“The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship.”

This is true. For example, think about the employers you’ve had in your life. Managers like to boast about having an “open door” policy. Yet it doesn’t take more than a week or two before you figure out there are two kinds of open door policy. The first one is a manager who invites your feedback, respects your viewpoint and values your contributions to the company.

The second one is a boss whose actions say, “My door is always open for you to come in and see my closed mind.”

The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship. The manager who seeks out and values the input of the employees creates a relationship environment of team work and free flowing ideas. The boss who doesn’t creates a relationship environment of stunted communication and self-preservation.

The terms and conditions of the relationship determine the nature of the relationship.

When it comes to your relationship with God, whose terms and conditions are you operating by? Yours? Or God’s?

The distinction is crucial.

Some of us are operating by terms and conditions that view God as the divine policeman who waits for us to do something wrong so He can write us up. We live our lives walking on spiritual eggshells, afraid to risk or chance or dream for fear of messing up and incurring God’s wrath.

Some of us are operating from terms and conditions determined by our bad church experiences. People within the church have disappointed us. Or worse, wounded us. Perhaps pastors or leaders have abused our trust by taking liberties with their position. Living by these terms, we approach God with suspicion thinking it only a matter of time before He, too, will disappoint us.

Some of us are operating from terms and conditions imposed on us from our upbringing. Perhaps our parents’ view of God was extreme to one direction or the other. Years later, God to us is either a wholly unapproachable fire and brimstone Diety or our heavenly Fuzzy Buddy. Our terms and conditions have us viewing God as a single facet, ignoring the whole of who He is.

Some of us are operating from terms of guilt and shame. Our sins, we think, are impossibly large and unforgiveable. And should we manage to summon the courage to seek God’s forgiveness for these, we think it best not presume upon Him after that. For to do so would be asking one too many favors. So we live each day at a lonely distance from God, like a stray dog starving for attention, yet afraid to come close.

The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship. When it comes to your relationship with God, what terms and conditions are you living by? Yours? Or God’s?

The flip side of Dr. Wakefield’s bookmark reads:

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.” – Psalm 145:8

These are God’s terms and conditions for His relationship with us. God is gracious. He extends to us blessings we don’t deserve. He is compassionate. Which is to say He knows what we’re made of because He made us. And because of that He cares for us as a loving Father cares for his children. How would your relationship with God change if you understood His heart toward you is always gracious and full of compassion?

God is slow to anger. He is not a heavenly hot-head with a hair trigger. How would your relationship with God change if you understood God is patient with you?

God abounds in lovingkindness toward us. Lovingkindness. In Hebrew, the word is “chesed”. It means a “loyal love”. A love that won’t quit on you. A love that is bulldog tenacious. A love that latches on to you and will not let you go. Ever.

According to God’s terms and conditions, His lovingkindness to you is abounding. We don’t use that word often but it’s wonderful in context here.  It means to “exist in large quantities.” So to paraphrase God’s terms and conditions, “God is kind beyond reason, understanding beyond measure, incredibly patient and loves you with overflowing large quantities of tenacious loyal love that will not let you go. Ever.”

When we allow God to define Himself and His relationship to us by His terms and conditions we experience the grace, acceptance, love and freedom He desires for us.

Whose terms and conditions would you rather live with? Yours? Or God’s? You get to choose. I’d choose for you but I can’t. It’s up to you.

So I’ll just encourage you to make your own bookmark. And think about getting it laminated.

That’s what I’m doing.

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.” – Psalm 145:8

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

You can imagine that when in August of that year God moved me to Phoenix, Arizona to attend seminary that it was quite an adjustment. Out of some two million people living there at the time I knew only four. It didn’t take long before I was missing my family and friends in a major way.

It took several months of visiting churches before God pointed me to First Baptist-Tempe. In December just before Christmas I was invited for dinner at the home of Chet and Rosie Farrington who were long time members there.

After a delicious meal, Rosie said to me, “Todd, there’s something here you might be interested in.” She reached out and pulled a small plaque off the wall. It looked old and it had a Bible verse on it. Nice, I thought. I like old things that have character.

“Look on the back”, she said.

I turned it over. A list of signatures. And the names…”Hey, I know all these people!”

“That’s the plaque the Men’s Brotherhood of First Baptist Church in Swea City, Iowa gave to Chet in January of 1956 just before we moved to Arizona.”

Swea City, Iowa is my hometown. And First Baptist Church is where I grew up from the week I was born. On the list of names are the signatures of my great grandfather, both my grandfathers, a great uncle, and many of my neighbors growing up.

What I hadn’t known in moving to this big city was that before I was so much as a twinkle in my parents’ eyes, Chet and Rosie had lived across the field from my grandparents and attended my home church.

To see those names and the familiar signatures of my family members in this new and lonely place was like water in the desert. It was a connection. A reminder of my heritage. That I come from somewhere. And most important, that the God who grew me up in Iowa was with me in Arizona.

That plaque didn’t just happen. Back in 1956, someone in the First Baptist Church thought it would be a nice gesture to give Chet Farrington something to remember them by as he moved away to the big city. 37 years later that person’s thoughtfulness encouraged another guy who had moved away to the big city.

Friends, when we extend kindness to others we never know how far it reaches. Or who it touches. Across the miles and across generations. Let’s be purposeful in our kindness and intentional in our encouragement.

That’s a legacy we can gladly sign our name to.

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Some years ago my friend Duane Cross and I were in the Chicago area attending a preaching/speaking conference at Willow Creek Church. Before going to O’Hare to catch our plane, we spent several hours at the Chicago Art Institute.

If someone gave me a ticket to anywhere in the country to spend a day in solitude, I’d be walking up the steps of the Chicago Art Institute. I get misty just thinking about the big lion statues that guard the front doors. Even though I can’t draw a straight line if you spot me a ruler, the Art Institute is a magical place for me. Home to some of the world’s most famous masterpieces, it is at once a place of awe, romance, inspiration and reverence. It’s impossible for me to be in the presence of such exquisite art and not worship God.

The Art Institute has an extensive Monet collection. As Duane and I stared at one of his genius examples of Impressionism, Duane said, “Check this out”, and pointed to the signature on the lower right corner of the canvas. It read simply,

Monet 77

Duane astutely observed, “Just “Monet 77″. Not “1877″. Because for Monet, what other “77″ would there be?”

However self-aware Monet was of his God-given talent to paint, I doubt he could have imagined that this canvas he signed off on would be hanging in a world famous American gallery being admired by thousands of people some 130 years later.

It’s 2011. Whatever you and I sign off on today, literally and figuratively, ends in “11″. Unless you’re born this year and possess some stellar genes, it’s highly probable that this “11″ is the only “11″ you’re ever going to know.

