Archive for the ‘Humor’ category

The Two Davis’s

August 12, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            August 12, 2016

                                      

I made two visits this week. Both of them were to men whose last name is Davis. One of them celebrated his 41st birthday on Wednesday. The other is 95! Neither of them has a lick of hair on top of their head- one because his dad paved the way for that hairstyle, which has been followed by all three sons, and the other because…he’s 95, and the top of his head looks like a telescope view of the moon’s surface!

One of the Davis’s is the Sultan of Sarcasm, the other is content to get settled in to telling the listener a story.

The younger Davis has taught middle school social studies for fifteen years…perhaps being the reason why sarcasm rises to the surface for him so often. The older Davis was a postman, familiar with the lives of those that he delivered important letters from loved ones to.

I was the pastor to both of them and their families. Since I retired from being a pastor a few months ago now I am a friend to both of them.

I refer to the older Davis as my “Colorado Dad.” He possesses many of the same great qualities as my father has. The younger Davis could be my son, but I prefer to see him as one of  my peers. We have shared many a lunch together in his school classroom, talking about this and that.

Both of them are dear to my heart.

Both of them have cancer.

The older Davis is in his final days. I sat by his bed yesterday, probably for the last time. He drifted in and out of sleep. I held his hand, he told me how much he loved me. My heart ached to see his frail figure. The two of us had golfed together a number of times over the years. I would drive long and to the right, and he would drive short but right down the middle of the fairway. He would be putting it in for a bogie, and I’d hope for a bogie putt. At the end of our nine holes he would be about a 46 and I would be a 48. BUT he was 90 and I was 57! We enjoyed each other’s company so much. Every time he greeted me we would embrace and he would whisper to me “Love ya!”

About five years ago I officiated the funeral service of his only son, who had died in a motorcycle accident. I grieved with my Colorado dad as the sorrow overwhelmed him. A parent should never have to bury one of their children. It was a confusing time for him, and I mostly listened to his questions about why things happen. It was also at that time that he started asking me more questions about heaven, what it would be like and whether he would be reunited with his son there?

I held his hand for one last prayer by his bedside, and then he dropped into a medicated slumber again.

The younger Davis was discovered to have a tumor in his brain six years ago. He had just done a state high school championship game in basketball and a month later had a seizure. When a second seizure happened shortly after that he was checked out at the hospital. The test revealed the tumor. Three months later surgery was performed to get as much of it as possible. Ninety-five percent was removed and the follow-up treatments took care of the rest.

But cancer is like the neighbor’s dog who keeps coming into your yard and pooping. You clean up one mess and the lawn looks pristine again for a while, and then you look out the window to see the canine leaving his mark again. Cancer is kind of like that. It is a time in a person’s life that is filled with crap! The crap of dealing with insurance companies…the crap of scheduling appointments…and the crap of never-ending anxiety and uncertainty about the future.

My friend’s cancer came back. We continue to pray for healing, but hope too often is getting shoved into the back seat. On Wednesday his family had a birthday celebration for him at the rehabilitation facility he is a patient at. Hopefully he will be able to return home next week with some skills that will enable him to better function in his home. The future is uncertain, and he knows it.

My visits with him are often punctuated with quiet moments as each of us deals with where we are in the journey. I brought him a totally inappropriate birthday card that I knew would bring a deep chuckle to him. One of the comforts of our friendship is that we can be a little off-color with one another and not be embarrassed. In fact, we expect a little political incorrectness in our conversations.

Our journey has gone into the deep valleys of new tumor growth, but also ascended some high mountains of clear MRI results.

Bottom line! I have been extremely blessed to be a part of the journeys of the two Davis’s! The depth of a friendship is discovered by the bruisings of life.

Guest Teacher Orientation

August 10, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            August 10, 2016

                                

I took my seat on the left side of the long conference table. Ten of us looked expectantly towards the front of the conference room. The presenter was getting his materials organized and about to start.

I was about to get oriented! I was about to find out how to be a guest teacher. Let me emphasize GUEST TEACHER! Not substitute teacher! Somewhere over the last forty years somebody decided that the term “substitute teacher” was like attaching a sticky note to the back of a person’s shirt with the words “Kick Me!” written on it in large bold letters.

