Author: Jon Gauger

In the last month, I’ve been privileged to participate in two remarkable reunions. The first was with my Junior High band director, now in his upper 80s. Then came an invitation to participate in a “Marching Mustangs” high school band event.

Our high school band director, also in his late 80s, flew in from Arizona, and we had dinner together. Then, we alumni rehearsed with the current band, marched out onto the field, and played the school fight song for the homecoming game. Under the bright lights, it felt like a time warp—like I was back decades ago.

What a blast sharing the evening with my brother, Tom—who played trumpet—and sister, Susan—who played flute and was the drum major in her senior year. The thing that shocked me was…. Okay, I’ll just say it.   Everybody looked old. Really old.

Granted, I hadn’t seen most of these people since Ronald Reagan was president, but still, I was caught off guard. (And just think, they all said the same thing about me!).

My state of melancholy morphed into full-blown sadness when I pondered the cause of all this—the lingering effects of sin. Not one hunky football player, not one cute cheerleader, not one homecoming queen escapes the reach of its wrinkle-making, hair-thinning, life-choking grasp. And then we die!

Ah, but for the believer, there’s more to the story. There’s a better reunion coming. In heaven, our lives will be restored, our bodies will be new, and—best of all—”so shall we ever be with the Lord.”

Will you be at that reunion?

For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore, encourage one another with these words.

-1 Thessalonians 4:16-18

I suffer from an addiction.

Books.

I love the way they look, the way they feel—even the way they smell. I cannot pass up a bookstore, book stall, or library without perusing. And my biggest distraction at any airport is the spinning rack or sprawling stack of books.

Don’t get me wrong. A Kindle is fun—and mighty handy. But there’s something profound about cradling a beautifully crafted volume.

Likely, that’s why Psalm 139:16 arrested my attention. David writes, “Your eyes have seen my formless substance; and in Your book were written all the days that were ordained for me when as yet there was not one of them.”

Consider: your days are all ordained. Which means there’s a plan for your life, a story arc. And if our days are ordained, it means Someone is doing the ordaining—God.

When you write a book, the publisher assigns you an editor who has the last word on everything: content, style, deadline, and even the cover. David reminds us that not only is God our Maker, but He’s also our Editor.

Regarding the number of our days, there was a time when “there was not one of them.” Likewise, there will be a time when our days are no longer.

I have yet to read a book that doesn’t have a front cover—and a back, a beginning—and an end. Likewise, in the plot line of your life, God will, at some point, say, “This is the end.” And it will be.

Yet, in another sense, that moment will only be the beginning of eternity. For believers, eternity is our “story after the story.” But we have only a relatively few chapters here on earth to make a difference in that unending adventure.

I don’t know how many pages remain in your narrative—or mine. But shouldn’t those pages—every single one of them—be inked, underlined, and highlighted with stories of our courage, compassion, and Christ-exalting service?

Do you merely dislike sin—or do you hate sin? The question is about much more than semantics.

In Psalm 101:3, David pledges, “I will set no worthless thing before my eyes; I hate the work of those who fall away; It shall not cling to me.”

Notice that David didn’t say he “disliked” sin. The word here is hate. And God uses that same word—hate—to describe a long list of sins He despises.

The big deal? When we simply “dislike” sin, we inevitably tolerate it—and even toy with it. It gains a toehold, if not a foothold, in our lives.

I dislike my messy office desk, but apparently, I don’t hate it because I tolerate piles on my desk and even piles on the floor. If I truly hated it, I would get rid of the mess. This is nothing less than the sin of laziness or lack of self-discipline.

Spurgeon says, “What fascinates the eye is very apt to gain admission into the heart.”

Many are driven by lust—which certainly fascinates the eye—and so, at some level, we engage it. Others of us toy with greed, laziness, or extreme ambition. On good days, we avoid these sins (we dislike them). But at other times, we engage them (down deep, we like them). So, we feed them and give them lodging in our hearts.

In other words, we are part-time sin-haters. Which is another way of saying we are part-time sin lovers. But John Owen’s warning still shouts about the fray: “Be killing sin, or sin will be killing you!” 

I say again, a part-time sin hater is also a part-time sin lover. Then what’s the way out? How do we learn the art of “killing sin?”

Matthew Henry advises, “In all our worldly business, we must see that what we set our eyes upon be right and good and not any forbidden fruit, and that we never seek that which we cannot have without sin. It is the character of a good man that he shuts his eyes from seeing evil.” 

All of this sounds remarkably similar to Philippians 4:8: “…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

But I leave the final word with Spurgeon, who offers this succinct advice: “Hatred of sin is a good sentinel for the door of virtue.”

Lord,

Help us lock the door on sin—and throw away the key. Help us stop being part-time sin-haters. We want to love you more —and love you only.

Amen!

The immersive green textures drenched us in beauty as the tractor hauled us deeper into the woods. I suggested to five-year-old Emma that we have a “looking party,” pausing to notice and thank God for all His creation. We did.

But why isn’t this a way of life for us grownups? I’m convinced there’s a price we pay for not really looking. First, we cease to be thankful. Second, we cease even to notice the magic. Doubt my claim?

