“Your decrees are the theme of my song wherever I lodge.” – Psalm 119:54
Good or bad, family names carry connotations. When I think of the Manning family, I think of National Football League quarterbacks. The mere mention of the Manson family conjures up horrific images of mass murders. The Bradys, on the other hand, remind us of the blended, somewhat corny family from the popular 1970’s television show.
That brings us to Brad, Jenny, Carolyn, Mary Brook, and Ann Marie— collectively known as The Diamond Family. When I think of these exceptional Christian friends of mine, I can’t help but think about music. This family lives, breathes, is energized by, and inspires others with their music.
The chorus to Alton Howard’s popular hymn “He Gave Me Song” states, “He gave me a song, to sing about; He lifted me from sin and doubt; O, praise His name, He is my King; A wonderful song, He is to me.”
God gave the Diamond family a song; actually, a trove of wonderful songs. In fact, if you’re around the Diamond family, you’re going to hear an abundance of singing. Brad is a talented, accomplished tenor and Associate Professor of Voice at Samford University. From soloing before large concert halls to leading singing at small congregations, God gave Brad a song.
Using her Bachelor of Music Education degree, Jenny has performed with various choral groups around the world, and has directed adult, high school, and children’s choirs for over 20 years. God gave Jenny a song.
Not surprisingly, Brad and Jenny’s three girls inherited their musical genes. While sitting in the family room of their Alabama home, I once heard Carolyn sing the entire Phantom of the Opera soundtrack while dancing downstairs in the basement. Whether singing before audiences in plays and musicals or with a small group of Honduran children on a mission trip, these precious girls have been given a song by God.
As good as they are individually, the Diamond family takes it to a whole new level when they sing together. Sometimes their performances are planned, like when they serenaded my youngest son and his bride with an Irish blessing at their wedding.
Often the family spontaneously and powerfully breaks out in song, catching everyone else off guard. It may be at the breakfast table, when Mary Brook sings the first phrase to a song, and they all join in with full harmony. It may be in the car on a family trip, as they shake the roof with a favorite hymn. Wherever it is, it’s always a joy to hear.
The note from the margin reads: What a beautiful notion! It seems the psalmist sings about God wherever he goes! I suspect if the Diamond family ever traveled with the psalmist, they would join in. In a very real sense, their lives are an unending song, with each day a different verse.
This tale is embarrassing and still stings. That’s why it’s taken me 29 years to tell it. Stories of epic journeys, heroic deeds, and grand accomplishments are easy to recount. You see them on social media every day. In some form or another, we all hold up signs saying, “Look at what I did.” We long for acceptance—to be noticed by someone. Anyone.
But some of life’s greatest lessons come wrapped in shame rather than glory—in embarrassment rather than exhilaration.
I must get this off my chest.
I was a 24-year-old second lieutenant, or “butter bar” in Air Force vernacular. As military officers go, no one was below me on the totem pole. Despite my lowly rank, inexperience, and still developing frontal lobe, I was confident. I had (and continue to have) the kind of wife you had better hang on to because you won’t find one any better. We were living in a three bedroom house in the middle of Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain. I had a college degree, an Air Force commission, and had been entrusted to administer a $128 million computer contract for the Office of the Secretary of Defense. With all that going for me, who needed a fully developed frontal lobe?
One aspect of being an officer at the low end of the totem pull is a propensity to be assigned additional duties. I was our organization’s “designated rep” on more than a dozen committees, including the holiday party committee. The main incentive of getting promoted in the Air Force is not the additional rank, pay or responsibilities, but to no longer have to be on the holiday party committee. In fact, if I had known there was such a committee and I would be assigned to it, I would have become a dentist.
Another of my additional duties was being on-call as Staff Duty Officer (SDO) for a couple of days each quarter. Whenever a Distinguished Visitor (DV) flew into Tinker Air Force Base, the 24/7 on-call SDO had to don his or her uniform, travel to the Passenger Terminal, and assist a colonel or general in welcoming the DV. By “assist,” I mean carry luggage, fetch a cold beverage, and do whatever else the DV needs you to do.
On one occasion, in the early days of Operation Desert Shield, I was on SDO duty and was called in to greet and assist an arriving DV. An Army lieutenant general (3-star) was arriving with a traveling contingent for some business at Tinker AFB and to be the keynote speaker at a luncheon in downtown Oklahoma City.
The Army general was high enough up the totem pole to warrant a dedicated jet plane, a protocol officer, a communications officer, and other support staff. This traveling posse allowed him to monitor Desert Shield activities from the air or ground. As his plane taxied in front of us on the flight line, a Tinker AFB official and I rendered salutes and then welcomed the general as he exited the plane. The senior officers made their way to the DV Lounge to do whatever senior officers do in a DV Lounge. Meanwhile, I made three trips across the tarmac in the searing Oklahoma sun to transport the luggage of our distinguished guest and his staff. With sweat rings forming on my recently dry-cleaned blue Air Force shirt, I almost wished I was at a holiday party committee meeting. Almost.
