Bang! I had an eight point buck. The broad shouldered beast sprung from the tall corn surprising me as it broke through a thin veil of early morning fog. What a trophy!
It was a prize any hunter would be proud of. But I wasn’t smiling. I had rammed the deer with my van as it bolted across the road.
Less than 45 seconds before impact, I was at a crossroads. Either right or left would have taken me to my morning destination—my friend Robert’s house. I almost went left. I turned right.
My van was drivable; I wasn’t hurt. And somebody even came by who needed the meat. So I continued my travels.
When I arrived at Robert’s house and told him what happened, he started laughing. Resisting the temptation to punch him, I listened. He told me how he had suddenly woken up that morning, feeling he was supposed to pray that I would have a safe journey.
Instead, he went back to sleep.
Why didn’t you pray? He replied, “I figured you knew how to drive.”
I did. The deer didn’t . . . thanks Robert.
Would his prayer have prevented the accident, changed my direction at my crossroads?
Obviously, there’s nothing that says: “Thus saith the Lord, pray and the buck won’t be struck.” More importantly we should ask: “What role does prayer play in my life when I’m at a crossroads?”
The Bible says, “Do not be anxious about anything.” That seems impossible—especially at the crossroads. It continues: “But in everything, by prayer; earnest, pleading prayers mixed with thanksgiving present your urgent requests to God.”
And then the impossible happens: “And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your heart and mind . . .”
Now that’s a trophy; that’s what we need when we collide with obstacles at the crossroads of our lives.
6/25/05
6/18/05
HUGE STINKY
“The cats had a huge stinky mess today,” the note laying on the kitchen countertop informed me. My wife’s scribbling allowed my mind to easily grasp what to expect in our cat’s basement domain. This wasn’t the first time; it seems to be more frequent as our cats, Timmons and Ruby, head toward their twilight years.
Jokingly I asked my wife, “Remind me again, why do we have cats?” She alluded to their great mice catching ability. Then she said, “The cats are like relatives, you can’t get rid of them.”
Oh.
Huge stinky relative problems go back to history’s first family when Cain murdered his brother Abel. From small squabbles to all out war, the family continues to be a battleground. We even have TV shows with family woes being the main theme.
Most messy family situations start out small. Let’s consider what you and I can do to keep them from becoming huge stinky messes.
While this is a complex, multi-faceted issue; the question of forgiveness will certainly swirl in the mix. Jesus was approached by someone who was willing to forgive “up to seven times” a relative who had wronged him. Generous, since the Jewish Rabbis of the day taught that forgiveness should not be extended beyond three times.
Jesus replied, “I tell you not seven times but seven times seventy.” The point- He wasn’t actually setting the limit at 490, but illustrating endless forgiveness.
Even forgiving a person once can be gut wrenchingly difficult. It was kind of like when I went to clean up the cat’s huge stinky. As I kneeled on the floor with a rag wiping up the smelly mess, the stench tensed my stomach.
And sometimes we need to bend to our knees with a white cloth and wipe clean a huge stinky relative problem.
We need to forgive. And let your white cloth be forgiveness in the manner Jesus prescribed—“From your heart.”
Jokingly I asked my wife, “Remind me again, why do we have cats?” She alluded to their great mice catching ability. Then she said, “The cats are like relatives, you can’t get rid of them.”
Oh.
Huge stinky relative problems go back to history’s first family when Cain murdered his brother Abel. From small squabbles to all out war, the family continues to be a battleground. We even have TV shows with family woes being the main theme.
Most messy family situations start out small. Let’s consider what you and I can do to keep them from becoming huge stinky messes.
While this is a complex, multi-faceted issue; the question of forgiveness will certainly swirl in the mix. Jesus was approached by someone who was willing to forgive “up to seven times” a relative who had wronged him. Generous, since the Jewish Rabbis of the day taught that forgiveness should not be extended beyond three times.
Jesus replied, “I tell you not seven times but seven times seventy.” The point- He wasn’t actually setting the limit at 490, but illustrating endless forgiveness.
Even forgiving a person once can be gut wrenchingly difficult. It was kind of like when I went to clean up the cat’s huge stinky. As I kneeled on the floor with a rag wiping up the smelly mess, the stench tensed my stomach.
And sometimes we need to bend to our knees with a white cloth and wipe clean a huge stinky relative problem.
We need to forgive. And let your white cloth be forgiveness in the manner Jesus prescribed—“From your heart.”
