WHY DO WE NEED JESUS?

Posted on March 26, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

It’s easy to see why we need someone to rescue us from the ugliness which has covered the world.  Identity theft has run amok – human slavery still exists as children are sold into prostitution – morality is at an all-time low – everything except the One True God is worshipped – the criminals are now heroes, and the heroes are crooks.  Lives are spent fighting continuing wars.  Lives are cut short before they have a chance to breathe, because they might prove to be an inconvenience. Lives are shortened at the end for the same reason.  How is it possible to survive where it seems there is no peace – no love – no hope?

We need a Savior not because we deserve it, but because we have turned so far away from what God wants and expects from us.  Our lives are increasingly being covered with scum and depravity – hunger and homelessness in a land of plenty.   It didn’t just happen over night.  It has insidiously maneuvered its way into our lifestyle, our civilization, our homes, even our churches.

We could give up.  We could let the world overtake us, but what would be the consequence of that?  God’s Word tells us that the wages of sin is death.  We don’t have the means to buy our way out.  There is no amount of human knowledge, wisdom or strength to cover the cost.  The only way for us to escape is through our Savior, Jesus, Christ.

Is there hope in this disgusting, sinful world?  No!  It comes as a free gift from God when His own flesh and blood died to set us free – to pay the ransom  we could never pay – and conquer death to show us that we would receive eternal life through Him.

Our Savior will return again to take us to heaven.  Come quickly, Lord, Jesus!

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WHY DO WE CELEBRATE HOLY WEEK?

Posted on March 25, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

Yesterday, we celebrated the final entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem. He was honored with shouts of “Hosanna,” as he rode in on a donkey. In a matter of days, the crowd would turn on Him and chant, “Crucify Him, crucify Him.” We’ve all seen evidence of herd mentality or peer pressure and maybe that’s why this turn of events was so important. Beyond that thought, the plan originated by God Himself was culminating, just as He designed. Our Savior, our King, our Jesus, would face false accusations, untrue charges and the execution of a criminal.
Why would we celebrate such an event?

This plan of God’s was instituted in the Garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve became vulnerable to the attack of Satan. This fallen angel was determined to take God’s place, but God had other ideas. From that day on, His plan for salvation was established. In all the historical writings of the Old Testament, we see stories of God’s commands, His requirements of us, His expectations and the eventual failures of those same people. We also read about mankind’s inability to live up to God’s perfect plan for our lives. We continue to think we can outthink God. We continue to follow the world, rather than His laws. When Jesus came as our substitute, we received God’s love in an unconditional form. His story was foretold in those early writings. He took on the task of living a perfect life. He was fully human, but without sin. He died so we could live. He rose from death. By doing so, we have the promise of eternal life. That’s definitely worth celebrating.

Looking beyond the suffering, the torture, the blood and nails that pierced Him, we have hope. God loves the world so much that He died for it. His life didn’t end at the cross and because of that we can be assured of a future beyond the grave. When our time comes, when death is imminent, we can also know that Jesus’ has taken the sting of death away so that we can someday meet Him face to face.

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LENT IS OVER – PALM SUNDAY IS NEAR

Posted on March 23, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

Don’t you just love Pinterest? Usually, my endeavors at making a spectacular table for Easter falls far short of the images you see in the first picture. The ideas always look so creative and seem like they would be easy, but not so much in my kitchen. We’re only a day away from Palm Sunday and the triumphal entry into Jerusalem by Jesus and His followers. For some that means an end to what they’ve given up for the past 40 days, while others prepare for a week leading up to the cruel treatment of Jesus, his death and resurrection. Lent will be over, and the celebration of His Resurrection and our salvation will begin.

In the olden days, Easter was a day of great celebration. My sister, my mom and I would all get new dresses and shoes. We’d don our Easter bonnets, put on our white gloves and patent leather shoes, and off to church we’d go. We’d then have a wonderful meal with other family members and overload on jellybeans and chocolate bunnies.

When we began our own family, the traditions continued. We’d go to church in new clothes. The kids would hunt for Easter eggs in the backyard. Plastic grass would be strewn throughout the house. Easter is also a time to celebrate spring and the end of a long time in the snowy desert. This year, the winter snow waited until the first week of spring! I usually planned a special meal, served on the family China along with silverware that needed to be polished each year. Many of the fancy items on the dinner table have been stored away and aren’t used anymore. Gone are those days. We now have adult children with extended families, which we must share for the day. When the grandchildren were younger, we continued with the egg hunt and fancy meal, but now we use paper plates and plastic silverware. Times change, but the season never does.

We no longer put on a big spread for important holidays. Things change when you get older. Chocolate comes in the form of bunnies and eggs.  Jellybeans stick to your dentures.  Sugary Peeps will turn hard in a week and taste much better after drying out.  Pies will be baked or purchased.  Hot cross buns and coconut covered Easter bunny cakes will pop up for dessert.  Eggs will be hidden and searched for. The missing ones will show up in a few months.  We no longer use hard boiled eggs for obvious reasons. New clothing will be purchased at high prices. It’s another consumer holiday which beckons greeting cards and gifts.  Unfortunately, the true reason this holiday is so special to Christians, seems to get lost in all the commercial trappings.

