Cougar Courage

“Don’t be worried or afraid.  I give you a peace that this world can’t give." ~ John 14:27

Robert loved basketball.  Just two months ago he’d made Varsity and he couldn’t wait to don a ‘Cougar’ jersey.  Making the team was the single most exciting moment of his life.  He’d never imagined life without basketball . . . until the accident that stole his future.

It’d been nearly 6 weeks since the potentially fatal car crash that injured his spine - T8 to be exact.  Dr. Phelps said he was lucky; T8 paraplegics use manual wheelchair and drive cars with hand controls.  All Robby remembered was that his body was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.  Life sucked!

Coach Henderson had visited him in the hospital and asked Robby to consider remaining on the team as an assistant coach, statistician, water boy, wherever needed.  Robby hesitated at first; he hated pity.  So Coach upped the ante – he could suit up and join other teammates on the bench.

Fourteen games had gone by before Robby returned to the Cougars.  With less than a dozen games left, it was ‘crunch’ time for the 9-5 Cougars if they wanted a spot in the state tournament. 

When he wasn’t doing Coach’s errands, Robby shot free throws; hundreds of them every night.  He’d led the team in free-throws before the crash.  Some adjustments were needed as the injury had weakened his stomach muscles too.

Late in the final game of the season, and down by a single point the Cougar’s all-conference point guard stole the ball and drove to the basket on a breakaway.  Jack was chased from behind by an opponent whose clumsy attempt to swat the ball away, shoved Jack awkwardly into the wall behind the basket just as time expired.  A fractured left humerus meant Jack was in no condition to shoot free-throws.

Coach looked down the bench.  “Robby,” he shouted, “Get out there and win this one for us!”

Robby was stunned; he wasn’t mentally prepared, he hadn’t played in a real game since last year.  Now he was being called on to shoot the two most important shots of the season. 

Bu this whole ordeal was already making him a better person.  People might have cracked jokes about his place on the bench, but Robby had ignored them.  His disability gave him the ability face tougher challenges with poise and confidence.

It doesn’t matter how the game ended.  The real story is about a Coach whose belief in a young man empowered him to believe in himself. 

The Holy Spirit gives us power too.  Its presence in our lives pardons, perfects and converts us.  The Holy Spirit gives us peace – an everlasting peace that comes from being right with God.

Holy Spirit, grow within us and bless others through us.  Give us an inner peace that frees us from needing to prove ourselves and enables us to let go of the pride, prejudice, and hatred that destroys peace.  Amen

Heaven Sent

“Keep your mind on heavenly things, not earthly ones." ~ Colossians 3:2

Dawn came dimly to the north Wisconsin woods, muffled by a gray, woolen sky.  Old man Korn sat motionless on a tree stand amidst his sprawling property.  He’d hunted from this same spot for nearly five decades, capturing hundreds of game.  Today the biggest prize of his life found him!

Somehow in the bare branches of the old Sugar Maple, scarcely protected from the harsh November winds, two deflated pink balloons hung inches from his skull cap.  A tightly rolled note was attached by a bright red ribbon.  There was no “camouflaging” the burly woodsman’s tearful emotions after reading a child’s message written just three days earlier.

Dear God, Please take care of my dog Abby? She died yesterday and is with you now in heaven.  I miss her very much.  I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even when she got sick.  I hope you will play with her.  She likes to fetch balls and to swim.  I included a drawing of her so when you see her, you will know that she is my dog.  I really miss her.   Love, Meredith.

Addressed to God c/o Heaven, the letter had a return address from a location 50 miles or more from Korn’s place.

He returned home later that day, touched by his discovery and the heartfelt message it delivered.  He’d have to think carefully about how best to respond to a girl he’d never met. 

Two days later, a package addressed to Meredith lie on the family’s front porch.  Beneath the foil wrapping was a book written by Mister Rogers titled “When a Pet Dies.”   Her letter was taped inside its well-worn cover with this note in an unfamiliar script:

My dearest Meredith, Abby arrived safely in heaven.  I recognized her right away.  Having the picture was a big help.  She isn't sick anymore.  Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart.

Abby loved being your dog.  Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abby by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your wonderful mother for helping you write it.  I picked her especially for you.  By the way, you don’t have to write, I'm always there whenever you need me.  I love you very much, God

Innocent words remind us all of the capacity of love, the magic of young friendships, but above all, what’s possible when you set your sights on the heavens.

There are rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb; but together we can do it one step at a time.  And when it's time for you to go . . . from your body to be free, remember you're not going . . . you're coming here to me. ~ God

Truth Slayer

“It is better to trust in the Lord than to trust in people." ~ Psalm 118:8

A lifelong scientist, Joshua’s intense curiosity served him well.  He dedicated himself to the pursuit of knowledge.  He started with a point of view that there was no God, no hand behind nature’s beauty, no supreme guardian of the world’s order, no spirit of clemency who pardons all who beg forgiveness.

