LifeVesting

Send in the Clowns

Andy Wood — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 07:21:59 +0000

“It seems plausible that folly and fools, like religion and magic, meet some deeply rooted needs in human society.” -Peter Berger, Redeeming Laughter

At a convention, filled with pastors and other very religious people, I was sitting on a shuttle bus going from the parking lot to the convention center. The bus made a stop, and on hopped Dennis Swanberg – comedian, and then-pastor. I recognized him, because we’d recently had him as a guest in our church. Somebody else recognized him too. A good ol’ boy hollered from the back of the bus, “Hey! Aren’t you Dennis Swanberg? Say sumpthin’ funny!”

Dennis smiled good-naturedly, but the look in his eye said it all: Seriously?

I joked with him about the cluelessness of the request. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s sorta like saying to a doctor in public, ‘Cure something,’”

One Planet, Two Kingdoms

Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Where are the clowns?

Two kingdoms live on one planet, and they seem to be circling one another in a dance of repulsion. One kingdom is governed by the god of this world; the other by the God of Heaven. One seems drawn to folly like a moth to the flame; the other claims to pursue wisdom. But here’s the rub: The God of Heaven has sent the citizens of His kingdom to dance with the citizens of this world in a dance of redemption.

To us, it’s an act of love, kindness, obedience, and truth.

To the world? We’re clowns. We’re a joke – the buffoons, the fools.

Say sumpthin’ funny!

By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps.
For there our captors demanded of us songs,
And our tormentors mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
How can we sing the Lord’s song
In a foreign land? (Psalm 137:1-4)

The Jester Prophet

Go with me to the middle ages, where kings in nearly every country had a version of the jester, or the fool. The fool’s job was to entertain the king and his court. But he was allowed to do something virtually nobody else in the court could do: he could be honest with the king.

Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

The ones who couldn’t move? They were the yes-men – the court approvers, whose sole task, it seemed, was to always approve of the Emperor’s New Clothes. One word of disagreement or criticism could mean their heads.

The fool was different. Through sarcasm, wit, wisdom and outright lunacy to his heart’s content, the jester could give the monarchs a different perspective while poking fun at royalty and nobility. And get this: The kings would often listen, even while the rest of the court scoffed and laughed at the comedian.

Believers often function in the same way. By applying our talents and insights, we can gain a platform that, while it may roundly jeered by the approvers-that-be, may penetrate the defenses of the decision-makers.

For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God… Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not come to know God, God was well-pleased through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe. (1 Corinthians 1:18-21)

From the Outside Looking In

Don’t you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don’t bother, they’re here.

You share the same desires as every other human on the planet, regardless of the kingdom. You want to be loved. Heard. Taken seriously. Feel as though you had something of value to offer. Somehow believe your life has meaning.

Unfortunately, in a world that organizes itself completely without God, believers are never the main attraction.

True story: A family planning a $60 thousand dollar wedding asks the planner for a Justice of the Peace to do the ceremony. She gives them a name; they come back for another one. Seems this man wanted to use the Bible and mention God. They wanted neither – just someone to make it legal. James Flamming adds:

A large percentage of Americans, rich and not-so-rich, are like that. To them we are like clowns: irrelevant, inconsequential, ridiculous.

Like the entertainers at the rodeo or the circus, we function as the side show – regardless of how seriously we want people to take us. And let’s be honest: it hurts. We handle the holy things! We’re carriers of a Life Transformer – an eternal Change Agent. His grace has overwhelmed us, and His love has compelled us. And while it may appear we’re just a stage act in search of an audience, the message we sing and proclaim has the power to revolutionize the world.

Say sumpthin’ funny!

“We have become a spectacle to the world, both to angels and to men. We are fools for Christ’s sake” (1 Corinthians 4:9-10).

Do you know what it’s like to be the punch line of the world’s joke? Or to be ignored – not just what you say, but who you are? Or to feel like a resident alien in your own country, county, or town? My God, it aches. Can’t we just go home?

A Different Perspective

For consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble; but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong, and the base things of the world and the despised God has chosen, the things that are not, so that He may nullify the things that are, so that no man may boast before God (1 Corinthians 1:26-29).

