Thanks hero

~

I slammed the tailgate, pole in one hand tackle box in the other, and noticed him.


He was leaning against a wooden cane staring at folks cleaning a picnic table; looked to be his wife, children and grandchildren.

I read two bumper stickers on the car he stood in front of: 101st Airborne Division and Prayer works.

I immediately liked the man.

“Excuse me sir,” I said and nodded toward his bumper.

“Yep, 101st,” he said as he grew three inches and didn’t need to lean on that old wooden cane.

I swallowed a lump, “Well sir, I just wanted to say thanks. I appreciate you.”

He waved his cane and nodded, “Your welcome.” And then his eyes looked right through me, he grew some more, his chest swelled as he said, “There are others, you tell them too, and you keep on telling them—” He paused, and clenched his jaw—“tell them before they…” He looked down and then away and slid the back of his hand across his eyes. He looked back at me and just nodded his head a few times, “Tell ‘em—just tell ‘em.”

He walked away. It was Memorial Day.

It wasn’t a simple request; it was a plea, a cry a command. And I knew at that moment I was standing in the presence of a hero, because they’re always thinking about someone else to save.

So for all of you who’ve served, this is me just wanting to say thanks. I appreciate you.

~

Not without the cross

~

“I thought you wanted to go.”

“Not without the cross. I’m not leaving without the cross.”

She’s six. She sounded forty-two. I searched water high and low for the two inch wooden cross.

“How could it just vanish into thin air?” I said to myself as much as to my granddaughter who had asked me to remove her necklace while swimming because it was getting tangled in her hair. I did. And she noticed the cross was missing.

She had found the old wooden cross a couple days before in a pile of stuff getting thrown in the dumpster. I was thinking—what’s the big deal? She just found it. She didn’t work for it. It wasn’t something she had saved her money for. Well, six year olds don’t really have any money—but still. It wasn’t something she’d been wanting, she just saw it laying on a heap of stuff, and claimed it. She took an old key chain and hooked it to a silver necklace. She wore it ever since—until now. She acts like it’s her prize possession.

“I thought you were hungry.” She did tell me she was hungry and wanted to go. But that was before she noticed the cross missing. I pulled the covers off the pool filters—some nasty bugs and stuff, but no cross.

“I am hungry. But I’m not leaving until we find it Papa.”

Fred’s hands slid up the side of the pool. He filled his empty lungs, wiped his burning bloodshot eyes and said. “Nope, nothing yet.” We just met Fred an hour earlier; he was new in our little village. His hobby was scuba diving, so he took the challenge and was traversing the pool; religiously swimming along the bottom covering every square inch, in search of the cross. He grabbed some air and ducked under the water.

We’d been swimming for I don’t know how long and I was tired and hungry myself. This just doesn’t make sense. Jesus, help me find the cross. Wait. “Nevaeh, come here. Maybe it’s in your—aha.” Hanging from the back of her neck, tangled in her hair was—you guessed it—the cross.

“FRED COME UP, WE FOUND IT.” He couldn’t hear me. He was half way across the pool feeling his way with hands and eyes, scouring the bottom. He told us he had prescription goggles but had left them in his camper; so he couldn’t see too well and was looking real close. Finally he surfaced. Same routine; filled lungs, wiped bloodshot eyes, “Nope, nothing yet.”

“Look” I said pointing to the cross dangling from my granddaughter’s hair. I almost had it untangled.

We thanked Fred for searching and headed for the house.

The deeper meaning was lost on me. I was tired and hungry. But when I told my daughter Sadie, about her daughter’s cross episode she lit into a sermon that I figured would preach. And so, here I am writing at 4:00 a.m. You can probably think of more but here’s a bit of what I’ve come up with.



The cross is priceless

The cross, the one that represents Christ hanging on for our salvation, is discarded by many; counted as nothing but to be tossed in the dumpster. But, for those who see its value—it can’t be bought at any price. And even though it’s free—it becomes their prize possession.



The cross is near

The cross, the one that represents our relationship with Christ, can’t be sought by the works of man. No amount of work or religious scouring can make it appear. Because, it has never been lost, it’s been tangled up in our lives all along.



All we need do is ask

Jesus, help me find the cross.



Remember the cross

Memorial Day we’ll see lots of crosses. Remember the One that matters most.

The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. Galations 2:20

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. Ephesians 2:8-9

~

Life lessons, one, two, three

~

Calculating route, the GPS squawked directions to yet another church, for another funeral; three in just as many months. This time we were attending the home going celebration for my son-in-laws grandmother, Montine Tyson.


