Hot Lattes and Sweet Figs

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By Ashlie Miller

Last week, many headed to their favorite coffee spot for a PSL (pumpkin-spiced latte). Pumpkins are already beginning to adorn steps, doorways, and windows, creating scenes straight out of a Gilmore Girls episode. Pumpkins may be the fruit of the season. Not so fast! For me, the fruit of the season is the fig. It is still late summer, after all. I have had an affinity for figs since childhood. Summers at my grandparents were crowned with their fig bushes bursting with bounty. I love the crunchy, seedy texture. As a child, I ate them straight off the bush. Now, with my more refined taste, they adorn toast garnished with goat cheese and honey. Ok, maybe not that refined. Last week’s “toast” was leftover hotdog buns, but in my mind, they were French baguettes. 

Fig trees were a topic of discussion between my daughter and me last week as we were reading through the New Testament. “Mom, what is this about the fig tree that Jesus cursed?” she asked. Well, let’s go to the beginning – Genesis, to be exact. 

After the Fall of humanity – when Adam and Eve both ate the forbidden fruit – they realized their nakedness and were filled with shame. Consequently, they covered themselves with fig leaves that they had sewn together, but it was not enough. God had to make them garments of skin, meaning something had to die to clothe them. Manmade efforts were inadequate; God had to intervene through a sacrifice. 

Throughout the Old Testament, fig trees symbolize prosperity, peace, fruitfulness, and even Israel. In the New Testament, Jesus confronts opposing Jews, sometimes through direct encounters, while at other times it would be through parables. Occasionally, though, He would use an object lesson. In the Parable of the Fig Tree (Luke 13:6-9), Jesus tells a story of a fig tree that is barren for three years. The vinedresser says it should be dug up or cut down if irrigation and fertilizer do not help. 

Later, Jesus curses a fig tree that only has leaves. Although it was not the season yet for ripened figs, this early-blooming leafy tree should have already been filling out with figs. He curses this tree so that it never bears fruit again. A day later, Peter sees it and is amazed that it is already withered. 

What gives? The initial observation is that God values fruitfulness. We are to bear fruit as Christians. In fact, the evidence of the Holy Spirit in our lives is called “fruit.” Professing Christians can too often be merely consumers and not contributors to the Kingdom of God. We can look impressive and religious but have no evidence of the Holy Spirit. 

The fig tree can also represent the Law (commandments) given by God, and that Israel was meant to be a conduit for God’s love reaching the world. But over time (and not a long time at that), they failed. A focus on what one could do to inherit eternal life (see the rich young ruler) took precedence over a relationship with God. Self-made efforts and keeping laws to cover sin and look religious were found to be inadequate. Jesus’ earthly ministry of three years was to first present the gospel to Israel. They refused. They wanted more miracles and signs (but not on the Sabbath!), more rules, and more to consume. But Jesus came with a better, complete plan. He fulfilled the Law and provided the only way to inherit eternal life – for all people. The unfruitful fig tree, the channel that stopped short, was no longer necessary or useful. 

My figs and honey remind me of the sweetness of the Law – showing us where we are imperfect and need a Savior.  They also let me know that fall is just around the corner.

A Daughter’s Memory

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By Lynna Clark

David’s been gone for a little over a month now. Our daughter Stephanie shared this with me the other day. I thought it was so good. Here. I’ll let her tell it.

“I remember when I was little, we would go to the beach and play in the ocean. The rule was that we could not go out past our waist unless Daddy was in the water with us. When Daddy got in the ocean we could go out deeper, and being the oldest, I got to go out farther than my sisters. I remember my toes barely touching the sand at the bottom, watching the waves roll in from the deep. The waves looked so big and scary! Daddy told me, “Don’t run from the waves. They will crash right on you and pound you into the bottom. Instead go towards them. Face them head on and you’ll float right over.” To a ten-year-old, that sounded like good survival advice, but to my fully-grown-self, it sounds like a life lesson. Face it. Don’t run from it. Lean in, rise above, and enjoy the ride.”