Time to confess! I remember the number of times I took advantage of whoever it was that was substitute teaching in my classroom. I remember asking Ms. Roth, who also happened to be a member of the my church, if I could go to the restroom. I feigned illness from eating lunch in the cafeteria that day…a logical conclusion! She gave me permission as I grimaced in front of her, and then I went down to the gym and shot basketball for the rest of the class period. Now… she would probably not remember that, but I do!

Perhaps my transgressions were part of the soil that produced a new name growing out of it, the name “Guest Teacher!”

The orientation began. The presenter stressed a couple of points to help us survive…or that is, be successful! One was “Use your common sense!”  He gave us several examples of what BAD guest teachers have done! At the end of it all of us had the same thought: What were they thinking? Perhaps being around middle school students rubs off on the substitute…er, guest teacher, and they start doing stupid things that result in them getting called in to talk to the school administrators.

I started to make a mental list of all the things I couldn’t bring with me to school: handcuffs, a pocket knife attached to my car keys, peanut products, Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, words with too many syllables, taser gun, transistor radio, pillow, iPad, sense of humor, bull whip, duct tape, and all political commentary. If I left all those things at home my chances of being a successful guest teacher would be greatly increased. The storyline of guest teaching has been littered with examples of people who “did stupid”, were asked not to come back again, and now are making more money working on a fast-food drive-thru lane.

But then came the second point of the orientation to realize. That students will try to take advantage of guest teachers! Wait a minute! That’s how it was back in 1972 at Ironton High School, in Ironton, Ohio! That means…that means…that nothing has really changed! Well, one thing has…the title. because I am a “Guest Teacher!” Hear me roar!

We were brought back to the reality of the situation; that students are by nature the same as they were back in the day…that they will try to get away with whatever they can!

This is where leaving my sense of humor at home becomes important, for I will look at them like a drill sergeant facing his green recruits and with no expression say “I don’t think so!” It’s also where it is important that I have left my taser gun at home, because I would be tempted to use it a few times.

So now I am ready for battle…I mean, to teach! I’m ready to impart my pearls of wisdom to a new generation of young learners. I’m ready to experience the new chef creations of school cafeterias, students ready and eager to learn, the latest adolescent language terms. and spending the whole day in the gym!

I am oriented! I am a Guest Teacher!

Pokemon Go-ne

August 5, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           August 5, 2016

                                  

I confess! I have not played Pokemon Go. In fact, the closest I’ve gotten to playing Pokemon Go was playing…

”Poke-r”…like twenty-five years ago!

I did play a lot of Space Invaders…back in the day!

Oops! I just dated myself…no, I just antiquated myself…like an eight track player!

What I do know, from personal experience and the stories of others, is that just about anything that we do…anything that we engage in, should be done in moderation.

There are exceptions to that rule of life, like loving your family- I don’t think you can love them enough-; or praying- I don’t think you can pray enough, although it seems like it is hard for many of us to pray at all. There are exceptions like those and a few others that, quite frankly, we are not in danger of approaching over usage!

Pokemon Go is the current craze. I’m not in the camp of people who willingly and fervently condemn it. There always seem to be naysayers who trumpet the doomsday message of a variety of things and events. Through the years I’ve heard of a long list of subtle devices of the Tempter to snatch us away from God. The list has included bowling, any kind of dancing where the hips rotate and swing too much (with the exception of square dancing or any version of dancing involving elderly people!), movies, skateboarding, video games, beach volleyball, push-up bras, tattoos, and mascara. Satan seems to have more products than amazon.Com.

Pokemon Go is an amusement. (We’ve come a long ways since “Pong!”) It isn’t a demon. It is taking the industry of gaming to a new place, and new places are scary for those of us who are in love with old places.

The tipping point with Pokemon Go, and with many other amusements, practices, and even disciplines, is when someone is obsessed by it to the point that it takes over their life. Like the guy who was focused so intently upon it that he crashed his car into a police cruiser! That’s probably a little over the edge. Or people who are incurring roaming charges and spending large amounts of money playing the game that started out as being free. Like the Japanese Olympic gymnast who recently racked up $5,000 in roaming charges playing the game.

Like I said earlier, just about anything can become an obsession. Through Scripture the principle is taught over and over again that excess is a main cause for sorrow and pain. Excessive rich food leads to a variety of health issues. Excessive work leads to relational distance and, in many cases, physical ailments. Excessive spending leads to financial ruin. Excessive material possessions leads to a lack of appreciation for the simple gifts of life.

