Being Present

 “He raises the humble and protects those suffering." ~ Job 5:11

Cristian, the Children’s Hospital Chaplain, offered spiritual guidance and pastoral care to patients and their families. Most regarded him as serious and kind, yet the staff probably thought he meddled too much. Parents expected him to be more like Mr. Rogers. But the kids had an amazing capacity to see through it all and ask the big questions.

"Where was I before I was born? What does God look like? Why does God let children get sick?”

Today the attending physician asked him to minister to the parents of a 3-year-old who’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer. When he arrived at their room, he found Dad weeping. Mom was answering phone calls, holding her world together in her own way.

Cristian encouraged them to share what they loved most about their son. Mom’s response came quickly. “His curiosity. His energy. His laughter.”

Angry eyes told the young Chaplain that Dad was about to explode. “My son doesn’t deserve this!” he cried. “I know God has a plan, but this is a crappy one!”

Seminary taught Cristian that when anger boils, take the pot off the heat and open the lid. You gotta let that steam exit safely into the heavens.

The room fell awkwardly silent.

"I don't know why this is happening,” Cristian confessed, “but I'm thankful I can witness this part of your story. May you know love amid your loneliness, pain, fears, questions, and your doubts.”

In truth, he didn’t know if the toddler’s cancer or recovery was a part of God's plan. He didn’t know if any of the infants in the NICU unit or the chemo patients awaiting remission news were part of His plan either. All the theology degrees in the world couldn't answer that question.

Why children get cancer may be less a search for reasons and more an expression of lament. And in grief, there’s no reason, explanation, or reflection.

It wasn’t his place to justify their pain, nor refute the ways they made sense of this crisis. He did want to tell them everything was going to be OK. That God works in mysterious ways. And that it will get better.

But for now, he accepted both anger and skepticism. This all brought to mind the biblical book of Job. But the questions Cristian most want to explore weren’t about theodicy or what God was actually considering or dismissing. This wasn’t about what he believed spiritually. Right now, was the time to be present for parents in agony… and simply remaining present.

They had a good conversation. They talked about their son, their support system, and what they planned to do when they settled back home. Nobody felt the need to talk about God's plans or what their son deserved; remaining present didn't demand it.

God, save me! I’m in over my head, quicksand under me, swamp water over me; I’m going down for the third time. I’m hoarse from calling for help, bleary-eyed from searching the sky for You. (Psalm 69:1:3)

He Will Carry You

 “I made you and I’ll care for you, even when your hair is white with age." ~ Isaiah 46:4

Ronnie’s daily seizures from a rare form of epilepsy delayed his cognitive and speaking abilities. Endless medications, daily feeding tube nutrition, and an inability to move around further complicated his social interactions.

The sleepy little boy woke up hard each morning. His Dad should encourage the 7-year-old to walk down the stairs. It’s something they work at in physical therapy. But with drowsy eyes and a weary heart, Joseph didn’t want to start off the boy’s day with a difficult task. So, he carried him.

After breakfast, there’s dressing, teeth brushing, and off to a school for kids with special needs. Later, Ronnie struggled down the school bus’s three large steps, ever anxious to be home again. Joseph gave him a loving hug and a reassuring word. Then Joseph carried him inside to play.

Ronnie had been directed and redirected, pushed and pulled throughout the day. Even at dinner, they worked on table manners and holding his utensils correctly. He’d had enough.

Storytime always brought welcome relief. With a stretch and a yawn, Ronnie snuggled right into Joseph and fell asleep. So, Dad carried him back upstairs.

The challenges don’t stop the family from taking trips to national parks and hiking on trails. Joseph simply straps on a Kinderpack with his son safely in toe.

“It looks a bit odd,” he admits. “His feet dangle past my waist. He’s getting taller, and at 60 pounds now, it sometimes hurts my back. But we’re determined to show Robbie cool places.”

To date, they’ve visited 13 states and 24 national parks.

Besides having enormous fun, the pair have also been a source of inspiration for other parents with special-needs children. Robbie loves exploring using “daddy’s legs.”

We all need someone to carry us to get us through the next hard thing, to love us through our good, bad, and weak moments. “When he’s reached his limit, I’m close to my own,” Joseph confided. “But when I carry him, Ronnie somehow carries me, too."

Caroline watches her husband smile as he does it, never hesitating or complaining. “I see the way strangers react to them on the trail,” she said. “Initially, our goal was to show Robbie the world, I soon realized the world also needed to see Robbie.”

And so too, our Heavenly Father carries us. Our problems and circumstances are never too heavy for Him. We all get discouraged at times. It’s part of being human but the Lord doesn’t let us go down the rabbit hole of hopelessness. His hope pushes us forward.

Things get better. Things change. Things improve because He carries those who abide in Him. Have courage. Stay strong. The Lord will carry you and get you to the finish line.

