Annie and Emma are in the back seat at Sonic Drive-In, enjoying an after school snack while we sit with engine running. It’s unseasonably cold this week. So cold that there is no one dining at the outdoor tables, the same tables that smart sparrows know to be a smorgasbord of crumbs for them.

The sparrows are here this day, too, feathers fluffed against the wind and single digit temperatures. Looking for food in all the usual places, one sparrow flits under a red metal bench. Leaning down he picks up what must look to him like a tiny piece of a cast off tater tot or onion ring. He pecks it, picks it up and clamps down with his beak. But it’s not food. It’s a pebble that looks like food.

He drops it, looks at it, then picks it up again. Again he clamps down. Maybe it really is food but today it’s frozen food? Nope. Still a pebble. He drops it, hops away for about three seconds, looks back and returns to pick it up again. This time pecking really hard and trying to crush it in his beak.

Still a pebble.

Silly bird, I think. You can want it to be food. But it’s always going to be a pebble. It should be easy enough, I reason, for even a bird to tell the difference between food and a rock. But then I think maybe that sparrow isn’t the only one having trouble figuring that out. We humans do our own pecking at pebbles.

Are you trying to make something be what it can never be?

Maybe you’re pecking at your job. You’re telling yourself that if you just work a little harder and adjust your attitude and suck it up and buy into what management is saying that you’ll come around and really like what you do…even though your heart is screaming because you know you’re hard-wired for something completely different.

Peck.

Maybe you’re pecking at your dating relationship. He is a nice guy and it’s 90% pretty good and you’re telling yourself those nagging doubts you have that you never talk about aren’t really red flags at all. They’re just jitters and everyone has them and once you walk down the aisle all your fears will disappear and you’ll live happily ever after…even though the part of your soul that always tells the truth is telling you not to proceed because that missing 10% is the difference between forever joy and permanent misery.

Peck, peck.

Maybe you’re pecking at the relationship you have with a friend or family member struggling with an addiction. Yes, they drink more than you’d like them to but they function at a high level in spite of it and they aren’t like the other drunks you know. And if you just keep being the understanding friend then they’ll eventually see the light and change their behavior…even though your gut knows that their happy veneer is wearing thinner with every binge and their self-destruction is only an open bar away.

Peck, peck, peck.

Maybe you’re pecking at your relationship with God. You go to church every week except for the two times a year you’re sick and that Disney vacation to Orlando. Your Christianity is comfortable, like the fleece pullover you’ve had for years. It fits and it never rubs you the wrong way. In fact, it’s so comfortable you never think about it except lately you’ve been thinking about it and you don’t like thinking about it.

So you’re telling yourself that you’re far more dedicated than most people so why should you have these nagging thoughts that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to God than an hour on Sunday? Maybe if you just say “yes” to that committee and volunteer to work the nursery once a quarter then all your wondering about what it would be like to experience a raw, unedited, intimate, and unfiltered relationship with your Creator will be set aside like a church bulletin on Monday morning and you can go back to being comfortable.

Peck, peck. Peck, peck.

What are you pecking at, in spite of your better judgment, hoping that it will change?

Only you can answer that.

If you’re pecking at your job, ask God to point you in a direction suitable for the gifts and talents He gave you. He has “prepared good works in advance for you to do” (Ephesians 2:10). God will be more than happy to help you find your divinely designed sweet spot.

If you’re pecking at your dating relationship, ask God to help you discern between red flags and jitters. And as you do, write this down where you can see it everyday: Your absolute worst day as a single person is absolute heaven compared to your best day in a bad marriage.

If you’re pecking while you watch your friend’s addictive behavior send them into a death spiral, ask God for courage to do the right thing and intervene. “Faithful are the wounds of a friend” (Proverbs 27:6). Better to speak truth into their life and have it rejected than to remain silent. There are some regrets you can’t afford to live with.

If you’re pecking at your relationship with God, ask God for more of God. Ask Him to help you break free of your comfortable ideas of who He is and allow Him to define Himself and His relationship to you by His own terms. It’s scary to let go of the familiar. Yet there is freedom when we finally do.

For what it’s worth, it’s that last one that I’ve been pecking on. Moving away from my ideas about God and moving toward God as He defines Himself. I still come back to the pebble sometimes, but I’m getting better at not holding it in my beak so long. Hopefully the sparrows and I are getting smarter about that.

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

As good literature proves, without tension there is no story. Enter the antagonist. These are the bad guys and the bad girls. They stand opposed to, struggle against, or compete with the good guys. Their flaws are more obvious than the good guys’, making it much easier for us to dislike, if not hate them.

We cheer the hero. We boo the villain. We find ourselves drawn to the struggle of the heroine. We wonder how the villainess could be so evil. We read on, hoping at each turn of the page that justice will be served.

Simply put, we identify with the good guys. And the good girls. We see ourselves as the protagonist. The hero. Because, really? Why would anyone want to be the zero?