Which brings us back to the question. What are you signing your name to today?

Are you signing your name and “11″ to acts of service and generosity? As you walk through the parking lot at Sam’s Club are you looking for the elderly lady who could use a hand lifting the 20-pound box of Tide into her trunk? Are you stopping to buy Girl Scout cookies from the red haired, freckle faced cutie in the Brownie vest because it will make her day and if you’re going to overpay it may as well be for Thin Mints?

Are you signing your name and “11″ to working with integrity in your job? Are you standing up for a co-worker who’s being gossipped about in the break room? Are you refusing to engage in office politics, choosing instead to focus on being your best in the position you occupy?

Are you signing your name and “11″ to being an amazing spouse in your marriage? Are you loving your wife unconditionally and working hard to speak her love language? Are you respecting your husband unconditionally and working hard to speak his love language?

Are you signing your name and “11″ to being a good parent? Are you looking as hard for what your kids do right as what they may be doing wrong? Are you building them up with words of encouragement and praise? Are you taking time to tell them stories about their heritage and where they come from that they may develop a sense of place and belonging?

Are you signing your name and “11″ to being honest with God? Can you summon the courage to dump the trappings of church and religion and ask God for genuine relationship with Him? Can you release your grip on who you think you are so God can show you who He designed you to be?

What kind of brush strokes are you laying down on the canvas of your life today?

If we are signing our name and “11″ to a life of living for and loving others, then the canvas of our life will be viewed and remembered long after we’re gone. Because a life lived for others leaves a legacy that points people back to God.

Monet couldn’t have imagined his canvas being honored and appreciated 130 years later. He just applied the paint with the talent God gave him and signed off on it. Which is another way of saying that if we focus on painting a beautiful life of loving others and loving God, our legacy will take care of itself.

Todd A. Thompson “11″ – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

]]> http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2011/02/16/monet-77/feed/ 0 http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2011/01/06/ghost-writer/ http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2011/01/06/ghost-writer/#comments Fri, 07 Jan 2011 00:07:23 +0000 todd http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/?p=517 The wall mounted mirror is behind the door so you don’t see it when you walk in. Only when you walk out. Even then, I never paid any attention to it.

On this particular day life was pouring in more than usual. Like the way I used to feel shoveling through a giant drift after an Iowa blizzard. I’d finally see sidewalk when a big chunk would bust loose from the top and I’d be up to my boots again in snow.

Some days you just can’t shovel fast enough.

I was telling God about my plight and wondering out loud why it seemed to me that He wasn’t as aware of my situation as I thought He should be. I mean, God, if you’re not going to help me shovel can you at least keep the stuff from pouring in so fast?

A little help here, maybe?

It was time to go pick up my kids from school. I opened the door about half way and that’s when it caught my eye. The mirror. I closed the door and looked again. Nothing there.

Ok, I know I only have one eye but thanks to a contact lens, it works reasonably well. I know I saw something in that mirror.

I opened the door and glanced again at the mirror, this time the way I used to look at the old 3-D baseball cards that came in the cereal boxes when I was a kid. Up, down, sideways. And there it was. There were words on the mirror. Almost invisible, and because of the light in the room I couldn’t see it unless I looked from an angle and even then the letters only faintly showed themselves against the reflection of my black t-shirt.

“Serve the Lord with all your heart and consider the great things He has done for you.” – 1 Samuel 12:24

Whoever stayed here before had scrawled this verse on the mirror with lipstick or some other oil based marker. The mirror had since been cleaned, yet at the right angle in the right light, the message remained.

This verse, in context, is the prophet Samuel exhorting the people of Israel during the coronation of King Saul. In his speech he reminds Israel of God’s faithfulness to them through every generation. From Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and Aaron, God had remained faithful to them in spite of their sins and disobedience. Even their asking for a king was a sin against God, preferring a human leader instead of God as their King.

Samuel makes the point that even in their short-sighted and often stubborn disobedience, God’s love for them continues. Because God is faithful to Himself, He is faithful to them. Through it all, God did great things for them.

Back in 2008, I was starting life over from scratch in a new place and with a new sales job. I do dinner shows for people and sell high-end cookware. In following up on a contact, the girl on the other end of the phone asked me if I traveled to Snyder, Texas. I said, “I sure do.” Now, I’d never heard of Snyder let alone have a clue how far away it was. But when you’re starting over, you do whatever you have to do. That dinner generated my first customer in that area and led to more dinners which led to many more customers in Snyder, TX. And with each dinner God put me in front of some of the kindest, good-hearted, hospitable and encouraging people I’ve ever met.

When last year I was unsuccessful in my efforts to prevent my daughters’ mom from moving them away from me, I was incredibly discouraged. Instead of being 5 minutes across town, they would now be attending school 85 miles from me. I have equal time with my daughters, but how would it work? Where would I stay when I came to be with them? How would we have a place to be together?

Back in 2008 I thought Snyder was just the place God had me working for a season. I thought I was just meeting new people in the course of my job. I had no idea that He was preparing for what would happen to me two years later. God was preparing future relationships that He would use to encourage us in ways we could not imagine.

The mirror with the ghost writing is in a guest house in Snyder, Texas, the town in which my daughters attend school. It belongs to dear friends who started out as customers back in 2008. When I confided my situation to them last year, they said, “We have a place in our backyard. You and the girls can stay here anytime you want.”

“…and consider the great things He (God) has done for you.”

Is God aware of my plight? The ghost writer left behind the obvious answer to that question. “Consider the great things God has done for you.” God is more than aware. He is involved. His faithfulness toward us never ceases. His love toward us is constant. His attention to detail is complete. God, forgive me when I fail to consider the great things You have done for me. Give me eyes to see You and the works of Your hands in my life.

As much as I like things squeaky clean, I’m only going to Windex the bottom half of that mirror.

Some messages should never be erased.

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

In December of 2007 I’d been living in Lubbock for several months after 14 years in the Phoenix valley. I was a not by choice divorced single Dad living in a place I never wanted to live. Somewhere in the middle of the month I realized that this would be the first time in my life that I’d be alone for Christmas.

It was a pretty awful thought.

I volunteered to help with my daughters’ school Christmas party. Among the other parents there was a lady wearing scrubs. I asked her where she worked and she said, “Carillon House”. I didn’t know what or where that was. She explained it was a skilled care facility. “It being Christmas time I suppose they get lots of visitors up there”, I said. She shook her head. “Sadly, no. Even a lot of the residents who have family here in town don’t get visited on Christmas.” That’s sad, I thought. I went back to passing out candy canes and overly frosted cookies.

Christmas Eve afternoon I was starting to lose it. I’ve always been with family and friends on Christmas. Lonely was what other poor souls struggled with during the holidays, not me. “Lonely at Christmas” was an article I read in a magazine, not what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Now lonely was me.

