It’s remarkable how we can know how slim the odds are and yet be so enticed by the possibility. We’ve put our coins in the slot before, certain that it would be the one to push many over the ledge only to watch it slide aside and become just another coin on the shiny brushed metal platform. How can it not work? There are coins at the precipice, literally stacked up on each other.  George Washington and 33 of his twenty-five cent friends leaning over the ledge, defying the laws of physics. How can it be that my quarter can’t give them the nudge they need to take the plunge?

I was thinking about my life the other day and realizing that, if I’m honest, sometimes when I pray I feel like I’m standing in front of the coin pusher. The blessings are at the ledge. They are stacked on top of each other. And it’s my prayer, strategically placed, that will bump the blessings into my life.

Yet sometimes it feels like my prayer just slides aside into a sea of previously prayed and still unanswered prayers. How can it be? The blessings. They seem so close. I can see them. Yet after all my effort and all my prayers these blessings stack up on the ledge of my life. How can they be so close and yet so far away? Maybe just one more prayer. Or one more week or month of petitioning God will give Him the nudge He needs to bump them over the edge and into my reality.

And still they sit. Piled up on the ledge, refusing to drop into my life.

Frustrating, isn’t it? Maddening, even.

So we think, “Maybe I’m not praying the right way.” We search and scour the Bible to see if there’s something we are missing. God says“we have not because we ask not”. So we ask. He says “not to worry about anything but with prayer and supplication with thanksgiving we are to make our requests known” to Him. So we try that, being careful to say lots of “please” and “thank you” as we go. Then we read the parable about the woman who wouldn’t stop pounding on the judge’s door till she got her hearing. So we try pounding on the door, praying with importunity.

As the frustration builds, we even scream and yell. Maybe even cuss. (Though I don’t expect you to admit that like I just did. I’m probably the only one who’s ever done that.)

We may even cry. Out of frustration. Or exhaustion.

And finally we sit in silence.

At least that’s what it’s like for me. I can’t speak for you.

And as the prayers go unanswered and the blessings seemingly taunt me from the ledge, I don’t know what else to do. Everything in my heart has been expressed to God a hundred times in a hundred different ways. There’s nothing left to say. Or as I told a friend some months ago, “I think I’m going to just quit praying for a while”, expecting him to launch into a Christian lecture on why that would be wrong. Instead my friend replied, “That’s actually not a bad idea. Maybe it would be good to take a break for a bit.”

Evidently, I’m not the only one who’s wondered why the coins are stuck on the ledge.

Before you think me or my friend as less than spiritual, what do you do when all the Sunday School answers leave your soul high and dry?

The problem, perhaps, is that in trying to bump the blessings off the ledge and into our life we are viewing our prayers as the magic token. Certainly the heretical theology of too many prosperity preachers on TV lead us in this direction. They teach that God is like a divine vending machine. If we put in the right tokens He will give us what we want. (Interestingly, they tell you your chances of answered prayers are even higher if you slide your tokens their way in the process. But that’s a column for another time.)

There is a significant difference between the coin pusher in the arcade and God. Standing in front of the coin pusher you know that the odds are against you. It’s set up to benefit the arcade, not you. The arcade is blessed when the quarters pile up on the ledge. It will let you win just enough times to keep you depositing more tokens. But when you walk out the door you’ll have less and the arcade will have more. In the end, there will always be more quarters on the ledge than in your pocket.

Standing in front of God, we know the odds are in our favor. In fact, there are no odds. He is 100% for us. Or as Paul put it,“If God is for us, who can be against us?” When we stand in front of God we are not standing in front of a capricious fickle diety who plays games with our lives. We are standing before the One who tells us to“come boldly before the throne of grace”. Grace. Unmerited favor. He doesn’t tease us with just enough blessings to keep us coming back. We always end up with more blessings than our pockets can hold.

So what of all those blessings stacked up on the ledge? There’s no denying that some of our prayers go unanswered. Or at the very least aren’t answered in the time and manner we would like.  What do you say to the person who’s prayed for years about the physical healing of a loved one? Or an estranged relationship? There’s no satisfactory Sunday School answer for that. We do each other a disservice when we gloss over heart rending realities with pious platitudes.

It comes down to a simple question, really. Do we trust God’s heart? If we do then we’ll trust Him to bump the blessings off the ledge that are right for us. Always in His time and in His way. Part of that trust means accepting that there may be some prayers that God chooses not to answer. At least in the way we want Him to. When that happens, we need to remember that it doesn’t mean God is against us. God is for us. Because He said He is for us. And God is not a man that He should lie about that. Or anything else.

I was at the arcade on Monday. A play day with my girls. I saw the coin pushers. Boy, were the coins stacked up. It looked like a good sneeze would send $30 down the chute. But I didn’t drop a quarter in. I’d like to think I’m on to them now. But who knows? Some day I’ll probably send George Washington on a mission to take Token Ledge by storm. Until then, I think I’ll keep talking with God and asking Him to help me get a grip on that wonderful truth that He is for me. And if He is for me, then I can trust Him to give me His best.

And that includes holding back from me those things that are not.

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

We hear it (or say it) when attitude takes on, well…an attitude.

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

I reminded my daughters of this the other day. All the signs were there. The raising of the voice. Exaggerated body language. Speaking with a tone that is too presumptuous. And though they are too young to understand the term, let alone spell it, a bit of condescension. A hint of “I know more, so let me educate you.” They were forgetting they are 10 and I’m, well…their Dad.

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

What is it in us that makes us forget who we are talking to?