An Army captain, the general’s protocol officer, asked me if there was a landline phone he could use to call the venue where the general was scheduled to speak later that day. I escorted him to a nearby phone, then plopped down in a seat close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation.
The protocol officer requested to speak to the luncheon meal coordinator and was placed on hold for a moment. For the next several minutes, the officer went into excruciating detail over the opening course, a dinner salad. He spoke of nuts, seeds, crude fiber, salad dressing and spices. From where I sat, it seemed the person on the other end of the line was in “receive mode.” I shook my head, silently wondering if I would ever be high enough on the totem pole to have an assistant manage my crude fiber.
The conversation then turned to the main course where, again, a lengthy discussion ensued over the general’s desire for a specially cooked chicken breast along with his favorite vegetables. Once again, I shook my head—a little disgusted this time. I wondered how much additional trouble the meal coordinator and kitchen staff would have to go to in order to satisfy the needs of this Army general. I silently vowed to never be the kind of officer or person who was too big for his britches—who had to be constantly pampered like that.
The phone conversation finally and mercifully came to an end. The protocol officer hung up the phone and walked over to thank me. Unable to keep what I was thinking inside, I looked at him and asked, “Does that ever get old?”
“What do you mean?” he answered.
“Having to call ahead and go through every item of your boss’s meals. It seems like that would get tiresome.”
“No, not at all. It’s an honor, in fact.”
I gave him a puzzled look, the kind you have when your undeveloped frontal lobe is having trouble grasping what is being said.
Sensing my confusion, he continued.
“The general had part of his stomach blown off in Vietnam. Nearly killed him. They sewed him back together and, after several months in the hospital, he was able to continue his career. But he has to be really careful about what he eats. Well, it looks like we’re getting ready to go. Nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Thanks again for your help.”
Devastated.
Crushed.
Pained—even to this day.
There I was, a lowly butter bar, who hadn’t done squat in his career, doubting and questioning the care and attention being given to a senior Army officer. An officer who nearly gave his life in the service of his country. An officer who had served his country 15 times longer than I had. An officer whose scar tissue across his torso is a permanent reminder of what it means to be a warrior and a hero—to value the lives of others more than your own. An officer whose only kryptonite came in the form of fried foods, crude fiber, spices and large seeds.
Stunned by my insensitivity and ignorance, I added insult to injury. I sat there silently, rather than apologize to the protocol officer and the general. Shame on me.
Few of us readily admit to being prejudice, but how often do we pre-judge people? How often do we secretly harbor, or even openly share, an opinion without fully understanding the facts or context? How often do we reach conclusions on someone’s character or predict their behavior based on nothing more than skin color, gender, age, nationality, or some other factor? How often do we ignore James 1:19, preferring to be slow to listen, quick to speak, and quick to become angry?
That seemingly inattentive, distracted waitress who doesn’t deserve a tip—what if her husband left her this morning?
That juvenile busted for shoplifting—what if he’s never had a father figure…and hasn’t eaten in a couple of days?
That “liberal Democrat” or “Bible-thumping conservative”—what if they love their country just as much as you do?
That “trailer trash” walking the aisle at Walmart—what if she’s caught up in a human trafficking ring and needs your help more than your condescension?
As for that “pampered” Army general, there was more to his story, wasn’t there?
Given a do over, I would thank the general for his service and heroism. I would proudly carry his bags and fetch him a bottle of water. I would ask him if he ever ran into my father, a C-123 pilot in Vietnam. And, given an opportunity to salute the general again, I would hold it a little while longer.
On paper, today will go down as an ordinary day in my life—day #19,419 to be exact. I ate three meals, did routine work with some friends at a Bible camp, played with a dog, worked on a book, went for a walk, and attended an evening Bible study. But as I sit here just past midnight and reflect on the day gone by, I believe God had a couple of specific messages for me. He sent those messages—those reminders—via three friends and fellow Sojourners. Those messages, if I take them to heart, can make today not ordinary but extraordinary.
The first message came from Dale Morris, a man who I have grown to love and respect through our work together as Sojourners. Dale did our morning devotional and talked about how the existence of God can be seen in the natural world around us. Actually, he did more than talk. Dale was pretty fired up and it wasn’t just because of the warm cinnamon rolls. He talked about a National Geographic program he had seen that featured a stunningly beautiful jellyfish, spotted 4000 feet beneath the ocean surface off the coast of Baja California.
As Dale put it, “The thing was incredible, I mean it was beautiful, and it was dancing! Ya gotta see it! (I did, and included a link below) I mean, why is this gorgeous and intricately detailed creature dancing at 4000 feet deep? I’ll tell you why. Because God made it! And we serve an awesome, creative God!”
