One Shining Moment

There was a time in my life when I once followed men’s college basketball fairly closely. It may have stemmed from the fact that my Alma Mater once made it to the Elite Eight shortly before my arrival at the school and there still were residual “Cal State, who?” t-shirts being worn on campus my first day there. I later had a class with one of the players from that team and the aura of legend was memorable just having him in the room.

These days, life does not permit me the time I once invested in following any sport, let alone college hoops. However, I still try to keep a casual eye alert to catch an occasional game here and there. Last night was one of those games I would have made room in my schedule to watch (though my viewing was preempted by playing in a softball game – I figure I need to keep playing sports while I can before all I have left to do is watch them). Last night was definitely a game worth watching.

Kansas and Memphis played for the NCAA National Championship in San Antonio, TX. 42,000 spectators crowded the arena to watch two very well matched teams go at it. Nearly 40 hard-fought games through the entire season brought these two teams to this “one shining moment” (a theme song by the same title brought tears to my eyes in years past at the close of the championship game’s broadcast – now, I don’t even know if they play the song anymore -- that's how disconnected I am to college ball).

Last night’s game was a thriller -- what little I heard on the radio and then caught on TV in the last few minutes. Memphis had it all but won with about four minutes to play, but nerves got the best of them. They repeatedly choked consecutive free-throw attempts and allowed Kansas back into the game. A last second three-pointer from Kansas sent the game into overtime. From that point on, the momentum shift was so severe, Memphis would not recover. For Kansas, their “one shining moment” was etched into the history books. For Memphis, it became a moment of loss they will painfully remember for a very long time.

Bill Self, the Kansas coach, is reported as telling his players in his final speech before the game, “You will remember this night for the remainder of your life – now go play like it.” Those young men certainly took him at his word. Self has been regarded as a "good coach." But after last night's victory, he may have opened the door to be considered a "great coach."

My thought this morning is what if we all lived our lives like we would remember each day for the remainder of our life? What if we entered each day with a mind toward making it a "day to remember?" Would it temper the choices we make (who wants to remember a mistake for the remainder of one’s life)? Would it cause us to work just a little bit harder? Would it inspire us to go an “extra mile” in kindness toward another? Would we be just a bit more patient with the next person we hope to influence for good? The possibilities are endless… aren't they?

For a while, I’m going to adopt Coach Self's philosophy and head into each day's “game” with the mind that I will remember it for the rest of my life. At the end of the day, hopefully God will get some glory for a “win” and in my own mind (and perhaps the mind of another) it will be “one shining moment.”

Wordless

The church where I serve began a new series of sermons and Bible studies this morning in a series we are simply calling "Made." Taking a look at each of the creation days as they appear in the Genesis account, we're pursuing more the heart of God than a "scientific explanation" for how the world came into being.

This morning, during our time of worship together, we all watched a compilation video our Minister of Videography (yes, we really do have one of those -- and he has amazing gifts in the multi-media arena) created as a video feature following the morning's sermon. It was amazing!

Though set to a lyrical song, the visuals were simply stunning pictures of God's creation shot from all over the globe. What an amazing sight!!! The video images could have stood on their own, without any soundtrack (though the song was a great accompaniment). Vivid images from seemingly every point on the earth. It was refreshing to see the beauty of creation without having to dodge skyscrapers or airplanes or cellular phone towers. The scenes were absolutely breathtaking!!!

At the end of the video, I had an opportunity to speak to the church... and it really didn't feel appropriate to speak (though I did). I merely wanted to point to the screens and gesture something like "yeah... what that video just said is what I want to say, too."

I believe far too often, we use too many words to do things that can better be done without. Too many words to teach, too many words to preach, too many words to share, to counsel, to assist... whatever. So much of the time, words are like skyscrapers, airplanes and cellular phone towers. Words merely clog up the landscape and the airways and cause us all to miss the "forest for the trees" (so to speak).

Now, I'm not suggesting words are always inappropriate, but it does seem to me we live in a rather wordy generation. There are times it feels like I've overrun my allotment of words and it is barely half-way through the week!This past Saturday I spent the day much more quiet than usual. Several friends expressed concern and asked, "if I was okay?" You know, I was just tired of hearing myself talk. If I'm that tired of hearing me, I wonder how tired everyone else might be! (Just ask my kids, I'm confident they will have an opinion on this topic)!

The Bible affirms that "since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities -- his eternal power and divine nature -- have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made..." (Romans 1:20). That seems clear enough, doesn't it? I wonder if we might take a cue from nature. Creation doesn't have to use words to communicate God's power. Its presence is enough!

I'm resolving to look more at the creation and try to listen more to the "evidence" of God. If a video can speak so powerfully without words, imagine what a real tree might have to say! I'm also making a concerted effort at lowering my weekly "word count." While friends might think I'm sick, I might actually be moving toward a healthier existence!

Will you join me in listening? Sometimes the "wordless" speak volumes!

It's sad when your team loses

It was a close game from beginning to end. The hot Celtics as guests in the house of the Mavericks, are on quite a winning streak. The Mavs needed the game more than the Beantown boys did. The Celtics are currently the hottest team in the NBA. Despite which team you wanted to win, everyone got their money's worth this past Thursday night. It was a good game seasoned with less than stellar officiating.

Though I'm not especially a Mav's fan (however, I'll root for them quicker than I once did), it was sad to watch my "team" lose. You see, my team lost somewhere in the middle of the third quarter.

She was dressed in less than a woman her age ought to be (in my opinion), but as a result had the attention of most males on our side of the arena as she made her way up the long steps from the high-dollar seats closest to the floor. She had a walk about her that definitely drew attention, but she is not what caught my eye this time. What caught my eye was her "guy" walking about 5 steps behind her. He had a look I will not forget for some time... It was the look on his face, watching all the other guys who chose to watch her, that captured my attention.

There wasn't a hint of discomfort or irritation on his part that many guys eyes left the game and watched her parade all the way up the steps. In fact, by the sly smile appearing on his face, he was clearly quite satisfied and pleased that so many other men were looking at her. Where an upright guy likely would have fought to defend the dignity of his lady by sending back stares of indignation, this guy swam in a sea of complete self-absorption. His own greed crested on top of waves and jeers from of his male counterparts all the way from section 105 to 109.

The moment crashed over me with force. I didn't need any cold water to shock me back into sane awareness. The moment was clear enough in itself. At times we human beings, but especially us guys, can be so self-centered and self-absorbed, we'll sell out the dignity of another person to feed the beast within us. The sale price goes even higher at the expense of our gentler female counterparts by way of sexual exploitation and general disregard for their intrinsic beauty and God-instilled goodness.

