12.05.06

Florence

Posted in Uncategorized on December 5th, 2006 at 1:13 pm by Greg England

Each Sunday after church, anywhere from a half dozen to twenty-five or more of our members will converge on the local Arby’s just a block south of the building and pretty much take over the place. I’ve yet to figure out the appeal of Arby’s, but then I’ve not found a fast-food joint that really impressed me. But I do enjoy the fellowship off-campus.

And each Sunday, sitting in the same place, eating the exact same meal, is a small, frail-looking, white haired lady who seems to enjoy watching our crowd.

Months ago, my wife and I arrived too late to get a seat with the church crowd, so we sat just behind the little lady. We cordially said, "Hello" to her, awaiting our meal. She engaged us in conversation … wanting to know who all those people were that came in each week. We moved from the table behind her to the seats beside her and enjoyed lunch with her that day. She introduced herself as Florence.

Since then, we’ve made it a point to go to Arby’s for lunch at least one day each week. Not that we like Arby’s, but that we enjoy the friendship of Florence. She’s been eating there for over 30 years and is an icon. Absolutely refuses to let anyone pay for her lunch. Stubbornly independent. But a sweetheart of a lady. If she goes a day or two without coming in, the manager of Arby’s, Margarita, will call her on the phone to check up on her.

We’ve come to know a lot about her, her life, her family, and her passion for a clean lawn! She lives on Olive Street, which is lined on both sides with magnificent jacaranda trees that spread out over the pavement with a purple canopy each year when the trees are in bloom. Otherwise, they provide a wonderful shade for residents and drivers. I will often drive down Olive Street just to enjoy the beauty of those trees.

But our friend finds in those trees a reason to go outside each morning. She rakes leaves. Her leaves. Her neighbor’s leaves. And the leaves out on the street. Then she comes to Arby’s to sit, relax, and slowly eat her lunch. The conversation is always the same … how much the leaves have covered her lawn. That her neighbors never rake the leaves out of their yards, so she has to do it for them lest they blow into her yard. Then she cleans them out of the street in front of her house. Each day, same routine.

And each day we eat lunch with her, we hear the same story. Then she will point out different people in the restaurant and tell us about them. Same people. Same stories. She’s become so close to us that she now will even pull some pranks on us. Like holding the door when we try to open it. The other day, she came back to the table with some napkins and "goosed me" in the side with her finger. "Gotcha!" I jumped and she laughed like a teenager. She told me, "I got you good, didn’t I? I would only do that to someone I love."

But in time, she has shared some of her burdens and we’ve prayed with her and share with her what’s going on in our lives and in our church family. Florence has become a dear friend. And on those days we drop in and she’s not there, I wonder about her. Is she okay? Is there anything we can do for her?

In many ways, we have a closer fellowship with Florence than we do many who attend our church. We love on her and she loves on us. There’s nothing better in life than the love of another person. Love given and received. And one never knows where that love might be found. Even in an Arby’s on any given day.

Permalink 4 Comments

11.29.06

Carolyn

Posted in Uncategorized on November 29th, 2006 at 1:13 pm by John Dobbs

This is from Al Sturgeon’s Blog post of November 28.

I discreetly pulled out my camera after climbing in my car, turned off the flash, and snapped a picture of Carolyn as she went back to her daily work without her knowing. I did not want her to think she was some sort of display, but after our conversation, I also did not want to forget.

I go to Biloxi every couple of weeks to visit my friend, Hezekiah, in the nursing home. Hezekiah is a disabled black man in his late 60s – disabled both mentally and physically – and Hezekiah is a hoot. He spends his days coloring in magazines and listening to his radio, with occasional interruptions for his harmonica and smoking breaks. He generally cheers me up when I visit, and today was no exception. We talked about Christmas approaching, and he renewed his constant desire for a “jew harp.” I have no idea what he is talking about. Oh, I know what a “Jew’s harp” is – actually bought one once upon a time for Hezekiah, but when he saw it he didn’t have a clue what I had given him. So who knows… In addition, he’s interested in a football this year, too. One he could kick. The nurses will love that…

I also visited with Mr. Flowers on the way in and on the way out. He cheers me up, too. He also sits in a wheelchair, but he has a lot more going on upstairs than Hezekiah. He always wants me to say a prayer for him, something I’m glad to do. Today was no exception.

When I made it back to my car today, there was a lady working hard in the nursing home yard, picking up trash, and piling up pinecones. As is normal for me, I said something to catch her attention – “You’ve got a never-ending job, don’t you?” I said as I began to step into my car. She responded as I put one foot in, and this unleashed a 20-minute conversation in that position.

