Category: Thursday Thought

How long does a Sunday School teacher’s impact last?

As a first-grader, it was riveting watching the Sunday School teacher stick images of Bible characters on a flannel graph.  There was just something about “seeing” Joseph and his coat of many colors. Or Daniel in the lions’ den.  The mischievous me admits to chuckling at the figures when they occasionally tumbled off the felt board.  But those stories somehow came alive (my wife, a preschool teacher, tells me that even in an age of iPads, kids still adore flannel graph stories).

Around the second or third grade, I recall Mrs. Patterson inviting our entire Sunday School class over for a party at her house. Great food, games, and fun.  What kid wouldn't love that?  I still remember it half a century later.

How long does a Sunday School teacher’s impact last?  Well, it was a Sunday School teacher who reached out to my unsaved father, visiting with him week after week for nearly 18 months before Dad finally came to Christ.  And that was more than 60 years ago.

Recently, I bought a book on eBay written by Charles Spurgeon titled, John Ploughman's Talk.  Inside the front cover, I found this inscription written in a red pencil:

“Present from my Sunday School teacher and schoolmate, John B. Thomas. 

Christmas, 1897.” 

It was signed by R.S. Diehl.  Who can tell what kind of impact this Sunday School teacher’s gift made on young Diehl?  Maybe the book fired him with an unquenchable love for the Savior.  Or maybe it kept him from choosing godless paths.  Heaven will reveal all.

Meanwhile, 123 years after the giving of this gift, I hold the evidence of Mr. Thomas' generosity in my hand.  And no doubt, his thoughtful gesture will be a blessing in my life, too!

How long does a Sunday School teacher’s impact last?

         Years. 

         Decades. 

         And likely—more often than we could ever imagine—all of eternity.

That’s how long.

Ever hear of a town named Goofy Ridge?

I didn't think so.  However, Goofy Ridge is a real place, near the center of Illinois. And that's not the only oddball city name in the Land of Lincoln.  There's Bonegap (southeastern Illinois) and Oblong, also southeast.   Head far south, and you'll arrive at a town named Muddy. But if you’re hungry, by all means, stop at Sandwich in DeKalb county.   Careful—or you might lose yourself in Lost Nation (Ogle County).  But you’re always welcome in Hometown (on the southeast border of Chicago).  Who knew city names could be so entertaining?

On a recent flight over Canada, I stared at the map detailing our path and was intrigued by a landmark identified as Yesterday River. It begins at —wait for it—Yesterday Lake, northeast of Cochrane, Ontario.

You have to wonder why they named it, "Yesterday River."  Did someone fall in love there?  Or lose a loved one there?  What memories lie buried in the banks of Yesterday River?

Bet you’ve met some people whose thoughts and conversations are so focused on the past, you wonder if they live in Yesterday River.  For them, everything that was ever good happened in the past. Nothing of the future intrigues or inspires—let alone—interests them.

If you’re a follower of Christ, it’s okay to visit Yesterday River, but it's not okay to live there.   When Jesus returned to heaven, his last words to the disciples were not, "Go and reminisce."  He said, "Go and make disciples!"  

In Isaiah 43:19, God says, "See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

It’s a new year.  A new slate.  A new set of possibilities. Maybe resolution #1 for you and me this year is to spend less time at Yesterday River, and more time looking for the new thing God is doing even now.  Happy New Year!

Christmas Eve with a six-year-old is a Christmas Eve is worth doing!

So there we were—Lucy and me—at our church.  She snuggled up on my lap as we watched Pastor Jim Lennon sketch a large chalk-art presentation all timed to a music track.   

At first, Pastor Jim’s broad strokes and dark colors impressed her.  But as the drawing continued, Lucy seemed a bit puzzled.  “What’s he doing?” she asked.  I explained that he was mixing colors for detail and depth.  “And what are those?” she inquired, pointing to some black rectangles in the upper left corner. I told her, “They might be houses from the town of Bethlehem” (seemed like a reasonable guess on Christmas eve!). 

