’s mercy underlies. 

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruiséd reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain. 

No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love. 

And so beside the silent sea
I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.

Mmmm.  Beautiful.  And this is where I slip into poetry geek mode.

That crisp iambic tetrameter (if I'm not mistaken) is a welcome sound in an age of free verse.  And I am crazy about that alliterated line, "And so beside the silent sea".  The maritime references are delightfully reminiscent of Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar."

But more striking to me are the allusions to Scripture.  Whittier was a Quaker and it's obvious he knew his Bible.  Psalm 73:26 must be the source for the phrase, "if my heart and flesh are weak".  The "bruised reed" alludes to Isaiah 42:3, while stanza three refers, I think, to Titus 3:5 and related passages.  II Timothy 1:12 also comes to mind with the whole tone of the poem.  Do you see any others I'm missing?

A lesson from Whittier, if I may.  Poets, storytellers, songwriters, wordsmiths, artists all—let us submerse ourselves in Holy Scripture.  Then may it ooze from our pens.  May it anchor every expression of thought.  May it be the very essence of all we create.

One Perfect Book

I've been looking for a book like this for a good six years.

John MacArthur's One Perfect Life blends accounts from all four Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) into one seamless narrative.  Occasional related verses from the Old Testament and epistles are inserted for beautiful commentary.

"The complete story of Jesus" is broken up into short chapters—perfect for devotional reading.  I have never spent much time in the New King James Version, and I'm enjoying the fresh, readable translation.  Bonus: notes from the MacArthur Study Bible are included for extra insight on things like cultural context and cross-references.

Five stars for this book that will stay in my library for a lifetime.

On Turning Twenty-Five

A quarter-century ago, I was climbing Minnesota trees, reading Dick and Jane books, and determinedly mastering the skill of riding my banana-seated purple bike without training wheels.

My family did not own a television in those days, but the radio was often playing.  Children's Bible Hour, Ranger Bill, Jungle Jam, and later Adventures in Odyssey—these provided the wholesome, imaginative soundtrack of my childhood.

As I was wobbling down the sidewalk, free of training wheels at last, something special was happening in Provo, Utah.  A group of Christians was taking the reins of a debt-ridden AM radio station, intent on establishing it as a beacon of truth in a valley where less than 1% of the population shared their faith in Jesus.

KEYY, 1450 AM in Provo, had been a popular rock-n-roll station for a couple decades until it faced financial ruin in the mid-1980s.  Then in 1987 it came into the possession of a man who reinvented it as a station which aired primarily Bible teaching.  The following year, Biblical Ministries Worldwide acquired the station with the purpose of using it to share God's grace and assist church-planting missionaries in the area.

I had, of course, no idea what was going on in 1988 in Provo, Utah.  (Where was Utah, anyway?  Who cares; did you see me ride my bike?!)  But now I can see how the Lord was preparing me for joining the team in Utah, investing in radio ministry which had been so special to me even as a kid.  I love what I do.  I am convinced of its value to the kingdom.  There is nowhere I'd rather be than Provo and KEY Radio.  Well—except for heaven.

Today marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of BMW's operating KEY Radio.  Larger organizations would have banquets and speeches and commemorative Rolex watches distributed to their well-paid employees.  For us, the anniversary arrives with little fanfare.  Unpaid bills sit at the bookkeeping computer; Rolexes are out of the question.

There are a few things we're doing to commemorate the milestone.  For one: airing the intriguing first-hand story of a young man who left his polygamist religion for a relationship with Jesus, largely as a result of listening to KEY Radio.  Listen here and rejoice with us: God is using radio to reach lost souls.  He is good.  His kingdom advances—even in Provo, Utah.

Happy 25th, KEY Radio!  To God be the glory.

On Turning Thirty

"Ah! Women are like cheese strudels. When first baked, they are crisp and fresh on the outside, but the filling is unsettled and indigestible; in age, the crust may not be so lovely, but the filling comes at last into its own."

- Robert Farrar Capon, The Supper of the Lamb

In masks outrageous and austere,

The years go by in single file.

But none has merited my fear,

And none has quite escaped my smile.

- Elinore Wylie, "Now Let No Charitable Hope"

 

The Grace Awakening

 

I am stoked about this series now airing on KEY Radio.  Dr. Chuck Swindoll is a marvelous communicator, and this subject matter is life-changing.  I wish every person I know would awaken to God's grace

—LDS and Christians alike.  Including myself.

