Getting Away--Good for the Mind, Body, and Soul

Everybody needs to get away sometimes.

Away from work, from home, from stress, and just the dailiness of life. Whatever you do, you need a break every once in a while. It doesn't mean you are lazy, or not committed. It means you get tired, worn out, used up, and need a break. It means you are human.

I really don't like to travel.

Yep. I'm one of those people. A homebody, stick-in-the-mud, boring, stay-cation kind of guy. To me a great vacation means staying at home with nothing planned. That does not mean nothing to do, it just means nothing I have to do. I really enjoy doing projects around the house and yard, as long as I don't have to do them. I enjoy mowing the lawn, but I would enjoy volunteering to mow your lawn more than my own because I don't have to do it. You see, I like freedom, downtime. I like to decide what I'm going to do, and when. Even if it's nothing at all.

But (the inevitable but), there is a big world out there that my wife, children, and (as much as I hate to admit it) I need to experience. I live in a quiet, rural (meaning middle of nowhere), small town. I live in the same county I was born in, and truth be told, I have no intention of ever moving. I like it here. I have often said, when speaking of traveling, that if there were some other place I thought I'd like better than here, I'd go live there. But there isn't that other place (other than heaven). This is where I want to be.

Still, I realize broadening my horizons is a good thing.

As I said above, there is a big world out there and we all need to get a taste of something different every now and then. That does not have to mean traveling the world, although for some it very well may. But it does mean going outside our comfort zones every once in a while. It's important that we stretch ourselves, get out there and do something new, see new things, even (gasp!) meet new people and new kinds of people.

It's always good to come back home.

Getting out is good for me, but secretly, coming home is always the best. I know a lot of people count the days, hours, even minutes of their vacation, dreading that time when they will have to return home. Not me. I've never enjoyed another place so much that I didn't want to leave and come home. Part of that is contentment, and part of it is knowing that nowhere on this earth is paradise--every place has it's downside. Besides--I'm not going to live here forever. I'm just visiting. My true home is a place where once I go, I'll never leave. 

And that will be the greatest homecoming of them all.

What Story Will You Write?

There is no title, no table of contents, no introduction or acknowledgement. No copyright, imprint, or watermark. It's blank.

It is the book of life.

We all have one, handed to us, in some form, on the day of our birth. We fill the first pages with scribbles and blobs, stick figures and misspelled words, disproportionate cartoons of our idealistic misunderstanding of the world as seen through the eyes of a child. Simplistic. Naive. Innocent.

Years pass and the pages fill. Childish scrawl becomes more fluid, regimented, organized. Disjointed pictographs give way to properly framed depictions of reality. A true book begins to emerge. The book of our life.

Writing a book is not that hard. Hammer away long enough, and you can produce the 75-100,000 words necessary to qualify a work as a book. But a book is a story no more than a pile of bricks a house. A dictionary is a book, but a story it is not. There is no plot, no setting, no characters. No life.

Therein lies the art, and the heart, of writing.

So it is in our book of life. It is easy enough to fill our books with randomness and idle chatter, meaningless dialogue and cardboard characters. The pages fill, the word count tallies, but a story it is not. Not a real story, a story worth reading. That takes work. That takes heart. Courage. Perseverance.

Writing a story worth reading is hard. Hours, days, weeks go into each chapter. Words are agonized over, dissected, defined, replaced. Story lines are pursued, abandoned, retraced and recovered. Characters spring to life, only to fall spectacularly to their deaths or slowly sink beneath the page in a slow spiral of decay. Long hours pass when the words will not come. Sleepless nights are spent feverishly when the words will not stop. There is ebb and flow, rise and fall.

And so it is in life. A life worthy of being written happens no more easily than does a story worth reading. Every action, thought, word, and deed matter. Understand there will be mistakes, missteps, wrong paths taken. Characters will appear who seem to be on the side of right and good, but later reveal themselves antithetical to the purpose of the hero. And who is the hero of your story? Why, you, of course. Who else could it be?

So it is up to you to make corrections. While you cannot edit out lines already written, you can write anew. Start a new chapter. Create a new storyline. Bring in new characters. Everyone loves a redemption story, a nobody who becomes somebody, a villain turned hero. Maybe that's you.

I don't know your story, and I cannot write it for you. No one can. It's up to you.

What will your story be?

It's a Slippery World Out There!

Those darn banana peels!

They'll get you every time! You're just walking along, minding your own business, then . . . Wham! You're flat on you back, arms and legs waving in the air like an overturned turtle, unsure how you got there. You've just fallen victim to a banana peel. And trust me--they're everywhere!

How does one slip on a banana peel? Well, it's quite easy, actually. All it takes is a little carelessness, a moment of inattention. One wrong step and you're down. And I've found the older I get, the harder I fall. And the harder it is to get up.

Who left it laying around?

A banana peel is a piece of garbage. Trash. Refuse. It shouldn't be left laying around. Someone could get hurt. Like me. So whose fault is it?

