Author: Ian Bothwell

I awoke this morning and moved to a rocking chair on a cabin porch in western Maine.  The rising sun must have still been having a difficult time rousing because it was still wearing a blanket of mist rising off one of the world’s most beautiful lakes.   A loon was calling to the sun announcing it was time to shine. Ever so slowly the mist vanished as the sun lit up the rippled water with an exquisite spread of diamonds laid out at my feet.  Backlit pines laced the shore.  L. L. Bean should have been taking pictures for its next catalog.  Alas, though, it was missing a moose. It was quintessential Maine.

Quintessential is a good word.  Every once in a while we need a five dollar word to replace a cheapie word like typical.  This wasn’t typical.  It was quintessential and if I had a better vocabulary I would use a ten dollar word to replace quintessential.  Maybe I should use the word archetypal.  That’s a seven dollar word.  But then again, I like the sound of quintessential.

I was thinking about how difficult it would be to be a quintessential Christian.  The word means the purest or most perfect example of something.  I have met some people along life’s journey who seemed to almost fit the description, but upon close observation, well, they just didn’t quite fit the bill.  That’s what is exciting about Jesus.  His life, His sacrifice and His love more than cover our feeble efforts.  “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.”  Hebrews 4:15.  His perfection is our perfection.

Written by Roger Bothwell on Sept.  5, 2016

PO Box 124, St. Helena, Ca 94574

rogerbothwell.org

On the third day God said, “Let’s make something special for Adam and Eve. Let’s make it round, big and green on the outside.  Let’s surprise them by making it bright red on the inside with big black seeds they can spit at each other.”  And so God made watermelons.  It didn’t take Adam long to learn that they were especially good if he stored them in a nice cool spring before cutting them open.  Warm Eden afternoons were the perfect time to savor the crispy, crunchy flesh that oozed with delight.  Eve learned that she could cube them and mix them with strawberries, blueberries and cubes of muskmelons and mangoes. Eating in Eden was a delight.

Eating in Massachusetts on a warm August afternoon can replicate an afternoon in Eden.  It’s true we have to fly the mangoes in from the south but we have all the other goodies home grown.   This afternoon watermelon slices filled me with childhood memories of going to the supermarket and discovering a small mountain of melons.  There was a large knife and customers were welcome to plug the melon and taste before buying.  If it wasn’t any good you tossed it aside and plugged another one. Not only would that never happen anymore because of the cost but the local health department would have a fit.  Young people today aren’t too sure I am telling the truth about this.  It seems so strange.

How I wish everyone one on earth could sit and savor God’s great blessings. But alas we see pictures of hungry children in refugee camps hiding from the ravages of war.  The ones in the refugee camps are some of the fortunate ones. God’s blessings are not meant just for us.  We must be thankful for such good things.

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 12, 2013

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

It’s September and our hostas have started to turn brown.  They are much like us graying.  They start browning on the edges and work toward the center. Hostas are wonderful plants.  They thrive in the sun or shade and come in a rainbow of color choices.  Since we have lots of shade we especially like them.  Like us they have a prime time for blooming and then they mature into old age.

I wonder when is primetime for us.  Is it when we are in our twenties and starting a career, a marriage and parenthood?  Could it be our thirties when we are raising children?  Could it be later when we get to be grandparents and see the fruit of our parenting?  How about even later when we are wising up and able to put life’s events into perspective? Upon reflection I am beginning to think it is possible for us to have one very long primetime or several primetimes, one right after the other, depending upon our ability to capitalize on the moment.

When was primetime for Jesus?  Could it have been in Nazareth when He was part of a small community and adding love to that little burg?  Or was it His ministry when He was healing and telling everyone about His (our) heavenly Father?  Or was primetime Gethsemane and Calvary?  I am tempted to think it was the latter and yet I think each stage of His life was prime just as it should be for us.  If we use each day to grow or to better the lives of those around us I can’t think of anything more prime.  Often old people sit around and talk about “when.”  That’s not prime.  Now is prime.

Written by Roger Bothwell on September 2, 2013

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

We’ve had an interesting twenty-four hours.  It all began late last evening when I opened our back door.  With incredible power our one hundred pound lab exploded past me out onto the patio.  There was a flurry of motion involving a ten pound skunk trying to figure out what direction to unload.  Suddenly the air filled with a cloud of you know what.  Even though the dog was in the midst of it all she did not (we are so thankful) receive a direct hit.

