Riptide

“Faith isn’t a lottery ticket . . . it’s a work order!” ~ Pastor Sylvia Staten

Carter loved the ocean.  He couldn’t wait to enjoy some “bangin” waves.  Making an urgent run for it, he dove in headfirst.   It felt AMAZING!  At 18, he felt like a little kid again – smiling and laughing.  It never crossed his mind that he was already in serious danger.

It took only minutes before Carter noticed that objects on the beach were quickly getting smaller. When there was no bottom left to the sea floor, a sickening panic washed over him – recalling what he'd read about ‘rip’ currents.

Many beachgoers fear sharks.  But ‘rips’ are the real killers.  On average, only one person dies annually from a shark attack.  But over 100 drown and tens of thousands struggle in deadly rip currents each year.

For Carter, the waves were truly daunting, choking and pounding him with each crest.  He tried yelling for help, but no one heard hear him over the wind and crashing surf.  Fatigue was robbing him of hope as he faced a chilling realization - he wasn’t going to survive this.  This was how he was going to die - right here . . . on this beautiful day . . . in a place where he’d had some of the best moments of his life.  He asked God for help; heaven could surely wait.

He thought of my mom who lost her husband a few years ago and was now going to lose her son.  He thought of other family and friends and wondered whether they’d miss him.  He hoped someone kind would care for his dog Schooner.

Then everything went dark.  And everything went silent.

Eventually he heard muffled voices and sensed someone with huge shoulders carrying him.  Then he felt the warmth of the sand and coughed up a chest-full of salt water. 

“Am I dead?” Carter asked to a beach full of relieved bystanders.  “I was a good person, no drugs, good grades, believed in God, lived by faith . . .”

“Relax,” said a 50-something man desperately out of breath.  “You’re gonna be just fine!”

Fully conscious now, Carter looked up at the man who had risked his life by swimming through the treacherous riptide to save him.  “Thank you for saving my life!”

With an intensity that made Carter a little nervous, the man said, “That's okay, kid.  Just make sure your life was worth saving!”  And so he did – never forgetting the second chance he’d been given.

The ocean is boundless; a force greater than the sum of all its drops and all the creatures within it.  So, too, is the deep, the titanic, the infinite power of Christ's love!  But we can only experience its fullness and depth by venturing in.  

Jesus, the depth of Your love is unfathomable!  Let it fill the entire scope of my soul's vision; occupy every niche of my heart, and lead me by its all-consuming influence, down the path of loving obedience and surrender.  Amen

Honest Ethan

“The Lord hates people who tell lies, but delights in those who tell the truth." ~ Proverbs 12:22

Twenty years ago, he wanted to smile again.  He needed joy in his life.  So he stepped off the ledge and left behind his dull, stressful job.  Now Mike lives in one of the most beautiful places on earth; protecting plants, animals, and people in Yellowstone Park.

At first his Park Ranger job was rewarding, exhilarating and just plain fun.  But after this season, he couldn’t wait for Labor Day weekend and the retreat of humanity.

Camping used to mean pitching a tent and hiking.  Or maybe even doing some trail riding.  But lately, people brought their ‘homes’ and big screen TV's into the forest?  Campgrounds now felt more like drive-ins than the peaceful oasis they used to represent.  The jerk’s Cadillac Escalade had a premium sound system with a 10-disc CD changer - but that didn’t mean everybody enjoyed his music or its volume!

Being a Park Ranger used to mean a lot of PR, giving directions, occasional search and rescue, first aid, and a periodic encounter with some idiot who drank too much.  Today, instead of smiling at people or letting them pet his horse or handing out Junior Ranger badges, he’s constantly on guard for ‘tweekers’ and gun toting survivalists who hate And when did it become popular to use the great outdoors to kill one’s self?  Suicides used to happen in the home.  People now choose places that make body recovery an all-day, dangerous ordeal. 

Last week, one ‘nut’ got mad at him because he wouldn’t call the vet for a dying deer who’d been hit by another motorist.  This was the wilderness not Wal-Mart.  Veterinarians don’t make house calls for road kill.

As he slumped over his old gun-metal grey desk and opened what was probably another written complaint from a hateful weekend warrior, his eyes refocused to the handwriting of a child.  It showed the sadness of a young boy named Ethan, who wrote the letter with two sticks attached because he knew he was "not supposed to take things from the park."  Ethan apologized by closing with “Please put them back in nature where they belong.”

