LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

Years ago, I watched a high school player run the wrong way in a football game. It was both wild and weird. Funny and sad. An instant classic. If a similar event happened this year, the video would go viral and secure its spot in the ESPN Top Ten highlights. The home team was playing their archrival for the conference championship. Their offense had driven down to the twenty-yard line when everything went bonkers.

The quarterback scrambled to his left until a defensive player spun him around and stripped the football from his grasp. The loose ball sailed toward the middle of the line of scrimmage.

A sophomore guard, starting his first game of the season because of a teammate’s injury, whiffed on his block attempt and fell to the turf. As he stood upright, the football hit him right in the stomach, just a few yards away from a victorious touchdown and instant stardom.

All lineman dream of one opportunity to tote the rock, to rumble with the old pigskin, to win one for the Gipper.

Unfortunately, this bumbling and befuddled lineman was facing the wrong direction. Unfazed by the pressure-packed moment, he started running for the goal line eighty yards away. This is where things got WEIRD!

The next few minutes felt like forever in slow motion. The new center of attention ducked and dodged some players engaged in gridiron combat along the line of scrimmage. His nifty sidesteps freed him from the congestion as he quickly veered toward the sideline. This was his one shining moment!

As the wrong-way prodigy raced down the field, the chase was on. Players from both teams frantically followed in hot pursuit, most as confused as this wrong way runner. Two opposing defenders, who should have pushed the galloping runner onward to their goal line, attempted to tackle him. He stiff-armed one of them, while a teammate, who should have stopped him, made a tremendous block to free him from the opponent’s desperate grasp. Not even Superman could stop this powerful locomotive.

His formidable gluteus maximus muscles stormed down the sidelines. Blasts of air plummeted through his face mask. He went airborne over another diving defender.

Football fanatics recalled similar gridiron runners. Sweetness. The Galloping Ghost. The Bus. Crazy Legs. Night Train. The Kansas Comet. Prime Time.

The absence of instinctive moves and lack of outstanding peripheral vision did not deter this ballcarrier. They only sped him on his way in the wrong direction, reminiscent of other legendary names. Doofus. Nincompoop. Riegels. Marshall. Corrigan. My younger brother.

Roy Riegels infamously executed a sixty-five yards wrong way run in the Rose Bowl championship, often cited as the worst blunder in college football history.

Minnesota Viking, Jim Marshall, accomplished the feat in the NFL. He picked up a fumble and rumbled sixty-six yards to the wrong endzone, where he celebrated by spiking the football.

“Wrong Way” Corrigan was the pilot who flew his plane west out of New York headed to Los Angeles, but somehow landed in Dublin, Ireland.

My brother? Well, he shot the basketball at the wrong goal in a high school game. However, our family shame was somewhat overshadowed when an opposing player blocked the layup. You might have to pause and envision that for a moment. Brother tried to score two points for the wrong team and a wrong-team player went to great effort to not let that happen. Dumb and Dumber.

Back to the football game. Doofus and Nincompoop were still running the wrong way down the football field in anticipation of glory.

As our hero roared past the bench area, the coaches were yelling, waving, and shouting, “NO! NO! NO!”

The cheerleaders turned around to see him dashing for the end zone and started jumping up and down, screaming, “GO! GO! GO!”

Never underestimate the powerful influence of a cheerleader’s exhortation. This young lineman pranced his way across the wrong goal line. He began to dance, holding the football high like a trophy. His first hint of wrongdoing should have been the celebratory hugs from the guys wearing different colored jerseys. In the most-watched event of his athletic career, he scored for the opposing team.

However, that is not the end of this wrong-way jaunt story. The extremely bizarre events were about to soar into new heights of the paranormal.

The awkward celebration was interrupted when an equally confused member of the rival team tackled him in the end zone. The baffled referee ran toward the pile of players with both arms straight to the sky and signaled “TOUCHDOWN,” when in fact it was a safety scored for the opposing team.

Suddenly, befuddlement and bewilderment became teammates with pandemonium and mayhem. In that moment of confusion, everyone jumped up and down, some players in jubilation, some in disgust, the coaches throwing down clipboards and headsets in anguish. The cheerleaders leaped and hugged in celebration and then…unbelievably…the band struck up the school fight song!

Both school bands filled the air with competing fight songs.

It was sheer chaos! Some fans stood in shock; others halfheartedly clapped out of loyalty to the rousing music. As my beloved uncle often said, “I was aghast!”

This was the Twilight Zone, Fifth Dimension, or some Matrix Nightmare. I stared at the outlandish scene, wondering, “What’s the matter with me? Am I crazy?”

THE GUY RAN THE WRONG WAY!

Right direction in life is more important than perfection. Which direction in life are you running? Do you remember the most important thing in life, to love God and love others? Or are you wrapped up in yourself as you run toward the opposite goal line of self-centeredness?

Right direction is a key element to living for the most important thing in life.

There is a way which seems right to people, but the wrong way is destruction (#1 Textbook). Unfortunately, we live in a society which cheers wildly for those headed down the wrong path to destruction. It seems and feels right at the time. Popularity and fun applaud every step. Even the so-called experts get it wrong.

My mother often lectured her sons, “Just because everyone else is running to jump off the cliff does not mean that you should. At least, stop and think.”

Do not listen to this world’s counsel on how to run your life. The band might even strike up the school song to celebrate chasing the wind in the wrong direction. However, when the dust clears and the rules of the game are enforced, this wrong-way runner ends up with the nothingness of vanity.

Running the wrong direction in life is an undertaking of vanity that is completely and clearly proven to be foolish, futile, and a failure, resulting in major disappointment. 

Check your spiritual direction today. Winning in life is like winning a sports championship. You do not have to do everything correctly to succeed, but right direction matters immensely.

I was reminded about the ultimate importance of direction in life when I stood on the upper level of a large Oklahoma City mall watching my three-year-old son leaning his face into the railing overlooking the food court below. It was a safe place to be, much safer than taking him into the nearby store where my wife and daughter were shopping.

I wondered what he was thinking as he stared at all the people ordering, eating, and talking about the various things which make up the stories of our lives. I did not speculate on his thoughts exceptionally long, because he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Follow Jesus! Follow Jesus! No turning back!”

I imagine some people choked on their sandwiches or strained their necks in search of the source of the bold declaration. It remains the best sermon I ever heard, brief and to the point.

Allow me to be brief and to the point.

DIRECTION MATTERS. FOLLOW JESUS.

Get out the #1 Textbook and watch how Jesus loves people. Listen to Jesus’ words. Follow Him in that same direction.

If you are just loving others like everyone else in this self-centered culture does, then you are still headed in the wrong direction. Our culture is going in the wrong direction. Just because everyone else is running to jump off the cliff does not mean that you should. At least, stop and think.

That is all I ask. Do not become enamored with the cheers of the crowd or infatuated with our culture’s long lines. Stop and think! Check your spiritual bearings to see if you are following Jesus. If not, it only takes one breath and one step to turn in the right direction.

Love First. Love Most. How you love God and others is about direction, not perfection.

“Follow Jesus. No turning back.” (#1 Textbook)

LOVE FOLLOWS JESUS FIRST. LOVE FOLLOWS JESUS MOST.

It all begins with right direction.

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

Come Monday, it’ll be all right, Come Monday, I’ll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown LA haze and I just want you back by my side.

Come Monday, it’ll be all right.

–Come Monday (Jimmy Buffett).

We have all experienced the soul-crushing revelation of the beginning of another tough week. This will probably not be the last or the worst Monday Moaning. A person experiences 4000 Monday Moanings over an average lifetime.

Some Mondays can be dreadful. Others can be hopeful. Most lie somewhere in between. A few Mondays can be brutal. Some can leave a bitter taste in your mouth as if you started the week sucking lemons.

This Monday moaning finds me reflecting on a vivid sad memory. I let my dad down. My dad is my hero. I am sure there were many times I let my dad down, but he never showed it. This one day was very different.

I let my dad down, literally. It was unfortunate and unforgettable.

Let me set this up.

I am one of three brothers. Our mom often stated, “Your dad thinks you boys are perfect, but I know better. I birthed you.”

The next minutes would be filled with Mom’s critique and instructions for better choices or better grammar in life’s daily grind.

Dad certainly did not think we were perfect. He just acted as if we were. Dad was our coach in life. At some point, he discreetly and imperceptibly changed into our cheerleader. I imagine the load caused Dad’s heart to weaken.

Dad’s perspective of his heart-health and his sons’ perfection was put to the test one day. The memory helps me moan with the worst of the Monday crowd.

I am not sure where I picked up this trait. My mother was not a moaner. She was a coal-miner’s daughter and proud of it. Things could always be worse. So, you do not complain. You just find a way to make things better.

Dad grew up with three brothers under the care and direction of a single, uneducated mom. They were all abandoned by their alcoholic father.

I do not remember Dad moaning…except at the ineptitude of a football official or a basketball referee. I still believe Dad was surprised to find some of them in heaven.

Dad was not a complainer. He most definitely was not a quitter. Whether it was sports, math, or life, Dad studied the situation and found a solution.

I am not sure when I became a Monday Moaner. I always liked to sleep late. I was not born until two minutes past noon. That DNA stayed with me. My prime time is late, late night.