Dale was just getting started. His next stop took us to a giraffe exhibit at a zoo where he had taken his grandchildren. Dale talked excitedly as he described one particular feature of the giraffe—its black tongue. “You know why it’s black? I’ll tell you why. Because giraffes spend much of their waking hours with their tongues out, trying to reach leaves at the top of trees. Those tongues are highly susceptible to sunburn. So, God designed the giraffe with a black tongue to protect it from ultraviolet rays! Ya gotta see it! What an awesome God we serve!” Dale was fired up…and that got me fired up…at least enough to pen this blog.
After a few more examples, Dale concluded with God’s most significant creation—mankind. When God made man, he was at the top of his game, and made us in his own image. Among other things, that means he instilled in us a tiny fraction of his creativity. To make his point, Dale pointed to Denton Wiggains, another Sojourner friend of mine.
Among many great qualities, Denton is a creative problem-solver. Years of solving problems on the farm, at church camps, and elsewhere have given him a knack for looking at problems in unconventional ways. Case in point: Denton was asked to take the lead on a bathroom repair project here at Carolina Bible Camp that was supposed to take a couple of weeks and cost several thousand dollars. Denton studied the situation for several minutes and came up with and implemented a brilliant, creative solution that took him two hours and zero dollars.
How was Denton able to pull that off? I’ll let Dale answer: “Because our creative God made him that way! And you know something else about Denton? No one gets more excited about completing a project than Denton does. He emerges from cold, dark, damp, dirty places with a smile from ear to ear because he knows God just helped him figure something out!” Denton’s joyful attitude reflects the God who created him. It’s also contagious…but will I catch it?
In addition to learning about joy and God’s creativity from Dale and Denton, I learned a third lesson from Bob Jarvis, another Sojourner friend who made a comment in class tonight. We were discussing how heaven is the ultimate, final blessing for Christians, but we experience many blessings even while we’re still on this earth. Yes, there are hard times—trials and suffering—but also many good things that should bring us joy.
Bob chimed in and said that “eternal life” is not something that will begin when we die. It’s something that already began when we began our new life as a Christian. For Christians, you might say eternal life is already underway. I had never thought of it that way. In John 10:10, Jesus said, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” While our ultimate home in heaven will be the final, complete, and perfect manifestation of that abundance, we also experience it on this side of eternity. We experience God’s peace, provision, and purpose for our lives, and that should give us joy.
Just like the giraffe tongue, it might even get Dale fired up.
I’ve never outgrown wanting to please my parents and make them proud of me. Parental affirmation is a powerful force in the life of any child at any age. We can be our kids’ greatest cheerleaders and help forge their confidence, or criticize their every fault and wear them down with negativity. With my mom now gone from this life and my dad in his 80s, I realize the window for me to receive such parental affirmation is closing. That’s what makes this note from my dad so special. He had already purchased 7 copies of my new book…he has specific people in mind to give them to. Then, after power reading it, usually while in the bathtub, he writes, “I’m going to buy more Bible books. Fantastic.” Fantastic. With just a word, a year’s worth of work has been affirmed by a man who helped launch me into this world—a man whose opinion matters. I feel about 15 feet tall this morning, and got up at 5 a.m. to work on the next book. Can I make a suggestion? In addition to whatever gifts you plan to give your kids this holiday, add one more…some affirmation. Tell them you love them…not just for what they do but for who they are. Tell them you’re proud of them. Point out areas of growth you’ve seen in 2018. They might outwardly become a little embarrassed, but I promise you their soul is drinking it up. Other voices matter, but you’re the parent. Your voice booms. Don’t miss the opportunity to tell your kids they are, well, fantastic.
Hurricanes come and go. If I’m being honest, my interest level depends on the proximity of my loved ones and their possessions to the storm’s projected cone of impact. I pay more attention to a storm threatening my dad’s Florida condo (occupied or vacant) than a typhoon that threatens the lives of thousands of people in Indonesia. I value all human life, but it’s difficult to become emotionally invested in the fate of complete strangers on the other side of the planet.
As a major storm makes landfall, I watch reporters get pounded by the wind and rain during live updates. It is an exciting and interesting spectacle…the ultimate in reality television. Always a news junkie, I stay glued to my television as the eye of the hurricane makes landfall.
In the days that follow, I hear reports about the devastation and loss of life. I see before and after photos of neighborhoods wiped off the map. I hear inspiring stories of first responders rescuing victims and neighbors helping neighbors. I watch politicians and community leaders offer “thoughts and prayers” and promise to rebuild.
By about the third day after the storm, a funny thing happens. National media coverage stops. They have moved on to the next news story of the day. People outside of the destruction zone have moved on with their lives. That’s to be expected, given our busy lives and short attention spans. As we return to regular programming, we tend to forget the short-term and long-term suffering and hurting of those whose lives have been turned upside down by the storm.
