LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

WINSDAY WISDOM 220

ANGER!!!

Anger gets the best of us. It brings out the worst in us.

I have experienced worse driving incidents, but this was the latest. The car jumped two lanes to squeeze into the left turning lane as we approached the crowded stoplight. Right in front of me! They would have hit my car except for my catlike reflexes which slammed on my brakes, allowing the invading car to miss mine by inches.

Instead of being grateful for the near-miss collision, my mind went straight into anger mode. I showed a little restraint. Instead of laying on the horn, I banged on the dashboard and flickered my headlights. I shouted a few things. I probably called her “an idiot.”

My heartrate spiked. My teeth clinched. My stare was locked in.

As our cars made the left turn, I looked for the opportunity to pass the careless driver on the right. I intended to dart in front of that “how dare you car” the way it had crossed over into my airspace.

Suddenly I felt as though I were in the Ben Hur chariot race. Horses racing side-by-side at full speed with wheels bumping against the opponent’s chariot. This was Do or Die. This is also how many “road rage” incidents get started.

Maybe this would become like the famous car chase in The French Connection or in one of The Fast and The Furious movies.

At the next stoplight, I eased up next to the enemy who almost wrecked my car. I was ready for confrontation, but a little undecided about my first action. My mind raced through things I could do and things I could say.

Flipping someone the bird has never been my style. I am more likely to raise my arms and hands in a questioning gesture.

A strong cussing has never been part of my anger mode either. I do not use the “What the H-E-double hockey sticks?” even though my friend, Jeff, always said that God knew that was what I was thinking.

“Are you an idiot?” is more my style. Maybe “You are a dangerous driving moron!” My mind came up with many classic put-downs which are far away from a Love First, Love Most response.

The driver was a younger woman holding her phone and chatting away. A toddler was in the back car seat. She glanced over at me. She did not even notice my facial expressions and hand gestures. She turned away before my exaggerated mouthed words got a chance to air their grievances. She was clueless.

Clueless! That hurt even more. It did not lessen my anger. It only added fuel to my feelings. I was not at “road rage” but I was not in “cool down stage” either.

I noticed her intention to pull into the nearby convenience store. This would be the time for an encounter. Someone…my wife…needed to tell her off. Her negligence nearly caused a wreck. Her careless selfishness was rude to me and the drivers behind me.

Thankfully, my need for speed to be somewhere overruled my need to “read her the riot act.” That phrase refers to “stop causing trouble or there will be trouble.” R-i-o-t” act. I always thought it was the R-i-g-h-t act, like telling someone how to act right.

The original term is connected to a real Riot Act established by the British government in 1714, to prevent the actions of others causing trouble. The police officer would first read the offenders The Riot Act before they were dispersed in similar fashion to our present-day officers reading someone their Miranda Rights before they can be interrogated.

Anyway, I drove away before there was more to confess.

Anger at a clueless person is probably the most wasted anger of all. They will not get it. It will not ruin their day as much as the encounter will continue to ruin mine. I will end up feeling more guilty for an act where I was the innocent party.

I repeat for emphasis. Anger gets the best of us. It brings out the worst in us.

None of us are strangers to this kind of driving scenario. Usually, we are not the offender.

Some people are just bad drivers. Many are distracted by texting.

Some drivers are clueless that any other car is on the road. On the other end of the spectrum lies the equally dangerous self-proclaimed “NASCAR drivers” weaving in and out of traffic at full speed. Their perceived driving excellence only survives fatal crashes because of the cautious braking of other drivers.

Belligerent behavior on the roads has increased significantly. Stress and erratic driving add to the cause. Obscene gestures, throwing objects, or forcing others to alter their car direction or speed have all become too common. Race car speeds or snail’s pace puttering heighten the difficulty. Riding the bumper, tailgating, and sudden cut-offs are aggravating.

Impatience, irresponsibility, and erratic lane changing are usually symptoms of the bigger problem…selfishness. The driver believes the importance of his purpose supersedes that of everyone else. We all feel that way.

Do not get in MY way. Do not force me to change MY speed or direction or timing. Everyone plus the stoplights need to accommodate ME. The reason that does not work is because most everyone else is thinking those exact thoughts…except my grandmother.

A New York Medical School psychiatrist wrote, “We have a brain that’s acutely wired for things that might provoke us into anger or fear or survival…causing us to either flee or to attack.”

I prefer my mom’s advice. In my earlier years, my mom would reprimand my attitude to bad drivers, especially slow drivers. She would say, “Always think; that could be your grandmother.”

My grandmother never learned to drive until she was fifty-five. I can assure you her speedometer never reached fifty-five. NEVER!

It would be better to give other drivers the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they are rushing to the hospital or responding to a loved one’s adversity. Probably not, but maybe it is just my grandmother. I would appreciate it if you would treat her in the way you would treat your grandmother.

And, yes, I know some of your grandmothers. They drive like The Little Old Lady from Pasadena. Go, Granny, go! It might be my daughter making the Indy 500 look like a Roman chariot race. She’s having fun, fun, fun ’til her daddy takes the T-bird away.

That’s right. Share some understanding. The slow erratic driver might be lost or nearly blind. Have some heart! It might me my friends’ teenager who was taught to always drive slowly and carefully in the left lane. Send him a Driver’s Ed manual!

The degree of anger, like anxiety, shows up in our different temperaments.

Have you ever had an anger situation that was poorly handled? Bombshell words! Exaggerated motions! Firestorm emotions!

In driving, learn to avoid eye contact and refrain from hand gestures. There is no benefit to escalating the frustration.

Have you ever done the right thing and just walked or driven away from the offender in anger?

As you drive away, you continue the argument in your head. You come up with the classic comeback, the ultimate put down, the drop the mic moment. You leave them speechless. You have them on the ropes. You win!

Then you go home and complain to a loved one and tell them what you wanted to do and speak. They get the full brunt of your anger. At least, the anger is not directed at them.

It is not wrong to become angry. Sometimes anger can be an expression of love for God and others. Jesus was angry in those circumstances. But Jesus never expressed anger as retribution or frustration.

We have to be wise. Anger explosions can cause great damage to hearts and relationships. Anger suppressed can lead to “frozen rage” which might express itself by depression.

The difference between anger and danger is the letter “d.” Inappropriate anger can destroy lives and relationships as well as automobiles. Anger can cause bad decisions. Just a little too much anger becomes dangerous on the roadway and in the home.

The right expression of anger should motivate us to some kind of loving attitude and actions. The #1 Textbook encourages us to “get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger and replace it with kindness, compassion, and forgiveness.” Forgive yourself for getting angry and forgive the other person, preferably BEFORE you express your anger to them. We will need the Lord’s help to do that.

Jesus never had “road rage.” He did ride a donkey through some crowded streets. We know he walked through this world amidst the self-absorbed, hot-headed, rude, and crazy people. Can you imagine Legion driving in a frenzy on the freeway? Or Peter taking out his sword on another driver’s ear? No matter who was on the road, Jesus was always concerned about the welfare of others. He always loved first and loved most.

What Winsday Wisdom can we glean from that? “Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God…Do all things in love…Be patient and kind…Be slow to anger…Exchange coats by putting off anger and putting on kindness…Treat others the way you would want them to treat you” (#1 Textbook).

Treat other drivers the way you would want them to treat your grandmother. It really does not matter if they do not reciprocate in kind. In truth, that is the challenge.

I do not always know what “love first and most driving” should look like. I do understand that it definitely involves learning to drive “forgiving first and most!“

“STOP. LOOK. LISTEN.” That is not just a good warning for crossing train tracks. It is great advice for “road rage anger.” Stop before you say or do something to express your anger to the other person. Look to see if it might be my grandmother. Listen to God speak to your heart, “Love First and Love Most.”

Praying for Safe Driving and Less Stress! Love you!

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 219

What do you complain about? How often do you complain?

If the answers are ‘Everything’ and “All the Time,’ then there might be a problem with the complainer. Just sayin’.

We all complain too much and too often.

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes
Will soon be turnin’ red
Crying’s not for me
‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain
By complainin’
Because I’m free
Nothing’s worryin’ me

It won’t be long ’til happiness
Steps up to greet me (Raindrops Keep Falling On MY Head, B.J. Thomas, by Burt Bacharach)

We can never stop the rain by complainin’, but the rain never stops us from complainin’.

Some people complain about everything…circumstances, what other people do or say, health, food, service, weather, length of a sermon, brevity of a concert, life. It is always someone else’s fault.

Chronic complainers are never satisfied. The traffic is horrible, the airport delay is infuriating, the co-workers are imbeciles, the movie is bad, the games are fixed, the government is lying, the food is better at some other place. Venters seek validation for their anger or frustration.

