The Blame Game

“For each of us will have to carry our own load.” ~ Galatians 6:5

Chris was deep in debt and could see no way out.  Creditors were closing in on him – fast!  

Alone on the park bench, head in hands, he wondered if anything could save his company.  Sales were way down.  His personal savings was nearly depleted; he hadn’t taken a salary in 18 months.  Any income went to pay employees and other business expenses.  He wanted to do the right thing, to pay all the bills, but the cash drawer was empty.

Connie, his wife, was worried.  She was trying to work part-time, but caring for two small children was itself a full-time job.  He’d finally admitted his financial problems to his parents, who were retired, debt-free, and worried about their son losing everything!  Ashamed, Chris started weighing the “bankruptcy” option.  

Suddenly an old man stood before him.  "Something troubling you, son?" he asked kindly.

Chris poured out his troubles to the man, who listened patiently before responding.  "The good Lord has blessed me, so I must help you."  From a badly worn pocketbook, he signed a personal check before handing it to Chris.  "Take this money.  Meet me here one year from today.  You can pay me back then, interest-free."

Then he turned and walked off as quickly as he had appeared.

Chris was dumbfounded.  He clutched a check for $500,000 signed by S. Robson Walton, one of the richest men in America!

"I could erase my worries instantly!" he realized.  Instead, Chris put the uncashed check in his safe.  Just knowing it was there might give him the courage to save his business.

With renewed optimism, he negotiated better deals and extended payment terms.  He closed several big deals.  Within months, he was debt-free and profitable once more.

[Fast-forward exactly one year.]  He returned to the park with the uncashed check.  The old man appeared at the agreed-upon time.  But just as SChris was about to hand back the check and share his success story, a nurse came running up and grabbed the old man.

"I hope he hasn't been bothering you,” she said politely.  “He's always escaping from the rest home and telling people he's Sam Walton’s oldest son."  Then she led the old man away by his arm.

Chris stood stunned a second time.  Convinced he had a half-million-dollar safety net, he had turned his life around by taking personal responsibility and choosing NOT to play the blame game.  Instead of looking for a scapegoat or looking for an easy way out, he’d worked hard!  

Our God, who knows all and reads our intentions perfectly, holds us completely accountable for our thoughts, attitudes, and actions and gives us the gives us the choice – right or wrong.

Lord, You gave us a free will.  Help me to accept full responsibility for my choices – by acknowledging my shortcoming, accepting Your forgiveness, and knowing You delight in fostering within me a new spirit and a new heart.  Amen

Prayer Answered

“I thank God every time I think of you!  Whenever I mention you in my prayers, it brings me great joy.” - - Philippians 1:3-4

Standing on the deck, Jamey could feel the seawater through his sandals; time to abandon ship.  There was no point in pondering the dangers that lay ahead.  Three miles offshore, most would not survive.  Even if the tide was towing in, their chance of reaching the small island tucked behind the barrier reef was bleak.  Even if they got past the jagged corral without being shredded to pieces, the sharks that cruised the reef would finish them off.

It took only seconds for the boat to disappear.  Then the moonless night filled with the screams of terror he’d never forget.  He shared some floating debris with a woman named Annabelle.  They swam with the tide; it took everything they had to keep swimming just to keep warm. 

By the grace of God, they made it to the safe haven of a small island.  The two survivors agreed their first task was to thank Him for the blessings of their survival.  However, to verify whose prayer was superior, they decided to meditate from opposite sides of the island.

They each prayed for water.  When the sun rose, Jamey spotted several large fresh water jugs that had washed ashore on his beach.  He drank greedily.  Annabelle’s windward shore remained barren.  

They each prayed for food.  Jamey discovered a fruit-bearing tree nearby.  He ate the delicious fruit without hesitation.  There was nothing on Annabelle’s side of the island.  He prayed for fire for warmth and cooking.  Like magic, all of his prayers were answered.  Annabelle still had zilch.   

Immodestly, Jamey prayed for rescue.  Soon a fisherman in a small boat spotted debris along the reef and came ashore looking for survivors.  Jamey was euphoric, but decided not to tell his hero about Annabelle – since none of her prayers were answered, she must be unworthy.

