Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 4

The Coming of the Holy Spirit (aka The Tongues of Fire story)

Today,I’m writing about the time that the Holy Spirit came on the disciples by placingflames of fire on their heads, allowing them to speak in other languages. Crazy,right? But two weeks ago, I shared the Great Commission, where Jesus told Hisdisciples to go out and spread His word to all peoples in all lands. Challengingto do when you don’t speak the language.

It'sa long passage, so I took a few verses out.

(fromActs chapter 2, verses 1-12, 14, 22-24, 32-33, 36-40 in the New Century Version)

When the day of Pentecost came, they wereall together in one place. Suddenly a noise like a strong, blowing wind camefrom heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They sawsomething like flames of fire that were separated and stood over each personthere. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and they began to speakdifferent languages (or tongues) by the power the Holy Spirit was giving them.

There were some religious Jews staying inJerusalem who were from every country in the world. When they heard this noise,a crowd came together. They were all surprised, because each one heard themspeaking in his own language. They were completely amazed at this. They said,“Look! Aren’t all these people that we hear speaking from Galilee? Then how isit possible that we each hear them in our own languages? We are from differentplaces: Parthia, Media, Elam, Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia,Pamphylia, Egypt, the areas of Libya near Cyrene, Rome, Crete, and Arabia. Butwe hear them telling in our own languages about the great things God has done!”They were all amazed and confused, asking each other, “What does this mean?”

          

But Peter stood up with the elevenapostles, and in a loud voice he spoke to the crowd: “My fellow Jews, and allof you who are in Jerusalem, listen to me. Pay attention to what I have to say.

“People of Israel, listen to these words:Jesus from Nazareth was a very special man. God clearly showed this to you bythe miracles, wonders, and signs he did through Jesus. You all know this,because it happened right here among you. Jesus was given to you, and with thehelp of those who don’t know the law, you put him to death by nailing him to across. But this was God’s plan which he had made long ago; he knew all thiswould happen. God raised Jesus from the dead and set him free from the pain ofdeath, because death could not hold him.

“So Jesus is the One whom God raised fromthe dead. And we are all witnesses to this. Jesus was lifted up to heaven andis now at God’s right side. The Father has given the Holy Spirit to Jesus as hepromised. So Jesus has poured out that Spirit, and this is what you now see andhear.

“So, all the people of Israel should knowthis truly: God has made Jesus—the man you nailed to the cross—both Lord andChrist.”

When the people heard this, they feltguilty and asked Peter and the other apostles, “What shall we do?”

Peter said to them, “Change your heartsand lives and be baptized, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for theforgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Thispromise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away. It is foreveryone the Lord our God calls to himself.”

Peter warned them with many other words.He begged them, “Save yourselves from the evil of today’s people!”

Thankfully,our missionaries who go out in the world today have the opportunity to learnthe languages of the people they are teaching. Or at least have been educatedin how to learn a new language directly from native speakers. I give them allcredit; I’ve tried learning other languages, but somedays plain regular Englishis enough of a challenge.

(The picture is from a Christmas Eve candlelightservice at my church. No flames above anyone’s head; just flames from our candles.)

Be Safe Today and Everyday

Oh,boy, it's Friday the 13th. Anyone with suspicions out there? If I did, I wouldhave to believe that every day of the last two and a half years was a Fridaythe 13th and a full moon besides.

ButI have something rather unexpected to share.

First,here's another question. Do you know where asbestos comes from? Think about ita minute before you read on because I had NO idea, none whatsoever.

Hubbyand I watched an episode of Mysteries of the Abandoned last night. They starteach segment with a series of clues to the location they are at and let you tryto figure out what this mammoth abandoned structure had once been used for.

Once,they had an iron ore dock, like the one that used to be in Ashland, Wisconsin.I can't remember what country that one was in, but I was pretty excited that Iknew instantly what it was.

Mural of the Ashland Ore Dock, which was taken down around 2010.

Okay,so last night's ruins, which threw me for a loop, were located on the borderbetween South Africa and Eswatini (which I had never heard of before but whichused to be Swaziland). The Havelock Mine was initially started for mining gold,but when that didn't pan out (pun intended), they realized something even morevaluable was in the ground. A group of naturally occurring, fibrous silicateminerals, which were useful in insulation and commonly used in buildingmaterials prior to the 1980s, when we all realized it was toxic andcarcinogenic. Yikes!