6/11/05
COTTAGE CHEESE
The words danced out of her mouth: “Momma and grandma are number one, Jesus is number two and cottage cheese is number three” While fueling herself with the white milky curds, eleven year old Sharnae shared her philosophy of life.
Immediately, her brother Robert protested, “Cottage cheese can’t be number three!” His choice for number three-- it had to be family. He did concede that cottage cheese could rank fourth in her life.
I protest also. For the record I place Jesus as number one. And cottage cheese as the number three priority in life or even number four?-- no way. That slot should be for pizza.
Or nachos, or barbequed chicken, or your favorite food.
Let’s be real. I love good food; you love good food. But, I need to move it down the list.
The Bible talks often about food, with one of the more peculiar references being the diet of John the Baptist. He subsisted on locust and wild honey—that’s it. According to Jesus, there was no greater man than John the Baptist. Yet, did he eat a great man’s diet?
The Bible has these diet adjusting, tasty words: “I will praise God as long as I live, and in God’s name I will lift my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest foods.”
Praising God, that was John’s diet for a great man.
Immediately, her brother Robert protested, “Cottage cheese can’t be number three!” His choice for number three-- it had to be family. He did concede that cottage cheese could rank fourth in her life.
I protest also. For the record I place Jesus as number one. And cottage cheese as the number three priority in life or even number four?-- no way. That slot should be for pizza.
Or nachos, or barbequed chicken, or your favorite food.
Let’s be real. I love good food; you love good food. But, I need to move it down the list.
The Bible talks often about food, with one of the more peculiar references being the diet of John the Baptist. He subsisted on locust and wild honey—that’s it. According to Jesus, there was no greater man than John the Baptist. Yet, did he eat a great man’s diet?
The Bible has these diet adjusting, tasty words: “I will praise God as long as I live, and in God’s name I will lift my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest foods.”
Praising God, that was John’s diet for a great man.
6/4/05
GYPSY
“Death like a Gypsy comes to steal everything precious . . .” Those were the last words I heard as I flicked off the radio, dashing out the door heading to work.
En route the radio in my head was on continual play—“Death like a
Gypsy . . .” I couldn’t shake the words I had heard on that Christian radio station. The musician had created a simple word formula—death equals Gypsy, Gypsy equals thief. Kind of catchy, unless your ethnic heritage is Gypsy.
I still remember the pointing-fingers-behind-the-back talk when a Gypsy girl attended my school briefly when I was in eighth grade. Was her greatest fault she was born a Gypsy?
I knew nothing about gypsies; I had no true understanding of their history or culture. I didn’t know their heritage included devastating prejudice since arriving in Europe seven hundred years ago or the fact that over a million Gypsies were executed during the Holocaust. Or even the fact that until 1994 there were anti-Gypsy laws on the books in the U.S., including making it illegal for a Gypsy to own a home.
Kids can be so cruel—with their words . . . and then we become adults.
One of the songs in the Bible has these lyrics: “Hear this, all you people of the world; both humble and exalted, rich and poor alike. My mouth will speak wise words; the utterance of my heart, my inner man will be intelligent understanding.”
It’s a song; it’s a proclamation; it’s a choice.
God, help me to speak wise words and give me intelligent understanding of people different than myself.
En route the radio in my head was on continual play—“Death like a
Gypsy . . .” I couldn’t shake the words I had heard on that Christian radio station. The musician had created a simple word formula—death equals Gypsy, Gypsy equals thief. Kind of catchy, unless your ethnic heritage is Gypsy.
I still remember the pointing-fingers-behind-the-back talk when a Gypsy girl attended my school briefly when I was in eighth grade. Was her greatest fault she was born a Gypsy?
I knew nothing about gypsies; I had no true understanding of their history or culture. I didn’t know their heritage included devastating prejudice since arriving in Europe seven hundred years ago or the fact that over a million Gypsies were executed during the Holocaust. Or even the fact that until 1994 there were anti-Gypsy laws on the books in the U.S., including making it illegal for a Gypsy to own a home.
Kids can be so cruel—with their words . . . and then we become adults.
One of the songs in the Bible has these lyrics: “Hear this, all you people of the world; both humble and exalted, rich and poor alike. My mouth will speak wise words; the utterance of my heart, my inner man will be intelligent understanding.”
It’s a song; it’s a proclamation; it’s a choice.
God, help me to speak wise words and give me intelligent understanding of people different than myself.
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