His heart burning with compassion, Ranger Mike penned the following response and mailed it immediately: 

"Dear Ethan, thank you for returning these one-of-a kind-twigs.  We hung your letter in our office so we could show others how impressed we were with you - our newest Junior Ranger.  I enclosed pictures of some spots in the park so you could tell me where to place the twigs.  Please come back soon, Your friend, Ranger Mike”

All seemed right with the world again . . . and his heart . . . and his park.

“Dear God, please forgive me for I’ve not been truthful.  I’m sorry ‘cause I know You hate when kids lie.  Please help me to tell the truth so You can delight in what I say and do, Amen.”  Your friend, Ethan

Daisy Chains

“Show honor to older people." ~ Leviticus 19:32

For as long as Rachel could remember, she’d spent every Saturday with her Grams.  She loved their time together.  Grams always seemed to make the world a little softer, a little kinder, a little warmer.  One day Grams asked, “Would you like to see my garden?  We can relax there and make daisy chains.”  When the young girl looked confused, Grams quickly replied:  “I’ll show you.  It’s lovely to sit in the garden on a bright summer day and make something pretty to wear.”

So they spent the afternoon in a garden bursting with roses and lilies and sunflowers making daisy chains.  It was great fun!

As summer leaves turned brown, the daisies disappeared.  One Saturday, Grams asked, “Would you like to help rake the leaves?”

“Why?” asked Rachel.

“It’s fun on a cool autumn day to rake leaves into a big pile and play in them.”

So Grams showed Rachel how to rake leaves.  Then they spent the afternoon rolling and jumping in them.   It was great fun!

As winter approached and snow blanketed the landscape, Grams asked Rachel, “Would you like to make hot cocoa?”

“What’s hot cocoa?” asked Rachel. 

“It’s a warm chocolate drink perfect for taking the chill out of a cold winter’s day.”

They filled their cups so full that marshmallows spilled onto the floor.  Then they spent the afternoon snuggling in front of a crackling fire, sipping hot cocoa and reading all their favorite books.  It was great fun!

As spring arrived and days became warmer, Grams asked, “Would you like to go to the playground for some fresh air and exercise?”

“Huh?” asked Rachel.

“It’s so much fun swinging, and sliding and see-sawing on a warm spring day.”

So as they skipped barefoot among the fresh clover, they watched cardinals and blue jays and robins build new nests.  It was great fun!

One Saturday, Rachel went to visit her Grams she said: “The daisies are back!  Can we go see the garden and make daisy chains again?”

“Dear child, I’m so sorry!” Grams said.  “Just as kids get colds and tummy aches, older people sometimes get an illness that causes them to act differently and to forget things.  We look the same on the outside, but the disease makes it hard for us to remember things.  I’m afraid I don’t know how to make daisy chains anymore.”

Rachel looked at her Grams and smiled. “Well, I do and I’ll show you.  It’s lovely to sit in the garden on a bright summer day and make something pretty to wear.”

So Rachel and Grams spent the afternoon in her garden making daisy chains.  It was great fun!  Love so pure and innocent; children are the twinkle in God's eye.

“God of love, bless all who suffer from Alzheimer's.  Grant them peace in their hearts, a secure environment, and dignity in their lives.  May each day bring a blessing, hope, and greater love.  Amen

Don't Let the Sun Set

“Never let the sun go down while you’re still angry.” - - Ephesians 4:16

Fifteen year old Mandy came home late from school in a foul mood.  She’d picked a nasty fight with her boyfriend; well at least he was before the argument.  He claimed that he had no idea why she was mad at him . . . which was in fact the reason she was angry.  Boys can be so insensitive. 

Her daily chores would have to wait until tomorrow; way too upset today!  Stomping into the kitchen, she faced her furious mother.  After the day I had today, she can’t possible expect me to do those mindless household tasks, she thought.  Mandy mustered an annoyed-look right back. "What?" she snapped.

"Don’t use that tone with me Amanda,” Mom warned.  She used Amanda’s legal name when she was really pissed at her.  “You’re nanoseconds from being grounded!"

"Whatever." Sara muttered in her best “I-don’t-give-a-crap tude.  She threw some dishes around in the sink, trying to make as much noise as possibly.  A plate cracked, her hand bled, she swore - loudly!

Mandy’s mother shouted lividly, "How dare you use that language!  Go to your room!"  But Mandy refused, throwing down the towel she’d used to wipe blood off her hand.  Mom slapped her, harder than expected.  Mandy cowered, staring at her in disbelief; she’d never been struck before.

