LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

Did you ever lend someone a helping hand, only to discover that it ended up costing you an arm and a leg?

That was how I felt as the supervisor of a youth group float trip down the Illinois River. It also resulted in a bloodied body and bruised ego.

I am not an outdoor sports kind of guy unless you’re referencing football or baseball or sitting on a Florida beach. I occasionally play golf or tennis. I am just not good with a gun (which makes me a dangerous participant on hunting trips) and not skilled with the rod and reel (which makes me a very frustrating partner on fishing expeditions).

With the exception of floating in the lake on an air mattress, my water sports experiences were usually more of a Titanic disaster than a pleasurable adventure. I once did five cartwheels and one somersault as I skimmed across the water to highlight my water-skiing skills. The slalom board landed on my head.

I was slightly better at driving the boat. I only lost one skier, but, fortunately, he was found by the lake’s Safety Patrol Search and Rescue Operation, unharmed but unhinged.

On another memorable occasion, I flipped a small sailboat upside down in the lake, dumping the contents (lunch basket, tennis shoes, and girl) into the water. I recovered the girl. That happened twice, next time with a different girl. You would think I would learn. The girls did. Sayonara.

My floating the Illinois River in a canoe was even more treacherous. I bravely sponsored a youth group for some summertime fun. Their excitement was overflowing. The rushing river was beautiful.

Our Eagle Scout took off in the lead canoe with most of the group lunch items. He arrived quickly and safely at the intended destination nearly two hours before I showed up in the last canoe.

He was Native American. I do not mention this as a stereotype or racial slur. I am just pointing out that, unlike me, his ancestors had been navigating this river for centuries. In hindsight, it might have been better for him to escort the struggling squaws and little chieftains down the river than to be the scout in this old western movie.

I did not enjoy the trip. My goal was safety, not fun.

Most of our youth group paired up and quickly embarked on the rapid river journey.

I arranged for two of the youngest girls to paddle their canoe right before I brought up the rear with another novice. I wanted to safeguard them.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

Are you kidding me? This float trip was a nightmare!

The young girls in the nearby canoe quickly flipped twice. We recovered everyone and continued down the river.

As we navigated the first bend in the river, we discovered another canoe had overturned, and the youth were standing on the banks of the river. As the empty canoe continued down the rushing stream, it impaled itself on a large branch from a partially submerged tree. The branch went over the bow and then under the first seat. The wood was too big to break. The canoe was stuck.

This is the point in the movie where Superman flies to the rescue of the damsels in distress. I took a deep breath and submerged into the river. I used all my strength and breath trying to dislodge the canoe. Obviously, I lacked the superhero’s abilities.

I struggled, strained, pushed, and pulled for what felt like hours. I imagine the stopwatch time was a matter of seconds.

When I let go, the rushing river current swept me down and away. I was no Aquaman either. “Bounce” is the correct description of my body and the river rocks. I bounced along the rocky bottom until I surfaced at the next corner of the river. I emerged from the water a bruised, bloodied, and beaten young man.

My repeated attempts proved I also lacked any Solomon-like qualities. That rocky riverbed punishment happened four times.

Four attempts of holding my breath and diving under the canoe. Four struggles to dislodge the canoe from the submerged tree branch until the strong force of the raging river threw me against the rocks. Four times the rocks held firm while my lungs filled with water and my marbles rolled around in my mind as my battered body bounced along the riverbed’s firm foundation.

My wild underwater rides “quacked” up the ducks. The old wise turtles and the small naive tadpoles were rolling on the riverbank croaking with laughter.

Scrapes and scratches replaced courage and adrenaline. Exhaustion overcame determination. I would have preferred to be “up the creek without a paddle.”

This was definitely a rock and roll river.

My clothes were torn. My body bruised. My heart and mind wearied from exhaustion. My ego had been swept downstream by the strong river current.

Finally, a park ranger showed up with a chain saw. Where was his first aid kit?

The planned thanksgiving lunch with the natives never happened. While the rest of the youth group munched on sandwiches and cookies while singing Kum ba yah, I was drowning in river water, moaning Ol’ Man River.

I get weary
And sick of trying
I’m tired of living
And scared of dying
But ol’ man river
He just keeps rolling along

As the sun set on the river landscape, I was thankful I had not lost any of the tribe. The loud ride home was truly miserable.

I never scheduled another canoe trip. Somehow, the joy of the journey down the river escaped me.

I am definitely not belittling those who love these adventurous things. I bemoan that I am just not particularly good at them and, thus, lack the same enjoyment.

I do love the swishing sound of a basketball shot going through the net. It can be both enjoyable and exciting. It takes practice, but that is part of the joy of the journey.

Learning to love first and love most is also an enjoyable part of this life’s journey. It also has to be learned because it does not come naturally.

Maybe, you have tried and failed. Perhaps you think you are just not very good at it. You might have had some poor experiences trying to learn what others describe as a joy-filled endeavor. I understand the frustrations and the fears. And the failures. I’ve been there.

Loving others is not about going through the proper motions or using the right techniques. It is not about being fully equipped or sufficiently trained.

I am not an expert on this matter, but I have heard and seen the Master of Love at His best. I watched him walk through life as the friend of the down, dirty, damaged, and demoralized.

I have witnessed how He loves me. Sometimes the river of life sweeps me gently along and sometimes the rapids come unexpectedly. I have experienced His love when I am down and out amidst the darkness of despair. I felt His love when my mind was imprisoned by stress and anxiety. I remember how He loved me through disappointment and grief.

What is the point of the hard times in this life journey? It is never the condition and circumstances of your canoe. It is the people along the way.

Jesus lives in you and me to lead us to others He intends to love through us. He will love them first and love them most.

Do you see them with their boat tipped over in the river of life? Do you notice their despair when their dreams get logjammed?

Their eyes show signs of suffering, sickness, sorrow, stress. They expose confusion, concern, loneliness, and despair. They weep; they laugh; they worry. They just need someone to care enough to listen, to comfort, to help, to pray.

I hope you will slow down your float trip to whatever destination awaits around the bend in the river. Every person you see is fighting some hard, and often hidden, battle. For many, their life is stuck or upside down.

Some are up the creek without a paddle. Others have lost their canoe.

Be kind. Be caring. Love them first and love them most. Little by little, love them a lot.

Loving others will cost you more than you expected. It might even be a little painful at times. Remain calm, stay afloat, and embrace the journey. Let your love flow like a river.

Loving one person first and most reveals a thrill beyond description. The heart pounds. The clouds rumble. The skies flash. The wind roars. The trees sway. The mountains shake. The stars dance. The angels set all heaven ablaze with shouts of praise…when one damaged ship-wrecked heart has been loved first and most.

Oh, the thrill! Now, back to that air mattress flotation fun!

The first visit to Boston by this unsophisticated, small-town Midwestern high-school hick proved to be a Tale of Two Cities. I loved the home of the Celtics, Patriots, Bruins, and Red Sox. I did not like the cold, crowded city. I ended my visit early, ready to be home. My grown-up kids travel the land in their various endeavors, but they all have that same homesick DNA.

As I waited for a taxi to the airport, a Charles Dickens type bystander suggested I take the subway, which would be quicker and less expensive. He gave me instructions on where to enter this underground transportation portal and how to take the Red Line and change trains at South Station.

The only subway with which I was familiar was a sandwich, but this sounded so metropolitan. I went down the steps to purchase a subway token, through the subway turnstile, and onto the recommended train.

The subway train traveled underground at high speeds before it came to a sudden stop. The doors opened as many passengers exited, only to be replaced by hundreds of others, pushing and pressing their way into the crowded car. With the swishing sound of closing doors, the train roared back into the darkness until it approached the next flashing light.

This was all wildly unfamiliar to me. The subway sounds, crowd, and many exits created choices beyond my customary options. The town I grew up in had only one flashing light. It was not a stop light. There was an electrical short in the Dairy Bar sign. There were only two ways out of my small town. Fast or slow.

I panicked when the subway car passed the Charles Street station. My recollection of the advised directions to the airport bound Blue Line was cloudy. I exited at the next stop and boarded the nearby Green Line. Red? Blue? Green? What’s the difference?

Apparently, color recognition matters. Unbeknownst to me, the Green Line went the wrong direction. It headed away from the airport and out into the suburbs.

Eventually, my transport train appeared above ground moving through the darkness as a trolley car. My late-night mass transportation passed many exits with no airport in sight. The farther we traveled, the fewer people remained on board. Soon, we were far away from any city lights. I lost my bearings! My confusion became fright.

I did not know whether these subway trains turned around or just dumped the remaining passengers into some abyss. Perhaps I should ask another passenger, but there were only two choices.

One man appeared as if he had been on this subway car for twenty years. At least his stare and smell fit that profile. The other guy looked like the chainsaw murderer. Leatherface just stood there with a menacing scowl, muttering something. I suspected the buzzing sound was coming from under his overcoat.

If you are in a horror movie, you make bad decisions.

I made another bad decision. Too embarrassed to ask and too afraid to do nothing, I got off alone at the next exit in complete darkness. No station and no people. It looked like the middle of Nowhere. This could not be Boston or anywhere near an airport. I had definitely gone in the wrong direction.

Thankfully, I saw a taxi driver using a pay phone under a streetlight. He informed me I was headed in the wrong direction from the airport but offered to take me there. The ride cost more than if I had originally travelled by taxi rather than by the subway to the suburbs’ route.

