LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 30

Ah ha, ha ha, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive… Ah ha, ha ha, Stayin’ Aliiiiiive…

This past week was my annual heart stress test. I was not looking forward to it. I felt uncertain whether I was up to the challenge and a little concerned about my health condition.

The recent record heatwave added an excuse to my reasons for limited physical activity. The latest weekend travels increased my desire for doughnuts and chocolate cupcakes. I also experienced a mild reaction to a change in my medications during the previous week. So, I went into the stress test carrying lots of baggage marked regret, fear, anxiety, and finality.

The dye, pictures, and EKG went quickly. No problems. Now, back to the stress test on the treadmill. The nurse hooked me up to the electrode monitors and the blood pressure cup. It was time to start walking.

I was doing fine. At least I was still moving. Another nurse came to stand by me as the treadmill speed and steeper incline increased for the third time. I am not a quitter. I stared straight ahead as my feet picked up the pace. I was in my zone.

The nurse asked me if I was looking at the picture on the wall and pretending I was walking down the tree-lined path through the woods. I replied, “No, I am singing a hymn.” She asked which one.

I said it was actually an old gospel song titled, Going Up Yonder. Nurse Two said she was not familiar with the hymn. So, I quoted the lines to both nurses as I continued treading my way to nowhere.

If you want to know, where I’m going? Where I’m going, soon… If anybody asks you, where I’m going, I want you to tell them for me…

I’m going up yonder…                                                                                                                I’m going up yonder…                                                                                                            to be with my Lord.

Nurse One smiled and asked why I would choose to sing that song. I told her it was because I only knew the chorus and first lines of the classic Bee Gees’ song, Stayin’ Alive.

Ah ha, ha ha, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive… Ah ha, ha ha, Stayin’ Aliiiiiive…

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,                                                                            I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk…                                                                                      Ah ha, ha ha, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive…

Nurse Two tried to remember the lyrics as she hummed the tune and did the John Travolta’ hand movements. I breathlessly interrupted her with,

Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me…I’m Stayin’ alive…

Nurse 1 shouted out, “That’s it. You remembered the chorus.” I replied that I was not quoting the lyrics…I was asking for help.

I recalled my best friend and doctor extraordinaire texting me not to break the machine. That was not my intent, but I do remember when my good friend, Big John, actually broke the cardiology treadmill in Amarillo.

John asked me to go with him for his stress test. The nurses hooked him up to all the stuff and off he went on his treadmill journey. It was a walk through the park.

As John began the incline portion, his blood pressure cuff unloosened from his arm. The nurse told him to keep walking as she replaced it. In seconds, it popped off again. She returned to tighten it. Then one of the electrode wires snapped off. Both nurses were working to rewire John as he continued panting his way to freedom.

Suddenly, two wires were hanging from his chest and the pressure cup from his arm. The nurses panicked and called for help. Big John is not a quitter. He kept up the pace as three nurses scrambled to salvage the electronic readings.

More wires came loose. Then two wires connected, and sparks flew just as the doctor came into the room. He yelled to stop the machine. It would have been a classic comedy skit. No one laughs at this account more than John. There is no way my description of this event can do justice to the scene of destruction.

A half dozen wires dangled in the air. The blood pressure cup dragged the ground. Undeterred, Big John kept huffing and puffing on his way to nowhere. Three nurses were exhausted and in need of oxygen for their panic attacks. The physician was about to flatline from the heart stress aggravation. The entire medical staff stood and stared as if in some drug-induced trance. No one spoke.

As the machine ground to a halt, John slowly finished the steps, and I helped him to the bed where he labored to catch his breath.

The treadmill began to smoke. Then it made this weird, sighing sound. The physician pronounced the treadmill’s demise. “It’s gone.” Two nurses bowed their heads and did the sign of the cross.

It was a record-breaking, treadmill-killing experience. I had never seen anything like it. The medical staff had never seen anything like it. Big John became an instant legend.

I tell this story with Big John’s permission. There is no intent to belittle anyone with a weight issue. That group includes me. This different stress test ended up with one of the greatest physician’s opinions of all time.

As the cardiologist explained his medical diagnosis, John spoke what both of us were thinking. John asked the doctor if he could simplify his explanation. John said, “I am not sure I understand. I guess you’re saying I’m overweight.”

The heart specialist pointed at John’s stomach and offered this classic comment. “Sir, if I could somehow melt that down, I would have enough fuel to drive my car to San Francisco and back.”

I will never forget John’s bemused expression and puppy dog eyes as he looked at me for some response. There is something about a cardiologist’s treadmill test that makes me want to sing. I shrugged and said,

If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.

John has survived and so have I. My stress test was over. The treadmill account reminded me of a competitive encounter during my recovery from heart surgery years earlier. As I walked on the treadmill in my physical therapy, an older woman started her exercise on the adjacent equipment. She immediately increased her speed to exceed mine.

I am a competitive person and a little too proud for my own good. There was no way this lady was going to out walk or out run me. I picked up the pace. She upped the ante. I matched and raised the level. She responded in kind. Neither of us looked at the other runner, but the race was on.

As time and energy wasted away, we both slowed down for the cool down session. I was feeling exhausted, but in a macho kind of way. As the elderly woman exited her treadmill, she grabbed her towel and muttered, “There is no way I was going to let some old man beat me.” Ouch! That hurt.

Oh, if we could only see ourselves as others see us. That phrase from a 1786 poem by Robert Burns has been quoted by many a philosopher and mother. “Oh would some Power the gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us. It would from many a blunder free us.”

That thought might be helpful, but that is not the point of this week’s wisdom thoughts. Stress is part of life and how we handle the stress matters immensely.

The definition of stress is a state of mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual strain caused by pressure or adverse circumstances.

We all engage with stress. Some of it is mental or physical stress. Some involves emotional or spiritual stress. Stress comes in all shapes, sizes, and formats. It comes in all seasons of life, at all times of the day.

Financial stress is real and ties a heavy weight on one’s heart and relationships. Stress from trauma or tragedy can feel unbearable. Uncertainty about one’s future takes the spiritual treadmill to a steeper incline. Worry and anxiety are byproducts of stress which can take a toll on the whole self.

A heart stress test is designed to measure the level of blood flow when under pressure.

A SPIRITUAL STRESS TEST MEASURES THE FLOW OF OUR FAITH IN GOD WHEN UNDER THE PRESSURE OF UNDESIRED CIRCUMSTANCES.

God does not measure our outward appearance; He looks at the heart. God allows circumstances, adversity, and situations in life to put pressure on us in order for us to assess the progress in our spiritual growth.

I realize you are under stress, probably much more than anyone might guess. Too often, we do not give people enough understanding as it comes to factors of which we are uninformed. I might not be able to lessen your stress, but I can care and pray to the One who can help.

Love First and Love Most are only nice sounding phrases until there is a spiritual heart test.

A muscle must experience stress in order to grow stronger. It needs exercised. The absence of stress leads muscles to atrophy and uselessness. God uses stress to strengthen our faith muscle which enlarges our usefulness in loving others.

There are pressures in life which place constant demands on our emotions and energy. We cannot escape them. There are pressure-people who make loving first and loving most much more challenging. We cannot avoid them.

Stress factors remind us that we are finite and fallible. We cannot arrange every person to fit our agenda. We are not in control of every event and circumstance. Stress is a reminder to ask for help from the One who does control all things for our good.

Consider this the next time you feel stressed. God is testing you so that you know what is truly inside your heart. He is strengthening your faith muscle. That increases your ability to love first and most.

1. Read the #1 Textbook. Job stated confidently, “When God has tested me, I will come forth as pure as gold” (#1 Textbook). There is always a higher hidden purpose in stress. “Stress tests your faith to prove (to you and others) it is genuine and worth more than pure gold. When your heart is tested, the results will highlight the praise, glory, and honor of the One who lives inside you” (#1 Textbook).
2. Pray: I call on the Lord in my stress and He answers me (#1 Textbook). God is with you. God is for you. Talk to Him. Listen to Him. Give Him your stress.
3. Sing. Find a song and when the lyrics fade, just hum along.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand has provided; Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, UNTO ME!

Find yourself a song to sing when under stress.

Let me close with this thought which connects stress to seeing ourselves the way others see us. You are not the center of the universe, and you are not the most important person in the world. Right. Neither am I.

So, may I encourage both of us to take our stress and lay it in the same place reserved for our arrogance…at the feet of Jesus.

“It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself up for me” (#1 Textbook).

Come on stress test! This is a No-Quit Day!

WINSDAY WISDOM Session 29

My friend, Gary, sent me a picture of himself standing beside the John Harvard Statue. He was in Boston on business and took a side trip to the Harvard campus in Cambridge. He stood in the most photographed place of the university I attended many years ago.

The bronze statue erected in the center of the bricked walled Harvard Yard was created by Daniel Chester French. He is best known for his design of the monumental Lincoln Statue in the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.

