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Disneying Happiness

March 26, 2025


“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit…” (Romans 14:17)

We did the Disney Thing. It was great…kinda!

I admit I’m a 70-year-old granddad who is much more content enjoying a quiet moment on the back deck as opposed to spending the day with 60,000 people scurrying to get to the next attraction where the wait line is already at 75 minutes. That’s me. I’ll admit that after 25,000 steps I was whiney, snapping like a turtle, and inconsiderate.

On my positive, wise, and observant side I observed thousands of people searching for the Disney happiness that pervades every Disney advertisement. There are no crying kids or yelling parents in the TV snippets that Disney invades your family room with. There are only nights lit up with fireworks and wonder-eyed children. That’s what the attenders are looking for. Surely, the $200-a-day admission ticket, after forking over $30 to simply park will guarantee that a person will find happiness. Yes, yes, the $80 for pretzels and drinks for the family seemed a bit excessive, but the worker did smile as she handed them over.

There I go again, getting sarcastic and grumpy! I admit it.

More and more, I find people searching for happiness that is a momentary event or purchased possession. Like me, who wanted to bring happiness to my three-year-old grandson after he had spotted a light-up sword that sprayed bubbles. “Granddad, I want that.” Like a grandfather being led to the slaughter, we walked over to the cart that held the souvenirs.

“You want this?” I asked. He nodded. I asked the young lady who was hawking the wares how much the sword…or I should say, my grandson’s happiness was going to set me back.

“Thirty-seven dollars.”

I cringed and then handed over my credit card. My grandson’s face lit up as he bubble-upped my face for the next fifteen minutes. He was a happy camper and, I admit, I was a happy granddad camper because of it.

And then we went back to fighting the crowds like a canoe trying to paddle upstream. We went back to the endless wave of people searching for that elusive happy experience.

In the Old Testament, Nehemiah said, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” Joy keeps you grounded, steady, and wise. However, joy is found in something that can’t be bought. It’s already been bought, paid for, once and for all, through the cross of Christ. A crown of thorns (not Mickey Mouse ears) was the headpiece that paved the way for our joy. A three-year-old’s smile brought me happiness (drenched in bubbles happiness, I should say!) for a moment, and a heartwarming memory of the moment.

Jesus said, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:11) That’s a constant treasure that I’ve been blessed with, the joy of the Lord.

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My Obituary

March 16, 2025


“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)

I was substitute teaching seventh-graders this past week, a certain class that I often am residing in and know the kids by name. On Wednesday, they asked me if I was going to be there the next day. My response was that I would unless I died. That got their attention.

Soon, our conversation steered toward my funeral. Would they be invited? Could they sit in the front row? Would they be allowed to cheer? (Cheer???) We went back and forth on how they thought my funeral should go, proper conduct and inappropriate actions. We even talked about cremation and whether my ashes could be placed in the classroom. It was creative in a disturbing sort of way!

I suggested that someone should write my obituary since they seemed to be so enamored at my passing. They did! And signed it! It was even signed by one of the other teachers.

It was suggested that I had been born in 1254 and was 800 years old and that I was survived by family members: Alpha Wolfe, Sigma Wolfe, and Rizzler Wolfe. For one of the classes, I laid down on the floor as a student read the obituary over me.

Entertaining, yes it was. When I’m in the class again after our spring break, I’m sure a number of them will express their surprise that my ticker is still ticking.

And then I talked to my friend, Dave Hughes, who was my best man and high school classmate. Dave, who now lives in Florida, shared the news of several of our old church youth group friends who are in the midst of serious health situations. One of them is perhaps in his final days, another is wheelchair-bound, and another has had his life altered my an ongoing cancer problem.

Death seems to have come close to us. In fact, it seems that it has moved right next door. The friend who is in his final days wrote a letter to his grandchildren in which he penned life principles for them to consider and live by. His heart was displayed in the words of life experience, wise beyond his years. They included such things as building strong relationships, embracing hard work, and living a Christ-filled life. While I was back in Ohio a few years ago, I attended the funeral of his father-in-law (One of my Dad’s best friends) who displayed the same life values. In truth, my dad was rooted in the same principles, one reason he was Deacon Emeritus of the church he was a part of.

As a Christ-follower, who I am is because of the One I follow. When I’m called home to Glory, there will be no sting because of His stain. My students might write my obituary (with a bit of AI help, don’t you know!), but I am graced by the fact that he is holding my hand for the journey.