On Sunday morning, walking out the door to church I heard a radio preacher reading from Luke 17. It’s the account of Jesus healing ten lepers. Ostracized and isolated because of their disease, cultural law required them to keep away from the general public. When anyone approached, they were required to yell, “Unclean! Unclean!” as a warning for passers by to keep their distance. Difficult enough to cope with the physical deformities of disease. How emotionally awful would it be to verbally remind yourself and others that you are an outcast?

You likely know the account. The lepers cry out to Jesus as He passes by. “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” And Jesus does just that, telling them to go show themselves to the priest. As they go, they are healed.

The Bible says that one man, upon realizing his healing, runs back to Jesus. Throwing himself at Jesus’ feet he thanks Him profusely. Jesus wonders out loud about the other nine. Did He not heal them, too?

I grew up in the church. From the week that I was born. In 47 years I’ve heard many sermons and Sunday School lessons on Luke 17. I’ve read the passage in my personal time with God. I’ve studied it in seminary classes. I’ve taught the passage in Bible studies. Yet on this Sunday morning the thought occurs to me that in 47 years I’ve always lined myself up with the one who came back to say thanks.

More importantly, in 47 years I’ve never lined myself up with the ungrateful ones who grabbed their healing and walked away, never returning to say “thank you” to their Healer.

I’ve always seen myself as the good guy.

And that’s a problem.

There is an inherent danger to always seeing ourselves as the good guy. Especially when reading the Bible. In fact, I would argue that if we insist on seeing ourselves as the protagonist when studying God’s Word we miss much, if not all, of what God wants us to learn.

We read that Jesus healed the lepers and only one came back to say thanks. We think to ourselves, “That’s me. I would have said thanks.” Really? Are we really that grateful? Do we go through our days keenly aware of every good thing God does for us? Do we always remember to say “thank you”? I can’t speak for you, but I’m not that consistent. And if in my study of God’s Word I always see myself as the good guy then I don’t have to do the hard thinking about all my failures. Or about all the areas of my life that need to improve.

In reading this account, what would happen if we said, “I’m just like the nine who never said thanks.”

If we read the Bible seeing ourselves as the good guy who always agrees with Jesus, it’s quite possible to read the entire Book and never learn a thing. To always imagine ourselves standing at Jesus’ side in righteous agreement with everything He says is to miss the point. Apart from Christ, we are the antagonists. We are the bad guys. The Bible goes as far as to say we were born the bad guys. David says in Psalm 51, “in sin did my mother conceive me”. Paul says in Ephesians 2 that you and I by our very nature are “children of wrath”. Which is to say the only good in us is there because of Who Jesus is.

Here’s an idea. From now on when you read your Bible, identify the person or persons in the text who have the most to learn. Whatever their particular fault is, be they short-sighted, obstinate, arrogant, self-righteous, ungrateful, legalistic, or just plain opposed to God…line yourself up with that person. Line yourself up with the antagonist and say, “That’s me.” Then read the account again and ask God to show you what He wants to teach you.

Oh, and about that account of the ten lepers Jesus healed? The ending has a twist.  The one who came back to say thanks?

He was a Samaritan. A sworn enemy of Jews like Jesus.

It was the bad guy who came back to say thanks.

Could it be we’ll all experience a better ending if we start reading the Scriptures from the perspective of the bad guy?

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“Yeah, Dad. I know. I’ll remember.”

It was daylight when I left for Fairmont, the closest “big town” for us just across the Iowa state line into Minnesota. I was 16 years old and thoroughly enjoying the independence of my newly acquired driver’s license. And the Oldsmobile was a sweet luxury ride. A big engine and padded velour seats, it felt like you were driving a La-Z-Boy down the road.

I ran my errands and stopped at Hardee’s for two Big Twin burgers, one roast beef sandwich, fries and a Coke. It would all get run off at basketball practice. Then I headed for home.

About five miles out the Olds started sputtering.

Ugh.

I forgot to remember.

I’m out of gas.

Shifting into neutral I let it coast as far as it would go before pulling onto the shoulder on Highway 15. With my Dad’s words ringing in my ears, I started walking toward a farm house up the road about three quarters of a mile.

It was about 9 PM on this December night. Frigid cold, but no wind. A coal black sky full of sparkling stars. I would have appreciated the beauty were my face not freezing.

I rang the bell. The farmer warily opened the door. “Uh, I, uh…Hi. My name is Todd and I was wondering…I, uh, ran out of gas up the road.” He didn’t say anything, just reached for his coat and came outside.

Walking over to a shed, he got a gas can and pointed me to his pickup. “I’m really sorry about this. Thanks for helping me. I’ll be happy to pay for the gas.” He shook his head no.