The Harvard Yard statue’s inscription states: John Harvard, Founder, 1638.

You might not care about Gary’s trip, my recollection of bygone college years, or historical New England landmarks. That is not the point of the statue’s illustrative story for this Winsday session.

The iconic John Harvard Statue has come to be known as the “Statue of Three Lies.” The centerpiece of Harvard Yard is inscribed with inaccuracies.

1. It is NOT an image of John Harvard, even though his name is written in stone at the statue’s base. The artist used a student model.

There were no “likenesses” of the real John Harvard. Several portraits were destroyed in a fire. The artist used a descendant relative of one of the school’s presidents, Leonard Hoar. It is a Harvard tradition to name its Houses (upper classmen dorms) after former university presidents (i.e. Eliot House, Lowell House, Adams House). For obvious reasons, there was a reluctance to name a House after President Hoar. (You might need a moment to consider that.) His nephew was used as the stand-in model for commemorative purposes.

2. John Harvard was NOT the Founder of the school.

The engraving of John Harvard as “Founder” is also not true. The college was started by a declaration of a Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Harvard was the first generous benefactor to the college. He endowed the school with a large monetary gift and a donation of over 400 books for the college library.

3. Harvard was NOT founded in 1638.

The College began two years earlier in 1636, which establishes it as the oldest institute of higher learning in the United States. John Harvard’s large donation was given in 1638. The New College was renamed the following year after its renowned benefactor.

Now you know. You can be ready to answer the Jeopardy clue with “What is the Statue of Three Lies?” The statue is NOT an image of John Harvard. He was NOT the founder of the school, and the college did NOT begin in 1638.

Ironically, the Harvard University motto is “Veritas,” which is Latin for “TRUTH.”

The original adopted shield and motto for Harvard College was “Veritas Christo et Ecclesiae,” meaning ‘Truth for Christ and the Church.’ The original shield symbolized the vital importance of God’s revealed wisdom from the #1 Textbook. The leadership of Harvard College considered God’s Word as necessary for the proper understanding and application of educational reasoning.

Sadly, Harvard dropped the Christ reference from its University shield and motto. His relevance was diminished many years before that. Some Harvard people got so smart that they no longer needed wisdom. The LIE has continued. The school’s research has become very short-sighted in its scope and thesis.

The wisest man who ever lived (other than Jesus) presented his conclusive thesis from the most extensive educational research ever undertaken. Solomon had the position, power, understanding, skills, resources, and time to engage in the most thorough study of humanity’s search for ultimate purpose and lasting happiness.

Solomon explored every possible advantage in life. He worked the hardest and partied the wildest. He built the biggest, possessed the largest, invented the newest, enjoyed the finest, and became the greatest. He explored the farthest, lasted the longest, climbed the highest, and sunk the lowest.

He went to the limits of amusement, alcohol, achievements, agriculture, architecture, abundance, adoration, affairs, and ambition. They all came up empty. After he exhausted all the A’s, he moved right on through the alphabet of activities until he had finished the Z’s. He had more and did more than anyone else before him or since.

Solomon’s study determined lasting satisfaction cannot be found in things, money, pleasures, treasures, fame, or fortunes of this world. That pursuit is like chasing the wind. His conclusion stated that apart from God’s revealed wisdom, every human endeavor will ultimately be doomed futile. Any other educational or philosophical method is built on a foundation of sinking sand.

I am most likely the least educationally distinguished and least worldly successful graduate of Harvard…ever. I was blessed by the opportunity and fortunate to survive the challenge. I cherish the friendships.

The favorite part of my give-back to the university occurs when I receive the annual fundraising solicitation from a current student. I ask the volunteer if he is aware of the reason Harvard was founded as an institute of higher learning. Following his response, I always have the opportunity to quote the university’s original purpose:

“Let every student be plainly instructed and consider well the main end of his life and studies is to know God and Jesus, which is eternal life. And therefore, to lay Christ at the bottom of the only foundation for all sound learning and knowledge, seeing that only the Lord gives wisdom.”

There is no Veritas without Christ. That is the Truth since before the beginning of time. It mattered in the time of Adam’s pursuit of knowledge. It mattered in Solomon’s educational explorations for true purpose and happiness in life. It mattered to the original founders and instructors of Harvard University. Any other foundation for learning and knowledge will NOT be “sound.”

One either builds his/her house of learning on the rock or on sinking sand. When the storms of life come, the Truth is revealed.

Truth or Lies? What is your personal house of learning built upon? Have you ever had your foundation inspected?

The truth of God’s Word matters today in an enlightened culture of humanistic education. No wonder minds are darkened and understanding is lost in a world where people are lovers of self and lovers of money (things) rather than lovers of God.

Our education is advanced and high tech. High-capacity computers cannot hold all the knowledge data. We can exhaust the depths of literature and explore the science of the stars. Yet, our educational philosophies set aside the greatest textbook ever written…Our space age scientists declare our total ignorance of what makes up most of our enormous universe.

We cannot count the galaxies much less the stars and yet, God knows each star by name. We cannot number the grains of sand and yet, God knows the exact count and weight. We do not know the future and yet, God declares it from the beginning.

What are we doing? Where are we going? Why are we here? What will we leave behind for our families and beloved friends? Apart from God’s truth for our lives, nothing!

Truth? What is truth? It depends on whom you ask. Our culture reshapes truth to fit its latest whims. Historical truth is rewritten by social agendas. Scientific truth fluctuates with new discoveries. Philosophical truth varies with each new viral TikTok sage. Laws are changed to accommodate current morality trends.  Love is redefined by personal convenience.

We live in our own man-centered world of “relative truth” and “situational ethics.” University professors and students scoff at the concept of truth. Truth is now clothed in preferences and opinions and lifestyle choices. Our normality has become filled with fake news, edited selfies, and padded resumes.

Does it matter? Yes! Our self-made versions of reality are flawed from inception.

1. We post our best selfie-image as the center and controller of our world. We have substituted a man/woman-made model. That is NOT the likeness of the one created in the image of the Creator God.
2. We are NOT the Founder of humanity. We did NOT begin our own lives. This is NOT our universe. The reality of all truth is connected to its Creator.
3. Our lives did NOT begin at our birth date or with any calendar whether Solar, Lunar, Sumerian, Egyptian, Roman, Chinese, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Gregorian, or Harvard. Life did NOT start with the ever-changing dates for the Big-Bang Theory. We were known by God BEFORE the creation of this world.

TRUTH OR LIES? Each of us stakes our earthly and eternal life on what we believe. Each of us lays a bottom for the foundation of sound learning and knowledge, hoping it will produce wisdom. You do NOT need to go to Harvard to find the TRUTH. Just be sure NOT to lose it there.

TRUTH OR LIES? My Harvard professor for a class on the New Testament refused to accept my paper on the subject, A Personal Relationship with Jesus. He argued that had nothing to do with the New Testament material. I wondered if he had ever read the New Testament. Ironically, my highest university grade was earned in a history class for my “fake” Civil War Diary.

This session is not my argument or debate with anyone. I do not condemn those who share a different opinion. I am just stating my college thesis. The question is whether this #1 Textbook affirmed by the early Harvard leadership is the sole foundation for wisdom. Or is it to be rejected as irrelevant and unnecessary to learning as subsequent university educators propose? I believe it is what it claims to be.

God’s #1 Textbook declares itself to be the sole, supreme, and sufficient source of Truth. “The sum of God’s Word is Truth.” It reveals the Creator as the “God of Truth.” Jesus proclaimed that he came into this world as the “revelation of Truth” in human expression. He is the showcase of the true life and love of God. God loves first and God loves most. Everyone who is connected to Him is part of that universal reality.

Truth means nothing apart from God. That is an unchanging reality whether one comes from Adam or from Harvard. When any person refuses to honor or thank God, his/her thoughts become futile; his/her foolish heart remains darkened. Professing to be wise, they reveal themselves to be fools (#1 Textbook).

One cannot disassociate truth from the knowledge of God revealed in His #1 Textbook. Life does not work that way, no matter how many people lecture, vote, or protest.

The skeptical Roman ruler, Pilate, responded with the rhetorical question, “What is truth?”

Well, for all the Pilates out there past, present, and future, I do not claim to be the expert. But there is One who is proven qualified. No search or soliloquy regarding truth will be successful apart from Him.

Truth is not subjective. There has to be a starting point. Any other starting point than the Creator God revealed in His self-revelatory #1 Textbook will be a person-based philosophy full of hidden flaws and ultimate futility.

Good and evil, right and wrong, honor or dishonor, love or self-centeredness, beautiful or ugly do not exist in the eye of the beholder. They are not subject to personal feelings and cultural winds. They cannot be redefined by social media editorials, political arguments, or mass protests. They come from the unchanging truth of the wise God who has our best interests at stake.

