Spinning the truth

If you were around in the 70's, you'll never forgot the movie Jaws, adapted from Peter Benchley's book. Let's just say it wasn't beach reading. 

The premise was simple. A eastern seaboard resort town. Families on vacation. Sun. Laughter. Swimming. And a killer shark. 

Much of the movie centered on the coverup by the city officials who didn't want a little thing like killer sharks ruining their summer tourism season. 

Who can forget Amity Mayor Vaughn, at a press conference, who said this, "I'm pleased and happy to repeat the news that we have, in fact, caught and killed a large predator that supposedly injured some bathers. But, as you see, it's a beautiful day, the beaches are open and people are having a wonderful time. Amity, as you know, means 'friendship.'"

There is a tendency to cover up the bad. We see it all the time. If you follow Wall Street, you know that companies who give their annual reports find the one bit of good news and leap on it. If revenue is down, they'll still point out that Widget A increased sales among 50-54 males in Maryland. And that's supposed to help us feel better.

Politicians spin a similiar line of thinking. Sure, unemployment is hovering near 10 percent, but consumer confidence is up. Manufacturing volume is down, but jobs are being created in the green industry.

The techniques of media spin include:

• Selectively presenting facts and quotes that support one's position. Cherry picking.
• Non-denial denial
• Phrasing in a way that assumes unproven truth
• Euphemisms used to disguise the agenda
• "Burying bad news": announcing one popular thing at the same time as several unpopular things, hoping that the focus will be on the popular one.

I see me using all of these techniques in my own life, as I grapple with truth.

How many times have I been asked, "How are things?" My response? "Great." "Fine." "Blessed." I then I spin a tale of joy and happiness to keep everyone satisfied. It's beautiful. The beaches are open. I'm having a wonderful time.

"Instead, let your message be 'Yes' for 'Yes' and 'No' for 'No.' Anything more than that comes from the evil one." Matt: 5:37

Care to comment?

Participating in Graceful's, "Hear it on Sunday, Live it on Monday." Check out the others here.

It's all in the follow through -- The one lesson I should have learned

I was just ten, but I vividly remember Coach Dan. I never cared for him and I think the feeling was mutual. Unlike his superstar son, I was slow footed and less than athletic. I was a little joker. He was all business. For me, it was just Little League, a chance to play ball with my friends and mimic my heroes. For him, it was life.

Although I was bigger and stronger than many of the other kids, I just couldn't hit the ball for distance. It often plopped right in front of the second baseman who would casually toss it over to first base to cut down my lumbering dash.

He tried to work on my swing to give me a little pop.  "It’s all in the follow through!” he would repeat like a pull-me-doll, over and again. I never got it right.

Eventually, his words rang true with all my future "athletic endeavors," --baseball, football, golf, tennis, bowling. They all required a finishing motion, a follow through. Technique, concentration, commitment, conditioning and ability are worthless under the specter of a bad follow through.

The journey of life suffers under a similar dilemma. Good people of every ilk fail to deliver after the initial energy. Empty promises made on emotional appeals lie hollow when don’t carry them onward. We have all wept at the appeal to help the poor or disadvantaged — only to fail to deliver. We all know that good intentions do not substitute for sustained performance.


I live the consequence of failing to follow through on my early efforts. I started well, but I finished poorly and that's all people will remember.

Red Letter Believers are people who don't just think about good things and talk about them -- we do them. 


How's your follow through? Comment here.

Don't waste this moment

At one point in nearly every life, comes a time when you feel like you've lost everything. And that's not such a bad place to be. 

I'll never forget that day when the wheels came off my shiny car speeding down the freeway to happiness. Standing on the side of the road, alone, all of my successes suddenly were empty, hollow. Nothing really mattered -- except what mattered.  

Friends? Most just dropped away in silence, not knowing what to say. Family? They just didn't understand. The Church? It’s far too idealistic to really reach the need. 

In this state, I needed to learn that there are more important things than this life on earth. I needed to learn about trust and humility. I need to learn about courage that goes beyond words. I needed to learn that there's Someone who will never turn aside, no matter how messed up you are. 

I heard a voice, but I ignored it at first, lost in self-pity. But here's what it said. "Don’t let this moment pass. Don't waste the brokenness."

“The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

-- Ps 34:18

The Red Letter Believer is already a marked man or woman. Others are watching, waiting to see the reaction. They already know about your moral life, conquering the temptations and the evils that sprout around you. But just how will you act when it’s all taken away in a Job-like moment? Will you blame others? Will you change yourself? Will you fold? Will you "curse God and die?" 

