Almost "Reck'd Life*

Photo: GT Alumni Assoc

Not long after college graduation, I had the amazing privilege of working at the Georgia Institute of Technology as the Spirit Coordinator. Now, even though I had been called to ministry in High School, this was NOT that kind of Spirit Coordinator. It was school spirit, I was the cheer coach for the award winning Tech cheer squad, Buzz the nationally recognized mascot and faculty advisor for the Ramlin’ Reck Club. The students I got to work with were brilliant engineer types. When I was coaching, I needed a translator. You see, I was a liberal arts graduate, and they were electrical, mechanical, and all things technical, math, and science super smarties (who would graduate and make almost 6 figures even in the late 1980’s). I would give instruction and they would just stand and look at me. Then one of the girls on the squad, who was an English Major (yes at GT), would translate what I said into Tech-eze and they would say, “oh okay!” and quickly do what I had tried to ask. The ‘Reck Club students held charge of the School’s Mechanical Mascot, a 1930 Model A Sport Coupe called the Ramblin’ Reck. It had been donated to the school by my boss, Dean Dull, almost thirty years before. This glistening, gold painted, metal mascot was as popular as the award winning, and rambunctious Buzz the Yellow Jacket, appearing at school promo events and the weddings and celebrations of influential Georgia Tech alumni. Buzz, is a whole other story, once stealing the television network truck on the sideline with the camera operator holding on for dear life, and driving it down the track before being stopped, where he narrowly escaped being unmasked. There was a reason why the infamous bee earned his nickname, Buzz… apparently the young man who donned the original mascot suit a decade before would sometimes imbibe in some inhibition eliminating beverages before the game. The young men and ladies who wore the outfit in subsequent years were amazing athletes, sometimes losing 10 + pounds just sweating in the Atlanta heat while running around, crowd surfing, and involving themselves in all kinds of sideline mischief. Perhaps the incident that could have potentially been my greatest public faux pas during my time at Tech involved the Ramblin’ Reck. It was December and all the kids were exhausted from final exams and a grueling class load. So, those who would normally take the antique car to the Ford plant for repairs, were headed home for the holidays. So, yours truly, had to borrow a school van, and hitch the covered car carrier on the back. The Reck was not running at the time, so with no Reck Club or Cheerleader muscle to push it into the trailer, I had to use the tie down, hand winches to ratchet it up the ramp and into place.  As soon as I got the van and trailer onto interstate 75/85 in downtown Atlanta just past the Varsity, I knew there was trouble. The van sputtered and died, before I could get it to the next exit.  I was left there in the middle of 6 lanes of standstill holiday traffic and this was before cell phones were accessible to people on a Student Affairs coordinator’s budget. A police officer politely came to my door and screamed, “get this $#!) out of here!”  While I was trying to explain I needed him to radio a wrecker, Atlanta’s finest walked away, spewing over his shoulder, “I don’t care, get it out of here NOW!!” My only remedy was to leave the cursed van and vulnerable, but covered Reck sitting there, dodge the traffic, and pray neither me nor the Institute’s invaluable icon got hit, (though the school would probably not mourn for my loss like it would their beloved car). I climbed up the interstate’s hexagonal block walls, tried to find a pay phone, but ended up running several blocks back to the maintenance department and getting another van.  The 'Reck had been vandalized a few times in the past, once while it was in my hometown at Neyland Stadium, at the University of Tennessee, after GT had beaten the Vols. It apparently got a new unwanted orange paint job. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for another incident. There were Tech hating, Georgia Bulldog fans who would love to know that the 'Reck was sitting helplessly incapacitated in the middle of the interstate.  With the next van, I scotched the wheels, rolled the other van forward, and maneuvered the next van into position to hitch the trailer. I got the other van towed, and I finally got the Ramblin’ Model A to the Ford plant safely. I was young and so arrogant at the time, you would think that this incident would have humbled me a bit… nope. “Large and in charge,” I was destined for more humbling, until God got my attention and headed my life back toward him again. 