Almighty Father, we take comfort that You love us and promise to carry us when our legs fail and be with us till the end of time. You’ve carried us this far. You are the Rock on which we stand. Amen

The Doves of War

 “The Lord’s faithful promises are your armor and protection.” ~ Psalm 91:4

It was December 1941; America’s isolation from war just ended. For the young men from a little church in the tiny town of Seadrift, Texas, something truly miraculous was about to happen.

When World War II began, fifty-two men (one-fifth of the village’s entire population), joined the service to defend both the United States and our allies from the Axis powers. They served in combat divisions in every WWII theatre. Every branch of the military was represented.

Pastor Robert Caddell, along with the mothers, wives, and those too old and too young to enlist in the military, started a prayer meeting every Tuesday at 10:00 am. The weekly prayer meetings quickly turned into daily prayer meetings.

Families brought pictures of those men to the church where they were placed in a simple frame and hung on the wall. The collage of photos helped everyone remember the names of those currently serving.

The parishioners, including the children, drew comfort from the 91^st Psalm, reading it aloud at each meeting. It reminded them that God was ultimately in control of the situation and the circumstances of every person involved in the war effort.

Mothers and fathers prayed for their sons, wives for their husbands, brothers and sisters for their siblings, and thus the name, Seadrift Intercessors. Some participated in D-Day, the rescue of the Philippines, and island hopping across the Pacific Ocean. Heartbreaking rumors and stories surfaced about the conditions of war, but that only strengthened their resolve to fervently continue praying.

Take, for example, the Gaines brothers - Lonnie and Ora, whose young faces smiled from the prayer collage. Lonnie's ship had one of the most heart-rending jobs in the Pacific - searching for survivors of ships sunk in battle. Prayer did see him through. "We never lost a man off our ship," he said, "but we came damned close."

Meanwhile, his brother was on a huge tugboat that sank quickly off the Alaskan coast. Seadrift intercessors were praying for him that day too. They all managed to escape the frigid North Pacific waters unharmed. “God spared our lives that day,” he said. “It’s the only reason we survived.”

When Germany surrendered and Japan was defeated, every Seadrift soldier returned home alive and uninjured, even though hundreds of thousands of Americans were killed on those battlefronts.

The little church continues its prayer mission to this day. The picture collage still hangs on the church’s wall in Seadrift, reminding them that God still hears and answers prayer.

Men from this same church served courageously in every major military conflict since then: Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, and the Liberation of Iraq and Afghanistan. Each time, the church prayed. God responded. And they all came back home safely.

Lord, I come to You today, grateful for the privilege of praying for others. I've been the recipient of others' prayers so often; I know how powerful intercessory prayer can be. Through your name, I pray with confidence knowing that You will hear me. Amen

The Game of Life

“Be thankful.  Pray, sing, and dance to God with gratitude in your hearts." ~ Colossians 3:15-16

For Allen, the end of November is supposed to be a time to give thanks... unless you're a golfer living year-round in Michigan. As he stowed his clubs away for another season, he wondered why a game that makes grown men cry and toss their clubs like toddlers is cause for celebration.

He recalled streaks of bad holes where he watched the ball lip out for infuriating 3-putts. There were rounds where he couldn’t seem to find the fairway no matter what club he chose. Don’t even mention the “shank” he caught thin out of a greenside bunker that landed inches from the group on the next tee box. Yikes!

But understanding golf addiction is simple. At the end of the day, golfers forget about all the horrible shots. What brings them back is the one shot that convinces them that the weekend green fees were worth it.

It could be an 18-foot putt on the last hole to save par. Or a chip-in over a trap that bounces once, hits the flag, and drops for your first birdie of the day. Maybe it's reaching the green in two shots on a long par five with a perfectly struck three-wood.

The memory of that one shot inspires them to come back again trying to make another great shot.

Allen couldn't help but compare that thought process to how he approached work and life. Rather than focusing on the one good thing that happened each day, he sometimes pined over the dozen things that went awry. Instead of thinking about his successes, he replayed his failures.

His thoughts returned to Thanksgiving. For him, it wasn’t about the turkey but about family and the chance to kick back and celebrate how wonderful his life was. Being able to gather around the table and thank God – that was just magic!

So, as a new golf season begins, he vowed to forget the wayward shots!

There will always be at least one moment that may help you find your purpose, or at the very least, the courage to try something new, the confidence to keep moving forward, and the drive to finish the round. He’ll work harder at celebrating the one great conversation, the one selfless act of compassion, and any special moment that made him smile, laugh, and cheer.

Springtime is a time to consider your dependence on God’s gift in His Son Jesus. It’s a time to express thanksgiving for our many blessings, for friends and family, for our jobs, and for the many unexpected surprises in life that bless us. Actually, it’s also a time to thank God for our “blades, whiffs, and shanks for they cause us to grow in godliness and dependence on Him.