Out in the rodeo arena, where men risk their lives and safety to test their endurance against a really angry bull, clowns do more than make the kids laugh. They are known there as “bull fighters.” Their main job is to distract the bull from the rider when he dismounts or is thrown down. Waving and yelling to attract the bull’s attention, the clowns allow the rider to escape to safety. And in situations where a rider becomes entangled and unable to free himself from the bull, the clowns put themselves at risk by rushing to the bull and placing themselves between the bull’s horns and the rider, while at the same time attempting to free the rider from the bull.

Nobody’s laughing then. Especially the rider.

In a much larger arena – a dark and decaying world, that insults, persecutes, and falsely says all kinds of evil against followers of Christ – Jesus calls us salt and light (Matthew 5:11-16). We’re the preservatives. The city set on a hill. The lighthouse that sounds the warning, whether the persecutors want to hear it or not.

And when the people in that world are desperate or in danger, entangled or dying, a cry of love goes out from the Throne of Heaven: Send in the clowns.

And while you may feel useless and rejected, scorned or irrelevant, the need of your neighbor and the grace of your King cries out through your pain: Rider down! Will you be the clown?

And in a harvest that’s ripe, with laborers few, a brokenhearted Redeemer is moved with compassion for those (yes, those scorners) who are like sheep without a shepherd. “Pray!” He says. “Pray!”

How’s this for sumpthin’ funny…?

Dear God! Send in the clowns.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

When Work and Rest Collide

Andy Wood — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 16:45:38 +0000

There are two kinds of work – work that drains, and work that energizes.

There are two kinds of rest – rest that re-creates, and rest that only adds to the fatigue, loneliness, isolation, or emptiness.

None of us were created to work incessantly. We were all created with a built-in cry for a Sabbath – a rest.

Unfortunately, we live in a culture with plenty of instructions for work, and precious few for re-creation.

Sometimes the rest is calling, but we can’t answer.

So here’s a thought: If you can’t take the day off and rest, take the day ON and reenergize.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Life’s a Mystery: The Truth Story of Aunt Ruth

Andy Wood — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 09:37:06 +0000

Aunt Ruth was neither my aunt, nor was she named “Ruth.” Through a set of circumstances I don’t have time to relate, “Aunt Ruth” was what I wound up calling her.

Aunt Ruth had eyes that danced long after her feet were unable to. She defied aging – said she didn’t have time or sense enough to grow old. She detested religiosity and people who took themselves too seriously. “Fuddy Duddy Christians,” she called them. Aunt Ruth was wise. Through her sometimes-sharp exterior, she loved me. And she taught me one of the most important lessons I ever learned.

“Life’s full of mysteries,” Aunt Ruth said. In fact, she said it a lot. Aunt Ruth loved mysteries. Not the murder-type, but those principles in life that defy logic. It always amused her to get me in an argumentative mode and throw out one of her “mysteries.”

Like the time I was angry because someone had been spreading lies about me. “I’m gonna find out who started it, and set them straight!” I informed her.

“Forget it,” Aunt Ruth said. “Get to the bottom of it, and all you get is some stirred up mud and a mad catfish.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It’s a mystery,” she said, as she went back to puttering in the kitchen.

“Whatcha preaching about these days?” Aunt Ruth asked one day. “The cross, and what led up to it,” I answered. “Last Sunday I preached on Judas.”

“Best friend Jesus had,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Friend! You’re nuts!” (There weren’t many people I could talk to like that. Aunt Ruth was one of ‘em.) “You can’t tell me that somebody who stole from the pot, loved money, gave his Messiah away, and committed suicide was a friend of Jesus!”

“Sure he was,” she said. (Her eyes were starting to dance.) “Only a friend can betray a friend. If he wasn’t Jesus’ friend, then what he did wasn’t betrayal.” I just looked at her, dumbfounded. “It’s a mystery,” she said.

“This week’s on Peter.”

“I’ll bet you’re going to say that Peter really didn’t love Jesus, or he wouldn’t have denied Him.”

“Well, what should I say?” I asked impatiently.

“Don’t ask me! I ain’t no preacher!” Aunt Ruth retorted. “But I will tell you this: You only hurt the people you love. And you are only hurt by them.”

