THE STEWARDSHIP OF SUFFERING

ALL OF LIFE IS A STEWARDSHIP.

All of life is a gift from God to be lived in grateful honor to God and love to others.

That certainly includes your talents, things, and time.

It also includes your suffering, pain, and grief.

I think we all would like more of the former and less of the latter. Our prayers ask God for better talent with more things and time. We pray for no or at least less suffering, pain, and grief.

The only thing more painful than going through suffering is someone sharing another lesson about suffering. Sorry to add to your suffering.

I want to start our consideration of suffering and stewardship with the facts, not our feelings. What is the truth when we are buried in our sufferings? Is it worth it?

  • GOD’S WILL FOR YOUR LIFE IS REVEALED THROUGH GOD’S WORD.

God saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe. Every day was recorded in God’s Word! (Psalm 139:16).

God’s word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Psalm 119:105).

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

Since we are God’s children, we will share his treasures—for all God gives to his Son Jesus is now ours too. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering (Romans 8:17).

OK, we are not arguing with God about his plan and all the future goodness (glory) we will receive. But what about this part about present time suffering?

IS IT WORTH IT?

Let me insert my descriptions of present suffering and future glory into this discussion even though you know what suffering feels like and have some idea about heavenly glory.

Suffering is the loss of something you want, such as the loss of a loved one, the loss of good health, or the loss of security. Suffering is also the addition to your life of something you did not want, i.e., cancer, stress, problematic circumstances.

Our future glory is all the immeasurable and infinite goodness of God wrapped up in Jesus Christ now in us who wait for its full and final revelation.

So, I ask again, is it worth it for your stewardship of life to include suffering, pain, and grief? Let us ask God.

  • For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us (Romans 8:18).

Does your future ‘glory’ seem so small and of no account compared to your present ‘suffering’? Sure, it does today. ‘Suffering’ is real. Suffering can consume your thoughts and feelings. It can even take over your life.

Whenever your suffering is considered ‘out of context’, it will overcome everything else. Your thinking becomes impaired. You lose sight of the horizon. Your measurements of worth get messed up.

Here is a reminder from God’s Word to help you refocus on reality. God’s future goodness is far greater than your present suffering.

I am not downplaying the reality and the severity of your suffering. Suffering is real, hard, and painful, but there needs to be more to your suffering than it just being felt.

Your ‘present real-time suffering’ needs to be considered in the context of ‘the future glory to be revealed’ that is guaranteed by God’s absolute sovereignty, undeniable truthfulness, and proven faithfulness.  

The future glory is beyond all comparison. Really? How do we know?

The biblical word for glory in this passage is a description of ‘weight,’ something with substance, incalculable reality. In his Exodus revelation of his glory to Moses, God described it as His immeasurable goodness to the undeserving. In the New Testament, God’s glory is manifested in the life and love of Jesus, God’s gift to and in us who believe.

God encourages us to do what Paul, the writer of Romans, did. Consider this. Calculate the two. Do the math. Weigh them on the scales.

SUFFERING vanishes into the air when compared to Future GOODNESS. It is not even close. Suffering does not even register on the scales of worth and it does not subtract any time from eternal happiness.

Well, those are just words, not real-life experiences. Let me remind you who wrote those divinely inspired words. Listen to what he knew about suffering.

I worked harder than anyone. I was put in jail many, many times. I was whipped to the legal limit and beyond more times than one can count. I faced death again and again and again. Five different times the religious leaders oversaw me given their terrible thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once they threw rocks at me until they thought I was dead. Three times I was shipwrecked. Once I was in the open sea all night and the whole next day. 

I traveled many weary miles and have often been in great danger from flooded rivers and from robbers and endangered in front of so-called friends and sworn enemies. I faced grave dangers (“You said grave danger.” “Is there any other kind?…shout out to the movie, A Few Good Men)…grave dangers from mobs in the cities and from death in the deserts. Grave dangers in the stormy seas and from fake friends.

I lived with weariness and pain and sleepless nights. I was often hungry and thirsty and without food. I shivered with cold, without enough clothing to keep me warm.

Besides all this, I had constant worry for loved ones and restless nights praying for brothers and sisters who could not have a good relationship with one another. I shared their sadness and bore their burdens. I helped some people spiritually and I was spiritually hurt by others.

Oh, by the way, I was also blind for a while, and I never got any time off from this ‘thorn in the flesh’ stuff that had me begging for relief.

Paul’s conclusion: All my suffering is not worth being compared to God’s promise of future goodness. NO COMPARISON.

Why did all that suffering happen to Paul? (1) To make him more Christlike in his life and love and (2) to encourage you to do the same.

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have HOPE (Romans 15:4).

HOPE: the confident expectation of experiencing all the future goodness God has promised…Somehow…Someway…Sometime.

We live in a world with many hopeless people. You suffer as well, maybe even more than most; however, you have HOPE.

We confidently and joyfully look forward to actually becoming all that God has had in mind for us (to live and love like Jesus). We also rejoice in our sufferings, problems, and troubles, because we know they are good for us and help us to learn Christlike character, hope, and love (Romans 5:2-5)

We rejoice in HOPE of the glory of God. Not only that, but we also rejoice in suffering …WHAT???

Back to God’s Word.

  • After you have suffered a little while, our God who is full of goodness in Christ, will personally pick you up and put you back together stronger than ever (1 Peter 5:10).

Suffering, pain, and grief all have expiration dates. None lasts forever, not even the chronic hurts. Even the longest earthly times are ‘just a little while’ compared to imperishable eternal glory.

We do not like suffering, and I am not suggesting you go looking for it. We would all prefer a lifetime of Disneyland happiness. However, I do wish to address our wrong thoughts about suffering.

This real world is broken, futile, and vanity. It is chasing the wind while running in circles trying to catch a moment of happiness.

Sometimes, we feel abandoned or ignored by God. We feel lost and lonely in our hurt. We even battle thoughts that it is some kind of punishment for some recent or distant past wrongdoing. We suffer in blame and shame. WRONG!

In this world, we will have trouble. Jesus warned us that we would face trouble in this world; but He also encouraged us to experience its hope and happiness.

What is the truth about why you suffer?

Jesus left you an example to suffer like He suffered. Jesus saw it as a God-given stewardship (1 Peter 2:21).

We have ‘peace’ with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). The word peace means two have come together to be one with nothing to irritate or divide. The verb is in the continuous present tense. You have it today, tomorrow, the next day, and all the future endless days.

You have everlasting standing in the divine favor of God who transformed you from within. That is the ‘glory’ of God’s grace, which enables you to ‘rejoice in suffering and tribulation.’

The verse describes ‘crushing pressure’ that cause one to ‘be burdened down with stress and trouble.’ What happens? The pressure squeezes out what is inside you.

What is inside you? The life and love and power of Jesus.

Everyone suffers. It is part of living in this grand but fallen world. You and I suffer with Christ. Look for the joy and the hope.

REALITY CHECK: Now, how are you feeling? I know. About the same or worse. Maybe you added some guilt to your pain and suffering. You read or listened to the words, but you feel the same. The suffering, pain, and grief are still here.

Go listen to God. The will of God is revealed in the Word of God.

GOD’S WORD REJOICES IN THE INFINITE GREATNESS AND IMMEASURABLE GOODNESS OF GOD.

How you think about God influences your emotional responses to suffering. I was taught that every person is either a little-godder or a Big-Godder. How you see your God predetermines how you respond to all the suffering, pain, and grief you experience in life.

Suffering is real and it hurts. But it has no worth in comparison to God’s future goodness stored up for your happiness.

I care about you. I hurt with you and pray for you that you will take all your suffering and place it on the scales of God’s Word.

It will not lessen the suffering, but it will lighten the load.

What a legacy to leave behind to your family, loved ones, and those who do not yet know the hope of Jesus Christ as they consider how you had such hope and love in the midst of all that suffering!

Share the not so secret but often forgotten reality about your suffering, which is limited in time, weight, and worth.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

DO YOU NEED HOPE?

Do you need some hope today?

Today marks a time of change and chaos. A different president will lead our country while almost half the people did not vote confidence in his/her leadership. In truth, much of the feelings will be marked by anger and angst. The state of our world feeds anxiety. Some see the political results as the end of our world while others rejoice in how the world turns.

Do you have hope today?

Romans 15:13 expresses a wonderful prayer that God wants every believer to experience: “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

We can easily get swallowed up in darkness and despair, not just in political circumstances, but also in personal life. We need some reality of hope on our horizon.

God gave us a PROMISE and a PRAYER for you to embrace and share with others.

  • HOPE is the confident expectation that I will see and experience all the future good God has promised me…Somehow…Someway…Sometime.

No earthly events can stop that from happening. Read that verse again: “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Now comes a question: “Does that verse even come close to describing you? Can you honestly say that your life is filled with all joy and peace? Do you abound in hope?”

How would you rate yourself on a Scale of 1-10? JOY…PEACE…HOPE?

How would your family or co-workers or those who differ with you about politics or cultural issues rate you on “being filled with all joy and peace in believing and abounding in hope?”

To varying degrees, we all fall short of experiencing that divine promise. You might have lots of hope, some hope, little hope, no hope, even hopeless.

