A Reaction to Reality

Detonation…explosion…shrapnel…all words that I know by definition, but hopefully never get to experience in reality. This was not the case, however, for a grandson of one of the members at Union Hill today. While serving his country, a mine detonated under his right leg. The ensuing explosion caused his right leg to be amputated and his left leg to be filled with shrapnel. He is now on his way to a hospital in Germany for further rehabilitation and prosthesis. Our prayers are with the York and Stevenson families.

Never do we know what a day will bring…or to what end it may come. The probabilities are endless no matter how much we think that we know. This goes to prove that our foundation (at all times) must be grounded in things not seen, for how can we hope in what is seen? (Romans 8:24). God holds the future in His hand, and that means that our reaction to any present situation must be seen through His eyes. This way, whether rich or poor…whether healthy or sick…our foundation remains constant and secure in the Lord. We must learn to trust in Providential care over physical ability.

Pot-Bellied Stoves and Butter Churns

On a shelf across the room in my office sits a line of antique, paperback songbooks (some from as far back as 1920). These well used hymnals were part of weekend family singings where small groups of Christians from the community came together to sing praises to God. And if those worn out pages could talk, they would tell the stories of voices echoing off hardwood floors and butter churns…about families sitting down (outside of Sunday service) making a melodious noise in worship to their Creator as they gathered around pot-bellied stoves and open fireplaces.

Simpler times. Less distraction. Most family units weren’t obsessed with advancing monetarily, but the main focus was to advance spiritually…to show and live loyalty to God and honor toward others. It was a time of integrity, where a handshake meant more than the ink on any official document. Responsibility was taught and exemplified by the work ethic of godly fathers and mothers…and there was no such thing as bankruptcy because that meant you were a liar.

In reality, relationships and accountability have changed from the helping Good Samaritan…to passing by on the other side of the road. We now have no more time for face to face conversations or tangible compassion. Hectic schedules seem to be snuffing out a simple consideration of others above self. O for simpler times with less distraction…

Eat Mor Chikin

I love me some Chick-fil-A! They know how to work that chicken sandwich magic, but that’s not the main reason I love this particular chain of fantastic fowl. If you ever walk into a Chick-fil-A on Sunday you’ll know why I love it so much…because you can’t walk into a Chick-fil-A on Sunday. They’re closed on every first day of the week, and they proudly display the reason on the walls of their restaurants, and on their founder’s website:

"Truett Cathy’s practice of closing his 1,480-plus restaurants on Sunday is unique to the restaurant business and a testament to his faith in God. Cathy knew that he would not deal with money on the “Lord’s Day.” Today, the Closed-on-Sunday policy is reflected in the company’s Corporate Purpose: To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A." (truettcathy.com)

Driving through town on Christmas day, I was reminded of how things used to be on Sundays: a ghost town of empty parking lots with “closed” signs hanging from business doors. It was a day of rest. It was a day to spend with family…taking time to strengthen relationships and build spiritual foundations. It was a determination to keep the Lord at the forefront of the Lord’s Day.

How far we have fallen for the almighty dollar. How much we have compromised our convictions for the sake of earning what we will never take with us. “The rich and the poor have a common bond: the Lord is the Maker of them all.” (Proverbs 22:2) So whether rich or poor will we be (as Chick-Fil-A’s founder said) “faithful stewards of all that is entrusted us,” or will we let that which has been entrusted govern the course of our lives?

Happy New Year

The New Year is fast approaching and thoughts of gratitude fill each mind. Family, friends, and neighbors all join in the celebration of a new beginning while conversations flow of days past and gone. We reminisce about happy, newborn additions as well as remembering those whose life has now come full circle to the grave. “Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul.”

Self-examination. Realizing imperfections. Setting resolutions. Renewed zeal for good. Relationships, once strained, become improved. Thoughts, once sour, become sweetened with the honey of a New Year. It’s a jumpstart everyone enjoys, and its arrival has been eagerly expected for the last twelve months.

Paul says, “Be careful how you walk…making the most of your time.” (Eph. 5:15-16) Lord willing, we’ll be passing over the threshold of a New Year in a few days. Be sure to make the most of it.

