Ken Pierpont's Blog, page 126

June 28, 2014

June 24, 2014

Smiling in the Storm

Christ in the Storm


In the home of my youth we had a warm tradition. Back in the 1940’s a traveling evangelist names Sykes wrote a children’s chorus. It was based on a simple couplet lifted from a hymn by John Newton. Newton was a sailor before is was converted. It’s sort of a sailing song. I don’t know where my parents first learned it but they taught it to us and it is an enduring memory.


We only sang the song when the mood was right. I don’t ever remember singing the song at church. It was a song we sang as a family when things were hard and dark storms blew into our lives. When we had received bad news or some difficulty was hanging over our heads someone would start the song. When we were feeling the weight of a set-back or difficulty we would sing the song. Sometimes when we were just wrestling with a bad mood over some irritation or hardship we would sing the song. No one would ever announce the song. After we had joined hands to pray around the table Mom or Dad would just begin to sing and everyone else would join in.


Sometimes we would sing joyfully and willingly. Sometimes we would sing choking back tears. Sometimes some of us could not sing until the second time through. By the time we had sung the little chorus a couple times we would pray… The happy little song would take the edge off our pain and point us to Christ, the Master of the Sea, who can calm the most violent storm with a simple command.


The chorus went like this:



With Christ in the vessel we can smile at the storm

Smile at the storm, Smile at the storm.

With Christ in the vessel we can smile at the storm

As we go sailing home.


Sailing, Sailing home.

Sailing, Sailing home.

With Christ in the vessel we can smile at the storm

As we go sailing home.



By the time we reached the little chorus usually the family would break into two or three parts and and end in smiling harmony.


Next time life takes a hard turn—join hands and sing that little chorus a few times. Jesus is the King and the Creator of the waves and winds of the sky and sea. If He is in your vessel, you are safe no matter how dark the night—no matter how threatening the storm. He can calm the storm or deliver you safe.


Is Christ in your vessel?


Ken Pierpont

Granville Cottage

Riverview, Michigan

June 24, 2014


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 24, 2014 18:20

Please Listen to This

John Piper


This morning my little brother Kevin pointed me to this meaningful interview with Pastor John Piper. This is worth it’s time. “The world does not need more


Here is a link to the podcast interview.


Here is the link to an article based on the interview.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 24, 2014 08:56

June 21, 2014

June 16, 2014

A Woven Wreath

An introduction:



http://kenpierpont.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Cleaning-the-Garage-in-Tears.m4a

WovenWreath


If you resolve to follow God there will be times when He will put you in a position that you have to depend on Him for what only He can do. The Christian life is humanly impossible, but the Spirit who indwells us is willing to empower us for what we need. At times like that we cry out to him. Today’s story is about such a desperate time for us.


————————————


Can you imagine how much money you could make if only you could invent a self-cleaning garage? I’ve been a pastor for 35 years and there is never a thing out of place in my study—but the garage—that is another story. I don’t know why it’s such a problem. I clean it every five years or so, but when I’m not looking I think everyone else in the family just opens the door and throws things in there. It’s embarrassing.


Lois and I were out there pilfering through things the other day and she picked up a braided wreath, made of cloth.


“Keep or toss?” I asked. I’m the self-proclaimed storyteller in the family, but the cloth wreath drew a story out of her.


I’m not telling how old our oldest daughter Holly is but she hasn’t been 10 for 20 years. At that time we lived in a nice split-level on a country road just off State Route 3—a beautiful stretch of road connecting Mt. Vernon, Ohio to Loudenville. Holly had a very troubling problem, but she was quiet and embarrassed and oppressed and didn’t want to tell us about it. We had no idea, until one night should couldn’t take it any longer and it all tumbled out of her little heart. She had been battling for months with depression. What she described had to be a mix of growing-up hormones and spiritual oppression. When she finally confided in us we were devastated and searched our hearts and examined our lives and confessed our sin.


Lois was just broken to see our little girl suffer so. One night we lay in bed and prayed and Lois began to cry out to the Lord opening her heart to Him like I had never heard. I lay next to her stricken with silence knowing that God would hear such desperate prayers. God heard our prayers and eventually delivered Holly from the dark oppression that robbed her of her joy and confidence. Her sadness is a distant memory.


