I'll bet it's snowing in Chicago...

Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address was perhaps his most memorable. The long and bitter civil war had ended with a catastrophic loss of life for both sides. During the war Lincoln had agonized over the irony that both the North and South had gone to war thinking that each of their positions was a matter of God will, and each side was simply acting upon it. He in fact had attempted to resolve his dilemma by settling upon the thought that God had permitted the conflict in order to end human slavery, a proposition that was deeply disputed by most Southerners.

The war had ended at a terrible cost of lives, and Lincoln second inaugural address was conciliatory in tone urging “malice toward none”. He was also keenly aware that he had become the focal point for everyone’s disappointment in for the crippled economy, the tremendous loss of life, and the fact that many parts of the country in ruin. He was immensely unpopular and in some respects hated by families all over the nation whose sons were the victims of the war. Lincoln was assassinated six weeks after that.

When Lincoln died there was only two items in his wallet. One was a photograph of his 12 year old son Willy who died years earlier from smallpox, and a very old editorial clipping from a British newspaper. The editorial expressed the opinion that Lincoln would in time , many years after his death  be remembered and memorialized by the American public as one of their greatest Presidents.What is remarkable to me is not that the prediction came to pass, but that Lincoln’s personal legacy mattered so much to him. Arguably, more than anything else.

What’s in your wallet? Maybe it’s another way of asking what’s in your heart.  Parenthetically, deleting just the apostrophe after the word “what” “may pose a more disturbing question. Many have observed that a cursory review of our pocket books and appointment calendars would reveal a candid “snap shot” of who we really are and what we actually value. We all want normal lives which we define as “what works for me” at a particular times in our lives. All our activities are selected and prioritized by what we value. I am not articulating the smaller issue that children’s sports, yard work, golfing, fishing, several extra hours at the church of the inner spring verses church attendance at Sunnybrook. All the above is true, but I am more concerned with the bigger picture, a bigger priority, and a bigger commitment.

One of my favorite licensed clinical theologians Sharon Daugherty expressed it best when she said “We are worldly people trying squeeze in a spiritual component, when we should be spiritual people trying to influence worldly culture”.  We must ask continually ourselves “do our worldly (personal) plans intersect the will of God for our lives?”

 For many, doing God’s will means asking God to come alongside or validate the decisions we have already made.. But when do we ever legitimately ask about God’s will for our lives? I love Francis Chan’s story in his series “The Forgotten God”. Francis talks about sitting on the beach at sunrise with starbucks and a blueberry muffin asking “What do you want from me God?”.  When God responded Francis revealed his embarrassment of not be able to the people all around him that he had somehow overlooked –or forgotten. God wasn’t asking Francis to minister to people on a beach at dawn with starbucks and a muffin, but to people who have never seen a beach but who exist without water and food on a daily basis.

I remember a story years ago by humorist Erma Bombeck entitled. “I’ll Bet it’s Snowing in Chicago”. I tried to find the story on the internet but could not. So with apologies to the late Erma Bombek , I will paraphrase her story.

Erma was traveling to her home in Chicago for Christmas, and was in a crowded New York airport on Christmas Eve waiting to board a flight. She was uncomfortable in having to take a seat in the crowded boarding area next to an older woman who was poorly dressed and struggling with a knitting project. Erma says she was heavily engaged on her cell phone and lap top when the woman said,”I’ll bet it’s snowing in Chicago”. Erma immediately expressed  her hopefulness that it was not snowing in Chicago and went on to blurt out all the last minute details that had yet to be accomplished before Christmas. After she had complained about all her distractions and difficulties with arranging family gatherings during the Christmas holidays,, she paused to ask if the woman was going home to be with her family.

The woman said she no longer had a family, that her husband had died a few days earlier, and she was accompanying his casket on a plane to Chicago much later that evening. Only Erma could accurately express her feelings of self absorption and shallowness. She spent what little time she had in what Erma described as one of the most real conversations she experienced in a long time. As Erma stood to board the aircraft, another traveler took her seat in the boarding area. And as Erma walked away she could hear the old woman say, “I’ll bet it’s snowing in Chicago”.