Lonely sucks.

Ever feel like running and you don’t know where to go? I got in the car and started driving, trying to remember where I saw a thrift store. It was about an hour before all the stores closed on Christmas Eve when I found the Savers store. I went in and bought all the vases I could find, then drove to Wal-Mart and bought some ribbon and several bunches of roses. That night I prepped all the flowers and vases and went to bed.

Christmas morning I drove to Carillon House. I hit the elevator button for the second floor. When the door opened I walked to the first room on the north side, took a deep breath and went in.

“Merry Christmas. I’m Todd. Here’s a flower for you.”

The gray haired lady in her hospital bed looked at me with a mix of surprise, gratitude and suspicion. “Why…thank you. Do you have someone up here?”

“Nope. Just here to say hi and give you a flower. How are you feeling? What brought you in here? Are you getting better?”

In case you ever wondered, I’m the best in the world at asking questions. It’s because I’m genuinely interested in people and their stories. And it’s a control/defense mechanism. If I keep people talking about themselves, they won’t have a chance to ask me about me.

And so I went, room to room. I spent over four hours at Carillon passing out flowers and hearing people’s stories. The time passed until it was Christmas past.

A few days into the new week I starting thinking about the roses in the vases. They’d be drooping by now. Few things are sadder than a rose browned and bent over in a vase. They’d have to throw them away. And the vases would be empty.

It was one of those private “come to Jesus” moments. If I didn’t go back to Carillon, then my Christmas day visit would be a pure act of selfishness. Sure, I took flowers. Sure, I visited with people. But the truth is I was there because I didn’t want to be alone. If I never went back, what would that say about me?

So on New Year’s Day I said to Annie and Emma, “Girls, we’re going to go visit some people.” We got more vases and roses and off we went. We’ve been going ever since. With the exception of several out of state vacations and the girls having the flu, we’ve been there every week for the past three years. After the first several months Emma asked me, “Daddy, what’s on the 4th floor?”

“That’s Vista Care Hospice”.

“How come we don’t go up there?” I didn’t have a good answer so after that conversation we’ve been there every week, too.

Over that time we’ve met many fascinating people and heard the stories of their lives. My girls have learned what it means to “serve each other with love” (Galatians 5:13b). At ten years old they are completely comfortable around the elderly, their wheelchairs, walkers and canes. They talk and visit and laugh and I couldn’t be prouder of them. We’ve gotten to know people, developed rich friendships and grieved when they left for heaven.

Christmas is in a couple days. With due respect to my dear friends here, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t still a sizeable loneliness in my life. There’s no getting around the fact that the holiday season magnifies what’s broken in a person’s life. I still deeply miss my family and friends in faraway places and wish that I could be in their kitchen laughing and eating and sitting by their fireplace. Yet from that long ago dark night when the angel announced the Good News to shepherds in the hills of Bethlehem, Christmas comes to us where we are. And where I am, like it or not, is here.

It’s Christmas in a couple days. We’ll go to Carillon House to visit our friends who also know something about “lonely”. They’ll be thinking about their spouses who died this year or last, about all the friends they’ve outlived,  and how they probably never imagined spending Christmas in a skilled care center. We’ll spend time together, encouraging one another and hopefully remembering that Christmas comes to us where we are. And in the coming, it brings the hope that someday we’ll all be in a place where lonely is nowhere to be found.

Wherever Christmas finds you this year, remember that Jesus comes to you where you are. And that He can take even desperate acts of self-preservation and redeem them for something good.

Merry Christmas.

“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For behold I bring you glad tidings, good news of great joy which shall be to all people. For unto you this day in the city of David is born a Savior, which is Christ the Lord!” – Luke 2: 10-11

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

It was sometime around 1951. L.D.’s cousin Burdette Carlson came out for a visit from Illinois. Burdette was in auto parts and some of the dealerships he sold to were in Iowa. So he used L.D.’s place as a home base from which he made day trips to take care of business.

Burdette drove a Buick Roadmaster. He bragged to L.D. more than once about what great gas mileage it got. When gas is 19 cents a gallon, it doesn’t matter too much what kind of mileage you get. But Burdette was proud of it just the same.

L.D. thought he’d help that Buick get some really phenomenal mileage. So every night after Burdette had retired for the evening, L.D. went out and added a few gallons of gasoline to the tank.

After several days of this, he casually asked Burdette how the Buick was running. “Great! It’s hardly using any gas at all!”

Burdette went back to Illinois at the end of the week. L.D. made a point to call him a few days later.

“How was the gas mileage going back?”

“On that first stretch, it was terrific! Just unbelievable! I’ve never gotten mileage like that in my life. But on that second tank of gas it dropped off something terrible. I can’t figure it out.”

Our family still laughs about it. L.D. has been in heaven for a few years now. Burdette is still alive and kicking in his 90′s. And to this day he’s still scratching his head about that crazy decrease in his miles per gallon.

There’s no getting around the fact that life is difficult. We all have struggles and battles to fight. We live in a broken world where hurts are deep and many and real. But I wonder…is it possible that we’re doing as well as we are, even in the hard times,  because other people are pouring into our “life tank” without our knowing?

Elmer and Margaret Franks were members of our little Baptist Church for as long as I can remember. He sang and she played the organ. Wonderfully kind people, I still remember them shaking my hand and congratulating me on the day I got baptized and joined the church in the 4th grade.

Fast forward many years to adulthood. I’m home visiting my parents and they tell me that Elmer is in the nursing home. His health is slipping and he probably won’t be around much longer. I drive to see him and find him laying in his bed, weak but still smiling. We visit for a bit and then he says, “I want you to know that I have prayed for you every day since the day you were baptized.”

What do you say to that? “Thank you” doesn’t begin to cover it.

We said our good-byes and I walked out knowing I wouldn’t see him again this side of heaven. Driving away I thought about everything I’d experienced since 4th grade. The good. The bad. The sad. The ugly. And I wondered how Elmer’s prayers for me likely helped my good be better. My bad and sad not be as bad and sad as they could have been. And how just maybe his prayers during the ugly times helped make the difference between quitting and pressing on.

Elmer poured prayer into my life for decades and I never knew it.

When it comes to the people in our lives, let’s be purposeful about adding to their tank.

God knows we all need help to get further down the road.

“I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of  your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:3-6

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

I go in hopes that Bob will be on duty.

It’s supposed to be a three hour drive from Lubbock to Roswell but it’s funny how the wide open spaces make 65 miles per hour appear so very slow and 75-80 miles per hour appear so very reasonable. On my first trip to Roswell last year I pulled into Sam’s Club to refuel. When I look up, the attendant is standing there. I’ve never seen an attendant at a Sam’s Club gas pump. Usually they are holed up in the little cinder block building watching TV. Yet here he stands. Baseball cap, mustache and the blue Sam’s Club vest with an I.D. badge pinned to it.

