El Cajon, CA
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Articles by Dean Kellio

As I walked out to the garden shed, I noticed my bedding of Easter lilies had broken ground and were preparing to bloom, right on time, right near Easter. I wondered why the early church had attached the name of a pagan fertility goddess, Ishtar, to the holiest day of Christianity.  Well, whatever the reason, I do like that these flowering plants burst out of the ground and bloom just in time for Passover. 

"Life is change,” said the elderly woman who sat across from me at the Volvo dealership. “That’s what you can count on! Life will not remain the same but is always changing.”  

As I sat there, glancing out at the rain in the stillness of the early morning, I suddenly remembered that I had unfailingly forgotten to set my clock forward an hour.

Twenty-seven-hundred years ago near the Temple in Jerusalem, God asked a young man a question, “Who shall I send, and who shall go for us?” To which Isaiah, soon to be prophet, responded, “Here I am I! Send me.” 

Sometimes I think the world could be fixed if we just had a roll of duct tape large enough. If we were marooned in the wilderness with only a bag containing duct tape, a roll of tie wire and Velcro we could probably survive for years. Throw in a Swiss army knife along with a can of WD-40 and we could, maybe, live comfortably for decades. Although these items would come in very handy, the only thing we really would need in that bag was a bible, the inspired word of God.

The hurt was still too fresh. The pain was too deep. Trevor and Elise tried desperately to cope with the events of the last few months; the death of their children. They couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat and there were several trays of food from friends and neighbors spoiling in the refrigerator. Every time Elise fell asleep she had dreams of the catastrophe and would automatically wake herself up. Trevor had trouble focusing at work and when he was home, well; he wasn’t much help or strength to his wife in fact it was hard just to look at each other.

The young rabbi was barely 32 years old but the appearance of his hands made him look fifty. They were rough, leather worn and scarred from many years of sawing, chiseling and general carpentry work with his father Joseph. He had just returned to Nazareth from a trip he had taken around the Sea of Galilee with a couple close friends. The young rabbi had been gaining popularity over the last couple of months while rumors of him performing miracles began to circulate. It was said all the young man had to do was just touch someone and they were healed!

Kenny sat expressionless on the frigid chrome steel wheelchair while gazing down at the stumps that used to be his legs. He had just been released from Mercy hospital after both his legs were amputated two week ago Friday. He had been wounded after an IED exploded near Kandahar Air Field in Afghanistan which tore open his Humvee. 

Pastor David’s office has always looked like a hurricane had ransacked it or a bomb went off in it. The strong winds or person responsible left everything in unorganized piles around some sort of pedestal that could have been a desk. For some unknown and peculiar reason Pastor David once gave me a key to his office. Thinking back on his decision I can’t be sure if he was in his right mind when he handed over the key, which I still have in my possession.  

The date the Messiah would return was set in stone, scribbled on a sacred scroll penned by the Prophet Daniel. Sent to man by God through the angel Gabriel; the day of salvation was clearly foretold to the exact day. The Scribes, Priests and Pharisees had memorized the words, calculated the date but were still blinded, unable to see the miracle God was performing.