Over the years, I've had the privilege of meeting a lot of men and women who work in law enforcement and man do I appreciate and respect them. Some of them have helped out with security at events where I've spoken. In one city, I met some pretty impressive guys who worked on a SWAT team; those guys were sent in as rapid assault teams in those particularly dangerous situations. Bobby was one of them. They called him "The Slammer." Sounds like someone from the World Wrestling Federation. But they call Bobby that because he's the one who takes out the door when they're raiding a residence. And looking at how he's built (I mean, I think his arm is bigger than my waist) you can see they picked the right man for the job. If you want a door removed, "he da man!"
How did we know it was a stupid question? Our family was in Alaska some years ago and we asked some of the folks there what seemed like a reasonable question, "Where can we go to see a moose?" The only moose we'd ever see in New Jersey were those guys like at the lodge hall. But most folks just laughed at our question. Turns out seeing a moose is really no big deal in Alaska. In fact, some people we talked to had hit one recently! So, they're everywhere. Sure. While I was busy speaking, my wife and kids drove all over the countryside looking for some moose. Nada. Maybe people hit them all! They even went to the Moose Sanctuary and they saw no moose there; frustrated, tired of looking, and pretty sure those moose were only in pictures in the tourist brochures. One morning we walked out of the house where we were staying, piled in the car, started driving down the driveway. Suddenly, one of the kids shouted, "Moose!" And sure enough, there were three members of the antler gang right there at the bottom of our driveway! What we'd been looking for all that time was right in front of us!
I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about "Right In Front of You All the Time."
You know this is a time when spirituality is important to more and more people, there's a word you hear a lot and folks use it to describe themselves spiritually – I'm a "seeker" or I'm "searching." I'm searching spiritually, and that's a good thing to be doing. We're created with this eternity dimension by a God who is eternal, and we'll only find life's real meaning by shopping in the store called "spiritual answers". That's right.
Today, as never before, there's a spiritual cafeteria to choose from man. Our search for the truth can carry us to many different religions or a blend of several religions; into New Age spirituality, into ourselves to find the power within us. But like our family hunting for moose, we're looking, but often not finding what we're looking for. Much searching - still no lasting peace, no getting our life under control, no security about eternity.
It was a number of years ago now, but it was stunning if I still remember it, where 39 members of the "Heaven's Gate" cult committed suicide. It was really unsettling because these were bright people, competent people; sincere spiritual seekers hoping to graduate from earth to, yeah, a waiting spaceship. That was their unusual belief. But listen, this is what I wanted to share with you - what one national news magazine observed about them and about us. It said, "Subtract the spaceship and the mass suicide, and you have a yearning and a search familiar to millions of Americans." That's true.
That magazine pointed out what they called universal needs that many people are trying to meet: "the craving to belong, the wish to connect to something larger than oneself, the secret hope of finding an all-caring parent who offers protection and comfort." I'll tell you what, those needs were built into us by our Creator.
Our word for today from the Word of God comes from Colossians 1:16. "All things were created by Him and for Him." That simple statement from God could be the beginning of the end of your spiritual search. He says you were created by Jesus; you were created for Jesus. The Savior who's been pretty much in front of you all the time, but maybe you've passed him by because you get Jesus confused with all the religious baggage attached to His name because you thought it was some new spirituality you needed.
But only Jesus died to remedy our central spiritual problem: we're away from God because of our sin. And only the One who paid for that sin with His life can put you and God together. Without that, all spiritual searching must, sooner or later, turn up empty. It all comes together the moment you bring yourself to the cross where God's Son was dying and you say those two transforming words, "For me. What You did there's for me, Jesus. And You, Jesus, You are my only hope."
He's been here all the time, but you've missed Him. Why don't you make today the day you find Him? To belong to Him? Tell Him, "Jesus, I'm Yours"? Get some back up. Get some information to lead you for sure into a confident relationship with Christ. Go to our website, will you? It's ANewStory.com.
Searching is good. Finding is better. Your long search will end in the loving arms of the One who's been patiently waiting for you all this time. Jesus – He is the end of your search.
Spring was planting time on the little farm my wife, Karen, grew up on. And in her early years, that was no small job. Her Granddad actually would hitch up Betsy and Jack-who I thought might have been her cousins but actually Betsy and Jack are mules-and they would start plowing that hard, Ozark ground. Karen would follow behind in her bare feet as Granddad and his team turned up that dirt, broke up those big dirt clods, and smoothed out that broken soil. Then came the seeding…and then the waiting. At that point, it was pretty much up to God-the weather, the warmth, the moisture, and the sunlight. Then, when the corn finally matured, Granddad swung into action again with the big work of harvesting what God had grown. It was really a neat balance of what a man could do and what only God could do.
