Ducks

As many of you know--especially if you have dug back into the archives--this blog was started to share news about the construction of our house and about our hobby farm with family living in other countries. Ton Tenga is the name of our farm. It is from the  Mòoré (pronounced "mo' ray") language spoken in Burkina Faso, and it means "our farm" or "our land."

It has been a long time since I have shared news from Ton Tenga, so some of the family urged me to share some more farm news.

We have a few ducks and one very noisy goose, and they are constantly following us around the farm--begging for cracked corn. Cheryl suggested that we put up a duck crossing sign on our driveway--just for fun. Saturday, I finished mounting the sign, and immediately two ducks crossed the road headed to the garden to look for bugs. I snapped the following photo.

OK, so I know the photo is not properly posted, but I spent a long time Sunday night and then again tonight (Monday) trying to figure out how to get the photo in the right orientation. I gave up and you get the idea anyhow.

Angels

Does anyone out there who has a smart phone carry a camera anymore? These gadgets take such great pics that I don't need to carry a camera. Now the truth is that I stopped carrying a camera on overseas trips many years ago. I just don't like to be identified as a camera-carrying tourist. Now I find myself taking pictures overseas again because I can do it more inconspicuously with a very small phone.

It is surprising how many photos I have in my phone. I was looking through them recently--I really need to delete some of them, but it is hard to just wipe out a photo of something that I thought was very special at the time I shot it.

While scrolling through the pictures I paused to look at Jordan, Jenna and one of their friends dressed up as angels at a pageant at church. You know what angels look like--they are dressed in white, they have wings, and they are always smiling, right? At least that is what they look like in all the pageants that I have seen.

I don't really know how we know what an angel looks like. I suppose this notion of what an angel looks like has been passed down from generation to generation.

It strikes me that when an angel is introduced in The Word, the people to whom they appeared must have been afraid. Matthew 29:5 states: "But the angel said to the women, Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified." So, what did the angel look like if the first thing it said to the women at Jesus' tomb was "Don't be afraid?" Probably not what our stereotyped notion of pageant angels is.

And, then, there is I Chronicles 21:30 where the angel carried a sword: "but David could not go before it to inquire of God, for he was afraid of the sword of the angel of the LORD." How many pageants have you seen with an angel carrying a sword?!

Many times in our lives our minds are set -- on what something is supposed to look like, on what you think something tastes like, on what someone believes, on where someone fits in the societal rankings, on how we are going to like someone -- before we ever get an opportunity to see, experience and understand for ourselves.

Perhaps you are guilty as I have been of forming an opinion of someone based on what others tell you, before you ever meet the person or before you get to know her or him. I really do not want to allow someone else to choose my friends for me by accepting their opinion before I have the opportunity to make up my own mind.

Khat

I am in Germany and reviewing international news. The headlines are full of the potential terrorist threats. The US and other western countries have closed embassies and some Americans have evacuated cities over the Muslim world.

One of our conference speakers here in central Germany reminded us today that we cannot insult God by asking God for too much, but we can insult Him by asking for too little. I took that to heart, and I have just prayed for the Yemeni Arabs. I made a bold prayer request and asked God for self-replicating churches to be started all over Yemen.

Memories of traveling in Yemen are flooding my mind as I type these words. Visual images of Yemenis’ faces rush through my mind. I am thinking about stories of encounters with workers who have endured very hard times living in this desolate, but beautiful country. I am praying for their safety and for their leaders who have to make decisions about their safety.

Once two of these workers were driving me and some colleagues back to the capital city from a provincial capital where we had been visiting with our colleagues. There were no rest stop facilities to be found, and it was a long drive, so we pulled over to the side of the road to make a “pit stop.” As we were taking care of business we heard the roar of engines headed our way. All of a sudden two heavily armored pickup trucks came out of nowhere and there were large and small caliber weapons pointed at us.

Our colleague immediately staring speaking rapidly to the armed men, and as quickly as the armed men had appeared, they disappeared into the fields of tall green plants.

We had stopped on the side of the road beside a field of tall dark green plants. I did not recognize the plants, but I was more interested in taking care of my physical needs that identifying the plant. The field was planted in almost-ready-to-harvest khat. Khat is an addictive plant that men in Yemen and the Horn of Africa chew on like tobacco for the narcotic effect that they receive. Men regularly chew this narcotic during the afternoon and get high and sometimes cannot complete their work. Many children have gone to sleep hungry at night because their fathers spent food money on Khat.