As the music soared and then quieted, Lucy asked one more time, “What’s that he’s doing now?” 

Full disclosure: I've enjoyed watching a number of these drawings unfold—enough to know that Pastor Jim pre-draws part of the scene using colors that are invisible—until a black light shines on them.  So I had a sense of what might be ahead.

I said to Lucy, “In a few minutes, he’ll shine a special light—and then you’ll see everything.  It’ll all make sense.”  With one final assessment of his masterpiece, Pastor Jim stepped back and lit up the black lights.  

As he did so, every detail finally came into view: a lovely rendering of the nativity cave scene.  Stupefied shepherds bent over the manger as Joseph and Mary stared.  Imagine the questions they must have had. 

• Who was this child—really?
• What about all the prophecies?
• Why the shepherds and their account of the angels?

And then my own words boomeranged back: “In a few minutes, he’ll shine a special light—and then you’ll see everything.  It will all make sense.”   Part of me wonders if that’s advice a lot of us could use today.

Maybe at this time of holiday cheer, you’re a little low in the “cheer” department:

You grieve the loss of a loved one.

You groan at the news from your doctor.

What you are going through at the moment makes no sense at all.  Not in the least.

Could I invite you to reconsider the conversation Lucy and I shared?  “In a few minutes, He’ll shine a special light—and then you’ll see everything. It will all make sense.”

Okay—so maybe that’s a bit oversimplified. Not only do we sometimes have to wait for more than a few minutes to get our answers, sometimes it's years.  Or we don't get the answers we were looking for in this lifetime.  Still, I have every confidence that someday, God really will shine His light on you—and you’ll see everything.  It will all make sense.

So take heart.

Even if yours is a bit heavy.

But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.  –Michah 7:7

Carl is one of those guys who calls ‘em as he sees 'em.  He works for a public school that features an annual Breakfast with Santa the first Saturday in December.  "It's a nice event," Carl assesses.  "Pancakes and sausages and Santa.  What's not to like?"  

It’s a lot of extra work for Carl.  “We get maybe 100 kids with their parents.” But at this year’s breakfast with Santa, Carl—who is a believer—stood talking with a school official. "You know it's funny when you think about it," offered Carl.   "All this work because of a guy who doesn't even exist—Santa.  But say one word about Jesus, and you're in big trouble."  The administrator said, “I have to agree.” 

Maybe one of the reasons hearing about Jesus is so troubling to some is because the moment we’re out in public, those of us who know Him often act like we don’t.  So the name of Jesus is increasingly rarely heard. 

At the same time, in our secular culture, many Christ-followers feel they've somehow forfeited the right to speak His name.

Not so!  Not Constitutionally and not biblically! On the contrary, Jesus said, "Everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10:32,33).

It’s Christmas.  Let’s speak the name of Jesus.  The holiday unmistakably bears His name!  Sing it!  Say it!  Share it! 

There are 34,000 species of spiders in America, and this time of year, a disturbing number of them decide it’s time to crawl from the backyard into your home.  Hence, our daughter’s appointment with an exterminator. The pest control industry will pardon three-year-old, Sadie, for labeling the guy who showed up at her door as "Bug Guy."

If Bug Guy was on a mission, so was Sadie. The moment he stepped inside their home, she got right to it.  "Hey, Bug Guy, do you love Jesus?"  Sadie giggled, but the man offered no reply as he clomped down the stairs. Sadie was undeterred and hiked down right after him.  Cranking up the volume so he couldn't possibly fail to hear, she projected with slow deliberation, "Bug guy—DO/YOU/ LOVE/ JESUS?"  He sweetly ignored her and got to work.

I wondered when was the last time that anybody asked him a question like that.  Maybe this was the first!  Who knows? 

Can you think of a more important question to ask someone than that—Do you love Jesus?  I can’t.  Think of the seed Sadie may have planted, just by speaking up. 

Some might argue we ought instead to ease into a conversation about spiritual things.  Or take the time to build a bridge.  Or first, address a "felt need."