We men need to take a hard look at ourselves, especially when it comes to how we treat women.

At the risk of sounding even the slightest bit self-righteous, I confess I've been as guilty as the guy at the game (though maybe not in exactly the same way). But in the past couple years, I've really been giving prayerful attention to how feeding my own ego costs other people in the process. I hope I'm making progress, but for now I'll simply accept an increasing awareness of the transaction in my own life. It is not an easy thing to turn around, but when it so obviously happens right in front of you as it did at the Mavericks game the other night, it isn't that hard to miss.

As it was, the Mavericks lost to the Celtics 94-90. But that wasn't the big loss of the night. The bigger loss was one suffered by the human race. It was the loss of dignity the "all male team" suffered as one of us walked up the stairs in that arena somewhere in the middle of the third quarter. It's always sad when your team loses.

Beautiful People

Early this morning, I reaffirmed something I have believed for a long time. People are beautiful.

Period. All of them… every single last one of them. Tall ones, short ones, fat, skinny, long haired, short haired, bald, young, old, intelligent, naïve, innocent, guilty, mean and nice… they are all beautiful. Even when people don’t act very beautiful, even when they are one’s very own enemy, they are still quite inherently beautiful. It is possible to so suppress inherent beauty that it may take divine eyes to see it clearly, but I do believe (perhaps without exception) there is some beauty in everyone.

Sitting alone in one of my favorite breakfast spots this morning, I find myself in a room full of people I’ve likely never seen before. They are definitely people I’ve never met before. And as I am wrapping up my morning time in the holy beauty of God’s word in print, I find myself overwhelmed by the beauty all around me. Today, I’m just concentrating on the beauty of humanity. To include flora, fauna and general atmospheric beauty would be almost too much to comprehend in one day.

Sure one guy is louder than all others in the restaurant and he has an annoying tendency to chew his half order of French toast with his mouth opened. I can nearly hear him smacking each bite from where I sit! One young woman clearly struggles with “problem skin” and seems self-conscious about it as she sits with another who, in spite of being quite physically attractive, may have dressed in the dark. (Now, I’m no fashion icon but even I can tell that outfit doesn’t work – but to her credit it is still dark outside so when we all leave, she might have second thoughts on why she chose that blouse). Another guy looks entirely miserable as he sits alone reading his paper. He is dressed almost identically to me and the way we are both positioned in the room, we make an interesting pair of “identical bookends” all the way down to our similarly shaped frameless reading glasses. (His hair is more gray than mine, but I'm catching up).

Tables of trios, duos and monos all sitting together… disconnected and yet, somehow strangely, completely and utterly linked together in beauty. It must be that whole “image of God” thing again (Gen. 1:27) showing me that there is much more that connects mankind than that which separates.

As people, we tend to concentrate more on what is distinctive about us rather than what is common and I wonder what the net effect of that is. We divide, subdivide and segregate on the subjective basis of our own choosing rather than uniting, reuniting and unifying on the basis of something beyond us -- something that is Perfectly Beautiful.

Even the worst of us must have something beautiful about us. God certainly must think so. Why else, while we were still His enemies, He would make us His friends (Rom. 5:10)? Unless, of course, we only become "beautiful" once we are made His friends.

Rather than sitting in a room full of strangers, perhaps I should rather look at it as sitting in a room full of potential acquaintances... or maybe even future friends? I love all my friends. I think they are all beautiful people, each in their own very special way. Maybe this is where I should begin with all people… find the beauty first (even if they are enemies, or their beauty is more difficult to immediately pinpoint) so that one day, perhaps, we will all be beautiful friends!

So, here's my prayer for the day: "God, show me the beautiful way you see all people and teach me to love them like you do -- beautifully."

How do you see the beauty people?

Computer Problems

Are we simply too reliant on these machines? My "life" is in current turmoil because everywhere I go, I seem to be running into computer issues. In my work office every one on site is dealing with "connectivity issues." At home, my computer just "told" me that the browser I've been using for nearly two years, "wasn't my default browser!" "How could this be," I wondered. When I "reassured" my computer that it was my default browser, it proceeded to ELIMINATE two years worth of bookmarks! (I'm sure someone much more "techno" that me is reading this saying, "If you'd only done etc. etc. etc. then you could get all your bookmarks back." Well... I'm not that techno savvy and frankly, I'm just too mad!

I love my computer and all the stuff it can do, but I think I become much too reliant. Somewhere between pencil and paper and "all electronic" there is balance. I'm looking for it.

Haven't posted in over a month, but having to reestablish as many bookmarks as possible has brought me back again. Sorry this was a rant, but I do feel a little more at peace! Now... some quiet meditation, prayer and a good night's sleep... there's (thankfully) something I don't need a computer to assist in. Thank goodness!

Bold Squirrel

In yesterday's driving rainstorm, while waiting for a traffic light a bold acrobatic squirrel bounds off a branch just on the edge of my field of vision. Free falling for several feet, he lands on what looks to be a 1,000,000 jigga-volt (whatever that is) electrical line running across the intersection above me. First somewhat cautious and then with increasing speed and grace, the little nut packer goes skating along the line some 20 feet above the traffic below. I am transfixed.

Praying for the light NOT to turn green (a change of pace for me, I'll confess) I'm hoping for a few more seconds to watch the rodent road show. Before my light can turn, bold squirrel is across the entire intersection and bounding down the street. It's rush hour and the squirrel is making better time than I am! I sit wishing I was as confident and cool.

Nervously, I wait for him to make one error and fall to a perilous doom or wind up fried fur with a side of smoke. Thankfully neither is the case as the light turns green. Rounding the corner, I watch bold squirrel leap off the line and disappear into the more natural habitat of another big tree.

Things I learned in 1 minute with a bold squirrel:

1) I need to be as confident in my God-given abilities as he is.
2) Adaptability is where its at, baby... sometimes you sit in trees, sometimes you run on the high wire.
3) Every once in a while you've got to get above the stuff to get a new perspective.
4) There's often more than one way to cross a street.
5) If I go bold, someone else may benefit from my boldness as well.
6) Sometimes you've just gotta get out and do your thing even if it is in the rain.
7) You never know, there just might be somebody watching when you least expect it.

My sincerest thanks to the bold squirrel and for taking me "to school." Lesson learned, I hope!

