I will never forget the first time I ever held Emma to give her a bottle. She was a day old. She was hungry so I’m thinking this should be easy, right? Holding her in my left arm, bottle in my right hand I said to myself, “It’s time to be a Dad.” I put it up to her mouth, which is in this moment open and screaming. About one inch away, her jaw clamped shut like a bear trap.

That’s odd. She’s hungry. Why did she do that? Being a guy and sensitive Dad that I am, I thought, “No problem. I’ll just wedge it in here.” But she’s not having it. Any of it. So I try again.

Complete lock down.

The NICU nurse shakes her head and says, “With this one, ya gotta do things a little different.” Little did I know in that moment what a prophetic statement that would turn out to be. The nurse, still shaking her head, says, “You’ve got to put a little drop of formula on her bottom lip so she can taste it first or she won’t drink.”

I didn’t say anything but the look I gave the nurse, roughly translated, was “Please. You have got to be kidding me.” NICU nurses are very kind. And very no nonsense. She pointed at me and commanded, “Do it.”

I put a drop of formula on her bottom lip. Emma let it sit there for a half second, tasted it, then opened her mouth wide as the Grand Canyon.

“How cute!”, I thought. That will make for a charming story in her baby book. But can I tell you something? Every day after that whether it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon or 2 o’clock in the morning we had to play the drop on the bottom lip game until she graduated into a sippy cup.

From day one, Emma wanted to do it her way.

From the day we are born, there is something inherent in us that wants to do things our own way. As human beings, we don’t like submitting to authority. We don’t like it. We buck against it. We submit when we have to. Submitting to authority in our jobs and careers, in most cases, beats getting fired. Submitting to the rules of the road beats getting a ticket or being arrested. But make no mistake, we don’t like it. And if we think that’s not true, then why do we do so many passive aggressive things when we’re under authority? Why, when we are under authority of our boss at work, do we surf the internet when they aren’t looking? Or take an extra ten minutes on a lunch break? Why on a road trip do we set the cruise 3-5 miles an hour above the speed limit?

Whatever the situation, we don’t like submitting to authority.

The Bible says that we are to “submit to one another in love”. How are we doing on that one? In our relationships do we sincerely defer to one another? Do we, for the sake of the relationship, set our needs aside for the purpose of showing love? Or are we insisting on having the last word, being subtly superior because we can’t bring ourselves to submit even for the sake of love?

And while we don’t think about it much, Ephesians 5 tells us that the church is to be subject to Christ. Most of the time we get stuck in that chapter arguing about what it means for wives to be subject to their husbands and how husbands should love their wives as Christ loved the church. But in the middle of all that it says we as the church are to submit to the authority of Christ.

As the church, how are we doing at that? How often does the church get off track by pressing its own agenda, defining God by religious, cultural or political views instead of submitting to the authority of Christ? How often is the mission of the church driven by a pastor or an elder board’s idea of what a church should look like in the American Christian sub-culture instead of submitting to Christ and allowing Him to define it and direct it? Even in the church we struggle with submitting to Christ’s authority.

It goes all the way back to Genesis 3. The Bible says that in Adam, all sinned. King David said in Psalm 51 “in sin did my mother conceive me.” Ephesians 2 tells us that before God got hold of our lives and saved us by grace through faith, you and I were “children of wrath”. Romans 3:23 reminds us that all of us have “sinned and fall short of the glory of God”.

Bottom line: We’re all natural born sinners. And natural born sinners don’t like taking orders.

So what to do?

Hang around the church long enough, be a Christian long enough, and you’ll eventually hear someone say, “You need to make Christ Lord of your life.” I think we know what is intended by those words. But may I propose that “making Christ Lord of your life” can’t be done? You and I can’t make Jesus Lord of our life. Why? Because you can’t make someone something that they already are. According to Philippians 2, Jesus is Lord whether you and I acknowledge that or not. And someday, all of us will.

If someone is employed by Microsoft, they don’t drive to work saying, “I think I’ll make Bill Gates in charge today.” Microsoft employees don’t make Bill Gates in charge. He is in charge. You can’t make someone what they already are. When the Pittsburgh Steelers go to training camp, they don’t say, “I think I’ll make Mike Tomlin coach this season.” Mike Tomlin is their coach whether they like it or not. The only question for the players is whether or not they choose to place themselves under his authority on the field.

Some may say, “That’s just semantics”. But it’s not. It’s more than that. According to the Bible, Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father. Whether we acknowledge or admit that or not, Jesus Christ is Lord. He was Lord before the world was created. We can’t make Jesus what He already is. And when it says that the day is coming when “every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord”, understand this clearly; it’s not the bowing and the confessing that makes Him Lord.