“I see by those Texas plates that you’re traveling somewhere. Is there anything you need prayer for?”

My first reaction is to look around. Isn’t that curious? Am I on camera? I’ve been to Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club more times than I can count. I expect low prices. I don’t expect their employees to pray for me.

I give Bob a closer look. He doesn’t look like a nut job. He looks normal. More importantly, he seems sincere. And with his question, definitely a cut to the chase kind of guy. I like that.

“Now that you ask, I sure do. It’s been a tough day and I could use all the prayer I can get.”

With no more small talk, Bob launched into a prayer. He prayed for me. For safe travel. For God’s intercession in the problems of my life. He asked God to bless me. Then he said, “Amen” and told me to drive safely before turning his attention to the next car.

As I opened my driver’s door I couldn’t see him but I heard him ask someone, “Is there anything you need prayer for?”

From that initial visit God has blessed me with a growing number of customers in Roswell. Wonderful, encouraging people and more reasons to return. Without fail, I always go to Sam’s to fill up my tank because I want Bob to pray for me. He prays for so many people that I’m not sure he even remembers that he’s prayed for me multiple times before. But it doesn’t matter. While the digits on the pump keep track of  the gallons and dollars and cents, Bob prays. He’s prayed for me, my kids, my safety in traveling, that God would intercede in circumstances beyond my control, and that God would bind the enemy from doing evil in those same circumstances. And every time I drive away blessed that someone cares. That someone has lifted me and my concerns up to God.

Though I can’t imagine why, not everyone wants prayer. I’ve seen people smile awkwardly and respond to Bob’s offer to pray for them with a, “Nope, I’m fine” or “I’m good, thanks.” But it doesn’t stop Bob from asking. And I bet it doesn’t stop Bob from praying. He will pray for the self-assured guy in the Chevy Avalanche anyway. Prayer doesn’t have to be loud to be effective. Who knows how many of these same people chalk up their good fortune or near misses to dumb luck, when in reality it was Bob’s silent prayers for them as they drove away that made the difference?

Roswell has plenty of good churches. We expect ministry to happen in church. That is as it should be. Yet I wonder if people realize that the gas pumps at Sam’s Club are a place where earth touches heaven? A place where problems and hurts and worries and fears are lifted up to God? A place where kind words and encouragement are spoken? A place where strangers are welcomed and cared for?

Who wouldn’t shop at a place like that?

Come to think of it, who wouldn’t go to a church like that?

And if our churches aren’t like that, why aren’t they like that?

We expect ministry to happen in church. That is as it should be.

Wherever we are and whatever we do, we can pray for others.

That is as it should be, too.

Be a Bob.

“Continue earnestly in prayer, being vigilant in it with thanksgiving…” – Colossians 4:2

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Perhaps more importantly, when’s the last time God stretched your thinking about how He can speak to you?

I grew up in a Baptist church in small town Iowa. It was great and I wouldn’t trade the experience. There was a familiarity about it. The service order never changed. Prelude. Call to Worship. Two or three songs from the hymnbook; first, second and fourth verses only. The offering. The sermon. Closing hymn and benediction. And I can still hear Margaret Franks playing “Take The Name Of Jesus With You” on the organ as everyone headed for the door.

Worship style was piano and organ and hymnbooks. I liked it fine and now that I’m much older I realize the excellent theology I learned from those old hymns of the faith. Yet my worship perspective was severely limited.

Fast forward a few years after college. I flew to Los Angeles to visit Charlie, a college buddy from my Northwestern days. On a Friday he took me to a worship night at the Anaheim Vineyard Fellowship. I knew it was going to be an interesting evening when walking through the parking lot I saw the church custodian’s white Chevy pickup. On the door and side panel, painted in red letters it read, “Anaheim Vineyard Fellowship …Where The Real Angels Play”.

A full rockin’ band was already deep into a set of uplifting worship. Looking around the room there were people standing and singing. Some were sitting on their chair, heads bowed in prayer. Some stood at the front, hands raised. Others lay flat on the floor.

The music was amazing. Rich worship that pointed me to God. It was an electric experience for me. Not that anyone could tell by my expressionless midwestern demeanor, but inside I was moved. On the outside I wasn’t moving at all. Growing up Baptist like I did, if you move too much people might think you are dancing. I may have looked like a statue, but this worship experience is definitely stretching me.

The pastor gave a brief meditation on worship. He was a big guy. A former New York Giants offensive lineman who’d gone on to seminary. He quoted Jonathan Edwards and cautioned against judging people in worship by what you see on the exterior, because God works on the heart.

Then the band kicked in and the pastor started moving through the congregation. He got closer to me and my grip on the chair in front of me tightened. There was no one sitting in the row ahead of us. Moving past Charlie, the pastor stopped right in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders.

Understand, guys from the midwest need about a 36″ buffer zone in their personal space or we will explode. This guy’s infiltrated my space big time…and he’s got his hands on my shoulders.

He didn’t even ask if he could pray for me. He just started praying. It was an incredibly encouraging prayer. And in the prayer he prayed about things that there was absolutely no way in the world he could have known about me. Specific things that were going on in my life at that moment, issues that I was wrestling with God about. This guy didn’t know me from a bale of hay, yet he was praying for me like he’d been looking in on my life.

He said, “amen” and moved on. I was stunned. How could this night be any more stretching for me?

Over my shoulder I noticed a 20-something girl come in. She looked like she’d just come from dance class. The spandex outfit and skirt, hair pulled back in a pony tail. She carried a canvas tote bag. Reaching in, she pulled out a pair of toe shoes. Ballet shoes. After putting them on and tying them up, she slipped to the open area at the back of the room and began dancing. Elegant, graceful, skillful ballet moves. I was transfixed.

Turning back toward the front I said out loud to God, “I am so not in Iowa anymore.”

If all that we are familiar with is what’s familiar to us, we are missing out on beauty and blessings God wants us to experience. When we step out of the comfort zone and allow God to stretch us, we see more of Him. And since God is infinite, there’s a whole lot for us to see.

God is so much more than what we are familiar with.  He wants us to experience Him fully. It starts with going beyond what’s familiar to us. Let’s allow God to stretch us. In our worship style. In our thinking. In our ideas of Who He Is and how He relates to us.

Simply put, let’s allow God to define Himself and His relationship to us by His terms…and not ours.

“…I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.” - John 10:10

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Way back when, it was Emma’s idea to come here for the first time. We were replacing the flowers on 2nd North at Carillon House, visiting with our elderly friends when Emma asked why we didn’t go to the 4th floor, too. I didn’t have a good answer. So up we went.

We’ve been going every week since.