Sadly, complaining usually makes both the complainer and the listeners feel worse. Also, it is contagious.

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 have to live in the same box.

This is from a recent post on a neighborhood chat group: “I am trying not to be TOTALLY rude, BUT…” If this were her PARTIALLY rude comment, then I wonder what the TOTALLY rude post would have been.

Last week I heard a woman in the store say, “I hate to complain about this, BUT…” How much does someone have to HATE saying something so much that they DO NOT SAY it?

I know a mother who fielded some sibling complaints and told her daughter to share the computer tablet. “Be kind and share, or you will have no friends.

The daughter’s response, “That’s ok. I like to play by myself.” That apple does not fall far from her grandfather’s tree.

We have all experienced the soul-crushing revelation of tough times. Some are causes for concerns and complaints.

Complaints-the dissatisfaction or annoyance with someone or about something. Complaining can evolve into grumbling or whining or claims of unfairness.

Legendary Football Coach Lou Holtz made an interesting observation. “Never tell your problems to anyone…20% don’t care and the other 80% are glad you have them.”

The Greek word translated “complainer” means literally “one who is discontented with his lot in life.” It is similar to the word grumbler. Finding fault in others is not a spiritual gift. Neither is discontentment with one’s circumstances in life.

The first complainer was Adam who, after he and Eve disobeyed, complained to God about “the woman You put here with me.” Adam’s son, Cain, grumbled about his brother’s good deeds. The faith-honoring Moses complained to God at the burning bush regarding how hard his assignment in life would be. Later he complained about the Israelites’ grumbling about his leadership and his God.

King David complained often about his dire circumstances in the Psalms. Grief-stricken Job complained about his life and Jeremiah complained about his nation’s spiritual and moral decline.

The #1 Textbook expects us not to grumble or complain.

So, is complaining wrong or acceptable? The #1 Textbook says it depends on your situation and motive.

It is not wrong to complain TO GOD, but it is wrong to complain ABOUT GOD.

Biblically, the wrong kind of complaining ABOUT GOD is referred to as grumbling. Grumbling complains that God is not really good, fair, faithful, wise, or loving to you. It accuses God of doing something you consider to be wrong.

The Biblical expression for the right type of complaints TO GOD are often called laments, expressions of grief and sorrow. I once read where a theologian described the difference between lamenting and grumbling. In a lament, you talk to God, not about God—implying that you still trust God.

The lamenting complaint does not accuse God of wrongdoing. It is an expression of trouble, grief, or sorrow where the complainer pours out his/her heart to God for help and hope.

The #1 Textbook indicates there are times to cry out or complain to God about the pain, unfairness, disappointments, troubles, and confusion in life. It is the voice of a child to a loving parent, a cry for help, a hope for better times.

“I cry out to the Lord. I plead for mercy. I pour out my heart in complaint TO GOD. I tell God all my troubles” (Psalm 142:1-2). David continues his complaint that “no one cares for my soul. but You (God) will deal bountifully with me. You are my only refuge.”

God understands. God understood Daved, Job, Jeremiah, and understands you. God allowed you to be in this situation. God is the only one who can cause it to work out for good. So, complaining TO GOD is not just okay to do, it is encouraged by God. God already knows how you feel. He knows what you want. God will listen as you work through your complaints.

My cousin, Toni, was the princess of our family. She was beautiful, smart, strong, and kind. She was blessed with a good husband and two wonderful young boys. She developed terminal cancer in her early forties. She was devastated, as were the rest of our family.

When I visited her in the hospital, Toni asked if she could be honest with me. She said she was so mad at God but felt so guilty saying it. She cried as she poured out her heart about how unfair this was. She continued to weep as she worried about her sons. She asked for my counsel.

I suggested she just tell God what she had just told me. Toni seemed shocked. I shrugged and said, “It is not like He does not already know how really feel.”

I encouraged her again before we prayed together. Talk it out with God. He can handle your complaints. God will not love you any less. The more you complain TO GOD, the more foolish it will seem since He is the only one who can help you.

EVERTHING GOD DOES IS ALWAYS WISE, RIGHT, AND GOOD.

Everything! Always! The more you express your complaints TO GOD, the more you will end up trusting Him, as Toni did. Her complaints honored God as the God of her trust. Keep telling God no one cares for your soul until you realize how foolish and wrong that is. God never ceases to care for you. Never.

As the sorrowful Job declared, “Even though God slays me, I will still trust Him.”

We can complain to others, but they cannot help us in times of trouble, grief, and sorrow. When we complain TO GOD, we realize we are not alone, not misunderstood, not without care.

It is part of our fallen human nature to complain about things in life which displease us. It becomes ingrained in our attitudes and words. We start young and, sadly, never grow out of it.

We want what we want, the way we want it, and when we want it. Anything less is deemed unfair, unacceptable, undesirable. I will repeat, complaining is not a spiritual gift no matter how often it is used.

So, what is at the heart of our complaints? We all want our complaints to be heard. Ironically, none of us want to listen to the complaints of others, especially if they are directed at us. We just want others to listen to our complaints. Afterall, this world is about me. Ok, you and me.

Complaining is connected to spiritual amnesia, forgetfulness of God’s goodness. It is more of a revelation about the condition of your heart than an account of your circumstances.

The antidote to grumbling and complaining is to REMEMBER.

 “This I call to mind and remember so I see the one ray of hope. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His compassion never ends. God’s great love is new every morning. Great is God’s faithfulness. My soul claims the Lord as my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him. The Lord is wonderfully good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks for Him. It is good both to hope and wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord” (Lamentations 3:21-26).

Grumbling and complaints are indicators that we are not trusting in God and His goodness. Our words, attitude, and actions question God’s love and wisdom. It is an expression of how we truly feel at the time…that we can do a better job of running things than God does.

If you have a man-sized god, then your anxiety level will never get better. Your complaints will fall on deaf ears. “Why should we humans grumble and complain?” (#1 Textbook).

Your complaining convinces others you are not in control of things. Life will be much better when you realize that. Talk TO GOD who does control all things. He might not give an explanation for your circumstances, but He will give perspective.

God did not give the complaining Job an explanation. God did point Job’s attention to creation, the stars, and the animals for perspective. It was a call for Job and us to remember. There is no unfairness with God. Only beauty and blessings.

Abraham Lincoln once illustrated perspective of life, “You can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”

God pointed the bewildered Joseph, the complaining Moses, and the lamenting Jeremiah to the future. Every event in life has a future purpose.

“The Biblical characters and their circumstances were written for our instruction that through endurance and encouragement of God’s Word, we might have hope in our circumstances” (Romans 15:4).

Their faith encourages us to trust God in all things. Toni’s faith still encourages me today.

If you must, complain TO GOD, not about God. Your continued trust in the midst of unanswered questions will be used by God to encourage another struggler to endure in hope.

Winsday Wisdom: Our thoughts and words are a reflection of our heart. Complain less. Instead of complaining more about all the messed-up things in life, be more grateful for all the troubles you do not have.

“The things about which we are tempted to complain may be the very answer to our prayer to be made like Jesus”–Elisabeth Elliot.

Everything God does is wise, right, and good. Everything. All the Time. Trust Him.

WINSDAY REWIND 6 (Back by popular demand or requested by Jeff Segner)

Take me out to the ball game,                                                                                                          Take me out to the crowd.                                                                                                              Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks.                                                                                         I don’t care if I never get back.

Let me root, root, root for the home team                                                                                       If they don’t win it’s a shame.                                                                                                 ‘Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out                                                                                   At the old ballgame.  –Take Me Out to the Ballgame

It’s baseball season!

America’s favorite pastime evokes images of The Boys of Summer, hot dogs, fireworks, and the Mystery of the Missing Cheese Nachos.

The major league baseball park was electric as we watched my kids’ favorite team. The summer vacation was punctuated with this big finale. A pro player tossed a baseball to my daughter. She was thrilled. My sons got pictures of the star players.

They all learned some new language not normally heard on our Sunday ventures. Two highly intoxicated fans had a shout-off contest. “Ken Caminiti is a weenie.” (The third baseman made a couple of errors.) “Mike Bielecki is a weasel.” (The pitcher had a rough outing.) Back and forth. The raucous duo found unity in an extended rant, “The umpire rocks,” or something like that.

In one of the middle innings, I took the kids to the concession stand for some mid-game snacks. I returned with my arms full and my wallet empty. I carried drinks and hotdogs and popcorn and some cheese nachos. As we repositioned our seating alignment, we passed out the refreshments. Lots of happy faces.

