Something to remember

We all have dreams and visions. We all have plans about things we want to do or accomplish before this life is over. But at the end of the day, we don't know the significant things we will do until long after they are done.

For example, Abraham Lincoln is well known for many things, not the least of which was his Gettysburg Address. It is commonly known, however, that President Lincoln did not set out to deliver a speech that would be remembered centuries later. In fact, that fateful day, Lincoln was the second level speaker on the agenda. He jotted down his notes for the speech on the train ride to Gettysburg. It wasn't till long after the speech was delivered and Lincoln had been assassinated that the speech began to gain its fame.

Here is what I know and have learned. Trying to make your mark in this world is not worth giving your life for. But trying to make a mark for God in this world is worth every second of your life. We can try so hard and do so many things hoping to accomplish our agendas. They simply don't matter. As I have been constantly reminded by many sources, only what is done for God will last. In addition, we will never know the full impact of our choices--no one will--till long after we are gone. That's why Jesus taught us to pray daily, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." Only through that prayer can we be perfectly situated to carry out his will for our lives.

"It's not about You being a part of my story, Lord. It's about me being a part of yours." Andy Stanley

Coach

One of the goals I set for myself is to purposely take the time to thank those who have invested in my life. I got that chance last week while I was in South Georgia.

We were just about to begin the graveside portion of my aunt's funeral, the portion I would be leading. I noticed him working his was from the back of the crowd towards an open area on my left. He wasn't as agile as he once was. He didn't move with the quickness I remembered as a teenager. But there was no denying it was him. Other than the gray hair, he looked much the same.

I wanted to walk over to him immediately and speak (it's been my desire to do this for over 20 years) but the funeral director had just nodded to let me know it was time to begin. As we completed the service, I tried to make my way over to him but was intercepted by a flood of family that I had not seen in a long time, for some it had been over three decades. So, I did the only thing I knew to do...I sent Lisa to make sure that he didn't get away. "Who is it you're talking about?" she asked. Motioning over my right shoulder to the gentleman standing with my cousins, I said simply, "Coach."

That's what he was to me. Coach. To others, he was Ronnie or the McNeese boy or the history teacher...but the word I chose to use (choose to this day) reflects a respect for who he was and what he did in my life.

It was the Spring of my junior year and, thanks to the hell that my current football coach had put me through, I was walking away from a sport I dearly loved and had played for 10 straight years. He (the former coach) had told me he hated me, hated my family and didn't care if I ever played. What a joy!!

Summer came. I got a job working with a crop duster. Instead of my normal summer workouts and football camp, I spent many minutes debating the choice I made, even crying because I knew how much I'd miss playing the game. Then, late in July, I got a phone call from Coach McNeese. The old coach was gone--fired--much to everyone's relief. Coach McNeese had been promoted from assistant to head coach. He simply was calling to say he'd love to have me back out for one more year if I was interested.

That year turned out to be one of the best of my life. Coach McNeese took a rag tag bunch of boys who weren't supposed to do much all the way to the quarterfinals of the playoffs. More important, he reflected character, value and strength that most of those boys had never had the pleasure of seeing on a field of competition. He changed the way I looked at myself, made me believe I could do whatever he asked me to do. We shared a great season. For that I am glad. He invested in me (and a lot of other guys) and for that I am eternally grateful.

Last week, for the first time since I walked across a stage 25 years ago, I got to look "Coach" in the face and tell him how much I loved and respected him. It was a classic moment, one they like to replay in movies and stuff. And, for Coach (25 years and two hip replacements later), I pray that it strengthened him to know that his life mattered probably far more than he ever imagined to this young man. Way to go, Coach. You are the stuff that champions are made of.

Did you see the ad?

I'm talking about Tebow's "controversial" pro-life ad from last night's Super Bowl. Talk about much ado about nothing, the furor raised over that 30 second spot was overblown...to say the least. Tebow's ad with his mom was an effective and inoffensive celebration of his mom's choice not to abort him years ago. Why the pro-death movement felt like it deserved all that attention is beyond me...or is it?

You see, their problem with the Focus on the Family sponsored ad was not its content. No. The problem is that choice is good, in their mind, as long as women are choosing death. When a woman weighs the options (and Pam Tebow had been given them all) and chooses--rightly--to let the baby live, pro-deathers become furious. "How in the world can someone be so naive as to make that choice?" they ask. "How could anyone with all the information decide to let that baby live?"

Let me give you a few reasons--faith, hope and love. Not love of ourselves but love of God and love of others. You see, when you couple those together, there is really only one choice. Moses agreed:

This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live... Deuteronomy 30:19 NIV

Aunt Doris

My Aunt Doris passed away last night after an extended battle with cancer.

Her passing got me to thinking about a favorite verse of Scripture:
For when David served God's purpose in his own generation, he fell asleep... Acts 13:36

What a compliment it was for David, to know that he had served his purpose and fulfilled his call. I feel that way about my aunt. She might have made it longer. She could have held on here on this earth for any number of reasons. But God--a God she knew very well and talked with regularly--had seen enough. Aunt Doris had served Him well. He had watched her love and lead her family. She had done what He had asked. Her time had come. God had called.

...and with every loved one that leaves, I find myself being drawn infinitely more to this place called Heaven. I am just a traveler here and my time will come some day. Till then, for each of us, we wait and watch and serve and anticipate...

I hate missing church.

I just have to be honest about this. I got up yesterday and literally felt like I was out of place. I did my "30 Day Shred", read my B90X, hung out with my wife and kids, watched Craig Groeschel and Andy Stanley preach on the internet, worked on a few projects--it just wasn't the same.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love the snow, love the occasional lazy day. But let it snow on Monday and melt by Saturday night. I've got to have some worship time with my people at Ridgeview. I missed our worship band leading us in those amazing worship songs. I missed hearing our people sing and pray. I missed the smiles and the hugs and the conversations with the people who are my family. It just wasn't the same.

So...I'm giving you fair warning. Some long range forecasts are calling for some white stuff again this weekend. It may or may not happen. But if it does, I may just walk to church and meet whoever can show up (safely, mind you). I've got to worship with my Ridgies. Looking forward to this Sunday more than ever. Hope I'll see you there.