Hungry. And Thirsty

June 26, 2025June 26, 2025 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

I woke up hungry and thirsty early this morning. That’s unusual for me.

Yes. The early part is unusual, as many of my readers already know. I don’t do mornings well. But the alarm clock in my head (which is about 10 minutes faster than the one in my smartphone) went off about 6:20.

Something else was not normal about the first statement above, as well.

After I showered and shaved, I told the Lovely Lady that I had been dreaming of bacon and eggs right before waking up. And I never eat breakfast; not the conventional breakfast menu, anyway.

Why would I dream of breakfast? Or, be thirsty when I awoke?

Perhaps it has something to do with the reason my alarm was set for 6:30 this morning. The nice lady who called me yesterday from the hospital told me I had to arrive there by 7:30. My appointment for a diagnostic procedure was set for an hour later, but they needed me there early to prepare.

I thought I had been preparing.

I have dreaded the day before this since I found out the event was scheduled. The day before meant no food. All day. Nothing but clear liquids. And, other unsavory preparations I won’t describe here.

Then the nice lady informed me that after midnight, nothing at all was to go into my mouth. Nothing means nothing.

I know. I asked her. No food, no drink, period.

I was hungry and thirsty as I neared the end of my preparation period.

Ravenous, even.

Did I say my internal alarm clock roused me early? I’m thinking that, more likely, it was the beep of the message app on my phone—the arrival of the daily verse, which a friend in Texas shares. He sends it before 6:30.

I read it about 9:00 on every other day. Not today.

I laughed when I saw the words at the break of day this morning.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)

What a perfect thought for the day I was headed into! I had time to consider it as I lay on the gurney, awaiting my visit with the surgeon and his team. The nurses and anesthetist teased as I whined plaintively. Cokes and hamburgers, they suggested, were waiting for me at the end of my ordeal.

Do you know what it’s like to be hungry and thirsty? I mean, really hungry and thirsty?

Not just one day without food and then a night without water, but starving and parched. Absolutely parched.

The psalmist knew what it felt like. I won’t print the whole thing here, but his thoughts are found in Psalm 42. You might recall the most familiar words with which he begins: “As the deer pants for the water, Lord, so my soul pants for you…” (Click the reference when you have time to really think about it. The entire psalm is the prayer of one who knows extreme starvation and thirst, but wants nothing more than to eat and drink without end at God’s table again.)

We don’t want that, though.

Like me and my physical appetite, we’re satisfied with the imitations nearby. Hamburgers and pop, when the table is overflowing with delicious and life-giving food, prepared by loving hands.

Money and power, selfishness and depravity, when our Creator made us to walk with Him in righteousness.

We will never be satisfied with the placebos of the world. Pale parodies of the eternal wealth He offers, they can never begin to approach it.

And yet, we who claim to be His followers chase the world. Still.

He says to come and eat food that satisfies. To come and drink of living water from a source that will never run dry.

I don’t need bacon and eggs. Or hamburgers and cola.

There is more.

More.

It was always there.

Who’s ready to eat?

“First we eat, then we do everything else.” (M.F.K. Fisher, American food writer)

“I thirst for God, the living God.
    When can I go and stand before him?
Day and night I have only tears for food,
    while my enemies continually taunt me, saying,
    “Where is this God of yours?”
(Psalm 42:2-3, NLT)

I Have Ears

June 22, 2025 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

I heard him say it. I just wasn’t listening. Well, I was listening, but I wasn’t hearing.

Wait! That’s not right, is it? How would I hear, but not be listening, and at the same time have the inverse of that be true?

Maybe I could simply tell you what occurred and let you decide. If you’re listening, that is.

My friends and I had talked about many things that day. I really don’t remember what we were discussing at the moment the statement was made. It doesn’t matter. Not really.

“This is the reason I don’t go to Bible studies anymore.”

Not one of us caught it. It was probably because a couple of other voices said words simultaneously.

We said goodbye soon thereafter. Nobody said a word about what he had blurted out.

I was in the car driving home when the words came back to me, and I caught myself thinking, “I wonder what he meant by that?”

I played back the words a hundred times in my head over the next week. I wondered if I had reverted to my old argumentative ways and was the reason for his unhappiness.

When I saw him again, I asked him. And, I listened to his answer. I did.