Solomon’s excesses in riches, women, and thoroughbreds caused him confusion with God. The Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes is kind of his trying to find his way again, a sounding out of a life that had lost its meaning.

Moderation helps us keep balance and clarity in our life. Moderation keeps us from chasing after whims and obsessions. It seems like there are people on The Dr. Phil Show everyday who have lost any sense of balance in their lives, and so they make the decision to go on national television and let everyone else see how screwed up they are. I’ve never seen anyone on that program who is having a hard conversation with the host because their life is in balance.

Balanced lives do not make for good reality TV!

I’m going to try to download the Pokemon Go app today and experience it a little bit. I want to try it out some…not too much! I will not allow it to take me away from the 2,000 piece jigsaw puzzle currently covering our dining room table that I am obsessed…I mean, that I am putting together…gradually and in moderation!

The Morning After…Watching The Grandkids

August 2, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          August 2, 2016

                              

It’s the morning after supervising the three grandchildren for ten hours. I’m feeling the effects!

First of all, there’s my speech pattern! I’m talking in one and two word phrases, and repeating them two or three times. For instance, I stood in front of the refrigerator this morning looking at the containers of orange and apple juice and saying to myself “Juice! Juice! Juice!” I said it non-audibly to my inner self, but I said it with the voice of my sixteen month old granddaughter.

The morning proceeded.

“Waffle! Waffle! Waffle!”

“Keys! Keys! Keys!”

“Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!”

I’m afraid I’ll carry this toddler stream of repetitive verbiage too far. How will Carol react when she comes home from an errand and I greet her with “Hi Wife! Hi Wife!”? Or what if I discover the Half-and-Half container at Starbucks is empty and I carry the container to the counter shouting “Cream! Cream! Cream!”? I may never be able to go back to that Starbucks where I’ve been seen as a responsible adult for the last several years.

Really! Really! Really!

I’m looking at Pike’s Peak right now and saying to myself “Big! Big! Big!” This afternoon when I lay down for a nap I just hope I don’t whine “Pac-i!” Pac-i! Pac-i!”, as in “pacifier!”

The second after effect is my body whining to me. My lower back is reminding me that I’m not a young man anymore. Every time the grand baby looked up at me and said “Up! Up! Up!”, I obliged. Is there rehab therapy for grandparents? My arm muscles feel like I’ve done a full weight training workout at the Y.M.C.A. Actually, it has just been a day of squat thrusts and arm curls with a twenty-two pound weight! I thought I would sleep soundly last night out of exhaustion, but instead I tossed and turned in pain. I’m hoping I have the strength to fix lunch!, lunch!, lunch! I’m now speaking to myself again and thinking of my massage therapist, Jackie Landers. “Massage! Massage! Massage!”

Finally, the third after effect is a different kind of feeling whatsoever. It’s a feeling…a realization of blessedness! In the midst of one word demands and tried muscles I know without a doubt that I am a blessed man, a graced granddad! As I wrote in a blog post a few days ago, I am in marvel of the little ones! They make me feel young at heart even as I feel the age of  my body. I actually get a little emotional thinking about them.

Today is our five year old granddaughter Reagan’s first day of kindergarten. Jesse, our eight year old grandson starts third grade. They amaze me even as they cause me to need a nap. They have amazing parents who keep them grounded in the Word, on-course with figuring out what is appropriate and what isn’t, and immersed in unconditional love.

So even as my speech pattern has changed today and my body has gone south I wouldn’t change anything. To my heavenly Father I say the two words that the toddler does not repeat, but rather only says once as I hand her the sip cup full of juice.

“Thank you!”

 

The Marvel of Little Ones

July 30, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                         July 30, 2016

                                     

I am a grandfather…three times over! An 8 year old professor in the making, a five year old CEO, and a 16 month old politician. The past two days “Grammy”, our dear Michigan friend Janet, and I have been watching the Three Miniature Musketeers since our fourth grade teaching daughter “Mom” went back to begin the new school year. Since my grandson often dresses up as Superman, Ironman, Batman, or Captain America I guess it would be more appropriate to refer to the three as “The Avengers!”

The two older kids entertain one another most of the time. We just have to be the Supreme Court Justices for decisions that can’t be resolved through sibling negotiations.

But the 16 month old! She is the Energizer Bunny with a diaper on!