God The Father loves us too much to let us remain in our rebellion against Him. Scripture says that good fathers discipline the children they love. In Hebrews (12:7),  the Scriptures tell us to endure hardship as discipline. When we belong to Him and identify as one of His, He will allow things to happen to us to get our attention. He humbles, disciplines, corrects, and changes us.  God’s people, Israel, had turned away from God in their arrogance and God was getting their attention.  The prophet Jeremiah humbly asks, “I know, O LORD, that a man’s life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps.  Correct me, LORD, but only with justice— not in your anger, lest you reduce me to nothing.”(Jeremiah 10:23–24 NIV) When we are experiencing hardship, it is sometimes God's discipline, let it turn us toward Him to ask for His direction and correction.

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

Big Balloon Ballyhoo!*

 

photo credit to rohrballoons.com

One of the churches where I served was having a Celebrate America Festival. We anticipated hundreds to show up for these events and we were typically overwhelmed at the number of celebrators. This happened on several acres of recreation land across the street from the church. We had games and hot dogs, cotton candy and popcorn, patriotic decorations and American flags, but we were really excited about having hot air balloon rides that year. We had hired the balloon company and sent the deposit months in advance and added them prominently to the publicity. They told us they would come a couple of hours early to set up the day of the festival.  When the day arrived for Celebrate America, two hours before, no balloon. We did not panic, these people were obviously professionals, we were confident they would get it all set up. Then an hour before, no hot air balloon. We were a little nervous, because we had advertised the balloon rides as a major attraction and counted on the balloon as additional advertising. It would make our festival more visible from the interstate and impact the number of people we had the chance to interact with.  But if the balloon with a giant basket below didn’t show, the spirits of the people who came to see it would fall like a lead zeppelin (not to be confused with a British rock band formed in the late 60’s).  If our big balloon ballyhoo was unrealized we could be considered untrustworthy in our advertising, just a lot of hot air about hot air balloon rides, which is not great for a church. We hoped to get to know some of these people who came to visit.   And we hoped to introduce them to Jesus as they became more curious, convinced, and convicted by God’s Spirit, if they didn’t already know Him.  So, thirty minutes before the crowds arrived, still no balloon. We panicked and prayed. We repeatedly tried calling the cell phone of the balloon pilot, but no answer. We were trying to come up with words of apology to the guests looking for balloon rides and then just before the event started, a large dually Ram truck showed up with a balloon and basket in the back. As we arrived, frowning and excitedly asking why they hadn’t arrived earlier as promised or answered our phone calls, the truck driver looked at us with surprise and said “We don’t know what you are talking about. We were just driving by your festival on the interstate and we were coming to ask you if we could offer balloon rides to your guests…” Sure enough the name on the side of the truck was not the company we had hired, but God had heard our prayers and sent some random balloon owner to drive his fabric and basket filled Ram by our event at just the right time. The non-dirigible airship, tethered by a strong rope to the Ram truck, went up and down in the softball field all afternoon and into the night to the delight of 100’s of our Celebrate America guests 3 or 4 at a time. We thanked them and sent them a check for their services.  

We were all surprised by this coincidence that was really a God-incident. We can get so worried about all the plans we make. When Jesus started his ministry, He told us to keep our focus on God first and not worry about all these things we get so worked up and anxious about. He tells us,  “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:33–34)God provides what we need, even hot air balloons occasionally. Interestingly, the truck didn’t come early to the festival and it wasn’t late either, it came just at the right time.  Jesus' half brother James reminds us, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:10) We were humbled that day by the seeming evaporation of our big plans, but God lifted us back up with His miraculous provision… we were exhausted but walking on air… 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

(not a pic from our event, but photo credit to rohrballoons.com)

How I Met Your Mother!*

 