Earlier this week, I received a phone call from a woman in Minco, Oklahoma who told me her daughter, an OSU student, had obtained a bible given to her by young man from Sunnybrook. Over the years, many people have given to me Bibles as presents because I suspect they figured I needed to read it more than most. Many of them had my name imprinted on the cover.  Recently, I gave a rather large collection of my “gift Bibles” to one of our actively engaged college students to distribute to anyone whenever he thought it would be helpful or appropriate.  The girl had given a Bible with my name imprinted on the cover to a family friend who is in prison.  The young man in prison beganto read the New Testament. He also became curious about the name imprinted on the cover of his newly acquired Bible. His family did a little research, and they found me and my story. They are heartbroken about their son. They asked if I would come and talk to them in Minco, and if I would be willing to visit their son in prison.

I’ll bet it’s snowing in Chicago…..

Considering Real Transformation

One of the expectations of our “Go, Gather, Grow” strategy is that “Grow” implies a transformational change in our lives as we pursue the goal of becoming more like Jesus. Too often, we measure our spiritual growth only by an increased understanding of God, rather than a life that reflects his teachings. Transformational change is a balance between understanding and application. The vision of Sunnybrook is “To be known a church that inspires people to live sacrificially for the cause of Jesus”.  I sometimes ask myself if I am just learning more about Him, or if I am actually becoming a little more like Him?  On the other hand, am I still the same person with the same inconsistencies and reluctance to change. The old cowboy poet laureate, and large animal veterinarian Baxter Black expressed it another way.

I first heard Baxter Black recite this poem over twenty-five years early one morning on National Public Radio. That was long before I recognized the significant and needed changes that were necessary in my life. It was a different time and a different place, but the bottom line (no pun intended) of the message remains true. I have used this poem in many contexts and once very recently at the funeral of a long time friend. We can never fool Him, but are we fooling ourselves ? Baxter Black frames the question this way:

"What does Transformation mean?"
A cowboy asked his friend.
His pal replied, "It happens when
Your life has reached its end.

They comb your hair, and wash your neck,
And clean your fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life's travails."

"The box and you goes in a hole,
That's been dug into the ground.
Transformation starts when
You’re planted beneath a mound.
The clods melt down, just like your box,
And you who is inside.
And then you’re just beginning
Your transformation ride."

"In a while, the grass will grow
Upon your rendered mound.
Till some day on your molded grave
A lonely flower is found.

And say a horse should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once was you, but now's become
Your vegetative bower."

"The posy that the horse has eaten
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed,
But some is left that he can't use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground
This thing, that once was you."

"Then say, by chance, I wander by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponder, and I wonder about,
This object that I found.

I thinks of transformation,
Of life and death, and such,
And I  come away concluding: You know Dude,
You haven’t  changed, all that much

“The World’s Strongest Man”

I was recently helping our youngest son through a rehab period as a result of some very involved back surgery. His employment requires some moderate lifting and positioning of heavy and cumbersome sales samples, so I began looking at various websites for large rolling product and display cases.

While exploring the internet, I found an interesting looking website in Vidalia, Georgia, and decided to call them. It was a small custom order shop where you talked a real person (not a series of phone prompts) and this time to a woman with a distinct southern accent. When I placed my order and gave them my name, “Paul Anderson”, I heard a small chuckle from the other end of the line. The woman said. “Do you know who Paul Anderson was?” I told her I did indeed although I had not been asked that question since the late 1950’s. Back then, I was asked that question at least two or three times per month.  But I told her I had not been asked that question in well over forty years.

