Through the eyes of a child the world is one of awe. They delight in the small wonders: a little bug on the ground; a flower just beginning to bud. A helium-filled balloon held by the string in the palm of their hand.

But all three of these insignificant events bring new knowledge and life choices for these little ones:

What kind of a bug is this? What is it thinking? Do I put it in my pocket and take it home with me? Do I kill it or let it live?

Does the bud smell? What does it feel like? Do I pick it and take it with me to enjoy or let it keep growing?

A balloon holds both present fascination and future potential. That is the allure of a balloon. That is the quandary of a balloon. Do I hold on to it so that I can enjoy its present beauty, or do I open my hand, release it, and imagine where its new journey will take it.
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As adults we often eschew the small for the large. We look for big events and miracles when there is power and meaning in the small ones that are all around us. We have forgotten the magic of the small.

Psalm 104:24-25: How many are your works, LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number-- living things both large and small. 

This next week, I challenge us all to look at the world through the eyes of a child. We might learn something, discover something very precious, or find the answer to a  life question.

’Tis the season. Well, anymore, the entire year is the season, but traditionally, summer is the fire season. 

Living in California, we learn a lot about the power of fire. We also know that once the fire is contained, there is always the risk of spot fires—those embers that land outside of the fire line and start a new fire. Firemen have to be vigilant to make sure no spot fires ignite.

As I was reading through Acts, thoughts of spot fires once more came to mind, and I realized that ever since Christ’s resurrection, the gospel has been spread through spot fires—only this time, they occurred because of the opposition to the gospel—and nothing was able to put them out.

Whenever an apostle was put in jail—the flame of the Gospel was ignited. Whenever, Paul was run out of one town and landed in another—another ember sparked.

Unlike the success firemen have over flames, nothing has been able to stop the spread of Christianity and nothing will be able to stop it despite all human effort. Nothing.

Isaiah 45:23 says,

“‘As surely as I live,’ says the Lord,
‘every knee will bow before me;
    every tongue will acknowledge God.’”

Despite the efforts to rid the world of Christianity or even of God, the flames keep igniting. Burning of Bibles. Outlawing nativity scenes in public spaces. Forcing prayer out of schools. 

In some countries, the church has been forced underground, but the Gospel is still burning bright.

The Bible talks about the attacks and their futility in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9:

​We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

You can change the terminology from BC to BCE (Before Christ to Before Common Era) but the demarcation line between the two time periods is still the birth of Christ.

Try as they might to squelch the fires of the Holy Spirit, it just isn’t going to happen. Opposition is futile.

And unlike spot fires on earth that can grow and destroy, the gospel spot fires dispel darkness, produce light, provide peace, offer hope, salvation, and eternal life.

So if you find yourself in a job or town or situation you hadn’t planned and perhaps didn’t even want, remember, you might be next person to start a gospel spot fire.

Our world needs a lot of spot fires.

​(Though not really related to this blog, the thought of fire reminded me of a worship song of the mid ‘80s. I loved it then. I love it now. And I think it is very, very timely. Enjoy.)

I remember the day well. It started with a text saying all was okay. But within a couple of hours came another text. She wasn’t doing well. Then the FaceTime call. My heart sank. I told her I loved her and I was on my way. 

The same was happening for my sister. We both hustled to make it in time but neither of us did. One year ago today, my sister—Jamie Lynn Peterson—went to be with Jesus. The Jesus she would always sing about: 

“Jesus loves me. This I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are weak but He is strong.”

Anyone who has lost someone, knows that as the days and months pass, you don’t miss them any less. In fact, you miss them more. The sudden tear in the family fabric may have been sewn, but time has a way of pushing more and more memories through the gaps in the material.



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It’s the sayings we as a family remember most and now use in our everyday conversations to answer questions or comment on life. I credit it with her being Downs. She made the most of her words.

“Jamie, would you like some more spaghetti?”
Jamie, “Itty bit.” 

After accomplishing anything, even just buckling her own seatbelt, Jamie would exclaim with pride, “I did it!”

When she had had enough of her brother’s teasing, we heard, “Be nice, Dougie.”

When my parents found out that Jamie had refused to go to church one morning, they asked her why she hadn’t gone. She looked at them, hung her head, shook it back and forth sadly and said, “Poor Jamie.”

Once when we were all out for dinner and she was almost through with her meal, I asked her what about her lunch, as she would always save half to take with her to her workshop the next day.

Her head shot up, her eyes grew large, and she announced painfully, “My lunch!” She refused to eat another bite, asked the waitress for a box for the rest of her meal, and then proceeded to eat half of our father’s because she was still hungry. (None of us saw this as unfair, as it really served Dad right since he had always taken half of our French fries when we were growing up.)

And when something was finished (especially something she wasn't enjoying), she would say, "It over."

So “itty bit,” “I did it!” “Be nice, insert appropriate name” “Poor, insert our own name,” “My lunch!”  and "It over" are now all a part of the Peterson family lexicon, and each time we say it, a smile comes to our face as the memories return.

​Love you, Jamie, and looking forward to the time we can be together again. Oh, and keep Dad away from your French fries.

I hope you all had a wonderful Fourth of July celebration. 

I just wanted to share with you two versions of a medley that moves me every time I hear it. Many of you have heard it as well. Usually, it is played on Memorial Day, but it just seemed appropriate for the Fourth of July as well because without the service of these men and women our independence wouldn’t have been gained, secured, or protected all these years.

The first versions recognizes those who have served. The second has the words in case you wonder what they are singing. I believe the army has changed their lyrics from “caissons” to “army.” As the oldest branch of the military, they probably did need to update their lyrics a bit.

​Enjoy, remember, be thankful.