On that day God the Father isn’t going to say, “Wow, Jesus! Take a look! What a great turn out here! Look at the response! All these people paying homage to you. By popular vote, I guess that makes you Lord.” Nope. Jesus Christ is Lord right now. Our response or lack of it does not make it so. The only question is, are you and I going to align ourselves under that authority? Are we going to submit to His authority as Lord of the Universe and agree to live life by His terms?

Hard questions. And the answers are even harder. If we’re wise, we’ll spend the rest of our earthly life wrestling with them.

It all starts with a decision. Am I willing to submit to God and allow Him to define Himself by His terms?

When we do, we’ll find God true to His word. That He is gracious, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindess. That He has a plan for us that includes good works that He prepared in advance for us to do. And that He will always forgive, never leave, and always love.

Emma’s ten years old now. Her stubborn streak is still intact. Yet she’s learned that her Daddy loves her unconditionally and has her best interest at heart. Knowing that, it’s easier for her to trust and obey. Likewise, you and I can submit to God’s Father heart without fear, because He loves us perfectly.

“How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure”

- Stuart Townend

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

I’ll never live in a house that’s part of a homeowner association.

I was talking with someone the other day who said they got a letter from their HOA asking them to “move the blue chair off your front yard”.

How relieved I was to know there are people committed to keeping the world safe from blue chairs.

The first time I learned about HOA’s was when I moved to the Phoenix valley back in 1993. I rolled in to town in the Ryder truck at 3 AM, crashed on the floor at a friend’s place and was gone by 7 AM. He got a letter from the HOA citing him for illegal parking of a truck in front of his house.

For 4 hours? In the middle of the night?

Whoever wrote that letter probably hates blue chairs, too.

The expressed purpose of HOA’s is to protect the property values of the neighborhood. There’s something to be said about protecting one’s investment. It’s a pleasure to drive through a “nice neighborhood”. Something about manicured lawns and well kept homes that’s inviting and, dare I say it? Makes you want to live there.

But once you move in and hang your family name plaque above the front door (if they allow you to do that), everything changes. Lawns aren’t mowed for the simple pleasure of smelling fresh cut grass on a Saturday afternoon. They are cut to be sure a single rogue dandelion doesn’t show it’s golden face to the sky. To miss a single weed is to invite a citation from the HOA board.

Now if the dandelion got permission first, then maybe…

If it were only a matter of a weed here and there. Some people live through real life horror stories and have lost their homes in HOA disputes. A man from Rancho Santa Fe, Calif., lost his home because he planted too many roses on his four-acre property. The board fined him each month until finally slapping a lien on his home. He went to court and lost because he’d transgressed the board’s architectural design rules. He was stuck with the board’s $70,000 legal fees and lost his home to the bank.

You know you’re up against it when dealing with people who actually believe there is such a thing as “too many roses”.

Show me a typical HOA board and I’ll show you a group of people still bitter about not being voted President of their sophomore class. They couldn’t weigh in on how to decorate for the prom so they get their satisfaction making and enforcing rules about appropriate flag pole designs and adding bleach to fountain water, guaranteeing crystal clear droplets that shout, “NirvanaTopia - Your Dream Development.”

(Make sure your bleach water fountain doesn’t splash too much. They’ll send you a letter about the dead spots in your lawn. For real.)

I can’t point to chapter and verse so this is strictly my opinion. If you get to heaven and see an HOA, be very afraid. Because you’re not where you think you are.

There won’t be any HOA’s in heaven. There is only one Owner up there and He created a complete palette of colors, not just 33 approved shades of beige and taupe. God’s all about expressing the full beauty of His creation and I think He will be fine with His children doing the same.

So if you don’t think you’d like living next door to someone in heaven who paints his mansion Phoenix Suns orange and purple and plants pink tulips along a lime green driveway, you better start saying your prayers and asking God for a different golden street to live on. Because I plan on coming out of my shell up there.

And on the off chance there’s more than one purple and orange house in the heavenly city, you’ll know which one is mine.

The one with the blue chair in front.

 Todd A. Thompson      www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

We were on the ground in Albuquerque last Monday night, waiting for passengers to board for the next leg to Phoenix. A few minutes earlier we were in the clouds, a 737 jet being bounced around like a ping pong ball in a lottery machine.

Looking out the window all you could see was gray sky pressing its face against the glass. The plane lurched up and diagonally, then a sudden drop that made you glad for the seatbelt. Bump, bump, big bump, huge bump, lurch. Then the back end of the plane jerking to the right, like a cat’s toy ball would feel when batted across the floor.

Except for the commuter flight I once had in a 17-passenger turbo prop during a thunderstorm that threw the ice out of my glass, this was the worst I’ve ever experienced.

A white haired elderly lady in the row ahead of me was quite frightened. From her thick accent, she sounded Russian. She was squeezing the arm of the female stranger next to her and a 40-something man across the aisle was trying to talk her into a happy place. “This is just like deep sea fishing. Come to think of it, that’s no fun either. But don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground soon.”

