The Curse| A Christmas Gift For You | | Posted by Michael on Thursday, November 24, 2011 at 7:02pm | Sharon and I have written a short story that we hope will bless you this Christmas season. Following the story of the little drummer boy--as Paul Harvey would say, it's "the rest of the story." It's our prayer that, as you enjoy the holiday season, you'll reflect on the reason the babe in a manger came to earth and dwelt among us.
Drummer Man
story by Sharon Barrett
written by Michael Todd Barrett
Never cross the road in front of a Roman soldier. I learned that early. It was especially true if he was on horseback. A few--a very few, understood kindness. I'd seen it. Once, a Centurion gave me a piece of meat from his table as I cowered in fear behind a nearby tree. But most could be brutal at times. Some could be downright cruel. Trouble was, you could never tell which was which. Not that I cared. The reasons didn't matter to a small boy with no home or family. Nor did it matter why they were in our homeland in the first place. I was only vaguely aware of the sense of national shame that everyone seemed to wear like a shawl, and the whispered call for the Messiah among the elders in the village square. Surely this would be a good time for him to come, they said. All I knew at the time was that the best way to survive was to avoid the soldiers.
I remember the day everything changed, at least for me. It began with a star that seemed to hover over the village as I sat on the hillside among a small flock of sheep. I wondered at it as I gazed wistfully, lying on my back fighting the sleepiness.
A small boy wandering aimlessly with no source of income except the meager earnings from the little drum I carried, the only tie to the family I once knew. It and the tiny bundle I carried were all I owned. The shepherds took pity on me and had given me bread. I must have been a sight in my tattered rags. I suppose it was a sense of gratitude that prompted me to keep a watchful eye on the flock through the night, the only payment I could offer for their generosity.
But that night I sat up at the commotion in the tents a few yards away. I was too far away to understand what they said, but the shepherds were pointing at the star, excitement and awe in their voices. At first they seemed not to agree on what they should do, as though the sight of a star would prompt any action at all. I drew closer and heard them say that an angel had told them about a baby in a manger down in the town below. The shepherds took up their staffs and began walking toward the village.
I followed at a distance.
The star cast a soothing light over the narrow, empty streets of the sleepy village. I'd seen a dozen such villages in my travels since the Romans made an orphan of me. I followed the shepherds down the main street to one of the many inns. Laughter drifted from the tavern next to the inn, but the shepherds paid no attention to it as they made their way around the inn to the stable. I held back and hid in the shadows.
The light of the star seemed to glow more brightly over the humble stable. A lantern cast a warm light on the face of a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and sleeping peacefully in the manger. A small, silent crowd had gathered, and from my hiding place I could see the shepherds as they knelt beside the manger. One-by-one members of the crowd stepped forward with a gift, some with trinkets of gold or silver, some with blankets or some other useful item, and laid them before the manger and then backed away reverently with heads bowed low. A few brought expensive perfumes. I had never seen royalty but I knew that such tribute was reserved for someone important. I felt a lump in my throat at the sight.
Just then I heard the sound of horse's hooves on the road. Without thinking I ran toward the stable and the security of the crowd. Before I knew it I was standing near the manger. I felt humble and out of place here in this place of wonder--me in my tattered rags holding a simple drum and a bundled cloth that held my few earthly possessions.
The mother of the child looked up and smiled at me. She reminded me of my own mother, her soft caring eyes. "Come closer, young one," she beckoned softly. "Don't be afraid."
"I--I have no gift to bring," I said. The words stuck in my throat.
She smiled at me with a smile that only a mother can give and then she looked down at my drum. Then she looked back at me. "Haven't you?" she asked.
And so, under the light of the star, I offered the only gift a poor beggar-boy had to offer. I played for him. I remember I felt something inside me stir, as if something new came to life. When I left that little stable I vowed to live my life to honor this young king.
But then days passed and became months, then years. Hunger, poverty, the struggle just to survive. I forgot my vow to the babe in the manger. It was only a few months later that I met Jonah.