“Today, may we learn to walk more as Jesus did, with an appreciation for His duty of service to the poor. That He sought not to comfort His own ego, but to raise the glory of His wise words of love.” ~Angela Abraham

Out on a Limb

 “Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths." ~ Psalm 25:4

It had been another long, rough winter here in the mountains enclosing Newfound Gap, a mountain pass in the Great Smoky Mountains. High winds, heavy snows, and now drenching rains hit residents hard, taking its revenge on people, power lines, and thousands of trees.

Charlie headed home after a day with his great grandkids. Entertaining three rambunctious children is both exhilarating… and exhausting. His head felt foggy, as if every eyelash weighed 10X more than it should.

A late winter had dropped a foot of snow and that was rapidly melting. Runoff from the hills had swollen rivers, filled ditches and puddled in the road. Broken tree limbs scattered the mountainside.

Rounding a blind curve, Charlie saw a very thick tree branch up ahead that had fallen into the road and big enough to wreck his car. Freeze, fight or flee? He instinctively pounded the brakes, lit the emergency flashers, then sat for a moment to gather his thoughts just short of disaster.

The road was just wide enough that he could drive around it. Flight seemed the most sensible option for the octogenarian. He needed to get home, wanted to get home.

But the sun was losing its last silver streaks before twilight beckoned the stars. It’ll be dark soon. Sunlit, the mountains are a celebration of artistic forms and colors. Except for the galaxy of distant stars, pure blackness comes at night. “Cancel flight,” he grumbled.

Charlie opened his car door into the pouring rain. There’s a quality of rain that lifts one’s soul heavenward. Amidst the heavy downpour, he felt cleansed and humbled – as if embraced by the arms of his loving Protector.

He went about trying to pull the limb off the road. It was risky; much heavier than expected. But with a little prayer and much grunting, it started moving. By no more than a few inches, Charlie succeeded in clearing it to the road’s shoulder.

He stood briefly to enjoy the victory, offering praise to the partner God that’d help boost his energy. Just then, a small red car sprinted around the curve, hit a pool of water, and splashed his already-soaked pants. “Ungrateful little buggers,” laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Sometimes we all do good things only to get “splashed” for our trouble. When this happens just remember that the real reason you do good is because of the love inside you. The real reason is because you are good.

“Do all the good you can then, everywhere you can, and every chance you can.” (John Wesley) Do good and make the God who watches over you, walks beside you, and lives within you - smile.

Remind me, Lord, of your faithfulness in the past. Help me to remember Your goodness and grace. Help me to trust You even when I’m hesitant. Today, I offer You all that I am, use me for Your purposes. May I even be willing to be a fool for you! Amen

 

Tinseltown’s Resurrection v1.0

 “The cloth that’d covered Jesus' head was folded neatly and lying to the side." ~ John 20:7

If Hollywood had scripted Jesus’ resurrection on Easter Sunday, it might have played out something like this:

Jesus died on Friday, the victim of barbaric torture for His “criminal” acts. His very-public death was gruesome, inhumane, even humiliating. Invented by the Persians between 300-400 B.C., it’s the most painful death ever devised. Hollywood would’ve downplayed its brutality in order to avoid an ‘R’ movie rating.

Just after sunrise, picture Mary hurrying to the tomb to finish anointing Jesus’ corpse. Hopeless, despondent, her faith dying with Jesus, we sense the scene’s emptiness. Her tears surrendering to grief’s crushing weight when she discovers the massive stone rolled away.

Mary frantically runs back and sobs out her testimony to Peter and John, fearing grave robbers have stolen the body. They frantically return with her to see for themselves, the younger disciple outrunning the older one only to find the tomb empty. Cue hysterical panic, primal fear, and shattered hearts.

As showbiz often does, flashback hours before Mary first arrived. Jolts of electricity race through Jesus’ body as He awakens just seconds before the Angel of Death comes to claim Him. Strength returns as His blood starts moving again. He eventually staggers upright.

Several attempts to move the stone prove futile, but Jesus having Herculean strength, finally forces the stone aside and stumbles out of the tomb, bleary-eyed and plotting His escape. He doesn’t bother tidying things up before a bright light secretly whisks him skyward.

But Scripture paints it differently. 

The Apostle John added a curious, firsthand detail (above) suggesting two things about the nature of the risen Lord.

First, John noticed Jesus' linen wrappings lying there, but the cloth that had covered Jesus' head was intentionally folded and set aside. 

Had thieves stolen the body, they would likely have taken Him, cloths and all, or simply have stripped the linens off and left them in a messy heap.

Second, in Jewish tradition, when the master of the house got up after dinner, he might wad up his napkin showing he'd finished eating. Only then could the servants clear the table. A neatly folded napkin meant he was not done and would come back.

Before leaving, Jesus took on the dignity befitting Him. He rose in a humble, nonchalant manner. He took a few moments to tidy things up, even going so far as completing a task akin to folding a guest towel - a sign that He would return.

He strode out of the tomb like He owned the place and announced to a broken world that He was setting everything back the way it was always supposed to be. From death into life. Out of disorder into order. Goodbye brokenness, hello wholeness.

