The Last Trump

Years ago on returning from a trip to Israel, my friend Barbara White brought me a shophar — what the King James Bible refers to as a trumpet.

In ancient times, warriors sounded this musical instrument (made from the horn of a ram) to warn of approaching enemies, to sound battle charges, to call people to worship the Lord, to celebrate new moons, to herald the king, to make announcements — to tell everyone everywhere, “Pay Attention — You’ve Got Mail”.

The unique haunting sound of the Trumpet of the Lord certainly commands attention.

I remembered my shophar, (which I had stored away) yesterday when Barbara came over and took me to breakfast at Dave’s Dinner.

Barbara is Bluefish Books’ best selling author of her Along The Way series and we discussed some fan feedback she got recently; two different sources used the same phrase about Barbara’s books. Each said, “Reading this book set me free me from a heavy burden I’ve been carrying for years”.

It’s feedback like that that makes writing books worthwhile.

Barbara and I also discussed Ezekiel’s experience in the valley of dry bones. The prophet preached to these crumbling relics and succeeded in bringing together flesh and tendons, but he still had a bunch of dead men before him. It was not until the Spirit of the Lord breathed on them that life appeared.

We talked about how we arrange and manipulate and finagle the dry things of our life circumstances to bring about the desired order, but until God breathes on our efforts, they remain dead, crumbling things.

We concluded that the essence of faith is the constant acknowledgement that, “The Lord, He is God. It is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves”.

Every incident of faith tells me that He is God — and I’m not.

We also talked about small group dynamics; in her case a Bible study group, in mine, a neighborhood watch meeting which I chaired Monday night.

In our final meeting last Fall, the neighborhood watch suddenly, abruptly and unexpectedly elected me as this year’s coordinator. Monday night’s meeting was the first I was to chair and I felt extremely nervous about appearing before this group.

I carried along the shophar pictured above to talk about watchmen and warnings and the need for clear signals. We passed the shophar around the group as we planned our activities for the coming year.

Various people tried their hand at blowing the shophar.

Reminded me of the farting contests back when I was a Boy Scout.

But Jamie and Rick succeeded in blowing a blast on the shophar — much to the amusement and laughter of us all.

And I quoted the Scripture where Saint Paul said, “If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, then who shall arm himself for the day of battle”.

All this got our group off to a good start. Among anticipated events is for some of us to take training in Jacksonville’s Office of Emergency Management’s CERT program.

The initials stand for Civilian Emergency Response Teams. It’s based on the premise that in a major catastrophe (hurricane, tornado, terrorist attack, etc.) , each neighborhood may have to stand alone without outside help from three to ten days.

The CERT training would prepare us to rescue people trapped under debris, render first aid, fight fires, set up temporary morgues, etc.

Heavy stuff.

But practical.

As the high point of the Watch meeting, I told one of my great jokes!

(Did I hear my beloved Ginny moan?)

Three healthcare professionals, an ophthalmologist, a cardiologist, and the chief executive officer of a health maintenance organization, a died in an accident and appeared at the Pearly Gates.

The Admitting Angel greeted them saying, “Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome! I’m glad to see you here. But before I can admit you, each must give an account of his life and reasons you should get into Heaven. Who wants to start?”

The first man spoke up. “I was an ophthalmologist. I helped people better see the glories of God’s creation.”

“That’s wonderful,” exclaimed the Angel. “That’s really something. You go right on inside”.

The second man said, “In life I was a cardiologist. I repaired weak hearts, extended people’s lives, I even did a few heart transplants greatly improving my patients’ quality of life”.

That’s wonderful. How impressive,” said the Angel. “You go right on inside. Now, what about you?

“I was the CEO of an HMO. In my executive capacity I helped provide low-cost health care for thousands of clients who might not have otherwise had access to hospital care. At the same time I provided optimum profits for our shareholders”.

“That’s wonderful,” exclaimed the Angel. ”You go right on inside… But…”

“BUT! What do you mean But’” demanded the CEO.

“Well, you are admitted to Heaven, but you’re only allowed to stay for three days”.

Did I just hear somebody blow that shophar again?