Standing out in the garage Lois said, “Back when Holly was depressed I decided to do a project together to lighten her spirit. Whenever I see that wreath, I remember that time.”


Lois and I stood there in the garage silently looking at the wreath and remembering that painful, frightening episode—our tears and prayers. I gently set the wreath aside. We would keep it—a reminder of our faithful God who turned a little girl wrestling with dark doubts into a radiant, joyful young woman.


When we were Directing the Character Inn in Flint, Holly managed the front desk. Once some students, who were taking tests, called down to complain because Holly’s laugher was carrying up to the second floor from the lobby and disturbing their concentration. I could never bring myself to discourage her her joyful spirit. To my heart her laugher is like music.


Our faithful God has given Holly a garment of praise for a spirit of heaviness. He has anointed her with the oil of joy for mourning. Praise be unto God—Joy is the fruit of the Spirit.


May he fill your heart and home with His joy.


Ken Pierpont

Granville Cottage

Riverview, Michigan

June 16, 2014


Isaiah 61—


“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,

Because the Lord has anointed Me

To preach good tidings to the poor;

He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,

To proclaim liberty to the captives,

And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,

And the day of vengeance of our God;

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

And they shall rebuild the old ruins,

They shall raise up the former desolations,

And they shall repair the ruined cities,

The desolations of many generations.

Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks,

And the sons of the foreigner

Shall be your plowmen and your vinedressers.

But you shall be named the priests of the Lord,

They shall call you the servants of our God.

You shall eat the riches of the Gentiles,

And in their glory you shall boast.

Instead of your shame you shall have double honor,

And instead of confusion they shall rejoice in their portion.

Therefore in their land they shall possess double;

Everlasting joy shall be theirs.

“For I, the Lord, love justice;

I hate robbery for burnt offering;

I will direct their work in truth,

And will make with them an everlasting covenant.

Their descendants shall be known among the Gentiles,

And their offspring among the people.

All who see them shall acknowledge them,

That they are the posterity whom the Lord has blessed.”

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,

My soul shall be joyful in my God
;

For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation,

He has covered me with the robe of righteousness,

As a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments,

And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its bud,

As the garden causes the things that are sown in it to spring forth,

So the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 16, 2014 12:56

June 14, 2014

June 12, 2014

Christmas Day Baptism

Carter Road Baptist Church (crop)


I turned eight on November 3, 1966. For a few years before that I had a strong desire to obey the Lord in baptism. My first opportunity after my eighth birthday was when Dad was a guest preacher at Highway-Biway Baptist Church near Midland, Michigan. The church is pictured here and now goes by the name Carter Road Baptist Church. It was Christmas Day in 1966. It was in the evening service. In the morning service Dad discovered there were a significant number who needed to be baptized. They filled the baptistry that afternoon with ice-cold spring-water. That night the water was extremely cold.


As long as I can remember I have had a powerful inner desire to know and the follow God. I have often failed Him, but He has never failed me or disappointed me. By the grace of God I will follow him every day of my life until I die and then live with him forever in the New Heaven and the New Earth.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 12, 2014 13:33

June 11, 2014

The Return of Civilization

294529_10150341636851458_526581457_9801919_3340377_n (1)


Saturday morning I preached the funeral of a long-time member of our church. I usually ride to the cemetery in the coach so I can spend time talking to the funeral director. This time I drove because the cemetery was just south of the church and I would be returning there for the family dinner after the graveside service.


I’m always saddened when driving in a funeral procession in our area. The civil gesture of pulling over to the curb to allow the procession to pass is a thing of the past here and I miss it. It saddens my heart. Along with other civilities–it a part of an America that is no more. There may still be some rural places where it happens but not in our part of modern suburbia. We live in a hurry here.


We were in three lanes of traffic driving toward the cemetery with funeral flags up and lights on and cars in the opposing lane did not stop or slow. On both sides of our procession, cars shot around us and even sometimes cut in as if we were a nuisance and a bother.


