Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones....But God!

We need to remember that no one, no matter how scary, can destroy the church.  No one can destroy Christianity.  Isn't history loaded with groups and individuals who have tried to stop the Gospel from spreading around the globe.  Don't be afraid.  Don't get caught up in all the hype and scary looking things.  We win.  The church is not a building that someone can put an end to.  We, The Followers of Christ, are the Church.  Our very bodies are The Temple.  Hang in there and watch in wonder what the Lord is doing around the Globe.  God is Sovereign and is not twiddling his thumbs and saying..."I never saw that one coming!"  He, God, of course saw it coming, all of it, and sent us a Savior, His name is Jesus Christ, and it is FINISHED!

Read the verses below and be encouraged from His Word.....

Isaiah 51:7 “Hear me, you who know what is right, you people who have taken my instruction to heart: Do not fear the reproach of mere mortals or be terrified by their insults.

Isaiah 44:8

Do not tremble, do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago? You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me? No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.”

Jeremiah 33:3

‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’

John 15:21

They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me.

Romans 14:16

Therefore do not let what you know is good be spoken of as evil.

1 Corinthians 6:19

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;

1 Peter 1:18

For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors,

Acts 8:3

But Saul began to destroy the church. Going from house to house, he dragged off both men and women and put them in prison.

Acts 8:1

And Saul approved of their killing him. [ The Church Persecuted and Scattered ] On that day a great persecution broke out against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout Judea and Samaria.

Revelation 2:29

Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

God is Sovereign....Wick Jackson

"You Think That's Natsy?"

Before arriving at our hotel, Pastor Erick began to explain that he chose the best hotel available to us in the area of the city, where we were going to spend the next five nights. The fact, that he was explaining he did the best he could, was not a good sign, so, we said what nice missionaries say, “Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine.” We missionaries say this with convincing assurance, while our stomachs knot up.

Where we stay is always a toss up when we travel to new places that we are not familiar with. I have had some interesting and uncomfortable situations take place over my years of missions travel around the globe. This would prove to one of those uncomfortable teaching moments.

We saw the first red flag when we went inside the reception area where we had to speak through a small opening at the bottom of very thick glass partition, where we would pass our money and passports and they would pass the room key. Signs were posted all over the walls announcing, “No Smoking” and the smell of smoke filled the thick air. Behind the thick glass were not only carbonated drinks and chips and sandwiches to buy, but also liquor bottles lined the walls right behind the thick protective glass. When something was purchased it was passed through a metal door that spun around to receive the money first and then you could receive the things that were paid for.

When I arrived in my room, the cleaners had just finished making the bed and putting some TP in the bathroom and spraying some nice smelling stuff...the nice smell was almost too much...but I thought, “I guess this smell beats what it could smell like .” I was to find out soon enough, that it would smell... like it could smell...and that smell never left.

Most hotel businesses in the area of the city are not just hotels but motels. A hotel is where you would stay with your family, but a motel is where people take someone where they only need the room for a short time. Pastor Erik did the best he could to find us a legitimate hotel, in a huge city where the motel business thrives.

My friend, David Andersen and I, would find out very quickly that it was a very busy motel. There was never a time when we could not hear couples arriving and leaving and slamming doors and all the sounds that could be heard from the rooms beside us and across from us and down the 60 yard hallway. It was difficult to drown out the sounds even with my music as loud as possible being played on my computer. There was no way to turn on the TV to try and drown out the noise because the TV was in the rental rooms for the purpose of entertaining the clients that rented the rooms for a specific amount of time.

The other thing, absolutely unavoidable, was the motel managers knocking on doors to let the occupants know that their time was up...and the discussion that would go on between the manager at the doors and the occupants. The manager would warn, “If you don't open the door and give me 200 more pesos then I will have to come in there and get you out of the room.”

What drove me crazy was when we would return to our rooms after being out all day. As soon as I opened the door an incredibly bad odor would hit me like a shovel in the face. I would call the desk and ask them to please come help with the odor. A few minutes later, there would be a knock on the door and a helpful attendant, loaded with a spray bottle full of magic, would begin to spray the carpet, like he had done it a thousand times before...and I was sure he had. Then he would look at me with a big smile and say in perfect English...”OK?” I gave the thumbs up and he ran out the door.

This type of cleansing had to take place every time I left the room for a few minutes and returned.

It was not until the night before we were leaving that I discovered what the horrible odor was.

After brushing my teeth at the sink, I stepped near a trash can to throw the wrapper away from the soap. My foot landed in a wet area, made a squishy sound, and I lifted it off the floor very quickly, my nice clean sock on my right foot was soaked.

Because I am a person that has to make sure that the floor was indeed wet, I had to step in that same spot... again. That familiar odor slammed it's aroma into my sinuses. But because I was still confused about this incredible pool of ooze that I had finally discovered, I had to prove it to myself by taking the fingers on the right hand and touching the spongy spot and then for some strange reason I held those same fingers up to my nostrils. I took, what I thought was a careful inspective whiff of those fingers and I almost lost my breakfast. The detective in me had finally found the thing and the place that was making this room a nauseous nightmare.

I immediately opened my door because I heard a vacuum cleaner running outside my door. The nice lady was actually cleaning the room across from me that some clients had just left and I asked if she could please bring the magic smelly sauce. She knew exactly what I wanted when I made the international sign for a spray bottle with the accompanying sound...”Flipht...flipht!” She smiled, dropped the vacuum handle without turning it off and grabbed the magic spray bottle and followed me into my room.

I went direct over to the wet oozy spot on my carpet and said, “Huelle muy mal, puedes hacer algo?” “It smells very bad.” I said, “Can you do something about it?” Then, the next statement said, said it all, quickly reminding me, that I was not in Kansas Toto.

The cleaning attendant said in beautiful Spanish, “Well this room always smells bad because there is a pipe busted under this carpet that comes from the bathroom. But it's not nasty. The water is clean.” To which I said, in the best Spanish I could, “Well if the water coming through the carpet is clean then why does it smell so bad?” Then she admitted with sort of a questioning, “Because it comes from the bathroom?” “Eso es!” “That's it!” I said.

We had finally come to an agreement that the odor was bad, the carpet was wet and the magic spray bottle was only going to help so much. So she soaked the spot down with the magic liquid in the bottle and shut the door behind herself when she left the room.

Here is what I learned from my smelly experience.

My walk with the Lord can be allot like my smelly room. I can look, “Ok,” to most folks and even seem to have all the things I need, to be complete, but just under my surface, I have issues. I am often invited to speak to folks who don't know the issues I deal with deep down, where the Lord knows my mess. Unless they spend enough time with me, they will never know that I have nasty ooze under my layers like the carpet had just under it's surface. If I let the smelliness of sin go un-dealt with, eventually all the magic spray in a bottle will not be able to cover up what I try and keep hidden. I can be as nasty and hard to be around as my room was to be in, if I continue to ignore my own issues...my own sins. Thank God that he chooses to use us in spite of all our smelliness. When the Holy Spirit does his convicting and Christ does the cleaning, we are able to be used by Him.

