Carved into the side of one of my favorite places in the world – Deer Bluff, near the family farm in Alabama…
That brings up a thought:
Ever seen something like this carved in a rock or a tree (or written on a bathroom wall or somebody’s notebook)?
J.S. + E.J. = Tru Luv 4 Ever.
Without bothering to even ask whether you ever wrote something like that, I wonder where J.S. and E.J. are now? I wonder how “tru” their “luv” is today? I wonder if “4 Ever” really meant 4 days, or 4 weeks?
Then again, who knows? J.S. and E.J. may be J.S. and E.S. today, with four kids, three pets, two cars, and a nice mortgage. Maybe there was more than just “4” in their “4 Ever.”
Forever. Yet another of those charming words we overuse and undervalue. Often said in the extremes of emotion, for many of us “forever” only means until we calm down or come up for air. And yet we do live in a world of certainties, where words like “forever” and “always” really mean something. Trouble is, because of the ways we so often water it down, sometimes we lose the force of forever when it’s the real thing. [click to continue…]
“I’m not a smart man – but I know what love is.”
-Tom Hanks as Forrest Gump
Attending a Christian worship service is a very different kind of experience for many different kinds of people. For me on most weekends, it’s Game Day. All hands on deck. Because of the responsibilities I have, it’s something of a 90-minute rehearsal taking place in my brain – rehearsing sermon points, announcements, and service order points that will unfold in a matter of seconds – all under the theme, “What comes next?”
This weekend was no different in that regard. We had three services with lots of moving parts, and I was tracking with all of them. And yet for reasons I have yet to understand, I was surprised to find my heart stirred by special faces in distant places. I found myself so aware – so drawn – so surprised by love – at one point during one of the offertories, all I could do is sit there and weep.
In short, I was beautifully startled by the people who attended the services in my West Texas church this weekend. [click to continue…]
“I have you in my heart.”
Sounds charming, doesn’t it? The stuff of Hallmark cards and chick flicks, BFFs and boyfriends.
What if I were to tell you that the person who said this wrote it from a prison cell? That he (yes, he) was a time-hardened traveler who never could take “no” for an answer? That he once was a religious terrorist and murderer? A 63-or-so-year-old man who had argued his way in and out of trouble so many times, many of his closest associates had hit the road?
And yet from prison he wrote to a group of VIPs – friends who had been sources of great joy to him. And this is what he said: [click to continue…]
In a previous administration, a lady in our church came back from a trip and brought me a page-per-day calendar. On each page was a funny cartoon about life in Church World. I loved it! Whoever the cartoonist is, he knows church people.
Whenever I found a cartoon that was particularly funny to me, I tried to share with somebody else I thought could appreciate it as much as I did. One day I found just such a cartoon. I laughed out loud, and it reminded me of someone. But it took me a minute to realize who the cartoon made me think of. Then like a lightning bolt it hit me: the name and face of an old friend. The things the cartoon made fun of were things that he and I used to laugh a lot about. It made me think of him so much, I almost sent it to him . . . in a blank envelope.
Within seconds my laughter had turned to a peaceful sadness. The cartoon was still funny, but the situation it reminded me of wasn’t. The last time I had contact with my old friend, I had disappointed him very badly. I didn’t mean to hurt him, and he knew that. He wasn’t bitter at me. I still called him my friend, although I hadn’t been much of a friend to him. But circumstances beyond our control had prevented us from healing and rebuilding what once was a wonderful, close friendship. It was very sad, and at times very painful.
That night I dreamed of him – I’m sure because of the cartoon. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
“Hi, I’m Butch, and I’m an alcoholic.”
He didn’t say it exactly like that the first time I talked to him. But two minutes into my first conversation with Butch Lowrey, I knew he had been visiting my church, he was a recovering alcoholic, and that he liked what I was preaching. Butch introduced me to a spiritual program that had changed his life and stopped his drinking forever. I attended his second A.A. birthday party, and eventually became his sponsor. No doubt about it, though. I learned more from him than he ever learned from me.
“Nothing in God’s world happens by mistake.”
Butch believed that, and said it often. As part of his recovery, there were many other spiritual truths he stood on, and repeated. Truths such as: “If all your problems could solved by money, you don’t have a problem,” and, “You’ve just got to let go and let God.”
He also learned a rare and refreshing kind of honesty. On one occasion he said, “People in [this] county are committed to making everyone else just as miserable as they are.” Later he told me, “Andy, you preach long because you like to hear yourself talk. You’re just on an ego trip.” He was smiling, of course. [click to continue…]
This is another response to my request for love stories. I’m still looking! Who has taught you about the real meaning of love? How have you experienced it? Email me at [email protected] and share what you have observed, learned, or experienced.
The following was originally written by Joel, my son, on February 28 last year. It’s a powerful story of friendship that transcended social and racial barriers, and started with a plane crash in a Vietnamese rice paddy. (You can read more of Joel’s good stuff at http://anyidleday.com).
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This guest column is from my friend Todd Thompson, who is a gifted writer and communicator. In response to my request for love stories, Todd send me this amazing account.
My Grandma Thompson was born on an Iowa farm in 1900. In the early 1920’s she was a teacher and high school principal. While a teacher she formed some strong friendships with three of her fellow teachers. Glynda, Mack, Bess, and my Grandma Bernice became great friends.
During that time my Grandfather began to pursue a relationship with my Grandmother. He knew a good thing when he saw it. But Grandma didn’t make it easy for him. He had to court her with a great deal of persistence before she finally said “yes”. In a letter she wrote to my cousin describing the events leading up to their marriage, Grandma said, “I once told your Grandfather that it would be a cold day before I married him. And it was. 30 below zero on Christmas Eve 1924.”
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