Then on the third day He ascended a conquering hero.

“Lord Jesus, we rejoice continually in Your glorious and triumphant victory over death. For Your victory is my victory. Help me to live by it, in it, and for it. Amen (Selwyn Hughes)

Free Bird

 “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength and soar like eagles.” ~ Isaiah 40:31

I used to feel a tinge of envy when I watched birds soaring through the sky as if on perfect tracks. They seemed so graceful, so peaceful, so uninhibited. Watching them soar among the clouds in the hallowed space between heavens and Earth filled me with wonder and admiration.

I longed to know the feeling of gliding over cities, mountains, and forests. I wished to hear the wind whistling in my ears and rushing over my wings. Mostly though, I wanted to view the world from a unique perspective, a higher perspective.

Whenever I envisioned myself flying over everyone else, watching the world come alive beneath me, sensing the hum of the city, the first to see the ever-developing canvas of the dawn, it makes me feel free.

No sadness up there, no fear, loneliness. At least that’s what my imagination brings forth. Whenever I need a memory to lift me off the ground, I look up.

Birds in flight fascinate me. Their anatomy is so eccentric. Hollow, yet strong bones; small, highly efficient lungs; and precisely arranged feathers that allow them to fly long distances without fatigue. Unlike humans, it’s amazing how they defy gravity with their tiny muscles.

If only I could fly like a bird…

One day I realized that I could never fly, but my soul could if I allowed it. My feet may still be stuck on the ground, but my spirit will always be soaring with my feathery friends among the heavens. 

Our souls give us wings – a kind of oneness with our Heavenly Father who infuses us with such energy and confidence that allows us to soar to greater heights of revelation, peace, and joy.

It requires us to relax in Him and trust that He knows what He’s doing. It requires that we trust His word, His ability, and His character. If we're on board with His plan for our lives rather than doing our own thing, we don't have to worry about sustaining or implementing it; it's His plan. 

So, He’ll bring along His resources and He’ll do the implementation. And whatever small part He gives us to play in that, He’ll give us the grace too.

When life's burdens are weighing you down like a dark, threatening cloud, place your trust in God and wait with a confident expectation and hope in Him. He will give you the confidence to soar with wings like an eagle to ride out any storm, and reach the blue, sun-filled skies of victory.

And now when I see a bird gliding effortlessly across the sky, I send it my affection and allow my soul to fly with it too.

Almighty Father, I pray that you will bless me with true riches that will never desert me and will last into eternity. Give me the grace not to forsake You, the Rock of my salvation, in Jesus’ name. Amen

Another Perspective

 “Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” ~ Lao Tzu

Shawn was feeling a little full of himself . . . and looking to pick a fight this morning.

Sheryl was running late for work. The demands of raising three children and holding down a full-time job weighed heavily on her. As she pulled her white Cadillac XT6 into the parking structure, Shawn sauntered by and said, "I wonder how many people could have been fed for the money that fancy SUV cost?

Instead of reacting impulsively, Sheryl took a deep breath, a brief moment of mindful presence.

“I’m not really sure,” she answered thoughtfully. 

“It helped feed hundreds of families near Arlington, Texas who built it. It helped provide clothing for the children whose parent labored making the tires, components, and electronics that went into it. It helped aluminum, steel and copper miners build homes for their families and support schools in their communities. And it provided health insurance for truckers who hauled finished vehicles to the dealers who sell and maintain them.”

“But to be honest, I don’t know precisely how many people it helped feed,” she said. “Can I show you one more thing?”

Shawn nodded awkwardly as she motioned for him to look at her license plate.

“Yea, MD 1692,” he scoffed. “So what?”

“At 16,” she began, “I packed my things, left my dysfunctional family and moved to California. Those were some of the hardest years of my life, but the same adversity that made for a trying childhood also taught me how to thrive amid challenging circumstances.

That grit drove traditional measures of success. I got married, worked as a HS biology teacher, and earned a master’s degree in education. All while raising three children.

I even found time for volunteering after work at local hospitals ... and dreamed of becoming a doctor. So, I applied for medical school. More than 2 dozen schools turned me down. But I never gave up hope.

I drew the attention of a school in Barbados that looked beyond my lack-luster undergrad GPA and considered other factors. Now, after earning my M.D. in 1992, I returned here to become a physician and serve the community.

Please don’t misunderstand me, sharing with others is still an important responsibility for us all. But, when you buy something, you put money in people’s pockets and give them dignity for their skills. Give money the car may’ve cost to a soup kitchen, and it will give you a pleasantly warm feeling for having done a good deed. Soon the money will be gone, and the kitchen will need more. And so will the people it feeds.

And if no one ever bought that expensive SUV, what would happen to all those workers who benefitted from my purchase of it?”

Holy Father, thank You for the work of hand and mind; for the opportunity to plan and design, to manufacture and grow, to serve and conserve, and to care for one another in the places where we work. Amen

Oh Danny Boy

 “Understand, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep God’s love is." ~ Ephesians 3:18-19

Every song tells a story. Or at least it should.

