YOUR FAMILY CHRISTMAS STORY

Do you have a family Christmas story? For some, the season is highlighted by family reunions. Others send a family Christmas letter or a social media snapshot which share the past year’s fun and facts. Those holiday letters filled with anecdotes or bragging can make you laugh or gag.

One consistent denominator is every family tries to shine the light on the good parts while working to bury their family skeletons. It is called ‘editing.’ Most reports present the family Christmas version as if it were a resume for Family of the Year. The reality version would qualify for Nightmare on Elm Street.

We recently received a holiday photo letter update where the background for the family portrait looked like the Botanical Gardens. Their home could be a cover for Southern Living. The mother’s award-winning recipes were shared as if she had won Top Chef. Their kids are successful, and their grandkids are both cute and brilliant.

While reading this glorious epistle, I looked around our house. The room is a mess. We are sick with the flu. We have a pile of laundry and a bigger pile of debt. Our grandchild just picked his nose and is faced with the momentous decision of whether to eat it or feed it to the dog.

The family I grew up in was not any different. No Christmas celebration mentioned that Grandfather Joel was an abusive alcoholic who abandoned his wife and four young sons.

We did not send out the Christmas story that my dad’s family fled like refugees. My five-year-old Dad carried the baby while the older brothers carried all the family belongings in pillow sacks. My uneducated grandmother relocated the family home in a chicken coup. Holiday Greetings! It was a chicken poop year.

Our Christmas memories never acknowledged that our great-great grandfather fought in the Civil War…for both sides! Captain Morrison’s military legacy included his time as a prisoner of war…also on both sides. Neither the Yankees nor the Rebels wanted him. He was gunned down by a renegade party apparently wearing different colored uniforms.

We were told not to mention our close kinship to ‘Pretty Boy’ Floyd, the infamous bank robber with Robin Hood popularity among the working class. My maternal grandfather considered any connection to “Pretty Boy” to be both shameful and embarrassing. No Christmas card mentioned the moonshiners or included pictures of snuff-sniffen’ Aunt Savannah.

We did not share the losses, the failures, and the emotional struggles.

I remember one of our family Christmas stories that circulated through the “I don’t care” recipients.

Gerald had another good football season. Bea made her famous fudge. Rex is still a perfect angel. Bill broke his arm when his brother pulled him off the bed. Little Joe branded his leg and rear end when he came running out of the bath and slipped onto the furnace. Cassius, the dog, got out of the pen again and made his annual holiday visit to his girl across town.

On a more positive note, our family line is connected to English royalty. We are also related to one of the most influential preachers of all time, Charles Spurgeon, and to the warrior American Indian chief, King Philip.

Christmas was always a high note for the family I grew up in. My parents never diminished the preeminent priority of Jesus as God’s priceless and precious gift of Christmas past, present, and future. Our family was not wealthy, but Christmas time was always special.

My mom was a poor coal miner’s daughter. She explained the reality of the ‘spirit of Santa’ in a manner that rivals the famous editorial, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

My purpose is to consider Jesus’ family Christmas story as chronicled in Matthew 1, the gospel that serves as a swinging gate between the Old and New Testaments. Jesus is presented as the Christ, the Messiah, the King of Kings. Jesus is the center of history from the Genesis beginning to the endless future recorded in Revelation.

It is no accident that Matthew’s account begins with Jesus’ earthly family tree. Matthew had a Jewish heritage and a professional career as a tax collector for the Roman government. That made him very familiar with the Biblical prophecy and the Jewish family lineage connected to the promised Christ.

In the middle of Matthew’s gospel is the big question asked by Jesus of his followers. “Who do you say I am?”

Peter responded, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

The Christmas story can be summarized in that glorious declaration, “God is with us.” The Creator of the universe became a person to live among us, to die for us, to dwell in us, and to reign over us.

Take your Bible and look at how Matthew begins the family Christmas story with three primary characteristics of Jesus.

