A Prayer for Little Mamaw

A Prayer for Little Mamaw

Today our family said good bye to an amazing woman.  Willie J. Hornsby was my great grandmother, my children’s great great grandmother.  As incredible as it sounds that anyone would live to see the birth of their fifth generation, I find it equally incredible that my children actually knew this woman.  She talked with them, laughed with them, held them in her arms.

She loved my kids, and they loved her . . . deeply.  This morning, I received an email from the oldest of my children.  In the email, McKenzie sends out this prayer to her immediate family celebrating the four foot, eight inch matriarch we affectionly refer to as “Little Mamaw:”

Dear God,

We thank you for little mamaw she was a sweet kind woman who we loved alot. We know she is in heaven with you and that she has a new body. That she can eat, drink, run, play, and even laugh. Lord ,we thank you for giving her that chance. Please help us not to grieve but to rejoice for she is in heaven with you. Please be with aunt Annie and her daughter, uncle Sonny and his kids, Mamaw and Papaw, Terry,Teresa and her kids, Diane, Gigi and daddy, and mommy, me, RileyGrace, and Logan. Thank you for her and let her have a wonderful everlasting life with you.

Amen

With the Faith of a Snowflake

With the Faith of a Snowflake

My daughter, McKenzie, loves to dance.  She loves to watch it, do it, talk about it . . . well, that last one doesn’t count since she loves to talk about anything.  But you get the point.  This passion is purely within her.  She takes no formal dance classes, and benefits only from the kind encouragement of a talented friend who helps her along from time to time.

So completely on her own, she choreographed the dance below, a dance that would lead to one of the greatest lessons of faith I’ve ever been taught.  The story is below the video.  So read and watch, or watch and read.  I’ll let you decide.

Ten-year-olds are notorious for dreaming up big plans, setting their hearts on them, but never allowing their brains in on the planning.  This was my fear when McKenzie shared with me that she was choreographing a dance for her upcoming Chorus Christmas Concert.

“Oh, has the teacher asked you to dance?” I asked.

“No.  Not yet.  But I’m going to show it to her when I’m finished.  If she likes it, maybe she add it in.”

“Now wait a minute,” says Papa Bear.  “You do understand that she might not be able to’add it in’ even if she likes it, right?  I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Sure, Dad.  I know.  Don’t worry.  It’s just something fun.”

This something fun turned into hours of work, internet research (she wanted to include sign language), and lots of practice.  I was terrified that she was in for the biggest disappointment of her short life.

I know, I know.  Oh ye of little faith.  The teacher loved it, added it in, and made me feel about three inches tall.  But that’s only the beginning of the story.

Two weeks before the concert, McKenzie was stepping out of our van, something she does between 1 and 5 times every day.  But this time, something went wrong.  In a split second, her ankle twisted, her knee buckled, and her heart broke.  After a visit to the doctor, we confirmed the diagnoses as a sprained ankle, bought a pair of cruthes, and proceeded to try and explain to our daughter how God could allow this to happen after she had worked so hard and had come so far.  There were many tears, most of them mine.

But she’s a trooper, our McKenzie.  She resigned herself to the fact that God’s will is perfect.  She told me that while our prayers might not always yield the results for which we hope, we should still pray all the same.  After all, she said, we don’t always know His will, so just to be sure . . .  (I love that kid.)

I was thinking about her comments last Thursday night, the night for which the concert was scheduled.  That’s when I saw it, a snow flake. A big, fat, wet snowflake.  And it had friends.  Lots of them.  By the time I had made it home the ground was covered and the concert was postponed five days.  As it turns out, that’s just enough time for an ankle to finish healing.  More importantly, it was more than enough time for my daughter see just how far God is willing to go to answer a little girl’s prayer.

And so she danced.  Perhaps this was the first of many such performances to come.  But I dare say that none of them will come with a greater sense of knowing just how loved she is by her Creator.  What peace there is in that knowledge. And how fitting that the title of the song to which she danced is “Song of Peace.”

You go, KK.

The Feet That Bring Bad News

The Feet That Bring Bad News

Part [part not set] of 3 in the John 13 series

[readolog_blockquote ]After he said these things, Jesus became visibly upset, and then he told them why. “One of you is going to betray me.” John 13:21[/readolog_blockquote]

The twelve men were most likely still trying to process what was happening.   Jesus was washing their feet.   He had gone to each of them, one by one, performing the most humble and menial of tasks with the love and care of a Creator for his created.