I think my Monday moaning began when my brothers joined the family. Until then, I was king of the court. The family revolved around me. Sharing can be overrated.

But I share some of this blame with my brother, Bill.

When Dad was diagnosed with heart failure, he was assigned home hospice. That soon became unsatisfactory to Dad. He finally relented to allowing his sons to help him get up each morning and get into bed for the night.

Helen would fix his requested breakfast: Gravy. That’s right…gravy. Every meal. She would ask him if he wanted some biscuits. “No. just gravy.” Maybe some eggs? “No, just gravy.”

Dad’s health (increased weight, increased energy, great attitude) during this severe medical prognosis amazed and confounded his cardiologist. Dad survived and thrived on that diet for almost two years.

Apparently new research is needed regarding the healthy-heart benefit of gravy and milkshakes! I have been advocating that for years!

Dad’s weakened condition made it very difficult for him to walk. One of Dad’s former players sent his coach a top-of-the-line wheelchair. It greatly helped Dad maneuver around the house.

Dad needed to be transported to the cardiologist. Bill and I helped Dad to the car. We lifted the wheelchair to carry Dad down the stairs of the porch. I picked up the front of the wheelchair while Bill raised it off the porch by the rear handles.

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong. The wheelchair went limp and began to fold up.

We did not know that the modern wheelchairs fold up when lifted. When you lift the wheelchair, it folds into a slender, easy-to-carry item. This allows for quick and easy storage in the back of the transport vehicle. Very clever invention.

In this situation, Dad was still in the wheelchair. We lifted. The chair folded. Dad was squeezed like a bubble about to explode. There was a brief moment of fear that flashed across Dad’s face. He was falling and squeezed at the same time.

We panicked because we were unaware of why the wheelchair was collapsing. We frantically searched for a release button which Bill had inadvertently pushed.

We did our best to protect Dad from falling out onto the steps. When we set the occupant in the folded wheelchair on the ground, the wheelchair remained limp. We could not get it to reset into a steady chair.

As the wheelchair sides caved in to swallow Dad, he slowly sunk to the ground. We tried to let him down gently. His legs and arms were pressed together across his body.

I never heard my dad curse, but this had to be his biggest temptation for bad language. His ‘perfect’ sons let him down, literally. There he was, sitting on the ground, squeezed inside a folded wheelchair.

Bill apologized. I apologized for Bill.

Dad gave that faint smile and told us thanks for the ride.

Dad NEVER used a wheelchair again. NEVER!!!

We gave away the wheelchair to our rehab missionary.

Circumstances did not define or defeat our dad. If anything, the challenge strengthened his resolve.

Circumstances do not have to be perfect for you to get through this Monday Moaning. Perhaps someone let you down physically, emotionally, or relationally.

Attitude is a choice. A bad attitude is not the result of bad people or bad events. It comes from a bad choice in how you react to those bad people or bad circumstances.

Nothing can hinder or stop you from choosing to count your blessings rather than your bitterness. Nothing can squeeze happiness out of your life.

Monday Moaning circumstances can define you, defeat you, or strengthen you. It is your choice.

Here is a go-to verse from God’s Word, Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be worried, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you and I will not drop you. 

1 Peter 5:10 reminds us that after we have suffered a little while, the God of all grace will pick you up, set you firmly on your feet, and make you stronger than ever.

People will let you down, but the Lord will never let you down.

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah —Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 208

Our four-year-old granddaughter, Madisyn, said to my wife, “Babe, I love you.”

Vicki asked, “How much do you love me? To a thousand?”

Madi responded with arms outstretched, “No, to infinity and beyond!”

The “infinity, and beyond” phrase originated as a quote in the 1990s animated movie Toy Story. Regardless of the source, it is a powerful and dramatic expression of love or happiness.

How happy are you? What is your largest happiness number? To infinity and beyond?

Are you happy? Why? Why not?

What if your happiness could be described as “to infinity and beyond??

Our search for some Winsday Wisdom about happiness can be found right at the beginning of the #1 Textbook. It reveals things to us about before the beginning and beyond infinity.

God created us as the everlasting expression of His great immeasurable LOVE in order that we might experience the endless inexhaustible ever-increasing enjoyment of His GOODNESS.

God’s revelation of human history is the story of God’s goodness to us.

The Book of Genesis begins with, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…”

Only God is infinite, limitless, beyond boundaries, beyond measure, beyond comprehension. The Lord God, the maker of heaven and earth, repeatedly describes Himself as infinite in power, dominion, and understanding. God is almighty, present-everywhere, knowing-everything (#1Textbook).

The Creator God describes Himself with three metaphorical names in the last verses of the #1 Textbook. “I am the Alpha and the Omega…I am the First and the Last…I am the Beginning and the End.”

The Lord is eternal in existence, nature, and being…from all eternity past to all eternity future. In the beginning of earthly time, God created the heavens and the earth.

The purpose of everything that God created was to display His goodness to mankind. Then God created man to be the expression and enjoyment of His goodness. 

In Genesis, Chapter 2, God created man out of the dust and breathed life into him and placed man in a perfect paradise to enjoy the goodness of God. God related to mankind, one-to-one, face-to-face, and introduced Himself as (1) our LORD GOD, (2) our LIFE-GIVER, and (3) our LOVING PARTNER. 

LORD- -That’s the way God still introduces Himself to us. He’s the Lord. He’s supreme. He’s sovereign, He’s the Creator, He’s the controller of everything, He is first and foremost. He is before everything else and above everything else. He is the Lord.

LIFE-GIVER– God introduced Himself to the first man and to us that He’s also the Life-Giver. He built man as His own handiwork and breathed His life into man.

God is the One who is all the goodness, possesses all the goodness, and can do all the goodness. He wants us, who are nothing and were nothing and have nothing and can do nothing, to be the beneficiary of all His goodness. “For we are God’s masterpeice, created to enjoy and do good” (#1 Textbook).

LOVING PARTNER– Then God introduced Himself as our Loving Partner—that we would be in union with Him—that the one God, the Lord, who created everything, would be in union with man who was nothing. The One who owned everything, the One who could do everything would be in union with the one who owned nothing and could do nothing apart from God. 

God chose to be our Loving Partner for the purpose of giving all that He is and all that He has to mankind so that we might learn to live and love like God.

The Creator God offers us a loving partnership in which the only responsibility for any man or woman is to stay a partner. Nothing else is expected of us except what God has given us to maintain the essence of the partnership: Faith, Hope, and Love.

• God gives us FAITH. The God who has created everything for the expression and the enjoyment of His goodness is forever faithful and true. He promises never to forsake us. Trust the Lord God to stay your Loving Partner.
• God gives us HOPE. God creates and orchestrates all things for our ultimate enjoyment of His immeasurable goodness. God has connected His sovereign Lordship to our everlasting goodness. Live in Hope, the confident expectation of experiencing all the good God has promised…somehow…someway…sometime.
• God gives us LOVE. We can love God and others with the same great love God shows us. Imitate God and walk in love as His loving partner.

The Genesis account teaches us “what” and “how” God does us good. The only “why” is hidden in God’s great love. “But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us while we were still dead in our transgressions, made us alive with Christ” (#1 Textbook).

God promised to do us good with all His heart, all His soul, all His mind, and all His strength. Even when everything looks dark, God is working for our good in the midst of that darkness. When things look confusing and chaotic, God is still working for our good. Even when we are asleep, God continues to work for our good.

Psalm 16:11 says, “You will show me the path of life, for in Your presence is fullness of joy and pleasures forever.

Every new breath is a new opportunity for a new beginning to walk in life and happiness and goodness, not to dwell on past failure.  The 23^rd Psalm ends, “Surely the Lord’s goodness and mercy pursue me and follow me all the days of my life.” 

That’s reality. Whenever your mind races away with imaginary thoughts that you are not happy or not blessed, something real is going on. God is chasing you down like a hunting dog after its prey. God is pursuing you with greater goodness.

God is our LORD. No one and No thing can delay or stop Him from doing you endless good.

God is our LIFE-GIVER. His gift of endless goodness is as eternal as His gift of life.

God is our LOVING PARTNER. He is forever faithful and true in life, death, and beyond into the eternity of endless goodness.

Here is some Winsday Wisdom. You do not have to try harder to find happiness. Just be more thankful as you enjoy the unearned and undeserved, endless goodness of God.  

Like the waves of the ocean incessantly crashing on the shore, one upon another, so shall the waves of God’s endless goodness come in this life until they sweep you into the next life where it will take endless ages for God to show you His immeasurable, inexhaustible, infinite goodness.

If you focus on your circumstances or unfulfilled wishes, then you will drown in unhappiness. Why not look for God’s happiness headed your way? Check in at the Lost and Found desk.

The waves of God’s happiness will roll into your life in endless succession, everlasting, ever-increasing. 

That is right. Everlasting and ever-increasing in goodness. Everlasting and ever-increasing in your capacity to enjoy. 

The God of extravagant goodness. The God of immeasurable goodness. The God of generous goodness. The God of inexhaustible goodness. The God of endless goodness. 

Every moment and every breath of eternity will be new and fresh with greater enjoyment of more of His goodness. 

