LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

SESSION 20

The highlight of my athletic life happened when I was twelve years old. That moment sums up the Wikipedia account of sports stardom for this writer. I peaked in the first dozen years. No wonder my dad was saddened when the Highway Department placed the warning sign beside our family yard: Beware, Slow Children Playing. Apparently, the yellow caution sign became a necessity after the birth of my two younger brothers.

Why was this moment so important? That can be answered only through the perspective of a twelve-year-old boy who loved sports because his hero dad was a high school coach. I hope you will see what I saw, feel what I felt, and learn what I learned that unforgettable night.

Like many dads, mine taught me the game of baseball. He bought me my first glove and trained me to use two hands to cradle catch fly balls and to crouch for the hard-hit grounders.

Dad coached a twelve-year-old baseball team when I was seven. He gave me a uniform and inserted me into right field for the last inning of games when our team was far ahead. Of course, I thought I should be playing more. At one pre-game dinner, I asked Dad to stop treating me as though I was his son. That night, I sat on the bench for the entire game. One lesson learned.

When I was twelve, our family spent the summer in Stillwater, Oklahoma, where my dad was in the university summer school classes to earn his Masters’ Degree. Dad signed me up for Little League baseball. I played second base for a team who welcomed this outsider onto its homegrown roster.

It was a fun Sandlot type of summer. Our team had good players and coaches. We won every contest. My parents found a way to attend every game, even with Dad’s heavy load of schoolwork. They cheered loudly for the team and especially for me.

I repeat, Dad was my hero. The post-game stops for a milkshake or ice-cold root beer were memorable celebrations of victories and our relationship.

The successful season culminated with our team playing in the area championship finals. A trip to the national championship in Williamsport was the prize to the winners. It was the last inning and our team led by one run. Three outs from victory and more weeks of summer baseball.

However, we had to change pitchers. Our best pitcher had maxed out the limit of pitches allowed by the Little League rules. The change in pitchers was normally not a problem for our team, but tonight would prove differently. Why? Our second best, equally dominant pitcher, was sidelined with the mumps.

Our third pitcher was on family vacation in Colorado. Who goes on vacation on the weekend of the season’s most important game? What parent does that? This is the championship game! Get your priorities straight!

Our coach called in our first baseman to pitch. Mark was tall and lanky for twelve. He also was wild with his pitches. Eight throws, eight balls, two men walked on base. The tying run was on second base, and the potential winning run for our opponent stood on first base.

The coach walked to the pitcher’s mound, took the ball from Mark, patted him on the back, then pointed at me standing near second base. I looked around like a kid caught stealing cookies. It must be someone else! No, the coach signaled for me to come pitch.

I had never pitched, not in a real game. I sometimes pitched in batting practice because I could throw the ball over the plate in the strike zone, but slow enough for everyone to hit it. That is why it is called batting practice, not pitching practice.

The coach handed me the ball and told me not to walk anyone as Mark had just done. He said to take a deep breath and remember that the whole season is on the line.

Thank you, coach, for piling all the weight of a pressure-packed moment onto a twelve-year-old kid. “Go big or go home!” The Coach seriously underestimated my desire to go home.

I looked at the opposing team’s batter, then at the tying baserunner on second and the winning baserunner on first. I was nervous! I could not breathe!

The first pitch went right over the plate. Unfortunately, it also flew over the catcher’s head and the umpire’s head before landing against the backstop. Now, the tying run was at third base and the winning run was standing on second base.

As the catcher tossed the ball back to me, he shouted his seasoned advice, “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

I heard someone could be so nervous his knees would knock together. Mine shook so violently they were missing each other.

What happened next could be described as a miracle. The batter wildly swung at my next three pitches and struck out.

This was not “The Colossus of Clout” or “Mighty Casey” who struck out. This was possibly the worst Little Leaguer in the history of baseball. I cringe at the possibility he might read this account of his infamous moment. I do not understand why he swung at those pitches and neither did his coach.

One out! My teammates shouted encouragements to steady me. The opponents yelled insults to rattle me. Coaches and parents screamed at their counterparts on the other team.

The next batter popped up my first pitch to him. I caught it and now there were two outs! Maybe, I should have been pitching all summer. We were one out away from winning the championship, and I would be the star relief pitcher.

Maybe next year would propel this rookie hurler to the Big Leagues to win the Cy Young Award for best pitcher, then on to the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.

“There are heroes and there are legends; heroes get remembered, but legends never die.”

This was my iconic High Noon showdown at Tombstone, taking place at night in a ballpark. I planned for my pitch to be faster than the opposing player’s swing. I would mow down the bad guy, toss my glove in the dirt, and ride off into the night with my girl, whom I simply called Mom.

I stepped on the mound ready to end this game. I was like ice in a cool breeze. I looked at the potential tying run at third base, then glanced at the winning runner standing on second.

I glared at the opponent stepping into the batter’s box. He rearranged his batting gloves, pounded his bat on home plate, then got into his hitting stance.

Our eyes met. It was a stare-down standoff. The suspense heightened. My body tensed with every labored breath. I waited for the batter to blink first. The haunting theme music from “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” played over the loudspeakers in my head.

The two-note “wah-wah-wah…who-who-who” classic melody sounds similar to the howl of a coyote. It is definitely one of the coolest, most iconic soundtracks in movie history.

The music was suddenly halted by the umpire’s scream, asking if I were going to throw the ball or just stand there all night. I think he even called me Karen.

The next pitch would be the last one of this game. The excitement and tension were at their highest levels. These are the moments that define the Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat.

I went through my wind-up and heaved the ball to home plate. The batter swung and hit a short, soft blooper in the direction of first base. It was an easy out.

Next came the leaps into the air, the shouts at the top of the lungs, and gloves thrown high into the air, followed by the traditional dog pile.

Wake up! My head turned to watch our first baseman catch the ball, but Mark stood uninvolved and unmoved, still in shock from his ill-fated pitching experience. I reacted instinctively as I ran toward the basepath with my eyes on the descending ball.

I stretched out my arm and the ball plopped softly into my glove. We were one second away from the championship when suddenly, our substitute second baseman crashed into me, knocking both of us down.

The ball fell to the ground and rolled across the white chalked line towards the dugout fence. I looked up from my prone position to see the tying run cross home plate and the winning runner racing around third base headed for home.

I scrambled to my knees and quickly crawled through the dirt to retrieve the errant baseball. I popped up on my knees and threw the runner out at home. That is exactly what happened…in my mind, but not in reality. As my arm went into its throwing motion, the baseball slipped out of my hands and softly fell to the ground behind me.

Anyone who has ever played or watched a youth baseball or softball game understands what happened next as the emotional rollercoaster turns from ecstatic happiness to total heartbreak. One team is jumping, hugging, shouting, tossing gloves and caps into the air, and celebrating the championship victory.

The other team mourns the loss. Some players slump to the ground; some angrily throw their gloves and caps. Some cry. I did all those things. Championship defeats hurt badly, whatever the sport, whatever the age.

My team lost, and I was the reason. Everyone knew whose son cost our team the championship. My hustling teammate did not cause me to drop the easy pop-up. The baseball had already bounced out of my glove before the collision.

I attempted a sweet one-handed grab instead of the safer two-handed style taught by my dad. I dropped the ball a second time with my attempted throw to our catcher. I was crushed beyond belief. Devastated.

The distance between the joy of victory and the depression of defeat is one very small step. The time between dancing on the mountaintop to crying in the valley is measured in seconds. There was no joy in Mudville that day. My world had ended.

Aristotle wrote about the metaphor, catharsis–the process of releasing emotions in the face of true tragedy. He described it as both helpful and healthful to the heart. Aristotle never played Little League baseball.

Cathartic? How is this supposed to be good for the heart? This little kid was heartbroken. I sat motionless on the bench with my cap pulled down to hide my tear-filled eyes. Sad thoughts raced through my mind.

This is not how the movie was supposed to end. Gary Cooper’s Marshal Kane does not get shot by a faster gun at High Noon.

What group of Aristotelian screenwriters thought it would be cathartic for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid to be gunned down by hundreds of Bolivian soldiers? Or Toy Story 3 to end with grown-up kid Andy sharing a final farewell with Sheriff Woody, Buzz Lightyear, and the other toy friends before he goes off to college? Who in their right mind would want to end a movie like that? People would bawl their eyes out.

(I still think there needs to be a special font for sarcasm!)

What about Rhett Butler leaving Scarlett in Gone with the Wind? Well, frankly my dear, I do not get that. 

What helpful emotional benefit is there to shooting Old Yeller?

What television producer decided it would be good therapeutic theatre for the Mets to win the World Series and rip out the heart of every Red Sox fan as they watch the slowly hit baseball roll right through the legs of Bill Buckner?

What’s next? No more milk shakes? Who in their right mind would think that it might be healthy for the heart to give up ice cream and doughnuts?

Catharsis? I was releasing emotions. It was neither helpful nor healthful. Forget you, Aristotle. I dropped the baseball.

The Agony of Defeat. I can still taste the dust. Seriously, my mouth is dusty dry even now. I cringe at the thought of that baseball slipping out of my hand.

I vividly remember the sight of the opposing team’s runner joyfully jumping onto home plate. I still feel the sadness and darkness deep down in my memory bank.

The coach sat us all down in the dugout and talked about what a great season it had been. He encouraged us all to get better so we could win the championship next year. Well, I would not be back next year because I did not live in this town; besides, my teammates would not want me back on their team. No one would be calling, “Shane! Come back!”

When the consolation talk finished, the distraught players slowly exited the bench area, while the coaches bagged the equipment.

I sat there in silence. Heartbroken. Tears still streaming down my cheeks. I bit my lip and pondered an exit strategy. The coach literally helped me to my feet, guided me out of the dugout, and patted me on the back as we left the ballfield.

In that moment, I decided to run away. I could not face my disappointed dad. I could not answer why I dropped the ball while acting like some showboat star player.

So, my solution was to run away. I did not know where. I did not know for how long, but anywhere would be better than my present option.

I stood there at the edge of the ballpark, head bowed, shoulders slumped, with my cap pushed down to cover my eyes. The stadium lights were turned off causing the surrounding area to darken. The gravel parking lot lay ahead and the tree-lined park behind. This was the crossroads of my twelve-year-old sporting career.

Would I run? What direction?

I raised my head slightly, just to see our family car in the parking lot. I saw two feet standing next to it, obviously belonging to my father. I did not want to hear a parental lecture on how to properly catch a pop-up fly ball. I certainly did not want to look into my dad’s disappointed eyes, but I did want to see him one last time before I ran away in the opposite direction.

What I saw in that moment brings me to tears even now. It shaped my life…forever. Not just as an athlete, but as a son, as a father, as a grandfather, and as a man seeking to influence and impact the lives of other sons and fathers.

I looked up with those moistened eyes and trembling lips to see my dad standing by the car. He was looking at me. He was waiting for me…with his arms opened wide.

This twelve-year-old boy ran across the gravel parking lot as fast as he could go, jumped into his dad’s arms, and sobbed uncontrollably. I can still feel those huge forearms wrapped around me in a big bear hug.

Finally, I mumbled how sorry I was for dropping the ball. What I saw and felt in that moment were superseded by what I heard.

“That’s OK, Son. I still love you! Let’s go home!”

Never have I heard words which impacted me more. I understood in that moment words which would carry me through the rest of my life. Words that would teach me about my relationship with my Heavenly Father. Words that would shape me as a father to my kids. 

It’s OK! I still love you! Let’s go home!

• God’s love always comforts; it never condemns.
• God’s love always continues; it never ceases.
• God’s love always takes us home; it never closes the door.

No matter how I mess up in life, intentionally or unintentionally, I am still loved. No matter how often or how far I try to run in the wrong direction, I still have a home.

I AM IN AWE OF HOW AND WHY GOD LOVES ME.                                                                    I am thankful to a dad who taught and demonstrated that love to me.

What is your biggest mistake or disappointment in life? Where did you drop the ball? What hurt, fear, worry, guilt, or loss has you weighed down under its heavy burden? What causes you to want to run away from God and others?

God is always with you. God is always for you. Whatever the mess, God never loves you less. 

GOD NEVER LOVES YOU LESS!

One of my favorite verses declares our Heavenly Father’s wonderful promise: God is over you, beside you, in you, around you, and underneath you. (#1 Textbook)

God has you covered in His love. God’s loving arms remain wide open. You never face a game or a challenge or a crisis alone. You never go through difficulty and suffering alone. You never experience trials, troubles, and tribulations alone.

God’s infinite love is wider, longer, higher, and deeper than you can ever imagine.

Whenever I drop the ball in loving others, I run into the loving arms of my Heavenly Father. My prayer is that you will join me. It will change your life forever.

