Stealing Psalm 40
At Easter I like to share my testimony for those who want to know how I became a Christian.
Sometime in 1970, I stole a Bible. Perhaps “stole” is too strong a word. Let's just say I borrowed it and never gave it back. The theft wasn't intentional. It happened at the Naval Air Station in Atsugi, Japan. One evening, while on duty, I was in a room where someone left a Bible. I picked it up and began to read.
Though brought up in church, I'd questioned the existence of God, so His Word had become irrelevant to me. Fortunately, I had not become irrelevant to Him.
When my duty watch was over, I took the Bible back to my barracks, thinking, “I’ll return it when I'm done.” While flipping through pages, I found Psalm 40, and read the verse “I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.”
The words touched me.
The year before, I'd been under investigation because of drugs. A dishonorable discharge loomed. But because I'd just become a father, I was given leniency. Perhaps fatherhood would straighten me out. Afterward, I was sent overseas.
As I traveled to various naval bases (Japan, Guam, Vietnam, and the Philippines) I fell deeper into my own “horrible pit.” To deaden the despair, I turned to drinking. (I stayed away from drugs because I feared the Navy would throw the book at me—and it wouldn't be a Bible.)
In June 1971, my first wife wrote me a “Dear John” letter, launching a deep personal crisis that came just months before my discharge from the service.
The following Sunday, I attended an evening Chapel service. That night, instead of a sermon, a film was featured. It told the story of three men trapped after a coal-mine collapse. One man was a churchgoer whose faith was not real. The second was an avowed atheist. The third was a believer. It was obvious that only the believer was prepared to deal with the crisis. I wanted to be like the third man.
After the film, the chaplain gave an invitation. I was the second person who went forward. Later, a counselor had me read Roman 10:13, “For whosever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." When I read the word "saved,” I realized the promise of Psalm 40 was fulfilled: I'd been pulled out of the pit and placed upon a “Rock.” My life hasn't been the same since.
Thank God for that . . .
April 30 Is the Deadline for the Florida Authors & Publishers Association’s Annual Book Awards
The FAPA President’s Book Awards have been expanded from North America to the entire English-speaking world. To enter, visit https://myfapa.org/book-awards.
ORLANDO -- April 30 is the deadline for the Florida Authors & Publishers Association (FAPA) President’s Book Awards. Medals will be presented Saturday, Aug. 5, at the Hilton Orlando Buena Vista Palace during the two-day FAPACon 2023.
For details, visit https://myfapa.org/book-awards.
More than 100 authors already have officially submitted books. Finalists are chosen by publishing professionals and librarians from both within and outside of Florida.
FAPA membership is not required for entry, although FAPA members receive discounts on submissions: Entry is $75 for members and $95 for non-members.
“We're hoping for a record number of entries this year,” says Renee Garrison, FAPA President. "Our judges are busy, but we usually see a wave of submissions during the final weeks."
Winning books are added to the FAPA Bookstore online.
"In addition to the personal recognition, there's a cash value to winning a book award," says Rob Jacob, former chairman of the FAPA President's Book Awards. "Quite simply, books that win awards sell better."
ABOUT: The Florida Authors & Publishers Association is an organization for authors, publishers, independent publishers, illustrators, editors, printers, and other professionals involved in the publishing industry. For more about FAPA, visit https://myfapa.org.
VIDEO: https://youtu.be/ITQvyN5s-O0
Midnight — More or Less
It’s cold outside the castle;
Darkness rules the land.
Men dressed deep in whispers,
weapons in their hands.
They stand with iced-precision,
True North in their eyes;
Guards against intruders,
In snake-skin covered lies.
When light comes in the morning,
Death will ride along,
With bloody calculations,
Scented ribbons, & a song.
But now’s the time for waiting,
No hint yet of a fight —
Just mists & dreams, clouds & steam,
Swirling in the Night.
Light Up Your Life...
Small wooden sticks,
coated with sparks —
light up Day & Night.
(Un-worldy & strange,
they fire up a range —
candles & BBQs, too.)
We live in no shadows,
thanks to potassium chlorate,
sulfur, Gum Arabic, & sugar.
(While some keep matches
to light up lives — others collect
match-book covers in the dark.)
Copyright 2022
Thump—Cold & slow, they are not dead ...
Ah, the sweet "Thunk-Thump”
of sleepy Iguanas
as they fall from chilled tree limbs
on-to the cool damp ground.
Cold-blooded—
They are not dead,
are not dead,
are not dead.
They may fall from trees—
but they are not dead,
are not dead,
are not dead.
Cold & slow,
they are not dead,
are not dead,
are not dead,
Cold & slow,
they are not dead—
fallin' from chilled tree limbs
on-to the cool damp ground.
Copyright 2022
Thanks to those who’ve supported me over the years
I've worked on my poetry book "Dark Fruit" for more than 10 years. It could not have been published had I not gotten the support I did from fellow Prosers. Thank you.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B4GPD3VM/ref=sr_1_15?crid=1TN90HB5464BP&keywords=%22Dark+Fruit%22&qid=1655647570&sprefix=dark+fruit+%2Caps%2C316&sr=8-15