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time (no matter how much or how long) are not worth comparing with the glory of God’s goodness that is to be revealed to us (#1 Textbook).

EVER-INCREASING HAPPINESS TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!

In a future session, we will consider how we minimize and miss this great happiness in our daily lives. How and why do we seem to lose happiness?

Until then, be thankful the Heavenly Hound of Goodness chased you down and caught you.

Let me conclude with this Winsday Wisdom encouragement:

God created you as the everlasting expression of His great immeasurable LOVE in order that you might experience the endless inexhaustible ever-increasing enjoyment of His GOODNESS…“to infinity and beyond.”

Surely, God’s goodness and mercy pursue you all the days of your life, and you will live in the endless enjoyment of that everlasting, ever-increasing goodness forever and ever.

Enjoy some happiness today.

I love you and God loves you…to infinity and beyond!

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 207

Staring down the face of a gangster’s gun.

These were the times that tried our souls. Join in this story and you will feel my heartbeat from fear to anger to hope and tears of joy. This what love first and love most looks like in real life.

The wild car chase after the grand theft of a pickup was told in the initial episode of C.O.P.S. (CLERGY on PATROL in last Winsday Wisdom, Rainy-Day Car Chase). This is the follow-up to that event.

Something needed to be done to change the tension in the neighborhood as well as protect the church members and their cars.

Our church staff decided to host a large event as an invitation to the neighborhood youth. We canvassed the nearby schools with flyers advertising free pizza and entertainment. Almost four hundred youth showed up for the food. Most were African American. We used the opportunity to invite everyone to visit our basketball gym and game room the next Monday night between 6 to 9 PM. Free popcorn would also be available.

Two hundred came for the next three weeks enjoying the fun and games. They also sat through a 10-to-15-minute Bible devotional in the middle of the evening. We thought we had hit the motherlode as we began to develop interaction with the middle and high school youth.

Surprisingly, the fourth Monday night event was almost empty of youth. About eight kids showed up. The same thing happened the next week, only fewer attended.

As we followed up with some of our new acquaintances, several parents informed us that a few African American church pastors counseled their parishioners to prohibit their youth from attending events at our church. They were concerned for the welfare of the children. Our appeals for reconsideration were graciously refused.

However, new visitors showed up the subsequent Monday evening. We offered a place to play basketball in an air-conditioned building…plus free popcorn. This was the only place in the city for a high-humidity hot summer pick-up basketball game in an air-conditioned environment.

The word quickly spread to their friends…or more accurately, their fellow gang members. Yes, the new participants identified themselves with gangs. These were drug dealers and their distributers. Most of them had quit or been expelled from school. The news of the gang members weekly presence at our gym quickly spread to the local pastors and parents. No one wanted to send their kids into our danger zone. Who could blame them?

By the end of the second month, the only “youth” taking advantage of our open-door invitation were members of the city’s two rival gangs. We welcomed them into our gym. We initially had three rules. No cursing. No sagging (wearing your jeans below your hips). No leaving before the Bible devotional.

We soon had to include another prohibition. No Guns! That’s right. Guns became a problem. The rival gangs shared the basketball court. There were no referees. The violations were self-governed. Arguments delayed the game and eventually cost them court time. We thought we could handle the animosity. Hot-headed basketball players are not limited to gang members, so I had experience in this arena.

Two Monday nights ended with gun battles in the grocery store parking lot across the street. One night an argument broke out inside our gym. A scuffle ensued. As the combatants and the growing crowd moved out the door, a full-fledged fight broke out. Two staff members pushed their way into the middle of the fisticuffs and wrestled to separate the opponents. Tempers flared and our staff yelled orders to stop.

As Derek and Big John held two enraged teenagers apart, another gang member pulled a handgun and pointed it right at Robin, Teresa, and our staff guys. He threatened to shoot. As the crowd slowly backed up, someone shouted that the cops were coming. The police car roared into the middle of the crowd. The gun-toting kid was arrested and placed in the back of the cop car. The policeman told us the teenager would be taken downtown, arrested, and then be home before any of us that night.

The biggest casualty that night was Big John’s new white sneakers. They were a dirty mess! I do not believe Big John has ever gotten over that tragedy.

How much does it take to show someone you love them? We did not give up or ban the gang members. We did invoke a “No Gun” rule. We bought a metal detector for the entrance and hired an off-duty officer to serve as a plain-clothes security guard.

Would the gang members give up their guns or give up their air-conditioned basketball court? They adjusted. They began to hide their guns in the bushes on the way into our gym. They gathered their weapons and sometimes used them on their way back home later that night.

We also made an agreement with the perceived gang leaders. Free use of the gym in exchange for guaranteed protection for our church members and their vehicles. They agreed. We had no more car thefts or threatened families.

What we did have was a continued gang problem that was only a microcosm of the City’s larger issues. During one of the early devotionals about the importance of godly character, I mentioned Jesus’ crucifixion. I witnessed empty stares from the small crowd sitting in the bleachers. It was not the look of disinterest. It was the darkened eyes of young people who had no clue what I was talking about.

I directly asked them if anyone ever heard that Jesus was hung on a cross with nails piercing his hands and feet, a crown of thorns shoved into his head, and a spear thrust into his side. Raise your hand if you ever heard that true story. Only two hands went up.

Two! Two youth among thirty living in the city with the most churches per city capita in all of America. They had never heard the account of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection or His purpose. None of them had ever heard that God loved them with so great a love that He gave His only Son to die in their place so they would not eternally perish but have everlasting love and life.

God help us! God help these young people!

Where is the mission field? Where ungodly people have not heard of the life and love of Jesus. That could be in a distant land. It could also be in one’s own neighborhood.

I told our staff we must go back to the very basics of God’s Word. Only God’s Word gives the power to transform a life. We would teach the #1 Textbook, starting at the beginning where God created the heavens and the earth. Slowly, but surely, we faithfully related the beautiful revelation of God’s life and love to us.

People and books and programs can tell and teach a person how to change things in his/her life.

ONLY GOD’S WORD GIVES THAT PERSON THE POWER TO CHANGE.

That is the same truth for you and your loved ones. Only God’s Word gives the power to change a life.

This next significant moment occurred three weeks following the gun incident.

We knew we had a problem when there were two gangs. Both wanted our gym as their independent turf. I identified Tyrone as a key figure in this struggle. The seventeen-year-old Tyrone was a handsome young man with an athletic build. He looked like a college linebacker. Six feet two inches in height and 180 muscular pounds in weight. He had played football in high school before he was expelled because of gang activity.

Everyone in the gym looked up to Tyrone. He was friendly with me and the staff. He appeared to be interested in the Bible study time.

I had a plan. Another staff member and I invited Tyrone to a presession dinner. I talked to Tyrone about his dreams. I offered to help him get back into school with a spot on the high school football team. That would give him an opportunity to get a free college education. I encouraged him to use his leadership ability to help us control the violent outbursts during the basketball contests.

Tyrone listened respectfully. He promised to help.

An argument broke out early that night before the devotional break time. Things became very heated. Someone shouted several profanities and ordered their comrades to leave immediately. All of a sudden, I saw Tyrone and thirteen other guys headed for the door.

I interrupted their departure with a loud appeal. “Stop! Everyone. Stop! If you walk out now before the Bible time, you will be banned from coming back.”

My heart sank as my blood pressure increased. This was a watershed moment. I did not want to lose these guys. But I could not back down on the rules requiring the participants to stay through the teaching period.

I prayed as I shouted, “Tyrone! Stop these guys. If y’all walk out that door right now, there is no coming back. I beg you, Tyrone, get these guys back into the gym!”

I will never forget what happened next. The crowd of fourteen angry young men stopped in their tracks. A loud, high-pitched squeal filled the room.

“Tyrone is not the leader of this gang. I am.”

I stared in shock at Marcus, five foot two and pushing 120 pounds, if soaking wet. He repeated his announcement, only this time his voice was at an even higher pitch.

I felt like Simon Peter when he was privileged to witness Jesus in all His glory at the Mount of Transfiguration. “He did not know what to say, because he was terrified” (#1 Textbook). But, amazingly, like so many of us in that same situation, that did not stop him from saying something. It did not stop me either.

I did not know how to respond to this gang leader revelation. But I had to say something.

I blurted out, “Well, whoever is the leader of this gang, he better get their bodies back inside that gym door now!”

Marcus stared at me and then at his buddies waiting for his instructions. With the motion of his little hand, he signaled their about face as he shouted in that shrill voice, “Everyone back inside. I said so.”

I could identify with Simon Peter’s follow-up remark to his admission that he did not know what to say. “Well, Lord, I guess it was good for us to be here.”

I found out that Marcus was the unchallenged gang leader and Tyrone was their designated shooter. Tyrone was the hitman who took orders from Marcus. Wow! I really missed that one.

That night I gave the talk of my life. Derek Cox calls it the Moses’ coming down from the mountain talk. “Who is on the Lord’s side?”

Moses threw down the Ten Commandments in front of the ungodly rebels and drew a line in the sand. Then Moses asked, “Who is on the Lord’s side? You have to choose right now” (#1 Textbook).

I was as hot with anger as I was Spirit-filled. (I am not sure how that works and not sure it is even a good combination.)