So,back to that question above, did you know that asbestos is a natural substance?Or, like me, did you think it was manufactured from a bunch of other things,which, when combined, turned out to cause mesothelioma and lung cancer? And canyou imagine how sick all those workers got? They did, and there were manylawsuits, before the mine finally closed. But sadly, I read that only 66countries have banned the use of asbestos and it is still mined in some places.

I'mjust sharing this tidbit of information today. Have a good weekend, stay safe,and don't push your luck by messing with any insulation made in the seventiesor before.  

Sweet Ride of my Childhood

Last week I told you about the vehicle my parents and siblings took to California. Today, I introduce you to the sweet ride of my childhoot. 

Chapter 3 -  The Pickup Camper

In1966, Dad bought an aqua-blue Chevrolet Pickup truck with a standardtransmission, a white roof, and white stripes down the sides. The whitestripes must have been standard on all vehicles in the 1960s because every caror truck we owned during that era seemed to have them.

          When we went for trips in the newpickup, Pat and I sat in the front seat between Mom and Dad. I didn’t know ofany extended cabs or trucks with backseats. One of us kids would use the widemetal clip of the seat belt to “shave” the stick shift. We’d slowly movethe metal clip across the black ball of the shift, listening to the click,click, click sound and feeling the vibration as we traveled down the road at 40to 50 miles an hour. At such speeds, no one ever wore a seat belt orthought of it as anything but a nuisance (if you were Mom) or as an electricshaver (if you were a five-year-old).

          Along with the new truck came aHiawatha pickup camper. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Ithad a small refrigerator, stove, sink, furnace, and toilet in acloset. The dinette folded down to make a bed for Mom and Dad, and to thisday, I have no idea how they slept in such a minute space. Pat and I hadthe best sleeping arrangements; we got the bed over the cab of the truck.

          We not only slept there, we playedthere, and when traveling down the road, we lay there on our bellies watchingout the front window, a magical land of the unexplored rushing towardsus. We waved at every passing motorist and pedestrian who would look ourway. Sometimes, we wrote up signs to flash at these people, somethingbenign and amazingly original, such as “hi” or “smile.”

          It never occurred to anyone that allit would take was for Dad to slam on the brakes and our two dense heads wouldcrash through the window. Our flailing bodies would fly through the airstraight into an oncoming Buick.

          Mom and Dad were not, however, totallyunconcerned about our safety. They laid down one rule for us.

          It was the law of the land, which wewere never to break, that when the truck was moving, the door at the back ofthe camper was locked, and we were under no circumstance to get within threefeet of it. The edge of the dinette marked as far as we couldgo. After that, the closet on the left, the enclosed toilet on the right,and the door straight ahead meant certain death, for we were sure to fall outonto the pavement to be crushed by a passing semi if we went near the door whenthe truck was moving.

          Other than that, we had free reinwithin the camper. On rare occasions, we’d play cards at the table as werode down the road, but more often than not, we’d instead crawl to the bedabove the cab. To view all the wonders of our world.

A Tail of Two Pups

 

I can’t remember what year it was, but I’mgoing to guess close to ten years ago, when we were camping at Mclain StatePark in the UP one July. We pulled into the parking lot on the other end of thepark and let Dino, our wonder dog, out of the SUV. He was good about stayingnear, so I hadn’t put his leash on him yet. For some crazy reason, he trottedover to the only other vehicle in the lot and jumped in the front seat of theircar.

The owners of the car were good-naturedabout it, and after many apologies, I had Dino under my control again.

Flash forward to this past Sunday. Dinohas been gone nearly two and a half years, but he lives on.  

An Amazon car pulled into our yard todeliver a package. Hannah was in the yard and got to him before either Hubby orme. She was ready to launch herself into his vehicle. This is the dog who wasterrified of getting in any vehicle only two months ago, but apparently, Dino’sspirit connected with her.

Our Corgi, Hannah, was born just a fewdays after Dino crossed the rainbow bridge. She has his soul, and it’s obviouswhere she will live out all of her days.

The Long Trip West

 Last Wednesday, I started the Journal of our Journeys. This week, I take a look even farther back, back before I was officially part of the family. I missed out on a great trip, but at least I got to hear the stories. 

