God: The One Percent Solution (photo courtesy of the La Vista Church of Christ )

God: The One Percent Solution – He Said

The LORD turned to him and said, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?” Judges 6:14 (NIV)

Listen to God: The One Percent Solution – He Said

When God closes a door He opens a window. You can jump or be pushed but out you will go. As one nation under God we appear to be a people teetering on the ledge. Will we fly or fall?

A survey of the cultural landscape leads me to believe Christians are not flying but fleeing to the hills, caves and fortresses. Christian book publishers continue to slash payrolls, cancel contracts and shun new voices. Churches flounder and fold due to soaring debt, dwindling tithes and an anemic spirit within the Body of Christ. Christian couples split and sue for joint custody as the “peace that passes understanding” is trampled on the steps of courthouses. Jobless and joyless we sit in the pews and mouth the words “How Great Thou Art” while secretly wondering as Gideon did, “Why has all this happened to us? Where are all His wonders our parents told us about?”

Born into the weakest branch of his family tree, Gideon considered himself to be the runt of the litter and yet God called him a mighty warrior. Could it be God views you as a mighty warrior, too?

For seven years the raiders of the East pillaged the land, stole crops, killed cattle and forced Gideon’s countrymen to hide in mountain clefts, caves and forts. Cowering in fear, they retreated from the battlefield. Christian businessman Peter J. Daniels notes, “The poverty mentality that has afflicted Christians in wealthy nations is a masterstroke of satanic genius. It has impoverished us for decades. It has denied that every Christian is of royal blood.” Could it be God is calling you from your hiding place?

When the angel of the LORD appeared to Gideon, the boy didn’t break out into a praise-and-worship song. He didn’t fall face down in wonder. He dared to ask, “If I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me.” Are you waiting for a sign from God that He is calling you?

Any encounter with a living God will leave you changed. Gideon received a new title: “Mighty Warrior.” He received a new mission: “Strike down the enemy.” He received God’s power: “I will be with you.” He received God’s blessing: “God in the strength you have.” Will you accept the challenge to be changed?

The climax of Gideon’s quest to strike a blow against God’s enemies reads like a military blunder. God commanded this “mighty warrior” to pare down his troops until only 300 remained: One percent of a thirty thousand man army. But one percent of anything with God by your side is a recipe for success. “Our protection and prosperity does not come from the sword, or microchip or factories,” says Peter J. Daniels, “but from the hand of God.” Is God sending you? Jump from the window and go in the strength you have.

Who Are You And Why Should I Care?

If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. Isaiah 58:10 (NIV)

Listen to Who Are You And Why Should I Care? – He Said

Over the past few months I’ve met with a number of authors seeking to land their first book contract. All have the same question: “How do I build a platform? The editors demand I have one but I’m just a nobody.” These authors are right to be concerned. According to Publisher’s Weekly, “The power of television and celebrity status was obvious [in 2009]: of the top 15 authors, seven have prominent regular media exposure.” Without a compelling reason, few readers will buy a book from an unknown writer, so when I meet with an author I ask: “Why did you write the book? How have you been wounded? Who will be helped or touched by your writing. Figure that out and you’ll have your platform — and your ministry.”

Without doubt we live in a celebrity-driven culture, but platform and prominence is not the exclusive domain of the popular and pretty. Mother Teresa didn’t have a publicity agent and she made a name for herself. William Booth was so burdened by the poor and wretched of London’s East End that he resigned his position as church minister and founded a mission. Today we know Booth’s Salvation Army by the jingle of their bell, not their blog, web site, or social networking reach.

Years prior to Booth and Mother Teresa, a simple carpenter went around the countryside touching the untouchables, consoling the widows, drinking with drunkards, prostitutes, and the insane. He never published a word and yet the message of His “platform” changed the world.

If you’re looking to build your legacy, brand, and platform, consider the benefits of God’s marketing plan. Spend yourself in behalf of others and your light will break forth like dawn (honor and success) healing will appear quickly (sustaining stamina), your righteousness will be before you (no need for a publicity director) and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. (God has your back).

Want to make a name for yourself? Make it your business to help others with the comfort you’ve received from God. Don’t ask, “Who are you and why should I care?” Say instead, “Who are you? I care.”

