The odds say we should never have met him.

But we did.

My son and I were trying to leave the Chicago Auto Show and find the bus exit that would take us to the train station…and home.

But which exit?  We weren’t sure.   So we asked a trio of Chicago Police officers.

Ironically, one of them I’d met before.  He was the officer who ticketed me two years previously for a railroad crossing violation.   I recall him being very polite and most respectful.  Yet, the law required him to ticket me.

After paying the fine and doing community service, I showed up in court—and there he was.  This time, I shook his hand and thanked him for reminding me—in a painful way—to be more careful. 

But there he was again—at the auto show!  What are the odds that of the 12,000 police officers patrolling the streets of Chicago I would meet him there? 

Once again I thanked him, reminding him of my expensive safety lesson.  As we parted, he reached out to shake my hand, a friendship—of a sort.

That police officer represented authority. In a similar way, Jesus is Authority to us. Ultimate Authority.

In a thousand different ways He shows Himself to every one of us in life.  In a thousand different ways He lets us know we’ve broken the law, that there’s a penalty—Hell.  Yet He Himself has paid the penalty.  In a thousand different ways He invites us to acknowledge Him as the Authority of our lives, the One who paid the penalty for us.

For now, you can disregard Him. Ignore Him. Disbelieve Him.  Even disrespect Him.

But someday, you will meet Him again.

And if you have not previously acknowledged Him as Lord…you certainly will then as Judge.   Romans 14:11,12:

As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to Me,

And every tongue shall give praise to God.”

                  So then each one of us will give an account of himself to God.

One of the cool things about having children around is you're in touch with all the current “hot toys.”  You know, the must-have gifts at birthdays and Christmas.

What’s old is apparently new--and very popular in toys these days.  I refer to “Little People,” a toy series introduced by Fisher Price in the 1960s.  These diminutive plastic figures come in a wide variety of characters.

Farmers, animals, boys and girls.  You'll find “Little People” versions of these.  But you can also find licensed versions of movie figures, like popular Disney characters. They are all now under the Mattel name, since they bought out Fisher Price.

According to “This Old Toy’s” Little People History, Mattel claims that since the brand's launch, over 2-billion "Little People" figures have been sold in over 60 countries.

Our two year old granddaughter Lucy—a little person herself—is fascinated with "Little People."  We got her a set for Christmas and she keeps them faithfully in a cardboard “chest of gold.”  She refers to this collection of "Little People" as her “treasure.”

And they certainly appear to be—at least to her.  Faithfully collected every night, Lucy guards them from intrusion or loss or harm or brotherly theft.  Such tender care. 

What if we treated the souls in our lives with the same care Lucy extends toward her “Little People?”  What if we had a place of protection for their feelings, their dreams, their hurts, their secret burdens?  What if we were just as intentional about giving the people in our lives—little people AND big people—the same kind of care?

Come to think of it, this is exactly how our heavenly Father treats us.

 “He tends His flock like a shepherd.  He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart.  He gently leads those that have young” (Isaiah 40:11).

Got any little people in your life?  Do you treat them like treasures?

Do you prefer your coffee black?
Do you like the taste of bitter herbs?
Then—caution!  You might be a psychopath!

A recent study published in the journal, Appetite!, suggests that a fondness for bitter food and drink may well indicate a connection with what psychologists define as “malevolent personality traits.”

You heard me correctly. Your enjoyment of a raw endive salad or—for that matter—most any bitter food or drink has been shown to correlate with psychotic behavior.

Those who took part in the study were asked to identify how much they liked food ranging from bitter to salty to sweet.   Turns out those who demonstrated a preference for bitter food ranked high in aggression, sadism, and narcissism.  Those who tended to crave sweets were the most agreeable.  There you have it—scientific evidence that you are what you eat! 

With due respect to what I am sure is solid research, I would suggest there is more to the story than what meets the taste buds.

In Mathew 15:11, Jesus made it clear, “It's not what enters into the mouth that defiles the man, but what proceeds out of the mouth, this defiles the man.”

I don't discount the research that links bitter foods to bitter attitudes.  But clearly, there is more to the issue.  And as always, Jesus throws a spotlight on the hard truth. 

That uncomfortably bright light is seen in Luke 6:45: “The good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, brings forth what is good.  And the evil man, out of the evil treasure, brings forth what is evil.  For his mouth speaks from that which fills his heart.”

In the end, it's a whole lot more about what we put in our heart, than what we put in our stomach. 

Maybe it's time we re-trained our taste buds.  So what are you craving?

Source: Hemispheres Magazine, January 2016

In the market for a new home?

I saw some interesting listings in the Wall Street Journal.

Trump Park Avenue, a 32 story condo development by presidential candidate Donald Trump, is offering a penthouse unit for $35 million.  That's more than twice the price of a 4,200 square foot 27^th floor apartment that features oak floors, handcrafted Italian brass doorknobs, and views of Park Avenue.  

Perhaps you hanker for a quieter life and a warmer clime.  Then consider another $35 million dollar listing, this one from Christie's International, in Paradise Valley, Arizona.  

The five bedroom “main house” offers more than 30,000 feet of living space and includes a movie theater and indoor basketball court (complete with score board and sky box seats).  Did I mention the master bedroom features a hair salon, a kitchenette, an office—along with the usual sitting room and his and her closets?  The 12 acre property boasts a swimming pool with his-and-her pool houses and a guesthouse with its own infinity pool (I mean, who could live without one?).  

You say you really are a city girl...a city guy at heart?  Have I got a deal for you in Manhattan!  Take a (really big) bite of the Big Apple when you buy a penthouse under construction at 160 Leroy Street. You'll cough up between 75 and 80 million for a 12,200 square foot “shack.”

The unit will have three kitchens-- a “social kitchen” to entertain, an adjacent “chef's kitchen”--the true grub hub, plus a third kitchen in a private rooftop terrace.  

And then….there’s Jesus who said, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”

Nothing wrong with having a nice home. 

Nothing better, though, than living for our eternal home. 

Which home are you living for? 

Frankly, I felt ambushed.

I was minding my own business attending church in Arizona with my wife and our friends, Charlie and Kathy, when of all things, we were led in singing an old Sunday School chorus, “Jesus Loves Even Me.”

Words splashed on the screen, but few in the crowd needed them:

            I am so glad that our Father in Heav’n
            Tells of His love in the Book He has giv’n;
            Wonderful things in the Bible I see,
            This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me.”

The chorus goes on to testify:

            I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus love me, Jesus loves me.

            I am so glad that Jesus loves me—Jesus loves even me.

A lump formed in my throat, amazed afresh at my own redemption: Jesus loves even me.   But how could I—how could we—ever lose this sense of astonishment?  Somehow, we do.

Like a fried egg gone cold, we get crusty around the edges.   Over time, we convince ourselves that there probably is something of worth about the air-brushed lives we lead, after all.  “Why of course Jesus loves me!” is our secret stance.  “After all, I'm a reasonably decent person.”

Gone is the image of spittle on the face of Christ, and my phlegm the source of that humiliation.  Gone the oozing bald patch on Christ's face, and mine the hand gripping His ripped out beard.  Gone the spikes that pin his flesh and mine the hand grasping the hammer. 

Worse, we engage in a spiritual cover-up, like a spiritual version of Photoshop.  We conjure up pixels of self-righteousness and presume ourselves presentable.  Yet Jesus sees it all, would forgive it all.  More than that, He wants to love us.  So He whispers His love again—sometimes in a simple kids' chorus.

          I am so glad that Jesus loves me.

          Jesus loves...even me.