Promises Fulfilled

Love is a promise; love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.
- John Lennon

It’s 1961. President Kennedy utters the famous words “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” A gallon of gas costs .27 cents. If you aren’t somewhere doing “the twist” you’re probably watching “Mr. Ed” on TV or perhaps you’re catching “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” at the movies. Oh, and on November 4, these two kids tie the knot.

April, 1961 my mom, a teenager at the time, hopped in the family’s baby blue convertible Chevy and headed to McDonald’s with her parents for dinner. My dad was a fresh-faced McDonald’s employee. It didn’t take long before he caught the eye of both my mom and my grandma. As he made milkshakes, he flashed a few smiles their way and that’s all it took. My grandma said to her daughter, “That’s the kind of guy I would like you to marry.” A month later, in that same McDonald’s parking lot Dad asked for her hand.

48 years later my parents celebrate their love and I celebrate their devotion. You learn a great deal from your parents; how they relate to one another; how they handle the inevitable difficulties; how they take care of one another. I have been watching.

Today I’m unrolling God’s blueprint, closely inspecting my parent’s “chance meeting” at a McDonald’s; how it resulted in my life and the lives of my daughters, my sister and my brother’s lives, and the lives of his children. I stand in awe over the breathing blueprint from the Master Designer; a plan with a purpose.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 1 Corinthians 13:4

What happens to love’s flame 48 years after being ignited? Mom says it has never burned brighter. This doesn’t happen by accident; it’s patience rewarded, kindness practiced and repeated, and promises fulfilled.

Happy anniversary Mom and Dad. Your love for each other is surpassed only by the love God has for you both.

How’s Your Dash?

I’m walking through a cemetery looking closely at the gravestones. I notice familiar names and wonder if I’m related. I take note of the dates and wonder how they died. As I continue walking several emotions run through me. I feel warmth at the sight of husbands buried next to wives and sadness at the occasional child’s grave. I get a feeling of pride and gratitude as I pass by military graves lovingly marked with American flags. But most of all I notice the dash.

Linda Ellis wrote:

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth…
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.
Since we overcomplicate so many things, what if this is the very key to a happier, more fullfilling life? What if, during seasons of feeling unimportant and insignificant all we need to do is doctor our dash?

In this season of my life I have decided to think less about the date and more about the dash.

I developed an eight-part dash diagnosis.

1. Am I the best husband and father I can be?
2. Am I growing in my faith?
3. Am I quick to anger?
4. Am I fun to be around?
5. Am I doing what’s safe or taking some risks?
6. Do I do enough to help others?
7. Am I taking good care of myself; sleep, exercise, diet?
8. Am I using my God-given talents?

What are your eight? Are you living your best dash?

The second part of Linda’s poem is most important of all.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.
Have a great week and take time out to doctor your dash.

Outgrowing Fear

Reflections…

This year I turned 43. Just looking at that number on my computer screen, it just doesn’t seem real. It’s not that I think 43 is old, it’s not. It’s just that I thought it would feel different somehow. In so many ways I still feel like the undersized boy who rode his bike, hung out in junk yards, and pretended that he was a baseball star; the boy who was afraid of almost everything.

I wonder if it’s normal to wish I could do it all again only this time do it without the “F” word.

Fear is like a faucet, it comes on all by itself and we never feel like we can turn it off. It’s the elephant in the room. We all have fears but we pretend that we don’t and we almost never talk about them. Financial fears, illness, your family’s safety, change, death, loneliness—we all fear something. My fear was and is easy to pinpoint; the fear of failure, the fear of not having what it takes, the fear of not mattering.

Feed your fears, and your faith will starve.
Feed your faith, and your fears will. – Max Lucado

Envision the day when we can trust more and fear less.
Max Lucado asks, what if you could hover a fear magnet over your heart and extract every last shaving of dread, insecurity, or doubt, what would remain?
For me what would remain is pure joy; joy unimpeded by worry; the very definition of heaven.

What if God has his arm around us and He’s whispering to us not to be afraid. Do we hear Him? Do we trust Him?

There’s an unforgettable scene in The Shawshank Redemption where Red (Morgan Freeman), who has served 40 years of a life sentence for murder, recalls his crime in front of the parole board. “I look back on the way I was then,” he says. “A stupid, young kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him. Tell him the way things are, but I can’t. That kid’s long gone.”

This little kid is long gone too but I want to talk to him. I want to tell him that he has nothing to fear and even if he does fall short it’ll be okay, there will be a lot of successes along the way; that he does matter.

I wonder, would the boy listen or does he need to outgrow his fears, learn to turn the fear faucet off and trust something greater?