When we place so much importance on the flashiness of Easter, we lose the true joy that comes from it. This week, prepare your hearts for this amazing gift which God provided for all mankind. The gift comes with no strings attached. Pinterest can’t begin to compare.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 20

Posted on March 22, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

MIRIAM & JOEL – A STABLE OWNER & HIS WIFE

I am Miriam, the wife of a stable owner. My husband, Joel, owns a small herd of donkeys. We’re under the thumb of the Roman empire and must continue to pay taxes, feed ourselves and provide for our physical needs. We also do our best to tithe to the Lord for the blessings He’s bestowed on us. Our family has dwindled to just the two of us. All seven of our sons have started their own businesses in other towns. They prosper at what they do and often send us extra money when they can, but they have families to care for now too. We rarely see them.

I worry about the man I married. His hands are gnarled with the ravages of time and handling stubborn animals for so many years. His back is often bent, and his knees have suffered from all the lifting and bending he’s had to endure. He may soon go to be with the Lord. With each passing year, even the task of feeding the animals has become a burden. Yet we continue to trust God for provision.

It was a typical evening in Bethpage. The sky was filled with stars, so much so that there was no need for the Roman torches that lined the street. We live in house in town with a small barn. It’s the perfect place for us to spend our final years. Still, we have to watch out for robbers and other criminals that roam the streets at night. It’s much different than living in the wide-open spaces. I’d prepared a nice stew for Joel from vegetables from my garden and the remaining meat of a lamb we slaughtered. There was always an abundance of bread, freshly baked. I enjoy cooking for Joel, because he never complains about what we have to eat. He’s used to the bare necessities, since he was raised on a farm as a boy.

As I looked out the window, I caught a glimpse of him, tying a donkey and her foal to the post in front of the gate. Perhaps he was just too tired to put them in the barn. I didn’t think much about it until we were sitting down to dinner. I heard the animals braying loudly. I looked out to see some men standing beside them. I thought they were robbers. I urged Joel to go out and confront them, but as soon as he opened the door, I regretted doing so. He had no weapon. He was physically unable to fight them off. I was concerned for his safety, but there was nothing I could do.

They talked for a while. I thought Joel was arguing with them at first, but then it seemed they had come to some sort of agreement. I sat down again, relieved yet still a bit unsure about what had just happened. Joel came through the door. He walked with confidence. His back seemed to have instantly straightened out.

“Did you get a good price,” I asked.

“I didn’t take money for the animals,” he replied. “The donkeys are going to be used to carry a king.”

“You didn’t take money for those animals? They’re the best donkeys we own. How could you be so foolish?”

“What I did was not foolish, woman. The animals are to be used for a good purpose. One that will glorify God,” he said.

Joel continued to tell me what happened in those few short moments. The men had come at the request of their Master. The Master was the Rabbi who preached at the Mount of Olives. Our simple beasts of burden would be used to carry him into the city of Jerusalem for His regal entry. Joel felt compelled to give them freely. To have such a small part in an event of such great magnitude filled my husband’s heart with joy. I soon joined in his contentment. Our animals would fulfill an ancient prophesy from the scrolls of Zechariah.

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9 ESV)

This concludes my series on people who may have lived during the time of Jesus’ ministry. As I said at the beginning, all these characters are fictional, but are based on those who had jobs, worked hard, were under Roman jurisdiction, were waiting for a promise to be fulfilled. They may have been witness to a time when God took on human flesh and walked with mankind. His story is the greatest blessing we have in this life. We were not there. We can’t begin to imagine what it was like to have been, but the Bible is rich in stories about the plan God devised at the start of creation. A plan that He would fulfill Himself. He would carry the sin of the world to a brutal cross. He would suffer, be humiliated and judged unfairly, but He willingly gave His life so that we might join Him one day in heaven.

TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 19

Posted on March 21, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

AHAVA – THE PROSTITUTE

My name is Ahava, which means “love.” The work I do is devoid of love, but it brings in the necessary means to provide for my family. I am a prostitute. I began this journey at the age of 13. I came from a family with ten daughters. My father realized that he could cash in on those daughters even though we were young and untouched. It became my profession from that time until my life was changed.

Prostitution is frowned on by the leaders of the synagogue. However, in ancient times, when a wife was lacking the ability to produce children for her husband, she could call on a surrogate to do what she couldn’t do. In most cases it was a slave who fulfilled the job description. In cases like mine, I was sold to the highest bidder to sell my body as a vessel whereby lust could be satisfied for a price.

I’m nineteen now. I cannot tell you how many encounters I’ve had over the past six years. I can tell you that none of them included love of any kind. I was merely an instrument to entertain those with enough money to pay for it. I hate what I do. I cannot walk through the streets without veiling my face. Other women point their fingers at me and describe me as repulsive. I must keep myself well-groomed and dressed to allure any future customers. That in itself costs money. It’s important to look beautiful, but I feel nothing but ugly and dirty. I don’t feel good about what I do, or how others look at me. I know the church leaders will shun me if I come near them. Often, they make an example of me and what they refer to as my disgusting lifestyle.

I’ve longed to find someone who really loves me for who I am. I sometimes wish that I had been raised in a different part of the world, but I knew I couldn’t escape from what I’ve become. My sin is much too great to be forgiven. My dreams include having a husband and a family, but I know that dream will never come true since I’m already considered damaged goods. I’ve felt so hopeless and crushed.

