There are un-noted populations in times of war. Invisible, silent people in all nations whose lives are deeply affected walk past us at the gas station or grocery store and park next to us in the parking lot. They have a lot to say about one thing, but talk about other things instead. They don’t directly answer questions. They’ve learned to not mention anything on a calendar or clock, map or birth certificate, base or company.

They walk around with a lump in their throat and a smile on their face. If you push them too far, they might feel like smacking you upside the head. Nine out of ten times they won’t, and you’ll never be the wiser. They cry and pray in private.

They search for the best phone plans in other countries and apply for a passport. They learn which services are most dependable to deliver packages in and out of the country. They celebrate birthdays and holidays with someone missing. They keep their phones with them 24/7.

If you’ve ever hung the picture of a little boy or girl on your refrigerator, ever gone to school concerts and plays and fairs, ever replaced the tennis shoes you bought a month ago because he was growing just that fast, or ever prayed with that little boy or girl as you tucked them into bed, then you must understand that the warrior you envision – the one dressed in military fatigues – might look textbook to you. But to those invisible, silent people, he looks like the picture on the refrigerator.

Sgt. Tim Martin, an infantryman with Headquarters and Headquarters Company of the 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division, shows evidence of the long journey after returning from Operation Buffalo Thunder II at Forward Operating Base Spin Boldak, Afghanistan, July 2, 2012. During the eight-day mission, Afghan and American forces cleared more than 120 kilometers of rugged terrain and escorted approximately 60 truckloads of humanitarian aid for distribution to the people of Shorabak.

Remember the movie, Jeremiah Johnson? Well really, who could forget a movie starring Robert Redford (is he a beautiful man or what)? One of the things I recall is the huge animal furs he wore to keep warm.

I also recall animal rights activists throwing buckets of red paint (some reports said it was animal blood, others said paint) on people wearing fur coats. I would guess they felt they were doing the right thing. It looked like it wandered over to revenge, but only they could say for certain. One commenter on Quora wondered whether pouring buckets of crude oil over people wearing polyester or other synthetics or throwing pesticide on those who wear cotton wasn’t a similar act. My my my. That escalated quickly!

It’s the game we play. We all do it. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say we get sucked into it. Let’s call it the game of Either/Or. It’s a wonderful, magical game where you must choose to stand for only one side and absolutely be against the other. Those who hear you say something can automatically smack an invisible label on you without your consent or knowledge, and you can do the same to them. The devil loves this game because everybody loses.

It goes like this: If you like a speedboat ride, you don’t care about the clarity of the lake you zoom around on, and if you hate to see oil floating on the water, you must be an aging Hippie. If you support the timber industry, you don’t care about forests or the cute little animals who call the forest their home, but if you’re concerned about said animals, you have no comprehension of what’s necessary for the business and don’t appreciate the chair you’re sitting on. If you support some big businesses, you’re heartless when it comes to the environment and the little guy, and if you are a small-business supporter you miss the great contributions big businesses provide. On and on we go until someone gets hungry and asks, “But what if you like both animals and a good meal?”

We’re not quite at the questioning part yet in the current game. The game we play of late is a simplified version. If you spin the spinner and it lands on support your local police, you’re a racist; or a certain skin color, you’re a racist; and if it lands on a certain sex, you’re a sexist; but if you don’t know which sex you are – then you get a free turn. And another favorite – if you think everyone needs what some call a vaccination and others call the newest experimental gene therapy, you get a ‘don’t care about freedom’ label or, conversely, if you don’t believe everyone should be vaccinated with it, you get a trifecta of labels: anti-vax and think there isn’t a troublesome virus among us and you don’t care about others. And if you question the rules, you get a conspiracy theorist label and lose a turn. This is a multi-purpose label that can earn the person who gives it the “I’m smarter than you” award which can be traded back and forth among the players.

There’s an extended version of the game involving masks, lockdowns, and accusations, but for the purposes of this post, we’ll stick with the simplified version. There’s also a companion game called Truth or Die which can be played with either the simplified or extended version of Either/Or. This is a game that can be played by people who don’t even know they’re playing it, which leads to greater overall intensity of play for those who do.

When we arrive at a place of understanding that most of us really do want very similar things, we will stop playing the game. But the final rule of the game that brings it to a halt is twofold: unfolding the card we each get at the beginning of the game marked ‘God-given rights’ and rejecting fear and extending grace and forgiveness. And we’re not there yet.

It was as I was in the midst of looking up whether putting up a Christmas tree in some way broke the Sabbath that I realized it was, yes, quite possible learning to celebrate the Sabbath would actually be a process; and amusement would be part of it, at least for me.

If you grew up in the church and you and your family members were actively involved, you might admit that though we regarded Sundays as our Sabbath, they were not a day of rest. This bothered me for a very long time until I finally decided to not fight the busyness of being an active church member on Sundays and to honor the Sabbath Day as it had been in the Old Testament: on Saturday. So began a lovely discovery.

You see, if I was to actually rest on Saturday, that meant I would need to get all of my work done before then, and that meant that procrastination was not the happy-go-lucky, jokey, old friend it normally was. At first, I piled most things onto Friday. By the time sundown rolled around I was exhausted. So then I began to parcel the work out so that poor Friday wouldn’t end up looking like a frothing horse galloping the last mile of the pony express. It worked! And do you know what? I actually got more done than I usually did. I found extra little things to do that I might’ve otherwise left alone. I cleaned closets – that sort of thing. And then the Sabbath! Ahhh!