Thank God that he does not smell my nastiness or see my dirtiness when he looks at me. He sees his son, Jesus Christ, who died, once for all, for all my nastiness and smelliness. Can there be any better news? The Gospel of what Christ did on the cross allows God to use me with all of my issues, smelly or not. And for that I am overwhelmingly grateful.

An Old Friend Still Beckons Me!

 In October 1992, After selling many things, giving away many things, leaving a business I had babied for 10 years, and leaving friends and families that had babied us for many years, Cindy, Emily, Mary Ashley, Maggie and I, left Florence, SC and were driven by Jerry Russell after he and Susan Russell and other friends had spent days helping us pack 32 U-Haul boxes to within ounces of the allowed 70lb limit.  Those 32 boxes held things dear to us, that we would use for the next two years, while we lived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
We arrived at the SIM Headquarters in Charlotte, NC, where we would live with other missionary candidates for the next 30 days.  While there, we met friends that became like family and still are to this day.  We also laughed, and marveled, at the signs indicating direction and distance to lands we had only heard of.  They seemed so far away. 
Today, standing in a lite drizzle, I am brought to tears, literally, as I stood in front of this old friend that showed me where God had sent The Jackson's more than 22 years ago.  As I stand there, I reflect on the things we have seen and tragedies we have experienced and blessings upon blessings that God has let us be a part of and I am dumb-founded.
The distance, 7467 miles, to Ethiopia, seemed impossible to imagine being able to travel there let alone live there with people we had never met, but, that became so much a part of our lives...and still are.  So, standing there in the drizzle, drops sending a chill to my spine as they dropped on the backside of my neck, I think about the hundreds of thousands of miles we have traveled now.

God has allowed The Jackson's to travel the globe and to be a part of what He is doing in and through peoples lives.  We have been allowed to grow up in other cultures and see God's creative hand in the people he has made in His own image.  God has given us a rich heritage that cannot be bought with silver or gold or stocks or bonds.  Our riches are in the people we have come to know and love and in the lands that we have stepped upon.  God is so so so Good to Us.  To Him be All the Glory.  I am a blessed man.

In Mexico City....Wick Jackson

Naves y Mensajes

Nuestro barco había llegado en ... literalmente. Era 5:45 de la mañana, 20 de diciembre, y la masiva MSC Divina, un crucero italiano, había disminuido hasta en contra de los redondos flotadores pesados que mantiene es costados de acero maravillosamente elegante de raspar el mismo muelle de concreto que nos alejábamos de siete días antes . Un crucero de Navidad, planeado por Cindy, Maggie y Lizzie hace unos meses, cuando la idea sonaba absurda, casi como un desafío, había ido y venido y ahora me quedé fuera en el balcón de acero apoyado en la barandilla brazo de teca que se brilló a un brillo, mirando por más de las luces de Miami ... y empecé a preocuparme.

Habíamos planeado y embalado y hecho todo lo que podíamos hacer, de vuelta a casa, para asegurarse de que tendríamos muy poco a preocuparse alrededor. Buddy nuestro hijo peluda 85 libras, en un cuerpo Bulldog fue a los padres de Cindy. Nuestro amigo Sherman se haría cargo de los pollos y proteger la propiedad. Dejamos un coche a Creel Tire para recibir un poco de atención mientras estábamos lejos. Jason y Mary Ashley conseguirían nuestro correo. Le di una montaña de instrucciones a mis trabajadores los trabajos que hemos van y los que necesitaban para seguir adelante, mientras yo estaba lejos. Envié texto e hice llamadas telefónicas hasta el punto de que la señal no me alcanzó por más tiempo ya que nos fuimos por el puerto de Miami y nos dirigimos hacia aguas profundas. Me preocupaba, tanto es así, acerca de los detalles que uno de mis trabajadores dijo: "Muy bien todo listo ... GO!" Y Chris, dijo mi pintor, "Pensé que ibas de vacaciones?" Entonces la señal se había ido, no manera de tener contacto durante los próximos días ... no haría ningún bien a preocuparse ... y así ... lentamente ... Traté de dejar de preocuparse.

Debido a que no tenía información entrante que preocuparse ... tuve la oportunidad de disfrutar de mi tiempo en el barco con mi familia. Fuimos a increíbles espectáculos cada noche y bailar visto que hizo "Bailando con las estrellas," ver como ... bueno no sé qué ... porque yo no miro a nadie bailar con las estrellas ... pero yo estoy segura de que ver la gente con talento de baile en la nave. Fueron torciendo las cosas y piezas que sólo los profesionales deben intentar moverse. Había diferentes temas para cada noche. "Old Blue Eyes", Frank Sinatra noche, Piratas noche, Brujas de París noche, Opera de la noche pero habia en la tarde y mas y mas.

El espectáculo que abarrotó la casa antes de tiempo fue el Michael Jackson Show. Los octogenarios y menores estaban luchando por los mejores asientos en el teatro.

Imitador de Michael Jackson 'hizo más entrepierna agarrando y empujes de la cadera, mientras que usa su guante tachonada de diamantes, de lo que nunca vi a El Rey del Pop haga. Lo vimos gyrate sus caderas, patear las piernas, a bofetada sus rodillas hacia abajo, incline su sombrero hacia adelante, hacia atrás, hacia los lados, y luego lo arrojó al suelo. Él luna caminó hacia adelante, hacia atrás, hacia los lados y en los círculos con lo que el barco lleno de solicitantes de "Thriller" a una ovación de pie ... varias veces.

Mirar algo como esto hace que la gente hace cosas locas. Algo así como, cuando vimos Rocky golpeó a Clubber Lang (Mr. T) por primera vez en la pantalla grande. Después de que revienta a través de los teatros puertas dobles de metal, era sálvese quien pueda para tratar de hacer de forma segura a un coche sin tener que pelear con alguien en el estacionamiento del Teatro Capri. El mismo tipo de cosa que sucedió después de que Michael Jackson noche. Todos los pequeños bares y cafés de la nave estaban llenos de demasiadas personas tratando de bailer y mover como el falso Michael hizo ... era difícil de ver.

También comimos buena comida, servido por gente que trabaja duro, de 47 países diferentes. Winton, nuestro jefe de camareros, era de Bali, Indonesia y Joad era de Goa, India. Ambos sonreían mucho y nos sirvió como si fuéramos reyes en un crucero. Cuando le preguntamos acerca de tener esto o aquello, ellos tanto responder, "No te preocupes!" Y salir corriendo y conseguir lo que habíamos pedido. "Winton, ¿sería posible tener un poco de café, por favor?" "No te preocupes." Y unos minutos más tarde tenia café. "Disculpe Joad, podría tener un poco de salsa de tomate?" "No te preocupes!" Y unos minutos más tarde Joad aparecerían sonriente con un plato lleno de paquetes de salsa de tomate. Hemos oído, "No te preocupes", tantas veces que empecé ... bueno ... no se preocupe.