If you can't listen to KEY Radio in Utah, you can listen online anywhere.  Times listed are MST.  Or, listen on-demand and find out more here.

Here's a teaser to get you thinking: what is grace?  And how do we live it?

My Fair and Peculiar City

Provo City recently created this nice 3-minute look at our town.  The city has been going through a re-branding process—new logo, motto, signage, etc.—and this is one result.  There's a little commentary by our esteemed mayor, with whom I have chatted about contact lenses and airline preferences, and have found to be a most pleasant fellow.  It also features some spiffy time-lapse video and shots of favorite local businesses and landmarks.  I dig it, yo.

After watching the video a second time, it hit me: there is something curiously absent from the video.  Remember, this is a city that is about 90% Latter-day Saint (Mormon).  Yet there is no evidence of the religious culture—no shots of the Provo Temple... or Brigham Young University... or the LDS Missionary Training Center... or the ubiquitous LDS chapels.  And the people that show up in the video seem surprisingly non-LDS-ish (I'm going mainly by clothing here).  Indeed, this could be Any Nice City, USA.  The only reference to the LDS Church that I noticed is a passing view of Brigham Young's statue at 2:42.

What's my point?  Like a stubby pencil, I don't have one.  I'm just curious.  Like George.  Was the omission intentional?  Even strategic?  Or am I, an outsider, overly sensitive to the peculiarities of this religion-dominated city?  Maybe I am the only one to think the absence strange.*  Any thoughts?

* This wouldn't be the first time I fixate on minutiae nobody else notices.  I pore over the liner notes of CDs and records with a zeal most would reserve for a lost gem.  And if there is one renegade comma in a 500-page book, I will find it.  There are probably support groups for people like me.  Come to think of it, maybe that's why I never get asked on a date.  "Karisa?  Oh, she's the one who will point it out if my shoes are laced asymmetrically.  No thanks.  Cute girl, though."  I know, that last statement is unlikely.  But when I make up other people's remarks, I can jolly well insert a compliment.

The Case of the Upside Down Glass

It's been precisely two years since the single most bizarre discovery of my life.

Late that evening, this is what greeted me when I walked into my kitchen:

When I left that morning, this glass and cookie sheet, along with a bunch of other dishes, had been sitting in the dish drainer on my counter.

Two questions.  How did these things get out of the drainer without disturbing the other dishes?  And how did they happen to perch themselves on the floor in just such an arrangement?

See what I mean?  Bizarre.  If I had found Lyle Lovett doing Yoga in my kitchen, I could not have been more surprised or confounded.

The first thing I did, upon making this discovery?  Laugh: good and hard.  It was just so absurd.

Then it occurred to me that the only logical explanation was that someone had placed these dishes there.  Someone had been in my home.  Someone very much uninvited.

Was the Someone still here?  There was only one way to find out.  With a bread knife in one hand and pepper spray in the other, I cautiously peered into every closet, under beds, anywhere a human body could fit.  All the while, I kept making ridiculous loud announcements like, "I know you're here.  Just give yourself up now, and I won't slash your eyes out."  When in doubt: feign confidence.

Nothing turned up.  I slept that night with a chair wedged under my bedroom doorknob and the knife within reach.  Plenty of other people were far more concerned when they found out.  If you're into Facebook, you can see the original comments here.

In two years, I have yet to think of or hear a decent explanation.  I had my house key with me that whole day.  My landlord had the other copy.  He lives next door and had not noticed anything strange.  My windows were all secured.

I settled on the following story: there were two slight earthquakes (Provo is near a fault line, you know); the precariously balanced cookie sheet fell onto the floor during the first; the glass followed during the second, landing at the exact angle necessary to keep it from shattering or falling over.  Ha.

So it's a mystery.  People often say how they are going to ask the Lord questions when they reach heaven—why He allowed them to get sick or lose a loved one.  I simply want to know: how did the cookie sheet and upside down glass end up on my kitchen floor?  And why couldn't it have been Lyle Lovett instead?

Meanwhile, I rest in the care of a loving, sovereign God.  Cause for fear?  I can't think of any.

Faith is so much better than feigned confidence.

Auld Lang Syne

Whatever "auld lang syne" means... it's a pretty melody.  Don't worry, I don't sing in this clip.  I just show some proof of the guitar lessons I've been taking.

P.S.  No, I do not play left-handed.  Apparently Photo Booth records the mirror image; anyone know how to change that?

