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{Straight From the Heart} *He's A Father to the Fatherless* 5/16/00
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HE'S A FATHER TO THE FATHERLESS
By: David King
He was walking down the street with two things: a small bag of
possessions and a large dejected face. I don't know which of those
caught my attention first. The boy, who appeared to be around 10
years old, was slight and grubby. Not only was he aimlessly walking
down a large street, but there were stains where normal 10 year old
boys don't have stains. It was immediately plain to me that there was
no one in his life to scrub the stains. I recalled quickly, that when
I was his age, I would have been excited to not have a cleaning
fanatic for a Mother to scrub stains. I remember looking at him and
thinking "how long can you leave a stain on a face before it becomes
permanent?"
What was he looking forward to? Where was he going? His too large
sneakers, whose sides were blown out, scrubbed the asphalt and
occasionally made him stop. He only turned his feet sideways, tap
out the stray rock that had worked its way inside, and kept walking.
His pants were a size too large, and it was evident they were castoffs.
Someone else's yard sale material had became his fare. His shirt
was tediously tucked in all the way around, as if he had met someone,
somewhere, that left enough impression on him that "one ought to keep
things well tucked in." From the look I received when I spoke with
him, it was evident that he had mastered well the art of tucking
things in. "How many hurts there? How many promises to himself to
stay away from others?" I wondered. He was very well tucked in.
He picked up his pace after I spoke. I had an incredible urge to
chase him down, pick up his small frame and hold him. I wonder if he
ever had his neck nuzzled, until a giggle erupts, as I have done my
two sons? Do you think he knows what to do if daddy acts like he
"gets his nose" with two fingers and a thumb? When was the last time
he had anything to eat, other than from picking it out of a can, or
from a sympathetic restaurant clerk? Has anyone ever let him cradle
on their chest and read a book? I couldn't imagine him smelling like
shampoo and toothpaste and dressed in soft clean pajamas. Too many
stains, too well tucked in, no place to be, no one to answer to. No Father.
There are all too many fatherless children in this world in that
condition. The appear all alone, but, if asked, they would recite a
stock answer, and then back away into their cardboard boxes. They
look poor and sickly, and if asked, they would extend an outstretched
palm and "untuck" a little and look into your eyes. To us, they have
too many stains and unmanageable hair. When asked, they will defend
their way, argue against the true value of soap and water, retreat
again into their boxes, check that they are still tucked in, ignore
their stains and wait for you to leave. They have learned to be
comfortable with their condition.
There is a Father to the fatherless, you know. One Father who knows
where all the cardboard boxes are, He counts noses and understands
stains on children. He knows just how to "untuck" the feelings of
little boys without mommas, and feeds those boys just as earnestly as
he feeds the sparrow. He gently rouses these little lads each morning,
shakes them with a tender breeze, or spreads the dew upon their nose
enough to wake them from their slumber. Puts direction in their
stomach, and then feeds them. He doesn't appear to be prejudiced of
their color, their poverty, or their stains. He does well with an
outstretched palm. There is a Father to the fatherless. His name is Jesus.
I wonder sometimes how we appear to God as we wander down the roads of
our lives. Some of us feel we are well garnished by our fine garments
and our suede shoes. We do our best to remove the stains and keep our
hands in our pockets instead of having them outstretched. We defend
our conditions, recognize no poverty in our own economy, and certainly
admit no rambling in our own feet. We are very well tucked in, all
the way around. I sometimes have wished to meet the personality that
taught us to stay tucked in. I have yet to understand the
intelligence of our hiding hearts behind walls. Yet we all manage to
stay well tucked in.
Many of us don't know how it feels to recline on a Father's chest as
he tells his story. We don't know how to get his attention when we
need him. Do you know how it feels to have the bullies chase you and
then the mad dash into his lap?
Have you learned to trust him enough to take care of your problems?
Watch him point at the wind and say, "be muzzled" and then address the
roaring waves to say: "be still". And then just enjoy sitting in his
lap for a while. When is the last time you laughed with him? Enjoyed
a beautiful sunset or a graceful butterfly? There is a Father to the
fatherless. You do know that, don't you?