I drew a line in the sand that night. I declared there would be only two gangs recognized in our gym. God’s gang and the devils’ gang. Any other gangs better choose sides because I was going to chase out the devils’ gang and lock the doors on them. This was it.

Who is on the Lord’s side?

From now on, any arguments on the court would send both teams to the bleachers to sit out two games. It no longer mattered who was right and who was wrong about the correct call. Any disrespect would be treated with immediate ejection. Any talk-back would receive a two-week suspension.

At some point, I segued into my version of the Martin Luther King, Jr. I Have a Dream speech. I began to talk about my dream where black and white youth would play together and sit in Bible study together in perfect harmony. I dreamed of a gym where all kinds of kids from all kinds of backgrounds could find a place of peace from their troubles and discover some people who loved them unconditionally.

This would be a safe place. Every parent could count on that. Every young person would honor that.

I told them this place belonged to God. From now on, it would be called Monday Night Club. Yes. this would be a club where you had to register to be a member and you would be required to sign in to enter.

No one else could visit or join without an invitation from an existing member. No walk-ins. Monday Night Club was open to anyone and everyone, boys and girls, regardless of race or religion. But there would be only one gang. Whoever wanted to come back next week better sign up. We want to know your name, age, and school affiliation, if any.

Everyone would be required to stay for the short Bible talk that can change their lives. No exceptions.

God used one high-pitched voice to remind me only God knows what is inside the heart of any person. My role on God’s team was to love each young person unconditionally.

Our church leadership and members went all in with their hearts and time and prayers.

Teresa became the point guard for our new team. She registered every person who entered Monday Night Club. For thirty years, she knew and remembered each name that went with each face, even to the point of welcoming their future kids into the club. The kids loved her. Through the years, she became the best-known person in the city.

Yes, these were the times that tried our souls. We chose to storm the gates of Hell. This was not for the weak or faint of heart.

The club grew as the neighborhood parents became confident in our sincerity and motives. Gang distinctions were jettisoned. Some of the former gang members were regular participants for many years, until I had to “graduate them with honors” from Monday Night Club.

They cried. I cried.

Our staff would consistently run into familiar faces in new settings from restaurants to school sporting events to places of business to professional athletes. “Do you remember me? I went to Monday Night Club.”

Monday Night Club has new leaders but the same focus. Love First and Love Most…whoever…whenever… Full unconditional acceptance without condemnation…once and for all time.

Jesus lives inside of you to lead you to others He intends to love through you.

That is your life’s mission. The forces of hell are not easily conquered, but we have this assurance: the harder the heart, the more glorious the triumph.

Monday Night Club is a glorious triumph!

The love of Christ gives everyone their value. You are priceless; so is that hard to love person.

You have a challenge. Some people are extremely hard to love. They might be different. They might be defiant. Let them feel your heartbeat.

Do not give up. Never give up! Someday, the trumpet will sound, and God’s gang will gather with one united thunderous shout, “The devil does not run us or this place. Jesus does…From before the beginning of time throughout endless eternity, the Lord God Almighty is King of kings and Lord of lords, now and forever!”

LONELY AND LONGING

You left my heart as empty
As a Monday morning church
It used to be so full of faith
And now it only hurts
And I can hear the devil whisper
“Things are only getting worse”
You left my heart as empty
As a Monday morning church

I still believe in Heaven
And I’m sure you’ve made it there
But as for me without your love,
I don’t have a prayer

You left my heart as empty
As a Monday morning church –Alan Jackson, Monday Morning Church

The passing of a loved one can leave us lonely and longing for their presence. It can be the source of many a Monday Moaning. Their heavenly journey can also leave us loving and longing for that glorious reunion.

Some of you are in that emotional tension right now. Earthly loneliness and glorious hope. You will learn to live with grief and hope. That is what love does.

I do not go out of my way to think about death, even on Monday Moaning. Thoughts of my loved ones’ earthly absence saddens me, but not to the point of Alan Jackson’s song. My heart does not feel as empty as Monday Morning Church. I have trust in God and hope of seeing them again.

My mind will usually pick up the last verse of How Great Thou Art or the chorus of the soul-rocking spiritual, Going Up Yonder. That moment will be sad for us still struggling and suffering in this world. But make no mistake about it, that departure will be glorious beyond imagination for our loved one.

I had a special moment with Dave Foster on his death bed.

Mr. Dave was the owner of the stolen pickup in last Winsday Wisdom’s Car Chase. [Take a good rainy day and check it out if you missed it.]

Dave was a strong man with a sensitive heart. He and his wife of seventy-years, Cleolice, were charter members of the church. The inaugural church service was held in their home. Cleolice served in the “bed babies” nursery for three decades. She was also a legend at playing dominos.

Dave battled dementia in his last years. He would tell me he could not remember most things, but he would never forget the Lord or Cleolice. Then he would break out into an old hymn.

Dave became very ill and was not expected to live much longer. Dave had been in a coma for several days. It so happened that Cleolice needed surgery. They were both in the same hospital, just in separate wings. During my visit, the family all needed to go check on Cleolice. I stayed alone in the hospital room with Dave.

I sat beside Dave’s bed reading some Scriptures out loud. I am not big on watching people pass away, but I do know there is a peace that passes understanding for those who believe in Jesus. Dave’s breathing was extremely shallow and sporadic. Several times, I thought he had stopped breathing.

Suddenly, Dave let out a big gasp. His big blue eyes opened wide as he stared upwards. This was the moment. Dave was about to see Jesus, face to face. I was about to witness that special homecoming.

I whispered, “Do you see the angels coming?…Dave, do you see the angels coming to take you to Heaven?”

Dave kept staring upwards. This man’s eyes had been closed for days. Now they were fixated on Heaven. My heart began to race, and my face was covered with the reflection of Dave’s radiance.

I moved closer to Dave and held his hand. I spoke softly, but slightly louder. “Dave, do you see the Lord and His angels coming to get you?”

Dave began to blink his eyes rapidly, then he fixed them in an upward gaze, in full anticipation of the glorious sighting.

“Do you see the heavenly chariots?”

He blinked several more times, hesitated, and then spoke for the first time in days.

“No… Not really.”

There was awkward silence. I was stunned. Dave could speak. Was Dave blind?

Dave gave a few more blinks. As he continued his intense stare in the heavenly direction, he softly reported, “No… I don’t see anybody coming,”

After a brief pause, he turned and asked, “Why are you here, Preacher? Do you see the chariots?”

How do I respond to that question?

“The heavenly horses got out of the barn, and I wondered if you had seen them around here?“

Apparently, the angelic escort was on hold. Dave lived on this earth for another five years.

What about the angels? They are unseen partners in life now.

God commands his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will steady you with their hands to keep you from stumbling against the rocks on the trail (Psalm 91:11-12).

Will we see them in that last earthy moment?

Jesus said, “When Lazarus died, the angels carried him into heaven” (Luke 16:22).

This is my go-to verse regarding our future. It is especially good for Monday Moaning.

But God being rich in mercy, because of His GREAT LOVE with which He LOVED us, even when we were still (spiritually) dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace alone) and raised us up…and seated us in the heavenly places SO THAT (purpose clause) in the coming ages (endless eternity), God might show us the IMMEASURABLE riches of His grace in kindness TO US in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 2:4-7).

It will take God forever and ever to share with us His immeasurable goodness and everlasting joy, beyond our imagination.

No man or woman has ever seen, heard, or even imagined what wonderful things God has ready for those who love the Lord (1 Corinthians 2:9).

I am praying that you will join me as we keep our eyes on the heavenly horizon but make our days count here and now.

I love you.

I can only imagine what it will be like
When I walk by Your side
I can only imagine what my eyes will see
When Your face is before me
I can only imagine, yeah

Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for You, Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?

Will I stand in Your presence
Or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak at all?

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

—I Can Only Imagine (Bart Millard, MercyMe)

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 206

“These are the times that try men’s souls.” That was definitely what I was feeling during this Flashback to the past. The late spring morning car chase was one of those times that shaped my life and the life of many others.

Thomas Paine, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States of America, wrote in The American Crisis in 1776: “These are the times that try men’s souls.”

Our times were not about the Revolutionary War nor the signing of the Declaration of Independence. However, this incident did try our souls.

For me and my church staff associates, it was the initial episode of C.O.P.S. (CLERGY on PATROL).

Everyone loves a good car chase.

It was late spring in the year of 1900 something, following my family’s move to the city of Shreveport. I was the new pastor of a church with a leadership vacuum located in a transitional neighborhood. The Louisiana rains had been non-stop for days. The water drainage canals that ran through the neighborhood looked like a rushing river.

As the rain began to increase in intensity, our youngest staff member stepped to the window. Rusty paused and then said there were some kids out in the parking lot near Dave Foster’s pickup. Dave was an older man who was cleaning out the church bus. Suddenly, Rusty yelled, “They are stealing Dave’s truck!”

Three other staff members leaped to the window to witness the Grand Theft Auto scene. I arrived on crutches just a few seconds behind. I was recovering from knee surgery the previous week. By the time I arrived at the window, the guys were sprinting for the door and the parking lot. I was close behind, hobbling on crutches.