We’ve heard it said, “Whatever it is you’re thinking and feeling, tell God. Even if you’re angry, pour out your heart. He’s big enough to take it.” This is true. God is big enough to take it. Indeed God invites us to “cast all our cares on Him, because He cares for us” (1 Peter 5:7). He goes even further in telling us to “come boldly before the throne of grace that we might obtain mercy and find grace in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). God is clear. He wants us to communicate whatever is on our mind and heart.

I wonder, though, if in the communicating we sometimes forget who we’re talking to?

The perpetual challenge for Christians of every generation is to worship the whole of God. Our natural tendency as imperfect humans is to gravitate toward the perfections of God we like the most.  We like God’s patience with us. We like God’s forgiveness. We like that God never leaves us or abandons us. We like God’s love. I remember the Jesus Movement of the 1970′s where it seemed the love of God was emphasized above all else. It was the aftermath of Vietnam and the the anti-war movement. Years where the peace symbol was found everywhere t-shirts, bumper stickers, and records were sold. A popular book of that time by “Peanuts” creator Charles Schulz was titled, “Happiness Is A Warm Puppy.” That’s how many Christians viewed God. He was your pal. A heavenly fuzzy buddy you could get close to.

Certainly God is our friend. The Bible is clear on that. Yet in the process of becoming familiar and comfortable, it seems we’ve pushed aside other equally present attributes of God. Like His holiness. Or His sovereignty. Or the fact that He is self-existent and eternal. God’s righteousness and justice are no less part of His perfection than His love and mercy.

If we focus on God’s love toward us at the expense of His holiness, it is possible to forget Who it is we are talking to. The same God who bids us to cast all our cares on Him is the same God who, with perfect judgment, destroyed people and nations for their sins against Him. The God who calls us friend is the same God whose purity and holiness is an all consuming fire. The God who tells us to ask Him for our daily bread and promises to take care of our needs is the same God who spreads out the heavens like a tent and uses the earth as a foot rest.

Do we remember Who we are talking to?

I can’t speak for you, but during the inevitable episodes of deep frustration and anger in my life I’ve sometimes been guilty in my “God is big enough to take it” rants of forgetting Who I’m talking to. I’ve spoken to Him as though He is blind to my circumstances. I’ve prayed as though I need to remind Him of my plight, that maybe He missed the meeting where we discussed my life falling apart. My attitude in these moments has been equal parts “Where have You been?” and “What have You done for me lately?” Notice where the focus is. My “me” is asking God to explain Himself and to give an account as to His faithfulness. Talk about presumption and condescension. When I do this I’m forgetting that I am me and He is, well…God.

Forgetting that the One we are venting to is the One who created us is bad enough. But when we forget who we are talking to and abuse the “God is big enough to take it” privilege, I fear we sometimes relegate Him to an impenetrable steel diety. A divine punching bag who receives our verbal buffeting without emotion. As if we think God’s feelings cannot be hurt. Or worse, that He has no feelings at all.

To miss this is to miss God’s father heart for us. Follow God’s journey with His children from the beginning and we see Him as a Father who loves beyond reason, forgives without measure, blesses abundantly and relentlessly pursues us when we walk away. Even when we as fickle followers turn and take after gods that spell their name with a small “g”, God woos and pines and pleads with us to return to our first love that we might find our ultimate joy in Him.

The God of the universe has a heart. And of all His creation, we are the only ones who can break it.

Going forward, as we talk with God let’s remember Who we’re talking to. When we remember God’s holiness, it makes His love even more amazing. When we remember His justice, it makes His forgiveness even more incredible. Simply put, the best way to experience God fully is to worship Him wholly.

Do we remember Who we’re talking to?

“And can it be that I should gain an interest in the Savior’s blood? Died He for me, who caused His pain—For me, who Him to death pursued? Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me? Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?” – Charles Wesley

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

When I was a kid I would play Scrabble with my Grandma Thompson. She was into her 70′s the first time we ever played. Grandma liked words. I remember her doing the Jumble puzzle in the newspaper everyday. She had been a school teacher and principal in the 1920′s before marrying my Grandfather and becoming a farm wife. She believed in being a life long learner and led by example.

Scrabble was fun for her because she was good at it. My Grandfather was good at it, too, but I had a hard time getting him to join us because Grandma most always won. And it wasn’t just that she usually won. It was how she won that made him crazy.

Grandma was what could be kindly described as a deliberate player. Grandpa would describe her as a slow player. She would study the board, look at every possibility, then look some more. Her turn would sometimes turn into a coffee break for me and Grandpa. Finally, she would put down her letters, usually for a big word and lots of points.

On this particular day, Grandpa was winning. As the available letters dwindled to zero, Grandpa got excited. He had a big lead. There were no more letters left to be drawn. We were stuck with what we had on our tray. He managed a double word score and increased his lead to what seemed insurmountable. I played some grand three letter word like “sit” or “dog”.

Then it was Grandma’s turn.

She put her hand to her chin and scanned the board, quietly studying the open squares. Grandpa and I looked at the board and then at each other. Why was Grandma taking so long? We can’t see a single opening anywhere, save maybe adding an “I” to an “F” for “IF”. Certainly nothing that could generate enough to win the game.

Why take so long looking and hoping for something that just isn’t there?

Grandpa was a patient man. He’d been married to Grandma for over 50 years. But he was ready for this game to be over. He was ready to win. “Hurry up, Bernice. Play something.”

“I’m still looking.”

Drink a little coffee. Look out the window. Look at the board.

There’s nothing there.

“Oh”, she says. “This will work.”

She put down the rest of her letters. “Let’s see. That’s on a triple word score, too….48 points. And I’m out. What’s the score, Dettmer?”

Whatever Grandpa said to her he said walking away from the table.