Khat is such a valuable commodity that owners go to great expense to protect their crops with armed men and vehicles. When we made that rest stop the guards quickly swept down on us because they thought we were going to steal khat from the field. When I was looking down the barrel of a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on the back of the pickup, many thoughts quickly went through my mind. But oddly enough I was not afraid. I did, however, instinctively raise my hands over my head in a silent proclamation of “Don’t shoot. I have done nothing wrong.”

I think a lot of fear expressed by us humans is driven by our perceptions and expectations. We can easily get psyched up to fear something when we think about it. Dread can become fear. Whenever my mind starts thinking about a fear of something, such as a noise in the dark while walking outside, I remember that the Scripture teaches us not to fear anything but God—and that is an AWEsome fear.

I Samuel 12:24: “Only fear the Lord and serve Him faithfully with all your heart. For consider what great things He has done for you.”

See one, do one, teach one

Shelby is probably the most risk-taking grandchild among our 11 grandchildren. Her dad often says that she is a daredevil, but I am not sure I like anyone using any word that has devil in it to describe one of my grandchildren. So, let's just say that she is extraordinarily daring. 

Sometimes when she is with me she watches me doing something on the farm, and then after I have finished, she says, "Now, I want to do it, Papa." I will usually let her do it--well, not everything. I haven't let any of my grandchildren run the bush hog.

When I began to learn the More' language in Burkina Faso, I enjoyed learning some of the proverbs from the Mossi culture. One of the proverbs says, "See one, do one, teach one."

I still love this proverb, and all my kids have heard me use it many times. For the past 30 years this proverb has helped me be a better leader. I have had challenges in my career thinking that it is easier for me to just go ahead and do something rather than allowing someone else to do it. After all, I can do this task better and faster than anyone else. Then I think about that proverb.

A leader helps those with whom he/she works be successful. One way of accomplishing that goal is to show someone how to do something by modeling it, then allow them to do it--even if they can't do it as well as you. Then, they are ready to show someone else how to do it. That's multiplication of leaders!

Sabbath

I believe in the Ten Commandments, and I also believe that they are foundational in our Judeo-Christian beliefs and legal system. I had to get that all straight before I launch into this one.

Occasionally my wife tells me that I should honor the Sabbath and rest. The fourth commandment is clear and dear to me and says that I should honor God by resting on the Sabbath. I do not ever want to hurt my witness with someone saying that I am dishonoring God, but I have an interpretation of what constitutes rest that may be different than others. Cheryl thinks of rest as napping, reading, lounging around, etc. I don’t like naps; I don’t like to sit inside and just stare outside. I like to be outside. I think of rest as working outside—tending to my animals or garden or pasture. I get great pleasure in working with God’s creations and God’s good earth. Working outside is like therapy to me. When I am caring for my animals or caring for our garden or even driving the tractor, I don’t consider any of that as work.

Anyone who knows my mom and dad understands me better. My parents are still going strong—or at least I think it is strong for their age. They embedded a strong work ethic in me. They picked butterbeans in their garden right beside Cheryl and me during a recent visit. As I worked my way through the bean patch, my back was hurting and I was on my knees most of the time, but I knew better than to complain.  My mom and dad were right in there with us.

The challenge for me comes with the definition of rest and of work. I agree that most everyone would define it just as Cheryl would—refraining from anything that smells like work. Rest can mean a lot of things: a rhythmic silence in music, what a column does on a foundation, sleep, stopping all activity that causes exertion, what farmland does when no crop is planted on it, etc.

I think of rest as a time of recovering strength. It would seem strange if you saw me sweating while doing some of my “resting.” My time outside is a refreshing of my mind, body and soul. Some of my best quiet times with God are when I am “working” on the farm.

This afternoon I picked peas from our garden. I sweated something fierce. It started raining, and I did not stop. I was soaking wet with sweat and rain, but I continued to pick—and I loved it. Was it work? Maybe for some people, but for me it was perspiration therapy. I brought the peas up to the house and I invited three granddaughters to help me shell them. For an hour we talked and shelled peas. No TV was on and the only entertainment was us talking with each other and telling stories about things we have done together this summer. Was it work? Not for me and I don’t think it was for the girls either. It was fun!