My response hasn't always been the right one. I cursed the night. I withdrew. I blamed. But, I am learning, slowly, that brokenness is not a curse.  It's a blessing.

“We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts…”

Romans 5:3

How about you? You can comment here.

Stone Crossings: No pain. No Gain.

This modern age, full of innovation, technology and promise is perhaps best known by its brokenness.  Marriages split with increased regularity, families are in upheaval and society is in disarray. Watch daytime television for all the evidence you need. Tune in the evening news for further confirmation. And then look in your own heart to hear your own pain. Quite frankly, we are a mess.

When parents make bad choices, and that's the model children have, there’s a good chance that dysfunction will be multi-generational. I recently read L.L. Barkat’s Stone Crossings. It’s one woman’s journey on how to reverse the tide.

At times, the book was uncomfortable to read because of her often vivid recollection. It was also difficult to read because her pain seems to have familiar echoes all around me. Her home was one marked by rotating step parents, alcoholism, anger and name calling. There is a common narrative here. The hurts she endured reverberate across the cross-cut of humanity.

Written in a narrative, memoir style, there’s plenty of white space where she reflects, regroups and sets a new course of action. The “Stone Crossings” are the stepping rocks made out of grace that she finds scattered across the raging stream.

Barkat names the stones of her journey across the waters and there are some ugly, yet familiar ones: Shame, resistance, doubt and fear. But she also names and explores other stones carved out of grace like responsibility, gratitude, healing, and completion.

The book is intellectually and mentally stimulating. I was impressed with her insightful illustrative material drawn from such diverse sources as the Old Testament, modern art, classical literature and the big screen. In the end, all the sources are woven together in a fabric of understanding and practical application.

Order Stone Crossings.

If it were just a book about a tough childhood, it would be merely a sad tale of a little girl lost. But this book is about the redemption of both her feelings and her relationships. The reconciliation with her father was especially moving. The man was far from functional, but Barkat’s outreach to him in Jonah-like fashion produces a healing salve to her broken heart – and his.

People from brokenness often model the behavior into their other relationships.Children of divorced parents tend to divorce. Children of alcoholics have a tendency toward drinking. In other words, rats beget rats. But Barkat is passionate about stopping that cycle, offering her husband and her children their own Stone Crossings to normalcy and grace.

This is a work that doesn't sugar coat or ignore pain, but through personal transparency shows what it's like to find a way to not only healing, but joy. If you've ever been hurt by people, you need to read this book. 

Breaking the Rules

Tiger Woods, the talented, but tortured golfer, has another hurdle to cross in his quest for redemption. This week, he was caught by a television camera spitting on the green during the final round of the Dubai Desert Classic.

Apparently, it was a "serious" breach of the Euro Tour code of conduct.

Woods was publicly called out by tour officials and fined an undiscolosed amount.

As the world knows, last year he was wrapped up in a lurid sex scandal that ruined his marriage, rocked his game and tarnished his reputation. He hasn't been the same since. He vowed to change, promising to “make my behavior more respectful of the game.”

After the spitting incident, to his credit he was penitent about his infraction. He admitted his wrong and vowed to never do it again.

I must admit. I have spit on golf courses. And it doesn't stop there. I haven't yielded to merging traffic. I've checked out in the Express lane with 11 items. I've jaywalked. I've detached warning tags under penalty of law. I've taken short cuts and broken convention throughout my life. And, for the most part, I've gotten away with it.

But the fact of the matter is that as minor as these things seem, flaunting them is not indicative of a heart that wants to do right. Minor infractions can easily lead blurring of the major. I've seen the affects of compromise in my life -- and it's not pretty.

A lifetime of simple obedience leads to a discipline that makes it easier to make the tougher choices. Building a solid reputation isn't constructed out four walls of big events. It's built board by board, nail by nail. 

"One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much." -- Luke 16:10

Care to comment?

Poisoning the well

L-i-a-r

I type the four letters slowly. You see, I’m not writing about a politician or a fraudulent businessman. I’m not writing about some scoundrel or gangster. It’s me.

I told a lie. I knew it as soon as I uttered the words, dripping like acid from my tongue, scalding a precious relationship. Scrambling, I found it Impossible to scoop it back in. And rather than rushing to correct the wrong, I covered the lie with another, creating a toxic waste zone.