I know that some readers are questioning the truthfulness of this story. To the surprise of many, there was a time before cell phones, Google maps, and Siri directions. You had to ask another living person or call a friend using something called a pay phone.

I once stopped to ask for directions in Hollyrood, Kansas. That’s right. Hollyrood, (with an “R”) the land of dreams. Some dreams come true; some don’t. But keep on dreamin’. That might be the sage advice in Pretty Woman’s Tinseltown, but this Holyrood intersection might be where dreams are buried because no one knows the way out.

The highway came to a three-way split where the sign to Kansas City pointed straight up. I stopped to ask a mechanic the best way to get to KC. Gomer Pyle pondered for a moment, then asked, “How are you going?”

Well, I might take a train;                                                                                          

might take a plane, but if I have to walk,                                                                              

I’m going just the same.                                                                                                        

I’m going to Kansas City. Kansas City here I come.

He cut me off before I got to the part about the crazy lil’ women there and I’m going to get me one. That was OK. I already had one in the car.

While I am referencing a world unknown to many of you, let me add this hurtful zinger. My younger son wondered if I lived when the world was still black and white. What?

“Hey, Dad. Were you born when the world was just black and white like Beaver and Opie?”

That’s what I get for letting him watch TV.

This subway fiasco was not a black and white decision. My wrong-way adventure had been full of many colors with embarrassing red and scared white still to come.

My wrong-way subway adventure eventually led me to the wrong airport in New York City. I took an air shuttle out of Boston’s Logan Airport to NYC’s LaGuardia Airport. However, I missed my connecting flight back home. Why? Apparently, there are two big New York City airports. Who knew that? My plane ticket home departed from Kennedy Airport; I spent the night on a bench in the LaGuardia terminal.

The nightmare got worse. Feeling stupid and a little fearful, I sought to make the best of it. I ordered some hot chocolate and a sandwich at the late-night coffee shop. Suddenly, three large, very tall men closed in on both sides of me. They looked like giants. My parents had warned me about pickpockets, robbers, not talking to strangers, and not taking candy from giants!

The tallest man pushed up against me as he reached for the sugar and cream, knocking me into the giant on my left side which caused him to spill his coffee. His annoyed stare down was terrifying. With my heart pounding, I hurriedly backed out of the area, leaving behind my hot chocolate and uneaten sandwich. I returned to my terminal bench struggling to breathe.

Terminal: Webster’s Dictionary describes terminal as “the end of something,” like a transportation route or a person’s life. It carries the idea that this is where you get off…permanently. I felt like I was in a double terminal. I seriously thought this airport terminal bench might be my life’s terminal. Hope had faded.

My decision making was at an all-time low.

[Note: As years have passed, my decision making has plummeted to new depths.]

As I surveyed my safety options, I recognized some familiarity to the faces of these tall men scattered around the waiting area. I was hanging out with the Boston Celtics basketball team who had just played the New York Knicks in Madison Square Garden.

This wrong way subway incident–embarrassing, frightening, even dangerous–was an allegory of my spiritual life at the time. Like many well-intentioned people, I was headed in the wrong direction spiritually. Just because the world cheers and celebrates the folly and futility of our lifestyle choices, does not mean we are headed the right way.

Most people die going the same direction they lived. There are no surprises. We end up where we are headed.

The signposts are clearly marked: Love always wins, and self-centeredness always loses. Always.

What if you deliberately choose to ride the self-centered subway train? What will you have at the end of your journey? Those questions are worthy of more than just a casual thought or mindless pursuit.

There is a ton of false information, fake news, and intentional deception in this life’s Google maps and road signs.

We continue to make bad decisions and run in the wrong direction carrying our treasure chest of toys, trinkets, and trash. It does not matter if we chase the wind on camels, wagons, subways, or spaceships. It will be travel to futility.

Politicians promise change, advertisers promote change, self-help books describe how to change. The world and its Tik Toc social influencers market the prospect of happiness in the next things it wants you to possess, whether it is a new job, new spouse, new car, new home, or new identity.

More possessions or different pleasures have never brought lasting happiness.

The perception of needing a change in personnel, location, or circumstances is a man-made illusion whose bubble will burst. Why?

There is a fatal flaw built into our life navigational system. Left to ourselves, we can never figure life out or fix it. Not with calculators and duct tape. Not with computers or gorilla glue. When people embark on a self-centered journey through life, they will always self-destruct. It is in our DNA.

In the movie Star Wars, the rebellion stole the plans for the first Death Star, which had a fatal flaw built into its core. The direct hit from Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing caused a chain reaction to set off the Death Star’s destruction from within.

Without love for God, every man and woman remains in self-destructive mode, from past to present and into the future. It is inherent in our design, a chain reaction of errors, broken and irreparable.

However, something new never fixes the fatal flaw within the self-centered human heart.

Consider the divine design for your life. The directions found in the #1 Textbook are realistic, right, and relevant.

God designed the dead-end goals of self-love to draw and drive us to Himself, so we do not self-destruct.

Our Creator designed us to enjoy life to the fullest when we love Him by loving others. Any other direction is the wrong way.

The most important directive and decision in life can be found in the #1 Textbook. “Love the Lord your God…for in His presence is fullness of joy.” Love is a decision to not live a self-centered life. That is not always easy; it is always best.

“If you have not chosen the kingdom of God first, it will in the end make no difference what you chose instead. For you have missed the purpose for which you were formed, and you have forsaken the only thing that satisfies” (William Law).

Self-centeredness and Love travel in opposite directions. One direction destroys relationships along the way to its selfish destination. The other salvages the lives of stranded people no matter what colored line they traveled.

If you are not on the Love First, Love Most train, then it will in the end make no difference what you chose to do with your life. You will have missed the purpose for which you were created.

The self-centered train will always leave you stranded on the Green Line of Envy or the Blue Line of Bitterness. There is no reason to self-destruct. Stop. Get off. Find a spiritual taxi or shuttle or even a park bench where you can think and look at your life.

There is still time to learn to Love First and Love Most. All Aboard!

People get ready; there’s a train a comin’.                                                                              You don’t need no baggage; you just get on board.                                                                  All you need is faith to hear the diesel’s hummin’;                                                              Don’t need no ticket, you just thank the Lord.                                                                    (Curtis Mayfield, covered by Aretha and Seal)

Psalm 84 Bible Study

The big question I wish to address is, “How real is God in your life?”

The main way to a greater reality of God’s presence and goodness in your life comes from the study of God’s Word. I invite you to join me in this pursuit.

I recently preached a sermon on Psalm 84. It ends with the verse, “O Lord of Hosts, how blessed is the one who trusts in You.” I have focused this Winsday Wisdom on the reference to God as the Lord of Hosts. What does that mean? Why can we trust Him? What is the blessing/benefit to us?

FOR GOD’S GLORY AND MY GOOD WILL ALWAYS BE THE THEMATIC THOUGHT APPROPRIATE FOR ANY MOMENT WE STUDY GOD’S WORD.

It is a preeminent teaching throughout the Scriptures. God’s Word is God-centered for our good from its start in Genesis to its conclusion in Revelation and the Psalms in the middle of the book.

From the first chapter in Genesis, “In the beginning God created everything and called it good.” From the Psalms, “Praise the Lord, oh my soul; everything within me, praise His holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and never forget His goodness” (Psalm 103:1-2). And in the last verse of Revelation 22:13, “Come Lord Jesus. May the Lord’s grace (God’s goodness) be with us all. Amen.”

YOU FIND GOD’S GREATNESS AND HIS GOODNESS IN HIS WORD.

When I study a passage in God’s Word, I look for repetition and purpose clauses which usually begin with prepositions such as “for” or “therefore” or “so that.”

Psalm 84 begins with, “O Lord of Hosts, my soul longs for You” and concludes with its summary thought, “O Lord of Hosts, how blessed is the one who trusts in You.”

The “Lord of Hosts” is the primary focus, used four times, one time in each section.

This psalm is an expression of God-centered…God-saturated…longing for God.

Another repetitive word is “blessed” (3x), culminating in the favor and goodness and happiness the Lord of Hosts gives to those who trust Him.

That blessing fits right into the main purpose clause in verse eleven, “for…God favors.” God does us good.

That leads us to the next part of the study. What is the significance of describing God as the Lord of Hosts?

THE LORD OF HOSTS REFERS TO ABSOLUTE AND INFINITE AUTHORITY OVER EVERYONE, EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE.

Where did I find that description? God’s Word.

There are almost three hundred references of Lord of Hosts in the Old Testament Hebrew which form the New Testament Greek equivalent—Almighty God.

The Lord of Hosts is a commonly used term to describe God’s control of everything including angels, people, the stars, and all of creation. You have probably heard God described as sovereign. That is a theological term not a Biblical Word. The sovereign Lord of Hosts is a Name for God which reminds us of God’s total control of everyone and everything…everywhere.

“Hosts” is used in English to represent a big number beyond our ability to count, such as myriads of multitudes or ten thousand of ten thousands or infinity plus one. It is all-inclusive of an infinite number.

The Hebrew word is Yahweh Sabaoth. Saba —means armies.…God is the commander of innumerable heavenly armies.

I have always loved the story in Joshua 5 where God through Moses instructed Joshua to take on the Jericho fortress. The Lord suddenly shows up with sword in hand in front of the worried and fearful Joshua. Joshua asks, “Are you for us or for our enemies?”

The response, “I am the Commander of the Lord. I govern this world. I came to take over.” No wonder Joshua would declare, “As for me and my house, we are on the Lord’s side.”