After all the food was distributed, I could not find the cheese nachos. I thought I had placed them at my feet below the seat. I asked each member of the family. I searched everywhere. I racked my brain. Did I leave them at the concession counter? Did this guy next to me take them? His buddy was eating cheese nachos. They were both laughing. It looked very suspicious.

I whispered to my wife that the fans on our aisle had stolen my cheese nachos. She told me to let it go. I couldn’t. It was the principle of the thing. My fixation was halted as my favorite player was in the on-deck circle. A home run would change my mood.

Suddenly, my younger son needed to go to the restroom. He said he could not wait. Seriously. Wait until this next guy bats. That was cruel enough, but then the opposing team decided to change pitchers. Apparently, the opposing manager could not wait either. My son was hopping up and down. It was time to go.

I had flashbacks of a similar incident years ago when I was a kid. My parents took me on a dream trip to see my first pro baseball game. My little brothers and two cousins completed the travel squad.

We went to Kansas City to see the Royals play the world champion New York Yankees. This was the Bronx Bombers, one of the legendary dream teams. We sat in the right field area, close to the outfielders. The homerun sluggers, Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle were almost close enough to touch. Future Hall of Fame pitcher, Whitey Ford, was on the mound and my older cousin Jimmy’s favorite player, Yogi Berra, was the catcher.

The game went into extra innings, The score remained tied as the tenth inning ended. My younger brother, Bill, needed to go to the bathroom. Jimmy offered to take him. I am not exactly sure about the details of their delay. Dad always thought Bill moved kinda slow. Mom said he was just not ever in a hurry to get anywhere, thus the nickname, “Cool Breeze.”

I do vividly recall what happened during their absence. Yogi Berra hit a home run over the right field fence which landed very close to us. I still remember Jimmy’s face when they returned and he asked, “What happened? I was helping Bill buckle his belt. (Did I mention “slow”?) I heard the crack of the bat and the loud cheers.”

Oh, no big deal. Your favorite player blasted a game-winning home run. The ball landed right near where you had been sitting. You would have caught the Yogi moon shot. Jimmy took the news like a major leaguer. It was Big League Heartbreak.

Sorry, Jimmy. I imagine this major disappointment contributed to Jimmy eventually switching his loyalty to the San Francisco Giants. A once in a lifetime experience was missed because a younger relative had bad timing.

The restroom trip with my son was not the best timing. However, it did not include a missed home run by my favorite player. He struck out while we were away.

The important event was the surprise discovery of the missing cheese nachos. We finally found them, uneaten by the rude fan to my left. The cheese nachos magically appeared when I got up from my seat to take my son to the restroom.

My wife tried to quietly get my attention. She kept pointing at me. Then shouting my name. Now that we have everyone’s attention, “What?”

Miss Marple had solved the mystery. This feline detective had unraveled the case. The super sleuth could not control her laughter as she continued to point in my direction.

My blue shorts were covered in cheese nachos. Yep, I sat down on the missing cheese nachos. They were stuck to the backside of my blue shorts!

Oh, it was quite the comical sight for all the spectators as I walked up the stadium steps. I dripped nachos and cheese sauce all the way. It was a real crowd pleaser. It brought new meaning to the seventh inning stretch. I am surprised the incident was not caught on the video Jumbotron.  

The crowd entertainment was not over. I spent the next inning standing in the restroom area in my underwear as I washed out my shorts in the sink. Yes, several people wish they could erase that image from their memory bank. Primarily, me. The blow dryer was helpful for this occasion. My son was extremely embarrassed. He acted as if he did not know me.

I tried to ignore the looks and the laughter from the exiting crowd of onlookers. Somehow, Mr. I Don’t Like to Talk to Anyone felt the need to explain to people what I was doing. “Sat on some cheese nachos. Just washing them off.”  

Guys started handing me their mustard-stained T-shirts as if I were the men’s room attendant. The jeers echoed through the place, “Caminiti is a weenie.”

I guess each of you has misplaced something at one time or another. It can be frustrating not to find the object where you are sure you placed it. You always put it there. Somebody moved it. Someone hid it from you. Hey, it could be worse! At least, you can keep your pants on!

Have you ever misplaced your Love First button? Maybe, you were engaged in some favorite activity when the interruption came. Perhaps you were in the last stages of finishing a project or solving a problem when the other person insisted on your attention. Or maybe you just wanted to finish the movie.

In some moments, our well-intentioned love first and love most plans suddenly disappear from view. Our frustration grows as no one helps us. The other persons are more interested in getting their way or having their say. So, you give up the plan to love first and begin to blame others for the missing link. That usually ends up in a messy situation.

Egg on the face has a similar result to sitting on cheese nachos. Everyone notices. Embarrassment and hurt are not good buddies. Negative attitudes and angry words are never the best way to start the parade.

We live in a culture of chronic complainers. There is always something to grumble and gripe about. The line is too long. The traffic is so congested. The gas prices are too high. The fast food is so bad. The ice cream serving size is too small. The day is too hot; Walmart is too crowded. The concert fan in front of us thinks we bought tickets to watch her dance and sing. And would someone please tell that poor sucker that he has cheese nachos dripping from his blue shorts?

Here is a Love First classic for all of us looking for the cheese nachos. It comes right out of the #1 Textbook. Do all things without grumbling or complaining. Do not have a negative attitude and do not use negative words. In ALL things.

Love expresses gratitude and grace. Gratitude is thankfulness for all the many God-given cheese nachos blessings we tend to forget about. Grace is the God-given desire and power to love first and love most in ALL things…even missing cheese nachos.

I wish I spent as much time in life counting my blessings as I have searching for my missing cheese nachos. I am making progress. I truly desire to make a positive impact in this life. If that is my goal in ALL things, then I need to lose the negative attitude and words.

I want to expand my Love First and Love Most vocabulary. I am praying that gratitude and grace replace my grumbling and complaints.

“Play Ball!” Our family has heard that shout many times throughout the years. I can assure you that each season, someone remembers to shout, “Where are my cheese nachos?”

I confess I remain a little sensitive to the subject. I have nightmares about trips to the ballpark concession stand. The server looks at me and asks, “Would you like some cheese on your blue shorts? With chili or jalapenos?”

 ‘Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out                                                                                   At the old ballgame.

 

WINSDAY WISDOM 218

What’s love got to do, got to do with it?
What’s love, but a second-hand emotion?
What’s love got to do, got to do with it?
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?

(What’s Love Got to Do with It?   —Sung by Tina Turner, written by Terry Britten and Graham Lyle)                                                                                            

The hit song by Tina Turner topped the charts and became the theme song for her biopic documentary. Her recent death has revitalized interest in this tune and her famous versions of The Best and Proud Mary. My friend, Kay Johnson, suggested the use of this title for a future WINSDAY.

What’s love got to do with it? In Tina Turner’s song, nothing. Love is an unwanted second-hand emotion which can only lead to a broken heart. Many people agree with her cynicism. Tina experienced an abusive relationship with Ike before she found solace in Switzerland.

I think most people hope love will fill their void in life.

“Do you love me?” is probably the most asked question in relationships.

The hope and thrill of love revives the heart and changes our outlook on life. Love has everything to do with life now and forever. Love keeps us together now and forever.

As Captain & Tennille sang,

Just stop!
Cause I really love you
Stop, I’ll be thinking of you
Look in my heart
And let love keep us together

(Love Will Keep Us Together, sung by Captain & Tennille, written by Neil Sedaka)

The greatest news is God’s Love for us. Unconditional. Unlimited. Unending.

All of God’s World and all of God’s Word shout for us to “STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN to God’s heart…always thinking of us…always holding us together.”

GOD LOVES YOU FIRST AND MOST.

GOD’S LOVE FOR YOU STARTED BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF TIME AND CONTINUES THROUGHOUT THE ENDLESS AGES.

God created you. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

God saved you. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

God adopted you. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

God sustains you. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

God has given you every spiritual blessing and has promised to provide every genuine need you have in this life. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

God has prepared a place for you in a heavenly home filled with the highest honor, harmony, and happines…forever. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

In the meantime, God will work all things out for your ultimate good. All things. What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

“God works all things according to the counsel of His will” (#1 Textbook).

What’s included in all these things? “All things” means all things! Everything!

All the majestic big plans of God. Every star in every galaxy in the humanly immeasurable universe has been named and numbered. All the miniscule parts of those intricate plans. Every tiny sparrow, each hair on your head, and every part of your DNA are named and numbered.

You can be sure that there are no “maverick molecules” in this universe!

What’s Love Got to Do with It? EVERYTHING!

Love is much more than a second-hand emotion. Every thrill and every heartbreak find its source in love.

The fear of being unloved or losing love pervades our emotions. Each week carries news of another failed relationship. More importantly, each week records the earthly loss of someone’s loved one.