That all changes when you travel into the zone of destruction. My wife and I have had the opportunity to do so in Biloxi, Mississippi (Hurricane Katrina), Beaumont, Texas (Hurricane Harvey) and, more recently, Panama City, Florida (Hurricane Michael). While we build our RV travel calendar around sojourns (sojourning.org), we look for opportunities to do disaster relief when we’re able. It gives our traveling a purpose.
In case you’ve “moved on to the next story,” I’d like to refresh your memory of Hurricane Michael and share four things I’ve learned during our week in Panama City. Hurricane Michael was the third-most intense Atlantic hurricane to make landfall in the contiguous United States in our nation’s history. In terms of maximum sustained wind speed, it was the strongest storm to strike the contiguous United States since Andrew in 1992. It was also the strongest storm on record to ever hit the Florida Panhandle.
Back Yard of a 101-Year-Old Woman
With winds reaching 155 miles per hour, Michael made landfall on October 10, 2018…less than a month ago. It caused 60 fatalities and over $11 billion in damage. Those are facts…statistics. They register for a few seconds…we shake our head…and then we move on with our lives. Or, we can travel to a disaster area, see the devastated property and shattered lives first-hand, pitch in to help with recovery, and be forever changed by the experience.
Lesson Learned #1 – A Badge of Love. One of the neatest aspects of doing disaster relief is the opportunity to meet and get to know the storm victims and your fellow relief workers. One such volunteer is John Powers, a retired firefighter and paramedic from Big Bear City, California. I look up to him physically—at 6’ 7”, he was unable to “fit” inside my Honda Fit! More importantly, I look up to him spiritually. He has a heart as big as his frame is tall.
During a morning devotional, John said that during his firefighting career, his badge meant something. It gave him instant credibility. Whether he was talking to schoolchildren about fire prevention, checking smoke alarms and fire extinguishers, putting out a fire, or rescuing victims at an accident scene, he wore his badge. It mattered. Everyone who saw it knew that John was “legit” and could be trusted, even with their own lives.
John told us a Christian’s “badge” is our love. It gives us instant credibility. We are called to love one another as Christ loved us. (John 13:34) That’s a high standard. If you want someone to listen to what you have to say about God, they must first see Christ at work in your life. They must see the love. If a Christian isn’t consistently demonstrating love (wearing the love badge), he is nothing but a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. (1 Corinthians 13:1) In short, he’s wasting his time.
We won’t win the world for Christ by building fancier church buildings, winning doctrinal arguments, or rendering judgment on the eternal destiny of our neighbors. However, our neighbors might pause for a moment and listen to what we have to say if they notice our badge…a badge of love.
Lesson Learned #2– The Five Phases of Disaster Relief. Each relief worker “processes” these experiences differently. Here are the 5 phases I go through:
Phase 1 – Shock. Driving south on Highway 231 toward Panama City, the damage got progressively worse. Downed trees. Crushed homes. Demolished businesses. Debris everywhere. I have never seen anything so devastating over such a wide area, and I am shocked by it. This can’t be real.
Phase 2 – Sadness. As you start to meet victims and hear their stories, you can’t help but be profoundly impacted by it. Their tales break my heart. With each one, I give the person a hug, but I really want to wave a magic wand and make it all better. One guy lost his home, his job, and most of his possessions. He’s here living at the church building, volunteering to help others, and starting to rebuild his life. I’m proud of him, but also sad for him.
Phase 3 – Dismayed & Disheartened. You start to realize the scope of the damage. What do you say to the person who, in an instant, lost their home, possessions, and job? When there is severe damage on every block in town, and nearly every structure, where do you begin? I would describe it as someone taking one hundred identical 2,000-piece puzzles and dumping them all together on the floor. How will you solve them all? Where do you begin? There are too many pieces! It’s depressing to the core.
Phase 4 – Resolve. We got this! We can do this! We have lots of talented, dedicated volunteers from around the country. The Church of Christ Disaster Response Team has an organized process and a semi full of chain saws and every tool imaginable. The Church of Christ Disaster Relief Effort has shipped a wide range of needed supplies for the impacted community. There are portable showers and air mattresses for volunteers to use. Every meal is provided for us. There are scores of other relief organizations around town as well. We’ll solve the 100 identical, mixed up puzzles known as Panama City one piece at time…but solve them we will!
