Saddle sore

The grandkids have often asked me why I don't have a horse, and I have told them that first of all they eat too much and they ruin a pasture for grazing other livestock.  The other reason I give is that they have to be ridden often, and I would be the one to ride them several times a week.

I grew up riding horses. My family had horses and Shetland ponies at one time or another for many years. Caring for animals is something that I have always enjoyed, but I loved riding horses during junior high and high school. 

Collin has been wanting to ride horses for a long time, and I promised him over a year and a half ago that I would take him to some friends’ farm to ride.  He didn't nag me about going, but he has been regularly reminding me about this promise. 

My friend, Buddy (I wrote previously about him), and his family live on a cattle and horse farm in east Tennessee, and they had invited us to come to see them and ride horses. We had a great time with them one weekend recently, and we rode a LONG TIME! It was a lot more riding than I had bargained for, but, hey, Collin was very happy. 

Oh my! Was I ever sore! I don't ever remember being sore during those years of growing up with horses--probably because I rode so often? No, more than likely because I am 50 years older now!

I read recently that John Wesley spent 53 years riding a horse and preaching. Okay, so let's say he started riding and preaching when he was 15 years old--he rode until he was older than I am now. That is called suffering for the Lord.  

John Wesley planted 500 churches and 140,000 people came to faith in Jesus over those 53 years of horse-back riding. He had incredible perseverance.

Hudson Taylor once said: "Every challenge has three stages: impossible, difficult, and done. The hardest stage is the difficult stage because it takes perseverance." Many of us give up when a task gets to be difficult. 

As I look back over the last few months I am asking myself, "Have I persevered through a difficult task and called it done?" 

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." Heb 12:1-2

Solitaire

I gave Cheryl a Kindle HD for Christmas. She has been using an old Kindle for a few years, and I thought she would enjoy the added features of this latest and greatest. She is really enjoying the much improved resolution as she reads her books, but I have been very surprised at the feature that she uses the most--a Solitaire ap!

We are on a plane together now, and because we changed our flight to catch an earlier flight, we are on the same row, but we are both in middle seats. To make it worse I have this giant of a man in the seat next to me. You know--the kind you see coming down the aisle of the airplane and you are thinking/praying "please don't let him sit by me." Well, he is into my space!

So, I am trying to work on email, and I give up. I look over at Cheryl and she is --that's right, she is playing Solitaire. I am wishing that I had bought her an electronic toy sooner as I see cards dancing all over her Kindle screen indicating that she has won a game, and I hear her say to a seat mate (not nearly as ample as mine), "Three minutes."

I never played Solitaire on one of my electronic apparatuses until I saw how much fun Cheryl was having. It's contagious. I am looking for opportunities to be mindless and play Solitaire on my iPad, but, I don't enjoy it nearly as much as Cheryl does. I get too frustrated. I have a problem with my ap: it does not have a “redo” function. I don't like it when I play a card, and immediately I recognize that I made a mistake and I want to take it back. If I could only take back that card and play another one already on one of the stacks, it would open up that one card that is still face down and I could watch those dancing cards on my screen. But this darn game ap won't let you take it back. It has no element of grace.

I wasn’t able to finish this post on the plane—have you ever tried typing when your head in under the armpit of the guy next to you and his body mass reaches over the armrest? So, I just found out from Cheryl that her Solitaire ap has a “redo” function. I have decided to download her ap—maybe that is why she always scores so much better than me because she has a different ap. Maybe I should rethink this. Playing on the same ap would be apples to apples and then I would not have any excuse for her clobbering me…

I am thinking about all those times when I have said something and I wished that I could take it back. I have hurt people and oh, how bad I felt immediately. Wouldn’t it be good if we were equipped with a “redo” button.

But, we actually have something much better: God has given us an ap of grace. He fills my brothers and sisters in Christ with grace so that when I hurl a missile at someone I love or someone with whom I work, they forgive me and love or like me regardless of my faults.

"I will guard my ways that I may not sin with my tongue." Ps. 39:1a

Thank you Lord for forgiving when I can't take it back. Thank you loved ones, friends, and colleagues for forgiving me when I beat you up with my tongue.

Communication and community

I love the spontaneity of younger children. They will say most anything. We are so fortunate to have 11 grandchildren—and we expect more. Inshalla. We have more time with the four who live in the same town as we do, and we are blessed that they go to the same church as we do. With the rest of the grandchildren we have to experience many events and funny stories via various media instead of face-to-face, and we are thankful for the technology that is available to us.