Grandma wins. Again.

I was thinking today that at times my relationship with God is like playing Scrabble with Grandma. I can’t make sense of the board and my letters are all consonants and I can’t draw an “A” or an “E” to save my life. I can’t see any openings and I’ve played the same short words over and over. Words like…

Why?

When?

How?

Where.

Are.

You.

God?

I’ve taken my turn. It’s God’s turn to go. But He’s not going.

Drink some coffee. Look out the window. Pray. Repeat. Again. And again.

Day after day. Month after month.

Year after year.

“Hurry up and play, God!”

And about the time I’m ready to quit and walk away from the game because I see no possibilities, no openings and no chance to make sense of anything in my life, God plays His letters. A triple word score with a “Z” and an “X” for a zillion points. And I stand in awe of how He could make something out of nothing. How He made a way where there was no way.

God wins. Again. He always does. And though it’s sometimes hard for my stubborn self to admit, when God wins in my life, I win.

If you’re waiting for God to play His letters, or wondering how He could ever help you make a word with the goofy mix of letters on your tray, hang in there. Take it from someone who’s gotten out of his chair more than once. Don’t walk away from the game. There is a blessing to be had by staying at the table. Sometimes God is slower than your Grandma. But He’s never late. And He promises that when He makes His play, whatever He puts down for you will be worth the wait.

Oh, about my Grandpa and that Scrabble game…It took a long time before I got him to play with us again. When he finally agreed to another game, Grandma had the first turn. She played a huge word on a double word score. All the usual points plus a 50-point bonus for using all seven letters. She was up 85 to zero before Grandpa’s chair was even warm.

Whatever words he laid down we didn’t hear because he just smiled, shook his head and went outside to work in the garden.

It was just me and Grandma after that.

“But this I call to mind; therefore I have hope: The Lord’s loyal kindness never ceases; His compassions never end. They are fresh every morning; your faithfulness is abundant! “My portion is the Lord,” I have said to myself, so I will put my hope in him. The Lord is good to those who trust in Him, to the one who seeks him. It is good to wait patiently for deliverance from the Lord.” - Lamentations 3:21-26

“For I am confident that He (God) who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

]]> http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2011/01/17/triple-word-score/feed/ 0 http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2010/09/07/adding-to-the-tank/ http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2010/09/07/adding-to-the-tank/#comments Wed, 08 Sep 2010 05:51:56 +0000 todd http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/?p=490 My great uncle, L.D. Thompson, farmed with my Dad and my Grandfather in Iowa. L.D. was a kind and generous man, always helping his friends and neighbors. He also enjoyed playing a good practical joke, most often on those same friends and neighbors.

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

“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

Marcelle and Oscar were a wonderful elderly couple in my church back in Chandler, Arizona. Their story was storybook. They met and married overseas during the war. She was a singer and performer in the USO, entertaining the troops and sharing the stage with people like Bob Hope. Oscar was an Air Force man. To look through their scrapbook is to see a glimpse of the honor and service to country that defined the “greatest generation”.

When I met them for the first time they had been married about 50 years. Marcelle would smile and laugh and hug you. Oscar would greet you and shake your hand in the parking lot where you’d find him leaning on his oxygen tank, finishing off a cigarette. They were absolutely delightful people and dearly loved.

On this particular Sunday Pastor Duane asked the congregation to share any prayer requests they might have. Marcelle, by this time using a walker to get around, labored to her feet. In her French accent, she said…

“Please pray that I will stop bitching at Oscar.”

Once everyone got past the “did someone just say “bitching” in church?” I’d lay dollars to doughnuts that everyone who heard Marcelle’s request were silently saying “Amen!”.Why? Because it was an honest request. Happily married for nearly five decades, they were still two imperfect human beings dealing with one another’s quirks and indiosyncrasies. Marcelle was just keeping it real.

I absolutely loved Marcelle’s request. It was honest. It’s where every married couple lives at one time or another. Some might argue there was a better way to say it. A kinder, gentler way, perhaps. Maybe “please pray that I be more patient in my marriage”. That communicates, I suppose.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Maybe.

But…

“…pray that I will stop bitching at my husband”?

That preaches.

People who live in the real world can relate to that. Someone once asked Billy Graham’s wife Ruth if she’d ever considered divorce. She answered, “Divorce? Never. Murder? Often.”

Honest prayer. What does it look like? If we take our finger off the edit key and really pray our heart, does it have any resemblance to what we hear in church on a Sunday morning? (Marcelle’s example, notwithstanding.)

A couple weeks ago during worship our Praise Band was leading with a song called “Enough”. The lyrics, in part, say, “All of You (God) is more than enough for all of me…”In the middle of the song I picked up my journal and with a black rollerball scrawled, “What’s going on inside of me when all of God isn’t enough?”

Then the conditioned Christian part of me wondered, “Is that too honest? Is that too brazen? To wonder, out loud on paper in the middle of worship, if God really is enough?” In that moment the thought that God is more than enough was butting hard against my apparent glaring needs and desperate long-prayed prayers still unanswered.

Is it ever appropriate to say, “God, right now, you don’t seem like enough.”?

Is there such a thing as being too honest in prayer? Is it appropriate to censor ourselves? Or is that folly in the face of an omniscient God? As if we can hit the backspace or delete button when we think we’ve said too much or said it too harshly. Where’s the line between remembering we are talking to a perfect holy God and pouring out our heart?

Or could it be that because He is the perfect holy God, there’s no line to worry about?