The Lord of hosts is the commander of all the uncountable heavenly armies. But there is even more to this name.

I found it interesting that the first Biblical use of the word, “hosts,” is in Genesis 2:1 which forms the summary verse for the entire first chapter of Genesis. In the beginning, “the heavens and the earth were formed and ALL the HOSTS of them,” all out of nothing. All the elements that make up creation were assembled and activated like an obedient army under the control of the Creator God. 

Everything…Everyone…Everywhere…

The Lord of Hosts is the creator, commander, and controller of countless armies of angels mighty in battle, but he is also the conductor of the beautiful orchestra of all the hosts of things which make up this world. Wow!

The Lord of Hosts sustains everything by his powerful word. Every atom, every molecule, every DNA cell moves in accordance with the purposes and command of the Lord of Hosts.

The Lord of Hosts made heaven and earth (Isaiah 37:16).

Who is the King of Glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord of Hosts (Psalm 24:8).

Psalm 103: 19-21 gives further information: “The Lord has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all. Praise the Lord, you his mighty angels, Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts..”

God knows and controls every angel and every star and calls them all by name. God knows every grain of sand, every bird, and every person. That is impressive.

I love this illustration about the magnitude of God’s knowledge and control of everything. For example, there are innumerable stars, each known and placed by God. Astronomists have expressed there are more stars than the entire number of words spoken by every individual since those first words spoken by Adam to Eve, “You complete me” and Eve’s response, “You had me at hello.”

The Lord of Hosts. Where was the first place in God’s Word where this phrase was used?

The first persons recorded in the Bible to use the phrase “Lord of Hosts” were Hannah’s husband (1 Samuel 1:3) who worshiped the Lord of Hosts and the childless Hannah who prayed to God the Lord of Hosts for a son (1 Samuel 1:11).  

Hannah cried out to the Lord of Hosts who can create something out of nothing. Hannah vowed, “LORD of hosts (almighty sovereign and good God), if you will indeed have FAVOR (grace) and give to your servant a son, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life.” God heard her prayer and gave her a son, Samuel, who grew up in the FAVOR (goodness) of God (I Sam. 2:26).

Wait: There is more

1 Samuel 17 records the encounter of David & Goliath. David shouted to the Philistine champion of the world, “You come to me with a sword, a spear, a javelin, and a big smirk on your ugly face, but I come to you in the Name of the LORD of Hosts. The battle is the Lord’s and He will take you down.”

As the former boxing commentator, Howard Cosell, described it, “Down goes Goliath.”

Isaiah 37:16 records how King Hezekiah prayed to the LORD of Hosts when the Assyrian army unmercifully surrounded the people of God. One angel under the command of the Lord of Hosts took out 185,000 enemy soldiers in one night.

Amos 4:13 describes the Lord of Hosts as sovereign, all-knowing of even our thoughts, and all-powerful creator who governs (commands and controls) this universe.

The LORD OF HOSTS has COMPLETE COMMAND AND COMPLETE CONTROL over everyone, everything, everywhere, every time…This is a God-centered universe.

If you want to run your world, then you better get your own universe because this universe belongs to God. It is God-created, God-centered, God-commanded, God-controlled, and God-conducted for our good.

Isaiah 6:3 may be a familiar verse, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of HOSTS, the whole world is full of His glory.” Favor & Honor, Grace & Glory.

Isaiah 54:5 describes, “Your Maker is the Lord of Hosts. He is your Redeemer. He is the God of the whole earth.”

In Isaiah 47: 4, “Our Redeemer…the Lord of hosts is his name.”

Who is our Redeemer? His name is Jesus. “The name that is above every name in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2: 10-11).

The prophet Jeremiah references the Lord of Hosts seventy-one times. “Thus says the Lord of hosts: Their Redeemer is strong; the Lord of hosts is his name” (Jeremiah 50: 33-34).

Haggai was with the returning exiled Israelites who lost their enthusiasm and slowed down in the rebuilding of the Temple. The journey and recovery challenged their hearts and souls. They felt tired, defeated, weak, and very distracted by self-centered interests. Their life journey was hard. We feel the same way.

Listen and apply God’s Word from Haggai 2:4. “Be strong; be strong; be strong, for I am with you declares the Lord of Hosts.” Our study in Psalm 84 refers to the Lord of Hosts who takes us from strength to strength. We find strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. Preach to yourself to be strong.

God’s Word always connects God’s sovereign Almighty powerful control of everything to OUR GOOD.

Ephesians 1:3 states that God has blessed us with EVERY SPIRITUAL BLESSING…deciding to do that BEFORE the foundation of the world…to the PRAISE OF GOD’S GLORY AND HIS GOODNESS which God has LAVISHED on us… so much that according to Ephesians 2:7, it will take all the endless coming ages for God to show us the IMMEASURABLE RICHES of HIS Grace in kindness to us.  WOW!

GOD’S WORD TELLS US THAT JOY IS NOT FOUND IN A LOCATION, BUT IN GOD HIMSELF: “in your presence there is fullness of joy…pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11).

Consider 1 Peter 3:18. “Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, THAT HE MIGHT BRING US TO GOD”. Yes, Jesus Christ died in our place…for our sins…but primarily to allow us access into the presence of our Creator.

GOD’S GRACE IS NOT A WAY TO GET PEOPLE TO HEAVEN; IT IS A WAY TO GET PEOPLE TO GOD.”  (REPEAT)

Jesus reveals himself in Revelation 19 as the Lord of Hosts, the Commander returning with the hosts of the heavenly army and …

Look in Revelation 22 where reality meets the end of this earthly road. The dwelling place of God is with us. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. He is the Lord of Hosts.

The LORD of HOSTS. That is the NAME of the One who is coming back from the heavens to judge and rule this earth. His name is Jesus.

Jesus is the one who died for you so you can live with Him here and now and into the everlasting heavenly future. Get to know Jesus better. He introduces Himself to us as one who is humble and lowly, kind and gentle, patient and longsuffering. He claims to be the servant of all, especially to the last, the least, and the lonely.

Jesus is good…so good that He promises to never hold back anything that is good for you…so good that He promises to work out all things for your good.

Oh, by the way, if you ever wonder if He can fulfill His promises, Jesus has another name by which all of creation in heaven and earth call Him, the LORD of Hosts!

THE ABSOLUTE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE LORD OF HOSTS, OVER EVERY DETAIL OF OUR LIVES, IS THE HOPE AND FOUNDATION FOR OUR PRAYERS.

Call on the God who Commands and Controls everyone and everything at every moment in time past, present, and into your future. Know that you are praying to the One who conducts the creation orchestra to line up all things for your good even when it appears to you that the curtain of clouds has fallen for the last time.

Take heart, o my soul and all my friends.

THERE IS ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS AN ENCORE OF GOD’S GOODNESS! ALWAYS!

In your darkest hour, the almighty Lord of Hosts hears your prayers as if you were the only person on earth needing His attention. Your troubles are never too small for Him to notice nor ever too big for Him to resolve.

The Lord of Hosts is the God of Goodness. Trust His power. Hope in His goodness.

THE SOVEREIGNTY AND GOODNESS OF GOD ARE THE TWIN PILLARS OF MY LIFE. THEY ARE THE STRENGTH FOR TODAY AND THE BRIGHT HOPE OF MY FUTURE.

PREACH THIS TO YOUR SOUL: NO MATTER WHAT IT IS I AM DOING OR WHERE I AM GOING, I WILL TRUST IN GOD.

BIG Q: How do we live in this reality?

The answer, EYES UP and put your heart in God’s Word!

GOD’S GRACE IS NOT A WAY TO GET PEOPLE TO HEAVEN; IT IS A WAY TO GET PEOPLE TO GOD.

In God’s presence is fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11).

WHEREVER I AM and WHEREVER YOU ARE, even in hard places/circumstances and no matter how much life changes or even when we walk in the valley of the shadow of death, we can say,

                  MY CUP OVERFLOWS WITH GOD’S GOODNESS. (REPEAT)

The Lord of Hosts “pursues me with goodness and mercy all the days of this earthly life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord—forever.” (Psalm 23:6).

MAY THE LORD OF HOSTS BLESS YOU, AND KEEP YOU ON THIS LIFE’S JOURNEY, AND GIVE YOU IMMEASURABLE AND ENDLESS GOODNESS!

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

It was the worst Monday Moaning of my life (at least at that time).

I felt sorry for myself. I was so down.

Monday Moaning down in the depths of the sea down. Rock bottom down.

Down in the dumps. Down and out. Down for good. Down for the count. Down the drain. Down and done.

Talking to myself and feeling low. Sometimes I’d like to quit. Nothing ever seems to fit.

I consider myself a fairly positive person, an encourager. However, this morning felt as if everyone else was playing dodge ball, but I was their only target. Can you relate?

Down in the Dumps. (I know my sister-in-law will take this literally. No, it is not a location. I was not sitting in a pile of garbage at the city dump.)

My thoughts piled up the negatives. [My mind is good at doing that.] Surely, you have been to these emotional dumping grounds.

Disliked. Dismay. Disgust. Discouragement. Despair. Depression.

Pity Party. Blame Game. Sadness. Excuses. Conflicts. Complaints. Questions.

I sat in my office and cried. 

My only word for God was “Why?”

I desired to lead a church to express love for others in an inclusive manner regardless of racial, social, or cultural differences. I underestimated the history behind that challenge.

“All conflict is caused by unmet or unrealistic expectations” (James 4:1). *[Keep this one on file for a future Monday Moaning.]