The young Baptist preacher said he’d known Mrs. T for years and through those years she’d taught him three valuable lessons he’ll never forget. And now, neither will I.

Lesson one: Simple.

“The first time I stood behind this pulpit I was young and green, I knew everything except how much I didn’t know.” The preacher pointed. “Mrs. T sat right there—in her regular spot.” The young man reminisced.

“I preached on the end times. Figured I’d impress the congregation with big words like eschatology, postmillennialism—” And he said some other stuff I can’t remember—or couldn’t spell even if I could.

“After finishing my sermon" he continued, "I walked down that aisle right there.” He pointed to the aisle slightly to his left. “As I walked past Mrs. T stood and stuck out her hand. And in one sentence taught me more than I had taught anyone in the church that day.

'Son,' she said. 'I ain’t understood a single word you said…but I’m gonna pray for you.'

From that day to this, I’ve tried to keep it simple. I can reach more people with a simple lesson, than trying to make a big impression.” He pointed at the casket and his eyes got real shiny and his voice cracked a bit. “She taught me that.”

Lesson two: Suffer.

The preacher cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “Sometime later, I was visiting Mrs. T and she must have read something on my face or heard something in the tone of my voice and asked. ‘Young man, can I tell you a story?’

Well sure Mrs. T, I told her. And she proceeded to tell me how years ago she had a pastor stop by for a visit. And that pastor carried on about all his troubles. He had problems with this and trouble with that and just didn’t understand why God would allow him to suffer so.

Mrs. T paused and looked me in the eye and asked, ‘Do you know what I told that man?’

No ma’am I don’t know.

She said, ‘Why not you? Why shouldn’t you suffer? Why do you think you’re so special that you don’t have to suffer? Jesus suffered, Paul suffered, Job suffered, Jonah suffered, Joseph suffered—why not you?’

She must've read my mind.

Why not me?

Doesn’t the Bible say, All who live Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution? (2 Timothy 3:2).

Didn’t Jesus say, In this world you shall have tribulation but be of good cheer for I have overcome the world? (John 16:33).

Is it not written, Think it not strange concerning this fiery trial which is to try you? (1 Peter 4:12).

  Why not me? I’ve grown more through trials than smiles and every time I suffer, I learn to lean just a little closer to the One who walks with me…She taught me that, too.”


Lesson three: Better.

“Mrs. T loved life. She was filled with a joy for living. And when her departure was drawing near, she didn’t give up. But she started yearning for something better—longing for Home.

I read her a passage from the first chapter of Philippians. I read them. She lived them.

For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain… I am hard-pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better.

  Mrs. T knew Christ. She is with Him now. I miss her. We miss her. But I know she is better—far better.”

With that the preacher prayed. We sang a few hymns. And that was the end.
But then, my three-year old grandson said it best. As the casket rolled by, he really didn’t know what was going on—or maybe he did, because he said, “Look Papa, they’re pushing a big treasure chest.”

Montine Tyson: this earth is better—far better for holding this treasure for eighty-four years, and now she is better--far better.

~

No fear

~

We talked about the weather, and meaningless things, until she got the nerve to ask what was on her mind.

“Do you believe in demons?”

“Yes,” I said, and prayed for wisdom.

She paused, started, stopped, let out a nervous laugh and then, “I think I’ve felt them. I was scared—really scared.”

“One of the devils weapons is fear.” I started rambling about his tactics and didn't feel qualified to answer this—

“How do I keep from being afraid?” Her voice sounded distant, like she was saying a prayer rather than asking me a question.

A scene flashed through my mind of a conversation we’d had a long time ago.

No fear...

“Someday, when your daughter gets older, take her for a walk. And as you walk, ask her if she knows where you’re going. She’ll probably say, no, and kick at a stone in the road.

Then, ask her if she knows her way home. Again, she’ll probably say, nope and then tell you to look at the pretty butterfly and ask if she can catch it.

Stop your walk and ask her if she’s scared. She’ll giggle and tell you, no silly, and she’ll say something about butterflies being nice and that they won’t bite.

Say to her, But you don’t know where you are, don’t know where you’re going and don’t know your way home—why aren’t you scared?

Out of the mouth of babes…

  And then listen close to the answer. It’ll be your answer today.


I’m not scared ‘cuz I’m with you.

I know—because I asked you the same when you were little and I was scared. You taught me; that’s the way it should be with us and our walk with God. Walk with Him like a child. And in His presence there is fullness of joy, peace that passes understanding and perfect love that casts out fear.”