When we lived in West Africa we were so far in “the bush” that it took an air letter (some of you don’t even know what that is) from the states 2-4 weeks to get to us. Our address was simply our name, Diabo, Upper Volta—no postal codes, nothing else. If one of our colleagues in Ouagadougou, the capital city, needed to get a message to us, they would send someone on a moped one day—about a 7-8 hours trip on a moped—and we would send the return message back the next day.

 When we left Burkina Faso in 1987, the only direct real-time outside communication with the rest of the world was our short-wave radio and one radio station from Ouagadougou—FUN! I returned to Burkina Faso in 2008 with two Operators from our company to conduct a SERVE conference in Ouagadougou. Our conference was sponsored by the Ouagadougou Chamber of Commerce and the Canadian-Burkinabe Alliance. When we left in 1987 we were working with the poorest of the poor, and when we returned 21 years later we were working with some of the wealthiest business leaders in the country.

Our host had agreed to give us a vehicle with a driver so that we could go out to the area where we lived for several years. It was only a 3 hour drive compared to over 4 when we lived there—the difference was not better roads, but a maniac driver! We departed before sunup so we virtually had the entire day to spend in the villages where we lived. It was a huge joy to see so many friends and former colleagues (all Burkinabe, as there are no expats living in that part of the country now).

Unfortunately, most villagers still experience the physical hardships of living in a drought-stricken and poverty-ridden area of the world. However, the spiritual situation is a blessing—there are churches in 75 villages in that area. The biggest change was that some villagers have mobile phones—even though there is no electricity anywhere near that (more on that in another post). Occasionally, I receive a phone call or text from one of the pastors in this remote corner of the earth. I am simply amazed at all the communication tools that are available to us today.

I have been convicted lately—not to get a Facebook account—but to use the tools available to build Christian community.   Our deacons have recently started having an accountability partner. For a month at a time each of us is paired up with another deacon, and we are responsible for phoning, texting or emailing each other. It has already helped us to build a stronger community among the deacons.

 How many times have you told someone in an email, on the phone or in a text that you are going to pray for them? Why don’t you just do it immediately instead of telling them what you are going to do? Pray for them on the phone. Write a short prayer via text or email. All these acts of kindness and love demonstrate Christian community; they are quickly done, but they reap a huge return on your investment.

 While you are thinking of other ways to use your technology, don’t forget about snail mailing hand-written notes. “A handwritten note can be one of the most important things you do to distinguish yourself from others” (DaleCarnegieTraining.net). Statistics show that thank you notes are opened far more than any other snail mail or email.

 Look around you—what is the condition of the community in which you live, work, play, and worship? What are you doing about it?

Holy Spear

When I was 5 years old we lived on Portwood Street in Greenwood, Mississippi. There are a lot of memories from living in that house. We only lived there a few years as my parents frequently would sell our house and buy another one to “move up” and get a better and bigger house. This one was small—two bedrooms and a bath, but this was where we lived when my folks bought our first television.

 Before we bought a television, all I knew about this magical box I learned when we would park our car in front of the Western Auto and watch the moving pictures in a wooden box in the display window of the store. That was a great advertising gimmick—to leave a TV on all the time (well, at least when programming was going on) for people to see what they were missing by not having a TV at home. It worked for my folks, so we had our first television. After seeing Howdy Doody for the first time, it became my favorite show (www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIslhp9vqqw).

 Other memories from that house included the arrival of my brother, Barry, who I started calling “Bubba”—and it stuck to this day. But, sorry Bubba, I have much more vivid memories about TV and about one other thing: my mother would come to my bed every night to have prayers with me. I would pray something—don’t remember what. However, I vividly remember that she would often thank God for the Holy Spirit who would be right beside me and protect me all night long. It would have been okay if I had truly understood what my mother was talking about, but I did not sleep well many nights because I thought she was saying that the “Holy Spear” would be beside me all night long!

 Now for a five-year-old you can imagine what went through my mind. I was afraid to open my eyes after the prayer because there was a Holy Spear next to my bed!

 It was only several years later that I begin to understand what the Holy Spirit is—and I am still working on that understanding.

 How many times do you hear someone pray, “Lord, we pray that your Spirit would be with us today in this service,” or “God please be with them as they travel.” These are well intended prayers, but they lack an understanding that God’s Holy Spirit is right beside us ALL THE TIME. “And behold I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20

 Thank you Heavenly Father that you are with me every nanosecond of my existence. May I not be afraid of your presence beside me, but may I be filled with confidence and joy because YOU ARE ALWAYS WITH ME. Rejoice!

