Learning the Hard Way

This article was first published in December, 1982. As I am now once again raising children, it really touched home as I reread it this morning.

Last week I was visiting a hospital and I heard a doctor giving a nurse serious instructions about a patient. Apparently the doctor had given the same instructions the day before, but the nurse had failed to carry out the procedure because of her feeling of compassion for the young patient.

The little girl had a serious infection complicating her cancer. The treatment the doctor ordered was going to be, at best uncomfortable, probably even painful. But it had to be administered if the infection was to be conquered. The nurse’s compassion had, in effect, been detrimental despite her good intentions. She did not follow the precise instructions of one who had greater knowledge and who really exhibited the most genuine care for the patient.

On the way home from the hospital I was flooded with emotions and the scene kept coming back to me. I wondered if I was guilty of the same sort of well intended yet costly decisions as the nurse in dealing with my children. The Lord has given me directions for raising my children and those directions include sound discipline, even if it is not the most pleasant at the time. I must be responsible in my actions, and not act only on my feelings.

It also occurred to me that I possibly had been too “compassionate” in my ministry at times; too willing to placate my brethren; too willing to tolerate behavior that my God will not tolerate; too ready to appease an alien sinner.

I know my God is loving and patient and comforting. He has been all of that to me. And yet I know that there must occasionally be the administration of “medicine” that is at the moment uncomfortable or painful. I haven’t sorted it all out yet, but I pray for God’s wisdom to be my guide.

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Highest Honors

I have attended dinners to show appreciation to a person or group, I have signed letters or posters to show support, I have witnessed the unveiling of statues and monuments in honor of some celebrity. I have seen the stars in the sidewalk in Hollywood, watched as athletes’ numbers are retired, and participated in the dedication of a building named for the honoree.

If you someone were to honor you, what would you consider the best/highest possible way to do so?

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Sharpening the Focus

Three weeks ago, in study for a pair of lessons I was to present I was to present from the sixth chapter of Mark, about Jesus miraculously feeding more than 5000 people and about his walking on the water, I was reminded of Jesus’ need for time alone for personal renewal. He spent the time in prayer. If He needed inner peace in order to be able to minister effectively, how much more do I?


I thought of how busy my wife and I had been for several months and how weary we have become. I got up from my study and called my wife at her job. I told her of my study and that I did not know where we would go to get away, but I invited her to take off the 18th through 20th. I asked her to begin making a prayer list so we could spend at least half a day in prayer. We had not done that in a long time. She was delighted.


We found a place in Hill Country of Central Texas that seemed to offer the quiet we were seeking. It was even called Lost Pines. Our balcony overlooked a garden called "Butterfly Meadow". We accomplished our aims, spending most of the day on Tuesday pouring out our hearts to God. We are back at the grindstone, feeling a bit shaper!

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Where are the Valiant?

I have just been reading the Bible story in the last part of 1 Samuel 13 and into chapter 14. The situation has the Israelite army surrounded by the Philistines. The Israelites were vastly outnumbered and without proper weapons. Many of the army had already deserted. Things must have looked pretty bleak.

But in the story, King Saul’s son, Jonathan, decided it was time to do something, believing that God would provide what was needed. So he and his armor bearer determined to approach the enemy stronghold, seeking a chance for something seemingly impossible to happen. His valiant effort led he and his servant to slay 20 of the overconfident Philistines. An earthquake shook the ground and panic set in on the Philistine troops who fled. The Israelite army took heart and chased the Philistines out of the region.

The story made me reflect on the lack of hope and confidence that I perceive is prevalent these days. It may be seen in small ways in families that are pressed by busy schedules and jobs that demand so much, or financial woes, or dysfunction in the home. It can be seen in the local congregation that sees its task of sharing the Good News of the Gospel as an overwhelming task for the Christians; and as unwelcome by non-Christians. It can be seen in a country that would like to have all the war over, not to mention all the political venom put away.

The natural tendency seems to be to shrink back into the background and let the tide wash us away. Have we lost the will to present ourselves for service to our neighbors, our church, our country in the hope that Divine Providence can and will use our service to make a difference? And perhaps inspire others around to rally to the possibility of victorious living?

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Random Acts of Kindness

Not too long ago our youth group at church decided to spend a day in our community doing random acts of kindness. They did all sorts of things, like hand out water to workers on a construction site, offer to wash car windows or check tire pressure at gas stations (after asking permission from the manager), clean up an old city cemetery, and more. They did not even give out information about the church, they wanted to do something good without expectation of reciprocation of any kind.

