Some missionaries work in foreign countries.

My friend Jack works as a missionary in (mostly) foreign cars—Chicago cabs (where the Toyota Prius is king). 

Crazy guy, Jack.  He'll talk to any taxi driver, any time about Jesus. But his latest ride in downtown Chicago is a conversation I just had to pass along.  Here's how Jack told the story to me:

“Clearly, my driver was not born in the U.S., so after the usual greeting stuff, I asked him straight up, 'What is your country of birth?'  He says, with a playful smile, 'Can you guess?'

“Well, I've traveled a couple of times to West Africa,” Jack muses, “so I just guessed Ghana.  Looking into the rear view mirror, I could see a big ol' smile on the driver's face (name is James, by the way).”

The ride would be less than two miles, so Jack wasted little time moving into missionary mode. He continued:

“'Tell me, are you going to heaven?' I asked James boldly and with a smile.  A smile is a wonderful outreach tool, Jack adds parenthetically.   “The driver tells me, 'Well, I try to do good things, so I hope so.'”

Jack can be blunt—and I suppose when you have just a few seconds to get to the point, you better get to the point.   Jack told James:

“'I have bad news and good news.  The bad news is that you can't be good enough.  The good news is that the goodness of Jesus in dying on the cross for you and me—IS good enough.'  This, of course, sparked a whole conversation, and I quoted verses like Ephesians 2:8.9, reminding him that we are not saved by works, but by faith in Christ Jesus.”

“The ride went by fast, but when he pulled over to the curb, I asked the guy, 'James, is there any reason why you would not want to receive the gift of eternal life right now?'  He told me no, so I asked if I could pray with him in the cab.”

“Right there, he prayed with me to receive Christ.  What a great way to start your day,” concluded Jack.

What a great day, indeed!

The April edition of the American Legion Magazine featured an eye-popping article with regard to ISIS here in America.  According to the Foreign Policy Institute, the source of this article, in 2015…

• 56 Americans were arrested for their connection to ISIS.

• As of 2016, more than 20 American ISIS recruits have been killed in action.

• 71 Americans have been arrested, indicted, or convicted for joining or supporting ISIS.

• 250 Americans have attempted to travel to the Middle East to join ISIS.

• There are at least 900 active FBI investigations against stateside terrorists.  Most are linked to ISIS.

While on the one hand, it's encouraging to know that Homeland Security, the FBI and CIA are on the job, on the other hand, it's disturbing to ponder just how many Americans are lining up to join ISIS. 

These Americans have to know...

• Number one, they are not linking up with a mere political entity or philosophy.  They are signing up for a lifestyle that will engage them in torture, mutilation, murder, decapitation and worse.
• Number two, they are aligning themselves with a group viciously opposed to freedom of speech, freedom of religion, the right to assemble—and most every other right Americans hold dear. 

In other words, ISIS is committed to the destruction of America—and any nation like it.   Strict adherence to Islam—by whatever name it goes by—usually has the same objective.

Young Muslim children taught to recite the entire Quran are usually indoctrinated to believe that anyone who does not believe in Allah is an infidel.  Infidels, according to the Quran must usually be subjugated or killed.

But please (please!) note.  We are not at war with our Islamic friends and neighbors.  Our fight—a spiritual one, reminds Ephesians 6—is against the deception of a dark  system of belief.   

Got your armor on?

There is much to like about spending a night at the 1874 mansion known today as Pinehill Inn (http://www.pinehillbb.com/).  Upstairs in the Somerset suite, a full canopy bed, period furniture and a (non-period) Bose Wave radio wafting classical music all bid you welcome. 

The fireplace mantle is bedecked with lovely books, including several volumes by the room's namesake, author Somerset Maugham. I inhaled a 110 year old volume from the fireplace collection, then found myself absorbed in—of all things—a 1948 edition of The Handbook for Boys, published by the Boy Scouts of America.

Let me quote a few paragraphs:

A Scout is reverent.  He is reverent toward God....The Scout shows true reverence in two principal ways.  First, you pray to God, you love God, and you serve Him.  Secondly, in your everyday actions, you help other people because they are made by God to God's own likeness.   You and all men are important in the sight of God because God made you.  The “unalienable rights” in our historic Declaration of Independence come from God.