For a long time, I have been fascinated with the story of the Titanic. The sinking of that seemingly "unsinkable" ship after a collision with an iceberg is filled with so much human drama that has inspired endless movies, books, and documentaries. Finding the Titanic at the bottom of the Atlantic fueled even greater interest and greater information than ever before. Some of the drama of those discoveries has been within our reach as the Titanic artifacts exhibit went across the country in some of America's leading museums. You could see many personal items recovered from the Titanic's debris field along with displays that recreated the feeling of being a passenger on that doomed ship. And now there's at least one permanent Titanic museum in the country. When I went into this one on the early tour, I was given a boarding pass with the name of a real person who'd been aboard that awful night. At the end of the exhibit, there's this big wall with the names of everyone aboard – first class, second class, third class, crew. Every person is either on the list that says "saved" or "lost." I looked hard for my name, and I discovered that I was one of the few crewmen who was "saved."
Back in the day, millions of Americans visited the emergency room once a week - well, on television. That was a blockbuster TV hit called "ER" and it very convincingly took its viewers into the tension and crisis environment of a hospital emergency room. They kind of made you feel like you were there. Of course, they're not the only medical personnel involved in a crisis care situation. I was reminded of that the other day on the interstate as this ambulance passed us. Of course, the back has those big red letters: "AMBULANCE." But this particular ambulance had sort of a subtitle - the one that raised my eyebrows and made me smile. The whole sign on the back said, "ambulance - the real emergency room." OK!
When our oldest child was born, they didn't even let fathers go into the labor room. That was nice. Then when our second one was born, fathers must have gotten a little smarter. They let us go into the labor room, but not the delivery room. And by the time our third one was born, hey, fathers had really gotten smart! I was actively involved with the doctor in the delivery. But, of course, I couldn't just walk right into the delivery room. No! First, I had to do what the doctor and nurse had to do – scrub up! Oh yeah, they made sure I washed thoroughly with disinfectant. Then they covered every part of me but my hands and my eyes and my nose – and they put a mask over my mouth, a thoroughly ugly cap on my head and this goofy smock over my clothes. My only consolation was the doctor looked as geeky as I did. They gave me paper booties (That was cool! I still wear those.) to wear over my shoes, but I understood. They can't allow any dirt to infect that environment. You've to be clean to get in.
About every five years or so, I run into my scrapbook while I'm going through this closet. Oh, yeah, there's the geeky-looking, eighth-grader there, holding his county spelling bee trophy. Yea! And there's the chubby little Ronnie in his Indian outfit on a vacation in Minnesota. Yeah. And, the picture of our championship Bible Quiz Team. Now it's also a lot of fun when we pull out the old photos of our family. Decades of Christmas eves, scenes from scores and scores of vacation adventures, sons in football uniforms, a daughter all dressed up for her first recital. Ah, the memories. Now it isn't that we haven't had some not-so-great things happen. There was the automobile accident, the painful injuries, the bouts with various sicknesses. You know what? Somehow they just didn't make it into the memory book.
It was at a point where we were crossing this long bridge across the Arkansas River. The bridge was long because the river was wide. My wife made an interesting comment about the river. She said, "Now, we've seen how it got that way." Wide, she meant. Actually, we've seen the Arkansas at its headwaters where it's a very unimpressive little stream. And as we've driven across the western United States, we've seen many creeks and streams that feed into the Arkansas, taking her from being a dinky little stream into a wide and mighty river.
I first noticed it one day when I was mowing the lawn-a little dent in the ground. Over a few weeks, that little dent became a growing sinkhole. The ground was literally collapsing. I asked a neighbor, who was an amateur "sinkholeologist" what caused this phenomenon. He told me it was the drought of rainfall that we'd been having. He said an underground spring had probably dried up. And that dried up the ground, and the roots above it-and my yard went boom.
Jessica's all grown up now. She almost didn't make it past eighteen months. You might even remember when, as a curious toddler, little Jessica fell down a deep shaft in her aunt's backyard in Midland, Texas. The shaft was far too narrow for any rescuer to go down, and she was wedged in a position that virtually immobilized her. If you remember that incident, it's because we all watched the drama unfold on television for three nerve-wracking days. By the time it was over, Jessica was like America's little girl! When the rescuers realized there was no easy way, no conventional way to save little Jessica, they devised a whole new way of getting it done: by digging a wider shaft parallel to the one she was trapped in, and then a tunnel connecting those two shafts. That's pretty ingenious! Finally, a rescuer was lowered into that second shaft. Minutes later, we smiled and we cheered as the rescuer emerged from that shaft with an armful of Jessica, holding onto him for dear life.
