As a senior in high school who was shopping for colleges, I never considered sending an application to the local university in Chattanooga. I wanted to get out of town.
I didn’t think of it as running away so much as trying to figure out who I wanted to become. I needed to clear my head of everything that I had been told and decide what I believed in. To find my destiny, I needed to be free.
In my mind, I was already gone.
For the next twenty years, I moved from place to place chasing the next big thing. At first I was alone, then with Kim, and finally with kids and all. We never really rooted anywhere – not South Carolina, Tennessee, Illinois, Tennessee again, Virginia, or Missouri. Moving somewhere new is easy when you aren’t connected to anything.
Our journey ultimately led to Texas and God parked us here. After moving into our house and settling into a new routine, a feeling of contentment began to spread through us. The kids were happy. We met our neighbors and made friends. We joined a church that was full of life and joy.
After decades spent wandering, I had found something more valuable than the American Dream that I had pursued across the country.
I found my hometown.
The world may be full of special places, but none of them compare with my hometown. It’s not because of convenient restaurants and shops, good schools, or strong property values. It’s certainly not the hot, Texas weather or rows of similar homes on small lots.
This is my hometown because I love the people here.
My new sense of direction is based on the people in my life. Next week, I’m supposed to help a lady whose house is back behind where the Schultes used to live. Michael’s son moved into a home near Bob’s place. I need to pick something up at the Home Depot by where Erin works.
Everybody knows that we eat at Chili’s every Friday night. Their food tastes pretty much the same as each of the other 1,600 locations, but this is the only one where we can sit in William’s section to hear how his art classes are going and about his plans to teach elementary school one day.
We shop for groceries at the Neighborhood WalMart. If we only need a few things, I use the self-checkout and hope for problems. I know that Mayo will see our flashing light and hurry over with a giant smile to say “Hi, James’s dad. How are you today?”
On our big, weekly shopping trip, we pick the lane where we recognize the cashier. It doesn’t matter if their line is longer than the others. I like to tell them they’re worth the wait.
When senior citizens call the city to ask for help with yard work, Shelly takes their calls and then emails me. She can depend on a “yes” answer and a good job. I’ve got a lot of friends who love to help their neighbors.
This is the only place I would cry for a homeless friend who passed away on a cold, winter night (click here to read that post). This is where I smile every time I see a family enjoying a picnic on a table that I helped some kids to build.
I get to worship Jesus in a church filled with my best friends. I remember the conflicts we’ve had in the past and how they proved their love for me was bigger than our differences would ever be.
Erin just moved across town into Oak Tree Apartments. It’s the same apartment complex that Kim’s parents lived in. When she turned in her application, the person at the desk asked how Kim was doing. This is a special place to Erin.
She hung out with her grandparents there, but she also spent time with kids in the after-school ministry that Kim led. She served those same kids lunches sponsored by Kids Eat Free during summer vacations.
In the grassy patch behind her apartment, she watched the excited faces of toddlers who found Easter eggs she had carefully hidden in plain view. In that same spot, she worked carnivals that marked the last day of Vacation Bible School. Across the parking lot, she joined with a middle-school small group searching for Jesus in the Bible.
Erin loves plants and her new place is filled with beautiful ones with all kinds of names I can’t remember. She transplants them, waters them, and moves them around to keep them growing. It is the same love she has showered over that place for ten years, nurturing young souls to grow well. One day, those people will become strong leaders in their neighborhoods and families because she equipped them well.
Maybe Erin will decide this is her hometown, too. That is her choice to make, but I hope so. Her roots here are strong and she is a community treasure.
James is at home between semesters and we know that each summer may be the last time he lives with us. He will have the same choice to make one day. Will his boyhood hometown become the place he returns to defend and protect?
Like his sister, he has planted good seed throughout this community. It is a better city because of him, too. When his time comes, he will have to decide.
As for me and Kim, we know where home is. God smiles on us in this place. We have traded the American Dream in favor of a community. We know we’ve made the right decision.
Some mornings I wake up to a day that seems to have a shadow cast over it. They are nothing and nobody days. Nothing seems to make me happy and nobody seems to do things the right way.
The cause may be that I am feeling bad, the world is wearing on me, or spiritual forces are attacking me. Whatever the cause, the outcome is the same. People just seem to get on my nerves. All kinds of people for all kinds of reasons. They are rocks in my path.
