“Hi, I’m Greg.”

“I’m Todd. Good to meet you.”

Dr. Oberholtzer opened the class by asking everyone to introduce themselves. When it came around to our table, my new acquaintance said, “I’m Greg Tonkinson…and I’m scared out of my mind.”

I liked him right away.

We were all scared. But Greg voiced what everyone was feeling. How can you even begin to see the end of a 94-hour Master’s degree on the first day? We had no idea what was ahead.

The unknown becomes known, one day at a time.

Over the next few years we spent tens of hundreds of hours together riding back and forth to seminary classes, sitting in class, talking ministry and theology over coffee, working on staff together at FBC-Tempe, planting a church, and playing in worship bands together.

Today my friend Greg is once again scared out of his mind. His beloved wife Leigh Ann was killed in a car accident on Saturday night. Leigh Ann was only 35 years old. I don’t remember ever seeing her without a smile on her face. A kind and gentle spirit, she was a nursing supervisor at Phoenix Children’s Hospital. More importantly, a godly wife to Greg and amazing Mom to three children.

Everyday we drive our cars and trucks down streets and roads and freeways, and almost always our minds race faster than the wheels we ride on. Schedules, work assignments, kids, to do lists, errands to run, and people to call. We multi-task at 60 miles per hour and our thoughts are almost always focused on what we are going to do next.

Only a series of painted white and yellow lines separate us from life and serious injury. Or life and death. We count on the fact that the other person will stay on their side of the line. And when they don’t it all comes to a tragic screeching halt.

And life is never the same.

Can I say it? Even Bible verses sound trite in times like this. Romans 8:28 promises that “God works all things together for good to those that love Him and are called according to His purpose.” True. And I believe that. But I hope no one says that to Greg for at least a year. Because from where he stands it’s impossible to see how losing your wife and best friend and mother of your children in a horrific accident could ever be worked into anything positive.

Psalm 138:8 promises that “God will accomplish everything that concerns me.” True again. Yet this side of heaven how can anyone who knew Leigh Ann comprehend that God accomplished everything that concerned her when she leaves behind a grieving husband and three young children?

Inherent in God’s sovereignty is that it will rarely make sense to us.

God’s promises are there. And they are true. And we take comfort in them. If not now, eventually. Yet for now, in these moments and days of stunned shock and disbelief, there are no words.

My friend and Pastor Duane Cross is no stranger to grief. He and his wife Sheri lost their 10-year old son Tyler in a car/bicycle accident. A couple of their closest friends were missionaries in Africa and were unable to return for the funeral. They sent a letter of condolence in which they said that within the African tribe they were living with, their word for “grieve” means “to sit in tent with”.

How profound. No words. Only “to sit in tent with”.

My friend Greg is scared out of his mind. How can you even begin to see the end of the rest of your life on the first day without your best friend? He has no idea what’s ahead. He will need people to “sit in tent” with him as his unknown becomes known, one day at a time.

Leigh Ann’s death makes no sense. There’s nothing good about it and everything bad about it. In our anger and sadness and confusion and agony and grief…God and His promises are there.

Even, and perhaps especially, when there are no words.

Greg, I love you, brother. I promise to keep you and yours in my prayers every day.

“God is near to the brokenhearted. He saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

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

Do you have a green thumb and grow beautiful plants? Are you a whiz in the workshop, building lovely pieces of furniture? Are you a talented public speaker or a great cook? An expert teacher in your discipline?

How did you become good at what it is you’re good at?

Whatever it is we’re good at, part of the reason is that we learned from someone else. We were instructed. We were taught. Pick any field of study or any skill and you can be certain that the best and brightest didn’t get there on talent alone. The most talented surgeon learned techniques from other surgeons while in medical school. The most learned scholar was challenged to think by elementary, high school, and college teachers. The best jazz musicians, like Wynton Marsalis, studied technique and listened to the recordings of jazz greats like Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie.

Isaac Newton, one of the most brilliant men who ever lived said, “If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.”

We are who we are because we’ve learned from someone else.

What about God?

The prophet Isaiah asked the rhetorical question, “Who taught God how to be God?” (Isaiah 40:13-14)

In theology, it’s known as “the freedom of God”. God is completely free and independent from His creatures and creation. Perfectly independent. To answer Isaiah’s rhetorical question, no one instructed God. God had no teacher. No one enlightened Him. Words you’ll never hear God say…

“So that’s how you do it!”

“Now I get it!”

“With a little practice, I think I’ll have it down.”

Or, “I have a question…”

We are who we are because we learned from someone else.

God is who He is because…He is Who He is. God is God. And He learned from no one.

Besides being an interesting theological concept, how does this relate to you and me? The freedom of God has everything to do with His relationship to us. Because God is self-sufficient, He is not obligated to us. We can never put Him in our debt because we have nothing that He needs. God will never owe us anything. We contribute nothing to Who He is. God is the only One who can stand on stage with the award in His hand and say with complete integrity, “I’d like to thank no one. Because it’s all about Me.”

When thought about in those terms, it can make God feel distant. A perfectly self-sufficient God who is independent and completely free from His creatures and creation. The correct assumption is that God does not need you or me. And it is this very freedom of God that blasts meaning into our relationship with Him.

God does not need a relationship with us. He wants a relationship with us.

God doesn’t love us out of obligation. In the freedom of His self-sufficiency, He chooses to love us with all of His being. God doesn’t watch over us and take care of our daily needs because we bailed Him out of a tough spot and He’s paying us back. God takes care of us because He wants to. God doesn’t stick with us because we helped him through a difficult period in His life and feels He owes us a debt of gratitude. God sticks with us because He wants to.

One might wonder, “If God is here with me because He wants to be and He doesn’t owe me anything, what’s to say He won’t leave someday?” God won’t leave us, not because of His lack of obligation to us, but because He is bound by His own perfection. 2 Timothy 2:12 says that “even if we are faithless, God remains faithful; for He cannot deny Himself.” God is bound by His own perfection. His volition is permanently attached to His perfect integrity. So when God says, “I will never leave you or forsake you”, it’s an eternal promise.

God doesn’t love you because He has to. He loves you because He wants to. In His freedom, the God who doesn’t need anything wants an intimate relationship with you. And with that desire, He brings everything He has to the relationship. Friendship. Courage. Peace. Forgiveness. Patience. A plan for your life that is grand and goes beyond what you can see. And it’s all wrapped up in a loyal love that will not let you go.

If we see further by standing on the shoulders of giants, how much further by standing on the shoulders of God?

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

For this Minnesota Vikings fan, the two pictures I saw recently were worth at least that many. And no small number of them were cuss words.

No worries. I didn’t say anything. Not out loud, anyway.

I was hanging out with my daughters at The Main Event. After the bowling and arcade games I was in the redemption store where one cashes in their tickets and points earned. In the corner of the store, within one matted frame were two 8×10 black and white photographs. The inscribed pewter plate read, “The Hail Mary Pass” – December 28, 1975″

The first picture: Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach unleashing a desperation pass in the face of the fierce rush of the Minnesota Vikings Purple People Eaters defense.

The second picture: Cowboys receiver Drew Pearson with arms outstretched. Waiting for the pass? Yes. But those arms were outstretched because he just finished pushing off on Viking defensive back Nate Wright, also in the picture, on his way to a face plant into the frozen turf.

The most offensive of offensive pass interference in the history of football.

For Vikings fans, there’s no need for a third picture. The nightmare image is laser burned into our memory. Drew Pearson, carrying the ball on his hip into the end zone like a kid caught with both hands in the cookie jar. He was looking over his shoulder for the flag that he and everyone at Metropolitan Stadium and everyone in the national television audience knew was coming.

The penalty flag he deserved.

The penalty flag that never came.

The biggest no-call in the history of Vikings football.

I’ve seen plenty of pictures of that game. But these two poured ink in my wound. They were autographed. Roger Staubach with a Sharpie attesting to his dumb luck and Drew Pearson signing a photographic confession of his guilt.

That Pearson later admitted he shoved his opponent down is of no comfort. Instead of going home to cry in their Texas-sized pillows like they should have, the Cowboys advanced in the playoffs while my worthy Viking heroes were deprived of their victory.

In talking with my friend Ed about my feelings on this travesty I said, “I think my tombstone is going to read, “Drew Pearson pushed”.

Though you don’t want to say it around longsuffering Minnesota Vikings fans, football is just a game. What happens when the penalty flags don’t get thrown in real life?

What happens when the money that is owed to you in a business transaction never comes because someone schemed and connived to steal it from you?

What happens when the promotion you have earned by hard work, education, achievement and proven track record is given to someone else…because they have the “right” last name?

What do you do when the person whose criminal actions do harm to your loved ones, yet they walk on a legal technicality?

What happens when someone purposely and falsely damages your reputation in order to prop up their own image?

It’s natural to be infuriated by the injustice. Where’s the flag? Somebody throw the flag!

But the flag never comes.

Worse, there appears to be no attitude of contrition on the part of the offender. It’s as if they have no conscience. God’s Word talks about this. Psalm 10:4 says, “The wicked man is so arrogant he always thinks, “God won’t hold me accountable; He doesn’t care.” It’s that lack of accountability that makes us crazy for justice. We want the price to be paid and we want to see everything made right. And we want to see it made right …right now.

The difficult truth is that God doesn’t settle His accounts immediately. How we wish that He would. But He doesn’t. Will He eventually? Absolutely. God is a God of perfect justice. His character will not allow Him to ignore wrongs done. The day will come when every wrong done, big or small, will be made right. We can rely on God’s perfection for that.