Hearts are broken. What’s Love Got to Do with it? Everything. Loving someone unites your heart to their heart. It cannot be undone without pain and scars. It cannot end without tears and emotional emptiness.

There is a legitimate threat of assimilation to our culture’s self-centered misuse of love and a danger of annihilation by our culture’s skepticism and rejection of godly love.

LOVE MATTERS! It makes the world go around. It makes life worth living, even when you lose a loved one. Love lasts longer than this earthly life. No expression of true love is ever wasted. Every thought, every word, every act of true love leaves a lasting impact.

What’s Love Got to Do with It? Express love according to God’s definition: giving up yourself for the welfare of the one loved.

God’s love always loves first and loves most. Our imitation of that same love necessitates (1) purpose, (2) direction, and (3) progress. Never forget the importance of loving first and loving most.

When the music fades and your heart is broken, God’s love will still be rollin’. That thrill will last forever, just like the big old paddlewheel riverboat, Proud Mary.

So, get up from your chair, and let’s get rollin’!

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’

Left a good job in the city
Workin’ for the man ev’ry night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleepin’
Worryin’ ’bout the way things might have been

Big wheel keep on turnin’
Proud Mary keep on burnin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river 

—(Proud Mary, sung byCreedence Clearwater Revival, covered by Tina Turner, written by John Fogerty)

WINSDAY WISDOM 217

I received a late-night call from the police. A body was found in the backyard of the missionary house adjacent to our church parking lot. A neighbor had called 911. The person was either drunk or dead. The law enforcement asked me to be there as quickly as possible to ID the person.

What did I feel at that moment? Shock. Apprehension. Worry.

That hot Louisiana August night became unforgettable.

I arrived at the church parking lot within fifteen minutes of the alert. It looked like a crime scene. Police cars, flashing lights, yellow tape barriers, officers with flashlights inspecting the backyard area of the missionary house.

A policeman stopped me to confirm my identity. The officer explained that a neighbor had called the emergency hotline reporting a lifeless body in the darkened backyard next door. Upon investigation, the police startled a young man outside the house. As he sat up, guns were drawn. The suspect was ordered back to the ground where he was handcuffed and questioned.

The police suspected drunkenness or drugs. They inspected the surrounding area for corroborating evidence. They also searched for another body.

I watched from a distance as the police put the arrested man through the field sobriety test. They checked his balance, coordination, and attention span. The officer ordered the handcuffed man to gaze at a moving flashlight, walk a straight line with a turnaround, and stand on one leg.

When the field test was completed, I was escorted to where two police cars faced each other. In the midst of their headlights, a shadowy figure stood in handcuffs, surrounded by several officers. The young man was barefoot, dressed in blue jean overalls with no shirt.

The lead officer asked if I knew this person. As I approached, the shackled young man grinned and spoke, “Hey, Brother.”

The center of suspicious attention was Jim. Jim McCarty was one of my preacher school interns. Oh, my!

Under intense questioning, Jim explained he was lying in the backyard, gazing at the stars, and contemplating the greatness of God’s glory while reciting Bible verses. He was shocked to find his explanation rejected as insanity,

The officers thought this was delusional or drug-induced hallucinations.

I quieted the policemen and freed the handcuffed Jim with a simple statement. “This is Jim. I can assure you that his testimony is absolutely truthful. As strange as it sounds, this is not unusual for him. Jim is different, in a good way.”

The officer responded, ” I would have sworn he was in a dope daze. It only goes to show that you don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Jim was part of our first group of preacher school interns. Each guy was unique and yet similar in his big-hearted love, courageous faith, and God-honoring usefulness to the kingdom. I love them all like sons.

God sent Jim to us by way of a suggestion from my brother who pastored a church in Texas. He had a young man whom he thought could benefit from being in a new environment. Jim had recently dropped out of college for the second or third time. Joe was concerned about Jim’s social development, his aversion to education, and his lack of direction in life. Would we consider taking him under our wings?

Jim arrived in his trademark overalls. He did wear a shirt underneath and, for the church greeting, wore shoes. Jim was a “yes sir, no sir” young man. His slow Texas drawl was noticeable in this Deep South environment. He was polite but slightly socially challenged. He could appear quiet and cautious in his surroundings.

Let me just lay it out there with no intention of alienating anyone. This is just an observation, not a cancel culture comment.

Jim looked and talked like a country boy from Texas. He would definitely not be mistaken for a sophisticated city slicker.

This is not an insult, just a meet-and-greet characterization. His appearance reminded me of Captain Kangaroo’s sidekick, Mr. Green Jeans. Since that childhood TV show would be unfamiliar to most of you, think of Festus (Gunsmoke), Gomer (Mayberry), Jethro (Beverly Hillbillies), Woody (Cheers), Hank (King of the Hill), Darryl, Darryl, and the other Darryl (Newhart).

These television characters were not dumb. Old-fashioned to a fault, they were innocently naïve, out of touch with the bad stuff in this modern world. Most of these characters were noted for being friendly, loyal, and philosophical. Their insightful wisdom usually sounded comedic in its simplicity. Jim fit the part, but it was no act.

Social Development? Jim quickly endeared himself to our church family. He was a regular weekly dinner guest for several families. He mowed lawns and made house repairs for widows which, in return, kept him well-stocked in food. No one in our city ate more desserts than Jim. Pies, cakes, pastries, and cookies. He could have opened a Sweet Shop. Somehow, he retained his lean frame.

Jim ran errands, dug ditches, and put-up fences. He was not afraid of work. He joined the ministries to the homeless and neighborhood outreach. Everyone loved this young man in overalls.

Aversion to Education? Jim was an eager and quick learner. He studied the Bible and asked thoughtful questions. His looks and demeanor were different, but he fit right in with the other preacher interns. Deep thinkers. Sensitive hearts.

My goal for the preacher training school was to deepen their devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ before they embarked on more intense theological studies or careers.

We put them through rigorous reading assignments and challenging discussions. We explored Scripture in-depth. We engaged the young men in ministry to at-risk youth to expand their love for others. Then we tested them.

The tests would cover the latest Biblical book. The interns would need to recall verses and passages and expositional points. These were the best and brightest young men I had been around. The tests were challenging.

Something interesting was revealed during the testing time for the Gospel of John. As the preacher guys recalled Biblical references, Jim’s test recited large passages of the text, word for word. On further investigation, Jim admitted he had memorized the entire book of John, all twenty-one chapters.

I have been to school with all kinds of students. Some were very smart and some were educationally challenged.

Carl did not know which way was right and which was left. He was a very fast running back who scored a lot of touchdowns because this quarterback directionally pointed when I called out the play, Right Twenty-Eight Quick Pitch. Our co-captain, Daryl, was greatly disappointed in his English assignment when he discovered that Shakespeare’s Hamlet was not about football. No, Hamlet is not the same as Helmet…so close and yet so far away.

I also attended college with guys who had perfect college admission scores, but no common sense. One knew Latin and Quantum Physics but failed the basics of etiquette. Another could not organize a dorm function but became our country’s Vice-President.

However, this version of Mr. Green Jeans was the most impressive student I have ever known.

As I continued to quiz Jim, he stated he had memorized the other Biblical books we had studied. At one point, Jim memorized the entire New Testament.

As I got to know Jim better, he revealed why he quit college several times. He would register for the classes, buy the books, and read them all before the first class. When the professor began with an overall introduction and slowly waded through chapter one, it left Jim bored and uninspired.

Jim confessed he saw no reason to continue to go to class to listen to something he had already learned! That certainly bested all my reasons for skipping classes.

Jim read all of the #1 Textbook only to discover he had only begun to mine its truth and treasure. This Book cannot be judged by its cover. It is the Word of God. Its supremacy and sufficiency are unfathomable. Its value and worth are immeasurable.

Life Purpose? The country boy was brilliant. However, the most impressive hidden characteristic was the size of his heart. He was also missionary-minded. He traveled with Charlotte Norman and a church group to Oaxaca, the poorest area of Mexico.

Miss Charlotte was a former Garden Club Society member who gave her heart to Mexico missions, inner-city Porch Church, and women prison ministries. Charlotte’s big heart had a huge impact on Jim.

Jim returned to Oaxaca to spend some extended time helping Victor Castanon with missionary work to the outlying mountainous regions. Victor will someday lead the rejoicing of multitudes of the Mixe Indians gathered around the heavenly throne.

The next time we saw Jim, he was accompanied by his new bride, Maria, Victor’s daughter. Maria is the sweetest, kindest, hardest working young lady anyone could meet. God used Maria to focus Jim on his life’s calling.

Jim came back determined to become a doctor. He and Maria planned to return to Oaxaca to open up a medical clinic in the village, as well as provide assistance to the thousands in the surrounding area without medical care.  