When was the last time you looked up at the sliver-cratered moon of ours and whispered, “Praise God!”

Do we see those geese honking overhead during their formation flights? Even if they’re not honking, the sound of their wind-whipped wings is awesome.

When did we last inhale the fragrance that only autumn unbottles?

And how does God paint such bombastic shades of red on the tree leaves?

When was the last time you stood reverently in a field of corn and enjoyed the symphony of an early morning breeze making music in the drying stalks?

God’s creation offers a staggering amount of beauty—yet much of it passes by daily without our thanks. Worse, we fail even to notice it.

But what if we chose differently? What if we scheduled a daily “looking party” —a moment when we chose to notice—and thank God—for His creative touches?

Our cloud-crafting, moon-making, sky-painting, God generates an original never-to-be-repeated show every single day. And night. A “looking party” might be just what you need to notice—and thank Him for it!

It is I who made the earth and created mankind on it. My own hands stretched out the heavens; I marshaled their starry hosts.

-Isaiah 45:12

Are you a conversational narcissist?

Most of us are good talkers but lousy listeners. So, here’s how to know if your conversations are consistently more about you than anyone you’re talking with:

• You give little or no focus to what other people tell you.
• Your undying preoccupation is laser-locked on what you’re going to say next.
• You habitually hijack conversational subjects and steer them toward your own interests and experiences.
• Your stories are always “better” or “more important” than anyone else’s—therefore, more worthy of airtime.

Most of us love to talk more than listen. That’s garden variety selfishness. But conversational narcissists are me-monster addicts. They’ve never encountered a chat that couldn’t become all about them. Protest all you like, but if that’s really you, your friends and family already know.

I’m reading a book called How to Listen with Intention. Author Patrick King points out, “Conversational narcissism may look on its surface like a regular conversation, but on closer inspection, it actually resembles two people spouting monologues”—and they’re right next to each other!

The problem is as old and knotty as sin itself. The answer? Patrick King suggests, “Listening well requires that you suspend your own self-interest and ego and gracefully allow someone else to shine.” This sounds remarkably like Philippians 2:4–

Do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.

Our conversations say everything about our interests in others, our Savior—and ourselves. Maybe a good next step for all of us is to simply say less—much less—and listen more. Much more!

Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry

– James 1:19

If you think of an Oscar Meyer hotdog as nothing less than an assault on good nutrition, you can skip this blog. But if you hold a soft spot in your heart, a place on your palate—and your plate—for hot dogs, prepare to be amused.

Those yellow-band packaged Oscar Mayer hotdogs go back to 1929. Sales grew steadily even throughout the depression, and Oscar Mayer became a household name.

With commercial success, brand recognition, and the 1936 introduction of the kitschy Weinermobile, the company lacked but one thing: a catchy jingle. So, in 1963, Oscar Meyer sponsored a national contest inviting anyone to submit their musical ideas.  

Ironically, Richard Trentlage only learned about the contest the night before the deadline. In about an hour, he scribbled out a melody and lyrics and recorded a demo with his 11-year-old son and 9-year-old daughter. The next day, he drove up to Wisconsin from his suburban Chicago home to drop off the entry—and then waited. And waited. More than one year (and many focus groups) later, Trentlage learned he had won.

Once released, that jingle went viral before things went viral. To the point where people started requesting it on the radio! You know the lyrics:

Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener,

That is what I’d truly like to be-ee-ee.

‘Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener,

Everyone would be in love with me.

The tune is perky, and the lyrics amuse.

But I’m stuck on that phrase: “If I were on Oscar Mayer Weiner, everyone would be in love with me.” The idea conveyed (all in good fun, of course) is that if you really want the love of others, you gotta do something. In this case, become a hot dog.

You say, Jon, you’re way overthinking this. It’s just a jingle! Maybe. But I’m convinced that many Christians—could it be most Christians—secretly believe that same hot dog theology. We “sing” messages to ourselves like:

• If I were a lot more holy…
• If I were me without my past…
• If I were able to get past my abuse, my divorce, my prison record… THEN God would be in love with me!

Nothing could be further from biblical truth. Ephesians 2:4,5 declares, “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace, you have been saved.”

If He loved before you loved Him, you can do nothing to earn more of that love. Nothing. You already have it! Almighty God is already in love with you!

That’s something to celebrate!

(With or without a hotdog).

P.S. Enjoy that photo of the Weinermobile—27 feet of pure fun!

It has the most powerful bite of any shark on the planet. At 1,300 pounds of bite force per square inch, the Bull shark is even more powerful than the Great White. By the way—puny humans like us have a bite force that maxes out at a mere 150psi.

Bull sharks are found all over the world in saltwater oceans as well as freshwater lakes. They’ve even been found in Alton, Illinois—some 1800 miles up the Mississippi River! Not to creep you out, but almost no one in the water is safe from a Bull Shark.

They eat dolphins and turtles (hard shells easily cracked by the shark’s teeth). And Bull sharks will even attack hippos!