How I met your mother. I had returned home “like a bad penny,” as the expression goes, but perhaps taking baby steps away from some of my stubborn bad habits and insatiable ego. After 7 years away from home (4 years of college, summers spent working camps around the Southeast, a half a year at the World’s Fair, another half at the Omni Hotel, and 2 years in the Student Affairs office at Georgia Tech), I boomeranged back to my parents home (lucky them) in Knoxville to get a Masters Degree in Communications at UT. Because my undergrad was in Sociology, the Communications Department Head said I would need some leveling classes in the communications department. That’s when I saw her. She had big 80’s strawberry blonde hair, beautiful big blue eyes that took your breath away and captured your heart, a cute little nose, and she gained some adorable freckles when she was kissed by the sun... AND she was usually with her best friend ... and when I say usually, I mean ALWAYS. These two coeds were attractive and effervescent “TV news aficionados,” who took every college class together. They were inseparable and talked incessantly. The University’s News Radio staff did their best to send the two of us out to get stories together, but there never seemed to be a good time to talk to her outside of feeding the news machine for ALL NEWS 850. The station was always hungry for stories twice an hour, all day, everyday. Finally, I saw my opportunity. I was sitting near the front of the class on the same row as my blonde news fox and her friend, not to be mistaken with Fox News and Friends, which would not be invented for several years. The lecture finished and I waited in my seat for these two ladies to stroll down the aisle. At a strategic moment, I stood up and slid between them. Anita, unaware that I was behind her, kept walking and talking. Without turning around she asked Amy if she were going to the movie that night (they were taking an elective class that included watching and evaluating classic movies). I said, “I thought you’d never ask!” to which Anita turned around, frowned, and said, “I’m not talking to you,” and continued her conversa- tion with Amy. But then, we were assigned by the Station Manager to go report on a story together, on the topic of “Communication in Marriage,” so I offered to drive us to the conference. Afterward, it happened to be about dinner time and we were near one of my favorite restaurants (Grady's of Regas Family fame), so I said, “are you hungry, I love this restaurant and I’m buying?” To which she said, “yes.” I was impressed with not only how much we had in common as we discussed our typical southern upbringing (both the good parts and dysfunction), shared family values, and faith roots, but also that she didn’t hesitate in asking me if I were going to eat the rest of my shoestring fries after she had already finished hers. I said I was happy to share mine, and she ate them all! (to her credit, the shoestring fries from this place were warm, golden, crispy, strips of potato deliciousness... the best in the world). That was it! I was in love! She was, as the school fight song “Rocky Top” says, “wild as a mink but sweet as soda pop.” However, I guess the stars in my eyes had prevented me from seeing the fraternity lavalier she was wearing. All I could do was wait and hope that this long distance relationship would eventually end as it did with many a “hometown honey” at a faraway school. Needless to say, that relationship ended and we began dating.

Our relationship was as intense as it was fast. We jumped in with both feet. I met her folks and she met mine. It wasn’t long until we were engaged. Perhaps it was too quick, because we ended up breaking our engagement. The breakup was painful, effusive and intense. We both landed in counseling separately, but with the same Christian counselor. This was maybe one of the best things that could have happened to us individually and as a couple to work through some of our “stuff.” I decided to finally quit running from God, accept my calling into ministry, and determined that I would go to seminary when I finished my masters degree. We didn’t talk with each other for weeks. With so much pain, I was sure the relationship was over. The counselor must have seen how deeply we still cared for each other in spite of the ways we had hurt each other, so he carefully suggested we meet with him together with some ground rules in place. I wasn’t sure, but with some trepidation, I agreed. As my son’s father-in-law would years later tell him, “A faint-hearted man never won a fair lady.” Our counselor helped us set up some healthy boundaries, so that the relationship would be given a fighting chance to make it this time. God worked in our hearts and the wedding was back on. We married, I finished my degree and we headed to Seminary in Texas. Thirty-two years, 4 kids, 1 grandkid, 7 cities, and 7 churches later, God has taught us that we are better together, the 3 of us, with Him at the center. The years still include some intense joy and effusive disagreements, and we are also still learning how to love each other well.