As we headed to the parking lot, three juveniles (ages 13-14) jumped into the pickup and headed for the far exit. Big John, Jeff, and Rusty looked like TV police detectives, Starsky and Hutch, as they leaped into John’s pickup and immediately began pursuit of the getaway car.

Our music leader, Steve, ran inside to call the police. As I crawled into the driver’s side of my van, Mr. Dave hopped in. We raced out of the parking lot as the second vehicle in pursuit of the stolen pickup.

The chase was on. Three vehicles traveled high-speed through the narrow streets. Dave’s stolen brown pickup and Big John’s blue pursuit pickup raced through the backside of the neighborhood. It was dangerous, and no thought was given to the stupidity of it all. It was eerily similar to the famous, ill-advised car chase in the movie, The French Connection.

The rain became an epic downpour. The streets were flooded in some spots. After two quick turns, both vehicles sped down the straightaway. The street would end at a dead-end T- intersection. A left or right turn were the only options.

The fleeing pickup was going too fast to negotiate a safe turn. As the under-aged driver tried to turn left, he lost control of the truck. It spun in a complete circle and then continued the hydroplane slide for another 180 degrees. It was now facing directly into the path of Big John’s speeding pickup. There was no time to stop.

The trucks hit head on, smashing the hoods and front glass of both vehicles. In something akin to a miracle, only Jeff was injured in the violent crash. His head slammed against the rear-view mirror, causing a huge knot on his forehead. (It would not be right if I did not mention that some thought the Wizard of Oz Scarecrow had finally received his brain.)

The Three Stooges juvenile thieves jumped from the wreckage. The Keystone C.O.P.S. exited just as quickly. The teenage boys raced down the street next to the flooded canal. The staff was in hot pursuit.

Jeff did not lack courage or speed. He quickly caught the driver of the stolen pickup. Jeff is very fast. He was also trained to be a Dallas police officer before this inaugural event of Clergy on Patrol. Jeff tackled the driver and pinned him in a mud puddle. Jeff mercifully complied with the kid’s pleas to roll out of the water hole.

(Big John noted that the escapee Jeff caught was the slow, chubby little teenager.)

The faster car thieves sprinted away with Rusty in hot pursuit. Big John can move very quickly for a large man, but he was losing ground. That did not deter him.

A passing pickup slowed to ask if anyone needed help. Big John jumped onto the back bumper and yelled for the driver to catch the runaway kids. Big John hanging on a back bumper is comedic enough, especially with his jeans slipping down his backside. “Sagging” was in fashion during that time. This might have been how Big John “cracked” the case.

The whole scene became wilder as the two hoodlums attempted to cross over into a schoolyard. A baseball coach reacted to hearing shouts to stop those boys. The coach had a baseball bat in his hand as he chased the kids back to the other side of the street.

Big John jumped from the back bumper to grab the collar of the second one. It looked like a scene right out of a cowboy western, as the sheriff leaps from his charging horse to wrestle the bad outlaw to the ground.

The frightened teenager pulled free from BJ’s grasp. Rusty arrived just as the escapee tried to jump over the canal. That was a huge mistake. The raging water could have drowned him as it swept him downstream. Rusty ran alongside yelling for the flailing criminal to grab a pipe that ran across the top of the canal. The kid frantically struggled to hold on as he screamed for help.

My pursuit van passed the two wrecked vehicles. We sped around the corner and quickly spotted the car thieves. One on the ground. One in the canal. One still racing to escape.

I put the pedal to the metal with no thought of the dire consequences as I sped past the third runaway. I swerved in front of him, blocking his route of escape. He stopped and surrendered. He placed his hands on his head as if he had done this arrest thing before. He kept yelling, “I give up! I give up!”

Dave and Big John escorted the dejected rain-soaked teenager back to his drenched friend lying near the feet of Jeff’s oversight. Neither was as wet as their third companion flailing about in the canal’s rushing river.

Two down and one drowning. The baseball coach did a courageous highwire act as he crossed the pipe over the canal. He leaned over to offer his bat to the endangered youth. As the kid reached for the Louisville Slugger, the coach lost his balance and now both were headed downstream. The teenager did not let go of the bat, and neither did the coach who bravely pulled both to safety. Rusty used a fallen tree branch to help them to solid ground.

Somewhere amidst the chaos, Steve arrived in his green minivan right before the police. Jeff yelled for him to get a rope or something to save the drowning kid.

Of all the memorable sights, Steve’s appearance remains the most vivid in the minds of all the rain-soaked participants.

There were two wrecked pickups. Pieces of metal and glass along the wet street. Jeff tackling a chubby youngster. Big John riding the back bumper of a passing pickup, with too much showing. A frightened youth jumping into the raging waters of a canal. The heroic attempt of the baseball coach and Rusty’s tree branch. Old Dave walking next to the fourteen-year-old who stole and wrecked Dave’s favorite pickup. I hobbled to help while on crutches.

Everyone was rain-soaked to the max. Criminals and clergy.

All these strange sights paled in comparison to the vision of Steve on a fast-paced stroll to help save the drowning criminal. He carried a green garden hose in his outstretched arm, while fully protected from the pouring rain by his open umbrella.

Who thinks of grabbing an umbrella in times like these that try men’s souls? That’s right, kids! Who shows up with an umbrella in the most trying times to teach lessons about life to dysfunctional young people?

MARY POPPINS! Can you say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?

Steve was unafraid in his pursuit. He was just more prepared than the rest of us. Steve would be dry for the interview by the local television news crew. He just needed a London Fog trench coat to add to his Parisian street-style elegance.

Steve was the only one of us who thought to share the love of Christ with the juveniles in the back seat of the police car. Perhaps he was offering them a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. It would not have surprised me to see these young, converted choir members singing the Mary Poppin’s classic, Let’s Go Fly a Kite.

This incident began the answer which we were seeking in our staff meeting. How can we show love first and love most to the people, and especially the youth, of this neighborhood?

It would not come as Clergy on Patrol or Freedom Fighters or even Mary Poppins armed with umbrellas. Reflections on the event set in motion opportunities to change the neighborhood and the racial tensions. We developed a plan to change things as they were. Our plans had to be changed several times and then defended more than once.

Most importantly, the rainy-day car chase ignited the beginning of Monday Night Club, an open gym and game room to kids who felt they were not welcomed in our church and never suspected the persons inside really loved them. Monday Night Club has continued for thirty-two years as a divine instrument to love literally thousands of young people.

Yes, these were the times that tried our souls. We chose to storm the gates of Hell. This was not for the weak or faint of heart.

The conflict was hard, much harder than we anticipated. It involved more than a stolen pickup. There were rival gangs, shootouts, and staff staring down the barrel of a gun. The story also includes glorious triumphs where Love First and Love Most conquered forces from Hell. (See next week’s Winsday WIsdom.)

The ultimate triumph of love will surely come in your life as well. It will not and cannot fail, but the victory is never easy…and never without conflict.

“What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated” (Thomas Paine).

The FREEDOM to LOVE FIRST and LOVE MOST has a proper price beyond measure in Heaven’s richest of riches.

How valuable is it to you? What hard conflict are you willing to endure and overcome to prove the celestial worth of real love?

Whatever the relationship, or lack thereof, charge into the fray with a heart unwilling to stop short of victory. That individual is of great value to you and Heaven.

Whatever the cost, walk in love, just as God in Christ has loved us and gave Himself for us (from the #1 Textbook). That life purpose is highly rated in Heaven.

SPEAKING OF HEAVEN AND DAVE FOSTER, please check out the next MONDAY MOANING for a very special death bed story.

Until then, place a heavenly value on that hard to love person in your life and make a positive difference in his/her life this week.

Oh, oh, oh!
Let’s go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let’s go fly a kite!

—Let’s Go Fly a Kite (from Mary Poppins, song written by Richard and Robert Sherman)

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 207

Do your Valentine cards end up in a scrapbook or a trash bag?

My wife never knew we had a Trash Problem until the day I shared this story with several hundred people. Can you imagine her shock to hear the intimate details of a private situation of which she did not know existed until her husband publicly spilled his guts in church and social media?

In the early days of our marriage before our boys grew older, it was my responsibility to carry out the trash to the receptacle bin in our alley for the late Saturday pick-up. My usual method was to use the commercial time during my sports TV viewing to hurriedly carry out this manly assignment. Somewhere along the way, the whole process became an irritant to my soul.

Hefty never made trash bags large enough for all our trash. I was very efficient at cramming them full. I would have the bag stuffed full and closed, ready for the garbage bin when my precious wife would notice “one more thing” for the trash. I would suggest she throw the item into the trash basket underneath the sink, but each time, she responded it would be better for it to leave the house in the trash sack I had closed and tied in a knot.

My memory listed them in my black book of spouse irritants.

An empty coke can. A magazine. A paper plate. A Kleenex. A toothpick. Yep! A toothpick. Are you kidding me? One time, it was literally a scrap of paper, a two-inch piece of scrap paper!

Now, good counseling and even good sense would suggest it might be better to gently explain my growing agitation about how this messed up my timing to be back in my chair for the next play in the sports contest.

However, in appreciation of my wife as a wonderful mother-housekeeper and because I wanted to act as if I were a fine Christian husband, I answered not a word. I simply stared a holy hole through her.