“Let me guess. That’s a mystery, too.”

“Bible’s full of ‘em. The ones who receive are the ones who give. The way to be great is to be a servant. And the only people who are treated cruelly are those who don’t deserve it.”

“How’d you get so smart?” I wanted to know.

“Oh, I ain’t smart,” she snorted. “I just decided a long time ago to quit asking God, `Why?’ and to quit trying to figure everything and everybody out. I learned to trust the good Lord with what I don’t understand. And I decided that what makes sense to me is almost always the opposite of what is. All you preacher boys think you’re supposed to know everything there is to know. Well, let me tell you something. The more you think you know, the less you really do. And about the time you think you don’t know nothing, you’re just about to learn something.”

“Huh? What’s that got to do with Judas and Peter?

“It’s a mystery,” she said.

Her eyes were still dancing.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Finding Your Voice

Andy Wood — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 05:43:39 +0000

Laura Kate Wiley is finding her voice.

At 17 months, she’s off to a good start.

With safe surroundings and a fearless heart,

A free spirit and a supportive family,

She plays and rests and dreams and wants –

Sincerely believing that what she has to say actually matters.

She will need these things again and again,

As her world evolves and her voice is threatened.

Nobody can sing the songs meant for her alone.

Again and again, she will have to find her heart with clarity,

And express her mind with grace and courage.

So will you.

Find your voice.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Giving Up My Small Ambitions

Andy Wood — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 21:11:54 +0000

Today I give up my small ambitions.
I will give thanks for the pleasures God has designed for me to enjoy,
But no longer will I allow my life to be driven by the pursuit of pleasure.
I will no longer sacrifice joy on the altar of happiness.
I will never again measure my success by my ability to escape pain.

Today I give up my small ambitions.
I will give thanks for the material blessings God entrusts to me,
But no longer will I associate money with happiness.
Never again will I believe the lie that gain is godliness,
Or that my worth is measured by what I own.
From this day forward, I will use things and love people,
Not the other way around.

Today I give up my small ambitions.
I will give thanks to God for the ways
I can be a blessing to others.
I will accept with humility
The words of gratitude and honor I receive from others.
But I will never again live to please other men.
Today I choose to get off the pedestal,
Knowing that I don=t have to live in the gutter to do so.
I will find my honor in being no more than a man,
But no less than a child of God.

Today I give up my small ambitions.
And instead, I reach for the stars.
I will spend my life in pursuit of my God-given destiny.
By His grace I will fulfill the purpose for which
I was created and redeemed by Christ.
By His love I will touch the lives of those He died for.
And by His power
I will span the breech between time and eternity.

From this day forward,
I will seek dreams as big as the heart of my God
And visions as great as the need of this world.
And though through human failure
I may never see all those dreams come true,
When I stand to face my Lord and my God,
I pray He will see a heart determined to do exploits for His glory.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Optiphobia: Making Peace With Your Dreams (and Disappointments)

Andy Wood — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 19:33:55 +0000

Vision hurts.

Don’t believe me? Try dreaming about something that is exciting and important to you, only to be disappointed. But the alternative to vision isn’t much better. Instead of dreaming, you could play it safe. Be complacent. Wish for nothing and hit it every time.

Doesn’t sound like much of a choice, does it? Heartache or boredom. Tightrope with no net or treadmill with no hope. How do you make peace with your dreams? How do you keep from hating the whole process? How can you avoid “optiphobia” – the fear of vision?

Start with a little perspective. Take baseball, where 30% success is a standard of excellence. Where swinging for the fences results in many more strikeouts, as well as home runs. You can stay in the dugout, and guarantee you’ll never get on base. But to step up to the plate, you must be willing to risk failure or disappointment.

There is also the personal perspective. Zig Ziglar said, “Failure is an event, not a person.” I love that! But that is also true of other things. Disappointment is an event, not a person. Detours, dead-ends, and dashed hopes are all events and circumstances – not God’s last word on you.

I wonder what Nehemiah or Ezra would have done had the king said, “No?” Would they have been disappointed? Sure. Would they have tried again later? Maybe. But most importantly, they would have done what they’d already been doing. Ezra “devoted himself to the study and observance of the Law of the Lord, and to teaching its decrees and laws in Israel.” Nehemiah “sat down and wept, and fasted certain days (four months), and prayed to the God of Heaven.” Both men would have gone back to the God who gave them the vision in the first place.