And I marvel at her! I am amazed at just about everything she does, including the amount of poop that can fill her diaper! How can so much come out of someone so small?

I am amazed at how she can go from laughter to having a tantrum in the space of a few seconds…and then back again!

I am amazed at how she greets me with her pronunciation of “Granddad” every time I arrive in the room after being gone for…Ohhh!…maybe two minutes.

She amazes me with her determination, carrying around the handbag her mom has passed down to her. The handbag is about half her size, and she is determined to lift it and place it on the couch that comes up to her chest. Grunting all the way, she stays on task until it is heaved on to the couch…and then she promptly takes it back down, walks around for a few seconds, and then repeats the whole task again.

I am amazed at how relational she is. She is drawn to where the person or persons are, and when she is in the room she garners all the attention.

I am amazed at her capacity for mimicking. Grammy said the word “pizza” while she was in the room- not to her, mind you!- and she voiced her agreement with the word by shouting “PIZZA!” When her brother and sister dance in the middle of the living room, she dances. When her brother sits and reads she is prone to sit and “kind-a read”, also.

She stuns me with her understanding of boundaries. She stands in front of the DVD player and video game system and says to no one in particular “No no!” as she shakes her head.

I’m taken back by her impatience. She sits in my lap as I read a book to her, but if the pages aren’t turning fast enough she turns them for me…and even takes the book and throws it down! That’s my clue that we are done with that one! “Move on, Granddad!”

I am amused at how I can be her personal playground, as in climbing tree! Slap a sign on me that says “Jungle Gym!”

And what occurred to me in the midst of my two days of amazement was the fact that our Father God is just as amazed at everything each one of us does! God is still amazed at what a 62 year old grandfather does…good and bad! He is amused by our humor, and amazed by our words of wisdom. He’s taken back by our ability to figure out situations, make mistakes and learn from them. His heart is warmed by the depth of our relationships, and the care we offer to one another. He’s taken back by the amount of crap that is a part of our lives!

In many ways my amazement about everything our 16 month old granddaughter does is a reflection of how our Creator sees each one of us. He closely watches because he deeply loves!

What We Burn Incense To

July 26, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               July 26, 2016

                                  

In my years as a pastor I can identify a number of things that became sacred in the congregations I pastored. In one great church…Wait for it!…forks became revered! The morning after any church potluck or meal the “fork-keeper” would stop  by to count the forks. Kind of like a bank teller’s money drawer, if there was a discrepancy…if one or more were missing…there was hell to pay!

In another congregation filled with wonderful loving people, one of the most serious issues we dealt with in my fifteen years concerned the removal of the organ pipes. Let me clarify! These were fake organ pipes! Think painted long cardboard tubes! There were speakers in some of them for the electric organ we had at that time. When the sanctuary was renovated the fake pipes were repositioned behind the chancel area wall by our baptistry. It wasn’t so much that people couldn’t see the pipes anymore, but rather that they had been given to the church thirty years before by a family. They were seen as being a sacred memorial.

Sometimes people of God unknowingly, or perhaps on purpose, ease God out of the spotlight in order to worship something or someone else.

Someone? Yes, there are Christian personalities and celebrities that become the spiritual version of LeBron. Anything they say is written in stone as the Ten Suggestions. And let me point out that it isn’t necessarily the celebrated person’s fault. Mega-church pastors are put on pedestals because they lead mega-churches. And then when one of them has a problem that surfaces the “worshipers” are beside themselves.

There ARE those Christian personalities that are fine with people bowing to them. I was always amazed at how many people worshiped Reverend Ive with his flaunting wealth and opulent lifestyle. I could never quite connect the suffering servant image of Jesus with Reverend Ike’s matching diamond rings on a finger of each hand. In like manner I could never quite understand the flocking to see Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker. Was it really the will of God for their dog to have an air-conditioned dog house? I just didn’t get it!!!

But back to where we live! The people of God exalt unbelievable things. In some places there would be a greater uproar over missing Sunday morning donuts than there would be if the pastor decided not to give the sermon. One lady in a church I pastored told me that I shouldn’t let people know when we were having a guest speaker because attendance was always down. How did that make me feel? Not good! It was a sign to me that the lens on our congregational glasses needed to be wiped off a bit. I would say that almost every pastor does NOT want to be the only voice that his/her congregation is listening to.