The most important thing in life remains true: Love God and love others. Love first and love most. That is not only what makes this beautiful world go ‘round; it’s also the only way to make sense out of it. You cannot know who you are or why you are here on this earth apart from God. There is no Veritas without Christo.

Do not let your earthly existence be remembered by “three lies.”  Do your diligent research.

TRUTH OR LIES? Jesus Christ is an historical man, not a myth. He cannot be dismissed as just a good man or wise teacher. He claimed, “I AM the TRUTH.”

Jesus is either a LIAR, a LUNATIC, or the LORD.

Grab the #1 Textbook today and be plainly instructed and consider well the main end of your life and studies is to know God and Jesus, which is eternal life.

Lay Christ at the bottom of the only foundation for all sound learning and knowledge, seeing that only the Lord gives wisdom.

Love First. Love Most.

Let this week be defined by loving wider, longer, higher, and deeper than ever before.

WINSDAY WISDOM SESSION 28

My dad holds a very unusual educational record. He was suspended from school…assigned school detention before he was old enough to be a student. 

That is correct. My dad was suspended from school at the age of five, when he was not even a preschooler. That little boy in detention would grow up to become a lifelong educator. He made a mark of influence on students as a Hall of Fame Coach, math teacher, high school principal, and superintendent. That is quite a record for someone who had every reason to hate school.

The shocking incident in school for which only few knew about was his unexpected detention at the school he did not attend. This was no suspension from preschool or kindergarten. The public school suspended a five-year-old non-student.

School suspension is not unique. The Breakfast Club became a hit movie describing the story of five high-school teenagers from different social cliques sharing Saturday detention. The John Hughes movie voiceover describes them as “a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.”

Their suspension in the school library is overseen by the no-nonsense vice-principal. They are commanded not to talk, move from their seats, or sleep until their late afternoon release time. The detention supervisor assigns the unlikely group a thousand-word essay, in which each must describe “who you think you are.”

“Who do you think you are?” These were not the words for an assigned essay nor the choral lyrics for the Spice Girls’ classic. This was the stern admonition from a very disappointed principal to a five-year-old boy visiting his brothers at school.

“Who do you think you are? Aren’t you Golsie’s boy? She is going to hear about this.”

What was “this”? Let me set the stage for “this” suspension-worthy caper.

When my dad was five years old, the highlight of his day was a visit to his older brothers’ school playground. Every school day, dad would walk alone two miles to school to play with his brothers and their friends during recess. After recess, he would take a short-cut back home through the corn field and the cotton patch. He returned for the lunch break in the schoolyard. That trip was repeated for the afternoon recess. Every day.

Dad’s older six-year-old brother, Derwin, was his best buddy throughout life. Derwin always had a twinkle in his eyes. He had a keen sense for observing life and people. He could always see the humor or irony in any event. He could also get his younger brother to accept any challenge. This particular circumstance tested the little brother’s loyalty.

One day at lunch, Derwin and his school friend “traded” lunch sacks with a classmate. They forgot to ask first. As they peeked into the brown paper sack, they found a ham sandwich and a banana. This looked like a good time to exchange their egg and carrots for the lunch upgrade.

They enjoyed the sandwich and fruit but were busted by the short-changed student who went straight to the principal’s office to file his complaint. Derwin was “aghast” but not speechless. He quickly devised a plan.

It should be noted that Derwin would also grow up to be a high school coach and principal. He devoted his life to education. His stories of crying confessions made in his principal’s office were legendary. He knew all the tricks. This early experience was brilliant in its strategy.

Derwin convinced his five-year-old brother to take the fall for the lunch sack switch. His reasoning was sound. If Derwin confessed, he would get paddled and suspended, not to mention what mom would do to him back home.

However, the school could not punish his little brother with a spanking or suspension. He was not a student and, therefore, not under their jurisdiction. He might get lectured, but he would take one for the team. Little brother reluctantly agreed. He admitted he took the sandwich. He was very sorry and would never do that again.  The principal scolded him and let him go.

Derwin missed school the next day to stay with his brother. One could hope that the young delinquents could skip school in similar fashion to another John Hughes classic, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Instead of a day trip through Chicago, they could enjoy the sights and sounds of Fairview. They could fish, play hide and seek in the corn field, or play basketball with the rooster back home.

Things did not work out the way they planned. In a true Ferris Bueller-like ending, the principal decided to go check on the two brothers who “skipped” school. He waited outside for their mother to get home.

Both boys feigned sickness and hid in the same bed. Their mother was not happy to learn about the lunch theft by her five-year-old son. She promised judgment would be swift and sure.

The principal suggested that she ground her son from coming to the school for two weeks. That should teach him a lesson. The single-parent mom had a better idea for a more painful learning experience.

Mother Golsie suggested a two-week suspension from school recess. No, they did not make the kid stay home. Neither did they forbid him to enter the school property.

My dad’s punishment would be to walk to school, sit inside the classroom during recess, and watch the other kids play outside. This would be repeated for the lunch playtime and the afternoon school break.

That is correct. For two weeks. my five-year-old future father would walk two miles to school, three times a day. For what purpose? To sit in the classroom of a school he was not old enough to attend. He was confined to a desk during recess. The desk was placed near a window so he could watch his brothers and their friends enjoying the playground.

Cruel and unusual punishment. The eighth of ten 1791 Bill of Rights amendments to the American Constitution cites that there shall be “no cruel and unusual punishment.” Everyone must be treated equally under the law.  If a person has not committed a crime, he should not be punished for it.  

Why would this little boy grow up to be an educator? At the age of five, he was commanded to sit alone at a school desk at a school he did not attend during the time of school he loved the most. Why?

I know that little boy. He is inside of me. I have seen him inside my children and grandchildren. It crushed his heart to be banished to the sidelines while others played the sport he loved. It was punishment alright, maybe cruel and unusual punishment. It left a deep impression, not just about school. It taught a lesson about life and loyalty.

Loyalty—the unswerving allegiance of devotion to another person. Loyalty is the mark of love, even in a five-year-old boy.

Loyalty is a diminishing trait in our society and culture. Self-centeredness is on the other end of the spectrum from the loyalty of love.

Some people are loyal to a sports team, brand name, political party, religious denomination,

Loyalty involves a test of love. It is expressed in actions, not just words. Just like in marriage, verbal assurances set the union; visual actions confirm the relationship.

Loyalty is a willing action, not a forced reaction. It eventually requires sacrifice, giving up one’s desire for the welfare of the other person(s).

From the movie, Saving Private Ryan, comes this dramatic exchange between the private and the captain who came to the battlefield to take him home.

Private Ryan: “These guys deserve to go home as much as I do. They’ve fought just as hard.”
Captain Miller: “Is that what I’m supposed to tell your mother when she gets another folded American flag?”
Private Ryan: “You can tell her that when you found me, I was with the only brothers I had left. And that there was no way I was deserting them. I think she’d understand that.”

It was a school playground, not a battlefield, that tested the loyalty of this five-year-old brother. There was no way one of them would desert the other. They remained best friends all the way to the earthly finish line.

Loyalty led Joseph to restore the relationship with his self-centered brothers. Loyalty moved Joshua across the Canaan River to the walls of Jericho. Loyalty motivated David to fight the giant Goliath. Loyalty to his Heavenly Father and to us marked every step Jesus took on his way to the cross.

Jesus is always a loyal brother. He showed us how to love first and love most. He was willing to die to display undying loyalty. He was not even in the school of sinners. But He came to be with us. He stepped into our classroom to become our substitute. He willingly accepted our punishment while we enjoyed His playground. Have you thanked Him recently? Ever?

He is the faithful God of steadfast love who keeps His promises to love no matter what (#1 Textbook).

There is no greater love than when one lays down his/her life for another (#1 Textbook).

For I am convinced that nothing can separate me from God’s love (#1 Textbook).

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul (#1 Textbook).

I have hope. I am convinced that nothing can tear me away from God’s embrace. Not life or death. Not space or time. Not anyone or anything. Not the supernatural, not even my own wrong decisions and actions.

I am absolutely convinced I will experience all the goodness God has promised me in this life and the endless ages to come. I will live and love in that hope, suffer in that hope, and die in that hope.

When I awake in the eternal reality of that hope, I will run into the arms of the God who caused all things to work together for my good. I will shout with joy and be lost in wonder at the wisdom of His steadfast, unending, loyal love.

I am convinced. Are you?

Remember the most important thing in life: Love God and love others. Those are just words until they are tested with loyalty in action.

Never lose your grip on love and loyalty. Tie them around your neck and write them on your heart (#1 Textbook).

WINSDAY WISDOM SESSION 27

I’m gonna tell you a story about my town…
Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river Charles
That’s where you’ll find me
Along with lovers, muggers, and thieves
Aw, but they’re cool people

Well, I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you’re my home
–Dirty Water by the Standells

The flashing blue lights and siren startled us as the Boston Metropolitan Police car came flying off the interstate racing down the banks toward the River Charles. That’s where they found us. We were not lovers, muggers, or thieves. I did think we were pretty cool people.