I think we may say things a little differently from now on. We don’t ever want that sentiment to grow from the scope of bygone Bible studies to include get-togethers with friends. I don’t think it would with this friend, but why would we take the chance?

Friends listen to each other. And sometimes, they change how they interact with each other.

He’s not mad at anyone. We didn’t do irreparable harm.

This time.

Again and again, the Teacher ended His little life-lessons with the words, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” (Matthew 11:15, Mark 4:9, 23)

I have ears. Arguably, they don’t function as well as they once did, but I have ears to hear.

And yet, I miss the message. Again and again, I miss it.

In recent years, we’ve begun to use the phrase “tone deaf”, meaning that someone is insensitive to the undercurrents in a conversation. Hearing the words, but not understanding what is actually being said.

Guilty.

I am. Tone deaf.

Again and again.

I want to hear the people in my life. It may be that relationships depend on it. Perhaps, even someone’s life.

I want to hear the voice of the Teacher, too. Even more depends upon that.

I’m listening. Again.

Maybe we could all do that.

All ears.

Hearing.

“Maybe I was absent, or was listening too fast.
Catching all the words, but then the meaning going past.”
(from Aubrey, by David Gates & Bread)

So he said to Samuel, “Go and lie down again, and if someone calls again, say, ‘Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went back to bed.
(1 Samuel 3:9, NLT)

His Real Father

June 15, 2025 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

I’ve heard it said in church and Bible studies more times than I can count. There was even a hit Christmas song written about it a few years ago.

Joseph wasn’t the father of Jesus.

I’m not going to argue theology with anyone. Not that it would do any good.

But I’m going to say it anyway. He was.

I’ve read the chapters and verses. I know Jesus was the son of God. But Joseph was His father. Here on earth, he was His father. You don’t pay the price that man paid to marry a young lady, knowing there was a baby in the deal, and not understand that you would raise the boy as your son.

The folks around him never knew the man as anything but the father of Jesus. Not a stepfather. Not an adoptive father. There wasn’t any question in their minds.

“Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” (Matthew 13:55)

He gave the boy His name. He fed Him. I’m fairly sure he taught the young man his trade, even though the boy would never become known as a carpenter himself. Along with His brothers and sisters, Joseph raised the child who would become our Savior.

Wait. This isn’t about Christmas, is it? How mixed up is the guy who writes these things anyway?

Funny. I was reading another writer’s piece today, and while writing about King David, he mentioned the lineage of the Messiah, all the way from David to Joseph.

And, I said (to myself) the words I mentioned above. Joseph wasn’t His father!

But it’s nearly Father’s Day in our country. And, I know something about being a father.

I’m not saying I’m an expert. Even at my advanced age, I’m still learning what it takes to be a father to my children. I’m not talking about that.

I am learning new things as I watch my offspring raise their own children. I’m even becoming aware that I wasn’t the perfect father to my kids. I’m sure that’s not news to you. And certainly not to them!

But, more to the point, the change in perspective has made me aware of something that most of you probably already know: you can be a father—a good father—a real father—to a child who is not your biological offspring.

Certainly, I’ve noticed it before. I know a number of young men who, with their spouses, have adopted children. I know a larger number who have taken on the responsibility of being what we so cavalierly call a step-father to the children of their wife. But, my eyes have been opened in a much more personal way in the past year

Adoptive father. Step-father. As if the task doesn’t require the skill of a father, the perseverance of a father, the love of a father.

A man who willingly takes on the mantle of caring teacher, able provider, and loving role model to a child, without looking back, is a father. Period.

Without modifiers.

A father.

If you, like I, are a follower of Joseph’s Son, who Himself was, without question, also the Son of God, you already know what it’s like to have such a Father.

“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” (Ephesians 1:5, NLT)

Father. To the incredible Family being gathered into His arms.

We worship Him and love Him. Not as interlopers and imposters, but as His daughters and sons.

Somehow then, I think it’s appropriate for us to give honor and love to the fathers He’s given us here, while we continue on our long journey toward the real home being prepared for us.

Mine has already gone to that home, so I honor him by honoring all the fathers who chance to read these words today.

Keep up the good work, Dad! You’re doing just fine!

“It’s not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.” (Friedrich Schiller)

^“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, ‘Abba, Father.’” (Romans 8:15, NLT)

It’s Just Stuff. Really. Stuff.