However, I cannot imagine anyone expressing no interest in having joy, peace, and abounding hope. Would you choose to be depressed, down, gloomy, negative? Do you prefer worry, anguish, turmoil, stress, chaos? Do you like hopelessness and living in despair? I doubt it.

I cannot imagine that any of you would vote for no more joy, no more peace, and no more HOPE.

This Winsday Wisdom is for you and me and for those we know who are in need of hope.

HOPE IS THE CONFIDENT EXPECTATION OF EXPERIENCING ALL THE FUTURE GOOD GOD HAS PROMISED…SOMEHOW…SOMEWAY…SOMETIME.

God’s Hope is a certainty, not a wish or a possibility or a mind over matter thing, like “hoping” it will rain, or “hoping” you win the lottery, or “hoping” you can change your circumstances by positive thinking.

God’s Hope is a divinely and eternally guaranteed promise.

God does not tell us how He is going to do it. God does not explain to us the way or the timing. God’s hope is a confident expectation, a steadfast certainty, a dependable reality.

My go-to verse is found at the end of Psalm 27. “I would have DESPAIRED unless I believed that I would still see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” That is HOPE!

A common factor among those who are depressed is that they lack hope. Discouraged people and those who are apathetic about life lack hope.

Angry people lack hope. Anxious people lack hope.

This Promise is a practical verse for us all as we navigate life’s trials!

The God of hope wants you to be filled with all joy and peace so that you will abound in hope.

How does that prayer become a reality in you? Let’s consider a few truths which never change with the changes of political leadership.

  1. God identified Himself as the God of Hope.

The Almighty God is the sole source and giver of hope. In this verse, the is a definitive article in the original Greek calling attention to emphasis. It literally translates God THE hope.

Hope is a Person. Romans 16.20 points to God THE Peace. If you know the Person, you have Hope and Peace.

There is nothing you can do better or that is more important than getting to know the Person of God…through the Word of God. That is the intent of the written Word of God. Romans 15:4:  For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope.

No matter what is going on in your life and in this world, you have a reason and the resources to hope! If you lack hope, the first place you should look is to God, who is the GIVER of true hope.

God is our God of hope, not just for tomorrow, not just for the future. He is the God of hope for today, our hope in the present.

HOPE is not the stuff of wishful thinking or fantasy dreams. Hope is grounded in the truth revealed in God’s Word. It is real, relevant, and reliable. It is supremely sufficient for your suffering and circumstances.

Everything starts with God. In difficult, unpleasant, and unwanted circumstances, we tend to lose sight of our God. When you know the God of hope, you have a different outlook on the whole world.

You will see HOPE on the horizon and feel HOPE in your soul. This Biblical verse serves as your spiritual binoculars for the changing cloud formations in our culture. It is your lighthouse for the rough seas.

2. The goal of hope is to fill you with all joy and peace.

LOOK at some of the words in this prayer.

  • JOY is the deep-down sense of well-being and contentment in the heart. Your relationship with the Lord is independent of whether circumstances are favorable or unfavorable.
  • PEACE is the inward state of calm which is also independent of circumstances. It refers to a sound mind…literally. bound together…not coming to pieces because of your circumstances.

Big Q: Where would the world notice we have joy and peace and hope? Most likely, it would be in the midst of our most challenging circumstances…sickness, suffering, loss.

  • FILL means literally to fill “to the brim”. The Greek word means to make complete, to take possession of and ultimately control. This is the same verb used in Ephesians 5:18. “be filled with the Spirit.”

The idea is that what fills a person, exercises control over the person’s attitude and actions. 

My Dad loved his coffee hot, extremely hot. He also liked for his cup to be full, running over full. In the restaurant, he would always send his coffee back to be reheated. At home, he would take his piping hot, freshly brewed coffee and place it in the microwave on high for an additional minute.  

Why not ask God to fill you up to the brim and overflowing with Joy and Peace?

  • ALL joy and peace in every part of your life without exception. The prayer is not asking for a percentage, portion, or fraction, but for all the joy and hope that God has promised. Complete. Total.
  • BELIEVE. Our part in God’s purpose is to continuously and habitually believe that God has proven Himself truthful and trustworthy. Faith in God comes with the Power to hope.
  • SO THAT-Purpose clause/reason. The Purpose of God’s Hope in you is so that (purpose clause) you may abound to overflowing with hope.
  • ABOUND-to literally overflow. We become the containers of God’s super-abundant, overflowing hope.

The word “abound” is an interesting word in this text: it means that we have more hope than is necessary. We overflow. Our hope exceeds the container’s capacity measurements.

The same word is used when Jesus miraculously fed the five-thousand-plus multitude with the little boy’s food basket of five loaves of bread and two fish.

The disciple Philip declared it was impossible, much like what you are thinking about your life and its circumstance. When Jesus told the disciples “to gather” what is left-over—it was the same word as abound. You will have hope and enough left-over to share with others.

“Abounding” is the word used to describe the waves coming in on the beach. They crash in, continuously, relentlessly, one after another, unending, never ceasing. The waves continue to roll in whether you are awake or asleep, whether you are wallowing or wading. That is exactly the way God’s hope comes into your life.

You will have more than enough hope for your circumstances. Why more than enough? So, you will share with others.

  • APPLICATION: Learn to think in terms of God’s character and not your circumstances.

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

Place your hope in God’s goodness, not doctors’ reports or medical research or the stock market gurus or any political election.

Hope in God is absolutely essential to living. We need it as much as we need air to breathe. Without it, the soul suffocates. People who lose hope struggle to live; they lose energy to confront life’s challenges. They have great difficulty getting out of bed in the morning and even greater problems putting the anxious mind to rest at bedtime.

Hopelessness makes the heart grow empty, the mind darkens with despair, and the steps falter along the journey. Whatever problem is causing you to feel anxious, you can be certain your anxiety will not lessen the problem. It will only make you more miserable. 

All of us need hope or else we cave in, fall apart, and give up.

This is my prayer for you today, that you may ABOUND IN HOPE.

Embrace the promise in Lamentations 3:21-24. This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. The Lord is my portion; therefore I have hope in Him.

I would have despaired unless I believed that I will still see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

For the record, I have five loaves and two fish of Hope today …more than enough to share. Take some of the left-overs for you and for someone else who needs hope. Take as much as you need.

EYES UP! I LOVE YOU!

THE BIG LETDOWN

This is the anniversary week of one of the biggest letdowns in my life.

Webster’s dictionary describes letdown as “disappointment, discouragement, unmet expectations.”

Dr. Seuss wrote, “When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.”

Dr. Seuss also wrote, “Don’t cry because it’s over. SMILE because it happened.”

Every kid knows that the author of such classic books as Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham must be right.

We have all experienced the soul-crushing pain of that last letdown or that worst letdown.

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

Today finds me reflecting on a vivid sad memory. It was the day I let my dad down. Of course, I rightfully blame it on my brother, the weakest link in the story. The incident defined Bill and destroyed me. Somehow, it strengthened our dad. The memory does make us all SMILE.

My dad is my hero. I am sure there were many times I let my dad down, but he never showed it. This one day was very different.

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

Let me set this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing can be overrated.

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

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

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

Occasionally, Dad would enjoy a chocolate milkshake, smuggled in by one of the brothers.

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

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

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

There came a day when Dad needed to be transported to the cardiologist. Bill and I helped Dad to the car. We rolled him out onto the porch in his wheelchair. Now came the challenge to navigate the steps.

Bill and I lifted the wheelchair to carry Dad down the stairs of the porch. I picked up the front of the wheelchair while Bill raised it off the porch by the rear handles.

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

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

However, in this situation, Dad was still in the wheelchair. We lifted. The chair folded.

Dad was squeezed like a bubble about to explode. There was a brief moment of fear that flashed across Dad’s face. He was falling and squeezed at the same time.

The brothers panicked because we were unaware of why the wheelchair was collapsing. We frantically searched for a reset button.

We did our best to protect Dad from falling out onto the steps. We made it to the front yard. We stood there in disbelief with the wheelchair suspended in air.

Dad looked as if he were folded and sealed inside an envelope. At that point, it would have been easier to mail him to the cardiologist office.

When we set our beloved occupant in the folded wheelchair on the ground, the wheelchair remained limp. We could not get it to reset into a steady chair.

We tried to let Dad down gently. His legs and arms were pressed together across his body.

As the wheelchair sides caved in to swallow Dad, he slowly sunk to the ground.

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

Bill apologized. I apologized for Bill.

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

Dad NEVER used a wheelchair again. NEVER!!!

We gave away the ultra-deluxe wheelchair to our rehab missionary working in Ukraine.

Dad slowly shuffled to the car, then into the doctor’s office. When the physician asked how he was feeling, Dad said he thought his heart must be doing better. He had just survived one of the most terrifying moments in his life.

The Dr. Seuss cardiologist responded with, “Well, at least you can still smile about it.”

It has taken years before Bill and I could smile about the big letdown. Angie’s eyewitness account can be summarized by our Uncle Derwin’s infamous phrase, “I was aghast!”

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

PERHAPS SOMEONE LET YOU DOWN PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, OR RELATIONALLY.

Circumstances do not have to be perfect for you to get through today or this week or any crushing letdowns. You have choices.