We were just a bunch of first-year college students enjoying a springtime bonfire down by the river. The fun event entailed tossing the frisbee, roasting marshmallows, and lots of laughter with friends. It was a nice break from the studies routine.

Our frolicking festivities were temporarily interrupted by a couple of young adolescent boys running through the campfire group. They were just kids, but they might have been part of the “thieves” hanging out near the dirty water. They would grab the frisbee or the football. We would chase them and retrieve our stolen item. This snatch and grab followed by our catch and grab was executed several times. It became very annoying.

As time passed, my frustrated friend Joel established his own no-trespassing rule. He picked up one of the small branches to be used for the bonfire and issued a threat to the next intruder. They came and he chased. His stick was more for defensive purposes, but he did look like Thor wielding a mighty sword to protect the ladies in distress.

The delinquent villains ran away, and we all returned to the party. However, Joel was spent. The anger and energy had spoiled his social game. He retreated to the dorm for a shower. This time, we did not hide all his clothes. Going to Widener Library wearing only a towel was frowned upon, even in our liberal arts school.

The fun and games down by the river continued. The skies darkened and the bonfire blazed. Stories and laughter dominated the conversations. No one was spouting political jargon or printing banners for the next social protest. This was college…the way it was meant to be. Faces of friends shining amidst the fire’s glow.

Then we heard the sirens from an emergency vehicle. That was not unusual since the interstate was located near the river. We saw the flashing blue lights approaching. Suddenly, the police car swerved off the road and down the highway embankment toward our campfire alongside the river.

The speeding car squealed to a stop about fifty feet from where our group gathered. Two policemen jumped from the car. One approached us and ordered us all to stand still. The other police officer opened the back door of his car to let out a passenger. It was the little rag runt who had spoiled our party.

As the officer and the little kid closed in on our party of ten, the boy pointed at me and yelled out, “That’s him! That’s him!”

The lawman asked if the squealer was sure. You had to love his reply. “Yes, I’m sure. I remember that smirk on his face.”

My quirky smirk has been a trademark and nemesis throughout my life. It’s not a smile and it’s not a frown. I think it is usually a response of muffled amusement. Or that my mind is engaged in some planned retort that should never see the light of day. Some might call it a sheepish grin. Others would say it is distracting or judgmental in tone. It is just a defining funny look.

This kid stooge certainly pointed it out. The officer grabbed my arm and declared I was under arrest. He forcibly marched me to the patrol car. I was ordered to lean face first against the car and place my hands behind my back.

He handcuffed me. I was told I was being charged with Assault and Battery. Then the law enforcement officer read me my legal rights, especially the right to be silent.

This was Boston, not my little Midwestern hometown. No one had heard of Miranda Rights or the River Charles. If you wanted action, you went to the Fireworks stand or Tenkiller Lake. You could catch an occasional weekend fight at Sunset Corner.

Our town had only one Barney Fife deputy. Most of the time, he slept in the police car as the drag racers sped down the main highway. If anyone was guilty of anything in our small town, the police called your momma.

My major crimes in that hole-in-the-wall place never led to arrest, court sentencing, and hard prison time in the state penitentiary. Now that the statute of limitations has passed, I confess to a few misdemeanors. My best friend and I would throw eggs and tomatoes at parked cars in the nearby city. Why? It seemed like fun. If anyone had done that to his bright red Gran Torino, we would be chasing them with a big stick. We once placed a tomato on the front seat of officer Barney’s car as he slept. The red-hot Gran Torino sped off in a clean getaway.

Our enjoyment of fireworks and destruction included blowing up my little brother’s toy soldiers and beautifully detailed model airplanes with well-placed cherry bomb explosions. It was a fun way to teach the young man a life lesson. Sometimes, hard work and dreams just go up in smoke. Sorry, kid. Don’t cry.

“Plastics. There’s a great future in plastics.“

I also organized the devious plot to loosen the screws on the wall pencil sharpener at school. The younger generation has no idea what that was. In the old days, people would write, not text. We used pencils, not a stylus.

Our first-year English teacher had a Napoleonic complex. He would pace the front of the room during his lecture time, glaring at the uninterested students. He would routinely lean his weight upon the sharpener as he reclined against the wall. This was his go-to position right before he went off on some rant reprimanding his inattentive class.

I suggested loosening the screws. My classmate performed the action. The setup awaited our teacher’s movement. He began his habitual pacing. As our instructor approached the place of his demise, I would start smiling. The anticipation was too funny. I was choking back the laughter. I tried to cover my face.

Suddenly, the teacher stopped and pointedly asked me why there was this big smirk on my face. Did I think he was funny? He suggested I wipe off that smirk and listen to the lecture.

Smirk—a smug, conceited, or silly smile. I’m busted. Guilty as charged.

Eventually, the planned accident occurred. It brought down the house. It also took Professor Percy down the side of the wall. He picked up his glasses and called for the high school principal. When asked about his emergency, he boldly declared he was investigating a case involving destruction of school property. I don’t think the teacher’s ego could be properly classified as school property.

The feared principal stormed into the room. He examined the loosened pencil sharpener and declared that he would get the custodian to fix it. That was it. Case dismissed. Class dismissed.

The point of these storied diversions is that I did not have the crime profile of a hard-edged criminal. I had been a reasonably good kid growing up. My Uncle Derwin did jokingly, but shamefully, accuse me of taking money out of the church offering plate. I packed my bags that afternoon and started walking my six-year-old body to the bus station.

Now here I was as a college student in the big city of Boston and under arrest. Oh, the shame and embarrassment. The officer turned me around and yelled in my frightened face, “Why did you hurt this young boy?”

I pleaded my innocence. The little lad kept crying and pointing at me. “That’s him, officer. That’s the guy who hit me.”

The two police officers were not in any mood for questions or explanations. It was just time to put away the hardened criminals, especially this one. He might be one of those student protesters.

When Jesus was questioned with false accusations, He did not answer. I lacked the spiritual fortitude to withstand the attack. I was scared. I stuttered, “What did I do?”

The officer raised the shirt of the juvenile accuser to expose a large bruise on his side and back. The kid screamed, “That’s where he hit me with the big stick.”

Everyone was yelling and no one was communicating. The devilish delinquent was yelling. The policeman was yelling. My friends were yelling. I would have been yelling but my throat locked up from fright. At least, I don’t think I was smirking.

This is the point where the Prison Captain in the movie Cool Hand Luke speaks the infamous line to the prisoner played by Paul Newman, “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Thankfully, the girls in our group came to my defense. The guys remained silent for the most part. No gladiator stood up to defend my honor. They found the whole dilemma quite amusing. Andy would eventually reason with the officers about the mistaken identity of the accused.

The police were just doing their job. Abuse is an extremely serious issue. Every abused spouse or child needs protection. Every accused man declares his blamelessness. There was nothing different about this situation…except for the cluster of pretty women pleading my innocence.

Never underestimate the powerful pleas of a pretty girl. They convinced the officers that I was not the guy who had a run in with the terrible tyke. That person had left the banks of the River Charles and returned to his dorm. He was not guilty, and neither was the smirker. No one had touched the accuser who had infiltrated the bonfire party.

I wrestled with thoughts about jail time and how to tell my parents. After much discussion, the officers were convinced that I did not belong in handcuffs. Under strong questioning, the juvenile admitted that his dad had beaten him the night before. That is so sad and far too prevalent in this world.

The law enforcement car left the premises headed for the kid’s home. We returned to the bonfire down by the banks of the River Charles. We just chilled along with the other lovers, muggers, and thieves. The cool crowd had a story to tell.

Let’s all do better at loving first and most. You never know whom you meet along life’s highway or what they are facing in life. Some are guilty of self-centeredness, and some are victims of abuse. Some are falsely accused or socially banished. Others are struggling to survive.

The men and women in blue are much needed and should be much appreciated. They have their own family issues to deal with as well. A few might be black sheep, but that does not discount the mass of self-sacrificial guardians of our freedom and safety.

Let us all be thankful for those precious moments with our families and friends. Let us all be mindful of those struggling in their family or involved with the wrong kind of friends.

And let us all be grateful for the merciful forgiveness of the Supreme Judge who does know all the wrong things we have said and done. We belong in an eternal prison of darkness reserved for the guilty, yet He treats us to the highest place of heavenly honor. Why? Our innocence was secured by the great love of Another willing to be bound and punished for our wrongdoing. It was not a case of mistaken identity. It was substitutionary love.

I want my soul to sing and dance with the thoughts expressed in one of the greatest hymns written by those of us who stand accused by the adversary:

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

                          —The Love of God by Frederick Lehman

Jesus LIVES inside of you to LEAD you to others He intends to LOVE through you. You never know what that person is going through in this moment of time.

Be more grateful. Be less judgmental. Never condemn. Never love less.

Love First. Love Most.