But Bug Guy's visit was short, so Sadie got right to the point.  Now, if a three-year-old can do that, then why can’t we?

 

P.S.  If you enjoy the frank honesty of kids and their conversations, pick up a copy of Kids Say the Wisest Things.  It’s filled with stories like this one—and (amazingly) makes a great Christmas gift, too!  Available at Amazon and Christianbook.com.

“One more thing,” Tim said. “Next time you come over, can you bring the LEGOs?” 

Our grown son is now a father of two, and his oldest is able to play, so—why not?  We were thrilled at the prospect of reclaiming some shelf space in his old closet.

Having hauled the LEGOs to Tim's house, I pried off the dusty plastic lid.  Instead of a mound of red, white, and blue plastic bricks, I encountered the remains of several LEGO creations—along with handfuls of loose pieces.

Two of the sub-assembly chunks were big enough we could snap them together and tell it was a building of some kind.  There were partial vehicles fastened to wheels and axles (see actual photo).

Tim and I grew pensive.  “Odd,” I thought out loud.  “It’s like a time capsule or something. Projects froze in time."

“Ya know,” he said. “These things are probably 20 plus years old.  I haven’t played with the LEGOs for at least that long.”

So were these uncompleted projects?  If so, why didn't they ever get finished?  Was playtime interrupted by dinner?  Or bedtime? Was there ever an intent to finish these things?

The mystery swirled and twisted in my brain until it morphed into an altogether different question.  At some future moment, when I stand before God, what will He find as He lifts the lid off of my life?

Will there be important—but unfinished—projects there?  Things He has asked me to complete that I have failed to finish?  As the heavenly inventory of my life ends, what will pain me—and Him—the most?

I suspect I will regret having invested time and energy in lesser tasks than the sacred agenda of the Almighty. Things that seemed important at the time will melt away, revealing the dusty delusions they were all along.

Could it be the sorrow over this much unfinished living is the reason we are twice promised in Revelation, “God will wipe away every tear from their eyes”?

God help us finish the tasks to which He has called us!

 

 

 

 

Imagine if CNN were around when the Pilgrims celebrated that first Thanksgiving…

 

CNN: Their homes are mostly huts, their story—more tragedy than triumph.  I'm speaking of the group of religious Separatists who left England for a 67-day ocean crossing on the Mayflower. Their voyage was about one goal: obtaining religious freedom.   I’m joined by William Bradford, a spokesman for the Separatists.

CNN: Mr. Bradford, I understand your group paid a high price for this venture. Do you think in retrospect these folks who came over with you really understood what they were getting into?

BRADFORD: They knew they were pilgrims.

CNN: Meaning what?

BRADFORD: They were ready to perish in this wilderness.

CNN: And perish they have.  You originally sailed with a group of 102.  But the cold weather you encountered was devastating.  How many died?

BRADFORD: We  buried half the original group that sailed from England during our first winter,

CNN:  I understand that only four of the married women who left England still have husbands.  Forgive me, but it doesn’t seem like you have much to show for all this suffering and death.

BRADFORD:  All great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.

CNN: And you still feel the same commitment to this ideal of freedom to worship God in your own way?

BRADFORD: To keep a good conscience, and walk in such a way as God has prescribed in his Word, is a thing which I must prefer before you all, and above life itself.

CNN: Today, you gather with 90 Native Americans to express thanks to God.  But don't you have more reason for grief than gratitude?  On what basis have you encouraged the pilgrims?

BRADFORD: Let them praise the Lord because He is good, and His mercies endure forever.

CNN: So ended my conversation with William Bradford. Separatists—or extremists? We’ll leave it to our viewers to decide.

 

NOTE: Though this conversation obviously never took place, William Bradford actually said these very words (I have made only minor edits) in his book, Of Plymouth Plantation.

 

 

 

 

I just upgraded my cell phone—exciting, but a pain. I struggled with all those account numbers, PIN numbers, Apple ID…Yikes!   Doesn't it seem like getting a new phone should be a whole lot easier than it is?

