Many historians believe that 1968 was one of the most turbulent years in American history. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated. Race riots and Vietnam war protests created massive unrest. International peace was unsettled as the USSR invaded Czechoslovakia. A bestselling book by entomologist Paul Ehrlich called the Population Bomb predicted that overpopulation would lead to hundreds of millions of people starving and there was nothing we could do about it. In the Christian world a movie called Thief in the Night came out with a frightening story about the rapture and tribulation. I didn’t sleep well for weeks because I did not want to get left behind. My parents thought the end was near. I was 15 years old. The news was terrifying. I was a new Christian and I had virtually no discipling for what faith in God meant when confronting fears. I didn’t know if I would get a chance to drive, vote, get
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One of my peers recently noted that “getting old is not for sissies”. Indeed. Even if you escape personal difficulties you will undoubtedly have family and friends who are going through physical, emotional and spiritual trials. One of the songs that I default to when I am walking through valleys with others is from singer/composer Rich Mullins. The song is from his CD called Songs and it is simply titled “Hold Me Jesus”. Well, sometimes my lifeJust don’t make sense at allWhen the mountains look so bigAnd my faith just seems so small Right now I am in a pretty good place in my life and journey with Jesus. But then I started thinking about the many friends and loved ones who could relate completely to those lyrics in their current situation. And I can certainly remember seasons of my life when those words accurately reflected the condition of my soul. And I wake up in the night and feel the darkIt’s so hot inside my
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As I celebrated birthday number 70 last week a song fired up from Kenny Chesney. In the lyrics an interviewer asks a man celebrating his one hundred and second birthday about his secret to life. His response? Don’t blink He talks about how life seems to be a blink from childhood to reaching the century mark. I’m still a ways from the century mark though my shoulder feels that old this morning. It seems like just yesterday that I was playing sandlot baseball as a kid. Moments ago I was in high school being Attention Deficit before ADD was cool. Just yesterday I met the stunning Joni Banks and somehow talked her into dating me. Wasn’t it just weeks ago that three adorable baby boys came into our lives? Don’t blink. Married almost 47 years. Five decades of directing live TV sporting events. Seven grandchildren. Are you kidding me? I have had, if I may borrow the franchise of Frank Capra,
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One of my favorite lessons from Stay came while rescued Lab Maggie and I traversed the usual path. She sniffed and I listened to a podcast as we paced briskly through a Texas morning. She spotted something and moved toward the curb. My eye caught something at the same time, and I jerked violently on her leash to pull her toward me. She looked surprised, puzzled at what she had done wrong for such a harsh correction from me. The truth was that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Some knucklehead had shattered a beer bottle and a jagged piece was right in her path. She could have been seriously cut by the razor-sharp glass. I was thankful I had spotted it, but I could see that my action confused Maggie. I needed to assure her that my unexpected reaction was not punitive but entirely out of concern for her. I immediately dropped down to my knee, scratched Maggie’s ears, and
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I am a big fan of restaurant to go boxes. When I am full I can pack up the leftovers and be nourished again later. Recently I have adopted the “to go box” strategy when I go to church. I very intentionally pray for something I can pack away and take home that will nourish me spiritually and emotionally for the rest of the week. It is fascinating how God has honored that prayer by giving me something to put in my spiritual to go box each week. This week my to go box got filled during adult Bible class. We are going through the Old Testament book of 1st Samuel and the story of Hannah was discussed. Hannah was the wife of Elkanah who was married to a second wife named Peninnah. Elkanah seemed to emotionally favor Hannah but there was a problem. She was unable to bear children. That was a crushing burden to bear and especially when
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One of the most valuable spiritual lessons from my rescued Labrador Hannah was the genesis of my book Stay. I had just stumbled through the back door from an all-night flight in the spring of 2011 when I noticed something was amiss with Hannah. Normally she would celebrate my arrival with a wild, exuberant, spinning dance accompanied by a vibrating, thumping tail. This time, her greeting was subdued, her gait slow, and her soulful eyes dull. Joni and I immediately knew that something was wrong. Even though she seemed slightly better as the day wore on, we made an appointment with the vet just to make sure. A suspicious growth on her spleen and fluid in her stomach signaled a grim prognosis. On Monday morning, we went to a specialist who confirmed the diagnosis. Dr. Carmenn Woolley explained the sad options we faced. Hannah had a splenic tumor which, given her age, would likely be malignant. Our choices were less
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I have been doing this church thing for a lot of years. I have sung hundreds of songs over the five decades or so that I have been a follower of Jesus. Some songs have great meaning to me. Some lyrics moved me to deep worship of God. Some times I really meant what I was singing. Other times I was singing through the motions while thinking about lunch and when the kick off was going to happen. Sometimes a song would make me really squirm. One song in that category was recorded by the legendary George Beverly Shea in 1932. The words were from a poem written by Mrs.Rhea Miller in 1922. Shea recalled the moment. At the age of twenty-three, I was living at home with my parents, continuing to work at Mutual Life Insurance and studying voice. Going to the piano one Sunday morning, I found a poem waiting for me there. I recognized my mother’s handwriting. She
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