Now there are some chores on our hobby farm that I definitely consider work—mowing grass and running the weed trimmer. I don’t do things like that on Sunday as I consider that work. Picking blueberries or feeding my goats – that’s not work for me.

Cheryl and I have just spent a week of vacation with two grandchildren at a Christian Dude Ranch in Colorado. I left my computer at home. Several of the guests asked me for a business card, but I did not take any with me. I had a Sabbath Week. For the first time in years I read an entire novel in one week. I relaxed, but I admit that I thought about all that email that was piling up in my inbox. It is now late Sunday evening, and I am typing on my computer. I want desperately to work on some of that email, but I am trying hard not to “work.” Can it wait until tomorrow morning? Yes, but it will be a very hard Monday. As bad as I want to do email, I am not going to do so because I feel convicted that would be work and it would not be a good example for my colleagues.

As I have been typing, the sun has set. The Sabbath is over. So, should I do that email?!?

Pet peeves

Do you have a pet peeve? I do. Some of them make me sound so paranoid that I won’t admit them in this post. As a matter of fact, as I share one of my pet peeves, some of you will probably think, “So, that was so paranoid, wonder ‘bout the ones he did not share.”

OK, so here is one: a church bulletin or a printed program (wedding, funeral, graduation, etc) that lists a certain Winthrop Luper on program along with Elmira Dothan, Dr. Bartholomew Pierce, and Samuel Hogan. Notice anything wrong? One person has a title while the others do not. Now that probably does not bother many of you, but it really bothers me.

Everyone is equally important, so everyone should be treated in the same manner: If you are going to give one person in the program a title, then you must give titles to all of them. Makes sense to me!

I think the worst offenders of this are churches, and I will go so far to say that too many pastors are very proud to boast of their “doctorate” before or after their names. Our pastor asks to be called “Pastor David,” not Dr. (last name). I like that.

Everybody doesn’t have a bold title like “Doctor” or “Professor,” but everyone has the distinction of being a creation of God. Every person’s face into which we have ever gazed is one made in the image of God. Particularly as I travel I look into faces many days thinking, Wow! God made that face! It is absolutely amazing that apart from identical twins, no two faces are exactly the same. Even those people who do very nasty things in our world are ones who the Heavenly Father loves just like you and me. God doesn’t show partiality for the way faces look.

My responsibility is clear: to love the Lord my God with all my heart and to love my neighbor (ALL those faces) as I love myself. Nuff said.

Job

I have been in a drought with posting on this blog. I have even felt guilty for not writing, but I have been determined not to force myself to write. Even if there is no one out there reading this I need to write for myself—for broadening my heart and my mind.

I compose a lot of blogs that don’t make it onto the computer screen—most of them while working outside on the farm, in the shower or driving. Even though they don’t make it to a written state, they are still good for the stretching I need.

In Sunday School class we have been studying Job. I wasn’t really looking forward to this study but I have surprisingly enjoyed it. I have learned a lot of good lessons from studying Job.

Right off the bat we find that when someone experiences tragedy, sometimes the best thing we can do is just to be present. Job’s three friends responded. They came to minister to Job. We learn from them that it is not necessary to say a lot, but being there for a loved one or friend is very important. Some of the best bonding that I have had with some friends was when I was just there for them during a crisis. I did not really DO much at all. I was just there. Some of the biggest mistakes that I have made were when I decided not to be there for someone because I was too busy or I did not think it was important.

Another lesson learned is that I can talk too much. Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar did well with their first assignment to just be there, but then, later in the story, they talked too much. I mean after you tell a guy what a horrible person he is for hiding sin that he knows he did not commit, and you keep sending the same message over and over---that’s an overload.

Have you ever talked about something—or someone—so much that you suddenly realized that you have over talked? Been there and it is hard to get out gracefully.

Finally, Job’s three friends spoke with authority, but they were not always speaking the truth. They falsely accused Job. Ordinarily I am bold in talking with people, and I don’t mind confrontation if it is healthy and helps both parties to grow.  But I couldn’t have done what E, B and Z did. They left themselves wide open for rebuttals from Job because he knew that they were not telling the truth. They spoke with authority, but not truth. Proverbs 12:17 states, “Whoever speaks the truth gives honest evidence, but a false witness utters deceit.”

