I Know What It's Like

Ever died a thousand deaths just to live one life?

Ever driven a thousand miles and feel like you’ve gone nowhere?

Ever walked so far that your feet were killing you and you didn’t want to be where you were going once you got there?

Ever struggled and struggled and struggled until you felt you could re-write the definition?

Ever felt so dead that you didn’t know what day it was, much less the time of day?

Ever seen so much pain you didn’t know what normal was anymore?

Ever witnessed such indecency and depravity that you felt like the whole world was mad yet; you questioned your own sanity?

Ever felt so misunderstood that you felt you needed to write a handbook for people just so they could get the basics when it come to you but, the idea seemed so ridiculous because you wondered if they’d ever read it, since you’d already explained yourself a dozen times in the first place?

Ever gone the second, third, and fourth mile, with person after person, because you wanted to believe in the best in people, knowing most likely they would never appreciate it and then you find out what you knew from the beginning, that all they wanted was to play you in the first place?

Life is like that it seems for us all at different seasons. When we do our very best and the very worst results, we sometimes questions ourselves, our motives, our thinking, our feelings and what life is really all about.

Leaning on our own understanding many times is futile. Relying on our own strength just doesn’t do it occasionally. At times our best just isn’t enough… even for ourselves.

In the end….the way of truth and love will always win out. A wise woman once taught me to listen to my heart and I’d never go wrong. Life gets very noisy in the traffic and in the darkness. That’s when we have to listen very carefully, very intently, very patiently and not quit until we get the answers we seek. Truth won’t lie to us. Neither will love. It can’t….it’s just not their nature. The solutions will come. Maybe not over night. We’ve all been “stuck” before.

Nevertheless, allow the wisdom of God and your own discernment to be your resources. You might think what you need is late arriving, but I assure you….I know what it is like. I’ve been there. What you need will come. And….it will be on time. Just don’t quit. You may be just seconds away from exactly what you need. God shall supply all of your needs according to His riches in glory. (Philippians 4:19)

Like I said….I’ve been there. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have anything worth saying to you in the first place.

David Hammock. Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

Last Night I Touched You

I gazed intently as your eyes closed and the night shadows revealed the intensity of your delicate profile. You placed your hair underneath your head just as those weary eyes began to quietly close.My mind had never captured that moment before, yet….I was not too late. The eyes of my spirit touched you and you were totally unaware of just how glad you had made me feel and you effortlessly did nothing more than let the memories of the night lie silently and secretly with you and softly with me.

My hands found your long, flowing, golden hair irresistible. You were not awakened but
my finger tips were slowly, tenderly and gently aware of every fiber…inch by inch, each time I combed your locks with my fingers only. Stopping wasn’t a consideration. I could only imagine the end of one stroke and the beginning of the new.

I continued to be anxiously aware of the newness and precision of each blink of my own eyes with eager anticipation of the next, that I might touch you once again with my heart’s eyes. Having you there beside me...

wasn’t anything that was expected. The comfort of knowing you were safe without the fears of the world on your shoulders was ever so satisfying and calming. I had to touch you with the assurance of the moment, for I know that tomorrow is never promised.

I saw the pain of your dilemma and felt the agony of the miles you had walked before you could ever sleep. You couldn’t see the care that I was feeling and was compelled to touch you with but…it was there and it was real. Maybe you felt it when I rubbed my finger tips across your shoulder. I don’t know if you hear them say to you, “I just wanted to know you’re alright,” but they did.

Each time your body turned in uncertainty, I touched you and said, “Rest easy,” until I knew your fears were truly calmed. After inching closer to me, you finally reached out and put your arm across my shoulder and put your hand beneath my head. It came unexpectedly in the midst of your suffering. But, when it did, I also felt what you didn’t say in words, “Last night I touched you too and I want to touch you again tonight.”

Touching you with my hands last night was only an expression of something more. For a man to touch a woman’s body is no assurance that he will ever touch a woman at all. You may have the touch of my hands but did you sense anything more? My eyes may have touched you but what did you really see? My words may have touched you but life has taught us that words can be deceiving and we can’t always believe everything we hear. All I want you to remember is that last night “I” touched you. For if my soul could dare not touch you, then all you would be left with would be a weak consolation and never know I had touched you at all.