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

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

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

Here is a go-to verse from God’s Word, Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be worried, for I am your God. I WILL STRENGTHEN YOU. I WILL HELP YOU AND I WILL NOT DROP YOU.

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

Dad reminded us of this truth. “People will let you down, but the Lord will never let you down.“

I am thankful we did get to share a few more milkshakes with Dad. I don’t cry over the wheelchair letdown anymore. I just SMILE and give God thanks.

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

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah —Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen

THE KISS THAT ROCKED MY WORLD

It was so unexpected. I did not see it coming. I was not prepared for it. My reaction was one of shock, not pleasure.

Uncle Fester kissed me. Right on the lips!

Well, it was not really Uncle Fester from the Addams Family TV show. It was his doppelganger. His twin from another time and country.

UNCLE FESTER OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY

There are kisses that rock your world. That electrifying unforeseen first kiss. The forever sweetness of that marriage kiss. That fantastic baby-breath kiss of your child. This kiss was unlike any of those.

Let me set the stage for becoming the kissing booth for Uncle Fester and his twenty lookalikes.

I met the Uncle Fester clone in Moldova, the poorest country in eastern Europe. The country is sandwiched between Ukraine and Romania. The nation was a former part of the Soviet Union. It still had the presence of Russian police and the evidence of Communism in all its buildings and impoverished people.

The church I pastored became involved with some special people from Moldova. We supported future Kazakhstan missionary, Kairat, as he studied in a Moldovan college. Nicolae and Svetlana Sili are two of the most precious people on the planet. They carry God’s love to orphans and women’s prisons, as well as organize camps for youth and senior citizens throughout Moldova.

Our concern for the homeland of these world-changers led to an invitation for our staff to visit Moldova to conduct a conference for church leaders from around the country. Steve, Derek, and Gabe would depart two days prior to allow them some additional stopover time in Rome.

I am not a world traveler. It is kind of like cooking. I do not mind doing it; I am just not very good at it. It seems to end up in a mess.

The travel highlight for me occurred because of a travel snafu. The airline mistake allowed me to engage in a one-day solo walking tour of Rome, the City of Seven Hills. Maybe all roads do lead to Rome.

Somehow, I covered most of the three-day and five-day tour features in a fast-paced jaunt from morning into the night. The City of Fountains did not disappoint. I saw St. Peter’s Square, the Vatican, and the Sistine Chapel with Michelangelo’s’ ceiling masterpiece.

I experienced the Roman Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, the downtown shops, and outdoor cafes. I was captivated by the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and the site of Paul’s imprisonment.

Those were the highlights. The lowlights would include travel problems.

My flight from America found me seated next to a sick, crying two-year-old. The green stuff from her nose was running down her chin. Her tired and unresponsive mother remained conked out for most of the transatlantic journey.

The crying toddler never stopped whining and sniffling. Occasionally, a stewardess would stop by to offer a sucker. I told the stewardess I preferred the cherry ones.

I was stranded in the Rome airport, unable to get to Romania or Moldova. Apparently, the airline agent considered my ticket as unacceptable. Invalid. Counterfeit.

Travel advisory: Be cautious about suggestions to use Gorilla International Discount Tickets. It looked as if the Leonardo da Vinci terminal might be the location of my Last Supper. No wonder Mona Lisa was not smiling. She missed her flight waiting on the airport gate attendant to return from a cappuccino break.

The airline was unhelpful. Western Union was shut down. Language problems dominated every attempt to resolve the situation. My only alternative was to get a hotel room in the city.

On the twenty-five-minute trip from the terminal to the city hotel, the taxi was intercepted by motorcyclists who hammered their fists on the car windows and hood. It was similar to a scene from The Lincoln Lawyer, starring Matthew McConaughey. These biker gang members rode mopeds instead of big Harley-Davidson hogs and the passenger carried no resemblance to the movie star.

Apparently, the taxi driver owed some money he lost on some soccer match bets. He ended up outside the car in a stereotypical Italian argument. Loud language. Passionate differences. Demonstrative hand gestures which included verbiage that needed no translation.

Maybe this was why Rome was not built in a day. The Italian police arrived with sirens and lights to disperse the fight scene and free the flow of blocked traffic. Welcome to the Homeland of Pizza.

I encountered another police intervention in Moldova, a nation filled with political unrest. Russian police interrupted the hotel meeting. They suspected the clandestine meeting involved some criminal activity. They insisted on checking our passports with threats of imprisonment. They lined our group up against the hallway wall.

I was a little nervous since my passport was still at the airport under review. I avoided being carted down to the police station when the Gestapo-like enforcer stopped his passport check at the person standing in line next to me.

You probably think I make this stuff up. No. I was about to be arrested when divine intervention or the sight of a free doughnut distracted the interrogator.

There were food challenges besides one less doughnut. The Sili family went to great efforts to provide fruit and muffins for breakfast. The rest of the time, every meal involved POTATOES…in every form imaginable and in some ways unimaginable. Everything was boiled, so we were never served French fries or a baked potato.

There was one major exception to the Potato-fest. Kairat’s family made a huge sacrifice to feed us a delicacy…HORSE MEAT. Originally a nomadic people, the Kazakhs considered the horse as a proud feature of the Kazakh culture. Horse meat is served at special occasions to honor the guests. The mother was so proud and so happy to host us. I insisted that we were not honorable guests, but the horse was already on the table.

I could not understand any of their language except for Kairat. I eventually learned zhylky minezdi referred to “horse” and  blctblk tamak meant “hot food.” As the platter was passed to me, the hostess said, “Beshbarmak.” That is the name for boiled horse meat served on a bed of noodles.

Have you ever eaten hot horse meat?  

Anthony Bourdain, the celebrity chef and travel documentarian, advised to “eat without fear, whether it was an indigenous stew, grilled fish head, or mystery meat.” How do you eat mystery meat without some measure of fear?

The Kazakh delicacy smelled like…well, like boiled horse meat wafting into my nostrils. It looked slippery. I picked up a small piece to show my appreciation. As the horse meat neared my mouth, my gag reflex kicked in.

I paid Gabe to eat from my plate. He was discreet. I just smiled and expressed my appreciation for such a delicious old nag.

The hosts insisted on a second serving of the steaming steed. The Kazakhs credit the heavy protein source with making one faster, stronger, wiser, and more virile. You will need to ask Gabe. I am indebted to him. He took one for the team. Thankfully, Gabe took two for my team.

When we sought to leave the country the next week, my passport was flagged again as the rest of the staff departed for home. I appreciated Steve’s concern. (That is a little sacrcastic.) He asked me to let them get on the plane and leave for home before I tried to straighten out the problem.

My three amigos departed for home. Security interrogated me for hours in the Chisinau airport dungeon. The loud woman and mean man looked as if they were members of Spectre who stepped right out of a James Bond movie. Their heavy Russian accented English only added to their villain imagery. They kept me in a tiny room and threatened imprisonment for espionage. Really?

Did they really suspect I was smuggling out the recipe for beshbarmak? They demanded a lot of money to bribe the officials. Later that night, finally convinced I had no money and was worth no ransom to anyone else, they deported me to Romania.

My most memorable day in Moldova was a road trip to the country’s southern rural area. The President of the Baptist church association invited me on a day long trip to visit several churches. He hired a chauffeur and a sports car. We were cramped in a small, fast car with a wild kid who envisioned himself as a Formula One Grand Prix driver. Maybe he was.

Our race car driver drove fast. Extremely fast. We were not on interstate highways. These two-lane rural roads without any shoulders were barely paved. Mario took every curve at breakneck speed with total commitment that there was not another car coming toward us. He swerved to dodge potholes at the rate of one every two seconds. He would occasionally squeal to a head jerking stop to avoid plowing into the back of a mule driven cart.

I stared at the wasteland and thought about how long it would take for the news of the wreck to get to my family. God promised to be with us even to the ends of the earth. This desolate area must be near there.

My nerves were on edge from the blind curves and innumerable potholes. It did not help to be told the president’s travel credentials had expired just as we came to an armed security roadblock. At the moment, imprisonment seemed preferable to car crash.

We visited a church involved in a business meeting that needed no translation. Hearts are the same in any language. The heated arguments sounded like some American church disagreements and covered some of the same subjects. Without any translation, I completely understood the divisive decision requiring the oversight of the neutral leader.

At another stop in a muddy rural area, the entire village came out to see the sports car and surprise visitors. I was the first American ever seen by any of the younger generations. I was a curious celebrity. They stared at me, touched me to see if I were real, and asked for my autograph. I smiled and obliged, signing anything placed in my hands. I might have given away the rights to the Louisiana Territory.

One teenager asked if I were an astronaut who landed in the wrong country? One small step for man, one giant leap for American graffiti.

The coup de gras of the one-day trip was next, following another harrowing drive as our car raced around sharp curves and deep potholes. We occasionally bounced through some of them which realigned my spine.

The church building was fairly large. The outdoor restrooms were …what one might expect. I am old enough to have used an outdoor restroom. My grandparents had one during my childhood before plumbing was installed in their house. The early years of our church camp offered similar facilities. This one was different. It was larger. Multiple holes. No stalls or dividing partitions. It was just cheek to cheek.