One day, I stayed in the shadows as a man called Jesus was talking about sin. He must’ve been speaking directly to me. I knew that continuing to do what I had become enslaved to, would make me unworthy to even ask for forgiveness. Even so, I could tell that everyone in the crowd had some kind of sin in their life that they struggled with too. The man told the crowd to come to Him for rest. He promised to give it to those who asked. I wondered if I might be among those who would find rest in Him. As I watched and listened, I could tell this man was like no other. His voice told me that I had a place in His Father’s kingdom. His eyes carried compassion and love. This was the love I never knew. It was pure and honest. He said that if we confess our sins and repent of them, God will forgive us. Then we must walk away from that sinful existence and begin anew.

That day, I became one of His followers. The things He had to say gave me hope for a new life. Maybe that life would not be here on earth, but I was promised an eternity in heaven. He never said that my days would be easy. He told us that we would experience difficulties and burdens in this life. He also said that through all of it we can count on His presence – His comfort – His peace and love. He turned my life around by the Son of God.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 18

Posted on March 20, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

HANNAH – WEAVER OF HOMESPUN GARMENTS

Psalm 22:18 “they divide my garments among them,
    and for my clothing they cast lots.”

My family has survived because our men are shepherds and the women spin the wool from the sheep to create thread, woven into cloth, thus providing clothing for sale in the marketplace. It’s not an easy task. For one thing, the wool smells. We must first wash it in the river to get the stink off of it. Then we spin – a laborious task which takes much time and perseverance. It seems to take an eternity to spin enough thread for one garment. Once the thread is spun, it must be placed on the loom. Strings of thread are attached to the loom and the shuttle feeds other thread through in the opposite direction. A tool called a comb tightens the cloth together so it is extremely resistant to the elements. Spinning a piece of cloth that has no seams is quite unusual.

Once the cloth is woven, it may be dyed, depending on the customer. If they are wealthy they can afford to purchase dyed cloth of purple, blue or red. The dyes for those colors are extremely expensive. Most dyes are made from herbs and natural items – like berries, flowers and other sources from the earth.

We’d carry the finished products to market and when the Passover occurred, we were sure to make enough to sustain us for the year. It was one of the major festivals and many came to celebrate and purchase some things to take back home with them. The city was buzzing with activity. I was especially proud of the crimson tunic I made. It would certainly gain a good price. It was seamless, tightly woven and the color was royal in every way. Maybe a prince would pass by and purchase it. I was counting on that. I was a pretty good seller of wares. I could convince someone that the crimson was the result of a special dye made from murex sea snails when in actuality, the dye was made from the roots of the madder plant. I was stretching the truth, but someone might see the hidden value in this piece of work.

A centurion from the Praetorian guard approached my tent. This group of soldiers acted as bodyguards for the elite military and sometimes city officials. I started my sales pitch. I showed him the crimson tunic and he bought it with very little persuasion on my part. He paid a good price and we were both satisfied with the transaction. I wondered what he would do with a garment of that sort. He was physically much too big to wear it himself. He certainly could afford richer fabric, but I said nothing.

I discovered later that the robe was used as a symbol to mock a man they called Jesus. He would wear it along with a crown they crafted out of razor-sharp thorns. By the time I heard about it, the crucifixion had already taken place. The soldiers gambled over his clothing, but they didn’t divide the garment because it was seamless and meant to remain in one piece. I don’t know where it wound up, but I know that it covered the body of a true prince – one who thought we were worthy of dying for. Not only that, but people also claim that He returned to life as He promised He would, proving that we don’t need to fear death.

Life goes on in my world. I continued to spin wool into thread and make garments to sell. I will die someday, but I believe that Jesus is more than a mere prince. He is the Son of God who died and rose again for my eternal life. That’s the best deal ever and it didn’t cost a cent.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 17

Posted on March 19, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

SAUL – THE SANDAL MAKER

My name is Saul. I was named for one of Israel’s early kings. I make shoes and boots, but most often sandals. Since I live in an arid part of the world it is a vital occupation. Sandals are needed to keep the feet cool and to sift the sand away from those same feet. I like to refer to myself as an artisan, because the work I do is more of a craft. Each shoe must be designed to fit perfectly. I start by measuring and making a pattern to follow. These specially crafted shoes will support the weight of the one wearing them. They need to be comfortable yet ready for action and the work they are intended for. I come from a long line of shoemakers. For as long as I remember, I have watched my father, my grandfather and those before them, make these unique sandals. We must tan the hide ourselves to form leather which will be the main ingredient of the shoe. We add things like reeds and other plant material that will withstand the elements and last for a long time.

I remember my grandfather talking about my people’s exodus from Egypt and the shoes that never wore out in the forty years they were used. God did this for the people to show them His provision. The clothing they traveled in never wore out either. Can you imagine wearing the same shoes and clothes for forty years? God provided food for them too. How great He is. He cares for His people in so many ways.

The man called Jesus was a carpenter by trade. He’s much more than a tradesman. I believe He is the promised Messiah of old. When God’s first people sinned against Him, He had already designed a plan – a blueprint – a treasured gift – which would save humanity one day. That Messiah would be God Himself. He would take on human flesh, walk with us, live with us and carry the burden of our sin on his back, promising eternal life after death.