  • His Royalty (the son of David)
  • His Humanity (the seed of Abraham)
  • His Deity (from the Holy Spirit)

Interestingly, that is exactly how Paul introduces Jesus in the Book of Romans. We usually skip over this introductory section in Matthew’s account of the birth of Jesus. Why? The list of names is long and boring. This genealogical version includes forty-seven names of forty-two generations. We do not know these people.

It is like sitting through a graduation ceremony where your main interest is one person. Your attention span is directly linked to where his/her name lines up in the alphabet. We treat this Scriptural section like the fast-forwarded credits at the end of a movie.

Matthew’s account goes back to Abraham. Luke’s records go back to Adam. John traces the family story back to the beginning with God.

The family tree could be labeled with the movie title, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

  1. Abraham-the father of our faith. His nickname might have been Pinocchio, because he always lied to save his hide. He was an habitual liar, but he believed God. He had a lot of skeletons in his closet that were not hidden from heaven’s view. The divinely edited version calls Abraham “the friend of God.”
  2. Isaac, the son of Abraham—He was used as a picture of the coming Son of God who would be sacrificed in our place in order to save us. As a dad, Isaac foolishly blessed the wrong son.
  3. Jacob, the con man—His name meant “trickster or pretender.” He was a perpetual liar and cheater, but this heavenly edited version reminds us God gave him a new name with a new blessing. He and his descendants would be called Israel, the Prince and People of God.

Note: There was an earlier time that no one wanted to be linked to that family tree of liars, fools, and con men. By Matthew’s time, one had to be from the lineage of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to have any “street cred.”

4. Judah and his brothers were the twelve patriarch tree limbs of the family tree. Now, these great family markers were men of jealousy, rage, and revenge. These guys sold their brother, Joseph, into slavey and then lied to their father that he had been murdered.

5. Perez and Zephah were sons of Judah. Their mother was Tamar.

6. Tamar-Here is the first woman named in the family tree. That in and of itself was considered shameful to the Jewish family tradition. Her scandalous story needed editing to hide her unwed pregnancy as the result of an incestuous relationship caused by her seduction by a drunken father. Nobody wanted to talk about Tamar.

Note: I imagine Tamar was cut from the early social media family photos.

7. Next comes a bunch of hard-to-pronounce names which we would all want to skip over for the sake of brevity and disinterest unless one of them was your grandfather who was a veteran. You would be angry with the speaker who failed to recognize his contribution.

8. Rahab was the wife of Salmon—This is an attention getter in the family storyline. Look her up on Wikipedia. Rahab was a former prostitute, a street hooker, a harlot. She was Julia Roberts’ Pretty Woman. She believed God. The Lord used her to help God’s people take down the mighty fortress of Jericho. She was rescued by a scarlet thread, not a prince in his convertible. I am certain she was a woman of interest. Now, which one is she in the picture?

9. Rahab gave birth to Boaz who would become a successful and kind businessman. Boaz married Ruth, the outsider of this family. She was a foreigner from the country the entire family hated. Ruth was also a poor, grieving widow. She did not start out as a media darling or a welcomed addition to the family. Ruth became the great-grandmother of David, the greatest Israelite king.

10. We skip two generations to David—the little shepherd boy, the giant killer, the songwriter, the warrior king. The poster child of the family also needed some editing to his story because of the one he is standing beside in the family photo keepsake.

11. Bathsheba—David had an adulterous affair with the married Bathsheba and then ordered her husband murdered. He led his family and friends and nation into some dark spiritual places in an attempt to hide the sordid tale.

However, David’s character is forever written in God’s Word as “a man after God’s own heart.”

Note: Do you see a pattern here in this family tree? All these people related to Jesus have their life stories edited to a good ending. Their parts in the family story are recorded to give the rest of us encouragement and hope.

BEING RELATED TO JESUS CHANGES YOUR STORY TO GOOD. The bad parts are erased, the suffering parts are useful, and the worst actions are covered in the family portrait by the blood of Jesus.

There were fourteen generations to David and then fourteen more to Jesus.

We will skip the rest because of time. Look them up. Learn their story. It will not feel like a bad thing to be related to “Pretty Boy” Floyd.

