Dawdling service at restaurants gets under my skin. (The only thing worse is fast food at a slow drive through.) At lunch not long ago we got dawdling service from our server. Here’s what happened.
I never let on to the waiter that I was miffed, yet inside my fuse was burning. Here’s why:
- The table next to us ate and left before we did, though we arrived at the same time.
- Our water glasses were often empty and the food order came out wrong.
- The waiter fouled up the bill.
- I was late getting back to work.
But then, just before we left, I felt like a complete idiot. The waiter made mention that it was his first day. You see, the problem wasn’t his incompetence.
It was my impatience.
Life hands us a line of slow servers. God shows us the best way to disarm our short fuse.
I had to smile when I read what Jason Kidd said after the Dallas Mavericks drafted him years ago: “We’re going to turn this team around 360 degrees!”
Life often feels like that, doesn’t it? A lot of effort with nothing gained.
At times, the Bible seems like a history book in which God makes and fulfills promises to the ancients, but the words somehow lack immediacy to our struggling lives. And yet, it’s funny how the anxieties that overwhelm our lives seem identical to those that biblical people struggled against.
Even though Scripture provides assurance of God’s promises, assurance doesn’t negate the stressful circumstances that force us to trust God.
Truth doesn’t make the hard parts of life go away. We still have to trust God with that truth.
I’ll never forget the images of Mount Carmel’s scorching flames in December 2010. The largest fire in Israel’s history billowed so much smoke that a NASA satellite could photograph it.
In addition to the tragic loss of life—both human and animal—the devastating inferno destroyed 5 million trees.
(Photo: Fires on Mount Carmel in 2010, by יחידה אווירית משטרת ישראל CC-BY-SA-3.0, via Wikimedia Commons)
While reading about the fire in the news, I thought about the scenic overlook on Mount Carmel I have visited many times. The name of the place is Muhraqa, which means, ironically, “burning.”
Fortunately, most of Mount Carmel’s beautiful historic sites (including Muhraqa) escaped the 2010 forest fire. Beauty untouched beside utter devastation.
In a land where water is life, the lushness of Mount Carmel came to represent nothing less than the blessing of God.
I have a friend named Brad who made the front page of the paper, because he almost drowned. His rescue was extraordinary.
He set out with a small raft and his bike, intending to make his way to a nearby lake. As he walked through the woods toward the lake, there was nowhere to walk except through sludge. He eventually abandoned his bike and boat.
And when it got dark, Brad got lost.
He slogged through the darkness only to find himself eventually floating in the middle of Lake Lewisville. Being as skinny as a rail with zero body fat (what’s that like?), he was soon on the brink of hypothermia.
Brad told me he had always been one never to ask for help. And yet, in this crisis, he screamed at the top of his lungs: “Oh my God! Please help me!”
You know how he was he rescued?
Anyone who has visited the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC has seen the plaque fixed on the top of the steps.
The plate and its inscription mark the spot where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous speech, “I Have a Dream.”
Standing on those steps in the shadow of the great emancipator’s memory, gave greater force to the words Dr. King spoke that day.
The place of the message intensified the words.
I’m convinced that’s why Joshua gathered the young Hebrew nation to Shechem, which lay between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. The geographical context of his words played a significant role.
What he said that day still applies to us.
Would you like to hold a grudge with God’s blessing?
I mean, wouldn’t it be great to know exactly how much of the same guff you had to take from someone until you no longer had to forgive?
The problem with forgiving is that the debt is real.
- Your parents neglected or even abused you.
- Your spouse betrayed your wedding vows.
- Your best friends backstabbed you.
- Someone hurt you so deeply you feel you may never recover.
The debt is real. And in order to forgive, you must give even more than has already been taken.
And this is hard. Very, very hard.
But if we want God to forgive us, it’s essential.
The good news? Scripture shows us how.
Most of us can remember the turning of the millennium. It was an exciting time to be alive—to see if all computers would crash. (It was also a great time for practical jokes).
But for the great yew tree at Crowhurst, England, the year 2000 was no big deal. Tree experts say this tree has seen the millennium change four times. Ho hum.
That means when Jesus walked the earth two thousand years ago, the Crowhurst yew had already stood for two thousand years—dating to the time of Abraham!
From its lush exterior you’d never guess the tree had a center lifeless and hollow.
A lot of people live life like this old tree.
- From all appearances, they look full of life and vigor, but on the inside they have an empty hollow.
- The longer they live, the bigger the hole gets on the inside.
Life can weather your faith. But God’s love shows us how He can fill that empty hollow with life far more vibrant than the outside facade.
But only He can do it.
I never trust myself with a snooze button.
It’s too easy to tell myself, “Just 5 more minutes,” about 7 more times. Plus, snoozing never helps! I feel just as tired after snoozing as I did beforehand.
I gain nothing. I’ve only lost time.
The problem of “mind over mattress” is one we all face, and we all deal with it in different ways.
- Some people set the alarm earlier to allow for the snooze.
- Others put the clock out of reach so they have to get up to turn off the alarm.
- Others tell themselves, Tomorrow I’ll begin to get up on time; but not today.
Spiritually speaking, we’re often called to “wake up” and get moving.
The problem? We’re tempted to slap the snooze button.
But when we do, we never gain anything.
We only lose precious time.
Not long ago, my body gave me a little gift.
I awoke suddenly one night with a smarting pain in the body. No matter how I fidgeted and adjusted, the hurt in my lower back only intensified.
The best way I can describe the discomfort compares to having a doctor insert a three-inch hypodermic needle just to the left of the spine, exactly where the kidney sits. Occasionally, just for fun, the doc then twists the needle in a slow, clockwise motion.
The pain literally nauseated me.
Never before had I experienced such an inescapable ache.
The most frightful part was I had no idea what was happening.
Not long ago, my jaw dropped as I calculated how much I had spent on tolls that year.
This painful revelation forced me to reexamine my commute. I decided to take the access road to work each morning instead of the highway.
But I discovered I pay either way.
I pay in time or in money. In angst or in cash. Unfortunately, I seem to have more of time.
So I pay my time at stoplights.
After two years of navigating stoplights and memorizing their patterns, I have concluded that someone, somewhere, is smiling at me behind some camera.
Maybe it’s God. (He’s smiling at you too.)