My recollection is that nearly every time I reopened the stuffed trash bag, something would spill out, causing a mess which called for a clean-up on Aisle Three. My lips were sealed, but my blood would boil. Again, my lovely wife never suspected the degree of my aggravation. How hard can it be to carry out the trash on your day off?

My usual reaction became a rushed trek to the alley, talking to myself about the idiosyncrasies of the lady who had enough courage to marry me. One day, the Trash Problem became bigger than my Hefty ego.

I reopened the sack. Cleaned up my spilled mess. Tied up the sack. Threw open the sliding patio door. Slammed the door. Yelled and kicked at the dog. Burst through the backyard gate. Lifted the garbage bin top. Hurriedly hurled in the Hefty bag. Banged the lid down. Slammed the gate. Stared down the dog hiding in the bushes. Forcefully opened and closed the patio door. Finally, flopped into my easy chair with mutterings which did not sound like cheers for my favorite team.

It was then that I experienced one of those moments when I heard God speak to my conscience or spirit. “What is wrong?”

I pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Just in case, God could not see that far or failed to recognize the one person occupying that space. God can hear everything, so I whispered, “My wife.”

“You know, the One you gave to me. She has a problem.”

Some people wonder if God really speaks to us or how He might sound. Well, in this instance, He sounded familiarly like my mother; but I do not think God needed to borrow her notes. He was prepared and His words were unforgettable.

“She is not the problem; you are. You are selfish and impatient. You are not loving and kind to your wife.”

That hurt!

If I intended to practice what I preached, then change needed to come quickly and permanently. I was ready for the next week’s challenge. It was Saturday morning; the game was in the first quarter. The Mrs. reminded me the trash needed to go out in time for the city pick up. I sprang into action, filled the sack, smiled, and sweetly asked, “Is there any other trash?”

I was disappointed when there was no response. I closed the sack and headed for the door, a little disheartened. However, God is in the miracle business. My Girl found the lunch soup can on the counter. When she called out there was one more thing, I stopped, quietly opened the sack, dropped in the can, smiled, and kindly asked if there might be anything else.

Cleared for take-off, I closed the sack, slid open the patio door, waved at the dog hiding in the bushes, routinely opened the backyard gate, raised the lid on the garbage bin and dropped in the Hefty bag. As I gently closed the garbage container, something happened. Another miracle? A praise song unexpectedly emerged in my mind and out my lips.

I reentered the yard with strange sounds and a skip in my step. I eventually coaxed our camouflaged dog from under the bushes into my waiting arms. He wagged his tail to my humming beat. We danced together before I returned to my front row seat for the sporting event.

I have never had a Trash Problem since. In fact, after hearing my trash tale, my loving wife started saving items to throw into the basket under the sink. Sometimes we dance.

God dances and so do all those who love God and others. Have you ever seen the Divine Dance of Love?

God’s Word reveals that each of the divine persons centers upon the others. None demands the others revolve around him. Each voluntarily circles the other two, pouring love, delight, and adoration upon them. The other-centered movement creates a dynamic pulsating dance of infinite joy and everlasting love.

The early leaders of the Greek church had a word for this—perichoresis which is the root of our word choreography. It means literally to “dance or flow around.”

God is love but without another person, there is no love. At His essence, God is relational. God desires and delights to dance with us. “I will always desire what is good for you…I delight in doing you good” (#1 Textbook).

Loving God and loving others imitate that same Divine Dance. When we see the joy of God and others, it becomes the center of our ultimate joy.

What do we learn from the illustration of the Divine Dance we are invited to join?

LIFE IS NOT ABOUT YOU FIRST AND FOREMOST. Why? Self-centeredness never works. It only messes up relationships which creates a Trash Problem.

We are all selfish and self-centered. It is not a matter of childhood immaturity. It is in our human nature. People do what they do because they are what they are. Selfishness lives in us, and we live among selfish people in a selfish culture selfishly embraced by all of mankind. As the trash overflows, the mess grows.

We are all infected with the pandemic disease of Selfishness. The virus variants plague our culture. We live among people who are difficult and different.

The only antidote is to Love First and Love Most.

However, few people look for the cure; even fewer accept it, refusing to limit personal freedom and fun for the welfare of others. Our fears, anxieties, and frustrations are highly contagious; but we feel immune to this self-sickness force which weakens and kills other relationships.

Why? We live in a Selfie world where we do not agree on the most important thing in life for us to survive the threat of self-destruction: Love first. Love most.

The opposite of love is not hate; it is selfishness which demands others orbit around us. Therefore, self-centeredness becomes the enemy to the dance of love.

Everyone desires to talk about me. We are not interested in considering someone else’s views on anything, just mine.

Is that not our reason for social media fascination? Facebook, Twitter, Tik Tok, and blogs are primarily about self and selfies.

We naturally desire for everyone else to do what we want, when we want, and the way we want in our self-centered world. We seek to use God and others to serve selfish goals.

We even sacrifice the joy and interests of others to satisfy self’s desires and delights. We mark dislike, correct, block, or trump card their post. The problem is exacerbated by our own Selfie worldview on a certain collision with everyone else’s self-serving demands.

The God of love is completely different. God gives instead of takes. He serves rather than waiting to be served. He sacrifices so others can benefit. Other-centered love creates a dance of joy, each revolving around the other to the beat of ever-increasing joy.

Sharing our love needs to become more important than sharing our opinion. How does that happen?

The Divine Dance of Love begins with a basic two step.

(1) Love First.  (2) Love Most.

Copy Jesus’ example like a child with a tracing tablet. Watch how He positions others into the spotlight as He always loves first and loves most. Learn it well. Practice it often.

Never worry about missteps; you have a Perfect Partner. God’s Spirit becomes ONE with you, united in your body; you can make the dance visible to others.

God LIVES inside of you,

to LEAD you to others

He intends to LOVE through you.                                                                

God’s Love has power to transform people—both the one loving and the one loved.

Learn to preach to yourself in every situation: This circumstance is NOT about me. This moment is about loving others. Be kind, tenderhearted, forgiving just as Jesus has loved you.

Choreograph your love at home. Position the other person in the middle of your love circle. Practice, practice, practice.

Love First. Love Most.

Trash problems will be resolved.

What I’ve got they used to call the blues
Nothin’ is really wrong.
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

—Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters

It was Monday Moaning during my freshman year at college. I was in Boston, far away from home and family. I was lonely, sad, and bored.  I had just returned from an early Monday Moaning French class.

How do you say Monday Moaning in French? Lundi gémissant.

Whatever the language, it was a rabat-joie Debbie Downer Day. The three roommates to whom I was randomly assigned were at class or the library. They had drawn the short straw in the university’s apartment groupings. Their prize was the athletic hick with the Oklahoma twang. None were impressed.

One roommate from Maine was the most organized guy I had ever met…and one of the nicest. The roomie from Tacoma, Washington, was the most aloof guy, which is really saying something coming from me, a great proponent of the Isolation Policy. He perpetually hid his face behind the spread sheets of The New York Times as he judged the rest of us. Those two became lifelong friends. I roomed with the latter all four years of college.

The fourth roommate was different. Very different, which is really saying a lot when one considers the social, economic, educational, and emotional diversity of our university’s students. Thomas did not like me. That did not make him different. He could join the club. He just seemed peculiar, possessive, and problematic to any free-wheeling never-been-out-of-Hicksville kind of guy like me.

His most prized possession, besides his cokes in the fridge, was an antique mirror he hung on our wall. It was a family heirloom from the 1880s. Even I could tell the craftmanship was exceptional.

This Monday Moaning found me gazing into that mirror. I must have been infatuated with what I saw. For some reason, I began to imitate the batting stances of some of the most popular Major League baseball stars. This was a practice I began back in junior high school. I could copy the best of them.

I saw a hammer sitting on my desk, so I picked it up to serve as my baseball bat. I was looking fine as I went down the list of impersonations. I began to follow through with the swing of the hammer in imitation of those sweet home run strokes.

Now, if you are thinking at all, you probably guessed that I took out the antique mirror with one of my practice swings. That did not happen, but only by the grace of God. I would not be here today telling this story if that had occurred.

My favorite player was Stan “The Man” Musial, Hall of Fame outfielder for the St. Louis Cardinals. He had a funky, slightly slouched, relaxed stance that exploded upon contact with a fastball.

My mom and dad took me to St. Louis to see my first professional baseball game. Our family did not vacation at amusement parks. We went to ballparks. The game against the Cincinnati Reds was tied when Musial came to bat in the bottom of the ninth inning. I knew he was going to hit a home run and win the game.

Stan “The Man” struck out swinging. He went down like Mudville’s Mighty Casey. I was crushed, but not for long. In the twelfth inning, Musial sent one out over the right field wall for a walk-off homer.

I was imitating that perfect swing in front of the antique mirror. I went through the slow motion facing the mirror. Then I turned sideways to get a better view of my copycat swing.

As I watched my smooth swing in the mirror, the head of the hammer went flying off. Thankfully, not into the family heirloom mirror. The hammer head crashed through our second story front window and onto the pavement below. What a relief that it did not knock out some student passing by.