The Gospel for Salt Lake City

It is always energizing to see a group of people catch a vision, roll up their sleeves, and dig in to the grim, joyous work of reaching a specific area of Utah with the gospel.  Though Salt Lake City is only forty miles north, it has a very different culture and needs than Provo.  I am not affiliated with this church plant, but I wish them Godspeed.

Through the Windshield

Bubbles and I logged 3,300 miles through eight states last month.  That's a lot of tanks of gas (ouch), a lot of "traveling mercies" (thanks, Lord), and a lot of time to contemplate the scenery.  Here are some of the sights I enjoyed at 65 mph.

Colorado on a sunny fall day.

A few weeks ago, I told a native Coloradoan (Coloradite?) who I'd just met that theirs is my "drive-through state."  I think this was taken negatively, but that's certainly not how I meant it.  Those eight hours on I-70 are scenic and thoroughly enjoyable, minus the Denver traffic.  West to east, desert to mountains to plains, I find Colorado provides just the transition I need, physically and mentally, from Utah to Kansas.  Plus, I have not yet grown out of the stage where it's exciting to drive through the tunnels and hold my breath.

A Colorado cottonwood: "...the light-reflecting, wind-loving trees of the desert, whose roots are always seeking water and whose leaves are always talking about it, making the sound of the rain."

That's a quotation from The Song of the Lark by Willa Cather, which I had finished reading just a few days before this trip.  The book is set partly in a small town in eastern Colorado, and the windswept landscape plays an important role in the story.  As I left Denver and the Rockies behind and made my way across the prairie toward Kansas, I couldn't help but think of Cather's vivid descriptions—the lone, stalwart cottonwoods in particular.  And it occurred to me: I could learn a lesson from the desert cottonwood, how it yearns after water and speaks of it unceasingly.

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;

I have made the Lord God my refuge,

That I may tell of all Your works.  (Psalm 73)

Grain elevator west of Susank, Kansas.

"I love the prairie!  So often have I seen the dawn come and the light flood over the land and everything turn radiant at once, that word 'good' so profoundly affirmed in my soul that I am amazed I should be allowed to witness such a thing."  (from Gilead, Marilynne Robinson)

Wyoming, in all its snowy, windy, foggy, freezing glory.

While I was staying in LaGrange, Wyoming, a storm blew in and dumped several inches of snow on top of a layer of ice.  So I postponed for a day the last leg of my trip.  I should have waited another day or two for the roads to clear, but I was itching to get back to Utah and I just plain didn't know what I was getting into.  The first two or three hours were... an adventure.  I lost count of the wrecked or abandoned vehicles along the way.  Still, there was no denying the beauty of snow-covered southern Wyoming—a cold, treacherous sort of beauty that I was glad enough to leave behind and reach Utah.

I drove west through Provo Canyon as the sun was setting.  The Utah horizon was the only "welcome home" I needed.  Thank you to the many who prayed me through this trip.

Forthwith!

Blogger's guilt: I've got a bad case, Doc.

And so I should, considering it's been a scandalous 3.5 months since my last post.  But I'll skip the excuses, since none of them involve a life-threatening illness, or the loss of all ten fingers, or a whirlwind romance culminating in a three-month honeymoon at a wifi-less Swiss chalet.

Instead of writing excuses, I'll write—hang onto your hat, now—I'll write a post.

There.  I've committed.

Silence, prepare ye to be broken forthwith and heartily.  Yea, verily and amen.

An Open Door at Bryce Canyon

Every year at Bryce Canyon National Park in southern Utah, 1.5 million tourists are told that the remarkable geology was formed 13 million years ago.

What if there were a way to reach these people from all over the world, with the truth—not just about creation—but also about the good news of Jesus Christ?



Last I heard, $40,000 of the total $110,000 is still needed.  Donate to the "land purchase fund" here.
For more details on how you can help, contact my visionary colleague Rob Brannon at: robert (at) bryceoutreach.com

Summer Travels: Weeks 5 - 7

Let's play a game.  I'll show you photos I took in the last couple weeks, and you guess where I've been.  Ready?

#1  Fried green tomatoes.  Scrum-diddly-umptious!

#2  Turnip greens, flavored with Bruce's tabasco peppers in vinegar.  First and last time I order this.

#3  A Baptist church with an auditorium roughly the size of a football field.  The music reminded me of a Gaither homecoming, and the Bible preaching was fantastic.