True to her word, we are back the next morning. Emma and Annie are looking lovely in their high heels and fancy purple skirts that spin out beautifully when they twirl and dance, their number one criteria for the perfect dress.

The twins race to see who can punch the elevator button first. Up to the 4th floor. Vista Care’s inpatient hospice unit is located here. A wonderful facility with caring staff. I was impressed early on with how nurses Elizabeth and Kelli handled Annie and Emma’s questions. Not the least of which was Kelli’s answer to one of the girl’s most significant “why?”. Kelli said, “For some people this is the last place they come before they go to heaven.” Annie and Emma are good with that answer.

On this Saturday morning in addition to dresses and heels, the girls have accessorized their outfits with three bottles of bubbles. It makes perfect sense to them. What else would girls in purple dresses and high heels do? They blow bubbles, of course.

It’s pretty quiet on the floor. After chatting with the nurses, they say goodbye and head back down the hall. There’s an open door to the left. A family they’d left flowers with yesterday. The patient, a gentleman who does not look nearly old enough to be here, and two ladies sitting bedside who appear to be family.

I lean against the inside of the doorway, watching Annie and Emma…be Annie and Emma. Their 2nd grade dialogue about random and disconnected topics, engaging the ladies in their conversation. All the while blowing bubbles, watching them float and trying to catch them without breaking them.

Soon they involve one of the ladies in blowing bubbles, too. Smiles all around. Laughter. The laughter that feels and sounds so free; the unfettered laughter of an adult being a kid again. It’s fresh air in this room.

Emma manages a big double bubble. “Whoa! Look! It’s like a Mommy and Daddy bubble!”

Poof.

Annie says, “Daddy bubble just popped.”

More laughter.

“Try to catch them! See? Look!” With her wand, Emma slides underneath the giant bubble she just blew and raises it up. Against the back light of the window I see the shimmering surface tension just before it pops and disappears.

Here in this room that is the last place some people come before going to heaven, life is being lived to the fullest. I dare say there is nothing more or better that anyone here can do in this moment than to blow bubbles and laugh, to enjoy human companionship and the simple delights of children.

Watching the bubbles hover over the bed, I am reminded that God tells us our life is like a vapor. Just like these bubbles. Delicate and beautiful. Incredibly fragile. Floating and fleeting. And in the time it takes to “ooh” and “ah” and giggle…poof!

They are gone.

It’s time to leave. Emma and Annie hand their bottles to the two ladies. Emma says, “Now you can blow bubbles all day even after we’re gone!”

“Are you sure, girls?”, the ladies want to know.

“No worries”, says Annie, “we’ve got lots of bubbles.”

“LOTS of bubbles!”, Emma affirms.

When you’re 8, it feels like the bubbles will never end.

The man in the bed understands better.

The man in the doorway is understanding that better, too.

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.” – James 4:14

 “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12  

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Both times completely unexpected.

One from a friend. One from a total stranger.

Both times brought tears to my eyes.

Handwritten notes of appreciation and encouragement.

When is the last time you were on the receiving end of genuine encouragement? Isn’t it a wonderful mix of good feelings? Someone noticed. Someone cares. Someone took time to say so. Encouragement validates us. We are worth something. We have a place in the world and in the lives of others. Encouragement invigorates us going forward. We press on, this time with more purpose and renewed commitment. Because someone cared enough to say we’re making a difference. 

In my Grandparent’s day, a handwritten note was the preferred method of communicating appreciation, if only because they didn’t have our technology. Today we have phone, email, text, electronic greeting cards and, if all else fails, face to face conversations. I still think a handwritten note is the best. My handwriting was never good and years of typing most everything has made it worse. Yet there is something special about a handwritten note. Thoughts expressed with ink on paper feel more intimate than laser printed Ariel 12-point font. Handwriting is an expression of personality. And it takes more thought, more care, to pen a letter. Perhaps that’s what makes it special. I send handwritten thank you notes to my customers, even if it does take them 20 minutes to decipher my scrawl.

The medium isn’t as important as the message. Phone, note or card, are you encouraging people on a daily basis? If not, why not?

The beauty of encouragement is that it can’t be overdone. Encouragement is the Vitamin C of relationships; you can’t give too much of it and the receiver can’t overdose on it. And like Vitamin C, none of us get enough of it.

Pull up your contact list on your cell phone. Guaranteed that every one of those people would be blessed to have you call and say, “I just wanted you to know I appreciate your friendship.” If someone called you and said that, how much better would your day be?

As much as the people in your life need to hear your appreciation, the beauty of encouragement is that it is not contingent upon relationship. You can encourage a total stranger. 

In March of 1992 while living in Iowa I was watching the weather forecast on Channel 9 in Sioux City. Tom Peterson was the meteorologist there. A fine weather man and a beloved person in Northwest Iowa. It was late March, he said, and spring was on the way. That little blip on the radar was going to be nothing more than a “light flurry” that would barely even dust the ground.

The next day I was thinking about Tom’s prediction while bent over my scoop shovel for half an hour. We got absolutely dumped on with a heavy wet snow. I figured Tom would be eating some serious crow. I also figured that he had a good sense of humor so I decided to drop him a note.

“Tom – Was thinking about you today while scooping all 8 inches of your “light flurry” off my driveway. It must be nice to get paid even when you miss a storm the size of Montana. Would it help you tighten up your forecasting accuracy to work on commission? Seriously, you’re doing a great job. God still controls the weather and even experts like you can’t see ‘em all coming. Best regards, tat”

I got a note back in the mail the next week. It said,

“Todd – Thanks for your letter. It certainly brightened up a dreary (forecast to be sunny by noon) day! – Tom.”

That simple exchange of notes was between two people who had never met but the end result was a mutual encouragement. This note came to mean more to me about 18 months later when Tom Peterson was killed in a car accident during a blizzard. Which raises a sobering point.

The best time to encourage is always “now”. Not “later”. Do it now when it comes to mind. Do it now while you’re thinking about it. Do it now, when the person crosses your mind. Do it now when you observe someone hurting. Do it now when you see someone who deserves to be recognized for their efforts. Do it now when you think about the person who helped you become the person you are. Do it now.

We spend so much time on tasks that really don’t matter. Much of what we do could be put off indefinitely. Cleaning the garage can always wait. Encouragement should never be procrastinated. Encouragement should always be done now.

Simply put, we never know how many opportunities we’ll have to encourage people.

Do it now.

Now go make someone’s day.

Flatter me, and I may not believe you.
Criticize me, and I may not like you.
Ignore me, and I may not forgive you.
Encourage me, and I will not forget you.
- William Arthur Ward

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“Daddy, look! There’s Hazel!” Annie and Emma take off running to give her a hi and a hug.