Jonah was a sly one. He smiled a lot. It was hard not to like him even if he couldn't be trusted. Jonah took a liking to me and invited me to join his little band of thieves. We moved from town-to-town and soon I had learned the fine art of fleecing a crowd. I would entertain a crowd with my drum while Jonah and the others picked the pockets of unsuspecting fat businessmen and travelers. We spent our time drinking too much wine and dodging Roman soldiers sent to keep the peace and deal with thieves like us. I suppose you could say it was a good life. At least, it was life. I tried to ignore the emptiness I felt inside and dismissed it as hunger pangs and a longing to be rich.
So many years had passed, I hardly remembered the little town with the stable when we arrived one day. As we made our way along the main street through town everyone was talking about the Rabbi--the one who had healed the blind and made the dead come back to life. Some said he was the Messiah. Others claimed he was a prophet or a king. Still others said he had been taken by solders and had been condemned to death. Jonah said he'd never seen an execution before and wanted to go see. One of the others said it was bad luck to watch an execution, and, anyway, it was best not to get too close to solders since we were wanted, too.
But Jonah insisted. So, the two of us set out for Jerusalem, only a few miles away. I don't know what I expected to find when we got there, but the whole town was abuzz about the Rabbi who was to be crucified. Everyone crowded into the street that led to the hill outside of town. Up ahead, in the middle of the crowd I could see a beaten man carrying a wooden beam on his shoulder. I'd seen what Roman solders can do with a whip, but even I was repulsed by the sight of this man, bloodied and beaten beyond recognition. As we stood and watched, a solder passed by and ordered us to stand back. Jonah said it was too dangerous for us to be here and disappeared into the crowd. But I followed the crowd to the place where they nailed the Rabbi to the cross.
Soldiers milled around the place of execution like dogs circling a prey. It was a cold and lonely place. A kind of darkness overshadowed the noon-day sun as the pall of death lingered in the air. Blood ran down the wooden beam of the Rabbi's cross. I held back in the crowd for fear of the soldiers.
Yet I felt strangely drawn to this Rabbi who was to die. A woman stood nearby with her shawl pulled tightly around her face. I could see she was crying. Something about her face was familiar, and a moment later I remembered. She was the mother of the child in a manger so many years before. Older. Weary and sad. I moved closer and took her arm. She looked into my eyes and then down at the pitiful little drum I still carried and I could she that she recognized me. She gestured toward the cruel cross. "My son," she said through her tears.
I looked up at him, his battered body bleeding and torn--a lump of vanquished flesh. He hardly resembled a man. A few soldiers taunted from the foot of the cross. Two thieves hung on crosses on either side of him. One of them joined in with the taunting, but the other man scolded him and asked to be remembered. Then, as if by some miracle in the midst of His anguish and torment, He spoke. The words were gentle and kind, spoken with love. "Today you will be with me in paradise" He said.
I felt empty and afraid--helpless as I knew I really was. "Why?" I asked of no one--and everyone.
He looked down from his suffering as our eyes met. Any good Jew knows the need for sacrifice for the covering of sin. I'd never been to the temple on any of the holy days, but I remembered my father telling stories of his visit to Jerusalem to take an offering of two turtledoves. I remember him explaining the need for blood sacrifice to atone for our sins. As the Rabbi's life ebbed away I heard one of the soldiers say, "Truly this man was the Son of God."
At that moment, as I beheld the face of the Rabbi on the cross, something long dead and forgotten stirred to life again. I hadn't felt it in many years, but in a single moment something deep and true sprang up in me--and I understood something that seemed so obvious now, I wondered why I hadn't seen it before. In my travels I once saw a Roman procession in which a conquering general led captives through the streets of a nameless Roman city in triumph. Drums beat out a rythmn as the procession pass-by, announcing a great victory. I didn't understand then, but suddenly, standing at the foot of the cross, I believed.
I knew what I should do--what I must do as surely as an eagle must fly. I looked around at the soldiers but, to my amazement, the terror they held was gone from my mind and my heart. I took my drum from under my arm and, with the conviction of one charged with royal duty and honor, I began to play:
"Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A conquering King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
He gave His life for me, pa rum pum pum pum,
My willing life I bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Mary softly cried, pa rum pum pum pum
The Lamb of God to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Suffering for me, pa rum pum pum pum
Dying on that tree, pa rum pa pum pum
And now I'm truly free, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Me and my drum."