I think that E, B and Z may have needed a dose of our New Testament teaching in Matthew 7:1-5 about criticizing others while not examining our own lives. E, B and Z should have been concerned about calling attention to their friend’s sins when they may not have had their own heart right with the Lord. Amazing how easy it is to see other people’s faults!

Turtle

Today is a holiday and Cheryl and I have been working outside. She ran the weedeater and I pushed the mower along the fences. I really don’t like to mow grass—duh! Who does? It is not so bad when all our equipment is working properly, but our riding lawnmower is waiting to be repaired, so I have to use the push mower while it is out of commission.

I was praying and pushing this morning, and I stopped instantly when I saw a turtle stuck in the fence. Some people call this type of wire “range fencing” or some people call it “hog wire.” It has small rectangular panels and the rather large turtle was lodged in one of the rectangular panels that was even with the ground. The turtle was dead. It had apparently been trying with all its might to move forward, but it was impossible because its body was wider than the clearing in the wire. Interestingly enough, if the turtle had just walked backwards it might have saved itself.

As I continued to push the mower I thought about that dead turtle. If he had only stopped trying to push itself through the fence and used a small amount of energy to go backwards, it might have backed out of the fence and lived another day.

I decided that I am a lot like that turtle. My ability to move fast and bring a task to completion is sometimes an asset. I totally get the part about moving forward and not looking back. Once I make up my mind to buy something, I am not one of those persons who search around to see if he gets the best buy. I research, I make a decision, I buy and never compare again.

I know all the scriptures about moving forward and not dwelling on the past (Isaiah 43:18-19, Philippians 3:12-14, 2 Corinthians 5:17, and others). But my inclination to move forward fast can be a liability. This is what the turtle taught me: I tend to move so fast that I don’t take time to think about the process. Like the turtle I am working so hard to move forward that I don’t even think about the predicament, much less about taking a step backward. I get caught up in the moving forward so much that I do so at all costs. Thank you, Lord, for reminding me to remember the situation, remember the process, and remember not to move forward too fast.

Details

The story is told of three men who were sentenced to die by the guillotine. There was a pastor, a lawyer and an engineer. Each of them had an opportunity to say something before their execution. The pastor raised his hands and said, “May God have mercy on us all.” The executioner moved him into position for his execution. As the guillotine came down it abruptly stopped just before severing the pastor’s head from his body. The pastor was set free.

The lawyer stepped up and cried out to the crowd, “Justice for all.” The blade of the guillotine again stopped just before falling on his neck. The lawyer was also allowed to go free.

The engineer stepped up for his last words and said, “If you would just tighten those two bolts on the right side then this contraption would work perfectly!”

I am in India working with business men and women who want their businesses to make a difference for the Kingdom. I was asked to give a devotional this morning at the beginning of the day. I talked about some rules for living, and one of the points that I made was to pay attention to detail. Jesus paid attention to detail: in Mark 5:25-34, a woman who had a hemorrhage was in the crowd. She worked hard to get near Jesus, and she touched Jesus’ garment. Jesus turned and said “Who touched my garment?” Jesus paid attention to detail.

I probably pay more attention to details than the average person. My wife would probably tell you that I only pay attention to things that need to be done in the house: “Honey, did you see that cobweb in the corner?” or “Wow, the pollen has really covered things in the house.” Yes, those type comments usually get me in hot water.

When someone asks me to read something for feedback they usually mean for me to look at content or theme concerns. However, when I read it I cannot help but edit the document (if it is not terribly written—I have actually told some people that I can’t read the document until it is written in a more intelligible manner).

Maybe I am a bit overboard with details, but I learn a lot paying attention to details. I believe that it is usually necessary to pay attention to details to achieve excellence.

God is all about details. If you don’t believe it, sit down in a public place where there are a lot of people moving past you and start studying peoples’ faces. You will not see two people with the same features. That does not seem so awesome unless you are where I am now. I have been doing a lot of walking in Bangalore—fighting jet lag as I was in Kyrgyzstan for a week, then back in Georgia for four days, then back to Asia. Yes, that is crazy, but necessary to fulfill my commitments.