Jeremiah, the Lamenter, penned one of the most visceral lines in all of Scripture when he cried, “He (God) has broken my teeth with gravel; He has made me cower in the dust. My soul has been rejected from peace; I have forgotten happiness. So I say, “My strength has perished, and so has my hope from the Lord.” (Lamentations 3:16-18)

In that moment, Jeremiah is not singing “all of God, is more than enough for all of me.” He’s saying, “I feel like God’s pushed my face in the dirt and I’ve come up with a mouth full of rocks. I’m miserable. I’ve got nothing left in the tank and I’m done hoping God will ever help me.”

Ever feel that way?

Or, better question, ever feel that way and tell God you feel that way?

What’s your prayer request? What is it that you want to tell God?

Whatever it is, remember Marcelle’s example.

Be honest.

And keep it real.

“As for me, I will call upon God, and the Lord will save me. Evening and morning and at noon, I will complain and murmur, and He (God) will hear my voice. He will redeem my soul in peace from the battle which is against me…Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never allow the righteous to be shaken.” – Psalm 55:16-18, 22

  Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Just inside the door was a guest book inviting those who entered to sign and leave a note if they wished. Flipping through the pages I remembered why DFW is one of the world’s busiest airports. There were signatures from all over the globe.

Abu Dhabi. France. South Africa. Japan. Guatemala. China. And exotic places like Indiana, Iowa and South Dakota. Beside the name and address line was a space for people to leave a message. The notes inked on the page reminded me that wherever we live on the planet, life happens. Sometimes good and sometimes painful, but life happens everywhere.

Someone in Arkansas asked prayer for their Dad’s health. A passenger from Texas wanted prayer for success in their new job. A man from Cleveland, Ohio asked people to pray for wisdom and guidance. A Mom in Michigan asked people to pray for her son’s safety as a police officer. A woman from Wisconsin wrote joyfully with an exclamation point that she was off to a mission trip in China. “Christ Is King!”, she said.

A wife in Michigan wrote, “Please pray for my husband and father-in-law as they both deploy to Iraq on September 2nd. Oh, and for fertility issues.”

Sometimes life doesn’t just happen. Sometimes it piles on.

A mom from Texas used a black ball point pen to write, “My son drowned in a river in New Hampshire. I’ve just come back from seeing the river.” Peeking out from underneath the 3-ring binder was a copy of the eulogy handed out at her son’s funeral. His picture on the front and his life summed up on a single page. A twenty-something kid who made his living designing and making costumes for Shakespearean theaters around the country. 

Airlines take us places and airlines bring us home again. I wish it were as easy to lose our grief as it is for them to lose our luggage.

The last person to sign was a man from Israel. He said simply, “Thanks for providing a place of prayer.” I flipped back through the pages one more time, glancing at the names and addresses and requests. Men and women, a sampling of humanity across the globe, intersecting here in this international airport. Each stopping in this chapel long enough to pray and jot a brief request in hopes that someone might talk to God for them about the life that’s happening in their corner of the world.

I said a prayer for each and added my name to the list. Turning to leave, I thought about the people who might find their way to this room after my plane was gone. Is there a message I’d like to leave them?

Life’s a real head banger no matter where we live. What keeps any of us going? Only the thought that there has to be a purpose behind the pain. That somehow God, in spite of what we see, knows what He’s doing. On my worst days, that can be a stretch to believe. On my better days, my faith sees dimly. Thankfully, God’s faithfulness isn’t dependent on how my day is going.

I wrote to encourage myself as much as anyone else.

“Hold tight to your faith…God can be trusted.”

“Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for He (God) who promised is faithful.” - Hebrews 10:23

- Todd Thompson    www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

One entry on the list captured perhaps the most foundational truth about prayer. Diane, age 8, offered up this communication to God…

“Dear God; I am saying my prayers for me and my brother, Billy, because Billy is six months old and he can’t do anything but sleep and wet his diapers.”

Diane was praying on behalf of her baby brother because he was helpless to do anything on his own.

Someone has wisely noted that, “Prayer is the language of totally helpless creatures.” This is a foundational truth about prayer. In the middle of our self-reliant, self-help, independent, pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps, make our own way in the world attitudes, the fact remains that we are, in the things that matter most, totally helpless creatures. Even that which we obtain through our responsible work ethic and effort come directly from the hand of God.

When we pray, be it a prayer of thanks or praise or confession or grief or petition or fear or joy or confusion, we are acknowledging that we are indeed helpless creatures. We are created beings and we desperately need our Creator. We need God. To be sure, this is true.

But what if we turn the question around? Does God need us?

In a word…no.

God doesn’t need anything or anyone. God is self-sufficient. Self-reliant. Self-fulfilling. God is the only One who could stand on stage, accept any award and say with complete integrity, “I’d like to thank no one because it’s all about Me.” God is God. And God is all God needs.

If God is everything in Himself, then how does prayer fit into that? Logically speaking, it doesn’t. When we think seriously about prayer and what’s in it for God, from our human perspective it doesn’t make sense. Our prayers don’t offer God anything that He needs.

God needs nothing from us. God doesn’t need our money. He owns, as the Psalmist put it, “the cattle on a thousand hills.” Elsewhere, the Bible says, “the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.” God owns everything so He lacks nothing. What do you buy for the God Who has everything? He owns it all.

God possesses all knowledge so there’s no college course you can sign Him up for that would help His resume look better.

God is perfectly content in relationship with Himself so there’s no names you can drop and no one you can introduce Him to that would help Him expand His network.

God is all powerful. He tells the ocean waves “this far and no farther” and He hung the stars in the sky and calls them all by name. And, as the prophet Isaiah eloquently put it, “the nations are but a drop in the bucket to Him and He weighs the islands like fine dust”. So there’s no political office or military position you can offer that would increase His influence or power.

