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

“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

I’d be on a plane to Chicago before you could say “deep dish pizza”.

Several years ago I had opportunity to attend a preaching/teaching conference at Willow Creek Church with my friend and pastor Duane Cross. When it was over we had some time before catching our plane back to Phoenix. So we drove downtown to the Art Institute of Chicago. My favorite place in my favorite city. One of the world’s best collections of classic art. Monet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, and Picasso all under one big roof.

I actually got misty seeing the lion statues that guard the entrance to the museum. Perhaps you have a place you go to that is good for your soul. The Art Institute of Chicago is good for my soul.

Keep in mind that when it comes to art, I can’t draw a straight line if you spot me a ruler. So I’m sure I can’t appreciate the complexity and genius of these masterpieces the way a true artist would. But I go and stand in front of them and am moved by them just the same.

We had limited time. Duane asked me what I most wanted to see. I told him that if all we did was go and stare at Seurat’s “Sunday Afternoon”, it would be worth the trip. It’s my absolute favorite.

Seurat, a mere 25 years old when he painted this defining work, had spent previous years studying theories of light. The painting technique that he employed was based on those theories. Unlike the broader brush strokes of mixed colors that other Impressionist painters used, Seurat developed a new technique called “pointellism”. Or, as he preferred to describe it, “divisionism”.

As to size, it is a huge painting – the canvas stretches 7 feet x 10 feet. This masterpiece took 2 years to complete. From a distance what you see is the picture. The images of the people enjoying their Sunday afternoon on the Sienne River in France. What you don’t see from a distance is that the entire painting is made up of tiny dashes and dots of pure color paint.

For the first year, Seurat painted nothing but horizontal dashes. The dashes are each one detached from the others. Then he added the dots of pure color paint. As you might imagine, this was a tedious and exacting process. The project was so intense that during the two years it took him to paint it, Seurat refused to have lunch with his close friends lest they distract him and break his concentration.

Up close, the dashes and dots look like, well…dashes and dots. Yet as you step back from the painting to a distance, the dashes and dots combine optically in your eye to form the desired image.

For two years, nothing but days and days of dashes and dots.

Dashes and dots.

How could dashes and dots make a picture? It doesn’t make sense that detached horizontal dashes and dots of paint can combine to make a masterpiece.

But they do.

What are the dashes and dots of your life? What of those thousands of detached horizontal lines of seemingly disconnected events? When you step back are they really all that disconnected? When you step back far enough can you see how God has painted them in such a way that they form the picture of your life?

Was it really chance that you took that job in a different city? Was it just coincidence that you met that certain person? Was the career you felt trapped in really a waste of time? Was the serious illness really a stand alone event that led nowhere? Was the tragedy in your life the end of a dream? Or was God preparing you for something bigger?

Standing less than a foot away from Seurat’s “Sunday Afternoon” and staring at the canvas, you think, “No way does this make a picture. It’s just dashes and dots of paint. No rhyme, no reason, no pattern.” And up close, you’d be right. It looks like one big random mess.

Only when you step back does it begin to make sense. 5 feet. 10 feet. 15 feet. 20 feet. And then the random mess becomes a beautiful Sunday afternoon picnic.

Friends, if you’re like me, you might in the middle of a mess that makes no sense. All you see are dashes of dread and dots of pain. You want to make sense of it but you can’t. Not right now. We’re too close to see what God is painting. This close it’s just dashes and dots. The disappointments and heartbreaks, how can these be part of a beautiful picture?

With brush strokes of grace, God the Artist makes sense of our dashes and dots. Let’s remember to step back from time to time to see how He is bringing them together into the beautiful picture that is our life. Because whether we see it or not, He’s doing exactly that.

God promises to continue perfecting the good work that He began in us. Which is to say He will continue dashing and dotting until the masterpiece is complete.

“For we know that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” – Romans 8:28

“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

“Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men.” – Proverbs 22:29