The edge of light

Will, my new son-in-law, is an avid cyclist. He is not into the casual bike riding; he is into the 50-mile type rides. He is a serious cyclist. I am the type that may have ridden 50 miles in my lifetime!

Last week he showed me a new light for one of his bicycles. We had most of the lights off in the living room, so he turned the light on, and WOW! That little light put out some lumens—400 to be exact. I was impressed at that circle of light. Then, I asked him what that little light was worth. He told me that it retailed for $100. That’s right--$100 for a flashlight!

OK, it is an expensive light, but I was still impressed. After his demo of the light, I thought about that circle of light and how distinct the difference in the light and darkness was. It reminded me that often we who walk in the light are afraid to step outside that circle of light that is our comfort zone. We walk to the edge and do not trust God to provide the light for us as we walk into the darkness of the unknown.

How many times has the still quiet voice of God spoken to us and we have responded in our heart of hearts, “I can’t do that” or “I am not qualified to do that, Lord,” or “Lord, you have to find someone else who knows better than me how to do that.”

Walk to the edge, take another step and trust God to provide the lumens.

“And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him.” Hebrews 11:6 NASB

Getting caught

Living in West Africa afforded our family many opportunities to be exposed to “wild” animals. Even though these wild animals were a long way from our home, our kids grew up with exotic animals. Villagers learned quickly that I would buy most any animal from the wild, so they regularly brought us all sorts of creatures.

I never paid much for any species, but the villagers were very happy to get anything for something that they thought was so trivial as a wild animal.  At one time or another we had a baby crocodile, a bush baby, a dikdik (miniature antelope), a monkey, an African Gray parrot, and so forth. The kids enjoyed caring for them and they learned a lot about caring for animals—although they had plenty of experience caring for our flock of chickens, goats, sheep, pigs, ducks, a horse, donkeys, cows, turkeys, guineas, and rabbits.

One day a man that I had never seen came to our gate with a pair of elephant tusks tied on the back of his bicycle. The tusks had blood on the tusks that was not yet dry. The man told me that he cut them out of a “dead” elephant earlier that day. I had my doubts about how that elephant became classified as “dead.”

They were a beautiful pair of ivory tusks, and he wanted to sell them to me for a very small amount of their value. I really wanted those tusks. I was salivating to buy them, but a small voice in my head was saying to me, “You know that it’s unlawful to possess uncut ivory in this country,” But, another voice was saying, “You will never have another opportunity for a buy like this. Those tusks are worth a lot of money.” I was thinking about how good they would look decorating our home, but then I was thinking of how quickly our family could be expelled from the country.

Sound judgment prevailed and I did not buy them, and I quickly asked the man to leave our property as I did not want to be caught with those tusks at my home. I have thought many times about this incident and particularly about what made me decide not to buy the tusks. Was it that I did not want to break the law, or, rather, was it because I was afraid of getting caught? I must confess that it was the latter. I was more afraid of what others would say about me if I got caught or what they would think about me for buying contraband. I knew the right thing to do, but I was VERY tempted to do what I knew was wrong. Being tempted is not a sin, but if I had bought those tusks it would have been wrong.

So, whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin (James 4:17).

Mimes

Jeremy and Kimberly and girls have been with us for the past week. During this visit Shelby and Darby have often said to me, “You are just like my daddy.” Finally after hearing this several times, today Cheryl corrected one of them and said, “No, your daddy is just like your papa.”

The first thought that came to my mind when she made that statement is that Jeremy is like me because of DNA—Deoxyribonucleic acid—the self-replicating material present in nearly all living organisms as the main constituent of chromosomes. But, there is more—Jeremy is like me in many ways because he spent the earliest formative years of his life living with me and his mother and siblings.

The girls were referring to things like something that I might say in a given situation that their dad would also say, or how we both peel a tangerine, or how we season turnip greens. Jeremy learned those things because he lived in our home and was influenced by his parents, not necessarily because of DNA.

I have been thinking about the very familiar verse in Ephesians 5:1—“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.” I looked up the root word in Greek and Latin for imitate and found that it has the same origin as mimic or mime.

Just recently someone asked me about an area in London, and I talked to them about all the mimes who perform in the public square in this area. What do mimes do?  They don’t speak, do they? They express themselves without saying a word, but when they are trying to get a message to their audience, they express it in such an exaggerated manner that you don’t miss their message.

