Who'da Thunk It?

March 14, 2012
My wife and I were both saved in our youth but like so many young adults we both drifted away from our Christian base and paid the price for it. Early in our marriage, if anyone took us to court and accused us of being Christians, the case would have been thrown out due to lack of evidence. Our lifestyle was, in a word, worldly.

You see, it wasn’t exactly the textbook formula for putting together a marriage. She’d been divorced for several years and was singlehandedly raising two kids on her own. I’d been divorced for about a year and was stumbling along as a single parent myself. Both sides had financial problems that weren’t going away anytime soon. 

Shortly before the wedding, one child flew the coop for the perceived greener pastures of one of the ex-spouses. Shortly thereafter, another child followed suit for the other ex-spouse’s. Directly after the honeymoon, we were blind sided with the news from our employer that we would being transferred to another part of the country, Louisiana. Looking back, what on earth made us think this new union would work is beyond me.

That first summer in the deep South was fraught with cultural changes neither one of us Yankees quickly warmed up to. The crawly, slimy crawfish that I’d used as fishing bait as a boy was considered high cuisine down on the bayou. The locals spoke a dialect that sounded to our Northern ears like a Frenchman trying to speak English with a mouthful of gravel. Both of us had grown up in the Midwest, thinking we had an idea what humidity was like, but we got a advanced course in sultriness that first Southern summer. And so, in this foreign environment, with the pressure of new jobs, children out of pocket, and bills piling up, we plunged forward into our first year of marriage. If you think for a minute it went smoothly, think again.

After a short while, both wayward children found the grass not so green on the other side of their fences, and made their way back home. We began to love our Louisiana home and all the wonderful culture that came with it.  Most importantly, our blended family of five now intact, things started a slow, but discernable spiritual ascent.

One afternoon the children came home with an invitation to attend a week-long summer church camp. The missus was all for it. I had some reservations. It was a Baptist camp, after all, and this was the South. No telling what radical ideas these folks would have. 

Let God have an second though, and He’ll take a life. Five of them in fact. Upon my insistence, we went and checked out this church that had proposed to drag our children off into the woods of Louisiana. Walking into investigate my suspicions, what I found was a relationship that I’d laid by the side of the road many mile markers back. My wife shook the dust off of hers as well. God quickly turned two lives around that were headed down a road to ruin. Our children found Christ through that Baptist church as well. 

The years flew by and the three children turned into seven grandchildren. Oh, and by the way, we’ve never used the term "step-children" during our marriage. One day someone asked which of the children was mine and which my wife’s. I smiled, kinda shrugged my shoulders and playfully replied, "I don’t remember.  All I know is they were all raised outta the same wallet."

For the next 15 years or so, there were more job transfers, lots of wonderful memories, and yes, at times, more strife. You see, God doesn’t promise us a perfectly smooth ride, just a great landing spot at the end. Through it all, we grew and grew in our love for each other and our love of our God.

At each turn of the road, God continued blessing us with more and more opportunities to serve Him. For instance, last year my wife and I went on an evangelical mission trip to Lima, Peru - teaching, preaching, and sharing Christ. Let me tell this: there’s nothing like seeing the love of your life sharing the Lord of your life with others.

Oh, I suppose there are millions of stories like ours. God’s accomplishments are innumerous, without question. But as I sit here today, on our twentieth anniversary, looking back over a marriage that sputtered from the onset, to where He has taken us today, I can only imagine what wonderful things He has in store for the next twenty years.

Cash in Your Coupon!

The woman laid open a multi-page binder in the upper section of her grocery cart, the area in which a small child often rides. I thought at first she was an auditor inspecting the shelves of merchandise. As she approached however, I noticed that her binder was not some sort of checklist. No, instead the pages were packed full of coupons. A closer look at her binder revealed that she had literally hundreds of coupons, all sorted into categories, subcategories, and a dates of expiration. She had a virtual filing cabinet of coupons available at her fingertips.

My wife likes to use coupons to her advantage when shopping. It’s a good idea for products that you buy on a regular basis. She keeps a little billfold like pouch in her purse and when she’s in the store, goes through them, checking to see if there’s any that will save money on that day’s shopping. She thought herself pretty organized in that endeavor until we ran into the previously mentioned shopper. We both acknowledged the woman’s coupon superiority.

Now coupons are only good if you redeem them for the item they represent. For instance, if I give you a coupon for a free Big Mac at McDonald’s, even though it might have a picture of the Big Mac on the coupon, eating the coupon itself won’t satisfy your hunger. No, you have to take it to McDonald’s and redeem it. There, they will take your coupon and give you back something substantially more appetizing, at least in my humble opinion.

