The Kindness Cure

“People who are right with God take good care of their animals." ~ Proverbs 12:10

Josh sucked in the rich autumn breeze as he hiked a rocky trail up the mountainside.  He was in a zone … one of peace and serenity; perfect for his morning conversation with God.

From the stillness rang a meow that seemed to originate from among the thorny gooseberry bushes lining the path.  Josh stopped in his tracks.  When the cry came again, this time shriller, he started rummaging through the sharp branches looking for its source.

Then he saw her - a small cat trapped among the barbs.  Her piercing amber eyes cast a frightened expression.  Cats are certainly adept at communicating when they’re angry - hissing, flattening their ears, and fur standing on end is hard to miss.  This one just looked scared.

Josh tried to reach in and calm the terrified kitty.  But even though they sometimes seem smarter than us, cats are still animals.  She scratched at him and as he instinctively recoiled, the gooseberry thorns tore into his skin.

Scratching is a natural behavior for cats.  Cats scratch to sharpen their claws, mark their territories and defend themselves when attacked.  Even declawed cats retain the instinct to scratch.

Bleeding, wounded and determined, Josh reached back in again and again.  Each time the cat scratched him.

Another hiker trekked by noticing the bloodbath.  “Leave it,” he suggested.  “Cats only do as much as needed to escape.  They don’t deal in revenge.  She’ll eventually find her own way out.”

Josh ignored the uninvited suggestion and continued trying to free the cat.  Finally, he succeeded and placed her on the dusty path and watched her scamper away.

Noting the warm blood flowing over Josh’s battered hands, the hiker couldn’t help but shake his head.  “You must be some kind of animal rights fanatic,” he chuckled.

“I guess I could have just left her there,” Josh hesitated.  “But forever I will be in this moment; my hands scarlet and sticky.  Yet there’s an exquisite pain that educates in a way nothing else can.”

“You’re correct sir,” he continued.  “Cats are animals that scratch and attack intuitively.  But compassion is a human instinct; a natural, reflexive response that has ensured our survival throughout history.  Our brains are wired to respond to all of God’s suffering creatures.  It’s about giving all the love you’ve got for the blessings received.”

Slightly embarrassed, the other hiker stood frozen; in awe of Josh’s assurance.  “Guess you’ve given me a few things to consider this morning.”

Darwin wrote that “communities which include the greatest number of the most sympathetic members will flourish best, and rear the greatest number of offspring.  We need people to be kind to each other to ensure that our species continues to grow successfully over time.”

O God, may the great beauty and strength of Your love fill the hearts of all creatures with comfort and compassion, as we work and wait for Your Kingdom of light, beauty and kindness upon this Earth.  Amen

He's Waiting

“God remains forever faithful." ~ 2 Timothy 2:13

In the tiny café, he sat alone at a table for two.  Hundreds rushed by it – few stepped inside.

The waitress returned to his table for the umpteenth time.  "Would you like to order yet?"  (He’d been waiting almost half an hour).  "No, thank you," he smiled.  "I'll wait a little longer.”

His blue eyes stared through the flowered centerpiece.  Sounds of light chatter and soothing music filled his mind.  He’d dressed up enough to make a companion feel significant, respected, loved.  He’d taken every precaution to make her feel at ease.

Something tugged at her curiosity.  "I don't mean to pry, but..." her voice trailed off.

Go ahead," he encouraged in a confident, yet sensitive voice.

"Why do you keep waiting for her?" she blurted.  Said the man quietly, "Because she needs me."

“No offense, sir,” she pressed, “she sure isn't acting like it.  She stood you up 3 times this week."

The man’s eyes shifted towards his folded hands.  "Yes, I know, but Andrea said she’d be here."

"She's said that before," the waitress protested.  "I wouldn't put up with it.  Why do you?"

Now the man looked up, beamed, and said simply, "Because I love her."