NO MATTER WHAT SEEMS TO GO WRONG IN YOUR LIFE, YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER NEVER, NEVER, NEVER LOVES YOU LESS.

Please allow me to speak directly to your heart. “It’s OK. I still love you. Let’s go home.”

Love first. Love most.

What should you do now? Love first and love most, with more joy. (next session)

SESSION 19

My mom once called Dad, Mr. Derring-Do. That’s right, derring-do. The dictionary describes derring-do as heroic action, courageous, daring to be brave. And, yes, that is the correct spelling, derring with an “e,” not with an “a.”

The phrase comes from another generational era. It appears in the Walter Scott novel, Ivanhoe, where the knights joust in life and death charges. Previews of an old classic Errol Flynn movie promote “this swashbuckling hero and his tales of derring-do.”

Never heard that phrase? I can recall hearing the phrase only twice. Mom’s “Your dad is Mr. Derring-Do” comment was probably a little sarcastic, and my uncle Derwin’s remark “that our actions were a little derring-do” was most assuredly connected to some humorous adventure by his younger brother and him. It might have been the time they hid the family’s dead rooster on the roof from their mother. It seems the rooster did not survive being substituted for a flat basketball. Apparently, there was just one too many trips through the homemade basket on the side of the house.

I ask you, “Does this little boy in the middle of the porch look like a future Derring-Do?”

When my dad was studying post-graduate mathematics, he received a very unusual comment from his instructor. The teacher returned the weekly test with a large checkmark and comments scribbled in red, “Your math equation is correct, but the answer is wrong.” 

Although my dad worked the problem accurately, he ended up with the wrong answer to the question. How did that happen? He started with the wrong math formula. Therefore, he totally missed the whole point as well as the right answer to the problem.

Joey, one of the main characters on Friends, was like that. He was not dumb, just always incorrect. His answers were confident, but wrong.

We all have relationships that have gone wrong. It is easy to blame the other person as difficult or demanding or disappointing. We tried to make it work, but did we start with the wrong premise? A God-centered formula will always end up with the correct answer, Love First and Love Most.

Thankfully, Dad did not miss the answer to the most important thing in life. My dad’s real-life story had similar themes to the classic Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.

My dad and his three brothers were mistreated by an abusive, alcoholic father and raised in poverty by an uneducated single mom. Their past was less than ideal; their future looked bleak.

One night, the oldest son was horse-whipped for interfering with the physical abuse his drunken father lashed upon his mother. Under the cover of darkness, my grandmother and her four young boys left for safer quarters. Her five-year-old son would someday be my dad.

As the oldest brother carried the baby, the other three in this homeless caravan carried pillowcases with all their earthly goods. They followed the railroad tracks in the nighttime shadows. They climbed through fences and crossed fields. Soon, they had a new home in a chicken coup.

However, the boys had the courage and faith not to allow their past pain or present circumstances to define their future. Each brother was a derring-do. With God’s care, they changed the destiny of our family. They were helped along the way by their mother who kept them in church and caring teachers who kept them in school.

Three generations of our family namesakes are involved in coaching, teaching, and ministry today because our dad, his brothers, and godly mother would not allow the hate of one man to ruin their lives.

Dad could have used the excuse of his father’s uncaring absence, but instead, he embraced the love of a Heavenly Father. He passed that legacy on to us. As adults, he and his brothers traveled to the west coast in a Volkswagen to reconcile with their father.

What about you? What about your life? Excuses or courage? God is reaching out in love to say you are of great value.

Bad circumstances do not need to define you. Be strong and courageous. God is with you and for you to change your life and subsequent generations for the better.

All of life is a stewardship issue, whether the life belongs to my dad, George Bailey, or us. Tough days come to all of us, whether early or late in life.

No matter how painful suffering comes and how long it lasts, it is only temporary. Some days it does not feel that way; some days it does not look that way. Some days we want to quit, hide in the chicken coup, or jump off a bridge.

However, difficult circumstances should never define us; neither should our suffering. They only reveal what is inside of us.

When anything is squeezed, whatever is on the inside comes out!  It might not necessarily be what is on the label. I once squeezed an orange expecting orange juice but got surprisingly squirted with purple Gatorade which had been infused into the fruit. I have used that as a teaching illustration for my talks with football teams.

Sometimes, people wear slogan embossed T-shirts which are not representative of what is inside the shirt. I have been cussed-out by a lady in a God loves coffee shirt. I witnessed an older man wearing his Philadelphia Eagles outfit spew out hatred for the home team.

An individual does not lose his temper; he finds it when he gets squeezed.

When you get squeezed, what is on the inside comes out. So, fill up with love for others before they squeeze you with their hurtful words and hateful actions. Be prepared for a day in your Wonderful Life.

I never lived with an abusive, alcoholic father or called a chicken coup my home. Neither have my children or my grandchildren or my sibling’s families. Why? Because of God’s goodness to my dad through a “George Bailey” whose good deeds helped my grandmother’s struggling family. His kindness allowed them to move into a tiny shack. The boys earned money from farm chores.

My dad became a Hall of Fame coach and educational administrator. However, it was not the many victories on the gridiron and basketball court that made him a derring-do. Dad became the George Bailey of our small town. His acts of kindness became the toast of at-risk young men and women who experienced “generational change.”

I grew up in the days of school integration and the early part of the Civil Rights movement still going on today. My dad was on the front lines of the change that was coming. I realize these words are being written in the days of “woke” and “cancel” culture. There are social calls for the privileged to speak up when silent. Then the same critics yell for the speakers to be silent when they speak up, branding their words as “tokenism.” Although still unresolved, Civil Rights is not a new issue.

All I can do is tell the truth of what I saw and learned from my perspective as I watched my dad. It is certainly not the whole story, which is still being written. I saw my dad treat people of all colors with dignity and respect and love. He taught our family to do the same.

I saw Dad treat young men with different colored skin as if they were his own sons. Then I watched as those men became fathers and brought their sons to our house to meet my dad, their coach, their George Bailey. I remember their words, “Son, I want you to meet Coach. This is the man God used to change my life and yours.”

Those visits from my dad’s former players greatly impacted my life. He used his platform of influence to help others. He remembered what it was like not to have a father. He remembered what it was like to walk those railroad tracks in the darkness of night. He remembered living in a chicken coup. He never forgot the people who helped him.

I watched my dad lead his teams out of restaurants who refused to seat all his players in the same area. The plates of chicken fried steak and hot mashed potatoes were already on the tables. When the owner ordered some of the players to go to the back to eat, my dad ordered the whole team back on the bus to go home.

If the coach’s team played together, then they rode the bus together and they would eat together at the same table. I remember climbing back on the bus with the team as we left those hot rolls in the basket. More than once, angry café owners would loudly curse my dad before they relented in the face of lost revenue. Derring-do?

On several occasions, his team sat together side by side, black and white, in the balcony of movie theatres who assigned that place to people of color. The culture was wrong; but love for one’s brother, no matter his color, is always right. That should not have to be a tale of derring-do.

I saw my dad lead the first African-Americans to our church. He sat next to them amidst the exit-protest of at least one church member couple.

Culture does not have to define us or conform us, then or now. Love first. Love most.

My real life “George Bailey” dad helped many young men become the first in their family to go to college, young men who lived in poverty with unstable and dysfunctional families. Most suffered from an insufficient educational environment, poor community support, and adverse childhood experiences. Many struggled with feelings of abandonment, isolation, estrangement, and trauma.

As my brother wrote in a newspaper editorial,

“This world often defines individuals by the name of the street where they live. The haves and the have-nots. The ones like “Us” and the ones like “Them” are pitted against one another. Prejudices, websites, networks, and social media are full of news and fake news driving us even further apart.

It is fashionable and acceptable to unload on “them” and vice versa. Hate speech and name calling. Division, fear, hurt, and more hate. Us against Them.” –Bill Blankenship

If you start with the wrong formula, then you will end up with the wrong answer, even if you mean well. Life was not designed to be self-centered. All the answers will end up eternally marked as incorrect. A God-centered life in which we love like our Heavenly Father will always lead to the right answer for every relationship.

LOVE FIRST. LOVE MOST.

My nine-year-old grandson came home from school and stopped to watch the TV news coverage of the Capitol riots. As he headed to his room, he remarked, “I think if George Washington were here, he would be so embarrassed this was happening to our country.” 

We should all be embarrassed wherever and whenever there is hatred and hostility. Are you focused on those you hate? Or do you learn from your Heavenly Father who loves everybody? “We become like the one we behold” (#1 Textbook).

Justice is doing what is right. Remember the most important standard for what is right in life: Love God and love others. Follow Jesus and do what He does, wherever and whenever.

Justice equals Just-Us, treating one another the way we want to be treated. Love all others, especially anyone different from you. Love them first and love them most. Forgive first and forgive most.

LIFE CHANGE MATTERS. We can change, but the only one you are responsible to change is yourself. It is not too late for you to change for the better. Love First. Love Most.

LOVE IS COURAGEOUS. BE A DERRING-DO OF LOVE.

Love is highly contagious. It can infect the greatest and the least. We need a pandemic of heroic love which changes the landscape of our society and world.

Politics and protests talk about change. Laws and liberties promise change. ONLY LOVE CAUSES REAL AND LASTING CHANGE. Change in the lover and change in the one loved.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

LIGHT UP SOME DARKNESS. DRIVE OUT SOME HATE. LOVE FIRST. LOVE MOST. It’s a Wonderful Life.

How do you love someone outside your circle of love?

Show them the heart of your Heavenly Father who loves first and loves most. (next session)

LOVE IS COURAGEOUS! Be a derring-do, Miss Landry!

SESSION 18

The classic Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life, stars Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey. The movie chronicles a young man who gives up his career dreams to help his family. The script was developed from a short story, “TheGreatest Gift,” which could have been titled, “The Most Important Thing in Life.”

Bailey’s decision regarding the direction of his life would help many people in his community of Bedford Falls. His humdrum life in a small town is marked by a generous spirit. However, something happened worse than just a change of plans.

George slowly becomes embittered and angry at feeling trapped by the wasted potential of his choices and unappreciated by those he helped. Then he is falsely accused of theft when money gets misplaced at his business. With his personal and financial troubles too heavy to bear, Bailey plunges into the depths of despair, dangling on the brink of ruin.

George’s contemplated suicide jump from the bridge on Christmas Eve is interrupted by Clarence, his guardian angel. Clarence reviews all the lives touched by George’s kindness through the years and how worse things would have been for so many people if George had not touched their lives with love. Clarence quotes, “It is strange how each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he is not around, he leaves an awful hole.”

Enlightened and joyful, George races home through the snow to his wife, Mary, and little daughter. Upon arrival, he discovers the townspeople had rallied together to donate funds to replace the missing money.

His brother Harry, a war hero, makes a surprise Christmas visit and toasts George as the richest man in town because of all the people he has helped.

The movie concludes when a Christmas tree bell rings, and the daughter recalls a story that the sound of a ringing bell means an angel has earned his wings.

All of life is a stewardship. “Each person’s life touches so many other lives. When any person is not around, it leaves an awful hole.”

Tough times are part of life’s stewardship. Suffering and sickness and sorrow are things we all have in common. There are differences in who we are and where we came from, what we are like, and what we like; but we are all well-acquainted with rough patches in life.

F. Scott Peck began his best-selling book, The Road Less Traveled, by writing, “Life is difficult.” We all know what it feels like to be hurt or undergo loss. We might suffer from different things, in different degrees, in different ways, and for different amounts of time; but we all suffer. 

William Shakespeare’s Macbeth takes an indifferent view to the tough times and tragedies in this life. He sounds more like the man of futility who runs through life without God, chasing the wind. Listen to the words of Shakespeare’s Debby Downer.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,                                                                           Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,                                                                                To the last syllable of recorded time;                                                                                     And all our yesterdays have lighted fools                                                                              The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!                    

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,                                                                           That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,                                                                       And then is heard no more. It is a tale                                                                                  Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury                                                                         Signifying nothing.

Life is about Nothing. Macbeth speaks the words of Shakespeare which sound as if they were plagiarized from the biblical Solomon. Life is an actor running in circles around the stage, chasing the wind. The entire extravaganza signifies nothing. Futility. Vanity.

To Macbeth, all the world is a stage. Life just moves from scene to scene in some rhythmic beat of tomorrows laid end to end. Death seems more like the last act of an unbelievably bad play told by an idiot, full of melodrama, but lacking in substance and purpose. An illusion of shadows.

Why would God cause or allow or permit us to suffer? The #1 Textbook has a straightforward answer. To know God’s love better and to show God’s love better.

In some ways all the world is a stage, and we are actors. However, God is unseen backstage in real control of all that happens. Every scene has eternal purpose. Every act in life interlocks with divine conjunctions…And God…But God (#1 Textbook).