As Christians, we have received and redeemed the greatest coupon, if you will, of all. By declaring Christ as our Lord and Savior, we are "cashing in" on God’s offer of redemption. But like that coupon from McDonald’s, one has to actually use it. You can read about salvation, listen to a great evangelist’s message, even believe it all, but if you don’t say "Yes, Lord," it’s all for naught. "Yes Lord," I accept Jesus’ death on the Cross as payment for my sin. "Yes, Lord," I want Christ as Lord of my life...Yes Lord. People try and make Christianity many things, but one thing it’s not is complicated.

Romans 10:13 says plainly and clearly, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." Everyone. The coupons are limitless. Have you redeemed yours?

From Rocks to Redemption

She found herself in the most humiliating of circumstances. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d set foot in the temple and yet, now, she found herself flung down in the midst of a group listening to a respected teacher who had been in the area for only a short time. While she felt the teacher probably didn’t know who she was, the woman was certain most of the audience knew her all too well. 
You see, there had long been stories throughout the community, stories of her trysts with various husbands of other women. And now, she had been caught in the very act of one of her rendezvous. She’d barely had time to grab some clothing as the men snatched her out of the adulterous embrace. She was disheveled, confused, but mostly ashamed. As she looked up at the mob surrounding her, several men in the gathering looked away quickly, not wanting their eyes to meet hers.


Laying there at the feet of the teacher, the woman reflected on her life. She had long led such a wanton life, she saw herself as worthless. What did it matter whom she had met in the shadows? She meant nothing to the world. At least in those brief, passionate moments, she felt some sense of love, albeit shallow and fleeting. Abandoned and rejected by her own family, the woman was starved for any sort of human warmth. For this, she had paid the price with her dignity, living a life of tortuous abandonment from the rest of society.

Oddly, the religious leaders seemed more interested in debating the legalities of her situation with this new teacher. She sat in surreal silence, listening to them berate the teacher about what the law said should be done to her.

"Moses commanded us to stone such a woman! Now, what do you say, Teacher??"

Stoning? It never occurred to her that her punishment would be that severe. The woman swallowed hard as she realized the same men that had refused to look at her were now holding jagged-edged rocks. Now their eyes were directed toward her, filled with hateful resentment.

Heart pounding, she turned quickly to see how this teacher would respond. Her life, it seemed, had been thrust into the hands of this stranger. To her utter dismay, he was merely squatting down, writing something in the dirt with his finger. He appeared completely disinterested in her situation. But the men kept up their insistent ranting at the teacher, demanding an answer.

She thought her situation helpless. She was guilty as charged and the only ally she might have was doodling something in the dirt. As her despair reached its absolute depths, the teacher finally raised himself up and faced her tormenters. Finally, he was going to speak...

"He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first."

With that, the teacher went back to his writing in the dirt...Was that it? No legal argument made on her behalf? The woman’s heart sank with disappointment. She felt hopelessly doomed.

But a remarkable change in the air began to occur. The hatred she had felt directed toward her was beginning to dissipate. Piercing the sudden silence, she heard stones thumping the ground as they dropped from the grips of the men. Heads down and without a word of response, the older men in the group began walking out. The younger men soon followed, until she found herself alone in the teacher’s presence.

"Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?"

The good Teacher reached down, took her by the hand, and lifted her up from the dirt in which she’d been cast. She gazed upon his face, feeling a warmth and love that she had never experienced from any other person. Still quivering and shaking, she managed a weak reply.

"No one, Lord."



Softly, He told the woman, "Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more."

She had been dragged into the temple under circumstances beyond her comprehension. Now, as she left, the woman felt suddenly fortified that perhaps her life did have significance. It would be a long, arduous journey ahead, but she now felt she could encounter life with a newly uplifted spirit. She turned to see her Deliverer once more, but He had gone. Wonderfully, however, she felt His presence beside her as she walked out from her darkness into the daylight.

Very Pinteresting....

Like millions of Americans, someone in our two person household has been hooked "Pinterest" for some time now. I admit, that other than posting a couple pictures for my somewhat technically-challenged wife, whom I adore so much (in case she’s reading this), I don’t know a whole lot about Pinterest. Near as I can tell, the site is a virtual bulletin board of things that someone might be interested in. It’s like telling the world, "HEY, I LIKE THIS...HOW ABOUT YOU?" The site's mission statement is to "connect everyone in the world through the 'things' they find interesting" I think that’s kind of neat, but I haven’t taken the plunge, just yet.

It’s fascinating the ever-changing world of communicative technology we live in. Back in the early 90's, on our first home computer, we stumbled across a small internet auction site. I remember thinking that this Ebay thing could really take off, if they could just get their message out. I think it’s safe to say that the message got out just fine. Ebay, Yahoo, Google, Pinterest...what’ll be the next big thing?

Like it or not, we’re all affected to one degree or another by the world around us. As Christians, we have to make decisions practically on a daily basis of what we’re going to participate in and what we’re not.