The waitress retreated, wondering how one could love a woman who stands him up repeatedly.  He doesn’t look crazy.  Maybe this lady has unique qualities.  Or maybe the man's love is stronger than most.  Reflectively, she moved on to another table.

The lonely man sipped at this coffee.  He’d been stood up many times but he’d never get used to the hurt.  He looked forward to this evening all day; so many things to share with Andrea.  But, more importantly, he wanted to hear her voice, celebrate her triumphs, share her pain.

He requested the check after almost two hours, leaving enough for 5 cups of coffee and a healthy tip.  He passed a laughing couple on the way out; his teary eyes pondering the good time they could’ve had.  Stopping at the front, he made reservations for tomorrow.

"Seven o'clock tomorrow for party of two?" the hostess confirmed.  “I hope she’ll come.”

"She will … someday, and I’ll be waiting."  Buttoning his overcoat, he left alone; shoulders hunched.  One could only guess if they were bent against the wind or a broken heart.

As the man walked on, Andrea crawled into bed, tired from an evening with friends.  When she reached toward her night stand to set the alarm, she saw the note she’d scribbled to herself last night.  “Tomorrow,” it read, “spend time in prayer.”

“Darn, I forgot again” she thought casting aside a twinge of guilt.  She needed that time with her friends.  She can pray tomorrow night.  Jesus will forgive her (again).

Loving God, thank You for being the One constant in my life.  No matter what happens, no matter what I go through, or whatever may change, You are still there, and You stay the same - faithful and true.  Amen

Pure Grace

“God rejects the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” ~ James 4:6

During 1977’s Christmas holiday, Sen. Hubert Humphrey returned home to his home northwest of Minneapolis.  He’d just completed a brief trip to the nation's capital to personally deliver farewells to the men and women with whom he’d served for almost 30 years as U.S. Senator, then Vice President under Lyndon Johnson.

His remarkable political had come to an end.  Emaciated by cancer, Humphrey was dying; the press already forming a death watch nearby over Minnesota's most famous political son.

His legendary energy now receding like an ebb current, Humphrey began calling old friends and colleagues around the world to offer season's greetings.  Everyone knew these were his final goodbyes.

On Christmas Eve, he reached his old adversary, Richard Nixon - the man who in 1968 had given Humphrey his most bitter defeat.  He learned that the Nixon’s were both ill, depressed and alone for the holidays in California.

With only days to live, he told the former president of the events that would follow his death: his lying-in-state in the nation’s Capital and his funeral and burial in Minnesota.

Humphrey invited Nixon to attend the ceremony that would conclude his lying-in-state.  He wanted him to be received at that ceremony with the full honor due to a former President.

Nixon, had resigned from the presidency in disgrace only three years before.  The scars of Watergate were still fresh.  Liberals, moderates and conservatives alike viewed Nixon as deserving the humiliation that made him unwelcome in Washington.

Sensing Nixon's exile and deep depression, Humphrey fashioned a credible excuse enabling his old rival to return to Washington.  He advised those in charge of Presidential ceremonies that Nixon was there at his personal request and should be treated respectfully and with dignity.

Hubert Humphrey died on Friday, Jan. 13, 1978 at his home on Lake Waverly.  President Carter immediately dispatched Air Force One to return Humphrey's body to the Capital.

On Sunday morning, with President Carter, former President Ford, Vice President Mondale and many of the nation's political leaders in attendance, a concluding ceremony was held in the Capitol Rotunda.  To the surprise of most and the gasps of many, former President Nixon was escorted, as promised, to the place of honor near the flag-draped casket.  Nixon could feel the ostracism ladled at him.

President Carter, known for his humility and integrity, noticed Nixon standing alone.  He walked toward Nixon, extended his hand, and smiling, said, “Welcome home, Mr. President!  Welcome home!”

Hubert Humphrey's gift that winter to Richard Nixon had been delivered with compassion and love.  Nixon had done nothing to deserve it.  It was an act of pure grace on Humphrey’s part.