It was an eye-opener to the kids. The primary response to the young people, at least the initial response, was mistrust. Folks were either afraid of the kids or thought there was some scam involved. Most often the recipients of the RAK were able to loosen up and accept the kindness, but some completely refused.

Does that say something about our society, teens, or just our town?

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Vacations!

In the days of my childhood, our vacations were spent visiting family in other states. My dad’s folks lived on a farm in northeastern Arkansas. I got to hunt and fish and have all sorts of adventures that a city boy did not get try the rest of the year. Mom’s parents lived in New Jersey, near Trenton. There we got to see lots of historical sites and tourist attractions. I have wonderful memories of trips to both places.
When my wife and I had little girls, we did not have a lot of extra money, so we had to make decisions about how we spent it. Vacation trips seemed like a bit of extravagance we could not afford. But as the girls got older things were a bit better financially and we decided to make some family trips.

In 1976 we made a trip to see my grandparents in New Jersey, stopping along the way to visit historical sites during the Bicentennial. We visited Vicksburg, Montgomery and Richmond, all with Civil War ties. We went to Monticello, Washington D.C., as well as Trenton.


In 1980 we went to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado and to Yellowstone. We have many stories about car troubles and a skunk in a tent and rock climbing and such.

In 1984 we took our best trip, to see the Olympics in Los Angeles. On the way out we saw the Grand Canyon, the London Bridge, which is now in Lake Havisu City, Arizona, and the Joshua Tree National Park. In LA, not only did we see Olympic competitions, including the Gold Medal baseball game between Japan and the US. We also went to Disney Land, Knott’s Berry Farm, Universal Studio, Malibu Beach, and baseball games in Anaheim and San Diego.

We have so many fond memories of those trips with the girls. We have bee blessed to take a few trips with our grandkids too (We were in DC on 9/11 when the attacks took place). We spent some money that was hard to come by, but we firmly believe it was a special investment in our family!

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Oh, What A Moment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got home from a two-week mission trip to the Caribbean Island of Dominica last night. One of the first things I did this morning was call my two grandchildren, who live across town from me, to see if they wanted to have lunch with me. My daughter told me that her son was going to go to the Department of Public Safety office to take his written test for the Learner’s permit to drive.

I told her I needed to go to the credit union anyway, that I would drop them off at the DPS office, go do my business and come back to get them for a pizza buffet. She thought that sounded like a good plan.

When I returned from the credit union, my grandson was just finishing up his test. He passed, of course, and was granted his license to drive with a licensed driver over 21 in the front seat with him. He had a bit of a smug look on his face, but did not act giddy or uncool. I shook his hand, and as we walked out the door, I handed him the keys to my car. He looked at me in disbelief, and then jumped about four feet off the ground. He ran over to the car and got in the driver’s seat. I got in front with him.

When he got situated, he started the car and proceeded out of the parking lot. We were across the street from a community college. The parking lot was mostly empty, with classes out for the summer. His mother asked him to pull in there and drive around for a few minutes to familiarize himself with the car and its handling. He did that, but after a few minutes, he was ready to take us to lunch. He left the parking lot and headed toward the feeder road of the State Highway we would be taking for a couple of miles.

As we moved, another car came toward the road we were on, using another exit from the college parking lot. That driver came up to the stop sign at a pretty rapid pace, not braking till the very last second. As we passed that car, my grandson said, “GrandDad, that is scary, I didn’t know if she was going to stop.” I told him driving is dangerous!
When we got to the intersection with the feeder road, the light there was red. He stopped in the right lane, and as he waited, an SUV pulled up on our left and blocked my grandson’s view. He eased forward to see past the SUV and saw the way clear. He made the right turn onto the feeder road and moved to the left lane, so he could enter the highway.

As he made his way up the ramp, accelerating to merge with traffic, an eighteen-wheeler was passing the entrance. Though he was a bit intimidated, the boy merged in to the lane behind the truck, then moved to the center lane of the three-lane road. He accelerated up to the speed limit, 65, and was so excited, nervous, rapturous at his new power!

We had to make two turns to get to the pizza joint. All in all, my grandson drove about three miles. I wonder if he will ever have a more awesome driving experience in his entire life!

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