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The Yellow Squiggly Line

July 2, 2024

“I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” (Isaiah 43:25)

Yesterday, I was traveling down Interstate 25 through Colorado Springs, and in the middle lane, a yellow line suddenly appeared. It wasn’t a yellow line that had been carefully painted by a road crew to mark the edge of the road or a no-passing zone. This line appeared to be something that had gradually leaked out of the back of a truck. It had a shakiness to it, like the squiggly graphing line that comes from a lie detector test.

The yellow line continued down the highway for the whole distance of my drive. Six miles later, when I exited the road, it was still snaking its way south. I wondered if the driver would pull into his driveway another few miles away, hitch his pants up, and walk to the back of his pickup to retrieve his five-gallon can of yellow paint, only to discover he now has six ounces left to do the job.

Metaphorically speaking, the yellow squiggly line represents several things. On the downside, it reminds me of the mess of my life, the ways I’ve left chaos in the wake behind me. As Romans 3:23 says, “All of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” In different ways, we have left a trail of trash. We’ve made a mess of things, a mess of opportunities, a mess of relationships, and a mess of situations. Like the yellow squiggly line, people view our transgressions and wonder why we would have done or said something or acted the way we did.

We leave an impression behind us whether we know it or not. The words we speak, our attitudes, the kindness we show, and the characteristics we are known for all leave a trail of significance or disappointment. Sometimes, and for some people, that trail of significance goes on and on for a long time. It’s only for a while for other people, as their connection with us only lasts until the next exit ramp.

The amazing thing about the God we serve is that He comes behind us and wipes up the messes. Like the road cleaning crew, God causes the yellow line of our failures to disappear. As Isaiah 43:25 says, “…he remembers them no more.” Isaiah 44:22 has Him saying to us, “I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist.”

Our lives often look ugly, but God cleans us up, and not just partially, but thoroughly. He takes care of the yellow squiggly lines. There are many days where, at least for me, He’s having to do some major clean up.

Thank you, Lord!

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Winning Halfway

June 22, 2024

“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” (1 Timothy 6:10)

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” (James 1:5)

I received an email from Starbucks yesterday, informing me that I was a winner in their Summer Sweepstakes Contest. The grand prize was a trip for two to Costa Rica. That would be awesome! I’ve wanted to visit there.

However, when I opened the email, I discovered that “my prize” was fifty percent off one of their drinks, called a Refresher. Wait a minute! Half-off? That means I would be giving them more money in order to receive my prize. I wonder if the prize was a one-way ticket to Costa Rica, but the winner would have to get themselves back home again?

I’ve had those scam emails before that tell me I’ve won anything from a chainsaw to an air fryer to a tool set. I’ve suave enough to not open those. No one ever called me a brainiac, but I ain’t no “dumb attack” either. And this WAS from Starbucks, the Starbucks that offers half-off drinks on most days between noon and 6 P.M.

It seems that winning halfway also means losing halfway. Even more than a half-free Starbucks drink, our culture has a way of giving us half the story, to focus on the beginning and not the end, to show the happy faces of the new car buyers without hinting at the reverse side of the excessive car payment that the sellers will expect even when the vehicle is in for a major repair.

Wisdom sees the carrot dangling before the trap and considers the costs. Wisdom sees the long-range consequences hiding behind the short-term thrill. Wisdom sees the tears of misery in the background of the thirst for money.

Now, I realize winning half a Starbucks drink is not on the same grief level as a lottery ticket buyer who goes hogwild at the 7-11 because he sees the image of Shangri-La attached to the jackpot amount. However, the concept is the same. Half-free in order to cost you something.

Last night, wisdom took a nap as I was looking at a book on Amazon. It was only a few dollars…okay, ten! Ten is only a few more than a few. So I hit the order button. After all, I have Amazon Prime and free shipping. Immediately upon ordering the book that is just a few more than a few, Amazon informed me that other shoppers who bought the same book also ordered the following. Pictures of four other books showed up, so I ordered one of them. By the time I had exited out of Amazon, my “few more than a few” book had become $38.95. Don’t tell Carol, although she usually reads my blog so I need to work on my pitiful look of repentance. I’m trying to think of a way I can blame it on wisdom napping on me, but…okay, I had a dumb attack!

I think of the sins of the flesh that Paul lists in Galatians 5 and most of them are actions that seemed right at the time or brought satisfaction for a moment, but consequences later on. Half free and half unbelievably costly.