I heard Him speak about being His followers, in one of His many talks to the people. He said,

“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.” (John 13:14-17)

His words made me think about the old words my grandfather shared. We waited a long time for this Messiah to come. I believe He is the One we were promised. My feet will follow in His footsteps all the days of my life.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 16

Posted on March 18, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

This series is a grouping of fictional sketches of various characters Jesus might have met during His time on earth. Though these characters aren’t all real, they could have been. The story of Jesus’ ministry and time on earth is rich in events of everyday living. Some stories are in the Bible, some are made up, but I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to live in that time and actually meet the Son of God – face to face.

ETHAN – A FISHERMAN

My name is Ethan. I live in the city of Galilee, and I make my living from the beautiful waters of the sea outside my humble home. When the sun rises each day, I begin my work. After just a short respite of sleep, I prepare for another day of fishing. Sleep is often sacrificed for fishing during the evening hours. Most of my neighbors are fishermen too. We come home to rest briefly, restock our supplies and gather some clean, dry clothes and a meager lunch. Most of our meals come directly from the sea. The weather is a big factor. If it’s a stormy day, chances are we won’t set our nets. When the sea is calm is the best time for us to set sail for another day of work. You can imagine what we smell like when we return home. Our clothing is covered with fish blood, sweat and the aroma of fresh sea air.

My skin has been tanned by the sun, but years of fishing has caused it to dry and wrinkle. Tiny lines are beginning to form around my eyes from straining them against the reflections on the water. Some days are better than others. Being a man of the sea requires diligence and perseverance. Not to mention a great deal of patience. Those attributes equip us for the many hours of work we put in.

We work anywhere from ten to twelve hours a day. Were’ considered low class citizens because of our raucous lifestyle and bad language. We’re tough under pressure. We have to be. There are times when windstorms could cause our boats to capsize. Strong arms are a requirement for the trade. My temper sometimes gets the best of me. I often put my foot in my mouth and say the wrong thing. Some consider me to be outspoken, but most of them just ignore me.

A man who came from Galilee had been making the rounds. He performed miraculous deeds. He spoke with authority about His mission. I didn’t understand what He was talking about, but I do know that He proved Himself to be a great fisherman. I can relate to that. He sailed with some of His friends one day. You know how fish stories go. They sometimes exaggerate the truth, but I was a witness to this one. As they put their nets into the water, hordes of fish jumped into them. It was as if the sea had spit out every one of its best fish. There were so many, they had to call on others to help them carry the fish to shore. I’d never seen anything like it. Was it a miracle? I’m not sure, but it sure seemed so. I will never see another catch like I did that day.

A few of my fellow fishermen decided to follow the man. His “mission” was made clear to them. He told them that they would now become fishers of men. I didn’t quite understand, but those fellows went with Him and stayed with Him throughout the next three years. Perhaps my life would be different if I followed that call. There are times when I wonder why I’m here. What’s my purpose? I try to plan my life the way I think it should go, but that doesn’t seem to work. I lack the faith that those other fishermen had in the man they chose to follow. I wonder what ever happened to them.

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REST & RELAXATION

Posted on March 17, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

ORIGINAL ART BY PAUL T. BOECHER© FUNNY STORY BY KATHY BOECHER©

For the past month or more, the golf courses in our area have been open and are being used by many. The grass has not yet revived, so instead of meeting someone on the 9th green, it’s more like a rendezvous on the brown.

I’ve not played golf for decades.  The last time, I was the mother of three young children and wore a wig that day, since my hair wasn’t going to cooperate no matter what. This was to be a short escape – a quiet respite for me – away from the children for a few hours. Time would be well spent with my only sibling.  I actually used to be a pretty good golfer, but that particular day would dash any hopes of ever becoming part of the LPGA.

The course was on was a series of winding paths and intermittent hills, so we opted for a cart rather than walking.  We were close to the 18th hole when it happened.  We got into the cart, started it up and went sailing down the hill.  It soon became apparent that the cart didn’t have working brakes. As my life swiftly passed before my eyes, I was convinced that I was about to die. We hit a tree, and everything went flying.  Golf clubs scattered everywhere along with a few toys which had been earlier stuffed into the bag by my children.  My wig sat cockeyed upon my head.  We lived to see another day, but I was so embarrassed when a young man (I later discovered he was one of the Green Bay Packers) came running to our aid.  He began to pick things up and noticed some of the toys on the ground.  He politely asked if they belonged to us.

I must confess – I’m not a very good liar – but I simply couldn’t bring myself to admit they were mine.  That, in addition to my unusual appearance, must’ve given him a lot to talk about back at the clubhouse. Maybe this is why I have such a hard time with R & R.  I can handle rest, but relaxation conjures memories I’d sooner forget.

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PROMISE OF SPRING

Posted on March 16, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

ART & POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER©

Golden glow arises at dawn, kissing the trees awake,

Brilliant tints inhabit the sky, shades for heaven they make,

A ripple effect explodes there, shadows and light descend,

The chill in the air refreshes, all sadness is on the mend,

A new day appears as promised, God’s love it will provide,

When life leaves scars on our heartstrings, and tears fall at all sides,

Our God has given His promise, that life goes on today,

He carries us through the waters of trouble and dismay,

He lifts us when we’ve fallen down, He heals our broken hearts,

He generates hope and wisdom, and gives us a fresh start,

Each day becomes a heritage to pass on to our sons,

Our lives go on after our death, through what our Lord has done.