The horrendous odor set off my gag reflex. I was gasping for fresh air. As Roberto Duran, the welterweight boxing champion known as the Tasmanian devil with hands of stone, cried out in his defeat to Sugar Ray Leonard in the Louisiana Superdome, “No mas.”

The president presided over the ordination of a young preacher being installed as the new church pastor. The men sat on one side of the church and all the ladies on the other side. I sat on the platform with the president who asked me to speak and pray. Next came the confirmation ceremony. The young pastor knelt on the platform while the church leader, the president, and I stood beside him.

The older men lined up against the wall in preparation to kneel in prayer next to the young man. I thought the first man looked like Uncle Fester. He was friendly, fat, bald, and mostly toothless. I noticed that the next twenty men resembled the first. What were the chances they were all related?

Uncle Fester #1 prayed for the young man. Then he embraced the president and the church leader. As he approached me, I stuck out my hand to greet him. He did not notice. He placed his hands on my cheeks. He held my face in a death grip, stared into my eyes, and flashed his toothless smile.

I had no clue what would happen next.

He kissed me…on the lips…for a long time. When the slobber-fest ended, he pulled back, patted my cheek, and smiled. It looked as though there was one less tooth. Apparently, he enjoyed the moment.

I was in shock. And, no, I did not enjoy the PDA. I began to shake. I needed to wipe away the dribble. I have never been able to read the Textbook’s admonition to “greet one another with a holy kiss’’ without this flashback.

Then, I realized that Uncle Fester #2 through #20 were headed my way. We were on the verge of an international crisis. Do I shove the next guys away? Do I run? Or just scream?

I offered a cheek to the next two uncles. It was not easy to free my face from their vise-like grip. But where there is a will, there is a way. They puckered and aimed for the lips, only to graze the side of my face. As the platform became more crowded, I declared, “No mas.”

I quietly stepped back from the greeting party. I was imperceptibly out of the line of fire. Maybe I could slide back in place if the other side of the church came to express their gratitude for my visit.

The meeting was followed by a Potato-fest dinner with some drink that must have been fermented Orange Crush. I shivered as each man approached to offer me more potatoes. Was this one Uncle Fester #1 or a relative wanting to finish the kiss? Was the kiss a custom or a joke on the foreigner?

Uncle Fester’s kiss made the “horse meat” the second worst part of the trip.

This was not my best moment in my Love First and Love Most crusade.

I do not travel much anymore. I love kissing my wife. I cherish the kisses from my daughter and grandkids. I hug my sons. I embrace all the football players on our team. I am very free and prevalent with expressing, “I love you.”

I will respond better the next time I greet Uncle Fester in heaven.

Pray that I do better at loving first and most.

The currency of love and gratitude never runs out and is recognized in all countries and ethnic groups. We just have to learn not to gag on the opportunities to share the precious commodity.

Practice gratitude until it overflows in every encounter. Be thankful for kind people, as well as those very different from you. Be thankful for our American freedoms and blessings. Be thankful for your family.

Be less critical of potholes. Give thanks for the minimal indentions in the road. It could be much worse. Be grateful for the “potholes” in your life which make you more dependent upon God.

There are people in impoverished countries who appear to be much happier than most Americans. They have far fewer “things” but show far more gratitude. Learn from them to count your blessings and not your complaints.

Be more loving to the less fortunate. Greet them with loving actions. Be more understanding that every person has a need to be loved. Smile more. Embrace when appropriate. Say, “I love you” often.

The #1 Textbook encourages us to be mindful that whatever we eat or drink, do it all for the glory of God.

I once ate Sunday dinner in the rural home of a large family. They served seven dish variations of turnip greens. It was the best they had. I am not a fan of turnip greens. I smiled and gave thanks it was not horse meat.

Appreciate the sustenance God provides with your daily bread. Be grateful for a potato or Happy Meal. Be thankful when you see a horse still standing on four legs.

Whether you are homebound or a world-traveler, find a way to love first and love most.

One kiss can rock the world.

The Pursuit of ‘Happyness’ (Revisited)

Thomas Jefferson and the Founding Fathers wrote in our country’s Declaration of Independence about our God-given rights “to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

That made me think about God’s promise of happiness to Adam and Eve and their pursuit of that happiness. The promise and pursuit are very similar to our situations. There is fullness of joy in God’s presence (#1 Textbook). More to come on that, but first…

I am a weird duck. My mind just went AWOL. I can only hope the insanity is temporary. A quick glance into my mind maze will show why it is so difficult for a good thought to find its way out into the real world.

While thinking about happiness, my brainwaves detoured to happy songs. This is very random and probably out of place, but I thought of a tune I have not heard in years.

My mind connected the pursuit of happiness to the old classic Coke commercial revived from the early seventies: I Would Like to Teach the World to Sing in Perfect Harmony.

I’d like to teach the world to sing,
In perfect harmony,
I’d like to hold it in my arms
And keep it company

I’d like to see the world for once
All standing hand in hand
And hear them echo through the hills
For peace throughout the land

I’d like to teach the world to sing
In perfect harmony

I’d like to build the world a home
And furnish it with love

Wow! What a strange blast from the past! I thought it was a bad commercial then, but it still creates images of happy times.

Then my thoughts went to my personal favorite feel-good music, Dancing in the Moonlight. My mind must be stuck in the music vault.

Everybody is dancin’ in the moonlight
Everybody’s feelin’ warm and right
It’s such a fine and natural sight
Everybody’s dancin’ in the moonlight

That song always makes me smile. Always.

What comes to your mind? How about Pharrell Williams singing Happy? I can hear the sweet voice of Karen Carpenter singing Top of the World where “there’s a pleasing sense of happiness for me.”

Go old school and dip into Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah, or You Are My Sunshine.

I realize my references are from an unknown time for most of you. For the younger crowd (I think that is all of you), go to your own generational genre. But you really need to Google some of these songs to know what happy sounds like.

Whether you swing with the 30’s, disco with the 70’s, line dance with the 90’s, or do some hip-hop krumping through this millennium, I recommend you divert your attention to some music that puts a smile on your face and revives a cherished memory in your heart.

I DECLARE THESE NEXT FEW MINUTES A FREE, NO WORRY, NO ANXIETY, PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS FEEL-GOOD ZONE.

Turn on the music in your head’s jukebox. Go to your mind’s iPhone playlist. The sound of a familiar melody might put you back on the trail in pursuit of happiness.

God opened that path for all of us. It started with Adam and Eve. The happy God created us to join Him where joy is eternal, pleasures are evermore, and the enjoyment of goodness will continuously increase through all the coming endless ages.

God started Adam and Eve right in the middle of God-centered happiness. They enjoyed:

  1. Perfect People
  2. Perfect Place
  3. Perfect Pleasure
  4. Perfect Provision
  5. Perfect Promise

They were the only persons who have ever had a perfect spouse. No deficiencies. No irritations. No idiosyncrasies. No forgetfulness. No selfishness. No problems.

They were the only couple who ever lived in the “perfect” place. Their home was in Paradise. Nothing to improve. Nothing to change. Nothing to repair. Nothing to compare.

They experienced perfect pleasure. Their happiness never diminished. Never disappointed. Never died. Never needed augmentation.

Their provision was perfect. Everything they needed, Whatever they needed. Whenever they needed.

They also had the perfect promise that none of this life experience of happiness will ever end. It will only increase. Exponentially. Forever.

They had the perfect promise of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. Eternal Life. Everlasting Liberty. Endless Happiness. God would be their fullness of joy independent of their circumstances.

What happened?

They became unhappy in their pursuit of happiness. They led all of us down the wrong path.

How?

The only perfect people who ever lived in a perfect world imagined they were NOT HAPPY. They created another world in their minds where they were NOT HAPPY.

I have mentioned this before. I call it living in the Imaginary World of Not. Adam and Eve lived in a world where they were increasingly and endlessly happy. Yet, they imagined that they could be happier in the forbidden world of NOT. They used the God-given gift of imagination to create a world that did not exist.

They imagined a world where they were NOT HAPPY. They imagined a world where God was limiting their happiness by His presence and promise. They imagined a world in which they were responsible for their happiness.

They imagined someone else, something else, or somewhere else would make them happier.

They lost that lovin’ feelin’ and happiness was gone, gone, gone, woah.

The Imaginary World of Not. You have visited there.

I am NOT happy. I am NOT in total control. I am NOT appreciated as much as I should be. I do NOT feel loved. I am NOT being treated right. I am NOT getting what is fair.

We imagine there might be a better Life. Maybe there is More Liberty. What if the pursuit of happiness leads down a different path?

What if there is something or someone better than Perfect? What if we left God out and did not live by God’s “perfect” plan? Maybe we could have happiness without God.

Adam and Eve took their thoughts from their Imaginary World of Not and led all their descendants into a free-fall from perfection. We know nothing of a perfect spouse or perfect home or perfect work or perfect happiness or perfect peace or even a perfect hope of better than what we have.

We just fight for our rights to pursue happiness. To pursue happiness down a path where happiness does not exist. Down the path marked, I AM NOT HAPPY.

That is where we live. That is why we are so miserable at being happy.

Turn on the music. Take a sad song and make it better. Na-na-na-naa, hey, Jude!

What about us?