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

Lies, accusations, and rumors swept through the membership list like wildfire.

A woman screamed at me in Walmart that I ruined her life. One man literally tried to run me over at the supermarket with a shopping cart. Another man chose the church parking lot to yell his expletive version of “I hate you!”

None of that was as frightening as the bullet that crashed through our patio glass door near where my toddler son was playing. (I think they were shooting at the dog).

One Sunday as I stood in the pulpit to teach God’s Word, more than half of the congregation rose to their feet in a mass protest exodus. The city paper even notified me of plans to publish an expose on why so many people were leaving our church.

I felt like the statue for the pigeons at the county courthouse.

There you have it in a nutshell.

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

My thoughts were in a tussle for ‘king of the mountain.’ Fear and Anxiety dominated one side of the mental mountain, while Anger and Criticism were tag-team partners for the other side.

I shouted out to no one there.

“Why is this happening to me? Why? Why?”

It seems easier to shout that question to ourselves or to others as if God does not hear us.

God does not always tell us why certain bad things happen. He just promises He will turn it all out for our good.

However, in this case, God did answer my inquiry for some reason this particular Monday Moaning.

His words were audible to my heart. What did God sound like? This time His voice sounded like my lawyer friend in a closing argument to a befuddled jury.

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

I had forgotten the most important thing in life. Love God and Love Others.

That seems to be an even bigger problem on Monday Moaning.

I was running in circles chasing the wind in the wrong direction, spiritually disoriented. I failed to pay attention to the directions in my #1 Textbook.

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

How? Imitate God’s love.

“God showed His great love for us while we were still enemies, when Christ died on the cross to bring us side by side with God” (Romans 5:8).

To make enemies into friends requires forgiveness, which is the hardest, but greatest, demonstration of God’s love.

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

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

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

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

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

From that moment on, my attitude changed; so did my actions.

I had not lost; I was about to win.

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

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

What? That’s impossible!

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

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

Just like you and I need forgiveness, we need to forgive others.

That unforgiven person might be a spouse, parent, family member, enemy, or even yourself. Scripture told us thousands of years ago what science has recently discovered. Unforgiveness and bitterness decrease bone density and joy capacity.

Right now is a great time to turn the page and start a new chapter in your life.

Do you need to hear God’s voice? Listen. “LOVE YOUR ENEMIES, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (#1 Textbook).

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

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

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

Oh, happy day
Oh, happy day
When Jesus washed
Oh, when He washed
When Jesus washed
He washed my sins away
Oh, happy day

He taught me how
To watch and fight and pray
Watch and pray
And live rejoicing every day
Every day

Oh, happy day (Oh, happy day)
Oh, happy day (Oh, happy day)
When Jesus washed (When Jesus washed)
Oh, when He washed (When Jesus washed)
When Jesus washed (When Jesus washed)
He washed my sins away (Oh, happy day)
Oh, happy day (Oh, happy day)

Oh, Happy Day! (Edwin Hawkins)

EMOTIONALLY DROWNING IN THE STRIP PIT OF LIFE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some of my preschool years were spent out on Tenkiller Lake in a boat. I remember the feeling of fresh air and waterdrops blowing into my face as the boat raced around the lake. I have many fond memories of Tenkiller Lake, but any swimming there as a young kid included a life jacket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some cloudy days and dark nights, you might feel as if you are drowning. You might be feeling burdened with more of something than you need, want, or can handle. Maybe, you are drowning in debt or drowning in sorrow. You might be drowning in your troubles, or depression, or self-pity.

Maybe you just need to drown out these WIsdom messages.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you ever feel that way? Certainly, there are a lot of mornings where I feel that way.

Our only hope is for the Lord to save us.

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

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

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

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

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

Show love to someone today. They might be drowning.

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

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

Politics! Now, that is a dirty word for some. For others, it is a religion.

This is my bi-annual post on the political landscape of our time. It is just my observation.

If you are conservative or liberal or moderate, please do not read this. If you are “woke” or “far-right” on social issues, please do not read this. Same goes for you who are progressive or MAGA. There is nothing in this post which will convince you to change your political position. It might even make you mad (madder).

I am just talking to myself, and I do not have any hope that I can even persuade myself to embrace a different political mindset. This is only my perspective of our current politics. I do not claim I am right, but if you stop reading now, then I was able to change your mind.

Ha! “I love the thrill of victory and I also love the challenge of defeat” (New York Yankee legend, Lou Gehrig).

Here is my brief political resume. I took a picture with a Democratic governor. I worked in Washington, D.C. for a U.S. Senator. I shook hands with several Presidents.

I watched thousands of young men and women such as myself carry briefcases and submit unnecessary new laws and red tape regulations in order to justify their salaries. I imagine their mothers proudly posted their work on the homeland refrigerator. Following a large federal government gathering, I rode in a car with older political operatives I admired. Sadly, they turned into vulgar chameleons on their way to the post-victory celebration. I lost some confidence in our political leaders that night.

I unsuccessfully ran for a state political office, defeated in a landslide. I campaigned door-to-door throughout the district and only met one person who was honest enough to say she would not vote for me. I wish Mom would not have said that.

And I once lost a debate about climate control with my wife. In the spirit of unity amidst diversity, I was the one who rose from my chair and turned off the air conditioning.

Where did that illustrious political career begin?

My early exposure to politics was two-fold. As a baby, people in our church would call me “Ike” after President Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower…we both had no hair.

Secondly, my mother and her five siblings would spend the holiday gatherings arguing politics. Passionate. Heated. A little chaotic. It was frightening and hilarious. Their loud and varied opinionated discussions were more of a gang fight than a game night.

Their father was a staunch Republican coal miner from Kentucky. He transplanted his family to Tahona, Oklahoma. Their hard-working mother had little formal education and waited until she was fifty-five before getting her driver’s license. However, she could solve any crossword puzzle and watched every episode of As the World Turns. What other education does a person really need? She outsmarted six children and made sure they stayed and succeeded in school.

The four sons and two daughters became Democrats for assorted reasons. My mom was a closet Republican because of loving loyalty to her dad. Since she lived in a heavily Democratic part of the state, she had to register as a Democrat in order to vote in the local and state elections.

My mom lived for the moments to be with her sister and four brothers. All of them shared an intense sense of the importance of family. They were all smart, educated, and independently opinionated. These siblings were critical thinkers. They never took the social norm as the only way things could be.

“Some men and women see things as they are and say why. I dream of things that never were and say why not” (Robert Kennedy).

Each of the six family members would have flourished as a king or queen or dictator. They knew how to run this world. Every night, they gathered at the round table for the political fight to begin. Their spouses had to find another place to eat or fellowship. Their observations provided colorful, witty, and insightful commentary about the debate at the round table. Their entertainment was therapeutic relief for being denied the right to vote.

This was CNN vs. Fox News in a two-hour debate in a time before either network existed. It was Beyond Bias (a book written by my talented son-in-law, Scott Krzych). No one really listened to the other persons. No one ever changed their political position because of someone else’s point of view or truckload of facts.

As the big sister, Auntie Jo could command the table with her straightforward talk and pointed finger. Whenever she held up her hand like a stop sign, everyone yielded. I am not sure anyone listened, but no one spoke when she had the stage.

The table group also listened to Uncle Ray explain the political nuances as only a NASA scientist could. Raymond was brilliant and his opinion was respectfully heard, but internally discounted because of the liberal influences from his transplant to the West Coast.

Uncle Sherman and my mom were the loudest. Sherman’s commanding voice had been trained by his years as a football coach yelling at the officials.

Sherman and Uncle K.P. were older than their little sister. Bea grew up idolizing these brothers. She also felt the need to boss them. I imagine that had been a lifelong endeavor.

When Mom got her turn (translation: injected her strong opinion into the debate), voices would get louder until Sherman would stand up from the table, hitch up his pants, and declare he was going to get another cup of coffee. That always signaled it was halftime intermission. Coffee refills and a restroom break. As Sherman strolled away from the table, he would fire off his best round at my mother. It was usually sarcastic in tone.

K.P. (at least he was royally named King Philip) was the target of Mom’s response because he was the only one smiling or listening at that point. He would tout the same political verbiage as his twin-like brother, only with more humor, more sarcasm, and less decibels. Those two brothers knew how to agitate their little sister and they enjoyed it immensely.

Uncle Curt was the youngest and, most likely, shared the wisest insights because of his educational and business experiences. His outlook seemed to be more balanced and broader-minded. More metropolitan.

Uncle Curt respectfully waited for his turn which seldom came before there were more empty chairs at the table. His best audience came on those rare occasions he would admit that my mom had made a good point. She would yell for the others to listen to Curt. He never escaped the “baby brother” tag. That is almost like not having the right to vote. Only the youngest in a family can understand that.

My biggest takeaway from this family political dispute was that it always ended the same way. Always. Everyone hugged and said, “Goodnight. I love you.”

They would hug several times. Smiles and laughter and love filled the political debate room. The siblings might have stayed awake thinking of their first comeback shot at breakfast, but there was no doubt that family love trumped political loyalty.

LOVE SUPERSEDES POLITICAL LOYALTY! What a concept!

Oh, if only our national politicians shared that same sentiment! If our religious dialogue would embrace that endeavor. If our cultural masses and social classes would follow the soap box debates with sincere concern for the welfare of all.

I witnessed my parents’ interest in politics as it related to education. I was raised by two Christian educators in a small community in eastern Oklahoma. Life was about God, church, family, and education. For our family, sports were intertwined with education.