There are well over a billion people in India and only 8 million of them live in this city. I think all of them are on the streets at 5 pm as that is the time that I have been walking the past two days. I am telling you it amazes me to look into the faces of all these Indians and not see any two who look alike. God is in the details! He made all of us in his image, but He made all of us to look different from the other and the amazing thing is that there are not a lot of square inches on a human’s face. I mean, there is only so many things you can do with a chin, right?!

Celebrate! We are all alike in the image of God, but we are all different to our human eyes. God is all about the details.

Listening and hearing

Cheryl had been telling me that my hearing was not good. I thought I was hearing very well, but after she continued to mention my diminished hearing capacity, I decided to get a hearing test.

During my annual physical I asked the nurse if they did hearing tests and she said I would have to go to a special lab for a hearing test. So, I made an appointment for the hearing exam. The young lady administered the test, and I responded to the commands. When we had finished, I impatiently waited for the results.

She soon came to me with a report. She said, “Mr. Cox, you have perfect hearing.” I couldn’t believe it, and I could hardly wait to get home to tell Cheryl.

Arriving at home I proudly announced to Cheryl that I had my hearing test that day and I said to her: “Guess what! I have perfect hearing.” In a blink Cheryl responded to me, “Then, there is something wrong with your listening!”

Ouch! That hurt. I walked directly into that.

Listen and hear—two very common English words that we use every day. Defining one of these terms is often done by using the other. So, what is the difference in listening and hearing? I can make a case for either in the “which comes first” argument, but I like the difference that Solomon stated in 2 Chronicles 6.

In chapter 5, Solomon and his followers had just finished their great work on the temple and the elders had brought the Ark of the Covenant into the temple. Solomon addressed his people in chapter 6. He declares the glory of the Lord and how the promise God made to his father, David, had been fulfilled with the construction of the temple. This is the prayer of dedication of the house built for God.

I am struck by the message in verses 19-21: “Yet have regard to the prayer of your servant and to his plea, O Lord my God, listening to the cry and to the prayer that your servant prays before you, ²⁰ that your eyes may be open day and night toward this house, the place where you have promised to set your name, that you may listen to the prayer that your servant offers toward this place. ²¹ And listen to the pleas of your servant and of your people Israel, when they pray toward this place. And listen from heaven your dwelling place, and when you hear, forgive.”

Solomon is addressing God, no less, saying that God listens to the pleas of His servant and His people, and when He hears, He forgives His people. I am sure that there is a lot of theology here that we could debate, but the important thing in reading and meditating on scripture is what we get out of it that makes us a better servant and follower of God. So, here’s what I get that helps me: we do a lot of listening, but not a lot of hearing takes place. How many times has this happened to you: someone says, “Did you hear that?” And our response is “I was not listening.” Lord, as I am listening to the sounds of this day, may I hear You speaking to me. May I listen to my loved ones, friends and colleagues so that I may hear their hearts with mine.”

Worrying

When we departed Mississippi to go serve as missionaries for the first time, we said goodbye to our families, and we assumed that we would not see any of them for four years. Traveling overseas today is so very common that it is hard to remember that nearly 40 years ago most people who traveled internationally were wealthy. Today the airports are packed with business travelers, people going on vacation and those visiting relatives.

We departed for language school in France, and we left our parents weeping at the gate—long ago, greeting passengers and saying goodbye at the gate were common experiences—knowing that we would not see them for a very long time. What we did not count on was that our parents would be highly motivated to come see us as we had the only grandchildren on either side of the family—Jason was 3 and Jeremy was almost 2. The real surprise was that my parents decided to come spend Christmas with us after we had been away for only 6 months.

My parents’ travel experience included trips to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, Rock City, Smoky Mountains, and to west Texas to visit with relatives. So I never dreamed that they would come to France to visit us. But they sold a few cows and an old pickup and bought three tickets (for them and my baby brother who was 13 at that time).

We drove from Tours to Paris to pick them up at the fairly new terminal at Charles de Gaulle airport. It is the “old” one now with the escalators in the center of the building where you can see through the glass windows the people who have just arrived, coming down the escalators. We waved at my family and they waved back at us, but there was something visibly wrong with my mother. When we grabbed them to give them a hug my mother said to us: “I will never get on a plane again in my life!” She is a bit claustrophobic, and the long flight in a small space was too much for her.