As one funny but truthful older and wiser friend said of her fifty year marriage, “we had 45 good years.” She says, “it wasn’t 5 bad years in a row, it was a day here, a week there, ten days back there, over the lifetime of the marriage.” “But overall,”she says, “it's a good relationship and I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

As the Divinely inspired writer of Proverbs says, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains

favor from the LORD.” (Proverbs 18:22 ESV)

Canoe Race with a bad taste.*

 Canoe Race with a bad taste. The tweenage years were those of adventure for me. Oh there was plenty of angst and pre-teen trauma, but one of my favorite quests was competing in the Powell River Canoe race with my Boy Scout Troop. We practiced for a few months in lakes, ponds, even the scout master’s pool tied to the diving board. We learned how to paddle a canoe and not turn upside down. And we even learned what to do if we turned upside down. I don’t know who thought it would be a good idea to let a bunch of middle school boys race a few miles down the river after only practicing in calm water a few times, but I’m glad they did. With the exception of a few bumps, scrapes, and sore muscles it was a pretty smooth operation. Scout troops from all over the area had an assigned camping spot and each canoe had a slated start time. They put us in order fastest to slowest and started each canoe a couple of minutes apart. We were in the youngest/slowest group near the end. My canoe mate said he wanted to be the spotter in the front and I was in the back to steer. We navigated the river remembering to avoid the V’s pointing upstream in the current, made by water going around a rock.  And we pointed our canoes toward V’s in the current pointing down stream made by two rocks on either side. There were only a couple of places where the river moves somewhat fast and most of the canoers avoided ending up on the rocks or in the water. In my 12 year old mind, it may have looked like the falls from the movie, “A River Runs Through It,” not to be confused with another Brad Pitt classic, “Legends of the Fall,” that, contrary to the name, had no falls at all.  The Powell River was nowhere near that kind of rapids and yet it was an adventure I still remember with fond memories. I don’t think our troop won anything, but made the top 10 (out of 10). Oh and there was that unfortunate incident after the race where my scout troop raided the canoe filled with soft drinks and ice and absconded back to our campsite with all the cokes meant for the participants in the race. Though we were the troop that met at a fancy church in a relatively fancy part of town we were all easily swayed by one of our suburban hoodlums from an upscale neighborhood. We quickly became known as “that troop” (and may not have been invited back to the next year’s race).  I don’t know why we all shamelessly followed suit when this young man started grabbing more drinks than he could possibly drink and tossing them in his backpack and tent. He began downing them one after another. Then in his out of control sugar rush, he was shaking and wasting the diet drinks spraying them in the faces of the other scouts, even the adults who came to politely ask for us to put them back so that all could share them. The Bible says, “‘Stolen water is sweet; food eaten in secret is delicious!’, unfortunately it is a quote from the woman Solomon called “Folly,” who says these words to lure in “fools.”  I don’t know what lured us into this kind of folly that would leave a bad taste in people’s mouths during such a life giving and memorable outdoor adventure. Many leaders had invested so much of their time, energy and effort to give us a wonderful experience and life-long memories.   Maybe we were jealous of those who had practiced hard and won the races and in our prepubescent, yet-to-be-fully formed minds, this was our “rational” answer to make us not feel so embarrassed by our loss. Our total lack of gratitude, couth,  and grace actually embarrassed us more. 

Back in Jesus day, a marvelous life giving thing had happened. Jesus healed a man who was born blind. It was glorious, but quickly some men, jealous of Jesus, tried to take away the victory when they spoke against Him for healing on the Sabbath. They even said bad things about the man who was healed because he embarrassed them by continuing to give glory to Jesus for healing him.  Jesus reminds us that we can be life givers or we can be takers.  He says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”(John 10:10 NIV) When we bring life to others, we are acting like we belong to Jesus, but when we are taking from others, we are acting like the Evil One.  We needta remember, if we belong to Him, we act like Him and bring life to people even when we are embarrassed or feeling “less than.” 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

Are You a Spiritual Somnambulist?*

 Are you a spiritual somnambulist? When I was a boy, I would sometimes wake up in a different place than where I fell asleep. I usually ended up on a couch in the basement. My parents were still awake one night when I began to sleepwalk, so they decided not to wake me, but see what I would do. I walked right out the front door, climbed into the back seat of the car, locked all the doors (as was my habit before there were automatic locks) and rode to whatever dream destination I was going to. After a few minutes I unlocked my door, walked back into the house and went back to bed. My parents said I would often come ask them for a drink of water, while walking back and forth at the foot of their bed. I would not hold the glass, but would apparently drink it if they held it for me. I never recall waking up while sleepwalking, but often wondered how I woke up on the couch after being “tucked in” my own bed. Thank goodness I outgrew my somnambulism by high school. One lady from Massachusetts told Reader’s Digest she’s had many sleepwalking incidents as an adult. Apparently “she’s left the house and visited neighbors, kicked holes through doors, punched out windows, initiated arguments with her husband, and reported fictitious emergencies to the police—all while having utterly no idea of what she was doing or why, and no recollection upon waking.”