I’ve seen mission organizations worshiped, youth group leaders bowed down to, church budgets deified, and technology praised.

It’s so easy!

I was reading in 2 Kings 18 this week about Hezekiah, King of Judah, getting rid of some of the pagan shrines, but he went even further than that. In verse 4 of that chapter it says, “He broke into pieces the bronze snake that Moses had made, for up to that time the Israelites had been burning incense to it. It was called Nebushtan.”

The snake that Moses had made, you know…way back when! Can you hear the comments? “But we’ve always had the snake!” “It just won’t be the same!” “Some of my most spiritual moments have been when I’ve burned some incense, prayed to Nebushtan, and had a deep sense of peace about things!”

The snake even had a name! I’ve just returned from a week of church camp. A number of kids, youth, and leaders are now thinking of Quaker Ridge as a sacred place of worship. They are thinking of those moments on Soldier’s Peak where they received communion.

I think of going to Green Lake, Wisconsin or Lake Louise Baptist Camp in Michigan. They are places that I burn incense to in my mind.

Hezekiah made the bold decision to get rid of Nebushtan. The snake had fulfilled its purpose generations before. It had long since become a distraction, a relic.

It makes me think about what happens in our places of worship today. What has become a distraction? What needs to be broken into pieces and moved to storage, or even to the curb? What have we given names to because they still grip our souls?

Camp Tears

July 24, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                             July 24, 2016

                                            

I finished a week of church camp yesterday and fell into bed last night. The last morning was filled with goodbye hugs and tearful farewells. Tears, in fact, were a frequent occurrence at camp this week.

It started on Sunday afternoon as parents dropped off their children and teenagers. One young mom didn’t show her tears until she was sure her eight year old son was running towards an activity on the basketball court. Since this mom is my daughter I was standing beside her and saw the tears running down her cheeks in front of a smiling face. I gave her a hug of reassurance. Her tears were tears of releasing, as she saw her little boy arrive at one of those life points where he will spend a week away from home. I remember that kind of tears. After we dropped off our youngest daughter, Lizi, at the University of Sioux Falls for her first semester, Carol and I don’t remember seeing Nebraska on the way home because of the rain storms in our eyes. And yet they were good tears…tears when you realize your child has grown to another defining point. We release them and we cry our eyes out.

There were also tears of laughter numerous times at camp. I laughed when I was inspecting the elementary camp cabin for boys. One room whose occupants were eight, nine, and ten year olds had four bottles of AXE body spray and body wash. You know…AXE, that product whose commercials show women attacking a man who sprays his body with it. We laughed as we thought of fourth grade girls attacking a good-smelling four-foot tall boy. In the elementary camp the only attacking that was being done happened if someone tried to butt into the Snack Snack line. As room inspector I HAD made the point about good-smelling rooms being one thing I looked for in determining which of the boys’ rooms was the best. The second morning I walked into one room to see one boy walking around waving a deodorant stick in the air with the idea it would be like a room air freshener.

In that same cabin there were also tears from hurtful words. One boy came to me with tears running down his face and said, “Bobby has been saying that our room smells bad because I’m farting!” In deep sorrow he bellowed, “I’m not the one who is farting!” I counseled him back to health, although in the midst of his anguish I think there was a moment of flatulence.

There were tears from the deep wells of our soul. One middle school boy, who has Down’s Syndrome and hearing problems, got up on the last night at the talent show and sang a song as he played the guitar. Although the lyrics didn’t rhyme his original song talked about how much he loved his counselor, the amazing grace of God, and how much he missed his dad. The campers gave him a standing ovation as a number of them wept. They had seen how this young man had made the week at camp special and had offered his own unique personality of gentleness and caring.

There were tears of pain, as a number of campers shared their hurts and worries. Several had pent up emotions about parental health concerns. The camp environment and the trusting in their counselors allowed some of them to release the emotion. The dam broke as they allowed the anxiety, the bottled-up stress, to flow out.

Pastor Bill and me…better known at camp as “Pastor Bill Squared”…sat and listened with a mom on the last morning whose husband had gotten a grim diagnosis on the cancer he has battled. It was a time for tears, and angry tears, and even thankful tears. Her husband was first diagnosed six years ago. She is thankful for the six years, but there is sorrow in the moment as they face the uncertainty of the future.