Phase 5 – Faith. Wait a minute…God’s got this! God can do this! God is the Conductor and we are merely 4th trumpet. This is not about our talents, abilities, supplies and processes. This is about a God who is bigger than any storm…who knows the thoughts, struggles, and needs of every victim…and who is uniquely qualified to heal the broken-hearted. We can’t do diddly squat without God. However, with God, all things are possible. (Matthew 19:26)
MSgt (Ret) Stanley Laidler
Case in point: I had the unique privilege this week to join with several other volunteers in cutting down trees and clearing debris in the yard of 81-year-old Stanley Laidler. Master Sergeant (retired) Laidler is a faithful Christian, Vietnam War veteran and former Forward Air Controller (“Ground FAC”) who was awarded TWO Bronze Stars…one from the Army and one from the Air Force! After finishing our work for the day, our group (including a dozen students from Freed-Hardeman University) circled up to pray for Stanley and his wife. After the prayer, he talked to our group and shared some life lessons. With tears flowing down his cheeks, he said, “You’re going to have some problems in life. Things won’t always go your way. Things like this storm. But listen to me, young people. God is bigger than any problem! Never give up on God!”
I share these 5 Phases because Phases 3 & 4 are time-consuming, energy-sapping, and unnecessary. Give yourself a few hours for the inevitable Shock & Sadness, then put your faith entirely in God and get to work!
Lesson Learned #3 – Adjust to a New Normal.Tim Neal, the preacher at Palo Alto Church of Christ, preached a powerful sermon this morning. He told the audience, many of whom had lost all or part of their homes, that they would need to adjust to a “new normal”. “As surely as sparks fly upward,” man can expect trouble in this life. (Job 5:7) This town has experienced trouble in the form of Hurricane Michael. For many, the “new normal” would include neighbors they might not see again, different places to shop/eat/get gas, new activities (debris removal vs ball games), possibly new jobs (some worked at Tyndall AFB, which was effectively destroyed), etc.
Rather than fight the “new normal”, we need to find a way to embrace it and go with it. Even those of us who haven’t been impacted by a hurricane can become very comfortable in our routines…and agitated by anything that upsets them. We all face “new normals”—the effects of aging, moving to new places, deaths of loved ones, etc. Will we boldly face the challenges in faith, or cower in fear?
Lesson Learned #4 – Orient to New Opportunities. Tim shared that our “new normal” includes new opportunities. Many people were meeting (and even helping!) their neighbors for the first time. Many had encouraged their friends and neighbors to get free food/clothing/supplies at the church building and to fill out a form to get help with other needs (tree/debris removal, mucking out houses, etc.) Although God wasn’t “behind” the storm, could he be using it to open doors of opportunity for folks to share the gospel? Yes!
In fact, earlier this week, we cleared debris and mucked out the home of a man and woman in their 70’s who will remain anonymous. After circling up and praying for the couple, the man teared up and thanked our group. He then pulled me aside and said that they had a long road ahead toward recovery, but that they weren’t giving up. He also said that he and his wife wanted to “return to church” and asked me several questions about the local congregation and what we believe. I answered his questions, and told him we were helping him because we love God and want to share that love with others. He seemed eager to learn even more, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe our group, collectively, had shown him the love badge that John talked about.
The Man in the Doorway
As Tim finished his sermon this morning, I noticed a man standing in the doorway listening. The man is not a church member, but rather an election official, there to help Bay County residents vote in an adjoining room. (Yes, this congregation offered up a room in their building for voting to occur, which is somewhat humorous given all the emphasis on “separation of church and state.”) I got to thinking about the man in the doorway. If the hurricane hadn’t happened, voting wouldn’t be happening in this church building. That means that man wouldn’t have been in the doorway, listening to a fine gospel sermon.
After services, I went over and introduced myself to the man in the doorway. I asked if he needed anything to eat or drink. “How about a Diet Coke?” he asked. “Coming right up,” I answered. I could be wrong, but I sense an opportunity.
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” – Colossians 3:12
On the evening of June 12, 2018, authorities discovered 54 illegal immigrants in a tractor trailer in San Antonio. The people had been smuggled into the country illegally. The truck had air conditioning and water, but there was no food for the people. Five of them were injured.
What is your immediate, gut-level reaction to that story?
A left-leaning liberal might use the story to make a case for open borders. Is it morally defensible for foreigners to have fewer human rights than people who happen to be born in the right place at the right time? Freedom of movement is a basic human freedom. Thus, all people should be free to move about the earth, unrestrained by arbitrary borders. Besides, our country was founded by immigrants and our diversity makes us stronger.
A right-leaning conservative might use the story to make the case for building a wall between Mexico and the United States. Rather than follow the legal immigration process as others have done, these 54 individuals broke the law. They should be jailed, tried, convicted, and expelled from our country. We are a sovereign nation and our borders must be respected.
That brings us to Armando Colunga, a tow truck driver of Mexican descent. I don’t know how he leans politically or who he voted for in the last presidential election. But he watched the story on the news. He saw 54 detained individuals sitting on the ground behind a truck.