He travelled the globe seeking enlightenment.  From the rugged heights of the Peruvian Andes to the scorching Saharan desert; from the breathtaking Norwegian fjords to the frozen base of China’s Great Wall, he desperately sought inner peace. 

He spoke to Bedouins, witch-doctors and Fortune-tellers.  All had amused and confused him.  Some encouraged him to see God in everything, to hear His voice in the raging storm and the gentle breeze.  Still others invited him to sit quietly, listening to the rippling thoughts of his own reflective mind, capturing the symphonic notes of his inner self.

After a very long and fulfilling life, the Joshua passed away.  He’d never really figured out the God-thing, so he was shocked to be standing at the heavenly alter of the Holy Father.  God greeted him with: “Welcome my son.  You were a good man, a hard working man who took care of your family.  You shared the gifts I provided with many others.  But, you never really believed in me.”

Joshua said, “God, if I could have seen you, or heard your voice, or even felt your touch, I would have truly believed.  I needed empirical proof.”

“Well, do you remember the time you stopped when you saw the little girl crying next to her broken bicycle?  You couldn’t fix it, but you held her hand and carried her busted bike home for her?  Her mother hugged you and said “Thank You!””  Joshua again said “Yeah I remember that.”

Then God said, “Do you remember the time an old woman stopped you in the mall?  She was crying; upset because she’s lost her son in the crowd?  You bought her a cup of tea and went out, found the boy and brought him back to his Mother.  As they left, the grateful woman looked at you and said “Bless you.”"  Joshua said “Yeah I remember that.”

“Do you remember the time the homeless man asked if you had any spare change?  He hadn’t eaten in 2 or 3 days.  You didn’t have any loose coins, but you gave him half of your sandwich and you both ate lunch together.  When the man got ready to leave, he stuck out his hand and you shook it?”  Joshua said “Yeah I remember that.”

God said “That little girl’s smile was my smile.  That old woman’s comment was my voice.  That man’s handshake was my touch.  I was there all the time, you just didn’t see, you didn’t hear and you didn’t feel.”

Open the eyes of my heart Lord, unlock the echo from my soul, unchain the deadness in my self.  I want to see Your beauty, I want to hear Your Word, I want to understand and do Your will.  Amen

The Hand of God

"Never forget to do good and to share what you have with others, because sacrifices like these are very pleasing to God." - - Hebrews 13:16

It was one of those cold Detroit nights, the kind where rain hurts and the moon refused to hide behind clouds that shrouded its glow.  There, broken down by the side of the road, Glen spotted an eyesore that could only be referred to as a "car" by someone who was either a liar or a good friend.   An unsightly mixture of rust and grey primer marked the vehicle’s exterior. 

He could think of a dozen more reasons not to stop on this dangerous stretch of freeway.  Surely the Highway Patrol would be along soon.  In his best wool suit, he wasn’t dressed for auto repairs anyway.  Hell, he was the world’s worst mechanic; his kids nicknamed him ‘Mr. What’s-a-wrench.’ Once when his engine light came on, he bought a can of 10W-30, and proceeded to pour its contents into the transmission.  The boys down at the garage suggested he get a horse.  

So Glen drove on by, just like hundreds of other drivers on the expressway that night . . . and felt guilty about it.  He turned off at the next exit and made his way back to see if he could at least give the driver a lift somewhere.  As he approached the stranded car, a voice from under the hood shouted: “Ok, try it now!”  The woman driver reached for the key and turned it.  The engine started, but sounded like a lawnmower with tuberculosis. 

"It was your serpentine belt," the man explained, wiping greasy hands on his pants.  "It slipped off.  It's pretty worn.  You should take it to a mechanic; get a new one put on."

She tried to give the Samaritan some money, but he declined and waved as she drove off.   It wasn't until the two men started walking toward their cars that Glen noticed the Samaritan’s family sitting in their station wagon, waiting patiently.  "Do you stop and help people like this often?"  Glen asked.

He shrugged.  "Somebody has to," he said.  "What's she gonna do if nobody helps?"  For him, that was reason enough. 

If we truly want to walk in Jesus’ footsteps, then we need to ask ourselves that question, too.  No matter how many reasons not to.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she realized something about the stranger who stopped to help.  Somehow he appeared every time she was in trouble.  He never looked the same; sometimes he's a woman.  His age and ethnicity vary.  But he's always there. 

He’s the best part of what makes us human – the spontaneous kindness of a stranger, the invisible cord binding us together that makes life worthwhile.

Almighty Father, when I find myself immersed in the clutter and bustle, annoyed by long lines, baffled about how I'll get everything done, remind me:  One of the people in that crowd is the stranger.  Today, maybe it should be me!  Amen