Friday, September 30, 2016

My Dad, the Farmer

My dad was Irish. He had a temper. He drank. So did his father.  Dad dropped out of school after fourth grade to support his parents. In his late twenties.he charmed the farm girl, my mother and married her.  Her dad died; her mother was left alone.  My dad took over the farm. He didn't know how to farm but he figured it out. He taught himself math, and clerked cattle auctions on Saturdays.  His name was Garnett. My mother's was Zema.

From sunrise to sunset my dad drove his four-horse team between the furrows of his corn and wheat fields. Every spring he planted seeds in hard gumbo and hoped too much rain wouldn't wash them out or too little rain wouldn't cook them. He sold some steers and bought a tractor. One day a man came walking toward him down the corn row. "Mr. Flynn, I understand you're the only farmer in this community who refuses to take a government subsidy for not planting wheat."  Dad slowly climbed down off his tractor, walked toward the fellow and yelled in his face:   "You college educated jackass! Get off my land and don't you ever set foot on it again!"  That night at suppertime, and until I left home at seventeen I was taught how to recognize the lies about the benefits of socialism. Dad had never read the Bible, but he knew that if a governmen paid people for doing nothing, it would be just a matter of time before the country was finished. My dad had common sense. .

At seventy, my parents were crippled and dying from brutal farm work.  Ted and I brought them to Palo Alto, California. where we were in ministry with Ray Stedman. Fabulous man, that Ray Stedman. Fabulous church. Fabulous people. Some were rich. Some were not. It didn't matter. They loved the Lord, each other and my parents. Wil Johnson, retired farmer from Illinois was one of those people. Wil and Dad went into business together.  Wil had the money; Dad had the know-how to handle it.  Dad had a keen sense of character.  He didn't trust many people, but he trusted Wil Johnson. He called him a "straight shooter".

Dad got sick with pneumonia and nearly died. My Ted and Ray Stedman went to see him in the hospital. When  Dad wasn't blowing his Irish top he was a man who reasoned. He had concluded that Somebody had organized the cycles of plant and animal life. He just didn't know His Name. Ray and Ted dropped in the final Piece of the Puzzle: Jesus, Maker of Heaven and Earth. Dad asked Him in. Mother wasn't far behind. Both were seventy-five years old. Dad quit drinking, smoking and cussing. Nobody told him to. He just figured it was the right thing to do. They both lived many more years. Maybe next week I will continue the Saga of Garnett and Zema Flynn. Maybe.

In the year, 1787 as Ben Franklin left the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia on the last day of the sequestered meetings  a woman named Mrs. Powel approached him. "Well, Doctor, what do we have?   A monarchy or a Republic?. "He answered: "A Republic, if you can keep it.!"

Requested Song of Judy S. in Burton, Texas: "In His Time".

In His Time, In His Time
He makes all things beautiful in His Time
Lord, please show me every day
As You're teaching me Your way
That You do just what You say
In Your time.

In Your time; In Your time
You make all things beautiful
In Your time
Lord, my life to You I bring
May each song I have to sing
Be to You a lovely thing
In Your time.

What song do you want me to print?

Love, Jo

Friday, September 23, 2016


Genesis 1:27-28: Then God said, "Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness...and God created man in His own image,  in the image of God He created him, male and female He created.  

 I will not vote for a candidate who does not value human life; life created in the Image of God, whether murdered in the womb or murdered by a terrorist whose satanic god rewards him for killing innocent people created in the Image of God. Down through human history the scriptures reveal that satan always overplays his hand. The horrors of terrorism have awakened many Muslims to the truth that they are sacrificing themselves and the lives of countless people to satan himself.  Many Muslims do not read the Koran. Sadly, many professing Christians do not read the Word of God. He leads us very clearly from scripture regarding the decisions we are yet privileged to make in America.