The difference between us and God in matters of payback is that while we would punish the offender out of anger, God will judge fairly from His perfect justice. It’s impossible for you and I to equally possess opposite character qualities without compromising one or the other. As fallen human beings, We can’t be perfectly loving and perfectly angry at the same time. Something’s gotta give. In His time, however, God will judge our offender with
perfect justice without compromising the perfect love He has for that person.

So what to do while we wait for that day?

Resist the urge to play mental games of retribution. While there are momentary pleasures in contemplating the many possibilities of the word “smite” with regard to our enemy (e.g. Steinway pianos falling from the sky onto their head, etc) it’s best we leave that to God. In fact, it’s best for us to just plain “make room for God”. Among the most difficult acts of our will is to trust God with the judgement of those who have greatly damaged us. Yet God honors our yielding to Him with a peace that passes understanding. Someone bigger and infinitely more qualified will settle the account. We can forgive and go forward, knowing that God will someday make everything right.

Understand, “making room for God” is an ongoing process. Drew Pearson pushed off 34 years ago. It still makes me nuts to think about. And that was only a football game. Imagine our conversations with God regarding the deep wounds inflicted on us by another. We never get used to injustice in our lives. Yet making room for God makes it possible for us to live the abundant and abiding life He desires for us.

Stop looking for the flag.

Make room for God.

Then live in the space you made.

God will take care of your enemies.

“Do not avenge yourselves, dear friends, but give place to God’s wrath, for it is written,  “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.” – Romans 12:19

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Do you sing? Do you play a musical instrument? Do you pray? Do you read the Bible? Do you dance?

These are all appropriate expressions of worship. (Yes, my Baptist friends, even dancing.)

Yet it seems that the best act of worship is one we often fail to do. Or even think about.

Our best act of worship is to be the person God made us to be.

It goes like this…

If we are created in the image of God (Genesis 1) and God had all our days written down in His book before there was yet one of them (Psalm 139) and He has prepared good works in advance for us to walk in as His workmanship in Christ (Ephesians 2) and that as His workmanship we are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139), then being the person our Creator designed us to be with all our God-given gifts and talents and abilities (1 Corinthians 12; Ephesians 4) would be our best personal act of worship.

Think about the memorable people in your life. What do we say about them? We say, “There’s nobody like Susie.” Or “Jim is one of a kind”. Or “God broke the mold after He made Liz.” We say these words because these memorable people, in some way, are expressing their lives as only they could do.

What we don’t say about the memorable people in our lives is, “Bob. He’s so normal and average. He blends in perfectly. He’s so much like everyone else that it’s amazing.” No. Memorable people stand out because they display their unique personalities.

Yet how many of us spend enormous amounts of time trying to be like everyone else? How much time do we spend chasing other people’s dreams? To drive the car that everyone else wants to drive? To live in the big house and wear the same designer clothes? The irony of everything “designer” is that it makes us the same as everyone else sporting that label. The things we seek to set us apart just make us more like everyone else.

What if tomorrow everything “designer” disappeared? What would your world look like if everyone you know, including yourself, were truly being the person God made them to be? If everyone expressed themselves with a divine purity that captured the full palette of colorful personalities as God intended? What if everything we did to “be like someone else” so we could fit in and belong…ceased?

What would our world look like if we found our identity in Christ and our confidence in being the unique person God created us to be?

What would churches look like if preachers stopped trying to be like each other and started being themselves? What would missions organizations look like if the missionaries took their unique gifts in full expression to the lost they try to reach? What would church look like on Sunday morning if we all stopped putting on airs and started reflecting the image of God in our uniqueness as He designed us?

And I wonder…what would happen to the advertising industry if everyone suddenly became content with who God made them to be?

Your best act of worship is to be you. Not a cheap imitation of someone else. You glorify God when you are who He made you to be. With all your charm and quirks and idiosyncrasies.

Be the person God made you to be. It’s your best act of worship.

“God, I start this day by giving You my uniqueness. Use it any way you see fit. Help me to discover my uniqueness in You, to fully express the ways I am truly and fearfully and wonderfully made. That I would be a blessing to others by being the person You designed me to be. That I wouldn’t miss any opportunities by trying to be something I’m not, but rather experience the abundant life You promise by being fully who I am the way You made me.”

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Reflecting later on our visit, I realized that there is a common denominator for every person we wondered about. Our mental picture of that person is based on the status of our relationship with them at the time we last saw them.

A “freeze frame”, if you will.

When we last saw him he was the college prankster whose greatest resume notation would be “3-Time All-Dorm Butt Slide Champion”. 20 years later at the reunion we realize that somewhere along the way he learned to tie a Windsor knot and is now Vice-President of his company. Our mind tries to reconcile the person standing in front of us detailing the challenges facing his marketing department with our memory of him wearing underwear on his head while toasting everyone in German before chugging a macho mug of beer.

When we last saw her she was packing to study abroad, saying marriage and kids were fine for other people but not for her. 20 years later we find her on Facebook and discover she’s happily married with 5 children that are the joy of her life. As we stare at the profile photo of her beautiful family in matching jeans and white shirts we realize the picture we had in our mind is very different from her present reality.

Our lives, and the people in it, ebb and flow. People come and people go. We don’t do it consciously, but quite naturally “freeze frame” people in our mind. The image is frozen on the last thing we remember of them. That freeze frame can be good or bad, silly or sad.

It can also be dangerous.

If the note we parted company on was a sour one, we’ve likely spent a lot of years remembering them as the person who hurt us. Deceived us. Broke our hearts. Damaged us. Abandoned us. Their wrong done to us is a freeze frame in our mind.

As individuals who look at ourselves in the mirror each day, we’re constantly aware that we are in process. Constantly aware of where we are growing and where we are stuck. We are aware of how much we’ve changed and what God has done in our lives. We aren’t the person we used to be.

Neither is the person we freeze framed.

With everyone, and particularly with those who have wronged us, we need to allow for and extend the same grace we extend to ourselves. The grace that says we aren’t the same person we used to be. We’ve grown and we’ve changed. God is making us into something better.

God is likely making them into something better, too.

And if 20 years later we discover the one who wronged us hasn’t changed a bit? If we discover our freeze frame is an accurate image of the hurtful, deceiving person we remember…what then? Did we waste our time giving them the benefit of the doubt?

Nope.

Nothing wasted.

All we did is spare ourselves 20 years of anger, grudge bearing and unforgiveness.

When we extend grace we always come out ahead.

One way or another.

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

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

It is an ordinary moment in the kitchen. Standing and talking around the island. We should probably sit down in the living room for a conversation such as this. But that’s the thing about a home…no matter how many rooms there are in the house, everyone always ends up in the kitchen.

It’s an ordinary kitchen moment at the end of an ordinary Wednesday. Not unlike countless ordinary kitchen moments this couple will experience in decades to come. Lindsey just home from work, still dressed in her scrubs. Philip, running late because air compressors don’t care about your schedule and will break down when they feel like it.

Here they stand, side by side; him holding Asher and she leaning close.

They met at Krispy Kreme. Co-workers who for a couple years experienced a secret crush for each other. Says Philip, “I saw how friendly she was with the customers. Wherever I was in the store I could look over and see her smile.” He pauses to switch Asher to his other arm. “Her smile…it melts me like butter.”

Lindsey smiles big at this and I watch to see if we’re going to have melted Philip all over the floor.

“Lindsey is everything I’ve ever looked for in a girl. She has such an upbeat attitude and she’s so sweet.” And he’s right, of course. She is so sweet.

His compliments are wonderful to her. Yet perhaps not unlike the sugary Krispy Kreme donuts, too many too fast and it’s more than one can handle. Lindsey doesn’t know what to do with his praise. She appears lost for a second. When it comes to compliments, it’s easier to give than to receive.

Philip isn’t done giving, though. He looks me in the eye and says, “She inspires me to be a better person.”

Could anything better be said about you? That you inspire someone to be a better person?

When I ask Lindsey to tell me about the man who will become her husband in a couple days, she says, “He’s the best guy I’ve ever met. When I’m with him, I’m happy. He is an amazing father to Asher.” Hearing herself describe the admirable qualities of her man, the mist in her eyes turns to rain.

Philip leans in and kisses her cheek. With gentle kindness he smiles and says softly, “You’re salty.” She laughs and wipes her eyes and they give each other a squeeze.

No doubt the friends and family witnessing this wedding have an abundance of wisdom and life experience to offer this young couple. Philip and Lindsey will do well to seek it out and apply it to their lives and relationship. Yet I can’t help but think that just maybe they have in this moment demonstrated the best wisdom any of us could offer.

If at the end of every day, be it ordinary or extraordinary, red letter or mundane, they will stand together in the kitchen, lean up against the counter and tell each other every wonderful thing they appreciate; that they will for a moment indulge in love and compliments till they blush and tears come. That soft words will be spoken and hugs will happen until the stress of life is squeezed away. If at the end of every day what happens in the kitchen is so wonderful that whatever happens outside the kitchen won’t matter.

Or as Philip said as he pulled Lindsey close, “I just know that if I’m with her, everything’s gonna be good.”

An ordinary moment in the kitchen. An ordinary moment of extraordinary love. No matter how many rooms there will be in your house someday, I pray you’ll always come back to the kitchen for moments like this.

God’s biggest blessings to you on this your wedding day. In the months and years to come, I hope we all get to come to your kitchen and see you side by side, the couple that God has brought together in love.

For love.