To be an imitator of God is not about actions that I do for God. It is about actions that God does through me. How does God do things through me? First of all I must be His child—I have given my heart and life to Jesus Christ. Then, I must obey His commandments. What is the greatest commandment? I must love the Lord my God with all my heart, my soul and my mind and I must love my neighbor as myself.

Be imitators of God…then I must love the unlovely. I must love someone who I don’t think is worthy of my love, but he was created in the image of God and God loves him as much as He loves me.

The old hymn says it for me: “Your life’s a book before their eyes, they’re reading it through and through.”

Walk with the lions

Through the years I have viewed wild animals in several different countries in Africa and Asia, so I don’t really look for opportunities to go on a safari. However, through our international projects at the foundation our participants often get to go on photo safaris to view the animals. I usually don’t participate if I don’t have to—not because I don’t want to be with our folks, but it is expensive to see animals, and I have seen plenty.

Recently in Zimbabwe, our team taught the SERVE principles of our company to the leadership of a game park, and they offered us a free “event” because they were so pleased with our sharing with them. One of the “events” was a walk with the lions. I was intrigued and asked for more information, and I found out that this was the only place in the world where one could walk with lions in the wild—no cages, no fences. This was an opportunity that I could not pass up.

So six other people and I met at dawn for our orientation about the walk. We would be walking with two three-year-old lionesses that had been taken away from their mothers at three weeks of age and raised by three handlers at the game park. They are still wild animals even though they have been around humans all their lives. We were instructed on how to act around the lions—never approach them from the front (they get very angry about this and show their teeth—as I experienced first-hand), always walk beside them so they can see you and never in front of their front legs, don’t make quick movements or loud noises, etc. 

They gave us a walking stick—that was the only “weapon” that the handlers had also—and we were on our way. During the walk we took turns walking beside one of the lions (see photos below). You have to know that I don’t like cats—all my family knows this—but I reached down and rubbed the back of the lioness. In a weird way I think the lioness actually liked that. But, as I walked with the lion, I could not help but think about lions in the Bible. I don’t know of a verse where a lion is presented as a gentle creature to pet. Every instance that I could think of was one that referred to the prowess of a lion or the roar or the bite—that gave me the creeps, and here I was walking with the lion. I was sane, but maybe not smart.

All of a sudden the two lions took off running at full speed and just as quickly they stopped and froze a few hundred yards from us. The handler pointed with his stick at a small herd of antelope. He told us not to worry, that the lions would not make a kill today as they had just taken down a wildebeest three days before and they usually only ate every five days—I was immediately happy that I did not wait two days to take my walk with the lions!

I had several good take-aways from this experience. One of them was some good photos to show the grandchildren, but the best one was this: I Peter 5:6-11 has been a good example of how I am supposed to act before the almighty God of the universes. But after being that close to a lion, verse eight really became so much clearer to me: “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Are we more afraid of lions than we are of the devil?

Day trip

Several people have contacted me to ask about my health, so I will devote this post to a brief report.

 My six month checkup with my radiation oncologist was three weeks ago. I flew to Jacksonville and back the same day. It was a long way to go for a doctor’s appointment, but it was worth it. I don’t know what one is supposed to expect from a visit with an oncologist. Of course, one would like to hear “Good news! You don’t have cancer” or something like that. I have to realize that he sees patients every day, and I was just one of many with whom he talked on that day.

 My PSA is still elevated from its normal level, and he explained that my prostate is very irritated from the treatments it has received, so it is normal to see this. He added that it can take two to three years after treatment for the PSA to return to normal.   I finally asked him if this is a good report. He responded, “Looks normal for this point in your treatment.”  I accepted that as a good report.

 They asked me dozens of questions about side effects, and I was very happy that my responses were almost entirely very positive. I am thankful to have almost no side effects from the radiation treatments. My quality of life is excellent, and I am very thankful that I did the proton therapy treatments.

 As you hear of friends or family members who have discovered that they have prostate cancer, please ask them to consider proton therapy.  I would be happy to share my experience with them.

Prepared

Each year about 60% of the graduates of IMPACT 360 return to our campus for our annual reunion. It is always great to reconnect with many of our alums who are investing their lives all over the USA and even in other countries. At our last IMPACT 360 reunion, one of the young men who was in our first class in 2006 walked into a room filled with graduates from this past May and exclaimed to Cheryl and me: “These are babies!”

It has been a great privilege to watch our former students grow in their walk with the Lord during their studies. Some of them are married—some to classmates whom they met at IMPACT 360. Some of them now have children. Some of them are in grad school and others are engaged in the workplace. However, there are a few who are still working on a degree after five and six years of college.