We do have a perfect person living with us. His name is Jesus. Anywhere with Him is a perfect place to be at the time. The pursuit of happiness with Him as our guide will lead us to our home in a perfect place where there is no sadness, no tears, no loss, no separation, no death. Just everlasting happiness and the pursuit of even greater happiness than the present overflowing satisfaction.

We also have perfect provision. God already gave us His son, Jesus. Surely, He will give us everything else that is good. Everything we need at just the perfect time we need it.

Then there is the perfect promise that everything in this life works out for our greatest good. In the next life, it will take God forever to show us how happy we can be. Countless ages of immeasurable happiness in ever-increasing quality and capacity of enjoyment.

Until then, you can be happier in your pursuit of happiness now. Do not listen to the thoughts running around your mind which originate in the imaginary world of not. Do not focus your thoughts on all the things that are not right or perfect in your world. Do NOT eat of that fruit.

Find your happiness in God.

“The deepest and most enduring happiness is found only in God. Not from God, but in God” (John Piper). Happiness in God reaches its consummation when we love God and others first and most.

Jesus will show you how to live with imperfect people with a sense of happiness. He lives inside of you to lead you to others he intends to love first and most through you.

Love God and love others first and most. That is the perfect path for the pursuit of happiness.

Oh, smile a little smile for me…even if your name is not Rosemarie.

I have declared this a day of no worry and no anxiety. No dark clouds to fret and no bad times to regret. Pursue some happiness. If you cannot make it a whole day, then take a few hours of freedom from stressful things. At least, use up a few minutes in happy thoughts.

Give yourself a break today. You do not have to go to McDonalds or share a Coke.

The perfect pursuit of happiness is a choice. A choice to trust God’s perfect plan and perfect process. A choice to ignore thinking about the imaginary world of NOT. Take a break from your woes and your foes who seek to steal your happiness.

Follow the advice of Dr. Leo Marvin, the exasperated psychiatrist in the movie, What About Bob? He told his phobic patient Bob Wiley, portrayed by Bill Murray, to “take a vacation from your problems…It starts with ‘baby steps.'”

Take a vacation day from the imaginary world of NOT. Stop thinking about all the people, places, things, and reasons you are NOT happy. They all live in your imaginary world of “I’m NOT happy because..

Pursue happiness today. Start where you are. If you are near God, then you are already in the happy zone. Read the sign which points to the pursuit of greater happiness: Love others. Love them first and most.

With God’s perfect help, you can be happy with whomever, wherever, whenever, and for however long. None of them have to be perfect for you to be happy.

That’s right. The people, places, and plans in your life do NOT have to be perfect for you to be happy.

Go for a smile. That is the goal for today. Keep smilin’.

Join me in the pursuit of happiness with an attitude of gratitude with which we remind ourselves every day to count our blessings.

I’m counting my blessings and I am in pursuit of the Real Thing.

I’d like to teach the world to sing,
In perfect harmony,

I’d like to build the world a home
And furnish it with love

THE SHOE (a lifted tribute to a trampled brother)

This Winsday Wisdom has no redeeming value. It is more about a shoe sole than your soul.

Why, oh why, would I stand on a football field holding one tennis shoe in the air as if I were carrying the Olympic torch? It was homage to my brother. What is homage? It is a public act of honor and respect.

A BROTHER in TRIBUTE

Why the shoe? You would need to know the history.

Shoes come in all sizes, shapes, and brands. While many impoverished souls in this world would be thrilled to have one good pair of shoes, some celebrities and shoe lovers own hundreds of shoes, ready for every occasion.

Shoes protect and provide comfort for the feet while standing, walking, running, climbing, or working. They can be functional necessities, fashion statements, or logo love.

Technology, time, and social influence have propelled shoes to symbols of wealth and status. Customs, traditions, and social media contribute to the importance of shoes.

Symbolic shoe rituals are attached to spiritual and social customs. Sometimes shoes are removed as a spiritual expression of leaving the materialistic world behind as one meditates in worship. At other times, the removal of shoes is a necessity because the keeper of the clean house demands dirty shoes remain outside.

In Cinderella, the glass slipper signified hope. Dorothy’s Wizard of Oz ruby slippers pointed to home. The Christmas Shoes aimed at the heart.

In The Red Shoes, Vicky’s red ballet dancing shoes emphasized life and death choices. Other shoes are statements of independence or revenge. Some footwear followed The Road Not Taken, which “made all the difference.” Other Boots are Made for Walkin’ and “they are going to walk all over you”.

Michael Jordon soared Nike Air shoes to higher levels. Elvis protested not to step on his Blue Suede Shoes. Preachers tell us not to judge others when we have never walked in their shoes.

Throughout time, shoes have also played a vital part in cultural statements beyond footwear. In the Middle East, a thrown shoe is a horribly offensive insult equivalent to throwing dirt on someone. In the Arab culture, it is a sign of contempt and disrespect.

I don’t think one needs cultural enlightenment to understand that a shoe toss to your face is not intended as a gesture of love. Shoe-throwing has found its way into many protest scenarios. Even good old American red-neck country boys might agree that a boot thrown at your head is probably a sign of disgust, if not something more.

In some past cultures, a thrown shoe was a challenge to a life and death duel. There are incidents of shoe-tossing as an act of cultural celebration or declaration of freedom.

In the Bible, the removal of shoes expresses respect and reverence for being in the presence of God.  In another scriptural account, the relative of Boaz, the future husband of Ruth and great-grandfather of King David, removed his sandal to finalize a legal transaction.

God threw His shoe over Edom. I have no idea what that means. I do not think it is a good thing. Neither is “Moab is my washpot.”

That kind of confusion led me to do something this week that might be just as unexplainable.

I am no Goody Two Shoes. I tend to break with conformity and prefer to go barefoot. Whenever that is inappropriate, I choose athletic tennis shoes.

This past week, I stood on a football field and raised my tennis shoe over my head in homage to my brother. It was personal and private. However, it was done in a public place.

Instant pictures on social media were not the concern of Boaz back in his days. Yet, God saw to it that the legal transaction would be recorded for public knowledge for the next four thousand years as a homage to true love.

Here is my sad story and sordid confession along with the social media account.

Friday Night Lights had been exciting. The team I work with had just defeated the crosstown rival on their home turf. It was a beatdown victory, a gridiron delight. The packed house scenario was highlighted by the opponents’ anticipated homecoming celebration and the breakout of their new uniform colors.

My description of the gridiron contest is not intended as disrespect for the opponent. Their coaches are top-notch, and their program is elite. Last year, they did a big-time whipping on our team. For this night, it was the memories from two years ago that flooded my mind.

The rival team won a hard-fought regular season contest at this same stadium. Our team turned the tables with a six-overtime thrilling victory in the state playoffs.

My brother recently retired as a highly successful coach with multiple state championships. However, that last visit to this opponent’s stadium was marked by a strange and chaotic ending.

The other team clinched the victory with some last second heroics. In their excitement, some of their players ran to our sidelines and began to taunt. Their whole team bolted onto the field around those guys and began a wild celebration. Jumping. Hugging. Shouting. It was football joy, only in front of our bench.

As the game ended, my brother and our other coaches started to the midfield for the traditional postgame handshake with the opposing coaching staff.

Suddenly, pandemonium ensued as several opposing players unintentionally knocked my brother to the ground. The wild celebrants danced and trampled my brother on the ground. Our athletic director and his best friend reached Coach Bill before I could.

Zach and Rick pushed away the swarming players in a daring rescue operation that would have made the Secret Ops proud. However, it was not before Bill had been kicked, stomped, and buried under the avalanche of athletes.

My brother was relatively unscathed except for losing one shoe in the embarrassment. Our mother always called him “Cool Breeze.” Even in the bedlam, our coach carried out his congratulatory handshake with the opposing coaches.

Through it all, he carried his shoe in his hand. The television cameras followed our coach as he walked off the field, one shoe on and one shoe clutched in hand.

A BROTHER in DISTRESS

Once we knew brother was unharmed, our athletic director and I enjoyed hearing Bill’s description of the event. We would all joke about it later. The whole event was comical, except for the endangerment to one’s ribs and reputation.

How does an opposing team get away with knocking down the rival coach and then trampling him underfoot?

I vowed revenge.

Yes, I am petty. Or as Mom would say, “You are very petty.” I think she meant to say, “very pretty.”

I might be petty, but my memory is longer than an elephant’s trunk. My revenge can put a skunk to shame.

In a moment that had no significance to anyone except myself, I chose to entertain myself in our team’s postgame celebration. Our victorious football players gathered with the pep squad as the band played the alma mater. I stood all alone half a field away.

I took off my right shoe and raised it over my head. The Statue of Liberty has never stood more proudly over the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I muttered to myself, “This is for you brother. I am with you heart and sole.”

My raised shoe was such a small thing in the night’s events, but it felt so good!

Jungle Book author, Rudyard Kipling, wrote “Teach us to delight in simple things.” In the rush of life, too often we overlook “the little things” that bring joy and express love.

As I get older, I notice “the little things” much more often. A small act of kindness. A bird chirping. A grandchild smiling. A beautiful butterfly. A beach in the moonlight. A thank-you note. A breath of fresh air. A raised shoe.

“The little things in life are what connect us to all the big things we live for” (Robert Frost).