For always.

“We love because God first loved us.” – 1 John 4:19

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Some said it was an easy call. All one had to do was look at his life. The bizarre behavior. The out of court settlements in the face of multiple child molestation allegations. Others said there was nothing to indicate he was a believer in Christ. Never heard about him going to church. And hey, what about the apparent addictions to drugs and his obsession with plastic surgery?

Still others said there was no “fruit” in his life that would indicate he was “saved”.

For sake of discussion, let’s suppose that all these observations of Michael Jackson’s life are true.

My question is: How does any or all of that qualify you or me or anyone to arrive at the conclusion that Michael Jackson didn’t go to heaven?

I find it interesting that the Biblical truth of “man looks on the outward appearance but God looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7) is easily pushed aside by Christians when they want to judge someone whose lifestyle is radically different than their own. Case in point, I didn’t hear anyone speculating about celebrity TV pitchman Billy Mays going to hell. To read the newspaper accounts in the same week, we don’t know any more about his spiritual condition than Michael Jackson’s. I guess it’s easier to make assumptions about someone who dresses weird and is accused of child molestation than it is about someone who made big money hawking OxiClean.

Does anyone, especially a Christian, really want to go there? Do we really want to put ourselves in a position to speculate, let alone say with certainty, that someone has gone to hell?

Think about it. If hell is as horrible as we think it is and heaven is as wonderful as we hope it is, why would anyone, especially Christians, work so hard to argue that someone went down instead of up?

That’s the part that stinks to me. Christians who seem bent on wanting to claim that someone went to hell based strictly on what they see or think they know. Where does that attitude come from?

What is it in us that makes us want to believe the worst instead of the best when it comes to the eternal destiny? Especially the eternal destiny of someone whose lifestyle we don’t approve? If we’re going to speculate, why not give God and Michael Jackson the benefit of the doubt? Since we can’t possibly know, why not say, “I hope Michael made his peace with God at some point in his life” instead of “There was obviously no indication that he was saved.” Wouldn’t hoping for the best be the Christian thing to do? Especially since to be genuinely “Christian” is supposed to mean being “Christ-like”? Wasn’t it Jesus who said He came to “seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10) and that God’s desire is that “no one should perish” (2 Peter 3:9)?

If we desire to have the heart of Christ, this judgmental thinking makes no sense. So there must be something in it for us when we’re determined to judge in this way.

Some say quite strongly, “The Bible says, “You will know them by their fruits. A good tree cannot produce bad fruit and a bad tree cannot produce good fruit.” (Matthew 7:16-18) Those are Jesus’ words. Except in context they have nothing to do with salvation. Jesus was warning of false prophets who “come as wolves in sheep’s clothing” (Matthew 7:15). He wasn’t talking about fruit or lack of it in one’s life as an indication of salvation.

(I know, I know…putting Bible verses in their proper and accurate context really messes up our proof-texting.)

I’ve always wondered about Christians’ desires to be “fruit inspectors”. Especially when it comes to determining one’s eternal destiny. The problems are obvious and many. Who decides how much fruit is enough? Who decides what kind of fruit is acceptable? And on the question of bad fruit, how much rottenness is enough to disqualify you? Is once in awhile sin that you confess and repent of ok? Is white lie and anger bad fruit ok as long as you ask forgiveness and don’t cross the line into drunkenness and homosexuality? What if your sin is an addiction? How much chronic sin before you’re marked with an “X” as a bad tree that gets cut down and burned up?

What if you’re doing everything right as far as you know, but the fruit inspectors from the next church over who don’t drink, smoke, cuss, chew or go with girls that do think your fruit leaves something to be desired?

When we decide to be fruit inspectors our tendency is to use the fruit on our tree as the standard of measure for everyone else. The irony is that earlier in that same chapter (Matthew 7) Jesus begins by saying, “Do not judge, lest you be judged. For whatever standard of measure you use, it will be measured to you.” In other words, if you want to hold people to a high standard, go ahead. Just remember God will use the same answer key when He evaluates you.

In wondering why we seem bent on believing the worst, is it possible that if we believe the best it takes away the pleasure we derive from judging others? If we believe another’s fruit might just be acceptable then we can’t feel superior about what’s growing on our tree.

There’s an insidious pride that can take root in the most devout Christian. We labor in holding high the standard of righteousness as we reason it to be. And if we’re not careful, in the process we end up looking down on everyone else. We begin to fruit inspect and compare sins. Comparing our sins against the sins of others is a deadly waste of time. Sin has but one degree; separation from God. The problem when we “fruit inspect” is that we confuse the consequences of sin with the degree of sin. Stealing office supplies from your employer will have different consequences than murdering someone. Yet apart from the forgiveness of Christ, the former will send you to hell just as fast as the latter. We’re all sinners and we all need Christ. Or as author and Southern Baptist preacher Will Campbell so eloquently paraphrased Romans 5:8, “We’re all bastards. But God loves us anyway.”

Bottom line truths:

Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to God but through Him. (John 14:6)

To believe on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ is to be saved. (Acts 16:31)

No human being can know what is in the heart of another person. Ever. God is the only One who looks on the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7)

No one but God knows what was in Michael Jackson’s heart. No one knows what one on one conversation the two of them may have had when he was a child. No one knows what last second prayer was or was not uttered in the final seconds of his life. No one knows but God. We would be very wise to remember that.

As to “fruit”, the thief on the cross had no opportunity to produce any. Yet Jesus said, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43)

When I wonder about Michael Jackson, that verse gives me hope.

“It’s been said the three biggest surprises in heaven will be who’s there, who’s not there, and that you’re there.”

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

The guy in the parking lot is carrying a lot of stuff. Too much stuff. Under each arm and in both hands. As long as he doesn’t lean too far side to side, forward or back, he will keep his balance. But he’s starting to lose his grip. Instead of stopping to get a firmer one he just walks faster in hopes of getting to his car in time.

He makes it, but instead of setting all the bags down on the trunk while he pulls keys out of his pocket, he chooses to hang on to the two under his arm and the one in his left hand. That’s when his juggling act luck ran out.

Clean up in the parking lot.

Watching from a distance, it looks like a no-brainer. Set the bags down, dude. Free up your hands. But he thinks he can hang on to it all and still make it work.

Sound familiar?

In a recent phone conversation with my friend Steve Evers, Director of In-Touch Mission International, he related some of the overwhelming challenges their organization has faced in recent years. Circumstances that made him feel inadequate to the task at hand. God-sized problems that required a God-sized solution.

In sharing, Steve said something profound. “I prayed. I said, “God, make me big enough to let go of whatever it is that’s making me too small to handle this.”

Wow.

“God, make me big enough to let go of whatever it is that’s making me too small to handle this.”

Could it be that in our insistence on trying to carry it all, we’re making ourselves too small to handle the task at hand? Could it be that our refusal to let go is what’s keeping us from attaining the results and stature God desires for us?

God, make us big enough to let go of our pride that makes us too small to be genuine leaders.

God, make us big enough to let go of our grudges that make us too small to forgive and forget and forge ahead.

God, make us big enough to let go of our selfishness that makes us too small to be generous with others.

God, make us big enough to let go of our self-sufficiency that makes us too small to enjoy the blessings you want to give us.

God, make us big enough to let go of our arrogance that makes us too small to live and love with humility.

What are you holding on to that’s making you too small to handle your situation?

Ask God to make you big enough to let go of whatever it is that’s making you too small.

Then watch what God will do with your freed up hands.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke on you and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and my load is not hard to carry.” - Matthew 11:28-30

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Now they pick their outfits on their own. Smartly dressed in pink and orange, wearing their white high heel sandals which make them feel oh so grown up, it’s off to church. I teach a lesson from Genesis 15 about God’s unconditional promise made to Abram. That no matter what, God always delivers on His promises, even if the timing seems strange to us. Then in to worship and preaching that reminds us not to lose our heart or forget our first Love, that being Jesus who saves us.

A Father’s Day lunch at Pei Wei which, given the day, isn’t crowded at all. We sit at our favorite spot on the bar chairs by the counter so we can watch them stir fry while we partake of our Ginger Broccoli and Teriyaki Chicken. And for whatever else my kids will remember about me, I think they will remember that it was always my job to put the chopstick holders on their chopsticks so they can eat their Lo Mein noodles without a fork.

A quick stop at home. The girls, being girls, want to change from high heels to flip flops. A peek at Facebook shows lots of friends talking about the fabulous Dad’s Day lunches they are enjoying. Everything from slow roasted pulled pork to Mexican feasts. When it comes to fathers, you can’t miss with food.

It’s a happy day for all I know. Or so it seems until I open an email from Steve Tracy. A friend and former grad school professor, he emails to say his father has been found unconscious on the floor of a parking garage. He is in the hospital and not expected to survive. And this less than 24 hours before Steve and Celestia are to fly to Africa to minister there.

Reading his email, I can feel his wonder about the timing of it all.

I pray for Steve and his family on the way to Carillon House. It’s our weekly visit to bring flowers and talk with our elderly friends.

“What are we here to do, girls?”, I ask the way I always ask as we pull into the parking lot.

“Serve each other with love!”, they respond in twin sync.

And serve they do. Filling vases with water, replacing the old flowers with new Astrolemerias of white, burgundy, purple, yellow and orange. They are engaging the residents and extended families alike. I tell them how proud I am. Emma looks at me and says, “Daddy, I’m on a roll.” And she disappears with vase in hand, off to greet a new patient. Of her own accord she, at home, painted over 20 handmade watercolor signs that read, “I love you! Love, Emma”. Whether she knows them or not, they get an “I love you” to tape up on their wall.