All I could think was that after this flight, all the rides at Disneyland won’t be fun anymore.

In the middle of the turbulence I noticed myself gripping the arm rests and bracing my foot against the metal base of the seat in front of me.

Then I thought about what I was doing. 

Steadying oneself while walking on the ground has some merit. Out for a stroll and hit a patch of rough sidewalk? Grabbing for a street sign or an oak tree makes sense. Keeps you from falling down.

Steadying oneself in a plane? Doesn’t make much sense, does it?

A firm grip on the arm rests and bracing with both feet while riding in an aluminum tube at 500 miles per hour 30,000 feet above the ground is, at best, a good isometric exercise. It won’t smooth the ride and it sure won’t help if the plane crashes.

The obvious truth in that moment was that there was only one person with any control over the outcome. It’s all up to the skill and experience of the pilot. As he goes, so goes the flight. That’s why airlines require a high standard when entrusting the person in the cockpit with the safety of hundreds of passengers.

We live in a rough and tumble world. Our best efforts to smooth the bumps with our jobs and our education and good planning help some. But turbulence is inevitable. And bracing ourselves against it won’t spare us from being knocked around. In the middle of it there’s only One with ultimate control.

Thankfully, God can be trusted to get us through. We may look every bit like a storm tossed mess on the other side, but we’ll have been brought through. Bedraggled and soaking wet maybe. Hopefully stronger. But through.

From Albuquerque to Phoenix there was another patch of bumpy air. This time I crossed my arms, relaxed my legs and resisted the urge to brace myself. It didn’t make it smoother, but why worry about something I can’t control, right?

Right.

Then I laughed at myself. Hard. Because I have a PhD in worrying about what I can’t control.

Oh well. At least I gave up being a control freak for 50 minutes. That’s pretty good for me.

Actually, it might be a personal record.

It’s a new week. Fasten your seatbelts. Enjoy the ride.

“Now this is what the Lord says…Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…” – Isaiah 43:1-3 

During the first week of 1996 Sara and I were in Iowa visiting my family. One afternoon I sat looking out the window at the snow while blue jays and squirrels feasted on the shelled corn scattered for them around the base of a green ash tree. My Day Timer in hand, I looked ahead to the next twelve months. I scheduled. I made plans. Full of purpose and determined resolve that accompanies a new year, I confidently assumed my plans would be executed without a hitch.

On January 4th my Dad came home at 8:30 in the evening from playing basketball with friends, a weekly event for him. He complained of chest pains and we called 911. Minutes later he was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital in Estherville. There the ER doctor confirmed he was having a serious heart attack and ordered immediate transfer to the cardiac unit in Sioux Falls.

I had always thought my first helicopter ride would be over a volcano in Maui or an up close look at Mt. Rushmore. Instead it was in the early morning hours of a sub-zero Iowa night, riding along with my Dad in the Care Flight. Up in the air the view through the bubble was almost surreal as the blanket of snow reflected the moonlight. All was quiet in the Iowa countryside; the farms and acreages dotted with yard lights and swirls of chimney smoke. They were all sleeping, these people below, while we flew through their sky. I wished I could be down there instead of up here. Yet on they slept just as they should while on we flew.

This is not on my list, I thought. Classes and meetings and schedules, they’re all written down. This isn’t part of my plan. My Day Timer is full of “This I Will Do”, not “I Will Be Helpless”. But helpless I am. I can do nothing but ride along and wonder and silently stare at the luminous gauges. The pilot knows what they mean. I haven’t a clue. When I glance over at him, it’s obvious he’s in control of this trip.

The next couple days were a maze of hospital hallways, waiting rooms, phone calls, and conversations with my Dad in the cardiac intensive care unit. Scary as it was, it wasn’t. I realized that all along we had been saying what needed to be said. That we love each other. That we care about each other as a family. And most important, that we’re secure in our relationship to Christ. Thankfully, my Dad recovered, though there are never any guarantees.

Less than a week into the New Year, my Day Timer was all messed up and it bugged me. In the helicopter that night I figured out why. I’m a control freak. And this was an event beyond my control. You’re a control freak, too. We all are. We control when we wake up by setting an alarm clock. We control the temperature of the water in our shower. We control our music with the turn of a radio dial. We decide how brown our toast will be, what color tie we wear, the climate of our house, the speed of our car, the direction of our career and, as much as humanly possible, how many children we’ll have. We’re all control freaks.

Life being what it is, before this year is over you might be thrown into circumstances beyond your control. It may have already happened during the first three months of 2002. It may mess up your plans in a major way. You may find yourself staring at the gauges without a clue. If so, remember the Pilot knows what they mean and He’s in control of the trip. Whether your helicopter flight is a joy ride or an urgent emergency, you can trust God to fly you through.

“For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “plans for good and not for evil, to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call on Me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek me and find me when you seek with all your heart.” – Jeremiah 29:11-13