He reaches for us, walking aimlessly down these asphalt corridors of
life. Hard roads. Roads that are full of small stones that work
their way into our shoes and make us stop. Sadly, we have learned to
misconstrue the true purpose of those small stones that work their
way into our shoes. Instead of searching, understanding, we stop
only long enough to shake a little, squirm a bit, turn around and see
if anyone notices, and then tuck back in again, keep walking. Are you
there? Is this you? If so, he greets you today. He whispered this
morning when you drew your first waking breath. He serenaded you with
sounds until you stumbled out of your cardboard box. He murmured when
you tapped the dew from your shoes before stepping into your car. His
eyes glistened as you drove to work. You misunderstood and just put
the visor down, fumbling for sunglasses. His arms reached for you, he
noticed your stains, but it did not matter. He has no prejudice
regarding color, location or possessions.
"How many hurts there?" Too many. How long has it been since
someone nuzzled you and made you smile? Much too long. How long until
stains become permanent on hearts, minds and souls? There is no stain
too tough for him to cleanse. Won't you "untuck" today and let Him
hold you for a minute? Too many grownups living in cardboard boxes,
well tucked, too many stains; when there is a Father. He is the
Father to the Fatherless, and we all need a Father.
Some of you will just pick up the pace after you feel this, crawl back
into your cardboard box defending your condition. Maybe others will
find a place to kneel. If this drives you outside in solitude for a
few moments, you are blessed. If reading this causes you to leave
behind your bag of small possessions, the phone, fax machine, radio
and the children, there is hope.
Walk outside, take an earnest look upward, breathe in deeply and
extend your palm to him with expectation. Maybe you will hear his
whispering in the breeze, or you might feel his embrace in the moving
clouds and maybe you will be calmed by the aimless fluttering butterfly.
Aimless; yet belonging, comfortable, happy, content with floating in
a large field in a large world, with a big Creator personal enough to
touch. Jesus is a Father to the fatherless. Which means then, that
we all have a Father. We can now remove Fatherless from our vocabulary,
tear down our cardboard boxes, untuck just a little, and run fervently
to his lap and listen to his stories.
The Traveling Evangelist
David W. King
kingdavidw@juno.com
Send David an email and let him know what you thought of his story!
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A little bit about David:
I am a 35 year old preacher with a family of three children and a wife
named Karen. I was called into the ministry when I was 17 years old and
after 15 years of training and schooling, I am now full-time on the road
as a traveling evangelist. My family and I live in a 33 ft RV and travel
from state to state preaching, holding revivals, camp-meetings, youth
camps, etc.
I have a 13 year old son named Jonathan, a 9 year old girl named
Stephanie and a 6 year old son named Nathan. My wife Karen and I met
while she was in Bible College in Jackson, Miss. and I was in the Air
Force stationed in Little Rock, AR. We long-distance dated for about six
months and then married. We have been best of friends and best of mates
for the past 15 years.
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Thought For The Day:
"Hindsight explains the injury that foresight would have prevented."
Verse for the Day:
"Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you...When you walk, your steps
will not be hampered; when you run, you will not stumble."
Proverbs 4:6,12
Kid's Thought For The day:
"It's hard not to like someone who likes you."
Parent's Thought For The Day
"One of the most important things to remember about infant care is:
never change diapers in midstream."
(Don Marquis)
Coach's Thought For The Day
"Games are just moments in time, wins and losses just a blip on the
learning line. Coaching is permanent, for what you give to those you
teach will always be remembered. Many will take the skill ideas,
including the mental ones, and give it to others. Skills for the
game of volleyball as well as the game of life."
(John Kessel)
Deep Thought For The Day:
"He who lives in glass house dresses in basement."
_
/_/\/\ MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\ / THUNDER27@aol.com http://members.aol.com/Thunder27/index.html
/_/ \ "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but
\_\/\ \ Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live for the Son
\_\/ of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20
Video Imagery (Michael's Video Production Business)
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we gave them. They loved it, to say the least! Within thirty
seconds my mom was crying and my dad did too. They said it was
the best Christmas gift we could have given them!! You did such
a beautiful job! They were so suprised and so touched---they
really, really, really loved it. Thanks for helping to make it so
special to us all. My mom mentioned how the songs were perfect for
the video too! Thanks again!"
Kelli (RKaGe@aol.com) College Station, TX
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