He’s not talking. He must be mad. I’d be mad, too, if someone got me out of my toasty warm house to haul gas for some teenager who can’t remember the difference between “E” and “F” even when it lights up. “I’m really sorry for getting you out here on a cold night”, I said. The farmer said nothing. He just drove down the road.

I hate this.

He did a U-turn and pulled up behind the Oldsmobile. Then he opened the gas cap and poured a full five gallons into the tank, about four and a half gallons more than I deserved. Again, I offered to pay and again he shook his head “no”. I thanked him profusely. Then he spoke his only sentence.

In a kind voice he said, “Son, it’s just as easy to keep the top half full as the bottom half.”

He got in his truck and pulled away, probably wondering if I’d be smart enough to remember his advice.

I did remember. And aside from having never run out of gas since, the thought occurs to me that there is an application of this truth to my relationship with God.

If I’m honest, too much of my relationship with God has been lived from the bottom half of the tank. Too often I’ve allowed myself to run on fumes. Too much time without prayer and without time reading God’s Word. Not enough time spent with other believers. Then, when life gets cold and harsh, I ring God’s doorbell and foolishly wonder out loud to him why I’m not capable of handling the situation with confidence and strength?

God always listens, then kindly points to my empty tank.

The farmer’s advice is true. It’s just as easy to keep the top half filled as the bottom half. Being disciplined to pray, worship, study God’s Word, and regularly learn from others older and wiser than myself keeps my tank full. And when my tank is full, I’m better able to handle life when circumstances turn cold and harsh. Life is hard, but it’s harder when we’re running on empty.

Praying that we all focus on the top half of the tank.

Go fill’er up.

“I will never forget Your precepts, for by them You have revived me…Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” – Psalm 119:93;105

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

I hear this often from my daughters. 2nd grader’s this year, they love learning. I wonder what her question is this time? What’s 16 + 16? How to spell “clock”? Or maybe something regarding a favorite place, like “When are we going to Krispy Kreme again?”

“Sure, Emma, what’s your question?”

“Do penguins toot?”

In all my years of schooling and countless conversations with teachers, professors and fellow students, I can’t recall a single discussion of flatulence in the Antarctic region. Even “March Of The Penguins”, the most detailed penguin documentary to date, didn’t mention if their eating too many fish caused that bloated feeling. 

“Do penguins toot? Good question, Emma.”

As an undergraduate student at Northwestern College, I experienced the value of a Christian liberal arts education. My faculty advisor was Dr. Wayne Norman. Many who make their living as scholars prefer to be holed up in libraries and labs, more comfortable with books and Bunsen burners than humans. Dr. Norman’s people skills match his considerable intellect. Anyone who can teach a Statistical Research Methods class in such a way that it makes sense to a 2+2=5 math idiot like myself has special gifts.

One afternoon I was visiting with Dr. Norman in his office. I looked around at all the shelves, crammed with books representing years of academic study and research. I wondered out loud, “Does having your PhD mean you know everything that’s in these books?”

He laughed. “Heavens, no. Having my PhD just means I know where to look to find it.”

He continued. “You know, Todd, students come to college to prepare for a career. Nothing wrong with that. But by the time you graduate there will be thousands of jobs that today don’t exist. The world is changing fast. Chances are high that ten years from now you’ll be doing something completely different than your major. If all you prepare for is what you see today, you’ll always be behind.”

He put a fat textbook back on the shelf. “So the most important thing you can do in college is…learn how to learn.”

Somehow that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear from my faculty advisor. I sat there and thought about it. Learn how to learn. It made sense.

“So what’s the best way to do that?”

“Learn how to ask good questions. A genuine liberal arts education means you can sit on an airplane next to anyone in the world going anywhere in the world and be able to carry on an intelligent conversation. You won’t know all the answers. But you’ll know what questions to ask.”

I’ve never forgotten that conversation. Knowingly or unknowingly, Dr. Norman connected the dots for me. The key to “learning how to learn” is learning the value of a question. I took it to heart. After a couple decades of practice, I ask questions with the best of them. It’s a skill that serves me extremely well.

Dr. Norman was right. It’s all about asking the right questions.

In the asking, we learn things we otherwise wouldn’t.

In the asking, we add to our knowledge base.

In the asking, we acknowledge the value of another person and their life experience.

In the asking, we often save ourselves embarrassment.

In the asking, we are saying, “Teach me. I want to learn.”

In the asking, we are building relationships.

And always, always remember…if in doubt of what to say, ask a question.

As you encounter people this week, purpose to ask more questions. In a conversation, see if you can ask five questions in a row. Don’t use their answers as a springboard into telling them everything you know. Rather, ask another question. Then be quiet and listen. You’ll be amazed at what you learn. And more amazed at the positive impact it will have on your relationships.

Do penguins toot?

Yes, they do.

(We Googled it.)

“Judge of a man by his questions rather than by his answers.” – Voltaire

“The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge; the ears of the wise seek it out.” – Proverbs 18:15

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com