12. Solomon, the son of an adulterous affair, becomes the wisest and wealthiest king in all of history. His mystifying grandeur was accompanied by an exploration into the foolish world of vanity.

13. Others carried labels such as rebel, slave, exiled, evil, half-hearted, unfaithful, idol worshiper, good guy. Then, there is the pogo stick king, Jumping Jehosaphat.

History is what it is. It cannot be rewritten. You and I cannot change where we came from. We cannot change our family members, although some try to. We cannot change our family experiences, good or bad.

However, by God’s grace, we can stand in the family picture next to Jesus. His Person creates a lens filter through which others see us in a more favorable light.

Our names are written in the family story with descriptions like “child of God” or “heroine of the faith” or “follower of Jesus” or “redeemed from slavery to sin” or “dear to God’s Heart” or “beloved family member” or “saved believer” or “the one whom Jesus is not ashamed to be his/her brother.” Some of you are described as “a bride adorned in beauty” or “a good soldier” or “the righteous one.”

Look at you in God’s family photo. “The apple of his eye…His vessel of honor…the dearly beloved…the called and chosen…the child of promise…His crown of glory.”

What about all those bad moments in your life? The skeleton in the closet? The moment of unfaithfulness? The bad attitude and even worse actions? What about the mistakes you made and the messes you caused?

What about family conflicts? What about those moments where you fell and failed? What about when you were the last, the least, and the lowest?

None of that is in the family Christmas story!

There is your picture and your name right next to Jesus. You are called “God’s joy…a new creation…God’s light in this world…the perfection of beauty…the one blessed forever…God’s masterpiece!”

Step back and see the big picture. Jesus LIVES in you to LEAD you to others He intends to LOVE through you.

God carries on His perfect plan with imperfect people. Jesus brings about individual change and generational change. The mistakes lead to miracles. The big messes produce the majestic colors of God’s masterpiece.

Take this to heart:

WE ARE ALL MORE SINFUL THAN WE COULD EVER DARE TO IMAGINE and WE ARE ALL MORE LOVED AND ACCEPTED AND BLESSED THAN WE COULD EVER DARE TO HOPE.

THAT IS OUR FAMILY CHRISTMAS STORY!

Here is our Christmas message: LOVE ONE ANOTHER! LOVE FIRST! LOVE MOST!

Parenting Advice (Please, No!)

I was sitting in my car eating lunch and catching up on some texts in the McDonalds’ parking lot. My reading was interrupted by loud arguments from a family exiting the fast-food restaurant. The mother and father were screaming at their crying little four-year-old girl. I discreetly rolled down my window so I could hear better.

The precious little girl definitely did not enjoy her Ronald McDonald playtime. Both parents were using strong language to scold her recent actions and attitude. Threats were made about future discipline. I tried not to look as if I were eavesdropping; but by now, my head was leaning out the window.

Their family car was parked right next to mine. The mother opened the back door of the car and yelled for the little girl to never act like that again or she would never have another Happy Meal. Then the mom ordered the sobbing daughter to get into the car. Both parents slammed their car doors as they took their places in the front seats.

I felt so sorry for this little, sniffling, teary-eyed, beautiful girl. Her parents were so mean. How could any parent be so impatient or cruel? She needed someone to care about her and her plight. I thought she might have the worst parents in the world.

This girl needed some encouragement. The entire world was not against her. This was an opportunity to love first and most. So, I leaned out the window and smiled at her. “It’s going to be ok.”

She looked up, stomped her feet, stuck her tongue out at me, and began blowing her lips with the sound of a Bronx cheer. “NYAAH.”

Her defiant tone was not cute; she was rude. I was aghast! I might have even mimicked her disrespectful gesture. I was trying to be cute. It became a showdown. I lost!

I immediately thanked the Lord for the wise parents of this little brat.

Parenting is not an easy no-mistakes endeavor. It also is not free from advice. Some parenting advice is helpful. Most is unsolicited. You will get advice from parents, in-laws, grandparents, siblings, relatives, friends, church members, and complete strangers.

