Archives For Strength to face the day

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Many years ago a young man was transferred to my department. During his first annual review with me, he asked why his raises had been consistently lower than the company average. I answered,

“Well, you’re kind of a jerk.”

And he was. If a colleague asked how the software worked, he’d sigh with feigned Rude customer-service r2patience, look at his watch, and ask, “Don’t you know that by now?” If a client asked how the software worked, he’d huff, “Didn’t I explain that just last month?”

But he was smart. He sliced through client’s problems with scalpel-like sharpness. His technical keenness took the edge off his social rudeness, but just barely. His past annual raises reflected the mixed feelings his previous boss had toward him.

When I told him he is kind of a jerk, he seemed stunned and simply squeaked, “Really?” Then he read, How To Win Friends and Influence People, and began to change. Something really seemed different.

Different enough, that he got a huge raise the following year. He then asked his former boss (a Christian) why the boss hadn’t been honest and direct. The boss admitted, “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” My new employee retorted,

Damn it! Your cowardly Christian niceness cost me thousands of dollars. Thanks for nothing.” (Hey, he was a recovering jerk; I never said he was completely cured.)

Christian cowardice      Continue Reading…

Several weeks ago I had an awful day in the middle of a horrible week in the midst of a bad month. A sniffle turned into post-nasal drip which turned into bronchitis—the third time in five months. When I inhaled, it felt like shards of glass shredding my lungs.

I canceled everything so6990615-sick-man-sleeping-on-office-table I could have some recovery time. Later, that same day, I ended up with six hours of unexpected, unscheduled, and exhausting meetings.

Now I was both sick and tired.

That same night an organization I belong to sent out its weekly email. Hidden in the email was the description of a decision that I considered a tactical blunder. So I dashed off a short email to the leaders asking them to reconsider.

Alas! I ended the email with this nasty, sarcastic dig:

Why don’t we think first? For a change.

The next morning several people emailed back, correcting me for my caustic comment.

My initial response was self-defense: I was sick. And their decision made little sense. And my day of recovery had been stolen. And besides, maybe they deserved it.

But that was just defensiveness. The truth was I had been a jerk. No one forced me to write those words.  They were unnecessary and inflammatory. And no one had a gun pointed at me when I pressed “send.” I was the one with a gun, pointing it at others.

Why didn’t I just think first? For a change.        Continue Reading…

[To listen to a reading of this article, click here.]

I hate leaving for trips, but I also—sometimes—hate returning. There is so much to do. There are all the things I didn’t do while away, and all the things I normally do when I’m home, and all the things my trip generates.

I returned home late last Friday night from a week long set of planning meetings. Sure enough, my “normal” things for last week didn’t get done by themselves; the planning meetings generated a huge list of terrific things to do; and I had my normal new week’s list just waiting for action.

I felt overwhelmed and weighed down, besieged by an army of action items. As I charged through my to-do list, the battle went downhill. Technology misfired, people were late, misunderstandings abounded, and phone interruptions ruled.

Instead of bleeding with a sword through my heart, I was dying of a thousand paper cuts; instead of facing the hulking, flying Nazgûl, I was surrounded by ten thousand blood-sucking mosquitoes. Continue Reading…

I love having a new laptop but I hate getting a new laptop. It takes me a couple days to transfer my old data, reinstall the applications, and setup my preferences. It’s a hassle.

Three weeks ago I bought a new laptop. Over the next several days I transferred data, installed the apps, and set it up the way I like it. It was a pain.

Ten days ago, I began work on this Spiritual Warfare article. A day later my new laptop crashed. Argh!!!! I tried to breathe life into it and failed. So I wiped the computer clean, reinstalled the operating system, and started all over again. It was a major pain.

I shared my story with a friend. He thought that my laptop crash was probably due to spiritual warfare, and that I should pray against spirits that affect technology.

I thought I had been lazy. Continue Reading…

Today didn’t go as planned. Not even close.

Our dog Puzzle didn’t eat a bite on Sunday. I woke up today (Monday) to find two large pools of diarrhea in the family room and a cowering dog in the kitchen. I called the vet. They had an opening in one hour. For the next forty-five minutes I scrubbed and scoured the cesspools in our carpet.

When I coaxed Puzzle to the car, I discovered a flat tire. I pumped it up and sped to the vet. I had missed the “window” and sat for an hour amidst yapping dogs and a shivering Puzzle. (He’s fine; he just ate something bad.)

I dropped Puzzle off at home, and I limped to the tire store. They said it would take twenty minutes. An hour and twenty minutes later they said a nail and punctured the sidewall and I needed a new tire. But it wasn’t in stock. I’d have to come back.

I rushed to Panera’s for a lunch appointment, but my friend didn’t show up. He texted, saying that he had a toothache and was dashing to the dentist for an emergency visit.

I hurried home only to discover that my website was down. Apparently there had been a “massive DDoS attack on GoDaddy.com” (whatever that means) which affected thousands of sites. Including mine.

While talking with technical support, my wife came home with a kidney stone episode, so I ended the call and ran out to buy her some painkillers.

By mid afternoon my friend had a pain in the mouth, my wife had a pain in the side, and my day had been a pain in the ____ (fill in the blank). Continue Reading…

Years ago I worked with a man who had an insatiable desire to impress. When he gave presentations, he never used a one-syllable word when a four-syllable word was at hand (or at least on the shelf). When he told me of his client visits, he eulogized his eloquence and waxed lyrical about his wisdom.