I have had opportunities to talk with a lot of young adults who are college graduates and who are still trying to “find themselves.” I think there are some common factors among these young adults. One that I have observed is that they are concerned about whether or not they will be prepared for whatever God wants them to do. I have tried to encourage these students and others over the years with some examples from our lives and from others with whom we have worked over the years. If God can use a Mississippi farm boy, then he can use anyone.

 God gives us all different gifts. He prepares us for whatever He calls us to do. Romans 12:6-8 says, “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.”

 Too many people worry about whether or not they are qualified or whether or not they have the right experience for a task that they believe the Lord wants them to do.  God never gives a call without giving the gift or gifts necessary to fulfill that call.

Cogitation

Dr. John McCall is one of my long-time mentors—44years! He is 95 years young, and he is such a blessing to me every time I talk with him on the phone or visit with him.  He has had several careers: Army chaplain, 35-year pastorate in Vicksburg, Mississippi, professor at Boyce College in Louisville, Kentucky, professor and head of department of religion at Mississippi College and finally he just retired a year ago as the “interim pastor” of a church in Edwards, Mississippi where he served over 9 years!  Show me someone else who can match that longevity for the Kingdom!?!

Dr. McCall is having some challenges with his eyes now, and after his wife medicates his eyes, he can’t read, watch TV or anything else for about 3 or more hours after the medication is applied. While talking with him on the phone, I asked, “So what do you do during that time, Dr. McCall?” His one word response was “Cogitate.” OK, so who has used that word in the last six months?

I recall hearing the word used when I was younger and I know that it means to ponder something, but I looked it up and in addition to ponder it means to think deeply about something, to muse, to ruminate, to mull over and to contemplate.

After the telephone call I reflected on when I have recently cogitated. I was shamed because I don’t remember the last time I have had a long period of meditation.  I am so task-oriented that I usually don’t think about something for a long time. I am also an activator according to Gallup’s StrengthsFinder profile. That means that I don’t like to sit in meetings and talk about doing something for a long time. I like to talk about what needs to be done for a short period, and then we make assignments to get it done. I think we spend too much time sitting around talking about how to solve issues when we should be out there fixing them.

 OK, so I am impetuous sometimes. I am also guilty of not cogitating. I don’t think deeply or mediate on what the Lord is trying to say to me. I get too busy with all the important work that needs to get done, and I do not think about the most important thing—my relationship with my heavenly Father. The Psalms have a plethora of reminders about how important it is to cogitate. Here’s one from the first chapter: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.”

Wow. How bad am I feeling about my Bible reading habits? It seems that I read the Bible like it is more important to get through “X” verses or finish a chapter or a book of the Bible, so I can move on to the next challenge. I read too quickly over the verses and I miss what God is trying to say to me. I don’t know how to cogitate, but I am working on refining my cogitating skills.

I am back

OK, so now I am feeling guilty. I have not made writing on this blog a priority. Last week four friends who have been encouragers and colleagues for many years have plugged me about not writing on the blog. I don’t have a good reason. I have rationalized with myself that I have been extremely busy, but that just does not hold water when I use that for an excuse. It seems that the longer I wait to write the guiltier I feel.

I have started five different blog posts over the last several weeks and I have yet to complete one of them. But I am inspired once again by my friends, so I am going to be writing again.

In the meantime, I want to once again direct you to Kelli’s blog, Pink Laundry (http://pinklaundry-kelli.blogspot.com/), for a great November 19 post entitled “We are not cold.” Most Americans do not know much about the civil war going on in Syria right now and about the plight of the homeless people that have fled the war-torn country and spilled over into Jordan and Lebanon.  If you want more information, Baptist Press has a series of new stories about how Arab Christians are aiding these Muslim refugees at this site: http://www.bpnews.net/BPnews.asp?ID=39177

I’m back.

Pink Laundry

I am so very proud of my daughter-in-love, Kelli, for the five part series that she has just completed on "Pink Laundry." Kelli has chronicled their journey to have more children since Jason was diagnosed with testicular cancer over 10 years ago. From her Christian worldview she deals with how they dealt with the very sensitive issue of in vitro fertilization. I encourage you to read all five parts on this blog: http://pinklaundry-kelli.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2012-10-16T02:59:00-07:00&max-results=7
Go to the October 6 post for part one.

Thank you, Kelli!

Jason and Jeremy

I could not resist sharing this with friends and family: Jason and Jeremy are the young alumi of the year for Mississippi College. Unfortunately, Jason and Kelli and Cheryl and I will not be able to attend. Jason and Kelli will be in a meeting in Europe, Cheryl will be in Jordan staying with their girls, and I will be in Thailand for a project. Some very close friends will be there to represent us as surrogate parents.