Child psychologists and talk shows cover the subject. Family conferences, parenting workshops, books, and magazines offer parenting insights. I am not sure any of that really matters.

It seems as if everyone else knows exactly what and how to raise your child. The advice ranges from encouragement to condescension. Applause to condemnation. Helpful to humiliating. Well-meaning to hidden meaning.

Most parental advice makes you feel like a sad and bad person. Really sad and really bad.

I acted as if I appreciated the lady who offered her unsolicited “candy” suggestion. for the birthday pinata. Why did she feel that was necessary? Did she really think I was going to fill the piñata with broccoli bites?

Almost every parent tries to do his/her best. Certainly, the ones who might read this article. We all want the best for our kids. We make mistakes in our methods and manners, but not mistakes of the heart.

We tend to be judgmental of other parents and very blind to what might be in store for us. We do not know what the other parents are dealing with. We need to toss our presuppositions and misunderstandings in the wastebasket. Let’s also ditch our unwelcomed advice. Too often, our tongue outruns our brain.

Before we were blessed with children, my wife and I went out to eat with a young couple and their young children. We were embarrassed for them as the toddler ran screaming around the restaurant. He ignored their commands and pleas. Even bribes did not corral the chaos.

We were shocked when the one-year-old started eating everything with her hands. Her mouth and face were covered in mashed potatoes and gravy. So was her hair.

The parents seemed oblivious. The highchair tray had food floating around before it was scattered on the floor. As we waded out of the restaurant, I handed the waitress an extra tip. She looked up, stomped her feet, and stuck her tongue out at me and blurted, “NYAAH.”

We left there vowing that our kids would never behave like that in public or private.

Sometimes, you get to eat your words. The egg on your face is just as messy. Eventually, it becomes funny when your grandkids do those things you frowned on. You even take pictures of the cute darlings and post them on Facebook.

Why do kids act like little saints in the church classroom and then change teams on the ride home? Or why do they play together at the house, but fight like bitter enemies as soon as company arrives? I have no idea. I have only heard of such things. (Where is that sarcasm font?)

Parents wanted: No experience. No training. You are not allowed to quit. Little lives are at stake.

Let’s face it. No parent really has any idea what they are about to get into. Not at birth or in the nursery days. Not in the terrible two’s or the frightening teens. I once foolishly thought that when your children grow up and leave the house that your worries would decrease. I was clueless and mistaken!

Words change meanings. “No” means ask again. “I am talking to you mother’ is the signal for an emergency. “Time for bed” sends off the alarm announcing, “I need to start my school project that is due tomorrow.” Only when on the phone with a friend do you hear the beloved term “Mom” repeated seventy-four times.

Every child is different. Every parent is naïve. You just keep hoping that you will do better on the next one. Until you find that the next ones were divinely designed to be more challenging. Oh, the immeasurable wisdom of God! He knows exactly what we need to learn how to really love.

You have a story. Some of it is still being written. God always writes the last chapter, and it will be wonderful.

Give yourself some grace. We are not perfect. We learn and grow. We would like to do some things over and better. That does not make you a terrible parent. It defines you as a real person.

There is no such thing as a non-dysfunctional family. Do not judge your parenting skills by someone else’s social posts and pictures or their annual Christmas letter. Do not condemn your efforts based on some current challenge in your son or daughter’s life.

Learn to love first and love most. Pray and work to get better at understanding how to do that. The #1 Textbook has it covered.

Love your kids (whatever their age) in the same way that Jesus loves you. When you mess up, you are forgiven. When you fall down, you are lifted up. When you feel discouraged, you are praised. When you fail, you are taught.

God gave you that child or children or the blessing of caring for someone else’s children. God knew exactly where you would be strong and where you would be weak. Where you would shine and where you would mess up. God knows exactly what you needed to step into a higher plane of love.

Do what you think is best. Your children grow up way too fast. You will have to learn how to install a car seat and erect a swing set. You will need a truck load of batteries and an even bigger supply of patience. You will watch Frozen or Marvel Movies or something like them for thirty-five days in a row. You will answer questions you have never heard before. You will shout instructions until your voice retires for the night.