Every player has infinite worth. Every moment is divinely choreographed so “each and every tomorrow might be the most important and happiest day of our lives” (#1 Textbook).

The Author of our wonderful life will write the final chapter which will toast us as the richest man or woman on earth for living the “extraordinary’ life of loving God and loving others. Countless heavenly observers and many earthly lives we have touched will burst forth with thunderous applause on that day when a bell tolls for us.

No, we are not poor performers fretting away our moment in the spotlight of recorded time. We are God’s scripted stars who shine in hope and love as the glorious Lover of our souls choreographs our appearance in the Divine Dance.

Suffering and compassion are two sides of the same coin, side by side. Learn to turn the coin over. Love first. Love most. Even as you hurt. Love others who need comfort and hope.

Each of us, no matter how apparently insignificant in this big world, has the opportunity to make a positive difference. It does not require high position or great possessions or mighty power. It begins with purpose to remember the most important thing in life.

Start with one person today. What would it look like for you to love one person first and most? Tears flow the same way in every language. Put your arm around someone and take time to know his/her history, heartaches, heroes, and hopes.

We do not have to wait until Valentine’s Day to do something angelic or delay until the Christmas season to ring a bell. When we love first and love most, we always end up the most blessed. That is not a movie story. That is biblical truth about this Wonderful Life!

One day, my four-year-old grandson looked with his binoculars into the sky with its moving clouds, and declared, “It sure looks like Jesus is up to something today!”

Every difficult day, no matter what size, shape, or color, comes with instructions about God’s purpose for the most important thing in your life. God is up to something good for you and those you love.

You are always somewhere in the circle of God’s love and forgiveness. The main action inside that circle looks like a dance. Love first. Love most.

The greatest gift is the life God has given you to love others…to make their lives better. Expand your circle. That is a wonderful life!

Anecdote: I memorized this Shakespeare quote from Macbeth in my senior English class. Not by choice. My mother was a wonderful high school English teacher before becoming a college English professor. She insisted that I take another teacher for my senior English class. Mom instructed that teacher to push me to learn more. Mrs. Gardner assigned me Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment for my mandatory book report.

Crime and Punishment is a long, long, long, long, long Russian novel about who knows what. The character names cannot be pronounced and are just skimmed over in reading. Raskonikov, Razumikhin, and Marmeladov are followed by Zossimov and Zamyotove. Right. You get the idea. Somebody did the crime, and somebody got the punishment.

Mrs. Gardner would not accept my book report and told me to redo it. I insisted I had read the book and refused to resubmit another report, even under the threat of receiving an “F”. (Young people do stupid things. That failing grade would have jeopardized my college scholarship, but stubborn young minds do not think in those terms. My parents were not very sympathetic to my protest.)

Mom’s intervention meeting with Mrs. Gardner produced three breakthroughs: (1) Mrs. Gardner confessed she had never read the book. No wonder she could not make sense of my book review. (2) She offered to let me substitute a different book review. (3) I agreed to memorize a short passage from Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

This is my confession. That weekend I watched James Bond in the movie from the Ian Fleming novel, Thunderball. My report was awarded an “A.”  I did not learn my lesson about stubbornness or protests. I did learn some Shakespeare.

I have quoted my abbreviated version of Macbeth many times.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day and lights all our yesterdays the way to a dusty death. Life is a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

This Wonderful Life matters. Love First. Love Most.

Love Anchor 1: Remember the most important thing in life. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength; and love others as yourself.

Love Anchor 2: Love First. Love Most. God lives inside of you to lead you to others He intends to love through you.

Love Anchor 3: #1 Textbook. Love for God and love for others lasts forever. The instructions and directions are in the book.

Love Anchor 4: Right Direction. Life is about right direction, not perfection. Course corrections take just one step.

Love Anchor 5: Stay side by side. The only way to love God and love others is side by side.

Love Anchor 6: Be faithful and happy where you are now. God always knows where you are, where you need to be, how to get you there, and when to get you there. Be faithful and happy where you are now.

(Next session) How do you expand your circle of love?

Find someone who is not in your circle of love.

A big heart can do great things.

One of my favorite movies encouraged me to do what God purposed for my life. It was not a movie about love or drums. It featured a horse, the greatest racehorse of all time, Secretariat.

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

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

As they came into the home stretch heading for the finish line, Secretariat sprinted past the leader and won by 2.5 lengths in a new record time which still stands today, 1:59.25. The champion thoroughbred ran every quarter of the race faster than the preceding one.

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

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

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

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

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

Strength. Stamina. Speed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ETERENAL GOAL IS TO ACCOMPLISH OUR GOD-CENTERED PURPOSE TO LOVE IN A LIFE VERSUS DEATH RACE AGAINST OUR SELF-CENTEREDNESS.

We learn to win that colossal race in life’s smaller things. The airport. A football game. Trash carryout. Handyman trials. Listening to directions. Playing drums to the beat of our heart.

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

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

Chariots of Fire is a movie which covers the real-life story of Olympic Gold Medal winner and China missionary, Eric Liddell. He was a young man who remembered the most important thing in life: Love God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength and then love your brothers as yourself.

After Liddell won the Olympic 400-meter race in an all-out sprint, a reporter asked how he accomplished his record-setting feat against more highly favored competitors. Liddell’s humble answer carries a lesson for our races of love. “I run the first 200 meters as hard as I can. Then, with God’s help, I run the last half even harder.”

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

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

Our race of love in this life is about getting our practice to match our position in the next life with God’s family. Spiritually, we are simultaneously (or near simultaneously) in both places at the same time. Jesus is with us on earth, and we are with Jesus in heaven.

God’s Word teaches that by God’s grace alone, we are somehow positionally seated with Christ at heaven’s highest place of honor; while practically, we are finishing this earthly life side by side with others.

In God’s eyes, we are already there with Him; yet we are encouraged by Him to run faster, stretch wider, love longer, and rejoice more in this earthly race. However it works, we are living here and living there at the same time. How is that possible?

If we could see our earthly lives the way God does, we would be looking back, watching ourselves running side-by-side in every relationship and in every circumstance toward our heavenly place. We would be cheering ourselves on in the journey to run harder and faster than ever before.

Liddell also stated, “God made me fast. When I run, I feel His pleasure.” God made you to love. When you love big, you will feel God’s pleasure. Remember the motivation: Desire and Delight. The joy of the lover is in the joy of the one loved.

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

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

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

May we all learn to race against the Sham of our self-centeredness. Break away. Run as hard as you can and then, with God’s help, run even harder. Put some ever-widening distance between love for others and your selfish futility.

Small victories of love are extremely important. The goal is to win bigger. Leave the Sham of Self-centeredness behind in the dust. Let your heart race faster and farther than ever before. Let the beat of your heart be seen, heard, and shared by others.

Oh, Happy Day! Oh, Happy Day! When Jesus washed my sins away. Oh, Happy Day!

Cheer yourself to hear the beat of your big heart. Listen to the roar of the angelic crowd urging you toward the earthly finish line.

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

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

How do you defeat your self-centeredness?

Expand your circle of love. (next session)

Love always makes a difference. It breaks down barriers and builds bridges. However, Love does not come easy, and that truth is more than a blast from the past song by Diana Ross.

Momma said, “Love don’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take. You can’t hurry love; no, you’ll just have to wait. You gotta just give it time, no matter how long it takes.”

I experienced that reality firsthand in one of my blasts from the past when I traveled with a youth group to help build a playground for a small, struggling ministry in Chelsea, Massachusetts. The city is directly across the Mystic River from Boston, along a peninsula of the Boston Harbor.

The sharp contrasts and strong conflicts we encountered were much wider, longer, higher, and deeper than the cultural differences of the East Coast and Midwest. Chelsea is a highly industrialized city with the second most densely populated area in the state. Most residents identify as Hispanic or Latino. At the time of our visit, racial tension and conflict were rampant. It was ranked the state’s poorest and most dangerous city. Yes. The poorest and most dangerous city. What was I thinking?

Our home for the next seven days would be a magnificently beautiful, historic church in the center of Chelsea, now boarded up and surrounded by a barbed-wired topped chain link fence with a locked gate. Once a crown jewel of church history, the architecture of the auditorium was representative of vintage New England glory days, but now covered in years of dust.

The small group of current church members met in a little classroom near the back of the building. The ministry’s leadership published a plea for assistance in the funding and erection of a neighborhood playground accessible to the community children. Why? To show love to people, especially young people, who were lost in a swamp of drugs and sexual exploitation.

Rock throwing left beautiful stained-glass windows broken and boarded up. During the previous year, the church steps became a place to sell drugs, safe from police intervention. The church basement became the hot spot for several illicit parties and underage orgies. Think about that! The church had become the safe haven for drug deals and orgies. What was I thinking?

Our youth arrived by charter bus, led by my trusted Jerry Lewis intern, aided by the structured planning of some very outstanding young women. I met them at the old church along with the local cigar smoking pastor. No judgment, just surprise; I think Spurgeon smoked cigars. Also surprised the intern was still on board! I had feared Castaway or Mutiny on the Bounty. He earned his stripes. He remains the Mount Everest on my horizon.

We moved into the large fellowship hall with our food supplies and sleeping bags. Our group walked around the block, but only once. Our hosts delivered strong safety precaution warnings forbidding anyone to go beyond the corner of the property. Danger lurked everywhere. Stay inside the fenced compound or we might not find your body. Or something like that.

Again, what was I thinking? I wish I had a good answer or at least a dollar for every time someone asked me that question. Confidence in my leadership quickly vanished.

I spent the first evening in the emergency room with one of our “watch me do something stupid” guys who broke his ankle trying to jump from the top of the fence. I returned to the church to find unimaginable chaos and panic. Yep. You heard that right. Unimaginable chaos and panic!

Our well-intentioned, sheltered youth sat on the front steps of the church and started to sing as local gangs gathered across the street. The saccharine sweetness tasted bitter to the target audience. Lyrics of love and peace were quickly silenced by shouts of profanity and protests of thrown eggs crashing on and around the singers. The kum-ba-yah moment transformed into war zone terror as the kids fled into the sanctuary for safety.

My arrival at the church stand-off was not a scene from the movie, Do the Right Thing. The intolerance had intensified. The sounds of “There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit” were drowned out by a boombox blaring Public Enemy’s mesmerizing “Fight the Power.” 

As I climbed the steps of the church, my head and back felt the crack of eggs as my body dripped with yoke and egg white. Sadly, it was not breakfast time, only cryin’ time.

To quote Butch Cassidy, “We seem to be a little short on brotherly love round here.”

Inside, kids were sobbing hysterically, not just the girls. Bags were packed. The sounds of retreat were everywhere from sea to shining sea. Parents back home heard the assault accounts from their frightened children. Social media was ablaze with horror stories, some true, mostly fake news. New England brogue expressing “she was hit by an egg” became translated in Midwestern twang, “she was shot in the leg.”

The parental social network demanded my immediate impeachment over mishandling their teenagers’ endangerment. One suggestion proposed I should be lynched for my misplaced and mistimed mission. The guillotine was not available. Now, years later and as a parent, I understand their concerns and agree with their sentiments.

Things got worse!

Our group was stuck at the besieged church for the night. The bus was unavailable, the police were dismissive, and the growing crowd of dissidents was frightening. We barricaded ourselves inside and the men slept against the doors.

Rocks, eggs, and tomatoes pummeled the entrance throughout the night, probably a clue to the neighborhood’s reported food shortage. The mob’s shouts demanded we send out the women or else they would storm the building.

Our kids huddled in prayer groups and pity parties. Our staff took up defensive weapons in case of attack. “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but your words say you plan to hurt me,” or something like that. Where is Braveheart when you need him?

I called the police three times. The officer chuckled the first time and suggested we should be happy it was an egg assault and not bullets. When I pressed him for whom to call, he suggested, Ghostbusters. Really? “Who you gonna call?” How about the Minutemen?

Afterall, we were camped in the place where the first projectiles of the Revolutionary War were snowballs thrown at a British soldier. I imagine some eggs were tossed as well before English tea got dumped into the Boston Harbor. We were not faced with taxation and tyranny, but the nighttime terror felt dangerously intense.

This is the city where, years earlier, I witnessed special riot units clad with masked helmets and shields take down student war protesters with pepper gas and batons. For the record, I am a grateful supporter of our men and women in blue who sacrifice their lives to protect us from harm. I was not a protester that night in Cambridge, but I got gassed while observing the confrontation from a nearby tree branch. Our present little skirmish was small Irish potatoes to these mob-tested, clam chowder cops.