As the boat was about cast off, a heavenly Voice boomed!  “Why are you leaving your companion behind?”  

“My blessings are mine alone since I was the only one who prayed them,” Jamey boasted.  “She doesn’t deserve anything.”

“You’re sorely mistaken!” the Voice rebuked.  “She prayed the only prayer I answered.  If not for her, you’d surely have drowned!  She pleaded that all your prayers be answered.”

God wants us to care for each other by sharing His love with everybody, not only in words and actions but also in prayer.  Make a list of all the people in your life.  Whether good friends, strangers, or enemies, ask God to bless them, give them peace and bring them joy.  Your heart will grow stronger and the world will start to change too.

Lord Jesus, for all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our prayers alone, but those of another praying for us.  Remind me that my prayers should be of  thanksgiving to You first, for others second, and for me last.  Amen

A Better Life

“Lord, teach us to use wisely all the time we have.” ~ Psalm 90:12

Joaquin returned to his tiny fishing village earlier than normal.  He had made a good catch.  Now he gazed in awesome wonder as the sun finally pushed into sight, a sliver at the edge of the world.  Someone stood watch at the pier.

He’d seen the type before – sharply creased khakis, opulent wristwatch, Italian shoes worth ten times more than his small fishing boat.   Probably vacationing at the resort – definitely bored already. 

“How’d you fare mate?” Chandler shouted.

“Quite well thanks!” Joaquin offered humbly motioning to the three large yellowfin tuna lifeless near his bare feet.  He guessed each weighed 10 pounds or better.

“Well done,” Chandler complimented, "How long were you at sea today?”   "Only, a few hours," replied Joaquin casually.   "If ya stayed out longer, you could catch more fish?" Chandler quipped.

Joaquin smiled warmly, “This is more than enough to support my family."  Besides, he continued, “It gives me more time to play with my children, tend my garden, and siesta with my wife.  I take time for my friends, and my guitar, and my church,” he ended proudly.

Chandler interrupted, "You fool!  I can help you earn profits beyond your dreams.  Start fishing more hours each day; sell all the extra fish you catch.  With the additional cash, buy a bigger boat.   Use the added money a larger boat will bring, and buy a second boat, then another, until you have an entire fleet of fishing boats."

“It gets better!” Chandler was ‘reeling’ him in now, like he’d done so many times before with his bank’s clients.  Instead of selling your catch to a middleman - sell directly to the processor, or maybe open your own cannery.  Eventually, you could control the product, processing and distribution.   Once you leave this ‘Podunk’ village, you could move to L.A. or New York where you could expand your business even faster."

A tad confused, Joaquin asked, "How long will this take?"

After rapid mental calculation, Chandler declared, "About 15-20 years, maybe less if you work really hard.  But here’s the best part, Chandler snickered arrogantly, “At the right time, I’ll help you sell your company stock to the public and we’ll make millions!"

"Honestly?  What would I do with at that?" Joaquin questioned in disbelief.

"You retire!” boasted Chandler.  “With all that loot, you could move to a quaint coastal village where you could sleep late, play with your grandchildren, tend your garden and siesta with your wife.  At night, you could stroll to the village, play guitar and sing with your friends till the wee hours."

Joaquin’s response was thoughtfully simple.  “Who’s the fool, I have that already.  Someday sir, I hope that you’ll have the chance to live like you were dying.”

My God, help me live with a greater sense of urgency - more about today, less about tomorrow; more about people, less about possessions; more about Your priorities, less about mine.  Amen.

Only Passin' Thru

“We are only foreigners living on earth for a short time, soon gone like a shadow that suddenly disappears.” - - 1 Chronicles 29:15

He’d worked six days straight.  So on the seventh day, He did something uncommon – He rested.  We never spend an entire day relaxing, yet even He needed time to refresh His body, soul and spirit.  He didn’t feel one bit guilty for the time spent alone.