But there are times when doing something which disrupts the Sabbath rest seems very important. It is those times I’ve learned to lean on several marker stones given in the Bible. First, my memory is drawn to the women after the crucifixion of Jesus. And though preparing His body must’ve seemed paramount, what did they do? They waited that extra day because it was the Sabbath. What honorable examples to us they are! A second reference I lean on is when Jesus says, “Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” What a helpful thing to say! And when I must do work to help someone, I also remember what Jesus said as recorded in Luke: “And He said to them, “Which one of you will have a son or an ox fall into a well, and will not immediately pull him out on a Sabbath day?” His comment is so helpful.

Another perspective I remember is one of working out our own salvation with fear and trembling. That is to say, that shadow of things to come is given to us with a caution to not concern ourselves with someone else’s judgement of our efforts. And as one who is still (and let’s be honest – always will be) learning, I appreciate the permission given in that scripture.

I look forward to the Sabbath every single week. It’s like a mini vacation! And if something is amiss – too bad. It’s the Sabbath. I’m resting. Zero guilt.

When God instituted the Sabbath (Genesis 2:2, Exodus 20:8-11, Leviticus 23:3, Deuteronomy 5:14), He was showing us the loveliness of balance and enjoyment. But He also holds out a promise for the future when we read “There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God.” It seems to me it will be a beautiful time of relishing the gloriousness of our Creator in His perfect creation. I, myself, picture myself surrounded by nature without a storm in sight. My little holiday every week is a sweet little taste of the delight to come. Join me!

The hair-raising creep of a scary story, the unexpected jolt, the chill that follows you around afterward: I used to like writing such stories. Reading, not so much. I am, at heart, a cowardly lion. But writing them? Great fun, because I controlled what was said and where the story landed. I think I still would enjoy writing them if I allowed myself. Maybe some day.

Check back in my archives in October (and July of 2014 and again in 2016 I wrote some fun ones), and you will find the type of story I mean. I don’t care for bloodcurdling scenarios, but more of a teaser. Some things are best left to imagination, and I trust readers to fill gaps better than I would. I think the last one I wrote on this blog was a few years ago.  https://www.myfiresidechat.com/2017/10/30/who-was-counting/ But I must confess it doesn’t hold the same appeal when you’re actually living in the most dystopian times you’d never imagined.

When you learn that most of every company and industry of every type in every part of the world is owned by a select few, and those select few relish the trillions of dollars made by those companies and industries – money made by people aware and others unaware; and they plan a future of not simply regulating financial institutions but companies and individuals – including salaries, 401ks, and access; and your knowledge of trafficking drugs, children, women, and young men increases to understanding that it isn’t just drugs and sex but hearts, lungs, and livers; and expands even more to the torture endured by countless unfortunates for the pleasure and power of satanic sacrifice; and you see through recent experience how subtle and not so subtle changes can lead trusting people to cover their face like they used to do to slaves and in ritualistic practices, likewise stand six feet apart, and lead some to be injected with chemicals poorly understood and obsessively supported by the aforementioned select few; and you unwillingly acknowledge that genocide isn’t relegated to the past; well then you finally see that scary stories are not limited to words on paper accompanied by hot cocoa and a cozy blanket.

No, this October I’ll leave scary stories to those who are still blind to the horror around them or who partake in it, themselves. Instead, I’ll break the darkness with light. Because, you see, no matter the times or situation, God is stronger. And He really loves us. And when we encounter the blackest night, He hands us a flashlight. Or a new idea to bring healing. Or He sends rescuers. Or, sometimes, He reaches down and does it, Himself. The letter writer of Colossians 1 put it this way:

. . . giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. . .

One more thing: All Saints Day is just around the corner.

https://lpeproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Peoples.Ledger.DRAFT_.pdf; https://rumble.com/vo6n5f-monopoly-who-owns-the-world-must-see.html; https://theminnesotasun.com/2021/10/08/world-renowned-psychiatrist-global-predators-fauci-gates-schwab-behind-the-covid-reign-of-terror/; Revelation 22:2; Images: httppixabay.comenanimal-autumn-background-bird-89182-public-domain.jpg; Nina-Hale-Flickr-C.-CC-by-2.0.png; 281-Bokeh-Free-Images-on-Pixabay.jpg

There are people in nearly every circumstance who are the servants. They might not immediately stand out, but eventually we notice who they are by their dependable help. Are they born that way or do they cultivate that character? Or, perhaps, a little of both and more. In times of trial and trouble, they are the ones who keep going. They don’t throw up their hands in futility, rather they put one foot in front of the other every minute of every hour of every day.

What makes a person like that? Besides sterling character, one of my favorite authors would say it is hope. Victor Frankl said, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Being a Holocaust survivor he should know. He also cautioned:

“Those who know how close the connection is between the state of mind of a man, his courage and hope, or lack of them and the state of immunity of his body will understand that sudden loss of hope and courage can have a deadly effect.“

We, none of us, can know the future. When things are bright and pleasant, we imagine the same is ahead. Likewise, when we are in the middle of tough times, it can be easy to imagine only darkness in the coming days and years. And that’s where the importance of hope arises. It gives us just enough glimmer of light ahead to keep going; to keep putting one foot in front of the other. That glimmer can even help us recall better past days so that we can imagine brighter future ones.

Some people scoff at optimists. I’ve always wondered why someone would do that. But hope isn’t optimism. Maybe it’s just the knowledge that none of us knows the future, and that knowledge removes the certainty of dark days as surely as it nudges us to understand the road is never always straight, but, rather, turns here and there and even loops around. We keep on because one of those bends in the road might erupt into light and beauty. It didn’t happen at this turn? Maybe it will at the next.

There are a lot of choices in life. Among your selections, might I offer one? Choose hope.

Man’s Search for Meaning, 1946, by Viktor Frankl; Romans 5:1-5 (Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.); Image: pexels-gift-habeshaw-3415211