About the time you learn how to change a diaper and burp an upset stomach, you are chasing a wild screaming toddler around the room. It will feel like a blender on full speed with the top off.

Let me save you a phone call. No, you are not insured “for Mayhem like this.“

They surprise you. They delight you. They drive you crazy.

There will be sleep deprivation. There will be times you are held hostage by their demands or your promises. There will be moments where the only way to get their attention is for you to sit down with a cup of coffee and get comfortable.

Before you can make a couple of laps through the cluttered house, you are carpooling to school and racking your brain through homework that you vowed never to do again. Once the routine sets in, it is disrupted by school activities which lead to more friends and longer texts and fewer talks.

You figure out a plan that works for the whole family, but there are not enough days on the calendar. Then the calendar keeps changing years every time you check it. Before you blink twice, the kids are headed off to college or work or a new family. Time moves too fast to analyze and improve your parenting skills.

You just adapt and get better. You do the best you can at the time. Wisdom comes later. Maybe, that is why so many insist on interjecting their opinions into your situation. They wish they had a do-over.

All of us wish for that. Not just to erase mistakes, but to cherish the moments of joy and love. You are left with memories and pictures and notes. Maybe a text. I suggest one technique I borrowed from the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond.

It’s called editing. Edit out the bad moments. Do not dwell on the mistakes. Focus on the good memories. I am pretty sure the idea comes from the #1 Textbook. “Love covers a multitude of mistakes.”

God loves you. The mistakes are covered. The messes have been forgiven. Cherish the good moments.

Yes, if I could do it again, I would do it all better. More importantly, I would do it all with more joy. However, the past is gone, and the present is fleeting by too fast. We need to make today count.  

Hug your kids, whatever their ages. Brag on them. If you are physically separated from them, encourage them with a text or call. Above all, pray for them. They need your prayers more than your parenting advice.

You invested in their lives. Trust God to produce good dividends. Hope that they will take your love to an even higher level with your grandkids. It’s the cycle of life.

I offer no advice and certainly share no criticism. I know you have done and are doing and will do the best you can. I applaud you and cheer you on.

Look to the One who loves you first and most. Imitate God, as beloved children. And walk in love just as Christ loved us” (#1 Textbook).

I love you. I love my wife who has done far better than she gives herself credit. I love my children and grandchildren. I’m still trying to do the best I can and with God’s help, I will do better.

I wish the same for you.

If you wish to correct me on something in this post or desire to enlighten me on a better way, then “NYAAH!”

THE STEWARDSHIP OF SUFFERING

ALL OF LIFE IS A STEWARDSHIP.

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

That certainly includes your talents, things, and time.

It also includes your suffering, pain, and grief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IS IT WORTH IT?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to God’s Word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is the truth about why you suffer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DO YOU NEED HOPE?

Do you need some hope today?

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

Do you have hope today?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angry people lack hope. Anxious people lack hope.

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

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

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

  1. God identified Himself as the God of Hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOOK at some of the words in this prayer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EYES UP! I LOVE YOU!

THE BIG LETDOWN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me set this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing can be overrated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill apologized. I apologized for Bill.

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

Dad NEVER used a wheelchair again. NEVER!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah —Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen

THE KISS THAT ROCKED MY WORLD

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

Uncle Fester kissed me. Right on the lips!

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

UNCLE FESTER OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you ever eaten hot horse meat?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had no clue what would happen next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pray that I do better at loving first and most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One kiss can rock the world.

The Pursuit of ‘Happyness’ (Revisited)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That song always makes me smile. Always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happened?

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

How?

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

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

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

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

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

The Imaginary World of Not. You have visited there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What about us?

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

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

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

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

Find your happiness in God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SHOE (a lifted tribute to a trampled brother)

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

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

A BROTHER in TRIBUTE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A BROTHER in DISTRESS

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

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

I vowed revenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STRESS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Side by Side Rewind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHY DID MICHAEL JORDAN CHOOSE #23 ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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