Abara abracadabra. I wanna reach out and grab ya

For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not? 1 Corinthians 4:7 (NIV)

Listen to What Makes You So Special – He Said

I’m a self-made man… and it shows. It shows in the way I treat my wife when she asks me to go grocery shopping with her and I roll my eyes. It shows when I speak to others with a condescending attitude. It shows in my posture in church when I appear aloof, lost, and bored. I’m a self-made man… in need of repair.

God reminded me of this last Sunday when the pastor disrupted my daydreaming by asking, “What do you have that you did not receive?” He has to be quoting the Apostle Paul, I thought. Only Paul or Yogi Berra would say such a thing. But at that moment God spoke to me. Not in that still small whisper made famous by the prophet Elijah or Saint Augustine, but in the voice of a 70’s rock star. God (sounding a lot like Steve Miller), said, “Abara abracadabra. I wanna reach out and grab ya.”

I looked down at my pants and as I fumbled to turn off my motion-activated iPod, God whispered (and this time in that still small voice). “Oh, and by the way, Eddie, what makes you so special?”

I didn’t have an answer. Not for my smugness or my selfish heart. Certainly not for my cavalier attitude toward worship. All I could mumble in return was, “I dunno, Lord. I guess nothing does.”

In his letter to the Christians in Corinth, Paul warned: “Why do you boast as though you did not receive everything from God?” (The Eddie Translation). The Corinthians thought their importance, position, and power was the result of their efforts. But it wasn’t. All they had and were, came from God.

What makes you special? Is it your education, life experiences, or physical abilities?

Last night I asked several writers what made them special. Here are a few answers: “I perspire but I don’t sweat… I have a unique voice… My message is different from anything you’ve ever heard…I’m a child of God and brother to the King.”

Bingo: Divinely created and a member of the Royal Family.

So… what makes you so special? God and His Son alone. Feeling unloved or loved too much by yourself? Ask God to reach out and grab ya. He’ll make you special in the ways that matter.

Tart Tongue

When your brother is no longer angry with you and forgets what you did to him, I’ll send word for you to come back from there. Why should I lose both of you in one day? Genesis 27:45 TNIV

Listen to Tart Tongue – He Said

We get along fine now, but that wasn’t always the case. She’s older; I’m wiser. I’m still her little brother, though – the one she picked on and put out when she couldn’t put up with my tart tongue.

My sister was a senior when I began high school. Mom forced her to drive me to school. Marji hated it. I think she found me an embarrassment. Can’t blame her. I wasn’t the most malleable brother. One morning we’d barely left the house when I made one smart remark too many. She pulled over and put me out. Told me to walk to school. Nine miles. I don’t remember walking home, so I must’ve flagged down the school bus when it roared past. I never told Mom but I got her back later.

We were on the way to church one morning when Marji hit me in the head with her shoe. I had no idea her aim was so good. I’d never seen her throw anything other than a fit and that was only after Wesley Smith had broken up with her. I awoke on the kitchen floor with Dad telling me to hurry along or we’d be late for Sunday school.

After watching Dark Shadows one afternoon, Marji called Mom, complaining that I’d pulled out all her hair. I forget what prompted that skirmish. I do remember pinning her to the floor and exacting my revenge – for what, I can’t recall.

Esau and Jacob fought, too. Their feud festered until it split the family, Isaac favoring his oldest son, Rebekah protecting Jacob. Years later when God called him to be reconciled to his brother, Jacob feared for his life.

But time, tempered anger, and a loving trust in God’s goodness and mercy heals old wounds. The rift that separated the two brothers was restored by a God whose arms reach across the chasm of bitterness and hurt. God softened Esau’s heart. The pitiful blessing he received from his father, Isaac, blossomed into great wealth. By the time Jacob returned to the family, all Esau lacked was the love of his younger brother.

Marji isn’t the mean sister she once was. In fact, she’s one of my biggest fans, a thing I’d have never thought possible as I stood on the side of that highway that day watching her drive off. In fact, a few years ago the two of us rented a sailboat and sailed around the British Virgin Islands. Folks kept asking if we were married. “To him?” She’d chuckle. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

I love my sister. Even if everyone else deserts me, I know she’ll remain by my side — or at least with me on the side of a highway, or a sailboat, or at a book signing. Thanks for being my sister, Marji. And thanks for only throwing a shoe at my head and not the Sears Christmas Wish List catalog. Who knows how a blow like that would’ve affected my noggin’.