Press Pause

During a particularly hectic morning, I rattled off my usual list of demands to my daughters. “Girls, get dressed, brush your teeth, comb your hair, don’t forget your socks,” I yelled upstairs using my best dad-voice.

We were running late for school AGAIN and fourth grade anxiously awaited. It was a dark and rainy morning, a thick fog lingered in the cold air. My mind raced as I thought of the crazy commute ahead and the pile of expectations awaiting me at my desk. I could feel the stress building inside me like the mercury rising in a thermometer. And then it happened.

I walked out into the garage and saw my two nine year old girls skipping in the rain. They were giggling uncontrollably with huge smiles on their little faces. The driveway had become their stage and they danced without a care in the world. I only had a minute to soak this in, but I used every bit of sixty seconds to thank God for their lives. I honestly felt my knees weaken.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. – John Betjeman, British Poet (1906-1984)

All the way to work I could not shake the image of my girls; their hair soaked in rain, each drop washing away what little cares they had. I wished that I could somehow bottle them up, shield and protect them from adulthood where that kind of joy so often gets lost.

Being reliable, doing what must be done, the shackles of responsibility weigh heavily on us. Worry engulfs us like flames through a forest and it slowly blackens the soul. There are deadlines to meet, bills to pay, illnesses to deal with and people to be strong for. “Crisis,” writes Andy Andrews, “we’re either in one, heading for one, or coming out of one.”

Billy Joel called it pressure.

But you will come to a place
Where the only thing you feel
Are loaded guns in your face
And you’ll have to deal with
Pressure

For those sixty seconds in my garage I pressed the pause button. I pushed pressure aside and got lost in the world of childhood spontaneity and sense of wonder. I watched my girls dance. When I pray, I ask God to help me grow up. Secretly, or not so secretly, I would like this to happen without actually growing up—without losing the essence of youth, the discovery, and the joy.

Whatever challenges you face today, find a way to press pause; to push pressure aside. Your Father is watching you and He wants to see you skipping in the rain with a huge smile on your face, each drop washing away your cares…if only for a minute.

Leaving The Past Behind

“There’s no future in my past” – Karyn Williams, singer/songwriter

I am fortunate in my life that I almost never have confrontations and when I do they are minor ones. There may be a little issue at the office here and there. Some words may be exchanged occasionally with my wife or a family member, but nothing major and nothing that can’t easily be fixed (usually by me apologizing).

Then out of the blue, it happened. I reconnected with an old friend and colleague through email and eventually on the phone. We do this maybe once every two months or so often regarding business. But on this particular occasion it got personal. I quickly discovered that our lives are so different; our priorities, values, and moral compasses pointing in such polar opposite directions that we blew up at each other.

Who was right and who was wrong doesn’t even matter. What is rather sad is that it appears a friendship, albeit a casual one is lost. But is that sad, or is that just the way it is? Is it simply an example of holding on to the past too long? The truth is men do not have a lot of friends. We have sports buds, work friends, maybe a small men’s group, and other casual acquaintances. We have very few, if any actual friendships—other men we can really talk to, count on, and trust implicitly. I am blessed to have two such friends.

Maybe there’s a reason people move in and out of our lives. Maybe when we cling to what once was we’re headed for disappointment. I am not the same person I was when I worked directly with this person; when we played tennis, went out to eat, or just hung out. He knows things about me that were true then but are no longer true now. The connection is lost. It probably happened a long time ago, we’re just now realizing it. If we look at our lives as a story, maybe it’s okay to leave this particular scene behind. It’s not angry, it’s just time.

Today, amidst some feelings of loss, I can reminisce about the past, laugh at some truly hysterical moments, and be thankful. I also have renewed appreciation for the here and now; for the people around me who know and love me for who I am today.

The past isn’t so bad as long as we remember its place; as long as we keep it in perspective, check the rearview mirror every once in while and remember to keep looking forward.

No Boundaries

Imagine seeing the Earth as God sees it—from a distance. Its arresting beauty, its magnificent colors, and its lack of borders.

The Bible says that God spoke the Earth to life. Imagine the power of His breath. Place yourself in the silence of space and envision the peaceful stillness.

Only a handful of people have seen the Earth from afar. People who’ve traveled to space rarely discuss the incredible force of the rocket launch or the exhilaration of zero gravity. What really lights up their eyes is when they talk about the view. “The sheer beauty of it just brought tears to my eyes,” says Anousheh Ansari who flew to the international space station. “If people could see Earth from up here, see it without those borders, see it without any differences in race or religion, they would have a completely different perspective.”

Astronaut Rusty Schweikert says “At the Mideast you know there are hundreds of people killing each other over some imaginary line that you can’t see. From where you see it, the thing is a whole, and it’s so beautiful. And you wish you could take one from each side in hand and say, “Look at it from this perspective. Look at that. What’s important?”