Now, as He takes His place at the table once again, He says, “So now you’re clean.   But not every one of you.”   Oops. Did he skip one?   Let’s see.   Twelve men, that’s twenty four feet.   No, that’s all of them.   So what did Jesus mean by this?

Here in the middle of this touching act of service, an act that foreshadows the ultimate sacrifice Jesus would soon make, comes a reveal more shocking than anything we’ve seen on “Lost.”

Verse 21 says, “Jesus became visibly upset, and then he told them why. “˜One of you is going to betray me.'” If they had commercials in first century AD, they would have cut to one here.

By now, we know the rest of the story.   Jesus identifies Judas as His betrayer, sending him out to “Do it, and get it over with.”   While the other eleven disciples are still confused, it’s clear to us that Jesus knew as he washed Judas’ feet what was to happen.   Jesus knew what Judas would do.   And still He washed the feet of the man who would soon hand Him over to a brutal and shameful death.

So, when Jesus said earlier, “I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you,” did He also mean washing the feet of the very one who least deserved it?

And if so, what does that mean for us?   What does this tell us about how Jesus treats us?   What does this tell us about how we are to treat one another?

 

Dinner and a Movie

Dinner and a Movie

Part [part not set] of 3 in the John 13 series

[readolog_blockquote ]Then Jesus answered, “Will you really lay down your life for me? I tell you the truth, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times!

John 13:38[/readolog_blockquote]

Movies have a way of transforming us instantly.   We watch a James Bond movie and leave the theatre noticing every detail about everyone around us, ready to jump into action at the first sign of danger.   We watch a war hero selflessly sacrifice his life for the sake of those around him.   Then we leave ready to do the same, certain that we are prepared to answer just such a call.

This was Peter after his last meal with Jesus.   He had been caught up in the drama playing out around him.   “I will lay down my life for you,” he tells Jesus.   But Jesus knows better.   This was no movie.   This was all too real.

“Will you really lay down your life for me?   I tell you the truth, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

Ouch.   Talk about busting your bubble.   It’s easy to watch from a distance and consider ourselves worthy of participation.   But when we are the main characters, life seems anything but cinematic.   Peter left the theatre ready to risk it all.   But as Jesus predicts, his first test ends miserably as he in fact disowns Jesus not once, not twice, but three times.

What Peter promised was not a bad thing.   The problem was in his motivation.   He was more focused on his own glory than the necessary sacrifice that would have to be made.   Certainly, there are moments in life when we are called to do the right thing, the hard thing.   But those moments are anything but glorious, let along Oscar-winning performances.

In short, we can be in the movie, or we can watch the movie.   But we can’t do both.   The choice is up to each of us.

Disciples Didn’t Go To Day Spas

Disciples Didn’t Go To Day Spas

Part [part not set] of 3 in the John 13 series

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[readolog_blockquote ]Then [Jesus] said, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You address me as’Teacher’ and’Master,’ and rightly so. That is what I am. So if I, the Master and Teacher, washed your feet, you must now wash each other’s feet. I’ve laid down a pattern for you. What I’ve done, you do.
John 13: 17[/readolog_blockquote]

Disciples didn’t go to day spas, and they didn’t wear New Balance.   Most theologians agree on these points.   And since we’re also fairly certain they didn’t drive Mini Coopers, it’s safe to say they walked . . . everywhere.   The unfortunate conclusion of these historical certainties is that disciples had dirty, ugly, smelly feet.

But so did everyone.   It was in the fine print when you signed up to be a Biblical character.     And so upon entering one’s house, most people compensated as would you or I by washing their feet.   And feet being what they are, you can imagine that this was a pretty personal thing.   In fact, to wash another person’s feet was considered so demeaning that the laws forbid a Jewish slave from being forced to do it.   You had to call in the “B” team, the Gentile slaves, for something like that.

So you can imagine what the disciples must have thought in John 13 when Jesus got on his hands and knees and began to wash their feet.   Other than Gentile slaves, this kind of thing was only done by wives for husbands or children for parents, and maybe disciples for teachers.   But it was never done by teachers for disciples.   And yet there Jesus was, kneeling, washing, and teaching all at the same time.

Peter (typical Peter) protests Jesus’ action. But Jesus says, “If I don’t wash you, you can’t be part of what I’m doing.”