Do you remember Matthew 16:16 where Jesus warned His disciples about the leaven of the Pharisees?  It takes such a tiny amount to change everything.   Our environment all night and day was changed by just a tad of skunk power.

Over and over again I see the leaven of the Pharisees attacking the Gospel.  I hear people say, “Yes, of course we are saved by grace.”   Then comes the leaven that stinks like a skunk.  “But.”  It is that word “But” and what follows. They have to add some tiny stipulation.  It is almost as if they are afraid someone is going to get away with something they didn’t.  The Gospel has incredible power to save and we must be on guard not to let anything steal away its effectiveness.  There are no specials on grace. 2015 isn’t some special time when extra sins can be forgiven.  Grace is lavished upon us any time we are in need.  Ephesians 1:7 says, “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us.”

Written by Roger Bothwell on September 8, 2015

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

I’m finishing up a most interesting biography of the Wright brothers and I am very impressed with the extraordinary amount of work and risk of life itself that went into their amazing feat, which had defied so many others who had tried.   Many biographies are real snoozers while this one is a page turner.

I imagine that most of us think a biography of our lives would be very interesting, while an unfortunate few might think otherwise about themselves. All of us are authors.  Each of us, even though we never put pen to paper, are busy authoring an autobiography.  We are a walking collection of experiences and memories, good and bad.

The joy of writing an autobiography is our power of choice as to which stories about ourselves we wish to remember or share.  I know some people seem to think because they have given their lives to God that they are no longer in charge.  They think they have stopped writing an autobiography and that God is writing a biography for them.  So often they speak of some decision they have made and they say God told them to do such and such.  What is nice about this is they have ceased to be responsible for what they do.  However it turns out, they can blame God.  If it is a good outcome they rejoice and are thankful.  If the results are not so good they say God is trying to teach them something.

I believe God gave us a mind and the freedom to use that mind. I believe each of us is writing a autobiography. God is not the author of our lives but He is an excellent writing coach

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 13, 2015

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting by myself in a McDonald’s in Times Square, New York City when I was approached by a man in a NYC fireman’s uniform.  He said, “Will you watch my bag for me while I get my food.  It’s heavy.”  Fire alarms went off in my head as I thought, “He wants to leave a large heavy bag with me in a crowded eating place in the middle of New York City!!”   “Sure,” I said as I very carefully watched to make sure he got in line and ordered and then waited to get his burger and fries.  If he left the building I was ready to dial 911 and yell for everyone to RUN.  He came back.

As I walked outside into wall to wall people I thought how sad that we cannot freely help others without being careful.  But, it really has always been this way.  This isn’t new.  When we study history we see a continual stream of horror.  The world isn’t any worse than it has ever been.  History is a stream of genocides, wars, crimes and betrayals.  Often people will ask, “What is the world coming too?”   The answer is “It’s not coming to.  It is what it is and has been.”

What it has been is not all bad.  There has always been a stream of good, generous, unselfish, helpful people.  They are in every time, every place, every culture and every race.   Let’s live as joyously as we can and not dwell on the negative.  After all, we are children of the most High.  He wants us to live the abundant life.  Heaven starts now. See John 10:10.

Written by Roger Bothwell on Sept. 1, 2016

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

Rogerbothwell.org

 

 

On my way home from class this evening I saw an amazing sight.  It was a full drama that happened in an instant.  Just before a moth smashed into my windshield, a bat, like lightning, shot straight at me, snagged the moth and swooped up with the air current over the top of the car.  Phew.  It was over before I realized what I had just seen.

For one thing that poor moth was doomed.  Either I was going to smash it or better yet for the environment the bat got a meal.  It’s a dangerous world out there.  I instantly remembered I Peter 5:8.  “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”   Without the full armor of God (see Ephesians 6) we are as vulnerable as that moth.  Satan will get us one way or another.

Secondly I remembered I Corinthians 15:52, “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”  How very exciting to realize just how quickly it will happen.  That is because God is so anxious to have us safe and whole again.  Right now He is coping with salvation, right vs. wrong, free will vs. God’s control, philosophical and theological issues.  But we can be sure the instant everything is resolved and the entire universe is safe from ever again being deceived, that twinkling of an eye will happen.  Suffering pains Him so.  Like any loving parent He will do everything possible to bring comfort to His children.  He will not linger.  It will be faster than a bat eating a moth.