He saw Adam leave the Garden, an apple in his hand.  Sadly, they’d disobeyed.  From then on, nothing would come easy!  They’d have to scratch a living from the soil, make their own clothes and live in sin.  He asked, “Now that you’re expelled, what’s next?” 

A terrified Adam replied, “By your grace, I hope to live long.  Today, I’ll plant some crops and pray for rain, maybe raise a little Cain.  Alone now, I’m only passin’ thru!”

He watched Jesus on the cross endure pain so ghastly that every breath brought screaming pain.  Intense thirst and starvation; public shame, prolonged agony stopped just short of the point which would give Jesus relief from unconsciousness.  “Do you hate them for what they did to you?” He questioned.

“Forgive them,” Jesus said.  “Speak of love not hate; I’m off to Heaven’s gate.  ‘Adieu!” - I’m only passin’ thru!”

He marched with General Washington into Valley Forge - a scarcity of footwear so severe, soldiers left bloody footprints in the snow.  Frigid cold and pitiful sanitation led to shameful losses and disease.  Poorly clothed, underfed – mostly unfit for duty.  “Why do soldiers freeze here like they do?”  He asked. 

Washington replied, “Courageous men will die for what’s right, even if they’re only passin’ thru.”

He observed every execution at Dachau.  Like other death camps, the conditions were deplorable. Prisoners were used both as forced labor and for medical experiments.  He’d never forget the stench of burnt flesh nor the rail cars full of dead bodies that either died enroute or simply lacked the strength to crawl out.  “Can you forgive them and forget?” God wondered.

“One gaunt prisoner replied, “German, Russian, or Ameri-can, Lord a man is just a man, we’re all brothers and we’re only passin’ thru!”

He was on that fateful flight to San Francisco when terrorists murdered the pilots, seized the jetliner and aimed it for calamitous casualties.  In an act of desperate courage in the skies over Pennsylvania, passengers planned to take back their airplane. “Aren’t you afraid of dying in the battle?” God asked.

“Heroes by my side, we’ll fight, not cower or hide.  Bless me now I’ve work to do.  We’re only passin’ thru!”

We’re all just passin’ thru.  We know few details about what happens after death.  God has His reasons for keeping us wondering about heaven’s mysteries – we probably couldn’t grasp it anyway.  For now, we can only imagine.  

Father, through faith, we’re homesick for a place we’ve never been.   Someday we’ll know no sorrow, no suffering, no good-byes and no sin.  I can’t wait!  Amen.

Steal (sic) Pony

“Man has two great spiritual needs.  One is for forgiveness, the other is for goodness.”  - - Billy Graham

Brandon’s bicycle wasn’t much to look at.  He’d spotted it at a yard sale and convinced his parents he needed it.  It helped that it was cheap, rusted, and old.  A ripped seat, bald tires, oddly twisted handlebars: it’d been quite some time since anyone rode this bike. 

But once he climbed aboard . . . he fell in love with it!  From then on he rode it every day, everywhere, to do most every thing important to a 9 year old.  It could be wet, cold, or even a little scary at times cycling around town, but to Brandon it felt real.  He loved the way the wind whipped his hair and cooled his ears.  He did figure-eights, jumped over curbs, bumped into trees, and repeatedly rode over a garden hose because he liked the way the water sprang up from the sprinkler after the pressure of his tires.

He didn’t mind that it rattled horribly or that the chain squeaked.  His “Steel Pony” symbolized unbridled autonomy: he was no longer dependent on his parents to shuttle him around the place.  No longer constrained by bus timetables, Brandon could cover long distances faster and more easily than walking.  Exciting new opportunities suddenly opened up before him: this antique machine was his ticket to freedom. 

That was, until the bike went missing from its usual place.  Running from the front porch, Brandon saw a man loading it into his car.  He shouted, but the thief just drove off.  Anger came swiftly . . . then sadness - not about the cost, but the emotional loss.  That “Pony” carted him to lawn mowing jobs; trysts with his sweet Melanie; to the quick-shop, the sand dunes, the pool, tennis lessons, and his secret hideout.