God’s blessings speak exactly the same way - never a reward for good behavior but of pure, unadulterated grace.

Dear God, who gives grace to the meek: grant us the virtue of true humility, that we may never by our pride provoke Your anger, but rather by our gentleness receive the riches of Your grace.  Amen

God's Chosen

“Few of you were wise or powerful or wealthy when God called you." ~ 1 Corinthians 1:26

Naomi was poised to give the most important speech of her career.  It wasn’t every day that one got the privilege of delivering the Commencement Address at their Alma Matter.

She felt special today – deeply satisfied by all she’d accomplished.

A single Mom from Chicago’s inner city, she worked two shifts to send her kids to school.  Naomi worked hard, eventually earning admission to this college.  Upon graduation, she joined a large retailer as a summer intern.  Diligence, passion, and determination eventually paid-off when she became the company’s first female CEO.

Her speech would be straightforward, crafted with clarity and precision; painting simple pictures with strong subtexts.  She’d rehearsed the text so as to allow freedom to look around and build rapport with the graduates.  Her practiced use of pitch and rhythm would surely move the listeners’ hearts and minds.

A cheerful man greeted her upon arrival at the auditorium.  Naomi sat down in the back row to review her notes and absorb the enormity of this day.

The man busily went about checking the microphone and adjusting the stage lights.  Taking a broom and dustpan, he then proceeded to sweep the floor before the crowd arrived.

 As Naomi watched the man, a question came to mind.  “Lord?” she wondered. “Who’s more valuable today for this program, him or me?

As she pondered the question, the answer became clear – “Neither!”  They had equal value, just different functions.  Which prompted a second question: “Lord, who is most pleasing to You?”

Its answer came quicker than the first.  “The one who does this with the greatest amount of love in their heart for God.”

Sometimes we confuse value and function.  We don’t get value from what we do; we bring value to our work.  Each individual has intrinsic value before God.

We also make the mistake of trying to win the Lord’s approval by how we perform our jobs. People-pleasers never end up as God-pleasers.  It’s never the height or even the breadth of our task, but the depth of our love motivating us to serve that catches God’s eye.  It is not how we serve, but why, that gets His attention.

Those who serve in the shadows in roles that don’t bring much public adulation just may be God’s heroes.  Remember there aren’t many wise, mighty, or noble.  The next time you walk past one setting up chairs in your Church without taking notice, you may have missed an opportunity to interact with one of God’s chosen servants.

That day, when Naomi spoke in that auditorium, the most honored servant may not have been the one speaking to the crowd … but the one sweeping the floor.

Heavenly Father, forgive us for falling so short in loving You like you deserve, and thank You for covering this grievous sin by the precious blood of Jesus. Give us the grace to love You, your Son, and your Holy Spirit with all our hearts.  Amen

Legos, Gummy Bears and Cheerios

“How wonderful and pleasant it is when families live in harmony!" ~ Psalm 133:1

Sandra pushed the front door open against a tide of objects wedged against it from the other side.  Tiptoeing across the room, she tried to avoid the cacophony of Legos, raisins and Cheerios that littered the floor.  Her eyes and mouth froze wide open in stunned surprise as Sandra absorbed a more panoramic view.

An antique lamp had been knocked over.  The Cartoon Channel blared loudly from the TV.  Kid’s toys and various clothing items ‘decorated’ the family room.

Dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink; breakfast remnants cluttered the counter.  The refrigerator door was open and a broken glass lay under the table alongside the dog’s morning ‘business.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Sandra spotted their twin boys, still in their pajamas, playing outside in the mud.  She couldn’t wait to hear the story of how “they were enjoying nature in the backyard, when, POW!  A mud puddle jumped right out of the tree and landed on them.”

She flew up the stairs, hurdling toys and more clothes, looking for her husband.  Daren had taken on the role of full-time dad after the twins were born.  Sandra worried that he might be ill, or that something serious had happened and met a trickle of water making its way from under the bathroom door.