God is immutable, He never changes. So there’s no self-help book you can suggest to Him that would help bring consistency to His life.

God is perfectly balanced in His perfections of love and justice, mercy and wrath, so there’s so anger management course you can enroll Him in that would improve His judgment.

Simply put, God doesn’t need us. Were that the sum total of truth in the Bible, we’d be hopeless indeed. But there is a wonderful twist to the truth that God doesn’t need us. A twist that makes no sense at all and is at the same time a most hilarious surprise.

God doesn’t need us.

God wants us.

It’s a lot to get our head around. The fact that God wants us. It’s true. Prayer from God’s perspective is all about relationship. It can’t be anything else. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. Why else would a perfect God want to involve Himself with imperfect people like us? We don’t have anything to offer. The only possible reason God has for involving Himself with us is because He wants to.

When I ask Annie and Emma to help me make breakfast, it’s not because I’m incapable of doing that on my own. And it’s certainly not because having two six year-olds grabbing for eggs and bacon with four hands speeds up the process. It’s not because they have a better working knowledge of ham and cheese omelettes. If speed and efficiency and minimal mess were the goal then the best thing for me would be to keep them out of the kitchen.

But that’s not the goal. I ask Annie and Emma to help me make breakfast because I desire the relationship I have with them. So what if Emma gets a little wild with the whisk. So what if Annie throws an extra fistful of cheese in the pan before I can get to her. So what if they make a bigger mess. In the end it’s the mutual satisfaction of relationship that counts.

I don’t need their help. I want their relationship.

The perfect God of the Universe wants and desires relationship with us. We are His creation, created in His image. When we better understand our worth to Him, we’ll better understand why He values our prayers.

It’s all about relationship.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” – 1 John 3:1

“Grandpa, I don’t want to be 4. I want to stay 3.”

“Why is that?”

“Because after you turn 4, then you turn 5.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Because when you turn 5 you go to kindergarten and they make you spell hippopotamus…and I don’t know how!”

We’ve all been there. The unknown. We look ahead. We wonder. We worry. What waits for us? Will we be ready? Are we up to the challenge? Little Nathan was doing the “double jump ahead”; fearing an unknown twice removed from his present moment. We laugh at the story because we’ve done it, too.

President Calvin Coolidge said, “If you see ten troubles coming down the road, you can be sure that nine will run into the ditch before they reach you.” The wisdom being “don’t borrow trouble”. While President Coolidge’s advice is comforting, if you’re like me, instead of being relieved that nine troubles are dead in a ditch, you worry like crazy about the one trouble that will end up making the trip. What will it be? What will it look like? How will it affect me? We “what if?” ourselves into a tizzy.

What if…?

What if…?

What if…?

Allowed to run unchecked, our minds are masterful at creating imaginary crisis. Yet unless we’re terribly neurotic or boringly rich, rarely do we sit around and manufacture crisis out of thin air. Our worry usually stems from genuine present moment troubles. That one trouble that makes it down the road to our door. A chronic health problem. Financial pressure. An unstable job situation. A teenager running away with their desire for independence. A relationship that’s headed for the point of no return. These troubles are all very real.

I’ve been battling worry a lot lately. With due respect to President Coolidge, I have one or two or twenty troubles right now that ignored the ditch and are parked in my driveway. They don’t look like they’re moving on anytime soon. I’d like to say I’ve handled my worries well. But it’s been paralyzing at times.

So what to do?

I’m learning. Slowly, painfully, tearfully, imperfectly. I’m learning what God is trying to teach me about worry.

And trust.

“Todd, here’s the deal…

I told you that I’ll never leave you or forsake you. Others may have promised that and bailed, but I’m not them. I’m Me. I’m God. And I am not a man that I should lie. Simply put, you’re never alone. Ever. You might feel like you are, but you’re not.

Next, you need to understand that I understand your worries and your fears. I know that life is hard. I’ve never sugar coated that. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous” is how I put it in Psalm 34. You’re living in a broken world. Being a Christian doesn’t make you immune from that. Your problems are real. That is not lost on Me.

You need to understand something else. And it may not make sense to you. But everything that happens in your life, good and bad, passes through My sovereign hand. If I allow it, I have a reason for it. That doesn’t mean I cause bad things. It means I work all things, even the bad things, for good in your life. There are no loose ends in your life not connected to my perfect purpose.

You’ve asked me a few times, “Why am I allowing this @#$% to happen?” It’s a fair question. If I love you, why don’t I spare you? You might not like this, either. But there’s more at stake here than your present circumstances. See, I care more about your character than your comfort. I need you to come to grips with your faults, the things you need to change for your good and My glory. I need you to learn to trust Me with the injustices in your life. I need you to go through this. Not around it. The hard stuff, the pain, it’s all part of the process of making you like Jesus. 

And you have no idea how committed I am to that process. Does the phrase, “never stop this side of heaven” ring a bell?

I know heaven seems far away right now. That’s why I need you to believe Me when I say take life one day at a time. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Each day has enough trouble of its own. The things you need, I’ll provide. I promise. It’s about depending on Me every day. That’s why Jesus called it “our daily bread”.  Just do the next thing in front of you and trust me. Don’t waste your time on the “what if’s” about tomorrow. I’m already there. And I’m working in ways you can’t see or understand.

So keep talking to Me. All the time. It’s the best thing you can do. Don’t polish it, don’t edit it. Don’t spiritualize it. Just bring it. The angst. The tears. The passion. The needs. Just bring it. Your worries plus you equals fear. Your worries plus Me equals peace. And my peace passes all understanding.