The loud crash of glass and the tumultuous clap of the steel hitting the pavement got everyone’s attention. People in the Yard began pointing upward to the second-story window as if they had just spotted the JFK shooter.

There I was. Standing right behind the shattered window. Staring at the mayhem. Holding the wooden end of the hammer.

Yep. It was Monday Moaning time. I crawled under my desk…staring at the antique mirror and then the shattered window.

We all have our Monday Moaning stances. What is yours?

Some go for face in the hands. Or hands on top of the head. Rubbing the head or wringing the hands is fairly commonplace. Pacing the room. Flopping back into bed is a personal favorite.

Staring at a cup of coffee or hot tea. Mindlessly watching TV. Reluctantly checking texts and emails, hoping for nothing stressful.

Maybe you prefer to just look into the mirror and stare at the reflection of the antique in the room.

We all have our go to Monday Moaning stance and standard phrases that mark the beginning of another week. We hope to get out of the batter’s box and take that initial step in the direction of first base. Just get through to Tuesday.

Hopefully, the clouds clear in the mind and the eyes brighten a little in anticipation of the day ahead. This might be a glorious day.

Here is another verse that I love to recite on Monday Moaning. It is from Psalm 121.

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth…

The Lord keeps His eye on me as I come and go and will always guard me …even on Monday Moaning.

This is a good stance to imitate. Keep your eyes looking to the horizon. There is a glorious day coming. It might be on Monday Moaning.

Living, He loved me

Dying, He saved me

Buried He carried my sins far away

Rising He justified freely forever

One day He’s coming,

Oh Glorious day.

–O Glorious Day, Casting Crowns, Bleeker and Hall

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 205

Love First. Love Most.

It is as easy as slipping on ice or falling off a ladder. 

Sometimes it comes with heartaches and pains.           

I share some Winsday Wisdom with you today, not only a little older, but with a whole lot more aches and pains.  This cold weather finds me a little more cautious, not so much from my added years, but from my compounded stupidity.

About this time last year, I fell on the ice and cracked my hip. I suspected it to be worse. I was being careful as I scraped the ice off my car windows. Everything was going fine…until I stepped to the north side of the vehicle. Both feet lost their contact with the driveway as I slipped on the ice from the northerner that came in the night before.

I landed on the side of my hip. My first thought was I hope none of the neighbors saw this. My second thought never made it into my mind because of the horrific pain. The hurt increased as I assessed the damage. I slid to the end of my driveway, and I could not get up. I needed help.

I grimaced and moaned as I grappled to get the cell phone from my winter jacket. My loving and adorable and kind and caring wife was inside on the couch in front of the fireplace. I called for help. There was no answer. Maybe she was on the phone talking to someone else. I tried two more times with no response.

By now, I wished a neighbor had witnessed my slippery demise. I cried out for help. All in vain as the strong wind whistled into my ear, “You stupid man!”

That’s right; I might be stupid, but I am a “man.” I can handle this. I tried to rise to my knees. Nope. I need to crawl. Can’t. I will slide up the slope. Wrong direction for sliding. So, I slithered like the snake that I am, inch by inch.

Eventually, I pulled my aching body into the edge of the garage where I rolled onto my back. That way, I could feel the pain better. I tried another unanswered phone call, even a text for “Help!”

I called my daughter in Colorado. She might be able to get to my aid before my wife wondered about my disappearance for several days. There was no answer. I realized they were talking to each other. I began to yell. I called out for Vicki. I screamed for help! All to no avail.

Finally, after what felt like hours of pain intolerance, the garage door to the house opened. Vicki was on the phone. She told our daughter, “I think your dad is hurt. I will call you back.” Yes, injured people need help. Stupid people need to be shown sympathy and patience.

I am sure you have fallen at times. It might have resulted in a serious injury. As I compose this, I vividly remember one of the four times I have fallen off a ladder.

For many years, I accessed the roof of my house without a ladder, using the fence, a pole, and a leap. It was just sheer athleticism is all I can tell you. I finally purchased a ladder to cut some limbs off a tree.

As I was trimming the timber (that sounds more manly), my chain saw ran out of gas. Why did I not fill it with fuel before I went up the ladder to the roof? It’s the same answer I give to most of my wife’s questions regarding my actions. “I did not think of that.”

As I came down to refuel, I took the wrong route. As I stepped onto the top of the ladder, my foot slipped. In a nanosecond, I had to make a reactionary decision:  Either let my head hit on the brick wall or allow my body to crash through the window of the house. 

In that nanosecond, I chose another option. I went into the “imaginary world of not” and thought it better to just jump backwards and use my athleticism and nimble, cat-like reflexes to land on my feet somewhere in the driveway. It worked…badly. 

Somehow, my head avoided being splattered across the cement driveway. However, my pride had taken a big pounding. I fell twelve feet onto the concrete and landed on my back, not my feet. I looked up to see the ladder falling on my face and chest.

Yep! It was a scene right out of the Roadrunner cartoons where Wiley Coyote falls and then something falls on him.

Did it hurt? Well, yes! But I did the manly thing. I acted as if I were not hurt just in case Mrs. Kravitz was spying on this horrific, but humorous accident. [Note: Gladys Kravitz was the extremely nosy neighbor on the Bewitched TV series. She frequently peeked through her window curtains to observe the strange and unusual events going on at her neighbor’s house. She would yell for her husband Abner.]

As I discarded the face-planted ladder, I jumped to my feet. But I lost my balance and stumbled backward into the bushes. This cat gave up four of his nine lives in that stupid endeavor.

There was nothing left to do, but slowly roll my way into the garage. Lying in the unbearable pain of stupidity, I yelled for my wife. The only response was the startup sounds of the vacuum cleaner. This was going to take a while.

That night, so help me—I had survived with nothing more than aches and bruises—we went to my son Derek’s out-of-town baseball game. I dropped Vicki off at the door of the hotel. I parked around the side of the building. Backed the car into a parking spot. Raised the cargo door to get the luggage. I had hanger clothes in one hand, two travel bags in the other hand.

As I reached up to close the cargo door, I stepped back, stumbled onto the parking curb, and landed on my back. The hanging clothes fell across my face. The two bags fell on my chest. What a man! What a funny, stupid man!

You might conclude from this that I am a clumsy, unathletic good-for-nothing. Not true. I am just directionally insensitive.

Obviously, I have fallen many times. It really is not difficult to fall into stupidity! Even then, God was with me. God was with me on top of the house. He was with me when I was down on the concrete. God was with me in between, in those nanoseconds, saying, “You idiot.” The actual scriptural phrase from the #1 Textbook is, “You foolish man and frail creature of dust.”  

You have experienced some physical pains this past year. It may have been disease; it may have been surgery; it may have just been something minor. All of us have experienced a little more physical pain than a year ago. Much of that pain is emotional pain like grief, loneliness, or stress.

As a precious friend recently said in response to his family’s unimaginable grief, “The Lord is with us. We have great grief, but we are so grateful to God. He used our grief to witness His greatness to so many hurting people.”

In the moments of pain and grief, we all have reason to take our gratitude to God to a higher level. 

My physical injuries could have been worse. The emotional pain that you have been through this year could have been worse. We may be a little worse off, but we are here.

Are we falling into gratitude? 

It is very important that we live out what we are learning about God’s presence and care…even when we are falling, or our life is falling apart.

Psalm 139 begins, “God knows what I do and wherever I go. He knows when I sit and when I rise, when I go out and when I lie down. He is familiar with all my ways. He knows all my thoughts. Before there is a word on my tongue, he knows even the secrets of my heart…God holds my right hand.” 

Somehow, our lifelong journey falls into place.

You do not have to be flat on your back to count your blessings. But it might help you get a better perspective of life. Every moment matters. Every person matters. Every additional morning is precious.

If you are flat on your back and wondering what happened or what comes next, do a quick inventory. You and I are not the only people getting knocked down in life. If you need to cry, then cry. That is not a lack of faith. But focus on God through your tears.

When others have been knocked down in life, they need a caring heart and a helping hand. They do not need criticism or condemnation. They need hope.

What can you learn from falling?

You are never, ever—no matter whatever is going on in your life—you are never out of the sight and the care of your Heavenly Father. He is holding your hand, even when you are falling.

“Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me…You hold my right hand.  You hold me tight” (#1 Textbook).

“I am the Lord Almighty God who is with you and for you. Do not be afraid” (#1 Textbook).    

When the Biblical patriarch Jacob kept falling again and again, he moaned that “all these things are against me.” He later came to realize that all these things were used by God for his good. Surely, you have those moments when you feel as if all these things are against you. God is orchestrating them for your good.

As Jacob’s lost son, Joseph, later declared about all the bad things done to him by bad people, “They meant it for evil, but God intended it for good.”  And God will use all the bad things done to you by bad people to bring you greater good.

Jacob and Joseph fell into gratitude. So can we. Even in great grief there is greater gratitude.

I am praying for me, and you that we will be awakened into a greater awareness of God’s presence in every area of our lives.

 I am praying that we fall into greater gratitude.

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 204

LAUGHTER IS GOOD MEDICINE FOR THE SOUL (#1 Textbook).