Sure, at times I think, it can’t be that simple. But then I think of the child and realize, yes perhaps it is.

Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10

God is Love and perfect love casts out all fear. 1 John 4:15-18

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:31

~






Grieving Grace the book – all over and unconventional

~

It’s not until you buy a green suburban that you realize they’re all over the road, or a white F250, or a maroon mini-van or... Start golfing and you meet golfers hooking and slicing all over the place. Start fishing and folks who fish will be jigging all around you.

And go through a painful event that causes grief and your eyes will be opened to just how many people are grieving.

Recently our family marched through the dark days of grief. Maybe marched, is the wrong word—a bit too strong. Perhaps I should say we crawled, trudged, waded traveled through the dark tunnel of grief. And we still are in some ways. It’s like a gnawing hunger, a longing to be filled with what used to be.

As we marched, (crawled, trudged, waded, traveled) through the tunnel, I processed my bleeding heart through fingers to page. Ten tear streaked stories appeared and were eventually transformed into Grieving Grace the book.

Succinct

A short book mind you, one that can be read in one sitting; easy to handle for someone already handling more than they can bear. Every word counts, every story penned with prayer and printed in love.

Editors, publishers and marketing experts tell me length matters. Your book must have this many words or it won’t be accepted. I’m no expert, and I’m sure they have their reasons for saying such things, but I’ve always been a bit unconventional and paid them no mind. If one word will do why use two? Stuff empty pages with fluff and filler just to meet a quota? Nonsense.

My favorite books in the world are Proverbs, Mark and James and none of them are long enough to meet today’s criteria for making it to the best sellers list, but they do. They’re read by millions every year—have been for around two thousand years.

When grieving, one doesn’t waste words. Idle chatter is replaced with words that matter. I love you. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. During grief a human-being is more important than a human-doing. Holding a hand or giving a hug without saying a word can speak volumes. Grieving Grace does the same.


Unconventional

My eyes have been opened—grief is all around us.

The other day I wrote a short blog about a one word prayer. That day I’d been encircled by friends and family grieving over loved ones breathing their last. I felt the weight of their grief and soaked up their sorrow. It weighed me down to the point that my prayer was a simple one word cry:

JESUS.

And that was enough.

Relief was found.

And I realized the error of my ways. I shouldn’t carry another’s grief as if it’s mine alone to bear. Jesus is the one who is our burden bearer. He is the one to whom we cast our care. Jesus is the one who shares our sorrows. We need to lean on each other and limp our way to Him, the Mender of wounds; The Healer of broken hearts. He is the One who soaks up our sorrows, dries our tears and gives us hope for tomorrow.

Leaning

And I realized something else.

I’m not so good at leaning. As an unconventional loner type I’d just-as-soon do it myself. But that’s not right and I know it. So, as hard as it is for me—I’m leaning.

The original intent of Grieving Grace was to comfort our immediate hurting family. But we’ve realized it’s bigger than that—it’s not just for us—it’s for everyone. It’s to comfort those hovering near death’s door and their loved ones, too. And these folks are staggering all around us.

To reach them, Grieving Grace is leaning on you.

• Please pray

• If you know someone this big little book can help, will you kindly give them a copy?

• Perhaps, write a note or prayer inside and set it next to the water glass by their bed.

• Maybe you’ll want to leave some in the waiting area of the nursing home, hospital or hospice center.

• Do you have a desire to bring God’s grace to the hurting? Consider becoming a Grieving Grace distributor.

It’s unconventional marketing, but marketing isn’t the goal. Bringing comfort to the hurting and pointing them to Jesus—that is the goal. And I believe God will help us get it done, one by one, leaning on each other, planting one seed at a time



Thanks for your prayers and kind words. They’re felt all the way from where you are to here. Remember, you are loved and please let me know if you need prayer—it’s what I do.

Doug

~

Putting on skin

~

Last night my wife and I walked to a birthday party. About thirty of our friends gathered around a long table full of food and balloons celebrating, Mary’s birthday. She’d never had a birthday party and she just turned seventy-six years young.


Three fire-fighters were present, but still, we only used two candles to top the cake; one shaped like a seven and the other a six.

Our resident baker Sal, made a cake she called, Mounds Cake. It was the best cake I’d ever tasted in my life, evidenced by the strange sounds I made after every bite. And the best part of the party was when they asked if I’d take the remaining portion of that awesome cake home. Seriously. I had some for breakfast, lunch and I’m thinking I ought to sneak into the kitchen right now and see if there’s any left.