Honey

For whatever reason, I have always loved honey. I can't explain why, other than from my early childhood, I hold memories of the "honey bear" dispenser we had in my childhood home. We used that bear so much, all of his painted facial features were long worn off and only his snout and little "bear (not beer) belly" identified him as a bear at all.

Part of what I love about honey is that it is natural. One can walk right up to a hive, if you dare to, and take a swipe (seems like Winnie the Pooh was something of an authority on the subject). You don't have to wait for the processing and all that... just grab some honey and go.

Largely under-rated in the sweetening community, I actually prefer honey to any other sweetener (natural or laboratory-animal-tested). Honey on cereal has to be one of the all time great eating experiences and given the choice between ice cream or cereal with honey, I'm choosing the cereal every time. Additionally, I'm such a fan of honey, that I'll actually take those little single honey packets, rip it open and just suck the honey right out of it. (Beware of a particularly famous fried chicken retailer that deceptively serves "100% honey syrup" for their flaky biscuits that isn't real honey... it is 100% honey flavored "goo").

There must be something to this whole honey thing. God has a tendency to reference honey quite a bit. There are some 60 references to honey in scripture and well over 20 specifically for "milk and honey." (Maybe in addition to "cleanliness," perhaps eating honey in your cereal is "next to godliness," too?).

"Milk and honey" originates in the Hebrew Bible in God's description of the land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, namely, Canaan. It is first described as "a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey" (Ex. 3:8)— and this description becomes a frequent reference for God to motivate His people to move there. I don't think He would have to twist my arm!

Apparently I am not the only one who highly values honey. An interesting part of honey's legacy in Jewish culture is that, as a testament to the high value put on this particular food, Jewish dietary laws made a consolation for it. Rabbis taught that biblical laws reflect the general principle that anything taken from any "unclean" animals is forbidden. Bees would have fit the description as as "unclean" .

Early rabbinical literature declares that bees do not produce honey, but simply transport the nectar of flowers and store it as honey in their hives. Therefore, since they didn't "make" the honey, then it was acceptable for the Israelites to eat it. Modern science, however, recognizes that bees actually do produce it, processing nectar in their bodies with enzymes. To argue for honey's acceptance, God's description of Canaan was used as argument that it was acceptable to eat it.

The Psalmist suggests a beautifully sweet word picture, "How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" (119:103 also see Ps. 19:10). I love the thought of that! God's word being a sweet to me as pouring that wonderful golden nectar on my corn flakes? Can it get much better than that? That truly is a sweet sound to my ears!

Even if it as brief as a hit off a plastic packet of cheap coffee shop honey, I want each occasion I read the word of God to hit my spirit with sweetness and delight. For many Christ-followers, we can sometimes come to God's word as a routine, forgetting what it is (God-breathed) and just how wonderfully sweet it can be for changing our lives for the better. Even if it is one small taste per day, go ahead and step up to "the hive." There is a blessing in it waiting for you!

House of Praise

Due to a long, long over-due state vehicular inspection sticker (you know you’re too busy if…), this morning found me somewhat off my usual beaten path. Apparently state inspection stations are not as plentiful as I thought they were so today, after seeking out several locations at pre-dawn AM, I went back to the one I knew could take care of my need. Unfortunately, they didn’t open for another hour! So, given the opportunity there must always be a cup of coffee not too far away.

Craving a “bucks,” but finances and known location getting the better of desire, I wheeled into a place sporting “golden arches.” From the moment I arrived though, I realized the “outsides” don’t always match the “insides.” I quickly discovered this wasn’t your typical “Micky D’s.”

Masculine dark wood décor accented with paisley cushions, beveled glass curio cabinets, potted silk plants, faux wood accompanying ceramic tile floors, decorative “mood” lighting, angular architecture… from top to bottom this place was like stepping into a fast-food parallel universe.

One reason I frequent the nation’s fastest growing coffee chain is as much about ambiance as it is coffee. Those places simply feel “right” to me as body and brain come together in experience. My creative mind is soothed by the soft textures, intentional lighting and (generally) quiet surroundings.

“This is a McDonalds?” I ask myself upon entry. Sitting in a booth, I realize this doesn’t feel like a McDonalds at all (and the coffee was the best fast food coffee I’ve ever tasted). I sure can’t get a McMuffin at S’bucks! I’m beginning to wish this wasn’t so “out of my way.”

Growing up at McD’s, I never knew anything but red and yellow color splashed all over a canvas of white fiberglass seats and stainless steel countertops. An air tank cleverly disguised as a guy named “Ronald” would blow up a balloon for me. What is going on in the world of Filet-O-Fish and the Hamburgler? Maybe they are realizing something the people of God have known for thousands of years. They way things look communicates something. I mean, even the Playland here is “up-scale” with a rustic rough stone and lodge pole feel. Do these kids realize what they have?

Halfway through my coffee and McMuffin, a group of local high school students enter. Among the most well behaved teens I’ve seen in a while, they prove to be louder than the rest of this morning’s clientele (what pre-tardy teens aren’t?). It seems as though they respect how nice this place is and as they begin to leave, I see each one cleaning up after themselves (what are the odds?). This has been a nice experience off my usual beaten path.

All this makes me wonder what people see when they encounter places of worship. I’ve been around church buildings all my life. Most of which I don’t recall, but some are etched in my memory for good. Aromas, art, sound… some made profoundly positive impressions on me not just of architecture and finish, but of religious experience and of worship and, perhaps, even of God Himself.

Growing up in a fellowship where we apparently worked hard at making things look “plain, simple and functional” it was as if we traded one thing or something else. What could have been elegant light fixtures in the worship space were nearly always displaced by some type of simple 60’s pendant globes that had about as much personality as a cold leftover French fry. Religious art was, at best, a painted mural of a stream behind the baptistery. “Function over form” might be the most economic description of what I knew of church buildings growing up. What a long distance from “fiberglass booths and stainless steel countertops” this fast food restaurant has come. About now, I could really use another cup of coffee.

In the 65^th Psalm, David declares God will be praised in Jerusalem and that God’s people are filled with good things when they enter the house of the Lord (the Temple). There were occasions when God’s people didn’t put the effort they should have into the house of God (the Temple) (see Haggai for example). On at least one occasion they had to go back and get it right because they were putting more effort into making their own homes nice than they were the house of the Lord.