My parents were always supportive of the next political candidate promising to commit more government funding to education and teacher salaries. The struggle repeated every two years after the newly elected official went the way of the former elected politicians. In other words, throughout their lifetime, school support never got fixed as Oklahoma wallowed at the bottom of educational funding.

Side note 1: The volatile oil industry, horse racing, casino gambling, and the lottery were supposed to “fix” the educational funding. Instead, they “fixed” the politicians’ pockets and pet projects.

Side note 2: In my ego-centric opinion, my lifetime best photograph was taken with the Oklahoma Governor. I was a young man, tanned and lean, nice head of hair, dressed in coat and tie. The governor looked happy as well. He claimed it was one of his favorite photographs. That governor went to prison for bribery and extortion. Somewhere, on a prison cell wall, hangs a picture of a happy, handsome, young man standing next to a crooked politician.

Does any mention of politics cause your family get-togethers to be messy or spoiled? Does the subject of religion heat up the room? Do some feel the compulsion to comment on others’ parenting skills?  Those all can spill over into a need for climate control.

It seems to me that our country is seriously divided by our political arguments. The fringe elements of both parties appear to be intent on causing a split in our nation, even threats of civil war.

No one person or one political idealogue should ever dominate the outcome of the lives of others. That is dangerous. Even varied interpretations of the #1 Textbook can lead to divisive arguments.

There is not much wiggle room for discussion once a person has decided they have the truth and then they only listen or watch things that reinforce that position. There is no middle ground, no compromise, nothing we can agree on.

So, we decide we will debate the issues. No one changes their minds. We just cheer on our own position. And should I ever mention I do not like one side, people assume I have embraced the other.

It seems as if “We the people” has been replaced with “Me and the people like me.” Where is the greater concern for “We” when it negatively affects “Me”? Each of us acts as if we expect and demand the world change to please us.

It is alright to work and vote for your opinion, but a loss should never break up loyalty to the greater good of a family, nation, or even the football team fan base.

Can we minimize the “apocalyptic” rhetoric? Shouts and shots. Protests and propaganda. Taunts and threats. Political rivals engaged in name calling and cage fights.

When two people or political parties believe in their complete correctness and the other’s egregious error, they inherit the wind (#1 Textbook). Debate is followed by Hate. Poison is infused into the soul.

What comes next in the political divisiveness? “A weariness of contest, and an extinction of benevolence” (Samuel Johnson 1750. My college roommate insisted I take a class on the writings of Samuel Johnson).

Nothing should ever have precedent over the law of love. The law of love has structure and guidelines. It is not a moral free-for-all. However, it is never meant to be suppressed or used as a sledgehammer by political or religious denominational rhetoric.

Most political, church, business, or family leadership failures are rooted in flawed character.

There is a worship issue at the heart of all flawed character. When one worships self or worships a political position or religious concept rather than worship of God, the moral compass becomes broken.

IN THE LAW OF LOVE, CHARACTER MATTERS.

“Do not lie, cheat, or steal” is the bedrock principle of legendary UCLA basketball Coach John Wooden’s character principles which form his Pyramid of Success. I am pretty certain this comes straight from the #1 Textbook.

Do not lie, cheat, or steal. 

That ideal is supposed to be included in the vows of every politician, minister, and marriage partner.

In the law of love, character development is a lifelong journey. Throughout this earthly journey, character either erodes or grows. Stay the course. No detours and no deviations. Finish the race…steady and swift.

OVER TIME, YOUR CHARACTER EITHER ERODES OR GROWS.

It is always right to do what is right. I have fought the fight…I have finished the race…I have kept the faith…I look forward to what lies ahead (#1 Textbook).

The best way to help others is to love them first and most. You do not need a political position or church ministry to do that.

Character development is personal.

Kindness is not just something you do until kindness does not work. We do not transgress moral virtues in order to gain advantages for our social and cultural agendas.

Politics is a necessary part of government. There will always be uncertain political answers to complex social questions. Political debate evolves. The virtues of character are timeless.

“Character is, in the long run, the decisive factor in the life of individuals and of nations alike” (Theodore Roosevelt).

The #1 Textbook emphatically declares that Jesus is the means and model for true character which is the evidence of God at work in and through your life. Suffering produces endurance which produces character which produces hope. That is the evidence of God’s love inside you (#1 Textbook).

Far too often, we want to engage in social media debate regarding church, politics, climate, or parenting techniques. Debates on those subjects always carry baggage of presuppositions and misinformation. Who is listening? Who changes his/her mind?

Wisdom is not learned through education, politics, law school, seminary, charm school, or social platforms. The #1 Textbook is the only foundation for wisdom. Integrity and judgment are virtues of wisdom-formed character. Respect and gratitude are wisdom-fruit that is always in season.

Today is a reminder to value whom Jesus valued and to serve those whom Jesus served. Let’s cast our vote and our allegiance to love first and love most.

United in our diversities.

Perhaps you enjoy political debates with family, friends, and foes. I feel certain you have some ideas how to straighten out our country and world. I offer my mantra for political and spiritual progress:

Debate less. Judge less. Condemn never.

Vote, but do not allow the outcome to change you emotionally. God will still be on His throne.

Do not let your fears hold you back from pursuit of your hopes.

Whatever you say and do, finish the interaction with “I love you.”

OK. I am coming down from my soap box. I love you……….Uh, I’m waiting. Let’s hug it out!

(Back by popular demand every baseball season…)

 

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

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

It’s baseball season! So, it’s back! Back! Back! Gone!

It is out of here! But where did it go? Not the homerun baseball but those delicious cheese nachos! Someone took them!

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

Have you ever had something stolen where you see the likely suspect, but you do not have solid proof? Do you confront them? You know they will deny it no matter what. They might even be severely offended.

Little siblings go through this all the time in their appeals and denials to mother. Something is missing and someone must have stolen it. Teachers regularly deal with students making these accusations. The police investigate such things. Corporations sue over stolen ideas, secrets, and copyrights. 

I cannot think of any situation with higher stakes than when someone steals your cheese nachos. Follow this true story and the investigative revelation of the shocking suspect.

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

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

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

I loved watching my kids enjoying their baseball park hot dogs just as I did many years ago. Let the contest begin. They savored the hot dogs rather than snarfing them down like Joey Chestnut, the world record champion.

After all the food was distributed, I could not find the cheese nachos. I thought I had placed them at my feet below the seat. I asked each member of the family. I searched everywhere. I racked my brain.

Did I leave the cheese nachos at the concession counter? Did this guy next to me take them? His buddy was eating cheese nachos. They were both laughing. It looked very suspicious. Do I confront them? Cause a scene? Embarrass them and my family?

I whispered to my wife that the fans on our aisle had stolen my cheese nachos. She told me to let it go. I couldn’t.

IT WAS THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. I COULD NOT LET THIS GO! 

WE ARE TALKING ABOUT BASEBALL PARK CHEESE NACHOS!

My fixation was momentarily halted as my favorite player was in the on-deck circle. A home run would change my mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE IMPORTANT EVENT WAS THE SURPRISE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSING CHEESE NACHOS, UNEATEN BY THE RUDE FAN TO MY LEFT.

THE CHEESE NACHOS MAGICALLY REAPEARED WHEN I ROSE FROM MY SEAT TO TAKE MY SON TO THE RESTROOM.

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

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

MY BLUE SHORTS WERE COVERED IN CHEESE NACHOS!

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

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

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

My son was extremely embarrassed. He acted as if he did not know me.

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

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

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

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

In some moments, our well-intentioned love first and love most plans suddenly disappear from view. Our frustration grows as no one helps us. The other persons are more interested in getting their way or having their say.

SO, YOU GIVE UP THE PLAN TO LOVE FIRST AND LOVE MOST. INSTEAD, YOU BLAME OTHERS FOR THE MISSING LINK. THAT USUSALLY ENDS UP IN A MESSY SITUATION. 

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

We live in a culture of chronic complainers. There is always something to grumble and gripe about. The line is too long. The traffic is so congested. The gas prices are too high. The fast food is so bad. The ice cream serving size is too small. The day is too hot; Walmart is too crowded. The concert fan in front of us thinks we bought tickets to watch her dance and sing.

And would someone please tell that poor sucker that he has cheese nachos dripping from his blue shorts?

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

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

I WISH I SPENT AS MUCH TIME IN MY LIFE COUNTING MY BLESSINGS AS I HAVE SEARCHING AND BLAMING OTHERS FOR THE THINGS I DO NOT HAVE OR LOST…LIKE MY MISSING CHEESE NACHOS.

I am making progress. I truly desire to make a positive impact in this life. If that is my goal in ALL things, then I need to lose the negative attitude and words.

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

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

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

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

Customer Service Headaches! I have documented my frustrations several times. This one has a different resolution. It was shocking!

My exasperation with poor customer service usually involves the normal ruin-my-day suspects…phone companies and insurance agencies. Occasionally, a food provider messes up big time.

This week, it was my bank. I do not need to elaborate on the forty-six-minute call for assistance on a banking error I discovered in my monthly statement. I could fill the time with sarcastic humor regarding these serious faux paus.

I will just summarize the call for assistance to correct the matter: I talked/listened to the automated Annie (twice), one customer service rep disconnection, and then eight (Yes EIGHT) various “supervisors” in Customer Service, Claims, Personal Banking, Business Banking, Resolutions, Money Market Services, Escalation, and Research.

No one had the authorization or the understanding to help me.

Research finally understood the problem and transferred me back to Claims. As I explained the situation (again) to file an appeal, I made an interesting discovery. No, it was a shocking discovery!