An elevator up to the 4th floor to Vista Care Hospice. It’s quiet up here today. Only three patients. We’ll be in and out quickly. The twins head down the hall with the flowers when I call to Emma, “Hey, look. You have exactly three signs left.”

A few minutes later and we are about to leave. A 30-something woman walks past the nurses’ station, carrying Emma’s “I love you” sign.

“Are you Emma? Are you the one who gave me the flowers and this note?”

“I want to thank you for that. It’s a very nice thing you did. Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome.” I glance at Annie. She is staring at the woman’s eyes. I look, too. They are full of tears. The kind that are doing everything they can to stay put.

I quietly ask, “Who’s here?”

“My Dad.”

“What’s his name?”

“Mando….Armando…”

What do you do? What do you say when someone else’s Father’s Day is watching their Dad die before the day is done?

Interesting how life and death moments transcend familiarity. We are strangers. Yet we both have Dads. Hers is dying. What more needs to be known? I give her a big hug. “I’m sorry. I’ll pray for you.”

She thanks me and gives her tears permission to run. Emma’s paper “I Love You” in hand, she heads back to her father’s room.

Today some Dads opened cards and gift boxes of cologne and neckties. Some went to church with their families and ate steak and potatoes and chocolate pie and took a Sunday afternoon nap. Others, like my friend Steve Tracy and like Armando’s daughter, spent the day by the bed of their dying fathers. It’s a sobering thought and honestly one I can’t relate to. I wonder about the timing of it all.

And in the wondering I have no answers. Just a hope and a faith that God is here. On this Father’s Day, He is here for it all. God is here for the singing at church and the family photos and the BBQ lunches. God is here for the Hallmark cards and the gifts of soap on a rope. And He’s here for the tears of the grieving for whom this Father’s Day is the last day they’ll spend with their Dad this side of heaven.

God is here for it all.

“Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, Who comforts us in all our troubles so that we may be able to comfort those experiencing any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” - 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death will not exist any more – or mourning, or crying, or pain, for the former things have ceased to exist.” – Revelation 21:4

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

A passerby asked, “Where do you think you dropped it?”

“Oh, I didn’t lose it here.”

“If you didn’t lose it here, why are you looking for it under this street light?”

To which the man replied, “Because the light is better here.”

In our pursuit of personal and spiritual growth it’s easy to live in the illuminated areas of our life. Our strengths are fun to operate from and even display to others. We like brightly shining familiarity. And we are comforted by the confidence that flows from operating in areas of competence and mastery.

Vocationally speaking, a gifted mechanic is never more at home than when he is on a crawler under a car, trouble shooting a problem. A surgeon is never more at home than when she has scalpel in hand. Or as one of my surgeon friends used to tell me, “A chance to cut, a chance to heal.” One who is all charm and goodness in their social graces loves the opportunity to work a room full of people, helping others feel at ease.

We like our personal strengths. They are well lit areas.

Yet what about our weaknesses? What about the genuine deficiencies in our character?

We tend not to shine a light on those. We prefer to look where the light is better.

If what we’re looking for is deeper character, a richer and more genuine relationship with God, then we’ve got to go where the light isn’t good. Those shadowy hidden places in our being where our weaknesses live. That’s where we’ll find what we’ve lost. Failings that caused us to lose our heart. Sins that caused us to lose our credibility. Blame, unforgiveness and pain that we have become addicted to. Fears that have stolen our courage.

And behind all those, the lying enemy whose evil purpose is to steal our Hope and keep us from understanding our true identity in Jesus Christ.

It won’t happen under the street light. We’ve got to go to the dark place to find what we’ve lost. Yet when we decide to go (and it is our decision to make) Jesus goes with us. He walks with us in the dark places, giving us strength to face our fears, faults and failings. And because He promised never to leave us or forsake us, we’re never alone in the dark place.

Though it might be difficult to imagine, no One wants you to experience an abundant life more than Jesus. He said Himself, “I came that you might have life and have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) The abundant life can’t happen without going into the dark places to vanquish the past that is holding you back from your future. It’s not an easy battle. But Jesus is ready and waiting and chomping at the bit to go there with you and kick some devil butt.

The enemy wants to keep you looking under the street lamp. The light’s great but there’s nothing to find. Jesus wants to take you into the dark place and reclaim everything that was lost and stolen so you can experience His abundant life.

Praying that you’ll choose to take the light of Jesus into your dark place.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there be any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” - Psalm 139:23-24

“Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.You’ve got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.” - Bruce Cockburn, “Lovers In A Dangerous Time”

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

I can’t point to chapter and verse, but my conviction is that when we get to heaven we’ll get a hug from Jesus and a Krispy Kreme doughnut hot off the rack. Anything that scrumptious has to come from God’s kitchen.

If you have tasted a fresh Krispy Kreme, you understand my theology. If you have not tasted a fresh Krispy Kreme, your quest awaits you. Drive till you find one. Trust me, your road trip will be rewarded.

This morning Annie and Emma and I saw the orange light on at Krispy Kreme. That means fresh hot doughnuts…right now. If Pavlov had used an orange neon light and Krispy Kremes, his dog would have made that bell connection after only one Original Glazed.

When the orange light is on and you go inside, they hand you a Krispy Kreme. Can you believe? They hand you a doughnut. Fresh and free. Baptized seconds earlier with sweet sugar glaze, you feel the heat through the wax paper…thank you, Jesus! Could there be a better “welcome!” in a store? Where else do they do that? Walk into Joe’s Crab Shack and they don’t hand you a shrimp cocktail to munch on while you’re deciding what to order.

Annie and Emma and I are watching the entire process through the glass. The doughnuts rolled and shaped, they go into the “puffer machine”. An enclosed heated oven containing a slow moving vertical conveyor. Inside the puffer machine the yeast activated dough rises. When they leave the puffer they fall into a river of hot oil where they are fried at 350 degrees till the bottom side is done and they get flipped over to finish the other side.

Then the fun part. A waterfall of white icing. The perfect finish to the perfect doughnut.

When operating at full capacity, the local Krispy Kreme store can make 270 dozen doughnuts an hour. 3,240 circles of sugar rush. Allowing for the 3 hours in the middle of the night where they shut down to clean the equipment, they can make 68,040 delicious doughnuts a day.

Taking it all in this morning it occurred to me that my favorite doughnuts wouldn’t be my favorite doughnuts without the entire process. A hot oven isn’t a pleasant experience, yet without the heat to raise the dough, the end result would be flat and crusty. Being dumped and flipped in boiling oil? Not fun. But necessary. You can flash the orange light from dawn till dark and no one will pull in to be handed raw dough with a sugar glaze.

As a person being pressed and squeezed and swimming in the deep fryer of life right now, I’m not enjoying the process. It’s like the conveyor is stuck. I can see the frosting fountain but it isn’t getting any closer. Or so it seems. I know I’m learning. I know I’m growing. But it’s not fun. I’m tired of it. Yet God is reminding me, through His Word and through my advisors, counselors and friends, that the process is necessary. God is committed to the quality of the end product. In fact, He is eternally determined. Nothing will sway Him to compromise the process that is preparing me for His purposes.

Wherever you’re at in your process, God is committed to His perfect end result. When will you get glazed? Only He knows. Maybe He’s preparing you to be extra special, like one of those injected Raspberry filled Krispy Kremes. (But that whole injection thing is an analogy for another time…)

Hang in there. God is at work in you.

“For we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purposes. For whom He did foreknow, these He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn of many brethren.” – Romans 8:28-29

“Being confident of this, that He Who began a good work in you will be faithful to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Why she picked that road, I don’t know.

And why she brought her kids along was beyond me.

From everything I could see, she didn’t have the sense God gave a goose.

Eastbound on the frontage road at the perpetually busy intersection of Loop 289 and Quaker. I’m braking quickly for one of this town’s unsynchronized red lights. Just another aggravation on a day full of frustration in the middle of two weeks of nothing going right.

As I am about to sit and seethe, she appears. To my left in the crosswalk that isn’t really a crosswalk is a momma Mallard duck, pointed south.

What the heck? A duck? Here?

And she’s crossing.

With seven fuzzy down ducklings in a straight line behind her.

Are you kidding me?

“Don’t do it! Awww….you’re doing it! You can’t cross here! No one can see you!”

To her credit, she looks both ways. That’s better than most drivers in this town.

“God, please no. My day’s already horrible. I don’t need to see something killed in front of me.”

The guy to my right is in a red Ford F-150 pickup. He’s stopped. Oblivious, but stopped.

I look to the third lane over. Here comes Grandma. In a white Crown Victoria. Why do little old ladies drive the biggest cars? Grandma is sitting so low in the seat that she views the road through the space inside the steering wheel. Worse, she’s wearing those oversized wrap around welder goggles that Walgreen’s passes for sunglasses. She couldn’t see a duck if it was riding shotgun with her.

Momma Mallard is now in the middle of the crosswalk. The ducklings are following fearlessly behind. Because traffic lights in Lubbock are all set to “random”, she might have enough time to get her kids all the way to Quick Quack Car Wash. Or in two seconds it could become the duck death march. In the stoplight world of the Hub City, you just never know.

“Dang it, God. I don’t need to see squished duck today. A little help here, please!”

Grandma got the Crown Vic stopped. She may have been able to see Big Bird in front of that car but no way a duck. She has no idea that if she punches it on the green light a bunch of little quackers will never grow up to do something as dumb as their mother.