He also felt compelled to act. No, he didn’t rush to post a politically-charged rant on social media. He didn’t shake his head in frustration or anger, turn off the television, and go to bed.
Instead, Mr. Colunga, filled with compassion and concern, traveled across town to help. He purchased seven Little Caesar’s pizzas and received permission to cross the yellow crime scene tape. A fireman took the pizzas from him and distributed them to the undocumented immigrants.
The officers told him he didn’t have to do what he was doing.
“No, I didn’t have to, but they’re my people,” he said. “If they were black or African people or white people coming from London… I would have done the same thing. It’s not about race.”
I don’t know whether Mr. Colunga is a Christian, but he exhibited Christ-like behavior. The note from the margin reads: How can you spot true Christians? They’ll be clothed in compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
As the immigration debate rages on, we should never place political ideology over faith. While we can discuss immigration policy and what should be done with illegal immigrants, may our first instinct be to get suffering people something to eat and drink. After all, they’re all God’s people.
I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind
Blow cold
We’ve all traveled the valley of despair and disappointment. We’ve all felt the pain of loss and unrealized dreams. In The Greatest Showman, Phineas Taylor Barnum lost his business, his fortune, and nearly his family—the winter wind had blown cold. He tried to drown his sorrows with alcohol, sitting alone in a bar. He looked back on his life with regret over misplaced priorities. After a promising start, the sun was dimming on his horizon.
Like P.T. Barnum, Solomon spent time in the valley. Near the end of his life, he looked back on his life with considerable regret. He literally had it all—fame, fortune, riches, pleasures, palaces, women, servants, food and wine. He had a means to every end. During his life, no desire went unmet. He looked back on it all in his quasi-diary, the book of Ecclesiastes. He summed it up in Ecclesiastes 1:2 with, “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” All the things he had chased after—all the things that were supposed to bring him happiness—were meaningless. In chapter 2, verse 11, Solomon describes his pursuits as “a chasing after the wind.”
How will your end-of-life diary read? What are you chasing after?
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold
So true. When you’ve lost power, authority, and influence, who sticks with you? When the walls of life start to crumble around you, who is there to help you hold them up? When you’ve made a mess of your life, who is there to help you clean it up?
In The Greatest Showman, P.T. Barnum’s band of misfits show up at the bar and offer words of encouragement. He was there for them when even their own mothers rejected them for looking different. Now they are there for him and will help him rebuild and start over. They offer their friendship, support, and a glimmer of hope.
In the Garden of Gethsemane and later at the cross, Jesus learned who was there for him. No one. His closest followers slept while he prayed in agony. They denied him and scattered like cowards. No one had his back. No one. He bore the cross alone.
In the way you live your life, do you have Jesus’ back?
Cause from then, rubble
What remains
Can only be what’s true
What remains is what’s true. P.T. Barnum’s friends and family remained and were true. His dreams of making a difference in the world through entertainment were shattered and yet somehow remained. They, too, were true.
From the rubble and shame of Christ’s crucifixion, He remained. In fact, He rose again on the third day! He suffered—but remains. He bore our sins—yet remains. He agonized and cried out—but still remains. What remains…can only be what’s true. Christ remains. Christ is truth.
When you take away the passing fancies and rubble of your life, what will remain? Are you chasing truth, or chasing after the wind?
If all was lost
There’s more I gained
Cause it led me back
To you
P.T. Barnum’s suffering and loss ironically resulted in gain. His misfortune made him realize his priorities were all wrong. At the altar of fame and fortune, he had sacrificed family and friends. Ultimately, through tragedy, he’s led back to his family. Near the end of the film, he’s seen for the first time at his daughters’ dance recital. The picture of a man with properly placed priorities is a beautiful thing.
In 2 Chronicles 7:14, God tells Solomon, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” The people had rejected God and lived for themselves. Still, God was willing to forgive them and give them a fresh start. God still offers that today.
Do you need a fresh start? Do you need to return to God?
From now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on
What’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight
Tonight
P.T. Barnum had a life-changing epiphany. He had been blinded by fame and fortune. It was time for a change. Not eventually. Not after the next show. Not once everything was figured out. The change would begin immediately. His new way of thinking and living would start tonight. People would notice a difference in him…from now on.
Repentance does that to a person. When God and religion go from the abstract to the real, your world is turned upside down—for the better. Things that used to mean so much—wealth, possessions, rank, and popularity—start to fade into the background. You start to get what Jesus had in mind when he said, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” (Luke 12:15) Once you realize your predicament without God and your need for God, you’ll want to become a Christian…immediately. The change must start tonight. I must live for God…from now on.
Let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on
This is my favorite phrase in the song. Barnum is promising to do better—to be better. That change will be noticeable to everyone around him going forward. How noticeable? Like an anthem in his heart. An anthem is “a rousing or uplifting song identified with a particular group, body, or cause.” In Barnum’s case, there would plenty of rousing songs—The Greatest Showman soundtrack is full of them. More importantly, his “anthem” was about a cause within. It will emanate from his heart and his family and friends will see it in him.