A few years ago, as I was standing in front of a big, hairy, audacious dream, my daughter sent me this note:

I was praying about all of the [possibilities], and the Lord told me that He wants to bless us, but we have to let go of all of our past disappointments first. Giving those disappointments to him is a true act of faith, because it is comforting for us to cling to them…almost familiar. I’ve been learning about homeostasis…how all systems inevitably resist change. This has to be a change from all of the other situations we’ve been in/through. And giving up our past disappointments is a step toward something new and different.

If your vision is only about you, then maybe you have a right to take your disappointments personally. But if it is about God, the Kingdom, or His purposes for you, then you have the wonderful privilege of bringing your confusion or disappointment back to Him for understanding, clarification, and encouragement. Just as a baseball player returns to the dugout disappointed because he stuck out, but still in love with the game, you can return from the playing field with gratitude that you are a part of a Kingdom that is not your own, but that you have been given the honor of participating in. And in the dugout (where you may be right now), you have time to think, to analyze, to get feedback from the coaches and other players, and look forward to the next at-bat.

Dream on, Sparky.

And dream big.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

The Lion Dream

Andy Wood — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:30:57 +0000

From our Fifth Anniversary Celebration

Walk inside my office and look to the left, just under the big window. There you will find one of my most cherished possessions. It’s an original framed caricature of a lion inside a cardboard box. It was given to me for Christmas 2003 by two dear friends. And it’s the kind of thing that when you see it, you know there’s a story behind it. And if you’re in my office for the first time, as a couple was yesterday, it’s only natural that you would ask about it.

So I thought I’d tell you the story behind it. This is the story of the Lion Dream.

Early November 2003. The church I had started has had an adventuresome first year. We are now in our fourth temporary location. Attempts to purchase a building from another church have fallen through. We’re facing a bit of a crisis of direction, looking at the purchase of 20 acres on the bleeding edge of town, and wondering if this is the right decision.

Then came The Lion Dream.

I believe very much that the Lord still speaks through dreams and visions today, and there are some people who have this type of experience all the time. I don’t. I can count on two hands, if not one, the number of times I have had an experience like that. But on this particular morning, I knew I had heard from the Lord in a very vivid dream that took place in four scenes.

Scene 1 – The Pet Store

I am in a small town – Chatom – near where my parents live in Alabama (still not sure what the significance of that is). In this particular town, (in the dream) there is a pet store. I walk into the pet store, and the only thing it sells is pet supplies – and lions. This works out well, because that’s what I am shopping for. I walk in looking for lions.

Behind the display glass there are carriers with all kinds of lions. Big lions. Medium-sized lions. Baby lions. I tell the pet store owner I am shopping for a lion and he asks, “What size lion do you want?”

“I want a baby,” I reply.

So I walk out of the pet store with my lion in a cardboard box. Now this cardboard box is important because it is a fixture throughout the whole dream. And what’s interesting about the lion is that this is not a cub. It’s small in stature, but it looks like a full-grown male lion – a miniature. He has a mane, the fuzzy tail, and can roar. He’s just little.

Scene 2 – The Restaurant

I take my lion in the cardboard box to a restaurant. I sit the box outside the door. I figure they wouldn’t appreciate it very much if I brought a lion into the restaurant. I walk in and sit down and order lunch. This nice, nameless, faceless waitress takes my order.

The dream then fast-forwards to the end of lunch and I’m still sitting there alone – the restaurant is completely empty. Suddenly the thought occurs to me, “What happened to my lion?” It doesn’t bother me that the cooks and wait staff are gone from the restaurant. What bothers me is that I’ve been there all this time and don’t know what has happened to the lion.

One of the recurring themes throughout this dream is the fear that somebody could hurt my lion. He was little, and new. The other fear I had was that the lion could hurt somebody. After all, he was a born killer. But I did notice in this second scene that the waitress was very pleased when she saw the lion. That’s another theme that ran throughout the dream – anybody who saw my lion was very pleased with it. They weren’t afraid of it, or disliked it.