June 11, 2025June 11, 2025 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

“He thinks less than he talks, and slower; yet he can see through a brick wall in time (as they say in Bree).” *

Mr. Tolkien didn’t know me; really, he didn’t. But he described me fairly accurately in the quote above.

I do talk more than I think. Sometimes.

And, fortunately, I can see through the brick wall in front of me. Eventually.

I’ve been in a funk recently. I should mention that I looked up the phrase “in a funk” online to be sure it was still in common enough use for most of my readers to know what it means. The obliging AI response suggests I’ll not have to explain it to very many of you.

I also wondered if I should use the term “woebegone” to describe my state of mind. But then, I’d need to explain the word’s origin from Old English. I might even have to use the definition that Garrison Keillor (a well-known storyteller and humorist) frequently gave for the fictional community he told about. He said the name Lake Wobegon was the native American word for “the place where we waited all day for you in the rain.”

But I’m not sure the description of my state is all that important. I just needed to know why I was in that state, be it in a funk or woebegone, or both of them at once.

Finally, the light has begun to dawn. It took a while, but after a few weeks of wandering in the fog, I think I finally understand why I’ve been unhappy.

The Lovely Lady who lives at my house helped me along the way the other day when she expressed amazement that I’m keeping up with my schedule pretty well. I usually get overwhelmed when there are too many events in a week for me to remember (usually, more than three will do it for me).

What she didn’t realize is that it’s been busy enough lately that this old man has actually learned how to use the calendar app on my smartphone for something other than keeping track of the birthdays of people I love.

As she talked about my schedule, and I thumbed through the past couple of weeks of events, I think I noticed that brick wall becoming a little translucent. I could almost—but not quite—see through it.

The things in my calendar are almost exclusively about possessions—things over which I claim ownership. Some of them are about money and insurance for the things I think I own.

And, with that thought, the bricks become completely transparent.

Why did Jesus say that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven? (Matthew 19:24)

Why is it so hard for me to give up my claim to the stuff of earth? The rich man in the reference above was scrupulous and unswerving in his obedience to God. With the rules and legal requirements, he was.

He just couldn’t turn loose of the things he held.

The storms of a few weeks ago have damaged our house, as well as our vehicles. The unexpected mechanical failure of both vehicles right before has already required a fair outlay of money to remedy. And now, dealing with contractors, insurance adjusters, and repair shops causes stress—a lot of it.

It’s not that the resources haven’t been provided. They have. But somehow, I’ve taken ownership of those resources. And, I don’t want to let go of any of them.

And God said to Moses, “What’s that in your hand?” And when Moses answered that it was a tool of his trade, his staff, God said, “Well, throw it on the ground.” (Exodus 4:2)

I sympathize with Moses. I hear the voice in his head arguing (the same voice is in mine).

“This is all I have for my livelihood. I was counting on this to keep me alive. Why would you want me to let go of it?”

Easy, isn’t it?

Just open your fingers.

Let go.

It was never mine. Never.

Freedom isn’t only about not being under the thumb of someone else. Chains are too often of the invisible sort, and just as likely to be of our own making.

When the stuff of this earth holds us more tightly than the bonds of His love, we are truly in captivity—carrying a burden He never meant for us to shoulder.

I’m better now.

Letting go. Again.

But, I’m realizing there will be more brick walls to see through along the road I’m walking. I could use some help with the next one. And the one after that.

I hope you’ll be willing to help. But could you, maybe, not talk as much as I do?

And, think a little faster?

“One who cannot cast aside a treasure at need is in fetters.”
(Aragorn in The Two Towers, by J.R.R. Tolkien)

“Take my silver and my gold;
Not a mite would I withhold.”
(from the hymn, Take My Life and Let It Be, by Frances Ridley Havergal)

*from The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Sleep In Peace

June 1, 2025June 1, 2025 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

It’s unexpected. That the plight (already resolved) of a wild baby animal should hold my thoughts captive for two days was not something I would have thought possible.

But, there it is.

Friday, being sunny, was mowing day. The rainy weather of the last couple of weeks here in northwest Arkansas made it inescapable for me. So, I did what had to be done.