I can’t see them anymore. The light turns green and part of me wants to just go and not look.

But I don’t go and I do look.

No feathers on the asphalt.

They made it.

How they made it, I don’t know.

But they made it.

Now that it’s over…wow. Relief. That was really something to see. I haven’t smiled in three days but I’m smiling now.

Five minutes earlier I’d been driving down the freeway engaged in angry prayer with God. Like where is He in the middle of all my junk? Could He maybe say something? Maybe speak up and let me know He’s there? And is He hearing anything that I’ve been talking to Him about for, oh…I don’t know…the last 2 years??? Like maybe He could show up anytime now to help me out?

And just to be fair, to give Him time to think about everything I just said, I’m going to pull in to the Post Office and check my mail.

Until another clueless driver forces me out of my lane and makes me miss my turn.

“Good grief, God. I can’t even check my mail without backtracking two miles! Are You having fun? Because I’m not. I need some help here! Something. My head knows, but my heart could really use some encouragement…

…I need to know you’re going to take care of me.”

And that’s when He showed me the ducks.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food , and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” – Matthew 6:25-26

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

On the way to the fireplace bricks, where we like to sit for such moments, Emma bumped her knee. It wasn’t even a scratch or a scrape and certainly nothing that merited the drama she was presenting. But then this is a kid who thinks she needs New Skin liquid bandage for a mosquito bite.

So we sit down on the bricks and I get one kid on each knee. Annie says she wants to pray first. “God, thank you for this day and for all the things you give us. I pray for Emma’s knee…

…God…I just lift her hurtness up to heaven.“

That’s it, isn’t it? That’s intercessory prayer as defined by an 8-year old. Lifting someone’s hurtness up to heaven.

In the course of your day you and I will engage with people at different levels of familiarity. Some will be intimately close to us. Others will be friends. Some acquaintances. Some strangers. Some will be point of sale transactions that consist of “press enter, please” and “thanks for shopping, have a good day.”

The common denominator? All have “hurtness” that needs lifting up to heaven.

In your life there are people who’ve just lost someone they love. A granite headstone marks the end of that earthly relationship. There’s a void in their every day. Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There are couples you know who everyone points to as being the marriage they admire. Yet behind the white picket illusion are two people caught in the crazy cycle of conditional love and disrespect. Their relationship is spinning into a death spiral. Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There’s a person you know who is always there for everyone. They give and give and give and always with a smile. Yet their servant’s heart is weary and they wonder if and when anyone will care enough to ask if they’ve got anything left in the tank. Write them a note of encouragement. And lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There’s a person in your church who’s all handshakes and hugs on Sunday morning who drives home in tears because she wants to go to church as a couple instead of a single. Lift her hurtness up to heaven.

There’s someone in your life who daily battles an addiction. Sometimes one minute at a time. Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There’s someone in your life who’s doing everything they know to do yet still feel like they are losing the fight. Success is just around the corner that never seems to get turned. Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There are people in your life in bondage to fear. Their past emotional wounds have locked them into thought patterns making it near impossible to imagine a life of joy and hope. Remind them that the future is their friend. And lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There are elderly people in your life who can no longer “do”. They can only “be”. They sit quietly alone wondering if their life is of significance to anyone. They are frustrated by minds and bodies that no longer function the way they used to. Go visit them. Ask them to tell you about their life. And lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There’s someone in your life who suffers from chronic pain. The medications that offer relief also handcuff them to dependency. Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

There’s someone in your life who’s just been severely let down by someone they thought they could count on. They feel like they are trapped in a revolving door of disappointment. Determine to be a person they can trust. And lift their hurtness up to heaven.

Often we overestimate what we can do and underestimate what God can do. When we intercede for others by lifting their hurtness to heaven, we bring their hurtness to God; the One who can do anything.

We can pray for people. God can heal people.

We can encourage people. God can change people.

We can point people to God. God will point them to Himself. In Him they, which is to say all of us, will find His abundant life.
   
As you go through your day, intercede for others.

Lift their hurtness up to heaven.

“Cast all your cares on God, for He cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7

  
Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“Why is it so hard for people to just admit they were wrong?”

He was venting over a recent situation in his consulting business. Someone had scheduled an appointment with him, several appointments actually, and no-showed every time. For him, as for everyone in business, a no-show costs double. The lost opportunity of the missed appointment and the lost opportunity to schedule another customer in that time slot.

“What galls me”, said my friend, “was their flimsy attempt to place their irresponsibility on me. They obviously don’t care that they stole my time.”

What is it in us that makes us loathe to take responsibility for our actions?

It is our inherent nature since the fall of man to blame someone else for our sins. Adam blamed God and Eve. Eve blamed the serpent. And as the old joke goes, the serpent didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Years ago I was entertaining some friends in my home. Their 4-year old son was playing with a stuffed animal he had brought with him, tossing it high into the air then trying to catch it on the way down. His parents noticed that it was flying dangerously close to the ceiling fan which, being the dead of summer, was spinning on high. They told him to stop. He ignored their warning and a couple throws later Mr. Bunny was G-force fan bladed into the wall.

I looked to the kid to see what his reaction would be. I expected sorrow and remorse for ignoring his parents’ caution. But instead he stuck out his jaw, clenched his teeth and with waving accusatory finger yelled, “Bad fan! That’s a bad, bad fan!”

In our current politically correct Western culture, we’ve done everything we can to change God’s black and white to shades of gray. Gray is softer on our conscience. It’s not stealing anymore. It’s “misappropriation of funds”. As if the money was simply placed into the wrong drawer and we forgot where we put it. It’s not a terrorist attack anymore. It’s a “human caused disaster”. Which, if you follow that logic, means a farmer whose barn burns down because someone forgot to put out a cigarette is on the same moral level as hijackers who fly planes into buildings. Also popular among the methods of attempting to avoid taking responsibility for our failures is to give them a psychological name and attach the word “syndrome” to the end of it. Because if it’s a sickness, then we’re not responsible.

Yet when we’re ready to get real with ourselves, we discover the most important reason for taking responsibility for our sins. Taking responsibility is the only way to fully experience the grace and forgiveness of God. Jesus didn’t give His life for us because we were sick. Jesus gave His life for us because we were dead. Dead in our sins. Or as Paul put it, “The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.” (Romans 6:23)

We are never more liberated than when our true confession meets God’s grace.

In our dealings with ourself and others this week, let’s stop blaming the fan.

And remember who tossed the bunny.

“When we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” – 1 John 1:9

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“It was the evening of February 3 and I had spent the past 36 hours or so traveling from Milwaukee to Colorado via Orange City. There were five others, both old and new Northwestern College friends, who traveled with me for a weekend of skiing and camping in Rocky Mountain National Park. On this particular evening I found myself standing in the moonlight in a deep valley surrounded by the high peaks of the national mountain range. We knelt, we prayed, we were passionate, and there was power – a power that I seldom feel while embedded in the mundane. Power. Violence. Passion. Whatever you want to call it, I felt it.

And then, no less than two minutes later I found myself expounding on the elk shit we had all knelt in.

Passion – and what a paradox I am to it. At that very moment I again became painfully aware of my true nature as a fallen, yet Christian man. What a commentary on my life – even my passionate moments, albeit few and far between, are lived from the dung heap. And yet it is paradox that comes to my rescue. For while by nature I am repulsive to God, He has chosen to see me as His righteousness. It haunts me yet. May grace like this haunt me the rest of my life.”

You’ve likely never knelt in elk scat. But I bet Bill’s words resonate with you, as they do me. We’ve all been there. Passionate worship on a Sunday morning and before you can get out of the church parking lot you’re yelling at your kids for fighting in the backseat…and the paradox is clear. You finish a moving time of conversation and reflection with God at 8 AM and by 10 AM the wheels have fallen off your day and the paradox is clear. You thank God for an answer to prayer and before the breath of relief leaves your lungs you get an email from a friend saying the cancer has spread. Anger and doubt roll in like a tidal wave, burying your faith and confidence in God.

And the paradox is clear.

A danger for any of us who desire to take God and our relationship with Him seriously is to believe success depends on us. We read in the Bible that we are to “love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength”. Indeed, God desires us to love Him with all of our being. He loves our passion. Yet this side of heaven we, as Bill so wonderfully penned, give our mightiest efforts as from the dung heap.

It is true that the paradox that frustrates us is the same paradox that rescues us. Grace finds us in the dung heap. We love God and others with all our imperfect heart, yet it’s God’s grace in our imperfections that accomplish His purposes. We love God with all our doubt-ridden, hurting soul, yet it’s God’s spirit living in us that gives meaning to our lives. We love God with all our feeble short-sighted mind, yet it is God’s grace and the mind of Christ that prevail for our good and His glory. We love God with all our puny strength, yet it’s God’s mighty hand that lifts us up and sets our feet on higher ground.

The paradox is clear. Our most passionate moments are lived from the dung heap. Yet God’s grace finds us, and transforms us, as we kneel there. It is grace to our rescue. Because God has chosen to see us as His righteousness.

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.” - Romans 5:1-2

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

For a short time as a first grader in Edith Johnson’s class, I sat next to Billy. Rather, Billy sat next to me. He’d been relocated from another part of the room after causing trouble and being a disruption to the students around him. Ours was the second school he had attended. By the age of 7, Billy had allegedly developed irreconcilable differences with the Sisters at St. Thomas Parochial school and it was decided his education would be best obtained elsewhere.