The little things in your life are important to God. Those small feelings might be pretty, or they might be petty. Neither is insignificant.

How are you feeling today? Are you ready to throw a shoe at someone? Are you walking to your own beat? Are you wanting to raise a shoe in celebration or protest? Or just go out and buy a new pair of shoes? You never know when you might lose one.

Add a little humor to your life. It might steer your mind away from petty behavior and tense situations. I recommend doing little things that amuse yourself. You do not need to cause a show. Just lend a shoe.

If you choose to raise a shoe, do it in honor of someone. If you feel the impulse to throw a shoe, expect one to be returned.

I am under no delusion. What goes around comes around. I am not the only person with a petty toolbox. Someone will top my shoe show, and it will be at my expense. People should not be so petty!

Have a blessed day and delight in the little things of life.

STRESS

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

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

The recent record heatwave added an excuse to my reasons for limited physical activity. The latest weekend travels increased my desire for doughnuts and chocolate cupcakes. I also experienced a mild reaction to a change in my medications during the previous week.

The stress of life seemed to be running on high pressure these past two weeks. I felt crushed under the circumstances. So, I went into the stress test carrying lots of baggage marked regret, fear, anxiety, and finality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I recalled my best friend and doctor extraordinaire texting me not to break the machine. There was no danger of that, but I do remember when my good friend, Big John, actually broke the cardiology treadmill in Amarillo.

This would have been a classic comedy skit. No one laughs at this account more than John. There is no way my description of this event can do justice to the scene of destruction.

John asked me to go with him for his stress test. I was not prepared for the chaos. Neither were the medical personnel. The nurses hooked John up to all the stuff and off he went on his treadmill journey. It was a walk through the park.

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

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

The floor began to vibrate. More wires came loose. A half dozen wires attached to John’s chest now dangled in the air. The blood pressure cup dragged the ground. Undeterred, Big John kept huffing and puffing on his way to nowhere. Then two wires connected.

Sparks flew just as the doctor came into the room. He yelled to stop the machine.

Three nurses were exhausted and in need of oxygen for their panic attacks. The physician was about to flatline from the heart stress aggravation. The entire medical staff stood and stared as if in some drug-induced trance. No one spoke.

As the machine ground to a halt, John slowly finished his steps. I helped his sweat-covered body with its adornment of loose wires to a bed where he labored to catch his breath. Each gasp for air vibrated the bed and filled the room with strange sounds.

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

The cariologist stared at John and then back at the treadmill carnage. He shook his head in disbelief as he silently exited the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Full disclosure: Big John recalls the doctor’s predicted roundtrip destination as Denver. It is possible he was suffering from a Rocky Mountain High caused by the enormous stress.

Stress is part of life and how we handle the stress matters immensely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are pressures in life which place constant demands on our emotions and energy. WE CANNOT ESCAPE THEM.

There are pressure-people who make loving first and loving most much more challenging. WE CANNOT AVOID THEM.

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

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

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

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

I encourage both of us to take our stress and put it to the faith test.

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

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

Side by Side Rewind

Another football season has begun. That means thrills for many and groans from others. This is a rewind account of my first college football experience which includes a WInsday WIsdom spiritual application for all of us.

A capacity crowd filled the football stadium as my university team battled a Top Twenty opponent. The game was not going well, at least not for our offense. While that unit struggled, the defense competed valiantly to keep our team within fourteen points, aided by a blocked punt for our only score.

Four minutes remained in the game when our team received possession of the football, eighty yards from paydirt. Surprisingly, our offensive coordinator told me to go into the game as the new quarterback.

Why would I be described as the new quarterback and why might that be surprising? Glad you asked.

I was a new quarterback for the team because this was my first year on the varsity squad and new because I was the fifth string quarterback, behind the starter who quit the team three weeks earlier, behind the second stringer who broke his ankle the prior week, and behind the third and fourth quarterbacks who had been embarrassingly ineffective throughout this game.

This was a new quarterback experience for me as well. Not because of the game pressure, but because of my lack of a tightknit relationship with my head coach. We barely knew one another. His job demanded greater involvement with alumni public relations than player development. Dressed in his fedora and overcoat, his demeanor always appeared aloof and authoritative. I was a fifth string newcomer raised to respect authority, even from a distance. To my own detriment, I kept my distance.

I grew up a coach’s kid. My dad was my high school coach. Of course, we were close on and off the field. He was my hero, a future Hall of Fame coach. Our hearts competed with the same fervor; our minds thought of the same strategy and play calls.

We were side by side in the locker room, on the sidelines, at church, at home. Every night, he told me he loved me. He always believed in me while my college coach had no confidence in his new quarterback.

I used the word surprised because when the offensive coordinator relayed the call for me to go into the game. it was totally unexpected, by me and everyone else who knew anything about college football. Suddenly, I had to take off my headset, find my helmet, then quickly add some eye black so I would not look like a scared fifteen-year-old.

Surprised would also describe my head coach. Actually, he appeared shocked that I was standing beside him waiting for instructions. He glanced at me, then looked away and quickly returned to staring at me as if I were waiting for his postgame food order. Stunned, maybe even traumatized, that I asked what play to call, he reached for his hat and thought about throwing it to the ground. Have we come to this?

My surprised coach offered these fiery words of encouragement as he pushed me onto the playing surface for my first college gridiron experience, “Oh (expletive)! Go on in. You can’t possibly do any worse.”

Surprised would also describe the players huddled on the field who barely knew me. I had never taken a snap with the first team offense in a game or practice. I was known as the scout team quarterback who practiced on a different field against our first team defense. The senior starters had never shared the same dining table or the same huddle with me.

As I entered the huddle for my first collegiate participation, the captain of the team raised up, backed out of the huddle, stretched both arms out wide, and greeted my arrival with a screamed expletive. “Who the (blank) is this?”

I simply shrugged my shoulders and blurted out, “Surprise!” 

Excited? Yes! Was I nervous? Of course not! I stepped into the huddle, called out the formation, the play, and the snap count. As our team moved into position, I surveyed the defense, seemingly scattered all over the field. Some were growling like dogs after new meat. Some were bent over in laughter.

I did not see my first pass launched on the big stage because I was quickly buried under an avalanche of big, mean, defensive linemen. The wide receiver came back to the huddle and muttered that the pass was too high. He went on to say the football landed in the second row of the stadium. I thought that was excessive commentary.

I had clear view of the second pass hitting a player right in the numbers on his chest, but he dropped it. The fans of both teams cheered, gasped, and moaned, all in one breath. It turned out to be a blessing. “Bad Hands Greene,” who could not hold onto the ball, was wearing a different colored jersey than my team. It should have been an interception, the pick six variety. Instead, my mother’s favorite quarterback lived to try again on third down.

Is uncontrollable shaking of one’s body any indication of nervousness? What about stammering so badly the captain had to translate the next play-call to the rest of the players? Yes, my confidence had been somewhat rattled by seeing our team managers packing up the equipment and our coaches throwing their headsets on the ground in disgust. The home fans began a mass exit from the stadium with thoughts of a lobster roll and brewski dancing in their heads.

As the legendary Yogi Berra so poignantly stated, “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over!”   

Our football game was still in progress. My third pass was a completion to our tight end along the right sidelines for a first down. The next pass found the halfback in the flat. He evaded a defender and advanced the ball to midfield.

Cheers, some genuine and some sarcastic, erupted from the remaining fans. Players were excited. Our captain shouted expletive-laced encouragement. Coaches repositioned their headsets. This was what I was created to do.

WHY DID MICHAEL JORDAN CHOOSE #23 ?

The subsequent play was a pass completion to our wide receiver running deep across the middle of the field until he was tackled at the twenty-yard line. There was still time to score, maybe even tie the game.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The opposing team called timeout. I imagine our brief success shocked their coaches. Who was this new guy hurling spirals down the field, marching his team toward the endzone? They definitely did not have a scouting report on this new quarterback.

If they paused to read info on this new quarterback in the game program, they would be surprised. They were chasing the wind. There was nothing about me in the publication. No picture. No bio. Nada. My name and number were buried somewhere in the team roster.

The next few minutes would become surreal and memorable, even more so than the previous ones. As the opponent sought to regain composure and reestablish their dominance, I did what every quarterback should do in any and every situation. Look cool. I think the current generation of players call it #swag, baller, or dripped out. It is all about style. Look cool.

Look cool jogging onto the field for pregame warmups. Look cool in the huddle calling the play. Look cool standing in the pocket to throw a pass while the defense swarms around you. Look cool in success or adversity. Look cool especially during time-outs like this one, because the television camera might be on you.

I knew how to do “cool.” I was definitely dripped out. I practiced this since I was a kid. I had studied the great ones and imitated their movements until I perfected the look. I might not read directions for how to use Great Stuff, but I had quarterback cool stuck all over me.

I slowly unbuckled my chinstrap. I did the walk, the quarterback walk. All the great ones walk the same way. Brady. Namath. Montana. Aikman. Manning. Rodgers. Mahomes.

The cool quarterback walk. Head down, but eyes up. Helmet slightly lifted so the facemask is above the eyes. Shoulders slightly slouched forward. Shuffle toward the sidelines to talk with the coach. It should resemble more of a stroll than a walk. Not too fast, not too slow. Just chill, as if there are no concerns in the world.

