Bad Call

I am going to do something I thought I'd never do in this blog. Write about sports. See, I'm married to a sports editor, so it's really his responsibility to write about stats, coaches, players, games and bad calls. But today, I'm writing about a bad call. And interestingly, it's not about the bad call that is on the mind of every Packer fan and many NFL fans this morning.

Last night, the replacement referees in the Packers/Seahawks game made a bad call. They actually made two. They missed an offensive pass interference first. Then they missed the last call, the deciding call of the game. A call that on review showed an interception for Green Bay, not a touchdown for Seattle. We all saw it. Everyone knows it was a bad call. One commentator this morning said if the regular NFL refs were in there, 10 out of 10 times they'd have called that an interception. It was a bad call.

I asked my husband how the Seahawks could celebrate when they won on something so blatantly incorrect. "It's a win. They got the win. That's all they care about."

While angry with the game conclusion, here's where I got even more frustrated. Immediately after the game, they interviewed Pete Carroll, coach of the Seahawks. His comment about the call ... the referees called it a simultaneous catch which goes to the offense. "Good call."

I beg your pardon. Good call? Did you see the same play we did. It was most definitely not a good call. I said to my husband, "That man has no integrity."

How much more respect would I have had for him if he'd have said, "You know what, it was a bad call, no doubt. But this game is 60 minutes long. The game was decided on the last play. We got the win." Instead, he took the low road.

Scripture says in Prov. 10:9 "Whoever walks with integrity, walks securely." And Phil. 4:8 tells us what that integrity looks like "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, whatever is excellent, whatever is worthy of praise, think on these things."

But the bad call by the Seattle coach wasn't the last of it. Immediately after the game, I went on Facebook to express my frustration with the call, and was taken aback by what I saw. Many statuses on the social network posted by my friends were filled with profanity. Nice people, good people, people, I thought, of integrity, using truly profane speech to express their anger. It was repulsive. And I lost some respect for them, as I did for Carroll.

We are called to be honest. We are called to be righteous. And a few folks forgot that last night.

That battle for maintaining integrity is a tough one, especially when one is angry. And it's a battle I pray for help from the Holy Spirit for every day. It's something Satan wants us to fail at because when non-Christian's see us lacking that, we do not look like our Christ.

Yes, the referees, God bless them, made a bad call last night. And I think it may even been the tipping point in negotiations between the power/money-hungry owners and the refs who've certainly proved their value in the game. It's just a shame that this bad call spurred so many others to make bad calls themselves.

What I'll Remember

People rarely come to our front door. The UPS guy. The mailman. My neighbor across the street. Dinner guests. And that's about it. Oh - and politicians or those campaigning for them. Typically that last group will knock on the door, tell me a little bit about what they stand for, ask me if they can put a sign in my yard and then ask "Can I count on your vote?" I always take their paperwork and look up the person if I've never heard them before. Most folks are friendly. Most folks are sincerely interested in helping our community. And all certainly want to win.

Today we got a knock on the door later in the day. It surprised Brad and I cause it was after dinner and typically the campaigners come earlier in the day. It was a woman. She said her name and that her husband was running for mayor. She went on to tell me his current occupation, what his plans are for our city and handed me a sample ballot with information about her husband.

"He's across the street," she said, almost apologetically since it wasn't the candidate himself I was speaking to.

But honestly I don't think he would have done a better job campaigning for himself than she did for him that day. I say that because after she handed me the sample ballot, she went on to say, "He's honorable. He's hardworking. He's a wonderful man." You could see this sweet glow in her face as she smiled. "I know this because I have been married to him for 36 years."

When she was saying this last sentence, I said the first thing back to her: "You love him very much." And she just nodded. "I'm a little biased," she said again almost apologetically. "I hope you'll remember him when you vote."

How could I not? Now I don't yet know enough about his stance, party or policies, but I will certainly remember him, because of her. After she wished me a good evening and walked away, I gently closed the door and walked back to our living room where my husband was sitting.

"Did you hear that?" I asked him.

"That was the most precious thing ever," he said.

I am thinking our politicians need new tactics. No mud-slinging. No baby-kissing and photo ops. No long pontificating and hollow promises. Just send out your spouse to campaign for you. If he/she loves and admires the candidate as much as this women obviously loved and admired her husband, it speaks volumes.

Oh, yes, I will remember his name. But I will remember her more.

Praise The Lord, O My Soul

Last Spring, I walked around Jasmine Gardens in Wetumpka admiring all the blooming flowers, especially the azaleas which were in peak season. I was so moved by the beauty and color around me, I began to sing the "Gloria Patri" out loud in honor of my awesome Creator Father who made them.