After the third call (to the police, not Ghostbusters), they promised to conduct a routine check of the situation. The crowd dispersed and disappeared thirty seconds before the patrol car drove by the church, then reappeared thirty seconds after it turned the corner. The intimidating threats did not subside until 2 AM. Other than that, it was just a rainy night in Beantown.

In retrospect, our arrival frightened the local youth who were likewise threatened by our strange behavior and feeble attempts to break down long-standing barriers. We did not know them. We did not understand their culture. We did not speak their language.

I imagine the Massachusett Indian tribe felt that way when Samuel Maverick set up his 1624 trading post in what is now Chelsea. Who is this and why is he here? He looks, sounds, and acts differently.

Our first days were busy inside and outside. Inside work involved cleaning years of dust from the auditorium in hopes of a weekend concert available to the public. Outside projects prepared the ground for concrete supports for the playground equipment. Our more creative youth erected a graffiti wall for neighborhood art and a small garden, perfect for growing tomatoes. The taunting tantrums continued by day and the terrifying threats by night.

No, love don’t come easy; it’s a game of give and take.

On the third day, I granted our drummer permission to play his drum set from the top step of the church. Confidentially, our “drummer” was the last youth to gain my permission to join the group on this trip, mainly because of the pitiful pleas from our desperate choir leader. He was a nice kid, just a little strange and wired, which apparently are good traits for a drummer.

Drummer-boy beat the fire out of his drums, literally. He was smokin’ hot! Loud. Louder. Loudest. The kind of practice noise which drives parents crazy. The gang gathered. Their derisive shouts grew louder, but the drums drowned out their screams. Our percussion prophet pounded on the drums louder and longer. That was his crazy plan.

Suddenly, the opposition’s leader of the pack broke from their ranks. I met the kingpin at the locked gate. I anticipated his name to be Spike, Chainsaw, or Snake Eyes. Surprisingly, he was one of the smaller guys with an extremely high-pitched voice.

Dominic wanted to go up the steps to look at the drums. I reluctantly “welcomed” the Trojan Horse inside our safe zone. He walked to the top of the steps and watched silently as Drummer Boy pounded the sticks into the canvass.

At some point, Dominic asked if he could sit down and play. The two guys switched places and our visitor began lightly tapping the drums. He had rhythm. He quickly picked up the pace of the beats and the volume of the sound.

When he finished, the two young men exchanged some form of hand maneuver departure. Not a shake or a fist bump or gang signs. This ritual transcended my cultural hip-hop awareness. They acted like lifetime soul brothers exchanging some secret bonding ceremony.

God lives inside us to lead us to others He intends to love through us. Who would have thought drums would break down barriers of race and fear, walls of hate and distrust, prisons of pride and prejudice?

“Not I,” said the rat inside my body. The cosmos works in mysterious ways. God had a plan to love some young people who did not feel or think they wanted love. He used a little drummer boy to lead the parade.

You can’t hurry love; no, you’ll just have to wait; love don’t come easy.

The inner-city gang and their extended associates became friends with the invading foreigners. The neighborhood children, forced to stay home by fearful parents, were now allowed to enter the churchyard. Some participated in the graffiti, some helped with the playground development, and some just played the drums.

Our well attended weekend concert had a surprise guest musician introduced for the intermission entertainment. Dominic was magnificent, a standing ovation from his gang and ours.

We did not change the world that week, but the experience was life-changing for us. For some in Chelsea and in our youth group, it was eternity changing. Love does that.

Our bus departed early morning at the end of the week. It was raining. Both sides of the street, for three blocks, were covered with people of all ages standing in the rain. A few had umbrellas. Most were soaking wet. Waving goodbye, tapping their hearts, and blowing kisses to our kids. Some were brushing away tears. The gang walked alongside the rolling bus, a guardian escort of respect. Maybe love.

It looked like a scene from a movie. I cried. My eyes still tear up today knowing for one brief moment, with God’s help, we did it. This ragamuffin group of kids did it.

Our love stretched wider, longer, higher, and deeper than the differences which divided us from others.

I am still learning to love, with limitless love. No discrimination. No exclusions. No exceptions.

If all else fails in the relationship, I will beat on some drums until the other person surrenders to be loved…or decides to kill me to stop the annoying sound.

What are you doing to break down barrier walls of enmity and prejudice? If you cannot drum, then dance to the beat of God’s rhythm. Love First. Love Most. You can do better. You can do more.

May a wild drummer boy inspire you to do the most important thing in life. Love God and Love Others. Use your platform of influence to make large, lasting impacts on the lives of others as you love wider, longer, higher, and deeper than ever before.

A group of strange kids gave their hearts to some unknown people. They have grown up and continue to rock this world with the love of Christ.

Love First. Love Most.

One small step for Chelsea, one giant leap for mankind.

Addendum: Curtis Davis found Jesus at the beginning of that trip. Recently, a friend shared news about the drummer who unlocked the gate to the gang leader’s interest. He found a new life with Jesus about five years after the seeds of Christ’s love was planted into his heart on the Boston mission trip. Another one of that special group rocks the world with the love of Christ.

The beat of drums to the music of Christ’s love became the beat in his heart.

Why do you need a bigger heart?

Because the race to love others is against your own self-centeredness. (next session)

Session 15

“I don’t like you.” Those were the first words spoken by the young man about my age who approached me after I had finished speaking. “I think you are arrogant and stuck up. I have always been jealous of you; but I am not sure why.” Then he tapped his Bible against my chest as he continued, “You have made my life miserable.”

I was caught off guard because I did not know who he was. My first thought was that he might be an angelic messenger sent by God. I was fairly sure this confrontation was not Candid Camera or You’ve been Punked. Apparently, he thought it was To Tell the Truth.

I said I was sorry and then asked who he was. He said his name was Mike and we had attended different high schools. We had never met or talked or played sports against each other. I did not know his family or his girlfriend. I had never had any business dealing with him. There was nothing that I had said or done to hurt him. There was nothing I could say or do to change his opinion. He just wanted me to know how miserable I had made his life.  

“Dude! If you would take some time to get to know me, you might really hate me.”

I asked him to forgive me. He told me to take it up with God.

Do you think that revelation made either one of us happy?

Hey Mike, if you are reading this, please forgive me.

Do you have someone who does not like you? Maybe they hate you or have hurt you? Have they become an enemy by choice…theirs, yours, or mutual?

Can you ever forgive them? Will you forgive them? How? When? Why?

This is Part 2 of Let Them Eat Cake. Let’s start with a quick review of Part 1.

Marie Antoinette, the teen Queen of France married to King Louie XIV, is credited with the quote, “Let them eat cake.” Her insensitive reply to the plight of the peasants’ starvation enraged enemies who resented the royalty’s aristocratic extravagance.

The Queen became the scapegoat for the French Revolution. Sentenced for treason, she got the guillotine, not forgiveness.

Cold hatred. It usually ends up with execution of the enemy either physically or emotionally. Either way, the relationship is over. The only matter left to be determined is the cost of the severance.

I was the pastor at a new church where most of the people considered me their enemy. The Cake Wars began with an incident where chocolate fudge cake was squeezed into my hand. The guillotine was on the horizon.

God thought this was the perfect place and people to teach me how to better practice what I preached.

Preach it Brother. “But God, being rich in mercy because of His great love with which He loved us while we were enemies, still dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ…for the purpose of taking the rest of eternity to showcase the immeasurable riches of His goodness to us” (#1 Textbook).

God loved us first and most with extraordinary forgiveness and extravagant goodness.

Practice it Brother: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you…Forgive others in the same manner God has forgiven you” (#1 Textbook).

Forgiveness is a divine act. God lives in us to lead us to others He intends to forgive through us.

Part 1 ended with the #1 Textbook’s emphasis of five primary descriptions of forgiveness:

1. Take away everything divisive.

2. Cover every offense out of sight and out of mind.

3. Blot out all evidence or record of wrong.

4. Scatter all bitterness as far as east is from west, never to return.

5. Bury the problem in the depths of the sea to sink like a heavy boulder, never to float to the top.

Love forgives first and love forgives most. It eliminates the offense from the recycle setting in one’s mind and it releases the offender from any and all retribution. Clean record. No grudges. No bitterness. Forgiveness treats the enemy as if they never hurt or hated you, even when they still do.

What? That’s impossible! Why would we want to let the other person off the hook without the hate of revenge and the hurt of retribution?

LOVE FORGIVES FIRST before the enemy ever says he or she is sorry, even if they say they are NOT sorry. Love is the first to set aside every difference and all divisions.

LOVE FORGIVES MOST by being unilateral, all-inclusive, undeserved, unconditional, and unlimited in its scope. Forgiveness is Free. Full. Forever.

(Part 2) Why forgive? How do we forgive? What does forgiveness accomplish?

Why forgive? None of us likes to forgive. We prefer to rehearse the harm done to us rather than release it to God through forgiveness. We fail to see the self-inflicted damage caused by our unforgiveness.

None of us is perfect. We all need forgiveness. We all need to give forgiveness for there to be peace and harmony with others, and to soften our own hearts.

Most problems in life deal with the issue of forgiveness, some from the personal guilt of needing forgiveness, but primarily from blaming others we refuse to forgive.

We forgive others because it is the right thing to do. Who says? God does. It is repeated many times in the #1 Textbook.

God’s Word teaches us that when a tree falls, it cannot be undone. If it falls to the south, it fell to the south. If the tree falls to the north, it fell to the north. The Bible is not giving a lesson about falling trees or a lecture on forestry. This is an illustration about life. Once the tree falls, there is no profit in questioning what if it fell in a different direction.

When something happens in your life outside of your control, there is no benefit to you or to anyone else to complain and moan and grieve over what might have been. There is no advantage to spending your thoughts on what if a certain thing had not happened the way it did. If the cut tree has fallen, it is down. It can never be put back in place the way it was or the way you would want it to be.

There are two options in your response to where the tree fell. You can get angry about it, but it will never change what happened. Or you can forgive and figure out how to make the best of an undesired situation. A response of unforgiveness can do more damage than where “the unforgiven tree” fell.

The #1 Textbook never discounts the hurt in a life’s story; it just highlights the theme of forgiveness in every chapter. Forgiveness is not an acknowledgment that what the other person said or did was “ok.” Neither does forgiveness make the other person instantaneously “likeable.” That person might never become your BFF.

Forgiveness frees the other person from our resentment and revenge. More importantly, it frees us from the control of an unforgiving heart.

Every day and in almost every way, forgiveness is the last hurdle for loving others. “Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely ideal until they have something to forgive.” (C. S. Lewis)

An act of social media rage can unleash a torrential flood-like response of anger and hate. Rehearse and Curse. Rebuttals. Grievances. Suspicions. Rants. Name calling. Block. Distance. Revenge. Vendetta. War. Enemies forever.

We all embrace the tendency to build dividing walls of hostility for those we choose to dislike or disagree. “The line between good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.” (Alexsandr Solzhenitsyn)

Forgiveness is the litmus test of love, the missing piece of the puzzle in most relationships. Construction of a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing can be extremely frustrating. The process is enormously difficult, if not impossible. Like working a jigsaw puzzle, forgiveness is a process. The sooner you start, the better the result.

The power to forgive others comes directly from God’s love for you. We are to forgive others in the same manner and for the same reason God has forgiven us and continues to forgive us—to sense the greatness and goodness of His love.

How do we do it? Be the FIRST to trash the negative attitude and feelings. “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malicious hatred” (#1 Textbook).

Then, love MOST by inserting the positive actions into the relationship. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as God forgave you for Christ’s sake” (#1 Textbook).

“To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” (C.S. Lewis)

Our purpose in life is to live and love like Jesus. The dance movements of loving an enemy are sometimes easy and sometimes hard.

Easy because dancing with an enemy has the same purpose and same direction with the same steps. Love First. Love Most.

Easy because God gives you the power to love and forgive.

Hard because the dance takes place on a battlefield.

Hard because uncooperative partners are more difficult.

Forgiveness of enemies is extremely challenging, but not impossible, because God lives in you to love your enemy through you.

The love movement needed first and most is forgiveness, the hardest part of the love dance.

Real enemies force love to go to higher and harder levels. Our enemies start on our permanent “never forgive” list, which also contains the secret codes for an emotional nuclear launch. Enemies, inside and outside the home, throw hurtful and hateful words around like hand grenades. Their actions hit the heart with the destructive force of a cruise missile.

We want the enemy to know how badly he or she has hurt us. Hey! The whole world needs to know. So, we carry around our burden of bitterness toward them as if it were chained to our soul. Some keep enemies on a watch list of unforgiveable persons, like the man who proudly showed me his “get-even” black book.