I am quick to judge that my frustrations are their fault. My ground rule is simple in deciding what is “fair” or “reasonable”. I even have a name for it.
WWID – What Would I Do. If I were them, what would I have done? Expect the same thing from others as you expect from yourself. One standard that applies to everyone equally.
If you cut into line, you shouldn’t have. WWID? Wait your turn.
If you no-show a commitment, that is wrong. WWID? Do what you say you will do.
If you robo-call me, that is annoying and even illegal. WWID? Be respectful and follow the law.
Judging is very efficient when I hold people accountable to what I think of myself, but it doesn’t seem to bring me joy. It is also unfair.
I am judging other people based on an opinion of my own capabilities, circumstances, values, and preferences. In reality, nobody shares all of these things with me. God made me as a unique creature with unique capabilities and placed me into a unique environment. How could someone else be me?
In order to climb up this emotional ladder, I need to remember how I descended in the first place.
On my happy days, I follow the Golden Rulethat Jesus gave us in Matthew 7:12.
Focusing on what Jesus has already done for me gives me the strength to do things for others. When I take my eyes off him and focus on the tasks, the Golden Rule becomes exhausting. I get tired of running around trying to do so much and just like Peter started to sink when he took his eyes of Jesus, I slide down my own ladder.
When I get tired of working too hard, I step down a few rungs to the Even Steven Rule.
The workload is much lighter here. I get to ignore all the people who don’t appreciate me and focus my efforts on people who return the favor.
This fails when people have their own problems. Eventually, they become too needy or offend me. When that happens, I slide down further and the WWID Rule goes into effect.
The word “do” is totally removed from the WWID Rule. Instead of doing anything, I just sit back and expect better. On these days, I have totally forgotten everything I have received and look past the constant blessing in my life. I stop receiving from Jesus and start expecting from others. That is when the list of people who frustrate me starts to grow.
If you have WWID days like me, the good news is that Jesus is more than enough. Whatever we expect of him, he continues to exceed. When we reach for him, we begin to climb back up the ladder.
As we climb back past the Even Steven level, we see that he has done more for us than we can do for him. The closer we look, the more blessings we see that are piled up. Golden Rule days are easy when you focus on receiving and releasing blessings that overwhelm your ability to hold them all.
The Golden Rule was based on the law of the Old Testament. The New Testament version of the Golden Rule isn’t a rule at all. It is a Life of Grace and it is the highest rung on the ladder.
Grace doesn’t require us to “do” or “give” anything. It doesn’t turn on or off based on our response. Grace gives us the chance to share with other people who Jesus loves just as much as he loves us.
In this world, I expect that WWID days will happen. When they do, the important thing is for me to quit expecting to receive more from others and start focusing on what to do with the overflow I already have.
Do not think about a ripe watermelon, split in half and filled with seeds.
Too hard because the picture is above it? All right. Do not think about the fork you would use to eat the watermelon.
You thought about them, right? The pictures linger in our minds, totally disregarding the instruction not to think about it. The more often we tell ourselves not to think about them, the deeper the images get burned in.
The word “not” vanishes and our brains focus on the message. These thoughts fill our mind and can determine our perspective. The Apostle Paul cautioned about it when he wrote.
It’s not just about picturing things. Imagine you are driving down the road and the person in the passenger seat says “Watch out for that pothole on the right.” When your eyes turn toward the right, where do you automatically guide the steering wheel?
Solomon provided some relevant advice, which matches my kids’ instructor from Vista Ridge Driving School.
The same principle works with instructions, too. No matter who is giving them.
“Adam and Eve, you must not eat the fruit from that tree.” As they heard him speak the words, they must have been imagining themselves biting into the fruit. The action soon followed.
Unless we are really careful, then we will imagine things we shouldn’t, and our eyes will guide us into things we should avoid.
When I criticize people or focus attention on negative things, I build those images in their minds. It is only natural that they would start to see examples of those images as they walk through their daily lives. When they focus on those examples, they unintentionally steer toward them.
If I believe that, why do I complain so much about things I don’t like – burning those images into my own brain? And why do I spend so much time warning people about perils to avoid – guiding them into those very dangers?
I was thinking about that this morning while I was showering before work. During my final rinse, I decided to go on a not-fast. I committed to avoid the use of negative comments and to redirect my thoughts toward positive imagery.
Stepping out of the shower onto the bathmat, I described to Kim something that worried me about a friend. My fast was broken within sixty seconds. It is hard to change our behaviors.