Nobody Ever Volunteers to Take Down the Christmas Tree

So, the presents are all unwrapped, some even returned and exchanged already. The leftover turkey is starting to turn a funny color and let off an unpleasant odor, and (since nobody has eaten any in the last couple of days anyway) it is quickly headed for the garbage. The toys have long since been torn from the boxes and had their initial use…and some already seem to have outlived a child’s interest in them, and so they’ll go into a box labeled “toys-we-seldom-play-with”. The Christmas tree is still up, and no matter what we try, un-decorating the tree is never going to be anything other than a chore that nobody really wants to do.

The Month After Christmas
Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I did nibble, the eggnog I did taste
Now all of it had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scale, there arose such a number!
When I walked through the house (less a walk than a lumber).
I remember the marvelous meals I’d prepare;
The gravies and sauces and beef (nicely rare),
The peanut-butter balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt…
I said to myself, as I only can
"You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So…away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food (that tastes good) must be banished
’Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie…not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore…
But isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all…and to all a good diet!
(edited from steven simila grant)

Winter Storms and Faulty Forecasts

A Winter Storm Advisory is in effect tonight and people are crawling down the isles of Wal-Mart snatching up every last loaf of bread and gallon of milk. Meteorologists are calling for freezing rain, sleet, and some ice accumulation (as best as they can predict). This place may be transformed into a winter wonderland overnight…we may be barricaded into our homes by sheets of ice…or it may be that those bright, yellow buses are running on schedule tomorrow. We like to think that we’ll know…but we really don’t. That’s why it’s called a forecast: an estimate or prediction of what conditions could be.

As much as we like to plan things out, there are times and seasons that we will not be able to anticipate. God’s plans and powers don’t fit into some 7-day forecast where every temperature change and storm can be tracked and calculated. “For you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” (James 4:14)

Life is uncertain from day to day. We know not what shall be on the morrow. “My days are like an evening shadow, and I wither away like grass.” (Psalm 102:11) For that reason, we are to live each day as if it were the last we were given.

The Dismissal of the Spirit-Instinct

“If we live by the Spirit let us also walk by the Spirit.” (Galatians 5:25) We have all seen the commercials starring extended-bellied children suffering of starvation in third world countries (crying into the lens of a $10,000, high-definition camera), and at the end of those advertisements they ask us to help support a child for a dollar a day. What should be our first instinct? The desire to help! That should be the first thought!

At Wal-Mart, you see an elderly man drop something out of his wallet while he’s paying the cashier…what should be your first instinct? Pick it up and give it to him! It’s 15 degrees outside and you see that a woman is trying to change a tire on the side of the highway…what should be your first instinct? Stop and help! There’s a show on television that keeps using profanity while your two year old daughter is watching…first instinct? Turn it off! A widower down the road has no family and it’s the Holidays…first instinct? Go invite him to Christmas dinner!

How many times has our first instinct to do good…disappeared? At conception, it blazed a trail through our mind and there was nothing that was going to stop us from accomplishing that good deed for another: visiting, sending a card, calling someone on the phone, giving money (or time) to help someone in need. However, as quickly as it began to burn…the thought to do good is consumed by distraction and nothing is left but the ash of good intention.

Do we truly live by the Spirit? Are we being influenced daily by the Spirit-inspired Word? Is every thought and instinct guided by the Spirit of God into life-activity? How many times have we simply dismissed the conviction to do something good, and in doing so, grieved the Spirit of God (Ephesians 4:30). Don’t dismiss the first instinct to do good, rather, act upon it…and glorify God by it.

The Compass and the Point

For most people in this world, any decision they make is based on what they think is right. Their moral capacity to do good is solely secured in how they feel at any given time, or it is chosen by situational principles. For most people when it comes to deciding a direction in life…they are both the compass and the magnetic draw. Therein lies the problem.

A compass is an instrument that guides based on the draw of an outer force (earth’s magnetic energy). A true direction can only be set when the free-standing pointer of the compass is in line with the greater force. This means that a compass has to rely on something else (besides itself) to point in the right direction. An easy enough concept to realize in science, but apparently not a notion most people accept in their own lives.

“I know, O Lord, that the way of man is not in himself, that it is not in man who walks to direct his steps.” (Jeremiah 10:23) Man cannot make decisions, within himself, of where his moral compass points. What is right and wrong does not inherently reside in man. That would falsely imply that man is the force by which he walks. However, man cannot be both the compass and the magnetic draw. There must be a greater force to which man comes under submission.