This required Jim to finish his college studies which he did in eighteen months. Then he had two months to study for the medical school entrance test, the MCAT Exam.

The time and the educational challenge seemed impossible, unless you were Mr. Green Jeans with an arrest record for loitering in the backyard gazing at stars.

Jim knocked it out of the park. He finished in the top one percent of all applicants. He could get into any medical school. However, Jim thought it best for him to study medicine in Mexico.

So, Jim passed the medical exam again, only this time in Spanish. Medical education is brutally challenging, even more so in a second language. Jim even attended his classes. Upon the successful completion of his training and intern practice in Mexico. Jim and Maria returned to her hometown where they opened a medical clinic for the poor people of that area.

That Mixe medical clinic was just the book cover. Exploits, dangers, drug cartels, late night medical emergencies, long journeys by burro and on foot, and training preachers are all storybook stuff. They are all written in the heavenly journals.

Jim traveled throughout the mountainous area preaching and doctoring. He once preached one of the best Psalms expositions I have ever heard. I imagine he memorized all of it.

Since those early years, Jim has gained physician certification in the United States. The patients have no idea that this “country doctor” in the big city has one of the most brilliant minds and one of the biggest hearts they will ever encounter. They certainly do not know this doctor was once arrested for stargazing.

There is an old saying, “Do not judge a book by its cover.” It is a metaphorical expression which suggests one should not judge the worth or value of someone or something by its outward appearance alone.

You can’t judge an apple by looking at a tree,

You can’t judge honey by looking at the bee,

You can’t judge a daughter by looking at the mother,

You can’t judge a book by looking at the cover. 

(Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover, sung by Bo Diddly, lyrics by Willie Dixon)

Oh, how often we fail to heed that advice. We look at someone’s outward appearance and quickly form some judgment regarding their character or motives. We check off our social media “like” or “dislike” without listening, without learning, and without loving. That is not how the Lord loves us.

“The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” (#1 Textbook).

Judging others is not a spiritual calling. Loving others is our universal challenge.

Whether Jim’s steps lead him over sparsely populated mountainous regions or crowded and bloodied emergency rooms or church parking lots, he will most likely greet you with a smile and a “Hey, Brother!” I can guarantee you he will not judge you by your cover,

Let us all be better at not judging others by first impressions. Misjudgments arise when we focus on the color of someone’s skin, their outward dress, or their dialect.

“We must never forget this as a nation: there are no gradations in the image of God. Every man from a treble-white to a bass-black is significant on God’s keyboard precisely because every man is made in the image of God. One day we will learn that. We will know one day that God made us to live together as brothers and to respect the dignity and worth of every man.” (Martin Luther King, Jr.)

“The Gospel is the power of God to change water to wine, death to life! The whole story is about Him. We just get to be vessels carrying the divine glory!” (Dr. Jim McCarty)

Join me in the march to love first and love most. We are vessels carrying the glory of love. When we love like Jesus, we discover a glorious and defining truth. If every human being were a book, every book would have the same book cover. It would say, “Made in the image of God.”

Life is not about outward appearances. It is about love and character and integrity and faithfulness. A heart will tell you much more about a person than appearance.

May we all work more on our inner resources than our outward appearances.

May we give greater value and worth to the inner beauty of others.

And may we find some time in our busy lives to gaze at the stars as we contemplate the greatness of God’s glory, goodness, and love to us.

WINSDAY WISDOM 216

The funeral service had just been completed at the cemetery when, suddenly, a fight broke out. Flailing fisticuffs. Chokeholds. Shouted hostilities. Screamed expletives. 911 calls. Sirens. So much for the loved one resting in peace.

This was the Tombstone Showdown.

Why do we still fight?

The answer to that question has eluded many relationship partners.

Some people come out of the mother’s womb fighting, as Jacob did with his brother, Esau. Some fight throughout life and some go to the grave still fighting.

Some fight over the grave.

The Tombstone Showdown was real. Jeff, my associate in War and Peace and Crimes of Endearment, oversaw this funeral fiasco. I was a bystander, there for support and protection. The fight breakout was shocking, but it was no surprise to Jeff to see me backing up farther and farther from the skirmish.

I hope I was praying. I know my mouth was as wide open in astonishment as my eyes. I had never witnessed something like this before. At least, not in a cemetery.

Let me set the tone of the scene. Bagpipes. That’s right. Bagpipes.

The elderly husband had been bedridden at home in a coma for several days. The doctor said the end of earthly life was near. His loving wife arranged for her own version of last rites for her beloved husband.

Jeff was there to read Scripture and pray. Another man showed up with bagpipes. He looked as if he had just come down from the hills of Scotland. He was in full Highland Dress. Plaided kilt, tartan bag cover, braided silk chords, and the feathered bonnet.

He played Amazing Grace on his bagpipes. The sound was loud. It sounded like…bagpipes. It can be music to one’s ears or an irritant to one’s senses. Sometimes, the slow dirge can move people to tears.

In this case, the bagpipe sounds awakened the dead. Not literally. This dear man was almost dead. The low ceiling in the small bedroom amplified the noise. Somehow, it startled the comatose patient. He sat up, looked around, and then fell back asleep.

I wondered about the effects of the loud ruckus that interrupted his peaceful rest at his funeral.

We were aware of some family unrest. Much to the chagrin and disapproval of their children, the elderly couple had welcomed a stranger into their home. This man, a druggie, began to take on the self-proclaimed role of “stepson.”

There had been several shouting matches between the son and so-called stepson. Threats were made regarding his presence at the memorial services. The tension was prevalent. The danger of disruption was anticipated. A police officer was hired to provide security for the event.

The two daughters flew in from California. The stepson appeared as well. The son refused to come to the cemetery, but his two sons were more than capable stand-ins for the revenge tour.

As Jeff finished his closing prayer at the graveside, he declared that this concluded the memorial service. He went to shake the hand of the grieving widow. As the stepson expressed his condolences, chaos broke out.

The grandsons completely ignored Jeff’s closing declaration of “Peace be with you.”

As my uncle would often whisper in his fake dismay, “I was aghast.” Aghast–to be filled with horror or shock.

The two young adult grandsons literally leaped over their grandmother and into the hated fall guy. Grandmother was knocked to the ground. Her head missed a tombstone by inches, or things would have been much worse.

The two grandsons began to pummel the unwanted family intruder. The security officer pulled away the bleeding and bruised victim. As the police officer held the screaming man in a headlock, the two grandsons continued to pound away at his face and body.

The officer had called for backup. I was doing my part. I backed up. Four gravediggers were standing nearby. They rushed into the skirmish and literally wrestled the two grandsons to the ground and held them there until help arrived.

The daughters were in tears as they cared for their mother. She appeared to be in shock. As Jeff struggled to help the knocked-down grandmother, he nearly fell back into the open grave.

Jeff’s wife had blood all over her. Jenny had offered aid to the bloodied stepson. She had to go for shots once she learned that the bleeding drug addict had hepatitis.

Sirens filled the quiet solitude of the cemetery. Four police cars, an ambulance, and a firetruck raced to the scene. I have never witnessed a funeral like this one. I have the highest respect for my associate and longtime friend as you can tell by my next comment. If you are expecting a fight showdown in Tombstone, call Doc Segner.

Why do we still fight?

At some point you and your partner are going to fight. Fighting does not mean you are with the wrong person, or that your relationship is doomed. Conflict is an inevitable part of any longstanding human relationship, especially ones that involve the most intimate parts of our lives.

Marriage is the union of two kingdoms into a better one. King George and Queen Mary must lay down their crowns at the feet of the King of kings. It is always better to surrender to a better way to live. Learn to love first and love most.

Most of us will not succumb to fisticuffs or physical harm, but we fight with words or social media. We cause emotional damage. We sever relationships, causing others to unnecessarily choose sides.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will never hurt me. Yes, they do. Kind words bring life, but cruel words crush the spirit (#1 Textbook).

The cause of all conflict is unmet, unrealistic, and, sometimes, unexpressed expectations (#1 Textbook).

We expected the other person to say something or do something. We expected them to know what we wanted, even when we never expressed it.

That might lead us to be discouraged, to feel disrespected. We feel hurt, unloved, unappreciated. So, our response might be a barrage of loud shouts or sounds of silence.

The other person might express hostility, but it takes two to fight. The #1 Textbook says for us not to retaliate or seek revenge. Listen. Understand, Repair the relationship.

Little fights can feel as horrific and damaging as bigger fights. They are all big to us at the time.

A young man whom I had the pleasure of officiating his marriage several months earlier sought me out for counsel. He was distraught. He and his wife had been fighting over some unmet and unexpressed expectations. He did not think their marriage could survive.