Such is the legendary piece written in 1910 by English barrister Frederic Weatherly. The poetic version of “Danny Boy” was written by Weatherly’s own hand after his Irish sister-in-law introduced him to the sweeping melody of “Londonderry Air." 

Frederic, a prolific songwriter before practicing law, published about 1,500 songs in his lifetime. “Londonderry Air” was discovered by Jane Ross in the early 1850s on the streets of northern Ireland, who composed the tune played by an anonymous street fiddler.

While millions have sung “Danny Boy” since it was written, its fame blossomed quickly thanks to the operatic voice of Elsie Griffin who recorded the first ever version of the beloved Irish ballad. Traditional versions have but four verses, but the most popular version has six.

More than a century has transpired since ink was put to parchment, “Danny Boy” stirs up deep emotion and feelings of Irish national pride. Yet, even today, the interpretation of its haunting lyrics remain up for debate.

Many believe it’s a loyalty message from a father to his son going off to war or emigrating (Irish immigrants brought the song to America in the 1920s).

Others suggest a parent wishing their boy to return to them before they pass away. Both are powerful themes in pain of parting and longing.

After the tragic events of 911, the strains of “Danny Boy” rose from memorial services of many Irish American police and firefighters who were among the victims. It honors both the notion of loss but also love reaffirmed by the joyful anticipation of being reunited again someday.

No matter its origins or meaning, "Danny Boy" has found a special place in Irish folklore; one of deep love that may reflect heritage and, perhaps, even romance with Ireland’s struggles. It reaches into one’s heart with an enduring power to move, uplift, and almost always yields soulful tears in expression. I’ll leave that up to your own senses of emotion and purpose.

The song reminds me of what Christ has done for us to elicit a response of love for Him.

“But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow, oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so.” (Danny Boy Verse2)

When you accept Jesus’ invitation to begin a relationship with God, you are secure in His love forever. Nothing can separate you from God’s love. Even when things are difficult or you feel far from God, it’s not because God stops loving you. The truth is that God will never stop loving you, no matter what you do.

“May God be with you and bless you; May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. Amen” (traditional Irish Blessing)

Precious Lord

 “Don’t be afraid, I’ll hold your hand. I’m here to help you.” ~ Isaiah 41:13

Thirty-two years old and a rookie husband, Pastor Dorsey and his wife lived in a tiny apartment on Chicago's Southside. As the featured soloist at a prominent St. Louis Revival, he looked for an excuse to stay home with his wife who was nearing the end of her pregnancy with their first child.

He didn’t want to leave. But Nettie had the final word.

“God will wait, people are expecting you,” she implored. So, he kissed her goodbye and rattled out of Chicago on Route 66 on a trip that would take several days.

The first night’s crowd of appreciative field hands, mill workers, and townies begged Dorsey for multiple encores. When he finally sat down, a messenger approached with a telegram. Perhaps a congratulatory note from his loving Nettie he thought.

He ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: “Your Wife just died giving birth to your son.” As a cacophony of joyful music and song surrounded him, the new Dad felt a mixture of guilt, grief, joy, and fear.

Pastor Dorsey rushed home and held his precious baby; happiness Nettie would never experience. The boy’s eyes were more brilliant than he could’ve dreamed they’d be, his hands more delicate. So light, so perfect, so Divine.

During the night, the newborn also passed away. Dorsey buried them together in the same casket. Then he fell apart, isolating himself for days. God had done him a grave injustice. He didn't want to serve Him anymore.

But weeks later as he wept alone, he thought about the afternoon he left for St. Louis. Something kept telling him to stay home Nettie. Was God calling? If he’d listened more attentively, he would have been with Nettie when she died.

He prayed while sitting at the piano; hands browsing the keys. Peace flooded him, inspiring a melody he’d never heard or played before. 

The lyrics just fell into place. “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” became the most famous among the over 3,000 hymns he penned.

He gave it to a friend who introduced it to Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Choir. Martin Luther King, Sr. who was the senior pastor at that time, fell in love with the song immediately. Mahalia Jackson, Elvis Presley, and Tennessee Ernie Ford were among the legends who later recorded it.

Known as the “Father of Black Gospel Music,” Rev. Thomas Andrew Dorsey’s (1899-1993) song has since been translated into more than 30 languages.

As Christians, we walk by faith, not by emotions. Our feelings change constantly. Part of growing in our faith is moving beyond our moods and trusting God, knowing we don’t suffer alone. Nor do we suffer without hope. His confidence in God’s presence provided the tonic Dorsey needed to endure his grief.

“Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand! I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.”  (“Precious Lord, Take My Hand” by Thomas A. Dorsey)

The Illusion of Confidence

 “You are but mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." ~ James 4:14

The following is a true story.

On January 6, 1995, a large, middle-aged man moseyed into a Melon Bank near Pittsburg. He strolled up to the teller and, in broad daylight, brandished a semiautomatic pistol and demanded money. He wore nothing to conceal his identity, even smiling cheerfully at surveillance cameras before exiting the bank.