There must certainly be discretionary limits to décor, even in a house of worship. It doesn’t have to be gaudy, but it should be nice and intentional. Because when the place is nice, it makes a difference and it communicates something. Perhaps we should give more consideration toward, and put more effort into, what our “houses of worship” look like. If it mattered to God for the Temple, maybe it still does! What do you think?

I’m on my way to get a free refill on my coffee... now try that at your local “fancy coffee” place!

T-Shirts

The other day as I was leaving the gym I passed a woman who was wearing a T-shirt with a scenic graphic picture on the front and the simple words "South Carolina" emblazoned across the bottom. Clearly on her way to work out, I guessed this shirt (like the sweaty one rolled up in the bottom of my gym bag) was a "cull" from the "soon to be rag" category of her wardrobe.

When it comes to work out clothes it generally seems like there are two kinds of "gym types." There are those sporting the high dollar, scientifically developed, pro athlete endorsed, sweat wicking togs and then there are what I would call the "S.L.O.B's" (Shirt Left Over Bunch) who grab whatever may be laying on the floor when the motivation to hit the gym strikes. I'll confess, I'm more the "slob" variety. But this has little to do with my point.

Seeing this woman's shirt got me to wondering what life was like before silkscreen shirts. Can we even remember back that far? I remember the "early days" of silk screens when they were basically iron-on emblems that in time pealed off the shirt like old paint off the side of a barn.

Now, that type of technology is so good, you can print your own iron-on transfers from your own laptop and have a "custom" shirt in minutes and they last nearly as long as commercially produced shirts.

Commercially produced silk screen shirts in our culture today is big business (I actually was aggressively challenged by a silk-screen salesperson last week on "why in the world would you not want screened shirts advertising your church?") and the more attention I've paid to it the last few days, I can safely say screened shirts are "everywhere." Even the label in the T-shirt I'm wearing today is screened in, not sewn in.

What has really got me thinking is "why" do we wear screened clothing? Going back to the lady at the gym early this week... why "South Carolina" anyway? Is she a native? Did she visit and like it so much she had to tell the world about it? Did someone else visit and "all she got was this stupid T-shirt?" What is it with our fascination with advertising places and products, anyway?

To my knowledge I've never received a single penny from one of the "big three" sports clothing manufacturers for wearing one of their shirts, yet I have a shelf in my closet full of them. Weird! Is it our desire to look like pro athletes that makes us buy these things? Are we so impressed with a particular vacation spot that we want the world to know we've been there, done that?

What are we proclaiming with our shirts? Are we encouraging others to buy "our" brand? Surely it is more than letting others know what brand we're wearing. If that's it, then why don't we just rip our labels out and sew them on the front of our shirts? Problem solved!

Is the woman at the gym proud of South Carolina? Is wearing the shirt a way of recalling a memory? If so, does the affection of the memory fade as the shirt reaches "workout" status? I now own shirts I won't wear anymore simply because the memory attached to the place is so strong. I don't want to ruin the shirt and then not have the symbol of my affection. Again, quite weird if you're asking me!

And what of all those religious shirts? Are they a proclamation of faith? Are they testimonial? Are they simply a reminder to benefit the wearer? Are they judgment for all others who don't agree with the wearer's brand of faith?

It is a curious thing why we wear our allegiances so boldly. I have to wonder if we really believe what we wear, or are we merely wearing our convictions on our sleeves?

If I Counted Correctly...

If I counted correctly, I could have attended as many as six gift-exchange parties this Christmas season! That means I could have given/received more gifts than I will likely receive on Christmas morning! While some of these events are a little more serious (nice gifts expected -- some now with a price tag of $25 or more), some are cheap ($.99 or less -- this year the BAG cost more than the gift I gave in that exchange) and some are utterly and completely silly (just ask my good friend, "SpongeBob SquarePreacher" -- he was "framed" I'm telling you, "framed!").

Why we keep doing these things, I don't know. It all seems so predictable and yet, there we go, gift in hand, laugh a little, get ticked that someone else stole the gift we really wanted (especially in those $25 exchanges), try to figure out a way to let people know what gift we brought (if we are proud of it and it was a "hit") and hope no one finds out what we brought (if the general consensus is that the gift was a dud). Then we go home and mutter something about how tired we are of "those things" and ask why do we keep going to them.

Now don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm against these festive little gatherings. In fact, in some ways having them may poke fun at how commercially "profane" we've made the season of Christ's birth in the first place. Actually, I'm good with all that now and then and frankly believe we need to poke a finger into our collective sides on occasion and query why we do what we do.

I guess what bugs me about this whole "gift exchange game" is the fact that I must now "count" how many I could have attended one of them (remember I could have attended SIX of these things this season) and question the general lack of apparent creativity on the part of us as hosts (just earlier tonight I hosted a high school drama department version of the exact same thing in our home -- so I admit I'm as much a part of the problem as the solution). Seriously thinking, other than the retailers of silly (or not so silly) gift items, is anyone just chomping at the bit for us to have another one of these things? I'm just wondering to myself here...

It isn't that I don't completely enjoy these exchanges or that I'm not willing to attend another one ever again (though I'm done for this year)... I'm just wondering if there is something else "out there" for us human beings to do as friends at Christmas time! Maybe caroling, maybe sharing Christmas stories, perhaps decorating a tree... I don't know -- let's come up with something different. I'd even go for a hay ride, but I'd wind up sneezing myself into oblivion!

I'm just thinking out loud and wondering if anyone else shares my complications with the whole "need for counting..." thing. One gift exchange would be enough, wouldn't it? If we were really honest with ourselves... aren't we maybe a little bored with the whole concept, anyway? I mean, I've been going to these things for years!!!

This next year I am going to commit some time to thinking of something new to do with my friends next Christmas. Who knows? Maybe you'll consider joining us and then you'll have to "count" and see if our gig will make your list of things to do!

A Thumb-full of Patience

Lately I’ve been learning a lesson in patience (funny how “the more we learn, the less we know!”). My right thumb has now been splinted 24/7 for nearly 28 consecutive days. That is only half-way through a minimum 8 weeks two months required to “compensate” for a ruptured extensor tendon. Torn beyond the repair that surgery might have provided, medical advise suggests simply keeping it immobilized to let scar tissue form and create what is essentially a new “tendon” (in function) that will (hopefully) provide up to 90% of the movement I once took for granted. It is amazing what the human body is capable of doing to compensate for injury.