"I HATE YOU!" Mandy screamed before running from the house.  Mom followed – remorse tearing at her now.  “Mandy!” she screamed, chasing after her.

"Leave me alone!" Mandy cried, darting across the street.  I HATE YOU!" she yelled again and continued running  . . . until she heard a blaring horn, screeching tires and the thud of flesh on metal.  She turned, hoping it wasn’t what she knew it was.

People crowded around the lifeless body lying broken in the middle of the street.

"NOOO!" she screamed pushing through the crowd, kneeling by her mom. "Oh God, Oh God  . . .” she wailed, sobbing so hard it hurt.  She couldn't believe the last words she’d spoken to her were "I hate you."

Anger effects your heart.  When we’re angry, it’s hard to say things like, “I’m Sorry . .” or,  “I was wrong.”  It’s a lot easier to say cruel things like, “I hate you.”  Rage destroys trust, relationships, and ultimately people you love.  Sometimes it can be reversed, but not too easily.

The moments when I’ve successfully avoided anger are some of the best of my life.  Not only did I avoid crawling back to offer my apology, but I avoided the fear about getting hurt again, the bitterness that results in holding grudges, and the intolerance which leads to hostility and physical suffering.

Lord, I’m finding that You alone can break my fall.  Soften my heart when anger flares so that I might avoid hurting others and losing their trust. Help me to count more blessings, and to call attention to the best things in others.  Amen

Cool Operator

“Children are a rich blessing and a gift from the Lord." ~ Psalm 127:3

Alice, a kind, grandmotherly type, operates a big, yellow school bus.  She greets every one of ‘her’ elementary-schoolers with a grin and a smile.  Most kids don’t respond, yet she persists. 

It’s not a glamorous job.  Not the kind of thing that would impress people at a party.  But it’s an important job – one that must be done perfectly every day. 

The rewards are the kids themselves.  Alice loves to zip their coats, dry their tears and listen to their stories.  It actually makes her happy to replace forgotten lunch money, knowing that they’ll have a full tummy to keep them sharp all afternoon. 

Her own children have all moved away.  Alice drives a bus to borrow other people’s kids - kids whose innocent, optimistic, unmasked qualities offer ample reason to get up early every morning.

There’s Ben whose dog is so glad to see him in the afternoon that the big collie bowls over the little guy, kinda like Fred Flintstone and Dino.  Lauren sometimes brings freshly baked cookies for Alice that fill the bus with a wonderful aroma.  Josh gets help with his arithmetic homework when Alice asks enough pointed questions to help him figure out the solutions on his own. 

Yesterday, Olivia cried almost imperceptively.  She’d accidently ripped her library book when Alice hit a bump in the road.  Her large, sad teary eyes revealed that she expected the librarian would do something awful to her.

As usual, Alice came prepared, retrieving a roll of tape she kept in the pocket behind her seat just for such emergencies.  She went on to explain that the ‘really nice librarian” would be thrilled that Olivia was reading on the bus.  Another crisis averted.

Happiness usually spreads through Alice’s bus like a cold drink on a hot day.  But sometimes her job is hard, especially when she fails to break through the emotional barriers that isolate some kids - like Dana.  She knows Dana’s family is down on their luck and offers daily encouragement and genuine empathy.  Just before she got off the bus at the elementary school, Dana turned. 

“Thank you!” she said before giving Alice a hug. 

“I want to hear one new thing you learned today when you get back on my bus this afternoon,” Alice requested.

“Okay!” Dana said as she skipped away.

The sun, up higher now, sparkled in the dew of the prairie grass.  Another beautiful morning Alice thought to herself.  Ahh, kids.  It’s so easy to help them solve their little problems when you tune in to their frequency.  She wheeled the big bus around and put ’er away until the afternoon.  Can’t wait to tie a few shoes again!

Help me as an adult, Lord, with my weaknesses and imperfections.  Give me strength and godly wisdom to set the right example for the children of the world.  Please supply what I lack.  Keep them walking on the path that leads to eternal life.  Amen

Why Couldn’t You Hear Me?

“God’s Spirit gives us power, love, and self-control." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7

I was always a quiet child.  I grew up in a rich suburban neighborhood with my single Mom and sister.  My life was pretty ordinary  . . . until the bullying started.  It didn’t bother me at first, until my friends started getting bullied for hangin’ out with me.  The girls that I used to invite over to my house to share our deepest secrets deserted me.   