God uses images to influence our behaviors positively. Before we were born, he created a perfect picture of what we could become. He doesn’t change that picture when we fail. He forgets our sins and embraces his original image and his plan for our lives.
As he reveals that image to us, we see glimpses of it in our daily walk with him. We are drawn to those things, which steer us into our destiny.
I want to become the person that God sees me to be. I also want to help all the people in my life in that same pursuit.
One day at a time, one person a time, we can begin to see people in the same glory that God sees them. As we speak that over them, they will automatically be steered in that direction.
I am careful in my writing. When my words get tangled up in “nots”, I carefully replace them with ones that construct my message. My backspace button gets a heavy workout, but the finished product seen by others focuses on a positive thought.
Regular life is more difficult than writing, but why can’t we use a mental backspace button? We can deconstruct flawed images of the people in our lives and replace them with ones that God ordained.
I dream that my writing will motivate people, so I choose my words and images carefully. Ironically, it is me that is initially impacted. I am the first person to be affected by the hope I seek to share, and it is contagious.
The world of tomorrow is being built in our minds today. What kind of world do you see?
Prophesy the hope, joy, and love that you envision. Speak over people the greatness that you see in them. Be the voice of truth.
80% of us believe in miracles – supernatural interventions that cause amazing, improbable things to happen1. There are all kinds of examples.
Stories abound of cancer victims cured instantly, people surviving falls from dizzying heights, and dead hearts that begin to beat again. Most people also believe that God is responsible for these miracles.
People love to tell stories of the awesome power of miracles. Everyone has an example of something amazing. It’s like they are saying “That’s my God, all right. He is strong enough to do anything.”
These mega-miracles are comforting because they reinforce God’s role as your protector. They are huge, indisputable signs of his presence. They give hope that in your own days of despair, he will come to your rescue, too.
There is another kind of miracle. I searched online, but can’t find any research studies measuring how many of us believe in them. I call them mini-miracles, and they require a different level of faith.
Mini-miracles are small influences made by God in our own lives. They are still supernatural and improbable. They may be smaller in size, but they aren’t smaller in impact. Here is an example of a recent mini-miracle in my life.
I’ve been sick for the past few weeks. I’ve been super-fatigued and can barely get through a slow day. Doctors haven’t been much help yet figuring out why. On a recent Saturday, my friends were getting together to do yard work for a friend who really needed help. I desperately wanted to go but knew I’d never survive the strenuous activity on a day forecasted to be over 90 degrees.
The morning of the event I felt terrible. I asked God to give me the strength to serve him that day. Against Kim’s better judgment, I loaded up and drove over, then felt the best I had in weeks. For the next eight hours, I had more energy than I’d had in a long time. It was an awesome day. However, I woke up the next day exhausted again.
It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was supernatural. It wasn’t impossible, but it was improbable. Most importantly, it was personal. I loved it.
Recognizing mini-miracles requires an admission that God is moving in your life all the time. It acknowledges that he cares about you personally and spends time with you throughout each day. Mini-miracles happen because God is always present in your life.
Sometimes when life is hard, we feel alone. The pain that overwhelms us doesn’t go away when we pray for it. Voices whisper in your ear, saying that God could help but isn’t really worried about you right now, he has other things to do. Feeling abandoned, we don’t even expect help.
The beauty of mini-miracles isn’t the change they make in your life. The beauty of a mini-miracle is the simple reminder that God is there.
In the ministry part of my life, it has been easy to expect mini-miracles. In his name, I step into situations where I lack the ability and resources to make a difference. God has intervened so many times that I have learned to depend on his help as much as I can depend on a hammer to drive a nail.
I want to live that way all the time. Unfortunately, too often I fall short of passionate pursuit and settle for obligatory obedience.
Obedience is doing what God says, but it isn’t the same thing as passionately pursuing him. For example, when I talk about the ministry part of my life, that is just another way of saying the parts of my life that I live in a passionate pursuit of God. That distinguishes them from other parts of my life where I am merely obedient.
How much different would my marriage be if I surrendered it totally to him? What if I expected that every time Kim and I came together that we would be releasing his love into the world? Miracles would occur if I wasn’t guarded and defensive but instead expected to see the handiwork of God explode into the city just because we were together. My marriage would be so much stronger.
What if I entered each meeting at work expecting God to move instead of worrying about being right or wrong, being perceived correctly or not? What would happen if I reached out in faith, relying on God for success? Work would need a new name.