Chapter 2 - " The CaliforniaTrip"

BeforeI was born, but a few months after I was conceived, the rest of my immediatefamily took what is now known as the "Trip toCalifornia." Because I wasn't there (not really), I may never understandwhy this trip still lives on so strongly in family history. But ask any of thesurviving members, and they will get this look on their faces as if they aresavoring some delicious German chocolate.

It was the summer of 1961. My sister Pathad just turned two years old and had long honey-colored hair and bangs. Herbody was round with baby fat, making her look too short and pudgy to be able towalk. There was always an innocent smile on her face.

My brother Tom and other sister Judy wouldhave been 15 and 13, respectively. They were good kids, by most accounts,passed down over the years, but times were different then, and most kids wereclassified as "good." Especially if compared to today'sadolescents.

Mom, in her mid-30s, was still thin. I'veanalyzed trip pictures and sure couldn't tell she was pregnant. As was thefashion for women of the day, she usually wore dresses, often even whilecamping. Her hair was permed and all brown, with no gray showing through.She wore cat-eye glasses, which were only slightly less fashionable thanJudy's.

Dad had jet-black hair and was heavierthan in later years. But he was never overweight, just muscular, solid. Thoughquiet and unassuming, he still carried a debonair air about him, which none ofhis kids inherited. When you could get him to smile, or he had a good cribbagehand, only one side of his mouth lifted mischievously.

The vehicle they drove on this trip hadbeen a mystery to me for many years. The family referred to it with greataffection - The Greenbrier. I always, for some bizarre reason, pictured that ithad to be green, and could never figure out why, when looking at home movies, Inever saw them drive anything green.

Then, one day, when looking more closelyat one of these 8mm movies, I noticed the maroon and white van, which resembleda VW bus, had an emblem on its side, which appeared to be the word"Greenbrier.” I was amazed as well as humbled.

Why did I think the green in the titlecame from its color? Greenbrier was only the name of the model made byChevrolet. This maroon vehicle with a white stripe took center stage in a greatmany home movies of the time, so it only made sense that it was the Greenbrierof California trip fame.

Chevrolet introduced the GreenbrierSportswagon in 1961, and Mom and Dad must have gone right out and bought one. Itwas modeled after the VW bus, which began production in 1950 and was verypopular. Surprisingly, in road tests, the Chevrolet wagon proved to have morepower than the Volkswagen, but like the German vehicle, it had its engine inthe rear. Production of the Greenbrier was discontinued in December 1964, partway into the 1965 model. In all, a total of 57,986 had been produced, and therestill are a few on the road.

But I do have to admit, the new VW bus,known as the Buzz, is absolutely adorable. Unfortunately, it is only availablein an electric model (I won't get into my thoughts on that here, though). (Oh,and it is also way out of my price range.)

Dad, being ever inventive, built beds inthe Greenbrier for sleeping. Thus, Mom and Pat slept in the Greenbrier, whileDad, Tom, and Judy slumbered in the tent.

The tent could be a whole story in itself.It was certainly not today's nylon dome model. Instead, it was an"umbrella tent" named such because of a pole that stood in themiddle, rods thrusting out of it supporting the ceiling. It was an old canvascreature of military issue, drab olive green, heavy, and smelly. And when itwas wet – it was even smellier.

I remember the tent well because, afterits important role in the California trip, it resided for years, wrapped inrope, taking up a lot of room in the space above our garage. Occasionally, itwould still go camping, but more commonly, Dad pitched it in the backyard as afort for Pat and me. Unfortunately, Mom was scared to let us sleep in itbecause bears occasionally wandered through our yard.

The sleeping bags they used were just asweighty, malodourous, and the same olive green. Dad must have gotten a deal oncamping equipment at the Army surplus store.

Other than that, I don't know what theytook with them, what route they drove, or how long they were gone. They covereda lot of ground, traveling through Iowa, Nebraska, Utah, Oregon. They alsodrove through the mountains and through a giant sequoia in Yosemite, literally. Theyate their meals outside and brushed their teeth outside. They frolicked in thePacific Ocean.

They took other trips, as family moviesand black and white snapshots will attest. Among the places they visited wereSt. Augustine in Florida, Monticello in Virginia and Lake of the Clouds inMichigan’s Upper Peninsula.