At the other end of the long hall, sitting in her wheelchair, is Hazel. She came here a couple months ago after suffering a stroke. A Southern belle originally from Baton Rouge, her soft Louisiana voice is charm school sweet and dipped in Mint Julep.

During our first conversation the topic of her age came up. Her daughter told me she was 93.

“Hazel,” I said, “I’m gonna take you to the fair and make a lot of money having people guess your age because there’s no way you’re 93.”

“Why, thank you.” Her smile seemed to agree that I’d make bank.

Hazel’s memory has been affected by the stroke. Almost like a sporadic dementia. Some days we visit without difficulty. On this day, her short-term memory has stepped out for a bit. She is slowly wringing her hands; anxious, fretful and nervous.

“I’m hoping they’ll come for me. If I sit here I think I’ll see them. I hope they find me.”

Her daughter Nita is running errands and will be back in an hour or two. Hazel has forgotten that. She squeezes her hands together and leans forward in the direction of the elevator, anxiously looking for the familiar face that will put her heart at ease.

Emma pats her shoulder. “It’s ok, Hazel. We’re right here.”

Perhaps a distraction will help. “Hazel, I’m sure Nita will be back soon. You can hang out with us while we put out the flowers. Why don’t you come along with us to the rooms. Emma can push your wheelchair.”

“I can push you, Hazel.” Emma grabs the handles and Annie puts a hand on her shoulder.

Hazel is lost in her worry. “I hope they come for me. Because I’m here. I hope they come for me.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

“I know, Hazel. And we’re right here with you.” And we are. But we’re not sure if today is a day that Hazel can know that.

We begin putting out the flowers. Hazel doesn’t want to move, afraid she might miss whomever she is hoping for to come around the corner.

We make our rounds, visiting with our elderly friends while replacing last week’s roses with fresh ones. By the time we get around to Hazel’s room, a nurse’s aide has helped her into bed. Her demeanor is changed. She seems relaxed. At peace. I wonder what happened to make it so.

She points to Annie and Emma with excitement. “They found me! I was waiting for someone to find me. And they found me!” Hazel is happy now.

Making certain she has my attention, she points to Annie and Emma. “These are my precious little girls. They are my fairy princesses. I see their angel faces in my dreams.”

I don’t doubt that she does.

As I turn to leave for the next room, Hazel reaches up and squeezes my hand. Hard. With a relieved smile she says, “I’m so happy to be found.”

Sometimes we wander through our days oblivious that we are lost. Sometimes we feel lost and we’re fearful that what is comforting and familiar to us will never return. Sometimes we’re running hard away, knowing full well we are lost but afraid of what will happen if we stop long enough to admit it.

However it happens, being lost is scary.

Saying goodbye to the patient in the last room, I go looking for Annie and Emma. I hear crazy loud laughter coming from Hazel’s room.

Peeking in I see the three of them playing volleyball with a balloon. Hazel, laying down in her bed says, “Oh, girls, you’ve got to hit it harder than that. You’ve got to really smack it!”

Smack!

Hazel serves up a high floater.

The girls giggle and trip over themselves, whacking it back to her. The volley goes between them till Hazel’s return puts the balloon out of reach, stuck in the lamp.

“Hazel!”, the girls shriek, “What a shot!”

Hazel is proud. She showed them how to really smack it.

I step quietly away. It would be a sin to stop this game.

More giggles. More “smacks!”. More laughter.

Indeed, it is a happy thing to be found.

“Then Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, “Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep. I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.”

- Luke 15:1-7

- Todd A. Thompson   www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“Friendship is the greatest of worldly goods. Certainly to me it is the chief happiness of life. If I had to give a piece of advice to a young man about a place to live, I think I should say, “sacrifice almost everything to live where you can be near your friends.” I know I am fortunate in that respect.”

Are you blessed to live near your friends? And should God move you, have you developed friendships that will transcend time and distance?

Having relocated six months ago to this new place, I am acutely aware of the importance of friendships. I sadly left behind 14 years worth of relationships in the Phoenix valley; people I had invested in and who had invested in me for over a decade. I miss them greatly.

What I’ve realized by being alone in a new place is that the only way friendships can transcend distance is if they were nurtured and developed with lots of “face time” before you, or they, moved away. In short, if you haven’t developed good friends before it’s time to rent the U-Haul, it’s too late. That I can call my friends, who now live hundreds of miles away, and pick up where we left off is because we spent lots of time together making memories and helping one another grow.

Sometimes the silliest things can help create a bond of friendship that, as Solomon said in Ecclesiastes 4:12, “isn’t easily broken.”

One evening in October of 1983 during my junior year at Northwestern College, my roommate Craig Pennings and I were studying in our dorm room. On my desk was a box of Ritz crackers that I was munching on. I offered him some and he said “No, thanks”.

I said, “What’s the matter? My crackers aren’t good enough for you?” He said, “Hey, I’m not hungry.” When he left the room, I put the box on his desk. Later, without a word he put it back on mine. And so it went for a couple days. One day when I got them back on my desk for the umpteenth time, I put them away.

Before going home for Christmas that December, I dug those crackers out, tied them up in their wax paper wrapping, and stuffed them inside a shoe in his closet. I scribbled a note that said something like, “Since you didn’t eat them in October, I thought you might be hungry by now.” Then I laughed and left. By the time I came back for second semester, I had forgotten all about it.

In May 1984 after final exams I was packing up to go home for the summer and found the crackers stuffed in one of my shoes with a note from Craig that he thought I should keep them.

I did keep them.

For a whole year I kept them.

I kept them until graduation in May of 1985 when I went to his closet and stuffed them back in one of his shoes just before leaving the dorm for the last time. I attached a note that said, “Thought you better have these crackers since you wouldn’t eat them in October of ‘83. You thought I’d forgotten about these, didn’t you?” I laughed, thinking it was the last laugh, and left.

In April of 1988, three years after we graduated from college, I got a package in the mail. Inside were the crackers, along with a note that said, “Remember these? I thought you might be hungry.” 

This was entirely too much. Thinking for three years that you’ve had the last laugh only to realize you were just dealing with a very patient person is a real jolt.

In 1991, I mailed them back to Craig with a note.

For my birthday in 1993 he mailed them back to me with a can of Cheeze Whiz.

In May of 1996 I sent them back to him with a note, “Roses are red, old buckets are rusty, after 13 years, these crackers are crusty”.

I got them back in the mail in 2000 as a belated birthday present.

While preparing a sermon on friendship in September of 2004 I realized I had the crackers in my closet. I thought it would be an appropriate occasion to send them back to him.

These crackers or, more accurately, cracker dust, gets mailed back and forth every 2 to 4 years. Always after the other guy has forgotten all about them. And always with a note stapled on top of all the other notes we’ve written. It’s been going on for almost 25 years. Being the good friend that I am, Craig knows that if he dies before I do and the cracker dust is in my possession, I will find a way to get it inside his casket. Being the good friend that he is, I know he will do the same for me.