I once counseled a married couple going through a rough stretch. Their assignment was to list some specific things that upset them about the relationship. In our next meeting, the husband pulled a card out of his pocket and quickly read the three things that needed to change. Then the wife opened her yellow papered notebook with five pages of numbered notes. Hurt might be relevant in pain, but each hurt is always real.

“Love keeps no record of wrongs…Love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails” (#1 Textbook).

It is time to trash your “get-even” book. It is time to give your “hurt list” to God and nail it to the cross where all offenses are forgiven. Free up your mind and heart.

Be kind. Tenderhearted. Forgiving. “Be imitators of God and walk in love…give up yourself as a sacrifice for others in the same manner Jesus Christ gave Himself up in love for you” (#1 Textbook).

Be more sympathetic and more supportive.

Do not debate, judge, or condemn. Arguments do not change people; the power of transformation is in a kind word of loving forgiveness.

Reminder: Love forgives First. Love forgives Most. Forgiveness is free, full, and forever.

What does forgiveness accomplish?

Forgiveness might not change the other person’s behavior, but it will free your heart and your happiness. It pours out the love of Christ on someone who needs it.

Unforgiveness of enemies always hurts you the most. “Bitterness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die” (Joanna Weaver).

Bitterness poisons our pain. It is never an antidote to the hurt; it only increases the damage. It cripples you emotionally. It negatively affects every other relationship.

Anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness are roadblocks to joy. Those imprisoned emotions only shrink the heart and chain life to the past. If you are bitter, admit it to God. He already knows. Ask God to heal the memories and ease the pain of the past.

Upon release from twenty-seven years of incarceration during the racial civil war in South Africa, Nelson Mandela spoke a much-needed reminder to each of us. “As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.”

The Dance of Love is not complete without loving our enemies. Do not allow some wall or prison to be your excuse. Bridges of love are far better than the dividing walls of enmity.

NOT GOING TO SUGARCOAT THIS: FORGIVENESS IS ALWAYS UNDESERVED. FORGIVENESS IS ALWAYS UNLIMITED, SO DO NOT COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW MANY TIMES YOU MUST FORGIVE (#1 Textbook).

TO OVERLOOK, LOOK PAST, OR SET ASIDE THE HURTS DONE TO YOU BY OTHERS IS NOT EASY. TO LOVE AN ENEMY WITHOUT RESENTMENT, REVENGE, OR REPAYMENT WILL ALWAYS BE HARD, HUMBLING, AND COSTLY TO YOU.

However, the worth of lasting happiness far outweighs the cost.

You never show God’s love more than when you forgive the one who hurt you.

Love your enemies first and most. Forgiveness is a process. You probably need to get started. Forgive someone today. Begin with the hardest one to forgive. That person who hurt you deeply might be part of your family. Forgive them.

How do we forgive first and most?

Get a bigger heart. (next session)

SESSION 14

I stood in the corner alone as the short, elderly lady walked toward me with a piece of cake. This was a celebration party, but I was neither the one celebrating or being celebrated. I was hated.

Hated. Not like in the cultural world of social media where dislike buttons connect with spiteful memes or hurtful tweets. Not like closer to home where an angry child yells his disapproval of a parental decision. Not like a movie review or a political rant or a protest slogan or a pandemic reaction.

Hated. Like the Arab Muslims and Jews. Like the Ukranians and Russians. Like the Hatfields and the McCoys. Like the Packers and Bears. Like Will Smith and Chris Rock. Like social media on steroids in a politically charged pandemic.

As the woman in the pink dress slowly strolled across the fellowship hall, our eyes met. Anxiety and anticipation had a domino effect which worsened and intensified as most of the crowd turned to watch this latest episode of Cake Wars. Why would she so graciously offer the elephant in the room a piece of cake?

She stopped in front of me, reached for my elbow, extended my arm, and opened my hand. Then she smiled as she placed the chocolate fudge cake inside my palm and closed my hand around it.

Was this act strategically planned or a spontaneous improvisation? Was it a reprisal of her portrayal of the Wicked Witch of the West? Apparently, she enjoyed her role and so did the audience. As the cake squished through my fingers, she patted me on the shoulder and asked if I liked cake.

Something happened in that moment which defied normalcy. With a slight wave from my dry hand and a nod of acknowledgment to the concerned onlookers, I whispered to the cake lady, “Thank you. I guess I needed that.”

She huffed and returned to the laughter of her proud crowd of onlookers who pressed her for encore reenactments of my stunned reaction.

I turned for the back door, dropped the cake into the trash can, found a paper towel, and exited the room. I passed the stunned faces of my secretary and her husband who expressed their remorse for the incident. Elvis has left the building!

Fortunately, I did not make the situation worse with some angry remark or stupid reaction. It was even a greater blessing that my wife left for home earlier in the day to be with my parents, in town for a celebration with my favorite birthday cake. I remembered my wife’s instructions not to eat cake at the church event, but no restrictions were in place regarding wearing cake on my hands and clothes.

I resolved not to tell my wife or parents about the earlier events of the evening for fear my dad and my wife would be at the lady’s door waiting for her arrival. It would not have been a pretty sight.

Let them eat cake! The phrase is often attributed to Marie Antoinette, the last Queen of France before its Revolution. When she received the report that the impoverished people were starving because of lack of bread, her callous cold-hearted comment was, “Let them eat cake!”

The peasants reply to the out-of-touch, aristocratic royalty was, “Off with their heads!”

Can you envision the two sides facing off in a stadium setting in a battle of competing slogans? Let them eat Cake! Off with their heads! Let them eat cake! Off with their heads!

I guess the Queen ate cake before she was carted off to the guillotine.

Presently, the flippant expression, “Let them eat cake!” is used to deny concern for someone’s problems, similar to saying, “I don’t care about what happens to those people.”

Let them eat cake! That is what I wanted to say that night, but the potential cake-eaters would not have understood the context. Besides, I had plenty of easily understandable words running through my mind. Thankfully, the Lord controlled my tongue!

I was four months into a new pastorate in a different state. The church had been without a pastor for over two years. The transition to my tenure did not go well. The complaint box was filled to overflowing. The gripe and grumble waiting line to the office extended out into the hall.

The very first day on the job included a visit from a woman I did not know. She delivered a handwritten list of five disappointments in my leadership, my one-day leadership. If she had just waited to get to know me, she could have filled a notebook.

Just for the record, how much does someone have to hate to say something before they actually do not say it? When people cannot say something kind, it would be nice if they had the decency to be vague.

I am far from perfect and possess remaining tendencies to run in the wrong direction. However, I had been very happy and blessed with loving and supportive parishioners in my previous pastoral ministries. At least, they were never mean to me or my family.

There were many kind and wonderful people in this new church, future lifelong friends. Their big hearts overflowed with love for God and my family. While they loved, others hated. The “cake incident” was only the tip of the iceberg. The early months played out in new physical, emotional, and spiritual territory for us. It was the House of Horrors.

The boring short version of the lowlights included people in positions of influence angrily leaving the church. One week, several leaders taught Bible study at 9:30 and then crossed town to join another church at 11:00. A petition was circulated to fire me. It quickly collected enough signatures to carry the majority in the next business meeting vote. Disgruntled choir members loudly mocked me in song behind my back during the worship music. “Look how holy he is. He doesn’t even need a hymnal to sing the words. I heard he will be fired.”

Anonymous hate letters included various fonts and four-lettered words. The local chapter of the KKK felt the need to send their greetings. There was a handful of late-night calls with death threats to my wife and children. No kidding. No exaggeration.

From my perspective, the problem was deeply rooted in my desire for the church to express love for others in an inclusive manner regardless of racial, social, or cultural differences. I underestimated the history behind those challenges.

From the perspective of the disgruntled, the cause centered on dislike of my leadership and the grievances became innumerable. I was not what they were used to in the past and not what they wanted for the future. I understood that. Unfortunately, longtime friendships were hurt by the divisiveness. My heart ached over that. Two years prior to my pastorate, I told the search committee I thought the church was divided. My arrival just burst the blister.

“All conflict is caused by unmet or unrealistic expectations” (#1 Textbook).

Sometimes we do not give love a chance. Sometimes we do not give enough effort to understand the other person. Sometimes our hurt becomes hate. Lies, accusations, and rumors swept through the membership list like a wildfire.

There were days my life felt like the statue for the pigeons at the county courthouse.

A woman screamed at me in WalMart that I ruined her life (cleanup on aisle three). One man literally tried to run me over at the supermarket with a shopping cart and loudly bragged to his wife that he almost took care of the problem (cleanup on aisle eight).

Another man chose the church parking lot to yell his expletive version of “Off with your head!” (cleanup in the parking lot). None of that was as frightening as the bullet that crashed through our patio glass door near where my toddler son was playing. (I think they were shooting at the dog).

One Sunday as I stood in the pulpit to teach God’s Word, more than half of the congregation rose to their feet in a mass protest exodus. The city paper even notified me of their plans to publish an expose on why so many people were leaving our church. I suggested it might be for the same reason people choose Burger King over McDonalds. Preference.

There you have it in a nutshell. Why is all this a session in Winsday Wisdom? Fair question since I made a similar inquiry of God.

I sat in my upstairs office alone, dismayed, and unhappy. There was a pity party going on, just no cake. I stared at the ceiling. I buried my head into my hands. My cries were muffled.

Then I looked out the window and shouted out to no one there, which seemed to be the same number as whoever might care, “Why is this happening to me? Why? Why?”

God was there and God cared. His words were audible to my heart. This time His voice sounded like my lawyer friend in a closing argument to a befuddled jury.

“You told Me you wanted to be more like Jesus. Well, Jesus loved His enemies, so I gave you some real enemies. These people hate you; so, learn to love them.”

That was my late for the plane at the airport moment. I had forgotten the most important thing in life. Love God and Love Others.

I was running in circles chasing the wind in the wrong direction, spiritually disoriented. I messed up the steps to the dance, Love First, Love Most. I failed to pay attention to the directions in my #1 Textbook.

LOVE YOUR ENEMIES, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you (#1 Textbook).

As I sat in my study bemoaning my misfortune inflicted by the hatred of enemies, I needed to be reminded of the most important thing in life. We love God by loving others, especially enemies.

It is an amazing thing when you pay attention to your purpose in life. It affects mood and motivation. It sharpens focus and strengthens faith.

This I call to mind (pay attention) and therefore I have hope (#1 Textbook).

From that moment on, my attitude changed; so did my actions. God was alive in me to lead me to these real enemies so He could love them through me. God was with me and for me. I had not lost; I was about to win. I just needed to learn from the #1 Textbook how to dance with an enemy.

How do we learn to include our enemies in the circle of love? Follow the Lead Dancer. How does God love us first and most? “God showed His great love for us while we were still enemies, when Christ died on the cross to bring us side by side with God” (#1 Textbook).

Jesus came from God’s heavenly family to earth to make enemies into friends, to be treated as perfect dance partners. Since we are naturally enemies in a perpetual misstep, that necessitates forgiveness, which is the hardest, but greatest, demonstration of God’s love.

How do we love our enemies first and most? It starts with forgiveness with that same kind of attitude and action. All forgiveness comes from the heart of God, which should cascade through us to others.

God lives in us to lead us to others He intends to forgive through us. “Forgive others in the same manner God has forgiven you” (#1 Textbook).

What is forgiveness, why do we need it, how do we do it, and what does it accomplish?

Our #1 textbook emphasizes five primary descriptive terms of forgiveness:

1. Take away everything divisive.

2. Cover every offense out of sight and out of mind.

3. Blot out all evidence or record of wrong.

4. Scatter all bitterness as far as east is from west, never to return.

5. Bury the problem in the depths of the sea to sink like a heavy boulder, never to float to the top.

Love forgives first and forgives most. It eliminates the offense from the recycle setting in one’s mind and it releases the offender from any and all retribution. Clean record. No grudges. No bitterness.

Forgiveness treats enemies as if they never hurt you or hated you, even when they still do.

What? That’s impossible!

Why would we want to let the other person off the hook without the hate of revenge and the hurt of retribution? We don’t. God does!

LOVE FORGIVES FIRST before the enemy ever says he or she is sorry, even if they say they are NOT sorry. Love is the first to set aside every difference and all divisions.

LOVE FORGIVES MOST by being unilateral, all-inclusive, undeserved, unconditional, and unlimited in its scope. Forgiveness is Free. Full. Forever.

Love forgives first. Love forgives most.

As I sat in my office somewhat stunned but also thrilled, I was thankful to be reminded to hold onto the most important thing in life before boarding that final flight to Heaven.

At some point in life, every one of us will be given the opportunity to love those who have offended us. They might criticize, gossip, slander. Those who hurt us might even hate us. At their worst, they are potential dance partners.

Love your enemies. Debate less. Judge even less. Condemn never.

Do not hate or hurt others; do not shut them down or shut them out.