No preocuparse sentí muy bien. No preocuparse por tal o cual le da más tiempo para pensar en relajarse, leer, escribir, comer bocadillos, dormir la siesta. Incluso nuestro portero habitación, Abrida de Indonesia, siempre nos recibió con una gran sonrisa y siempre nos lo pide algo que él diría: "No te preocupes." Y una sonrisa realmente grande y en un corto tiempo, tendríamos lo que necesitábamos . Otra cosa que noté fue, no preocuparse tanto, pareció ralentizarse el propio tiempo. Parecía que, tuve más tiempo para hacer las cosas, tenía muchas ganas de hacer como, relajarse, leer, escribir, comer bocadillos, siesta porque las cosas preocupantes estaban fuera de mi radar ... o eso creía yo.

Me había eludió preocuparse por algunos días hasta que nos atracado de nuevo. Yo estaba viendo trabajadores portuarios tiran cuerdas finas unidos a cuerdas más grandes que se han cubierto a través de los grandes bolardos de amarre en forma de seta redondeadas que sostienen los enormes barcos en su lugar. Mientras ellos estaban luchando con las enormes cuerdas que maldecían como ... bueno, como los trabajadores portuarios. Mientras miraba a ellos maldiciendo y luchando para hacer su trabajo, empecé a pensar en la mía y todo lo que necesitaba para hacer y llamadas telefónicas que necesitaba para hacer y materiales que necesitaba entregados y los cheques que necesitaba para escribir y en pocos segundos .. yo fue preocupante de nuevo de repente lo vi. Una señal del Señor ... literalmente ... mientras miraba hacia Miami.

El letrero decía: "Está bien. Está bien. Todo va a estar bien! "Una letra grande a la vez, el mensaje fue detallado en frente de mí. Yo no podía creer lo que estaba viendo, y mucho menos leer. Pero fue, en el lado de un edificio de oficinas enorme. El edificio Inter Continental tiene una pantalla enorme que tiene las letras movimiento en sentido vertical en él para que cualquiera pueda ver y yo fue sorprendido con la guardia baja y sorprendido por el signo, escrito especialmente para mí, en ese momento específico, en esta mañana de específico, con una mensaje especifica ... para mí.

Dios tiene una manera de hacerse oír. Él lo ha hecho desde el principio de los tiempos ... sólo tenemos que estar abiertos a escucharlo. Llamé a Cindy salir al balcón para ver el mensaje conmigo. Yo quería un testigo. La gente son escépticos y por eso me gusta tener testigos cuando veo algo que quiero reclamar , de parte del Señor. "Alla, ya lo ves??", Le pregunté. Ella sonrió y dijo: "Sí, eso es lindo." Y ella caminó hacia el interior a embalaje algunas cosas más en las bolsas que íbamos a despegar la nave en menos de una hora. Pero para mí, era diferente. Para mí no era simplemente lindo ... era importante ... y fue todo para mí.

Para mí, no era simplemente, “lindo” ... era importante ... y fue todo para mí. El Señor del Universo me estaba mostrando que Él Es, de nuevo, por esa pequeña letrero que desplacen a través de un edificio en las primeras horas de la mañana, de una ciudad que no sé nada. Dios me encontró, como me empecé a preocuparme, en un lugar tranquilo, con vistas a un activo puerto y la ciudad y quería decirme ... "Está bien. Está bien. Todo va a estar bien.” Sonreí, le di las gracias por el mensaje y volví a entrar a hacer mis maletas, porque sabía que, al menos hasta la próxima vez me sorprendo preocupante, que todo lo que, en verdad, iba a estar bien!

Mateo 6:25-34

De nada sirve preocuparse

25 »Por eso les digo: No se preocupen por su vida, qué comerán o beberán; ni por su cuerpo, cómo se vestirán. ¿No tiene la vida más valor que la comida, y el cuerpo más que la ropa? 26 Fíjense en las aves del cielo: no siembran ni cosechan ni almacenan en graneros; sin embargo, el Padre celestial las alimenta. ¿No valen ustedes mucho más que ellas? 27 ¿Quién de ustedes, por mucho que se preocupe, puede añadir una sola hora al curso de su vida?
28 »¿Y por qué se preocupan por la ropa? Observen cómo crecen los lirios del campo. No trabajan ni hilan; 29 sin embargo, les digo que ni siquiera Salomón, con todo su esplendor, se vestía como uno de ellos. 30 Si así viste Dios a la hierba que hoy está en el campo y mañana es arrojada al horno, ¿no hará mucho más por ustedes, gente de poca fe? 31 Así que no se preocupen diciendo: “¿Qué comeremos?” o “¿Qué beberemos?” o “¿Con qué nos vestiremos?” 32 Porque los paganos andan tras todas estas cosas, y el Padre celestial sabe que ustedes las necesitan. 33 Más bien, busquen primeramente el reino de Dios y su justicia, y todas estas cosas les serán añadidas. 34 Por lo tanto, no se angustien por el mañana, el cual tendrá sus propios afanes. Cada día tiene ya sus problemas.

Wick Jackson

Ships and Signs...

Our ship had come in…literally. It was 5:45 am, 20th of December, and the massive MSC Divina, an Italian Cruise Ship, had eased up against the heavy round floats that kept it’s beautifully sleek steel sides from scraping the same concrete dock we pulled away from seven days before. A Christmas Cruise, planned by Cindy, Maggie and Lizzie some months ago, when the idea sounded preposterous, almost as a dare, had come and gone and now I stood out on the steel balcony leaning against the, shined to a luster, teak arm rail, staring out over Miami lights…and I began to worry.

We had planned and packed and done all we could do, back home, to make sure we would have very little to worry about. Buddy, our 85lb hairy son, in a Bulldogs body, went to Mi Mi’s and Hot Rods’. Sherman would take care of chickens and protect the property. We left a car at Creel Tire to receive some TLC while we were away. Jason and Mary Ashley would get our mail. I gave a mountain of instructions to my crews for the jobs we have going and ones that needed to get going, while I was away. I sent text and made phone calls up to the point that the signal didn’t reach me any longer as we pulled out of the Miami port and headed out into deep waters. I worried, so much so, about the details that one of my guys said, “All right all ready…GO!” And Chris, my painter said, “I thought you were going on vacation?” Then the signal was gone, no way to have contact for the next several days…It would do no good to worry…and so…slowly…I tried to stop worrying.

 Because I had no incoming info to worry about…I was able to enjoy my time on the ship with my family. We went to incredible shows each night and watched dancing that made “Dancing with the Stars,” look like…well I don’t know what…because I don’t watch anyone dance with stars…but I sure did watch the talented folks dance on the ship. They were twisting things and moving parts that only professionals should attempt. There were different themes for each night. “Old Blue Eyes,” Frank Sinatra night, Pirates night, Witches of Paris night, Opera in the Afternoon night and on and on.

The show that packed the house out early was the Michael Jackson Show. Octogenarians and younger were fighting for the best seats in the theatre. Michael Jacksons' impersonator did more crotch grabbing and hip thrusts ,while wearing his diamond studded glove, than I ever saw The King of Pop do. We watched him gyrate his hips, kick his legs out, slap his knees down, tilt his hat forward, backwards, sideways, and then he flung it to the floor. He moon walked forward, backwards, sideways and in circles bringing the ship full of “Thriller” seekers to a standing ovation…several times.