That statement goes a little deeper than the bowl of water on the floor.   Jesus was getting ready to endure humiliation that would make washing feet seem like a walk in the park.   But without it, humanity would be lost, and He loved us too much to let that happen.   The tough part for Peter, and perhaps for us, is in realizing that to be a part of what Jesus did and is doing, we too must learn about true love and be willing to humble ourselves enough to serve one another.

“I’ve laid down a pattern for you,” He said. “What I’ve done, you do.”

So the next time someone shows us their dirty, ugly, smelly feet (or any other part of their anatomy for that matter), perhaps we should consider this story.   As Christians, perhaps we  should be the first on the scene to do the jobs that must be done but  that no one else wants to do.

Getting Old

cane_edited.jpg“Dad?” RileyGrace is sitting in the back of our Ford Windstar gazing out the window.  

 “Yes, ma’am.”  

“How many years is a person when they start to get old?”   I glance at her in the rear view mirror.   Her posture is perfect as she sits atop the last car seat she’ll ever need.   Her head is tilted inquisitively.   Loose strands of angel hair dance in front of her face, glowing in the afternoon sun.   My last little girl is growing up so fast.   She smiles, awaiting an answer to her question.

“Well, it depends,” I offer. “Some people get old very early.   Others really never seem to get old.   I guess it just depends on the person.”

She considered this for a moment.   I  am proud of my response.   Not too much information, but enough to answer the question accurately.   It is a secret aspiration of mine that my kids will one day look back and reflect on the great wisdom of their father.   I bask in visions of the three of them as adults sharing Thanksgiving coffee around the family table, marveling at how good ole’ Dad could take even the most complex of subjects and put  them in terms that even a child could understand.

“Dad?” RileyGrace interrupts my delusions of grandeur.

“Yes, honey.”

“How many years were you when you got old?”

Clearly I have done my job.

The Thunder and The Cup

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There are  times in life when the clouds  over “Brandon  World” part and the light of  reality breaks through, even if for a moment.   These are times when, for whatever reason, I am quiet enough, still enough,  or weak enough to experience God and His Word.   This is one of those times.

To Lead  Like Thunder
I didn’t know until recently that Jesus called James and John the “Sons of Thunder.”    Apparently, these two brothers earned that name by being bold and  head-strong,  even to a fault.   They were movers and shakers, leaders among their peers, make-it-happen kind of guys.   We all know people like this, people who are  really good at getting results but that  are  so goal-oriented that things like sensitivity, or fairness,  or  . . . oh, I don’t know . . . other people,   just seem to get in the way.

The Sons of Thunder were famous for tripping over their own goals.   There’s a great story in Matthew 20 where James and John  use  their mother to  approach Jesus with a special request. In verse 21 she says, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”

Stop the truck!   What?   When I first read this, I thought,”That sounds just like a couple of  God Squad  wannabe’s.   Always  trying to sit  next to the most popular guy in school.”   I mean, really.   They  can’t even ask for themselves?   They have to get  their mother  to do it?    And when the other disciples weren’t around?   How calculated!   Then I looked in the mirror.  

I hate to say it, but my reflection looks an awful lot like this story.   I too have been concerned with where I might sit in the grand scheme of things.    I too  have become so goal-oritented  and ambitious that I failed to see the big picture – a picture that included the feelings of those around me.   But I still can’t say that my actions have ever been purely selfish.   Nor  should we assume this for James and John.   Who wouldn’t want to spend eternity next to Jesus?    These guys were being who God made them to be.   They were seeking their place.   And they felt they had found it next to Jesus.  

Unfortunately  their actions, like my actions,  sound an awful lot like thunder.   Loud, but that’s about it.

To Drink from the Cup
cup_cropped.jpgDon’t get me wrong.   To lead like thunder can be effective.    But  sometimes it’s only in the  lonely echoes of failure  that the whisper of  Truth can be heard.   This Truth is as humbling as it is powerful.   When it speaks of leadership, it makes no promises of success, or acceptance, or of thrones at the right hand of God.   Instead,  it warns that to lead is  to be misunderstood, distanced,  or even despised.

What does Jesus say to James and John’s request?   “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them (not to their mother). “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?”

Can’t you just see James and John standing there like Forrest and Bubba in front of Lt. Dan?   They look at each other, then back at Jesus, blank stares and blind confidence, nodding  “Uh huh.”  

The scene had to be similarly amusing for Jesus at first.   But I can’t help but wonder if His face grew sad with the thought of what was to come for these Sons of Thunder.   I say this because as He was setting them straight on who makes the seating chart in Heaven, He also  says to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup.”