Be less offensive and the least offended.

Forgive first. Forgive most. You will be healthier and happier.

For the record, I was blessed to pastor another twenty-three years at the “Cake Church.”

They have big hearts! It is part of their spiritual DNA. They are our Family. They continue to teach us how to Love First and Love Most.

Love an enemy. Do good to someone who hates you.                                         

Bless someone who has talked badly to you or about you.

Pray for someone who mistreated you.

Forgive someone today.

Celebrate with Cake!

Why do we need to forgive, how do we do it, and what does it accomplish?

(next session) 

                                                                       

Do you ever feel as if your life has become like a soap opera drama? Have you ever despaired that you made such a mess of life that no one could ever love you again? Do you know someone who has crossed that line?

Sometimes, we look at others’ soap opera lives and think they are beyond hope, maybe even beyond loveable. I imagine that you know people who seem hopeless for change. Perhaps, you have given great love and effort to help them; but now you are mentally drained and emotionally exhausted. Maybe you have already given up on them.  

The man in this session’s story was well acquainted with the drama and conflict of a messed-up life. In fact, in the soap opera world, he would be a mega star.

I was engaged in some physical rehab, working up a sweat on the gym’s elliptical. I watched the TV monitors, one on the news and the other on a soap opera. Apparently, someone was boycotting ESPN. The closed captioning carried the scripts below the picture.

I noticed this was the same soap opera which owned my grandmother’s unfailing devotion for years. She would do anything for you except during that one hour of the day. All the grandkids were under strict orders not to disturb her As the World Turns.

I do not know exactly why they call them soap operas, because they are not about soap or operas. Supposedly, the descriptive term emerged from radio dramas supported by soap manufacturer’s advertising. I still do not get it. Soap and operas have endings, but soap operas just tend to go endlessly on and on. Each story ends with a cliffhanger intended to keep the audience hooked with previews of future melodrama.

Soap operas are full of drama and conflict, problems which are never resolved. The tangled interpersonal troubles only move around town and spread to other characters, like some dreaded, uncontrolled pandemic. Reality shows are similarly scripted, just worse.

The storyline follows the characters’ physical or relational troubles and their greater emotional dramas. They fight with their family or competitors. They break promises and ruin lives, until they find “real” love, as opposed to the previous forty-two episodes of romantic experiments.

During television Sweeps Week, they get married, then return to their cycle of lies and betrayal and manipulation until love is lost. More drama ensues. Melodrama. Mega-drama. Trials, troubles, and tragedy are on repetitive cycles. What goes around comes around and goes back around as they Search for Tomorrow.

Several years ago, I wrote a script with a melodramatic plot intent on resolving the problems of every character in The Soap Opera to End All Soap Operas.

As the World Turns…All My Children… including The Young and the Restless, The Bold and the Beautiful, and the Blue Bloods of our Modern Family gather in our Full House where we discover This is Us has One Life to Live.

The Real Housewives, along with Grandmother Madea’s Family Reunion and cousins, Betty…Roseanne…Seinfeld…and Eddie, who is Not Smarter than a Fifth Grader, are All in the Family.

This is Us spends the Days of our Lives in a Family Feud at The Office or Parks and Recreation, on a Search for Tomorrow. They are listening for The Voice of that Masked Singer, while looking for the next American Idol.

Along the way to Nashville, Big Brother from Beverly Hills 90210 quits his job as Top Chef to play the Game of Thrones. He gets an Extreme Makeover as The Bachelor in The Real World…for 24 hours.

While Dancing with the Stars and their Friends at Melrose Place in Dallas, he stumbles along The Edge of Night without a Guiding Light. He falls with a Big Bang and gets Knots Landing on The Crown of his head. The accident broke The Weakest Link of his Grey’s Anatomy, which left him looking like Two-and-a-Half Men.

Hindsight would have been 20/20 According to Jim, but we had only 60 Minutes for CSI: Miami to rush to the scene with NCIS to meet Chicago Fire, P.D., and Med. 

Boston Legal took the case before Judge Judy at Night Court seeking Law and Order in Twenty-five Words or Less. The ruling was Deal or No Deal. One Jeopardy question remained: What Would You Do?  Call 9-1-1.

That sets off an Amazing Race to the ER at General Hospital where The Resident and The Good Doctor are no longer at New Amsterdam or in Private Practice. They have been fired by The Apprentice.

The Intern and Nurses diagnosed This is Us has been infected with a strange, rare disease called March Madness…a terminal Date Line…a Cold Case.

The Netflix binge series finale reveals the Wheel of Fortune prognosis of no Survivor. Everyone is sent to The Twilight Zone, St. Elsewhere, or Another World. There will be no Trading Places…The End. 

Most people live soap opera lives, no different from Erica Kane, except for her fancy clothes and makeup. None of us can find satisfaction in this world apart from God. God made life that way. For all of us, life is crooked, broken, or missing something. We cannot fix it or figure it out. We need God to find lasting happiness.

God’s Love has power to transform people—both the one loving and the one being loved. History records the stories of people whose lives were filled with melodrama of biblical proportions. Characters like Legion, the Samaritan woman at the well, the woman caught in adultery, and the Old Testament Joseph were soap opera stars changed by God’s love.

Legion lost everything that mattered in life. He destroyed his family, shipwrecked his career, and blew up his friendships. His slippery slope story became a nightmare. He was a physical monster, an emotional wreck, and a social outcast.

The plot development was saturated with drama inside and outside. Frightened people practiced social distancing from his personal pandemic. He was Sleepless in Graveyards and Hopeless in Seattle or any other place on the planet.

Legion’s life was stranger than fiction. The stories about him were a bigtime ratings-grabber. He was a mean, mad man, like a scary monster in the movies, only the tales were real.

Others saw him as beyond all hope. Jesus brought His disciples to love this scary man who was no longer loved or loving. That encounter transformed Legion’s heart, soul, and mind.

God’s love gives hope to soap opera lives. Many lonely people go through life like Legion, dwelling in the graveyards of greed, gripes, and grumbling. They are among the Walking Dead who fight with family members, wrestle with addictions, and star in social struggles.

They feel desperately alone, alienated, afraid, and ashamed. They hurt and they hate. Self-destructive bitterness and self-inflicted misery know them well.

Legion was the poster child of a soap opera world without God, without help, and without hope. He was driven by the unrest that was in his soul, running in never-ending circles of nothing but misery. Socially alienated, spiritually unfit, culturally unacceptable.

It was humanly impossible to love him. He was the most hated soap opera victim/villain of all time. 

Jesus searched him out and that was the teaching point for the first disciples and anyone else following Jesus. There is no one beyond the help and hope of love. The Living Lord lives in us to lead us to those He intends to love through us.

Legion is one example of so many hopeless causes transformed by someone’s action to love first and love most. Transformed by love, Legion went home packing the most important thing in life, loving God and loving others.

In another example, a woman of ill-repute showed up at the Samaritan well in Search of more than just Tomorrow. Her soap opera role lasted many years, featuring five husbands and her present scandalous relationship. This soap opera diva’s shameful past and social status were prime news for tabloid gossip. She was the Whore of Sychar. Her daily trips to the well revealed a thirst for more than water or relational stability. She hunted for lasting happiness.

Jesus showed her love which transcended physical and emotional bonds. The living water of His love gave her life value, joy, and purpose. The transformed lady discovered the most important thing in life, love for God and others. She impacted her city for good.

The third character in the soap opera highlights was the victim of the self-righteous hypocrites on social media who shamed and terrorized an adulterous woman. Instead of being the scarlet letter star of this drama, she was about to be stoned. Not with a little marijuana, but with huge rocks.

This soap opera diva was trapped, humiliated, mocked, bullied, and judged guilty. The shaming mob surrounded her with threats of condemnation and punishment. Jesus stepped inside the circle of the self-righteous crowd and openly declared to the woman at the center of their hatred, “I do not condemn you.”

How do we love first and most in a soap opera world? Jesus showed us the way.

Transforming love always starts the relationship with no condemnation. Jesus invited the woman into a new circle overflowing with love and forgiveness. Love turned her life in a new direction, carrying the most important thing in life.

“Lovingkindness leads to character change” (#1 Textbook).

Any Biblical list of favorite soap opera stars would rank Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat near the top. His story had a long run in several countries.

Joseph grew up in a large family, most remembered for their highly dysfunctional conflicts with life and death consequences. The dad, who grew up unloved by his father, was an immoral thief and habitual liar who tricked his father and brother out of a fortune. Later, he cheated his future father-in-law out of girls and gold. Joseph’s dad was a con artist well versed in deceit, hatred, rivalry, and betrayal. Happy Father’s Day!                                                                                                                                     

The father had two wives with multiple children, all featured in their soap opera drama problems of jealousy, theft, and murder. One mother’s death during the birth of her youngest boy resulted in more family sadness, envy, and distrust.

The negative impact of growing up among that household might appear insurmountable.

Joseph, the favored son, lived on the Edge of Danger. He was abused, mistreated, bullied, and shunned by his older brothers. The Days of Their Lives centered around bad relationships and crime, not Good Times or Law and Order. A sister was raped, some brothers executed revengeful murder, and everyone became greedy, consummate liars just like dear old dad.                                                                                      

Joseph marched to a different beat. His love for God and others became a light in the family’s World of Darkness. Innocent Joseph survived a Sopranos-like murder attempt by his brothers. Abandoned and left to die, he survived again to be sold into slavery simply because The Price was Right. A captive in a foreign country, Joseph would be separated from his family for many years.

In his new Homeland, the Survivor Joseph engaged in manual labor and low-level jobs. He worked in the home of the rich and powerful; but when he refused an illicit advance by the lady of the house, her false accusations caused him to spend many years in and out of prison.

Replay the soap opera. Brothers’ betrayal…Family separation…Human trafficking…Horror of slavery…False accusation of sexual abuse…Wrongly imprisoned…Bad circumstances became worse circumstances.

Joseph was hated, lied about, forgotten, and left with no chance for freedom. No help and no hope–except for God’s plan.

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

Joseph stayed faithful and happy where God placed him. In jail, he cleaned cells and toilets while befriending the other prisoners. Even in the dungeon, he did not forget the most important thing in life. He continued to love God and love others.

God was with him, in him, over him, and under him. God moved him to become the top boss in the land, from where Joseph used his platform of influence to help others all over the world.

Joseph forgave and reconciled with his family; then he provided for all their needs. He boldly and assuredly announced what others intended for his hurt, God used for his good and for the good of others.

Through the physical, emotional, and social upheavals of life, Joseph learned to love first and love most. That kind of love changes the ones loved, as well as the one giving love. Joseph gave back love for hurt. He became a man of humility, happiness, and hope. His brothers became loyal friends and better fathers.

These soap opera stories convey an important lesson…the great value of loving one hopeless person. Jesus sends all transformed people back into their soap opera world armed with the most important thing in life, love for God and love for others.

The intriguing spin-off of each story featured the transformed characters as instruments of change in their families and communities. What a way to end a soap opera!

Are you living in a soap opera? Are you the star? The villain? Or just a family member caught up in all the drama? Do you feel as if you are the most messed-up hopeless person on the planet? Or do you live with or around someone who acts hopeless?

What can you do? Live in your hopes, not your fears. No one is hopeless. Our failures do not define us. Our problems do not disqualify us. Our drama does not frighten away the restorative love of God.

WHEN YOU GIVE LOVE, YOU GIVE HOPE! Daily contacts are the best place to start the Dance of Love. Begin at home, school, and work. Start among the people you already know, even if some of those people appear to be beyond all human hope.

WE ARE ALL ROUGH DRAFTS OF THE FINISHED STORY.                       

THANKFULLY, GOD ALWAYS WRITES THE LAST CHAPTER.

Decide to love first and love most. Develop a plan of how that would look in each relationship.  You do not need to take a ten-year or even a ten-week psychological or theological course before you can go home or go to work for the purpose of loving somebody else.

In any circumstance and in any relationship, a definite decision to reset the future purpose is always made from three possible options available:

1. We can give up and quit because things are hard or look hopeless.
2. We can keep things the same and ride out the season of life, just going through the motions while dying on the inside.
3. We can change the relationship for the better.

Give up. Stay the same. Change for the better. What will you do?

Limitless love is always an option on the table to make things better. End the soap opera. Be a difference maker. Stretch your side-by-side love wider, longer, higher, and deeper.

God lives inside of you to lead you to other hopeless persons He intends to love first and love most through you.

How do you stretch your love wider, longer, higher, and deeper?

Love Forgives Your Enemies. (next session)

Our wedding night was stormy, literally. We departed from the church alone, under a tornado warning. All the wedding guests moved to safety while we tried to make it to the nearby hotel. My beautiful bride confided to me she had often prayed that she would be granted at least one day of marriage before she died. Maybe this was the end. I was secretly praying for at least one night.

