What does your marriage need to thrive?

Sadly, it seems like too many people married the wrong spouse. They act like they wish they had picked someone else or they make a mistake with someone they aren’t married to and they have to live with those painful consequences for the rest of their lives. Why are there so many unhappy married couples? It’s because, in a small sense, some married people tend to forget that healthy relationships are nurtured much like tending livestock.

My folks raised cattle on their small farm, deep down in the Ozarks. They mostly had black Angus, usually no more than 25 at a time, and while I can’t remember a single one of them, my dad had one animal I’ll never forget — he was a beautiful beast, a massive red Limousin bull. The only problem with this bull was, when he wanted to visit another herd, he just reared up in the air on his hind legs, placed his front hooves on the gate, pushed his 2,500 pounds forward, and off he went.

Typically, after the bull spent a few days in some other field, a local farmer (with his own herd of cows) would then call my dad and say, “Come and get your bull, he’s done making his rounds here ...” You see, once that Limousin bull realized he could leave whenever he pleased, no fence could ever hold him after that.

American farmers and ranchers have always struggled with corralling their livestock. It’s hard to keep your livestock on your property without a good stockade, unless you skip the fences like they do in other parts of the world. In other regions, they have found out what works better than building strong fences that eventually fail — they simply dig better wells.

It’s a simple solution to an age-old problem: Provide your livestock with their needs in an arid and desolate land, and they stick around the farm — cattle, horses or sheep won’t wander far from their feed and water in the wilderness. The same principle applies to our most intimate relationships.

What Paul says about maintaining a healthy sex life in 1 Corinthians 7:3-5 has broader applications as well, “3 The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. 4 For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. 5 Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.” In other words, provide each other’s mutual needs at home so your spouse won’t feel the need to stray from your farm.

If you aren’t providing for your spouse’s relationship needs, they will find their needs met elsewhere, and that’s when people experience hell on earth. All of the great marriages that you see share this common truth — spouses who strive to meet each other’s needs enjoy marriages that thrive. Whenever any marriage feels like it’s withering on the vine, someone in the relationship isn’t meeting their significant other’s needs.

You can’t keep your spouse cooped up, so make it so they don’t feel neglected and want to leave to have their needs met elsewhere. Or as my cousin, a Vietnam vet with a few Purple Hearts, likes to say about his marital relationship, “This dog don’t stray, because she (pointing to his wife) keeps him well-fed.”

Originally published here: Timesnews faith column

Don't be a moron on Mother's Day

 

One of the dumbest trends I've seen on Social media is the pushback against celebrating Mother's Day in church.  Hip preachers who are into the latest fads are rationalizing this move away from a valued tradition by claiming Mother's Day is simply too painful to acknowledge since there are women who can't have children and there are people who had a crappy mom.  

This line of thinking where we cater to the possibility of the worrisome areas of life is another symptom of what is wrong with our culture.  Let's not recognize or reward the people who are noteworthy because we might offend or hurt someone else's feelings isn't fair, or reasonable.  It's stupid.

I'm not insensitive to the people who can't conceive or those who had a bad childhood.  That's not my point at all.  Maybe we need a day out of the year where we recognize their losses, but even for those who suffer great tragedy, we can't shortchange the heroic or the victorious by ignoring their importance.  

I'm sad for the women who can't have children and really want to.  It's not fair.  The reality is, you are no less of a woman or a human if you aren't able to bring children into this world, but it does hurt, it leaves a void in your heart, and it hurts so much because of the blessing of parenting and motherhood, something we celebrate for a reason.

And, yes, there are horrible mothers.  My mom, rest her soul, never would've received "Mom of the year."  I'm at peace with her failures as a mom, and I've learned to love her, "warts & all."  She left with another man when I was about 14, then came home later when my dad went looking for her, and there a host of other issues I could ruminate on if I wanted to make myself a miserable wretch.  You come to grips one day that your parents did the best they could, and even when that wasn't good enough, you live & let live, and you let go of the past and you learn to forgive.  If you don't comes to terms with these problems, they will ruin you and the relationships that matter in life.  

Still, even for all the hurt feelings and problems surrounding Mother's Day, none of those problems negate the fact there are good, yes great, moms out there who deserve a little special recognition at least once a year.  Since God gave us one of the greatest gifts, Mothers & Motherhood, I think it's highly inappropriate for us to neglect moms or honor them when we gather as a church.  