Billy was a scrapper and a fighter. He learned these skills from older brothers, whose reputation as brawlers from the next town over had filtered down to the jungle gym recess discussions of elementary kids. A slightly built but wiry strong Billy was the pre-pubescent personification of his older siblings. He struck distress into most kids like me, except for Sharla who could whip any boy in the class.

If Billy was in your immediate perimeter, it was best to have him in front of you or right next to you so you could keep an eye on him. My problem was that one eye was all I had to keep on anything and Billy was on my blind side. Not being able to see Billy fueled my paranoia of a sneak attack. For the first two days my head would suddenly snap to the right for no apparent reason. Billy probably wondered why the teacher made him sit by the kid with the twitchy neck.

One afternoon in the middle of our reading lesson, Billy decided he’d heard enough about the adventures of Sally, Dick and Jane. He expressed this to everyone by throwing his book into his desk, slamming the lid, and heading for the door. Mrs. Johnson was no spring chicken but she had good foot speed. She intercepted Billy at the door and with surprising patience kindly asked him to return to his desk and resume reading.

I prayed for Billy. I prayed that he would please just this once do the right thing. It was a selfish prayer. I was too close to ground zero and the potential fallout frightened me. Billy did sit down, but he didn’t shut up. He slammed his desk several more times and with amazing fluidity loudly uttered a blue streak that is still floating somewhere over north central Iowa. It was the first time I’d ever heard the queen mother of cuss words. I was absolutely stunned. I had never heard it before and I had no idea what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.

The look on Mrs. Johnson’s face removed all doubt. Billy saw her coming and made another break for the door. Reversing field around two desks and cutting hard on her left foot, Edith made one of the best open field tackles I’ve ever seen by a woman in a green polyester dress. In less than 15 seconds she had Billy at the sink, kicking and flailing, with a brand new bar of Palmolive soap sticking out of his mouth.

Note to self: Never, never, EVER say that word.

God gives us, just as Edith gave to Billy, opportunities to correct our mistakes and do the right thing. God’s patience with us is like a very long string. The long string is there for our benefit. Because God knows we are creatures who need lots of chances. Or as Psalm 69:5 reads in the Living Bible, “God, you know so well how stupid I am, and you know all my sins.” God knows we need His very long string of patience.

Yet we need to remember that the end of God’s very long string of patience is always tied to His perfect justice. It is justice at the end of patience that give grace and mercy their meaning. Grace, undeserved favor, is nothing without justice. Mercy, being spared the punishment we deserve, is empty apart from God’s justice. It’s what’s tied to the end of the string that makes the string valuable.

Billy was graciously given the opportunity to correct his mistake and do the right thing. But he chose poorly and suffered the consequences. I can relate. So can you, I imagine. We all have a tendency to test the limits. But next time God graciously gives us an opportunity to stop doing the wrong thing and start doing the right thing, instead of seeing how long the string is, what say we just sit down and shut up and do our assignment?

If memory serves, Sally, Dick and Jane usually set a pretty good example of what to do. And what not to do.

I don’t think Billy ever read far enough to figure that out.

“God is merciful and tender toward those who don’t deserve it; He is slow to get angry and is full of kindness and love.” – Psalm 103:8 (The Living Bible)

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

]]> http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/15/the-other-end-of-grace/feed/ 0 http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/09/good-friday-father-forgive-them/ http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/09/good-friday-father-forgive-them/#comments Fri, 10 Apr 2009 01:54:12 +0000 todd http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/?p=387 “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” According to the Gospel of Luke, these are the first words spoken by Jesus while on the cross.

For the Roman soldiers walking the perimeter, it’s all in a day’s work. Some people push pencils and keep records for a living. Others sell groceries in the market. For these men, keeping order during riots and overseeing ghoulish public spectacles is part of the job description.

They aren’t here by choice. They are part of an occupying force hundreds of miles from their home. They’d rather be back in Rome. Someday they’ll go home. And when they do they plan to march straight down to the recruiting office and have a hands-on conversation with that guy behind the desk who said joining the Roman army meant experiencing adventure and seeing the world. He didn’t tell them it meant pulling duty in a backwards place like Jerusalem.

And to them, it is backwards. Take this crucifixion, for example. Back in Rome, you’d need a very good reason to put a fellow Roman to death. There would be a trial. The testimonies of the witnesses would have to corroborate. To convict would require hard evidence. The judge and jury would be unbiased. The verdict would be fair. However it turned out, the process would be logical.

To these Roman soldiers, the Jews, at least some of them, aren’t logical at all. When given a choice, they begged and screamed for a convicted felon named Barrabas to be set free so they could put to death one of their own. That’s backwards. To execute a guy whose only crime it seemed was being too popular with the people. If this happened back in Rome, someone would be put to death all right. But it wouldn’t be this guy on the middle cross. It would be the ones who couldn’t get their story straight and gave a false witness.

But in the end, it’s not their problem. To the soldiers it’s just another day on the killing hill. Three criminals getting their just desserts. Supervising crucifixions is ugly business and gambling for a criminal’s clothing while He hangs dying just a few feet away seems morbid, but it’s a welcome distraction from the moans of pain and gasping sounds of death.

Maybe the next tour of duty will be easier.

After three years of earthly ministry, it ends here. Jesus nailed to a cross. It ends right here. Or does it? Say what you will about this man Jesus, that He was a troublemaker and a rabble rouser, a burr under the saddle of the religious establishment; or say that He was a good teacher sent by God. Either way, you had to admit that He was different. Really different.

How did they put it? “He was one teaching with as with authority.” That’s one way to put it.

“Backwards” is another way to put it.

He said we are to be kind to those who hurt us. To turn the other cheek toward those who would hit us. To not refuse those who want to borrow from us. He said the fastest way to become truly wealthy is to give away our worldly possessions. He said if our desire is to become great then we need to assume a humble position. And if we want God to smile on us we should do our fasting and our praying and our giving in secret.

Crazy as these ideas are, most backwards is Jesus’ idea that the best way to make peace with our enemies is to forgive them.

He said it that day on the side of the mountain while preaching to the crowds. “Love your enemies”, He said. It’s one thing to be magnanimous when you’re the center of attention. It’s easy to be bold when you’re free to walk about under the big blue sky. Yet, here is a man pinned to a piece of wood saying “Forgive them.”

“Forgive me, God”, now that’s a phrase I can understand. Forgive me, God because I’m a total screw up. Forgive me, God, because I fail. “Forgive me, God”, is a phrase that makes sense to me. Because I know me. But “forgive them”? Especially when the “them” are my enemies?

That’s backwards.

You’d think that being stripped naked and nailed to a cross when you’ve done nothing wrong would cause one to rethink their theology. Changing your position to one of revenge and retribution when you’ve been unjustly convicted of crimes you didn’t commit, well, who could hold that against you? Say what you will about this Jesus. He remains consistent, and backwards, even to the end.

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” Jesus is backwards even to the end. Asking forgiveness for short-sighted people who could no longer compete with His truth. Asking God the Father to forgive the ignorance of their actions. Nailed to a cross in excruciating pain Jesus doesn’t ask for His own deliverance.

He asks for ours.

Gambling for the clothing of one dying on a cross just a few feet away seems morbid. If I had been one of the soldiers that day I’d have probably taken my turn at tossing the dice. It would have been a welcome distraction from the moans of pain and gasping sounds of death coming from the backwards man on the middle cross.

The one asking His Father to forgive me because I didn’t know what I was doing.

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

]]> http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/09/good-friday-father-forgive-them/feed/ 0 http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/07/do-it/ http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/2009/04/07/do-it/#comments Wed, 08 Apr 2009 06:09:22 +0000 todd http://www.asliceoflifetogo.com/?p=379 Funny thing about God. When you ask Him for opportunities to be a blessing, He gives them to you.

The trick, at least for me, is learning to hear His voice. To see what He’s pointing at. Or feel His poke on the shoulder.

At Turning Point Church we’ve been challenged as individuals to find ways both practical and creative to serve at least 30 people in 30 days. One of my prayers of late is that God will make me a blessing to others.

Last Friday on a Southwest flight from Austin to Lubbock I’m thinking about what it means to be a blessing and praying that prayer again. We stop in Dallas to change planes. One step inside the terminal and I am punched in the nose by one of the most delicious smells in the world. If you ever want to trap me, just put a fresh Cinnabon cinnamon roll on the other side of a trip wire and I’m hanging upside down by my ankles.

When I smell Cinnabon I go involuntarily Bloodhound. There are no signs anywhere. But I know it’s here. I can smell it. By Gate 2? Nope, not there. Double back. Around the corner. There it is! A little portable stand.

Ahead of me in line, a 20-something guy. From the back all I see is a buzz haircut with a design shaved into it. Backpack, jacket, jeans. He asks the lady behind the counter, “Do you take checks?” An odd question at an airport, I think. She rolls her eyes before being polite. “Nope. Not unless it’s a travelers check.” He says ok and walks away.

Finally. My turn. “A Cinnabon, please.”

She serves it up. I look to my left. There he is. Buzz cut backpack guy, walking toward Gate 6.

I’m not a mystical person. In fact, I possess what I consider to be a healthy cynical streak. Especially when it comes to what some people claim about spirituality. But I hear it. Not a voice. But I hear it.

“Do it.”

“That’ll be $3.89.” I hand the lady a ten. I look again. He’s gone.

“Do it.”

There are plenty of reasons not to do it. Not the least of which is I have a plane to catch and buzz cut backpack guy is nowhere in sight. There’s a line behind me now. This just isn’t practical.

