Author: Chris Luzio

Everyone knows I’m not much of a sports fan. Sports didn’t play much of a role in my childhood. Dad did put a basketball pole in the yard, but we really couldn’t dribble on the grass. I played baseball for a couple of seasons, but didn’t even try to get into a Little League team with uniforms. Khoury League with T-shirts had to do.

When I entered high school I thought I’d go out for football. But the first practice was on a track field, and the coach wanted to see how tough we were. He told us to dive into the cinders, and I just went home. When I went out for wrestling, a couple of classmates told me I would be guaranteed a letter if I’d volunteer to be the manager. I did, but who wants to wear a letter with MGR on it?

Sports did, however, become important for me when I became a father and grandfather. When Matt and Nikki went out for soccer I knew nothing about it, but really enjoyed watching them play. Matt tried football for a season, but decided he’d rather make music, and Nikki stayed with soccer through her first year in college. When the grandkids got into soccer I was ready, and loved watching them play. Even when they played like a swarm of bees after the ball.

Grace and Anna stuck with soccer throughout high school, and both were team captains. I was really looking forward to the year they would get to play on the same team, but then Covid struck. Josie and Will are now playing soccer, but they are in Tennessee.

I don’t think I have to tell anyone what kind of athlete Carter is. The media does that for me. And now Levi is a freshmen kicker, on the varsity team.

Obviously I’m very proud of all my grandkids, but Carter did something a couple of weeks ago that took my pride to another level. While we were at Bible study he texted Nikki to tell her he was making thirty-five milkshakes for kids from the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He began leading the Auburn chapter last year, and had invited all his friends to come. Thirty-nine came, and Carter was more excited than I’ve ever seen him. Even after a touchdown!

And so was I.

God Bess, Rick

Our Sunday night studies for adults will begin again on September 15th at 6:30. As is usually the case, deciding what to study was an interesting process.

Last year I had announced that we would look at Tim Challies’ Epic: an Around-the-World Journey through Christian History. Then you gave me and Marilyn an epic journey to the Holy Land.

My skepticism about the authenticity of the sites led me to Joel Kramer’s Where God Came Down: The Archaeological Evidence. After reading his book and actually seeing the sites, I decided we needed to look at the archaeology of the Holy Land before looking at Christian history. We therefore spent several
months looking at YouTube videos he produced, as well as others, and everyone really enjoyed them.

When we finished our archaeological study, we began our look at artifacts from around the world that taught us about the history of the church. When we took a break for the summer and I asked the class what they would like to study this year, all I kept hearing was “More archaeology!”

When I told Marilyn I didn’t know what more we could look at, she brought up the That the World May Know series by Ray Vander Laan that we watched on VHS twenty-five years ago. When I went on-line to see if they were available in a format we could use, I discovered that Ray has continued taking people on tours of the Holy Land. His tours focus more on faith lessons he draws from the various locations than the archaeology itself, and when I saw that Focus on the Family had continued producing videos of his trips, it seemed like the perfect follow-up to what we did last year.

We have therefore purchased Ray’s most recent four videos, Israel’s Mission, The Mission of Jesus, A Clash of Kingdoms, and Cultures in Conflict. Each study will last for five weeks, and we’ll begin with Israel’s Mission: Becoming a Kingdom of Priests in a Prodigal World on the 15th.

All adults are invited to join us for these interesting studies.

God Bless, Rick

Noah was told by God to build for himself an ark of gopher wood, but then told he should enter the ark with his wife, his sons, and their wives. Since we all descended not just from Adam and Eve, but from Noah’s family, I’m glad he took
them with him. With all the animals on board, I’m not sure they all enjoyed the
cruise, but were glad they were invited.

Obviously I’m not Noah, but I too have invited my family to join me on a cruise. It won’t last over a year, but only seven days. And while we may be a tad crowded in small cabins, we won’t be sharing quarters with all the animals on earth. However, we will have a chance to hug a sloth. No, not a lazy old man, but the three-toed variety.