WINSDAY WISDOM SESSION 26

We had an incident early in the first weeks of our marriage where I made a bad decision involving a yellow Volkswagen. I acted more in fear than faith. I made a vow to quote Proverbs 3:5-6 every time I saw a yellow Volkswagen. This week, one pulled up next to our car at a stoplight. I proudly told my wife that I was still saying my memory verse.

She replied. “Which one? Thou screweth up?”

My wife is a very funny comedienne with great timing. Apparently, she still uses the original King James version.

My thoughts this week have been two-fold. One, I have really been craving creamed corn. Two, I have been contemplating last week’s session about the Creamed Corn Catastrophe from the view of the one I spilled it on, my wife. (See session 25 if you missed the reference. Short version, I dropped a large cup of creamed corn on my wife. I confess I had fantasized about that during some of our discussions. This time, it was accidental.)

Have you ever been dumped on? Not just the accidental or humorous incident. Someone intentionally hurt you or mistreated you. How did you react?

Dumped On—The Dictionary of Idioms defines the phrase as:

• maligned (to make harmful or untrue statements about someone).
• disparaged (to speak disrespectfully of someone with the intent of lowering their value in the eyes of others).
• mistreated (to treat wrongly).
• to criticize someone unfairly or excessively.

Usage examples:

“I feel dumped on at work because I get yelled at for every little thing that goes wrong.”

 “My friend dumped all her problems on me.”                                                                    

“My spouse dumped his/her frustrations on me.”

“My coworker dumped on me because he/she was in a bad mood.” 

“My husband dumped the big container of creamed corn on my head.”

Dumped On: You don’t need a definition or explanatory sentences. You have been there. You saw it. You heard it. You felt it. You might have even smelled it. I think you know what I mean.

You probably wanted to yell at them. Throw something at them. Criticize, curse, cuss, and dump on them a thousand-fold in return. You might have even prepared a return package.

At college, some upperclassmen dumped a bowl of spaghetti on my head. It was not accidental. They thought it was funny. Throughout my adult life, I have known the sting of being maligned, disparaged, mistreated, and criticized. Most of it was unnecessary and excessive. It still hurt.

I yelled, stomped off, let it boil over inside of me, became full of anger and bitterness. Sometimes I acted like Jesus. I just did not answer a word. I just stared a holy hole right through them. That is where the imitation of Christ ended.

I wish I had done better. I wish I had paid closer attention to Jesus’ example and instructions. I would have progressed in learning how to love first and most. Others would have benefitted.

How do you Love First and Love Most when you are the one dumped on?

I will pause here for you to consider your response.

Being dumped on creates a dilemma. It’s as messy of a situation as finding creamed corn on your face and in your hair. Do you react in kind? Do you ignore it as if it never happened?

What is the proper Love First, Love Most response? If that is not important to you, then whatever comes next does not matter.

What is the right Love First, Love Most response to someone who has just dumped on you? Or dumped on you, again? Or in the past?

I honestly do not know. I have accidentally dumped creamed corn on my precious wife. I know to say I am sorry. That I am a klutz. That I deserve torture or banishment to the doghouse. That I can write a humorous article about it someday.

But what does the person do who got the creamed corn dumped on them?

Here is the advice written into the cover leaflet of the Bible my parents gave to me as I headed off to college.

“Whatever course of study you pursue, our prayer is that this will always be your #1 Textbook.”

The #1 Textbook has an answer to our question,

Blessed are you when others dump on you…Rejoice and be glad. Your heavenly reward will be great.

When dumped on, we bless. When put down, we endure. When slandered, we encourage.

When Jesus was reviled and dumped on, he did not retaliate. When He suffered, He did not threaten, but continued entrusting Himself to the One who judges fairly. Jesus bore our self-centered sinfulness on the cross so that we might live as instruments of his love.

Jesus LIVES inside you to LEAD you to others He intends to LOVE through you.

Getting dumped on is hard. Not retaliating in words or actions is even harder.

I am not declaring it to be easy to be dumped on emotionally and not let it ruin your day or your life. I am announcing it is worth it to love and not retaliate. Do you want to be bitter or be a blessing? The key is in your focus.

We become like the one we gaze upon (#1 Textbook).

I love how Martha Snell Nicholson phrased an important lesson in her poem, The Thorn. She found a way to see love while living a life of chronic illness, much of it as an invalid.

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.

I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.”

This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.
He said, “My child, I give good gifts, and gave My best to thee.”

I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.

I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.

When you get dumped on, it’s an opportunity to see the face of the One who loves you first and most. It’s a far better view for your life than focusing on the face of the one who dumped on you.

There is Someone who loves you with a steadfast, everlasting love. It comes without malignment, disparagement, mistreatment, or criticism. God accepts you the way you are. He never loves you less. Focus on Him.

I am praying we all get better at Love First and Love Most.

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” I gotta run. I hear a dump truck headed this way!

SESSION 25

Catastrophe–an event causing great and sudden damage or suffering. A disaster.

This was a catastrophe. The explosive surprise got everyone’s attention. The creamed corn looked as if it had been shot out of a cannon. It splattered everywhere…at least, everywhere it was not supposed to end up.

My wife and I took our grandkids to Rudy’s, one of their favorite barbeque restaurants. You wait in line to order and then eat family style at one of the long wooden picnic tables. Everyone was having an enjoyable time. The food was delicious. The youngest granddaughter declared this to be where she would like to eat every day.

Another granddaughter asked if she could have some more creamed corn. Our entire family loves Rudy’s creamed corn. It’s the perfect accent dish to the BBQ sandwiches. I passed her the creamed corn. That was the plan!

The creamed corn is served in a large Styrofoam cup, about the size of a Quik Trip Big Slurpee cup. I picked up the big serving and stood up. As I was handing the large cup to my wife, it slipped out of my hand.

The full container of creamed corn fell about a distance of two feet, from the height of my shoulder to the hard tabletop. It erupted like a volcano. It spewed into the air like a windblown dust storm. It was like the Star Trek starship Enterprise boldly going where no one has gone before.

The science of Physics has confirmed Newton’s three laws of motion. My Dummies version goes like this.

First Law: An object stays motionless until an external force is applied. The cup of creamed corn will stay where it is in my hand until I drop it, thus, setting it in motion.

Second Law: Force is created that is directly proportional to the weight of the object multiplied by its acceleration. The weight of the creamed corn cup times its acceleration due to gravity creates force. In this case, the force is about three times the impact of the full cup as it hits the table.

Newton’s Third Law of Motion: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The cup goes downward and the triple force of the creamed corn’s impact has a reverse reaction in the direction from which it came. Any Dummy will be able to see that. The creamed corn went down and now it goes up at roughly three times the speed. One second of drop time and nanoseconds of flying creamed corn time.

Here is the kicker. The cup has only a slight bounce on the tabletop. Its contents have a reverse reaction, but no cup to hold it in place. The creamed corn boldly explores new frontiers of space.

The creamed corn ended up mostly on my wife. In her hair. On her face. On her clothes. On her arm. In her lap. I said it was an excessively big cup of creamed corn.

It was funny. Very funny if it happened in a movie. Our grandkids laughed. I chuckled, but only for less than a nanosecond. It would have been a classic comedy skit. But this was not I Love Lucy; this was real life. The hilarity did not land on my wife with the same force as the creamed corn.

My wife finally looked at me. That was after she used a napkin to wipe creamed corn out of her eyes. She did not see the humor. I thought her beautiful blue eyes matched well with the yellow corn. And it was creamy, so it probably did not hurt much.

I wondered if this is how World War III might start. I guess I should be thankful that Colorado has a No Gun restriction for eating establishments. My wife was dismayed. She made a funny face at the grandkids, but I considered crying. Begging for mercy would have been more appropriate. If there had been more creamed corn, I would have poured it over my head. I did ask if she thought I should go order another cup of creamed corn.

This was not one of my finest moments in marriage. Why didn’t I just pass the cup across the table instead of standing up and doing a fly by over our heads? Well, I never thought of that, dear. I also never expected the creamed corn to go kamikaze on us.

I still love Rudy’s creamed corn. I rarely get to order it anymore. The cost is too high. The memory carries too much baggage.

The whole ordeal made quite an impression on our grandkids. They bring it up at the oddest times. At Thanksgiving, a grandchild asked for someone to please pass the creamed corn. It was not even on the menu that day. Apparently, dry humor runs in the family.

The indelible image of my wife covered in creamed corn is seared into my memory bank. Honestly, I had no idea creamed corn could fly. That defies physics.

Circumstance: Webster’s Dictionary describes it as a fact or condition connected with or relevant to an event or action. Neither my wife nor I had prepared for the condition connected to this random action which set off some very unforeseen circumstances.

Circumstances never make us what we are. They should never define us. They might reveal what is inside us. A face and hair covered in creamed corn could be described as an unexpected circumstance. It did not happen because of a choice made by my wife. That is assuming we eliminate her choice of me as her husband which is the real source of most of her problems. Babe is not to blame for this fiasco. Things like this just happen to her when I am involved.