On Mount Sinai, God gave to Moses the Ten Commandments.  He laid down certain definite Laws for all....Keeping these commandments is an important step towards being morally straight.

A morally straight Scout knows how to love and serve God in the way He wants him to.  We are created by God and we owe certain duties to this Heavenly Father of all of us.   You learn to perform these duties in your home and in your church or synagogue. 

Remember, this is the Boy Scouts handbook—not a church publication.  Clearly, this 1948 edition is a time capsule of the America that used to be.   Anybody still wondering just how far we've slid?

If you live beyond the reach of a Portillo's restaurant, I pity you.  Not just for your lack of access to their unequaled Italian beef sandwiches, but also for your dwarfed understanding of what a chocolate cake really can be.

I accept (even anticipate) your skepticism.  But be assured my chocolate cake claim is far from exaggerated.  Just check the buzz online.

So there we were, at our local Portillo's, sharing pieces of this fabulous fabled cake with our daughter and son-in-law and their three children.  Their eldest had just received her three-year Sparky Awana award and we were celebrating--big time.

Two year old Lucy wolfed down her half, worked on my wife's, then dug into mine.  As the wonderful wedge dwindled, there was one bite left.  The arc of my arm swooshed past Lucy's shoulder (she was nestled on my lap not so much out of affection as for better access to the cake: sitting higher = reaching farther).  Just before my fork plunged in, her little index finger wagged twice over the remaining cake as she mumbled (whilst chewing a large mouthful) “that's my bite.”

We learned long ago when Lucy declares a thing, it is so.  Do not question.  Do not doubt.  So I speared the last of the lusciousness, poked it in her mouth and smiled at the boldness of her claim. You might say—she took the cake.

As in love with that cake as Lucy appeared to be, your heavenly Father is even crazier about you.  When he thinks about you, He smiles.  When God looks at you, ponders you, says your name--He does so with an intensity far greater than Lucy's and declares, “That's MY daughter....that's MY son!  You are mine. Mine!”  

And when God declares a thing, it is so.  Do not question.  Do not doubt.   Just savor the sweetness of His love.

God says, "I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with loving kindness.”  

--Jeremiah 31:3

Of course you've heard about Auschwitz.  The complex was the largest of its kind established by the Nazi regime, which included three main camps. There, 1.1 million people were murdered.  But it's rare to meet a survivor.   Raise a salute to one Fritzie Fritzshall.

Just 13 years old when she arrived at Auschwitz - Birkenau, her train car was so overcrowded, half its occupants were dead on arrival—including her own grandfather.  

“A Jewish man in a striped uniform was forced to clear out the train car as quickly as possible,” Fritzie remembers.  “He asked me how old I was and when I told him I was 13, he told me, 'You will tell them you are 15.'”   His kind advice saved her life, as Fritzie was separated from her two younger brothers who had survived the train ride, but were later killed.

“They immediately shaved off our hair,” Fritzie told me. “When you are 13, your hair is very important to you.  I remember standing there, tears rolling down my face, bits of hair stuck to my cheeks as I stroked my head.” 

Not knowing her mother's fate, Fritzie inquired when she would be able to see her again.  Authorities merely pointed to the column of white smoke belching from the furnace chimneys. 

Yet even in this ocean of cruelty, she found an island of kindness in a gaunt stranger so emaciated Fritzie failed to recognize her as her own aunt.  “At night, she would stroke my face and say, 'Well, we made it through this day.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.  Let's get through one more day.”

It was encouragement Fritzie seized like a life preserver.  Indeed, she credits her survival to her aunt's positive outlook, though her aunt was eventually killed by the Nazis.

More than seven decades later, Fritzie has nightmares.  With the rise of ISIS and its extreme hate for Jews and Christians, in concert with a global slide toward anti-Semitism, I shudder to think those nightmares could be as much about the future as they are the past. 

“Woe to those who scheme iniquity....”  (Micah 2:1)