This was not an “Eureka” shout of jubilation. Neither was it a “Watson, come here” communication breakthrough. I did not feel as if I were the Jeopardy contestant with a correct answer on the Daily Double nor the winning guest who solved The Wheel of Fortune puzzle.

I WAS WRONG!

The bank had already resolved the error. That line item had escaped my purview.

The conclusion hit me like a ton of bricks. My sarcastic frustration with the bank’s inability to understand and resolve my problem slowly shifted to personal embarrassment and panic.

Do I just hang up? Disconnect? Do I thank the last lady for her attempts at resolution while saying I will take care of the matter myself? Do I make a joke?

My mind froze, shocked by the realization of being wrong…for once.

“Sir…Sir…Are you still there? Are you still on the line?”

“Excuse me Ma’am. I believe I was wrong. The bank statement is correct. I just misread it. I am sorry for your trouble (and the other seven representatives who are having a worse day because of my subtle sarcasm about the inefficiencies of this bank’s resolution system). Thank you for your time.”

I WAS WRONG!

That happens far more than I admit. Family members, friends, co-workers, and enemies know I am wrong. Some tell me. Some cut off the relationship. Some put up with it.

I watched a movie this week where the star talked about how he argued with his now deceased wife but gave in on one issue about their child.

“We argued. For weeks.”

 And then one day she just said to me, “Why do you fight so hard when it means nothing to you?”

Why did you? “Because I thought I was right.”

And do you ever regret giving in?

“I regret…not giving in more often.”

Me, too!

I try to do what is right. I try to love and respect others. Sometimes, being right wins out over love and respect. I enjoy being proven right. Don’t you? Sure, you do. Why else do you continue the discussion, argument, debate, or fight.

But I have hurt too many hearts while insisting I am right.

That is Wrong!

In situations which take place in my “blind spots” of life, I just do not see that I am the one in the wrong.

And I do not like having that pointed out. I have always been embarrassed by corrections!

There have been moments where I had more egg on my face than this recent bank snafu.

In my world’s perspective, (1) people appear to be quick to point out where someone else is wrong, (2) ready to argue when their opinion or version of events is challenged, and (3) very reluctant to admit being wrong, even in trivial matters.

Adam and Eve set the tone for our natural reaction to our wrong action. Just as they did, I (we) make excuses and pass the buck. “It was not my fault…Do not blame me.”

Adam and Eve did wrong. They thought wrong and acted wrong. They became swamped with feelings of shame, loneliness, and the need to hide.

They were caught apple-red handed and stripped naked of all excuses. Adam was cornered hiding in the bushes. So, he sought to pass the blame…not once but twice (first to Eve and then to God).

Excuse #1: “It was the woman. It was what she wanted.… What was I supposed to do? Tell her ‘No’ and then listen to her pout and whine all night?”

Excuse #2: “God, you are the one who gave that woman…Eve…to be my wife. She was not my idea. I did not have this problem when it was just the animals and me.”

“It is NOT my fault.”

I believe that it is fairly universal for us to “see the sawdust in the eye of the other person while ignoring the ten-foot pole in our own eye” (#1 Textbook). We refuse to look in the mirror to see our own “blind spots.”

I think most of us do not like to be painted as being wrong. I certainly do not want to admit it.

And another thing…what about all those discussions, corrections, arguments, text battles, or world wars where you are right? Then you finally realize this is not going anywhere except to Disgust Corner or Depression Central? That is wrong. Stop. Learn to stop before it starts.

I read recently that some of the more destructive words in a relationship are, “All I said was…” I would add these words as a close second, “Maybe I messed up but you always…”

Exactly.

Some emotional experts say it is a sign of strength to admit when you are wrong. More importantly, Jesus said it was a basic and necessary element of love.

The only perfect one, Jesus, willingly died on a cross bearing “all our wrongs.”  He called it LOVE.

To all you out there and those close to me here, please forgive me for questioning, debating, arguing, or fighting when it was obvious to you that I was wrong.

I wish I had seen “my wrong” more often. I wish I had admitted “my wrong” each time. There are times I wish I had claimed “I am wrong” even when I was not.

“Whoever hides his wrongfulness will not be happy, but the one who admits his wrong and changes his attitude and actions will find a better life” (Proverbs 28:13).

I wish I had said more often, “I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

I hope to do better in the future.

Counsel to my soul:

I do not need to win every argument, debate, or discussion. I do not need to “prove” the other person wrong.

“A man convinced against his will…Is of the same opinion still.” (probably Samuel Butler used by Dale Carnegie and others).

Our difficulties in admitting personal wrong transcend our marital differences, political battle lines, and religious dogma tests.

Music, politics, diets, parenting, and medical advice are much more about preferences than correctness. Preferences are NOT persuaded by arguments.

Opinions are just…someone’s opinion. Their wrong opinion does not change my opinion; therefore, it should not make my day or life any worse.

Please Note: That is just my opinion.

My present becomes my past with each passing moment. Time is too precious to waste on trivial pursuits, trinket thoughts, or trashy debates.

The Kingdom of God with its love, peace, and joy is far more important than correctness on secondary matters, including my opinion, which is “always right” …(well, almost always).

Join me in praying to become more of a (1) conduit of LOVE, (2) instrument of PEACE, and (3) an overflowing vessel of JOY.

And why in the world do I feel as if my opinion needs to be defended?

I think it’s easier to just say, “I am wrong!”

Then I can just bathe my soul in the joy on that other person’s face!

Pray for me. I am still a work in progress!

Before I share some thoughts about loneliness, I want to comment on my middle brother who just recently retired from his successful career as a highly acclaimed football coach. I am extremely proud of him and the many awards. Bill was one of the innovators of the “no-huddle offense.” I was able to stand in the shadows and observe his remarkable mind for the game of football, and even more importantly, his vast positive impact on the lives of so many people.

Bill became a high school and college football coach, Hall of Fame stuff…a legend.

How did my little brother become one of the greatest coaches? Here is a peak into the real behind the scenes story.

While others pour accolades on his accomplishments, I tend to reminisce about the early years which shaped him into the man he has become. In the beginning of his football life, Bill was lonely…very lonely.

Although Bill played quarterback in college, he began his career as the “Lonesome End” in our family football games.

I loved playing football with my cousins in our grandparents’ yard. The field was only six to ten yards wide, but we were small enough that it provided plenty of room for us to run, pass, and tackle.

Jimmy was the oldest and he divided the teams. He was our Captain Hero. The big day came when little Bill was allowed to join in the gridiron fun. Actually, our mom told us to let him play or else we would all be grounded from outside sports. We chose Bill’s inclusion on the team over our joining him for an afternoon nap.

Bill was finally given a place on the athletic field. This induction followed his weekly rugged astronaut torture (I mean, training) overseen by my friend and me.

HARD! SMART! TOUGH! That was the challenge Coach Bill placed before his team at every game. It became the team mantra. Where did that phrase originate? Astronaut Training.

His astronaut tests focused on being able to navigate a straight course following the centrifugal force of the merry-go-round. He was required to show stamina by hanging on the monkey bars while being pelted with foreign objects.

The dangerous heights of the swing set challenged his fears. The claustrophobic experience of a space capsule was mimicked by burial in the pole vault sand pit. Every session concluded with the “Right Stuff” challenge of making good decisions while facing the pain and pressure from outside objects, specifically his brother and my friend.

What if the Klingons forcefully tackle you…again and again? Astronauts never quit! Never!

The isolated inaction of the side yard gridiron became a nice break from the regulated punishment schedule of our space agency.

Jimmy had a brilliant idea. He told Bill to be the “Lonesome End,” a new formation adopted from The United States Military Academy Army Football team. Their coach developed this innovative concept as part of his offensive strategy.

This was how Captain Hero explained the very important role to Bill. What was he supposed to do? There were four things to remember:

(1) Line up very wide, far away from the rest of us (on that small playing surface).

(2) Never come join in the huddle (just stay out there).

(3) Be ready to catch a pass (which will never be thrown even though no one ever defended against him).

(4) Switch sides when the other team gets the ball and play “Lonesome End” for their team.

Bill stood by the hedges, never came into the huddle to hear what play we were running, never had the ball thrown to him, and then turned around and faced the opposite direction while standing by the hedges.

I can still see him getting into his stance…every play. He ran out ready to catch a pass…every play. Alignment and Assignment and have a good Attitude…every play. (This is the real preparatory source for his future in coaching…and he was one of the innovators of the no-huddle offense long before it became the new norm of our gridiron pastime. Where do you think he got that idea?)

Give him credit. He never complained, which is something he learned in astronaut exercises. He even got in on the hand slaps when the team celebrated a touchdown.

Every night, Elvis Presley would sing tired little Willie to sleep. “Are you lonesome tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? You know someone said that the world is a stage, and each must play a part. Is your heart filled with pain? Will you come back again? Tell me, Bill. are you lonesome tonight?”

Welcome to Big Time Football. Is it any wonder that Coach Bill always called the plays when he was coaching? Kinda ironic. Just like wimping out over being an astronaut. Dad stopped the astronaut training after too many trips to the doctor.

Bill traded “The Right Stuff” for “The Legend of the Lonesome End.” He seemed happy.

I think he still practices that “look like you are a team player while doing absolutely nothing” for his wife, Angie. She has placed him back into astronaut training. How ironic. The Circle of Life.

The Army Football Team’s first “Lonesome End” was Bill Carpenter.

