Jesus on Your Grilled Cheese

By Carol Barnier –

Warning: Serious Cynicism Alert

Few of you will ever know the thrill of seeing the face of our Lord Jesus on your drywall. I can tell you first hand, there’s nothing like it. The problem is, in my case, the face that emerged looked more like the Sith Lord from Star Wars rather than Jesus. And that’s not the first time I’ve seen a clearly-not-Jesus face appear. Karl Marx appeared in my wooden door grain, Mark Twain on my marble floor, and I’d swear I saw John Goodman in a cow pie (my apologies John, but it is what it is).

There have been Jesus sightings by people all over the world in the most unlikely of places—places like Cheetos, clouds, banana peels, baby scans, end of a log, grain of a rocking chair, stained tea towel, rusty side of a refrigerator, bacon drippings, freeway underpass, tortilla, granite countertop, bottom of a turtle shell, and my personal favorite—stains on the coffee mug of an atheist. These people are serious. They take photos, slap them onto Facebook, and start a viral ooh-and-ah fest round the world with amazed and reverent supplicants. This behavior actually has an academic latiny-shmatiny name: pareidolia, which loosely translates to I think I’m in love with my toast. So powerful is this longing to see the face of Jesus in an unusual place, this year’s Christian Retailer’s extravaganza provided the opportunity to purchase a George Forman-like grill that imprints the face of Jesus on your grilled cheese sandwich—(No. I’m not making this up. Google Grilled Cheesus if you don’t believe me . . .which begs the question, just how do we know what Jesus looked like, and moreover, does He prefer Gouda, Brie, or Cheddar?

I don’t want to rule out the possibility that there may indeed be some authentic appearances, but you’ve got to know how to evaluate these things. The Catholic Church, being fully aware of just how often this can become silly, has taken this evaluation process very seriously, even producing a checklist of Rules Regarding Apparitions explaining how to judge the validity of a sighting. Among other things, it includes looking at the individual who found the sighting with a very cautious, even cynical eye. Is she a true adherent? Or did she jump on this bandwagon recently, bringing with her other questionable practices like swinging dead chickens over her head before prayer? Is this an unusual thing in her life? Or did she also see David Bowie in her freezer’s frost last week?

My sightings of the Sith Lord, Mark Twain and John Goodman have taught me something; if you look around long enough, you’ll see faces in everything.

But I think I’ve also learned something else. Rather than looking for the face of Jesus in our coffee stains and our mulch piles, I think our time is better spent trying to BE the face of Jesus. Doing an act of kindness when others turn away. True—it’s not Facebook worthy. No one’s going to line up and pay money for a trinket representing your act of kindness. Little bobble-head dolls aren’t going to appear with your giant grin nodding reverently toward an adoring fan club from the back of someone’s Kia.

No. There is a hurting world out there. They need to feel a loving embrace, a drink when they’re thirsty, a hand when they’ve fallen. They need to know hope. They need to know that the God of the Universe knows their face. And I suspect, that no matter how beautifully rendered, they’ll never find such truth in a cow pie.

You Need Clouds

By Donna McCrary –

I walked out on the balcony to listen to the sounds of the ocean and watch the skyline morph from darkness to light. The swollen clouds reflected the last glimmer of moon light. With each passing moment the orange fire ball ascended up behind the clouds. The sky began to dance with hues of soft crimson, amber, sapphire and lavender. The brighter the skyline appeared the darker the clouds turned. Sun rays streaked the blue sky like high beams on a car as their light pierced through the morning. My eyes were captivated by the power of the sun as it surrounded the darkness of the cloud’s shadow. It was a breathtaking site.

The next morning I got up early anticipating the same awe-inspiring painting outside my window. I stepped through the door and was disappointed by the plain blue sky dotted with a big orange ball. As my husband joined me he said, “It is just not as pretty without the clouds. You have to have the clouds.”