It wasn’t even my birthday, but I got the greatest gift—and it wasn’t the cake, either. It was at the start of the party, when they asked me to pray. I was honored and told them so.

This wasn’t a church party. It was just a bunch of folks from our neighborhood. And still, they asked if I’d open in prayer. And then, multiple people thanked me. They. Thanked. Me. It should be the other way around I said, and I thanked them for letting me.

But, it got me to thinking. I’m possibly the least likely to be asked to pray as far as physical attributes go. Number one: I don’t have a loud voice, and in Florida that’s kind of important with all the hearing aid wearing folk. Number two: I’m not real outgoing in crowds. One on one I’m fine, but I’m out of my element in crowds.

So the hardest part about saying a prayer in front of a bunch of people isn’t the actual praying part. That’s easy because I’m just talking one to One. The hardest part is getting everyone’s attention so they’ll quiet down for our prayer. Usually someone else handles that; someone who likes to yell, “Hey ya’ll shut-up so we can pray and eat!”

They smile and nod and we bow our heads and do the greatest thing I know to do. Talk to the One who makes all the difference.

It happens often. Folks will ask me to pray. They never ask me to sing—good thing. They rarely ask me to preach. But pray, that happens quite a bit. Why? I’m not sure, and maybe it’s not for me to say. But, I’m thinking to myself that perhaps it’s how Jesus shows up, in a certain way.

A long time ago Jesus put on skin to become the answer. The Bible says He’s the same yesterday, today and forever. So, the way I figure it—He’s still putting on skin. Not the same body that died on Calvary’s tree. Today the skin He uses is you and me. He shows up and prays through one, and He shows up and sings through another.

Maybe for those who allow, He puts on their skin. He’ll show up wearing a fireman’s uniform when you’re in the midst of the flame. Or He’ll stand by you in the operating room, wearing a doctor’s mask.

Maybe He serves your lunch at that café, or changes the oil in your car at the service station. Perhaps you pass Him on your way to work as He stands with that sign on the side of the road. And maybe, just maybe—He stares back at you when you look in the mirror.

After all, aren't we called the body of Christ?

I’d like to think that folks ask me to pray because they hear His voice, not mine.

For some, you may be the only Jesus they’ll ever see. Go—be Jesus today. Let Him put on your skin.

~Thanks for stopping by,

ipray4u

Doug

One word prayer

~

Dear Jesus.


Five people I know are dealing with serious health issues. Three are hovering near death’s door; one is facing heart surgery another battling cancer.

All of a sudden it seems, I’m surrounded by failing flesh.

Prayers skyrocket like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Words of hope and healing are whispered while Hopeless and Helpless are banging down the door.

It hasn’t been that long since we buried our mother and then a friend not long after.

And now?

Not yet, not again, not another.

Never have I noticed so much hurt and so much pain. Folks all around crying out for help; reaching out in need. Have they always been there? Have I just begun to see? Why is this Lord? Or, is it just me?

I thought I knew how to pray. But tonight I’m at a loss. I feel heavy. Weary. I don’t know what to do or what to say. I want to pray for joy and comfort and peace and healing; restored hope, fulfilled dreams and happy endings.

But instead all I can do is suck in a long hard breath and exhale His name:

JESUS

And somehow I know. At least for now, that is enough.

In Him we live and move and have our being.

By Him, we are healed.

Near Him our joy is full

With Him we have sweet peace

No matter the problem, JESUS is the answer.

~

leave a message…

ipray4u.

(Un) Happy Mother's Day

~

Dear family, I know you miss mom. Especially today as the world stops to say thanks to theirs.


She was your friend, your support, your one true fan. She was the one who always saw the good in you—even when you couldn’t. She was always there for you—until now.

And days like today that celebrate her honor are bitter sweet; bitter present—sweet memory.

I wish I had an antidote I could type here to take away the pain. Like mom’s can do a hundred times a day—kiss the boo-boo and make it go away.

But I don’t, I can’t.

What I can do is what I’ve done and this note is just to let you know.

I said a prayer and shed a tear and asked,

The One who is near the broken hearted,

The One who holds our dearly departed,

to be especially near you today.

And I’m sure He heard because I felt His goodness as I wiped my eyes and remembered His sweet Word say:

He is near the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18)

And every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father (James 1:17)

His gifts and callings are without repentance (Romans 11:29)

Who are my mother and sister and brother—but those that do the will of my Father. (Mark 3:31-35)

He is especially near you today. Everything good has come down from The Father as a gift. He doesn’t take back His gifts once given. Every good thing we miss about mother is still here because we are, because He is…and in that way she is.