Fourteen years after this story takes place, James becomes the first of the disciples to be  martyred.   His brother John, while living longer, does so in exile on a remote island, a prison camp, where he  sees how the world  will end.   The true cup of leadership is often not at all what we envision.   It is more a responsibility than  a privilege.   And its taste  is often bitter at best.

It’s later in this story that we find one of the most profound statements of leadership ever recorded in history.   Speaking to the disciples of  James and John’s request, Jesus says, (28)   “. . .  the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

And so for modern-day Sons of Thunder, there is a profound lesson to be learned here:

Leadership is not about where you sit.   It’s about the cup you drink from.

Something to say . . .

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Dr. Bellows wore plaid shirts without fail.   I remember this because the shape of his round belly played tragic games with the stripes in the pattern.   The result was something like latitude and longitude markings on a lumpy globe that orbited the room at least twice during each class.   I had decided from the first day that I would not learn much from Dr. Bellows.   After all, I was a national finalist in one of the most competitive speech contests in the country.   This was a “gimme” class.   I needed an easy “A” to make up for the dismal prospects offered by “Dr. Pass-Me-If-You-Can” in Music History.

By the end of the semester, I had managed to pass Music History (through much prayer and fasting).   It was instead Speech 101 that presented the biggest challenge.   In the end, it was Dr. Bellows, a walking globe with  headlight-sized horn-rims and a  hair cut reminiscant of Nicholas from “Eight is Enough” who almost failed me, and in doing so taught me perhaps one of the most important lessons of my young adult life.  

The speech was on the business of song writing.    Being a music business major, material on the subject was plentiful.   The delivery was artful, if I do say so myself.   It had humor.   It had drama.   It earned me a standing ovation.   Excuse me while I move to the head of the class.   That’s right.   State Public Speaking Champion coming through.   Yes, it’s a gift.   No, I’m not sure autographs are appropriate right now.    Perhaps after class.

Now, I’m being silly.   I actually only gave one autograph after class,  and that one  just basically committed me to bring something salty to the next Band Social.   Shortly thereafter, I made my way to Dr. Bellows, who was seated on his  axis at the rear of the room.   I had yet to receive his certain praise, and I swelled at the prospect.   What wonderful words might he use to describe my eloquence, my mastery of the oratory?   Perhaps he would even ask me to teach the class next week while he took some time off for that long overdue visit to the barbershop.

“Mr. Abbott.”   He beckoned me forward.   “Have a seat Mr. Abbott.”   Wow, this was gonna take some time.   I must have been better than I thought.

“Brilliant speech, Mr. Abbott.”

“Thank you, sir.”   I  said, waiting, hoping  for more.  

“You’re clearly the best speaker in the class.”

“Thank you, sir.”   Man, I love that part.

“I almost hate to fail you on this speech.”  

My mind hit the rewind button.   For a moment, I thought he said “fail.”   No, he must have said, “hail,” as in “hail you as the magnificent speaker you are.”

“I’m sorry?”  

“Mr. Abbott.   You can’t BS a BS’er.   Your delivery was wonderful.   But no one cared, because you said nothing.   I actually know less now that I did before I heard you speak.   Your reliance on rhetoric is alarming.”

The gaping whole that was my mouth invited all manner of flying things to enter at will.  

“Next time, Mr. Abbott, I want you to remember one thing.   How you speak will mean nothing unless you actually have something to say.”

I turned 34 the other day.  And like my age, real life has descended upon me like Sitting Bull on Custard.   Yet as I  reflect upon the sweet chaos that is my world, I have started  seeing things I’ve never seen before.   I hear sounds I’ve never heard before.   I feel weights I’ve never felt before.   And from all of this I am learning (thanks to Dr. Bellows) how to say things I’ve never said before.   I have finally stopped obsessing over how I speak.   I have finally started focusing on what I say.

And to my surprise, I really do have something to say.

Sisters for $400, Alex.

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McKenzie (9) :   “Hey RileyGrace, I bet you don’t know the capital of Japan.”

RileyGrace (6) : “Yes I do!”

McKenzie: “OK, smartie pants.   What is it?”

RileyGrace: “J.”

For more profound statements from RileyGrace, read this and this.   For those of you who are too embarassed to ask, the capital of Japan is in fact Tokyo.   (Yes, I had to look it up.   What’s your point?)