Today I had a similar experience. I was walking around the McWane Science Center in Birmingham. I started on the ground floor in their World of Water. I stared in awe at the pike fish bobbing up and down, the seahorses with their tails curled around coral, the 2-foot hammerhead shark that let me stroke the top of his slimy body as he swam by and the moon jellyfish glowing bioluminescently as they gently and gracefully floated in the water. Then checking out the 13-foot turtle dinosaur skeleton, I stepped back in "Are-you-kidding-me?!" astonishment. Pictures of the Milky Way Galaxy brought reverent awe of Him.

I didn't burst into song this time. Instead my praise came in the form of tears. I was overwhelmed thinking how amazing my God is! Walking around the center I learned my God is brilliant, creative, powerful, precious and oh so loving ... especially when you consider He did this all for us.

About this same time, a friend of mine was eating lunch in the Space Needle in Seattle. She shot a picture from the location commenting on God's majesty in the creation of the snow-topped Cascade Mountains in the distance, above the clouds. Oh, how wonderful He is!

Two of my favorite passages in Scripture describe our Creator God in ways that always cause me to inhale deeply in an effort to draw in His fullness. One is all of Psalm 104 when the author describes what our Lord has created: "How many are your works. O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures" verse 24 says. The other is Job chapters 38-41 when God has his longest monologue in the Bible telling of all the things He has made. Like an epic movie at its climax, you can feel your heart beat faster and faster with each verse. Like Job, we cover our mouth and bow to the ground humbly.

Last Sunday morning, my Sunday School kids and I finally finished our "go through the entire Bible" study. It took us more than two years, but we did it. We ended the study with a look at Heaven as John describes it in Chapters 21 and 22 of Revelation with its walls and streets of gold, clear as glass, gemstone foundations and pearl gates. Wow, it's sparkly. I can hardly wait to see! No wonder the multitude sings "Hallelujah! For our Lord God Almightly reigns! Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory!" (Rev. 19:6-7)

The more I thought about the Science Center, the more I realized it was misnamed. Everything about that place proclaimed the glory of God. It should be called the Creator Center, cause truly each room is almost as if God is saying, "Wait till you see what I've made!" I bet it makes God smile when we take a minute to stop, look at what He's done and say, if even under our breath, "That is so cool!"

"Yeah, it is!" I'm sure He's thinking, "Just wait till you get here! You ain't seen nothin' yet." Our God is an awesome God.

I sing with those in Heaven in Rev. 4:11: "You are worthy, our Lord and God to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things and by your will they were created and have their being." Thank you, Father.

Unhidden Treasure

I have a treasure box. It's a 9x5-inch wooden box from Lane given to me as a high school graduation gift from a furniture company in Pennsylvania. I think all of us graduates got one. I remember thinking that I would put all my most precious items in this box and lock it up. Recently when watching Pawn Stars on TV (we learn something historical everytime we watch this reality show about a pawn shop in Las Vegas), my husband and I wondered if we had anything old and of value that we could sell. I immediately dashed for my treasure box to see what was in there to make us independently wealthy.

Not surprisingly, I didn't find anything that was going to allow us to retire early. Elvis Presley 29-cent stamps (worth 29-cents each); Eisenhower silver dollars worth maybe $15; a Max Factor Easter Egg basket perfume holder (worth about $27 now); a jar of black sand from Hawaii my Dad's secretary brought home for me to see when I was in elementary school (worth, um, nothing); a piece of petrified wood; a tiny shoe button hook my grandmother used when she was 5-years-old; a 1943 silver penny (worth 15 cents now); a skeleton key and tiny 10K gold Victorian baby rings (that no one would put on a baby for fear they'd swallow it). It was fun to reminisce about the items, but needless to say, nothing in there to make our eyes pop open with greedy excitement.

It's funny what I thought was treasure. Polished rocks, the silver wings an American Airlines pilot gave me from my first flight, a huge costume locket from the 1970s with a mini picture of my family in there, tiny Avon lipstick testers from my grandma's days as an Avon Lady, the key to the city of Smyrna, TN, the late mayor Knox Ridley pulled out of his pocket to give me when he asked if I had one as a cub reporter in that city in the late 1980's and blocks I played with as a child. But I did find some priceless items in there. Like the picture of Brad holding me from behind with his hands on my pregnant belly with our firstborn Ayla growing inside. A prayer my father wrote for me. A note from the Tooth Fairy. A tiny gold pacifier I wore around my neck when pregnant with my son Anton.

Typically, I'm not a saver. If I don't use it, I toss it. Moving as often as Brad and I have, it's just not practical to be dragging a bunch of stuff you never look at around from house to house. But this box is one thing that I've held on to for whatever reason. I guess the idea of having a "treasure" box was just too cool sounding for me. Everything secretly hidden away.