Worst Case Scenarios

When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself, enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is never the worst. Lamentations 3:29 (The Message)

Listen to Worst Case Scenarios – He Said

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked the college admissions officer.

“You could flunk out.”

“Not if you won’t let me in, I can’t. Please, sir, isn’t there some place you can put me?”

I sat in the admissions office at NC State hoping they’d give me a chance. That’s all I needed, just a shot. But a look of disgust spread across the face of the clerk reviewing my transcripts. Months earlier, with SAT scores in the lower latitudes and grades barely above average, my college application had been swiftly dismissed.

“Son, I’d like to help, but honestly; you have no business at this university. Worse, you have no hope of graduating.”

I persisted. (Tenacity was all I had left after he’d insulted my intelligence.) He finally relented, admitting they had a few unfilled slots in the Industrial Arts Program. Art, I thought. I hate art. And painting boring buildings at that.

“Okay,” I said. “Industrial Arts it is.”

Four years later I graduated with a degree in English.

My life remains a series of “worst case scenarios” that never happened. As a professional writer, I’m assured of only one thing: rejection. Each month my wife asks me; “Where’s the work gonna come from?” I never know. But it always does.

And always has.

Despite my caustic personality I spent eighteen years as a paper salesman, three times making the President’s Council. After a career in sales (and even though I could barely spell HTML), IBM hired me to code web pages. When I left Big Blue, I launched my own web design firm even though I knew nothing about running a business. Despite suffering through one of the worst economic periods in the past 50 years, I prospered and eventually sold the business. Each time it looked as if I’d reached a dead-end. I hadn’t.

The Old Testament writer laments: Life is hard. Amen to that! But the writer also coaches us on how to deal with life’s adversities. Seek solitude, pray, don’t doubt God’s goodness, and stop asking “why me, what’s next, and how, when and where, Lord?” We’re to face our difficulties with a full-on, in-your-face tenacity.

Mark Twain once quipped; “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.”

I have, too. And the thing I’ve found after each “dead-end” was the next thing was better than the one before. Each lost job led to better work. Not necessarily better pay (as my wife is quick to remind me), but more fulfilling. I still dream about my prior jobs but when I wake up, I call them what they are: nightmares. I don’t want to “go back” because God is calling me to “come on.”

What “worst-case scenario” looms before you? Don’t run from it. Seek God in silence, voice your concerns, and wait for His strength. Chances are, your “worst case scenario” won’t happen, but if it does, at least you’ll face it with God by your side.

The Forbidden Vine

…each of you is tempted when you are dragged away by your own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death. James 1:14-15

Listen to The Forbidden Vine – He Said

I only brushed against her. And it’s not like I went looking for trouble. She was just there, okay? I was shirtless and oiled with sweat. Not that I’m all that attractive in the buff. I don’t lift weights or crunch abs, but I do swim. Still, it was stupid of me to walk into her yard dressed (undressed) like that.

Now I can’t get her off my mind. The way she felt, the way she clung to me; it’s all I can think about. God, I wish it had never happened. But the itch is there. No matter what I do, it won’t go away. I lay in bed at night with my wife lying next to me and I want to scream as my skin crawls. I’d give anything to walk it back, to rewind that moment. But Ivy’s poison is in my blood, tormenting me.

#

I had a brush with Poison Ivy last Saturday and now I’m paying for it. The resin got on my skin, seeped into my pores, and now red bumps cover my body. I’ve been down this tangled path before and I know how it’ll end–with scabs and scars.

Sin is like Poison Ivy. We brush against it, thinking nothing that’s green and lush and shiny can be that bad. But sin taunts us with its itch and, when it’s full blown, gives birth to death.

I’ve tried anti-itch cream. It helps some but the red bumps still scream to be scratched. Just like the thoughts that race through my head. “Come on, just do it! It’ll feel sooo good!” I wish I had an anti-sin cream. I’d lather in it. But there’s only prudence and common sense, and the instructions of the Grounds Keeper.