It certainly was a simpler time, a timewhen a family was Mom, Dad, and the kids. And they spent time together. Notthis quality time versus quantity time debate of today's harried family. Justtime. And that was all they had.

(The picture is of Tom with the Greenbrier in our yard, taken, I think, shortly before this trip. Click this link if you want to fall in love with this vechicle. )

Acting on it

 

WhenI started my December blog series, I thought I would go through the Bible for afull year of posts. I thought I should share the actual stories instead ofalways just the verses that inspire me and, I hope, inspire you.

Herewe are on the first of June and I honestly don’t know where that idea went to.Okay, so I will plow forward at this point and see how it goes.

The Great Commission

Then the eleven disciples left forGalilee, going to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they sawhim, they worshiped him—but some of them doubted!

Jesus came and told his disciples, “I havebeen given all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and makedisciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and theSon and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands Ihave given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end ofthe age.” (Matthew 28:16-20, New Living Translation)

Thelast words of Jesus in the book of Matthew are like something you would hear atthe end of an action movie, where the hero says goodbye to his fans, but heneeds to leave it open for the sequel. The Book of Acts would be the firstsequel to the story of Jesus.

The first book I wrote was abouteverything Jesus began to do and teach until the day he was taken up intoheaven. Before this, with the help of the Holy Spirit, Jesus told the apostleshe had chosen what they should do. (Acts 1:1-2, New Century Version)

Andso, the next act in the life of the disciples begins. Appropriately titled theBook of Acts, it was written by Luke, the physician who wrote the gospel, whichbears his name.

InActs, we read about the travels of the disciples as they spread the gospel ofJesus Christ. We learn about new apostles, the most famous being Paul. We hearof several of them being martyred for their faith.

I’dlove to share all of those stories and more, but we’ll see how much time Ihave. In the meantime, however, you could start reading those stories on yourown. I hope you do.

(The picture above is from my second trip toKenya in 2013, taken on a rutted road near the village of Saikeri. It remindsme of the desolate roads the first disciples traveled, except this one has muchmore greenery.)

This Beautiful Time of Year

 

It is that time of year, beautiful in the woods with leaves and flowers popping out in the warmer weather. But something else is popping out. 

I was much tougher when I was a kid than Iam now. Back in the day, after we yanked a stuck wood tick off of our leg, we'dtwist the little bugger's body into two with our bare fingernails.

Or if we were in the house, we might flushit down the toilet if Dad wasn't around. He'd yell at us for wasting water.

If Dad was around, he would light a matchand burn the scallywag. I can't remember, though, what he burned it on. Theground? His pant leg? His finger? Any of those locations would explain a lot.

But here we are in 2025, and I'm an adultmaking adult choices. But, man, those wood ticks are still wicked this time ofyear. And killing one can still be highly satisfying.

A few weeks ago, I was ironing a piece offabric I had bought at Joann Fabrics, coz you know they are going out ofbusiness, so I had to buy lots of cloth I didn't need.

I saw a dark speck on the end of theironing board. What is that? I asked myself.

Ohhh,nooo, a wood tick. How did it get on my ironing board? Who knows, it's just thecurse of living in the woods and having a dog in the house again.

But there I stood with the ultimatekilling machine in my hand—a hot iron.

           Ilowered my weapon to the villain until it was a millimeter over its nasty head.The steam kicked in, and the tick's legs curled under it.

Total and complete satisfaction on mypart. But I still flushed the tiny carcass down the toilet.

(I didn't take a picture of my back yard just for this post, because I have so many pictures of my back yard. Or not. The one above is from 2014 and is the only spring-time one I could find.) 

Journal of Our Journeys

 Years ago, I wrote about the family camping trips I went on as a kid. I posted them to my blog, along with scanned, often black and white pictures from those travels. Recently, I dragged out those stories and decided to edit them and slap them into a book. It won't be a book I will promote to the masses or to critical strangers, but a book to share with my family and interested close friends. Or with the innocent followers of my blog. 

Over the next twenty Wednesdays, I'll share a chapter a week from the Journal of Our Journeys. And maybe someday, it will be available as a paperback for you to hold in your hands. 

Chapter 1 - " The FamilyVacation"

"When I was achild... I thought like a child." 1 Corinthians13:11 (NIV)

 

Whichis why, when I was a kid, I thought that since my family went on a trip everysummer, everyone else's must have too. I don't know why because none of myfriends ever went on a vacation with their families. My family, however, didtravel somewhere every summer. These family trips were never spectacular, novacations in the south of France or even south of the Border.