He explained the problem clearly. His wife left the dirty pans and dishes in the sink overnight. He could not understand why she would wait until the next morning to wash them. This was serious. He was not sure their marriage would survive.

I tried not to smile. Many couples would trade their devastating problems with him in a heartbeat. Here was a sweet, kind young man who did not want to fight, but the battlefield of dirty dishes in the sink overnight would not go away.

I say yes and amen to all you women out there. He could have washed the pots and pans himself. Men do not think that way, thus causing unmet expectations to arise in you women. Do not expect what you will not express. Even then, you might be disappointed, but it should not become conflict.

I asked this young man if his mother used to put away all the dirty pans and dishes each night after dinner or before bedtime. He replied, “Of course.”

I followed up with a question regarding his mother-in-law. Did he know if she cleaned up her kitchen at night or waited until the morning? He responded, “She leaves them in the sink, just like her daughter.”

He still did not get it. I said, “Do you think that maybe your wife thinks she is doing it the right way because of how she was raised?”

“But it is not the right way.”

“Right, because that is not how you were raised. There is a solution to the problem. You do not have to fight about this. Ask her if she would do the dishes at night. If she refuses, you can do them if it bothers you this much.”

I do not know how the dirty dish saga was resolved. I know they have been married for over thirty years with wonderful kids and grandkids. No fight is worth interfering with that.

On a slightly larger scale, I counseled a couple engaged in verbal warfare. Some shouts. Some sounds of silence. They were on the brink of separation. As part of getting to the root problem of selfishness, I asked each one to prepare a list of the things the other person needed to change.

The next week, the husband began. He pulled out his three-by-five card and emphatically read the three things which she needed to change to make their marriage work. I think they are the universal list for men. Food. Cleaning. Lovemaking.

Yes, we men are narrow-minded…and unreasonable in our expectations.

When it was the wife’s turn, she pulled out a full-sized yellow notepad with five pages of single-spaced problems her husband needed to change. Yes, you women have the memory of elephants. Mistakes are not forgotten. Never. He was in shock. He had no idea of the magnitude of her grievances.

Unmet, unrealistic, and unexpressed expectations. That is the source of all conflict.

Unmet expectations become the foundation of all conflict, not only in marriage, but in every relationship. Learn to be a peacemaker.

Communication without fighting is not easy. It is doable. A great place to start is with God. Tell him your expectations. Much of the time, we are really fighting with God, much like Jacob’s wrestling match. We just do not want to admit it.

God will tell you to love first and love most. That is the place to start and finish any communication.

This is the verse from the #1 Textbook that got my attention and changed my heart:

Treat the other person with longsuffering, enduring one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Ephesians 4:2-3).

I had to learn how to endure and be eager. But first, I had to want to be a love first, love most person.

Please, do not take the fight to the grave. Forgive and ask for forgiveness. Be the first to renew your love and love the most.

God will show you a better way to live (#1 Textbook). Give the other person the best of your love.

EMOTIONALLY DROWNING IN THE STRIP PIT OF LIFE

It was a horribly hot summer day. I was eight years old when I almost drowned in the cool water of the strip pit.

My family and my uncle’s family went on a swimming adventure to a strip pit. A strip pit is a large hole in the ground eventually filled with rainwater. The scar in the earth’s surface was caused by strip mining, the removal of long surface strips of soil and rock which cover a mineral deposit, in this case coal.

Once the mining was completed, the empty hole was neglected. Over time, it would fill with rainwater, providing a site for swimming and, in some cases, good bass fishing.

My dad and his brother did not spend their childhoods floating around in some sweet swimming pool. Neither did my mom and aunt. They swam in ponds and creeks. The strip pit water was a great place to take me, my cousin, and our little siblings.

I remember the rocky hill surrounding the area and the small gravel under our feet as I waded into the cool water. Dad and Uncle Derwin would lift and throw ‘Sis’ and me back into the water. Mom and Aunt Dot played with the little kids on the shore.

It was a fun day in the summertime. I watched as Dad and Uncle D.O. carried the little tykes into the water. As I backed up, the gravel bottom gave way. I was in deep water, and I did not know how to swim.

I know. I was eight years old and did not know how to swim. I was a late learner. The lessons from the previous twenty minutes were quickly forgotten. In my defense, I do not recall that I had ever been in any water deeper than the bathtub.

Some of my preschool years were spent out on Tenkiller Lake in a boat. I remember the feeling of fresh air and waterdrops blowing into my face as the boat raced around the lake. I have many fond memories of Tenkiller Lake, but I do not recall swimming there as a young kid.

I was playing in neck-deep water when the strip pit’s small pebble base disintegrated. Suddenly, I was underwater. I panicked as the sight of the family and shoreline was replaced by nothing but water. I flailed around as gulps of water filled my mouth.

I popped up, struggling to catch my breath. I saw everyone, but apparently no one saw me. I fought to swim but submerged again. This time I held my breath as I plunged downward and then floated back to the top of the water.

As my head barely emerged from the surface, I saw that my uncle was looking in my direction. I could not yell for help. Surely my eyes signaled I was in distress.

I actually recall that I had some kind of flashback or memory moment. I remembered hearing the phrase “going down for the third and last time.”

The “third time” phrase refers to approaching failure. It was used to describe a boxer being knocked down three times in one round, which signaled he lost the fight. In my teenage years, Diana Ross and The Supremes sang about “going down for the third time” in a relationship which had her “drowning in tears.”

My wife, Vicki, was a teenage lifeguard. She was awarded the Presidential Honor of Merit for saving a life with CPR. If she had been my lifeguard, I would have gone for the classic fake drowning that the bespeckled, toothy Squints pulled off in The Sandlot to get the attention of the girl of his dreams.

Squint’s brave venture resulted in a mouth-to-mouth kiss from the pretty lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn. As his pal, Smalls, narrated, “He had kissed a woman…and he had kissed her long and good.” Squints ended up marrying Wendy.

If I could duplicate that feat, I could run away from the scene with the smile of victory dancing to the sound of the Drifters singing This Magic Moment.

This magic moment
So different and so new
Was like any other
Until I kiss you

Wake up! Wake up! I am drowning! At this point in my strip pit dilemma, I had no hope of reaching those teenage years. I was going down for the third time. My frightened mind believed it was the last time and the last glance of my dad and uncle.

As I continued to sink into the strip pit abyss, two big hands reached under my arms and raised me high into the sky. My Uncle Derwin saved me. I want to cry as I tell this. He saved me.

Later that year, I realized I was drowning in my sins. I remember the moment God’s love lifted me into a new life. I learned firsthand that God loves first and most. He is always there…at all times…in all things.

Some Monday Moanings might feel as if you are drowning. You have more of something than you need, want, or can handle. Maybe, you are drowning in debt or drowning in sorrow. You might be drowning in your troubles, or depression, or self-pity.

Maybe you just need to drown out these Monday Moanings.

To be consumed by negative emotions can become a horrible feeling. It creates a sense of desperation and hopelessness. I have been there as well. Sometimes it felt as if I were going down for the third and last time. If only there were someone to save me.

Emotionally drowning is not just the feeling of losers. The Psalmist David, a man God commended for having a good heart, often felt the same way.

David compared his negative circumstances to drowning in a dreadful pit filled with mud and mire: “The Lord brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock” (Psalm 40:1-2). His only hope was for the Lord to save him.

Again, in Psalm 62:9, “Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire; I can’t find a foothold. I am in deep water and drowning in the flood.” David felt helplessly and hopelessly trapped. His only hope was for the Lord to save him.

David’s poetic and metaphoric expressions are connected to experiences we can relate to.

The cards were stacked against him. The stars were not aligned in his favor. The breaks did not go his way. He was going down for the count.

Do you ever feel that way? Certainly, almost every Monday Moaning.

Our only hope is for the Lord to save us.

David encourages us to learn from his experiences. “Trust in the Lord at all times. Pour out your heart before him. God is a refuge for us” (Psalm 62:8).

When you are going under, you need someone to save you.

The hardest times in my life became my best learning times. I do not wish them on you and do not wish to trade with those in worst experiences. I do hope you learn from my experiences.

The greatest security and greatest joy come with the reassurance you can trust God…at all times…in all things.

I am thankful my uncle saw me. I am eternally grateful the Lord saw me and saved me.

You can trust God…at all times…in all things.

Love lifted me! Love lifted me!
When nothing else would do
Love lifted me!

Love lifted me! Love lifted me!
When nothing else could help
Love lifted me! (Love Lifted Me, James Rowe)

WINSDAY WISDOM 215

This Winsday Wisdom begins with an observation about hummingbirds. Do you know why they are called hummingbirds? Because they do not know the words to the song (drum rim shot–‘ba-ba-boom’).

