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Articles by Dean Kellio

Cornelius was a gentile Centurion, of the Italian regiment, living Caesarea who feared and believed in the one true and living God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Peter was a Jewish fisherman by trade, living in Jerusalem, who was now following Jesus of Nazareth the son of man and the only begotten Son of God. They were both in the mind of God as our Heavenly Father begins to orchestrate a divine appointment that would unite, essentially graft in, a non Jewish world into the newly formed church of Jesus Christ.

Mark looked into the eyes of Christine who was sitting across from him on a swing in the park. The sun was hot so the two teenagers moved under the shade of a large elm tree to escape the fierce summer heat. Mark looked around before he filled his pipe with some hybrid marijuana he had purchased from a local cannabis dispensary that had been laced with something.

With clenched fists Saul left the temple office with letters of condemnation for all Christians living in Damascus. The High Priest had sensed his hatred towards Christians and granted his request to bring them back bound. He hated “The Way”, as it was known in Jerusalem, because they believed that that the Nazarene was the anointed son of God. Saul vehemently opposed them in view of their belief that Jesus was the true Messiah and that He had risen from the dead.

“We have to get back to the way the early church ran things!” exclaimed Ralph to a group of bible students who had gathered at the campus coffee shop to study before class.

“Yea, they all shared everything and were always filled with the Holy Spirit” added Jenifer confidently.

“Excuse me, but where is my food? I’ve been waiting for quite awhile and these other people, who came in after me, have already got their order?” said one of the Greek women to Peter and James as the morning breakfast was being served. 

“I think you need to put in more hours preparing the food ahead of time so that we don’t have to wait so long.” replied a man who had accompanied one of the widows to Solomon’s Portico but was really  there for a free meal.

My life, these days, I live by faith. However, it has not always been that way. I started out in life working as a carpenter building many of the homes, condos and apartments that many of you are now living in. I loved working with my hands building beautiful porticos, patios or an elegant gazebo out of a nothing but a pile of raw materials.  The satisfaction that came out of cutting and assembling something out of nothing was very rewarding. To stand back and admire a structure that grew from just having an idea and a measure of faith was quite an accomplishment.

While the army is looking for a few good men and women, God is throwing out His dragnet in the hopes of catching every man, woman and child in a net of faith. God loves His creation and has a plan to save it and His plan is not dependent upon anything that you do or think. It’s a fair plan, a merciful plan that was wrought in ancient times before the foundations of the earth were formed.

As I am getting older there seems to be more funerals and memorials being scheduled in my life “Turn, turn, turn”. I don’t like it when I get the news that someone I knew, who is younger than I am and in perfect health at the time, succumbs to a stroke “Turn, turn, turn”. I would much rather hear about the twins that were born on New Year’s eve to my neighbors down the street  “Turn, turn, turn”.

I have an anxious mind that is both incredibly active and imaginative. It’s the kind of mind that isn’t really welcomed around the flickering glow of a campfire while others lay prostrate in their sleeping bags telling ghost stories in the velvet darkness. If I were some kind of clunky old car my active imagination would carelessly stall me out somewhere along Anxiety Lane. Once I rolled crooked against the curb, with all my windows down, worry would begin filling me up faster than water through a screen door on a submarine.

My perfect Sunday would start off with sleeping in until 9:30 am where I would wake without the aid of an alarm clock. Walking quickly to the closet I wouldn’t have any trouble picking out something to wear while my wife prepared a breakfast of poached eggs on sourdough toast. Shortly after a leisurely commute I would arrive at church, which would be packed with sinners eagerly waiting to receive the gospel. Every need of the church was already being met by a surplus of mature Christians who were more than eager to serve God.