David Hammock. Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

"The Blue Danube" performed by Andre Rieu

Don't Tell Me That You Love Me

Don’t profess to love me, when I can’t count on you to keep your word. Words mean nothing without the actions to support them. When your words can’t be counted on, why should I count on your love? I can’t.

Don’t profess to love me when you lied to me two hours ago. What makes you think I ‘ll believe you now?

When your feelings change from one day to the next, and you tell me love is more than feeling, well….what are you feeling today?

Don’t describe the love you feel for me when you don’t treat me the way you describe.

Don’t profess a love you believe in when you don’t practice it yourself.

When you say that you think love is a certain way and yet you say you’re loving me, when it is in complete contradiction to the way you say you “think” love is, just what is it you’re doing?

When you write lots of nice things about love and profess to love me the way you write about, I have no reason to believe you.

When you don’t even know how to love yourself, what makes you think you can handle me?

On so called special occasions like Valentine’s Day, birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and you want to do something special for me because you “love me,” what makes you think one day is going to make up for months of treatment that wasn’t anything like what you’re attempting to do now?

When you don’t know how I need to be loved, what makes you think you can love me?

When you never ask, “How can I love you today, “why should I think you care?

When you say “I know just how to love you and make you happy,” and you don’t know me at all or as well as you think you do, just who do you think you are?

When you don’t ask from day to day, “How are you feeling?’ what makes you think you can even begin to love me? Or…do you think you know how I feel based on how you feel and the day you’re having?

When you don’t know what I believe about love, what makes you even think I want your love?

When you don’t see me for who I really am, instead of what you think I should be, or through a pair of glasses with poor lenses, what makes you think you can love me?

Just because you profess to love me, what makes you think I want it?

When you can’t see me for who I am, what I think, feel, believe, value, need, want, hope for, dream for and find important….DON’T tell me that you love me. You just don’t know how and you just don’ get it.

And for that matter….what makes you think you can love me in the first place?

David Hammock. Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

So...You've Felt Cheap Before?

A newly, married husband, madly in love with his bride, generously spends hundred of dollars on his wife’s presents on their first Christmas together, getting her everything she wanted. There are no wrapped presents under the tree, for the husband, until the night before Christmas. Christmas morning gifts are unwrapped. The husband found two addressed to him, which his wife found on sale the day before, because she didn’t have time to make a purchase and she didn’t have any money. The wife had $5,000 in the bank; neither did she work. Needless to say, the husband neither wanted nor needed his two, cheap $20 gifts.

A minister was called upon to conduct the funeral services of a woman who had been like a second mother to him. He flew 700 miles at his own expense, and paid for his own incidentals. The minister was more than glad to perform the difficult and painful ceremony The family could not find it within themselves even after a year following the funeral to send a simple thank you note to the man who had been like a son to the woman he paid tribute to.

The mother of a son told him often how much she loved him. Yet something was missing. What the son really wanted was not for the mother to write checks and buy him “stuff.’ What the son told his mother many times was that he only wanted her to listen. Despite repeated attempts the son gave up shortly before his mother’s death and told her, “You will die never having known me.” “Why is that?’ the mother questioned. “You never listened.” The mother died at 74. The son was 50. The mother still doesn't know her son.

A business owner offers a client $10,000 plus all expenses paid for seven days work. This is five times the normal amount of payment the client would have received for the same amount of work. The client was asked to telephone or email the next day to make the arrangements for a one hour meeting, before proceeding. The potential client never even had the decency to follow up, despite their desperate need for the money and verbal agreement to the work requested.

I can tell you story after story of those people who seem to feel the path of least resistance, or the easy way in life is the best and only way and the right way, and those of us who believe in taking the high road wind up becoming their targets. We were created in the image of God to give Him glory and we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Yet…there are some people who just don’t have a clue what we do for them and more so, don’t care what your heart and mind are all about. There will always be masses of “TAKERS’ out there who have no true appreciation for what we do for them, nor does the meaning of the word “gratitude” even compute.

Be on guard for those who want to make you feel cheap. Stay away from dream killers, dream, discouragers, dream distracters, dream disappointers, dream disillusioners, dream disbelievers, dream, deceivers, and dream distorters. They’re not a dime a dozen…there a penny a dozen. Keep your boundaries set firm. God never intended for you to go through life feeling cheap. You’re not a doormat, so stop trying to accommodate dirty shoes. Tell your visitors to leave them outside your door, if they expect to pay you a visit. Ungracious people should be entitled to nothing except a lesson on growing up. You just might be able to help get them started. “Cast not your pearls before swine.” (Matthew 7:6)

David Hammock. Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

God Lives Under Kevin's Bed (From Kevin's Mom)

I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed.