Posted in Art & poetry by Kathy Boecher, Faith, Inspiration, seasons | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

THE MESSIAH IS HERE- PART 15

Posted on March 15, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

When we approach the final days of life, our mind tends to wonder what it was all for. We aren’t the same as we once were. We experience physical pain and have endured emotional loss along the way. Our spiritual growth is also coming to an end as we near heaven’s holy entrance. We’ve been weeded, broken, replanted, grafted, and pruned. From the point of view of an old gardener, named Ilan (which is the Hebrew word for tree) we learn what he discovered as he finished up his duties in the Garden of Gethsemane.

ILAN, THE GARDENER       

I don’t know how much longer I can continue on this way. My back is breaking from the constant bending. Why do I put myself through this day after day? My knees are worn out from the years of trudging the olive grove. My skin is shriveled and leathery from the afternoon sun. I’m eighty years old. I should be resting at the seaside, but here I stay. This garden has seen many an invader – not just the tenacious weeds that swirl in and out, sapping life from the beautiful plants. My country has been under siege for years and years. When Moses led my people out of bondage, they thought things would get better, but they just became a slavery of a different sort.

Now I’m all alone. My family has moved on. My wife died two years ago. For over fifty years she took care of me. She massaged my back after along day of hard work. She attended my broken and sun burned skin with herbs and oil. I miss her tender touch. I often wonder why the Lord continues to let me remain in these troubling times. I long to go to heaven, but know there must be a reason for remaining behind. So I’ll continue at my work until that day comes, even though my hands now resemeble the distorted trunks of the olive trees I look after.

The sun had finally dropped into the horizon as I gathered the tools of my trade and packed them into the cart. The road home seemed to get longer and longer each day. That night I decided to sleep under the stars and save myself the anguish of stumbling home to an empty house. The garden was a place of refuge for many. No one would notice an old man sleeping under an olive tree. A man named Jesus had used the garden as a place to meditate and pray. I’d heard Him preach over the last couple years. He had words that brought comfort and that I could relate to. He spoke often of planting seeds and reaping a good harvest. He obviously knew a lot about gardening. He even called Himself the vine. Many of His stories were related to agriculture and tending the fruit of the earth.

His voice was strong yet held a peaceful calm that gave a person hope for a better life. He often talked about those of us who were going through trials and physical problems. It was if He had experienced the same issues. He wasn’t here to talk about revolution or wars. All He wanted was to fulfill His Father’s plan for salvation. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I felt relief when He spoke about eternal life.

The stars were gleaming overhead. The smell of fresh fruit from the olive trees permeated the air. The aches and pains of the day began to melt into sleep. My wife would be worried, but she knew that I didn’t have the stamina I once had. Then I remembered, she was no longer waiting at home. As my eyes began to close, I remembered an ancient Psalm I had learned as a young boy.

“The salvation of the righteous comes from the Lord.” Psalm 37:39

I fell asleep knowing that there was nothing I could do to obtain salvation. It would have to come from the Lord alone. Was Jesus the One who would accomplish that?

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART 14

Posted on March 14, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

MARCUS – A ROMAN JAILER

I served as a jailer in the prison of Jerusalem. Prisoners were chained and locked up and likely would spend the rest of their lives in jail. Most would say I had an easy life, but that wouldn’t even come close to the horrors I’d experience on a daily basis. The prison cells are nothing like the jails of your time. These had been used and reused for many years. They weren’t sanitized or even slightly cleaned. The sweat, blood, tears and other bodily fluids of the prisoners remained as each new one came in. The smell was overwhelming. Since they were confined to their cells, you can’t begin to imagine what I was exposed to.

I am a soldier, first and foremost. I serve Rome as part of the military, but my job is to make sure that the prisoners remain alive until they come to trial. Most of them are thieves. Some have committed serious crimes, like murder, treason or worse. Rome didn’t have time or space for those who were religious fanatics or activists who spread their own ideas in the streets. Those were left to the leaders of the Jewish religious community. The church had great influence you see. I’d witnessed some of the corruption behind the temple walls. Things that upset the religious leaders might even include passing of bribes or payment for information regarding those who might cause problems for them. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it seemed to work for the most part. The only good thing about my experience as a jailer was being able to leave the prison and go home at the end of the day. The souls I left behind would have to remain and wallow in their misery.

As I walked through the city streets one late afternoon, I noticed one of my fellow soldiers, kneeling at the feet of a common man. It certainly looked strange. Usually, the general population would cower at the feet of law enforcement. There was a strong presence of the military in the city streets. Rome insisted on it. I watched and listened as the soldier begged for help from this man. Who was this stranger? I heard the soldier ask for the healing of one of his servants. The man he spoke to said He would come to the soldier’s house to heal the man. My compatriot said that wouldn’t be necessary. He knew that this man could heal with just a command. He was convinced of His authority.