While old dogs may have difficulty learning new tricks, clearly old thumbs don’t heal as quickly as they once did and while the days on the calendar seem to evaporate like water in a hot skillet the older we get, they don’t when it comes to have a bandaged up thumb. In the world of my right hand the days and weeks are only creeping by. Which is slower the healing or the calendar? I don’t know. What I do know is I wish that the time zone in my left hand would catch up with the rest of the world speeding by!

As with most things in human existence when occurring out of the norm, there is typically close by a lesson waiting to be found . This morning I found one in Israel’s old hymnal (Psalm 24). This song proclaims a welcome for God into the temple. David uses a phrase that I particularly like, “Open up, you gates. Open wide, you aged doors and the glorious King will come in. Who is this glorious King? The Lord, strong and mighty. The Lord, the powerful warrior…” (Ps. 24:7-9). With bound thumb in splint, seemingly slower to heal each day and challenging my patience in ever-increasing ways, the “aged door” phrase has captured my attention.

Aged doors don’t open easily, do they? Decades of use, abuse, rust and wear make hinges squeak, grind and not easily open. There are occasions when we may even give up on ever even opening the door again. We becoming merely content to stay on the side we are on or perhaps we may seek an alternative way in. But here, at David’s exhortation, there is reason to pull on those old hinges and open the door, again. “Who is this glorious King?”

When I consider patience, I have to be amazed at the patience God has for me as I live in my earthly “temple.” Wholly dedicated to Him sometimes, there are also periods where I allow my hinges to rust and the door simply doesn’t open as easily for Him as it once did. Yet He remains, “The Lord, strong and mighty… the powerful warrior.”

Though it might be a bit more difficult than usual with my injured thumb, I'm learning something about patience and about the Lord and me as well. There is a good reason to grab the latch on the gate of my heart and give a good hard tug. I am confident an open gate is an invitation to meet with the King of glory, strong and mighty! It is there I may find a thumb-full more patience, too.

Becoming...

Who I need to be is quite possibly not that far off. It is as though I can vaguely see it on the horizon like the dawning of the sun as it crests the landscape and illumines the silhouettes of winter's now barren trees. Provoked by knowing something better lies further down the road, I'm perplexed by how much time I've been spending in the rest area on the side of life's road. To be sure, there are others milling around here with me and perhaps we are all in the same predicament? I wonder where they are heading and wonder what they are becoming as well?

I'm not clear whether it is God's voice or my own ambition that begs me to get back on the road. There seems to be a fine line between self motivated ambition and fulfilling true Creative design. I'm guessing that even if I achieve all I think I should be, I'll still be missing the form and function the Creator desires. How much can we ever really know, anyway?

An ever increasing dependence upon the One who knows all things is where my limitations are most exposed. Frankly, I don't care much for being exposed. Far beyond the days of infantile innocence romping around in my developmental "birthday suit," mid-life acutely beckons awareness of who I am, who I'm not and what I am or am not becoming.

A strange thing is that most of us can function quite well right where we are. Continuing on as we have (perhaps for years) is apparently no major catastrophe (at least for the moment). When we allow ourselves to actually peek into that horizon though, where the sun has now fully engulfed the sky, then we are called to a reckoning of space and time. Looking into that brilliance, the realization of who we can be becomes somewhat inescapable. As surely as we can't halt the path of the sun, eventually we can't ignore the reality of who we could be. We are therefore forced to choose: either stay where I am or get back on the road.

This is when things become quite critical. A "wasted" day is now 12, 14, 15, 16, 17 waking hours less development toward my becoming. I face the reality that I can't keep living in the "rest area" and cast if off as merely a day when "I didn't do too much." It is now a day where I chose to hang out eating only junk food from vending machines and trying to wash in a sink that only provides 5 second bursts of water. There must be a better place further down the road, don't you think? Do we all really want to stay in a rest area (where most don't even have public showers, for goodness sakes!)?

So, it appears it is most appropriate for me (I can't make the decision for you) to buckle up and get back on the road. Becoming is on the horizon and from this vantage point, what remains to be seen looks rather interesting. Discipline is the call of the day. So, if you'll pardon my "blinker," that will be me merging in...

Colors

The forecast calls for 65 degrees, but today will likely bring something closer to only 60. Tonight's low will be in the high 30's resulting in an explosion of color over the next few days. True, the northern regions of the great state of Texas is no New Hampshire this time of year, but nonetheless there is still an abundance of color to be found if one is willing to look for it.

Sitting alone at one of my favorite coffee spots, the colors of the season are already presenting. Pastel interpretations of Fall's colors adorn the walls as contributed by a local elementary school. Evidently the product of a collective art assignment. Some more technically accurate than others, the diversity of all must be appreciated. How wonderful are the differences between us.

Diversity and difference brings energy to some and challenge and frustration for others. I often wonder what differentiates the two. How is it that one person can see diversity in its stark reality and embrace it as a "good thing" and next run from it like a dangerous enemy?

I'm doubtful this time of year we will find any two leafs alike. Even if we combined all the leafs of New Hampshire and north Texas together, we still would likely never find any two exactly the same and yet we find few who will argue with fall's beauty.

This season, I'm trying to learn to further embrace diversity and see things more as God must see them and certainly as He has created them. Each uniquely created and yet in accord with His image. There is beauty in diversity and difference if we are willing to look for it.

How singularly incredible God is to be the "same yesterday, today and forever" and still love with such incredible diversity. These are the colors of the season.

Of Coffee Beans and Big Fish

From the moment my head hit the pillow, I was anticipating it. Rain already falling in the late watch of the night secured the promise of showers certain to greet the early risers. Drifting off to a restful sleep, I could already smell the steaming cup of Autumn Blend awaiting my arrival in only a few short hours.

Autumn Blend is a seasonal intermingling of “artisan roasted beans” that has captured my caffeinated attention this fall. A hearty brew with an earthy undertone of chestnut and rose petals, it is sympathetic with the changing of the seasons. Rich in color and body, its aroma is nearly as captivating as its taste. So “sacred” has this blend become to me in the past few weeks, I dare not cover a steaming cup with a lid! This coffee must breathe and be experienced by as many senses as appropriately possible. Drinking even one cup has become precious to me.

Eyes beginning to close, I could see myself sitting in my usual spot. Slipping silently from the last few conscious moments of this day, I anticipated beginning my next watching out the window as the early moments of dawn illuminate the falling rain droplets off the window canopy. The week would begin on a beautiful note with a wonderful "cup of joe."