Probably mine.

You see, I leave trash laying around all the time. Not real trash--my two older sisters broke me of that early! But that other kind of trash. That stuff in my life that really isn't worth anything and should be thrown away or recycled. You know what I mean. Grudges. Guilt. Anger. Sin.

Banana peels. Mine.

Where do they belong?

I've left a lot of stuff laying around over the years that I end up finding in the most unfortunate way. Unresolved anger at some person who then shows back up in my life. Slip and fall! Guilt over some petty offense that I never let go. Crash and burn! Envy of some person, some thing. Mayday--Going down!

If you, or I, leave that stuff laying around, it's going to come back and bite us. Hard. There has to be a better answer. And there is.

Maybe you need to forgive someone who offended you, or yourself for offending someone else. Maybe you need to deal with envy, or jealousy. It could be anger or sorrow. Perhaps pride or lust. I don't know your particular trash--I only know mine. But I do know this--we all have some. And if we don't take care of it . . . Let's just say, it's going to show up when you least expect it.

Watch your step.

We all have garbage laying around that we need to clean up. So watch your step, and when you find something along the path of life, take the time to deal with it.

And remember, it's a slippery world out there!

I Choose Joy

It happens every day.

I have to make a choice. How am I going to react to this? Whatever this is doesn't matter. I may think this is good, or bad, or neither. This may seem to be a blessing, or trial. This may be exactly what I've hoped for, prayed over, and anticipated, or it may be that very thing I have most dreaded. What this is doesn't matter. What matters is how I respond.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

Paul gives us this advice in Romans 12:12, and it seems easy enough. Until the bottom falls out, and my universe seems to be spinning out of control. When the world comes crashing down around me, joy seems far away. Patience appears the enemy. Faith is hard. I want to curl up in a ball, gnashing my teeth in anguish. I want to scream in frustration and fear. I feel alone. That's when I have to make a choice.

The hardest for me is choosing joy. When things go badly, I tend to lose heart. I know that I am to be joyful in hope, knowing that my hope is in the Lord. I know that God can do all things, and that He works out all things for the good of those who follow Him. I know this. But yet, I am drawn to the worst case scenario. My mind dwells on the dark and dismal. My soul becomes downcast. That's when I have to choose.

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Paul brings his thoughts on the topic to a conclusion with this verse at the end of chapter 12. He has spent some time contrasting a right response with a wrong one. He has told us how to react in times of plenty, and times of need. He has pointed out which reactions are good, and which are evil. In summary he tells us that we have a choice. We can allow evil to overcome good, or we can overcome evil with good. I repeat again, I have to make a choice.

How can we overcome evil with good? He has already told us. Of the many instructions Paul gave us, what I cling to is found in verse 12. Joy in hope. Patience in affliction. Faithfulness in prayer. That's how we face this, no matter what this may be. And, for me at least, it's not natural. But you know what? It works.

The one you feed is the one who wins.

You've probably heard a version of the old story of the two forces which live inside us. One is good, one is evil. Which one will be victorious? The one you feed. If you feed into fear, dismay, worry, and hopelessness, then evil will rise. If, on the other hand, you feed into courage, joy, confidence, and hope, then good will surely overcome. It makes sense, really. Of course it does; it is the truth of God.

I choose joy.

Come what may, I have decided to choose joy. Joy in the hope of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. What about you?

Strikeouts, Base Hits, and Homeruns

I am not a huge sports fan.

I've said this before. I like to play, but I'm not much of a spectator. I like to do things, not watch them be done. That in itself is no doubt a topic to be explored, but not one for today. Today I want to talk about trying. 

To do anything, you have to try.

A number of years ago, my wife and I attended a small group through the church we had just started attending. We became good friends, then best friends with a couple we met there. That was in the Fall. The next Spring, that guy asked me to play softball on the Church League slow pitch team. Now, I had not played baseball since Little League, some 15 years earlier. My immediate response was, "No thanks; I wouldn't be any good."

My friend was persistent, though, and convinced me to give it a try. He took me out to practice a couple of times and I decided that I could pull it off without making a total fool of myself. I realized I might even enjoy it. I don't remember the first game, or the first season; that was over 15 years ago. What I do remember is that every Spring I looked forward to softball season, and I still do. All because I tried.

I'm not a great athlete. 

I'm average. I can field the ball, I can (sometimes) place my hits, and I can run the bases. I also have a weak arm, am terrible about swinging at bad pitches, and have a tendency to either slide into base or dive after a fly ball (or both) and tear up my body. But you know what? I always do the best I can, and try to have a good attitude. And that's the point.

You don't have to be good.

To do anything, you don't have to be good. Especially when it comes to doing God's work. Moses could not speak well, but God chose him to lead a nation. Peter had the tendency to over-react and fly off the handle, but Jesus chose him to be the rock upon which He built His church. Those guys weren't perfect in man's eyes. In fact, they weren't even close. But God had a purpose for them, and because they tried and did their best, it all worked out in the end.