#4  Police directing Sunday traffic.  There are so many people going to church services that this is a matter of routine.  I couldn't believe it.

By now, you should be zeroing in on the South: land of fried foods and a church on every corner.  But where in the South?  One more picture:

#5  The World of Coca-Cola.  I got to sightsee here and at Stone Mountain with my new friends, Nathan and Kristin.  We also managed to squeeze a visit to Chick-fil-A into this very full day, and a quick walk through Olympic Park.

That should give it away.  The answer is, of course: Atlanta, Georgia.

I was in Atlanta for two weeks of training at the international office of Biblical Ministries Worldwide.  There were 26 of us preparing for service in South Africa, Australia, Ireland, Vanuatu, and a creative access country (traditional missionaries are not allowed in a CAC, and they must enter as professionals in some trade like medicine or education).  And don't forget the U.S.—Utah, to be exact!

 

Julie (left) and her husband joined the Utah/Idaho field.  Elaine (center) is the wife of our Area Director.  These ladies are not just my co-laborers, but also dear friends.

It was an encouraging and challenging time at BMW, made all the better when my dad flew in to participate for a couple days as my sending church's pastor.

Upon my return to Kansas, there was a commissioning service at Hoisington Bible Church.  Although they already sent me to Utah several years ago, I will now be working in a full-time ministry capacity, so this was a special service.  It was wonderful to be among these believers who have known me, prayed for me, and supported me for over half my life.

A rare reunion with old friends.

During my final few days in Kansas, two last-minute opportunities presented themselves.  The first was being "camp missionary" at Solid Rock Bible Camp.  Eight years ago, I was a counselor during the inaugural summer of Solid Rock; it was very special to return and share about ministry in Utah.  And the last evening I was in Kansas, I was given the chance to speak at the meeting of a church's missions committee in McPherson.

Now I'm back in Utah.  Looking back on all my summer travels, I'm deeply grateful to God for safety, unlooked-for opportunities, practical training, special reunions with friends, time with my parents, and—best of all—several new daily prayer partners.  I'm sure those prayers have something to do with how energized I feel to tackle the piles of catch-up work and to implement some new ideas for ministry.  Onward and upward!

Summer Travels: Weeks 3 & 4

Quick!  What am I naming here?  Cracker, shredder, chisel, probe, strainer, spear.

No, not names of WWF wrestlers.  Kitchen utensils?  Getting closer.  How about types of bird beaks?  Ding ding ding!

Yes, each and every bird species has a beak custom-fit for the type of food he eats, crafted by our endlessly creative God.  Birds and their beaks—a case in point of the amazing variety in nature.

Exhibit A: a handsome little screech owl at the Kansas Wetlands Education Center.  He winked at me and I was smitten.

Exhibit B: a baby (grackle?) that was sitting on the sidewalk in front of my folks' house a few days ago.  There's a certain point when extreme ugliness becomes cute, no?

And Exhibit C: the chicken which lives in the backyard of my Provo duplex.  I call her... Fluffy Head.  I also think she looks like a "Veronica," but that's harder to explain.  I miss her.

Yes, the last several weeks have been curiously bird-filled.  I wasn't even surprised when I attended vacation Bible school at Newton Bible Church and the theme that day turned out to be... bird beaks.  They were using Answers in Genesis curriculum, which emphasizes the wonders of our Creator and His creation.  And that's how I learned the difference between a cracker and a shredder.

The night before, I taught NBC's kids' club about Jim Elliot (an inspiring true story—very much not "for the birds").  Then Thursday morning, it was my privilege to share with the 60-some VBS attendees a little about KEY Radio.  Their offerings all week were collected to assist me with promotion around the listening areas—how encouraging is that?  Thanks, kids!  You made me happy as a lark.  Uh... Clark.

Mrs. Unruh and her class at Newton Bible Church's VBS.

⎯✴⎯

Part of my purpose statement is "to share God's grace through radio, church planting and evangelism"—so how fitting it is that two of my supporting churches are named Grace.  Sunday, July 1, I spent with Grace Community Church; they are located in Great Bend, Kansas, and have been supporting me for four years.  I shared briefly in both their worship services, and taught the junior high Sunday school class.  Then about thirty people stayed afterwards to view the hour-long movie produced recently to show the progress and challenges of church planting in Utah.   It's a fantastic, engaging film, and if you haven't seen it yet, contact me for details.