Each one of us is caught somewhere in the mid-story of messy circumstances we did not choose. We are left wondering how this situation in life might turn out. Where is the good God promised us? We don’t see it. It’s buried somewhere under the creamed corn of our circumstances.

When our circumstances are plummeting from bad to worse, we are often haunted by feelings that we should have been able to avoid or stop this from happening. Or our minds are bombarded by questions of why God did not stop this.

We wrestle with thoughts that we failed God or, worse, that God has failed us. We cannot fix every problem. Sometimes, we can only clean up the mess and learn from the experience.

What happens when some parts of your life do not turn out as you hoped? What happens when someone blows up your plans with a circumstantial creamed corn catastrophe?

Life can be interrupted by some mishap or mayhem. Hurt or heartache can blow in with some storm. Disappointment can make a sudden appearance to interrupt one of your carefree moments.

I like how K.J. Ramsay wrote her thoughts in her book on suffering, This Too Shall Last.

“I imagine we have all bought into the lie at some point that we could avoid suffering. Just be healthier or wealthier. Work harder. Live smarter. Control your diet, your exercise, your environment, your relationships. Guard your heart and save your planet…We march to the cadence of the culture…

You are part of a story much bigger than just yourself. You are an important part of that story. The purpose of faith was never about sustaining yourself. It is dependence on Another who is wiser, stronger, and better than you.”

God really does have everything under control. Even every drop of creamed corn lands precisely as He choregraphed it. God will clean up all your messy circumstances. He always writes the last chapter. The story will be beautiful.

Your true identity is defined by your character, not your circumstances. Those who walk in love imitate their Heavenly Father (#1 Textbook). Lowliness, kindness, longsuffering, enduring in love, and striving to do whatever it takes to preserve unity are traits of Christlike character.

Love First becomes our attitude. Circumstances might slow the process, but they are also used by God to refine our progress. Love Most translates into actions. God-orchestrated circumstances provide the greater opportunity to display character.

Legendary Basketball Coach and cancer victim, Jim Valvano declared, “If you laugh, and you think, and you cry, then you’ve had a really good day. If you can do that seven times a week, then you have something very special.”

Spilling creamed corn on your beautiful wife can make one laugh, think, and cry. What a day! I am praying your days will be filled with laughter, thoughts, and tears of love.

My wife laughed as well. I might have won her over when I sang my little twist on The Carpenters’ Close to You. I admit it would have sounded better with the sweet voice of Karen Carpenter.

On the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled creamed corn in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue.

Just like me, they long to be Close to You.

Oh! One last thing. Would you take part in a brief survey?

Don’t you think adding a few specks of yellow to blonde hair and blue eyes can be a very attractive look? Thank you!

SESSION 24

It’s baseball season!

America’s favorite pastime evokes images of The Boys of Summer, hot dogs, fireworks, and the Mystery of the Missing 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?”

SESSION 23

Have you ever made a Donut Decision? I am not referring to some choice from a glass case of donut options. I mean the kind of decision that looks good at the start but later reveals a big hole of empty promises in the middle. This session is about both kinds of Donut Decisions.

Some decisions in life are bigger than others; some are smaller. Some decisions are hard, and some can be classified as no-brainers. Some choices have greater, longer-lasting consequences; some have minimal blowback. Some decisions are thrilling while some can be frustrating.

I recently stopped at Krispy Kreme to pick up some donuts for my grandkids. The decision was not too complicated. One dozen glazed, and one dozen chocolate covered glazed.

Only one car was ahead of me in the drive through. This would be a quick pick-up, resulting in an extremely popular surprise. Somehow this convenient stop at the donut place with the “Hot” flashing sign would turn into a glaze of frustration.

The lady in the only car ahead of me was obviously not in a hurry for donuts or any decision. I listened as the sound came from the speaker indicating the Krispy Kreme employee was waiting for her order. When there was no reply by the customer, they told her to just order when ready. Long silence. Repeat, ready when you are. Longer silence. Please order when ready.

Finally, the lady started an order; then canceled it. She restarted. Paused for what felt like twenty minutes. Added two specialty donuts. Subtracted two regular items. Then she abruptly canceled the entire order…again.

The lady began to ask questions about the menu. She deliberated. Then placed a call on her cellphone for suggestions. By this time, I am blocked in the drive-through line. No way out and no way through! I am stuck!

I am not sure whom she called. It might have been her grandkids. Maybe it was her daughter or husband. Perhaps it was the fire station or her church class.

Maybe she called her priest to confess her insensitivity to holding up the other customers. Was she requesting an indulgence for her insatiable desire to order more donuts than could be eaten by the multitude of five thousand? Most of the church people I know just stuff their faces with donuts and ask for forgiveness in the next life.

I understand the desire to please. She wanted to get the order correct and to someone’s satisfaction.

Of course, I was patient. Love first. Love most. This was just a test. Donuts can wait.

Then the store turned off the “Hot” sign. Wait a minute!

I would wait more than another minute. The lady began to read the entire menu to the person on the other end of the call. The phone recipient asked her to read the entire menu…twice. A few items were added to her order. Another was withdrawn. One icing flavored was changed.

Is that all? “Yes. No! No! Wait.” She just spotted the picture with special patriotic donuts. She wanted some of them. She inquired as to what kinds were available. The picture had patriotic “sprinkles” or choice of colored glaze (“red, white, or blue”). Thankfully, our national flag has only three colors. The special offers also came in regular or chocolate, which added complications to each decision.

How long does it take to say, “One dozen glazed, and one dozen chocolate glazed, please”??? Apparently, much longer than I assumed.

I tried to imagine that the lady could have been my grandmother. I would definitely want others to show her patience and kindness. Then it dawned on me that I am now the age of my grandmother. Heavens to Betsy!

The dear lady canceled her order and started over. I texted the home team about the delay. I mentioned something about the “witch of the west” ordering for all her munchkins. Well, sorry. At least I did not call her the Wicked Witch of the West.

Oh, the agony of her dilemma. Back to the phone. She repeated the patriotic options as she pointed to each picture, as if the person on the other end of the cell call could see the multi-colored choices. Yes, change the order. She began yelling at someone. I am not sure whether it was the employee or the voice on the cell phone.

Things took a turn for the worse when she arrived at the payout. I will spare the details since you have probably decided to stop reading/listening by now. All of you have a story to tell that would top this one.

Have you ever made a Donut Hole Decision? I am not referring to a selection of a donut from multiple options. I mean a decision that seemed very good at the start but somehow ended up with a big empty hole in the middle. Something was missing.

Most of my “hole in the middle” decisions were made on impulse. My self-centered selections deteriorated relationships that were important to me. Like so many people, I did not think through the potential consequences of my initial decision.

Our choices affect others. I am learning to think about others as I make my decisions. A resolution to love first and love most sets a precedent and parameters for our other choices.

Decisions can be difficult and waiting on others to make decisions can be…uuhhh…challenging.

For example, it took me years to learn that my wife enjoys reading the restaurant menu. You heard that right. Purveying the menu selections is more interesting to her than eating the advertised specials. It’s like shopping. The joy is in the journey, not the actual purchase.

 I used to think it was just difficult for her to choose from all the items on the menu. I realize now that reading the menu is pleasurable to her. Like patience is pleasurable to me. (Where is that sarcasm font?)

Since I do not drink alcoholic beverages, it is nice when there is a bowl of chips and salsa to accompany the menu-reading time. My preferences have no judgment or condemnation attached. I just enjoy a social time of chips and salsa now and then. There have been several occasions where I almost selected the Margarita option on the other side of the menu.

My wife is a fast reader, but any menu survey reduces her speed-reading into slow-motion. She even finds some menus worthy of more than one glance. What do I think about that avocado topped tilapia with the green chili sauce?

“Hey, let’s order it and find out.”

She replies, “No, this other item sounds like it might be good.”

“Well, let’s just order both of them.”

The smiling waitress returns…again. “Are you ready to order?”

“Not yet; we are still looking. Could you bring us some more chips and salsa? Can you bring us a sniff-n-taste sample of everything? While you’re at it, just bring a dozen or so margaritas…just for me.”

Seriously, the menu search is not a problem for me, not anymore. I love it that she enjoys the menu. Again, it is the window shopper in her. She looks at all the beautiful, mouth-watering options. Then she orders the least expensive. Gotta love it.

Love First and Love Most. That is a decision. It’s your choice, no matter what is on the other person’s menu. I wish I had learned that sooner in life.

To love first and most is always the best decision you can make in any relationship.

I have made far too many “donut hole” decisions because of impatience. Sometimes, I do not even wait for Siri to respond with the correct directions. I just turn and go.

That is not the best method for spiritual direction. Every decision you and I make, has a spiritual dimension. God’s Word is the sure and steadfast guide to every decision and direction in life.