NO BOUNDARIES

The very idea is fascinating to me. It’s counterintuitive really. As people, we naturally place boundaries on things. We build walls and erect fences. We draw lines both literally and figuratively. We even place boundaries on God.

I was talking with my self-employed brother the other day. Like many Americans he has run into some financial difficulties. One particular month he had to come up with a large sum of money in order to pay some bills. The situation was quite urgent. The clock was ticking. “So I got on my knees,” he told me. Only he didn’t pray for money, he just told God that he trusts Him. The next week he landed $80,000 in work.

My first reaction—indeed my first inclination was to assume that my brother got lucky. I placed boundaries on God’s power. How can I believe in a God that can breathe the Earth and all of its creatures into existence but doubt that he can answer a prayer?

THE MASTER SCULPTOR

Imagine your doubt as borders and erase them. Trust that the power to create this can do all things.

The Story of Your Life

Every life is a story. Whether it is a story worth telling and talking about, though, is up to you.
- Donald Miller, A Million Miles In A Thousand Years.

I love this simple, yet accurate concept; that our lives are all about story. Each day, each week, each month and year is made up of short stories that make up one big epic.

The story of your life.

My friend Al died young. His story, while short and seemingly incomplete, was a series of sitcom-worthy moments that make for an overall entertaining tale of kindness and friendship. A story worth telling—a life well lived. And as the credits rolled on Al’s story, I walked out weeping uncontrollably, but happy to have played a role in it.

Recently while on vacation in Florida, I saw a young couple getting married on the beach. I thought about their story. It was just beginning for them and already it wasn’t going as planned. Dark clouds, cold rain, and high winds were quickly moving ashore threatening their big day. I thought about this pretty young bride-to-be planning her most important of days. The tension and drama of poor weather were always present in this story, but she would press on as young people do. My feet sunk in the sand as I watched them exchange vows, pose for a few pictures, and then run for cover to party the rest of the night away in blissful celebration.

Their story continues..the page turns.

My daughters were nearby catching tiny fish in the ocean and I thought about their stories; the prominent role I’m playing in shaping them and the life-changing role they’re playing in mine. I want their story to be filled with laughter, faith, adventure, and most of all; love. But I know I’m not the author of their story and I know that I can’t solely write my own. Oh sure, I can write parts of it. I can decide where I’m going to live, how I’m going to eat, what I’ll do for a living; but the ultimate writer of our stories is God.

Imagine the great Writer penning His story for us. There are elements we wouldn’t choose if it was up to us. We would make things a bit easier; add more vacations and larger bank accounts. We would write our stories leaving out the real meaningful experiences that make us stronger and prepare us for our future assignments.

Don Miller writes: I believe there is a writer outside ourselves, plotting a better story for us, interacting with us, even, and whispering a better story into our consciousness.

I think our stories go wrong when we don’t acknowledge that we’re not the primary writer. The saddest time in my life was when I inserted myself into someone else’s story. It doesn’t work. If we continue on our own, if we ignore the Writer, our story reads like the worst of novels, our movie becomes that faded-cover VHS tape in the dust-filled rack at the flea market.

So how is your story looking? Consult the great Writer. Listen, obey, and let the pen write an extraordinary tale. It’s never too late for you to begin. It can’t be. Your story isn’t over. The credits haven’t begun to roll.

Scripture Sacked

It has been a tradition for years in the small Southern town of Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia. To motivate and inspire the team, the cheerleaders at Lakeview-Fort Oglethorpe High paint signs featuring Bible verses.

Under the Friday night lights, in the glare of gridiron glory, the town’s hyped-up heroes rush the field and bust through the sign…and the crowd goes wild.

“It’s just the kind of positive message that seems to have been appreciated by the community and by the school,” explained Cheerleading Coach Susan Bradley. “There was no problem.”

Well now there is a problem. Someone thinks these words—this simple display of faith is somehow offensive and they complained.

Unfortunately, the mere threat of a lawsuit is enough to scare cash-strapped schools into giving up before there’s even a fight.
The cheerleaders were told to cease and desist.

As a result, a positive message of faith is sidelined and common sense is benched.

“It broke my heart to have to tell those girls that they could not display that message on the football field,” said schools Superintendent Denia Reese. “The problem with federal law is that the location inside the football field creates the impression that the school system is endorsing that particular religious message.”

Another victory for the separation of church and state crowd, another misuse of the first ten words in the First Amendment:
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion…”

Do you honestly believe that this is what the American fathers had in mind? Especially given the next line in the Amendment which reads:
or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.