You have to have clouds! That was a spiritual truth that penetrated deep into my heart that morning. This year has been filled with many clouds.

The words cancer, no job, leukemia, divorce, death, debt, car wrecks, broken bones seem to constantly consume my thoughts and prayers lately. Like so many others, my family and friends have experienced many worries, trials and struggles. Each of us seem to be facing problems that have no quick solutions, health issues that have no easy cures, financial burdens that seem to grow instead of shrink. Even though I have been praying about these issues they, at times, feel heavy, overwhelming and exhausting. Even to the point that I have cried out to the Son, “Why?” even sarcastically screamed, “Really?”

I took some time that morning to reflect on the dark clouds over the past year and discovered the many ways the clouds have painted a beautiful picture of God’s grace, mercy, healing power, strength and love in my life. I looked up at the plain blue sky, smiled and started praising God for the clouds.

Just like the magnificent sunrise needed the dark clouds to paint a beautiful picture in the sky, our lives need the dark clouds of burdens and trials so the Son can shine around us and captivate the eyes of others.

PRAYER: God, today bring on the clouds! May my heart and mind be willing to experience the clouds so Your glory can shine around me. Help me find my strength and peace in You during the trials.

“In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed (1 Peter 1:6-7).

Fried Green Tomatoes

By DiAne Gates –

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope” (NAS Jeremiah 29:11).

I decided to grow tomatoes this summer. I visited the nursery, picked out varieties of tomatoes, and took them home to plant. I gave them a drink of water, and dreamed of eating tomatoes in sixty days.

Each day I gave them water and inspected the new growth that appeared overnight.

Until the first worm appeared.

I squashed the yucky creature and mourned over the sculpted bite marks in the leaf.

This routine continued ‘til tiny green lumps replaced yellow blossoms. I licked my lips, anticipating those homegrown delights.

Sunny days transformed the tiny spheres to large and green, each one hanging on their stalks and changing color as they ripened. I counted the days, envisioned salads garnished with tomato wedges, or sliced tomatoes sprinkled with basil and goat cheese. My taste buds danced a jig of anticipation.

Then, one morning, I walked into the garden as the sun cleared the treetops. Would this be the day?

I gasped.

One lovely tomato hung sideways, gaped open, and dripped juice on the leaf below. Hungry ants gobbled breakfast while a mockingbird sat in the tree above, screeching at me for interrupting its breakfast, intent on stealing what was mine.

I’d show him.

I plucked the maimed fruit and tossed it away. That bird swooped in as if it was the last particle of food on the planet. Through the day I peered from every window to be sure he contained himself to the castaway fruit. But yesterday, he returned and pecked three more of my delicious-darlings.

I raced to the closet where the Christmas ornaments waited for next season, grabbed a box of shiny red balls, dug a roll of wire out of the drawer, and cut pieces to thread each scarlet oval. I dashed back to the garden and tied them onto the tomato cages, hoping to fool the bird with fake red globes.

While I was gone, that bird pecked holes in another ripening tomato.

These tomatoes would never make a salad. But the taste of fried green tomatoes sashayed through my mind. Ah ha! Even though the fruit was mangled, I could repurpose them into a delectable delight.

My plan changed those damaged tomatoes into a scrumptious meal just like God uses broken, battered, blemished people to accomplish His plan. We are created in His image and are His treasures. Though we bear the bruises and welts of sin, He loves us and knows the plan He purposed for our lives.

Like that rascal mockingbird, bent on gobbling up my tomatoes, Satan eyes us, waiting to subvert God’s plan and destroy us.

Jesus stands ready to answer our cries. He will rescue, cleanse, and set us back on solid ground. God’s love is deep and wide and He will transform us into the image of His Son. We are the object of His mercy and grace. No scar of sin is beyond His ability to forgive and heal.

My Mama said, “You can’t stop the birds from flying over your head, but you can keep them from making a nest there.” We have a defense against Satan by placing our faith and trust in The Lord Jesus Christ.