And then there were my tears, as I dealt with the pain of that moment…as I saw my grandson at different times during the week being so engaged in the activities, focused on what was being taught, feeling free to dance in the midst of the elementary camp worship (So vigorously that he lost a screw in his glasses!)…as I watched counselors relating to their campers, getting to know them in ways that, you might say, had them deeply rooted in their lives.

I shed tears of thankfulness for what was and the journey these kids and teens had taken during the week. It’s amazing how in just a few hours time tears can flow from the same eyes out of thankfulness, sorrow, joy, and laughter.

Camp tears drench our souls and soak into our memories.

Sand City

July 22, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          July 21, 2016

                                          

    A week of church camp is filled with incredible moments and discoveries. Quite often the adult counselors get surprised in delightful ways by the things their camper kids say and do. One of those happened with our elementary campers the past two days. In the midst of the sand volleyball court a few of the kids, and a couple of their counselors, started making sand creations. It started simple! A two story house about a foot wide and a foot long.

Then a second house…a few more houses to make it begin to resemble a village, and then a house that started to resemble an Aztec temple or a four-layered wedding cake…one of those!

A few more campers joined the fun, and suddenly instead of Bust, Colorado (Population 2!), the sand creation started looking like a city…and ancient city, since a couple of the artists started building a sand wall around it.

Then another sand city started to be built on the other end of the sand volleyball court! Not wanting to look exclusive and uninviting, a few of the first “sanders” built a sand road between the two sand cities.

This morning there were close to thirty campers and counselors digging in the sand…creating, working together, laughing, and talking. It was not a planned activity, but, instead, became a movement. What an experience to see knees in the sand sharing ideas on what the next building phase might be. I’m pretty sure they put a Sonic and a Starbucks in there on one busy sand street! Interestingly enough, no sand schools were built by kids who are seeing their summers come quickly to an end.

One of the high school counselors got wind of a plot that a few of her students her devising  about going through and destroying Sand City and “Sand City West” and writing “Godzilla was here!” in the sand. She talked to them about being encouragers instead of destroyers. She conveyed to them the fact that the kids involved in the sand creations and construction would be crushed by a few seconds of mischievous fun. They understood…and the Sand Cities got larger. A few of the high school students even “got sandy!”

It made me think of the violent acts that have left their imprint across the country. How easy it is for people to respond with destruction in mind…instead of coming alongside and working together. How easy it is to tear down instead of build up? Sad City is becoming too prevalent!

How easy it is for churches to tear down and destroy instead of building places of grace and compassionate love! There are too many Sad Churches! I am perplexed as to why!

The reality of the weather at our 8,700 elevation camp is a late afternoon rain storm. What took hours to build, we knew, would be flattened by showers. The wise leaders explained the situation to the young sanders. They suggested that since the kids were the builders that they should be the ones to have the opportunity to “disassemble.” The campers stood along the sideline of the volleyball court and on the signal moved forward like a swarm of locusts, breaking down the fragile creations.

Rain came a couple of hours later.

Today, I fully expect, reconstruction will take place. Like rebuilding after a major storm…one sand house at a time!

The “Uh” Moments

July 18, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          July 18, 2016

                                         

My life has been littered with moments of extreme stupidity. Like when I tried to compliment one young lady I was attending college with. Never make comments about a young lady’s figure on the first date…or second date for that matter. I said something that gave her the impression that she was flat-chested and big in the hips. My intent was to tell her that she was slim in the waist-line and nicely-proportioned in the bust-line!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

It was one of those moments when the incensed look on her face made me go “Uh!” The date ended quickly after that. In case you’re wondering…and are really slow in perceiving things…there was not a second date!

“Uh moments” are those times when we realize how error-prone, insensitive, or clueless we really are.

I’ve had a lot of those “Uh moments” with God. Times when I doubted his majesty, occasions where I’ve missed his hand in the midst of events, trials when I’ve wandered on my own.

I was thinking about that the other day as I was reading some scripture stories. Scripture is populated with “Uh moments.” For example, Moses stood before God with his excuses about not being qualified to go and speak to Pharaoh. Although “Uh…” is not a word that the stammering Moses uses, it can be easily lip-synched into his mental verbiage at the end of the discussion.

Martha had an “Uh moment” with Jesus when she moaned and groaned to Jesus about her brother.

“Master!” she said, “If you had been here my brother wouldn’t have died!”