Christians believe in God’s promises. We trust that God will follow through with what He has said He will do. The main promise—eternal life—should be on the surface of our lips and buried deep within our hearts. Heaven is something we think about, dream about, talk about, and sing about. We can’t approach our eternal destiny any other way.
What promise do you trust in? What anthem is on your heart?
I drank champagne with kings and queens
The politicians praised my name
But those are someone else’s dreams
The pitfalls of the man I became
Barnum had “hobnobbed with the big wigs at the wing dings,” as the saying goes. He could name drop with the best of them. His mantel was lined with photos of himself and celebrities. He began to assess his value based on who he knew rather than who he was. He calls that way of thinking “pitfalls.” Solomon would have called it “utterly meaningless.”
I’ve been there. I’m patriotic and proud of my military career, but I don’t miss the over-emphasis on rank and privilege. While there are some practical reasons for wearing one’s rank on the uniform, few professions do that. Our rank determined our pay, our responsibilities, how we were addressed, the size of our office, where we sat at the table, and sometimes even where we parked our cars. In some uniforms, we also wore our medals and ribbons. Thankfully, most professions don’t do that. We were promoted based on our potential, but it didn’t hurt to “drink champagne” with kings and queens—or the right general officer. The farther removed I am from that life, the more aspects of it seem, well, meaningless.
Do you worry more about who you know than who you are? Is it more important to look outwardly successful on social media than to actually be successful in God’s eyes?
For years and years
I chased their cheers
The crazy speed of always needing more
But when I stop
And see you here
I remember who all this was for
Barnum admits to having gotten caught up in the “crazy speed of always needing more.” He had to be not just a successful businessman, but the best entertainer in the world. To prove his father-in-law wrong, he had to purchase the trophy house. He chased the cheers of the crowds, his family, and his friends. He finally realized that each new possession or accomplishment simply led to him wanting more. Whatever he had, it was “Never Enough”—another inspiring song on The Greatest Showman soundtrack.
Are you caught up in the crazy speed of always wanting more? How would our lives be different if we were satisfied with what we had?
And from now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on
What’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight
It starts tonight
And let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on
From now on
And we will come back home
And we will come back home
Home, again!
The song concludes with Barnum and his posse of peculiar people chanting, “And we will come back home…And we will come back home…Home, again!” With his priorities straight, he celebrates returning home. To the new and improved Barnum, home includes a wife who loves him, daughters who need him, and friends who admire him for who he is as a person. More than just figurative language, Barnum leaves the circus he created to his partner and returns home to be with his family.
From the Bearded Lady to the Irish Giant, Barnum’s band of outcasts also return “home” to a circus where they can find peace and be among people who love them for who they are. The Bearded Lady’s song, “This is Me,” is another rousing anthem about overcoming insults and being proud of who you are. In the circus, she found acceptance. She found home.
As much as I loved going to summer camp as a kid, I always enjoyed returning to the comforts of home. As much as I enjoyed going off to college, there was something special about returning home to see my family. As much as hiking the Appalachian Trail meant to me and changed me, I couldn’t wait to get home to be reunited with my wife.
For Christians, this world is not our home—we’re just passing through. As much as we love our families, friends, and the many ways we’re blessed here on earth, this isn’t the end game. It’s temporary. It’s passing. Much of it is “utterly meaningless.” For true meaning, we return to Solomon’s diary, and find, “Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13)
If we do that, from now on…before we know it, we’ll be home—home again!
“He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” – Psalm 23:3-4
From 1983 to 1984, my dad served as Base Commander at McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey. His duties included meeting dignitaries and celebrities who visited the base, often on their way to other places. A perk of being his son was having the opportunity to accompany him when he went to Base Operations to meet these visitors.
On one occasion, Dad informed me, a high school senior at the time, that a USO Tour would be arriving in the middle of the night.
“Who will be there?” I asked.
“Bob Hope, among others,” Dad replied.
“I’ve heard of him,” I said. “I know he’s a big deal. But I’m not sure I want to get up in the middle of the night. Who else is coming?”
Dad checked his notes and replied, “Cathy Lee Crosby, Ann Jillian…”
“That’s cool,” I interrupted, “But I think I’ll stay home.”
Dad looked up and finished with, “And Brooke Shields.”
“Brooke Shields!” I yelled. “What time are we leaving?”
For reasons having to do with teenage hormones, I wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. So, for the next several hours, I prepared for my first “date” with Miss Shields. I retrieved my very best jeans and blue, stylish “Members Only” jacket. My mom and I discussed probing questions I could ask Brooke about her role in Endless Love and how she gets her hair so shiny. My neighborhood buddies suggested I wear Calvin Klein jeans and try to get Brooke’s phone number. I was confident, prepared, and exceedingly cool.