The storms have dropped myriad small branches from the oaks and maples that dot the property, so that was the first item of business. Pick up the limbs. The Lovely Lady assisted me, wandering over the half-acre plot of weeds and grass in an undisciplined manner, bending occasionally to lift up the errant twigs and switches.

She avers that she had passed through the same area herself just minutes before I did. I’m sure she did. Camouflage is a wondrous thing.

As I leaned under the shade of the chestnut tree to snag a dead branch, I started back. A little fawn lay there, white speckles on a field of brown, its black nose nestled between tiny front hooves.

I took the flexible branch I had just picked up and tapped the beautiful tiny deer on the haunches. Eyes open, it moved its head and front leg an inch or so, but no more. It didn’t even seem to be aware of me.

Oh, no! It must be injured. Or sick. The thought took hold, and sadness grabbed my spirit.

I tried to think what to do. Perhaps a wild animal rescue organization could help. Maybe animal services for the city.

I stood for at least two or three minutes, just watching the fawn. Wait! I was missing something.

What about the mother? Surely, there was a doe around somewhere. Why would it abandon its baby?

I looked around, but saw no other wildlife. There was no doe to be seen.

Abandoned.

The poor baby must be a hopeless case, and the mama knew it.

I knew I would have to do something. I could call someone to come and help. But before I did that, I did one other thing. Just to be sure.

Taking the flexible branch I held in my hand, I reached down and tapped the poor baby solidly. Not enough to hurt it, but sufficient that it would definitely feel it.

Oh! The squeal that came from its open mouth would have awakened the dead! I jumped back.

The fawn leapt to its tiny feet clumsily, terror written in its beautiful brown eyes.

Two things happened in quick succession. The tiny thing dashed across the neighbor’s yard, running into the chain link fence on the other side. But, before it could get even that far, a smallish, light brown doe appeared in the field behind me.

Not abandoned!

Watched over.

Within seconds, the sweet fawn was reunited with its mother, trotting back into the trees that line the back of the meadow that abuts our property.

I said that my thoughts have occupied me for the two days since. I’m conflicted. Two things strike me about the event.

The first is my unhappiness at being the thing that terrified the sweet baby. That squeal fills my memory, playing again and again in my head.

It’s almost like the feeling I had the morning years ago in the music store as I showed a sweet young girl the various instruments she had learned about from listening to a recording of Peter and the Wolf.

I demonstrated the different instruments that signified well-loved creatures and people in the story. Then proudly, I told her I was a French horn player, only to see the shock and worry jump to her eyes as she digested the reality that I was the wolf.

No! I am not the wolf. I am not the villain!. I’m the good guy—the one who wants to help, who wants to fix things.

But, imagine being that little fawn and waking up with a monster standing over you, holding a stick.

You went to sleep, knowing your mom was watching over you. In safety and comfort, you lay down and, trusting the one you had always found to be trustworthy, you slept.

“In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.”
(Psalm 4:8, NLT)

And yet, there is that monster…

I’m not going to dwell on that. It’s a reality that I live with, the knowledge that I’m not the good guy.

Not yet.

Even now, He is making me in His Image spiritually, just as He did physically in the beginning.

“And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.” (2 Corinthians 3:18b, NLT)

But, that second thing my brain is considering—sleeping in peace and being watched over—that has been working, not only in my brain, but in my heart for the last couple of days.

I watched that doe materialize instantly as the fawn screamed its prayer to the sky, and there was no mistaking the meaning.

We can sleep in peace.

The monsters, even the well-meaning ones, who think they know better than our Creator, who believe we are gods ourselves, cannot harm us as we rest in Him.

Our Father watches over us. Even as he does the sparrows—and the fawns, He stands guard.

And He is faithful. Every morning, His mercies are renewed to us.

Every morning.

Strength for today.

Bright hope for tomorrow.

It’s time for sleep.

Rest.

“Have peace now… until the morning! Heed no nightly noises! For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the wind off the hill-top. Good night!”
(Goldberry in The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien)

“You can go to bed without fear;
    you will lie down and sleep soundly.
You need not be afraid of sudden disaster
    or the destruction that comes upon the wicked,
for the Lord is your security.
    He will keep your foot from being caught in a trap.”
(Proverbs 3:24-26, NLT)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Month: June 2025

Hungry. And Thirsty

I Have Ears

His Real Father

It’s Just Stuff. Really. Stuff.

Sleep In Peace