Scripture tells us "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Matt. 6:21. While pieces of my heart are in that box, what my heart holds cannot be contained in a tiny cedar box. The love I have for my Savior, won't fit in a treasure box and I certainly hope I don't hide it away like I have these trinkets. I hope what I feel for Christ, I share with the lost of this world. I hope they see the brilliant shine in my unveiled face to know how much I love Him. That is my true treasure.

I decided to take some things out of that box and actually use them, throw them away or sell them for what their value is today. If I have them locked up in a box, I wonder exactly how valuable they really are to me, when I can't even see them. I guess that's the point of our witness to God's children. If we are not sharing it, is it truly valuable to us? If no one can see your faith in your actions and words, then isn't, well, worthless?

Best Kind of Bible

A week ago, on our way to Garden City Beach, S.C. for vacation, Brad and I stopped in Atlanta to see the Passages Interactive Bible Exhibit. I'd heard of the exhibit earlier this year and hoped I'd get a chance to see it before it ended June 30. The exhibit is in part of a stripmall across from Perimeter Mall in Atlanta. Inside the building is a maze guiding you through history in the creation of our Bible ... and it's fascinating. You learn about the original manuscripts; people who translated the Bible into Latin, German and English; the progress from painstakingly handcopying the Bible letter-by-letter to mass producing the Bible on the printing press; beautiful artwork inside and outside of these many Bibles; errors in printings that cost some folks their jobs or even their lives (especially the fellow who accidently put "Thou shalt commit adultery" ... oops); and the price so many paid to be sure the common man/woman could hold in their hands a copy of the Word in their own language.

Take William Tyndale for example, who during King Henry VIII's reign, translated the Bible from its original Hebrew and Greek into English. A harmless and even commendable endeavor, it threatened the religious leaders of the day. He was arrested and charged with heresy (coincidentally after writing a paper opposing Henry's recent divorce) and executed by strangulation with his body then burned at the stake in 1536. King Henry VIII four years later asked for an English translation of the Bible, based entirely on Tyndale's work. Nice.

The fact that our Bible has survived history with so many manuscripts to back it up and with such accuracy in the copies and translations over time is itself a feat. The fact that what started out as oral tradition is now in printed form in every room of my house and in my car, is just mindblowing. I am blessed indeed.

This exhibit made my husband and I appreciate our Bibles all the more. How can we, holding in our hands a copy of this beautiful love letter from our Father, not read our Bibles when so many went to such extremes to see to it we have one?

I have met many folks who have told me that don't read the Bible because they are pretty sure they'd never understand it. Well, that's just piffle (just discovered this word and had to use it. It means "nonsense.") There are so many translations and commentaries out there you can most certainly understand the Word. It's the Holy Spirit who reveals to us the meaning of the Scriptures anyways (John 16:13, 1 Cor. 2:10-13). Read it. Read it again. Make a habit of reading God's Word everyday and then watch as the Spirit teaches you something through it in a powerful way.

Interestingly, there are many languages yet without a copy of the Holy Bible. The Seed Company (a non-profit organization that translates the Bible) estimates over 2,000 languages as yet are without translation of the Word. They have set a goal to see to it every language in the world has a copy of the Bible within the next 20 years. I will be praying for their success. To help them, go to www.theseedcompany.org for more information.

In the meantime, pick up that Bible that you've been blessed to have - yeah, the one under your bed covered in dust - there it is. Now blow the dust off it, crack it open and start wearing out the pages. I tell my Sunday School kids all the time the best kind of Bible is a well-read one. Make yours the best.

Dear Tatiana ... in Jesus' Name.

Wrote Tatiana today. I try to write her once a week. She is our family's Compassion International child. I had wanted to sponsor a child through Compassion for years, but we always felt we couldn't make it work with our family budget. But last Christmas that changed when my husband surprised me with a gift I will never forget. He had designated one present under the tree with the words "Open last." When I opened it up, inside was a picture of our sweet 11-year-old Ecuadorian princess Tatiana. I was so surprised I started to cry. And I couldn't wait to begin writing her.

Compassion encourages sponsors to write to their children at least once a month, but I figured receiving four letters a month would be far more exciting than receiving just one. And typically I don't need too much encouragement to write. Compassion has this wonderful option where you can write your child online, even attach pictures and send it onto your child. From there it's translated, printed and sent off to the country, sometimes taking two to three months to reach the sponsored child. So today, Tatiana is probably about to receive my Valentine's Day letter. I enjoy sharing with her the crazy things our family does, asking about her family and sharing Scripture with her. Three pictures typically accompany each letter showing the different experiences our family has had that week. And I can make a print out of each letter I send so I can remember what I've written her each week. It's a wonderful feature of the organization.