Throughout her life, Stephanie has leaned into a lot of adventure. Probably the scariest is being a pastor’s wife. This past weekend, she graduated from college again with her Masters in counseling. We are so proud of her, and especially of her desire to help others who are struggling. She knows stuff! So thank you Steph! As I enter this new season in my life, I’m not sure I can do it. It’s very scary. I’ll do my best to lean in, rise above and maybe even enjoy a bit of the ride.

Anybody got a floaty?

Embrace it!

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By Ann Farabee

Embrace it

Although an embrace may not be a physical one, it can still be an embrace.

To embrace not only means to hold someone closely in our arms, but can also mean to accept or support something or someone willing and enthusiastically.            

It may be when your toddler holds his arms up to you, so he can be picked up.

That is an embrace.

It may be when a friend reaches out to you with kind words.

That is an embrace.

It may be when someone realizes that you may not be okay – and reaches out to help.

That is an embrace.

It may be when someone tells you they have been praying for you.

That is an embrace.

A little encouragement sure can go a long way. It can go from home to home. It can be in the workplace. It can be in the church. It can stretch across oceans and continents. It is everywhere. Encouragement is one of our greatest assets – and it is available at all times.

A few years ago, the virtual hug was invented. I suppose it was for the purpose of having a fake hug, so we would not touch each other. The good news is that when an actual hug is not available, a virtual hug can suffice.

I may be leaning a bit toward reinventing  and stretching out the definition and implementation of a virtual hug. Would these suggestions be sufficient?

*Reach out to someone with a letter or a card. If you have ever received encouragement in the mail, you know how special it can be.

*Reach out to someone with a text, email, or facebook message. Even though it is sent through technology, it sure can lift our spirits.

*Reach out to someone by sending them a basket filled with goodies. If you have ever received a basket filled with goodies, you know just how special that can be.

*Reach out to someone with a gift card for a meal. If you have ever received a gift card for a meal, you know how exciting it is to know that it is in your pocket – at your disposal – ready to be used whenever you want – at no charge.

These have all felt like being embraced with virtual hugs to me!

Recently, I received a message from a person I did not know. It said, “Thank you for your columns. I always cut them out of the newspaper and have been saving them for years.”

Those two sentences changed my entire perspective on the words I share each week. The impact to my mind and my heart from those words have stuck with me. Someone was reading my weekly columns – and saving them! Sure, I knew people were reading my columns, but hearing from someone that was saving them really brought me joy and the desire to continue.

We have no idea the impact we have on the lives of others, do we? But – any time we choose to let someone know – we are embracing that person with a hug that will be warmly remembered and felt forever.

Your Words Have Power

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Graham Cooke tells us that our words have power…that finding our identity in Christ will change us and our circumstances and our perception of what is happening around us… Listen…. It will change you if you choose to apply the Words to you…

Sometimes It’s Too Much

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By Doug Creamer

Sometimes it’s too Much       

            What did you do last weekend? I went to two funerals. The first was for my brother’s mother-in-law. The second was for my Dad. It was a tough and long weekend. I am glad they are behind me, but there are still feelings that I need to process. There is my own pain and loss, and then I think about my brother’s family, who lost two parents in a matter of days. About a month ago, my sister lost her father-in-law, so her family has also had to deal with two losses very close together. To say that we are tired and weary is an understatement.

            My brother hosts most of the holiday gatherings at his house. The main ones are Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Eve. Every one of those gatherings included my brother’s mother-in-law. She had a laugh and a hug for everyone. She wanted to make sure that everyone was included in family gatherings.

            Her memorial service on Saturday was a great reflection on her family life. Several family members shared great stories. I really enjoyed the music. We sang a hymn I have never heard, I Danced in the Morning. It’s a great old hymn. They ended the service by singing Silent Night while we all held candles. It was beautiful.

