Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 60

Jesus as a Friend – Lenten blog post #4

   I do not call you servants any longer, because servants do not know what their master is doing. Instead, I call you friends, because I have told you everything I heard from my Father. (John 15:15, Good News Translation)

On Sundays during Lent, this year, I’ve been writing about the different roles that Jesus held, from son to brother to teacher to savior. Today I’m looking at Jesus as a friend.

Can you imagine Jesus calling you a friend? But friendship should always be a two-way street. If I think of Jesus as a friend of mine, I stand firm in the faith that Jesus would call me a friend as well.

The first thing that comes to my mind is the hymn "What a Friend We Have in Jesus", originally written as a poem by preacher Joseph M. Scriven in 1855.

What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer!

If you wonder what it’s like to be a friend of Jesus, ponder the shortest verse in the Bible.

   Jesus wept. (John 11:35, New International Version)

Jesus had just arrived at the home of his friend Lazarus and is met by his sisters, Martha and Mary. They tell Jesus that their brother is dead and has been buried for four days already. Jesus is moved to tears of compassion for the family. Then he goes to the grave, has the stone rolled away, and calls Lazarus back to life. Now, that’s being a friend.

But the most significant thing that Jesus does is to lay down His life for His friends. 

   Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. (John 15:13, New King James Version)

This year’s theme for pictures to accompany my Lenten posts is churches which I’ve taken pictures of during my travels. Today’s church is in Illinois, and I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember which town it was in – either LaSalle or Peru. My internet search could not discover it, but those were the towns that I narrowed it down to, based on the exact time and date I snapped the picture. If you are looking for a friend to keep track of stuff, I may not be your person.  

 

Life Has Gone On

 Back on March 22, 2020, I started writing a journal of this pandemic (titled “Covert Corona and How Chris is Coping”) (how clever). Over the past year, I typed nearly 50,000 words, most of which I never meant for anyone to read. As you know, if you’ve been faithfully reading this blog, I have shared some of those entries. Here are a few more of the earlier ones.

On Sunday, March 22, 2020, at 4:09 pm, I opened with:

You would have thought that I would have been all over this long before now, but every time I’ve sat down at my laptop over the last week, I instead got sucked into every news report I could find on the internet, as well as scrolling through everyone’s posts on Facebook, as if they would be sharing news found nowhere else.

So, here we are, March 22, a week into the full-blown reality that the pandemic which we thought would never cross our borders has insidiously infiltrated every one of our states.

 Later that same entry:

Here it is a leap year, and the first person to die in the US from COVID19 died on February 29. At that point, from an article I just read from the Atlantic journal, only 472 people had been tested by then.

Two weeks later, everyone was sharing, “this week we change the clocks, there’s a full moon, and Friday the 13th, it’s like the perfect storm.” I can’t make this shit up. On Friday, March 13, the shit hit the fan.

Entry on Monday, March 23, 2020, at 6:46 am:

I am sitting here in my home office, done surfing the net for now, done reading about COVID19 for now, and trying to psych up to get ready for work, not knowing at all what my day will bring or how long I will be there. Outside my window, four of my deer are mingling. Oh, two more just came along. They don’t have to practice social distancing. And they better not; they need each other for warmth and protection in the winter. Even though I see some of them bullying the smaller ones. Then there is my lame deer, who is not out there now. She knows she has to practice social distancing. Because she is lame, all of the others chase her off when she comes around.

I don’t know if this makes us luckier than the deer or not. Hopefully, we aren’t giving up on our elderly or infirm, or worse yet, just plain killing them off.

But watching the deer out in the yard, as the snow is gently falling, I’m reminded that life will go on.

 I guess the good news is that life has gone on.

 In addition to my random ramblings, I kept track of the running number of cases and deaths. On March 25, there were already 426,000 cases world-wide and 19,000 deaths. In the US, there were 54,816 cases and 789 deaths. In my state of Wisconsin, there were 481 cases and only 5 deaths.

Today, the numbers are worldwide – 119,000,000 cases, 2,640,000 deaths; US – 29,900,000 cases, 543,721 deaths; Wisconsin – 568,000 cases, 6,500 death.

It’s tough to imagine the year we’ve all had when you look at those numbers. But I’ll say it again, life will go on.

I still watch the deer out my window, and 
the lame one made it through last winter and this one. 