Anyway, back at the restaurant, I rush outside and there my lion is – sitting there in the box. He hasn’t hurt anybody. He is gentle. He has all the killing capability of any lion, but he’s sitting there contentedly. And I remember having this great sense of relief that he is there and OK.

Scene 3: The Neighborhood

Now I’m in a neighborhood in Lubbock, Texas. It is a relatively new neighborhood, but mature enough to have sidewalks, trees, and nice new homes in it. I am with my mother-in-law, and she is going door-to-door for some reason. I am tagging along with her, with my cardboard box, lion inside.

I remain out on the sidewalk while she approaches homes. People who ride by and see the lion are, again, pleased with it. Moreover, my mother in law is very pleased with the lion.

Scene 4: Downtown

I am now in a downtown area. Not sure where, but it’s a downtown scene I think I have seen before (maybe Albany, NY). In this scene I am walking with my cardboard box, lion inside. I don’t see anybody or talk to anybody. But I still have those same feelings – somebody could hurt my lion, or my lion could hurt somebody. But again, as people pass by, they express pleasure at the lion. A few people wave or honk horns or point and smile as they pass us on the sidewalk.

That was the end of the dream. I woke up.

In the Incubator

It was so real and vivid, that I couldn’t get it off my mind for days. At first I thought the Lord was dealing with me about me – about my character, courage, or something. But I couldn’t get over

the constant sense of care I had over the lion,
the constant sense of concern over the possibility that somebody could hurt the lion or the lion could hurt somebody,
the fact that the lion stayed in a cardboard box, or
the sense that so many people were pleased with it.

About five days later, I had an “aha” moment while I was riding in the car. The lion was Turning Point Community Church. It’s interesting that when the church was born, it wasn’t a cub. It was essentially mature from our first Sunday, when 215 people showed up for our first worship service. Since then we’ve seen multiple thousands of people come through our doors. Some came to “kick the tires while we lit the fires.” Some came to heal and move on. Some came to stay and remain to this day. But from our first day, this church didn’t take on the characteristics of a “church cub.” It took on the characteristics of a mature body of people.

Images Made Plain

As I continued to meditate on the dream, the Lord spoke to me about several things.

1. It is right and valid for me to have this sense of care for this lion, because He had entrusted it to me. He had given you the responsibility of seeing to it that it becomes everything I designed it to be. And though it may be mature in stature, it still has room to grow.

2. I had been very concerned with what other people thought of my lion, and He wanted me to know that by and large people are pleased with it. In our early days we tiptoed around a lot of people. We tiptoed around some churches. We tried to be very careful to make a statement that regardless of what anybody said about us, regardless of what heritage anybody else came from, we weren’t formed out of any objections or weren’t the result of a church split. We weren’t mad at anybody. We have said from the beginning that we had established the church out of a sense of obedience to the Lord. Yet from day one I had a sense of nervousness that in moving forward we may hurt somebody’s feelings or raise an objection. But the encouragement from the Lord was that by and large, the reaction from people was that they were pleased. That was an encouragement to me.

3. Another concern I had was that I was walking around with a lion in a cardboard box. That lion could kill somebody! That lion was capable of inflicting great pain. And yet throughout the dream the lion stayed in the box. It was gentle and good hearted. And the word from the Lord was, “Andy, you need to understand the heart of your church. It has great potential power, but it has a good heart. It is gentle in terms of its relationships with people, and that’s a good thing.”

4. Another thing the Lord said through this was that I’m walking around with a cardboard box – not exactly the most permanent of homes. We were “in cardboard” in four different locations. And the lion did just fine in the box. Let me remind you, lions weren’t made to live in boxes. But as long as this lion was in its temporary home, he did OK. People were pleased with him, and he was nice to people. In the same way, our church wasn’t made to live in temporary places either. But as long as we did, the Lord took care of us. It wasn’t convenient – it was hard work. But He took care of us as long as we remained in our “cardboard box.”

5. Here is the ultimate thing the Lord said to me through that dream.

“Andy, what you have is a lion. It’s not a canary. It’s not a kangaroo. It’s a lion. It is something I have given birth to in order to exercise spiritual strength, courage, and authority. I did not give you an antelope to run. I gave you a lion to roar. And the destiny of this church is to be a leader among leaders – not in a sense of lording it over others, but in the sense of taking a courageous stand for who I have called you to be in this city and fulfilling its destiny.”