One thing jumped out at me—the intense interest the tech world exhibits in wanting to monitor my location.  I'm leery and—increasingly—irritated by the insatiable appetites of Google, Apple, Samsung, and others—to know of my location.   I get this feeling when installing (or reinstalling) an app. It's one thing for a map program to ask—but a bowling game?  C’mon!

Observe the euphemistic label the industry chooses to use instead of GPS.  They insist on calling it “Location Services.”  As if someone is doing you and me a favor or service.  But make no mistake.  Tech companies see your phone as a satellite tracking device, for sure.  And indeed, they are tracking.

Now I'm not exactly a conspiracy theorist. But something seems out of whack.  They say the use of location services allows third parties to be much more selective in targeting the ads with which bombard us. And this is supposed to be a benefit?

When given a choice, my response is to uncheck the box for Location Services.   Tech-savvy readers will counter that those companies can use other means to get your location. True.  But it's not as accurate—or they wouldn't nearly bludgeon me into turning on my GPS….urr Location Services.

Only the most gullible believe tech companies have nothing but our best interests at heart in attempting to monitor our every move. It’s odd how few have grasped the fact that for the benefits we receive in using GPS (yes, I love Google Maps), we are at the same time trading away the simple dignity of our anonymity.

By contrast, we serve a benevolent God in heaven who not only knows our current location—but where we will be the next hour, the next month—and the next millennia. And unlike the big brother-ish companies clutching at our data, God has nothing but our best interests at heart.

The Psalmist asked, “Where can I go from your presence?”  The reassuring answer from the God who is all-loving and all-present: Nowhere!  The certainty that He knows our location at all times is a comfort and kindness in stark contrast to the data miners and marketers that haunt our phones!

 

 

We’ve all seen the greeting cards, or maybe read the quotes on Pinterest.  You know the ones—where they encourage you to “do that act of kindness now.”  The edgier ones add the phrase, “while you can.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson pointed out, “You cannot do kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late."

William Penn offered his sobering perspective when he wrote, "I expect to pass through life but once.  If, therefore, there by any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to a fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.”

Charles Kingsley summed it up in his poignant observation, “There's no use doing a kindness if you do it a day too late.”

It should come as no surprise that the Bible has a lot to say about kindness.  According to Colossians 3:12, kindness ought to be the most visible part of our conduct:

“So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline.”

Earlier this week in checking my inbox,  I discovered an email from an online floral service I had previously used.   The message read, “Jon, hurry!  Send Virginia birthday flowers today!”  Virginia is my Mom—a person with a long track record of kindness. 

But no amount of hurrying on my part could ever be fast enough. Mom is gone.  In heaven.

Today is her birthday. So I sent her flowers anyway.

In care of my Dad.

When you’re four years old, you want to “be big.” Same thing when you’re forty. 

 

We want the big salary. We want the big reputation. We want the big following on social media. 

 

Curiously, the disciples were just like us—minus FaceBook. Proof? In Matthew 18 they asked Jesus, “Who will be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” In other words, “Who will be the big man on heaven’s campus?” Their intent was that Jesus poke a finger at one of them and declare the big winner. 

 

Instead, Jesus plopped a tot in their midst and said, “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” In other words, get small.

 

But doesn’t this yank against every fiber of our flesh? We want to make a big splash, earn the big bucks, get a big house on a big lot, and drive a big car. We want to play in the big leagues, hunt with the big dogs, make it to the big time—or even to the big screen! We like big rings, big checks, and Big Macs. We want to score big, live big, talk big.

 

And in the middle of all this high and heady “big” talk, Jesus calls us to get small, to humble ourselves like a little child. 

 

Jesus wasn’t saying we couldn’t have big dreams. He was saying that bigness itself must always be calibrated by heaven’s standards if it is to have any eternal worth. 

 

Consider: there are no big shots in heaven. No big wigs. Only small people. People who have humbled themselves. Like a child. 

 

The world says, “Go big or go home!” Jesus says, “Get small, so you can come home.”

 

THAT is how you become greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.