Eagles and a Chief

Hard to believe it’s only been five weeks since I was in Wabasha, Minnesota for the weekend. Harder to believe that I’ve been there multiple times over the years and always manage to drive by or walk by the National Eagle Center.  

From their website:

The National Eagle Center is a world-class interpretive center located on the banks of the Mississippi River in Wabasha, MN. We are home to non-releasable bald and golden eagles. During a visit to the National Eagle Center, you can experience these magnificent creatures up close.

The Upper Mississippi River Valley is home to hundreds of bald eagles. Many choose to build their nests in the tall trees along the river valley. Hundreds more bald eagles arrive here in the winter months, as the Mississippi River remains open around Wabasha year-round.

In 1989, we began as EagleWatch, Inc. (still our corporate legal name) as a group of volunteers sharing with visitors to Wabasha views of wintering bald eagles from an outdoor observation deck along the river. We have grown a lot since that time. In 2000, we opened year-round in a small storefront downtown and welcomed our first two Eagle Ambassadors, Harriet and Angel.

In 2007, in a partnership with the City of Wabasha, we opened this 15,000 square foot interpretive center right on the banks of the Mississippi River. From this facility, you can enjoy magnificent views of wild eagles and meet our resident Eagle Ambassadors.

I hadn’t realized that when Hubby and I actually toured the facility in 2009, it was only two years old! I really need to take another tour one of these days.

Just outside, along the Mississippi, is the statue of the city’s namesake. The chief of the area Sioux Nation,

As you can probably imagine, the original inhabitants of this stretch of land along the Mississippi River were eventually pushed out of the area by a series of treaties. The only good thing that came out of these very one-sided documents is that one of the treaties granted Chief Wabasha’s half-blood relatives a tract of land along the River. The remaining tribe of full-blood Sioux were forced into a reservation first in the Minnesota River area, then to the Dakota territory, and finally to a reservation in Nebraska. Such injustice towards the original people of this country. 

 

Jesus as a Brother - Lenten blog post #3

    "Isn't he the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon? Aren't his sisters living here?” And so they rejected him. (Mark 6:3, Good News Translation)

 

   Then Jesus' mother and brothers arrived. They stood outside the house and sent in a message, asking for him. A crowd was sitting around Jesus, and they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, and they want you.” (Mark 3:31-32, Good News Translation)

 

  This year for the six Sundays in Lent, I’ve been writing about the different roles Jesus played. Not only was He the Son of God and our Savior, but He was a son to early parents, a friend, a teacher, and a brother to his siblings. Maybe or maybe not.

Research on this topic led me down a variety of paths. And I can’t tell you for sure which is the accurate one.

In the past, when I’ve read the verses above, I assumed this meant that after Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph went on to have other kids. Now I know this disagrees with what various Christian religions teach – that Mary remained a virgin her entire life so she couldn’t have had offspring with Joseph. I don’t want to argue with anyone on that point, but, for me, the important thing was that Mary was a virgin when Jesus was born, and after that, it’s none of my business.

Several experts report that Joseph had a previous wife, who he had babies with – four boys and two girls, to be exact. But then this wife died, and Joseph, as the old man we sometimes see in nativity scenes, takes Mary as his second wife.

If that is the case, these kids must be already grown by the time their younger brother, Jesus, is born. Otherwise, where were they when Mary and Joseph made that fateful trip to Bethlehem? And how weird was it that they were older than their new step-mom?

Life during Biblical times was way different than it is now.

But back to my research. I found that some Bible experts think that these four boys and two girls weren’t Joseph’s at all. That they would have been cousins to Jesus or maybe even further extended relatives. 

Again, I think that some things get lost in translation, from the original text of the Bible to what we read today. For me, the bottom line is that Jesus was raised surrounded by loving relatives, doting parents, extended family, boys His age that He rough-housed with – okay, or maybe just went to synagogue with.

I picture Him as being a typical boy, who loved to explore, who pondered the things He discovered, who questioned those around Him. I imagine Him being close with the children He was raised with, whether they were half-siblings, step-siblings, cousins, or just close friends.

This year’s theme for pictures to accompany my Lenten posts is churches. I’ve taken pictures of many of them throughout my travels around the country, and even the world. But I wanted to pick only one church per state per week. Today’s is the most recently visited one, St. Felix Catholic Church in Wabasha, Minnesota, taken just the end of January this year.