Knowing Martha’s opinionated personality, I don’t think those words were said to Jesus with a soft understanding voice. Jesus tells her that he is the resurrection and the life, and that the one who believes in him will live even though he dies.” Martha gives kind of a half-hearted “okay…” to him. They proceed to the tomb of her brother and Jesus tells those around it to remove the stone.

Martha’s housecleaning experience has her then say to Jesus, “By this time there’s a stench! He’s been dead four days!” Like an obnoxious adolescent wanting her parents to get a life, it’s like Martha is saying to Jesus “HHHeellllloooo!” And Jesus looked her in the eye and says, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

And Martha said, “Uhhh…”

Our “Uh moments” come when our doubts are completely doused by a shower of God’s power, like the 450 prophets of Baal being completely embarrassed by the prophet Elijah. Our “Uh moments” also come when we experience a tapestry of God’s artistic touch. This week I’m at a church camp outside of Woodland Park, Colorado. I’m overwhelmed by the view of Pike’s Peak and surrounding forests and peacefulness. I stand on the deck each day and literally say “Uhhh…”

“Uh moments” remind us of our humanity and mortality, and they also nudge us with the assurance of the love of God.

God loves me no matter what, no matter my capacity to doubt him and no matter whether I say the wrong words to the wrong person at the wrong time. He loves me despite myself!

And to that my lower jaw drops open and I resemble Jim Carey in the movie Dumb and Dumber with the one syllable grunt…”Uhhh…”

A False Sense of Reality

July 16, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  July 16, 2016

                                     

I’ve been watching a lot of the NBA Summer League games on TV this past week. New draft choices playing alongside D-League players and undrafted free agents, it is an entertaining experience. Next summer I’m thinking about going to Las Vegas with my son and taking in a few of the games being played.

Last night I watched some rim-rocking slams, long-distance threes, and running left hooks.

And then, feeling the energy, I went out in our driveway with “the rock”, as we call the basketball, and started shooting from the corner. I shoot from the corner in our driveway because it slopes down. It’s like an automatic ball return!

As I dribbled the ball and got into my shooting motion reality hit me! Reality came in the form of my right knee whining as it bent…and screamed as it started to unbend! It was the meeting of my mind with my knee and my knee won. Sixty-two year old knees that have run a few marathons, run thousands of miles on asphalt pavements with some of the old running shoes we used to wear, and played years and years of basketball, are knees that now succeed in daily coups against the rest of my body. I say “Let’s play some hoop down at the Y!” and my knees say “I don’t think so!” They are like stubborn octogenarians who refuse to drink their Ensures!

My life seems to have increasing times of false senses of reality. What I envision happening gets a revised plan. It’d like a teenager about to get his first car. He searches the internet web sites, looking at Camaro’s, Jeeps, BMW’s, high-powered Mustangs, and man-sized trucks, and then his parents present him with a gift-wrapped Ford Escort with strips of duct tape on it in different places.

Dreams…expectations…assumptions…and then there comes the reality!

My dream is to slam dunk! My reality is that you can now barely fit one piece of typing paper under my feet when I elevate. The positive however is that it doesn’t take me nearly as long to return to the ground.

Our lives are filled with what we think and what is real.

Remember a time in your growing up years when you had a crush on a certain person and you believed the attraction was mutual. Perhaps you even envisioned in your mind those walks in the park when you would be holding hands, embracing in the shadows of the front porch where parents could not see…and then the reality coming in the form of information that there wasn’t a mutual attraction, and, in fact, you were to leave the other person alone. Stay away! Sometimes reality is like getting slapped in the face with the end of a wet towel that snaps you.

Those are moments in our lives that, plain and simple, just suck!

My knees are just one indication, one painful reminder, that things change. Life is a journey of adjustments. Those adjustments come through afflictions as well as learnings. They come as a result of years of doing something that has left us weary and disillusioned; and they come as we experience the cresting of a new hill that shows us something completely new that we might consider attempting.

Most of us have visited that false sense of reality at one time or another. It comes in a job performance evaluation, or a frank conversation with a trusted friend. It is often hard to hear.

Back to my knees! I shot a few shots, listened to a few internal knee screams, and then went back to the couch. My right knee especially said “This is where you belong!”

I sighed and then watched a 22 year old do a reverse slam dunk on TV!