Take this job and love it

It's almost old news now, but I can't seem to shake the image of Jet Bue flight attendant Steven Slater exploding in anger, screaming profanities, and with a final, "I can't take this anymore," slid out the emergency exit on the JFK tarmac.

Whoa!

First of all, anyone who quits a job in this economy is not thinking straight. Certainly, there are thousands of other flight attendants who are doing just fine and would never think to quit. But there are two sides to every job and it comes down to our attitudes. That's why two people can do exactly the same work and have two totally different opinions.

How many nights have you stretched out on your bed, wide awake, replaying the day’s events? You recall the criticisms being thrown around, the personality clashes, the seemingly impossible deadlines, and the overbearing bosses.Then a thought begins to worm its way in between your ears. An innocent notion that flies in from out of nowhere, just a quiet whisper, “I’ve got to find something better.” And for some of us this errant thought can take on a much darker tone.

Many of us can hear Johnny Paycheck singing somewhere in the background.

Have you ever thought about just getting up and quitting a job, no matter what the consequences?  Or, have you had a job you were thinking about quitting, but hung in there and stuck it out, choosing to "take this job, and love it."

Comment?

Hiding Your Treasure at Work

(I was honored to have the following article recently published by my friend Brad at Marketplace Christianity. The blog has a great ministry focus and Brad's outlook is unique. Check his blog out here and visit often!)

My dresser is probably not unlike yours. It has drawers on two sides, every one of them packed full of clothing.

I have a drawer for my socks, another for my shorts and another for my pants. Shirts and underwear have their own places. Everything has its place, so when I need to, I can go to the drawer and pull out what I require.

In life, I have similar drawers that I open, depending on my need. I have a drawer for family. I open it up, talk to the kids, spend time with my wife, and be a family man. It can close when I open another drawer, such as the recreation one. That’s the one with my golf clubs or fly rod. It’s the drawer I open when I watch a baseball game or go to a concert.

I have a work drawer. When I open this up, I get serious. Customers depend on me. My boss is counting on me. My coworkers need me. I have projects to complete, paperwork to fill out and reports to review.

And then I have the faith drawer. I open this on Sunday morning as I head to church. It’s a nice drawer, but it sometimes gets closed all too quickly, especially if someone else tries to look in it. If I’m honest, I rarely open it the rest of the week. Crowded by commitments to the other drawers, I keep it closed.

To further compound the problem, I often only open one drawer at a time, especially when it comes to work. I’ve been conditioned by peer pressure, court actions, and company policy to keep my faith conveniently tucked away. I’ve been told to have a “personal faith,” and to keep it that way. “Religion and politics” are two subjects that are off-limits.

But the quandary isn’t just talking about it. It’s living it. The truth is that I hardly even think about my faith at work, what God wants me to do, or how to reach my coworker. Ever.

Jesus spoke about the kingdom of heaven in Matthew 13:44, likening it to a treasure “hidden in a field.” A man discovered this treasure, and then decided to bury it in a hole and hide it again. What was he afraid of?

That’s just like me. I have a great treasure, but I keep it hidden in tidy compartments. My organization of my life is admirable, but my application of my faith is inadequate.

Sometimes, I think it’s time to dump all the drawers out and start over.

How about you? Care to comment?

So, you still think you're special?

If the Earth’s population shrank to exactly 100 people, with all existing human ratios remaining the same, what would we be left with?

57 of those people would be from Asia.
21 would be from Europe.
8 would be from Africa.
14 would be from the Western Hemisphere.
50 percent of the wealthy would belong to only six people
70 people would be unable to read
1 person would have a college education

Which of these statistics surprised you? Comment here.

Man Finds Millions Buried on Old Farm

Today, Brad Harmon from Marketplace Christianity and I are trading posts with other. Brad is the founder and editor for Marketplace Christianity. A former certified public accountant, he now spends his time blogging, speaking, and consulting on ways to bring our faith into the marketplace.

We are both writing on how to apply Matt 13:44 in the workplace. I’m honored to have my post on his website, found here. Bradley’s excellent post follows below.

One of my favorite television shows is American Pickers on the History Channel. A camera crew follows two men, Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz, as they scour the country's junkyards, basements, and barns for hidden gems. It amazes me what they find and how much they can get selling it.

Before American Pickers, my wife and I liked to watch Antiques Road Show - especially the British version because they had the really old (and valuable) antiques. It should come as no surprise, then, that the big picker score came from a small town in northern England.

There's Gold in Them There Hills

Frank Hartford is an amateur picker who went on his dream vacation to pick his way through the English countryside. When he came back to the United States he was absolutely giddy. His friends had never seen him so happy.