“Don’t troll in the garden of temptation. Turn away and cover your eyes when an evil wind blows. Don’t get all puffed up with pride because you think you’re ‘hot stuff.’” (I mean…really. Why should a man my age think he’s anything other than obsolete?)

We can no more wallow in the bed of sin and remain untainted than we can dive into a thicket of Poison Ivy and emerge itch-free.

If you find yourself caught in the tentacles of sin, stop. Back out, hurry home, and wash in the blood of Christ. The sooner you scrub the toxic resin from your body, the better you’ll feel.

Hang Loose with Christ

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:30

Listen to Hang Loose – He Said

Jockey’s Ridge, Nags Head, NC:

Randy fell face first, pitching his hang glider nose into the sand. We laughed, but not too loud. Certainly not loud enough for the other students to hear. But it was funny seeing this pudgy, middle-aged man sprawled on the hot dunes. I imagined back home, when Randy wasn’t vacationing on the Outer Banks, he served on important committees and oversaw the investments of stocks and government bonds. He certainly had the swagger of a man full of confidence.

But Randy couldn’t fly.

A few feet away a young teen slipped his arms through the harness straps and listened intently to his instructor.

“Just run until your feet aren’t touching the ground,” the trainer said. “And whatever you do, don’t jump.”

He didn’t have to add, “like Randy,” but he could’ve. That was Randy’s problem. He would only run a few yards before jumping into the air.

The boy, obedient and trusting, sprinted down the dune, running and leaning forward until… he wasn’t running at all but soaring high. Retrained only by a safety tether the boy glided over the sand, his shadow growing large.

Christ says His yoke is easy, His burden light. The glider’s aluminum frame and angel wings are light enough for a child to carry and not grow weary. But to fly — over the dunes of the Outer Banks — or with Christ above our problems, we need to run as fast as our tiny feet can carry us.

Too often, however, our tendency is to run like Randy and only take a few steps before we grow tired, slow down and lunge for the quick and easy. When we land flat on our face we think Christ has failed us when, in fact, it’s our disobedience that leads to our fall.

The Apostle Paul calls us to run the race of life with perseverance. Christ calls us to harness His power through the yoke of obedience. When we obey these instructions we often find that hanging with Christ isn’t a sacrifice at all. In fact, it’s the most exhilarating thing we can do.

… He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. Matthew 5:45 (New King James Version)

Listen to Sun Showers – He Said

It’s been raining sunshine for almost a month now. The grass is brown—pool bunnies, too. When my wife comes home from work, she complains to (and blames) me that the house is hot. (Though I can’t change the oil in the car or put air in the tires, she thinks I have the power to move planets and regulate the atmosphere.) It’s hot and getting hotter.

Our neighbor’s field of crabgrass suffers the same as my carpeted lawn. Weeds and bent grass bake. Oh Lord, send rain.

I received this email today: “I’m really in need of prayer right now. Received our tax bill today. $2394. Got another bill for $990. Not sure where the money will come from.” Last night I spoke with a friend on the phone. “If I don’t find work by the first of August, we might lose the house.” Oh Lord, send provision.

A friend has cancer, an aunt dementia, and my mom checks into the hospital next week to get her heart tweaked. (She wishes her son would get his heart tweaked and call more often.) Oh Lord, send healing.

Are they good or evil, Lord? I don’t know. But you’ve promised to send rain on the just and unjust so, just this once, can you send your refreshing blessings on all those who are parched, perishing, and perplexed by the unending heat of life?

You promise your Son will rise and rule over the evil and the good. I pray it will be so. But until then, it would be good if we could have some relief from our hurts, hopelessness, and this hellish heat.

Please? Won’t you hear our cry? Rain on us. Reign over us. Shower us with your tears.

Well I Never Been to Spain – He Said

But now that there is no more place for me to work in these regions, and since I have been longing for many years to visit you, I plan to do so when I go to Spain. I hope to see you while passing through and to have you assist me on my journey there, after I have enjoyed your company for a while. Romans 15:23-24

Listen to Well I Never Been to Spain – He Said

To celebrate our wedding anniversary, I DID NOT take my bride of twenty-nine years on a cruise to the Mediterranean. We DID NOT arrive at the Palamos airport, nor were we greeted by surly staff who spoke halting English and seemed shocked—shocked, I say—to learn that the shuttle bus that was to take us to the ship was in the shop having its transmission repaired. “For you I hail a taxi, Señor. Yes? (Hail yes, por favor!)