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go (#1 Textbook).

YOU ALWAYS FIND GOD’S WILL IN GOD’S WORD.

I believe every step of our lives is recorded in the #1 Textbook. God’s Word is like a lamp to guide my steps and a light that shows the path I should take. Some “next” steps come with a green light to go for it. Others have a yellow caution or red stoplight.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you (#1 Textbook.)

Learn to walk with God. Ask His opinion about your life’s menu. Spend time in the #1 Textbook. Waiting on the Lord’s counsel is always a good decision.

Here are some guidelines for decision-making:

1) PURPOSE: Love God and love others. Establish that every decision in your life will be an expression of your ultimate purpose.

2) PREFERENCE: Love Yields.

For instance, if the decision is whether to paint the room off-white or taupe, you can yield. There is no “right” color. Yield, especially if one color makes the other person happier. You do not have to always be the authority, get your way, or make every decision. Preferences are never about right and wrong choices.

3) PLANS: Love is open to Change.

Consider your options. Listen to counsel. Adapt and improve to better your decisions and advance your direction.

4) PRINCIPLE: Love Stays the Course.

It is always right to Love First and Love Most. No compromise. No shortcuts.

5) PATIENCE: It’s a no-brainer Love test.

NOTE:

• Decide now to Love First and Love Most.
• You do not have to “wait in line” to love first and love most.
• You might have to “wait on another person” to love them first and most.
• See the “wait time” as a golden opportunity to love first and most.
• Do it with more joy!

I have to go now. The “Hot” sign is back on at Krispy Kreme.

SESSION 22

She was as pretty and sweet as any six-year-old girl who has graced the face of this earth.

Like too many precious children, her perfect world came crashing down upon her with the news that her dad was tragically killed in a traffic accident. A farmer’s tractor/combine fell onto the young veterinarian’s car.

She was the oldest of five children. That’s right. Her mom was raising five kids under the age of six. They had just moved to Minnesota, far away from family and friends. This was life-changing trauma…for all of them.

A best-selling book, beautiful movie, bouquets of flowers, thousands of testimonials, and many stars in a heavenly crown should await her mother. The devastating grief and shattered dreams drove her to an even deeper faith in God. She was pretty and charming, but she had five little kids. Most babysitters were “one and done” as were the interested suitors.

She did the parent thing alone. Her children and innumerable multitude of descendants are her earthly monument. She did well. As I said, it would make a good movie.

However, the subject of praise in this session is directed to that six-year-old girl. She suffered deeply from the loss of her hero father. She also had to take on a new role in the family as her mother eventually joined the workforce to support her handful of children.

This little girl became a responsible helper in the home. She became an excellent cook who had dinner on the table for the whole family when Mom got home. She was the head housekeeper of an immaculately clean house overrun by four little siblings just living a normal life. She learned how to do laundry from cleaning to ironing and folding. She became a skilled seamstress.

Her grown-up responsibilities did not prevent her participation in the neighborhood kid fun stuff. She enjoyed games, bike riding, and races. She was a happy little girl with a deep sense of fear always lurking inside.

She lost her father. She did not lose her sweetness. Neither would change with the passing years. She missed out on many of the father-daughter things that others take for granted. That absence in her heart has never been fully replaced. However, she excelled in school. She was smart, disciplined, responsible, friendly, and popular.

She will be embarrassed that I mentioned she was a lifeguard awarded the Presidential Merit of Honor for saving a life. She was declared the fastest woman in her college sports class. She was the star reporter in a movie. She worked her way through college to become an exceptional dental hygienist. She possessed the most beautiful eyes any patient ever looked into.

I married that grown-up girl. (If you missed it, read session 12, “Honeymoon Bliss.”) One of her teachers told me I got “the cream of the crop.” Yes, I did. She has greatly blessed my life and those of her three children and seven grandchildren. They call her “Babe;” I call her “My Girl.”

This WINSDAY WISDOM is dedicated to My Girl. Happy Birthday, Babe!

My Girl. That is a pretty bold statement from the guy whose girl’s favorite song at the time we dated was the Lesley Gore classic, “You Don’t Own Me.”

Don’t tell me what to do…Don’t tell me what to say                                                                And please when I go out with you…Don’t put me on display                                                 You don’t own me…Don’t try to change me in any way.                                                        

That song played often in our newlywed apartment, along with the flip side of the record, “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To.”

God knew I needed her. I know that as well. She has helped make me a much better man than the one she married. I have learned so much from her, especially her kindness.

I watch her unselfishness as she serves others. She is truly content with less. Suffering and hurt turn her toward the Lord for comfort and restoration of her soul.

She reads the #1 Textbook and writes daily in her prayer journal. She records sermon notes almost word for word. Her patience with me goes beyond the definitions of longsuffering and perseverance. She loved me when I was young and self-centered. She loves me now when I am old and set in my ways.

I have failed her in many ways, but never in my heart. I have loved her since that first day I was introduced to this gorgeous young woman with those beautiful eyes. Yes, they are the bluest and brightest. Of course, I did not have much of a clue about true love. I did say, “Hello.” Sometimes in a movie, that’s enough to hook the girl’s heart. My understanding of love has grown. I loved her then, but not as much as now.

Love First and Love Most are not challenges when it comes to her. It is the joy of my heart to compete with her in this most important thing in life.

Through her, her children, and grandchildren, I have been truly blessed. She made us a Family. From cook to cheerleader, from prayer time to phone calls, in struggles and success, she has been there for them. They share with her their stories, jokes, and secrets. They find comfort in her presence. When she does their laundry, they feel as if they are truly home. Steadfast love awaits all of us.

Her faith in God is real; but so are her emotional struggles with fear of the future. How do those two opposite ends of the emotional spectrum exist in one person? Ask David, the composer of most of the Psalms. It is called honesty.

God can handle our questions, doubts, and fears. His faithfulness is not threatened. His lovingkindness never ceases.

Why does God’s Word tell us not to fear, worry, or drown in despair? Why? Because that is where our hearts and minds live in this earthly jungle. That is why we need the constant reminders to look up and trust, to live in hope.

Hope: the confident expectation of experiencing all the future goodness God has promised you… somehow…someway…sometime.            

In the most painful moment—God is with you.

In the bigger picture—God is for you.

Everything God does is wise, right, and good…even when you cannot see it that way and do not feel it could ever be that way.

Whether it is the little girl or my girl, there is HOPE. It is not the stuff of wishful thinking or fantasy dreams. Hope is grounded in truth. That truth is revealed in God’s Word. It is real and relevant and reliable. It is supremely sufficient for all suffering and circumstances.

Maybe, that is one of the reasons God joined us together as a team. She overflows with unselfish kindness in every relationship. I abound in hope in every circumstance.

My wife once described how she feels in the darkest moments of emotional struggles. “Have you ever felt you were hanging on by a thread? A thin, thin thread unraveling in your hands? But in that moment, you realized that there was Someone bigger holding on to that thread and He would never let you go under.”

In those times, I hope for both of us in the same manner her heart of kindness carries me and my heart deficiencies into the arena of life. God has not given up on her, and she has not given up on me.

I offer no pat answers or easy faith recipes for her or you. I do not pretend to tell that little six-year-old girl that the tragic loss of her dad was good. I would never dare tell you that your past or present or future hurt and heartbreak should be called good.

I do not intend to say you should just shake it off and act as though nothing hurtful has happened; neither do I suggest that I can forecast how your loss and suffering will turn out for good.

In all your hurt and heartache, I am pleading with you to look to the God of Comfort and Hope. He is still holding on to you. He suffers and cries with you. He has promised to work ALL things out for your good. It is indeed a divine mystery how the dark threads woven into our lives are there for a purpose–a mystery only God can unravel for us one day. 

God can and will fix you, but the process is lifelong. My precious wife is still a divine masterpiece in the making. So are You!

It will take time for you to see and feel differently, but healing can begin this very moment. I am convinced that God’s goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives (#1 Textbook) and that His goodness will eventually amaze you beyond anything you could have imagined.

Love First. Love Most. 

^“LOVE is patient and KIND…It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful…LOVE bears all things, believes all things, HOPES all things, endures all things. Love never fails and it never ends“ (#1 Textbook).

God gave me a promise from the #1 Textbook before I asked this beautiful young woman to marry me. “Enjoy life with the woman whom you love all the days of your fleeting life which God has given you under the sun; for this is your reward in life.”

I have a reward in this life:

I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame
I got all the riches baby, one man can claim
Well, I guess you’d say
What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl
Talkin’ ’bout my girl…My Girl.

SESSION 21

“It’s OK. I still love you. Let’s go home.”

My father’s declaration that night at the ballpark changed my outlook on life forever. My dad and my Heavenly Father would NEVER LOVE ME LESS….no matter what!

Another impactful statement affecting my life originated from the historical account of John Paton, the first missionary to the cannibal populated New Hebrides Islands.