To anyone else that bag of Ritz cracker dust is worthy of a trash can. For Craig and I it’s part of the legacy that is our friendship. This running joke is evidence of a friendship that goes much deeper. Craig is one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had. He has been there for me during the most difficult times in my life. He is an encourager with a caring heart and one of the most dependable people I’ve ever known. The kind of guy you can call in an emergency on zero notice to drive two and a half hours to pick you up at the Omaha airport from a midnight flight and then drive you another two hours to Sioux Falls, South Dakota where your Dad is in the hospital after a stroke.

In his song “The Times of Our Lives“ Paul Anka wrote that, “Memories are times that we borrow to spend when we get to tomorrow.” Before memories can be spent, they must be made. How are you doing making memories with your friends? Are you making memories on purpose? Or by chance? Are you taking the camera with you when you go out to dinner? Are you playing the practical jokes that make for good stories later? Are you taking road trips? Going to concerts together? All these experiences now become valuable pieces of the “I remember when…” game later. They are all part of the legacy of friendship.

Here’s hoping you are blessed with friends near and far. And that wherever you’re living, you’re investing in friendships that will transcend time and distance.

If you’re not making friends, you might want to start. Your life will be richer for it.

And speaking from experience…

…if God decides to move you, it’s nice to have help loading the U-Haul.

- Todd A. Thompson

www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Crack a joke.

Help the carry out person wrangle a couple stray carts. Write a real paper and pen note to a former teacher telling them what you learned from them. Call your parents and tell them you noticed how much smarter they got after you went to college.

Hold the door for someone.

Let the person behind you go ahead of you in line…even if they have more items than you do. Volunteer to take someone to the airport – and pick them up when they return. Don’t go through the shirt pile at Target like a hog rooting for truffles…find your size and stack the rest neatly back. Pay attention to body language – if the words say “I’m fine” and the face says, “I’m not fine”, ask what’s wrong. Then listen.

Develop eyes for the “invisible people”…they are created in the image of God.

Hold someone’s hand.

Send someone in need an anonymous gift card with a note, “God will never let you down.” Don’t go slow in the fast lane. Help someone change a tire. Pull your kids close, look them in the eye and say, “I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I am so proud to be your Dad/Mom.” Go to the nursing home and give Gladys and Lily a makeover while you ask them about the good old days.

Tell your neighbor not to buy a new lawnmower…he can use yours anytime he wants.

Love your wife. Respect your husband. Cherish your children. Offer your God-given talents to the church and community. Make the cashier at WalMart laugh. Hug. Visit someone in the hospital. Clean up your mess.

Own your mistakes. Say “I’m sorry.”

Forgive.

Invite someone to church. Pass along the magazine article that made you smile. Gather your friends in crisis and host a “Life is Hard But God is Good” party – 30 minutes of crying and complaining followed by two hours of laughing and reminding one another that the joy of the Lord is your strength. Smile and say “thank you” and make eye contact when you do.

Ask someone, “How can I pray for you?”

Then pray.

Share a beautiful photo. Give an I-Tunes gift card with a note, “Buy the music that speaks to your heart.” Stop being grouchy. Compliment other people’s kids. Show up at someone’s door with a decadent chocolate cheesecake. (And don’t forget the coffee.) Read to your children. Give someone a roll of quarters for the car wash. Be a surrogate Mom/Dad, Grandpa/Grandma to a college student from out of state. Take out the trash without being asked. Post your child’s artwork on the refrigerator.

Leave a big tip.

Be patient with your kids.

Buy a bag of groceries for someone, put them on the step and do a “ring and run” (it’ll be a rush and you’ll feel like a kid again.) Rake leaves for an elderly person who wishes they could but can’t. Give a single parent a break by entertaining their kids for an evening. Pay compliments to those who least expect it…”Something I always notice when I come here is how clean it is. Thanks for scrubbing those restrooms. You do a great job.”

Make those who feel insignificant feel significant. Make those who feel unloved feel loved. Call out the obvious talent you see in someone and spur them to develop it.

Stop being prideful. Apologize.

Call a long lost friend in another state, tell them to go outside and look at the same moon while you talk about old times.

Play a practical joke. Make a memory.

Be thankful.

Be grateful.

Live your life as a gift to God.

Point people to Jesus.

“This is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another.” – 1 John 3:11

So what if it’s a mundane task? So what if no one else would think this is a big deal? On this day I am the best ice chipper out’er in the world. So instead of blowing her off, I said, “Yes I am. I’m very good at this. And thank you for saying so.” I likely did twenty other jobs that day more important than defrosting the freezer. But the only job I remember is the one my daughter complimented me on.
 
Today make it a point to pay a sincere compliment to the people in your path. When it comes to kind words, we’re all sponges ready to soak them up. Express your appreciation. Praise a job well done. Acknowledge that which is taken for granted. Give kudos for consistency. The one hearing your words will never forget the sound of your applause.
 
And if you’re going to compliment someone on their ability to defrost a freezer, you can tell them they’re a really good ice chipper, but you can’t say they are the best.
 
Because that would be me.
 
Now go make someone’s day.

“Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” – Proverbs 16:24

Several months ago I worked the Phil Collins concert. I was at my stand selling T-shirts and other merchandise when in the crush of people a little girl appeared in front of me on the other side of the table. There with her mother, the little one looked to be about 9 or 10 years old. Way too young to be at a concert, let alone know who Phil Collins is. But she seemed like a true fan. She was giggly excited. All bouncy and wiggly and grinning and trying to decide which T-shirt to buy.

In the middle of her decision she spun toward her Mom and blurted, “Isn’t this just incredible?!!!”

“Yes, this is incredible!”

I said to the little one, “You seem really glad to be here.”

“I so am!”

Not five minutes earlier they had been upstairs headed for their seats in the nose bleed section of the arena. You know, the “Section 223 – Row 50″ seats where the band on stage looks like a musical flea circus.

A man stopped to talk with them as they were finding their way up the steep stairs to the upper row.

“Are those your seats up there?”

“Yes.”

“They don’t look like very good seats.”

“Yeah, well…it was the best we could do”, said the Mom.

Looking down at the little girl, the man asked, “Do you like Phil Collins?”

“Are you kidding?!!! I LOVE Phil Collins!”

Looking up toward the top row, the man said, “Those seats aren’t very good. I think you need better ones.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

Two tickets.

Floor seats.

Front row.

Dead center.

The man was with the band.

It was the little girl’s front row smile that said “Thank you!” when I handed her the T-shirt. She pulled her Mother into the portico and down the stairs to the arena floor.