          My middle-school friend once asked meif Mac, our family mutt, stayed in the hotel with us on vacation. I wasdumbfounded. Hotel? I can count on one hand the number of times I stayed in a motel,hotel, or inn before I was old enough to drop out of college. I must not havebeen a very sharing friend not to have told her about the camper.

          Nope, we never stayed in motels oreven resort cabins. We slept, ate, and played cribbage in Dad's pickup camper.Along with the faithful dog.

           It was a simpler time.People didn't have to jump on a plane and travel halfway around the world tosee new and different things. Growing up in the sixties and seventies in therural upper Midwest, it took very little actually to get us excited. Everythingwas new and different for my sister Pat and me. Everything was an adventure forus. And everywhere we went, our eyes bugged out in wonder and awe. And ourlungs filled with laughter.

           I could never imagine havinghad a childhood like the kids today. Where it is go, go, go, all the time,non-stop. A barrage of internet images, high-speed everything, informationoverload, and your favorite song is always available on YouTube. A cell phonein everyone's hand, a finger or thumb scrolling up or tap, tap, tapping in anattempt to get more points than Rusty McNutts, who you assume is anothertwelve-year-old but is actually a forty-year-old creeper.

And it never stops, even on vacation.While riding down the road, today’s kids watch cartoons on the TV screen in theback seat of the family mini-van, instead of absorbing all the marvels passingthem by on the side of the road.

           Mine is the lastgeneration to live through that simpler time. We didn't know anything. Wedidn't get carpal tunnel or tech-neck. We ate SpaghettiOs for supper andWheaties for breakfast. We didn't play team sports; we played dodgeball andtetherball at recess unless there was snow, and then we had snowball fights.And that's the way it was.

           All those memories froman uncomplicated youth. It was a time when it was all right to spend time withjust Mom, Dad, your sister, and, of course, the dog.

           As if I had a choice.

Power of Eternity

             God loved the world so much that he gavehis one and only Son so that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but haveeternal life. (John 3:16, New Century Version)

Overthe last few months, I’ve been dealing with paperwork for my brother. Ten daysago, his healthcare provider officially diagnosed him with dementia andactivated his Power of Attorney for Healthcare. When my brother signed thePower of Attorney for Finances a few weeks before, I didn’t realize it would gointo effect immediately after signing. Good thing, too, because I quickly foundout how much he had botched up his bills.  

Recently,someone else I know was talking about those kinds of papers. I think I misheardher, but it sounded like she said, “Power of Eternity”.

Ikind of like that, though. Isn’t what happens to us in eternity so much moreimportant than what happens to us now? In the long run, it doesn’t matter whopays our bills if we mentally can’t or who chooses our nursing home when thetime comes. What matters is that when we leave this earth, we have embraced thepower of eternity – we have accepted Jesus Christ as our Savior. And though mybrother may be lost right now, because of his belief, God will grant himeternal life.

My brother and oldest sister, around 1948. Aren't they the cutest? 

Being a Survivor

The premise ofbeing the last “survivor” on a deserted island sounded all right at first. Thenthe contestants started forming “alliances” in order to push out othercompetitors. But in the end, if only one contender remains to win the onemillion dollars, why would anyone trust anyone else?

I thought theyshould redesign the show so that everyone needs to work together to split themillion dollars, and if one loses, they all lose. But where would be the fun inthat, right?  

Recently, though,it has dawned on me that the men and women running our government think theyare playing “Survivor”. There are two teams – the Republicans and the Democrats– and each team still picks people to be in alliance with so that they are strongenough to get their way. They work to suppress the other party and even theweaker members of their own party. They fight for what they want - they want towin the prize.  

I wish they’d wakeup and realize they are not on a reality TV show. They are not on a desertedisland foraging for food and competing in contrived contests of skill.

The only fightthey are in is the one to see that the United States will survive. That ourpeople will survive poverty, illness, homelessness, racism, violence, fear, andall the other maladies so many face every day.    

When are ourelected officers going to realize that? They are not on the island to savethemselves; they were elected to save us! And the only way to do that is foreveryone to work together and forget about the million dollar prize.