Darting between drops as a thick band of showers entered the area, I could see from the parking lot that my preferred table was unoccupied. Claiming my turf, I ordered a toasted “power bagel” (with butter) and a medium cup. Receiving my change, I made my way to the coffee bar and soon witnessed the wheels rolling off the beginning of my idyllic week… where is the Autumn Blend?

“Are you still brewing the Autumn Blend,” I ask inquiringly. “No, we’re out of Autumn Blend,” is the reply. “Out as in… ‘Out for the moment’, or...” I hopefully suggest. “No…out as in the distribution center has it back ordered and it will be several days or more before we have any available,” is the response from the cashier. “Oh... I see…” is my lament.

Funny how we become so conditioned by preference. Now on my third cup of Vanilla Hazelnut, I’m all the more convinced there is no better coffee for this season than my beloved Autumn Blend. “Why does it have to be this way?” I wonder to myself. “Don’t they realize how many lives are affected by the fact that some distribution clerk did not appropriately anticipate the demand? Didn’t anyone realize that I alone could personally account for a run on the season’s best coffee?” I finally concede as I pour that third cup of inferior java.

How appropriate my morning reading would include Jonah. Most are quite familiar with Jonah and the big fish incident but not as many recall Jonah and the whole vine thing. That incident in Jonah’s life doesn’t seem to get as much press coverage but is as telling about his general disposition as not wanting to go where God sent him.

After God and Jonah have their 3-day, 3-night “staff meeting” in the belly of the big fish, Jonah makes his way to Ninevah and proclaims the prophecy of the Lord – basically, “repent or die.” The people appropriately repent in sackcloth and ashes as Jonah waits east of the city to see if God is going to follow through on His promises. He does and Jonah is about as hacked about it as if his favorite coffee were missing from the coffee bar.

From his perch of perdition, Jonah is comforted by a quickly sprouting vine which shades his head from the heat of the day. As he becomes accustomed to its provided comfort, a worm attacks the vine and the plant dies as quickly as it grew. Jonah’s anger now grows beyond reason as God steps in to intervene.

“You are so concerned for that plant even though you did nothing to make it grow. It appeared one day and the next day it died,” God said. And I find myself curious as to whether the clarity of his anger struck Jonah. "I know why I am angry," he must be assured. "But is it right?" has got to be a perplexing issue for him.

I wonder how many times I become upset about inconveniences to my life but have no invested effort in their existence or outcome. Do I complain over the rain when I’d prefer sunshine? Do I revisit anger over a frequently encountered pothole on my morning commute while I’ve done nothing to help maintain the roadway? Do I pout when my favorite blend of coffee is unavailable, yet there are plenty of others from which to choose?

So my week didn’t start out as envisioned, but I’m seeking a new perspective. How about you? Is there another way of looking at matters of inconvenience which are ultimately well beyond our control?

Of Fall...

After what seemed a long summer, morning’s chill has finally come. The crisp snap in the pre-dawn air is a clear indicator fall has arrived and winter’s blast not long to come. While leaves still tenaciously hang at their perch, it is now only a matter of time before they blush into a chilly night’s hue and make their gentle descent to the ground. It is the season of slumber, of calm, of returning to the things that ground us. There is a subtle, yet profound, beauty in this time of year.

One of the great features of fall is watching things change. A gentle metamorphosis occurs right before one’s eyes. In a matter of weeks, what once was green and full of life makes a fantastic chromatic journey through the color spectrum and then quietly goes to tender sleep resting on earth’s floor. As long as time itself, the cycle repeats annually only to give way to the birth of spring pending fall’s chill again. It is a beautiful thing, really.

These are the days of fall. Football games, festivals, State Fairs and homecomings… a time when we come back to where we’ve come from. Different than the reunions typical of spring or summer, homecomings have a more natural and less formal feel about them. A migratory sense looms about this time of year as natural as a leaf returning to the ground. Bundled in our warm overcoats, perhaps for the first time of the season, homecoming calls us to root on the home team and refrain the alma mater one more time. It is a wonderful thing, really.

Homecoming kings and queens notwithstanding, homecoming is about getting back to where we started. It is about reacquainting ourselves with the familiar and coming close once again to the things dear to us. While it may be chilly on the outside, overall there is something warm and comfortable about coming home.

This is a great time of year. A time to touch base and reconnect; to let the leaves fall while remembering what is at the core of our being. This is a time to become quiet and return to that which deeply roots us. Fall is a beautiful time of year.

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body

and at home with the Lord.”

2 Cor. 5:8

The Death of Trees

Perhaps I should have seen it coming, though I never saw it coming. It was likely so obvious that had it been a hole in the ground, I would have walked right into it. In fact, it was a hole in the ground at one point.

My family and I moved into our current home about 26 months ago. We have a lovely home, situated in an ideal neighborhood surrounded by lovely park settings, walking trails, urban lakes and a golf course. Though far from mature in flora, the builders and HOA have cooperated with one another to quickly produce a visibly pleasing place to live (something should justify those HOA fees!).

Each home came fully equipped with featured landscaping in the front yards including three nice trees in the front and fully sodded backyards including one tree from which to begin landscaping in the back. Each tree had a one-year guarantee from the date of move-in. Within a year, we replaced three of the four trees!

Moving into our home in the middle of a season of drought in North Texas was tough on the lawns and trees in particular. Within that first year, three of our four trees met an unfortunate death to what we thought was shock. Two nice northern Red Oaks in the front and one Texas Live Oak in the back never saw the home's first anniversary. Responsibly, the builder replaced all three trees with Texas Live Oaks and for a season all seemed well.

Within only a few months however, I began to notice the tree in the back yard began looking "ill." I was careful to give it plenty of water and watched the tree closely. My neighbor's tree (also a Live Oak) seemed to be doing just fine. But in a matter of only a couple more months, that tree went from a beautiful "live" Live Oak to a sparsely leafed, "dead oak." The only consolation I received in its passing was that a small bird family had nested in it branches. Of course, by now we had met the one-year deadline (pardon the pun) and the builders considered themselves free from any responsibility in replace my now dead replacement tree.

Through the cold winter the tree stood its ground but was clearly done with life and though its branches reached toward the warmth of Springs new sun, the leaves never returned. Within a few months, the bony fingered branches figured against the bright blue sky and barked pealed away from the main trunk. The tree began returning to the ground from which it came.

I left that tree standing for some time as a sorrowful reminder of just how quickly death can take all things that have life (and breath. I suppose it could be argued that even trees breathe, as they give back oxygen to the created world around them).