But there’s more! With the newly heisted $5,200 in his pocket, the thief got in his car, went down the road, and held up ANOTHER bank in an equally shameless manner. After the news media flooded the airwaves with the banks’ security footage, police identified him immediately.

Police arrested a shocked McArthur Wheeler. When shown the surveillance tapes, Wheeler stared in disbelief. “But I wore the (lemon) juice,” he mumbled. Huh?

He acted boldly because knew that lemon juice is sometimes used as invisible ink. Knowing just that little piece of info, Wheeler rubbed lemon juice all over his face before entering the bank believing it would render him undistinguishable from videotape cameras.

Police concluded that Wheeler wasn’t crazy or on drugs - just incredibly misinformed. For his botched efforts he received a 24-year sentence.

After extensive research, psychologists at Cornell University coined a name for the cognitive bias to inflate self-assessment. The “Dunning-Kruger effect,” describes how people inaccurately assess their abilities as being much greater than they are.

Before we poke fun at Wheeler and his misguided faith in the power of citrus, it’s harder to admit that we too succumb to the Dunning-Kruger effect in our own lives.

As a Dad and husband, I’m often guilty of refusing to ask for directions while getting us hopelessly lost. What self-respecting man doesn’t insist he can complete a basic home repair only before chaos (and property damage) ensue? Once teens obtain their driver’s license, research says they consider themselves good drivers despite their car’s telltale signs of scratches and dents.

But nowhere does the Dunning-Kruger effect become more apparent than the arrogance with which we plan the future. According to James (above), human life is like “mist”- a fleeting kind of thing. He spent most of his chapter warning about the wisdom of the world and selfish ambition.

What James is driving at is that we should recognize our arrogance in believing that we are the masters of our own fate. Our lives are temporary and fragile. We can't predict or control the future. We truly have no idea what will happen tomorrow.

So be humble and take a long hard look in the mirror. If you’re going to be bold about anything, be bold about doing the things Jesus taught us are good. And for the love of all that’s holy, when lost, use your GPS… or better yet, ask somebody for directions.

Holy Father, when I look into the future and see my weakness(es), help me to trust You. May I glorify You in my weakness, looking away from myself and to the wonders of Your amazing love through Christ. Amen

Power in Forgiveness

 “Moments of tragedy provide opportunities to demonstrate grace." ~ 1 Peter 3:9

The moment Eric met his first child, he recalled thinking, “What a gift! What a miracle!” The Georgia Youth Pastor was blown by the way God used people and nature to create little humans. Now as he prepared to be a Dad for the second time, he felt that same euphoria… until his life changed tragically.

He awoke to the news that his wife’s car had been struck by a driver who fell asleep at the wheel. Faith, his then 19-month-old toddler, survived the crash. His wife died instantly in the collision along with their unborn son.

Twenty-year-old Matt, a rookie firefighter paramedic, had been heading home after completing a sleepless 24-hour shift when he drifted into oncoming traffic and hit June’s car head-on. The crash would forever bind the two men’s lives.

It’s not hard to imagine the words Eric might’ve spoken to Matt, given the chance. But contact with the defendant was prohibited while the case wound its way through the legal system.

Eventually, prosecutors approached Eric about whether he wanted them to pursue the maximum sentence against the paramedic. But the newly widowed father also recognized an opportunity to practice the grace that he often preached about.

Amid the grief, Erik pleaded for leniency so Matt could avoid prison time. A judge ordered the firefighter to only pay a fine and do community service.

The two men never spoke directly to each other again until the 2-year anniversary of June’s death. Enough time had passed for Erik to understand that the accident had been just that – a horrible and unintended consequence of Matt’s actions.

Leaving the grocery store, Eric recognized Matt and walked towards his truck. The guilt-ridden man wept as he handed Eric a condolence card he’d just purchased. Two years of crushing guilt spewed out.

They hugged - one man saving souls, the other saving bodies. They talked for hours. They became friends.

They remain close to this day, meeting regularly and often spending time together during the holidays. They credit that chance meeting in a parking lot as the key to letting them both heal from the loss and pain.

They view their relationship as a blessing from God, a feeling cemented recently when Pastor Erik welcomed another child into his life with a new bride. Their baby was born on the same due date as the unborn child he and his first wife had been expecting.

Whenever we’re confronted with a choice between forgiveness or resentment, we’re given the option to experience life’s beauty or the horror of death. By holding on to anger, bitterness, and even hatred, we close ourselves off to God’s mercy and grace. Yet by forgiving, we help another receive that healing grace as well!

Father God, please forgive me when I allow anger and bitterness to fill my heart because I refuse to forgive someone who has hurt me. Teach me how to set aside my pride and to forgive in the same way You have forgiven me. Amen

Shielded by His Light

 “You, O Lord, are a shield around me.” ~ Psalm 3:3

The water-stained ceiling tiles above Barry’s hospital bed never looked so beautiful. He was still alive. There were surely no ceiling tiles in heaven, he reasoned.