That wasn't the only change they saw in Frank. He'd always been a bit of a history buff, but he became obsessed with the Roman occupation of Britain and spent hours pouring over old books at the library.

What they didn't know was that Frank had discovered a cache of Roman coins during his picking. He hadn't told anyone about them. Frank's frequent trips to the library had been to verify that his find was genuine, and to determine how he could legally lay claim to the treasure.

Everything Must Go

Frank needed to raise the money to purchase the old farm where he'd found the coins and secure the legal rights, permits, etc. to be able to claim his find. He figured he'd need about $350,000, but that was a paltry sum next to the $20 million he estimated his find to be worth.

Even so, Frank knew he would have to sell everything he owned to raise the money. He knew there was a risk that he could be wrong about all of this. Even worse, he knew that nobody would understand until he had the gold coins.

None of this seemed like much sacrifice to Frank though. All he could think about was the millions he'd get in return. He gladly sold everything he had so he could purchase that old farm and all that Roman gold hidden on it.

What Would You Do?

What would you do if you were in Frank's situation? Would you give up the bird in the hand for the two in the bush? Or, in this case, the $20 million buried in the old field? It would take a complete, sold-out commitment - wouldn't it?

Do you feel sorry for Frank? Sure, he had to sacrifice by selling everything he had to purchase the farm, but trading $20 million for $350,000 hardly makes me feel sorry for this guy. In fact, it's hard for me to really call what he went through a sacrifice at all knowing about the payoff he'd receive.

Do you think Frank sat around talking about all the things he had to give up, or do you think he'd be telling everyone about the $20 million he found?

Jesus Talked About a Man Like Frank

Jesus talked about a man very much like Frank when he told this parable.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field. (Matthew 13:44, KJV)

Okay, I have a confession to make - Frank isn't real, but you probably already guessed that. I just updated this parable, because it's so familiar that, if I'd started with it, many of you would have not felt the excitement of this man the way you might have related with Frank.

This man did not begrudgingly sell everything he had. He did it because of the great joy he had from finding this treasure. This is what Jesus is telling us being a Christian is like.

Are You Dwelling on the Sacrifice?

Too many Christians are still stuck on the sacrifices they make for being a Christian. Are you constantly talking about how hard it is to live the Christian life? Do you find yourself telling your co-workers "I can't go to happy hour," or "I'm a Christian so I can't ..."

Is it any wonder that people don't want to know more about your God? He sounds like a real downer, and it doesn't look like He gives you very much in return. Maybe you were foolish to make such a sacrifice?

Or, do the people you work with see how smart you were to trade away your possessions for something infinitely and eternally more valuable? The man in this parable was no fool - he was savvy. He made a wise investment, and he knew it. He was overjoyed with his decision. What about you?

Comment here.

Who are you? Money talks

"Self-knowledge is so critically important to us in our pursuit of God and His righteousness that we lie under heavy obligation to do immediately whatever is necessary to remove the disguise and permit our real selves to be known." -- A.W. Tozer

Last week's post, The Tattletale,  generated some discussion among friends, especially the line, "Everytime I open my wallet, write a check, or swipe my credit card, it's a revelation of who I really am."

We asked the questions:
Does God want us rich?
Does God want us poor?

I contend neither of these questions are applicable. Our standing with the Almighty has nothing to do with our checking account. God just wants our hearts. You see, how we think about money is a reflection about how we think about God.

How much of our energy, our thoughts, our actions center around money? Whether we're earning it, spending it, saving it, craving it or losing it, it's  a huge issue. How many drops of blood has been spilt, marriages ruined, and kingdoms fallen because of money.

Really, in the end, it matters nothing. What does matter? Randy Alcorn in 50 Days of Heaven puts it this way:

"Five minutes after we die, we'll know exactly how we should have lived. We'll know how much we should have given, prayed, shared our faith, meditated on Scripture. But then it'll be too late to go back and live our lives over again. We won't have a chance to be sold out disciples of Jesus Christ in a fallen world. Here and now is our only opportunity to do that. "

-- Care to comment?

Let the credits roll

It’s always an interesting procession at the end of the movie to watch people rise from their seats almost immediately after “The End” splashes on the screen.

They miss the credits – the people who made the movie happen. Maybe it’s just me, but I watch the credits. It’s intriguing to watch who the ‘grips’ there were and who did provided the catering. Just who was the “Man at the gas station”? Who provided the wedding cake?