The man who died was named Allen. Our nation for years has rested on the shoulders of men like Allen. He was a part of post-WWII America and worked and planned and built and payed taxes. He was faithful and loyal to his wife. He was kind and selfless with his children. But the people in the cars were on errands so important that they could not slow down long enough to show a simple gesture of courtesy to his family and friends.


A few years ago we were driving in a funeral procession and I was inwardly grieved by the rudeness of the drivers, sad that the era was of common civility was passing in my lifetime.


The woman we were burying was named Lisa. She was loved by many She was a generous, sincere, hard-working Christian lady who kept her family together with the glue of love. She had died suddenly and unexpectedly and she was only in her early fifties. It was a sad procession to the grave that day.


The procession was approaching a busy corner when I noticed something unusual. People were coming and going–many of them not looking up to see us pass. But standing in front of a walk-up ice cream store on the corner was an older man. He looked over and saw the hearse and the procession coming. He turned toward us, removed his hat and held it there over his heart until all of us had passed.


There on that busy corner in the city of Detroit, was one man who would not let civilization die. —And hope sprang up in my heart—hope that as long as I am determined to be civil and kind and thoughtful–civilization does not have to die. Not in my heart. Not in my family. Not in my church. Not in my town.


It’s Christian to take time to pause to acknowledge the humanity and dignity of the fellow occupants of our planet.


Ken Pierpont

Granville Cottage

Riverview, Michigan

June 11, 2014


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 11, 2014 05:08

June 7, 2014

June 4, 2014

Taking A Walk

Kokosing River


For a few years we lived in a wonderful old farmhouse on a dead-end road within walking distance of the Kokosing River. It was a beautiful place to live. This is a classic re-post of an incident that will always live in my heart.


When a Dad and a boy and a dog take a walk in the country, if the Dad walks a mile the boy walks two and the dog five. That was the way of things one autumn afternoon on the banks of the Kokosing. Kyle climbed on rocks. Ginger chased her fancy up the hills and ran ahead scouting for us. Then she would circle back and trot panting at our side for a while before shooting off again. I walked with a stick, ambling slowly along enjoying the sound of water over rocks and the scent of autumn that hung in the air. The leaves were falling steadily into the water and along the bank. A couple hard frosts had brought on the color and killed off the flies and mosquitoes.


A wall of rock ran up on our left. We walked northeast along the river on our right following a fisherman’s path. At one point Kyle left the dirt path and climbed up onto some rocks. They were covered with leaves and drying vegetation. I was a few paces ahead when I heard him cry out. It was not a little call for help but a terrified scream. He had fallen into the hole obscured by brush. I looked back and I could see him clinging to the rock and trying to keep from falling further into the hole. Later he told me that one of the reasons he was so frightened is that just before the ground gave way beneath his feet, he saw a snake slide into the hole.


When I looked back I could see that he had fallen down between two rocks into a hole about five feet deep. He had no way of knowing that his feet dangled only eight or ten inches from the ground. The frightened snake was no threat and he was in no real danger. All this was immediately evident to me, but his cry was so desperate, so pitiful. I ran to him, bounded up on the rock and pulled him from the hole. The fear on his face and the desperation in his voice stirred my soul even though I could see he was in no real danger. I was only rescuing him from his own panic. He clung to me for a moment with a hammering in his little chest.


We both enjoyed a good laugh when I showed him that he was never really in any danger. We walked home. He walked a little closer to me on the way back. The sun was well on it’s way down the sky, and we decided it would be a good time to see what Mom was planning for supper.


I don’t know about you, but I’ve had the bottom fall out on me a couple of times. It throws a scare into you. But the Word promises that the Lord will spring to the aid of his children when they cry out to him in desperation. He knows exactly how much danger we are in. He knows the fear that torments our hearts, and He knows the end from the beginning. So when the bottom falls out and we are plunged into fear, the right thing to do is cry out to out father. Sometime He will deliver us from danger. Sometimes he will deliver us from our own panic, and then we walk a little closer to Him on the way home.


“I sought the Lord and He heard me and delivered me from all my fears.” (Psalm 34:4)


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 04, 2014 04:00