We don’t live in a cardboard box any more. But we still have the heart and calling of a lion – albeit a gentle one. Later I had a sequel – yep, an actual sequel to this dream, and I knew while I was dreaming it that it was a sequel. Maybe one day soon I’ll tell you about it.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

A Fraction of the Action

Andy Wood — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 18:23:52 +0000

“You have a role in all this,” Dave told me.

“This” is the church he now serves as pastor, the people he loves daily and weekly, the legacy of faith he is building in this eastern New Mexico town.

Dave went on (this is my paraphrase): “You were there at a time in my life when I thought ministry was over, that I had nothing left to offer, and that nobody wanted me. You helped me see the possibilities of how God could continue to use me. So every time the Lord does something good here, you have a fraction of the action.”

I was humbled and blessed by his insight. But I also know I am not alone. Woven into Dave’s life and ministry is a tapestry of influences, examples, and sources of wisdom, encouragement, instruction, and hope.

I also know that my life and work represent the same kind of tapestry. Maybe I do have a fraction of the action in Dave’s life and work. But so does the church I serve in Lubbock, where every week I receive encouragement and support from a group of people who passionately love God, support our vision, and speak into my life.

Friends, family, and encouragers have a fraction of the action. Those who have shared insights, confronted my blind spots, or shared how God was working in their lives have helped me share those same insights with Dave and others. And so it goes….

Trinity Church in Lubbock has a fraction of the action. By demonstrating for me that grace works for pastors, too, they empowered me to share that message with Dave and hundreds of others in 45 states and provinces (that I know of).

My pastor, Fred Wolfe, has a fraction of the action. By teaching me the high cost of bitterness, and the surpassing value of forgiveness – and by reminding me that even when I lost everything, I still had Jesus and still had a choice – he helped forge a message that grew out of a broken and restored life.

Who Saved 2 Billion People?

Andy Andrews, in his book The Noticer, describes a similar phenomenon. Norman Bourlaug was 91 years old when he was informed that his work was responsible for saving the lives of 2 billion people. By hybridizing corn and wheat for dry climates, he helped stave off starvation in Central and South America, Western Africa, across Europe and Asia the plains of Siberia, and the American Southwest.

And yet, for all the credit he received, maybe it should be given instead to Henry Wallace, former Secretary of Agriculture, and then Vice President under Roosevelt. Wallace used his office to create a station in Mexico whose sole purpose was to somehow hybridize corn and wheat for arid climates; he hired a young man named Norman Bourlaug to run it.

Or maybe it was George Washington Carver who is responsible for saving 2 billion people. When he was 19, and a student at Iowa State University, he had a dairy sciences professor who allowed his own six-year-old boy to go on botanical expeditions every weekend with this brilliant student. Carver directed the life passion of that little boy – Henry Wallace – and gave him a vision of what he could do with plants to help humanity.

Or maybe it was a farmer in Diamond, Missouri named Moses, who lived in a slave state with his wife Susan, but didn’t believe in slavery. One cold winter night, Quantrill’s Raiders attacked Moses and Susan’s farm. They burned the barn, shot several people, and dragged off a woman named Mary Washington – who refused to let go of her infant son, George. Since Mary was Susan’s best friend, Moses sent out word to arrange a meeting to do whatever he could to get Mary and George back. And on a cold January night, Moses traded his only horse to four of Quantrill’s masked men for what they threw him in a burlap bag. Moses opened the bag and pulled a cold, naked, near-dead baby boy. Walking that baby home, Moses promised him he would take care of him and raise him as his own, including giving the boy his name. And that is how Mary Washington’s boy became George Washington Carver.

So who helped save 2 billion people through agriculture? Norman Bourlaug. But many other people had a fraction of the action.

The point: Never, never, never assume that what you offer is of no value or of little consequence. And never give in to the lie that what you do is insignificant in the larger scheme of things. The difference you make in one life is a difference that can touch, well… billions.

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Hello World!