We are very proud of the boys!
http://www.mc.edu/news/brothers-jeremy-and-jason-cox-named-mississippi-college-young-al/

Tell the next generation

Some of you are old enough to remember Art Linkletter’s TV show called “House Party” where he interviewed 4 and 5 year old children. Bill Cosby’s show, “Kids Say the Darndest Things,” was based on Linkletter’s program.  I think about those shows and how good Caleb, five years old, and Emma, four years old, would be if they could have appeared on them.

They are clever kids—all our grandchildren are smart dudes! They both can come up with some great one-liners. Here are a few examples: Emma came home from pre-K and confessed to her mother that she had said something that she should not have said. Mom asks what she had said, and Emma said “Oh my God.” Mom asks, “So what do you think you should have said, Emma?” Emma thinks a moment and then says, “Oh, my Jesus?” When Kimberly was encouraging Emma to eat her dinner, Emma looked mom in the eye and asks, “Do you really WANT me to throw up?”

”One Sunday as we were preparing to eat lunch after church at our house Caleb just walked up to me, looked up, and said, “Papa, time has not been good to you!” He asks a lot of questions—normal, right? But, some of them go like this: “Why are there lines hanging from poles along the road?” “Why is the sky blue?” I try to answer all of his questions with brief explanations. I recently learned that maybe I should not answer all of his questions as he asked me: “Papa, do you know everything?”

I assured him that I don’t know everything, but one thing for sure is that I want to know enough to share life lessons with our grandchildren. I want them to know about the everlasting God of the Universe. I want them to know that they are a person of worth created in the image of God to have an eternal relationship with Him through Jesus Christ.

My job is this: “That you may tell the next generation that this is God, our God forever and ever. He will guide us forever.” Psalm 48:12-14 (ESV)

Giving the BEST

Recently a friend was describing to me how difficult it is to accept gifts. This friend and his family are having a difficult time right now with the loss of his employment. His family’s financial situation is not good at this time. They were habituated to a very comfortable life style with significant income to support all their needs and most of their wants. During these days they have been in a situation where they are trying to make ends meet on the salary from his part-time job.

He has been accustomed to being a giver to Christian and other charitable causes, but now he finds himself in the position of being a receiver instead of a giver. This is hard for most of us. We want to be independent and our pride is hurt if we are perceived as being “needy.”  In talking with him I asked him to consider that this is a season of time in their lives when God is teaching them to become receivers instead of givers.

While living in West Africa we learned so many valuable lessons from the nationals among whom we lived and worked for many years. The culture there dictated that when someone gave you a gift, you were to accept it no matter what the gift was or who the person was or what their giving capacity was.

Many times when I was in one of the villages, I was given a gift of eggs or a chicken or guinea fowl or a handful of seed. I always accepted the gift no matter how poor or needy the family was who was giving the gift. My modus operandi was to accept the gift and then give it to another family in need.

Every year in Burkina Faso one of the most feared times of the year for the villagers was February to April. It was at this time that there was an annual outbreak of meningitis. This disease was no stranger to most compounds and many children became infected. Parents would sometimes bring children to us who were already so ravaged by this dreaded sickness.

One such child was Laraba (the meaning of this name is Wednesday—he was born on a Wednesday!). His father walked and carried his emaciated body for 6 hours to our home. He insisted on leaving Laraba with us, and I believe that he expected to never see him alive again. We cared for Laraba for several weeks.  He lived in our compound with a couple other “project” boys, and he made a miraculous recovery.

We sent one of our workers on a bicycle to tell his father that he could come to get his son. A couple days later Laraba’s father showed up at our house. I went out to greet him in the shaded area of our compound where I often received villagers. After the normal 10 minutes of exchanging greetings—how did you get up this morning, how are your wives, how are your kids, how are your goats, etc.—Laraba and his father were reunited. Laraba was a very quiet 10-year-old, and he did not express much emotion, but his father was elated. He said over and over that his son was a miracle. I had an opportunity to tell his father about the miracle worker called Jesus.

It is customary to give a gift when someone has done something for you, so when I started the “good-bye” conversation with Laraba’s father, he stopped looking at me and dropped his head and stared at the ground. I could tell he was in deep thought, and finally he said to me, “I thought that my son was going to die, but you took care of him and he has been healed. I can never thank you enough, but I do not have a gift to give to you except this: I want to give you my son, Laraba, as a gift!”