Cheryl and I reminded her that in order to get back home she would have to get back on the plane. She thought for a minute and then said that she would get on that plane, but it would be the last time in her life that she would fly.

Thirty-seven years later my mother still has never flown again. All the years we lived overseas she never came to see us again. My dad would not come to see us either because he did not want to come without my mother. However, when we lived in London, we talked him into coming to visit us. We had a good time introducing him to the tourist attractions in and around London. He even went to a theater production and really enjoyed it—The Buddy Holly Story.

After about a week he started talking about things that he needed to do back at home. He was anxious and fretting about needing to plant his garden and about the animals—at the time the only animals he had were a dog and cat!

We assured him that all was well back in Mississippi. He made it through the first week, but the second week he was to be with us was the week before Easter. He talked about how bad it was that he wouldn’t be planting his corn on Good Friday because that was the very best day to plant corn. We talked about how Mom and everyone else back home would be taking care of things, but he still fretted. Then one night he had a dream. In his dream there were hundreds of people coming over a hill (he was overwhelmed in downtown London with the multitude of people walking down the streets) and they were headed to his house to eat. In his dream he worried about what he was going to feed all those hundreds of people. He decided in his dream that he had to get home and prepare peas and cornbread for all those people headed to his house. That did it! The next morning he said, “I have to go home now.”

I told him that it would cost extra to change his ticket. He said that would be no problem because that dream was a sign that he needed to be home to plant his garden.

Nothing was going to change his mind, so we arranged an earlier flight for him, he arrived home before Good Friday, and he got his corn planted.

Once he made up his mind, there was no way to change his decision. My dad is a worrier. He still worries about me when I travel—that is a lot of worrying! He worries about threatening weather, about the price of gas, and about any news of one of the family having to go to the doctor—even for an annual exam or a cold.

My dad knows the Bible, and he knows scriptures about worrying, but the fact is, he is a worrier. I can talk to him about worrying, and he listens, but he does not hear.

I resolved long ago that I was not going to be like that (this begs more writing for a later post because as I get older I find that I am doing some of the same things that I said I would never do!), and I believe that I have been successful with this one. However, I regularly have to go back to The Word to be reminded of what the Lord says to us about worrying and anxiety.

A couple of my favorites are:

“When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.” Psalms 94:19

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.“ Matthew 6:34

When you find yourself starting to worry, go to The Word for promises that God already knows all of our challenges and He WILL guide us through even the darkest moments. And best of all, I don’t ever have to pray asking God to “come and be with me” because He has promised that He will be with me until the end of the earth. That’s something to bank on and lean on when times get rough.

Aging

OK, so I am officially old. I find myself talking more to my peers about the subject of personal health. I said that I would never do this, but here I am at 64 years talking about this aching bone or muscle with friends. It is probably their fault, because I am sure that I would never bring up such a subject—not!

I am a Boomer. Each year more than 3.5 million Boomers turn 55. Their swelling numbers made America’s 50 and older population reach 100 million during 2012. According to the UN Population Division, 1 in 5 people are expected to be 65 or older by 2035. I don’t figure I will still be walking around and counted as one of the 1 in 5, so those stats don’t faze me very much. However, some of my children are reading this post and the point is this: what are y’all going to do with all those old people?

Many of our friends are either retiring or thinking about retiring soon. From my perspective retiring is not all that it is played up to be. I am sure that there are plenty of people who really enjoy retirement. They are probably those who were smart enough to frugally tuck financial resources away so that they could live very comfortably in their retirement. I enjoy doing things with some friends who are retired—I think they may be a bad influence on my work ethic because when I go somewhere with them they are not in as big a hurry as I am.

I listen to them talk about how they are enjoying their retirement, and I am very happy for them. But I am not sure that I want to retire.

I am not foolish enough to believe that I can work when my health is failing and I begin to lose my mind. But I just want to work as long as I am able to do so. I love to work. I love my job. I love going to work. I want to continue working until I die.

In a Labor Day speech to the New York Agricultural Association in 1903, Teddy Roosevelt said, “Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing; and this is a prize open to every man…”

I am very happy that my work is worth doing.

 “So I saw that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work, because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?” Ecclesiastes 3:22 NIV

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?