We may have lost her--but she's not lost.

The gifts, the goodness, the love, that which is worth saving, worth savoring, worth remembering— remains. It remains in you, in me, in each other.

Yes, the skin is gone, the bones passed away. But that gift that we call Mother—no, she will never pass away.

So in this, even when and if it hurts, I say: Happy Mother’s Day.

~

Be Water

~

There’s always a calm bay no matter which way the wind’s blowing. If you don’t fall you’re not trying hard enough. That’s what we heard and that’s what we said when I was a kid.


Summers were spent at the lake. Water skiing was what made us breathe. No matter how strong the wind we could always find at least one shoreline in one bay that was calm enough to ski. And even on a perfect day not falling wasn’t something to be proud of—it meant you weren’t trying hard enough. Or at least, that’s what we’d say. It made falling a little easier, kind of added a badge of honor to it. It gave us freedom to give our all, without worrying about the fall.

Boy-howdy, I wish I could remember that kid-wisdom more often nowadays. Go for it! Give your all! Don’t worry ‘bout the fall. Take that test. Write that story. Pop that question. Submit that book. Sing that song. Join that club. Take that class. Push ‘Send.’ Or… be bold enough to tell that boss, “No. Today I play. This weekend I spend with family.” Be courageous. Rejection comes from reaching. But, instead of remembering that, I remember this—the fall.

I replay the pain. The times I tried and failed. I got burned at bat. My reach received rejection. Now at fifty-something I don’t bounce back as fast. And for some reason I think I’ve got more to lose. And thus, I hesitate to try hard enough to fall. I rock the rocker, but not the boat.

It’s not for fear of a physical fall—a dip in the drink—but for fear of a replay of a past mistake, a ripping open of a scabbed over wound. Fear of rejection stops a heart from reaching…and eventually from beating.

To attempt and fail should not be feared as much as a thing that numbs the mind and drowns the soul—the atrophy from apathy.

For days I’ve been staring across the water, from this shore. I’d like to reach the other side. I want to jump in and swim. There’s risk. I may get out over my head and grow weary. I may drown. I could get run over by some other folk speeding by in a great big boat. I may get tangled up in a fisherman’s rope or stung by some underwater creature. There is no way of knowing if I’ll reach the other side, unless of course, I just sit here on this shore—then for sure I’ll know, I never will.

But, I remember the water skiing days of my youth. I jump the wake. Airborne for what feels like a minute but is only a second or two until my slalom ski slaps the face of the water. I feel the rudder cut a deep incision in the surface of the lake as I lean to one side and my shoulder almost touches the water. A shimmering wall rises behind me several feet high and I hear it collapse like heavy rain. I relax and look back. The water has almost healed; all my jumping and cutting and wall building—all but gone. Where the ski slapped and ripped the water returns. The wake and white water stops churning and turning. Within seconds the cutting open of the lake’s skin heals, without a trace.

At times I’d be going so fast that when I fell I’d bounce across the face of the water. But it would quickly forgive and wrap me in its soft familiar embrace. But nothing remained to remember the fall. It showed no scar or dent it wasn't torn or bleeding. The water forgave and forgot. And we are mostly water, are we not?

I try to remember:

No matter which way or how hard the wind’s blowing—there’s always a calm bay

Rejection means I’m reaching

Falling means I’m trying

The atrophy from apathy numbs the mind and drowns the soul

Be water

*

Jesus answered and said to her, If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that said to you, Give me to drink; you would have asked of him, and he would have given you living water. John 4:10

He that believes on me, as the scripture has said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. John 7:38

One Nation Under God—still

~

I know—I shouldn’t have read the news. But I did. And now I’ve got to spill…

~

I don’ care what they say; as for me and my house we will serve the Lord.

I will live for Jesus Christ and I will pray.

I’ll pray in schools, I’ll pray in government buildings, in post offices and court houses in stores and public places, even in restaurants before I eat—I will bow my head and pray. As I drive down streets on my way to work and play…I will pray. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop me. No law, no government, no decree can stop a people from bending a knee. I won’t do it to make a show and the bending may be unseen to everyone but He. But nevertheless I will bow before my King—The King of Kings and Ruler of the universe and Ruler of this nation.

I’m not alone. A remnant remains; no matter what the news media may say.

And we believe as many of the founding fathers believed—America is: One Nation Under God. I believe, no matter what I read—because Love never fails.

