"ANY OLD STICK WILL DO"

“ANY OLD STICK WILL DO”

Nehemiah 2:4 “And the king said, “What is it you want?”

In the movies we hold our breath for “the moment of truth.” At the tire store they say it’s “where the rubber meets the road,” and on Wall Street they call it “the bottom line.” When I was a kid it was play ground talk, “it’s time to put em’ up or shut up!”

Been faced with the bottom line lately? April fifteenth ring a bell? Nehemiah knew what it was to have his own last minute meeting with the accountant, only to see the big red number at the bottom of the page. He had been waiting four months for this moment and now King Artexerxes wanted to know what was bothering him.

What would he say? He gulped, shot up a quick prayer and let 13 weeks of pent-up images come spilling out from the depths of his soul.

It was “time to make a change.” For this ancient builder he would be the one who would become ”the change agent.” It was ‘put up or shut up.” The pain of his ancestors and the embarrassment of his homeland (a city with no walls; therefore, no protection) had gripped his inner being and he wanted to do something about it. And do he did!!!!!!

The lift-gate on my 1992 Plymouth Voyager is broken. Nothing serious, just a two-dollar screw that snapped and broke away from the cylinder that holds the gate open. The other day in the grocery store parking lot, (as I was loading a weeks worth of grub into the old blue wagon), I looked at that well-worn cracked broom-handle-turned-cylinder that stood between me and a good conk on the head.

I said to myself, “One of these days that old stick is going to slip and knock you silly.” Then I had an even worse thought. “What if it slipped on my wife or one of my daughters and knocked them senseless?” “But the stick is working,” I rationalized. Then I had a mental picture: “Me in a parking lot, with half of my body stuck out of the back end of the family truckster, yelling for someone to come lift this two-hundred-pound door off my body.” Embarrassment made an appointment in my brain, and I am making an appointment with Marvin (he fixes my cars)! It is time to replace the stick with something strong.

Artexerxes asked Nehemiah: “What’s the problem, and what do want me to do for you?”

Nehemiah responded: “My homeland lays in ruin. It has no walls, and my people are in shame. SEND me home, SECURE me with your blessing, and SUPPLY me with all that I need to finish the job.”

For years “any old stick would do” for his hackneyed homeland. For many of us right now “any old stick is doing!” Anything come to mind? I am sure you are envisioning matters far more weighty than a two hundred pound lift-gate. Family? Finances? Physical problems? Career?

Jesus, on many occasions, said to people of the “any old stick will do” mentality, “What do you want me to do for you?” “ It’s my sight,” one man said. Another with leprosy asked, “Would you make me clean?” And still another queried, “It’s my sick child. Would you come and make him better?”

Nehemiah faced the bottom line, knee deep in red ink. King Artexerxes replaced his cracked stick with something strong.

Jesus is a specialist at replacing cracked broom handles holding up heavy doors. He is already asking, “What do you want me to do for you?” Why not trade in your stick for something strong?

"WITHOUT A RECIPE"

“WITHOUT A RECIPE, WE RISK REMORSE”