An old friend of mine moved into the neighborhood a few months later, but into a section with older mature trees. In fact, his property looks like an old arboretum or something compared to ours. He has beautiful old trees all over his yard that tower into the sky. Some of the trees soar 50 feet or more into the sky. But in keeping with their contractual promise, the builders stuck a simple little "new" Northern Red Oak smack dab in the middle of my friend's new yard. It was the most ill placed tree anyone had ever seen. In the midst of all its towering neighbors and for the sake of having some semblance of a functional yard, the baby tree clearly had to go!

My friend was just going to throw it out until one day I suggested we could replace my dead tree with his "new" one. He agreed and through a comical escapade (something involving another friend's pickup truck, a furniture dolly, rope and a couple bungee cords -- a funny story better saved for another time) we hauled this lovely Northern Red Oak to my backyard (nearly a mile's driving distance away) and successfully transplanted the tree where the previously two had stood, and died.

I kept the trunk of the old tree not far from its once thriving growth spot as a kind of tombstone and epitaph in memoriam to both the former trees (that may have been a bad idea, though I'm not sure it would have ultimately made a difference). The young Red Oak stood tall and proud. Truth be told, it was the finest of all three of the trees that had now occupied the hole. Given all the work and sweat invested in this tree, I loved it! The tree and I had "bonded" (my friend and I had made a wonderfully funny memory to add to our collection) and I anticipated the day that tree would grow big and strong. I could clearly envision the day I would likely sip lemonade in its shade and sneak a hammock nap on a cool Spring afternoon. For a year now, things have gone according to plan. Until last week...

As I was mowing the lawn, I noticed the edges of all the leaves beginning to turn brown. Since it had now been a couple of weeks since our last rain, I thought it might need more water. However, the tree's Red Oak counterpart in the front yard is thriving in the same conditions. Now 2 1/2 years in its place, it is beginning to tower into the sky (the largest new oak on our street). The two Texas Live Oaks in the front are doing well also, which tells me the brown edges are not the function of a lack of water. Incredible rain totals this year (North Texas is now officially no longer in a drought) have provided plenty of water in which to grow. Plus, I've been careful to keep water on the tree in the dry weeks. There must be something else wrong, I began to think.

Yesterday, my wife left me a note saying, "Something is wrong with the tree in the back yard." And going out to investigate, I could not believe the change in only a week's time. There is something very wrong with our wonderful tree.

Today, I researched the matter and have determined it is terminal. Our sweet Red Oak could be completely dead by the end of the month and there is nothing I can do about it. There is a condition called Oak Wilt that will take the life of an oak tree quicker than anything else (it is the equivalent of a massive coronary in a human being). A fungus clogs the vascular system of oak trees preventing the flow of water and nutrients through the trunk and the tree dies a certain death. There is no known cure. (Read more about Oak Wilt) (On one of our church campuses, Oak Wilt has killed a number of historic trees that have been cut down and destroyed. Without such aggressive action, Oak Wilt can take out every tree in the area).

Beginning to mourn the loss of my young Red Oak tree, honestly today has been a sad day. I was proud of how that tree had stood its ground where the previous two had not. Carefully staked into the ground, the new tree had traveled a long way to our house (in a hilarious adventure) and it seemed to like the new location and warm evening sun. It had also weathered some powerful summer storms (a couple too-close-for-comfort lightning strikes that raised havoc on certain appliances and electronics in our house). But now, a simple, unstoppable fungus will ultimately be its demise. Today, I began to wonder if anything will ever grow in the hole?

I should have seen it coming. If I had only thought about the hole... but I never thought about the hole! It wasn't the tree, it was the soil! Duh! It seems so obvious now! If I had only known about the hole! It just kills me that I led the tree into a hole of death! What a really, really sad thing it is!

Have you ever thought about the soil into which your life is planted? So often, our lives (like beautiful trees) can be looking so good from one point of view and then, take a sudden turn for the worse. Sometimes, "stuff" invades our spiritual lives that is so destructive it is like a fungus. It works its way into our root system and chokes us out and over time, we just might die and by then, there is nothing we can do about it. Our spiritual vascular system is so compromised, we just wither up and die.

The Oak Wilt fungus doesn't manifest itself in visual signs on the tree until the life is already choked out of it. Now for our family, it is just a function of watching it continue to die. If I had only known about the hole! There were things we might could have done... evacuated the soil, chemically treated it and let the soil rest until the fungus was gone. Or perhaps I could have planted the tree in another hole far from the first one. But, instead we put a beautiful tree into a very dead hole.

What kind of soil are you living in? You may look fine to the world around you, but that may not be the best indicator of how spiritually healthy you are. There may be sickness "in the hole" that only you know about. If so, may I suggest a quick transplanting? By the time your "leaves" start showing the ill effects, it simply might be too late.

I'm going to miss that tree... imagine what it could have been.

Expectations...

"So what did you expect?" came the proposed question with a slight tone of condescension and disappointment that there wasn't more faith played out in the moment.

"I don't know..." was the drifting response.

So, what do we expect in any given circumstance? I realize certain personality types are more given to optimism while others will always deem the "glass half empty." Though typically an optimistic person, I still find myself "expecting the best" but "prepared for the worst." And I'm trying to change.

One of my favorite scenes from the Minor Prophets of Old Testament scripture is a picture of Jerusalem fully blessed by the Lord. In the span of a few verses, the prophet Zechariah speaks on behalf of the Lord and proclaims that He has a "strong love for Jerusalem" that burns like a fire. God promises to return to Jerusalem and living in it will see to it that "old men and old women will sit along the streets and the streets will be filled with boys and girls playing." Those who will be left alive to witness this beautiful picture will think something this wonderful will be "too difficult" for the Lord. But God is quick to respond saying, "but it is not too difficult for me." (For the entire picture, see Zechariah 8:1-23).

Jerusalem had been in exile for a long time at the hands of a powerful and oppressive people. When we find ourselves in a tough situation for a long period of time, it is often difficult to even think, let alone envision, something better than what we've known. But God is in the business of doing amazing things and it is true that "nothing is too difficult" for Him.

I'm learning when it comes to being in relationship with God, I can actually not only expect the good circumstances, but I can actually prepare for them with anticipation, knowing that God is painting an extravagant picture and true reliable blessings are just around the corner.

Do you have the faith to expect the very best and then live in anticipation of it?

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Tina Turner once recorded a song lamenting "What's love got to do with it... Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?" It is just one of a "million" songs questioning whether love is ever really worth the trouble. Perhaps people ask the same question about a relationship with God as well?