1 John 2:15 tells us:

"Do not love the world or the things in the world..."

Does this mean we’re to avoid all participation in things this world has to offer? I don’t believe so. I think the key word is love. Do not love the world. We have to draw a line when the things of this world become more important than our spiritual relationship.

Jesus said the greatest commandment of all is to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." We have to all ask ourselves are we truly fulfilling that commandment and, is there anything the world has to offer coming between ourselves and the Lord. That would be the definition of loving the world, least wise how I would see it...now, if you’ll excuse me, an auction on Ebay’s about to end and I want to get a last second bid in. Later!

Joe's Proposal

The deacons’ flower fund was often referred to as the "widows’ flower fund," due to the fact that the majority of expenditures went for flowers sent to funerals of male members of the church. It was a rather large church, with a quite populous senior membership. The eighteen men serving as deacons reflected this disproportion. In fact, I was the only deacon under the age of forty, or fifty for that matter. Sadly, the "widow’s flower fund" was not a dormant account, by any means.

Every month I gave a report of how much money was in the account, what flowers had been sent out for what funeral, and so forth. It was a fairly routine part of the monthly deacons’ meetings. Oh, there was sometimes a comment here or there concerning the report, but generally the men sat quietly while I talked, sipping their early morning coffee.

Joe wasn’t one of the prominent members of the deacon body. He didn’t live in an affluent neighborhood or drive nearly as nice a car as most of the rest of the older heads that served as deacon. His dress wasn’t as sharp and he had a difficult time hearing a lot of what was being said at the meetings, despite the hearing aids he wore in both ears. His glasses were seemingly an inch thick and Joe rarely spoke up at meetings, generally sitting off to the side by himself.

But there was a servant’s heart the size of Mount Rushmore beating inside Joe. He was the first to help out anyone in a time of need. He probably did more unseen, unheard of deeds for others in the church than the rest of us deacons combined. He was a deacon’s deacon.

As I rambled through my flower fund report one particular month, I felt an air of opposition to an expenditure that had been made. A somewhat regular attender of our church had passed away and the deacon officers had instructed me to make the normal purchase of a spray of flowers to be delivered to the funeral home, which I had done.

"Am I to understand that we now are sending flowers to the funerals of non-members of the church?"

The question pierced the air of meeting room, and several sets of bushy eyebrows raised in sudden curiosity. Before I could respond, the chairman of the deacons responded that the order was authorized by the officers, and that the deceased was well known throughout the church.

"But he wasn’t a member, was he?"

And with that, the discussion was on. This group opposed the purchase, while that group saw nothing wrong with it. As disagreements tend to do, the issue soon expanded and got rather heated. After a few minutes motions were flying that would define procurement procedures and guidelines for how, when, and who would receive these grand gestures of kindness on our behalf.

The volume and intensity were about at a fever pitch when suddenly from his isolated seat, Joe rose from his chair and barked, "Stop this nonsense, right now!"

A dead silence fell over the room as Joe stood at the table, as red in the face as I’d ever seen him.

"First of all, it was a $35.00 expense." Joe reached in his back pocket and pulled out an old brown leather wallet. Tossing out a twenty, a ten, and a five he said, "There, covered." What he said next has stayed with me to this day.

"Now, I have a proposal of my own to make. Instead of worrying so gall dern much about sending flowers for the dead, why don’t we start thinking about ways to show love towards folk whilst they’re still alive! I know people in this church that aren’t doing too well, need their house worked on and cain’t afford it, could use help paying for food and bills. I got an idea: let’s take that money for a six month trial period and go out and find people that we can truly help. I guarantee you, the results from that little test will be a lot more satisfyin’ than what’s gone on in here this morning!"

The discussion ended as an air of conviction fell over the group. Joe started back for his corner seat. But then he turned and said one more lasting comment.

"Oh, by the way, send me my flowers whilst I’m still alive."

Whitney Houston...

Like most of you, I watched with some interest the coverage of Whitney Houston’s passing. In case you’ve just crawled out from under a rock, one of the defining pop voices of our time died last week in, probably, what we’ll eventually learn was a substance abuse oriented demise. She had a vocal talent that transcended race, age group, or musical taste. In other words, who didn’t like Whitney Houston's beautiful voice? Her rendition of the Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl in 1991, as our nation was engaged in the first Gulf War, is still considered the standard by which all national anthem performances are judged. I’ve posted a linked to it below. If you’re American and don’t get a little goosepimply watching it, better check your pulse.