The first time I saw Paul Anderson was in the summer of 1958 when he made a guest appearance on the old “George Gobel” Comedy Hour.  George Gobel was a former night club comedian who was featured in a weekly television variety hour which was similar to the television comedy shows of Steve Martin, Jackie Gleeson, Lucille Ball and other successful entertainers of that era. George’s special guest that evening hoisted up the rear end of a Volkswagen about chest high. (I never fully appreciated the irony of lifting up a German made car rather than an American made car until much later). To my then surprise, George Goebel introduced his special guest as “Paul Anderson, The Strongest Man in The World!”

Paul Anderson won that title through a series of events beginning in 1955 when he was twenty-two years of age by winning the USA National Athletic Union Weightlifting Championship. That won him a trip to Moscow where he captured the world’s attention by lifting more weight on his first lift than any of his Russian competitors. In the fall of that year, he won the World Championships in Munich Germany surpassing two more world records. He was booed by German spectators because he so easily defeated other well known European competitors. In 1956, he won the Gold Medal at the Olympic Games in Melbourne, Australia. To date, he is the only American Super heavyweight to come away with the “gold” at the Olympic Games. For many years, Paul Anderson was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for dead lifting and incredible 3,270 pounds, the greatest weight ever raised at that time by a human being, a feat accomplished on June 12, 1957 in his hometown of Vidalia, Georgia.

But the most incredible statistic for Paul Anderson was not the astonishing amount of weight he was able to lift, but the fact that he released his amateur standing in order to lift the spirits of homeless boys between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one by establishing The Paul Anderson Youth Home in his hometown of Vidalia Georgia. The boys were selected as high risk individuals for whom prison was a likely option. Paul purposely chose parentless boys who had never been selected for anything other than, “most likely to cause trouble”. Paul chose to invest tremendous resources in order to help small numbers of boys in a residential setting-one boy at a time. Giving up his amateur status so he could raise funds, Paul raised money by giving lifting exhibitions and accepting speaking engagements across the United States. The youth home opened in 1961. Parenthetically, The Oklahoma Lions Boys Ranch in Perkins, Oklahoma which houses and serves a maximum of 12 residents is similar to the model of the Paul Anderson Youth Home. The Lions Boys Ranch accepts referrals from the State Department of Welfare for abandoned boys who are considered too risky for state facilities. One of their graduates from many years ago is now a youth Pastor in Stillwater. Another went on to graduate from OSU and recently earned a Bronze Star and Purple Heart in Desert Storm. He now teaches school in Oklahoma City.

Paul was diagnosed with Bright’s disease in 1983, but continued to take on more than 500 additional speaking engagements and lifting exhibitions. Many who heard him recall his booming voice which inspired and mesmerized. He spoke to civic clubs, high schools, colleges, business industries and military bases. According to most reports, he and his wife Linda almost singlehandedly raised the majority of funds necessary for the large endowment necessary to operate The Paul Anderson Youth Home.

This “gentle giant” credited his Olympic victory and other successes to The Lord. He was ordained into the ministry by his home church in 1965. His simple message focused upon Jesus Christ, family values, patriotism, and the free enterprise system. He used his influence as a Christian athlete to instill moral standards and set spiritual goals for the nation’s youth.

Crossings Church in Oklahoma City hosted a recent national convention for The Fellowship Christian Athletes (FCA), and Former First Lady Laura Bush was their honored guest and keynote speaker.  The program noted that Paul Anderson once served on the Board of the Directors of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes (FCA). Paul was was awarded the FCA Branch Rickey Award in 1992, the highest honor presented to laypersons by the FCA.

Paul went on to be with the Lord in 1994. Paul’s wife Linda continues to operate the Youth Home in Vidalia.  Each boy receives her personal attention just as if they were her own. Paul and Linda’s only child, Paula Anderson Schaeffer, lives in the home where Paul was born. Paula is an Executive Director for a local YMCA. She continues to serve on the Board of Trustees of her parent’s ministry.