God is love. This is His most self-defining trait. It might be helpful for us when we think of God and love to think not so much in terms of "God doing lovely things," but that "Love does godly things." You see, love is something that does indescribable things. Love can work miracles in the lives of people and can bring so much beauty to the world, it is impossible to appreciate it all. Love is a powerful force beyond measure.

God is love and whoever doesn't love like God loves doesn't really know God (1 John 4:8). I think rather than God choosing to love, the powerful reality about God is that He IS love. It is as if he is bound by His own nature and therefore He has to act according to that nature! This is what makes that scripture so powerful when it says, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son..."

While I can't prove God didn't "choose" to send His son, I do think it is a powerful thought to consider that God's nature of love is as powerful, if not more powerful, than choice! That is a great thought isn't it? Because that means that if we REALLY love someone, we are going to sacrifice for them almost "instinctively" rather than merely because we "choose" to. Love can be a powerful thing, can't it?

Think of it in terms of salvation in Christ. "God demonstrates his own love for us in this. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). For Jesus to die for us is a mighty strong demonstration of love. I really like the thought that love is more powerful than choice. I'm going to have to spend some more time thinking about that, but I believe it may be true.

The painful part of life is when someone "chooses" not to demonstrate love. Again, thinking in terms of "love doing godly things" that can explain why it hurts so much when someone doesn't "choose" to love us. When someone else injures or abuses us, we have to wonder and ask, "why isn't that person loving me?" That is what makes God's love so incredibly amazing. He is always willing to love without fault! But that reality is also what makes a human being's inability for "loving to do godly things" hurt us so badly when they fail us. We want the love God can give, but get the love (or lack of love) a human chooses to give. That is an incredible "lowering of the bar" from what God has to offer. I mean, find someone who can love you more and more like God loves you and you've really found something!

Birdsong

Most of my life I have enjoyed singing (though not always fond of the sound of my own voice) and it is rare there is not a song in my head and typically one can be found on my lips. And yet, in the past few years I have come to appreciate the voice of another member of the created community certainly more than my own.

In recent years, I have become more and more attuned to the countless sounds birds make. Birdsongs are fascinating artistic works if one will simply take the time to listen to them. (Hear a Nightingale here) Yesterday, while leaving our church campus following a great day of worship, Bible study, fellowship and food... I was stopped in my tracks by a wonderful sound of a particular bird. Once I spotted the beaked vocalist in the trees, I invited it to continue on in singing its songs... and the bird was quite kind in reply.

For several minutes I stood and listened to song after song (I was careful to quietly thank the performer at the end of each verse). I lost count at over a dozen different renderings or chirps, warps and chuckles. It was a most excellent concert and I likely would have applauded if I'd known it would not offend the bird and have it consider me trying to rid the area of its presence.

The event took me back to an account I once read of St. Francis of Assisi.

Many of the accounts surrounding the life of St Francis mention his particular appreciation for animals and creation. Perhaps the most famous account from his life expressing his love for nature is recounted in the 'Fioretti' (The Little Flowers), a collection of legends and folk-lore that sprang up after his death. It is told that one day while Francis was traveling with some companions they happened upon a place where birds filled the trees on either side of them. Francis told his companions to “wait for me while I go to preach to my sisters the birds.” The birds surrounded him, drawn by the power of his voice, and not one of them flew away. Francis spoke to them:

"My sister birds, you owe much to God, and you must always and in everyplace give praise to Him; for He has given you freedom to wing through the sky and He has clothed you…you neither sow nor reap, and yet God feeds you and gives you rivers and fountains for your thirst, and mountains and valleys for shelter, and tall trees for your nests. And although you neither know how to spin or weave, God dresses you and your children, for the Creator loves you greatly and He blesses you abundantly. Therefore… always seek to praise God."

While I didn't preach to this singular songbird, I did feel a sense of connectedness to all of Creation through the experience. After a great day with my Christian family, it seemed only appropriate to share some of our joy with the "birds of the field." They, in turn, were willing to share their gift with me.

I'm looking forward to another concert. In fact, I heard the chorus practicing today outside my office window and I know they will be well rehearsed for their next performance. As with my friend St. Francis, I will only ask that my birdsong friends always seek to praise God. For if they do, it will surely be a wonderful experience!

Repentence

One thing I don't enjoy doing is U-turns. On a motorcycle, no matter how good a rider may be, U-turns present problems. As adept as most motorcycles and their riders are in the turns, at such low speeds, even the highest performing bikes and riders are vulnerable to rider error or bike limitations (it has been said it takes more skill to ride slowly than it does to ride fast). Generally speaking, motorcycles are not inclined to turn such tight turns at such reduced speeds. Balance, precision, technique and concentration all come into play when riding slowly and navigating a 180 degree turn.

I also don't care for U-turns because generally speaking, it means I've "missed" something and am having to correct a navigational "error." Most of the time, a U-turn is a public admission of guilt for when I have made a mistake and must "turn around."

The biblical concept of repentance is basically a call for a "U-turn." It is a call for a 180 degree shift in behavior and/or thought and is critical to successfully navigating a journey with the Creator.

So often repentance in my life has been more of a response to my own shame than to true godly sorrow. I am puzzled to think of how many times I have "repented," often from the same sin over and over again and still fins myself doing it again . This makes me wonder how authentic and effectual my "repentance" ever was in the first place! Is repentance really repentance if we simply return to the same behaviors over and over again? Maybe, maybe not.

I wonder how often I have repented to merely salvage my own ego or to maintain some sense of a good reputation? Henry Drummond wrote about repentance, true repentance, as a matter of "looking God in the face," not merely looking at one's self in the mirror and dealing with the pain or injury of one's sin against self or one another.

For true repentance to take root in our life, we must be willing to walk before the throne of God with humble abandon and let the masterful work of His perfection expose the crude indecency of our sin. Only He can truly expose who I really am. Only He has the power to renovate my interiors so that my final exteriors will begin to ultimately bear His glory and praise.

Left to my own assessment, I'll surely try to justify my choices one way or another.

By God's grace and mercy, we can have the courage to face ourselves as only God sees us. He knows our hearts, He sees everything as it is and still chooses to love in spite of what He sees. He is the One, whom I may have just run past, that calls me back to a better course of direction and ultimately a better final destination.

For the sake of His love and mercy, I'm learning to gladly make a U-turn, even if it requires slowing down and exercising more caution than usual.