In the Zone

A few years ago when I wrote for the newspaper, I covered the story of a recount in an election. Two candidates for a local office had finished within three votes of each other, prompting an automatic recount of the votes.  As I sat there in the tiny office surrounded by the candidates and their supporters, I watched as the election officials pulled each ballot by hand and counted the votes again. The tedious process produced fruit.  Some votes were miscounted, but not enough to change the result.  The winning candidate claimed victory by a single vote.  As I witnessed disappointment and elation amongst the two contenders, I could only think one thing:  I single-handedly elected this guy to office. You see, I voted for the winning candidate. Going into the ballot box, I had no clue to vote for in the race.  So I picked him.  And he won.  By one vote.  By my vote. I made a difference.  I changed the election.  I helped one man achieve his dreams and crushed another's oppor

I'll never forget the scene. I was strolling past the Old State Capital building in Frankfort, Ky.  My wife, a teacher, led a field trip to the state capital.  Short on chaperones, she asked me to come along.  It was just after lunch.  Many of the students were taking photos or cleaning up lunch or talking.  I was strolling the outer edge of the fence, taking in the scene.  In my peripheral vision, I notice a boy - about 2 or 3 years old - running full steam in my direction.  Behind him is a dad rushing to catch up. That's when I did something unusual.  I stopped. I don't know why, but for some reason, I stopped walking and just watched this scene unfold.  I watched as the boy, his face lit up in glee, ran past me toward the busy street beyond.  I watched as a father - worry etched on his face - ran hard to intercept his son before he made it to the road. I'm happy to report the father reached his son just before he barreled into the busy Frankfort, Ky. inte

When I was in elementary school, we took one day at the end of the year for an egg contest. Each student built a contraption they thought would keep an egg from being broken.  Then teachers and principals would drop those inventions, all containing eggs, from ever increasing heights.  If the egg broke, you didn't win the prize. I'm sad to say my device didn't win.  It made it though a couple of rounds, but a drop from a second story window did it in.  I unraveled the tape to see gushy, yellow yoke all over the cotton balls inside.  The winner survived a drop from the roof. I may not have won the egg dropping contest, but I did learn something that fateful day.  When objects are dropped, no matter how big or small or light or heavy, they all fall to the ground.  Every time.  No exceptions. Gravity pulls on the earth.  It grounds me on soil, keeping me from floating away into the atmosphere.  It brings me back down when I jump in the air.  If I drop an egg from a wind

Recently, as I've been studying other faiths for our weekly youth Bible study, I've spoken with people about their beliefs in God and scripture.  I've gotten some interesting responses. One person said they believed in the truths the Bible taught, but simply could not accept the wilder accounts, such as Jonah.  Another said the Bible was a book of truths, but so are other religious books.  Another disputed various accounts of scripture. As I read those responses, I understand how people can fall for the fallacy of cults.  They twist scripture and add enough "Christian-speak" to sound authentic.  If you don't know your Bible or have just rudimentary knowledge, you can be easily confused about what is true and what is false. Jehovah's Witnesses are one of those types of organizations.  Many of their teachings directly contradict scripture.  They teach that Jesus is an angel created by God who died on a stake instead of a cross.  They teach that only 14

I sat there mesmerized. It was nothing more than a cluster of grapes, a large vine and a Bible verse, but I could not step away.  The verse, from John 15, reminded me that apart from Jesus I can not bear fruit.  It's a verse I've read and quoted countless times.  Yet, for this moment, I felt the weight of that passage. We were smack dab in the middle of a mission trip to St. Louis.  This particular day found me at the St. Louis Botanical Gardens--an excursion our sight liaison arranged during our visit.  Amidst all the various plants and trees, the Botanical Gardens houses a small Biblical garden, featuring plants mentioned and used in the Bible.  The grapes were front and center.  The clusters of grapes were enormous, overloading the vines which were literally hanging over the patio.  I stopped and marveled at the amount of fruit and at the words of Jesus. In the middle of St. Louis, the world disappeared as I experienced the presence of the almighty creator.  I had