My life story has been peppered with costly seasoning, like procrastinating doing classwork when I was in college and paying the cost of an abysmal GPA, or eating two Big Macs and suffering the indigestion a couple of hours later, or placing the plastic down on the counter too much in a short amount of time and then paying the high interest rate on the remaining balance our checking account said we couldn’t pay.

I’ve been suckered into lunging for the dangling carrot many times. However, I’m thankful that wisdom has shown itself more and more as my life has slowed down. (Yes, I know! There was that Amazon thing last night! I admit, I’m like a kid in a candy store when I click on Amazon.)

I think I’ll try this on the baristas at my local Starbucks. I think I’ll tell whoever is making the drinks to put only the free part in the glass and leave the rest empty.

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Heart Cries and an Emoji

March 6, 2024

 “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts…” (Acts 2:46)

A close friend razzes me about responding to a text or message with a thumbs-up emoji. After all, he says, “I’m baring my soul or giving reactions to what you’ve written, and what do I get in return? An emoji!”

He pronounces “emoji” like it’s a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman who has disturbed his Sunday afternoon nap. He’s got a point.

If someone writes an email with several lengthy paragraphs that include their heart cry, pain, or confusion, responding with an emoji is a bit insensitive. Although there may be considerable thought behind that heart emoji, the receiver doesn’t know that. He assumes that the sender gave as much thought to it as the price of a loaf of bread.

Sadly, we’ve become an “emoji culture.” Pressing on an image takes a fraction of a second, whereas writing words with sincerity, thoughtfulness, and concern takes time. Symbolically, many of us have an enormous number of emoji relationships, but only a few of the people we communicate with are friendships of substance. Some might argue that we have so many superficial relationships that we don’t have time to invest in any of them. Healthy relationships, that is, relationships that have emotional depth, meaning, and value, require time. Like a savory stew that needs to simmer, something important needs patience and attention. Fully present, that’s the term.

Jesus was fully present. Can you imagine if He had responded to the leper with a crying emoji or to Simon Peter’s words, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God” with an emoji facial expression of “Wow!”? Thank God, no one has compiled an emoji bible that replaces Jesus’s red-lettered words with wordless expressions of minimal matter.

Jesus was fully present, fully engaged. That modeling of the importance of hearing people’s heart cries and knowing them in more than a superficial way carried over into the early church. People were committed to one another. Even in the depth of their community, there were still the downfalls, such as Ananias and Sapphira. However, for the most part, they were connected. In fact, they were so intimately connected they were known for their sense of community.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that being closely committed means that we need to be wordy. Like one of my theology books from my seminary days, where a paragraph could be so long that I’d fall asleep before the ending, wordiness does not necessarily mean depth and a solid foundation. I don’t need to respond to my friend’s observation, affirmation, or heart cry with an analysis that resembles a thesis statement. The question to ask myself is, “Does he feel like I’ve heard him?”

In fact, some of us, like in the old days, may simply need to pick up our phone and call.

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The Entitled Nature of Happiness

February 25, 2024

This afternoon, my family will sing “Happy Birthday” to three family members who have birthdays close together. We’ll enjoy being together, eating pizza and salad, opening gifts, and being amazed by the buzz of activity that occurs anytime our three kids, two spouses, one girlfriend, and five grandkids gather.

It will be a happy time, a blessed event. In the midst of it, assuredly, there will be a few moments of pouting because the four-year-old is being denied his third piece of cake, or the fifteen-year-old is told to put his third bottle of soda pop back and get a glass of water. The four-year-old may drop his chin and stare at the floor in protest of the denial, but the fifteen-year-old will engage his mom in debate with the question “Why?”, and further statements of the wrongful parental mandate.

And then two minutes later it will be forgotten.

Thus, the unrealistic expectation of happiness. Happiness is now something we have come to believe we are entitled to. Let me clarify. Happiness is “getting what I want,” no matter the effect it may have on others or the consequences it may have on myself. Happiness is about the moment, about my immediate desire, and, most of all, happiness is often in a battle with health…spiritual, emotional, physical, and mental.

The Apostle Paul had a few things to say about “happiness at the expense of others.” He has some heated words in 1 Corinthians 11 about the selfish actions of some of the attendees at the gathering, which usually included some kind of meal and the observance of the breaking of bread and drinking from the cup in remembrance of Jesus. The offenders were thinking only of themselves and happiness at the expense of others. Some people worship happiness at the risk of future peril.