He certainly couldn’t afford a new one at the moment, but someday he will.   Brandon had great faith for a boy his age, heck - for a man of any age.  He forgave the thief and wanted him to know he was forgiven.  So he wrote a message on a large poster-board, stapled it to a sawhorse and placed it in the front yard.

To the guy who stole my bike: you really hurt my feelings!  But I’m a Christian and I FORGIVE you beause (sic) Jesus forgave me!!''

When Brandon left for school the next day, the sign was face-down in the yard.  ‘Steel Pony’ had returned - with brand new tires, handlebars and racing pedals.  Was is theft . . . or kindness?  Had ‘Pony’s’ makeover been planned, or an apologetic response?  Does it really matter!

Lord, may Your love for me enrich my love for others.  Help me love those I find hardest to love – the ones I dismiss, judge, or do anything but love.  Forgive me for failing to act toward them with Christ-like love.  Amen

An Imperfect Storm

“God has no favorites!” - - Romans 2:11

Two adults, each driven by irrational fears, head for an emotional collision.

As Kaleeb approached the door to the plane he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling; with one last look back he boarded the aircraft.  He was a veteran flyer, yet he hated the idea.  He’d developed an illogical fear, powered by anxious thoughts of despair and misery.  Ever since 9/11, passengers looked at him differently, suspiciously, distrustfully.

He continued down the aisle until he found his seat and settled in next to the window.  Before he knew it, Kaleeb was lost in his thoughts.

Fueled by anger as her taxi approached the airport, Mary was running late as usual.  Before the vehicle came to a complete stop, she tossed some bills at the driver, gathered her bags and raced toward airport security.  The line was long - 30 minutes long.  She explained her predicament and cut her way to the front of the line.  An Agent with nothing better to do removed several bottles from her carry-on bag which exceeded the 4 ounce legal limit.

Mary was on the verge of falling apart.  She envisioned missing her flight and having to spend the night on the airport floor.  She exited security and sprinted to her gate.  By some miracle they were holding the plane for her.

Sweating uncomfortably and blood pressure spiking, Mary arrived at her seat and saw Kaleeb seated next to hers.  Visibly disgusted, she called for a flight attendant.

“How may I help?” inquired the pleasant stewardess.

"Are you serious?" Mary said indignantly.  "I refuse to sit next to this terrorist?  You’ll have to change my seat!"  Confused and shaken, Kaleeb sat without responding.

Annoyed by Mary’s callousness, the flight attendant tried to remain calm.  As a black woman, she knew all too well the damning effects of bigotry and narrow mindedness.  "As you can see Ma’am, all the seats are occupied, but I'll go check." 

She returned moments later.  "Madam, there aren’t any empty seat in Economy Class.  But I spoke to the Captain and he confirmed that we have one unoccupied seat in the First Class cabin.”

Mary smiled, but before she could respond, the Stewardess continued.

“It’s highly unusual for us to allow an Economy Class passenger to move to First Class.   However, given the circumstances, the Captain thinks that it would be shameful to force a traveler to sit next to an unpleasant person."

Turning to Kaleeb, she said, "Sir, if you’d be so kind to gather your belongings, we have reserved a seat for you in First Class." 

Hating people because of their religious beliefs is wrong . . . it doesn't matter which party does the hating.  God created only one race – the human race, and only one true relgion - love!

Father, You show no partiality.  Grant, that Your life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart, that barriers crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease, so that we may live in peace.  Amen

Remington's Heartbreak

“Ask wild animals, birds, fish and flowers – any one of them will tell you of God’s loving grace.” - -Job 12:7-10

His expression said it all – playful, confident, fun, friendly and so eager to please.  Like most Golden Retrievers, he made a great family pet.  He was gentle with kids, always tolerant of their endless attention.  After all, he was just a kid at heart – he loved to play as much as they did.

Goldens are also amazingly devoted; they possess an intense nurturing instinct.  Remington was no exception.  Sam gave him two brisk walks a day and a good run weekly.  In return, Remington offered undivided loyalty, companionship and affection.