The team’s innovative tactic was to align Carpenter, their split-end receiver, near the far sideline and leave him outside of huddles. Today, most teams use wide receivers that way in the “no-huddle offense” while signaling the play from the sideline.

Carpenter played on an undefeated West Point team as well as being awarded All-American status. He was inducted into the College Hall of Fame. Carpenter was later awarded The Distinguished Service Cross for saving his unit during the Viet Nam War when he radioed for an air strike on his own position.

Bill was accepted into the Air Force Academy. Although he never served in the military, there were several July 4^th air strikes called in on his toys’ position. Sometimes, you must blow up the model airplanes in order to save a few of the toy soldiers.

Once, my best friend Mike launched a croquet ball strike right into the chest of Bill. He was warned and he saw it coming. I think he was confused about the rules of whether he was allowed to move or not. He did not move!

The loud thud was somewhat frightening. Fortunately, the severely inflicted pain punishment of the astronaut assignments paid off. The “Lonesome Croquet Player” standing near the hedges survived. He never let go of his mallet.

Bill was later awarded the Popsicle Purple Heart.

It was a little sad listening to the sound of the Bee Gees coming from his bedroom that night.

“How can you mend a broken heart? How can a loser ever win? Please help me mend my broken chest and let me live again.”

My mother once defended Bill to some football critics by claiming she did not raise any “dummies.” I believe Mom originated the famous quote by Colonel Jessup in the movie, A Few Good Men, when she punctuated the end of the discussion with those frightened fans.

“You can’t handle the truth.”

I never did win an argument with Mom, so I will just state the facts about the son she called Cool Breeze.

He went through months of weekly astronaut torture without complaint. He played Lonesome End on both teams for several hours. He watched our fireworks blow up the objects he had spent weeks building. He stood immoveable as a hard croquet ball traveling at a high rate of speed smashed into his chest. He married a Special Ed teacher.

I rest my case.

“Yes, Mom, I know you birthed him, and he is not a dummy. Yes Ma’am, I understand his underwear is not a matter of national security. No, I cannot handle the truth.”

Do you ever feel as if you are the “Lonesome End?”

Loneliness is the state of distress or discomfort that results when one perceives a gap between one’s desires for social connection and actual experiences of it.

Loneliness is much more than just feeling sad and isolated. It lies at the core of unhappiness, manifesting itself in anxiety, depression, envy, and a sense of unworthiness.

That sense of “there is no one else who cares about me” can cause us to withdraw even more or even shut down emotionally.

Loneliness can hurt. Feeling unloved. Loss of human contact.

It happened during the Covid quarantine, and it happens in times of sickness and death. Sometimes loneliness is self-imposed, but usually it is a dreaded companion to solitude. Loneliness can be generated by a long period of time or a vast measurement of distance.

The Beatles sang the depressing song about Elanor Rigby and Father McKenzie.

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?                                                               

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Of course, being alone and being lonely are not the same.

One can feel lonely because of new surroundings or different people. One can experience thoughts of loneliness while in a crowd.

Even with the increase of social media platforms to keep us connected to others, we can still feel “disconnected.” There can be a sense of feeling “left out” or “unimportant” or “rejected.”

Henry David Thoreau wrote that most people live lives of quiet desperation.

Do you have lonely nights filled with tears and fears? Do you sit alone at home and cry?

For some of you, the loss of a loved one has brought loneliness into your life. Someone is missing. Share those feelings with someone with a compassionate heart. Others have been where you are now.

For others, self-isolation might be a matter of preference. It can also be an environment for creativity and deep thoughts, enjoyment of reading and music.

Whether by choice or by circumstance, loneliness can be used to forge a deeper relationship with God and His Word. God never leaves you alone, even when you are unaware or unappreciative of His presence.

Only God can solve the loneliness issues in your life. You were created to have an intimate relationship with God. That closeness can expand to others in the circle of your family or friends.

All through the #1 Textbook there are reminders of God’s ever-present concern and compassion. Paul expressed it this way, “No one stood with me. Everyone forgot me…but the Lord stood with me and strengthened me” (2 Timothy 4:16-17).

Jesus promised to never leave or forsake you. “I will be with you always.”

Loneliness can also be a reminder to Love first and Love most. There are many lonely people out there. Send out a prayer, a text, a card, or a call.

Others are navigating through their wilderness solitude. You have been there; maybe you are still there. Reach out. What if they do not reach back? Give them space and send them love. Pray for them. They are just where you are.

Loneliness is real, but it does not have to be forever. It is the wakeup call that God has someone out there for you. If that special someone has passed, you will miss them to the point you might feel as if you cannot survive. That is a result of loving them.

A new season in life has new joys and love. Eyes up!

Solitude is different than loneliness. It does not have to be a lonely time. Engage your mind and heart in things that elevate your soul.

Our greatest relationships still lie in the future. Loneliness has an expiration date. If not here on earth, then in the next life where love will only increase in joy and capacity.

There might be moments or seasons of life where you want to be the “Lonesome End.” Maybe you feel as if you have been assigned that position by the rest of humanity.

Stay in the game. You have a choice. You have a standing invitation to join the huddle.

The loss of a person(s) or place will hurt, but loneliness can also be a pathway to greater joy.

Loneliness is a season in the journey. It can have a good ending. Someone is praying for you.

For the record, many athletes have been inspired by “Hard! Smart! Tough!”…the result of lonely astronaut training.

Many football teams enjoy fun and success with the “no-huddle” offense…the result of innovative thinking while spending time in a lonesome place.

So let me say it loud and clear for all the nay-sayers out there.

OUR MOM DID NOT RAISE ANY DUMMIES!

REWIND WINSDAY WISDOM for your July 4th entertainment.

SOMETIMES IT IS HARD TO LOVE.

You know exactly who that person is in your life. Maybe several names spring to mind.

You might even be on vacation with them. OUCH! Or watching Fireworks with them, both real and emotional. The climatic finish intended to be spectacular can end up in major disappointment.

Why is this “love first and love most” thing so hard? Why do others just have a knack for ruining your day? Mine started at the Jersey Mike’s sub-shop.

I really desire to be a person who Loves First and Loves Most. I want to do better. I want to be better. I want to Love first and most before I have ignored or blown the initial opportunity.

In fact, our July 4th celebration reminds me that I am FREE to love first and love most.

That commitment was greatly challenged when I went to Jersey Mike’s for some sub sandwiches. I have a regular order, but there was a different guy behind the counter. The place was not too busy; I was ahead of the lunch crowd.

I was greeted with a smile, “How’s it going?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Can’t complain. What you havin’?”

“I would like two mini sandwiches on white bread. I want a #3 (ham) with no cheese and a #8 (club).”

For those unfamiliar with this sub shop, they freshly slice the meats and cheese in front of you, place the cut slices on the bread, then return the large meat back into the refrigerated case before starting another order.

The young butcher did his part and then slid the meat and bread down the counter for another attendant to dress it with condiments. The customer can choose to have the savory sandwich “Mike’s Way” or with whatever vegetables and condiments he/she prefers.

I looked at the two sandwiches as the “veggie” attendant asked me what I wanted on them. One was ham with cheese and the other was turkey with cheese.

I said, “Sir, excuse me. That is not what I wanted. I do not want any cheese on the ham.”

I intended to say, “Just take off the cheese.” Before I could finish my sentence or stop his reaction, the sandwich maker tossed the ham and cheese into the trash. He quickly made me another sandwich and slid the two meat-covered mini breads to the other attendant at the condiment section.

I stared at the two sandwiches. The new mini sub looked like turkey, not ham. Now I had turkey on both sandwiches. I remarked, “Excuse me, sir. That’s not correct.”

The butcher never looked up as he countered with, “That’s a #3 and #8, just like you ordered.”

I replied, “That looks like two turkey sandwiches. One with cheese and one without cheese, but I am kinda sure they both look like turkey.”

Yep, I was definitely staring at two turkey sandwiches and possibly one turkey server. He stared at the sandwiches and then glared at me. “So, you don’t want two turkey sandwiches?”

My server tossed one mini turkey into the trash as I interrupted, “It’s ok if you just add ham to the one with turkey and cheese.”

He was visually agitated but quickly fixed another ham with cheese and shoved it down the line. We were now back to the way he started my order. One ham with cheese and one turkey with cheese.

“There you go.” Now he started with the next person’s large order. The next few minutes would produce a growing line of customers in a hurry to grab some lunch.

“Sir, I just want a #3 with no cheese and a #8. Please.”

His response, “Don’t confuse me with the numbers. Just make up your mind and tell me what you want.”

Let the Fireworks begin!

For the record, at Jersey Mike’s, the #3 is a ham sandwich and the #8 is a club sandwich with ham, turkey, and cheese. The original Jersey Mike’s opened in New Jersey in 1956. It began franchises in 1987. I am fairly certain that the #3 and #8 on the menu have not changed over the last thirty-five years.

I spoke slowly and respectfully. The #1 Textbook says it is good to be “long-fused.”

“I would like a ham with no cheese and another sandwich with ham, turkey, and cheese.”

“Ham and no cheese?”

“Right.”

He set me up with a ham with cheese and a pastrami with no cheese. No kidding. The meat-cutter was busy piling up four sandwiches for the next order.

What do I do? Do I just walk out? Do I make a scene? Do I just pay for the sandwiches and chalk it up to a wrong order? Or do I follow my instincts and light up the entire firecracker package?