 Watching something like this makes folks do crazy things. Kind of like, when we watched Rocky beat up Clubber Lang (Mr. T) for the first time on the big screen. After busting through the theaters double metal doors, it was every man for himself to try and make it safely to a car without having to fight someone in the parking lot of the Capri Theatre. The same kind a thing happened after Michael Jackson night. All the little bars and cafes on the ship were packed with way too many folks trying to bust a move like fake Michael made…it was hard to watch.

We also ate great food, served by hard working folks, from 47 different countries. Winton, our head waiter, was from Bali, Indonesia and Joad was from Goa, India. Both smiled a lot and served us like we were kings on a cruise. When we asked about having this or that, they would both respond, “Don’t Worry!” and run off and get whatever we had asked for. “Winton, would it be possible to have some coffee please?” “Don’t worry.” and a few minutes later, there was coffee. “Excuse me Joad, could I have a little ketchup?” “Don’t worry!” And a few minutes later Joad would appear smiling with a plate full of ketchup packets. We heard, “Don’t worry,” so many times that I began…well…not to worry.

Not worrying felt really good. Not worrying about this or that gives you more time to think about relaxing, reading, writing, snacking, napping. Even our room porter, Abrida from Indonesia, always greeted us with a big smile and whenever we would ask for something he would say, “Don't worry.” and smile real big and within a short time, we would have what we needed. Another thing I noticed was, not worrying so much, seemed to slow time itself. It seemed like, I had more time to do things, I really wanted to do like, relaxing, reading, writing, snacking, napping because the worrisome things were off my radar… Or so I thought.

 I had eluded worry for some days until we docked again. I was watching dock workers pulling thin ropes attached to larger ropes that were draped across the great rounded mushroom shaped mooring bollards that hold the huge ships in place. While they were struggling with the huge ropes they were cursing like...well like dock workers. As I watched them cursing and struggling to do their job, I started thinking about mine and all that I needed to get done and phone calls I needed to make and materials I needed delivered and checks I needed to write and within a few seconds...I was worrying all over again...and then I saw it.

A sign from the Lord...literally...as I looked out over Miami. The sign read, “It's OK. It's OK. Everything is going to be OK!” One large letter at a time, the sign was spelled out right in front of me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, let alone reading. But, there is was, on the side of a huge office building. The Inter Continental building has a huge display screen that has the scrolling letters on it for anyone to see and I was caught off guard and surprised by the sign, written especially for me, at that specific time, on this specific morning, with a specific message... to me.

God has a way of making himself heard. He has done it since the beginning of time...we just have to be open to see it. I called Cindy out onto the balcony to see the scrolling sign with me. I wanted a witness. Folks are skeptical and so I like having witnesses when I see something that I want to claim, is from the Lord. “There, ya see it?” I asked. She smiled and said, “Yep, that's cute.” and she walked back inside packing some more things into the bags that we would be taking off the ship in less than an hour. But for me, it was different.

 For me it wasn't just cute...it was important...and it was especially for me. The Lord of the universe was showing me who He was, again, by that one little sign that scrolled across a building in the early morning hours of a city I know nothing about. God found me, as I began to worry, in a quite place, over looking a busy port and city and wanted to tell me...”It's OK. It's OK. Everything is going to be OK.” I smiled, thanked him for the note and went back inside to pack my bags because I knew, at least until the next time I catch myself worrying, that everything, truly, was going to be OK!

Matthew 6:25-34 25“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? 28“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Wick Jackson

There’s No Place Like Home…There’s No Place Like Home!

5-9-13

     I had just made it to my hotel room after a long day of travel to arrive in Medellin, Colombia.  I connected to the Internet and the first note that my Mac Book received was the following…

“we came home today and buddy was gone......................it was sad and we did not have any warning”

No caps…no punctuation…no period…but I got the message loud and clear.  Buddy was gone and our home would not be the same without him.

     Mary Ashley bought Buddy as a puppy some three years ago.  Even then, as an eight week old, he had that big head and full chest that are characteristic of English Boxer breed.  Buddy quickly became a permanent fixture in our home when Mary Ashley moved back in and started travel nursing.  We bought him a collar that would let him go out only so far around the property and he learned quickly where those invisible boundary lines were.  At break neck speed, he would take off toward the front of the property to chase away a squirrel or two, only to suddenly stop, plowing up gravel with his big feet, in order to avoid being zapped by his invisible reprimander. 

     419 Woodland Dr. became Buddies domain.  He was free to go as far as he dared until a small beep, which I can barely hear, would send shivers of fear throughout his tree stump shaped body. 

     Buddy, at an early age, chewed everything and anything.  He has chewed shoes left in stairways, rocking chairs arms and feet, the bases of the columns on our home, plants, coolers, tires, water hoses, new cell phones left by UPS and more.  His love of wood, any kind of wood, has earned him the nickname…Buddy the Beaver.  Giving Buddy a piece of wood to chew is like sitting me in front of a large supply of fresh boiled peanuts…there just isn’t enough time.  His eyes literally roll back in his droopy sockets as he chews large pieces of wood into a slobbery pulp.

     Buddy, a big baby at heart, has never met a stranger but puts on a great show for us as he tries to prove that he is the guard dog of 419 Woodland Dr.  He is fearless in chasing moles and digging craters to capture them, only to stop and tenderly sniff his newfound friends.  There is no better chaser of squirrels or bumblebees that cross into his territory.  He looks impressively dangerous, as he stands as tall as possible, barking deeply at passersby on the street some hundred-fifty feet away. 

     The people walking on the street have no idea that if they stepped toward him, he would turn and run as fast as his short legs can take him to some safe shelter where he thinks he can’t be found. 

     Buddy is also the defender of the six prissy hens that lay eggs in their chicken coop condo.  Even though the hens must know he cannot reach them, he sends the girls into a flurry of chicken feathers and poo as he rushes the pen when first let out of the house in the morning, bumping his big chin against their chicken wire walls.  He is relentless in his pursuit to prove he is something that he is not…but he is a charm.

     Mary Ashley and Jason told us of their intention of taking Buddy to his new home…their new home.  We fought some and tried to reason with them, but facts were facts and Buddy was theirs…even though he felt like ours.  We would argue that we had practically raised him, taking him to doctor appointments, putting medicine in his ears, feeding him, washing him, and worst of all…falling in love with him.  Buddy had become a part of our family.

     He knew how to make his way around this place.  Eric, the UPS man would miss him.  We wondered how we would cope with not having Buddy follow us around from room to room.  We wondered how he would feel in a strange place, across town, in a new neighborhood with new sounds and new people and other dogs that might take him serious when he half-heartedly barks at them.  We wondered these things and even began to talk about him really not leaving us.  That maybe they had decided to just leave him with us since he was such a big important part of our lives and the life of 419 Woodland Dr.

     I first saw the note from Cindy and felt sick to my stomach…and I was not even there to realize that a part of our lives had been taken…rightfully so…Buddy was theirs…but sure felt like ours…and now he was gone.  But not for long.