I later discovered that the man was named Jesus. Jesus admired the soldier’s faith and healed his servant without any physical intervention. Just a simple word healed the servant. I thought about those suffering back in the jail. My heart suddenly ached for them and the chains that held them. It was something I’d never experienced. I heard Jesus words many times after that. He spoke about compassion and loving our enemies. This was new too. I had been taught from an early age, to fight my enemies not to love them. The chains that held me captive were finally released. I realized that this was not just another religious fanatic. It changed the way I felt about my job, my family, my own life. I was no longer a prisoner to those things. My bonds were set free, by the Messiah who had come to save everyone.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART THIRTEEN

Posted on March 13, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

LEVI – THE TAX COLLECTOR

My name is Levi. My occupation has me right on the same level as prostitutes and traitors. In the eyes of my fellow Jews, I am nothing more than someone who sells his soul to the devil. I’m a tax collector. I am good with numbers. I know how to calculate and keep good records, but because of my job, I am considered an outcast by those of my own religion. The reputation has resulted from what some of my fellow tax collectors have done to deceive their friends, acquaintances and even relatives. When they compute the Roman tax, they pad the bill just enough to make it lucrative for themselves. I am not like them, yet they look at me with a holier than thou attitude. They have judged me without even knowing me.

I sit at my place in the market and collect taxes. Even though my job is thankless, I like to think I’m making an honest living. As I sit and wait for each person to come forward and pay what is due, I often catch a glimpse of this fellow, Jesus. He has made His way through the streets of Jerusalem, preaching and teaching a new form of religion. He speaks about compassion and love for our neighbors. Even though most of the crowd is out for themselves, He seems to find good in everyone. He once shared a story about a tax collector and a Pharisee. He made it clear that the Pharisee was all show and no action when he prayed. He prayed that God would credit him with all the good he was doing for his people. He counted his own works as payment for the bad he had done. The tax collector in the story prayed humbly, asking for God’s forgiveness, knowing that he would be forgiven. His faith in God to forgive without merit led to a positive answer.

Jesus’ parable made me stop and think. His words made sense and yet they were so full of compassion. I’d often looked at God as a fearsome judge, but Jesus was referring to Him as a loving father. I became a follower. I even invited Jesus and His friends to join me at my house for dinner. Well, you can imagine the uproar that created. Now Jesus was being accused of being a blasphemer by associating with the lowest of the low.

I gave up my job. I followed Jesus. I walked with Him and His disciples and never turned back. I realized that He was the promised Messiah and that He was about to change the world.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART TWELVE

Posted on March 12, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

In Jesus’ time, there was little regard for women. The traditions and laws of the Jews were extremely hard on them. Women were allowed to be in the Outer Court of the temple, so they could see and hear what was happening in politics of the day. They also were allowed to listen to various teachers who came to speak. Still, they were considered second class citizens and were often harshly judged and sentenced. When Jesus came on the scene, that all changed. The story today is fictional, but could have happened and is applicable to women in our own culture who feel oppressed or unworthy. To Jesus, we all have value.

MARTHA – DAUGHTER OF MERCHANT OF SPICES & ANOINTING & HEALING OILS

It was another hot day in Jerusalem. We’d traveled for days in the heat to get there in time for our biggest sale day of the year. The Passover brought customers from many towns in the area and also some from far away places. I hoped the ointments and oils would survive the intense weather.

As we set out our wares in the Outer Court, my eyes remained focused on the beautiful brass gate that led into the area. It glowed in the morning sun. This was the temple built by Herod when Solomon’s temple had undergone destruction over many oppressing armies. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the original – which had been designed by God Himself. My father scolded me for daydreaming. He pointed me to the work at hand. I spread a woolen rug across our display table and gently placed the small tubs of fine spices from all parts of the world. The aroma was intoxicating. Then came the ointments for healing. These Hebrew men would be in need of healing for their parched skin from days in the desert. The oils would help keep insects from invading hair and beards. We were there to provide a service to these people and as my father would say, “Make hay while the sun shines.”

My ears were opened to all sorts of conversations. There was the political talk of the day. The people were tired of being oppressed by the Romans, but it seemed to be a way of life for the Jews. Being enslaved as a nation was common to them. There was talk of a king who would come soon to defeat the Romans and make them a great nation again. Giddy laughter exploded from children as they played in the streets. Women gathered and chattered about the latest engagement or newborn child. Apparently, there was a man named Jesus, who was stirring up the crowds. He could’ve been accused of insurrection or treason. Still, he was allowed to speak, as were those who came before Him.

As I gently dusted desert sand off the containers, He came into the Outer Court. His disciples were with Him. One, named Judas, stood off to the side and eventually was joined by two members of the Sanhedrin. Perhaps Judas was offering a bribe so that Jesus could speak without interruption.

Jesus was just an ordinary man. In fact, He wasn’t much to look at, but He exhibited the strength of ten men as he overturned the tables. His voice was filled with rage as He accused the merchants of defacing the temple. When he came to our display, I feared the cost of all those expensive items and how much money my father would lose. Jesus turned His eyes to me. It was as if He was saying He had need of these things. He then moved on to another table.

Voices rose up from the leaders of the church. Small groups of them gathered and seemed to be plotting how to get rid of this fanatic who was destroying their business. One merchant said it would take years to replace his wares. Another complained that this had always been the best place for him to make a living. He wouldn’t be back again. Something had to be done. The wheels were being set in motion and by the end of the week an ugly trial would take place.