A wise old man once said: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6). STRAIGHT PATHS! Who wouldn’t want that in life? Just how do you get life to straighten out? It seems that Solomon gave us a recipe, and recipes are important.
I LOVE TO COOK! Ever since I was a child I enjoyed learning how to make my own food. The older I got, the more I learned. There was a time in my life that I actually set my sights on becoming a chef.
For a long time, however, I didn’t think it manly to use a cookbook. That was just for those with less insight into the world of “parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.” It was a one year old that finally taught me that my love of food and my craving for the zesty side of flavor was not for everyone.
While I was attending college full-time and working part-time at three jobs, my wife worked full-time. Quite often it was my responsibility to cook supper. I loved serving spaghetti. The sauce and meatballs were fun to make, and it was even more fun to watch our one-year-old son try to negotiate noodles and sauce from a bowl to his mouth. I looked forward to long sessions of Brandon covered from head to toe with Daddy’s seasoned sauce fit for “Luciano Pavarotti.”
One night when Susan arrived home from work, Brandon was in the high chair, and the floor was covered with paper (for protection from his wild child antics with “sabetti”). I dished him out a bowl full of fine nutrition, and he was off to the races. There were noodles stuck to his face and hair, and he had sauce in places that only a good bath could eliminate. Several minutes into his meal, long before we got a chance to sit down, he began to cry and say, “Hot, Daddy, hot.” I knew it couldn’t be too hot, but I touched it to my lips and said, “No, sweetheart, it’s not too hot. It has cooled long enough. You can go ahead and eat.” Susan and I sat down to eat our share of Italian fixens’, when he started again. “Hot, Daddy, hot.” I assured him that it was “O.K.,” that it was plenty cool, and he would be fine.
It was now Susan’s turn to dig into my concoction of sauce and spices. Her eyes began to water, face began to turn red, and suddenly she was backstroking her way out of this banquet gone blistering. “Stephen, this is incredibly hot. What did you put in this?” I responded, “Crushed red pepper, a little cayenne and some Frank’s Durkee’s Red Hot Sauce--but not much.” “Have you tasted it?” she asked. “Yeah, but it doesn’t seem hot to me.” At that point, Brandon had stopped his journey down the path of fiery food and was just saying, “Hot, Daddy, hot.” I then tried a heaping helping of my own hospitality. Let me tell you, this was some of the hottest stuff I had ever let pass my lips. It was not fit for a one year old to digest. In fact, this wasn’t fit for an “any year old” to eat. This was “steam city.” I learned something from that moment of culinary disaster. “When there is no recipe, you risk regret.” My “sabetti” went down the garbage disposal.
Recipes are essential when trying to avoid regret. Wise old Solomon gave us one that will never leave us saying, “Hot, Daddy, hot.” “Start with a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, add trust in the Lord, avoid stewing too long in your own perspectives, stir daily by praying to God, and the end result will be a straight path.”

"WHEN HE SPOKE"

“ WHEN HE SPOKE”

JOHN 20:15 “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you’re looking for?”

When he walked into the room, no one noticed he was there--just a simple man they knew from Galilee.

Son of a carpenter, who lived right down the road. They all thought they knew what he would be.

He would work with wood and build a home, maybe raise a family, but surely there’d be no great destiny.

But no one knew the secret hidden in the father’s heart; his appearance gave no hint to what they’d see.

But when he spoke all of heaven just stood still, and the earth began to tremble beneath his father’s will.

When he spoke, the hearts of men began to change. Heaven fell like rain, when he spoke. (Words by Rusty Goodman)

The whirling stress of the past week has laid me low. My friends and I were sitting alone tying to make sense of it all. I had a special attachment to this trauma. You see, at one point in my life, I was totally out of control.

Most of you probably won’t be able to relate to what I am about to tell you, but I’ll proceed.

When I was a child, I lived in deep corruption. It wasn’t my own, I was far too young to understand. My lostness was handed down as a legacy. What I saw as routine, those around me saw as dysfunctional. My family came from the wrong side of the tracks, troubled and traumatized. Poor, struggling to survive and most of all lonely. I don’t mean alone. We lived in a very highly populated area. I mean lonely. Plenty of people around, but very little meaningful attention. I am from Dalmanutha, or Magadan, about three miles west of Tiberious.

Tiberious was an unclean place. As a matter of fact, when it was founded, they had to force people to live there. The population was the lowest of the low. Centuries passed before things changed. Eventually, many Jewish people moved to Tiberious because they were forced from their homeland. The generations before me were forced to move to the suburbs. And it was in Magadan that my family settled and then struggled.

As I grew from dependency as a pre-teen to the new-found freedoms of my adolescence, life became very complicated. I tried everything. Most of my behavior stemmed from my need for attention. It worked. People began to notice me. It didn’t much matter to me what the process for being noticed was, just being seen was sufficient. My cries for meaning grew louder. Those who knew me best, and loved me most, just watched as I gradually lost control.