Whether your circumstances get better or worse…and yes, they could get worse, remember that nothing separates you from My love. Come hell or high water, I love you. I’m for you. Do I need to state the obvious?

If God is for you, who can be against you?

I’m for you.

So keep going.”

- God

There are other players in the Christmas drama that you don’t find in the nativity scene. These are significant, yet lesser known characters. People standing in the shadows of Christmas. The Bible talks about two of them. An elderly man named Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth.

Zechariah was a priest. Elizabeth was a godly woman. Though they were both faithful servants of the Lord, they were advanced in years and unable to have children. To be childless in the Jewish faith was a disgrace. It meant no chance for you to be parents of the promised Messiah.

Imagine what that must have been like for Zechariah and Elizabeth. In our modern technology we know all kinds of reasons for infertility. Back then they didn’t have a clue about blocked Fallopian tubes or endometriosis or low sperm counts. We know from the text that it was Elizabeth that couldn’t have children. But all Zechariah and Elizabeth knew, and all that their neighbors knew, was that they were a couple who had asked God for children for a very long time and didn’t have any.

They lived in the hill country of Judea. A small town. Small towns are a blessing because everyone knows you. Small towns are a curse because everyone knows you. You can bet this couple was a the topic of more than a few dinner table discussions over the decades. “Zach is such a good guy. And a priest, too. I wonder why he and Liz don’t have kids?” It was a burden Zechariah and Elizabeth felt everyday.

As it happened, on the biggest day of Zechariah’s professional life, an angel of the Lord appears with a news bulletin. Elizabeth is going to have a baby. A son named John. He will be great in the eyes of God, one filled by the Holy Spirit. One who will “prepare the way of the Lord.”

To Zechariah, this is too good to be true. Oh, he wants to believe it. But he reminds the angel Gabriel of the obvious. He’s an old man. Elizabeth is an old woman. Gabriel in turn reminds Zechariah of the obvious; this message comes on orders from God Himself. And Gabriel should know because he was standing right there when God said it.

In a round about way, old Zach was asking for a sign. And he got one. A loving rebuke. He would be unable to speak until the baby was born.

Just as the angel had said, Elizabeth became pregnant.

Zechariah and Elizabeth prayed for years to have children. God answered them at a most unexpected time. His answer was more than an answer. It was an invitation to participate in God’s drama.

In your prayers, are you asking God for the desires of your heart? Are you prepared that His answer will be more than an answer? That His answer will include your playing a role in His plan for the world? God loves you more than you can imagine. Whether you realize it or not, God has an appointed role for you in His divine drama.

In spite of the fact that Zechariah doubted the angel’s message, God went ahead with His plan to bless. God is not discouraged by our doubts. He sticks with us and lovingly convinces us that we are of infinite value and significance.

Standing in the shadows of Christmas are ordinary people. People like Zechariah and Elizabeth. And Mary, God’s chosen to be the mother of Jesus. We know by reading Luke 1 that Mary spent three months living with Elizabeth and Zechariah. It takes us but a moment to read the passage. Yet what were those three months like for them?

For three months, one particular house in the hill country of Judea was home to three of the most incredulous people in the history of the world. Zechariah…an elderly priest whose once in a lifetime career moment was one-upped by an angel delivering a sneak preview of a birth announcement that left the holy man literally speechless. Elizabeth…an old woman who has rocked in her chair and read her Bible everyday for decades while gazing down the hall at the nursery she never got to use, but is now placing orders with Babies-R-Us.  Mary…a poor teenage peasant girl but by the favor of God Himself, richer than any palace queen.

How many discussions did they have about angelic visitations? About the miracle of becoming pregnant by a husband on Medicare? Or becoming pregnant completely apart from being intimate with a man? What was it like to try and interpret Zechariah’s sign language?

Three surprised people in the same house for three months. Absorbed in their personal wonder yet unable to escape the Divine momentum pulling them beyond themselves into world changing history. An old woman and a teenage girl sympathizing in one another’s morning sickness. A dumbstruck old man writing furiously on a piece of paper trying desperately to keep up his end of a conversation about the reality of angels.

And at the end of the day, two expectant mothers lying down to sleep, running one hand in a slow circle over their womb, filling the darkness with their silent prayers and questions.

Three of God’s chosen together for three months in a simple Judean home. Thankful they are not alone in their miracles and their visions. Scared about the timing and thrilled about the nearness of their God. Three very humble, unknown, and incredibly significant people.

If those walls could speak, what a story they would tell.
 
What is your story this Christmas? Are you asking God to break through your doubts with His blessings? Are you still waiting for an answer to prayers you’ve prayed for years? Are you prepared for an answer that is more than an answer? Are you prepared for God to use you to accomplish His plan?

God cares. Human obstacles of age and time and circumstance make no difference to Him. Or, in the words of the angel Gabriel, “nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)

If you feel this season that you are standing in the shadows of Christmas, remember this…

God has not forgotten you. Joy and gladness await you in His perfect time.

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation.” – Isaiah 12:2

When we were finished I went up to the counter to pay the check. After the cashier handed me my receipt, I turned around. Standing in front of me was a huge man. At least 6’5″ tall and every bit of 280 pounds. He was scary big. He looked mean, like a bulldog in a bad mood. His hair was brown and long, pulled back and held in place by a red bandana. He had a mustache goatee combination that made Fu Manchu look like a pre-pubescent school boy. Over his black sleeveless t-shirt he wore a black leather vest with Harley Davidson patches on it. His arms were tattooed. Some guys have muscles like guns. This guy had missiles with elbows.

I started to step around him when he held up his hand like a stop sign. I’m thinking, oh no, did I sit in his favorite booth? Did I take his parking spot?