Cancel Culture, censorship, religious freedom, and the spirit-crushing powershift happening right now

All people of every background deserve respect, dignity and the right to voice their opinions — but differing opinions require a two-way street too. One of the greatest traits we hold as Americans is the freedom to dialogue, to differ, to debate. It’s interesting though, how certain dissenting views are being threatened, bullied and silenced. For example, certain expressions of Judeo-Christian religions, conservative political views, and time-tested traditional views on family values are being removed, blocked and scrubbed from social media and the internet as if they never existed.

There seems to be a power shift regarding what and who is influencing our culture. I do not understand why a mere fraction, an extremely small percentage, the slightest margin of our population, a minuscule group compared to the whole, is being allowed to redefine what the bulk of us believe about the use of gender pronouns, faith, values and morals. Why do the fringes get to define the center for the rest of us?

Cultural boycotts are not new, but they seem to be picking up steam over the past few years. Perhaps you’ve heard about the recent controversies over several of Dr. Seuss’ books, cartoon characters such as Pepé Le Pew, and Disney classics like “Peter Pan” and “Dumbo.” Even common brand names have been besieged, like Aunt Jemima or the image of the American Indian girl on the Land O’ Lakes, which are all being removed. The popular term is “cancel culture.”

It’s one thing to withdraw your support or participation. It’s another to vilify and try to destroy another because you disagree with them, and that is where cancel culture often leads.

It’s not just cartoon characters and product labels under siege. People who are not in line with the mainstream media and much of Hollywood are being punished or ostracized for the crime of being “offensive.”

Is this “cancel culture” a fad, will it work and to what ends, and why don’t more people speak up against it? If a position or stance is deemed offensive, does that give a select few the right to ban it for the rest of us? How long until they try to cancel the Bible for what it says about morality, family and the idea that biologically there are only two genders? How long until verses like Isaiah 5:20, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!” are categorized as hate speech?

The Equality Act (basically an amendment to the Civil Rights Act of 1964) which passed in the House last month could be setting a dangerous precedent, overriding the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993. Apparently this new law could prevent churches from interpreting and communicating what they believe Scripture to say without the threat of repercussions. For example, according to the Equality Act, if a biological male identifies as a female, he has government protection to use the women’s restroom in your church. This is insanity. How did we ever get to this place?

Discrimination based on someone’s race or religion is wrong, but you can’t force a Jewish deli to serve barbecued pork either. There has to be some balance and common sense that we all can apply. If your goal is to gain acceptance or approval for your alternative lifestyles, silencing your dissenters won’t accomplish it.

Click here to see the original article posted in the TimesNews

Review of "Unholy Mess: What the Bible says about Clutter"

I hadn’t ever thought about until recently, but, is it possible that living an uncluttered life is a spiritual discipline? My maternal grandfather, “Father Bear,” was a hoarder. And when I say hoarder, yes he was just like the unimaginable type they film for cable TV — his house was beyond disgusting. Coming up through the Great Depression he eventually saved everything from all the newspapers that came across his table, empty cans of dog food, to the seeds of the fruit he ate. I grew into adulthood abhorring clutter, also witnessing my parents following Father Bear’s example. Maybe you can relate to such an experience too?

Are you ready to hear about a resource from a strong Christian woman’s voice that addresses decluttering all aspects of our lives? It’s the book that triggered the question in my mind that decluttering might just be a spiritual discipline. It’s my honor to commend Angie Hyche on a book well-written and to recommend to you her “Unholy Mess: What the Bible Says About Clutter.”

Less is more, so I won’t boil down a prize ox into a bouillon cube by summarizing her entire book point by point. I hope, instead, to entice you to pick up her book and see for yourself how much better your life can be when you apply the principles she lays out. Her holistic approach holds more profound implications than simply tidying up your basement, though.

Maybe you’re thinking we don’t need another book on organization, but maybe it’s time for a book written from a Christian perspective. And that’s where Angie’s book comes in — her aim is to feed your soul and help shape your perspectives on your relationship with God and to navigate the areas of your life where being better organized (your attention, your schedule, and yes your possessions) will bring you more peace and joy. She wants to help us tame the chaos to experience the abundant life Jesus promises.

