Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXCIII

There's just something about me that my wife loves. I mean...how could she NOT love me after all I do for her?  Well, okay, maybe I don't do THAT much, but I do a few things for her. I wonder if that's why she loves me. I sure hope that's not the reason. Come to think of it, I have two kids who love me too, but I do a few things for them as well. I wonder if they love me because of what I do for them.  I've done a lot of good things for all of them, but I have to tell you, I really don't think that's why they love me. You see, if they love me because of what I do for them, it's not me that they actually love...it's themselves, and they don't love me, they just love what I do. If they loved me simply because of the benefits, I would constantly be in competition with someone else who might can provide more for them than I can.  No, that's not why they love me. Their love for me is unconditional. It's a Godly kind of love.  Let me explain. There's something about me that God loves also. Is it because of how good I am?  Well, let me tell you what He said about that.  He said in His sight, my righteousness is like filthy rags. (Oh, and He said the same thing about you too.)   It's impossible for me to be good enough to earn His love, yet He loves me anyway.  Why? I'm certainly not anyone special, but, just as my family, He loves me for who I am. Even when I try my best to be as good as possible, I don't get any stars, because I'm just doing what I'm supposed to do anyway. I don't get extra credit for simply doing my duty. I'm friends with a couple who went to China to adopt a baby girl. She was just a baby, so there was nothing she could do for them, yet from the first day, they loved her enough to bring her into their home and make her an equal heir with their other "biological" children.  There's just something about love that can't be earned, no matter how much you do or how hard you try. My realtor may bend over backwards and perform some praiseworthy deeds to put me in the home of my dreams, but when it's all said and done, he's still just my realtor, and he doesn't get a room in my new home. I may appreciate everything he did, but his hard work can't buy my love. Love just happens, then love begets love. My wife and I started loving each other at the same time, and each of our loves was made stronger based on the love from each other. Then she and I began loving each of our kids while they were still in the womb, and as a result, their love for us is unbreakable. God loved me BEFORE I was in my mother's womb....the perfect example of love without condition. If there are conditions, it isn't love. Love can't be bought, and if you try, you're wasting your time and resources. If you want to know what love really is, you should get to know God, because, according to the first memory verse I ever had to learn, "God is love." Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXCII

As I sat and listened to a poem that our pastor read to the congregation a couple weeks ago, my mind went back to an event that happened a few miles from my home when I was a kid. There was a man who had been working in the logging industry for many years, and as a result of his decades of experience, he had become what we would call an expert in his field. This man knew what he was doing, and he knew how to safely take some shortcuts that would have been too dangerous for the novice logger to attempt.  Naturally, as so often happens, when his son became an adult, he chose to follow in his dad's footsteps.  One day there was a tragic accident when a tree fell on this man's son, killing him instantly. The son had been taking one of those risky shortcuts that he had seen his father take so many times before. Our neighbors told us that the distraught father kept saying over and over, "I told him and told him how to do it right and not to do it like I do." The poem I mentioned had nothing to do with the logging industry, but if the man I told you about could have heard and heeded its words, it may have saved the life of his son.  Its basic message is that our words of advice and instruction carry weight only when they are matched by our actions, and that is especially true when it comes to our children. One of the worst sermons ever preached is "Do as I say, not as I do."  How can I tell my son not to smoke when he sees me smoking? Will he listen to my warnings about the dangers of alcohol when he sees me drinking?  Chances are, if I "send" my kids to church instead of "taking" them, when they're grown and on their own, they'll neglect church just like I do. As I look back over my childhood years, I have to say, "Thank you Lord for parents who 'practiced what they preached'." Although finances were tight for our family for practically all of my childhood, I couldn't have been more blessed. Dad worked hard all day, and then came home and worked hard in the garden. Mom didn't have an outside job, but she worked hard from sun up till sun down. They made us kids do chores such as shelling peas and butter beans, but they shelled them with us. They told us to get involved in every aspect of the church, and then they showed us how by doing the same thing. I'm proud of the adults that my kids have become, but I have to give credit where credit is due. It all goes back to the type of homes in which my wife and I grew up. Although they may have never used these exact words, both her parents and mine lived by this principle:  Words of instruction without example are meaningless, while words followed by example are among the most powerful forces on earth. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXCI

The pastor was out of town, and he had arranged for a prominent minister to fill the pulpit in his absence.  Just before he left town, he had called me and asked me to take charge of the Sunday service up until the point to where I would turn it over to the visiting minister.  Although I was still a young man at the time, I had grown up in the type of home where there was never a discussion as to whether or not we would be attending church that weekend....it was understood that we would be there, so I pretty much knew what to do and what to say.  As a result, I felt fairly comfortable with my duties that day, but that was about to change.  Although I can't fully recall just what I said, I do remember that as I was introducing the guest speaker, my tongue got tangled up, and some words came out wrong, causing me to feel totally humiliated.  As I look back on that incident, I suspect that our speaker had made similar mistakes, because he handled it perfectly, and put me back at ease.   I wish I could tell you that was the only time I've ever made a fool of myself, but if I did, I'd be lying.  I've spoken when I should've kept my mouth shut.  I've remained silent when it would have been better for me to speak.  I've laughed when I should've been somber.  I've lost my temper over insignificant incidents.  I've been guilty of being an over aggressive driver, trying to punish other drivers for their mistakes.  I've made parenting mistakes. The list goes on and on.  Although it's not proper to rejoice over the misfortunes of others, I must admit that it makes me feel much better just knowing that you've done or said things that make you feel foolish just as many times as I have.      I was reminded of that fact just recently at church when I was introduced to a lady I had never met before.  As she was attempting to tell me how happy she was to meet me, she said something that made absolutely no sense, and that made her feel flustered, which messed things up even more.  Her face suddenly turned blood red, and I could tell she was so embarrassed that she would probably never want to see me again.  I did my best to initiate a conversation that would ignore her mishap and put her back at ease, because, although she had no way of knowing what was going on in my mind, I wasn't thinking how dumb she was or laughing at her blunder...instead, I was thinking, "I need to help her get through this, because I know exactly how she feels."    They're called gaffes.  You've made them.  I've certainly made more than my share.  If you look around you, everyone else you see has done the same.  There's no way to recall all the times in my life I've wished I could go hide behind a rock or crawl in a hole somewhere, just to hide my humiliation.  Thinking back on the incident at church that Sunday so many years ago, I think I'm really glad it happened, because no one remembers it now but me, and the way our visiting minister handled it was a lesson to me in dealing with a situation like that when someone else messes up.  I've also figured out the best way to deal with it when it's me that's feeling foolish:  I tell people about it and laugh at myself.  It makes others feel better about their own stupid mistakes, and it works wonders in making me feel better about myself.   Preston