At least that's what I heard him say one night.

He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed..."

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?

Up before dawn each day, Kevin is off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.

He does not seem dissatisfied.

He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. 'That one's goin' to Chi-car-go! ' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights. And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.

He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.

His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others His heart is pure.

He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.

It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.

Kevin won't be surprised at all!

"God is Trying To Tell You Something" from The Color Purple

"Reflections of Passion" by Yanni

The Language of Loneliness

If tomorrows are only filled with empty yesterdays, then today is filled with loneliness only. I don’t like feeling lonely.

Some say it is inevitable. Some say it is just a part of life, and that we should all learn to live with it. Live with what?

People say go find something you’re interested in and do it; then the loneliness will go away.

Others believe that you’re being selfish if you’re lonely, or too self-absorbed.

“Think about somebody other than yourself,” they say. “Somebody’s worse off than you; just look around you,”then you won’t be so lonely, I’ve heard.

“Quit your crying, and complaining; no one wants to hear it.”These delightful tunes seem rather harmonious, particularly to those whom you remind of their own inadequacies and needs, who deny, block out, or ignore what’s really going on inside of themselves, so they can pretend to be strong for others who believe they really are.That way, loneliness doesn’t have to be loneliness;
and pretense doesn’t have to be disgusting, and we can all live happily ever after.

Some people believe that if you just go and find a person who needs you, or a cause to believe in, and just go do something, then you can bust up the gloomies and all will be well.

If you give what you have to make a difference and change things, then you’ll have done your part to make the world a better place, and you’ll be all the better for it….so the story goes. It’s a good story.

I believe in it too. Good Samaritans are needed and still make an impact in a cold, dark world.

All the while I’m thinking; they don’t understand. I know what language you speak. I can speak it too.

But you don’t understand my language.
You’re not even aware I’m talking,
Because you can’t hear yourself.
You’re too afraid to hear yourself.
You’ve learned to turn a deaf ear to your own words,
and you don’t even know you can’t hear.
Because if you really could hear yourself,
then you could hear me, if you were willing to.

Sometimes, no one can touch you.
Sometimes, no one can feel you.
Sometimes, no one can hear you.
Sometimes, there’s just you….. and there’s loneliness.

We don’t always know what to do with our loneliness. Only God really knows the answer.

We should not be so provoked to determine its cause; but rather, loneliness needs someone to respond with arms that embrace it, with something called “compassion.”

Some people say that with God you never feel alone, and you should never feel lonely. Its one thing to not “be” alone; I find this always true.

It is quite another thing to “feel” lonely.
Sometimes there’s just you.
Sometimes there’s just God.
Sometimes…..it feels like there is no one else.

In a magnificent, perfect world,
Things would be different.
But it’s not a perfect world.

Some people just aren’t going to respond.
Even when you need them….
Even when you want them.…
Even when they should…..
Even when they could….
Even when they feel the pain of loneliness….
Even when your heart cries and aches so much….
That all you want is someone to “be” with you.

If we could just offer our “presence” to another, it would be more than most dare give when the heart throbs with the awkwardness of being lonely.

To need someone to walk with you, when all you want
is for them to be near….to be close and say what they mean, and mean what they say, as they try to help. Just to hear someone say, “I see you’re lonely. I know you’re hurting.”

To sit beside someone on their mourning bench, makes all the difference in the world.

Comfort, we all need. Few truly know how to give it. Few want to give it. Most are afraid to give it. Only a few will give it.

If there’s any message at all from loneliness, it’s, “I need you…come walk with me.”

“How can I love God whom I’ve not seen, if I don’t love my brother, whom I have seen?”

Do you understand my language? Ask me more….but only if you want to.

Copyright © 2006. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

The Clueless Ghetto

I have a question.

I need your help.

I’m trying to find my way.

Do you know where I’m talking about?

Yeah man.

I know where you’re talking about.

Just go down the street.

You can’t miss it.

I knock on the door.

“You’re looking for who?

Man…what chu doin’ ova here?

you betta get out a here

before somebody blows you away.”