Maybe you have an area of your life where you need a miracle. Maybe you need a mega-miracle or maybe only a mini-miracle. Either way, God is on the move, just trust him. Maybe it’s not in the direction you hope for. Let go and let him take over. Then get ready for something amazing.
God loves us desperately. In each area of our life that we turn over to him, miracles will become common.
Each Memorial Day for the past several years I have taken part in the Murph Challenge. It is an endurance workout borrowed from the Navy Seals in honor of Michael P. Murphy, who was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions in Afghanistan in 2005.
“The Murph” is a tradition that helps push us, humble us, and dedicate a bit of pain and sweat to honor all the men and women who gave everything they had for our freedom.
I trained harder this year than ever before. I recently celebrated my 50th birthday, and not a lot of guys my age still slip into the 20-pound vest and go run on a 95-degree day. The countless chin-ups, push-ups, and squats mercilessly punished my hands, joints, and muscles, but it was worth it. I was in my best shape yet. I was ready.
On Murph morning, I sensed trouble when I rolled out of bed. The tickle in my throat and aches in my joints warned me that my body’s defenses had been compromised. Hoping for the best, I went ahead with the plan. I survived for 25 minutes before becoming weak and lightheaded. I tried to continue, but had to give up halfway complete.
My spirit was crushed. I had expected to place last in the elite group that my brother assembled, but having to walk off without finishing made me feel like an absolute failure. It wasn’t supposed to end that way.
Later, when I had cooled down, I thought about the people who had lost their lives defending our freedom. They had trained harder than ever before also. Like my grandfather who died in World War II, it wasn’t supposed to end that way.
I wonder what he thought as he climbed into the cockpit of his B-17 bomber on that last fateful mission. Did he have a warning that today wasn’t going to go as planned, or did he go about his pre-flight routine like he had so many other times, totally unaware?
My grandfather, James McAfee, was a regular guy from Indiana with a pregnant wife and toddler back home. He had spent countless nights picturing his family that was half a world away. He must have dreamt of the day when he could return home to embrace his wife like he had the last time he saw her.
This weekend a different James McAfee walked through the door to see the woman who had patiently awaited her husband’s homecoming over seventy years earlier. The husband was replaced by his namesake great-grandson, who is now three years younger than the life that ended too soon.
She was visibly excited to see James. She hugged him again and again before engaging in small talk that only interests people who care about each other.
One James is now a voice from the past and the other is a part of the next generation we hope to inspire. The same, sweet lady has encouraged them both and served as the common link in the chain of events that forms their lives.
But so much changed in the time between the two, loving embraces.
The Greatest Generation went on to defeat the Nazis who threatened the world. Unfortunately, when the threat died, the evil was not destroyed. Instead, it rose from the ashes like a dark phoenix with a new identity in each generation. It has returned in the form of communism, then again as radical Islamic terrorism. It has continued to prowl throughout time, seeking to steal, kill, and destroy all of us in our weak moments.
But as the darkness rises, so do the heroes who stand in defiance.
Each generation must fight its own battles against the evil that threatens humanity. Each generation must do its part to guard the light of hope in a world that is under attack.
I wish I could thank my grandfather for his sacrifice and tell him that he made a difference to me, but he was gone long before I was born. However, I can honor him by remembering his bravery. I can also remember the sacrifices made by so many others. The memories of their acts of love strengthen us when the enemy returns.
I hope that my grandfather would be proud of what our family has done with the lives he paid for with his own. I hope we embody the liberty and freedom that he died defending.
It took a failed workout to remind me that evil will always be defeated and that God will continue to use common people to achieve his glory. Our goal is not victory in a battle, rather it is to live in the embrace of His love and stand in resistance to the evil that mocks Him, even at the cost of our lives.
Our fallen warriors are more than just stories. Learn their names. Remember their sacrifice. Then let’s go fight our enemy. It’s our turn to shine Christ’s light and drive the evil back into the shadows.
May our stories be told to strengthen our children.
I’ve been working on my next post for the past two weeks. I wanted to share God’s message of love, peace, and hope with the world. After several drafts that really fizzled, I’ve kept looking for something just right. I wanted something better. I wanted something big.
I imagined the post going viral, igniting passion in millions of people as they read it. But the harder I tried to find the perfect thing, the more elusive it became. Why wouldn’t the quintessential words come to me?