Yes, as a performer, Houston was in a class of her own. But my interest in the coverage of her death was from a spiritual standpoint. And once again, the world took a popular figure and decided that the gates of heaven swung wide open due to her enormous contribution to society. One eulogizer at her funeral stated, "Everyone in heaven, including God, is waiting. And I just know you're going to raise the roof like no one else has done before "

Really? God is waiting to hear a Whitney Houston concert in heaven? I bet He has good seats. Maybe Amy Winehouse opens for her, and Michael Jackson will make a special cameo appearance...

I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead. That isn’t my point at all. There were other eulogies given at Houston’s funeral, but one delivered by movie maker and actor Tyler Perry caught my ear the most. Perry said:

"Grace is what carried her. Grace is what kept on carrying her all the way through. She was not even supposed to speak because of a childhood incident. However, she went on to sing to the top of the charts; singing before presidents. That same grace carried her home."

Grace. Perry was referring to Ephesians 2:8 which states,

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God"

Whitney Houston sang her way into our hearts, but she was a sinner, like the rest of us...saved only through the Grace of Almighty God by sending Jesus to die on Calvary’s Cross for payment of her sin...and mine...and yours.

Tyler Perry said he was reminded of a scripture by Paul in Romans:

"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39)

While I’m of the belief that this scripture, along with others, tells me our salvation can never be lost, I realize that some hold different viewpoints. Respectful of that, we can all agree that we can not move ourselves one inch closer to heaven through our good deeds...or our wonderful talents.

I do look forward to hearing Whitney Houston sing in a heavenly choir one day. Maybe, we’ll all join her as we look to Jesus and sing, "I Will Always Love You."

Whitney Houston’s Star Spangled Banner performance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wupsPg5H6aE&feature=related

10:00 - BELLE!!

In the lobby of a local nursing home, there is a dry erase board resting on an easel that lists the activities of the day. Singing groups, crafts workshops, and Bible studies are some of the many events that the board announces on a daily basis. Many of the residents plan their days around that simple dry erase board. 

Every other Wednesday, there is a special appointment written on the board that sends a surge of excitement throughout the facility. The announcement simply reads, "10:00 - BELLE!!" That’s when Belle the therapy dog makes her appointed rounds.

Belle is our nine year old Great Dane. We’ve always called her a petite Great Dane, because she’s significantly smaller than the breed standard. She was a stray when we took her in over eight years ago, dumped from where she was born, probably because she was the runt of the litter. Living in Louisiana at the time, my wife said she was a pretty Southern belle. The name stuck and Belle has been a part of our family since.

Belle became a certified therapy dog about a year ago, and has visited mostly nursing homes. She’s always had a loving disposition, wanting to please whomever she’s in contact with. During her regular Wednesday appointments, as Belle perfected the art of pet therapy, I’ve witnessed some special moments.

On Belle’s initial Wednesday visit, we were escorted by the activities director through the halls, day rooms, and into the residents’ individual rooms. I had a great deal of anxiety about how Belle would do. We’d been through all the training, passed our certification exams, but now we were actually going to be visiting real, live people. I imagined all kinds of calamities occurring.


Belle breezed through the first dozen or so visits and performed marvelously. I was beginning to relax, realizing that she was going to be just fine. Then, the activities director led us into a room where an elderly lady was laying on her bed, on her side, unable to speak. I asked her if she’d like to meet my dog and, while her eyes lit up when she saw Belle, it was obvious she was unable to move herself to a position where she could pet her. I noticed her frail, weak hand, reaching out the best she could in an attempt to pet Belle, who was sitting beside her bed, but far from her reach. I wasn’t sure what to do, but Belle instinctively provided the answer.

In the gentlest manner, Belle raised herself up and placed her front two paws on the woman’s bed. She began leaning toward the woman, moving ever so slowly and carefully. Then, she stretched out her long neck, putting her head under the woman’s outstretched hand. The instant her nose nuzzled beneath the lady’s frail fingers, the woman smiled a beautiful, warm smile. She slowly, lovingly stroked Belle’s head. Both the activity director and I stood in stunned silence at the moment. Finally, she asked me, "How did you train her to do that?"

All I could say through the lump in my throat was, "I didn’t. Somehow she just knew."

Another woman Belle visits has no one to talk to her. Not because the staff and other residents have shunned her, but because Vita only speaks Italian. She sits in silence most of her days, unable to communicate with those around her. Whenever Belle makes her appointed rounds though, a private moment of love is shared between the two. Sitting in her wheelchair, Vita wraps her arms around Belle’s neck and begins an outpouring of affection and lets loose a dialog of bottled-up conversation that only she and perhaps Belle understand. The staff have informed me that it is the only time they see Vita smile, when she’s "conversing" with Belle.

2Corinthians 1:3-4 says our Heavenly Father is the "...the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." (NIV)

Perhaps like me, you’ve always read that passage and never thought in terms of that comfort and compassion coming from a dog. Belle’s appointed rounds will make you stop and realize that God’s love can come from a variety of sources.