We MISSED dinner with the Captain, First Mate, Second Mate, third base coach and the rest of the cruise ship’s starting lineup. We also MISSED the midnight buffet, the 3 a.m. buffet, the 6 a.m. pre-breakfast buffet, the 9 a.m. breakfast buffet, the 10 a.m. post-breakfast buffet, 11 a.m. brunch buffet and 12 p.m. lunch buffet. We DID NOT live in close proximity with thousands of people who were eating hastily prepared food made in a kitchen contaminated with the norovirus (food poisoning). (How can the help possibly keep the kitchen clean when they’re cooking all the time?) We MISSED the “shopping lectures,” the “beach bash” attended by hundreds of vomiting cruise ship passengers, and the historical “infomercials” sponsored by local tour guides who’d paid large sums of money to entice the cruise ship to stop in their tiny cesspool port.

We missed Spain, but just barely. Had I a real job with a real paycheck I might have booked a cabin on the promenade deck for my wife. (She so wants to see Europe. Won’t you please help? Send checks and donations to: Christian Devotions Ministries – P.O. Box…)

Paul missed Spain, too.

According to scholars and A LOT of Internet bloggers who, by the way, insist on spelling Ephesus with an “f” and an “a,” Paul was in Corinth when he wrote Romans. Paul explains in his letter that he hopes to sail to Rome and visit his friends before hitting the white-sand beaches of Barcelona. I get the impression from Paul’s letter that he was looking to retire to the coast, possibly purchase a cabana with wrap-around-porch and write a memoir of his missionary work in Asia. There is no more place for me to work in these regions.

My wife would like to retire, too. She wishes I’d take her on a trip—or at least out to dinner. But I remind her that traveling can be dangerous. On Paul’s passage to Rome he was caught in a storm, went fourteen days without food, was shipwrecked and left cold and wet on a beach in Malta (a suburb of Gozo). While building a fire on the beach, a large, poisonous snake with deadly sharp fangs (and who would later appear as a key character in a Harry Potter book), latched onto Paul’s arm. Paul survived the snakebite but not the Roman justice system.

What’s the point? Retirement is not a word you’ll find in God’s kingdom, so careful what you plan and carefully plant where you are. It could be that the boring rut you call your daily life  may someday produce a harvest beyond your wildest dreams. It did for Paul. It can for you.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. Jeremiah 29: 11& 12

Listen to Plan Man – He Said

Oh man, I planned you before the creation of the world; planned for you to walk with me in the cool of the day. But you loved a lie more than the truth so I made for you a new plan, one that would redeem you from your wandering. I came to you in dreams and visions and whispered my plan to you, but you refused to listen and were carried into bondage. Because you worshiped the god of gold, wood, and stubble, you lived as an alien in a foreign land. When you acknowledged the futility of your plan, you called to me and I came. You prayed and I listened.

I showed you my glory and delivered you from slavery, warming you at night and cooling you by day. I gave you my law and prophets, but you grumbled against me. I fed and clothed you and led you into a land of promise. But you, oh man, you preferred the lie of spies to the truth of liberty. I gave you cities you did not build and lands you did not plow-and still you refused my rest.

I allowed you to be taken captive. And when you cried out to me, I listened, drawing you to me. Still you would not be held, refused to be consoled. You returned to my land a stiff-necked rebel. And, when you were secure in your walled cities and fat on the grain you did not plant, you cast aside my plan.

So I sent my Son – my only Son. Perhaps they will listen to Him, I thought. But you preferred violence to peace, your pride to my service. You killed my Boy but not my plan.

And now, oh man, your end is near. Frail and broken, your eyes dim, ears strain to hear the laughter of children. With dry lips you gasp for your next breath. Listen, oh man, if you can. Hear my words. I have a plan – a plan to nourish you and not harm you – a plan to give you hope and a future. My plan is good, because I am good. Come near to me, oh man, and I will whisper once more. Pray to me and hear my words.

I love you, man. That’s my plan – and all you need to know.