In a brass knuckle voice he said, “My little girl said she saw you prayin’ before you ate.”

Great. Big Bad Biker Dude’s little girl saw me praying.

Looking at this guy who could snap me in half like a fortune cookie, I’m wondering how his little girl feels about prayer?

I’m hoping she’s in favor of it.

“Uh…yeah…that was me.”

“Well, I have to tell you that I think…that’s great. We pray, too. Hey, do you have a church home? Because if you don’t we’ve got a good one and you’re welcome to come visit anytime.”

He gave me the cross streets of his church, shook my hand and said, “God bless. Good to meet you.” Watching him drive away I couldn’t help but think he was the perfect man for the church outreach committee. Who could say no to his invitations?

I do it. You do it. We all do it. We judge people. We judge people by their appearance or their behavior. They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but the truth is most of us are very shallow readers. It’s easier to size people up by what we see or what we hear or what we think we know than it is to take the time to get know people for who they really are.

We do the same thing to God. We size Him up by what we see or what we hear or what we think we know. Because it’s easier than taking the time to get to know Him for who He really is.

For some of us, God is a perfectionist drill sergeant. For others He is an impossible to please task master. For some of us He is a divine policeman, waiting for us to make a mistake so He can bust us down and make us pay. To some of us He is an indifferent, uncaring being; distant and even detached from everything that concerns us.

We also tend to judge God by our experiences. Some of us grew up in homes where our parents shoved God down our throats and when we got old enough to shove back, we pushed God out. Some of us don’t want anything to do with God because we feel like He abandoned us by not answering our prayers the way we hoped.

Some of us judge God by our church experiences. Maybe we’ve been in places where they cared more about getting in our wallet than caring about our soul. Maybe we’ve been hurt physically or emotionally by someone professing to be a Christian.

There’s no denying the damage done by fallen people in a fallen world. We do some pretty fair damage ourselves at times. But sooner or later we need to extend God the same courtesy we desire for ourselves; the chance to define who we are by our own terms.

While the opinions of others can be valuable, no one can describe you better than you. No one can communicate your heart, your convictions, your passions and your dreams better than you. And in the end, whether people like you or not, agree with you or not, or believe you or not, isn’t there a deep gratification that comes from having been given a full hearing?

Sometime soon give a thought to giving God the opportunity to be fully heard. Set aside what your mother thinks. Turn off the slick televangelist with the slicker hair. Put your bad memories and your bias in time-out. Clear the stage of everything you’ve been tripping over or have been using as a prop to support your arguments and your excuses.

Then grab a Bible and read the words of Jesus.

And as you do, just keep this question in front of you:

How does Jesus describe Jesus?

In the end, whether you agree with Him or not, whether you believe Him or not, you will have extended Jesus the same courtesy you desire for yourself; the right to define Himself by His own terms. That’s being intellectually and relationally fair.

In the same way that people would be surprised to learn new things about you when they give you a full hearing, you might be surprised to learn a few new things about Jesus. That He came to seek and save you. That He’s with you for the long haul. That He loves and forgives you no matter what you’ve done. That He was making incredible plans for you before the foundations of the world. That He came to give you life. And an abundant life at that. And that’s just the short list.

Oh, and there’s that one about Jesus being “a friend of sinners.”

That’s my favorite.

“And the Pharisees and their scribes began grumbling at His disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with the tax-collectors and the sinners?” And Jesus answered and said to them, “It is not those who are well who need a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” – Luke 5:30-32

The ease with which one can conduct their business tends to make one less disciplined in their schedule. There’s really nothing here you can do at 10 o’clock in the morning that you can’t do at 10 o’clock at night. We even have a do it yourself all-night Post Office. There’s no line at midnight. And if the box you’re mailing is too big to fit in the bin, FedEx-Kinko’s is right up the road, open 24/7.

The common denominator of our increasing conveniences is the absence of human interaction. Technology has made it possible to take care of business without having to talk to anyone. In my little world I can utilize the walk up machine and be my own postmaster. I can scan and check out my own groceries, do my banking at the ATM, and pump my own gas. And we haven’t even mentioned online bill pay and shopping via the Internet. We “talk” with machines and computers every day. A person could go a long time without talking to another human being if they had to. Or wanted to.

That thought is unsettling to me.

When we’re able to do most everything on our own, we stop needing one another. If I can be self-sufficient, why bother getting to know my neighbors? Instead of seeing people in stores as human beings created in the image of God with all the hopes and fears and frustrations that we have, they become a blurry moving mosaic that occasionally bumps our cart as we push through the frozen food aisle to pay and leave. It’s appropriate. Because we really have “checked out”. We’ve stopped hearing the people around us.

I was thinking about this the other day as I walked into Fry’s Food and Drug. Most every grocery store here has a bank inside. The one I frequent is no exception. I’m the next person in line to speak with a teller. It was the start of what I overheard in ten minutes at the store.

The woman at the counter is stuffing a receipt into her checkbook as the Wells Fargo rep asks, “Do you have family coming home for Christmas?”

“I wish I had family coming home. My son’s dead. This will be my second Christmas without him.” The teller looked awkward and surprised. “I’m…sorry. I hope your holiday is… as good as it can be.” Sometimes a kind wish for a sad person is the best we can offer.

“Hey! Excuse me, lady! Wait up!” A rumpled, needs a shave and a haircut 50-something man with eyeglasses sliding off the end of his nose is nearly out of breath. He’s chasing down a harried looking lady in blue sweat pants and faded t-shirt. She turns, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Hey! Wait up. You dropped this. Back there at the SRP counter. It was on the floor. I grabbed it for you.” He held out a fistful of crumpled cash. She looked confused. And preoccupied. As though whatever was happening in her day was so suffocating that even the act of a Good Samaritan returning lost money didn’t phase her. She mumbled a “thanks” and took the money back without bothering to count or examine it.