Until yesterday, he’d come through the worst battle of his life, completing the last of his chemo treatments for acute myeloid leukemia. His latest test results seemed encouraging. He’d even been able to briefly dance with his wife, Adele, in the hospital room before the relief that had invigorated them turned into a raging storm. Barry’s appendix burst.

His white blood cells, depleted from chemo, couldn’t fight the infection. A low platelet count meant his blood wouldn’t clot sufficiently either. Surgery wasn’t an option. Without it, the poison flooding his body would be fatal.

The G-tube into his belly to drain off some of the toxins would only buy a few hours, not the weeks needed to stabilize him enough for an appendectomy. Adele urgently called everyone they knew to come quickly.

A family priest administered the last rights. Scores of visitors offered prayers and said goodbye. 

Everyone except Franny. “The Lord will be a shield around you’” she whispered. “That’s somewhere in the Bible. He wanted me to tell you that.”

Shield me, Lord,” Barry repeatedly until fitful sleep came.

He woke up the next day staring at the spotted ceiling tiles. The day after that too. The medical staff knew of only one case where anyone with cancer like his survived a burst appendix for so long.

After 7 consecutive days of waking to those ceiling tiles, he went home. They tested his blood every few days to determine if he was strong enough for surgery. There were no guarantees.

After six more weeks at home, his blood counts normalized. They prepared him for an exploratory procedure to assess his internal damage. Through the fog of anesthesia, Barry recalled David’s reassuring words: “You are a shield around me.” Franny wasn’t sure what they meant; nor was he. But that passage sustained him, like provisions during a desolate winter.

Immediately after surgery, an astonished surgeon entered the recovery room. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, showing a photo of what was left of Barry’s appendix. “Surrounding it is a kind of shell, composed of scar tissue.” He circled it. “These adhesions serve as the body's repair mechanism.”

“What does that mean?” Barry asked.

He fumbled for the right words. “The adhesions acted like… tiny shields, tightly packed together… forming an impenetrable structure that contained the poison within it.”

Barry never questioned why his life was spared. That’s what heaven is for. For now, he’ll enjoy his family, his friends, and the blue skies, not ready to see beyond the ceiling tiles quite yet.

Holy Father, shield me from wickedness and help me to cast all my cares on You. Let me rest in Your love, knowing that You have promised to supply sufficient grace in all the trials I may face. Amen

Purdy Great

 “My grace is all you need for My power works best in weakness.” ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9

He wasn’t supposed to be there. But his journey is remarkable.

After being selected dead last in the 2022 NFL draft, he gained the good-humored title of “Mr. Irrelevant” and was told by most NFL scouts that he didn’t have a bright future. Little would be expected of him. Making the practice squad would be impressive. Landing a coveted spot on the 2021 division-title-winning San Francisco 49ers would be highly improbable. They already had a deep pool of quarterbacks.

Despite being labeled a “limited athlete” with “a maxed-out body,” Brock Purdy had three things in his favor: maturity, humility, and leadership. His faith became a constant in this underdog story.

An unlikely 3-star recruit out of Gilbert, Arizona, Purdy wasn’t initially on anyone’s radar when he enrolled at Iowa State University. But he became a Cyclone fan favorite in his sophomore season with clutch plays, quick thinking, and inspiration off the field. He credits God for his success by allowing him the opportunity to play the game he loves.

A season-ending injury to starter Trey Lance in NFL Week 2 moved Purdy into the team’s backup role as they searched for another quarterback. Lance was one of five quarterbacks taken in the first round of the 2021 NFL round. He signed a four-year rookie contract, worth $34.1 million.

Next, the 49ers placed backup Jimmy Garoppolo under center. Purdy came in for a half dozen snaps in a few games but was named the starter later after Garoppolo injured his foot against the Dolphins. He instantly became “relevant” by throwing a touchdown pass in the 33-17 win. From there, the job was his.

His teammates started taking him seriously. Everything they’d heard about him as a leader was true. They won the next four regular-season games, securing a division title.

Purdy’s Christian faith garnered plenty of attention leading up to the NFC Championship game against the Eagles. “My identity is in Jesus,” he told reporters. “I’m called to share His Word.”

He led a stunning comeback in the NFC Championship. Down by 17-points, the 49ers beat the Lions 34-31, thus securing a spot in Super Bowl LVIII.

OK, so Purdy lost 25-22 to the KC Chiefs on the NFL’s biggest stage in the Super Bowl’s version of a TKO overtime loss, Purdy counterpunched until the end. Finishing the game 23-of-38 for 255 yards and one touchdown with no turnovers, it was his cleanest game of the playoffs.

Brock Purdy’s faith and how he lives it in the public eye serves as an example for Christians in how to navigate fame and success while staying true to one’s beliefs. “It reflects my walk with Jesus,” he said. I’m going to use this platform to magnify the One who’s given me this opportunity.”