I have received two letters from Tatiana and both were written before she received any letters from us. She writes in tiny pencil strokes, always thanking us, telling us about her school and asking for prayers. And she always says good-bye in Jesus' name. I keep a picture of Tatiana next to my bed so I remember to pray for her before I go to sleep. And I keep a picture of her on my cellphone as wallpaper so I remember to pray for her throughout the day. I have no idea whether or not our family's financial contributions to Compassion or my personal letters to her will make any kind of differerence in Tatiana's life, but I hope so. I know she has certainly made a difference in my life. I try to look at daily experiences through her eyes. I find myself thinking of how to best explain something that will make sense cross-culturally. And I want to share something of God's grace in each correspondence with hope that she will see Jesus in them, which pushes me to dig a little deeper into the Word myself.

It it my hope that one day we will get to meet Tatiana. But it's hard to justify spending thousands of dollars to visit her when that money could go to help her family. So for now, it's weekly letters and monthly contributions to help her with food, clothing, education and lessons about our Savior. If I never get the opportunity to embrace this child, I know that through Compassion she has come to know Him, and we will certainly meet in Paradise.

If you are interested in sponsoring a child, go to www.compassion.com for more information. You can see hundreds of pictures of children around the world waiting for a sponsor. They have the child's birthdate and country listed so if you have a favorite date or wish to sponsor a child from a particular country, you can search based on that information. They have a need right now for sponsors of older children.

I pray it brings you as much joy to sponsor a child as it does to our family. Regardless, it will certainly bring joy to the child. Now if only Compassion would come up with some new letter templates! I've already worn out the ones on their website. God bless those folks. I hear they receive 7,000 web letters per day. That's quite a work load (and doesn't include the letters sent in by post). But what a wonderful affirmation of the love sent out across the miles ... in Jesus' name.

Divine Providence?

"I see a blog coming out of this," my husband said as we were walking. I had just been sharing my thoughts on my visit to see our daughter in Rhode Island, explaining my shock at the lack of outwardly expressed Christianity in Providence. Our daughter has lived there for a year and has had trouble finding a church home, thus has no spiritual support group or accountability. There are no FM Christian radio stations in Providence. When I asked for a recommendation for a good church, one woman said, "There's a pretty cathedral down the street." Seriously? I didn't want pretty. I wanted Jesus.

I'm not saying Jesus wasn't in Providence. I'm just saying in my week there, I didn't see Him in the faces and places.

It made me long for home, where I was surrounded by Christian friends, could listen to Christian music whenever I wanted, could worship with my church family and didn't get sideways glances and raised eyebrows from folks who were offended by my "Exalt His Name" T-shirt. It was the strangest place I have ever been to faith-wise. And my heart ached for my daughter. Ayla epitomizes the Phil 2:15 verse which tells us to "shine like stars in the universe," and I felt because of her location, that her star was shining less brightly. It was a sad gray world (of course it was cloudy most of the time, so that didn't help). I felt I was given a tiny glimpse at what the endtimes will look like when people squelch faith. It is one of the emptiest feelings in the world. And my daughter is there all the time, every day in this tiny area of the country that Satan seems to have built a wall around. I told my husband, "Satan doesn't have to work hard here at all. He's got it taken care of already."

Yet, it's probably the best mission field I've ever been to. Countless souls for Ayla to touch in Jesus name, sharing about God's love and mercy in salvation through His Son.

While visiting with a group of Ayla's co-workers, one fellow commented how much he liked my shiny gold boatshoes. He said, "I enjoy reading your Facebook statuses because you put things on there like, 'Thank you, Jesus, for my gold shiny shoes,' and you mean it." I nodded my head and said, "I certainly do" and dropped the conversation. I missed an opportunity there to share more about Jesus with this young man. I only hope Ayla is given the chance to share more with him since I dropped the ball.

I have a friend named Cindy who constantly wears Christian T-shirts. Before I met her, I had a few, but taking a cue from her, I've upped my wardrobe of Christian T's for testimony purposes. When you see me, I want you to see Jesus. I want it to inspire others to dig into the Bible, to ask me questions about my faith and bring souls closer to Him. I wish I'd have brought more of those T-shirts to Providence to wear.

Knowing Ayla is not receiving much in the way of Christian feeding, I am going to do all in my power to be sure she is getting Jesus. My efforts will be limited to reminder calls for devotions, sending Christian CDs, encouraging Bible reading, sending her study materials, jotting down the occasional Bible verse on the back of an envelope and praying for and with her. And perhaps I will get her several Christian T-shirts to wear around town. Providence may not be showing any outward signs of Jesus to Ayla, but I'm praying Ayla will show outward signs of Jesus to Providence.

"Divine providence" is defined as God's activity in this world ... hoping I see more of that in the capital city named for it.