Eight Acts of Love

I didn’t write a blog post Wednesday because I worked late Tuesday night, helping with another round of COVID vaccines for our patients. Last night I had to work on our tax stuff as we have an appointment with our accountant this morning. You could say it’s been a busy week, or you could say I just don’t budget my time as well as I could.

And other than that I’m rather brain dead this morning (which is actually nothing new).

In case you wonder what else I’ve been doing since the first of the year, finally here are the pictures of the eight throws which I made for the family from Granma Kincaid’s old sweatshirts. A total act of love. Or eight of them. 

Only have Hubby’s left to finish. And then what to do with the 16 squares I have left . . .

 

Jesus as a Son - Lenten blog post #2

   His parents didn’t know what to think. “Son!” his mother said to him. “Why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been frantic, searching for you everywhere.”

   “But why did you need to search?” he asked. “Didn’t you realize that I would be here at the Temple, in my Father’s House?” But they didn’t understand what he meant.  (Luke 2:48-50, Living Bible)

 The scene above takes place when Jesus is twelve years old. He had visited the temple with his parents, but He had remained behind when they left. They didn’t know what had happened to Him. (If I was Mary, I’d be thinking, “oh, no! I lost the Son of God.”)

 Jesus’s response to His mother seems disrespectful and harsh. As is His answer to Mary’s plea for help below.

    On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Now both Jesus and His disciples were invited to the wedding. And when they ran out of wine, the mother of Jesus said to Him, “They have no wine.”  

   Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does your concern have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.”

   His mother said to the servants, “Whatever He says to you, do it.”  (John 2:1-5, New King James Version)

For the six Sundays until Easter, I’m writing about the different roles Jesus played. Not only was He the Son of God and our Savior, but He was a brother, a friend, a teacher, and as shown here, a son to earthly parents.

I always wonder about these verses. I think something is lost in translation, or we read a certain connotation into Jesus’s words. No Jewish child of that time would ever be disrespectful or less than 100% obedient to their parents. And of all children, Jesus would never break the fourth commandment (honor your mother and father).

If there is ever any doubt about what kind of a son Jesus was, picture the scene below. He is hanging on the cross, only minutes from dying, when He looks down and sees Mary grieving there. He knows He could leap from the cross and end her suffering, along with His own, but that wasn’t His heavenly Father’s plan. Instead, Jesus does the next best thing, He makes sure His mother will be taken care of.

   Standing near the cross were Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary (the wife of Clopas), and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother standing there beside the disciple he loved, he said to her, “Dear woman, here is your son.” And he said to this disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from then on this disciple took her into his home.  (John 19:25-27, New Living Translation)

I kind of think that Jesus is saying that not only would His mother be taken into someone’s home, but we’ll be taken into a home too. Which, of course, is our eternal home, heaven. 

This year’s theme for pictures is churches I’ve seen in my travels around the country. Today’s is the church at Central, Michigan, an abandoned mining town in the Upper Peninsula.

Here I am again

 I was going to title this “Yet Another Flashback Friday and COVID Update,” but I decided that was simply too long.

In addition to continuing to go through old pictures, scanning the decent ones, and pitching the bad ones, I’ve been working on my family tree—Dad’s side. Hence the pictures of one of his projects from back in the early 1980s.

My dad was born in Germany in 1915. World War I was ravaging Europe, and three years later, as the fighting continued, the Spanish Flu of 1918 reared its ugly head. More people died from that pandemic than from the war. Somehow, life went on, and my dad’s family welcomed another son that year, bringing the family up to three sons and three daughters.

I can’t imagine what their lives had been like. Dad never talked too much about his life in Germany. Sure, he was only nine when they immigrated to America, but he had a few memories he shared. His dad throwing him into the river to teach him to swim and how severe the poverty was for everyone.

I sure wished I had paid more attention and asked for more stories.

Hopefully, thanks in part to the internet – and maybe even this blog – our children and their children will remember the times we lived through in 2020 and 2021.

Not too much new on the pandemic front in my small town. The number of positive cases seems to be going down as the number of those having received the vaccine continues to go up. Our COVID shot clinic last Saturday went relatively smoothly; all our patients were appreciative and well-behaved. Though my hero’s cape is pretty threadbare, I was able to wear it for the entire nine-hour day. 