The new morning skies were clear for take-off and the post-wedding trip was everything we hoped it to be. My princess bride and her knight in shining armor stormed the East Coast like Hurricane Sally.

The travel itinerary began in Washington, D.C. for site-seeing visits of our national monuments highlighted by cherry blossoms and the Smithsonian. Well, that was the plan.

This was a whirlwind celebration. After a couple of days, we caught the shuttle flight to Boston to walk Freedom’s Trail, picnic on the hallowed grounds of the educational elite, and dine amidst the city’s rich and famous. Well, that was the plan. I did introduce her to New England clam chowder and Red Sox baseball.

There was still the coup-de-gras for any newlyweds from Redneck country. A trip to Six Flags. However, this is the place where the story moved from bliss to fear. It was not my wife’s fear of returning to the real world with this stranger she married; it was a greater fear. A deadly fear.

Upon our arrival at the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, I grabbed our bags and hailed a shuttle taxi. The driver seemed confused and spoke with a heavy foreign accent which confused me. While we waited in the van, the driver went inside the airport where we saw him make a phone call. That seemed strange at the time.

We were the only passengers on this twenty-minute trip to the hotel. My beautiful bride and I held hands and told stories. We acted like newlyweds. Suddenly, the driver turned onto a gravel road, not what one would expect to travel between a major airport hub and a large marquee hotel. It seemed quite odd, so I questioned the driver. His foreign accent sounded like “Shortcake.” Surely, he meant “Shortcut.”

Soon, greater darkness surrounded our taxi traveling the unpaved road. The metropolis lights were hidden from view. “Where are we?” I asked. “Shortstop” was all the stranger shouted in reply. That was not even close to “Shortcut.”

Car lights suddenly appeared behind our vehicle. The trailing car moved closer to ours and never attempted to pass, even on this desolate road. I suspected the car behind us might be the person the driver called from the airport. I have always entertained conspiracy theories.

We both sensed this was very strange, if not dangerous. My wife asked if this might be a trap or robbery. I was thinking the same thing, but I privately feared worse, perhaps physical assault and murder. We were scared. Afterall, she had prayed for at least one day of marriage before exiting this earthly life, and now we were into the second week. This might be it, for both of us.

My wife is drop-dead gorgeous. I have always preferred gorgeous to drop dead. She is kind, caring, a great cheerleader, awesome cook, and brilliant. I would still love her even if she were as stupid as many claimed her to be for marrying me. The most important attribute at this point in the honeymoon saga was her athleticism. She was fast. Amazingly fast. A track star in college.

We held hands and developed a plan for when the taxi stopped. I would attack the driver and she was to run as fast as she could to safety. At least she might have a chance at escape.

These circumstances demanded she star as the Runaway Bride. I urged her to flee like Lot’s wife and not turn back to look for me. If I made it, I would join her at the hotel. If not, she needed to know she made me the happiest guy in the world.

Our escape plan was in place. The next few moments with our strange driver along that gravel road and the car in pursuit were agonizingly frightful. This was a horror movie ending to honeymoon bliss. The cast of The Princess Bride had taken a shortcut down Elm Street to Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

The van began to slow. Our driver turned and so did the car behind us. This was it. Do or Die. I reminded my girl to run fast, faster than her record time in the track trials. She nodded and whispered she loved me. She pledged to always love me, her knight in shining armor, shaking in his boots and about to wet his pants.

I am not the first in my family to shake in his boots. My great-great grandfather fought in the Civil War. For both sides!

However, that is not the most distinctive part of his war record. He spent most of the battle for the soul of our country as a prisoner of war. On both sides!

Our family never knew if:

1. He simply could not make up his mind.
2. He was just really bad at fighting.
3. The Yankees and Confederates thought it was better for their cause for him to fight for the other side.
4. It was safer for both sides if they just kept him locked up.

Apparently, in every significant skirmish, Captain Morrison either surrendered or was captured.

The Civil War chameleon met his demise on the way home from the War when he was bushwhacked just one mile from his house. Apparently, he did not have time to change colors.

This honeymoon danger was my time to change colors. I exchanged the cowardice yellow for a scared stiff, whiter shade of pale. Emboldened by My Lady’s vow of eternal love, I was ready for action. I knew which side I was on. However, that wedding stuff about “til death do us part” arrived much sooner than I anticipated.

As the taxi slowed to a crawl, I had one hand prepared to throw open the taxi door and the other clinched in a fist to knock out the driver. My heart was pounding as I stared into the face of my teary-eyed bride. “Ready? Go fast. Run like the wind!”

Then it happened! Our taxi shuttle turned off the gravel road and entered the backside of the hotel parking lot. The driver took us to the main entrance where our companion chase car stopped right behind us. The driver proudly announced, something that sounded like “Short-circuit!” Whatever English idiom he was using, this trip was intended as a “Shortcut.”

Honeymoon bliss. Murder by night. Six Flags in the morning!

THE LESSON FROM THIS LIFE ILLUSTRATION IS FEAR AND SHORTCUTS ARE ENEMIES TO HONEYMOON BLISS, NOT HELPFUL TOOLS FOR LASTING LOVE.

Fear can cripple love. Shortcuts send confusing signals to the relationship.

Fear, associated with the perception of real or imagined danger, has a paralyzing effect, especially on the dance move to Love First. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the unexpected. Fear of the “what if” the other person does not reciprocate? What if they say this or do that?

Fear comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some fade, others never materialize. Some fears are big, like monsters and cancer; some fears are little, like terrible two-year-old fit-throwers or intrusive mothers-in-law (not talking about my perfect grandkids or mother-in-law who read this stuff).

The emotion of fear is a common theme of movies and talk shows and politics, from global warming, worldwide terrorism, or the COVID-19 pandemic. Depression, worry, and anxiety are costumed imposters of fear. Frightening thoughts trap our emotions in a prison of isolation.

What caused you to fear last year? What frightens you about this next year and into your future? Sickness? Suffering? Loss? Loneliness? Poverty? Death? Fear of giving love or fear of losing love?

Plato wrote, “Courage is knowing what not to fear.”

Loving first takes courage. It finds strength in the face of challenges. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear” (#1 Textbook).

Fear and love are motivators of contrasting behaviors. Fear freezes feelings and negates action. Love warms the heart and engages action.

In the real world, everyone except the newlyweds knows honeymoon bliss never lasts. Why? Is it because the couple returns to the real world? Absolutely not! They return to their own self-centered imaginary world of NOT. Like a card game, marriage might only need two hearts and a diamond to begin. By the end, someone asks for a club and a spade.

The real threat to honeymoon bliss in any relationship is one’s own self-centeredness, not the other person. Honeymoon bliss is never dependent on a perfect spouse or perfect circumstances. It requires courage.

LOVE IN YOUR HOPES, NOT YOUR FEARS. LOVE FIRST. LOVE MOST.

Courage to love first conquers fear.                                            

Courage to love most avoids shortcuts.

Love always travels the longsuffering, long-lasting road. The dance to share unlimited and unceasing acts of kindness outlasts any length of distance or amount of time. Love lasts longer than the challenges along the way.

I have taken more than my share of shortcuts in life, especially while driving. I follow my instincts. Usually, I ignore the advice of my wife and Siri.

Why is Siri a woman’s voice? I once was told it is because the directions are always right.

Men and women think differently, even regarding shortcuts. Their rationale is never the same. I am not claiming one is better than the other because I would be wrong.

Women know we men do not ever think before we act. Or at least, that is our reputation. We find directions by instinct and make decisions on impulse. We are hunters, adventurers (the masculine term for “lost”). Men just do what they do. There is a component in the male DNA which compels him to make stupid choices. As the bandit declared in the Blazing Saddles movie, “Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges.”

Women seem to always have a reason for their decisions, usually a particularly good one. Women generally assume men have no reason for their decisions. In fact, it is my opinion when a woman asks her husband, “Why?” there is absolutely no expectation a good reason exists.

For example, my wife might ask why I bought something at the store which was not on the list. Or why I was driving so fast. There is no answer which will convince her I had a good reason for those actions. Why did I go this direction? Do not even speak.

A wife’s “Why?” questions are similar to God’s questions, always intended for contemplation, not information. I repeat. They are rhetorical. No acceptable explanation exists.

Trust me on this one. There are no reasonable shortcuts to loving someone else. It takes time and effort, then more time and greater effort.

Honeymoon bliss is not about perfection, but it is an investment of much time and effort. Just like dieting and marathons, there are no shortcuts in loving most.

The #1 Love Textbook combines the necessary love attributes of humility, gentleness, and longsuffering into the action of forbearance. These characteristics are all Love First, Love Most components.

1. Humility (lowliness) thinks more often of the other person than yourself which is the epitome of unselfishness. It is not thinking less of yourself; but thinking of your spouse most and yourself less often.                         
2. Gentleness (meekness) is controlled strength for the purpose of merciful love. Mercy is never a shortcut.                     
3. Longsuffering is the attitude and action of patience. It suffers long…and longer.                              
4. Together, these ligaments form the forbearance muscle.

Simply stated, forbearance is the supernatural love-infused ability to put up with a whole lot of stuff, or whatever you want to call it. The Achilles’ heel of honeymoon bliss is the absence of forbearance. To love most, one must be able to endure with love under the weight of the burden for the distance of a lifetime.

I repeat for emphasis (and those still in Listening 101), to love most, one must endure under the weight of any and all strain upon the relationship for a lifetime…til death do we part. Love navigates through all the construction hardships, rough roads, and rollercoaster fears and thrills. There can be no shortcuts.

How do we train in longsuffering, long-lasting, and forbearing love?

Our #1 Textbook encourages us to comprehend the incomprehensible concept of LIMITLESS LOVE.

The Greek verb translated, comprehend, means “to lay hold of or seize; to grasp or grip.” It is a wrestling term for getting a strong hold of something, to grip it closely. It is also used as a fighting metaphor to grasp something with determination to never let go.

Some people use Fixodent to get a grip on their dentures. Football wide receivers use substances or specially designed gloves to get a better grip on the ball. A mother or father with a little child in the face of danger, gets a firmer grip on the child’s hand.

The objective of getting a grip is the two become as one. Love sticks two self-centered individuals together. The two become one. Better comprehension of Christ’s love changes and controls us. Our love becomes His love in and through us.

“The Lord’s steadfast (stick-to) love endures forever…so we do not fear” (#1 Textbook).

It is imperative we get a grasp on God’s love for us to live out true love with our spouse. Spend time wrestling with how wide, how long, how high, and how deep God’s love is for you and in you. These infinite dimensions are descriptive of the immensity and vastness and eternality of the love which makes two as one.

Nothing can ever separate us from the grasp of God’s love. Not gender or generational gaps. Not racial or religious differences. Not nationality or social status.

Not health and wealth or the lack thereof. Not critics and complainers or conflicts. Not despair, distress, or difficulties. Not our flaws, falls, and failures. Not even our wrong decisions and actions. No separation, the two have become one.

God’s love has no limits in time past, present, future, or eternal.

There are no limits of love in space, whether inner or outer or far away or extraterrestrial. Not any galaxy or gravitational wave or black hole or anything seen or unseen rippling through the fabric of space-time can limit love. Not any bad person or bad thing or bad circumstance can separate the one loved from the one loving.

God gives you that same desire and power to love others. God’s love is immeasurable and invincible. It extends far beyond any height or any depth or any circumference. It puts up with a lot…forever.

Honeymoon bliss? There is no place for fear or shortcuts. Flush the negative feelings. Trash your self-centeredness. Embrace love with more kindness, more compassion, more forbearance, more forgiveness. Stretch yourself in love to God and others: always wider, always longer, always higher, always deeper.

The Spiral Starecase had only one big hit, but they got it right when they sang:

Every day’s a new day in love with you

With each day comes a new way of loving you…

Oh, I love you more than yesterday

But not as much as tomorrow.

The living Lord of limitless love lives inside of you to lead you to others he intends to love through you. That always starts in the home.

The Dance is a simple two-step: Love first. Love most.

Love First. Love Most, No fear, No shortcuts.

More than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.

My Saturday morning lawn mowing trance was interrupted by my wife’s wildly waving arms. I immediately suspected it was another warning to stay away from the flowers which once were victimized by my inattentive swerve to the left.

I descend from a long line of errant mowers. My grandfather once mowed down my grandmother’s daffodils and tulips. Our family debated over the years whether it was accidental or strategically planned, because he was never asked to mow again. My dad clipped my G.I. Joe and the duct taped water hose, more than once. My lawn mower chopped up an extension cord, dog chain, and Barbie’s gown.