He often lay curled up in his kennel, at times gazing at a nearby picture of his master.  When Sam was away on business, Remington roamed the neighborhood searching for him, crying himself to sleep at night.  When he heard Sam’s voice over the phone, Sherri (Sam’s wife) put the dog's ear to the receiver and at the sound of his own name he barked blissfully.

Remington always knew when Sam was headed home and ran to the front door, wagging his tail and sitting patiently until Sam’s car pulled into the driveway.

To Sam, in was no coincidence that ‘Dog’ is ‘God’ spelled backwards.  Dogs have all man's virtues without any vices.  That’s why it was so sad when at age 45 and after a courageous battle with cancer – Sam died.  Throughout his illness, Remington laid beside Sam’s bed, provided support when he walked, and a listening ear when fear plagued him.  Instinctively, he knew Sam was sick and never left his side.

After Sam’s death, Remington sat at the front door all day, every day, whining and waiting for Sam’s return.  He stopped eating and refused to play with the children he loved.  “Guard duty” was now his only purpose; leaving his post only when he needed to be walked. 

Sherri’s heart was breaking for her grieving dog and decided to help him understand.  Hesitantly, the faithful hound left his post and was coaxed into the car with her.  Remington paced nervously from window to window searching for Sam.  She drove to the cemetery and unleashed him.  Remington dashed away from her and ran directly to an unmarked grave, the earth still freshly mounded.  He lay down on Sam’s grave, closed his eyes, and moaned tenderly. 

Sherri was careful not to disturb him – he needed this time to mourn.  Eventually, Remington got up and walked toward her using his mouth to hand over his leash.  He licked her face as if to say “thank you!”  He now understood; he was going home to begin healing too.

God of all creation, thank you for the gift of his companionship and for the time we had together.  Assign him to a place of honor, for he has been a faithful servant and has always done his best to care for me.  ~ Remington

Let Time Go Lightly

“Children are a blessing and a gift from the LORD.” -- Psalm 127:3

The day was one of those days, when the rain poured nonstop and the sun hid behind a thick blanket of clouds.  A storm was approaching – he could smell it.  Deadly silence pierced his ears; painfully quiet.  Cold, dreary days always compounded his grief.

Rain usually made him bored and sleepy, but today he chose as his mission the rediscovery of a love long gone.  Somewhere in these albums was a photo of his wife.  Emerald eyes revealed strength and wisdom; he’d never forget her youthful beauty.  Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you never met.

As he examined each of these long buried treasures, a tsunami of memories washed over him.  The past came alive in areas that had been dry like the Sahara Desert.

Beneath one of the dusty albums, he spied a child’s badly worn journal.  He couldn’t recall ever having seen it before but it must have belonged to his son Jimmy whose name adorned the cover in big, clumsy letters.  Opening the now-faded pages, he read a short passage.  His mouth curved in an unconscious grin having now forgotten the cherished photo that originally triggered his search.

It was the voice of a little boy, God’s precious child entrusted to him at birth.  He’d grown up way too fast in this very house.  In the silence of his soul, the words of a candid six-year old carried the old man back to a time almost forgotten.  Page after page revealed an agonizing truth - his son’s recollections seemed far different than his own.  Could that be true?

He’d kept his old business calendars; maybe they would refute his fears.  Opening a glass cabinet door, he reached in, retrieved an old business journal and placed the two side by side.

His was leather bound; his name embossed in gold lettering.  Arthritic fingers paused over each letter as though he could restore what had been worn away by time and use.

As he opened his journal, his eyes fell upon a brief July 14^th entry: “Wasted the whole day with Jimmy today – didn’t catch a damn thing!”  With a deep sigh, he took Jimmy’s Journal and found the boy’s entry for the same day.  Large scrawling letters pressed deeply into the paper read “Went fishing with Daddy.  Best day of my life!”

To the world you might be just one person.  To one person . . . you might just be the world.  The greatest good you can do for a child is not just to share your riches, but your time.  Sharing your wisdom is not nearly as valuable as helping them reveal their own. 

Father!  We cannot give You a holier name.  Guide us to be great role models to all children.  Help me to be a father like You are – grace full and patient to handle situations in a loving way.  Amen