I will never forget the look in His eyes as He approached our table. He was compassionate under all that rage. He was reaching out to me – a woman – as He passed us by. I could tell He was a king, but not the kind that was expected. He was a righteous king – a kind king – a forgiving king – a king who wanted to dwell with His people – a king who would die for them – even me.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART ELEVEN

Posted on March 11, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

This series is a grouping of fictional sketches of various characters Jesus might have met during His time on earth. Though they aren’t all real, they could have been.
The story of Jesus’ ministry and time on earth is rich in events of everyday living. Some stories are in the Bible, some are made up, but I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to live in that time and actually meet the Son of God – face to face.

ABNER – A RICH, YOUNG MAN

I am a man of wealth. I’m also Jewish and a Roman citizen. Some would say I was born with a silver chalice in my mouth. My family follows all the traditions of the Jewish religion. We keep the law of Moses to perfection. The commandments of God were drilled into us as children at the temple. You could say I have it all. I own several horses, a chariot and a home of my own on my father’s property.

As I sit at my window each morning, I watch the sun rise on this town and the golden glow dances across the roof tops turning it into a city of gold. I often sit there and watch as each new religious fanatic passes by. There are many of them. I suppose the lower classes need something to hang onto. Many live in squalor, some just get by. Then there are the rich. I wasn’t under the thumb of the Roman government as long as I paid the taxes due and donated to various projects. Corruption is everywhere and even though I could pay my way through life, something was missing. Crime is at an all-time high and the Roman soldiers have difficulty controlling some of the mobs.

The laws have no bearing anymore. I can’t complain, because I have the means to make it through this life without a problem. The government, the city officials and leaders, even the higher ups in the church appear to be on the take, while the average person must struggle for his daily bread. If you have money, you can buy your way out of any situation.

When Jesus came to Jerusalem. He brought His entourage of close friends. A massive crowd followed Him as He preached to both rich and poor. His voice reached my window and I had to hear more. I quickly joined the crowd, pushing my way closer until I was right next to Him. His face beamed with kindness and compassion. I’d never seen such honesty and purity on a human countenance. He spoke to church leaders who were trying to trick Him into saying something that would lead to His imprisonment. To them He was not only a threat, but a rabble rouser. Eventually they would rise up and accuse Him of blasphemy.

I had a question of my own. “What must I do to obtain eternal life?” Jesus asked if I was willing to give up my life of wealth to follow Him. His eyes pierced my soul as He looked deeply into mine. I was stunned by his comment. How could I give up all that I had? I went back to my home completely discouraged. Was I walking away from the greatest treasure to be found? Did I do the right thing? Was it because I refused to give up all that I own or was it because my faith wasn’t strong enough to rely totally on Him. I will ponder this for the rest of my days.

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WAITING FOR THE SON TO RISE . . .

Posted on March 10, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

ORIGINAL ART & P9OETRYBY PAUL T. & KATHY BOECHER©

His bruised and smitten body lay quiet in the grave,

In His holy precious blood, the whole world He would save,

There are no words to thank Him, to give love in return,

God’s promise is now fulfilled, His Spirit in me does burn,

The words are forever etched in this dark heart of mine,

My sins have been forgiven, by God’s own Son divine,

I wait for Easter morning, with confidence and hope,

To see Him resurrected gives me a way to cope.

Sweet Jesus, reclining there, Your love will never fail,

I will put my faith in You.  No other can prevail.

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FOREVER YOUNG

Posted on March 9, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

ART & POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER

Fairy tales can come true – it can happen to you, if you’re young at heart … Old, blue eyes, Frank Sinatra made that dream seem possible when he released “Young at Heart” in 1963. It was the same year that Camelot fell, and President Kennedy was assassinated.  I was only 21 and just at the beginning of my life’s adventure.  In less than a year I would marry my Prince Charming and live happily ever after. 

Youth is really overrated.  Those early years are filled with all kinds of new ideas, hopes and dreams.  It takes years of time, struggle, building, breaking, rebuilding and the love of God to become mature.  By the time you’ve reached the golden years, you’re not only falling apart, but the world also assumes you’re too old to contribute much of anything.  I suppose, if Washington has its way, anyone over 70 will soon be on the endangered list.

One thing I’ve learned over the years, is that we can’t change God’s plan for our life.  We can try to alter it in some way, but He’s in control.  To many that doesn’t seem right.  We should be masters of our own domain, right?  To those of us who have chosen to put our lives in God’s hands, it is not only a comfort, but the best possible place we could be.  I’m not the woman I was at 21, but one who knows we are creatures of our environment, relationships and most of all the plan God has designed for us. Knowing this, we can be confident of eternal life – a life that will never fall apart, ache, suffer or be sad – a perfect life that will last forever.  Jesus made that possible!