When happiness becomes our narrative, things like “discipline,” “order,” “practice, “wise planning and actions,” and “what is just and right” get pushed to the back. Thank God, Jesus’ goal was not to be happy. If it was, He never would have gone to the cross for us.

Overseeing a four-year-old’s constant seeking happiness in each moment is one thing, but when adults have that mindset for their lives, it creates incredible and often ridiculous conflict. It can be seen in schools where students cringe at learning math concepts because it interferes with their screen time. It can be seen in churches where the wisdom of the church leader is questioned because it interferes with what some of the people want. It can be seen in a child’s relationship with his parents when he seeks fulfillment in the moment and they’re unyielding. It can be seen in a player’s displeasure with his coach because he doesn’t get the playing time he wants. And it can be seen in a mentoree’s disgruntlement with his mentor, who sees the future consequences if wants in the present are yielded to.

There’s nothing wrong with being happy, but for many people it is the sole platform to stand on. In the disorder of our times, it blurs the mission and purpose of our lives.

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Uninvited Guest

January 10, 2024

This morning at my neighborhood Starbucks, a homeless woman in a wheelchair came in. The staff treated her with respect, offered to help her get into the restroom, and gave her a cup of hot coffee.

At 6AM on Wednesday mornings at this particular Starbucks, a group of four to six men meet. They pull two tables together, sit there, and gab as they drink coffee for an hour. It’s the one day during the week when I occupy a table at the other end of the cafe, because of the closeness of my usual seat to them.

However, on this Wednesday they had an uninvited guest, the homeless woman. When she exited the restroom, she pulled her wheelchair up close to the men’s tables and scooted over into one of the empty seats that was awaiting the arrival of one of their regulars. The dynamics of the group changed at that point. What was intended to be another round of their typical Wednesday morning chattering had the result of scattering. After about 15 minutes of the woman sitting with them at their tables and looking like she was feeling right at home, the group of four men took their leave. It was only 6:20.

Before her arrival, she had had an encounter with a couple of law enforcement officers outside the cafe, had wheeled herself away, but then had come back. At about 6:40, one of the officers came back, had a chat with her, and then guided her to the exit doors. I held the door open for her to maneuver her wheelchair to the outside. Although I’m not involved in the field of mental health, because of her chattering to herself and the chaotic state of the restroom after she had used it, I had the feeling that she had some form of mental illness.

And then, five minutes after her exit, the group of four men came back and gathered around their tables once again to resume the weekly chatter.

I considered what I had seen and heard. What did the situation communicate? Why was I left with a feeling of uncomfortableness?

First, the positive. The Starbucks staff was kind and considerate. They showed hospitality to the guest who had been burdened with multiple life challenges. They did what they could. Even the group of four men was respectful, but when it was apparent that she was seeing her visit to their tables as more than a “Hi! How are you?”, they made their escape.

Most of us are uncomfortable with intrusions into our normal living routines. We gravitate toward the familiar, the expected, and the planned-on. The problems of our society and world are so often simply seen as problems…out there, somewhere else, to be handled by others. Whether it be a wheelchair-bound homeless woman, a migrant crisis, a mass shooting, or even an autoworkers’ strike, we are often at a loss as to how to respond. We crave normalcy. We cringe about the irregular.

Truthfully, the Starbucks encounter with the homeless lady was a no-win situation. She wasn’t asking for help and was probably simply looking for a place to get warm for a while. Although we don’t like to admit it, the only answers we have for some of the situations in life are to be kind, respectful, and seek the Lord’s help in knowing how to respond.

Jesus was criticized for hanging out with “sinners.” He was scoffed at for healing the blind, the lame, and the ostracized lepers. For us, when the unexpected enters our arena of life or sits down at our table, it requires prayer and then a question to consider: What would Jesus do?

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The Smile in Death

December 3, 2023

“When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

 Where, O death, is your victory?
    Where, O death, is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:54-55

My last surviving aunt or uncle passed away about a month ago. Aunt Jerry was about as sweet and hospitable as anyone, related or otherwise, that I’ve known. She had edged into her 90s and has now danced into Glory. I’ll be flying back to Kentucky for her memorial gathering in a few days. It will be one of those bittersweet times when I’ll reconnect with my cousins and recount old stories of our aunts and uncles and our Papaw and Mamaw Helton.