Apparently, the church at Ephesus had somehow become like somniloquists. They were walking around acting as if they were asleep with no recollection they had connected their lives with Christ. They were living like they were not His people. Paul reminds them, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: ‘Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.’ Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.” (Ephesians 5:8–17 NIV) Those in the early church in Ephesus, like us, used to belong to the world and the evil one, we were “darkness,” but now we belong to Jesus, we are “children of the light.” When Paul wrote this letter to the early church he knew that we would sometimes need to be reminded of how to act like our Jesus’ selves, living good, right, and truthful, God honoring lives… loving God and others well.

Hang in there people. God is glad to be with us. I’m praying for us all.

We Mayor or May Not Have Tried to Borrow a McDonaldland Playground Character.*

 We Mayor or may not have tried to borrow a McDonaldland playground character. In college, in my rebellion years, a group of friends and I decided we would give Mayor McCheese a new temporary home until his newly redesigned playground was completed at the Mickey Dee’s near campus. He was obviously bored in the parking lot while he waited for his playground to be rebuilt. So, a plan was hatched to relieve his ennui while his place at McCityhall was revamped. A friend, who happened to be a PK (Preacher’s Kid), was driving his dad’s car that night. We grabbed an old quilt and threw it on top of the shiny two door caprice classic that had a like new wax job, so it was slick as glass. The four of us carefully lifted the most McHonorable sir to the roof. He obviously liked the idea, he was smiling… kind of. When I asked about tie down straps, we had obviously not thought this thing through. One said, “you guys just hang out the window on each side and hold it, just like those people do with mattresses.” So, silly us, we did. We had made it out of the parking lot and turned onto the road with a giant downhill beside campus. About one third of the way down the hill, police lights and sirens came on. My PK friend, the driver, panicked for a moment and accelerated. With the increasing speed, the newly emancipated Mayor began to slide on the “hard shell finish” of the recently Turtle Waxed roof and was about to be ousted from his motorcade. I and my passenger side human-tie-down-strap began to be pulled out our windows by the less than aerodynamic, bulged eyed, top hatted, metallic beef, bun and cheese head. The metal bolts that would normally hold his Honor in place on the ground had found their way off the quilt and onto the paint job of the pastor’s car, leaving squiggled gashes of exposed metal on the top as we attempted to keep the McCityofficial from flying off onto the campus police cruiser quickly approaching behind us. Our driver finally came to his senses, deciding that we couldn’t outrun the police, especially with our statue on top and so he found a safe place beside the road to pull over. We climbed out of our windows expecting the worst. We were all “getting our story straight” in our minds… that we were only “borrowing” it to put behind our campus apartment for a few days. I was already rehearsing what I would say to my parents, who would have to drive 3 hours to come get me out of jail. The campus police officer climbed out of his cruiser and couldn’t talk because he was laughing so hard… saying something about the look on Mr. McCheese’s face as we sped down that hill. He walked up and laugh-slapped one of my friends on the shoulder so hard he almost fell into the ditch with the words, “you boys!” We didn’t know if this was a good sign or not. He had called the other campus police to come see what “these knuckleheads” had done. Fortunately, the PK knew this particular officer and shared that we were just bored and planned to bring this impeached McPublic official back in a day or two. The officer who continued to chuckle as he talked, said, “you boys take him right back up there now, and everybody can go back to campus…and y’all find something else to do with your time tonight.” He went back to his car chuckling and shaking his head. So, we took our McDonaldland friend back to his boring spot in the parking lot. My friend had “some ‘splainin’' to do to his dad about those four divots in his roof, but we were all relieved to sleep in our own beds rather than being in the lockup for kidnapping the Mayor. We noticed our next time through the drive thru that Mayor McCheese, Ronald, the Hamburgler, and Officer Big Mac were all incarcerated, securely chained and padlocked with a temporary fence around them until the playground was completed. But Mayor McCheese never felt so liberated as that night he took a ride on the wildside. Thankfully this was back before security cameras and cell phone cameras, so there is no record of these misguided shenanigans, and I would probably deny they ever happened.