One of the greatest reported comments given to Paul Anderson of Vidalia Georgia was made by a state media reporter who spent several days with him as he traveled the country. The reporter’s final statement was: “Paul Anderson is The World’s Strongest Man, and he also lifts weights”!

When They Call Your Number

I enjoyed watching the Heisman presentation this week-end. The show reminded of another great player from my hometown.

He was the great grandson of an early Oklahoma United State Senator. He stood 6 foot 5 inches, weighed 245 and he could fly like a sprinter. And man, could he ever zing the football on a line. He could flat out “bring it”. He had all the impressive stats and stature of today's pro quarterback.

But the year was 1962, and he would become later known even to this day as the greatest athlete to ever come out of Lawton High School. For many years, he held the state high school record for high hurdles. He was member of the heralded 1962 Lawton High School Track Team who that year won the state championships. Lawton’s 1962 track team was named the 44th best high school athletic team of the past 100 years by the Daily Oklahoman.  He led Lawton to its only state high school basketball championship in 1962 beating the number one rated team Tulsa Central coached by a twenty six year old coach in his first high school basketball season named Eddie Sutton. He was The Daily Oklahoman Football Player of the year in 1962 filling the sports page with a full three column photo under the caption, “The Blond Bomber” .He was the starting quarterback in the 1962 All –State football game and later quarterbacked Oklahoma to a victory over Texas in the 1962 Oil Bowl Game. He had over 41 offers to Division I schools, and chose The University of Oklahoma.

He was the scheduled starter for his first season at OU until knee injuries side lined him for a year of rehab. He came back the next season as the starting deep safety and held that position for the next three years. He intercepted two passes in Oklahoma’s victory in the 1964 Gator Bowl. In 1965, he won the low hurdles event in the Big Eight Track and Field Championships in Oklahoma. He was drafted by The Oakland Raiders.

There was another player who was a member of Lawton’s 1962 basketball squad. He was at the other end of the skill set and rarely played unless several of the regulars were severely injured, missing, or if we had a comfortable double digit lead that began with a three. It was one of those opportunities to sit, reflect and be ready if your number was called. They never called my number during those days of “pine therapy”.  Probably just as well under the circumstances. Better to ride the bench and let people wonder about your basketball skills than to take the court and confirm what most suspicion by an absence of significant playing time. I remember our basketball coach (who fancied himself as an amateur comedian) telling a local Lions Club that “Anderson is not particularly fast, but I did see some interesting foot speed when he got off the team bus for the pre-game meal at a buffet in Chickasha”. That’s not the sort of clipping you want to show your grandchildren.

 “The Blond Bomber”, or better known as my longtime friend Bill Thomas, went on to enjoy a wonderful family and a successful career in real estate, and later until his retirement in teaching and coaching. I was stunned to learn that the “Blond Bomber” died in Sun Lakes, Arizona earlier this year after a long bout with bone cancer. Those of us who remembered his quiet but powerful leadership were sadden by his passing.

I remember the agony of “riding the pine: in those days. I wondered if the coach would ever “call my number” to get in the big game. How insignificant those feelings have become.

Three of my closest high school experienced adversity this past year. Each now live within 30 miles of each other in southern Arizona.  Bill died of cancer. Our class president went through the heartache of being abandoned by a wife who no longer wished to married. Our head cheerleader experienced a similar situation only to experience a subsequent unexplainable and unexpected death of her only son. Each called to ask me where was God in these situations. Each asked why God allowed these tragedies to invade their lives. I missed my chance with Bill who died before we could visit. I have not been back to Arizona since most of you know why and when.

I won’t miss this chance again, because when God calls your number……

“The Woman In the Wheelchair”

Stillwater Churches established an annual tradition of promoting “Random Acts of Kindness” during the last week of September. Many small groups go into the community to perform simple acts of kindness to randomly unsuspecting individuals. Some of these acts include putting quarters in washing machines at laundry mats, making arrangement to take 5 cents off every gallon of gas at service stations , handing out water and popsicles to OSU Students fields, and other citizens on public walking trails, taking cookies to hospital , fire , ambulance, and police stations, , and presenting unusually large tips or gift cards to wait staffs at Sonics and other restaurants. The opportunities are limited only by imagination.