Paton’s exploits were brave and adventurous. His commitment to the task was the stuff of legends. However, it is the statement by his dying wife which burned into my heart and soul.

“I would do it all again, only next time with more joy.”

That statement has renewed my vow to not let this world rob me of the joy of living. “I would do it all again, only next time with more joy.”

Paton and his new bride, Mary, left Scotland to embark on an ocean journey to the Pacific South Seas. They volunteered to be instruments of God’s love. Their lives would be in constant danger. Several years earlier, two missionaries survived only a few minutes before they were murdered and eaten. This was not the travel agency’s honeymoon paradise.

John and Mary Paton carried with them the most important thing in life, love for God and love for others. They were compelled to show hostile natives that love. Love always comforts; it never condemns. Love always continues; it never ceases. Love that always takes us home; it never closes the door.

In Robinson Crusoe fashion, John and Mary Paton established a residence along the shoreline of Tanna. Savages occupied the inner island untouched by western civilization. These violent natives were well versed in fear, hate, and hurt.

Difficulty, danger, and death awaited the newlywed missionaries. Somehow, they survived the sporadic attacks and inquisitive incursions of their hostile hosts. Ten months after the arrival, the Patons enjoyed the birth of a son. However, three weeks later, Mary died from a fever. The baby boy died seventeen days later. Paton dug the graves, buried his loved ones, and slept on the ground to protect their bodies from the cannibals.

We can only imagine the pain and heartbreak. Paton was overcome with sorrow and loneliness. Almost every day, he had to flee for his life, with breathtaking tales of escape, often hiding in a tree or the darkness of the forest. The unrelenting danger was real. Each crisis was like a scene from a movie thriller.

Although Paton often had to run for his life, he kept running in the right spiritual direction with his #1 Textbook. He never gave up his attempts to convince the violent natives of his loving intentions. After years of perseverance in love through threatening trials and miraculous escapes, the whole island population became transformed by the powerful love of God through the words and actions of this one man.

The converted chief later told Paton about the night they intended to attack and murder him but were stopped by the many guards surrounding him. Paton said he was alone. The chief objected, describing his frightened sight of the hundreds of armed soldiers in shiny garments surrounding the Paton campsite.

Paton had the courage to risk everything to do the most important thing. He loved first. He loved most. The story of his platform of influence has inspired thousands of young men and women to risk loving others in that same manner.

Paton’s precious wife, Mary, also risked everything to love others who identified themselves as enemies of that love. As she lay dying, her husband shared his sorrow and remorse for taking her so far away from home and family, from comfort and safety.

Mary affirmed it was also her choice to share love with these hostile people in that distant land. She did not resent her husband’s leadership, nor did she regret God’s guidance. Amazingly, she had no remorse over the soon to come ending.

She consoled her grieving husband with these words, “I do not regret leaving home and friends. If I had it to do over, I would do it with more pleasure, yes, with all my heart.”

I would do it all again, only next time with more joy.

There is coming a time for each of us where we will feel the same way. Life has felt hard, almost impossible at time because of encounters with hurt and hatred. There has been unwanted suffering and trials where the climb was harder, and the valleys were far lower than we anticipated.

Stop and think. Look back on your life. You cannot change what happened. There is no benefit to questioning or reliving your decisions about what you did or did not do or should have done. There are no “what-ifs” in God’s plan. The past is unchangeable.

If you knew this was to be your journey through life again, would you worry, grieve, and complain more? Or would you wish you could do it all again, only next time with more joy?

One day, I talked about the Patons’ attitude about life and the desire to do it all again, only with more joy.

That next week, my sweetheart daughter reminded me of those words. I was in the garage feeling very frustrated as I helped my son with his procrastinated science project. Then the door opened with the precious smile of my adoring girl. “Remember Dad. Someday you will wish you had done this with more joy.”

Parents tend to get upset when their children do not listen. Why do they listen to the parts that come back to bite us in the brain? Did I wish I had done that with more joy?

Yes, I do. I would love to be with my children now, involved in a late-night science project or a lengthy piano practice, just with more joy. I would give anything to look into that messy room or see that dented car again, just with more joy. I would embrace their defeats and the shared heartaches, only next time with more joy.

Some of my life adventures were tough like recycled test in college, eating the enemy’s cake with forgiveness, and heart crushing spiritual disorientation (mentioned in previous sessions). Other events were less challenging, but still needed a dose of more joy. One occasion involved strawberry pie.

Our family had recently moved to a different city. New friends invited me and my six-year-old son to a college basketball game. When the announcement was made regarding the halftime pie-eating contest, I was informed that my name had been entered. Funny joke.

As the game got closer to halftime, I became a little worried and then fearful. I do not enjoy being in the spotlight, especially in the role of a fool. There were several thousand spectators at the game, so rest easy my soul. What are the odds?

The halftime introduction of participants began. First, a ten-year-old boy excitedly dashed out of the stands and took his place at the table set up along the free-throw lane. A college guy dressed in home team apparel was named next, delighted to be in the competition. He celebrated as though he had won the lottery.

My fear was realized with the next announcement. The PA system loudly called out my name, several times. I was stunned. My son and friends stood and cheered with excitement, pointing to the selected party. Yes, the contest drawing had been rigged by my new friend, Bill Johnson, who printed the tickets and strategically placed my name in the “random” drawing. Right! This was my initiation into a new band of brothers. Funny joke. Not to me.

I reluctantly sat in the middle chair between the two eager challengers. When the time clock started, I took on the strawberry pie in front of me. I was no match for the other two contestants who literally planted their faces into the pies. They ate like hogs freed from a hunger strike. I wilted into third place but was awarded the rest of the pie as a consolation prize.

When I returned to my laughing friends, I handed the pie box to my son. I have never forgotten his look of major disappointment as he opened the box top and stared at how much of the uneaten pie remained. “Are you kidding me? Is that the best you can do?”

There is no shame which compares to a dad disappointing the son who idolizes him. Our family motto is “always do your best and never quit.” How do you explain to your son that you did neither one? Not funny at all. This was a low point in my quest to be the greatest dad in the world.

I wish I had participated in that unwanted pie contest with more joy— yes, much more joy. Throughout these many passing years, my contest manipulative friend continues to surprise me with the gift of a strawberry pie, conveniently presented in the same packaging as that first one. I eat as much as I can with as much joy as possible. Then I share the rest with even more joy.

I would do it all again, only next time with more joy. That is true not only for the fun times and the family times; it is true for the challenging times and the rough times in life as well. I would do it all again, only next time with more joy.

How many times have I said those words at the end of a difficult chapter in life or in a relationship?

I have been cheated and mistreated, which sounds like a country song. I have messed up and seemingly missed out. I have failed, fallen, been forgotten, and fooled. I have grieved, mourned, wallowed in self-pity, and lived with anxiety, worry, and fear.

I survived crisis, conflict, and coronary challenges. I outlasted discouragement, discrimination, dismissal, debt, and defeat. I do not need anything changed in my past life. I only wish I had done it all with more joy.

How does a person live with more joy? Here is a #1 Textbook life lesson for us to share:

• Faith in God goes to the source of joy. “In God’s presence, there is fullness of joy.” “The joy of the Lord is your strength” (#1 Textbook).

• Hope in God fuels joy. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy. ”God has given you divine joy so that your joy might be full.” (#1 Textbook).

• Love for and from God is the expression of joy. “I showed you how to live with lasting joy: Love each other. Love others in the same manner and as much as I love you” (#1 Textbook).

God always knows where we are, where we need to be, how and when to get us there to maximize what is best for us. So be faithful, loving, and joyful where you are now.

The key to joy is awareness of God’s presence in all the different situations in life. When I look back over my life, both the delightful and the difficult circumstances, I wish I had been more aware of God’s presence.

TRAIN YOURSELF TO THINK IN TERMS OF GOD’S CHARACTER, NOT YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES.

The degree of our delight should not be determined by our circumstances. We need to focus our awareness on God being with us and for us in those circumstances.

Pain and suffering are momentary and limited. Love for God and others lasts forever. “Weeping may come for the night, but joy comes in the morning”  (#1 Textbook).

“Count it all joy when you go through many trials” (#1 Textbook).

“The sun comes up each morning to remind us to run the daily race with joy” (#1 Textbook).

God always loves first and always loves most.

I am still learning to love first with more joy. I am still striving to love most with more joy. What about you?

How do you love first and love most with greater joy?

Anchor your heart to love and remember the most important thing in life.

Love God. Love others. Love them first and love them most. Maximize the joy. Make your world a better place for others who live in it.

Yes, I would do it all again, only next time with more joy. These remaining seasons of life will be measured in hours, days, weeks, months, years. I intend to look to the source and empowerment and expression of more joy.

What about you?

Think in terms of God’s character, not your circumstances. That is not normal for us. It is supernatural.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

This is my prayer for you. “May the God of HOPE, fill you with all JOY” (#1 Textbook).