Sweet memories drift through the crevices within my brain,

Stored treasures from my youth come forth with such a loud refrain,

I sometimes think no mountain is too tall,

and then I stumble and I fall,

The bumps along the road will not deter me,

I will not cave to age and feeble fears,

I may not have the strength or hope to save me,

But I have someone drying all my tears,

Though life may quickly run its fitful race,

The Lord is right there dying in my place,

He lifts me up when I grow weary – carries me when I grow weak,

He clears the way though dark and dreary – even when it seems too bleak,

Life can last until a hundred, but our minds revert to things long passed,

Childish thoughts and empty wishes, stay with us until our last, 

On my heart the words are written. I will speak them with my tongue,

Jesus lives and I’ll remain – after death – forever young.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART TEN

Posted on March 8, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

OVADYA – A SLAVE

Slavery in my time was like a last resort for most. Those who had special talents or abilities had better lives to look forward to. Imagine, standing on an auction block, waiting for the highest bid It is humiliating and pushes your self-worth into the ground. Try to think of yourself being a piece of meat or worse yet, something of very little or no value at all. As time passes, you become used to your position, but still your very existence is reliant on someone else to feed and clothe you, in exchange for those special abilities. I was born into slavery. My mother gave birth to me, knowing that I had no future to look forward to other than serving others. My father would never have his own land to work. He would forever be a victim of his circumstances, just as I would. I’m not complaining. I have a decent place to live and food to eat, I’m just at the lowest rung on the ladder of humanity.

My job is to wash the feet of my master, his family and any guests that come and go throughout the day. I know you don’t understand the idea of washing feet as I do. You complain when you have to wash your hands more often than you like. Sandals were worn to protect the feet, but still they were exposed to the dirt of the city, the desert and the barnyard. As you can imagine, feet need washing every day and sometimes even more. Remember, I’m talking about the metropolis of Jerusalem, where people threw their garbage out the windows and onto the streets. Where animals roamed freely and were left to their own natural use for the roads. The road to Jerusalem was lined with rocky terrain, sand from the desert and dirt being carried in from all over the known world.

My job requires ignoring your senses and proceeding in spite of them. It isn’t just a matter of washing the dirt off but getting between the toes and under toenails to remove the grime. Feet get calloused, blistered and broken. It’s not something you ever get used to, but I know that being a slave requires me not to think too much about things like that. My own hands have grown rough and dry from having them in water all day long. My nose is exposed to all kinds of smells. I get no thanks, because I am a slave. I desire the chance to prove myself in other ways but have been condemned to this life and must learn to accept it. Anyone who would actually want my job, would be considered a fool. No one wants to give up their freedom.

A young man came to the city this week. At first, I thought he was just another religious fanatic trying to change the world. This isn’t an unusual occurrence, but his words were different. He gave us hope for our desperate condition. His words struck a chord. He related to everyone he spoke to. He even spoke of himself as being on a mission to take away the sin that haunts each of us. There was something about him that made me feel special – as though he was speaking directly to me. He gave me comfort hat this world was not my final resting place. I noticed his willingness to reach out to help others without expecting anything in return. It was as if he was walking in my shoes. He knew my plight. He had experienced everything I’ve lived. He knew the pain and anguish this life has to offer and yet he gave me hope for a better future – one that would set me free from my bondage.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART NINE

Posted on March 7, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

HADAR, THE POTTER

Yesterday, as it was nearing the end of the day, a golden glow filled the city streets. I had always loved watching the sun make its final departure. The sky was filled with mauve, gold and silver. Beams from the glorious light, filled a cloudless sky. Passover had begun. My shop was especially busy up to and including today. Being a potter in these times is a necessary profession. Everyone needs cups and plates. Occasionally I have an opportunity to make something a little more creative, but the everyday work is what keeps food on my table. I can’t complain. I have many workers and have created my own little business, so I feel blessed.

I’ve often received a commission or two with all the traffic from so many far away places. Special creations, like urns and decorative pieces that will line the interior of a wealthy home are often ordered at this time. The church also keeps us busy with orders for basins, cups and other objects that will be used in traditional ceremonies. That very morning I received an order for a special cup and plate to be used at a private Passover dinner in a few days. It was to be used by a prince. I was honored to be given this task and decided to do the work myself rather than putting it on the assembly line.

The clay felt good in my hands. It had been a while since I’d actually created a piece myself. The wheel turned rhythmically as my hands manipulated the mud into shape. It was as if my hands were being guided by some outside force. I wondered why a prince would be satisfied with a pottery chalice. He deserve one of silver or gold, but I wasn’t about to question his request. Once the clay took shape, I placed it in a kiln to dry as well as preserve it. I would then use special tools to smooth the items to perfection. I was proud of the work. I placed my mark on each item and wrapped them in soft lambskin to be delivered on Thursday morning.

I spent hours at the wheel. I was satisfied with the results. I was tired from using muscles that hadn’t been used for some time. I went outside the shop to rest, just in time to watch the sun go down again. I noticed all the shards of broken pottery left from other projects. It made me think of the words of the prophet Isaiah.

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah 64:8

The work of my hands is nothing in comparison with what my heavenly Father can do. He created mankind from a lump of dirt – molded and formed Adam into the perfect specimen. That perfection was soon obliterated by the dark cloud of sin, but nothing is impossible for God. He took the broken pieces of clay, reshaped them, remolded them and reclaimed them to what they were intended to be. He not only made us, but He repaired us to perfection.

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THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART EIGHT

Posted on March 6, 2024 by atimetoshare.me

MAHALAH, THE LEPER – (Mahalah is the Hebrew name for a person who is feeble or diseased,) I was only a young man when the dreaded disease began to …

THE MESSIAH IS HERE – PART EIGHT
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