I have talked to other people who believe they have the next great idea in serving others. They have big dreams of taking away pain, ending hunger, or eliminating poverty. They imagine God using them to change the world. They become confused when others don’t get as excited as they are.
All of this may seem farfetched to you, but we all do the same thing in one way or another. Have you ever imagined how you would do things differently as the next Mega-Millions winner, then wondered why you don’t get the chance?
Our dreams seem noble, but the outcomes can be disappointing.
While waiting for inspiration I prayed, “God, what do you want me to do?”
The answer that came back to me was Psalm 100:1a, KJV.
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord
It’s a funny verse, written by King David. He was an accomplished harpist and wrote over seventy songs in the book of Psalms. He danced with all his might in front of a nation. He commissioned 288 men to serve as the Temple Musicians.
With the enormous vision, passion, and talent he possessed and with nearly infinite resources at his disposal, King David didn’t say to compose beautiful music and perform it to perfection. Why would he say to make a noise?
Noise isn’t something you make for other people. Noises just happen when you open your mouth and decide to make a sound. But when your heart is full, the sound is a joyful noise.
I don’t think that David ever sat down to author a chapter in the book of Psalms. One day at a time, his heart overflowed with the goodness of God and when he began to write, his joyful noise simply poured out. In the second verse of Psalm 100 he wrote: “Serve the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyful songs.” David played for an Audience of One.
The reason for my frustration finding the perfect topic had been staring me in the face all along. I was focused on performing for a large audience when God asked me to make a joyful noise just for him.
I find peace sitting in my recliner and composing these posts. I love to re-read them and make subtle changes. It takes hours and frequently moves me to tears as I feel a connection with him. When I have finally captured the words that express my feelings, my heart overflows with joy when I hit the “Publish” button.
I get the same feeling again when I sit alone, reading back through old posts, remembering each special moment that I shared with him.
Making Waves is a collection of the joyful noises that I have made unto the Lord. Each post is an outpouring of my heart. It is enough that I can sing for him alone. Maybe one day God will use them as a prophecy to the nations. Maybe not. I shouldn’t even care.
God created beauty throughout the universe. There are billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars and countless planets in our nighttime sky. It is impossible to imagine everything that exists beyond our grasp. The wonders appear and disappear without anyone else ever knowing they existed. But their beauty is their song, and they sing for their Creator.
You have a song, too. It is more than singing in church or alone in your car. You have a special voice that God designed into you.
Maybe your song is prayer, singing, writing, serving, giving, or something else. It is a personal way that you can express your appreciation to a father who loves you. It is a way that you can connect with him and bind your heart to his.
If you haven’t found your joyful noise yet, that’s OK. Set aside time to focus on everything that God has done for you, then open your mouth and decide to make a sound.
I didn’t think of it as running away so much as trying to figure out who I wanted to become. I needed to clear my head of everything that I had been told and decide what I believed in. To find my destiny, I needed to be free.
For the next twenty years, I moved from place to place chasing the next big thing. At first I was alone, then with Kim, and finally with kids and all. We never really rooted anywhere – not South Carolina, Tennessee, Illinois, Tennessee again, Virginia, or Missouri. Moving somewhere new is easy when you aren’t connected to anything.
Everybody knows that we eat at Chili’s every Friday night. Their food tastes pretty much the same as each of the other 1,600 locations, but this is the only one where we can sit in William’s section to hear how his art classes are going and about his plans to teach elementary school one day.
When senior citizens call the city to ask for help with yard work, Shelly takes their calls and then emails me. She can depend on a “yes” answer and a good job. I’ve got a lot of friends who love to help their neighbors.
Erin just moved across town into Oak Tree Apartments. It’s the same apartment complex that Kim’s parents lived in. When she turned in her application, the person at the desk asked how Kim was doing. This is a special place to Erin.
In the grassy patch behind her apartment, she watched the excited faces of toddlers who found Easter eggs she had carefully hidden in plain view. In that same spot, she worked carnivals that marked the last day of Vacation Bible School. Across the parking lot, she joined with a middle-school small group searching for Jesus in the Bible.
Erin loves plants and her new place is filled with beautiful ones with all kinds of names I can’t remember. She transplants them, waters them, and moves them around to keep them growing. It is the same love she has showered over that place for ten years, nurturing young souls to grow well. One day, those people will become strong leaders in their neighborhoods and families because she equipped them well.