I learned a lot about Carolyn while I stood there, and I’m glad I did. She walks around with her body a bit hunched and noticeably leaning to one side. This was explained when she informed me that her ex-husband had taken out a lot of life insurance on her and then threw her out of a moving pickup truck. She lost one of her ears on the fall. But she thanks God that she’s alive today. Carolyn has five children, all adults now. They come and visit her every now and then at the nursing home, and she loves them dearly. If she could have one wish, she told me she’d live somewhere where she could see them every day. But she thanks God that she was able to raise them.

Carolyn spends her days picking up trash and pinecones from the front yard of the nursing home. It is a never-ending job, but it is one she takes pride in. Her bedroom window faces this yard, and though Atkinson Road is a popular road for litter it seems, and although the trees continually shed themselves in this yard, it makes her feel so good to be able to clean it up enough to look out each morning and see it looking clean. She thanks God that her health is such that she can spend her day picking up the trash. And what was it again that I have to complain about? I told Carolyn not to work too hard, and she told me she wouldn’t. She was about to take a break for a while, but when I left she took her bucket and went after a few more pieces of trash before sitting for a spell.

Carolyn is quite the metaphor for life I believe. All of us damaged creatures get up to face the world as seen through our bedroom window every morning. And if we could just have the blessing of being able to pick up the trash we see cluttering up our part of the world, and if we could just have enough breath and life to make it through that day, and if we have been able to touch a few lives along the way… Then we have a lot to be thankful for.

Permalink 3 Comments

11.21.06

Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted in Uncategorized on November 21st, 2006 at 6:21 pm by Dee O'Neil Andrews

Permalink Comments

11.16.06

Meet Maryann

Posted in Uncategorized on November 16th, 2006 at 2:21 pm by Bill Williams

by Bll Williams 

Her name is Maryann. I once attended a class in Advanced First-Aid and Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, which she presented with reassuring confidence. Her poise was developed over thirty years as an emergency medical services worker, coupled with more than a decade as an EMS instructor. Not only has she saved hundreds of lives, she has also trained thousands of others to save lives. Thus, hers was not a mere academic presentation of procedures. She had first-hand knowledge of what really mattered when life and death were on the line. She captivated our attention.

Something she repeated numerous times has been replaying in my mind. As she reviewed each phase of the CPR skills, Maryann would say in a deliberate and firm voice, “Do something! Anything you do is better than nothing at all. They’re going to die if you don’t do something!” After providing us with a base of knowledge and skills upon which to act, she was urging us to take life-saving action! Since last Tuesday night, when I attended the class, many spiritual applications of this admonition have been running through my mind. Let me share a few.

As Christ’s disciples, we are on a life-saving mission. To be precise, it’s more like a life-giving mission. The terrible tragedy of sin is not just that it is present in the world; but, it is present in every person’s life. According to Ephesians 2:1, each sinful soul is “dead” in “transgressions and sins.” Thus, the urgency is underscored. The spiritual death certificate has been signed. Eternal destiny, though, is yet to be decided. Thankfully, Christ died for our sins once for all—the righteous for the unrighteous—to bring us to God (1 Peter 3:18). Sinners can be “made alive with Christ” even though they “were dead in transgressions” (Eph. 2:5). Now that’s good news!

Christians have been commissioned by Christ to share this Good News. The base of knowledge from which we are to operate is already in place. For if you know enough to be a Christian, then you know enough to tell another person how to become a Christian. We must not overlook the urgency of the matter at hand. Indeed, if we listen with our hearts, I’m persuaded we can hear Jesus calling out to His present-day squad of rescue workers in a clarion voice, “Do something!”

From the EMS trainer’s point-of-view, the urgency of the admonition to do something decisive stems from experiencing the severe consequence of indecision and inaction. Lives have been lost simply because no one took the initiative. Everyone was thinking that someone was doing something when, in reality, no one was doing anything.

How many times has the curse of indecision and neglect hampered our efforts to rescue the perishing? Have our good intentions and good works been thwarted by analysis paralysis? How many life-giving missions have been missed, while members of the body of Christ debated over methodology and missiology? When a heart attack victim is lying unconscious on the floor in front of us, NOW is the time for decisive action! They are going to die if we don’t do something! When it comes to sharing the Good News, it is time for us to recognize that we are surrounded by a veritable sea of sin-sick souls who desperately need to hear the life-giving Gospel of Christ. We must do something!