Officer, can you help me?

I’m trying to find my way.

“Uh…I’m on my beat.

I can’t leave.

I’m filling in for a buddy of mine.

I don’t usually work this side of town.

Sorry.

Try one of the cabbies.”

Hey taxi! Taxi!

Can you help me out?

I’m trying to find my way.

“Man…you hail me for this?

What’s your problem?

You expect me to just put on brakes,

pull over,

and tell you what you want to know?”

“You know how much it costs me each year,

just to drive a cab in New York City?

I’m on my way to Brooklyn.

Take a hike.

Try the grocery store on the corner.”

Thanks. I will.

Where’s your manager?

“He’s in the back. Don’t go back there though.

We just got robbed last week.

He’s got a gun.

Police told him to carry it.”

Hey manager…you back here?

“Can’t you see I’m busy.

Come back tomorrow."

I need your help.

I’m trying to find....…

“I don’t care what you want.

I’m busy.

Don’t you get it?

You almost got a 9mm slug in

the head.”

“Ask somebody on the street.”

I already tried that.

“Well ask somebody else.”

Alright. I will.

Hey man.

Live around here?

“Yeah. About 10 blocks up, off Broadway and 110th.”

I’m trying to find my way.

Can you help me out?

“Sure. Go back to where you started.

Look next to the bread shop.

You’ll see it.”

Thanks. Gotta’ run.

What’s this?

“I’ve been shot man!

Can you help me get to the hospital?”

No, I don’t have a clue where the hospital is.

Can you remember how to get to where I’m talking about?

“I think it….I think it’s…..I can’t breathe man.

Can’t you see; I don’t have a clue?

I’m.....?


Copyright© 2007. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

"Why Can't We Be Friends?"

"Love is Unbreakable"

Celtic Woman, "You Raise Me Up"

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

"My Eyes Adored You"

A wise man said to me once, "You can always tell what a woman really feels by the light in her eye." I never forgot that. It has come in handy along the way. We've all heard that the eyes are the "windows to the soul." Sometimes we don't like what we see in other people's eyes and they probably feel the same about us. Maybe there's more in the soul of another than we want to see and it reminds us of ourselves. Nevertheless...the eyes can be the most incredible journey we will ever take, if we dare to take it. It's amazing what we will discover.

I Just Hate It When....

I have nothing but the best intentions to help a hurting person or a stranger and they are suspicious because the guy who came along before me did a number on them.

I smile at someone with genuine kindness in my heart and am just trying to be nice and the sad soul thinks I want something from them, when all I want to do is give them a bit of cheer.

I ask a person how they are doing and they say “fine” because they think that’s what I want to hear since nobody else really cared enough to listen after they asked “How are you?”

I speak to someone and they have to weigh their words, with such intensity of thought, because of past bad memories for fear they will be misjudged or their real self might dare be touched.

I give a kid five bucks and his mom says, “No thank you. We don’t accept gifts from strangers,” while I believe a friend is only a person I haven’t met yet.

I tell the truth and people think there’s something wrong with being honest and I soon become an outsider because of it.

I look at an incredible woman and think, “Wow…look what God has made,” and my glance causes her to be repulsive. I’m just feeling happy to admire a miracle of creation. A few of us men still see people as people, not things to abuse, devalue, underestimate, misunderstand or apprehend, but rather embrace and comprehend.

Another man stands up and says, “On behalf of all men…” and I’m thinking…”This clown is clueless.”

I’m willing to do anything and everything, not out of desperation, but with pleasure, to like someone or love someone and they just don’t get it. I’m not the one that loses; they are.

I’m prepared to go the second mile and Joe Schmoe can’t even find the highway.

I give 100% and the person benefiting from it is as shallow as a thimble.

I ‘m asked to pray for people and they don’t really expect God to hear, but He does. Why pray to a God that doesn’t pay attention? For that matter, why talk to anyone who doesn’t listen? Doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.

I ask a man how wife is is doing and he says, “Fine,” and then I ask him again and he says, “I don’t know.”

I look at all the beautiful things in the world God has created and say to a person, “How can anyone doubt there is a God?” and all they can do is stand and stare speechlessly at me without expressing anything whatsoever.

I discover that so many are suffering in so many parts of our country and the world and I encounter the attitude, “It’s not my problem. Let somebody else take care of it.”