Between all the hugs and the scrumptious sloppy joes and the ubiquitous "technical difficulties" and the questions about Mitt Romney—it was such a busy day that I failed to take a single photo.  Rats.  But special thanks to the GCC missions committee for all their work hosting me.

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What's a summer road trip without a little car trouble?  It's as unthinkable as Laurel without Hardy and roast beef without Arby's sauce.  If your trip goes by without being towed at least once, you have missed half the adventure.

This is the sort of pep talk I give myself while standing in knee-high grass by the highway, in 110' heat, waiting for someone to come tow my dead car.

But, really, I feel more like this:

I had spent part of the day in Hays, Kansas, visiting some churches and KPRD. On the way home, Bubbles suddenly died—right there at the intersection of two highways.

Thankfully, a kind man in a truck came along and pushed my car to the side of the road.  Thankfully, I had my cell phone and had just purchased a AAA membership.   Thankfully, the AAA dispatcher bumped up my status to "priority" due to "the location and extreme heat," so I had to wait less than an hour for help.  Thankfully, my mom came to wait for the tow truck with me and brought a bottle of ice water.  Thankfully, I was only a few miles from home and incurred no towing expense.

And the biggest "thankfully": my star of a father was able to get Bubbles running the next day!  A simple battery replacement was needed—and it was covered under warranty.  I am happy to report that Bubbles is still with us.  Long may she roll.

⎯✴⎯

Now I'm in Georgia, beginning Candidate Orientation with Biblical Ministries Worldwide.  Not that I'm a new candidate, but with my switcheroo from tentmaking to career missions, I was encouraged to attend these two weeks of assessments and training.  Some of the info is repeat.  Some is not applicable (I'm able to write this while everyone else is taking a "marriage assessment").  But it's good to be here among people I love.  I know I'll come away with new ideas and new friends.  Also, the food is amazing.  Tally ho.

Summer Travels: Week 2

When I was about thirteen, the grand opening of the factory outlets in Newton, Kansas included a concert by none other than Johnny Cash.  It was the first and only time I got to see my favorite singer in person, but it was just the beginning of a strong connection with this little city near Wichita.  I am fascinated by this area that has a strong Mennonite influence, an impressive number of solid churches, and a zeal for missions.

And so June 17 found me rising early and making the two-hour drive again, to spend the day at Newton Bible Church.  NBC has been faithfully supporting my ministry in Utah since 2009, and it was high time to reconnect.  I wasn't scheduled to speak until the evening service, so I got to just enjoy the Sunday school hour and worship service.  The preaching was spot-on and the music, while not quite Johnny Cash: outstanding.

That afternoon, Marisa and Ginger hosted me for delicious pork chops and good conversation.  Oh, and a perfect caramel latte from the coffee house which is practically in their backyard.  Totally jealous of that.  Many thanks, ladies!

I'll be back at NBC this Wednesday-Thursday for their kids club and vacation Bible school.

⎯✴⎯

The following Monday began four days of Bible clubs in Hoisington.  Two CEF-trained young ladies came to lead the two clubs, so my involvement was minimal.  They did a good job teaching, and the twelve-or-so boys who attended had a great time—especially on the last day when they got to put a plate of whipped cream into Miss Kris' face as a reward.  I like this picture of the kids engrossed in a story about John Paton.

⎯✴⎯

Over the weekend, I helped my folks host a reunion for my mom's cousins.  Here we are modeling the t-shirts that everyone got to take home as souvenirs ("Hoisington, Kansas: the heart of Cheyenne Bottoms").

All eighteen of us visited the nearby Kansas Wetlands Education Center, and some also toured Ellinwood's Underground Tunnels.  It was my first time at these two local attractions and I highly recommend both if you're looking for something to do in central Kansas.

⎯✴⎯

How hot is it here?

A few degrees warmer and the thermometer would be useless.

How would you like to be dressed as a fireman on a day like this?  Oofdah.

Hats off to these guys who responded to a call

a couple houses down from my folks' this afternoon.

Summer Travels: Week 1

My summer trip began a week ago with the trek east through the deserts of Utah, over the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado, and down into the plains of western Kansas.  It's a beautiful drive, every inch of it except the minor congestion of Denver.  I know many were praying for my safety; thank you.  Bubbles purred like a kitten the whole way, and even her tape deck was functional most of the time.  Nothing makes the miles fly like Gordon Lightfoot tunes and Jungle Jam episodes.  I reached my folks' home in Hoisington at nightfall.