Embarrassment. It happens. I still don’t like it. Maybe it feels worse when you have embarrassed those you love. My wife deserves a gold medal for what she has endured because of my goof-ups.

I was a real embarrassment to my oldest son when he was in the second grade. Occasionally, I would pick him up after school. One day he got into the car with a sad face.

I kept asking him what was wrong. He finally mumbled that his classmates made fun of him because of me. Now he really had my attention. “What did I do?”

He shrugged. Then he asked if I could park farther away from the school whenever I picked him up. “Why?“

The kids asked him if I were his grandfather. “Why would they do that?” 

“Because of your gray hair.”

My hair was prematurely gray, and I was also ten years older than most of the other kids’ fathers. “What did you say to your friends?”

“I just told them my dad was not as old as he looked, but they kept making fun of me.”

I guess I could have dyed my hair or parked in the back of the line. That might have been helpful, even wise.

Instead, I arrived early the next afternoon and parked near the school’s door. I wore a Toucan nose mask. The toucan is the colorful bird on the front of a Fruit Loops cereal box.

That’s right. I had on a bright colorful red and yellow two-foot-long Toucan nose, like that of a giant parrot. I thought the vibrant colors blended well with my gray hair.

As my son’s friends passed by, I waved and announced, “Hi. I’m Kyle’s dad.”

I was hoping the conversations would move to “Wow, your dad is funny” or “Your dad is cool.”

Instead, the next day’s remark that was relayed by my embarrassed son was, “Is your old dad crazy?”

Yep. I think they even called his dad, “Old Fruit Loops.”

This week, I encountered another embarrassing incident at the bank. I went inside to request a cashier’s check. What should have taken a few minutes turned into a twenty-minute wait.

It is embarrassing when you do not have enough funds to cover a check or debit card purchase. I have been there. However, that was not the case with this transaction. I was being helped by a new teller who had great difficulty providing this service.

That was frustrating, but not embarrassing. In the first few minutes of my wait, a woman teller appeared from around the corner. As she took her place at the drive-thru window, it was obvious that something was not right.

Her short skirt was caught up in the back, tucked inside of her somewhat large panties. Apparently, she made a hurried exit from her bathroom break without checking the mirror.

The coup de gras of the wardrobe malfunction was the three-foot-long white toilet tissue paper following her. It appeared much like the tail of a kite waving in full flight.

For some unknown reason, my thoughts recalled the opening lines from Charles Dickens’ famous novel, A City of Two Tails…I mean, A Tale of Two Cities. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

As my mind raced to erase the image of what I just saw, the memory chip noted the undergarments did not appear to be panties. They resembled biker compression shorts…with a tail. I know that is too much information. That is exactly what my mind was thinking. How do I delete this image?

Have you ever been where you wish you had not seen something?

Have you ever seen something and wish you could erase it from your memory?

Have you ever seen something you wished you had never seen and then, you look again? Just to make sure that you saw what you thought you saw?

Have you ever looked more than twice just to see if what you saw had changed?

Note, there was absolutely nothing sexy or erotic or even pretty about this picture. I was embarrassed for her strange, oversized undergarment with skirt tucked inside and toilet paper stuck backside.

“It was the winter of despair…we had everything (behind us)…in the superlative degree of comparison only” (more Dickens).

My mind produced my associate in ministry and crime chasing Jeff Segner’s often quoted line from the late-night talk show host, Johnny Carson, doing his Carnac the Magnificent skit. The ‘Mystic from the East’ could ‘divine’ unknown answers from unseen questions sealed in an envelope.

His classic answer was, “Sage. Soothsayer, and Kate Smith.”

The revealed question was, “Name two mediums and an extra-large.”

I tried not to look. I kept looking around to see who else noticed.

The lady with her dress stuck in her ‘xxxx’ was working the drive-thru so she had her backside turned towards me and the growing line of customers at my incompetent teller’s window.

Who was going to tell her? The other tellers were guys. The woman manager walked right by her and asked if she needed help with the drive thru. Did she not notice? Was this standard dress for that woman? It was not even Casual Friday.

Part of me wanted to gawk and point out this fashion faux pas to others. Did you see that? Part of me acted like nothing was amiss in the teller’s garments and maybe no one else would notice.

I tried to think up conversation starters. “How’s your day going? Have you seen anything interesting today? Have you watched Stuck in the Middle?

The young lady was extremely cordial with the drive-thru clientele. She was much more efficient than the young man assisting me. He was fixated in some death stare at his computer screen. He never moved for several minutes which only heightened the temptation to see if the woman with the dress dilemma had reacted to the strange breeze flowing up her back.

I noticed several of the lady customers behind me whispering and occasionally glancing her way. Surely, one of them would discreetly help her correct the situation.

The half-dressed banker turned to help the woman in line behind me. The customer made her deposit and exited the bank without a hint or clue to the exposed teller.

What if I had mistakenly placed underwear on my head instead of my winter beanie? Would anyone try to lessen my embarrassment? Not anyone in this crowd.

I kept reminding myself this was not MY problem.

The smiling flasher returned to the drive-thru window. It was impossible not to look. I tried not to look. Every time I stole a glance, I regretted it.

So how does one tell a woman her skirt is tucked into her underwear? Should I pass her a note? Would they mistake it as a bank robbery? What do I write?

“You need to check your assets.”

“Do not say a word. Just turn around and put your hands behind you. “

“You made a deposit in the wrong place.”

“Can you make a withdrawal of your skirt from your panty account?”

“Whom should I ask about temporary cheeks…I mean checks?”

“Do you always wear your fanny-pack that way?”

“When was the last time you looked at the security camera footage?”

I even thought of leaving my comatose teller and going around to the drive-thru while loudly playing the song Stuck in the Middle. “Well, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I got the feeling that something ain’t right.”

I could pass her a note, “I know you are busy, BUT would you please look to see if there is anything caught in the backside of your drawers?”

Maybe I could tell her a joke. “Do you know what they call it when a teacher assigns homework to the bottom of the French class? A derriere-check.”

How and when do you help someone caught in an embarrassing situation?

We have all been there on both sides. Sometimes, we are the one in an unknown but embarrassing moment and, at other times, we are the one watching a relative or friend unaware of their embarrassing event.

It might be green stuff caught in their teeth. Or green stuff dripping or hanging from their nose. Or green stuff stuck to their hair, fingernails, or clothes.

Do you tell them or just act like the green stuff is not there? Do you rub that area of your body, hoping they will imitate you and unknowingly knock it off their body?

Do you try to lead them in front of a mirror? Or just let them wait until they get home to discover their embarrassment and wrestle with the question, “I wonder how long that has been there”?

Last week, my wife and I were with a friend who missed her mouth with the dipping sauce. It slowly dripped down her cheek. She continued with her storytelling while I tried to look away. But I had to look again. I glanced at my wife in wonder why she did not say something.

We should have handed the lady a napkin, but we both tried the “wipe our own face” routine, hoping she would take the hint. I was embarrassed for her, but I also enjoyed monitoring the slow progress of the dip moving down her cheek.

On another note, have you ever mistakenly missed the mute button on your phone or computer while you yelled at your kids or vented to your spouse about the people on the other end of the call? The next critical moments following your unmuted words heard around the world are filled with thoughts of what did I say, and do you think they heard me?

Embarrassment is the feeling of humiliation, shame, or awkwardness witnessed by others. You’ve acted like a fool, hopefully unintentionally.

Vicarious (secondhand or empathetic) embarrassment is the feeling of embarrassment for another person’s embarrassment.

Embarrassment is unavoidable. It should not destroy us for days or weeks or years. We should never be embarrassed about embarrassing situations.

Most of us carefully construct our lives so as not to be caught looking like an idiot. That is much more difficult for some of us than others. Alas, we just do stupid things!

Love endures all things…Love believes and hopes the best for others…Love conquers all things (including embarrassment) —#1 Textbook.

Love covers a multitude of stupid things. So does laughter.

Laugh more, even at yourself. It would be good if we could laugh at our own stupidity the way we can howl with delight at the unfortunate events in someone else’s embarrassing moment.

Be compassionate. You do not have to mock. Minimize the shock.

Let it go. That embarrassment does not have to haunt you throughout life. My son got over the toucan nose. He embarrasses his kids at a higher level. So does my daughter. They roll with the flow and chronicle the memories.

I could write a book. My kids probably will.

I really wanted to be there when the teller realized her embarrassing situation. Don’t we all want to enjoy embarrassment at someone else’s expense? I resolved not to look again. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak…Okay. I stole another glance.

I quickly turned to see if anyone noticed my illicit look. Why did I feel so guilty? This was not pornographic. If anything, it should have been WARNAGRAPHIC!

Hey kids! Do not look over there at the bank teller with her skirt up her underwear. I watched as other customers noticed the wardrobe malfunction. One gasped and covered her mouth as she continued to stare. One woman looked and then turned to her husband with silent head nods and eye movements to move his attention to the drive-thru window. She became frustrated when he whispered, “What do you want?”

She pointed. His expression went into shock as he muttered, “Oh my.”

Another lady saw the incident and quickly looked away to see if anyone saw her. Our eyes met. I smiled. And looked again…for the last time.

I rushed out of the bank. I did not want to stay around to see THE END.