     Mary Ashley and Jason had posted a photo of Buddy on his nice new bed in their nice new home.  It was the saddest photo of a dog in a place where people loved him to death and wanted him with them in their new home.  He had all the comforts of home…but was not comfortable at all…he missed home…his home…419 Woodland Dr.  Here is the rest of the story.  Where God taught me and can teach you through Buddy and his desire to be home.

     My daughter Emily was at our home when Buddy was brought back.  She said that he jumped out of the car and went berserk.  He ran around like a kid in the park.  He circled the house at break neck speeds and turned on a dime and circled the deck.  He ran and said hello to the chickens…the riding lawn mower…the squirrels…he peed in the bushes and kept on running around until he could run no more…and then he crashed.  Cindy told me that he stayed the rest of the day and night in his own bed.  I am not sure whether he stayed in his own bed because of the emotional drain or because of fear of being removed from what he calls home.  Home is important…even to an English boxer named Buddy…and will be to you and me.

     When we get home…our true home…no one will be able to contain us.  We too will run around and see all the things that will be familiar to us…all the things…because it is home.  The places we live in now and the places we go to now are going to pass…but home never will.  Home, our heavenly home, will always be that and there will be no mistaking it for some other place…no matter how comfortable we try to make it.  Then we will truly say…There is no place like home…There is truly no place like home.

Don't Just Do Something...Sit There!

August 5th, 2012

The other day, we went to a lake with some friends who have a boat. They have all boys and we have all girls. When it came time to get the boat out of the water it also began to rain. I pulled my car closer, but stayed in while it rained, and watched the dad and his oldest boy get out and then the mom…I waited to see if the other two boys were going to climb out of their car to help the others…they did not…nor did I climb out of mine.

Cindy asked, “Are you going to get out and help?” I said, “No, I am waiting to see if those other two boys get out to help.” I was angry at the other two boys as they sat in the comfy dry car and let their dad, brother and mom do all the work of hooking the boat up to take it out of the water.

As we drove home…it ate at me, as I realized, that I had done the exact thing as the two boys that did not get involved. I sat in my dry car to see if they were going to do what they should be doing…and when they did not…NEITHER DID I!

The numbing slap in the face hit me on the drive home...I let my friend down...and set a horrible example at the same time. I was as useless as the two that sat in the car while their dad, brother and mom did all the work.

I apologized to my girls and explained what I had done and how I would never do that particular thing wrong again…sure I would do other things wrong…but not that one particular thing. I also apologized to my dear friend and his son when they came over for supper an hour later.

When I sat and watched…and did not engage in what needed to be done because I was waiting for, two other very capable people to get in there and get involved, I became just as guilty. I did not help. I could have and should have and did not lift a finger.

I learned a great life lesson that day. Missions and mission’s work and those who support the mission are much the same. Some get in there…but most just watch from the sidelines cause they probably think that someone else will do what it takes.

How's Your Connection?

Arriving late, we were escorted to the church basement full of pastors and leaders, where we were to be the main- attraction. I began to set up my computer to their power point machine immediately. The pastor, who invited us, wanted to chat and so I tried to indicate that we were already running late, in a culture that is soaked in tardiness, and that I needed to connect the machines to make sure everything would work with the power point.

He politely smiled, oblivious to my sense of urgency and kept talking. I politely smiled and tried to listen to him as I connected the cables. The machines output on the tan wall was horrible. Using my best logic I figured that showing these slides, which were mostly tan in color were not going to show up on a wall painted… mostly tan. I started thinking of what to do and asked if we could change the direction of the machine to point onto the wall where the big white blank screen was. I figured, with my best figuring, that showing mostly tan slides on a mostly big white blank screen should show up pretty good, since that is what those big white blank screens are for.

So in the middle of the introductions, some eager helpers and myself started rearranging the chairs and tables and projector table and all so that we could show our power point on the big white blank screen. Everything was moved and plugged back into the proper sockets and cables connected and then…the exact same thing. That’s correct. Even after moving the projector to show onto that big white blank screen, the slides were almost impossible to see. I thought, “Well isn’t this just great. We came all this way to wow a bunch of Peruvian pastors with our World Impact Seminar power point and we can’t even see the slides.” That’s when someone thought of doing what I had never thought of doing before…”Let’s change the cable.” He said, and ran off to get one.

Minutes later, the cable was changed. For us, a miracle, equal to parting the Red Sea, took place, well pretty close. The picture showing up on the big white blank screen was beautiful and applause arose in the room full of these, normally, very quiet pastors. The talk was successful and the illustrations easily understood because of the changing of one little cable. Changing that one cable made all the difference in the world.

The same is true in our lives. When we have the proper connection to the Holy Spirit because our “cable” is not worn out and corroded, great things can happen. Our connection, with the Holy Spirit, needs to be strong, in order that we might communicate what He has placed on our insides. With the proper connections, what’s on the inside shows up very clear on the outside, where people are watching to see who we really are.

You know what happened the next day when we hooked our computer up to another church’s power point machine? That’s correct, the output on the screen was horrible. Immediately I said, “It’s got to be the cable!” It was! People in the room thought I was a genius…and I did not say anything to make them think different. How is your connection?

Keeping Me Humble

5-3-2012

Standing in the lobby of the Quality Inn Hotel after a 24-hour journey, I felt a huge relief come over me and all I could think about was, “Thank goodness I am finally here”, as I felt my body and brain shutting down.  I either needed a bed to fall into or a floor to spread out on.  Speaking English, in his Portuguese accent, the well-dressed fellow behind the marble topped check in desk asked us, “Wuld jew lack soom café, yes?”  I looked at this angelic being and answered, “Si.” 

I thought things were going to be much better from this moment forward and stepped toward my new friend to grab the hot dark rich espresso, when my travel companion, Dave Andersen asked, “Hey wick…do you know you have a big hole in the back of your pants?”  I half smiled, looking at him with tired puffy eyes and he said, “I’m serious.”  I began to review the last 24 hours in my head.

When my dear friend Angela Head dropped me off at the Florence, South Carolina airport, I knew that I had a pretty long trip ahead of me.  If I can just get to the rocking chairs in the Charlotte airport, I thought, then I can take care of some more emails and communication stuff before I have to get on that first flight to Dallas Fort Worth.  To my, not so surprised self, my flight to DFW was delayed…for two hours.  So I waited for the first available rocking chair like a vulture waits for someone to drop in the desert.  Charlotte is famous for the rocking chair areas and I was not going to be left un-rocked. 

It is great fun to watch us humans, as grown people of all ages, casually stand around the folks already in the chairs.  Like a large game of musical chairs, as someone’s bottom is coming out of a chair, another bottom is getting ready to plant itself there, and timing the exchange is crucial because of the enormous amount of travelers that have had the same idea as you have had since they started their journey.  I spotted someone packing away his computer and so I moved in closer and tried to look as large and scary as possible, sort of the way lions hover over their new kill, and when they moved…I made my move.