My dad and I were in position when, late that night, Bob Hope and his entourage arrived at Base Operations. As Brooke approached me in the receiving line, we exchanged “hellos” and I handed her a USO hat. Instantly, I froze, blood rushed to my face, and I didn’t utter another word or get her phone number. I completely and totally choked! I had failed in the all-important transition from talking about someone to talking to someone.
In today’s passage, David makes a much smoother transition. He talks about how God refreshes his soul and guides his paths. But then, in the very next verse, he speaks to God. He tells God, “You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” The note in the margin reads: David goes from talking about God to talking to God—we must make the same transition.
God must be more to us than a distant, historical figure in an ancient history book. Our relationship with him must mean more than just the facts we know about him. God desires a real, personal relationship with me. Sadly, Miss Shields did not.
“When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.” – Psalm 32:3
The murder of Frank Wesley McAlister had remained unsolved for 25 years. That all changed in January of 2018. During a televised interview, Brian Keith Hawkins of Redding, California made a surprise confession: He had killed Frank McAlister in 1993, with the help of two accomplices. The trio planned to meet McAlister under the pretense of a meth transaction. Instead, they robbed him, stabbed him to death, and ditched his car.
After confessing, Hawkins finished a Pepsi and cigar and then turned himself into local authorities. He and his accomplices were arrested and remain in jail.
Brian Keith Hawkins
What causes a man to confess to a crime and turn himself in? In this case, the murderer provided an explanation:
“Horrible, horrible, absolutely horrible every day,” Hawkins said to describe his life since the murder. “Almost every minute of every day has been a nightmare.” According to Hawkins, his victim wasn’t the only one to lose his life that day.
“It’s kinda weird that Frank never even got to have a life and neither did I,” he said in an interview. “We were teenagers and now I’m 44 and still haven’t had a life, and now probably most likely won’t anyways.”
Hawkins said that he has been remorseful ever since the incident, but it was ultimately finding faith in God that led to his confession.
“I’ve been through hell my whole life because of this,” Hawkins explained. He said he knows that God has forgiven him, but that wasn’t enough. The wrong couldn’t be undone, but he could now do the right thing. So, he contacted the family to beg for forgiveness. He then turned himself in so that a judge and jury can decide his punishment.
Today’s passage is taken from a psalm of David. The note from the margin reads: When you have sin in your life and do nothing about it, there is no peace.
Campbell Morgan describes it as “a Psalm of penitence, but it is also the song of a ransomed soul rejoicing in the wonders of the grace of God. Sin is dealt with; sorrow is comforted; ignorance is instructed.” James Montgomery Boice adds, “This was Saint Augustine’s favorite psalm. Augustine had it inscribed on the wall next to his bed before he died in order to meditate on it better.”
I suspect Brian Keith Hawkins will spend the rest of his life behind bars. He has lost his freedom, the consequence of a 25-year-old crime. However, by finding God, turning himself in, confessing his sin, and asking for forgiveness, he will find mercy and peace.
“Show me, O LORD, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath.” – Psalm 39:4-5
“But a Breath”
Oh, those days of youth, that childhood mine,
No watches, no schedules, no checking the time.
A meander, a frolic, afternoons stretch a mile,
Surely hours of play; no, ‘twas just a short while.
Seventh grade, eighth, still young and growing,
A clock on the wall, must I get going?
Still plenty of time, a deep reservoir of breath.
An endless horizon, so many years left.
Don the gown, toss the cap, then do so again,
A glance at my gal, is she more than a friend?
Time rushes on, a watch claims my wrist,
Bosses and pressures, “to do” headlines my list.
Tears flood my cheeks, loved ones laid to rest,
They warned life is short, once thought that was jest.
Happier moments too, our nest graced with a son,
Then another one joins him, yes, parents we’ve become.
But you never see the culprit, it all happens so fast,
Leave the pedal unguarded, time steps on the gas.
The thirties rush by, the forties even quicker,
I’d argue too fast, but I’m not one to bicker.
The nest soon empties, must be some kind of trick,
The clock simply smiles, and whispers… tick, tick, tick.
Still much left to do, “bucket” headlines my list,
Ample time remains, I defiantly pound my fist.
Oh, but time rushes on, the years start to show.
More wrinkles, more pounds, no longer a sprite beau.
The memories pile up, next to a regret or two,
The realization comes, our years here so few.
I get it now, friends, how fleeting my life,
Still blessed by a Savior, and a beautiful wife.
Won’t run out the clock, still much left to do,
A poem still to write, this message for you.
Cherish each moment, till your final date with death,
The psalmist was right, each man’s life, but a breath.