And now for a story: There has been a man in my life for several weeks. His name is "Henry"  He lives in the city of  Cebu in the Philippines. Here is how this affair began: I am determined to continue with water aerobics into the late fall. I will need a wetsuit to keep from catching pneumonia. STEPS OF ACTION:  Measure every part of my body.  Go into funk. Go online to order wetsuit. Discover overwhelming choices. Download pictures of wetsuits from all companies. Brain scrambles.  Call daughter. Dee helps whittle down options. Orders a top and bottom from two different companies.  The March of the Daily Emails begins. "Bottom on the way". Next Email: "Top on the way".  One week later: no Bottom; no Top.  Call Mother Company:  Amazon. Henry in Cebu, Philippines answers. Understand every third word. Henry's advise: "I'm on it!  Wait two days. I will track down both Bottom and Top". I wait. Meanwhile: March of the Emails continues from unidentified sources. "Product has been delivered". I  search the flat parts of the nine acres on which I live. No Bottom.  No Top. Tired. Go to bed in midday. More Emails: "Top has been delivered". Check with local post office. No Bottom. No Top. Get in truck. Begin Search of the Mailboxes, one eye watching for the Mailbox Police.  Eureka! The Bottom!  No Top! A picture forms of me in a topless wetsuit. Not pretty. Squash thought. Then, the March of the Phone Calls begins. A guy named Jim: "Top has been delivered".  Back to the post office. Stops along the way back home to examine the mailboxes. No Top. Phone ringing as I enter home. "Top has been delivered". No Top. Grocery run into town, twelve miles away. Pass "Big 5".  In a prior call had been told  "We have no wetsuits." I enter "Big 5". Rack of Men's Wetsuits. Grab one. Try on. Fits. Pay and run. Time spent:  Ten minutes. Home. Send online for shipping label to return Bottom.  Printer stalls. Call daughter. Computer prints. Label affixed. Speed down mountain to post office. Postmistress and I do a high five.  Home. Phone ringing. It's Henry.  From the Philippines. "Henry, our relationship is over."  Two Emails  from Bottom People: " Price of Wetsuit Bottom will be credited to your card".  Two Emails from Top People. : "Price of Wetsuit Top will be credited to your card.".

The post 0ffice is not responsible. FedEx is not responsible. UPS is not responsible. NObody seems to be responsible, Not unlike our current government. Conservatively speaking the wetsuit that I will never wear has cost the companies in the vicinity of a thousand dollars.. The cost of the one I bought at Big 5? One hundred and nineteen. I am wearing it as I write.  My fellow exercisers will cheer as I lower my body into our pool. These people who know something about everything advised me to put on panty hose first so the suit will slide on. . "Don't use talcum powder. It causes cancer." But then, what doesn't? Thus ends, I hope, "The Saga of the Wetsuit".

Requested Hymn:  AND CAN IT BE?   Beautiful!!!

And can it that I should gain an interest in the Savior's blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?

He left His Father's throne above; so free, so infinite His grace!
Emptied Himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race.

No condemnation now I dread; I am my Lord's and He is mine.
Alive in Him, my living Head; and clothed in righteousness divine.


What hymn would you like me to print?

Love,  Jo

Saturday, September 10, 2016


I wish early mornings lasted all day. Heaven will be one grand early morning for all of eternity! Here on Earth I wake up with new strength and feel like soaring like an eagle. "Hooty" the Owl softly tells me "Goodnight" as First Light creeps over the eastern mountain. Bats swoop over in one last fly-by. Pussn' Cat stirs at my feet.  Swarms of sparrows dart about in wide arcs,  then two loud fussing crows break into the day's peaceful beginnings. Hillary and Donald are awake!

"It was the best and worst of times".  Our efforts to control the world with our money and power did not, after all buy friendships. As our nation passes off the prophetic scene as a world leader a hunger for God's Word is emerging. Just in time, technology is broadcasting the Gospel around the world.

How are you doing with bringing hope to your friends who have no hope? Are you holed up in your Holy Huddle, enjoying the fellowship?  That "ship" may very well be forced underground. If you have no church or pastor to take them to are you prepared to show them The Way? 

My  Ted made many Christians uncomfortable when he asked them: "How many non-Christians friends do you have?'" Well, how many do you have? What is your "connector"? Everyone has one. Paul asked the Colossians to "pray for a door for the Gospel" for him.  Paul asked that small gathering of new believes in Colossae to pray that he would "know how to answer the questions asked of him".  The presupposition:  He had earned the right to be heard by listening and not talking until the Holy Spirit prompted him to do so.

How is your plan for evangelism working for you? One of God's "plans":  Be a friend to the publican and sinner. All that is different about us is that we received as payment for our sin the Blood of Jesus Christ Who died and rose again to take away the penalty and power of our sin. Soon, when Morning comes, even the presence of sin will be forever gone!  The people in the world are searching for exoneration from the sin that will not go away.  My spin is this: They will be frantically searching for it soon.

My dear friend, Char in Bakersfield has patiently waited for me to print "Day by Day".  Here it is:

Day by day and through each passing moment; strength I find to meet my trials here.
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment; I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest. 

Every day the Lord Himself is near me with a special mercy for each hour.
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me; He whose Name is "Counsellor"  and "Power".
The protection of His child and treasure is a charge that He Himself has laid.
"As thy days thy strength shall be in measure";  this the pledge to me He made.

Help me, Lord in every tribulation, so to trust thy promises, O Lord.
I lose not faith's sweet consolation offered me within Thy Holy Word.
Help me, Lord when toil and trouble meeting, e'er to take as from a father's hand
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting 'til I reach the promised land.

Love, Jo