“In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:6) It is through God we find absolute direction. He is the true north of every soul, and when life is directed by His Word…that course will lead us across that old Jordan to a home everlasting.

A Single Action

I was called upon to do a funeral for a man I never met. Coming to the funeral home, I sat down with the family to listen to their stories, look at pictures, laugh at memories...and through this they painted a picture of William Hurt's life. One memory will forever stay with me...a memory from a man's life I never met!

For decades, William Hurt would wake up at 3:30 in the morning and work as a carpenter all day long. Carpentry is tedious, labor intensive work. It drains a man to work all day long as a carpenter (especially if he was waking up at 3:30). However, he would always try his best to be back home when the school bus dropped off his son. Why? So they could play catch together...just father and son.

That single action, performed by a man I never met, taught me a lesson about being a father that will last all of my life. Don’t be tricked into thinking that you don’t make a difference in this world, or that what you do doesn‘t affect others, because you can make a difference...one, small act at a time. Mr. Hurt made a difference in my life simply by the choice he made, while he was living, to show his love for his son by playing catch. I wonder what simple action you can do that could change someone for a lifetime?

Drifting

Four years have passed now since the first time I visited her small, block, basement house that sits on a few acres of family farmland…terraced as it slopes down to a honey-suckle surrounded creek marking the edge of her plot. She’s lived there for upwards of 60 years (ever since her daddy died). She’s never been married…and the lines on her face tell a story of a lifetime of farm labor (picking strawberries and working the soil with her father). For an 85-year duration of independent life…she has been devoted to using and saving the resources made available to her in a very unconventional way. She used herbal remedies instead of medicine, even to the point of eating polk berries to relieve arthritis (polk berries are poisonous if a tolerance is not built up, and she was taking as many as 14 a day!). Unconventional, yes, but who can argue with 85 years of good health?

A few weeks ago she moved to an assisted living facility, and for a while everything was fine. However, as time went along her demeanor faded from a free, independent soul…to a depressed recluse who simply wanted to die. Her eyes became glazed over as she stared out the lone window of her room. Visits from friends and family became more of an inconvenient reminder that she was still alive.

I’m no psychologist, but something broke this woman away from the joy of life, and she is now drifting. I don’t know what force or what action was the culprit. Maybe it was the fact that her family was ashamed of her dumpster diving lifestyle and they shunned and mistreated her…or maybe she worried about things so much that she brought this on herself. Whatever the case, for eighty plus years she was content to dwell in what we would call poverty…and then (away from that small, block basement house full of nothing) she now wants to die.

Enjoy the bright days…for how the clouds of despair too quickly fill the skies of our life. It’s too easy to take a step forward in sunlit expectation…only to jump back twice as many, as dark despair clouds our vision. Guard your faith with the intensity of a mother protecting her infant child. Times will come when forces will work against the gladness of life…and they will drag you down into the depths, if you are not anchored steadfast and sure in the Lord. Pray for those who are, even now, lost in that fog of depression…their ships are drifting as their anchor has loosed from the Point of Security.

An Old Familiar Song

Walking through the halls of Spring Creek nursing home I hear a familiar song from an old, raspy voice: “O victory in Jesus, my Savior forever…” An elderly man was sitting in his wheelchair (a nurse standing by his side joining in) and he sang that old hymn with a smile on his face. Around him there were some of the loneliest circumstances…but in his heart he was before the throne of God, His Maker, giving Him the best praise his seasoned vocal chords could offer.

Take a stroll through the hallways of a nursing home sometime…stop and listen to people. Listen to the old woman in the hall calling out for help, while all the while she’s safe and sound. Pay attention to the mumbles of those who are trapped in their own minds, and listen to the names they repeat of decades past. Observe the names on the doors, and say a prayer for them. Look at the faces of the sons and daughters visiting their parents…gazing into the frames of old photos showing their healthy families with smiles on their faces, while tears are held back.

As we sit in the comfort of our homes…as we work during the day…as we sit down with family through the night…please remember those who aren’t so fortunate. The parents that call us, the sarcastic siblings that may torment us are like a vapor, just like our life (James 4:14), and they will one day vanish away. Then, someday, we may find ourselves in the halls of a nursing home longing for someone to care enough to stop and sing a hymn…just like that man who presently sits in the halls of Spring Creek. Will you find him?