I didn’t blame them!  It’s hard when kids relentlessly tease you.  I tried to defend myself - which only made matters worse.  From the color of my hair, to the clothes I wore – nothing seemed off limits.  They found it reassuring to humiliate me.

I woke every morning terrified - afraid of their cruelty, afraid that I’d give up on myself . . . or maybe give up on life.  I walked those halls with my head down hoping no one would notice me.  But I was never able to block out the insults.

I tried speaking to my ‘Guidance’ counselor.  She gave me useless advice and suggested I was simply trying to avoid class.  With no help from authority, I started acting out.  I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol.  My every misstep was dissected for the pleasure of my school.

Eventually, I stopped going at all.  I began to abuse my body and attempted suicide for the first time.  After my treatment I returned to school with newfound confidence, determined not to let them bother me.  Big mistake! 

High school hides no secrets.  Everyone had heard about the incident and stepped up my persecution in person and over the internet.  I’d never felt so helpless.  I burned my flesh and picked at my skin until it bled.  All the while they enjoyed my pain.  I missed so much school, they wouldn't allow me back.

Why me?   Why not them?  I asked for help, I was yelling at the top of my lungs but nobody heard me!  Or maybe they could and just didn't want to get involved.  Why didn’t my teachers ask why I kept leaving school?   Why I’d become so isolated?  Why I kept hurting myself?

Mercifully it’s over now.  The good Lord didn’t prevent my last suicide attempt; I finally succeeded at something!  But not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could have another chance.  I gave them complete power over me; I allowed them to push me away from my education.  If I could speak to those girls now, I’d tell them how it affected me, and then I’d forgive them.  
 

Sweet Jesus, You knew how it felt to be teased and ridiculed because You were “different.”  Please forgive us and help us change our behavior.  Help us to remember that when we hurt another with our words or actions, we’re hurting you, Lord.  Amen

Only Blue Skies

“Your religion, status or gender doesn’t matter; you’re all the same in Christ." ~ Galatians 3:28

An early morning sun flooded Brandon’s bedroom, illuminating a neat pile of new clothes and ‘slick’ sneakers.  He’d been awake for nearly two hours, just lying there thinking about the exciting day ahead.  Brandon dressed quickly, stopping briefly to admire himself in the mirror.  He had to admit, he looked pretty smart!

So excited, the boy hardly touched his favorite cereal, and kept looking at the clock to make sure the school bus wouldn’t leave without him.  He’d waited his whole life for this day!  Later, as they scampered off the bus, Miss Sanders welcomed the kinder-garteners to her classroom for their first day of school. 

Brandon was ready; his crayons dared him to begin!  He immediately pulled the most brilliant colors from his box and began drawing.  To him the world burst with color; no rules as to which should apply to what.  Cows were purple, grass was blue, and flowers – well, they were any color one could imagine.

Miss Sanders quickly intervened, noting that it wasn’t time yet to draw.  Besides, she explained, “Trees and flowers are NOT that color!” 

Technically she was right.  There must be a sense of order to education.  She’d seen this before.  The “cool” kids would reject him because everyone else was wearing blue backpacks and white shoelaces.  Real roses are red with green stems.  He’ll fall in line.

Brandon politely disagreed.  “But rainbows have so many colors,” he insisted, “I like to use every one!”  He continued to color objects from his imagination until one day Miss Sanders punished him by standing him in a corner.   The boy who saw vibrant colors was forced to abandon every hue to survive in a world that wouldn’t accept his vision.

Eventually Brandon surrendered.  With a terrible sadness in his voice, he told Miss Sanders that “Flowers are red, skies are blue, and the grass is always green.”

The next year, a more experienced, inspiring teacher encouraged him to be more creative.  But it was too late.  He’d forever reside in a world of limited choice, where the only flowers are red roses with green stems.

As an adult, Brandon will report to work; then come home and dream of great things in the middle of the night.  A car that runs on pure oxygen; free electricity captured from lightening; a social system which encourages self-sustenance while maintaining individual freedom.

Excitedly, he’ll jot down a note or two, even make a plan, but with the light of day he’ll realize that everyone else is wearing blue backpacks and white shoelaces.  Brandon will toss his notes in the garbage, forget his plan and sit in his corner at work reminding himself that flowers are red with green stems, and skies are only blue.  What a pity.

Lord Jesus, creator of all races and ethnicities, help us build a more just community, where ‘difference’ is respected and where we can all join hands rejoice in the common good.  Amen