Self-acclaim obscured clarity; self-admiration overshadowed expression; and self-tribute was always the topic. When he did something well, he made sure you knew it.

You may know someone like him.

I’m not sure what got me thinking about him today, but my mind kept replaying past scenes of his self-praise.

Later on I read the story of the prophet Nathan addressing King David after David’s adultery. Nathan tells the story of a rich man with many flocks stealing a poor man’s deeply beloved and only lamb. David was enraged at the injustice. Then Nathan said,

Thou art the man” (2 Samuel 12:7, KJV).

As I thought of my impression-needy friend, I heard God say, “Sam, Thou art the man” It was an arrow in the heart. (You’ve got to hear it in King James English) Continue Reading…

I wonder sometimes if the greatest problem facing the modern church is a lack of wonder.

When we were kids, all kinds of experiences brought wonder. Our first trip to the zoo filled us with wonder. The stick-figured, long-necked giraffe was fantastic; the bloated barrel-shaped hippopotamus was delightful (even the name hippopotamus was enchanting); and the shuffling, tuxedo-clad penguin was wonderful.

As teenagers, we became jaded; we lost our wonder. We’d already been to the zoo. “Big deal!” We’d already learned to ride a bike. “Who cares!” Continue Reading…

When we think about the tests of God, most of us shudder. Yet I believe that they can be a key to Hope and Joy. Let me explain.

I began flying lessons in 1997. These lessons taught me to take off and land, to navigate using aviation charts, and to communicate with air traffic control.

I particularly liked learning to land.

On my second flight, my instructor Jayne pulled the throttle to idle and announced that my engine had just died. She asked what I was going to do. Throttling her was not an option because I hadn’t yet learned to land. But I was strongly tempted.

Soon a pattern emerged. She’d kill the engine, I’d want to kill her, and we’d practice standard engine-restart procedures, and I’d look for a place to land. Then we would circle down to the landing site until Jayne said we would have made it (or not). Then she’d re-throttle the engine, we’d climb, and we’d review what I had done.

Jayne drilled the engine-out procedures so thoroughly into me that I could have done them in my sleep, though I never tried. Continue Reading…

The Power of Remember

January 2, 2012 — 7 Comments

After the evil Witch is killed, in C. S. Lewis’s The Silver Chair, Pulddleglum catches one Earthman who explains what is happening with the rest of the Earthmen:

“About an hour ago we were all going about our work—her work, I should say—sad and silent, same as we’ve done any other day for years and years. Then there came a great crash and bang. As soon as they heard it, everyone says to himself, I haven’t had a song or a dance or let off a squib for a long time; why’s that? And everyone thinks to himself, why, I must have been enchanted.”

Under enchantment, the Earthmen could not remember who they were, and they were sad and silent, burdened, without song or dance (or even a squib!). G. K. Chesterton wrote, “We are all under the same mental calamity … We have all forgotten who we really are.”

There is power in the English word “remember” but the power is best illustrated by its opposite. The opposite of remember is not merely to Forget—that is the opposite of to Recall—the opposite of remember is to Dismember. This is why the Earthmen hadn’t sung or danced, and it is why we are without joy and hope. We’ve all been dismembered, cut off.

This is Satan’s most powerful weapon; he spews forth lies to dismember us—to cut us off—from God, from each other, and from who we really are. His enchantment keeps us from remembering. Satan lies to Eve saying, “God is holding out on you; God doesn’t have your best interest at heart.” She eats the forbidden fruit, and is cut off.

As we look to the New Year, many of us make resolutions for future behavior. Maybe we’ll eat less or pray more. And many of us—like me—have failed so many past resolutions that we ignore the annual opportunity—we simply don’t want one more failure on our record.

Why have we failed to keep so many past New Year’s resolutions? Is it because we don’t desire health? Of course not. It’s because we lack the power—the persistent motivation—to pursue these desires; we lack the joy and hope. We’ve been dismembered. Satan lies to us saying, “God is holding out on us, God doesn’t have our best interest at heart.” And we go elsewhere for comfort. We forget, we are cut off from, the truth that Christ is more than we can ask or imagine; he is all we need.

For New Year’s, may I suggest this year we decide … to Remember. Continue Reading…

Dealing with Anxiety

October 8, 2011 — 4 Comments

Recently, a group of friends and I were faced with a decision that would significantly affect each of us. I met with two of my friends to discuss the issue. One of us thought we should do it, one thought we shouldn’t do it, and one thought that great pain would come either way, if we did it or if we didn’t.

While the three of us disagreed on what should happen, we realized that we shared three things: each of us felt we knew what should happen; each of us felt strongly we knew what should happen; and each of us felt a bit of anxiety that the “right” decision might not happen. Even the friend who didn’t know what should happen knew either decision would be harmful, he felt strongly either decision would be harmful; and he was a bit anxious that one or the other decision would happen.

We realized our minds had begun to be engrossed with the most persuasive words to express our opinion, and we began to fixate on whom to talk with about what steps needed to take place. And our thought life had become consumed by the decision. We were preoccupied with what the future would like look if the decision was made or what it would look like if it wasn’t made.

We were in the grip of anxiety. Continue Reading…