It was so sad to hear of the passing of the incredibly talented singer Mandisa. I remembered a duet from Mandisa and TobyMac that touched me deeply. They addressed the heartbreaking issue of racism and political division that affects our culture and often impacts the church. These lyrics immediately grabbed my heart. Are you left?Are you right?Pointing fingers, taking sidesWhen are we gonna realize? We all bleed the sameWe’re more beautiful when we come togetherWe all bleed the sameSo tell me why, tell me whyWe’re divided. Why indeed? I am praying for another leader like Martin Luther King Jr who will remind us that hateful rhetoric never, ever, ever changes a heart. Followers of Christ have a message of hope and light that is desperately needed. But we can get caught up in the politics of our world and snuff out that light. I have been guilty of that in my journey at times. I fear our culture will get darker in
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Regular readers of these humble ramblings (all tens of you) know what an over the top dog lover I am. I shared this illustration in my book Stay:Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace. A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, “Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.” Very quietly, the doctor said, “I don’t know.” “You don’t know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other side?” The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side of which came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was
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I talk about grace so much that the auto-suggest on my phone pops up the word as soon as I hit “G”. I suspect that sometimes you faithful readers wish I would mix up my topics. The truth is I cannot. Understanding grace rocked my spiritual world and changed my walk with God in dramatic and wonderful ways. I regularly extol the virtues of grace for a follower of Jesus. Grace compels you to trust others with you. Grace compels you to trust Jesus with your sin because you can’t manage it yourself. Grace compels you to forgive because you have been forgiven. Grace compels you to accept others and not judge them. Grace compels you to move toward the unlovable and not away. Grace compels you to sacrifice when you desire security. Grace compels you to love when your heart is hateful. Grace compels you to trust Jesus out of overflowing gratitude. The amazing thing about God’s grace is
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Texas seasons can be brutal for plants and trees. Last summer the heat and lack of rain impacted a new tree Joni and I had planted that spring. A deep winter freeze added to the struggle. As spring began we were not sure if our tree had survived. Day after day the limbs were barren. Then one glorious day tiny buds began to appear on the branches. These green buds sprouted in defiance of summer and winters brutal assault. I stopped and meditated on the miracle of life emerging out of barrenness. I thought of the words of philosopher Bernard Williams. “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring.” I love that. Is there anything more hopeful than watching the beauty of budding leaves and blooming flowers turning the melancholy of winter into a wondrous palette of invigorating colors? Every spring is a reminder that God will bring beauty from darkness and life from death.
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Putting together a roster in major league baseball that makes the playoffs is incredibly difficult. The 162 game season is a brutal grind. There can be lots of friction during that long regular season. Even the best teams can have embarrassing performances. Players and teams have hot and cold streaks. Obviously the most important ingredient is talent but there are a couple of other factors that help make a winning franchise. One of the most important things that winning teams understand is that every teammate brings strengths and weaknesses to the team. A great team celebrates the strengths of each player and works together to offset the weaknesses. I pondered this as I was reading about the career of New York Yankee player Joe Gordon. In 1942 Gordon led the American League in strikeouts. He made more errors that year than any other second baseman. He hit into more double plays than anyone in the league. By dwelling on those stats we could
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There is much written about Good Friday. The sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is incomprehensible to my puny human intellect. There is much written about Easter Sunday. Christians around the world rejoice and proclaim that “He is risen!”. But there is not nearly as much written about one of the saddest and most confusing days in history. The Saturday between the Friday horror of Jesus on the Cross and the Sunday mystery of the resurrection. Some churches do observe Holy Saturday but it was never a tradition in my faith upbringing. I have been thinking about what that day must have been like for those who dropped everything to follow Jesus. How crushing those events had to be. I imagine the fear they felt that they would also be killed. And for what? On Saturday they feared they had given their careers and their very souls for a false hope. I think in particular of Peter. I identify
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In my mind there is no more special day in sports than Opening Day in baseball. It is an annual rite of Spring to post this article on the magic of Opening Day. The smell of freshly cut emerald green grass delights the senses. The base lines painstakingly and perfectly defined by a grounds crew that is committed to perfection on this day. Red, white, and blue bunting give the ball park a festive World Series look. The players bounce around like little boys. They seem a little extra grateful that they are paid to play a kid’s game. The hot dogs taste like gourmet food. Humphrey Bogard wisely said that “a hot dog at the ballpark is better than a steak at the Ritz”. Souvenirs a young fan begs for become treasures to be kept until adulthood. And then it becomes a challenge to explain to your wife why a twenty-five-year old bobble head needs to be in the
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