Thank You Lord, for the positive roles models in my life who encourage and prod me to live for You. I want to be a godly example for others n modeling Your values. Amen

A Promise Kept

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

They met in second grade. He already had the beginnings of an athletic build which gave Matt his first experience of being a popular kid in school. Melanie was beautiful and special to everyone around her. Bullies stared at her, called her names, and treated her with suspicion.

Matt also noticed that Melanie was often alone on the playground. So, he made a point of talking to her and pulling Melanie into whatever activity they were doing. They became fast friends and he constantly watched out for his classmate with Down’s Syndrome.

As the two buddies watched Matt’s older brother ready himself for the school prom, Matt (now an affectionate 4^th grader), promised Melanie that he’d take her to prom when they got to high school. Neither parent learned about their children’s special relationship until the year was practically over.

Unfortunately, the two friends ended up at different schools by the time they reached sixth grade. They completely lost touch. Matt became the star quarterback on his high school football team and Melanie became the equipment manager for her high school football team. They reconnected for the first time in years when their respective teams played against one another.

Matt never forgot the promise he’d made a decade earlier. Melanie often talked about the upcoming prom even though she didn’t have a date. But after reuniting with her elementary school pal, she got the best surprise of her life.

With several balloons that featured "Prom ?" written on them, Matt presented his friend with the gift and asked her to be his date. 

Time stood still, breath held, until her soulful reply. Melanie said “Yes!” without hesitation.

She looked gorgeous in her lavender gown as they posed for pictures and later danced the night away. He’d grown into a man with a big heart, a deep sense of putting others first, and most of all making people feel special and loved. For him it was no big deal, just doing what came naturally.

It wasn’t just about a handsome football quarterback or a beautiful girl with Down syndrome, but a friendship that withstood the test of time and a promise kept.

Both students continued their lives as usual after prom, which meant going into their senior year of high school. Mary was elected homecoming queen at Central Dauphin and continued as equipment manager for the school's football team; Ben continued in his role as quarterback for the team at Susquehanna.

Matt's loyalty to his friend destroys the picture of how many might remember jocks from their own high school years. Melanie’s graceful elegance on prom night accented a powerful rebuke to false and hurtful stereotypes about those with intellectual disabilities.

God’s hand at work again.

Father, You are our Rock, Fortress, and Savior in whom we find protection. You help those who’ve fallen, and You lift those who have too much to carry. Thank You for being a refuge of safety for those people who are being hurt by others. Amen

Living Small

“Learn to be content whatever the circumstances." ~ Philippians 4:11

Another day of unloading. Another day of unpacking moving boxes. Another day of building shelves to store all the stuff we’ve been storing for decades. Ugh!

Rummaging through my toolbox and searching for deck screws, I discovered a small copper washer. Its light green patina revealed years of age and exposure. “What’s this for I wondered, and why had I kept it at all?”

A memory quickly unfolded as the pages of a favorite childhood storybook. Oddly, the thin washer reminded me of a penny placed on railroad tracks some 60 years ago. It echoed summer days, nurturing and forever simple.

I’d been five or six years old, standing near railroad tracks behind our grandparents’ farmhouse. Several times a day a huge freight train would rumble past.

Funny how time tends to erase features. I can’t recall their faces or much of anything else from that long ago time.

But I could distinctly remember the thrill of that moment when my Dad encouraged me to place an ordinary penny on the rail. And soon the mighty roar of the ginormous freight train thundered precariously past.

I reached down and picked up the remains of the coin. Its one-cent value had been destroyed. The copper, squashed paper thin, had become smooth and dark. But it had become infinitely more valuable in my eyes.

Why do I still remember that penny and that train? One was a small thing of little value. The other, a juggernaut, was like the swift, unstoppable passage of time.

Staring down at the discolored copper washer, I chuckled before tossing it back into my toolbox.

Such a small thing.

But small doesn’t have to mean unimportant. Small doesn’t translate to “without meaning or purpose.” Small can be profound.

It’s always in the smallest moments that I feel that familiar wash of gratitude settle over me. It’s those unexpected moments when my adult daughter confides she now appreciates the positive imprints I’ve had on her life. It’s in the smallest, most beautiful moments that I feel His spiritual nudges I’ve been seeking.

God can work with small. Sometimes I think that’s where He works best.

Sometimes all the small things add up to something big. The quiet push that leads a person down a new path. The faith it takes to get through the hard stuff. A life spent in love and service. Years gone by in work, loyalty, and listening. In the end, there’s nothing small about those things.

But day to day, life might feel small, but our story is leading us somewhere. We are all writing a story with our lives. So, let’s make it a story that inspires and motivates others wherever it is shared.

Lord of all, during those times when we’re feeling small and insignificant, thank You for caring for us on our daily journeys. Thank you for guiding us in our decisions, for giving us wisdom when we stumble, and for leading in support of one another. Amen