She hands me my change. The thought comes to me, “You asked to be a blessing. Were you serious about that? Or not?”

Nice poke, God. Oh, well. Here goes.

“Hey, gimme one more please.” I have a carry on and a backpack and not enough hands for 2 Cinnabons. “Looks like you could use a bag,” she says. Great idea.

I take off half walking, half running down the concourse. Dodging moms and strollers and guys with cell phones stuck to their ear. Then the mental monologue begins.

“This is crazy. This is nuts. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I only saw him from the back. What the heck does he even look like? If he’s not here, what do I do? Eat both of them? Good idea! No! Wait! Bad idea! Where is he?! My plane is going to board!”

I’m now uncomfortably far away from my gate. Buzz cut backpack guy is nowhere to be seen. “Look, God. This was your idea. A little help here?!”

From a moving herd of suits and ties and roller luggage, he appears. Right in front of me.

I’m great at thinking on my feet. Yet now realize I have no line for handing a Cinnabon to a stranger. And it’s not like we have time to get acquainted.

I stick the bag in his hand and say the first thing that pops into my spinning head.

“Some big dude back there told me to give this to you.” It’s not a lie, really. God’s a big dude. As I speak I shrug my shoulders like I don’t understand it, either. Which I don’t. He looks at me like a calf staring at a new gate. But he takes it.

Half walking, half running toward my plane I think, “God, I have no clue what you’re doing. But if you’ve been trying to get his attention, that’ll mess with his head for sure.” I can’t help laughing out loud.

When we ask God to make us a blessing, He will answer that prayer. And in the answering He makes it clear that we are merely the tool in His hand to accomplish His purposes. It’s not about us. It’s all about Him.

It was only one moment in an airport, but I have to say it’s an amazing feeling to be in His grip.

Here’s praying God will make you a blessing to others. And that you’ll know the pleasure of being in His grip.

“Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for all people, for He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” – Psalm 107:8-9

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

What Star Wars character are you?

Where in the world should you be living?

What historical figure are you?

What Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream Flavor are you?

What are you born to do?

What is your Smurf name?

Which Peanuts character are you?

Which Superhero are you?

What color are you?

I wonder…do these quizzes all work together to form a composite reality? Can you be Linus and Captain America? If so, does the blanket go behind the shield? Can you be orange and still have a Smurf name? Or perhaps more importantly, can you be blue and not have a Smurf name? And if you are Darth Vader, does being Ben and Jerry’s “Mission to Marzipan” cause people to laugh at you behind your cape? Does your foofy flavor choice reduce your credibility as ruler of the Death Star?

To borrow from The Carpenters, we’ve only just begun. The personality quiz possibilities are endless.

“What Car Are You? ” – “A 1973 Pinto…moody, unreliable and blows up when bumped.”

“What Dessert Are You?” – “You are Cherries Jubilee. A fiery personality displayed on special occasions and only after copious amounts of brandy.”

I grew up in Iowa. How about “What Farm Chemical Are You?” – “You are Roundup. A systemic, broad spectrum relationship inhibitor.”

I can’t wait to see what comparative personality analysis will pop up next. Why, by this time next week I may may become more self-aware by knowing “What Garden Tool Are (I) You (Am)?”

Could the combined insight of these quizzes be put to use for singles seeking a mate? Would, for example, a “Yoda Phish Food Red Aqua Man born to be a detective who should be living in Norway” person be compatible with a “Princess Leah Mango Mango Yellow Batgirl born to be a nurse who should be living in Ireland” person? Maybe. But probably only if Yoda remembers not to leave his wet towels on the floor and Leah doesn’t bring her Jabba the Hut mother into the marriage.

Goofy as they are, these quizzes populate Facebook and other social networking sites because we are innately curious and fascinated with the prospect of discovering something new about ourselves. A fresh observation as to what makes us tick. Or what ticks us off. If we can put a handle or a label on it, it’s easier to manage. Insight gained, be it of ourselves or our friends, deepens the relationship. And if not deepens it, then at least greases the wheels and helps us understand one another better.

For all the time killing fun a Facebook quiz can be, there’s things I’d really like to know about the people in my friend block. And not so much about them as what they’ve learned along the way that’s made them who they are. Knowing they are a Luke Skywalker Chunky Monkey doesn’t help me as much as hearing what they learned from the experience of career imposed relocation. Or losing a parent. Seeing an update that my friend is most like William Shakespeare and should be living in South Africa doesn’t help me as much as it would to hear what he learned about commitment in his marriage when enduring a long period of unemployment. Or watching their child suffer with a terminal illness.

Go ahead. Take the quizzes. They are all in good fun. But next time you see your Winston Churchill Red Superman Chocolate Therapy friend on your status update, remember they are a person with life experience and wisdom that you don’t have. And how much richer you would be to learn from them.

Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, we could use this incredible networking tool called Facebook to discover a mother lode of life lessons learned.

And wisdom shared.

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

That those impossible circumstances you’re facing will never be resolved?

Are you settling for what you see?

Or are you trusting God for what you can’t see?

When Abraham answered the phone, God was on the line. “Abraham, I want you to move out of town. I want you to leave your relatives and go to the land that I will show you. I’m going to make you a great nation. I’m going to bless your socks off. And if you think you’re well known around here now with your name in the business and society pages, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m going to make your name great. In fact, through you I’m going to bless all the families of the world.” That’s what God said before he hung up.

Now Abraham had been on the receiving end of plenty of lucrative offers. He was used to headhunter executives in Armani suits and Italian loafers dangling stock options in front of his nose hoping he would take the bait so they could slap golden handcuffs on his wrists. But this was an offer like none he’d ever heard. God said to pick up and go. But He didn’t tell him where. All the corporate five-year plans Abraham had drafted in his career always had a goal. You’d think God could be a little more specific than, “Just go and I’ll let you know when you get there.” Certainly God knew the ultimate destination. So why didn’t He clue him in?

But faith is “the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen”. Abe got out a yellow legal pad and drew a line down the middle. When he finished making his list, there was an awful lot in the “not seen” column. He didn’t have an itinerary, he didn’t have a plan, he didn’t have a timetable. He didn’t even have a map. But He had the promise of God. And that was enough.

Because genuine faith is a confidence that God’s promises are bigger than the unknown.

Moving is never easy to do. Even when you know where you’re going, which Abraham and Sarah didn’t. Relocating is a royal pain. Yet at 75 and 65 years old, respectively, Abraham and Sarah got off the front porch swing and followed God.

We might think that after God called and Abraham and Sarah obeyed that things would start to happen quickly. After all, this plan isn’t being channeled through a high rise building full of bureaucratic committees. We’ve got God working this plan. You can’t get more efficient than that, right?

And isn’t that how we feel? When we get serious about our faith and our walk with God, do we not expect to see results sooner than later?

Abraham and Sara played God’s promises over and over in their mind like a loop tape in a VCR. They were especially excited about the promise of a great nation, though they’d be happy with just one baby to start the great nation. They were thrilled about the promise because it meant that after years of riding the emotional roller coaster, they were going to have a child. Naturally, they couldn’t wait.

But wait they did.

One year passed. Then two. Then five. At ten years Sarah decided that, in spite of what God had said, her biological clock wasn’t a Timex that would keep on ticking. She persuaded her Abraham to pursue a human solution to a divine plan. You must want children pretty desperately when you tell your husband to get the maid pregnant. “After all”, she said to Abraham, “it’s legal where we live.” Legal. But not divine. And even though God works all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to his purpose, this was a decision that would shadow them like a dark cloud for many years.

That’s a temptation, isn’t it? When we’ve traveled in faith to the point where we can’t see where we started and we can’t see the end, the temptation is to stop in the middle and fix the problem on our own apart from God. It’s a very human response.

Those impossible circumstances in your life…are you settling for a human solution when you should be waiting on God?

24 years after God first promised to make Abraham a great nation, He decided to drop by incognito and pay them a surprise visit. Their Winnebago was under the big tree at the Mamre Oaks RV Park when He knocked on their door. And He came with an announcement. He told Abraham that in a year Sarah would have a baby boy.

Sarah was inside washing some dishes in the sink, listening through the screen window. She was pushing 90 years old and thought she had heard it all. But this one took the cake. She couldn’t help laughing at the thought of having a baby in the geriatric ward. It was a crazy thought.

Crazy enough to be true.

And true it was. Because when God makes a promise, He keeps it. Maybe not on our timetable, but He never breaks a promise. God may seem slow, but He’s never late.

For nine months after they conceived Abraham and Sarah enjoyed the hilarious reality of God’s faithfulness to them. They had planning to do. It was going to take some serious letter writing to convince Medicare to pay a maternity bill.

“Hey, Sarah”, the 100-year old Abraham would yell to his 90-year old wife from across the tent, “how does it feel to be married to such a virile young man?”

And Sarah would holler back, “How does it feel to be married to such a foxy young lady?” Then they would laugh themselves silly until the tears rolled down their wrinkled cheeks. “We’re going to have a baby boy”, she would say. “Isaac”, he would answer.

Isaac. The name God gave them. In Hebrew it means “he laughs”, which proves that God is not without a sense of humor.

God honored the faith of Abraham and Sarah in His time and in His way.

Friends, are you resting in God’s timetable and faithfulness? Are you prepared for His hilarious solution?

We read about  Abraham and Sarah’s adventure of faith with a simple turn of a page. But what a struggle it must have been to hold on to God’s promise during those 24 years between God’s initial phone call and His surprise visit at the RV park. How many times they must have been tempted to quit. To go back to their hometown where life was familiar and comfortable. To go back and sit on the front porch again.