Playing that part of my trip over in my mind instantly as my friend tells me, “You know you have a big hole in the back of your pants,” I remember watching the fellow who had just un-bunned the rocking chair that I was now claiming.  He instantly grabbed the back of his pants!  Then after he walked a few feet away, he became more intent on trying to see what had happened to the back of his pants.  I stood there in the lobby, in Vitoria, Brazil, with a hot shot glass size cup, made of thin plastic and filled halfway with dark espresso, and I said out loud and with a smile on my face…”It is the way that God keeps me humble.” 

As I sipped my hot nectar, I thought to myself, “Now I know why momma told me to always have on clean underwear.”  The hotel clerk said, “Seer, yure kee du yure rum.”  I took the key…smiled at the group watching the guy with a hole the size of a Mini Cooper in his pants…and walked toward the elevator that would take me away toward my room.

In Brazil….Wick Jackson

Service Not Available

A thought crossed my mind this morning as I tried to use my cell-phone. I was standing outside a coffee shop in Dubuque, Iowa. A friend, that I am visiting in Wausau, Wisconsin, had to bring two of his kids back to college. I stepped out of the shop, into the cold air, with a hot cup of coffee and tried to make a call…silence. I looked at the phone and tried to figure out what was going on…why doesn’t it work. I tried again…silence. I got more than a little irritated when I saw a notice pop up…”Service not Available.”

What made me so mad was, the fact that I pay a hefty monthly fee in order to be able to use my phone whenever and wherever I want. It is, many times, my only way to contact people or even more important, for people to be able to contact me. So… “Service not Available,” was a notice I did not want to see…especially with the price I pay to have service available.

The Holy Spirit whispered to me after I shoved the phone back into my pocket. The thought was that Jesus paid a much greater price to make his service available but, much of the time, we don’t get that signal out to people that need it most. We were told to take it to the ends of the earth and much of the time we don’t even take it next door…even though the expensive service has been paid in full. We have no excuse!

Truth is, that my phone eventually started working again, but 2.2 billion people on this planet have yet to hear a clear presentation of the Gospel in a language that they can understand. The word Gospel literally means Good News. It is only Good News if it gets to people on time. It is not getting to people on time because of us…you and me! We are not making the “Service Available.”

"I Would Have If"

The other day I was sitting in the rocking chair mall at Charlotte Douglas International Airport, waiting for my next flight, when I saw something I had never seen before. A young mother was pulling her roller board luggage behind her and attached to it was her baby carrier. Stuffed inside the small compartment was a healthy baby boy. I say boy because he was surrounded by light blue blankets and had a blue beanie covering his perfectly round head. As they passed me, I was able to see his expression. Although he looked very comfortable, he looked confused, staring out the back of an object moving forward, was throwing him off, and he looked like he wanted to be a part of what he was missing. In a very few seconds, the backwards traveling baby was out of view and on his way to his next flight. I laughed for a moment, and then it hit me as I rocked back slowly in the chair and sipped my Starbucks Blonde.

You and I are not built to go through life backwards! We can be very comfortable, with all the pacifiers of life, blankets, food, cars, I Pad’s, Starbucks, but going backwards is not the way God intended for us to see the world.

By going forward and being able to see the world as it comes at us makes us able to be participatory. We can have a voice in the direction we head. We can interact with folks. We can avoid problems as we see them coming towards us. We can be excited about what we see coming up ahead. Simply, going forward helps us enjoy what God has lined up for us to be participators in. The opposite is true of my friends experience in the stroller.

When we cannot see what is coming and can only see life as it passes us by, we cannot interact at any deep level…there is no time. Passing us by are things that look interesting for just a moment and then they are gone. And we see a lot of people’s backsides, as they head where they are going. In backwards world I cannot participate…I can only react to what passed me by and to what might have been an opportunity. Things that could catch our interest and teach us something about the world we live in pass us by at racetrack speed and we cannot grab it quick enough. But here is the clincher…some people are happy with that.

As strange as it may sound, some people are actually happier that way, going through life backwards, letting someone else do the pulling here and there, taking them through life. They are carried through obstacles that are teaching moments and sit back as life passes them by. They cannot be blamed for any decisions that were made…especially bad ones. The backwards travelers can truly say, “Don’t blame me, I was just along for the ride.

I don’t want to do it that way. I want to have a chance to see things as they are coming toward me so that I can decide whether I want to interact with them or avoid them. And even if I didn’t see something coming, I still want to be moving forward so that I do not miss any of the God-incidences that happen every day in our lives. I want to be a participant in life and not an observer. I want to be proactive instead of reactive. I want to be able to say, “I did it because.” Instead of “I would have if.”

Let’s keep moving forward….please!

In Bogota, Colombia,
Wick
3/19/12

"Breaking News"...Really?

It is sad, no doubt, when someone passes from this life into the next…especially someone that we connect to in some form or fashion.

But it is more alarming that many of us feel more of a connection with people whom we turn into heroes of the day. Normal folks living abnormal lives in front of the cameras, on stages and on playing fields so that we can have someone “made up” to look up to.

We tend to hold heroes in high regard who have never said a single word to us personally, who don’t know who we are, who would not feel at home in our home, who would not be willing to contribute to putting food on our tables or clothes on our backs…they don’t know us. There is no connection.

It’s called “Breaking News” when something happens to these elite few.

Below is some everyday news that is happening 24/7…

In round numbers there are 7 billion people in the world. Thus, with an estimated 925 million hungry people in the world, or almost 1 in 7 people around the world are hungry…right now.

Children are the most visible victims of under nutrition. Children who are poorly nourished suffer up to 160 days of illness each year. Poor nutrition plays a role in at least half of the 10.9 million child deaths each year--five million deaths.

1.1 billion people in the world do not have access to safe drinking water, roughly one-sixth of the world's population.

2.2 million people in developing countries, most of them children, die every year from diseases associated with lack of access to safe drinking water, inadequate sanitation and poor hygiene.

Half of the world's hospital beds are filled with people suffering from water related illnesses.

Some 6,000 children die every day from disease associated with lack of access to safe drinking water, inadequate sanitation and poor hygiene - equivalent to 20 jumbo jets crashing every day.

10 Billion dollars spent on medicines…for pets.

According to the APPA, $3.4 billion dollars was spent on pet services in 2009. Wal-Mart expands its pet grooming facilities further into its stores.

Pet parents are including their pets in their own lifestyles so visits to the spa, exercise regimes, and restaurants have become more common in urban areas.

We estimate the size of the US pet insurance market will grow to $600 million in 2013.

797,500 children (younger than 18) were reported missing in a one-year period of time studied resulting in an average of 2,185 children being reported missing each day.

According to the World Health Organization, some 56 Million deaths occur per year. That works out to about 153,400 per day, or a little more than 100 per minute.