I kept shifting my weight back and forth from left foot to right foot. My mind was in whisper mode. Love First. Love Most. It’s a two-step dance. Lean with your weight shifted to the left foot and say to yourself, “Love First.” Lean right and say, “Love Most.” Repeat as necessary.

Now, I have to admit that I also thought of another place to put my foot or a well-placed bottle-rocket.

While I danced and deliberated, the guy looked up at me with frustration and asked, “What’s wrong now?”

“That one sandwich looks like pastrami.”

“Yep, that’s what you ordered. You said you wanted a Number Three.”

I thought I was right on this one, but his insistence rattled my confidence. I looked up at the big menu board. Number Three still read “Ham.” Maybe I could fix the misunderstanding.

“Keep the ham and cheese. Could you just add some turkey to it? That will work. And then, fix another ham but with no cheese. That would be perfect.”

He angrily threw both sandwiches into the trash. We wasted enough food to feed a good part of China.

He asked the next two customers what they wanted to order. Thankfully, they did not order a Number Three. Then he stared at me. “What do you want?”

Yes, I felt the missile go right by my ear. He was aiming for the heart.

“I would like a ham without cheese. Just ham. Nothing else. Then I want another sandwich with turkey, ham, and cheese. It really does not matter if it has cheese or not.”

He countered with a cherry bomb explosion, “That is what I fixed you. One ham and one turkey. That’s what you said.”

I faked a laugh. “I see where you could have thought that I ordered a ham sandwich and a turkey sandwich. I should have been clearer with my order.”

Please note that I was saying something extremely different than what I was thinking. Apparently, my lighter was not working properly.

I repeated my request and added a “Thank you.”

The line of customers began to look as if we were at a Fireworks stand having a sale.

People were getting impatient and angry. Those are usually the kind of sparks that blow up any celebratory function. Some grumbled. One couple walked out in disgust.

The sandwich maker was angry…angrier! As he threw more food into the trash, a co-worker walked by and said to him, “Are you alright?”

His loud reply, “No, this guy cannot make up his mind what sandwich he wants. He keeps changing his order.”

Yep, he shot off the loud mortar shell. The big bang got everyone’s attention.

Now the awakened counter crowd is muttering and whispering. One older man yells out, “Let’s get this line moving. People are in a hurry.”

Another waiting customer entertained us with his Roman candles’ take on the situation. “I could have gone home and showered and still been back in time to get my sandwich.”

Ha. Ha. Really?

A young couple was the newest addition to the end of the waiting line. A lady turned and offered her loud condolences. “They are usually very fast here, but this one guy is holding up everyone. He keeps changing his order.”

Are you serious? Thank you, Karen. Thank you for your delicate discretion of your inflammable showstopper. Would you like to paint a bullseye on my back and pass out bottle rockets to everyone?

The wild mob was growing in numbers and impatience. I am staring at two more wrong sandwiches. You have to be kidding me! Is this Candid Camera or an episode from What Would You Do?

WHAT WOULD YOU DO? Exactly. Me too. That person is too hard to love first and most.

The little voice inside of me wanted to scream at everyone in the store. “I just want a ham sandwich without cheese and a club sandwich. Please hold the criticism. Please hold the sarcasm. Please hold the anger.”

There were several more things I thought about saying. I even considered dropping the “Fireworks F-bomb.”  My version of the “F- bomb” is “Forget it.” My uncle’s version was, “Kiss foot.”

The cat did not get my tongue, but, thankfully, the Lord stopped the words in my mind from making their way to my mouth.

I will spare you and the other customers the rest of the details. The fiasco got worse. The guy was having a bad day. Something was a little fried and it was not my ham sandwich.

The guy made me eight different versions of my order. That’s right. Eight. Seven were completely wrong and the eighth was partly correct.

I walked away muttering, “Thank you.” Some in the crowded line broke out into applause.

I am not trying to make you think I am some kind of saint. I thought of many things to say to embarrass the guy or cause him to get fired. I thought of several things I could do to make a scene and show how unhappy I was with the service. I even resisted the urge to storm out.

Most of you are probably thinking exactly what the impatient, hungry customers in the lengthy line were thinking. Just go, Mister. Either take the sandwich or leave. We don’t care.

I paid the cashier. Then I took the sandwiches and left. With no condiments. No Mike’s Way. Just some mini bread, meat, and one piece of cheese. I was too afraid to ask for a bag of chips. The trash bin was already overflowing.

The Fireworks show was over.

You know how that feels. You leave the scene with unforgettable memories that burn your hide. You dwell on all the things you wish you had said or done. Your thoughts are filled with that hard to love person.

How do you love first and most in a situation like that? How do you love a guy having a bad day? How do you love him when he is making your day worse? How do you love the upset bystanders first and most? What about the angry wise cracker? How do you love her first and most?

HOW DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE WHO IS HARD TO LOVE?

I hope you have the answer. It was a dilemma for me. A real pickle. Or as my trusted colleague, Jeff Segner, so often stated about my situation, “It’s a real conundrum.”

Conundrum: a confusing or difficult question. It is a puzzling problem, a paradox of conflicting resolutions which might even be impossible to solve.

What about you? What if you want to become more of a Love First and Love Most person?

Well, it is not easy. Sometimes, it is even hard. Sometimes, it appears impossible. Why?

Because people are difficult to love.

And that is what others are saying about me!

I can tell you where to find one sandwich maker who thinks I am the most difficult person he has ever encountered. And I was trying to be nice!

Do you remember the challenge from the Rocky movie where the Russian-USA friction was set in the scenario of an inconceivable and irrecoverable nuclear fireworks display? I do.

“If I can change, and you can change, then we all can change.” Play the dramatic music.

Love First and Love Most resonates like a good exhortation for any Tip Toe Through the Tulips or Kum-ba-Yah kind of person. It sounds so noble, so kind, so spiritual.

If you are going to try that two-step dance with people during these times, then you will have to be tough. Not mean. Not hard-hearted.

TOUGH. DETERMINED. NOT EASILY PROVOKED AND NOT EASILY STOPPED.

YOU WILL BE TESTED. You will be challenged. You will be questioned.

You will need a very long fuse. God’s store is the only place where they are available. The good news is that they are free and fully stocked.

Loving yourself can be very difficult. Wait until other people are involved! It might be easier to jump over the moon.

As I contemplated the sub shop scenario, I wanted to write that there are times when we cannot love first and most. Times when people are too difficult. Times when circumstances are too tense. Personalities that are too hard to crack with a love first gesture.

THAT IS SIMPLY NOT TRUE.

I was thinking of some people in certain circumstances that are just impossible to love first and most.

THAT IS SIMPLY NOT TRUE. Can you handle the truth?

THERE ARE PEOPLE WE ARE NOT PREPARED TO LOVE FIRST AND MOST.

There are people who make us too frustrated to keep on trying. There are people who cause us to give up because loving them first and most is hard. Very hard.

I would make a Baptist bet that you have written off someone who is difficult. They have crossed you or cursed you. They have disappointed you more than eight times. They are just hard to love.

My Winsday Wisdom for this week is “Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.”

If I can somehow get out of Jersey Mike’s with eight different variations of my simple order without a blowup or blowout, then there is hope. Even if everything did not go perfectly on the inside, there was progress.

I was aware of the goal. I did not lose sight of the goal. I did not give up on the goal.

Progress. Not Perfection, but Progress.

I just realized this is much more difficult than learning to do a two-step dance. It goes perfectly when dancing with the Lord. However, there are a lot of stumbles when you engage another person.

The #1 Textbook has it all there in its easy to understand instructions. Be imitators of God. Use a tracing tablet. Walk in love just as Christ loved us. Follow His example.

Wow! That’s the ticket. The Lord dances with me. Sometimes I start out on the wrong foot. Sometimes I dance on the wrong foot. Sometimes I put the wrong foot in my mouth. I mess up over and over. Much more than eight times.

How does the Lord keep love-dancing with me? He never gives up.

He never embarrasses me. In fact, He covers up my missteps. He never ridicules me. He is longsuffering beyond immeasurable. He never tells me to forget it. He patiently encourages me to try again.

I stumble and fall. I complain and criticize. The Lord’s steadfast love picks me up. Over and over again.

Loving me first and most is no easy endeavor. Somehow, it is a joyful undertaking for our Lord. His forgiveness and patience exceed my miscues. His “long-fused” love outlasts my bad days and bad attitudes.

Imitate Him. Get out the tracing tablet. Never give up.

The Lord lives in me to lead me to others He intends to love through me. Put the lesson on repeat.

Did the Lord lead me to Jersey Mike’s so I would encounter a guy having a bad day? So bad that he could not get a Number Three order right?

MAYBE THE LOVE FIRST AND LOVE MOST TEST WAS NOT ABOUT THAT GUY AT THE JERSEY MIKE’S FIREWORKS STAND. MAYBE IT WAS ABOUT ME.

Maybe the Lord was reminding me that I don’t always fulfill His requests correctly.

Maybe the Lord intended to push me out of my comfort zone to teach me that I could love someone as difficult as myself. Maybe the sub sandwich fiasco was about teaching me that loving first and most can be hard; but it can still be joyful.

I did not get the right sandwich order this week, but I practiced the two-step dance in a hard place. It was not really that hard. It was kinda comical.

The right response to “Hard Love” is to “Love Hard.”

How do you “Love Hard“?

Love first and most BEFORE you mess up or miss the opportunity.

Pray for me and I will pray for you as we walk in love. We are FREE to Love First and Love Most.

Be prepared for “That Hard Person to Love,” especially if you run into me.

I might order a Number Three…without cheese.