Choked Up

Recently a friend of mine was told he might have cancer. He shared with me that when he first got this diagnosis, and subsequently thought about the potential outcome, he said his first thoughts weren't about goals not achieved, not reaching certain successes or becoming wealthy. He said: "I immediately thought about all the people I haven't shared Christ with yet."

I was profoundly moved, and could certainly relate. About a decade ago I had a near-death experience when I was told I might not survive and spent the next 45 minutes in an ambulance making sure everyone riding with me knew of the saving grace of Christ.

When sharing the first story above, a friend listening said, "Yeah, that's the dash. What are you doing with your dash?" He was referring to the poem by Linda Ellis called The Dash, about the dash between the birth and death years on a gravestone (which you can read here). It's a precious convicting poem reminding us what is important in our lives. But I think my friend facing cancer has the true meaning of the dash figured out perfectly. It's not about our wealth, being a success in the workplace, awards and accolades ... it's about furthering the Kingdom, period. That comes about with love in our actions, certainly, as spoken in "The Dash" poem, but also in "telling" of the love of God, sharing our testimonies, speaking of the forgiveness God offers us through His Son. That is our most important job, and Jesus reminded us of that with his last words before leaving Earth "Go therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." (Matthew 28:19-20)

During my devotion time a day ago, I was reading Mark and rereading the parable of the sower for the upteenth time. Sometimes when I get to these stories, I kinda gloss over them since I've read them so very often. But this day, I read it slowly, absorbing all God wanted me to learn from it. Jesus speaks of a farmer scattering seed, some of which falls on the path, quickly eaten by birds; some on rocky places with little soil, so plants have no root and wither; some on good soil producing a crop multiplied by 30, 60 or even 100. But the seeds that got me, were the ones thrown among the thorns, choked and unable to produce fruit. Jesus says in Mark 4:18-19: "Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful."

I never related to these seeds. I kinda put myself in with the seeds on good soil producing a bountiful crop. But the Lord convicted me that day. I've certainly spent a portion of my time as the seed among the thorns, desiring things of this earth rather than the company of my Father and fulfilling His mission for me. And I thought for a moment about all the time I've wasted. Good heavens, there have been some unfruitful times in my life.

Perhaps as I'm in this "middle age" of life (that is if the Lord has me live into my 90's), I am re-evaluating my time. How have I been fruitful today? Have I told anyone about Christ? Have I encouraged a soul this day? Have I reached out to a friend in need? Have I spent moments in solitude with my Creator God?

When facing the certainty of death ... oh, and it most certainly is there waiting for all of us every moment ... our outlook, our values and goals get a bit tweaked.

So I've learned a couple things: 1) don't gloss over the Word - it's living and God has more to reveal; and 2) don't waste an opportunity to talk about Christ, not one moment, because there are many, many who need Him.

It's time I pull out these thorns.

A New Leash On Life

On my way to praise band practice in the early Sunday morning hours, I see a woman - a friend of mine - who is walking her dog. I see her just about every Sunday. Her dog is huge, bigger than her. I remember the first time I saw her. Rather than her walking the dog, the dog was dragging her. I felt so bad for her. She is a tiny woman and to see this brute of a dog that she obviously had no control over yanking her all over the neighborhood with her struggling to keep up, was just painful to watch.

I'd heard she inherited the dog, that it wasn't hers to begin with, so it wasn't like she had this puppy she didn't train right. It came to her home fully in charge. I used to wonder why she didn't just give up on him and find him another home, especially when she looked so miserable every time she was out with him. I knew at any day I would hear about her having to go to the emergency room to get her arm put back in its socket.

Then this Sunday I noticed something. She was walking the dog again (in her pajamas as she always does) and she had complete control of the canine. Complete control. He wasn't charging full force ahead, but rather walked just a few paces in front of her. She was even carrying a cup of coffee!

Rather than give up on this mighty mutt, she had gotten stronger. She persevered through the tough, overpowering moments and came through victorious to the point of delighting in this animal and the leisurely stroll. She even waved to me while she was walking, something she could have never done previously.

What a wonderful lesson about life. She didn't give up. She didn't take the easy road. She just trudged on through the tough times and ended up stronger, more in control and happy.

Oftentimes, we look for the easy way out when things aren't going so well. My husband likes to tell me I always look for the "escape route" when facing struggles. Rather than deal with the problem, sometimes I want out. While that may be the simpler approach and leave me anxiety free, it also leaves me weaker for it, just as thin-skinned as I was to begin with and pathetically less capable to handle a similar situation in the future.

I am who I am today because of the failures, successes and journeys to and through both. And pray I am stronger, better and happier for it all. While I'm pretty sure my friend didn't enjoy being pulled by a brute dog every morning, she certainly is enjoying the animal's company now. She has peace. I have a long road ahead of me as the Father continues to grow and mold me into the person He wants me to be. And while I do not look forward to the struggles and battles ahead, I pray I can have the perseverance to hold tightly to the leash and enjoy the leisurely stroll on the other side, when all is completed.

A Sure Foundation

My Mom shared a story with me yesterday that I have never heard before. Part of it I knew, like how she and Dad donated money toward a new church building in North Huntingdon, PA, 30 years ago only to see it tied up in scandal. Half the church wanted to use the donated money toward remodeling the historic building while the other half wanted to use the money for what it was intended ... a new building. I knew about the scandal. I knew about the split in the church. It was my confirmation year, and I knew as I was confirmed, my vote on this matter suddenly became very important. And I even knew about the angel that visited my mother on the edge of her bed, asking her to give a message to the pastor as to what needed to be done. The church was to split, and a new church built with only a portion of what had been saved. All that I knew.

Then I learned something new. Just recently my mom went back to visit the church. In true Moses fashion, after my Mom and Dad had saved and given so much to see this new church built, the Lord carried them away to Chicago. My parents never got a chance to worship in the new building as members. When my mom went to the church for a visit recently, she took her camera and snapped away taking pictures of the beautiful building and the stained glass window that almost wasn't until she made a few phone calls and overnight raised enough money to pay for it. At this recent visit, she saw all the many people worshiping in it and got teary realizing this was God's building and God's plan all along.

Here's the part I didn't know. Mom had said when the money raised was cut back severely after the church split, there were many alternations they needed to make in the design. The original design called for a sloped floor. This design element was put in place because they wanted everyone in the church to be able to see over the heads of those in front of them in worship. Alas, this was too pricey with the new budget and was cut. However, when the contractors went to dig for the foundation on the new property, they hit solid rock ... a solid sloped rock. When putting in the church floor, it had to be sloped, perfectly slanted to the front of the building. The Father had provided for even this in the midst of such a sad and often times ugly scandal.

We so often forget that our Lord is in the details. He loves us to very much. He provides our needs and then to our surprise, often provides our wants in beautiful, miraculous, God-only ways. It's then we can sit back in awe, yet again, of our amazing, loving Father.

I have often said my faith, my taught faith, came from the two greatest people I know: my Father, with his head knowledge of the Word and generous spirit, and my mother, who has a child-like faith completely relying on Jehovah Jireh - God our Provider - and her unconditional love for everyone around her. I have been blessed indeed by both of these spiritual mentors in my life.

And to hear how our Father provided for this, and my mother's complete joy in telling the story, forced me to my knees in worship of this Awesome God. Not just cause He provided a sloped floor, sent an angel, or inspired hearts to give abundantly for a stained glass window, but that He provided me with such powerful witnesses of the Almighty in the sweetness and faith of my parents. Thank you, Father God. All glory to you.

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?