GOD’s New Life Sunrise

“Two things fill the mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe, the more often and the more intensely the mind of thought is drawn to them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.”
― Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason

“A Proud man is always looking down on things and people, and of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”—C.S. Lewis Mere Christianity.

I knew before my instruction when something was not caring, unjust, or plain wrong—where did my childhood sense of morality come from? The answer speaks volumes in my search for God, for He coded his moral law into everyone within the womb. I have been asked, “What kind of God would send a good, moral man away?” I ask, “How do you know if another is moral? He may appear moral from his deeds yet deceive others of his authentic self. Jesus gave us the answer in his sermon on the mount, Matthew 7:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ 23 Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

God wants a personal, heartfelt relationship, to follow His Will, and to complete our earthly mission and purpose. God created us for a specific reason and purpose. He wants us to live the life He planned for us by His moral standards and live our lives to the fullest.

And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you? He requires only that you fear, (be reverent, be in awe of) the Lord your God, and live in a way that pleases him, and love him and serve him with all your heart and soul.—Deuteronomy 10:12

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.—Jeremiah 29:11

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.—John 10:10

God is love and desires our love, yet He chose to give us the right of free will to love Him or walk away to our desires. This writing is my testimony of searching for God and my apologetic path to knowing my faith is not a blind faith—it is evidence-based…

I found a treasure trove of old 8mm films hidden in never-opened boxes deep in the belly of our basement. I decided to digitize them to hand down to our sons and family. The film digitizer has this clickety-click hypnotic rhythm as it takes each image from the film. Each frame of the film is a moment in time of memories long faded. As I watched, the photos transported me back to another world where God and family mattered. Most people in these films are gone, and a deep sense of loss creeps in. The history encased in the film tells a story of life and living; the good and bad alert me to a better way and teach me the road to glory or perdition.

God blessed me with a family who believed as I do that lives worth living deserve preservation for those who follow. Capturing moments in time and passing the accumulated knowledge and experience for those who follow is practiced throughout time, from drawings on cave walls, stories told around campfires, books, or old films and photographs. I believe we record the joy and sadness of history because God coded it into our DNA. God gave us the guide for living and living life fully as a Father, sharing His Wisdom, His Word, in the Bible. In words and pictures, this is my attempt to pass the life lessons I have learned from those who passed before me, my seventy-three years of sadness and joy, and God’s word to our sons. God smiles at this practice and directs us to teach our children.

Proverbs 22:6— Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Deuteronomy 6:5- 9—Take to heart these words that I give you today. Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you’re at home or away, when you lie down or get up.

1 Timothy 4:10-11 This is why we work hard and continue to struggle, for our hope is in the living God, who is the Savior of all people and particularly of all believers. Teach these things and insist that everyone learn them.

I grew up as a Catholic/Lutheran, a “Catheran.” My mother’s side were poor dirt farmers and attended Rose Valley Lutheran Church, a small white church like all the other Lutheran Churches that dot the prairie. My Father’s family is staunch Catholics attending Saint Leos Catholic Church, the typical High steeple brick cathedral with pews with pull-down uncomfortable kneelers; Catholics love a stand-kneel-sit stoic, reverent, Latin service. I attended both Catholic and Lutheran services, sometimes on the same Sunday. The churches had different vibes. Rose Valley was simple, small, white, and had bible teaching, while Saint Leo’s was an immense structure and taught me the “Catechism,” a summary of Catholic doctrine.

I was the typical boy fidgeting in the pews and paying little attention to the hubbub, especially the Latin mass. I had no idea what in the heck they were saying. I did the whole routine at Saint Leo’s: first communion, confirmation, and got to know the catechism. I even attended a Catholic High School. I wouldn’t have known there was a Bible if not for Rose Valley.

I did not find my faith in these established religions or those buildings. My faith and Bible knowledge came from my family. My grandfather Stephan Jordahl, the Lutheran, read his Bible daily and wrote several poems about his love for God and his Bible; one was named “The Old Dusty Bible.” Grandfather Stephan was a struggling farmer with a tiny three-room prairie house heated by a potbelly wood stove. Grandmother Bondly lived in the house next door to ours in the city after Grandfather Otto died. Both Grandparents were crazy about Jesus. I always felt conflicted, split between the religions.