Sometimes you are going to strikeout. But sometimes you won't.

Striking out is part of the game. Watch the Major Leagues. Hit the ball three times out of ten and you have a good batting average. And it's not all about home runs. We all know that home runs get the glory, but those who understand baseball know that base hits win games. Solo home runs score one run. But a bases-loaded grand slam? That only happens if the guys before the power hitter get on base. Sure, the guy at the plate may get the glory, but it was the guys (or girls) before him that deserve the credit. It's their three runs that mean a lot more than his one.

Apply that to life. Whatever it is you do, sometimes you are going to swing and miss. Sometimes you are going to go down looking. You'll ground out, pop up, foul off and get beat to the bag. Probably more often than not. But, sometimes you'll make it. A base hit, maybe a double. And sometimes--oh glorious day!--you're going to hit the sweet spot and make that ball of life scream out of the park.

You'll never know unless you try.

I don't know what your game is in this old world, but I can guarantee you this: If you don't try, you'll never score. And who knows? You just might be the next Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, or A-Rod (scandals aside, of course). Isn't it worth a shot?
 

The Definition of Commitment

Til Death do us part.

In our wedding vows, most, if not all, of us said something to that effect. We made a promise to stand side by side, come what may. In sickness and in health. For richer or poorer. Til death do us part.

I do.

That simple two-word, three-lettered response is a promise, a covenant made in the presence of God and men. It is a serious matter. One that should not be taken lightly.

But this is not a rant about divorce. I want to look at the other side. I want to show you the most beautiful picture of what commitment looks like. I will fail to do this story justice, but I am going to try.

In sickness and in health

My friend's grandmother is ill. Very ill. She may well be at the end of her earthly journey, one that has spanned many years and multiple generations.  As is often the case, the end is not pretty. It's difficult. It's sad. It would almost seem unfair, except for one thing: She is not alone.

65 years ago, a young lady wed a man whom her mother looked at and said, "You can do better." I'm not sure she could have. After 65 years of the stuff of life, he remains at her side. And he has had to give up most everything to do so.

I do.

When her husband said I do, he meant it. When the dementia came, and she could no longer be at home, he did not abandon her. Every morning he rises, gets dressed, and goes to be with her. From the time she rises, til the time she goes to bed, he is there. By her side. She may not even know he is there, but it doesn't matter. He made a promise. He gave his word. He gave her his world.

And now, at 90 years old, he sits at her bedside. When she went to the hospital, he went with her. He left once, to shower and change, then went back. He was gone maybe 45 minutes, and I bet he worried the entire time. What if something happened? What if he wasn't there? She needed him, and he was going to be there. He said I do, and that's all there is to it.

Commitment.

Day and night, he remains with her. It's not easy--it can't be easy--but he does it. And he will continue to be there until she no longer is. That's commitment.

What would the world look like if we all did the same? 

Freedom--The True Gift

We take freedom for granted.

Here in America--and many other places for that matter--we often overlook how much freedom we have. I don't mean to go on a political rant or nationalistic comparison, but we have it pretty good here. That freedom did not come cheap, nor will it remain without ongoing work and sacrifice. There is a price for freedom. Remember that.

What does it mean to be free?

When I speak of freedom, I mean the ability to make decisions, and take actions, according to my own desires. I am talking about the opportunity to do and  think and say what I want, when I want, how I want. That, to me, is freedom. Unfettered. Unrestricted. Free.

I've never really known what it is like to be anything other than free. I cannot really say what it is like to be caged, fenced in, bound by restrictions. Not really. I've always had the opportunity to enjoy God's Creation as I choose. It's a gift, one which I jealously guard and cherish.

True freedom does not come from any government.

Without overlooking the civil liberties and freedoms I alluded to in my opening, being an American does not make me free. Were I only an American, I would remain bound and chained by a force and reality from which I could never break free. Some of you know what I am talking about, and some are about to stop reading. I encourage you to not do that. If you don't want to hear what I am going to say, then you need to hear it.

The reality of which I am speaking, the one thing which binds all of us into slavery, is sin. Thoughts and actions, words and motivations counter to the will and law of God. All have fallen short. All have sinned. And after a single sin--just one--we lose our freedom. We become slaves. That enslavement cannot be released by any work of man. Left to ourselves, we are slaves for eternity.

Freedom comes from Christ.

The only answer to sin is Christ. If you do not want to be a slave, then you want to be a follower of Christ, a child of God. Christ suffered, died, and rose again that we might have freedom. It's that simple. To receive emancipation from the chains of sin, all you have to do is accept that. Admit that you are a sinner, and that there is nothing you can do about it. Ask God to forgive you through His Son, Jesus Christ. Believe this to be true, and you are free. Believe it not, and you never will be.

Read the verse in the picture above from Isaiah 40:31. Put your hope in God, and know what it means to truly be free. To be renewed. To run this race of life, and not wear out. Now who wouldn't want that?