I’m willing to understand, while others don’t even want to know. You’ve got to know before you can understand.

I’m willing to give love and someone else can give me fourty seven reasons why they shouldn’t be loved.

I believe that people are the most important part of living and someone else says. “You re exactly right” and they live totally contrary to what they profess.

The answers to the obvious are so clearly ignored and those who could have benefited the most, later complain.

I fail to realize that there’s more to life than my exclusive, personal fulfillment. That’s really something worth hating. That’s also worth not forgetting.

Copyright © 2008. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

LOOKING FOR PRETTY THINGS

I remember a time when I wondered,
What is a pretty thing?

I thought other people seemed to know.But why didn’t I?

Were pretty things just for other people?
Or, was it just not in the cards for me.

Was I dumb, or stupid?
Or did I just not know what was going on?
Maybe I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

I was too young. I didn’t know the world very well.

Maybe I just had poor taste and lacked good breeding.

What happened to me?
How can a young man’s dreams be gone?
Where had my imagination disappeared to?
Do you suppose I wanted to be a millionaire clone?

Then I began to look around.
Bright lights, lovely music, enchanting aromas,
Beautiful atmosphere, elaborate decor, charming gifts,
Warm and happy feelings, intriguing novelties,
Pleasant people, laughter and singing, the world’s best of Everything.
How could it be?
There at my finger tips…..pretty things.

Then I awakened.
I had seen pretty things before.
I remembered my mother.
I remembered Christmas.
I remembered how my mother made Christmas pretty.

Come holiday time, mother sent me into the woods.
She said, “Bring back some holly, and a small leafless tree
If you could. Wait until I get through with it,
And you’ll see it is going to be something pretty;
It’s going to be something good.”

Then mother would come home from the office,
With two giant cardboard rolls;
I’d wonder “what in the world will
She do with this?
is she now building telephone poles?”

She said, “Get me some silver wrapping paper;
And bring me some red ribbon too;
I’m going to turn this into a candle.
You’ll see it’s going to be a pretty thing;
watch what I’m going to do.”

Then there were the fancy table arrangements.
They almost always were homemade.
I could never forget those.
Mother had the cutest ideas.
“I need Styrofoam, paper, and old shoe and some paint.”
Mother turns her head for a moment;
And off to work she goes.

Mother always tried to create pretty things.
As a kid I didn’t always notice;
“Wherever there is a will, there’s a way,”
she’d often remind me.

Mother never gave up.
Pretty things.
I remember, mother.
There is more that’s really pretty,
Than at first catches the eye.
Thanks for helping me see what’s really pretty;
What you did for my sis and I will always be pretty.
Your memories of what is pretty will never, never die!

Copyright © 2006. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

Unity is a Gift From God

Unity is an unconditional, God-given gift of bonding, which transcends the natural circumstances, in defiance of the odds and values of man that would dictate what should be otherwise. Unity is the power of God’s love in us that moves and convicts us to obey God because of a higher purpose than our own fulfillment, comfort, or pleasure. It is the power to do the right thing, for the right reason because only God’s power can unite people with each other. Agreeing with God changes the outcome of what is impossible or more difficult otherwise. Unity can not be wrought in the flesh, if it is spiritual unity, but only in the Spirit. What is ultimately birthed in the Spirit and must be completed in the Spirit, and manifested in the natural, is in proportion to the changes we are willing to allow God to do in us, in our hearts and minds, and also within our wills.

The forces of evil are arrayed all around us. They do so in part because of willful souls desiring something other than righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, which can only be found in the Kingdom of God. When we seek a kind of unity that is not kingdom unity we are in reality saying to God, “No, we don’t want your kind of unity. We know best what we need. We’ve got it all worked out, and it’s all taken care of God. Thanks, but no thanks. We’ve got everything under control.” Yet that knawing feeling that things aren’t quite like God really wants them to be, seems to hang over a situation and we simply accept that which is less than God’s best and go on. Often what God allows within our dominion is not desirable within His sovereignty, wisdom, and holiness.

It is the image of God that is always reflected in Godly unity. If any other image is reflected, it isn’t God’s unity. It is a deceptive counterfeit. We must be extremely careful, prayerful, and timely in our discerning if we are to be truly unified as couples, families, churches, organizations, ministries, and communities. Relationships are the vehicles which God uses to create, deliver, establish, grow, develop, and prosper unity.