            My Dad’s memorial service was on Sunday. I thought we would have a small service with mainly family members. I walked into a full room. There were people there from his church, community, bridge club, and his golfing buddies. I was impressed by the big turnout. Everyone was kind and supportive.

            I spoke about how one life can have a huge impact. My Dad had been to 15 different countries in his lifetime. His children and grandchildren have lived in 18 states and the territory of Puerto Rico. There were over 26 different careers represented between the children, grandchildren, and their spouses. That created quite an impact on our world. I ended my portion of the memorial sharing the fact that his children and grandchildren have been on mission trips or supported missionaries in 14 different countries. That means his legacy includes missionary work on 6 of the 7 continents.

            One other interesting thing my brother thought of for our dad’s service was an opportunity for people to share why they came to his service. We gathered and read what people wrote after the service. Some people wrote funny things, others were heartfelt, and still others were words of comfort and support. It was very comforting to our family.

            It was a long weekend for our family. I really feel for my brother and his wife who were dealing with two losses. The stress level has been high for about a month now for all of us. I hope things will gradually quiet down into a normal routine soon.

            I have heard the old expression that God never gives us more than we can handle. A friend said that they heard it differently. They heard that God WILL give us more than we can handle so we will turn to Him for the help and guidance we need. I am not sure I like that, but I have found myself turning to Him often over this last month. There have been a number of sleepless nights over the past month. My body is exhausted but my mind is racing.

            I have been pressing in to get closer to God because I am desperate to know Him in the middle of this difficult time. I talk to Him while I am lying awake in bed. I am thinking about and meditating on His Word and His promises to me. I am worshipping Him in the midst of the questions and struggles. He has been drawing close to me. He has given me His peace and comfort. He is my ever present help. He is my peace. He is my joy. He loves me.

            If you feel like you are struggling with “too much” right now, then I want to encourage you to draw closer to God. Push yourself closer. Seek Him in His Word and in your prayers. Worship Him because of who He is in spite of your circumstances. Trust Him even through you don’t know the way He is leading you. Open your heart to Him. Expose the pain and hurt and allow Him to lift you up and bring healing and peace. I do know it is a process and I believe He will help you and me through it. I bid you His peace, grace, and love.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Twenty Year Journey

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By Roger Barbee

Twenty five years ago this morning I awoke in an ICU ward in Fairfax Hospital. The night before I had had two nineteen-inch titanium rods screwed to my back because that afternoon a building I was taking down collapsed– pinning me beneath it. My broken back had to be stabilized, thus the rods.

I remember a little of  that morning: Seeing through the fog of morphine a friend who had flown on a red eye from California to see me; The ICU nurse’s long, black, curly hair that fell over my face when she leaned in to ask me a question; My body still carrying the dust and dirt from the collapsed building; My family huddled in fear and worry; But not much more. Snippets in memory that may or may not be accurate run together with what I know to be true. But what I know to be absolute is that that morning and many after it held doubt and fear and dread until I, as Mary Oliver writes, realized.

Like the narrator in her poem, The Journey, I realized one morning or at one moment or with a particular encounter that it was time—time for me to expel all the bad that I had allowed to enter into my life.  I realized that at times during those four years, my dark time, I ignored what I knew to be the truth and allowed the voices to continue tugging at “my ankles.” But as Oliver writes, “One day you finally knew/what you had to do, and began,…” And like most beginnings, mine was full of slow progress, but “Little by little” I improved, and I eventually left the “Old man” that Paul writes about behind. But like all journeys, mine was not just me placing a foot in front of another. I had begun journeying, but I was not walking alone.

After I set aside the leeches in my life, I was able to reckon myself and take an honest sounding. This sounds selfish, but when you find yourself so miserable that the only option seems to be to continue your denial or to admit that you have been at the bottom of a dark hole, digging and digging, all the while wondering why you cannot escape and see the sunlight and feel its warmth, it is then that you set aside the shovel those takers had given you and deeply consider where you are.  Finally able to lean the shovel against the hole’s side,   I began to stop going down and began to move up, ever so slowly. It was on that going upward that I saw my true friends and learned to allow them to help me.