For example, one group took a home cooked "man sized" box lunches to city sanitation workers at 5 AM one morning. Another group cooked hamburgers and hot dogs for teachers at Lincoln Academy. My favorite was a box of groceries, clothes, and gift cards placed in a box on a doorstep of a deserving individual and then vanishing in a get a way car a/k/a “Knock and Run Benevolence”. I enjoy partnering with the organization of this event every year, but I am often bothered by the underlying connation that some may see only the irony of churches doing RACs one day out of the year The thought is slightly analogous to why Christmas motivates certain behaviors only once a year. For some "christianity" is what they believe, for others "christianity is what defines their lives. Expressed another way, its not so much what yoiu believe in but in whom do you believe

Several weeks ago one of our women in her late 50’s came into our church office struggling with her wheelchair. She has suffered from MS throughout her life. She talks with great difficulty, and it took me a little bit to understand what she was saying. The short story was that her husband had just become eligible for social security benefits which for some reason caused a modest increase in her monthly disability payments. She had “rolled” her way to church with great effort from a nearby subdivision to ask how her “extra” money could be used to help other “less fortunate” people. Talking through tears while standing behind her, I told her I would come up with options the following week. She left the building, and as I watched she fell to the ground from her wheel chair on our side walk, produced a spade and a Wal-Mart sack and began pulling herself along the sidewalk weeding our flower bed. This is how she serves the church each week along with helping us pass out bulletins on Sunday..

A passerby on the highway called our office from his car to tell us that a lady may have fallen out of her wheel chair outside our building and we may want to “check her out”. There were many Random Acts of Kindness performed in Stillwater this week, but none shall equal that which we received from “the woman in the wheelchair”.