Meeting God:
My Father was killed in a car accident when I was five. I could not understand what everyone was so sad about, all the crying and wailing. We went to a different service that day at neither of the churches of my upbringing; it was a small chapel with only family and friends, some of whom I did not know. People took turns going to the box in the front of the chapel and crying more. My mother grabbed my hand, and it was our turn to walk the aisle to the box. I stood on my toes and grabbed the edge of the box. My Father looked weirdly frozen; he had makeup on his face. Suddenly, I realized I knew my Father was dead and joined in the wailing. Then I heard someone say, “Your earthly father is with me; I will be your father from now on and walk with you until you join us.” It startled me; no one was near, and then I grew calm and tearless.

After my Father’s burial, I started to have fierce nightmares. I hated getting tucked into bed, knowing what was in the darkness of sleep. My mom tried everything to help, but nothing relieved my fear. The nightmares were unceasing; months passed. Then one nightmare night, I heard a familiar voice, the voice at my Father’s casket. With the monsters in close pursuit, the voice whispered, “Stop, turn to face your fears and run at the evil. You are a warrior.” The demon vanished, and the nightmares never returned. When I woke, I was excitedly calm. I never told anyone of the voices I heard or gave them another thought. Looking back on my life, I heard that still quiet voice every decision, good and bad, I made—even my decision to attend a Catholic school.

Catholic school would open up more questions than answers about God and His word. My favorite question in religion class was, “Where is that in the Bible?” The headmaster priest expelled me as an eleventh grader. It was from asking too many questions. After that, I went into the darkness and ignored God; I thought I could not hear His voice anymore anyway—I was wrong.

As a fatherless youth, I needed guidance, and the best advice I got was from my grandfather Stephan, who taught me the way of Christ-loving men, sharing his wisdom. He told me the way of the sound, abundant life, often on the porch of the tiny farmhouse. He told me amazing stories as we whittled chunks of wood until they were too small to hold—I imagine the term whittling away the time came from our activities on that porch. My grandfather passed away when I was seventeen; I had the blessing of twelve years of his stories. When I was in my thirties and living a shallow, ego-filled life, I read a poem my grandfather Stephen wrote called “The River of Tears.” Grandpa said if we find ourselves in dark places filled with fear, we should look to the ocean of love, God’s Bible, and read it with an open, contrite heart.

River of Tears

We’ll sail our ship down the river of tears
Till we get to the ocean of love
Where we’ll leave all our troubles and worries behind
And our blessings will flow from above

The rivers of life are not always straight
They go up and down, and they bend
But if we have faith and trust in the Lord
He will see us through to the end

As life goes by like clouds in the sky
As someone gave them a shove
Through all the years, there will be tears
But there also will be lots of love

The ocean of love is not far away
And the river of tears is not wide
If we try to forget and learn to forgive
We’ll have nothing to hide

So we’ll sail our ship down the river of tears
Till we come to the ocean of love
Where we’ll leave all our troubles and worries behind
And our blessings will come from above

My transformation took time. In scripture, the Hebrew word לְהַחִיוֹת means to be made alive again, to quicken our spirit. It took until I was in my mid-fifties and a God-loving wife that God’s Quickening Spirit entered, and I began to see the world through different eyes. I knocked, sought, stumbled, and often fell back into darkness in those twenty-five years. In my seventy-third year, with another twenty years of knocking and seeking, my Lord and I have a relationship; I know him as never before. He opened my eyes and freed my ears to hear His voice again. I hunger for His Love and Peace.

Our sons are fifty years old and stuck in their ways. I failed to raise them with God’s armor of Truth, Faith, Righteousness, Salvation, and the Gospel of Peace. So now I try my best to teach our sons and talk to them about God’s Glory and Grace, but because I did not raise them well, their ears cannot hear, and their eyes cannot see. I do not force my faith onto them as God instructed me:

“In humility correcting those who are in opposition, if God perhaps will grant them repentance, so that they may know the truth.”—2 Timothy 2:25

A gentle answer turns anger away. But mean words stir up anger. Proverbs 15:1

Yet I know That with perseverance and living my life in God’s Spirit as an example, He can soften our sons’ hearts and open their eyes and ears. My determination to share the good news of God’s Grace has led me to a strange place, writing letters, taking photographs, and producing videos online. By using these technology tactics, my teaching will not end when I am gone, and lessons will be better accepted than listening to Dad. Before God calls me home, I have prayed for the time to produce a series of essays, this the first, and videos about why I believe in God and His Word, the Bible—telling my faith journey and my evidence-based faith. These words and pictures may help others in the process.