The death of the loved one will be the stimulus for smiles and laughter about what has been, the memories of family and front porch conversations.

Recently, I’ve experienced the passing of several people who have been a part of my life. A couple of them were unexpected, while others were the endings of longstanding health issues or longevity. The number of deaths in a few months’ time has caused me to be more reflective about the tracks behind me, the ripples in the waves of where I’ve come from, and the people that were involved in those pieces of evidence of one’s life.

Death seems to live all around us, but we try to live as if it isn’t there. Not that we should incorporate a meditative moment each day to ponder its presence, but perhaps we should think of it in different terms instead of treating it like the long-lost uncle that no one wants to talk about anymore.

The passing of my Aunt Jerry causes me to remember her warmth and kindness. She was an encourager, speaking words that made you feel blessed to be alive. Memories of my childhood days in Kentucky are punctuated with her pleasant voice and personality.

Death causes one to halt, to ponder, to cherish, and to grieve. It’s like one of those rest areas along the highway that one realizes he needs to pull into for a few minutes instead of thinking it isn’t needed. It’s a pause before continuing on the journey.

For the follower of Jesus, death is a stepping across. It’s a transition from what is to what will forever be. Scripture tells us of the hope of glory and gives us a glimpse of it. However, living in Glory is an experience that will not be fully appreciated until the Christ-follower arrives. It’s going to a paradise that we’ve only heard stories about, but haven’t seen with our own eyes.

Just as there are the tears of death, there are also smiles in death. It’s the unavoidable final act for each one of us. May each one of us not be so caught up in what we won’t be able to take with us that we lose sight of the One who will, with open arms, accept us.

The One who will smile upon us forever more.

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Reliving Life

February 16, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                        February 16, 2015

                                                  

The needle of my life pushed past the halfway mark a few years ago…unless I live to be 120! Since my chronological age has a six in front of it I spend more than a few moments each day reliving past moments.

Understand that doesn’t mean that I’m constantly reliving those moments- few and far between- when I was hoisting a trophy in the air…or being honored by the Rotary Club for being named “Citizen of the Year”…no, that was a dream.

I seem to relive conversations, talks that stand out for their depth and discovery. As a pastor I remember counseling sessions where I was as stressed out as the confessors. I remember hospital bedside moments where eternity has been anticipated, regrets have been voiced, and hopes have been attached to grim realities.

As a parent I relive some of our kid’s soccer games…David’s high school team winning the state championship; basketball experiences…seeing Kecia nailing four three pointers in a game; Lizi captaining her college cheer squad at football games.

I also relive the boyfriends and girlfriends that graced our homes…sometimes for a while and other times for a moment. Most of the time these “special friends” got kicked to the curb…in a loving Christian way.

I relive special moments…Carol’s surprise 40th birthday party at Mason First Baptist where we drove up to a dark church building, but Carol noticed Lorraine Demorest’s car sitting out front and immediately thought that Lorraine had been killed by an axe murderer while we was practicing hymns on the organ for that coming Sunday.

I relive moments with many of my relatives who have gone on to glory. I think of my Uncle Junior prone to give my leg a pinch if I wasn’t paying attention; my Uncle Bernie’s pipe and delightful laugh; and my Aunt Irene’s taking me to Dairy Queen in celebration of my sixth birthday and allowing me to order a foot-long hot dog, milk shake, and banana split.

I also relive the dark moments and dreaded phone calls. I remember Dave Hart’s early morning phone call that his step-son Gary McClellan had been killed in a car accident; and my wife’s call while I was in the middle of a Deacon’s meeting to say that David, who was two years old at the time, had fallen from our neighbor’s second-floor landing on to a piece of sheet plywood that, thankfully, was laying on top of the asphalt below.

I relive my daughters’ weddings and the overwhelming emotional experience it was for both Carol and me. I’m tearing up as I relive them again right now.

I relive the waiting room experience at Penrose St. Francis Hospital as Kecia was in labor with her second child…and suddenly hearing the cry of a newborn baby a few yards away…and Reagan has been talking ever since then!

We relive life, learn from our mistakes, long to repeat the unforgettable, thank God for the endearing. Every conversation is a gift, another ornament on the tree of my life. Every sunrise is a blessing, every sunset a reminder of the cycle of God’s attentive care.

I pause several times a day to thank God for what has been, the richness of relationships, and the ability to say “Lord, you have blessed me bountifully!”

Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Humor, Jesus, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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