Wandering Around Wabasha

A few weeks ago, a friend and I visited another friend at her new home in Wabasha, Minnesota. Such a quaint little town! My friend had fallen in love with it a long time ago, and a year ago, she up and moved two hundred miles away to be where she felt called. How I admire her.

Resting on the Mississippi River banks, Wabasha is Minnesota's oldest city and longest continuously inhabited river town. It was first settled in 1826 and officially became a city in 1830.

Wabasha was a bustling town, with logging, shipping, flour milling, trading, and clamming. The discarded clam shells could be used to make buttons, which led to a booming button industry.   

The bridge over the Mississippi.

The historic Anderson House.

The hotel opened in 1856 and was Minnesota's oldest continuously operating inn west of the Mississippi River.

The hotel's restaurant was known for its Dutch cooking. The hotel itself was famous for the cats that could stay in the rooms with hotel guests for overnight companionship.

I'm sure the rest of the buildings in town have fascinating stories as well.


 

Who Is Jesus? Lenten blog post #1

    For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16, New International Version)

Ash Wednesday was a few days ago, marking the beginning of Lent. Each year I try to come up with a theme for the six Sundays leading up to Easter. I’ve had something in mind since the first of the year, but then yesterday morning, I came up with a totally different idea. Which is usually how I roll.

For me, Lent signifies a time to look at the life of Jesus and what both His life and death mean to me. This year I thought maybe it would be worthwhile to look at precisely who Jesus is. Yes, of course, He is the one and only Son of God, but He was also a son to Mary and Joseph, a brother, a friend, a teacher, and most importantly, our Savior.

Today, I’ll start by looking at what it means to be the one and only Son of God, or as the King James Version of the Bible states, “the only begotten Son of God.”

The original word in this verse was the Greek word monogenes, which in all our English translations of the Bible comes to read “only," "one and only," or "only begotten.” The word “begotten” means to be born or created. When non-believers see that word, they denounce Jesus as being part of the Triune God, saying that if He was created, then He hasn’t been around forever the way God has been, which is one way they try to rip apart the entire Christian faith.

Actually, the word monogenes has two definitions. 1) pertaining to being the only one of its kind within a specific relationship and 2) pertaining to being the only one of its kind or class, unique in kind. When used as an adjective, it can mean one of a kind or one and only. So I’m not sure where the old King James Version gets the word begotten. All I know is that I think it would be super cool to master the ancient Greek language, the language the Bible was originally written in, and not have to figure out which English translation is the most accurate. But that’s just me.

What this whole conversation boils down to is that Jesus is, was, and always will be the one and only, unique Son of God. With the Father and the Holy Spirit, they make up the Triune God.

Also, when I write a set of themed blog posts, I like to include pictures with one theme as well. This year, I am going with churches, far and wide, that I’ve seen in my travels. Today’s is a nearby church, the simple and very old Estonia Church in Gleason, twenty miles or so from where I live.

Flashback Friday and COVID19 Update

 I started scanning old pictures again last week. Which always makes me feel melancholy.

My sister Pat and I were on one of our fabulous camping trips to the UP. It was the week of July 15, because we stopped somewhere so I could buy her an ice cream cone for her birthday. Then one evening, as we were strolling along Lake Superior, she snapped this picture.

I wish I could say that she stole my camera and captured this moment, but it was staged. I told her I would look out over the lake as if I were lost in thought, and blah, blah, blah. But whether spontaneous or not, it never took either one of us any effort to look out across that huge body of water and imagine all the years of our lives floating there.

We never could have imagined that the length of her life would amount to a mere puddle.  

I never would have thought thirty-nine years ago that this picture – one of those artsy ones I snapped all the time – would remind me more of the coronavirus than of a marigold. 

A week ago, I was all worked up about having side effects from my second COVID-19 vaccine. I didn’t have any sort of reaction at all. A bit of a sore arm and a headache, which I attribute more to the lack of sleep, in anticipation of the fever, chills and body aches which never happened.

The latest stress is the vaccine clinic we are hosting at my work this Saturday. It will be all hands on deck to efficiently and safely get those 170 patients in and out. And that number of patients is just a drop in the bucket compared to the lists of people in our area who still need the vaccine. I have no idea how they will all get vaccinated. I have no idea if it will make a difference in stopping COVID. I have no idea who that person is in the water.

Seems there’s more that I don’t know than that I do. I do know that I hope you all have a good weekend. Continue to be safe. Find what makes you happy. Chris