One more thing. As I sat listening to Maryann’s expert presentation, scenes from past filled my memory. It was over twenty-six years ago that I first learned CPR. In fact, a quarter of a century ago, while serving as a Hospital Corpsman in the U.S. Navy, I became a paramedic in California. I was even certified to teach CPR to Marines with whom I served. But, I let my credentials expire. So, I needed to be taught again the elementary principles of First-Aid and CPR.

The principle in force is: If you don’t use it, you lose it! In this regard Paul said to Philemon, “I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ” (Philemon 6). As life-saving skills are kept current through practice, so, also, is our understanding of the Gospel enhanced through the sharing of our faith. Each time we share the Good News we are, in a way, being recertified in the faith in order that we might be prepared, when confronted with an opportunity to share our faith to DO SOMETHING!

By the way, Maryann is a Messianic Jew, who also loves to talk about her Lord, Y’shua.

© Bill Williams
October 27, 2005

Previously posted under the title of "Do Something! Anything Is Better Than Nothing!" at the Spiritual Oasis

Permalink 2 Comments

11.14.06

Spirit-Control

Posted in Uncategorized on November 14th, 2006 at 12:02 pm by Bobby Valentine

Spirit Control

Permalink 1 Comment

11.07.06

Grace in the Streets of the City

Posted in Uncategorized on November 7th, 2006 at 10:32 am by Ray Fleming

This past weekend, my wife Gale, my son Joe and I traveled to Chicago to celebrate Joe’s tenth birthday.

After a week of indecision and some budgetary wrangling, everything fell together and we left Friday afternoon right after school got out. We drove four hours and then putted through the construction on the Dan Ryan expressway. My son, Joe’s, first view of Chicago was from the west, at night. I know the sight impressed me even though it wasn’t my first viewing and, above it all, I was driving. It is difficult and dangerous to both drive and gawk in Chicago.

We skirted by the city and drove to our hotel out by O’Hare airport.

Next morning, rather than dealing with city traffic and parking hassles, we boarded the Blue Line train at Rosemont to go downtown. According to the clerk at the hotel, we were to get off the train at the Jackson stop. No problem. Then we were to catch a bus on State Street that would take us to the Shedd Aquarium. But the stairs to the street on Jackson were under construction. We needed to emerge from the subway using a different exit. After winding our way through a tunnel—guided by little handwritten cardboard signs with arrows saying “this way”—we found another exit and came up somewhere on Dearborn Street. I was immediately disoriented. All of the information I had gleaned from staring at the map while on the train was completely drained out of my head.

“Where are we?” asked Gale.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s walk this way.”

We started walking—I wasn’t sure where—and came to a street corner. A train screeched by on the “El.” Joe’s head was bent straight back trying to see through the buildings to the sky. Gale held Joe’s hand so tightly—as she mentioned later—that Joe had “claw marks” in his palm. We passed a beggar holding a paper cup half-filled with coins, mostly pennies. He mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear over the noise of the street. I stopped. He looked up and caught my eye. I smiled at him. He smiled, nodded, winked and then turned towards some other people coming down the street. We continued around the corner looking at street signs trying to get our bearings.

I should say at this point that I spent my childhood growing up on Detroit’s east side. Gale grew up on Detroit’s west side. We learned, at a very young age, to be suspicious, cautious because the city was dangerous, and downtown in any city was the locus of danger. We transferred this hermeneutic of suspicion from the streets of Detroit to the streets of Chicago. That there are major differences between the two cities was of little concern.

But are the differences that starkly drawn?

I remember once, a couple of years ago, after taking Joe to a Tiger’s baseball game at Comerica Park, leaving the stadium from a different gate than where we entered. I got turned around, disoriented and started walking, trying to find something that looked familiar. I passed a street corner where a young man approached me and asked, “Is everything all right?” I lied to him and said everything was fine because I didn’t want him to know that I was temporarily lost. I was suspicious and scared and drawing upon all I learned about danger that lurked in darkened street corners on downtown streets. Forget that the young man’s voice was kind. Forget that we were standing in front of a church. Forget that we looked like outsiders—Joe was holding his big foam finger—not used to walking the streets of downtown Detroit at night. I walked a few more blocks, my heart in my throat, and finally found my way back to where I needed to be.

This day in Chicago was a bit different. There were lots of people everywhere. As we walked by the downtown campus of DePaul University and a law school and passed under the elevated train tracks and listened to the noise and confusion and watched the hustle and bustle of people walking briskly to wherever they were going, our pace slowed again. We stopped to look around. And there on that same street corner stood that same beggar we had passed only five minutes earlier.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“State Street,” answered Gale.