Andy Wood — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 17:03:47 +0000

It was one of those unseen transactions, and I had the privilege of being the only seer. Even though this was a very public place, sometimes the public places are, well, too public. People are taking care of bid-ness, and moving about in their transes; I was no exception.

Until she walked by.

She was about 6 years old and it was about 6:00 p.m. For people in my adult world, that’s quittin’ time, dinner time, or whatever kind of time doesn’t require a whole lot of energy. I had just entered the local Christian bookstore, looking for a particular book. She was leaving behind me as I stopped at the bargain table. (I always graze at the bargain table of a book store.)

Still in her school uniform, she wore saddle oxfords, a plaid skirt, and white sweater. I never saw her face, but her thick, curly, shoulder-length hair looked both lovely and difficult-to-maintain.

Mama was finishing up at the cash register, and she decided to go ahead, out the automatic glass doors into the foyer. Passing through, she flung her arms open wide and shouted “Hello world!”

Did I mention that it was 6:00 in the evening?

I want to be like that. Whether it’s 6:00 in the evening or 6:00 in my life.

I may rest up, but I don’t want to shut down.

I may take a break, but I don’t want to break my connection to the world around me.

I may narrow my focus, but I never want to narrow my mind.

My arms may get heavy, but I never want to hesitate to spread them wide open to a world of possibilities or people who matter.

I have a new friend. I don’t know her name, haven’t actually met her, and will probably never see her again. But if somebody gives me such a priceless gift, just by being themselves, how can I call her anything less?

Hello world!

If You Enjoyed This, You May Also Like the Following:

Lacey Parker’s E-team

Andy Wood — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 17:45:20 +0000

“Hi-ya Ang.”

I hate it when people call me that. Feels like Mayberry somehow, and only two people have ever gotten away with it. Lacey Parker was one of ‘em.

Lacey was a nut job at times. The whole (short) time I knew her, it was obvious she saw through a different set of lenses. Or maybe lived on a completely different planet.

Lacey had friends – lots of them – but had no group of friends. She seemed to take ‘em all one at a time. She was anything but a slave to fashion, but you got the idea after watching for a while that if she set her mind to it, she could rule the fashion world (or any world for that matter). She was a delightful combination of bright, quirky, hilariously funny, and – truth be told – downright beautiful (though she kept that artfully hidden most of the time).

The difference in Lacey, though, was that she was an intentional nut job – all packaged in the body of a 14-year-old. In fact, she was possibly the most intentional person I’ve ever met.

Before there was ever a Little Miss Matched, Lacey decided there was more to life than matching socks. Long before True Love Waits, Lacey, with little fanfare, bought her own ring that symbolized a promise she made the Lord and her future husband to remain sexually abstinent until marriage. And anytime somebody called her out, she could provide a near-brilliant reason why she did what she did. Lacey had a gifted version of wisdom – an on-the-fly kind of thing that wasn’t based on sage reflections of life experience, but on God-flashed insight that far exceeded her years.

What I’m trying to say, without numbing you with the details, is that life around Lacey Parker was a lot of things – but boring was never one of ‘em. And I held my breath anytime she was about to speak.

So on this late-afternoon-Wednesday, when LP (my nickname for her… if you remember the days of vinyl records, you’ll catch the double meaning) breezed into my office with her customary grating greeting, I could tell she was on a mission.

“I got something I want to show you,” she said, ignoring the fact I might actually have been doing something.

“Okay. Whatcha got there?”

“Well, I heard what you said a couple of weeks ago about building an encouragement file, and decided to take you up on it.”

“Cool!” I said, as Lacey handed over an odd-sized shoe box. I lifted the lid, and inside found a random assortment of cards, letters, pictures, and other small items that I’m sure served as symbols of people or times that were encouraging to her. And there was one other thing.

“What’s this?” I asked, as I pulled out a small-sized photo album. On the cover, a piece of masking tape covered the generic “My Photos” logo. And on the tape were written the words, “My E-team.”

“That’s my E-team,” Lacey said matter-of-factly, as if I was supposed to know what that meant.

“Um, at the risk of sounding dumb, what’s an E-team?” I asked, as I flipped through five pictures – mine being the last one.

“My encouragement team,” Lacey said.