The students and parents at LFO High are fighting back. There was a rally this week attended by more than 500 people. Several players were upset by the ruling and decided to hold a team prayer after they took the field last week. Thousands of words of encouragement are pouring in on Facebook http://tinyurl.com/yb4qhbq

I say press on.

This could be just a few faces in a new generation that rises above this nonsense.

Stephen Mansfield wrote in his book, Ten Tortured Words “Perhaps now is the perfect moment for the reconsideration of our religious heritage and of the laws that have banished the wisdom of that heritage from our public life.”

Amen brother and go Warriors!

The Dead Sea

It is more blessed to give than to receive
-Acts 20:35

Looks certainly can be deceiving can’t they? The Dead Sea, located in the Middle East between Jordan and Israel, is among the most spectacular landscapes in the world.

At first glance, you can almost feel how invigorating it would be to take a plunge in all of its inviting splendor. Only there’s a problem; What the Dead Sea promises, it can’t deliver. The truth is these waters are anything but refreshing. You can’t drink it; in fact it’s toxic if you do. The salt content is ten times that of the ocean. There are no fish, no plants, no visible signs of life in sight.

Its salinity makes it possible for a person to effortlessly float on top of the water, but it is so thick and oily that you need a hot shower when you get out. Dead Sea is actually a kinder, gentler translation from the Hebrew name which translates to Killer Sea.

Consider this perspective: The Dead Sea is dead because it doesn’t give, it only takes. The Sea takes in millions of gallons of fresh water from the Jordan River and from several fresh-water springs. It takes from what little rain falls, yet it remains dead. The reason is because there are no outlet streams. The Dead Sea doesn’t share.

This strange body of water can actually teach us something: If we hold on to all we have. If we’re selfish, demanding, entitled, and lazy, there is no life and we’re not really living.

Ever wonder why it feels so good to give? I mean, I love to get stuff as much as the next guy, but when I’m generous with my time, my money, or my help, I get a feeling of real satisfaction. When I compliment someone, simply thank my wife for cooking dinner, or hug my daughters I feel closest to God.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” - Jesus

How many of our problems would vanish if we took those words more seriously?

Today I’m looking in the mirror asking myself; am I doing enough? Unlike the Dead Sea, we can deliver on our promises, we just have to make some.

What Are We Protesting?

Protestors have descended upon Pittsburgh to herald in the start of the G20 summit—a gathering of the world’s most powerful leaders. There have been scattered outbreaks of violence and rock throwing.

Thousands of law enforcement personnel are on hand. They’re using rubber bullets and pepper gas to clamp down on rowdy crowds. There were dozens of arrests. The city is spending millions of dollars bracing for the worst.

This all makes me wonder; what are we protesting?

One protestor was overheard shouting “Smash capitalism.” Another small gathering chanted “While you’re shopping, bombs are dropping.” Greenpeace got into the act by unveiling a huge banner proclaiming “Danger: Environmental Destruction Ahead,” while dangling above the Ohio River for hours.

I’m all for peaceful demonstrations, creative banners, and even noisy expressions. We’re free to practice dissension in this country. Still I wonder; what are we protesting?

Consider this perspective:

• More than 16,000 people are murdered each year in the U.S.

• Homicide is the number one cause of death for black men between fifteen and twenty-nine years of age.

• An astonishing 219 people under the age of 17 have been shot since January in Detroit; 18 have died.

• 1.2 million students drop out annually.

• Suicide is the third leading cause of death for teen girls.

Where is the church? Where are the protestors, activists, and celebrities?

• Out-of-wedlock births in the United States have reached an all-time high of 40%.

• 1.2 million abortions are performed each year in this country alone. 1.2 million lives that were never given a chance at choice.

There was outrage when Kanye dissed Taylor Swift and when a congressman broke decorum on the House floor. And we know far too much about the lives of Jon and Kate Gosselin.

and yet…

• I can’t donate a Christian book to my public school.

• Prayer is allowed in schools but you have to be quiet about it.

• Some church leaders are more interested in building magnificent buildings than helping the poor.

• Some religious authors and recording artists are more interested in fame, success, and money than they are in spreading God’s Word.

What would happen if we simply said ENOUGH? What if we put forth the kind of energy it takes to throw rocks at police in riot gear and instead demand accountability of ourselves and of our leaders? What if we just decided to do better, to take care of one another, spend our time more wisely, stop demanding government take care of us, and have respect for the sanctity of life?

What if we lifted up what truly makes America great? Her smart hard-working people, teachers, brave soldiers, police and rescue workers, brilliant inventors, and entrepreneurs?

What if we could restore the confidence and pride of her people? What if we admitted we need God?

Hey Pittsburgh…did you know that only 60 percent of your state’s incoming high school freshman will actually finish school?

What are we protesting?