Isaiah 44
9 All who make idols are nothing, and the things they treasure are worthless.
Those who would speak up for them are blind; they are ignorant, to their own shame.
10 Who shapes a god and casts an idol, which can profit him nothing?
11 He and his kind will be put to shame; craftsmen are nothing but men. Let them all come together and take their stand; they will be brought down to terror and infamy.
12 The blacksmith takes a tool and works with it in the coals; he shapes an idol with hammers, he forges it with the might of his arm. He gets hungry and loses his strength; he drinks no water and grows faint.
13 The carpenter measures with a line and makes an outline with a marker;
he roughs it out with chisels and marks it with compasses.
He shapes it in the form of man, of man in all his glory, that it may dwell in a shrine.
14 He cut down cedars, or perhaps took a cypress or oak. He let it grow among the trees of the forest, or planted a pine, and the rain made it grow.
15 It is man’s fuel for burning; some of it he takes and warms himself, he kindles a fire and bakes bread. But he also fashions a god and worships it; he makes an idol and bows down to it.
16 Half of the wood he burns in the fire; over it he prepares his meal, he roasts his meat and eats his fill. He also warms himself and says, “Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”
17 From the rest he makes a god, his idol; he bows down to it and worships.
He prays to it and says, “Save me; you are my god.”
18 They know nothing, they understand nothing; their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see, and their minds closed so they cannot understand.

Why do we get so caught up in “Breaking News” and not in doing something about the every day news?

Mark 4:9
Then Jesus said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”

"Jesus in Underoos"

“I took Jesus as my Savior, you take him too…” and so they did! The story line read, “Baby Jesus goes missing from landmark nativity at Florence church.” The story goes on to say, “Away in the manger at Florence's First Baptist Church, there's no Baby Jesus asleep in the hay. Somebody made off with him. Church members noticed after worship on Christmas morning that the key figure in their nativity scene was missing. The police were notified and a search ensued. Church members were busy again Thursday, literally beating the bushes around the church in hopes of finding a discarded babe somewhere on the grounds.” The story about the Baby Jesus brings me to certain observations. I hope I can explain them well enough.

I grew up in Florence and remember driving by that same manger scene year after year with my mom and dad and brothers. Us boys would roll the window down in the warm car, when the weather was cold, and stick our heads out to see if we could see the baby Jesus, lying in the manger. Sure enough…he was always there. But as I get older and understand scripture better, I think about the baby different. I ask the question, “Why? Why have we kept Jesus…a baby?

We have kept the all consuming, all powerful, all knowing, all able, ever present, future making, life changing, the Alfa and Omega, creator of the universe…a manageable little baby…Why? Maybe, for some, because we want to manage things, our lives, our neighborhoods, our nations, our universe. Surely we must know more than a little baby Jesus...don’t we? Here is a true statement…He aint no baby! Pardon the “aint” please.

Jesus is not a little baby any longer…and maybe Christ followers should figure out a way to convey that to our kids, our extended families, our friends, our state, and our nation and take that message worldwide.

We can’t buy a baby figurine of Superman, or Captain America. We can’t buy a baby figurine of the greatest athletes, or of the smartest people ever known. No… we see old photos of John Wayne, “The Duke” as a tall swaggering cowboy ready to shoot it out with whomever he needs to. I have never seen a baby picture of John Wayne when they were advertising his next movie coming on the TBS network…have you? Have you ever seen baby photos of cage fighters squaring off…no…they show dangerous, well trained men getting ready to rumble.

So, I ask myself again, even though it is cute and makes me feel warm and fuzzy to see a freshly painted manger scene…are manger scenes of little baby Jesus really portraying him correctly? No!

When I describe Jesus to anyone in range of hearing, I want him or her to know without a shadow of a doubt, that they, no matter who they are, and I will have to give an account for what we have done with this life we have been given. I want people to know that I will not stand before a baby Jesus. I will stand before Jesus who sits at the right hand of God the Father… his Father. We need to be careful in remembering that Jesus, as a man, was brutally beaten, hung on a cross, died and was buried for our sins…not his own…and Jesus rose the third day as scripture and the prophets and he said he would.

We will not be condemned for not following a baby Jesus…but we will definitely be condemned for not following the one and only grown up Jesus!

Grown up Jesus said,
John 14:6 “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

Another thought struck me as I listened to some laughter from people who had read the article and commented on the baby Jesus figurine showing up at Starbucks or Walmart.

Would people even know and understand, on a Biblical level, what this funny figurine, of a baby, even represented.

Millions of people around the globe, who were not raised up driving around town with Christian parents looking at Christmas lights and manger scenes, would have no idea what the baby Jesus figurine represented.

Millions of people around the globe have no idea about the real reason for the season. Christ followers should celebrate the birth of our Savior, the Savior of the World, each and every moment of the day. It is not the fault of those whom do not understand...that fault lies with us...Christ followers, who are willing to keep the Savior and King of Kings, in underoos!

Christ followers have much to do. We have much to explain. We have much to live out, in front of others, so that they might come to know the real… grown up Jesus.

"Thanks, I Needed That"

November 16, 2011

An impending storm just dumped a lot of rain on a dry and weary land…namely…my yard. The ground sponged up the much- needed water so fast that barely any of the wetness sits on top of the ground, just after a few minutes. If rain soaked ground could smack its’ lips and wipe its’ mouth, it would say with relief…”Whooh boy…we needed that!”

That is also what folks, around the world, would say if we would just take the Gospel to them…”Whooh boy…we needed that!” There is a dry and weary landscape full of people waiting to soak up the Gospel message…but we gotta take it to them.

I am encouraged today, more than I have been in a long time. I see something going on in the circles, where I hang. I see men, understanding the Gospel like never before. I see men, changing their way of thinking…from…”What must I do?” to…”Thank God, Christ has already done it!” The Gospel is simple…

1 Corinthians 15:3-4
#1…Christ died for our sins
#2…He was buried
#3…He was raised on the third day

This is critical for us to, not only understand for ourselves, but for us to share with others.

You and I are God’s Ambassadors…We are plan “A”…There is no plan “B”.

Bogota, Colombia...Really?

October 26, 2011

When I told people, I was on my way to Bogota, Colombia, their reaction varied somewhat, but for the most part they would look at me, with that look that says…”Are you nuts?” Colombia had the highest murder rate in the world some years ago but it is truly one of the most organized, cleanest, fast growing countries in Latin America. The people are warm and inviting. We, in North America could take lessons from them on hospitality and service…in and out of church!

The thing that shocked me most was the reception that David Andersen and I received from the moment we arrived. Meetings were planned through a pastor, Jorge, whom we had never met in person, only by emails. The purpose of this trip was to make contacts in a country we knew nothing about, so that we might help local pastors become involved in World Missions. Jorge organized a pastor’s breakfast…the whole purpose was for us to talk to them about Envoy International and what we do. Forty pastors showed up and were very excited to hear all we had to say and show them. Jorge also arranged for us to meet other key people that we had heard about from our Envoy partner, Dana Wilson, in Santa Cruz, Bolivia.

Finally, we were invited to a conference called LINK. To walk into this well organized meeting where 60 some people attended the first day was impressive. The most impacting part for me was when we were asked to an impromptu meeting with the President of Comibam…The International Director of Comibam…the Pastor of this 4000-member church…the Missions Pastor…and the Director of Mobilization for all of Comibam. We ate together and then they asked us to tell us what we do and what we need from them. By the end of the meeting we had dates set to return to this beautiful city in March of 2012. Doors have never been opened so fast for us in such an important place.