I’ve heard you have your own burdens to bear in your generation: Anorexia, Bulimia, Teenage Suicide, AIDS, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, Teenage Pregnancy, and the such. I’m sure the list goes on. I would have tried most of those. It is unfortunate how every generation has its dark side. We had ours, and you have yours.

I didn’t want money. I was never looking for a hand out. My heart’s cry was for someone to let me know that I mattered. That I had worth. Acceptance was my motive, and misbehavior was my method.

My adolescence got stretched. It began to extend into young adulthood; and eventually, I was trapped in a stage of life that was sad and sometimes sickening.

One of your historians got it right when he said: “This girl had seven relapses, fits with hysteria.” I was caught in a cycle. Panic prevailed.

I told you my hometown was wicked. And word got out. Every low life with a diluted dark side settled on our shores. We lived by the sea; and as sea towns go, we were no resort. This was a town full of corruption, and I was just another of the lost young women who had sold her soul at the till of trouble.

The greatest tragedy, however, was that I didn’t know I was troubled. To me this was all normal. I went from day to day with no direction or discretion. Secretly, it bothered me when people changed to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. I had feelings. Privately, I cried; but publicly, I was cool.

I wandered from day to day with no real purpose. Physical hunger usually brought me in contact with crowds. Bread was enough. But one day, I got a whole lot more.

Word had spread of this man who could make people better, sometimes even raising them from the dead. Although I acted satisfied with my sickening life, I was always interested in new displays of power. Word spread and a crowd gathered, there were thousands of us. Suddenly, he began to speak. I had never been so moved in my life. I had heard it all, manipulation, political persuasion, military might. In fact, there was a new god for every season. Many of us had thousands of gods. Some of those gods were not gods at all; they were the devil himself, wrapped in a lie.

But this man was different. He had something I had never seen.

I listened. My insides turned upside down. I was hungry for more, but my head said no. It was then he spoke as if he knew my name. “No man can serve two masters.” He said. “I am the bread of life. Do not work for the food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the son of man will give you. The bread of life is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”

He sought me out and delivered me from my pain and past. My torment was lifted; and from that day forward I listened to every word he said, followed faithfully and served wherever needed. I became a disciple.

I saw him calm storms, heal the oppressed, raise a dead girl to life, teach the twelve with authority and even feed 5000 people on the banks of the sea by my hometown. Everything seemed to be just perfect. But there was one moment when that all came screeching to a halt. Jesus was arrested.

How could they do this? He had never hurt anyone. I stayed with his mother through it all, and even watched as the man I had come to honor hung on a cross.”

From the cross, he noticed us, especially his mother. He looked right at her and said, “Dear woman, behold your son.” I cried so hard my stomach wrenched. I stayed for her, and I stayed for him. In what seemed like days we watched in agony until he finally said: “It is finished.” He bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Three days later I went to the tomb. The grave clothes were in an orderly arrangement. From that we knew that the body had not been stolen, “but that the mortal had put on immortality.”

As I stood there, something told me I was not alone. I heard a noise; and as I looked inside, I saw two angels where the body had been. They talked to me. They asked me, “Why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord,” I said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

I turned around to leave, and another man was there. “Why are you crying? Who is it you’re looking for?” he said. That is an uncommon question in a cemetery. In fact it could almost be considered an insult. That is unless the questioner knows something the questionee doesn’t.

I thought for sure he was the gardener. He could have revealed himself right then, but he let me hear that voice one more time. I told him my struggle, and then it happened. He called me by name.

He didn’t leave me wondering for long; just long enough to remind me that he loves to surprise us. He waits for us to despair of human strength and then intervenes with the heavenly. God waits for us to give up and then----surprise.

From then on I was at peace. I had seen him die, and now I had seen him live again.