Self seeking preservation has no place in God’s definitions of security in kingdom leadership. Every precept of God’s holy and divine truths must be sought, accepted, embraced, and life-changing in order for us to be prepared to walk in unity. Our hearts, minds, and wills must be continually transformed by God’s truths in order for God’s will to be done in unity.

The ultimate questions become: Do we thirst? Do we really desire? Are we motivated?

Are we willing to persevere, and sacrifice, and die to what we want? Are we willing to take up the cause of Christ daily and die to ourselves? What will we do? The challenge is ours. He is all we need; and He is everything we must have, and can’t afford to minimize in order for the imperative and priority of unity to be made manifest. Let Christ reign today and may our personal lives, relationships, and ministries prosper the way God really intended for them to be. The call is clear: UNITY IS GOD’S HEART!

Copyright © 2002. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

Liking Somebody

We all remember the words to the song:

“What the world needs now, is love’s sweet love; it’s the only thing that there’s just too little of.” Certainly these words are profoundly true.

Then…there are people who run around saying “Love you,” or “Love Ya!” I wonder if they know what they mean, or I don’t know what they mean. People sign the words, “I love you,” to cards of people they send them to, and barely know the person. Am I supposed to feel good getting one from a stranger?

Certainly love can be instantaneous…don’t get me wrong. But to say the words, “I LOVE YOU,” is not a casual occurrence.

Caroline Kennedy recently said, “We need a prosperity of kindness and decency,” in America. In many cases, I think the kind and decent thing to do is NOT tell someone you love them, particularly if you don’t understand the responsibility involved in loving. The power of the tongue brings forth DEATH or LIFE.

People have been devastated by believing the words, “I love you,” only to find out later someone had used them, abused them, manipulated them, exploited them, and love had nothing to do with any of it.

Some people just enjoy watching you, believe that you are loved by them, while all the taker wants is the attention.

Why tell someone you love them, when you don’t even know how to like them? It certainly has nothing to do with honoring the other person. Why tell someone you love them, when you’re not willing to pay the price to love them? Love isn’t a cheap commodity you suddenly acquire with ease. If you think it is, you have let yourself be deceived. Do you even know my love language? Do you love me from your perspective, or mine?

AND….how can you love me, if you don’t have a clue how to like me? The art and science of friendship continues to erode in American life. The quality of our relationships is being measured by our internet savvy, cell phone multi-tasking, group speed-dating, and appointment book management. “Let’s see…Thursday night I’m free from 8-10. That will give us quality time together. I won’t be free for another three weeks babe. Then maybe we can take a vacation.”

So much for, “Hello, Dolly. Well hello…. Dolly. It’s so nice to have you back where you belong.”

Americans have settled for being disconnected and think they are contented. Some actually believe relationships are easier. I don’t buy it. If you want a dollar store relationship, that’s all you’ll get. Counterfeit relationships are more often produced than counterfeit dollar bills. The interesting thing is dollar bills that aren’t legal, are more frequently recognized than phony relationships.

Liking someone starts with desire, motivation and genuineness. Are you aware of the other person, and are they aware of you? Are you available to like someone, and are they available to like you? Are you accessible? Are you really “there” in the relationship? Are you “PRESENT,” or are your heart and your head somewhere else? You can’t begin to give a healthy response to any kind of relationship, if it means anything at all without starting with the basics. Truth, honesty, respect, caring, sharing, and oh yes….kindness and decency. I think maybe this might be a good place to start “LIKING SOMEBODY.”

Copyright © 2007. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.

The Crucifixion of Christ: As Seen Through the Eyes of A Medical Doctor

(Based on an article taken from the JAMA, the Journal of the American Medical Association, by Dr. William D. Edwards)

It is easy for us to thank God for the gift of Jesus Christ. In fact, we say it many times without even thinking about it. This Easter, take some time to reflect on the gravity of the pain and suffering Jesus Christ endured for you. As you read the explanation of the crucifixion below, you will begin to truly understand the great love Jesus has for you. He was willing to die the most horrible of deaths so that you might live forever with Him.


Preparation For The Cross

"Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged Him." John 19:1

Flogging was a legal preliminary to every Roman execution, and only women and Roman senators or soldiers (except in the case of desertion) were exempt. The usual instrument was a short whip with several single or braided leather thongs of variable lengths, in which small iron balls or sharp pieces of sheep bones were tied at intervals. Occasionally, staves were also used.