We’ll make it simple, with no apology and no mistake. The One God we believe in and serve is The God who created the heavens and the earth. The God who so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, that whoever believes in, relies on, trusts and obeys, will not perish but have everlasting life.

We declare that this is our country and our country is, has been and always will be a Christian nation.

Why? Because we’re here, we remain.

History is His Story and His story declares that this United States Of America was founded on Godly principles for Godly purpose and privilege. Some can try and rewrite history—but that doesn’t make it so.

As long as one person still believes and stands with God—they make a majority.

We Christians in this Christian Nation will walk in love and there is no law that can stop it. Love will not keep silent. When love sees a wreck about to happen love takes action, love shouts its warning.

Some try to change the name of love to hate. But calling evil good doesn’t change the Truth.

Love won’t argue with the night—it will simply be, and turn on the Light.

Yes, I get frustrated when I read how Christianity is being persecuted, cut down and vilified. But I shouldn’t be surprised; darkness prevails in the absence of light.

There is nothing that can prevent a Christian from praying. There is no force that can stop the Seed of God’s Word from prospering. (Isaiah 55:11). And there is nothing to stop God’s people from leading this nation with honor and integrity and love.

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 heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)

How?

Nehemiah was a man with an impossible task of rebuilding not just a wall but a nation. But with God’s help and everyone doing their part standing shoulder to shoulder they got it done, against all odds; for all the people had a mind to work. (Nehemiah 4:6)

You may say: But America is too far gone, she is already destroyed from the inside out, from the top down.

I say if everyone who calls themselves a Christian will lay down the axe and pick up a shovel we can get it done. It’s time to grow up and accept that we may have a difference of opinion about religious doctrine. If it doesn’t matter in the big picture, we need to forget about it, stop fighting amongst ourselves and stand together—if we don’t we only have ourselves to blame when the nations walls come crumbling down. Christianity is the salvation message of and through Jesus Christ alone. In the end in won’t matter if you did religion well or did your job well. What will matter most is if you loved well.

It’s simple, but hard. The answer isn’t complicated but it isn’t easy.

1) Begin here. Right where I’m at, and right where you’re at; me in my heart and you in yours—it starts here and now. The Baptist and Jesus started their ministries preaching it. REPENT.

Ask God to reveal and heal any heart issues. Ask Him to help you start here and now with a fresh clean slate and ask Him to fill it with His agenda.



2) Do your part. Next, John The Baptist and Jesus talked about doing good. Nehemiah used the same principle as well. Everyone doing their absolute best.

Are you a plumber? Plumb as if you’re plumbing your mansion in heaven. God calls and equips different folks for different things; even politicians, lawyers and tax collectors. Whatever it is you do, do it well—excel, give your absolute best in every area. And remember your job isn’t the only area or even the most important area—your priorities are to God first then family—your career comes further down the line in priority. But no matter what rung of the ladder you’re standing on you must do your absolute best. Start asking God to help you be the best spouse, best parent, best student and best worker you can be. Honor Him in every area—especially your thoughts. This is doing your part.


3) Reach out. Once you get your heart right with God and start living with an intent passion to excel, next step is to pay attention. Someone within your reach needs a touch. A neighbor needs a ride or a bag of groceries. A child needs a hug or a good talking to. Mom needs a note. Dad needs a call. The church needs help in the nursery or someone to vacuum the floor.

We can complain and campaign all we want to about the government getting too big and sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong but the only reason they get away with it is because we’ve created a void. Jesus said:

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:13-16 (NIV)



If every one of us will pray, repent, do our part and reach out we will see our nation still is a great and Godly one. It is not too late; we are not too far gone. If I can reach my neighbor and help him get a job and stop drinking too much, if you can raise your children to respect and honor authority, if we can visit the jails and nursing homes and hospitals and give to the needy won’t we fill in the gaps darkness has filled?



Occupy until He comes, have dominion, subdue and rule your little portion of the world by loving God and loving people, with the fervent prayer forever on your heart: “Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” and you’ll make a difference.



Doing our absolute best, honoring God, loving people and having fun is a courageous and contagious way to live and it’ll change the world.

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I don’t know much about all this modern day techno-geeky stuff like—ipad, iphone, ipod, itunes, ibook, iCloud, iOS—but I do know how to use the best communication device known to man.

ipray

I’d love to pray for you—just leave a comment or e-mail dougspurling@aol.com

Thanks for stopping by,

Doug

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photo courtesy of pinstripepress