History tells us that untruths have destroyed nations and companies. In our lives, they have undone relationships and caused friends to turn their back for good. One lie can destroy a lifetime of truth, ruining a stellar reputation. Although I may have deep well of integrity, a single drop of deception poisons the whole. All other facts are now questioned. Trust is broken.

Confronted and ashamed I didn't know where to turn except to the life of black and white that I once cherished.  To those deceived, I can only offer the truth and a penitent heart. No money, no time, no words can bridge the gap.

While grace is a warming blanket that gives brokenness a chance, the consequences are often broad, maybe permanent.

And the title may never disappear. Liar.

Everyone on the side of truth listens to me." (John 18:37)

How can the lie be repaired? What do you think?

The work of a Handyman

This article was written by Denver Handyman Philip Faustin. I've known him for a number of years and wish I were half the man he is. This article was originally published at The High Calling. Philip's blog can be found here.

The voice on the other end of the phone was sad, but resolute. Her beloved dog had “died a year ago.” It was buried in the back yard in a plastic tote box, “the kind with the snap-on lid,” she said. The family had to move and “naturally,” she blustered, “Ben needed to go with us.”

As a regular customer of mine she knew that I was very versatile. She called, hopeful. After all, a handyman can do anything, right?

I actually thought about this for a while. I called her back, thankful for an answering machine pickup. I explained that I would have to pass. I tried to be sensitive, knowing the emotions involved. For the record, I realize that exhuming animals is not something I do – ever.

And that’s a big part of my challenge – knowing my limitations. Certain things are better left to someone else. I have a simple business plan and I stick to it.

I didn’t start off my life intending to do this for a living. But my janitorial company forced me to work nights, and with a wife and a couple of young children, I knew something had to change.

“Officially” I began to work in the business when a close friend of mine who owned a busy handyman company invited me to join him. But after a couple of years, he left to pastor a church and the company was mine. I missed the friendship and companionship, but contentedly fell into the solitary role. There’s a Latin word for what I do  – sola repaira. 

 Read the rest of this post over at The High Calling.

When a cat just won't do

It hits at the oddest of times. It might be in a crowded room, or while driving the car, or surrounded by friends and family. It creeps up the back of my spine and digs in just behind my heart. It's a familiar foe that knows me well. It conjures up past wrongs and present divides and turns them into a single word. Isolation.

And with that word comes all the fears of standing alone, with no one to care. It's silly really, the devil's best tool. It's not a matter of numbers, it's a matter of behavior. I'm not alone, but then again, I keep mentally and spiritually choosing the same path wide enough for only one.

The answer isn't just companionship, otherwise a cat would fit the bill.

I don't think I'm the only one. Look around and you know that we are isolated from others. Sure, we live in cities and jostle for position, but we do it alone. We have built fences around our castles, avoiding any neighborly contact with the push of a garage door opener. We enter these castles eating quick heat dinners and hovering over computer screens with no connection to our fellow man.

While money buys automobiles, homes, and clothes, it ultimately buys isolation. Just think, if all our possessions were to be stripped away, what would we have?  We would have to learn interdependence on each other. We would learn the meaning of borrowing a cup of sugar, of helping a neighbor out of a predicament. We could again experience "community."

Remember the Iraqi man who hid 22 years in a wall that he built inside his home, running from Saddam Hussein’s death squads? But he is like so many of us. Rather than face the world, dangerous and frightening it may be, we choose to live in our own prisons. The light of day passes with nary a nod of acknowledgement, for we are captives of the dark.

Many of us try to fill the hollow ache inside with activity, filling our waking moments with parties and leisure and travel. Reaching out to fill the holes in our souls, we find nothing. 


I've pushed people away, not wanting them to share my pain ... or my joy. I dodged the dance because I don't want to be revealed. I've run when all I had to do was stand. No wonder I hear that voice.

It's all so unnecessary. Right Fluffy?

“A man of many companions will come to ruin. But there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18.10 
Comment?

Dream a little dream with me



Photo by Jenny H, by permission.

 As a chubby nine-year old, I dreamt of a new bike, gleaming. Perhaps a birthday surprise? I promised to God that if I got it I would clean it everyday and always lock it up in the shed at night. I closed my eyes and I could almost hear the echoing clack-clack of the playing cards on the spokes. It was red and chrome and wonderful all over. 

I didn’t get it that year. Or the next. But on my 12^th birthday, there it was.