It was a cool summer morning in the Colorado mountains. The gorgeous sunrise unveiling the beautiful countryside revealed the residue of the nighttime’s fine mist.

A beautiful hummingbird flew by the window and began to hover over the feeder. There is something special about seeing a hummingbird zipping through the sky or hovering in place.

Hummingbirds can fly in all directions, including backward, forwards, and even upside down. They are the only vertebrae capable of hovering for extended periods of time while in flight.

Although tiny birds, hummingbirds can fly over 60 miles per hour and flap their wings 53 to 70 beats per second. That is fast. They also have the potential to fly nonstop for nearly 1200 miles. That is stamina.

I stood there mesmerized as I watched the grandeur of God’s creation. So small. So fast. So versatile. So…mean! What?

Yes, this hummingbird was mean. He had all the sweet nectar his little body could contain, but the abundant supply was not to be shared with others. Three other hummingbirds attempted to get a drink of the bright red mixture. Pure sweetness.

Pure sweetness would describe the liquid in the feeder dish. It could not be used as a descriptive characteristic of this specific hummingbird. He attacked each incoming bird as if it were the D-Day Normandy Beach Invasion.

The little Nazi-bird with his big ego aggressively fought off each bird, once taking on two in one dive-bombing swoop.

Apparently (based on a little Google research), it is not uncommon for some male hummingbirds to be very territorial. They sometimes claim one feeder as their own and aggressively defend their sole possession of the nectar enjoyment.

I watched in amazement as this hummingbird protected his supply chain from all challengers during a span of thirty minutes. Obviously, I did not have a lot going on that day.

I felt sorry for the other birds seeking some nourishment. They were persistent. While the boss bird chased away a potential drinker, another one would seek to sneak a sip.

There was plenty for all four hummingbirds and many more, but only one tasted the prize. I tried to show him there was an abundance to share. Unconvinced and unafraid, he acted as if I were an intruder on his mountaintop oasis.

I tried to knock him away with a broom. He was too fast. He mocked me as if this were Muhammed Ali toying around with George Foreman. He dipped and ducked, flapped and flittered. He used his wings to pretend he was a helicopter, then a dive bomber, then a stealth jet.

I reached for the feeder, and he attacked me. I might have lost that day, but I lived to write about this bully hummingbird. They are not all as cute and sweet as the nectar they drink.

Why would a hummingbird not share the abundance of supply with others in need?

Sometimes I am too much like this selfish hummingbird. I think only of myself. Even some of my good deeds are like a hummingbird’s flight. They disappear very quickly. I also seem to share the same attention span of the hummingbird. It is measured in micro-seconds.

When my kids were just little children, my daughter asked her younger brother for some of his M&M’s. When he refused, she reminded him that God said we are supposed to share.

Kyle responded with, “Well, He never told me.”

Do you ever act as if God never told you to share?

God told each of us to be unselfish and considerate of others, to be kind and giving.

I learned one of the basic principles about life many years ago regarding God’s generosity.

WHEN GOD BLESSES SOMEONE ELSE, IT NEVER MEANS FEWER BLESSINGS FOR ME.

Think about that again. It is true. The sweet nectar of God’s goodness never runs out. We do not have to fight for our taste of His goodness and then protect it from anyone in need.

Though this is true, it is difficult to practice because we all feel as though we have been bypassed by the latest showers of blessings. We resent others. They don’t deserve that blessing; they don’t need it as much as I do.

Can we rejoice in the blessings of others? Yes, by faith in the promises of our God. It never means fewer blessings for me. It might mean different blessings when there is only one scoop of chocolate ice cream left and it goes to the grandchild. But the dessert buffet always comes back around in some other time and dimension.

I confess that when it comes to sharing, too often my actions look more like that of the possessive hummingbird. I hover over the decision like some prima donna hummingbird craving his next sip of the red stuff.

Do you ever question or second-guess the godly impulse to share? Do you act like the bad boy hummingbird?

Being a lover of self is a characteristic of worldly people. Others can see how God has blessed us, but sometimes we live in fear of losing our things or losing our spot in line.

Sharing is not a normal lifestyle. Yet, it is the essence of God’s glory to share His goodness with us. And in the coming ages, God will show us the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness to us (#1Textbook).

Immeasurable. Unlimited. Unending. Goodness galore.

God shares with us so we will point others to the feeder of infinite pleasure. Do not continue to live in the whirl and blur of worry and anxiety over what you have or do not have.

Consider the birds in the air. They do not sow seeds or harvest or work, but they never go hungry. There is always another source of nectar in abundance. God takes even better care of you.

Do you remember the Biblical story of the widow from Sarepta (Zarephath)? The prophet Elijah was unsafe in Israel. The people had turned away from God. They threatened to kill God’s spokesman.

Elijah sought refuge in a strange place. The providence of God led him to the heathen land of Sarepta, the home base of his most powerful critic, the evil Queen Jezebel. She placed a price on the prophet’s head.

Elijah was a man on the run. He found a hiding place in the home of a starving widow and her little boy. Famine struck and the impoverished woman did not know where the next meal could come from to keep the two of them alive.

When Elijah met the widow, she was gathering sticks for a fire to cook the last meal for her and her son. Then they would hold each other until they died. They were out of food and out of hope.

Elijah asked her for a drink of water and a bite of bread. What did she do? Did she chase him away? Did she ask him for a handout? No, the widow offered shelter and food for God’s prophet.

Elijah told the widow to continue her last meal endeavor, promising her that there would be enough for all three of them to share.

Faith is the evidence of things not yet seen, the substance of things for which we hope (#1 Textbook).

The widow served Elijah first. Amazingly, there was plenty for her and her son. This was not the last meal from the minutia of cooking ingredients. The same amount was miraculously available for each meal for the next two years!

“Little is much if God is in it.”

Can you imagine the amazement as she checked her pantry which had just been emptied for their last meal? Can you share in that same hope?

The widow from Sarepta and her son were dying from starvation when God used her to rescue and revive Elijah.

The barrel of cornmeal never diminished, and the small jar of cooking oil never failed. They lasted until the rains came and the famine ended…just as the Word of God stated.

What did God prove with this story of the widow’s last meal?

“I know the Word of God is truth.”

Sharing never impoverishes your life. It only enriches it. You never end up with less. Always more. That is God’s law of sharing.

God multiplied the substance of the widow’s last meal just as Jesus did with the five loaves of bread and two fish from the little boy’s basket. He shared it with God, and it fed a multitude of thousands. They ended up with more baskets of food than they started with.

Sharing is never forgotten by our Lord. Hundreds of years later, Jesus stood one day and praised the widow of Sarepta (Luke 4:26). God used her as an example of how God shares His grace to those in need. God’s goodness never runs out.

Dearly beloved, surely, God will take care of you…until the heavenly showers wash away every need.

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly.

By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.

Above all these, put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

Let brotherly love continue.

Let all that you do be done in love.

And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another.

As you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.

It is far better to give than to receive.

Love is patient and kind; love is never selfish.

Put away all selfishness, if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.

God has told you to share. Do it with joy. Do it with faith. Do it with hope. Do it with love.

EVEN WHEN YOU SHARE A FEW OF YOUR M&Ms, IT IS REMEMBERED IN HEAVEN FOREVER AND RETURNED WITH IMMEASURABLE BLESSINGS WHICH CAN NEVER BE EXHAUSTED!

And learn the words to the song…Your humming is annoying! (drum rim shot)

Do you realize you are in a race that will define your life? Are you running to win? Are you aware of the only opponent who can stop you?

A BIG HEART CAN DO GREAT THINGS.

This weekend was the running of the Kentucky Derby, my mother’s favorite sporting event because of her childhood memories watching this annual race with her dad. I watch the Derby every year with memories of my mom. She would tear up with the singing of My Old Kentucky Home.

One of my favorite movies featured the greatest racehorse of all time, Secretariat. This year marked the fiftieth anniversary of Secretariat winning the Kentucky Derby in record time.

My recollection spurs more than just visions of athletic grace and greatness. It has encouraged me to be better at what God purposed for my life, loving first and loving most.

A BIG HEART CAN DO GREAT THINGS.

Secretariat was a horse with a big heart, literally and competitively. His heart was more than twice the size of a normal horse which aided his strength, stamina, and speed. Athletically, heart size is referred to as the X Factor in desire to win. Secretariat was the first horse in twenty-five years to win the Triple Crown (Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont), all in speed record times which still stand fifty years later.

SECRETARIAT TRIPLE CROWN WINNER

The legend began at the Kentucky Derby. Wearing blue and white colors, Secretariat took on the challengers. Coming around the first turn, he began passing horses in front of him as he moved from eighth position to right behind the favorite Sham.