Yet if they had, oh what they would have missed. The hilarious ending was also a hilarious beginning. From a geriatric couple, the wife barren as a hard scrabble field on the back forty, God began the great nation through whom Christ would come.

We walk by faith and not by sight. We don’t sit by faith. We walk by faith. Move in the direction of your God-given dreams and desires. God’s hilarious ending… and beginning…are waiting for you in His time.

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

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Have you dreamed and hoped for something for so long that your soul is running on fumes?

Does it seem like God is not taking your calls?

They were by all accounts an extremely successful couple. Well respected in their community and at the top of everyone’s dinner guest list. Abraham had established himself early and often as an up and coming executive in the Mesopotamian business community. His management talent was quickly recognized in the company and as his responsibility grew, so did his salary. Abe was a guy you could count on. A self-starter. Initiative. Drive. Abe was the complete package. His boss loved that.

With Abe doing so well, Sarah was able to offer her services doing volunteer work for the Women’s League. She shopped at Nordstrom’s, attended the occasional high tea with her friends down at the Biltmore and had season tickets to the symphony. And when she wasn’t out bettering the community, she spent dreamy afternoons on the front porch swing flipping through Jenny Lind catalogs, picking out the crib and changing table she would order for when the babies started coming. They’d gotten off to a great start with their four bedroom split level in the new development down by the golf course. They’d even been able to take an anniversary vacation together on a Mediterranean cruise. Everything in their life was so perfect that it had to be just a matter of time before she would some evening sneak up behind Abraham in his BarcoLounger and surprise him with the plastic stick with the little window telling him he was going to be a Daddy.

It had to be just a matter of time. And it was. A very long time. As the next few years passed Sarah looked at a calendar only to mark time by what day it was in her cycle. She  had gone ahead and ordered the baby furniture and wallpapered the nursery in classic Winnie the Pooh thinking that way she would be ready when the time came. But after lengthy and expensive medical consultations with leading fertility experts, every second opinion they sought told them the same thing. The nursery furniture would be good as new for a long time because there weren’t going to be any babies.

Not now.

Not ever.

Some of the docs thought it was the endometriosis. Some thought it was the blockage in both her Fallopian tubes. Whatever it was or wasn’t, the only thing Sarah would be surprising Abraham with from now on would be new recipes she clipped from Women’s Day.

After that, life just settled into a routine. With every promotion at work and every appointment to civic leadership, their roots went deeper into the community. Sarah poured herself into being a leading citizen. She sold the baby furniture on a garage sale and turned the nursery into an office. The wall behind the fax machine was full of framed black and white photographs of herself with dignitaries and celebrities. There were appreciation plaques for faithful service where Tigger, Piglet, and Rabbit used to be. It had taken some time but Sarah felt, if not comfortable, at least not out of place in her leather executive chair. Yet on those late nights when she couldn’t sleep, she would slip out to the four season porch and sit in the padded glider rocker she couldn’t bear to sell at the garage sale.

Dreams die hard.

As for Abraham, after years of trying he finally got  his yard landscaped exactly the way he’d always wanted it. He had lots of free time to weed and feed his lawn now because he was his own boss. A highly paid corporate consultant with a fat financial portfolio that made it easy to play tennis if he didn’t feel like getting paid $10,000 plus expenses to tell some Fortune 500 company how to stay on top.  At 75 years old, Abraham had Sarah, his health, his wealth, and his front porch.

Just when Abraham figured he’d live out the rest of his days pruning his rose bushes, sinking a few birdie putts and enjoying quiet evenings on the swing with Sarah, he got a phone call. It was one of those out of the blue “Honey, you’ll never guess who that was” phone calls. When Sarah heard her husband say that, she rolled her eyes and ran through the mental list of old college friends they hadn’t gotten a Christmas card from in some years. But this wasn’t a long lost fraternity buddy on the line.

It was God.

Friends, when our expectations of how life is supposed to be bumps against God’s plans for us, something has to give. We’ll either hang on to the way we want it and wish it to be, or we’ll open our heads and our hearts to whatever ideas God has for us. Sometimes our dreams have to die before we’re ready to listen.

There is a difference between living by faith and living by probability. We often confuse the two.

Faith? Or probability?

Abraham and Sarah are about to learn the difference.

Tomorrow…“Faith – Part 2″

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

When Thanksgiving rolled around, they had been there for some time. Long enough to be missing home and family in the United States. They thought it would be good for their morale to prepare an old fashioned Thanksgiving dinner. They planned and cooked and with great excitement sat down to enjoy the feast. Taking a bite of the turkey, they were surprised to discover the flavor was nothing like the turkey their taste buds were anticipating. In fact, it was a bad surprise. Steve said it tasted awful. They cooked it the way they always had. So how could this be?

Then it dawned on him. Turkeys in England aren’t corn fed. They are raised on fish meal. Therein lay the difference. The flavor of the turkey has everything to do with the turkey’s steady diet.

What’s your steady diet?

Proverbs 23:7 reminds us, “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.” Our thoughts are powerful. And our thoughts, whether we like to admit it or not, are fueled by whatever “steady diet” we feed into our mind.

What’s your steady diet? Does your day start and end with Constantly Negative News (CNN)? Is break room gossip part of your Monday through Friday routine? Is your mood dictated by what you hear on talk radio or read on the front page of USA Today? Do you spend time on the phone with a whining partner, talking about everything that’s wrong in your respective lives? Is the music you’re listening to angry and depressing? The people you hang with…is their glass chronically half empty?

What’s your steady diet? Does your day start and end with hope? A prayer of thanks? The thought that no matter how ugly life looks God can make it beautiful? Are you listening to positive music? Are you reading books that stretch your mind and feed your soul? Are you surrounding yourself with people who have just as many problems as you yet choose to look for positive solutions? The people you hang with…is their glass half full?

It’s a given that we get bumped around in our rough and tumble world. No amount of positive thinking can shield us from that. We’re going to get knocked around. It’s when we get bumped that people find out what flavor we are. A crisis here, an emergency there, an injustice done to us and no one has to guess what our steady diet has been. It’s right there at the surface. In our words, our reactions, our response.

Whatever our steady diet is determines our flavor.

I can’t speak for you, but I’ve got to spend more time paying attention to my diet. More God, less fear. More God, less worry. More God, less whining. More God, less short-sighted human thought. More God, less me.

From the outside, all turkeys look the same. Their steady diet determines their flavor. When people have opportunity to discover my flavor, what’s real on the inside of me, I don’t want them to be badly surprised.

What’s your flavor?

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, think on these things.” – Philippians 4:8

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

One wouldn’t think opening a new stretch of road is reason to party. But in a metro area of nearly 4 million people, it’s cause for celebration. With the booming population, anything that shaves miles off the commute is a welcome development. Between July 2004 and July 2005, over 200,000 people moved into the Phoenix valley. That’s like all of Lubbock, Texas packing their bags and relocating.

So when a new piece of freeway is ready to open, the Department of Transportation celebrates. When the Loop 202 extended to Gilbert Road several years back, 10,000 people showed up for a morning freeway party. Vendors couldn’t sell anything, but they could give things away to promote their respective businesses. A car club put their hot rods on display. A mortgage company gave tethered hot air balloon rides. A blues band played. There were inflatable jumps and slides for kids. One church gave away free food and trucked in a load of snow for the kids to play in.

I walked while Annie and Emma had a great time riding their Big Wheels through the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of neighborhood strolling along the white center lines. Golden Retrievers and other canines on the ends of leashes got lots of pats on the head from total strangers. People exchanged hellos while mentioning their major cross street addresses as a way of introduction. It was family fun day on the freeway.

A Chandler police officer on his bicycle was monitoring the crowd. I talked with him for a couple minutes and then said, “If everyone got along this well all the time, you’d be out of a job.” He laughed. “You’re right. But somehow I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

The difference a day makes.

Less than 24 hours later the party zone officially turned into the speed zone. The new rubberized asphalt that had been happily trod by Reeboks and Tevas and Tony Lama boots was now feeling the spin of Michelins and Goodyears. White lines, ignored the day before, were now all that separated 70-mile per hour commuters in their SUV’s and sedans. It’s a good bet that some of the same people who smiled and waved the day before were now jockeying for position and giving each other the one-finger salute after being cut off on a mad dash for the exit to I-10. From that day forward, the only walking on the 202 will be to raise the hood on a stalled vehicle, to change a flat tire, or survey the damage of a collision.

Any day you feel the freeway under your feet is not a good day.

The freeway is built for cars and trucks. The freeway makes for more efficient traffic flow.

Our cars and trucks get us where we want to go. Our vehicles help us be independent. They are also rolling isolation bubbles that go from driveway to street to freeway to street to parking garage and back again. Coming and going, we’re alone with our own thoughts and our favorite radio stations.

Our vehicles make it easier for us to speed by one another.

As you’re flying down your road today trying to keep your cool when the Dodge truck cuts you off and the Plymouth minivan ahead of you can’t pick a lane, remember the person behind the wheel is as self-absorbed as you are. We’re all trying to get from Point A to Point B. Extending grace to one another makes that trip a bit smoother.

And while it’s not smart to go for a walk on the freeway, a walk around our street, saying “hi” to our neighbors and patting some dogs on the head might help us remember to extend grace the next time we’re on the freeway.

We’re all trying to get from Point A to Point B. Extending grace helps all of us get there.

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” – Ephesians 4:2-3

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com