He pointed. “It’s just over there, by that light.”

“Thank you,” we said, but he was already arranging his pack, acting as though he would move on.

We walked to State Street and Gale found the bus stop where we waited for the bus that would take us to the museum campus.

It was a little thing, just one point of the hand and a nod of the head. The elapsed time of the interchange was probably less than 30 seconds. He would not remember us, at all, ever. But I will never forget him.

As I sat on the bus I thought that street people know how to live by grace. They live by grace day-in and day-out. We’re no different. I’m sure that the suspicion we were taught as kids was well warranted. The dangers of the streets are real; we read about people every day who are struck down by dangers that well up from the street. But there, in the middle of it, amidst the noise, confusion and suspicion, are people placed and guided by the same spirit, who ask a simple question, point their hand, nod their head, and give the same grace they live to receive.

Permalink 7 Comments

11.06.06

Sunrise - Sunset; A Spitfire and A Gentle Ben

Posted in Uncategorized on November 6th, 2006 at 12:07 am by Bill Williams

 One of my favorite people that I’ve actually never had the privilege to meet is a fellow-blogger named Kathy. I know that some of the readers of Grace Notes have visited her blog: beauangel’s world. If her blog is new to you I hope that you will visit her often. Kathy is a loving, gracious and very wise person. I am certain that you’ll be blessed each time you stop by.

A recent post at beauangel’s world caught my eye. It seemed like something that would fit very well here at Grace Notes. I asked for and received Kathy’s permission to post it here. Please overlook the first couple of sentences. It really isn’t my intention to call attention to my post. Instead, I hope you will be amazed, as I was, by the two precious souls Kathy writes about. They are two people whose lives seem to epitomize the whole idea behind Grace Notes Ministries.

Now, read and enjoy…

— — — — —

 Our dear brother in Him, Bill - wrote a beautiful entry on his blog regarding senior citizen believers - drawing a lovely allegory between them and gorgeous sunsets. That entry prompted the following.

We who are living those sunsets of life also are aware of the sailors’ weather prognostication ditty:

“Red in the morning, sailor - take warning!
But,

Red at night, is a sailor’s delight!”

My only grandparents [paternal] weathered 60+ years of a Sunrise-Sunset marriage.

My grandmother was the red sunrise of impending storms. She had a gargantuan-sized temper and spirit housed in a mirage; appearing 6 feet tall, when in reality she was 4′9". She didn’t give into the sunset time of life until she reached 103 years. At that age, In October 1989 she called her kids and all the grandkids, she could find to make her announcement. [She missed calling most of her great and great-great grandkids]

"I’m going home to Jesus tonight, so wanted to tell you goodbye."

She then bathed, washed her hair, applied makeup, donned her prettiest lacy nightgown and bed jacket, laid down to sleep and went home to Jesus.

As a young bride she "converted" from the Methodist church to the Church of Christ. It was over a century ago, at the very beginning of the baby 20th century. The local Methodists didn’t take to her treason. They tried her for heresy. We have giggled about my sassy grandma being tried for anything. Who would dare do such a thing, braving her famous temper? LOL

She was the only person I’ve ever known that could attack a rocking chair, especially when she propelled herself out of one, seemingly being rocketed up to 10 feet in the air - to land on her feet halfway across the room. It was not unusual for the heavy wooden rocking chair to travel backwards, somersaulting into the opposite corner of the room when she decided to leave its confines.

My grandfather on the other hand, was the serene sunset - never raising his rich, deep bass voice to a living soul, only in praise and prayer to his LORD. I thought he was Santa with his pure white hair, sparkling blue eyes, and little round belly that actually did jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

He loved his family, especially his grandkids. I was his "Kat". My happiest times were riding with my grandad on his horse-drawn buggy as he made his rounds as the rural postman. He had a car, but didn’t really trust it, preferring the quiet meditative time in the buggy.

My grandad lived the sunset all his life. He was gentle, always arising just before sunrise and sound asleep right at sunset. He attended to their farm animals, the large vegetable gardens, bringing their harvest to my grandmother, who in turn filled their storm cellar with row upon row of her home canned veggies and fruits from their fields, as well as salted meats.

Well, I should say he lived the sunset MOST of his life. One New Year’s Eve I made my traditional call to them to wish them a Happy New Year. It really had always been a call to my grandmother because my grandad would already be asleep. But this night, she was in a full snit.