He surprised me. Has it been a while since he has surprised you? It’s easy to reach the point where we think we have God figured out. We know exactly what God does. We break the code. We chart his tendencies. God becomes a computer. If we push all the right buttons and insert the right data, God will be exactly who we thought he would be. No variations, no alterations. God becomes a jukebox. Insert the coins, punch in the right numbers and---bam---the divine music we want fills the room.

I met the other Jesus. The one that couldn’t be figured out just counted on. “Mary,” he said. I was shocked. It is not often you hear your name spoken by the resurrected voice of the Savior. But when he said it, I recognized it. And when I did, I worshipped him.

Who am I? I am Mary Magdalene. You know me now as one of you. I was looking for Jesus all my life, I just didn’t know it. Are you looking for Jesus? When was the last time you got surprised by the savior?

Take it from a lonely girl from the other side of the tracks. When he speaks, all of heaven just stands still; and he is speaking to you.

Heaven fell like rain when he spoke. Is it raining in your life?

THE FATIGUED FINISHER

“SOME FRIENDLY WORDS FROM A FATIGUED FINISHER”

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award me on that day.” (II Timothy 4:7-80).

Nestled in the patchwork quilt-colored hills of the Susquehanna Valley in northeast Pennsylvania, each Thanksgiving there is a race. It’s not a marathon, not even a half marathon. If I remember correctly, it is 9.6 miles of rolling foliage and rugged hills. In 1985 the “Run for the Diamonds” celebrated its 75th anniversary. In normal years the race promoters gave every registered runner a free T-shirt just for entering, but that year every finisher received a commemorative brass key chain.

When the newspaper announced that each finisher would collect more than just a T-shirt, I couldn’t resist. I was never much on running long distances. In my opinion anything longer than 400 meters is cruel and unusual punishment. On this day I banished that thought, stepped outside my comfort zone and tackled this footrace through the foothills.

My first challenge was what to wear. Not being a “real” runner, my wardrobe wasn’t stocked with the fineries of spandex Adidas leggons, running shorts, nor a fancy brightly-colored shirt. I wore soccer shorts and a T-shirt that said, “POWER” in big letters and the words “I can do all things through Christ” scripted underneath. Fitting apparel for a preacher with one thing on his mind: finishing!

Eleven hundred runners came to run that day. Most of them were running for a chance at the diamond rings that were awarded for the first two places. I came for a key chain, nothing more, and certainly nothing less! We all gathered at the corner of First and Market, 100 yards from the Susquehanna River. The gun sounded and off we went, up Market Street for a mile. Then the river of runners snaked out of town. Friends told me I should practice on the course, but I never found the time. It wasn’t very long before I recognized that I should have listened.

The first three miles of this course were all up hill. Not steep, just grimly gradual. Just as my lungs began to burn and my brain began to bargain with my body, a young girl came flying by and said, “Guess your gonna need two of those power shirts today, huh?” She wasn’t a little child; she was old enough to know better than to insult a wheezing geezer! I was offended and immediately spoke back to my brain, “We will finish!!”

The next two miles were flat and gradually downhill. I had numerous arguments with my lungs and legs for the next hour, but I just kept placing one aching foot in front of the other. Five miles, six, seven and then eight.

About this time I came upon that same young girl who had insulted me on my first uphill grind. I still had a mile to go, but I felt a rush of adrenaline like I had never experienced before. I was almost in a full sprint when I caught and passed her. What would I say as I whizzed by? I decided it would be just enough to slow down long enough for her to have to read my shirt just one more time. Anyway, I didn’t need to say anything. I wasn’t running this race for her; I was running it for the key-chain.

A few minutes later I finished the race, zigzagged my way through the awards line, got my time and place (none of your business), and was handed my brass key-chain. To this day I still haven’t used it. It means something to me. I finished. I didn’t win. I didn’t even come close, but I finished. Not only that, but I won the prize. FINISH! There’s a prize that’s waiting.