She peered inside and found wet towels, scummy soap and miles of toilet paper lying in a messy heap.  Expensive lipstick covered the tile and mirror.

As Sandra rushed to the bedroom, she found Daren curled up in bed reading a novel. He looked up at her, smiled and asked how her day went.

She looked at him bewildered and asked, “What happened here today?”

He again smiled and answered, “You know every day when you come home from work and ask me what in the world I did all day?

”Yes,” she replied suspiciously.

He answered, “Well, today I didn’t do it.”

Sandra, a busy executive who spends nearly most waking minute grappling with strategic issues, focusing on cost reduction, and devising creative approaches to new markets, understood immediately.  Despite being busy, she rarely found time for purposeful, family reflection.

She stopped looking at the dirty dishes, assuming that they were evidence of Daren sitting around all day.  Instead, Sandra started washing the dishes.  She realized that this was not his mess, but their mess, and started pitching in more.

She stopped worrying about the house, and paid more attention to the children’s development. She observed how happy they were, and marveled at the kind of relationship they shared with their father.  She noticed at times a cluttered house, and really happy, bright kids.

Father, thank You for the gift of family.   Bless them with Your favor.  Provide for all their needs.  Protect them from harm and evil.  Surround them in the shadow of Your wing.  And help them appreciate the special skills they each bring to their family.  Amen

Praying for Grace

“His grace is sufficient." ~ 2 Corinthians 12:8

Her mind rolled like the ocean - calm on the surface yet so many dangerous undercurrents.  Today marked 30 days – of waiting, of hoping, of praying … desperately.

An auto accident had left her 23-year-old son comatose in the ICU across the hall.  Yet she remained positive and stoic.  During brief visitations, Camilla whispered calm reassurance to her unconscious boy.  There was no sign that he could hear her, but she never gave up.

Her devotion was interrupted by a loud wailing that pierced the eerie silence.  The air was so brittle it could snap.  Whose life just changed forever?  Who’d received the fatal news now?

But that wasn’t the case.  This was another mother; another frantic, exhausted soul who cried out in pure misery; seeing reality for what it is.

“Why?  Why?” she sobbed as a nurse led her to a chair.  Everyone’s eyes turned her way.  Another visitor gently reached out to pat her hand and console her.  “Don’t worry.  He’ll be alright.”

That exacerbated her cries.  “No!  Don’t say that!  Enough!  Please let him die now; he can’t take this anymore.”   Startled gasps filled the waiting area - loud enough to reach her; further igniting her raging furor.

“I shock you, do I?  What do you know?  What do you know about how much he suffers every day for the past three years?  Every day a battle … every breath a struggle.  You can sit there and judge me, but if you had only an ounce of compassion, you’d join my pleas.  Let him die now!”

The agony in her voice seared every listener in the room.  No-one wanted to hear more details.  No-one wanted to answer the questions that arose in their minds about themselves.

For the first time in months, a crack appeared in Camilla’s controlled veneer.  Her pallor went grey.  Pity, disgust, anger – they all left the visible trace of an unpleasant frown.  But as she continued watching helpless tears flow, she began to change.

She was gripped by the woman’s pain.  One mother to another ...one soul understanding another.

A single tear appeared at the corner of Camilla’s eye.  She didn’t wipe it away.  Moving slowly, she went sat beside the weeping lady.  In one empathetic look they exchanged stories of a lifetime.

Steeling her trembling voice, Camilla extended both hands and said, “Come, let’s pray.  I’ve prayed for my son to live and you – for your son to die.  But God has been trying to take mine away and keep yours alive.  Perhaps we’re not hearing His answer.  So, let’s change our prayers today.”

“Let us pray for His boundless grace.  Let us pray for the strength we need today.  And let us pray that His will be done in our lives.”

Lord, thank you for Your abundant, abounding grace.  Thank You that we don't have to earn a drop of the mighty river of grace that flows freely for us today.  Help me put myself in the path of Your love and grace.  Amen