Back by the orange juice section a young mom was weighing her options while her three year old sat in the cart, head bobbing to “Jingle Bell Rock”. Mom noticed and said, “Are you dancing? You’re a good dancer.” She reached for the moving target and tried to pat her daughter on the noggin. I smiled and the little one smiled back, head still bobbing, her ponytail bouncing on the off beat.

At the checkout line two cashiers were having a conversation about people they knew with holiday names. “I once worked with a girl whose name was Mary. Guess what her last name was? Christmas. Imagine. What parents would do that to their kid?”

“Mary Christmas? At the last store I worked at there was a lady in the bakery named Candy. Her last name was Kane. She got teased a lot this time of year.”

On the way out of the store I walked by another conversation. A woman on a cell phone was giving what for to some person on the other end. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. But I can’t be sure. I don’t speak Japanese.

When we take time to listen, we hear more than words. We hear life. We hear people’s fears. We hear their joys. Their frustrations. We hear their pain. Their hopes and expectations. We hear the emotions that are common to all who live on earth. And that’s the key. As much as we think we can do life on our own, we’re all in this together. God created us to live in community. The snippets of conversation I overheard in ten minutes at the grocery store reminded me that I’m not the only person in the world. You’d think that fact would be obvious. But then you don’t know how completely self-absorbed I can be. Listening, among its other benefits, reminds us that life isn’t all about us.

Somewhere within five minutes of my house on Christmas day there will be a lady grieving and a little girl dancing. I know that because I listened. I said a prayer for both. It seemed like something I’d want someone to do for me.

Next time you go to the grocery store, listen. And say a prayer.

Because we’re all in this together.

We phrase it in the form of a question, but we aren’t asking. We’re telling. I silently wondered how he would respond if I said, “No, I can’t hold. “

“I’m back. Sorry. That was my wife again.” His wife had beeped in four times during a ten minute phone call. It was difficult for me to relay the information he had requested with her interrupting every 2.5 minutes.

I don’t have room to be upset. I have Call Waiting on my phone at home. My work phone has so many lines it doesn’t wait for anyone. But at home I have Call Waiting. And I don’t like it.

There remains a small remnant of people in the country who have a basic telephone. My parents are among them. In 2003 it’s nostalgic to have a phone whose only functions are to make and receive calls one at a time. When I call my parents and they answer, I obviously know they are home. When they don’t answer, I know they aren’t home. If I get a busy signal, I know they are talking to someone else. Simple. Calling to a basic phone is like a game of checkers. There are only three moves: move, jump, king me.

Add Call Waiting, Caller ID, and Voice Mail and you’re playing a game of telephone chess. The number of possible moves increases significantly. If I call someone and there is no answer, they might not be at home. But I can’t be sure. They may be staring at the Caller ID saying, “I don’t want to talk to Todd.” If the call goes to Voice Mail, they may not be at home. But I can’t be sure. They might be home screening their calls, allowing their 2.4 gigahertz cordless to take my message so they can review it before deciding on whether or not it merits immediate attention. If I call and they answer, it may mean they want to talk to me. But I can’t be sure. They may have picked up the phone too quickly before the Caller ID revealed my identity.

Considering all the possible scenarios makes a busy signal feel downright friendly.

When I first got Caller ID and Voice Mail I thought it would be a good tool for filtering telemarketing calls. One day I came home and reviewed the list of incoming calls while I’d been away at work. There were several “Anonymous” and “Unavailable” calls on the Caller ID. Before buying into the new and improved telecom technology, wondering how many calls I missed while I was out didn’t cost me anything. Now I’m paying $5 a month to wonder who didn’t leave a message.

Caller ID is supposed to help you screen your calls. If you’re talking with someone on the phone and get beeped by Call Waiting, Caller ID’s job is to flash the incoming number so you can decide which person you want to speak with more. Ignore the beep and the call goes to Voice Mail, the third member of the telecom triumvirate. Voice Mail takes the message and the caller is none the wiser.

Recently my Voice Mail went Benedict Arnold on me. Call me now when I’m on the phone and you’ll hear, “The party you are calling is on the phone.” It may as well say, “The party you are calling has seen your incoming number and deemed you unworthy of the flash button. If your self-esteem can bear this blatant snub, leave a message at the tone.”

In the names of efficiency and convenience we’ve created many ways to contact one another. Answering machines, pagers, fax machines, cell phones, email, text messaging and, if we’re lucky, the old fashioned telephone call. Yet after you’ve left messages on two phones, paged, faxed, emailed and text messages and don’t get a response, then what?

Several thousand years ago King David described our “direct connect” access to God. In Psalm 145:18 he writes, “The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth.” We don’t often think about having God’s listening ear anytime we desire it. Yet we have it.

And God doesn’t listen to find fault with us or to be condescending like some know-it-all Tech Support person who makes you feel dumber that you did before you dialed. Earlier in Psalm 145, King David describes God as “Gracious and merciful; slow to anger and great in loving kindness. The Lord is good to all, and His mercies are over all His works.” In short, God genuinely concerns Himself with everything that concerns you. Because He loves you.

God goes two better than my parents basic telephone. When we call, He answers. No busy signal. No ringing forever because He isn’t home. We call, He answers. That’s His promise. His solution to our questions, concerns or worries may not be instant. But His response is. He always answers and He always listens.

On the first ring.