Angie packs “Unholy Mess” with ample research and statistics. She cites several studies and articles, and she sprinkles in volumes of vulnerability — she doesn’t claim to be perfect, and she won’t shame you. If you want to assess your values and priorities, Angie’s book is helpful, plus she isn’t dogmatic and her theology isn’t “Do this or you’re a sinner.” Instead, she provides Scriptures at nearly every turn of the page that help us prioritize our actions and our views, while confronting the cognitive dissonance we struggle with when we allow disorder to run amok.

We all need coaching in establishing healthy boundaries and the motivation to change. With clear writing and experience to back up her ideas, “Unholy Mess” will help you to adjust your habits and your attitudes, again all from a Christian approach/perspective. You’ll be encouraged and uplifted along the way as you learn about ways to apply the many practical strategies she offers. She offers a great filter on how to organize our lives: Declutter, arrange, and then maintain.

One of the aspects I liked most about Angie’s book were the reflective questions she provides to help you as you try to set realistic goals. The initial third of the book primarily addresses our relationship with God, the next third transitions to the “how to,” and the last third —which was my favorite part of the book — covers the obstacles to decluttering and how to manage our future so we don’t fall back into our old habits.

Some of the big takeaways I found to be extremely helpful were her thoughts on being purposeful with our possessions, her stewardship strategies, and how she aptly blended theology with theory, philosophy and application. She does so, balancing topics covering the physical mess we observe along with the inability we wrestle with to be fully present, like with others over a meal, and how much more of an abundant life God has for us when we overcome the chaos.

This book is a great resource, and it has a lot of potential for small group ministries. Certainly your small group could go through the book together, but that’s not my point. How often have you been embarrassed to have company over because your countertops haven’t seen daylight and the couch is hidden under a pile ... OK, I know that’s an exaggeration, but my point is, many people feel uncomfortable inviting people over when their house isn’t up to the standard they would like it to be. So this book will help us with the ministry of hospitality and help us as the church to open our homes to others more as we tame the chaos.

I know minimalism is in vogue these days, but I assure you Angie isn’t preaching privation and asceticism. She simply offers a better way to contentment as you organize the space you occupy, free up a lot more of your time, and experience more joy than you ever will when your inner and outer life are cluttered. The consequences of a cluttered life simply aren’t worth it, and Angie will show you clearly that clutter is not a burden we were designed to carry.

What concrete line pumping means to me:

 

What is it like being a line pump operator? 

It's way more than pushing concrete through a system.  

It's about being a courageous, determined, pragmatic problem-solver, most days.  It's being able to see the shortest distance between points A & B and making the near impossible happen on a daily basis.  It's the rare ability to withstand the worst weather, most physically demanding punishment of any construction job, and to show up and do a job most people can't possibly comprehend.      

What does it take to make it in this industry?  Hard work, putting in the long hours away from home & family, hustle, and a work ethic from days gone bye.  It requires nerves of steel, balance, fearlessness, bravery, superhuman strength/endurance, the ability to think quickly under extremely stressful situations, and an open mind that realizes you never stop learning about this trade.

With a mixture of shade-tree-mechanics and operating high tech equipment, it's being able to troubleshoot problems on the fly and get the job done no matter what it takes regardless of the terrain, weather, or circumstances.  Meanwhile working with people from all across the spectrum of professional tradesmen/finishers all the way to Youtube-it-homeowners. 

Concrete doesn't always cooperate.  Adjusting to different pump mixes is a balance of chemistry, physics, math, and old fashioned common sense.  Either way, you know how to just "send it" and how to hammer it...

Pumping comes with a mixed bag of emotional ties to your equipment, ties to those few who are the only ones to understand what to really takes to move concrete through steel pipes and rubber hoses, and a sense of pride knowing you are part of an elite circle of truly exceptional workers.  Pumping can build your self-confidence one day, and leave you doubting yourself the next, but it will never leave your thoughts day or night.  

Pump on...

Do you schadenfreude?

 

It’s sad, but not surprising — not everyone in your life will applaud your victories. Sadly, not everyone you like can or will celebrate your accomplishments. Sometimes when we succeed, it reminds them of their failures. It’s not your fault, instead, “it is what it is.” Just think about the depth and strength of character of John the Baptist when, referring to Jesus, John said, “He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30) It’s not easy to be happy for others as they eclipse us.