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 30. 2016

PO Box 124, St. Helena, Ca 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

Someone keeps knocking on my door but when I answer there is no one there.  I’m sure it isn’t a neighborhood prankster.  My dog, who thinks it is her god-given task to protect the house, goes crazy rushing to the door to fend off an intruder.  But there is no one for her to intimidate.  And yet the knocking persists.  At times I feel like Samuel answering the call in the night by saying, “Yes, Lord.”  But like all good mysteries we solved it.  Our knocker is a hairy woodpecker.  Whenever I go to the door he disappears only to reappear when the door closes.

But let me come back to Samuel.  God can be very persistent.  Jesus told His disciples He was going to send them a Comforter.  That was the Holy Spirit.  However, it has been my experience that the Holy Spirit is not always a comforter but can be a royal pain in the head.  He keeps knocking.  He is more persistent than a hairy woodpecker.  And thankfully, unlike the woodpecker, He does not flee when I open the door.  He is more than anxious to come in.  Jesus said, “I stand at the door and knock.”  He does so via the Holy Spirit.

A hundred years ago Francis Thompson compared the Holy Spirit to a hound dog in his famous poem entitled, The Hound of Heaven.  Once a hound is on the scent of a rabbit it just keeps going and going like the energizer bunny.  God is like that.  He is on our trail.  He is knocking at our door.  He is a lover pursuing the love of His life.  He wants you and will never ever stop knocking.  He will never stop chasing you.

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 1, 2016

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

It was Friday before Labor Day 1948.  We went to Kresge’s Five and Dime. Tuesday I was going to first grade and I needed a pencil box.  Every scholar needed a pencil box.  We found one with a wooden ruler, an eraser, a little square pencil sharpener and of course, two (not one, but two) pencils. I was so proud because we also got a Roy Roger’s lunch bucket with a picture of Trigger on one side.

It was when we were headed for the cash register that I saw it.  I had never seen anything so wonderful.  At home I had a box of eight crayons but this beauty was beyond all dreams.  It had 48 crayons.  I could never have imagined there were so many different colors in all the world. This was the Holy Grail of coloring. If I could go to school with that box of crayons I would be the king of art.  (Today you can get a box with 150 colors.  What child could have known?)

All the “pleases” in the world were not enough.  My mom told me my box of eight was more than sufficient.  She assured me I would never use the other 40.  She was right because in all my years in elementary school I never did get a picture on the wall.  It was always a picture by some girl who could stay inside the lines.

When I was a pastor I used to beg God for the power to heal people.  I used lots of “pleases” in my prayers.  God was like my mother.  I guess He knew I would never use it properly and safely.  I would never have stayed inside the lines of propriety and humility and unselfishness.  I would have wanted my picture on the cover of Time magazine.

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 26, 2016

PO Box 124, St Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org

 

There’s a big shoe ad on the back of a Popular Science magazine.  We are talking about really big shoes.  One can get size 20 EEE-EEEEEE.   That is really big.  I have never seen anyone with feet that big.  Do you remember the old adage about someone having big shoes to fill?

It made me think about the Gospel Commission found at the close of Matthew.  Jesus was tasking His disciples with the most important mission ever given.  This was bigger than Neil Armstrong’s NASA mission.  “One giant step for mankind.”  The mission the disciples had was so big it divided history into the before years and the after years.

At the beginning of the Gospel of John we find Jesus saying to Andrew and John, “Come and see.”  They had no idea what lay ahead.  Never could they have dreamed what they were about to see let alone then being challenged to walk in His shoes.

Here we are 2000 years later with communication tools they never dreamed possible.  When I am finished writing this devotional I will press the send key and people in Uganda and Australia will, in less than a second, be able to read this.  God is terrifically reasonable.  When He tasks us He also gives us the tools.  I grew up singing a great old hymn, “We’ve a story to tell to the nations that will turn their hearts to the right – a story of truth and sweetness – a story of peace and light. For the darkness will turn to the dawning and the dawning to noonday bright. And Christ’s great kingdom will come on earth a kingdom of love and light.”   I used to wonder how we could do that.  It was such big shoes.  Now I know.

Written by Roger Bothwell on August 25, 2016

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574

rogerbothwell.org