| | | | | Good Writing | | Posted by Michael on Sunday, October 9, 2011 at 3:33pm | I'm posting a link to a writer that I really like. Her name is Andree Seu, and she has a way of putting things that will make you think--and flinch! I recommend her. She writes for World Magazine, a Newsweek type publication with a Christian slant. Check it out at: Worldmag.com
Here is a link to one of her articles: http://www.worldmag.com/articles/11291
 Challenges
| | | | | Hate the Sin, Embrace the Sinner | | Posted by Michael on Friday, July 29, 2011 at 6:59am | I've pasted below an article from a dear friend. I hope it speaks to you. Check out her blog at:
Glowininthedark.blogspot.com
Tolerance. It’s a word we hear so often these days. Everyone is striving for tolerance. I’m OK, you’re OK, why can’t we all just get along? We must be tolerant of all sorts of things: foul language, people’s right to choose, aberrant lifestyles, political opinions, the list goes on and on. So often Christians are portrayed as intolerant because so many “Christians” are vocally anti-gay, anti-abortion and anti-all sorts of other things. As I’ve considered this rift in society between Christians and the rest of the population, I find myself wondering what Jesus would say to us regarding our behavior toward others. So I look to Scripture, and this is what I find:
In chapter 8 of John, a group of religious leaders bring an adulterous woman to Jesus, wondering how Jesus would deal with her. They wanted to stone her, which was the penalty for adultery at that time. In many middle eastern countries today adultery is still a capital offense if you are a woman. It’s a much more socially acceptable sin in the US, though, isn’t it?! Jesus’ reply was shocking and convicting to those around - He called for the one who had never sinned to start the stoning. One by one, the men all walked away, until the woman was left with the only sinless One. Jesus was the only One in the crowd who could have rightfully stoned her. Yet He did not condemn her, rather He sent her away in forgiveness.
Jesus was scandalously revolutionary in regards to how he dealt with those whom the religious elite considered “sinners”. He dined with them (Luke 19:2), He talked with them when others shunned them (John 4), He tolerated them when no self-respecting person would (Luke 7:36-50).
Jesus also expounded on the law to show us its fullness. In His sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, He said that being angry hating someone, or calling someone a fool was equal to murder (Mt 5:22), and that whoever looked at someone lustfully was guilty of adultery (Mt 5:28). James was probably thinking of this teaching when he wrote that to be guilty of one portion of the law is to be guilty of the whole law (Js 3:10). The apostle Paul made it very clear when he wrote, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Rom 3:23)
So where does tolerance fit? Perhaps when we realize the nature and consequence of sin we can see it better. James 1:14-15 says it well: “But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.” We are all enticed to sin. No one is exempt: greed for shiny new things, lust for anyone who is not our spouse (no matter what the sexual preference!), envy for what someone else has, the urge to gossip, the need to lie, and the list goes on. Everyone is lured and enticed by their own desires. And all sin separates us from God - “For the wages of sin is death” (Rom 6:23) Rather than to the intolerance of judgment, that knowledge should drive us each to the cross of Christ where we may find forgiveness and freedom. At the cross we all stand shoulder to shoulder in our sinfulness, all equally deserving punishment, all desperately in need of grace. There is room at the foot of the cross for everyone who comes in humility. There’s no need to elbow some out of the way.
When we hate certain people because of what they do, we add to our own list of sin. But when we see the sin of others for what it really is - no different than our own sin - we can show the love and forgiveness of Christ, in the same way that He loved and forgave our own sins. Like Christ, we can hate the sin, yet embrace the sinner.
Politically incorrect | | | | | Words of Wisdom | | Posted by Michael on Thursday, May 19, 2011 at 8:31am |  Here are a few "don't tug on Superman's cape" words to live by---courtesy the internet.
1. Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.
2. Never buy a car you can't push.
3. Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.
4. Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.
5. When everything's coming your way, you're probably in the wrong lane.
6. A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
7. We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names and all are different colors, but they all live in the same box.
and my favorite:
8. Save the earth..... It's the only planet with chocolate !
Humor | | | | | Notable Quote | | Posted by Michael on Tuesday, March 8, 2011 at 7:59am | “The candid citizen must confess that if the policy of the government … is to be irrevocably fixed by decisions of the Supreme Court … the people will have ceased to be their own rulers.”
— President Abraham Lincoln History | | | |
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About Me My Book  Soft Cover | The Curse Soft Cover Retail: $22.99 Our Price: $14.99 ISBN:
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