With many hours in front of a mirror, I had it all down perfectly. Except, there was a concern. As I turned and looked at the sidelines, I could not find the coach. The whole scene was reminiscent of a Where’s Waldo puzzle.

Where was the coach? I could see a hundred excited crimson-clad teammates moving around. I saw hundreds of special guests with their sideline passes crowding the areas on both sides of the bench. I saw trainers, doctors, cheerleaders, and security personnel. No coach.

I immediately went into “cool protection” so I would not look like some spooked dog searching for his owner. That would not look cool.

I made a quick decision. I decided I would stroll directly down the twenty-yard line until I arrived at the sidelines and then turn right towards midfield. Surely, I would encounter the head coach somewhere along that path.

My head was steady, but my eyes kept moving as they scanned the masses along the way. It crossed my mind I might not recognize the coach since we were not extremely familiar with one another in this type of setting.

As I crossed the forty-yard marker, an arm reached out and grabbed me from behind. It happened! I walked right past the coach! Video replays captured his stunned look as the new quarterback passed by oblivious to his presence and instructions.

Wow! Just a little embarrassing. And he thought I could not do any worse? I proved him wrong.

Later that night, I recounted the events of the game with my friends as I described the emotions of my first experience as a collegiate quarterback.

Suddenly, the irony and sadness hit me like a ton of bricks. The difference between the casual relationship with my college coach and the side-by-side one with my high school coaching dad mirrored my present spiritual condition.

In my prep years, I made the decision to stay side by side with God. No more running in circles chasing the wind. No more failures of searching for fleeting happiness in the imaginary world of not. No more free-falling. However, in college, I had become extremely casual toward God and my #1 Textbook.

I had not run a wheel off…yet; but I had drifted into the imaginary world of not, where I was NOT HAPPY with the coach and NOT HAPPY with my life and NOT HAPPY with my school and NOT HAPPY with others around me.

The sideline search turned out to be a much-needed spiritual wake-up call. I played in the game and the newspapers learned my name, but I forgot to love God and love others, first and most. That is the most important thing in life whether you are the star player in your world or the fifth-string flunky in someone else’s universe.

Where are you…really? Spiritually and emotionally? Are you side by side with God? Or are you on a casual spiritual jog through this life?

Do you need a spiritual wake-up alarm to check your direction, alignment, and progress?

This is no time to be casual about loving God and loving others. The #1 Textbook is the only reliable spiritual compass. It is relevant to every circumstance in your life. It is wisdom for every decision and every relationship. You can even look cool while reading it.

Stay side by side with God so you can Love others First and Most.

I FACE-PLANTED A WATERMELON

Face-plant—to fall suddenly and face-first, often resulting in an embarrassing situation.

Have you ever thought or dreamed about becoming a writer?

My mother was a high school and college English teacher. She taught writing skills. She wrote occasional newspaper and magazine articles.

She wrote her books on the hearts of her students. Her most noted works were transcribed into the hearts of her three sons. Subsequent volumes were imprinted in her grandchildren.

I never enjoyed writing. I preferred sports, television, and an occasional math lesson.

I wish I had read more, thought more, and written more. Some of you might have similar wishes.

Here is your opportunity to write a short story. I will provide a “Writing for Dummies” guidebook. That description is vague enough to include either the writer or the readers.

First, you need a subject. There are so many to choose from, but personal stories can add a flair of entertainment which engages the readers to think of similar people or events in their lives.

You could dive into romance, comedy, or mystery thrillers. Your style might cater to food, travel, education, political commentary, or science fiction.

Today’s writing assignment is a simple personal story with a catch phrase for the readers. Follow along and make your own notes. Remember, this is for “dummies.”

PART 1: Develop a storyline.

  1. The subject: I faceplanted on a watermelon this week.
  2. Initial reaction: No way! Yes way!
  3. Introductory reflection: It was a new lifetime experience. It had never been on my bucket list.
  4. Wide lens observation: This was extremely embarrassing.
  5. Thematic thread: I hope no one else witnessed this; so, I can describe it as a fictional short story.

Now, you are ready to write.

See the event happening in your mind. Place it on continuous replay. Look for the details and the reactions.  

Consider the event from several angles. How would this look and feel to you? What would others see and how might they react? What would they say? Is there a lesson to be learned?

PART 2: Put your thoughts on paper.

  1. Develop the context. Let me give you an example.

It was late Sunday evening when I stopped at the grocery store. I had been gone all day. I was dressed in gray slacks and a black polo shirt. I had slipped into my flipflops for the ride home.

As I approached the front of the store, I noticed the watermelon display and thought of my wife and company back at the house.

My first decision was finding a melon with telltale signs of being ripe and juicy.

That led to another small decision that would have big consequences. Should I go inside to get a shopping cart to return to load the watermelon? Or maybe just carry the melon toward the store’s entrance with its automatic opening doors and place the watermelon inside the shopping cart? To save time, I chose the latter.

2. Point to the main event. Let me give you an example.

My recollection of the next phase was a blur, not from the action speed but from the resulting concussion.

I picked up the chosen prize-winning watermelon and turned toward the store’s entry less than ten yards away. My left flipflop snagged on the corner of the wooden pallet supporting the large container of watermelons.

I began to stumble forward, tightly holding the watermelon with both hands. Three quick steps. Right, left, right.

At this point, my body was leaning far too forward to recover. It was no longer a question of whether I would fall, just where and how hard.

One possible landing site was to burst through the large glass entry doors which did not have time to automatically open as I approached from the left. The other option was to abandon liftoff and go down with the plane, in this case, the melon.

3. Add colorful commentary to paint the scenario, in this case, mostly red. Let me give you an example.

Two more rapid steps and then in the words screamed by the infamous sportscaster, Howard Cosell, “Down goes Frazier!”

That is how Cosell described the surprising knockout of the undefeated champion, Smokin’ Joe Frazier, by the upstart challenger, George Foreman in the second round of the heavyweight boxing championship fight in Jamaica.

“Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”

Cosell’s caption became a social catchphrase to describe someone humorously stumbling, tripping, or falling down.

The legendary exclamation had time to ring in my ears. Yep, all one had to do was change the name of the defeated foe. It was the perfect articulation of what everyone was thinking at the moment. “Down goes the Dummy!“

As each repetition rang through my dumbbell, I moved closer to the knockout. First, my knees hit the pavement, tearing the slacks and the skin.

I extended my arms as I clung to the watermelon, hoping to achieve some sense of balance. The repetitious exclamation rang throughout what was left of my empty mind. “Down goes the Dummy!”

Next to join the concrete slab was my left shoulder and then my hips. It hurt! A week later, they still do.

Then the coup de gras! It is pronounced the Q-D-Gra. There was a time in my life that I thought this phrase referred to a big moment in life.

It is a French term which literally translates to “a blow of mercy or grace.”

Grace is such a marvelous amazing spiritual word. However, in this usage, the phrase describes “A DEATHBLOW DELIVERED TO END THE MISERY OF A MORTALLY WOUNDED VICTIM; IT IS THE FINISHING STROKE OR DECISIVE EVENT.”

It was time to put this poor soul out of his misery. As my head came crashing toward the hardened surface, the coup de gras was my face-plant on the watermelon.

I do not know if I instinctively moved it there to cushion the crush of my head or if some angel softened the blow with a sense of humor.

4. Describe the reactions. Let me give you an example.

I survived the face-plant. As I looked up, the entrance doors slid open. Two young workers stood staring at me. One had seen the whole fiasco fall. The other stood with his mouth wide open, just thinking about the clean-up.

The nice young man asked with concern, “Are you alright?”

Look at me! I am an old man who did a high dive into the cement landing on his knees and shoulder. I face-planted into a mid-sized juicy ripened watermelon. Are you thinking of throwing a party? Am I alright?

I looked at the kind young man and said, “No.” At least I was honest.

I respectfully declined his assistance to help me to my feet. He repeated his question, “Are you sure you are alright?” to which I replied, “I assure you that I am not.”

He was baffled. I was hurt, mostly by embarrassment. As I stumbled to some sense of upright decorum, the thoughtful young man offered me the towel attached to his belt. I imagine it had been in worse places than a watermelon-colored face.

The second young man insisted I let him clean up the mess. He also offered his condolences, “I just hope you are okay. We can report this to the management.”

I insisted with slightly more sarcasm that I was not okay, but there was no need to contact the store management. I did not intend to sue. I imagined the security video would be shown at the store’s Christmas party, hopefully with musical accompaniment.

PART 3: Help the reader discover some worthwhile thoughts from the story’s humorous hijinks or terrible travesty.

  1. Highlight your life lesson. For example, last week I wrote about the importance of understanding that GOD SPECIALIZES IN TAKING YOUR MESS AND MAKING YOU INTO HIS MASTERPIECE.

God takes your life story’s mess and turns it into His divine masterpiece, literally, his poem. (Ephesians 2).

  •  Suggest some identifiable examples for your readers. There are many examples in God’s Word, each worthy of a soap opera tell-all story, but each designed to give us hope for our lives.

One example would be a man in the running for the worst messed up life in all history. He was the emotional basket-case carrying so many basket-cases that society just called him ‘Legion,” the scary man with too many problems to count (Mark 5:1-20).