"That old man in there won’t go to bed. Ever since the television came into this house I don’t have anytime to myself, [meaning no time to have her daily dip of snuff.] That old man won’t turn the dern thing off and GO TO BED!"

She always held to the fantasy that my grandad knew nothing of her snuff habit. No matter that he bought it, hid it in her secret hiding place and never said another word about it, and she never questioned the fact her snuff stash never seemed to dwindle. What does that remind us of, I wonder? They were so dear!!

Sunday mornings my grandad was in white shirt and tie, dress pants and fedora. Bible under his arm he’d take off early in the buggy, leaving us to arrive much later in the car. His was a quiet committed love of God and he lived a grace-filled life with seemingly no effort - it was just him - just his way.

His last days on earth were spent in semi-awareness - in almost a walking coma. But to the day of his death, he got up from bed, came to the supper table, and gave thanks to God and my grandmother for the meal. He’d move the food around on his plate, touching his lips with maybe a morsel or two of food. After dessert he’d then fold his napkin, and as was his lifetime habit, he’d reach out to the meat platter, take a sliver of meat, eat it, bow his head again thanking God for the delicious meal and my grandmother for preparing it, then he would return to his bed.

That last day, Fathers’ Day 1960, the doctor called us into his room to say goodbye. My grandmother went to the far side of the bed, took his hand, reached down to his beautiful face and whispered her love for her life partner. He looked at her, half raising his head toward her saying, "I’ve always loved you, Molly!" - laid his head back on the pillow and slipped into the arms of Jesus. In that moment of farewell they seemed to return to their youth. I witnessed a 16-year old bride lovingly kissing her 23-year old groom goodbye. It was one of the most precious moments in my life.

I’ve been so blessed by their example and dedication to their God - Molly and Hub - she a spitfire first generation Dutch, he a hard working, God-loving gentle Ben from Spur, Texas.
My beloved and sorely missed - Sunrise-Sunset grandparents.

— — — — —

Originally posted at: beauangel’s world

Permalink 5 Comments

11.01.06

Can You be Mistaken for Jesus?

Posted in Uncategorized on November 1st, 2006 at 4:18 pm by Dee O'Neil Andrews

Contributed by Dee Andrews 

A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago . They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night’s dinner.

In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these  salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples. Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly missed boarding.

All but one.

He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings, and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned.

He told his buddies to go on without him, waved goodbye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor. He was glad he did.

The 16 year old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping and no one to care for her plight.

The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.

When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl,

"Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay?"

She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, "I hope we didn’t spoil your day too badly." As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, "Mister….." He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes.

She continued, "Are you Jesus?"

He stopped in mid-stride, and he wondered. Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: "Are you Jesus?"

Do people mistake you for Jesus? That’s our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world (shopping, working, reacting to others that are serving us) that is blind to His love, life and grace.

If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would.

Knowing Him is more than simply quoting Scripture and going to church.

It’s actually living the Word as life unfolds day to day.

You are the apple of His eye even though we, too, have been bruised by
a fall. He stopped what He was doing and picked you and me up on a hill
called Calvary and paid in full for our damaged fruit.

Let us live like we are worth the price He paid.

Author Unknown 

Permalink 5 Comments

10.27.06

A Testimony To The Power of Prayer

Posted in Uncategorized on October 27th, 2006 at 10:35 am by John Dobbs

This is a note of thanks by Bay St. Louis, Mississippi minister Charlie Buckley. Contained within is a beautiful and powerful testimony to the awesome power of prayer. I love Charlie, and I wanted to share this as a tribute to God’s grace.  john dobbs

    I want to thank you all for the kind and compassionate words of encouragement and prayers concerning my darling wife. Olive was having problems with her heart rhythm, creating a tightness in her chest and making her feel like she was going to pass out. We went to the hospital on Monday afternoon and she was admitted. They ran a heart echo and a stress test on her. We got the results today and they let her come home. They stated that whenever this attack came on she would pass a pvc every two beats {Bigeminy}. They stated that there was no urgent danger as her heart was able to correct on its own. If the attacks come more frequent or last longer, she will have see the doctor again. They said that if it comes to it they feel that she can be treated with medication to keep it under control. We took this very serious as all of her grandparents, parents, a brother and numerous aunts and uncles all died with heart attacks or strokes.
   
