Bragging about Jesus.

The Lord is my preacher?

This does not sound good. The Lord is my shepherd. “That sounds much better.” Why? Because I am a sheep and a sheep needs a shepherd. I should know that because the more-helpless and old I become, the more I need a shepherd.

More than BLT, what I need is TLC with plenty of SHK Smiles, Hugs and Kisses.

Though I am not his blue-eyed boy, our Lord disguises himself in multiple ways to make me lay down in delicate pastures and quiet waters at the cool of the day under the shadow of a large tree that makes me sleep in the bosom of Abraham.

I know there are Bears and Lions around me seeking to devour me but I have slept peacefully for 75 years and I am not about to start worrying about it now.

Instead, I brag about Jesus, my shepherd, my good shepherd that gave his life for me as a sheep and I feel like saying one more time, “I love my shepherd.”

When I brag about Jesus as a shepherd, I am bragging about him who raised me a “loverbacker” not a “talkerbacker.” Through thousands of sleepless nights, he has watched over me and in thousands of ways he has protected me from death.

If I brag about Jesus as a preacher, I am bragging about that which I understand and is what I need to hear for myself. When I brag about a preacher, I am bragging about me, myself and I. All of me wants to see me as God sees me.

How helpless and ridiculously fragile is the design of my body. But when I see myself with God’s eyes, I am wonderfully perfectly created to depend on my shepherd who sometimes is “Blonde and beautiful” and other times is so smart and clever which I do not mind at all as long as my weakness is his strength.

I can depend on Him more than anything else to even decide the hour of my departure to go home. When that time comes there is no force on the face of earth that will keep him from taking me home. (Not even the Medical Doctor across the hall” who I just met today.) The appointed time is set and it will not be a minute early or a minute late and I will land home not a mile short or a mile long but just on time.

If I keep on bragging about Jesus, there will be no room in this letter to keep on bragging again and again and again. (Just look at my refrigerator and my medicine cabinet.)

As I stopped to drink my smoothie, I heard an ambulance pass by on Sixth avenue and I smile at 1:25 AM at the thought of the puzzling faces of some of my readers that might find it hard to understand me because they are not like me - “A spoiled brat of God” as my wife Ruthie use to call me. Please do not worry, God is “Crazy about you also.”

Your Gerry with a “G”

Photos are of chef Ichiban Gerry on the roof of the apartment. Eating well makes me strong.