Katherine was born in the remote backwoods of Alabama in 1922. She was the oldest of four children. Her younger brothers died at various times as small children. None of them lived beyond their fourth birthday. The family shack had a dirt floor and was without electricity or water. Her mother died when she was eleven. Katherine was told by her Father the cause of death was "dropsy". To this day, Katherine has never understood what that meant. What she did understand is that her father removed her from the third grade and told her it was "time to get to work if she expected to eat". Katherine had difficulty supporting herself and her father who suffered from mental difficulties. Her father entered into "a guardianship agreement" with a local Alabama family who agreed to house and feed Katherine in return for Katherine's commitment to care for a bed ridden family member. There was money involved for her Father who quickly abandoned her after making that agreement. She never saw him again. She was trapped in that arrangement until she was 18 years of age. She walked everywhere during those years. Servants were not permitted to ride in automobiles. She walked by a "tent revival" as a teenager and accepted Christ as her savior. She was baptized in the river, and became as she described "one of God's children". He promised to love her as his child. That arrangement was more than enough for Katherine. At age 18, she married a young soldier boy from Perkins, and they moved to Oklahoma in 1945 when he returned from the war. Life was hard. Katherine and her husband were described as "dirt farmers". Living off the land proved difficult. She sold produce from her garden along dusty country roads. He worked "busting broncs" for local farmers and ranchers. They spent most of their time employed as "farm hands" in and around Payne County. Her husband was the last of a disappearing group of cowboys who made their living from the employ of larger cattle and horse operations throughout Texas and Oklahoma. They were never able to have children. Her husband died in the early 1980's. Members of his family tried to "look in" on her whenever they had time. They allowed her to live in an old two room rent house in the country. She survived on $400 a month social security and very little care or attention. Katherine never learned how to read or write. She concealed that well because it was embarrassing. They lost her glasses in the hospital. When they brought a replacement pair and an eye chart, Katherine just kept saying "they look fine to me". That's how I knew. I met Katherine in the hospital because someone told me she was a nice but lonely old lady who likely would likely spend her last days there. She had fallen and broken her hip in her home. She laid there on the floor for five days before being discovered by family members. What an irony that the last days of her life were spent in the nicest and most comfortable surroundings she ever experienced. She marveled at "the room service" that came like clock work three times a day. Of course, the nurses absolutely adored her. Katherine had a sense of humor and enjoyed being teased. She worked cross word puzzles by getting the published answers and filling in the blanks of the puzzles appearing the week before. She got a kick out of that. Someone bought her a television in the late 90's and that became her primary source of entertainment. She had two maybe three dresses. I am not sure. She was always too embarrassed to attend church, but she managed to contribute small amounts of money to local churches from her social security. She loved to give out $5 dollar bills to extended family members at Christmas time. . Katherine died at Stillwater Medical center this past Sunday. Katherine lived less than twenty miles from my comfortable home and church. I never knew her. I will think about that distance from time to time. I know I will think about her when I consider complaining or whining about anything "uncomfortable" or "inconvenient" in my life. I will think about her when I look inside my wallet or my closet. We talked about the importance of being "mission minded" in staff meeting this week. It would be too easy to say that Katherine could have been embraced by anyone without the necessity of a shot record or a passport. But Katherine would tell you that the only difference between her life and other dirt poor and uneducated people in Ethiopia, Hondourus and other areas of the world was this – Katherine had Jesus! In her mind, she was truly more fortunate. To her, lost people were in more desperate situations. Amazing huh! She would urge all of us "to Go, to Gather, and to Grow" not just for the poor and unfortunate, but more importantly for the lost-especially the lost. Jesus was all she ever had in her life, but that was enough! Katherine of all people helped me to understand the importance of mission work across the world and across town. I also have a re-newed understanding of the underserved need to care for others in this community less fortunate who exist outside the walls of our church. Katherine was laid to rest in a brown hard scrabble cemetery just off the highway in Tryon. They miss spelled her name in the local newspaper. But then again, she would not have been able to recognize that. She never had her hair done. She would have really enjoyed that experience yesterday at the funeral parlor. . Her family wanted a small line in the obits section to tell every one that Katherine "was in heaven". They edited that part out as "not important to the story line". Go figure! When we leave the cemetery today, everyone will be heading back to their busy lives, and most will be thinking about lunch. I will from time to time think about Katherine's simple but hard life of trust, obedience and her assured hope of heaven. None of us will hear the cheers and celebration occurring elsewhere today when Katherine arrives safely home. But I will know---and I will smile!

Things Are Not Always as They Appear

For many of us, there are those times when things appear better on the outside than the inside. That can also be true of a local business.

I attended a breakfast this morning and listened to a difficult story from the owner of “The Christian Bookstore” in Stillwater which opened in the downtown area before moving to its present location on Perkins Road. The store has been there for 17 years. The store is in serious financial peril. They have lost employees, missed payrolls and struggled to pay rent. The cars you see lining the store are customers of the Firestone store next door.

The owner told an all too familiar story. He can now buy the same books from Sam’s and Wal-Mart cheaper than he can buy the same books in bulk from his distributors. Amazon, CBD and other Christian book distributors carry inventory priced slightly below his product line. The bookstore has posted steady losses over the past year. That cannot continue indefinitely.

Although the owner of the store is grateful that Wal-Mart, Sams, and other on line sources can place Christian material in the hands of many at reduced costs, the savings comes with a price. Several pastors met this morning to discuss and pray over that issue. The bottom line is that the community and the local churches will have to decide whether the Stillwater Christian Book Store is in reality a local mission which fills unmet needs and whether the store merits our collective financial support even though some of their products may be slightly higher than products obtained from alternative sources.

Like everything else, it will be a choice. There will likely not be unanimity of opinion concerning the community’s willingness or responsibility to support The Christian Book Store.

So there it is. I was not asked to do this. It is just that things sometimes look better on the outside than the inside.