  I was talking with her this morning and asked her how does it feel to know that her name was carried before our Father by THOUSANDS OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN CHRIST ACROSS THIS GREAT NATION?"  With tears it her eyes, she could only say "great" We talked about James’ statement "…The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." {James 5:16}. If the prayer of one righteous man avails…what about the prayer of so many of God’s precious children.
 
    We are firm believers in prayer and have witnessed so many answered prayers. Our daughter was born when Olive had Toxemia, she had been literally packed in ice because her temperature was so high. The doctors tried to get us to abort Charlie Jr. due to complications; David our youngest was born with spinal meningitis and we were told that he would be a couch potato, never be able to play any sports or go to school. Amy is a successful business woman with a great husband and three children, Charlie excelled in sports in and out of school and has a job with NAVO at Stennis Space Center, David has excelled academically and athletically and is currently going to college with a soccer scholarship, just received a scholarship for Frisbee golf (?) and will try to walk on the baseball team next season. David is focusing his career on forensic science. All three of our children were recipients on many awards from there classmates and teachers and scholarships. I am in remission with an incurable kidney disease after being told I had no hope, and the latest prayers answered were for my loving wife. 
 
    It is with the utmost sincerity that I thank you for your going to our heavenly Father with me, my wife, our children and grand children in fervent prayer. Do I believe that it is by chance that we have been so blessed… no one in a million life times could come close to causing us to doubt the gracious, merciful power of prayer.     

Permalink 2 Comments

10.26.06

Reaching Goals

Posted in Uncategorized on October 26th, 2006 at 5:38 pm by Bill Williams

There they were. Three young people playing basketball. What fun they were having! Laughing. Jumping. They were hot doggin’ it with visions of greatness in their minds. WNBA, here we come!

I started counting their shots. One. Two. Three. Finally, a shot cleared the rim. It rattled around the rim; and, then, fell through the ragged net. Shouts of joy followed, along with hand slappin’ and high fives for everyone. Was that a cat I saw fleeing the celebrative scene?

They kept playing. I continued to count. Two shots out of ten trickled through the net. That’s only twenty percent. No basketball coach worth his salt would be satisfied with that. Soon the count reached four out of sixteen. Now, that’s a little better. Then I stopped counting and started thinking. Those youngsters have a lot to teach us about reaching goals. Just think about it.

First, they weren’t afraid to miss! In fact, missing the goal was their specialty. Still, they just kept shooting. I wonder, how many of us never tackle challenges for fear of failure?

Second, they were having fun! While their statistics were poor, they were still enjoying the game. In reality, they barely had the strength to get the ball up to the rim, much less over it and through the net. They were together, though, having a wonderful time. Isn’t it tragic how we so often make ourselves miserable over the things we can’t do, rather than enjoying the game?

Third, they didn’t give up! Even though many of their shots didn’t hit the rim—didn’t even reach the rim—they kept tossing the ball up there. No matter how fine tuned their skills are today, every professional player in every sport at some point played the game just like these young people, but they kept trying. How many of us have given up, when we should have just kept shooting?

We must not miss this one! The fourth thing I observed about these young people at play is they were encouraging one another. They didn’t laugh at each other. They didn’t, however, take themselves so seriously they couldn’t laugh with one another. Above all, they were pulling for one another. How many people do you know, who could have soared to greater heights, if they had just enjoyed the pleasure of having someone pulling for them—someone to cheer their efforts, rather than critique their form. How many Christians would have reached maturity in the Lord, rather than falling by the wayside, if someone had just clapped their hands and encouraged them saying, “Come on! You can make it this time” I wonder: Do we realize the importance of encouragement?

Last, these young people seldom ever took their eyes off the goal. Just imagine this scene. Visualize those young basketball players in your mind’s eye. Can you see them? What are they doing? They’re all looking up, aren’t they? Oh, how we need to learn to keep our eyes on Jesus—don’t we?

It is so easy to allow our priorities to get out of whack, isn’t it? We have a tendency to focus on things which—in view of the vastness of eternity—really don’t matter much. These things may seem to be urgent; but, if they cause us to take our eyes off of Jesus, they run contrary to God’s purpose in our lives. After all, growing more like Jesus is the goal towards which we all strive. Becoming Christ-like is the end towards which we encourage others. None of us should ever relinquish this life-objective. We must never give up on this pursuit. We must never forget, also, this is a journey which each of us can take joyfully. Most of all, since grace now reigns through faith, none of need be afraid that we will miss. We just need to keep shooting!

© Bill Williams, October 26, 2006

Originally published at Spiritual Oasis

Permalink 1 Comment