One of the best advantages of any journey is the people you will encounter. You will meet them in unlikely places and in unusual circumstances. Because your journey is one of renewal, you will move slowly, so you will see and hear more. While your journey may not be one of steps,  you will still discover that your frantic pace to satisfy others has ceased, and you now see and hear what you had not experienced before. The ground you are traveling over becomes a sharing place for you to hear the stories of others, to smell the air of an autumn day, to feel the sun’s warmth through a  window, to hear a child’s laughter, and more. You are alive.

My journey continues because of family and friends. While I could list all of them, there is no need to because they each know what they did to help me as I finally leaned the shovel against the hole’s wall. The hole, by the  way, is still there, however, and it will never go away. It is a reminder of life’s danger, but I have learned to accept its existence and walk around it.

When measured in years, twenty is many. But when measured as a journey, it is short. Therefore, wherever you are on your journey, enjoy each step that brings more people to share it.  They are the balm for your sore and tired feet.

Day 3 of the Great Lakes

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By David Freeze

     I thought I had my ducks in a row for a very challenging day on Saturday, August 2nd. I stayed up way too late and had a plan for getting to Mackinac Island, the premier tourist attraction in Michigan and possibly on the Great Lakes. I spent the night in Cheboygan, Michigan at Johnson’s Motel. Cheboygan was the right choice, but Johnson’s wasn’t my best motel. But very little was available in the area and prices of $200-$250 were common. I paid about 40% of that in my ongoing fun battle to find the best motel for the least price. Mine was a room for four with two bedrooms. Too many of my neighbors stayed outside talking late and I slept in the back room. All good.

     First up was trying to find the best lighthouse in Cheboygan on my early run. I knew it was in a park on the water. I followed the main road to the water where dozens of trucks and boat trailers were already there. I saw the lighthouse but didn’t want to chase it in the dark and through the sand in my running shoes. I ran back, packed up and drove back and found a truck path to the Cheboygan Lighthouse while being eaten by huge mosquitoes.

    That project done, I drove to Mackinac (pronounced Mackinaw) City in about half an hour and looked for the Shepler Ferry Terminal where thousands of people would board ferry boats today to go to Mackinac Island. The first huge parking lot was full by 8am and I was sent to a secondary and bigger lot. I found it, parked my truck and took a shuttle back to the original terminal where boats were loading as fast as possible, maybe 300 per boat. I paid $53 dollars for admission and parking and got in line with a backpack, some snacks and my camera.

     Last night in my planning, I found answers to lots of questions about getting to the island and how to make the best of it once there. I planned to take my bike to the island where bikes and horses, both ridden and pulling sightseeing tours, were the only transportation. People could take their bikes on the ferry but were charged $21 to take it. I didn’t take mine and figured I would just walk and see what I could see.

   On the way over, we rode under the spectacular Mackinac Bridge, just 28 feet short of five miles long. The modern bridge connects the lower and upper Michigan peninsulas.

     Mackinac Island is incredible in some ways. It has been a home to the wealthy for at least 200 years. Huge houses and the grandest hotels imaginable have been there for years. When my boat unloaded, the morning was still young, and we could walk easily enough. From the ferry, we were told that Fort Mackinac and the Michigan Governor’s summer home shared one bluff. The Grand Hotel and its golf course took another. There is an eight-mile road around the island. Goods were being delivered to all the businesses by horse drawn wagons. These horses are huge and well-kept draft horses.

    Thousands of bicycles lined the streets on both sides waiting for people to rent them and rent them, they did. For an hourly fee, visitors could rent the bike style of their choice. By mid-morning, the major roads were full of horses, wagons, bikes and people. Everyone had to be alert. Those walking were encouraged to stay on the sidewalks where there is one. All the horse manure on the streets is cleaned up as quickly as possible.