Legion was the outcast of all outcasts. He was a man 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.

Yet, God specializes in giving help and hope to those who have lost their bearings and wrecked their lives.

Legion had lost everything that mattered in life. He destroyed his family, shipwrecked his career, and blew up his friendships. His good name became the stuff of demons.

His life face-planted in a darkened cemetery.

The 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.

He scared away other people and, yet, he was lonely. His entire life was permanently “out of order.” Frightened people practiced social distancing from his personal pandemic.

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.

The consensus opinion 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.

Many lonely people go through life like Legion dwelling in the graveyards of greed, gripes, and grumbling. Their wheels fall off. 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 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, 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.

Jesus searched for the miserable, messed-up man. Jesus loved him first and most. 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.

PART 4: Touch someone’s heart with your conclusion. Make people want to read more and dream of better days.

  1. It seems as if our life stories have a lot of messes in them. God specializes in taking your mess and making you into his masterpiece.

Do you feel as if you are the most messed-up hopeless person on the planet? The Lord knows how to get you rolling again.

Transformed by love, Legion went home packing the most important thing in life, loving God and loving others.

You can, too.

  • Most of my messes remain hidden behind the paintbrush of the master artist whose colors are full of grace.

Grace is the undeserved goodness of God as a breath of mercy full of finishing strokes which transform the spiritually mortally wounded heart into a life-giving force, beating with the desire and the power to live and love like Jesus.

God’s grace sends a deathblow to the sinful self-centered wasteland controlled by our soul. It is replaced by a new Lord and new life and new eternal destination of ever-increasing and everlasting goodness and kindness beyond our earthly ability to imagine, much less write in a short story.

POSTSCRIPT 1: This was not my first face-plant. It was the tastiest and most colorful.

POSTSCRIPT 2: It is okay to tell someone you are not okay. Sometimes, you feel like a mess…and it hurts!

POSTSCRIPT 3: Oh, you should be a writer. Write your story for your loved ones, for your children and grandchildren to read to their children. Write encouragement notes to those storm-tossed souls struggling to see hope on the horizon. Write letters of gratitude to those who have touched your heart.

Need a hint; Here is an example from Madi, my seven-year-old granddaughter.

THINK OF SOMEONE WHO HAS TOUCHED YOUR HEART… AND TELL THEM THEY ARE YOUR HERO!

DISCOMBOBULATED: OUT OF ORDER

DISCOMBOBULATED.

I woke up one morning this week thinking about the word, “discombobulated.”

DISCOMBOBULATED.

I could not shake the thought. What in the world happened?

Now this is how I imagine my mind works.

There are two marbles rolling around in my head. One left brain marble and one right brain marble. Every once in a while they collide and produce a thought.

It might be seconds or minutes or hours or even days before these marbles run into one another again to cause another thought. Sometimes the thought is connected to the previous thought, and sometimes their collision begins a totally unrelated thread of thoughts.

DISCOMBOBULATED. The marbles had collided in my sleep. I woke to my discombobulated thought. Had I finally joined the “woke” group in our culture wars? Maybe the “woke” people are discombobulated.

I lay in bed waiting for another thought as the two marbles avoided one another in some mind game of “Tag. You’re it.”

Finally, one marble tagged the other. A thought developed. Why am I thinking about the word, “discombobulated?” The silence was deafening. It did leave me perplexed.

In a few moments, the mind game continued. I asked myself, “Why are you thinking about discombobulated?” My mind answered myself, “It is because your body is feeling discombobulated this morning.”

Why? Why? Why? The record was broken as the rhetorical thought circled the empty cavern.

Then it happened. It seems to happen a lot lately. It sounds like a fire alarm going off in my mind. The red-light flashes and the big horn blares its warning: “The marbles have left the building. This is not a test. The marbles have left the building. Stop what you are thinking. Please exit your thoughts as quickly and safely as possible. We repeat, Elvis and the two marbles have left the building.”

No wonder that I was feeling and thinking DISCOMBOBULATED.

After I picked up my slightly damaged marbles, I asked myself why I was thinking about a word that I do not even know what it means.

My English teacher mom used that word. It was always in some negative context. I never remember “discombobulated” associated with a compliment.

Mom always exhorted her three sons to think for themselves. I imagine she hoped we had inherited more than two marbles. Maybe, she knew.

She always asked me her favorite rhetorical question, “What were you thinking?” I usually imagined that any remark at that point would be classified as disrespectful, definitely not reasonable.

My mother gave my new bride two note cards as a wedding gift. One was her recipe for chocolate pie. “Use once every decade” was written on the bottom of the card.

The other note card had this connotation added, “You will need this often.” What was on the card? “What were you thinking?”

Mom dreamed of her sons looking like the famous statue of The Thinker. Dad just hoped we would not lose all our marbles.

Well, I still had two marbles rolling around in this cavernous brain. They collided, and my mind was filled and focused on DISCOMBOBULATED.

I wondered what the word even meant. Maybe it was a dance craze term from the Saturday Night Fever days of long ago. DISCO-bobulated.

Or was the “m” out of place in the word and it was really pronounced disco-BOMB-ulated? It might be a term for some powerful explosive. Perhaps it is what happens when one blows his mind. Well, that thought just bombed!

I was taught in English class that the prefix “dis” means “the lack or absence of something.” Combo refers to a special order at McDonalds or Chik-fil-A. So maybe the word indicates the lack of availability for your favorite combo meal.

I think the marbles missed that connection, but I suspect your mind will secretly crave your favorite combo meal later today. That is just how the marbles roll!

And what is the significance of “ulated” in the word ending?  I have heard of “congrat-ulated” and “reg-ulated” and “stim-ulated” and “over-pop-ulated.” At this point, the two marbles stopped to rest.

I do not recall any English dictionary term for “ulated.” Late refers to slow, sluggish, or past the expected time. Maybe “ulated” is just cultural slang for “you-late-my brother” or “Bob, U-lated us.”

I determined the next time the two marbles did a fly-by that I would look up the word in the dictionary. “U-lated,” Bob and I did exactly that.

DISCOMBOBULATED—”a confused mess; a thought that something is not right; feeling upset, uncomfortable, disoriented, or out of order.”

“Eureka!” …and Niagara Falls!…and “Come here, Watson!”…and “One small step for this man, but one giant leap for all you out there feeling discombobulated!”

A confused mess. Well, I have not lost my last two marbles. They are just rolling around in some disorderly fashion which left me confused about discombobulated.

OK, bring out the card. “What were you thinking?”

I knew better than to try to explain.

Just hang the sign around my neck. “OUT OF ORDER.”

I wake up a lot of mornings feeling like that. OUT OF ORDER. Do not seek to engage me in conversation. Do not expect anything in exchange for your monetary deposit.

This mind is OUT OF ORDER. Do not shake it. Do not engage it in conversation. Do not try to pour in coffee or reasoning. It is DISCOMBOBULATED!

Have you ever felt spiritually OUT OF ORDER? Spiritually discombobulated? Just a confused spiritual mess?

Join the club. It even happens to people who still have all their marbles.

We live in a world where the cultural wars, political pundits, global impacts, and rapidly changing circumstances create a spiritual mess. Our world appears OUT OF ORDER.

Nothing works as it once did. The #1 Textbook describes this life as “bent and broken, humanly unfixable” (Ecclesiastes 1). There seem to be no norms and no certainties except death and taxes.

Social media attacks, negative thinking, fearful insecurities, and extreme chaos threaten not only our happiness, but also our survival. Cynicism, anxiety, and despair cause spiritual discombobulation.

SOMETIMES THE FEELING COMES FROM THE INNER CRITIC RUNNING RIOT IN YOUR HEAD. IT ALL LOOKS LIKE A MESS NO MATTER HOW THE MARBLES ROLL.

We desperately need an anchor for our souls. God’s Word gives trustworthy wisdom. Make sure it is your #1 Textbook.

Set your mind on the things above, not on things that are on earth (Colossians 3:2). Renew your mind (Romans 12:2). Give Jesus all your marbles.

In a changing world, the unchanging love and wisdom of God are at work in all things! Keep looking at Jesus, thinking about who He is and what He has done for you.  

God is forever faithful to give help and hope, even in the darkest moments of world and personal history. God’s abiding presence is always with you.

God’s thoughts of doing you good are as vast as the grains of sand in this beautiful world (Psalm 139:17-18). God is never discombobulated.

GOD SPECIALIZES IN TAKING YOUR MESS AND MAKING YOU INTO HIS MASTERPIECE.

Take heart. There is hope. A discombobulated mess becomes a divine masterpiece.

I made a WINSDAY WISDOM note to myself. The next time I wake up thinking about the word, DISCOMBOBULATED, I will display my OUT OF ORDER sign and go back to sleep. My last two marbles need the rest.

DISCOMBOBULATED!

There, I said it again. Please pray that I do not lose any more marbles.

I might end up confusticated or conflabberated or absquatulated.

Oh No! I see the flashing red lights. I hear the blaring horn. Evacuate all thoughts now. The marbles already rolled out of this place. My mind is blank!

Do not panic! Pause ten seconds and take a deep breath…. Nope, still blank!

OUT OF ORDER!