The next day, I was off again—this time to Garden City, Kansas, for a weekend of ministry at Grace Bible Church.  They were the first church (apart from my home/sending church) to start supporting me, but it had been four years since my last visit—too long to stay away from these dear missions-minded, prayer-committed people.  Pastor John and Joyce Zoschke were wonderful hosts.  I loved spending time with them, exchanging ministry stories and ideas, and even eating sourdough bread from Pastor John's starter rumored to be a couple decades old.

I spoke during the kids' Sunday school class and the morning worship service, and also taught at the church's summer Bible school on Monday.

Grace Bible Church has a unique ministry among the Karen (pronounced Kuh-RIN) people who have come to Garden City for jobs.  From what I understand, the Karen (and other ethnic groups) have been displaced from Myanmar (Burma) due to civil war.  I was surprised to learn that many of them come from a Baptist background, thanks in large part to missionary pioneer Adoniram Judson.  When I spoke during the worship service, I had a Karen translator (thank you, Sheila Paw), since many of the adults are not yet fluent in English.

Pastor John and Joyce and their church have welcomed this cross-cultural ministry, though it's not always smooth sailing.  I was amazed by how they remember all these foreign names (my favorite was a child named Bleh Bleh) and truly care about the kids and their families.

VBS crafts: always a hit, no matter one's ethnicity.

Crayons and glue transcend cultural barriers, I've decided. 

Has the U.N. picked up on this yet?

I left Garden City Monday evening with that peculiar mix of weariness and refreshment that ministry so often brings.  Thank you, Grace Bible Church, for a great weekend.

⎯✴⎯

There is a particular lonely stretch of Highway 156 east of Garden City that grabs my attention every time I drive it.  The scene is the same on both sides of the blacktop: wheat fields stretching unbroken to the horizon.  No irrigation systems, no farm houses, no wind breaks or drainage ditches, not even a lone tree.  Elsewhere along the drive, the custom combiners were out in full force, but this wheat was just patiently waiting its turn to be cut.  I had to pull over and take a photo, though it doesn't begin to do the scene justice.  All that gold is positively dazzling in the summer sun.

"Wheat that tall and ripe has its own sound in a Kansas wind, pushing across the fields without a single tree to break its flow.  The wheat moves in the wind, and it sounds like the sea, only better because there's something of the earth in it and something of man's work as well.  It's a strong sound, always changing and a little wild." (Reed Arvin)

⎯✴⎯

Well, hello there.

Nothing brings back that childhood feeling like riding

around the hometown in the back seat of the folks' old Buick.

We like our gasoline pumps analog in Hoisington.
Credit card swipe?  Heavens, no.  One must go in and exchange
small talk with an actual human being while paying.

Looking over Main Street with the parental units.
What a refreshing change from the traffic and noise of city life.

Radio and the Immediacy of God's Word

Recently I posed the question on KEY Radio’s Facebook page: Fill in the blank: “I listen to the radio while _____.”  What would you have answered?  Responses from Facebook users included, “driving,” “working,” “driving and washing dishes,” and, “driving, running and cleaning.”

These responses reminded me of God’s instruction to the children of Israel: You shall teach [My words] to your sons, talking of them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road and when you lie down and when you rise up (Deuteronomy 11:19 NASB).

The ancient Jewish people were told to incorporate the learning and applying of God’s word into every activity, no matter how mundane.  Isn't this still the best way to live?  Use of Scripture should not be confined to an hour on Sunday, nor to those times when we reach desperation.  God’s word holds power, wisdom, comfort, hope—why would we not access that frequently throughout each day?

Driving a car, of course, was unknown to the Israelites.  So was radio.  But I can’t help but think that there’s a modern-day parallel here.  In streets and highways, in homes and workplaces across Utah (in this case), over half a million people can flip a switch and hear clear, compassionate Bible-based programs and music.  We listen as we drive, wash dishes, go for a run, or clean our houses.  In so doing, the mundane becomes eternally significant.

And now a word from our sponsor-seeker

As I enter full-time ministry, I'm seeking support of several different types, the primary being prayer.  Would you consider making a one-year commitment to my Prayer Force?  That means waging war every day via intercession with Almighty God.  It's impossible to overstate the importance of a missionary being fully supported in every sense.  I'd love to tell you more; Facebook me or email: kclark (at) biblicalministries (dot) org.