When your marriage is strong, your work is going well, your children are thriving, whenever you overcome struggles and obstacles, you may long for and hope for the “pat on the back” acknowledgement or at least to have those close to you embrace your achievements. Unfortunately, when we hope for this, we usually set ourselves up for some major disappointment.

Very few people in this world, even those who share your DNA, can truly be happy for you when you “win.” Again, our winning reminds them of their losses.

Just like Cain hated Abel and Saul despised David, people will be unhappy you feel joy. As fallen humanity stains the souls of even the best of us, it’s hard to fight the urge/temptation to be envious, jealous, or even to battle selfishness itself. In fact, instead of rejoicing with us in the good times, many people experience great satisfaction when we stumble and fall. There’s a buzzword for it: Schadenfreude.

Schadenfreude is the word for when we feel pleasure over another’s misfortune. It’s a deep sense of satisfaction over witnessing a huge failure in someone else’s life; that and epicaricacy, another word for describing the delight we take in observing another’s tragedy. I imagine this weekend’s big game will provide an opportunity for this. I can’t say for sure since I won’t be watching it.

My guess is, while you’ve felt these sensations of joy over someone’s trouble, you didn’t know there were words for it. Think about that time you were tempted to resent a co-worker who received the promotion you deserved. Think about the time someone you knew hit a huge milestone with flying colors and you were stuck in a season of the doldrums.

Then again, think about the time you gossiped, gleefully, when your friend was fired or was caught in a scandal. You felt a tinge of guilt, but that guilt paled in comparison to the satisfaction you felt over their demise — that’s schadenfreude.

What’s the opposite of schadenfreude? Solidarity.

It’s hard to imagine that it actually pains people when life goes well for us, that while we experience periods of blessings they feel resentment welling up in their souls. It’s even harder to imagine there are people who rejoice over our pain. The solution? Solidarity. Find people who can celebrate your wins, who can feel joy when you succeed, and who genuinely mourn when you suffer.

For healthier relationships, meditate on these passages, Romans 12:10 and 16:17, “Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor,” and “I appeal to you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught; avoid them.” This may pare down your friend circle, but when it comes to friends, quality trumps quantity. “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” (Proverbs 18:24)

Click here to read the original article published in the Kingsport Times News

D is for Docket: Inspired by Ray Bradbury's works and current events

The great machine pulsated, its engines whirled. Three days earlier the machine began to stir, yet the experts said it would take another four days before it was awake. Everybody caught their breath as the ground vibrated. Cases of food and water were still being crammed on board. The crowd of onlookers asked, ‘what could take seven days’ to start any machine. The air was charged with amazement from the ominous noises the machine emitted.

The plans to leave earth moved along quickly. There really was no other choice, this world was dying and it was high time to find another one. Earth’s inhabitants were about to become drifters.

The earth’s core mysteriously cooled down while the tectonic-plates froze in place. The planet’s supply of Co2 dwindled to the point that most of the trees died. After the largest solar-flare in a century, the magnetic poles dissolved leaving the bees and birds as directionless as a stampede. Once the bees stopped cross-pollinating crops and after the birds stopped controlling the invading armies of insects, mass famine threatened humanity like a barbarian-horde.

People couldn’t breathe. Storms brewed. The Internet crashed along with the power-grid. Satellites, radios, and cell phones all failed to communicate. With the world deaf, dumb, and blind there was only a prospect of empty shelves in grocery-stores and riots in the streets. The situation on planet earth was as helpless as a stillborn. The solution was all too simple: Escape, abandon, avoid extinction.

There was a bottleneck in the line for entering the ship. The men in white lab-coats sat upright in their chairs, arms folded, clipboards within reach. Medically speaking, so they told the crowds, there was no use bringing people along for a long space voyage if they would risk the health of the entire ship. What went unsaid was, If on the other hand you had some redeeming trait, well then maybe you might make the passage. No one boarded the great ship without the thumbs-up of the white lab coats.

The position of ultimate authority slowly went to the heads of the experts in the white lab coats. At first they were like Founding Fathers - driven by a sense of duty, but over time they succumbed to pride. It was a heady experience, after all, determining who would leave and who would be left on a planet about to die.