My first thought was Lord, help me out of this one! Now it was my turn—I tucked my chin to my chest and stared at the ground and I prayed. The Lord quickly guided me to respond to him: “Thank you for such a wonderful gift. I accept your son as the very best gift that you could possible give to me.” I went on to tell him that we had a small problem with Laraba during the time he stayed in our compound. His father looked upset and looked at Laraba and said that he was sorry that he misbehaved. I told him that Laraba was a good boy and that he was well-behaved. The problem was that he did not like my wife’s cooking, so we had to have someone prepare “sagabo” for him—that is millet mush which is the staple for all villagers in our area.

So, I asked his father if he would be so kind to care for our son, Laraba, in his compound and feed him the good food that he was accustomed to eating. I told him that we would help to provide for Laraba while he lived and grew up in their village. His father was silent for only a moment and then said that would be a very good arrangement for me and his family. I was relieved for I was able to be culturally correct in accepting the best gift Laraba’s father could possibly give, and to successfully get Laraba back into his family situation.

Laraba’s father gave the very best gift possible for him. God asks for our best. What do we give Him?

Fine print

When our new issue of Consumer Reports arrives, the first thing Cheryl looks at is the inside of the back page. This page is called “goofs, glitches, gotchas” and features some interesting advertising errors submitted by readers. Often the goof or gotcha is in the fine print.

As a boy, I remember reading and studying the back of cereal boxes. There were great treasures inside some of those boxes, but sometimes you had to order the special toy. I sent my three box tops from cereal boxes in an envelope expecting to receive this big toy car—because the car looked so huge on the back of the cereal box. When Mama told me that it had arrived, I was so excited. That excitement was squelched when I saw the size of the package. I opened the very small package, and the toy car was less than two inches long! What a disappointment. I went in the kitchen and looked at that car on the back of the cereal box, and then I noticed the asterisk beside the car. The fine print by the asterisk at the bottom of the box said something like this: Car is not actual size depicted in the illustration. What a rip-off!

Have you ever read the fine print on a real estate document? Oh my goodness! Last week I signed a contract to sell Rolfe’s house in Louisville. I am so very grateful for someone in whom I can have complete trust as a real estate agent. The agent is the former church secretary in Rolfe’s last pastorate, and he requested that we use her. What a blessing. Not only is she taking care of arranging for painting and repairs, she is even making arrangements for charities to come to the house to pick up clothes, household goods and furniture to be given away. I did not even have to read the fine print in the contract because I trust Doris.

I was reading tonight in 2 Kings about King Hezekiah—yeah, the one that did not have a book in the Bible named after him. Chapter 18, verse 5 says, “He trusted in the Lord, the God of Israel, so that there was none like him among all the kings of Judah after him, nor among those who were before him. For he held fast to the Lord. He did not depart from following him, but kept the commandments that the Lord commanded Moses.”

There was no fine print in Hezekiah’s relationship with God. Everything was clear between God and Hezekiah as he “did what was right in the eyes of the Lord.”

Laughing from heaven

Cheryl is driving and I have been working—and feeling badly because it has been so long since I have posted anything on the blog. We have been in Louisville this week getting Rolfe Dorsey’s house ready to put on the market. I never knew that dying could create so much work! I can truly empathize with others who have served as executor for an estate now that I am experiencing that responsibility.

I promised Rolfe long ago that I would carry out all his wishes after his death, and I often wonder if he has an awareness of what is going on here on earth now. Don’t laugh at me because I bet that you have wondered the same thing. If not, then you have at the very least joked about it—“if so-and-so knew that, he would turn over in his grave.”

I am convinced through my faith and the promises of the Word that it doesn’t really matter whether or not someone who has departed this earth for their heavenly home is aware of our trivial happenings here on the earth or not. Someone who is in the presence of the Almighty is so totally engaged in worshipping and praising the Lord that nothing else matters.

But, just for this moment, humor me by assuming that Rolfe was watching the following story unfold.

Cheryl and I have spent a lot of time going through all of Rolfe’s paper and email files, financial and medical records, etc. and shredding documents. His little shredder was in overload these past few days. Among some important documents I found an envelope with these words written on it: “To the one who has a legal right to read the enclosed…Bon Appetit!” Inside the envelope was a surprise: a fifty dollar bill with a sticky note attached that said, “If you are reading this, it’s yours! You may have to add to it to get one good meal.”