Everyone in that car that night we took Mayor McCheese, had grown up in the church and claimed to be a Christian. There were lots of these times during my rebellion that I needed to be reminded that we don’t do those kinds of things.That "boredom" is not a free pass to act like a jerk. We were God’s kids, not kids of the Evil One, but we weren’t acting like it. The truth is I wasn’t listening, even if someone tried to remind me… sad, I know. God’s grace awaited me if I would just turn back to Him and quit acting like I didn’t belong to Him. Fortunately, I eventually repented. The apostle Paul had to keep reminding the early church Whose they were, the things they no longer did, but also who they now are. He says, “Don’t you realize that those who do wrong will not inherit the Kingdom of God? Don’t fool yourselves. Those who indulge in sexual sin, or who worship idols, or commit adultery, or are male prostitutes, or practice homosexuality, or are thieves, or greedy people, or drunkards, or are abusive, or cheat people—none of these will inherit the Kingdom of God. Some of you were once like that. But you were cleansed; you were made holy; you were made right with God by calling on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”(1 Corinthians 6:9–11) I still need to be reminded that I have been “made right” with God and that I am now in Christ and the way I honor His boundaries and treat His people are expected to be in keeping with Who belong to now. Let's keep acting like His people.

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

Go Ahead And Jump! *

 On a recent trip back to my hometown of Knoxville, my mind returned to the day a highschool friend said,'' let's go cliff jumping.” We hopped in my ‘67 convertible Mustang and he gave directions as we wound around country roads to the jumping place. As I walked toward the edge and looked over, I was filled with simultaneous fear and exhilaration. The fear came from both the height and a traumatic experience in a diving class as a child, in which I did a painful back flop. Finally, it was time to take the leap. I had watched the old movies of people who were escaping their enemies jumping with reckless abandon from a cliff into a river in order to survive. But there were no enemies here, just the opportunity to experience an instant of Earth’s gravity’s tremendous 9.8 meters per second squared accelerational pull on my body until hitting water. Hitting water at that speed feels like concrete on impact if you hit flat footed, which, by the way, I did on the first jump. However, something in me wanted to do it again. So I did, but made sure I pointed my toes on entry! Twice more from 40 feet up! The adrenaline rush was addicting. Then we rode home, wet hair drying quickly in the summer heat, in my top down mustang, still tingling all over from the experience. I would like to say that was the last time I jumped from a high place into water, but it wasn’t. In spite of my father’s warnings I did not turn down other opportunities to feel the whoosh of air from the exhilarating speed and the sudden splash into the water. As a physician who had seen the unfortunate accidents that can occur, my father continued to warn me. As a boy, when I would do something silly because “everyone else was doing it,” my mother used to ask, “if everyone jumps off a bridge, are you going to do it too?” I guess the answer was “yes,” because in college, my cheerleader friends asked me to go jump off the Keowee Toxaway Bridge in South Carolina. So, I did. It was just as exhilarating.

I took a similar leap when I finally, after almost a decade of running from God, answered His call to ministry. I had many fears: fear of a boring life (it has been anything but boring), fear of disappointing God with my failure (I have failed many times and He has never abandoned me, though thankfully, He often corrects me), fear of perhaps not being able to provide for my family (He has always provided), fear of rejection by people (some have, but God has never rejected me) and the list of fears go on. However, the exhilaration of belonging to God and joining Him in what He is doing in the lives of His people is a blessed addiction. Jesus says in the sermon on the mount: “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets.”(Luke 6:22–23 ESV) If you see God at work, jump in and join Him. Take that joyful leap. The thrill of belonging to and being of service to the God who spoke everything into existence is overwhelming. Being a part of His work in people’s lives is a great privilege. So, go ahead and jump!

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!