For scourging, the man was stripped of his clothing and his hands were tied to an upright post. The back, buttocks, and legs were flogged either by two soldiers or by one who alternated positions. The scourging was intended to weaken the victim to a state of just short of collapse or of death.

After the scourging, the soldiers often taunted their victim. As the Roman soldiers repeatedly struck the victim's back with full force, the iron balls would cause deep contusions, and the leather thongs and sheep bones would cut into the skin and subcutaneous tissues. As the flogging continued, the lacerations would tear into the underlying skeletal muscles and produce quivering ribbons of bleeding flesh. Pain and blood loss generally set the stage for circulatory shock. The extent of the blood may well have determined how long the victim would survive on the cross.

Then, Jesus was severely whipped. (Although the severity of the scourging is not discussed in the four gospel accounts, it is implied in one of the epistles, 1 Peter 2:24.) It is not known whether the number of lashes was limited to 39, in accordance with Jewish law. When it was determined by the centurion in charge that the prisoner was near death, the beating was finally stopped. The half-fainting Jesus was then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with His own blood.

The Humiliation of Our Lord

The Roman soldiers saw a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be a King. They threw a robe across His shoulders and placed a stick in His hand. They still needed a crown to make their travesty complete. A small bundle of flexible branches covered with long thorns was plaited into the shape of a crown and was pressed into His scalp. Again, there was copious bleeding, the scalp being one of the most vascular areas of the body.

After mocking Him and striking Him across the face, the soldiers took the stick from His hand and struck Him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into His scalp. Finally, they tired of their sadistic sport and the robe was torn from His back. This had already become adherent to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, and its removal, just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage, caused excruciating pain, almost as though He were again being whipped-and the wounds again began to bleed. In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans returned His garments.

The Road To Calvary

The heavy horizontal beam of the cross was tied across His shoulders, and the procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution party walked along the Via Dolorosa.

In spite of His efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by the copious blood loss, was too much. He stumbled and fell. The rough wood of the beam gouged into the lacerated skin and muscles of his shoulders. He tried to rise, but His muscles had been pushed beyond their endurance.

The centurion, anxious to get on with the crucifixion, selected Simon of Cyrene to carry the cross. Jesus followed, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock. The 650 yard journey from the fortress Antonia to Golgotha was finally completed. Jesus was once again stripped of his clothes-except for a loincloth, which was allowed.

The Crucifixion Begins

Jesus was offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic mixture. He refused to drink. Simon was ordered to place the cross beam on the ground, and Jesus was quickly thrown backward with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire felt for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drove a heavy, square, wrought-iron nail through His wrist and deep into the wood.

Quickly, he moved to the other side and repeated the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but allow some flexibility and movement. The beam was then lifted in place at the top of the vertical beam with the title reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews," and nailed in place.

"And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified Him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left." Luke 23:33

The Death of Jesus

Jesus Christ was now crucified. As He slowly sagged down and more weight was on the nails in the wrist, excruciating, fiery pain shot along His fingers and arms to explode in His brain. The nails in His wrists were putting pressure on the median nerves. As He pushed Himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He placed His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again, there was the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of His feet. At this point, another phenomenon occurred. As His arms fatigued, great waves of cramps swept over the muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless throbbing pain. With these cramps came the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by His arms, the pectoral muscles were paralyzed and intercostal muscles were unable to act. Air could be drawn into the lungs, but He could not exhale.

Jesus fought to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, carbon dioxide built up in the lungs and in the blood stream, and the cramps partially subsided. Spasmodically, He was able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in the life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences which were recorded in the Bible.

He suffered hours of this limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, searing pain as tissue was torn from His lacerated back as He moved up and down against the rough timber. Then another agony began. A deep crushing pain in His chest as His pericardium slowly filled with serum and began to compress His heart.

It was now almost over. The loss of tissue fluids had reached a critical level…..the compressed heart was struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissues….tortured lungs were making a frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues sent their flood to stimuli His brain.

His mission of atonement had been completed. Finally He could allow His body to die. With one last surge of strength, He once again pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath and uttered His seventh and last cry, “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit:” (Luke 23:46)