It’s your choice. Run to Jesus when Satan lobs flaming arrows or allow this enemy to build a nest in your mind, deceive your heart, and destroy your soul.

I’m on my way to the garden this morning. Did those red Christmas balls solve my problem or will there be more fried green tomatoes on the menu tonight?

A Kiss for Daddy

By Jane Thornton –

The gray, metal battleship dominated the harbor. In our childish terms, it was humongous. Five, three, and two, my brother, sister, and I gave Daddy’s leg one last hug while he shared a final kiss with Mom.

“We’ll keep in touch.” He hiked his bag over his uniform-clad shoulder and headed for the gangplank.

“I’ll write every day.” Mom held our hands and bit her lip to stop the tears.

In 1965, keeping in touch meant letters. Handwritten, international snail mail. No e-mail. No instant messaging. No Skype. Long weeks between contacts. But we did have some high tech options—tape recorders. We could send cassettes back and forth, and we could hear Daddy’s voice and he could hear ours.

Mom pulled out the compact black box and set the tape rolling. We told Daddy we loved him and shared our daily sagas. We played the piano for him. I’m sure my rendition of Chopsticks brought moisture to his eyes:

Bling, bling, bling, bling, bling, bling,
Blang, blang, blang, blang, blang, blang,
Blamp, blamp, blamp, blamp, blamp, blamp,
BUMP, bump bump, BUMP!

“We got a tape from Daddy!” Mark would holler when he brought in the mail. Our feet would thunder and rattle across the wooden floor of our grandparents’ house, and then we’d skid to a stop by the machine, staring at the plastic strips of the speaker, waiting to hear that deep voice tell us he loved us and missed us.

When the tape ended, Mom pulled out a fresh cassette and plunked it in. We answered Daddy’s questions, asked our own, told him about boo-boos, and played the piano again.

One day, we were riding to the grocery store. Mom drove, and all three kids slid around on the front bench seat. Two-year-old Nanny announced, “I am going to give my daddy a kiss.” With great drama, she leaned down and smacked her lips against the horizontal stripes of plastic that covered the air-conditioning vent.

Mama cried.

In Nan’s toddler mind, it made perfect sense that her father was a machine. When Daddy came home about a year later, she adjusted very well to a human man with arms to hug and lips to kiss. Over the years, the laughter over the story outweighed its poignancy, but the tale reminded us of the sacrifice on both sides—given freely for our country.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13 NIV).

Our soldiers not only risk their physical lives, but they give up so much of family life, and we take that for granted.

“God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them” (Hebrews 6:10 NIV). Let us not forget either.

Comment Prompt: Do you have a soldier story to share?

Stranger Danger

By Cheri Cowell –

My sister and I rode our bicyles all over our small town as we were growing up. I say small because the downtown was only two blocks long. It was a time when two little girls could safely ride all over town until darkness fell. Although it was safe, now that we are aware, we’d probably have identified the man at the top of the hill where we liked to bike as a sexual preditor. He was creepy, was always talking to us and inviting us to sit with him in his carport. Thankfully, we never did.

Jesus knows about stranger danger.

In Jesus’ time a shepherd would lay his body across the entrance to the walled sheep pen at night. His body acted as a gate. He knew by touch whether an animal was one of his sheep or an imposter. with his own body he was the protector of his sheep. In the other direction, sheep also knew who was the True Shepherd and who the stranger was by listening for the shepherd’s voice. We, like sheep, can sense danger and listen to the inner voice of the Holy Spirit to protect us. The True Shepherd has used His own body to protect us from harm. He has indeed laid down his life for His sheep.

PRAYER: Thank You Jesus for being my True Shepherd whose voice can help me detect stranger danger. Help me stay safely in the sheepfold where I am protected as one of Your precious sheep.

“Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” Jesus used this figure of speech, but the Pharisees did not understand what he was telling them” (John 10:1-6 NIV).

Next Page »