     Very early, I found out most things on the island cost considerably. Horse tours were as high as $71. I took a map and walked to the things I wanted to see and read about them in the visitors’ guide. I knew that Fort Mackinac was calling my name when they fired a cannon, so I paid the $17 fee to see inside the walls, and it was the best buy I made all day.

   Fort Mackinac was originally a British Fort and begun in 1779. The US Army finally took it over in 1796 and established a post there until British forces captured it in 1812. They lost it when the Americans won the war. Then in 1875, it became the second National Park behind Yellowstone. Soldiers did park work as well but got an extra stipend to do it. In 1895, ownership of the park was transferred to Michigan, and it became a state park.

    I saw a cannon demonstration as soon as I entered the fort. A dozen or so buildings in the fort are all in good repair and much the same as they were when occupied by the US Army. All had great exhibits, some interactive. Visitors could even put on period uniform jackets and play drums after hearing military drummers play. The hospital had amazing explanations of medical practices during the busiest times at the fort.

    Various demonstrations continued all day, with one including the advantages of the breech (rear) loading rifle used in 1875, just 10 years after most soldiers finished the Civil War using muzzle loading single shot rifles. Two soldiers began throwing a baseball from the post-Civil War period and we enjoyed an impromptu discussion with them about baseball at that time and other exercise options for the soldiers. No physical training was required in 1875. The best views of the harbor are from the fort!

     I walked to the other major place on the island, the Grand Hotel. Incredible in size, it is the grandest and by far the largest of all the hotels on the island. It opened in 1887.

     I left at mid-afternoon, took a quick ferry ride back to Mackinaw City and found a room in Newberry, the Moose Capital of Michigan. A 90-minute drive, beginning with the Mackinac Bridge, has me well positioned to drive to Lake Superior and visit two interesting things tomorrow morning. I can’t wait. I hope you’ll join me for tomorrow’s report.

Shaken & Stirred

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By Lynna Clark

A thunderstorm rocked our house last night. It was so close and so loud that my kind neighbor Carrington sent me a text. “Ms. Lynna, you okay?” “Yes dear.” I replied. Her answer came quickly. “Okay, I’m always here.” I smiled at my phone as I thought of this young single mother who reached out to me in the middle of a terrible storm. It felt good to know she was near. I thought about the neighbor between us who is also a widow. Her comforting phrase to me several times now has been, “I’m only steps away.” Both these women were here only a year ago when there was a terrible shooting just the other side of Carrington which took two lives. Each could have found a different place to live, or could have given in to the fear that clawed at us during that terrible time. But they didn’t. Instead, they often extend comfort to me in my new season of living alone.

Proverbs 18:10 says “The Name of the Lord is a High Tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.” That verse has always reminded me of our principal in the school where David and I worked for twenty years. His last name was Hightower and he was our three a.m. friend; the one we always knew we could call in a crisis. His wife Becky, who also taught at the school began to recognize the growing need to help children with dyslexia. So she trained to become an advocate/teacher/safe place for these little ones who often get overlooked. How fitting is the name Hightower for this couple.

The July 26, 2025 devotional in Our Daily Bread really stood out to me. The writer pointed out these things about God being our safe place. I loved it.

  • Trouble reminds us we need a safe place to stay
  • His Name represents the entirety of Who He is
  • Taking refuge in Him means choosing His help over everything else.
  • I have a lifetime of reliance and trust in Him; time after time He has been faithful

Psalm 27 comes to mind as I think of the Lord’s great love and protection. “The Lord is my light and my salvation- so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger; so why should I tremble?”

Ohhh the messes we’ve been in and the troubles we have seen. Praise God He has always, always been our safe place to run.

What Are You Reading?

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Do you keep track of all the books you have read? Steve Hartman tells the story of a man who read quite a few books and kept track of them. See what happens in this beautiful story…. ENJOY!

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