But here’s the creepiest fact of all. Bull shark babies, known as pups, usually live in mangrove swamps away from big nasty predators. But adult Bull sharks take advantage of this—eating the young of their own kind.

Disgusting? Absolutely. But what about us?

When we chew on juicy theories about why one of the church’s worship singers left her husband—aren’t we eating our own kind?

When we tear apart the pastor’s sermon—over lunch, no less—aren’t we eating our own kind?

When we hungrily swallow unflattering words about fellow believers, aren’t we guilty of eating our own kind?

That evil behavior comes so naturally is an ugly proof of Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.”

Today, let’s choose to be gentle—extra gentle—on the people around us. Especially those that rub us the wrong way. Remember—we’re called to be harmless as doves, not ruthless as sharks.

But if you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.

– Galatians 5:15

It might be the most abused word in the English language: Free.

Aware of our undying quest to get something for nothing, advertisers love to splash this word all over brochures, billboards, and websites. But that free word is almost always accompanied by an asterisk—essentially, a tiny technicality that allows greedy people and their companies to pose as if they are offering something they are not.

Nowhere is this more evident than on the web. Waiting for my flight at O’Hare, I was invited to click on “ORD_free_Wifi.”  But if you click it, you are taken to a website eager to take your money for pay-only access to O’Hare’s Wi-Fi.

Try doing a Google search for “Free Photos.” You’ll see any number of websites all claiming to offer free images. But when you click, you find a mixture of photos displayed, with the most prominent ones offered by fee-based companies like Shutterstock or iStock. Their images are positively not free!

So, why is this kind of misleading representation even allowed? Such a practice violates every notion of false advertising!

This is just one more contrast that makes Jesus so refreshing, so appealing compared to anything the world offers. When Christ says, “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden,” He doesn’t present a tantalizing fake offer with fine print.

When He offers to set you free from the power of sin, there’s no charge When He promises free forgiveness, it really is free.

When He offers free salvation, there’s no catch, no small print—and no fee!

Thanks be to God for His no-fine-print gift of Jesus, the Savior!

“Freely you received, freely give.”

–Matthew 10:8b

Emma’s face reddened with embarrassment.

In a large group setting, the five-year-old blurted out a response to a question that was merely rhetorical. Emotion took a few minutes to kick in, but then hot tears drizzled down Emma’s cherubic face.

I hugged, kissed, patted, and assured her there was nothing to worry about, nothing to be ashamed of. She quieted some, and Emma brightened at my invitation to play a game of Uno.

Important note: when you play Uno with a five-year-old, their little hands can’t hold all the cards. So, Emma and her sister Ava spread the cards out on the table. Even so, Emma almost always wins against us adults. She is that tough a player!

However, I was a bit confused when allowed to nick me with a “Draw Two” or “Draw Four” card—Emma chose a harmless alternative. I pointed this out to her, but she would not budge. Another chance came for Emma to zap me, and again she declined.

As she cuddled against me, I sensed that Emma just might be so grateful for an earlier gift of mercy, she would not be deterred from returning the kindness the only way she knew. Mercy felt that good.

It always does.

Like its cousin, forgiveness, mercy is the gift that everybody wants—but few give. It’s the Band-Aid craved by every bleeding soul.

How much does a hug cost? How pricey is a pat on the back? Would it bankrupt us to offer a word of encouragement? In the economy of Christ, mercy is the gold, and those who have given the most are the only truly wealthy ones.

Who needs your mercy?

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

—Jesus, Matthew 5:7

Our pergola’s beautiful new steel roof looks fantastic, and it’s so much cooler sitting outside now. But we scarcely had time to enjoy our now-shady space when I looked up to find a hole in one of the boards I didn’t recall drilling.

I chose to ignore it, hoping it was just my imagination. Except the next day, there was no imagining the bits of sawdust raining down on the covers of our outdoor furniture.

You guessed it—we had ourselves an infestation of carpenter bees. And did I mention that their toilet tank empties directly onto our deck chairs when they go to the bathroom? Rude!

Time to call an expert—which we did. He gave us the complete buzz on those bees. Told us how the bees drill into the wood just a little—then bore a 90-degree hole and set up a home for their growing family. They can quickly eat through enough lumber to damage or destroy most structures. Including my deck.

If you go online, you won’t lack ideas on how to treat carpenter bees. One person recommended spraying the holes with citrus spray. Or vinegar (yeah, that’s basically like fruit spray, right?) You can plug the holes with caulk. Or wood putty. Or—wait—the bees sometimes eat their way through that. So, try wadded-up tin foil. Or steel wool.

Me? I didn’t want to “try” anything. I wanted those bees gone. Immediately! That’s why we brought in an expert.

Those “little holes” in the wood remind me of the “little sins” you and I allow into our lives. Small as they are starting out, they can lead to the eating away of our souls to the point of complete spiritual destruction.

We need an expert exterminator, you and me, and thankfully we have one. In Proverbs 28:13, God warns,

Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.

Colossians 3:5 urges,

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.

Those bees of mine are now dead. But what about my sins—and yours? Any chance you might need an appointment with the Exterminator? Don’t wait!