Lessons For Your Lunchbox 1

“LESSONS FOR YOUR LUNCHBOX”

As I grow older, I ponder toward my legacy. I was groomed in the age of sound bites, often wondering what will be said when I pass from this earth. I once came across a book in southern Vermont entitled: “Talk Less, Say More.” I never read the book. I didn’t have to, the title said it all. And, hopefully, these words can be said of me.

As time passes, I want to be succinct. In that process I have stumbled upon, retrieved from others and ripped from my soul some truths that I find fruitful. I started by calling them: “Things I Believe In.” Eventually, that title gave way to a series of writings that have now become “Lessons for my lunchbox”, that will, hopefully, someday form my Legacy.

The following sound bites are “the rod and staff that have comforted me” in my search to have an impact in this world. The statements are short and each one has a story, but for now just ponder them and allow the truth to form your learning.

NEVER DELEGATE A CONFIDENCE: always remember, “and Mary pondered these things in her heart.” There are things that I will take to my grave.

WHEN YOU MESS UP--FESS UP: always remember, “Achan hid the fruits of Jericho. He could have avoided his pain with a simple admission.” People respect humility over arrogance.

ALWAYS CHOOSE INTEGRITY OVER CONVENIENCE: always remember: “If Aaron would have waited a little longer, he wouldn’t have had to eat the ground-up golden calf.”

WHILE SAUL IS FALLING, GOD IS CALLING: always remember, “while Saul was being annoying, David was being anointed.” Be faithful, your time will come.

WHILE DAVID WAS LEARNING, GOD WAS LOOKING: always remember, “what you do in secret will be rewarded openly.”

BE ALERT, BUT NOT ALARMED: always remember, “sheep scatter sheep, and shepherds settle sheep.” Jesus said, “In this world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

NEVER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT SOMEONE YOU WOULDN’T SAY TO THEM: always remember, “there are ripples to every word you speak, and they strike the shores of life in ways you never dreamed possible.”

THERE ARE THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW AND THINGS YOU WANT TO KNOW: always remember: “a wise leader knows the difference: sometimes it’s neither.” Jesus said, “It’s not good for you to know the times or the seasons.”

LEADERS ARE LEARNERS: always remember, “read.”

The higher you GO the less options you have: always remember, “the position of leader will be judged more strictly.”

it’s tough to keep a full cup steady: always remember, “Jesus said: Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.” Don’t spill your family, your ministry or your soul for the sake of “many things.”

the closer you get the more difficult it is to confront: always remember, “Jesus went away by himself for a while,” then he faced the problems of those closest to him.

People will never understand your methods until they understand your motives: always remember, “the ten commandments were truths engraved in the heart of Moses by God himself.” It’s not hard to follow when you know where the vision comes from.

UNLESS YOU ARE BROKEN, YOU WILL NEVER REBUILD: always remember, “Nehemiah bore much sorrow, over his hurting city, long before he rebuilt it.” Unless something burdens you enough to break you, it will probably be left in peril. “Until the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of change, men stay the same.”

FOR EVERY BLESSING THERE IS A BOUNDARY: always remember, “the rules are there to keep the fun in the game.” The Apostle Paul said, “God is not the author of confusion. Everything should be done decent and in order.”

FOR EVERY RESTRAINT THERE MUST BE A REASON: always remember, “fences are for keeping bad things out and good things in.” The prophet Amos said, “Hate the evil, love the good and stand in judgment at the gate.”

THOSE THAT ARE SELF ABSORBED…SELF DESTRUCT: Paul said, “Demas, be cause he loved the world has left me.” Stay true to God.

BE A VOICE AND NOT AN ECHO: always remember, John the Baptist said: “I am the voice of the one crying in the wilderness.” He had his own message.

AND FINALLY……..AND MOST IMPORTANTLY…….In order to have a decisive legacy, you are certainly going to have to: WRITE YOUR OWN LIST!: always remember, Jesus said: “and greater things than these shall you do.” There is yet much to learn.