I just know that Rolfe had a good laugh from heaven when I discovered that note with the money. I can hear him laughing out loud when he wrote that note and put the money in the envelope. Cheryl and I had a good laugh, and I hope this story makes you laugh, too. Laughing is good for the body and the soul. Have you ever seen anyone frown while they were laughing? Have you ever noticed anyone angry when they were laughing?

Do something today to make someone laugh. A bigger challenge: do something today to make someone laugh even after you have gone to heaven.

P.S. we had that meal on Rolfe!

Always room for one more

I am sitting on a flight from Johannesburg to Harare. For a while I thought we were not going to be able to take off. Everyone was seated on the packed South African Air flight except a family of six. They continued to stand in the aisle, refusing to sit down because the flight attendant told them that there was no more room in the overhead bins for their carry-on bags.

 The flight attendant told them to take their valuables out of their carry-on bags and they would be gate checked. Gate checking is a common practice, granted, but the flight attendant made it sound risky by asking them to take their valuables out of their bags. The father of the family said that everything in their carry-on bags was valuable--that is why they brought the bags on board.

 The crew was ready for the plane to be pushed back from the gate. I kept waiting for one of the three flight attendants staring the family down to take some action. The best solution was to rearrange some bags in the bins to make room for their carry-on bags. But no one was doing anything to help. I could not stand it any longer. I stood up and rearranged some bags and made room for their carry-ons. It was a very simple solution, but no one was willing to make the move.

 As I sat down I said to some new Zimbabwean friends: " This is Africa. There's always room for one more!" Everyone had a good laugh. At least everyone who is from the continent did, because the general feeling in Africa is that no taxi or bush lorry or bus or even a passenger vehicle is ever TOO FULL. There is always room for one more.

 When our family was living in the bush of Burkina Faso, villagers would find out that our family was going to Ouagadougou and say, "I am going with you." It was not a question; it was a statement of fact. I would tell them that there was no room for them; our vehicle was already full. Their response was consistent--- "There is always room for one more."

 Obviously I have given this statement a lot of thought as it rolled off my tongue just a few minutes ago. Africans have taught me a lot through the years. They pushed me to think differently and they challenged me to do more with less. We were in their land to introduce them to the teachings of Jesus, but often they reminded me of teachings of Jesus that I have not practiced as my own.

 Jesus said, "Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.

In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?" There's always room for more in my Father's house. Those are our marching orders as followers of Jesus.

Buddy

The Upper Volta Tennessee Hunger Project was the first of many state partnerships that focused on development and church planting through the Foreign Mission Board (now IMB). Cheryl and I were privileged to lead this project for nearly five years. During those years there were 700 volunteers who all came to serve for a minimum of 30 days. That was one of the most challenging, yet rewarding periods of our lives as we invested in the lives of these volunteers. At times they were a real pain, but it was such a joy to see their worldview changed through their encounters with village people.

There are so many stories that I could share as 55 of those volunteers went on to become long-term missionaries overseas. But, I want you know about my friend Buddy.

 Buddy was a former Marine who had never been married. He was a union welder and struggled with an alcohol problem until he met Jesus. At his church he heard about the request for a welder in Upper Volta. He did not even know where this country was, but he felt that God wanted him to go for a month to this far-away place and serve through his gift of welding.

 Buddy not only welded during his month in the bush of West Africa, but he began to teach some nationals how to weld. Everyone loved Buddy because of his congenial spirit and willingness to do anything to help anyone.

 We had ordered a well-drilling rig and were looking for the right person to lead this project. Buddy was the right person. He returned early the next year to work through the remainder of the dry season (October – May), and then he went back to Tennessee to weld for a few months and returned to Upper Volta to begin a new season of well-drilling with the national team that he had trained.

Buddy continued this pattern of working in West Africa—as an unpaid volunteer—for nine months and going back to Tennessee for three months to weld to pay for the basics of keeping a home in eastern Tennessee. He became a part of our mission family over the next several year.  Our family fell in love with Buddy and our children grew up calling him Uncle Buddy.

Buddy is a quiet man who speaks little unless addressed. He is witty and loves a good laugh. He effortlessly draws people to him because of his gentle demeanor and easygoing spirit. Buddy is one of those friends who would literally give his right arm to help me if he knew I needed his help.

 On Buddy’s 50^th birthday, I was his best man in his wedding. Buddy and his family live in east Tennessee where Buddy raises cattle and stays busy with his wife and son—and he is still engaged in overseas mission projects.

 Buddy is a Proverbs 18:24 type of friend. I am thankful that Buddy has been a part of my life. The world would be a much better place if there were more  Buddys.