Sometimes there are “stingers” in the credits – little teasers for sequels or outtakes. There’s even a website dedicated to documenting these: “Whatsafterthecredits.com”

There’s an application here for me to live. I shouldn't just pay attention to the credits at the movie theater -- I need to pay attention to credits everywhere else.  At my job, I am quick to scoop up the project or the article or the report and start moving on it. But I don’t read the credits – giving praise to the work of the hands that produced it.

And at home, I haven’t always been one to give credit, as I’ve been much more apt to give criticism. How about the man who sweeps the parking lot at my work, or the woman who cleans the glass. How about the older gentleman who picks up trash in the neighborhood or the single man that stuffs the bulletins at church.

Let the credits roll.  Who do you need to praise today? Comment here.

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The tattletale: How to find the real you

We all think we're so clever.

We have a public self.  That's the person that comes out at work, at school, or at church. That's the person we show our kids and neighbors, our spouses and our friends.

We work very hard to create that person.

And then we have a private self. That's the real me. The inner-man who's heart is so full of confusion, selfishness and hidden desires. I keep that self hidden from others, often even from my own probing mind.

But there's a tattletale out there.

Everytime I open my wallet, write a check, or swipe my credit card, it's a revelation of who I really am.

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also," says Jesus.  I don't think I like that verse, because my money is ... mine. I earned it. I sweated it. I should be able to spend it as I wish, right?

But the truth of the matter is that my spending habits do reflect my heart.

If I spend money on mindless pleasures, pampering myself with the delights of this world, my heart isn't in the right place.

If I spend money on constant entertainment, surrounding my senses with movies and concerts and events, my heart isn't in the right place.

If I spend money on endless technology, upgrading gadgets and devices and computers, my heart isn't in the right place.

If I say my heart is with the poor, or with missions, or with the church, but my wallet doesn't cast a vote, then I'm deluded. If I speak of concern for my brother in need, but do nothing about it, then my faith is in vain.

How about you? What do you spend money on and do you think it reflects your inner-person?

Would love your comment here

Deep fried twinkies: Confessions from a man who can't get enough of a bad thing

 It's county fair time.

Image by vpickering via Flickr

From toss-the-ring-on-the- bottle, to the teacup ride, to the barn where the kids show off their prize pig, it's as old-time as you can get in this modern age. From the pie contest, to the demolition derby, to the house of haunted mirrors, there's no better display of Americana than the local county fair.

And then there's the food.
Jam it on a stick, and it sells. Corn dogs, pickles, jam doughnuts, and chicken. And don't miss the elephant ears, fried carmelized onions, lemon shake-ups, turkey legs, chocolate-dipped pickles and funnel cakes.

And most of all, don't forget the deep-fried Twinkie.

I would never eat a Twinkie at lunch. Take a look at the label and you'll be amazed at the polyunsaturated badness. And they don't even taste that good on their own, the flavor muted by the additives that give it a 24-month shelf life.

But drop one of those babies in a deep fryer, and I'm hooked.

If theres' an axiom in American culture today, it's that there's nothing like unhealthiness compounded exponentially. If we're drinking a 32-ounce soda pop, why not get the 44-ounce cup? Why mess with a double when a triple burger is available? Once we've gained 30 pounds, what's another 20?

I wonder if I live my life that way? Once I start down a path that's wrong, do I keep walking? Once I entertain an evil thought, do I think about it some more? Once I taste a sin, do I take another bite?

How about you? Do you deep fry your Twinkies?
Comment here.

"For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing." -- St. Paul, Romans 7

Click here to have all future posts sent to you by e-mail. You can always change your mind later.

Why my plan stinks

I admit.

I’m a planner.

I’m a plotter.

I can even be a schemer.

From the time I was a little boy I was the “man with the plan,” so to speak. I was the one organizing the baseball game for everyone. I laid my clothes out for school – for the week. From places to travel to people to meet, I had big ideas all the time.

Image by Brandon Doran via Flickr

And as an adult not much has changed. I do love a plan. For many hours of my life, every minute is committed, leaving little room for love, for friends, and for faith. The problem with incessant planning is that there is little margin for God.

You see, walking by faith means strolling with absolutely no idea of where life is going to take you. For weirdos like me, this is excruciating.

Bonnie Gray, who serves up the Faith Barista had a great post called, “Can Setting Goals become an addiction.”

She had to remind herself of a few things:

“If I have God, I have everything. If I’ve neglected to intimately spend time with Him, I have nothing. My heart’s true joy is discovering new things about God, not the temporary highs of achievement”

Allowing God to work is the ultimate calling of His children.

And here's the real question. Do I trust Him enough to let go of my plan?