This interruption was not about the flowers. My wife’s news was alarming. Bessie Adams called and needed to talk to her pastor immediately. Something terrible had happened.

She sounded hysterical and the news was not good, every word cloaked in fear and sadness. Her husband and brother-in-law had been kidnapped. She and her sister were safe in the custody of the state police who rescued them at the truck stop, the scene of the crime. I did my best to calm her down so I could understand the magnitude of the tragic events and how I might be of help.

D. K. Adams and Ernest Waldrop were two of the nicest gentlemen I have ever known. They married sisters, Bessie and Lucille, two of the kindest and most generous women in the world. I was blessed to be their pastor for several years when they were all at least eighty-five years young. The couples loved to travel, and their adventures were legendary.

D.K. and Earnest wore hearing aids which played an important role in the dynamics of their marital relationships because both sisters tended to talk incessantly. Everyone in the foursome understood the sound was turned up or down dependent upon the men’s interest in the subject. So, hand gestures and loud repetitions were commonplace to any conversation.

To think anyone might kidnap these easy-going AARP members was almost unthinkable. Bessie sobbed as she shared what she had witnessed. The couples were returning eastward from a Colorado trip, when they pulled into a rest stop near Clayton, New Mexico. When the ladies returned from their restroom break, they saw their car speeding out of the parking lot with their husbands inside. Shock and panic ensued.

This was no joke. The car and the men were gone. The ladies immediately notified the highway patrol of the harrowing abduction. A sheriff interviewed the women to get a detailed description of the missing men and the stolen vehicle. Bessie also gave a detailed description of a suspicious man she had seen earlier in the truck stop. She suspected he was a member of “Al Kinda.”  

The ladies were transported to a local police station to file an official missing persons’ report. When Bessie called me, I promised to pray and be quickly on my way to bring the ladies back home. My mind raced through the various possible scenarios. Would the police set up roadblocks? What if the hostages were held for ransom? What if the men could not hear the kidnapper’s demands?

I hurriedly developed plans to rescue the damsels in distress. As I was leaving town, Bessie called again to share good news. D.K. and Ernest were safe, the law enforcement would unite all of them, and they would drive home that evening.

I thought I could hear the old classic Peaches and Herb song playing in the background, “Reunited and it feels so good.”

Later that night, I received the details of their harrowing escapade. What happened would make a good story… someday. The men were tired from the trip and needed a restroom break. When they pulled into the truck stop area, the women were asleep in the back seat.

The good husbands did not want to disrupt the peaceful solitude; so, they did not disturb their sleeping beauties. Despite the men’s discreet thoughtfulness, the sisters awakened in the parked car and went inside to shop and use the restroom.

Meanwhile, the men quietly returned to the car with the assumption the deficiency of sound was because of their wives’ slumber party, not physical absence. So, the kind and thoughtful men continued their trip home.

The refreshed ladies walked outside to see their car speeding out of the parking lot. Now, D.K. walked slowly but was known to drive fast. However, the ladies suspected a hijacker forcibly commandeered the vehicle and was holding their husbands at gunpoint. They reported the kidnapping and stolen vehicle to the police.

An emergency alert was issued. A multi-state search for the hostages was launched. The odd couple victims were soon discovered at a Dairy Queen forty-five miles away. What happened sounds unbelievable unless you knew the couples and the vital role the hearing-aids played in their marital bliss.

How did this kidnap plot begin? D.K. and Ernest reentered their car at the New Mexico rest stop. They assumed their wives were still asleep in the back seat. So, they drove forty-five miles without hearing a word. Yep! Forty-five miles!

The story gets worse! The men were thirsty, so they stopped at the next town’s Dairy Queen. They went inside and ordered four (FOUR!) cokes. I said they were nice gentlemen. They never asked the wives if they wanted a Coke or at least, they never heard their response.

It was when the men returned to the car with the refreshing soft drinks that they could not find their lifetime companions. First, they assumed the ladies had gone inside to the bathroom. As time passed, they began to search for their wives. Ernest suggested the possibility the wives had been kidnapped!

The mystery began to unravel when the local sheriff spotted the men and the vehicle at the fast-food diner. The Mayberry deputy reported the location and carefully approached the car with his gun drawn. The men locked inside the car never heard his warnings or commands.

As Barney Fife crouched near the vehicle with his shaking gun, he radioed information to headquarters. He reported the elderly men as engaged in suspicious activity, moving around backseat blankets in possible cover-up of weapons or drugs. They remained unresponsive to his shouts for them to surrender. There was no sight of the kidnapper, but he might be the man eating a hamburger inside Dairy Queen.

The Three Stooges could not have filmed a more hilarious scene. When passenger Ernest finally noticed the nearby officer crouching near the vehicle, he began to excitedly shout for help. This spooked the sheriff who called for back-up. The cop motioned the suspects to put up their hands as the men wildly waved their hands to get his attention.

The lawman shouted louder, and the hostages turned to higher volume levels on their hearing aid devices.

Communication became miscommunication, more like the Abbot and Costello routine of Who’s on First? (Please google it if you are not familiar with this classic baseball comedy routine about Who’s on First, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third).

The sheriff shouted, “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The kidnapper.”

“What?”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Your kidnapper.”

“What?”

“Who is your kidnapper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?”

“What?”

“Where is your kidnapper?”

“Who is kidnapping us?”

Eventually, D.K. and Ernest peacefully surrendered. I repeat; they are truly some of the quietest and nicest men on this planet. They would soon be reunited with their true loves. I would love to have been a fly on the wall of that car ride home. I suspect the backseat volume remained high while the hearing aids were extremely low, or off.

It was early the next morning at church when I saw D.K. He was a longtime usher who greeted everyone with a welcoming smile and hug. When he saw me at the other end of the foyer, he lowered his head and began a slow walk towards me. He looked like a sad, little puppy who spilled the trash.

I intercepted him halfway; he spoke softly, “Oh, Pastor! Oh, Pastor!” I put my arms around him as he buried his head into my shoulder. I did my best to console and encourage him. I think I even said it could happen to any of us. I wanted to laugh.

He said he was so embarrassed, and I responded it would be a funny story someday. His reply, “I don’t think Bessie and Lucille will let us live to see that someday.” They all did.

The husbands failed to pay attention to their wives’ whereabouts. The travel kidnap episode remained a sensitive subject for years and made future trips a little more stressful. The hearing aids came in handy for the guys.

Years later, I could better identify with D. K. Adams’ chagrin at his misfortunate travel adventure which left his talking bride behind in fear of a kidnap caper. I did not forget my wife at a truck stop; I just did not listen to her wishes. Apparently, I did not pay attention. 

Our family recalls it as The Wallpaper episode. The phrase brings immediate memories of extreme laughter and unforgettable misery, mostly at my expense.

Our family returned home from the best vacation of our lives. We reminisced about the fun, food, fellowship, and feelings of awe at the beautiful sights, peaceful relaxation, and exciting activities.

The biggest surprise awaited our arrival. The Wallpaper.

My wife had purchased paint, rolls of wallpaper, and decorative border for our family room. Several months passed without any start on the project. I always had a reason to wait until the next weekend. When there was no reason, I made up an excuse. Handyman stuff has never been a strong suit. At least, I knew not to use Great Stuff on this honey-do listing.

The lengthy delay left my wife discouraged and overwhelmed. My multi-talented maiden can outwork experienced work crews and out-decorate professional decorators; however, the possibility of finishing this project without any assistance only added to its postponement. I promised my participation after the vacation.

My surprise plan was the enlistment of my handyman friend to paint the room, install the wallpaper, match the molding, and add the top border while we were away on our family vacation. This would be one of the greatest gifts of all time. Surprised expressions, joyful gratitude, and special treatment awaited me.

The children were apprised of the amazing gift. Their excited energy had them jumping for joy in anticipation of mom’s astonishment and dad’s achievement. It would be the cherry on the top of this family’s best vacation sundae.

I asked the family to wait outside the door so I could check the house. Everything was safe and in its place. No house invasion by burglars or rats. Most importantly, the beautiful wallpaper and colorful border had been wonderfully placed without any mistakes or mess for me to clean up. What a husband! What a lucky wife to have such a thoughtful spouse!

Our smiling daughter held her mother’s hand as they waited in the entry. Her face beamed with the joy of a Christmas morning. The younger boys applauded as I announced the queen’s grand entrance into the family room. One shouted, “Surprise!” The other, “Ta dah!”

My wife was surprised! She was speechless! The shocked look on her face was priceless. Her gorgeous eyes became extremely large. Both hands covered her open mouth. Her knees trembled and weakened.

She leaned against the doorpost as she continued to gaze around the room at the wallpaper and border, carefully chosen to adorn her living area.

Her eyes began to fill with tears; her head began to slowly move back and forth. She would point at the wall and then place her hand back over her mouth. The kids continued to dance around the room. Her husband went from glee to puzzlement.

She pointed again at the wallpaper and then at the adjoining room. She repeated this gesture. Several times, she pointed at the wallpaper and then toward the other living area. The multitude of wallpaper rolls and border were no longer stacked in the garage. They were on her wall.

THE WALL IN THE WRONG ROOM!

Yep! I directed my handyman friend to redecorate the WRONG ROOM. Surprise!

My precious wife remained speechless! In fact, she did not speak again for two days. The shock silenced everything. No complaint. No correction. No criticism. She just went to bed and covered her crying eyes.

I stood there staring at the wallpaper. I felt like D. K. Adams when the police officer informed him the blankets in the back seat were not his wife and sister-in-law, to which D.K. replied, “Huh?”

Marriage requires commitment…so does insanity.

Someday, this too, would be a funny story; just not sure I would live long enough to see that someday. Somewhere, Beyonce is singing for all the Dreamgirls out there, “You should have listened.”

The wallpaper never came down, but neither did its place in family lore. Every subsequent vacation had its moments where the rest of the family retold the Wallpaper Story with all the exaggerated facial reenactments and laughter at dad’s expense. When I get a hearing aid, I will smile as they tell the Wallpaper Story.

Hearing is not the same thing as Listening. I am much better at hearing than I am at listening. Listening is a communication skill that enhances a relationship. It expresses value, respect, and interest in the other person. Listening is a tool of understanding the other person, who they are, what they like, what they want.

Too many times I hear the words but fail to grasp their importance. I tend to assume that I already know what the person is about to say. Most of the time, I “listen” while thinking about my reply. (I am listening to all of you out there who are shouting, “Amen” to this. Well, at least, I hear you.)

My wife once stated, “You were not even listening to me, were you?” I thought that was a strange way to start a conversation. Then I realized she had been talking for several minutes. When she asked me to repeat what she had said, all I could come up with was, “You were not even listening to me, were you?”

I am not a good listener, but I have not given up hope. Listening deliberately attempts to understand the message of the speaker. It requires effort, no interruption, and an affirming non-judgmental response.

Listening requires me to pay attention. That means I need to change my focus away from the television or computer. It means putting down the cell phone and stop texting. I can hear and process several things at the same time. However, that is not listening. Listening requires a choice of where I place my attention. I have to put away what divides my attention. (I said I am still learning.)

Can I share what is helping me become a better listener? Deciding I want to become a person who loves first and loves most. Preoccupation with self is a detriment to listening.

What drives listening? Love. Listening is primarily a spiritual connection based on love.

How you listen to others is indicative of how you listen to God. Uninterested? Pretense? Inattentive? Divided attention? Short attention span? More concerned with sharing your ideas, opinions, plan?

Love listens. Learn to listen to God first and most. Others will benefit. Listening to God’s Word is a great place to start. “Quick to listen; slow to speak” (#1 Textbook). Listen better to creation as birds sing, winds whisper, waves crash, and thunder roars to the glory of God’s love for you. Listen to others share their heart.

One of the best things you can do today is to listen to someone’s heart…until it is poured out completely.

“Being heard (listened to) is so close to being loved that most people cannot tell the difference.” (David Augsber)

Love listens first. Love listens most. That can be challenging. I am a very slow learner, but I do understand the goal.

Remember the most important thing in life. Love God and love others. Also, remember your wife. I offer two real-life suggestions.

1. Always double-check for visual and verbal confirmation of your wife’s presence before you drive off to another state or place a Dairy Queen order on her behalf.
2. If you do not pay attention to your wife’s wants and wishes, do not try to surprise her.

I offer this paraphrase of the prominent scripture invoked at many weddings for beautiful brides and their dumb and dumber men. Love is patient, love is kind…Love never leaves a loved one behind; love never gives the right gift in the wrong place…love never fails. (#1 Textbook)

Love listens First. Love listens Most.

Remember to keep dancing; it a vital part of the built-in Survival Guide. You will make it through this episode of life…someday.

How do you love more? Comprehend the infinite capacity of love. (next session)