Yes, I’m taking my family, including a new grandson-in-law and future grandson-in-law, on a Caribbean cruise. We’ll be leaving New Orleans on July 28th, and returning to port on August 4th. After a couple of days at sea, we’ll hug a sloth, soar over the jungle on ziplines, and spend a little time on a beach in Roatan, Honduras. The next day we’ll visit a Mayan ruin and go tubing on a river through caves in Belize. Then, after seeing sights, shopping, or snorkeling in Cozumel, we’ll spend a final day on the ship heading home.

I tell you all of this because I can’t think of anything else to write, and because I
really want to thank you for making all this possible.

When Marilyn and I went on a cruise for our 25th anniversary, I met an older
gentleman who brought all his kids and grandkids on the cruise with him. I loved
the idea, and hoped I could do the same someday. Over a year ago I decided I
could, and booked the cruise.

You have generously supported me for over fifty years, and even sent Marilyn
and me to the Holy Land several months ago. Your love and support is very much appreciated.

God Bless, Rick

What is it you want to leave behind for your kids and grandkids? What do you want carried into future generations?

Marilyn and I have closets and storage bins full of pictures and memorabilia, some of it left to us by past generations. You hope some of it will be treasured, but some will just remain in storage, and some will be discarded. And there are some things you may simply decide not to leave behind. My Harley is one of those.

For years I’ve said either Matt or Paul would get the Harley. Paul suggested he’d
let Matt take me, and he’d just take the Harley, but I insisted whoever got me got
the Harley. I’m pretty sure Paul was just kidding, and I hope the need for someone to take me never comes, but I did think the Harley would go to someone. Until I thought again about it.

Marilyn and I have thoroughly enjoyed taking motorcycle trips over the years. We’ve ridden through deserts, which she really didn’t enjoy, and along coastlines, over mountains, and through the redwoods on the seat of a bike. I’ve ridden since I was fifteen, and have been very fortunate to only require stitches once, and break five ribs, in the process. Matt and Paul both rode off-road bikes for a short time in their youth, but neither have road experience on a big bike. And they’re both getting older.

Even experienced older riders lose some of the skills necessary to survive the mean streets. So not wanting to be responsible
for their possible demise, and not wanting to further test the patience of my guarding angel, I decided to sell the Harley.

So what am I going to leave behind? How about a deep love for the Lord, and
homes that honor Him? No one could want a better legacy. And, thanks be to God, it looks like that’s what I’m going to be able to leave behind.

I have a son and daughter who sought out committed Christian spouses, and who are raising grandkids who love the Lord. And this weekend I’ll have the privilege of uniting Grace and Zach in holy matrimony.

What more could anyone want, or hope to leave behind?

God Bless, Rick

We called them locust shells, and hung them on our shirt in the hopes of scaring girls. Now we know they aren’t locusts, but cicadas. Still, when they immerged by the thousands under our maple tree I couldn’t help but think of the warning Moses gave to Pharoah. “For if you refuse to let My people go, behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts into your territory. And they shall cover the surface of the land, so that no one shall be able to see the land.”
Yes, cicadas were crawling all over our tree and covered the ground under it. I don’t know if they are the 13 or 17 year variety, but they are smaller than the ones that appear in small numbers annually. They are no doubt the offspring of the ones that attacked our maple when it was a sapling a couple of generations ago.
They had inserted their eggs on the delicate branches, leaving scars that took years to disappear, and then burrowed under ground to feast on sap from the roots before heading back up the tree. I know I can’t stop them, because after brushing thousands of them off of the now mature maple, they start crawling back up before I can get around the tree.
While thinking about their immergence from the ground, I started thinking about my immergence back into the pulpit. My seven week absence from the pulpit is the longest I’ve gone without preaching in 53 years. Not that I haven’t enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed hearing Mark preach, and got pretty good at filling out his outlines, even managing to fill in a blank or two before he got there.
I have discovered, however, that I really do like being in a pulpit more than being in a pew. And I certainly hope my reappearance isn’t viewed as the return of a noisy cicada, but as a preacher who’s excited to get back to doing what he still feels called to do.

God Bless, Rick