“I have a dream,” shouted Martin Luther King in a sermon that still reverberates across the ocean of time. He saw a situation and envisioned a better day for minorities. His dream is coming true. What would have happened if he had never uttered what God had impressed on his heart?

Whether you are dreaming of world change or a silly bicycle, there are four types of dreams -- Those that are fulfilled, those that are delayed, those that are denied, and those that are suppressed

Of all those, the most difficult to live with are those that are suppressed. We’ve all had God put something in our hearts and then we spend our days denying it ever existed, or making excuses why it can’t be done. The shadow chases us until we finally give in. But when we don’t give in, it gives up the pursuit and finds another who is more willing.

I remember reading Genesis, when the brothers of Joseph had a little fun at his expense. “Here comes that dreamer!” they said. Leaning on each other’s shoulders, doubled over in mockery, the older brothers had quite the laugh.

The lad with the big ideas wasn’t the most popular brother. He saw things no one else could and it caused division. And so it is with dreamers. They will never be popular. They’ll be called “out of touch.” They’ll be scorned and talked about behind their backs. They’ll lose friends. But someone around here has to dream. Someone has to see things the way they ought to be and then work at articulating and planting that dream in all of us.

Maybe no one else will see that dream and you’ll spend your lifetime fulfilling it, alone with only God at your side. Such is the burden – and joy – of a dreamer.

 What have you always wanted to do and never pursued? And what excuses have you thrown up to keep you from chasing that dream? Are any of them too great for God?  It’s never too late to turn the dream suppressed into the dream fulfilled.

What’s your dream? Comment here.

Warm hearts and cold days

Photo by bummy2810 via Flikr 

"It's so cold that the snowman knocked on the front door and asked to sleep on the couch"

Now, that's funny.

Cold hearts. Frozen bank accounts. Chilled relationships.

Now, that's serious.

"Out of the south comes the storm, And out of the north the cold.
From the breath of God ice is made, And the expanse of the waters is frozen.
-Job 37:9-10 (NASB)

Now, that's harsh reality.

"Curious," said my pastor friend Jim Walters, "that this cold verse comes from a biblical book on suffering."

"So why do bad things happen to good people," he asks. And he's not alone. If you've ever been betrayed by a spouse or a friend. If you've ever had a child turn his back. If you've ever been flat on your back, sick with the world's afflications. If you've ever been destitute and alone...you've asked this question.

Jim's blunt answer -- and the same one from the Bible --  is that "the godly will suffer." And it isn't just the saints. It's everyone. We live in a broken world, complete with broken dreams, broken promises and broken hearts. It's part of being human.

Jim talks about Job's encounters with his friends and then with God. "God weighs in and asks Job about a hundred hard questions, of which Job is able to answer exactly zero."

When life is stacked against you, you just don't have an answer. None.

According to Jim, the best verse in the whole book is from Job 1:21, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

"Say that last sentence a few times over, and you’ll find a strange warming within your own heart," he said.

It was 18 below yesterday. But I'm starting to fill a warm spell coming on.

Comment here.

God, here's my resume

I’m working on my resume for God. He didn't ask for it and it might be a silly exercise. But I want to be ready, just in case God needs it.

Date of birth. Well he knows that. I better not fudge the date. The trend is toward younger people these days, but there’s no getting around this one.

Education. I did go to some school. But I basically a quitter and the list of higher learning institutions are long and the end results short.

Work experience. I sit up at this one. I’ve worked and done pretty well. Got some raises along the way. But basically, most of the time, He gave me the jobs. I was over my head.

Awards. I open up my memory chest and there are some good boy pieces of paper from elementary school. I have a couple of ribbons from my military days. I was a real go getter. And my present employer has given several awards, metal accolades on rosewood wood squares. But do they really mean a thing?

Then the thought hits me. It's all rubbish!

I roll it up the scribbled paper and throw it like a ball across the room, burying my face in my hands.

The truth is that in nearly every important area of my life, there's so little to say. .

I wasn’t that great of a son.

I failed miserably as a husband.

My brother won’t talk to me.

I’m not sure how I’m doing as a dad.

I’ve let down my friends.

I’ve a string of broken relationships, scattered along the highway that I call my life.
My God is often a stranger to me.

Have I wasted my life?

Suddenly, there’s a tap on my shoulder and I look up at a Smiling Face. He hands me a pen and a piece of paper, snow white, washed by blood.

“Let’s start over”

Care to comment?