Apologies, Part 2: When "My Bad" is Good

Last week's post on Public Apologies generated some great conversations.

But the most interesting conversation. I've had to apologize to some close people for wrongs I've committed. The response is varied. Some have ignored the apologies altogether, the subject too uncomfortable to deal with the implications. Others have brushed the apologies off and still held on the hurt. Other have embraced my heart and worked toward a new relationship.

My friend Philip, wrote a post called "My Bad."

He said this: "I get hung up with apologies myself. I feel the need to correct the bad behavior before I say I'm sorry. The problem with that, is many times I forget and other times the correction is long term and in either case an apology is never given or way too late."

I can relate. Most of the wrongs I've committed have been simply out of ignorance. I just didn't realize what I was doing. Others have been because I couldn't bring myself to admit my own flaws in character. This led to inflicted pain in other's lives.

We all will do wrong. So how do we make it right? What has been your best apology? Your worst? What wisdom can you share, so we can all learn?

Comment here.

"I'm sorry" - Going beyond words

This seems to have been a long summer of very public apologies.It started in the business world.

•  Toyota CEO Akia Toyoda famously cried on television, expressing remorse for the auto manufacture’s safety problems. 
• British Petroleum CEO Tony Hayward sauntered up the microphone to try and make amends for the Gulf Coast oil spill.
• The sports world was rocked when Tiger Woods  morphed from superstar to a man of contrition, confessing his sins on television and pleading for forgiveness.
• In the entertainment world, we saw Jesse James say he’s sorry for cheating on wife Sandra Bullock. 

The pundits have scrutinized, criticized and analyzed these apologies. Were they genuine? Were they complete?

 

Mike St. Pierre’s, over at Daily Saint, wrote “The Power of a Good Apology,” particularly struck me. He had this to say:

1.To apologize is to be human. No one is above or exempt from saying they’re sorry. 2.To go beyond it, own it. This involves deep introspection and you have to reach a point where you look in the mirror and admit that at least part of the problem is, well, you. Own it and move on. Accept full responsibility- it’s the only way.
3.Follow up with concrete actions. A personal note, flowers, gifts, and more are all good starts but it will take much more to amend a wrong committed against someone else. 

At some point, we will all need to apologize to coworkers, neighbors, friends and family. I have grievously harmed those closest to me and I need to go beyond words. My tendency is to admit my faults and move on ...quickly. But forgiveness isn't often easily given, and the path toward completion is often rocky, dusty and lonely.
 
"Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed"
James 5:16
 

 

Eating humble pie

I often dream that I am tagging along behind Jesus, longing for Him to choose me as one of his disciples. Then, without warning, he turns around, looks straight into my eyes and says "Follow me." My heart races and I begin to run toward him, when he interrupts with "Oh, not you, the other guy. Sorry.'"

-- Mike Yaconelli
Too many times in my life, I have shouldered a task, believing that I was the only one who could get it done. I picked up the duty, thinking that no one else had the commitment, or dedication or smarts to do the job. The duty fell to me because of my 'gifting.' I thought I had all the answers, that I was The One.


And it wasn't until I fell into a tangled heap, my secure ropes wrapped around my angles, my elbows skinned from the fall. that I finally got it. Hard to admit, but I wasn't the right one for the task. I hurt my family. I cost my company time and money and goodwill. I hurt my testimony because of my pride. I hurt my reputation.


We have all repeated this scenario in our homes, in our churches, in our workplaces and in our communities.
There is tremendous freedom in admitting that you aren't The One.


What is your story? When did you think you do something, but found out the hard way that you weren't? Comment here.

Love flowers. Hate weeds.

My grandfather was a gardener extraordinaire.

But he was no lightweight. He was a salty man, rough and tumble, his character formed on the high seas as a member of the merchant marines. He had been in fights in every port and knew how to bang a few trashcans.

But the man knew how to garden.

There's an amazing transformation that happens to a person when they take seed to soil. It's a perfect picture of hope and faith, work and grace.

More men should garden, because we need the lessons that the earth can teach us that we will never learn from golf or talk radio or waxing the car.

This year, I've taken a liking to growing things. Perhaps it's changes in my life. Perhaps it's a picture my mom gave me of grandpa standing next to his tall stalks of corn.. Dropping flower seeds in empty spaces, I'm not a gardener yet, but I'm kind of liking it. I've been successful in some places, and a failure in others. I'm learning about soil preparation, water and sun and the symbioses of God's provision.

I remember something granddad said: "You have to love flowers and hate the weeds."

Kind of like ... life.

Comment here.