A God thing happened in the meeting. The President of Comibam, the largest facilitating agency for Latin America, announced that he could vouch for the Seminar material and us because he took the course years ago in Bolivia and had been teaching from our material for years. I was shocked and, looked at him, slapped him on the back and just began to laugh…he turned red…and the group applauded. God is faithful in putting together all the pieces that need to be in place…even before we realize what He and He alone has done.

In the airport in Bogota, Colombia

Wick Jackson

Who's that at the Window?

Sept.19,2011

I am lying on my bed in the guesthouse of Angela Head, in Pucallpa, Peru. Thunder has rumbled and threatened a coming storm for the last three days. Early this morning, heavy clouds filled with millions of tons of vapor could hold back no longer and so jungle trees are bent from the deluge as huge rain drops beat the tin roof.

On the outside of my window, the cute black and white face of a Pichico monkey, looks at me as if to say…”Hey…there is a storm out here…can ya help a monkey out”? Even a monkey realizes that there is a barrier between his wet world and my dry comfortable one. The look on his face and his agitated nervous movements on the outside, looking in, reminds me of something very important. This is the same relationship that the global church has with the most needy people on the face of this planet.

Much of the world must look at us, so called Christians, as we sit in comfort and relative ease and ignore the fact that many of them are nervously looking into our windows and wondering…”Hey…we are starving, emotionally, physically, spiritually, with no hope of help from the coming storm…can ya help a brother out?"

Only 5 % of churches worldwide are involved in missions. There are 1000 churches for every unreached people group…and we still have not finished the task. Why not? Consider the following.

Worldwide, believers spend 17 billion on average in missions a year, while some 45 billion dollars was spent last year on pets alone. Of the 253,000 missionaries world wide…only 24,000 are working to reach the unreached. That breaks down to 1 missionary for every 11,250 individuals. That means that for a stadium full of 70,000 fans waiting to get a hotdog and a coke, that there would only be about 6.5 people trying to serve everyone in the whole stadium.

How long would the fans stay happy in the stadium, if they had to wait to get a hot dog and a coke…not just for hours or days or months or years or decades? They may never get served. It’s obvious we care more about taking care of pets,going to the easy to reach places, and enjoying our own comforts, than we do about reaching those who have not had a chance to hear yet with the Gospel message.

I am just thinking out loud…can’t help it when a monkey is staring right at me!

Wick Jackson

Facing the Giant...My Ego!

9-7-11

Now I gotta be honest with you. I have a problem with Facebook. The problem is not that I could care less about most of the stuff people post because they think it is note worthy: “Changing the fourth diaper, and it’s not even 10am yet.” “How bout those Tigers? Cocks? Razorbacks? And so on. I don’t like the way something magically notifies me when someone makes a comment on someone else’s comment and what everyone else thought about it. I don’t like invitations to Farm, Surf, Invest, Hunt, or build stuff all in a make believe world. All that stuff really bothers me. But what bothers me most is my unrelenting appetite to see what everyone thinks about... ME!

I’m not kidding one little bit. I am addicted to clicking that I-Con on my computer screen that logs me instantly into Facebook land. The first place my eyes look is to see, not who wants to be my friend, Lord knows I have invited hundreds of complete strangers into my world with Friend Request, but I look for the spot where people can post what they think about ME…or something I said…or thought…or better yet…they write something nice about something I wrote.

I think I need to back away from Facebook for a while. I don’t know how long, but I must get a grip on caring more about what my closest friends think about me, not the gozzillian that say they wanna be my friend. A counselor told me years ago, “In your lifetime you may have only 3 or 4 friends that you can share your deepest secrets with, who truly love you and care for you and will not push you away or throw you under a bus, but will pray for you.”

I gotta get away from thinking about me so much and back to thinking about other more important stuff. Bottom line is…I need to seek God’s Face and what He thinks instead of Facebook and what it thinks.

Taking a Facebook sabbatical…Wick Jackson

The Memory Ring

The amount of time that the trampoline was up….7 years.
The amount of money I got from the scrap metal yard….$26.00
The amount of memories garnered from having a trampoline…Priceless!

I looked out the kitchen window at the round bouncy playground, trying to avoid its awkward mass for the umpteenth time. The barely hanging safety net, the beginning to rust springs and the mildewed black dirty jumping mat had taken up a space between our back porch and tool shed for the last seven years, and it was time to come down.

I approached the thing with a gladiator’s heart, ready to conquer it and get it out of the way, but as I started to loosen each of it’s rusting springs, a sadness came over me. I realized that I was intentionally taking apart an object that my girls, and many of their friends, had grown up spending many a giggling hours bonding with. This ole bouncy thing...had become a part of our lives.

I began with the first spring and then the one next to it and the next and the next. There was no significant change in the old taught canvas as it held tight and fought me at first on each spring I loosed, but soon, like an old man having to give into the strength of robbers breaking something precious from his hands, the old canvas began to loosen with each rusty spring that I removed from it’s hold. Wait, I thought I heard a noise. I worked even faster, hating what I was doing.

Too soon, the old mildewed canvas lay limp on top of the tall un-cut grass and weeds below it. I took my hammer and started beating apart the metal frame and soon, it too, was in pieces lying around the yard all around my feet like fallen warriors, remnants or some sweeter times. As I took their friend apart, voices haunted the metal and I could hear the girls, “Awe, daddy…what are you doing? How will we jump and play any more? Fix it daddy…please fix it.” I tried to work quicker hoping that finishing the treachery would make the end easier. I was wrong. There were more voices.

By now, it was no longer a magical trampoline, but a bunch of parts strewn around the yard, a nuisance that must now be picked up and hauled away. I gathered the clanging metal into the rear of my truck bed. The springs went into a bucket and into the back of the truck. I thought, “I wonder how much I can get for this scrap metal?” “Awe daddy,” I thought I heard. I rolled up the limp matt and tied a string around it to use it some other day…another way, and I decided to finish the task by cutting the tall overgrown grass and weeds. This became the toughest part…a part I never would have imagined to affect me the way it did.

I cranked the riding lawn mower, engaged the blade, dropped it to the proper height and made my first pass over my extra tall opponents. I ran over the whole area several times in many different directions because the mower would push the tall stuff in one direction and leave uncut clumps in it’s cutting trail. Around and around, back and forth, this way and that and finally…just as I had set out to do…I had finished the task…and taken the ole thing down. But, I was not to have the final word…the ole bouncy thing did. He had been there a long time and had left a perfect round ring…a Memory Ring.

I sat on my mower for a while and studied the ring…the Memory Ring. I knew that it symbolized much in our lives. The ring showed evidence of something that had been, but was no more. Chances are, this same ring will never appear in this same spot, but it was here for now, as a reminder of sweeter, innocent, growing up, laughing, bouncing, snacks, camp outs, rainy fun, sunny fun, Summer night fun and Winter fun, quiet talks, innocent dreams, childish mischief and growing older. The ring was there.

The Memory ring will be gone in a few months. With just enough water and sunlight, new grass will grow and before long the spot where this memory ring is will be gone and forgotten. It is the way it is…because we will come and we will go.

Psalm 103
3 As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
14 for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
15 As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
16 the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.

In Memory of our Memory Ring,
Wick Jackson