“Yay! I’m on your team!” I said, half-kidding and half-serious. “Did I miss the meeting or something?”

“No, it’s not THAT kinda team,” the teenager laughed. “It’s just some people I keep in mind to make sure I don’t, you know, go all stupid or something.”

(Pause here to insert… Few people knew that behind the energy, the laughter, and the outrageousness that was Lacey, there lurked the heart of a girl who carried more than her share of wounds. I happened to be one of the few who knew, though we hardly ever discussed it.)

“This is interesting,” I said – actually impressed. “Where’d you come up with this idea?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “Just figured I needed four different kinds of people at different times, and this is my reminder of who to call, when.”

“Four different kinds?”

Bryson

“Yessir. Like Bryson (college student, youth volunteer at the church)? He’s there to remind me of who I am and where I’m headed. He’s always saying stuff like, ‘Eyes on the prize!’ or ‘Remember who you are.’ He always says it like the guy on The Lion King.

“Yeah, we need people like that,” I added. “I’m glad he’s there for you.”

“If he wasn’t,” said Miss Intentional, “somebody else would be. It’s too easy for me to forget sometimes.”

Amber

“Okay, so is that what Amber does, too?”

“Nooooo,” Lacey replied as I gazed at picture number 2. “Amber’s the toughest girl I know. She’s smart and aware.”

“Aware of what?” I asked, wondering to myself if I’d ever heard a 14-year-old use the word “aware.”

“Distractions. Dangers. Temptations. Attacks. Stuff like that. She’s all the time reminding me of what the devil wants to do to mess me up.”

“And that’s an encouragement?”

“Sure. Amber’s the one who reminds me not to quit when I feel like it.”

“Cool.” My wheels were turning now.

Monica

“So what does Monica do?” I asked. Monica was a senior at Lacey’s high school. Not a regular attender at our church, but I knew who she was. Heck, everybody around there knew who Monica was.

“She challenges me,” Lacey said, eyes sparkling.

“I didn’t know y’all were that close.”

“We aren’t, really. But I see how she lives, and what an example she is. She’s always pushing herself to do better and challenging others to do the same.”

“Okay, buy why is she on your team if you don’t talk that much?”

“Because,” LP said, eyes still sparkling, “she inspires me, even without talking to me.”

Allie

Then there was a picture of Allie. I knew that Lacey had known her since birth. Allie had evolved in LP’s life from babysitter to children’s volunteer to mentor. And now in her role as volunteer Nursery Coordinator, Allie would often call on Lacey to help her out. While they both loved babies and toddlers, they also loved the time they spent together.

“Okay,” I said, “no surprise Allie’s in here. Does she have a role on the team, or is she the coach or something?”

“She’s the one who reminds me to expect or believe the best,” Lacey said.

“Well, she’s probably your biggest fan,” I said, trying to sound insightful.

“Maybe. But what’s so cool about Allie is that she has such great faith in God. And she won’t let me get away with being doubtful. She teases me, preaches to me, cheers for me… whatever I need to ‘expect the finest,’ as she always says,” said Lacey, adding in a mimicking voice, “and Jesus is THE finest.”

The Roster

“Okay so…” I thought out loud…

“Bryson… eyes on the prize. Amber… hang in there. Monica… raise the bar. Allie… expect the finest?”

“That’s it,” Lacey said, looking thrilled.

“So Bryson keeps you steadfast. Amber helps you be immovable. Monica challenges you to be always excelling or abounding. Allie reminds you that what you do isn’t in vain.”

Lacey lit up. “Ooh, ooh! Isn’t there a verse in the Bible like that?”

“Uh huh,” I deadpanned with a smirk. “There is.”

“So you mind me asking,” I began as I returned the shoe box to her, “What’s my picture doing in there?”

“You’re the backup, Ang,” LP said cheerily.

“The backup?”

“Yeah. You can do them all when I need you to.”

“Well, I’m honored to be on your team,” I said smiling, trying to ignore the lump in my throat.

“Gotta go. Allie needs some help in the nursery. Later!” Lacey said airily as she breezed out as fast as she breezed in.

But a still, small Voice hung in the air after LP disappeared.

“Who’s on your team?” He asked.