That would have been enough, wouldn’t it? To tell your friends at school that you were going to the Phil Collins concert only to come back the next day and say you went from last row to front row? And what street smart fourth grader on the playground would believe that? You’d have to show your ticket stub to prove it and how much fun would that be? To flash the evidence and say, “See? I told you!”

That would have been enough, right?

In the middle of the last song of the set, right before the encore, Phil Collins came off the stage down to the front row. He gave the little girl a big hug, a kiss on the cheek and held up the microphone so she could sing the chorus with him. There was her front row smile, big as life up on the JumboTron, for 10,000 people to see. Excited? She was absolutely out of her mind.

The kids on the playground will never believe this.

Sometimes, just when you think it couldn’t possibly get any better, it does.

We live in a broken world. Because we do, our view of the good stuff on the stage is often from Row 50 in Section 223. The irony is when we do get front row seats on this fallen planet, it’s usually to an ugly or painful event we’d rather not be close to. Chronic health problems, financial stress, strained relationships, or the loss of someone we love. Those seats are always front row, dead center.

We live in a broken world, but we’re loved by a gracious God. A God who promised a long time ago that He would never leave us or forsake us in this broken world. Which is to say that wherever our seats happen to be at any given life event, He promises to be right there with us.

That would be enough, right? To have the promise of God that we will never do life alone? That He will always be here to guide and encourage? To love and strengthen and comfort?

That would be enough, right?

But God goes one better. He promises that all His lavish, gracious love will never end. Not in this broken world, nor in His perfect world that’s yet to come. Someday, when the show’s over down here, we’ll be front row, dead center up there. An unobstructed, up close view of our Savior. The One who came down off His stage so we could sing along.

Sometimes, just when you think it couldn’t possibly get any better…

It does.

“But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions – it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages He might show the incomparable riches of His grace, expressed in His kindness to us in Christ Jesus.” – Ephesians 2:4-7

I’ve always thought it must be interesting for grocery store cashiers to observe what customers buy. Considering the thousands of items on the shelves, there are a near infinite number of possible purchase combinations. They must see some strange ones. Some time ago I stood in line behind a young husband buying two items: an EPT Home Pregnancy Test and a six-pack of beer. I guess however the test turned out, he was prepared.

There were three items on my strange purchase combination list this night: Nyquil, Pampers (size 3), and a gallon of milk. It was late and I was tired. Thankfully, the items were within three aisles of one another. I headed first to the cold remedy section.

Somewhere behind the law of the universe that states “the slowest moving check-out line is always the one you’re in” is the law stating “stock boys always park their pallets directly in front of the item you’re looking for.” “Jimmy” was dutifully unpacking product while I bobbed and weaved around him, looking for the magic green elixir that would send me and my stuffy head drifting into the arms of Morpheus.

“Find everything you need?” It’s closing time but Jimmy’s customer service voice isn’t tired.

“Yeah, thanks. Got it right here.” I hooked my arm around some boxes and grabbed a bottle of the generic equivalent. Sinus relief at half the price.

“Long day, huh, Jimmy? You clock out at midnight?”

“Yes, sir. Then I go home and study. I’m getting all my requirements out of the way at the community college before transferring to ASU. I want to be an eye doctor.”

“You taking a full load of classes and working full-time?”

“Yep.”

“Been there and done that. It’s not easy.” I had what I needed in this aisle. I could leave now. But I didn’t. Don’t know why. Just decided to talk with Jimmy for a minute longer.

“Jimmy, I went to grad school full-time and worked full-time. It’s not easy, but you can do it. It’s a lot of late nights and a lot of tired days, but you can do it.”

Jimmy stopped stocking, stood up and stretched his shoulders, “Most of my friends are out partying right now. They don’t understand why I’m working this job and going to school.”

“They don’t need to understand. As long as you understand, that’s all that counts. Don’t look at the whole thing at once or you’ll freak. Take it a semester at a time and keep going. One day you’ll say, “Hey, I’m half done.” And then one day, you will be done.”

I didn’t know thing one about Jimmy’s situation. But I remembered all my nights of sitting in class for 4 hours after working all day. It didn’t make me an expert, but it qualified me to offer encouragement.

“Thanks. This job’s ok. But it gets old, being in here until midnight.”

“But you’re working toward your goal. There might be times you wonder why the heck you’re stocking shelves in a grocery store when your goal is to be an eye doctor. Just remember that everything you’re doing now will count for something. No experience is ever wasted with God.”

Did I just say “God” to a total stranger? I quickly looked at Jimmy. He didn’t flinch at the “G” word. He was standing in front of me listening intently. Maybe he thought my big forehead and receding hairline made me look like an old guy who’d been around awhile. Or maybe he thought I had something worth listening to.

“The work ethic you’re developing here will serve you well when you get to medical school. More hard work, just a different kind. You just keep doing what you need to do and God will honor your efforts.” I said the “G” word again. Jimmy still didn’t flinch. “God is always faithful to meet your needs. So you hang in there. Keep working hard. You’re gonna do great.”

Jimmy said, “Thanks. I appreciate hearing that.” With that I sidestepped the pallet and headed off in search of some size 3 Pampers.

While sorting through the myriad of super absorbency diaper options, I pondered what it is that determines whether talking with someone about God is easy or difficult. I suspect the reason I was able to encourage Jimmy by reminding him of God’s faithfulness is because we were engaged in a conversation and not a lecture. Regardless of topic, no one enjoys being talked at. Most everyone appreciates being talked with.

As one who grew up in the church, I’ve seen just about every method Christians use to talk with others about God. Some are gentle, considerate and respectful in their approach. Others are not. In shopping malls, airports, and on street corners well-meaning individuals have pressed tracts into my hand; pamphlets outlining why God is relevant to my life and to my eternal future. With due respect to their sincerity and the validity of the message, many of them were void of tact and sensitivity. Some were simply frightening to me, waving their tracts like weapons as they invaded my personal space with a crazed look on their face. Let’s face it, there’s nothing winsome about being a psycho for God. Excited about God? Certainly. Joyful about sharing what God has done for you? Absolutely. But if children and adults alike are frightened by you, you won’t get close enough for anyone to hear your message, let alone take it seriously.

Jimmy and I had never met before. I don’t know his background and he doesn’t know mine, save what information we exchanged. But that didn’t matter. God is always a relevant topic when we’re talking with others. Whether we know them well or hardly at all, they are living life just like we are. When we talk about God from our personal experience like a normal person who’s living life in the real world, people will listen. They may not agree with us, but they’ll listen.

Even when you’re talking about God in the grocery store at midnight.

“Conduct yourselves with wisdom toward outsiders, making the most of the opportunity. Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned, as it were, with salt, so that you may know how you should respond to each person.” – Colossians 4:5-6