As the horses raced into the home stretch heading for the finish line, Secretariat sprinted past the leader and won by 2.5 lengths in a new record time which still stands today, 1:59.25.

The champion thoroughbred ran every quarter of the race faster than the preceding one.

The second race of the Triple Crown at the Preakness was even more brilliant. Secretariat came out of the gate last, but immediately engaged in a full sprint, ignoring the safety warnings associated with the tight turns. His win in record time catapulted him into a cultural phenomenon.

Praised as a super-horse, Secretariat gained celebrity status among the fans, even featured on a Sports Illustrated cover.

The third race at Belmont was the most challenging, a graveyard for speed horses. This longer race favored the bigger and stronger Sham. The opponent’s strategy was to force Secretariat to start fast but falter due to lack of stamina.

Secretariat sprinted right out of the gate; he never stopped. The race was as legendary as it was dramatic. Secretariat and Sham took the lead, leaving the other horses far behind. The movie captured the race announcer’s voice calling Secretariat’s lead at six lengths, growing to eleven.

The broadcaster shouted Secretariat was moving like a “tremendous machine” leading by 17 lengths as he came around the turn. Onlookers were not watching a machine. This was the showcase manifestation of a big heart.

Strength. Stamina. Speed.

The spectators were on their feet, their voices thundered, the stadium began to shake. The movie captured the moment in SILENCE as the camera looked back from the finish line to the final turn awaiting the appearance of the horses.

The off-screen narration reflected on life in the context of athletic contests.

This is about life being ahead of you and you run at it! Because you never know how far you can run unless you run.

Time seemed frozen as everyone waited in anticipation for the climactic end of the race. Could Secretariat finish as strong and as swiftly as he began? How big is his heart?

The theatre speakers began to vibrate with the thunderous sounds of galloping legs pounding the turf as Secretariat appeared on the screen, coming around the final turn, headed for home and victory. The horse with the big heart appeared…all alone…fluid and fast…mighty and majestic.

Everything on the screen changed into classic movie slow motion as a voiceover narrated words from the #1 Textbook.

The horse rejoices in his strength and charges into battle. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing. He does not shy away from the sword…In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground. He cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.                                                                          

My favorite part of the movie comes next as the music heightens as a choir’s beautiful voices stir the soul.

O Happy Day! O Happy Day! When Jesus washed my sins away. O Happy Day!

As the song continued, the race announcer’s voice filled the background. “Secretariat sprints toward the finish line…20 lengths in front, having run the first mile and a quarter faster than his Derby time. His lead increases to 25 . . .28 lengths.”

He taught me how to walk, fight and pray, and live rejoicing–everyday. O Happy Day!

Secretariat crossed the finish line in record time: 2 minutes and 24 seconds.  Winning margin: 31 Lengths.

As the famous sportswriter, William Nack, penned, “As rhythmic as a rocking horse, Secretariat never missed a beat, a stunning portrait of grace and wonder. No fading. No faltering. No failure.”

This life is not about horses, but it is about heart. There is a race aspect to our lives. It is not a rat race or horse race. It is not even a competitive race with others to climb the ladder or be king of the mountain.

THE ETERENAL GOAL IS TO ACCOMPLISH OUR GOD-CENTERED PURPOSE TO LOVE.

OUR LIFE VERSUS DEATH RACE IS DOWN TO TWO COMPETITORS. ONE IS A LIFE OF GOD-CENTERED LOVE FOR OTHERS. THE ONLY OPPOSITION THREATENING THE CHAMPION’S CROWN IS OUR SELF-CENTEREDNESS.

Self-centeredness is an untiring fierce competitor. The internal opponent will never quit. It must be defeated by a heart overflowing with God’s love. The bigger the heart, the greater we distance ourselves from this great adversary.

We learn to win that colossal race in life’s smaller things.

The X Factor reveals itself in times of testing. We discover limitless love for a spouse amidst changes from honeymoon bliss to vacation stress, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death and then beyond. Our heart grows to love others more in moments of spiritual disorientation, soap opera drama, or relational tension.

Make no mistake about this. The struggle to love is not caused by the other person’s selfishness, stubbornness, or stupidity. The greatest and only barrier to loving any other person is our self-centeredness.

Use your God-given big heart to love wholeheartedly. Shortcuts never help. Mediocre or half-hearted efforts will fail. Insincere actions will always lose. Good actions from an insincere heart miss the mark. Love First. Love Most. Feel the Beat.

God gave you a big heart, bigger than you have yet to realize. A big heart can do great things. God lives inside of us to lead us to others He intends to love through us.

SINCE GOD’S LOVE IS INFINITE, WE CAN ALWAYS STRETCH OUR LOVE FOR GOD AND FOR OTHERS TO WIDER, LONGER, HIGHER, DEEPER LEVELS.

This is a wonderful time to showcase a big heart in your relationships. Give more. Forgive more. Be more faithful. Never give up. Finish Strong. Love first. Love most. Then, with God’s help, love even more.

Small victories of love are extremely important. The goal is to win bigger. Leave the Sham of Self-centeredness behind in the dust. Break away. Run as hard as you can and then, with God’s help, run even harder. Put some ever-widening distance between love for others and your selfish futility.

Let your heart race faster and farther than ever before. Let the beat of your heart be seen, heard, and shared by others.

Listen and love to the beat of your big heart. Hear the roar of the angelic crowd urging you toward the earthly finish line as a stunning portrayal of grace, love, and wonder.

Love First and Love Most. Love Faster! Love Farther! No limits! No exceptions!

Finish Strong! No fading. No faltering. No failure.

HIGH TIDE HARRY’S

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

Every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin’ all of the time

Monday, Moaning
Can’t trust that day
Monday, Moaning
It just turns out that way

Whoa, Monday, Moaning
Won’t go away
Monday, Moaning
It’s here to stay
Oh Monday, Moaning —Monday, Monday (The Mama’s and The Papa’s, lyrics by John Phillips)

It was Monday Moaning and there was a lot, I mean a whole lot, of moaning going around.

Our family was finishing up an awesome vacation at the beach. We enjoyed the sun, sand, swimming, and seafood. The only complaint was it had to end. We drove to Orlando on Sunday evening to catch an early flight out the next morning.

Our family added one new member for this trip, my son-in-law, Scott. He is a brilliant college professor and awesome chef. Those admirable traits extend to being a great connoisseur of movies and restaurants.

Our last vacation meal was a coin-flip situation. Time for a great steak or some delicious fresh seafood? Scott researched the websites for options and suggested the highly reviewed High Tide Harry’s.

Lobster, crab legs, shrimp, fresh fish, oysters. There was even a steak, chicken, or burger option. It is good to have a son-in-law willing to contribute. I felt the pressure on him and admired his initiative as he volunteered to make his first family suggestion.

I am not sure what happened. Apparently, there are many people who rave about this restaurant. It was not anything like our family’s favorite shrimp shack in St. Augustine.

The atmosphere was dismal.

The service was terrible.

The food was horrible.

Our reviews were unfavorable.

Our never-ending jokes were critical.

Scott’s decision was indelible. The venture became an unforgettable experience he will never live down.

We abandoned the generous leftovers along with the management’s unending excuses. We departed with High Tide Harry’s being forever linked with Scott’s Low Tide.

Monday Moaning started early and often. Everyone was sick. Sicker than a dog.

Lower than a snake’s belly. We looked like something the cat dragged in. We felt like death warmed over.

We moaned and groaned and bemoaned.

How can one not-so-good decision leave such a bad taste in one’s mouth and memory? Join our family. Love covers a multitude of wrongdoing, but a poor restaurant choice carries a lifetime of unforgettable sarcasm.

Bad choices and bad experiences are tough to handle on Monday Moaning. You wish for a re-do. You dread a do-over.

Others are looking to you for a decision. It might be your kids. It could be your coworkers. It feels as if the whole world is watching and waiting to critique and criticize.

You want to cry…or scream…or curse…or cover your face until Friday.

Here is my Monday Moaning go-to verse for decision times.

God promises, “I will instruct you in the way you should go (and guide you along the best path for your life). I will counsel you with my eye upon your progress” (Psalm 32:8).

God always knows where you are…where you need to be…how and when to get you there.

Do not moan and groan and bemoan your next decision. Search God’s Word, not the web network. God will lead you to make the best decision.

Go with it! Live with it!

Please Note: God’s Word has not posted a current review for High Tide Harry’s.

You gotta go where you want to go

Do what you want to do

With whoever you want to do it with

You gotta go where you want to go…

          —Go Where You Wanna Go (Mama’s and Papa’s/lyrics by John Phillips)