The great machine was huge, admission wasn’t entirely a matter of room. There were issues of infecting the healthy passengers or potentially infecting their would-be host planet too, and that had the experts the most concerned. How unethical and uncivilized it would be for us to carry our diseases across the Galaxy. Unthinkable!

The sea of people stretched as far as the eye could see. An elderly man with a limp slowly approached the table of experts. Without even looking up, one of the men in white coats asked, “Occupation?” “Poet, of sorts.” the old man said. The experts leaned in and quietly whispered in each other’s ears. “Do we really need ‘another’ poet?” The consensus was ‘no’ he wasn’t really needed. Though their task wasn’t to make those types of determinations, they took it upon themselves to scrutinize anyway.

A chorus of complaints battered the old man. “How did you get that limp?!?” “Why wasn’t it repaired?” “How old are you?” Finally, one last expert spoke up, “Really? A Poet, humph? How ‘bout you step over here ‘Longfellow’ so-as we can get’s us a better look at you?” Proud of his grammatical lampoons, he offhandedly pointed beyond the line, and directed the old man to step behind a white curtain. Once behind the curtain, they examined him and quickly concluded that the old man should be given the “special” tour.

The approval of the crowd made a few of the experts blush. All eyes were on the old man as he was allowed to board the great machine. The elderly poet saw the unmanned engine-room, the massive underside of the ship where the cargo was being stored, and without a word was taken down a dark hallway. Before long, the old man knew what was happening: The “special” tour allowed people who wouldn’t see the earth from the skies, to see what they were missing. Expelled like a drunken vagrant from a soup-kitchen, he was driven out of the back of the great ship without seeing a soul.

Several artists, poets, musicians, historians and the likes, all met with the same treatment after brief inquiries into family health, diet and exercise habits, short examinations: They were rejected like vandals. At first the experts in the lab coats felt guilty, but over time, really just in a few days, they felt like gods. They would be setting the future right. By weeding out the old, sick, decrepit, the undesirables, especially the unneeded, they would be doing mankind a huge favor. Humans could start off with a clean slate.

A beautiful young woman walked up to the front of the line, much to the pleasure of the experts. She smiled shyly as they openly admired her. The approval of the experts was almost immediate, and, it came without asking her for information of occupation or education. Her young son suddenly stepped out from behind her, sucking his thumb. The tone of the conversation changed as quickly as the appearance of a summertime thunderstorm. “Who is this?” they asked. “Oh, my son, of course.” The young boy stood there, still as a statue, quietly sucking his thumb. “Well now, has he always sucked his thumb?” Embarrassed, the beautiful young lady admitted that as long as she could remember, her son had.

“Why don’t you go on to the ship, young lady, while we examine him. We can’t take any chances, one never knows what lies behind these antisocial infirmities.” The mother was shocked. What could be wrong with an innocent boy’s thumb sucking? The men looked at their watches and down at their clipboards and then at each other. The mother sensed, as they broke eye-contact, that she was risking her own passage on the great machine. Like a person who was partially hypnotized, she walked away, leaving her son in the care of the experts.

On the last day it was finally time for the men in the white lab coats to take their turn stowing their possessions aboard the great machine. With heads held high, they walked to the loading ramp as if they owned the ship. They were blind to the piles of tools, coils of rope and unmarked crates. Having a sense of great accomplishment, the weary band of experts massaged their temples while grumbling about their sacrifices and the long hours they dedicated to the betterment of mankind. Slapping each other on the back, they let out a collective sigh.

“Hold it right there.” A gruff looking soldier held up a hand restricting their path. “What seems to be the problem?” a smug looking expert asked. Without any emotion the soldier said, “Your people will need to follow us.” “Why?” demanded an angry expert. “You will not be in contact with the common passengers.” was the only response. It was about time we were finally appreciated, one of the experts thought aloud.

Certain that their trip wouldn’t be spoiled by mingling anymore with common people, there must be higher-tier accommodations set aside for royalty and celebrities with room for us too, he thought. With heads still held high, the experts marched in step with the soldiers. The soldiers pointed the group of experts to a doorway, halted and saluted. The men in wrinkled lab coats walked on past without ever giving the soldiers another glance.

The long hallway that the soldiers directed them to was impressive, only confirming the aspirations the experts felt. High ceilings with ornate decorations stood in stark contrast to the bland outward appearance of the great machine. Fine oil-paintings from different periods were hung in the long hall. Without noticing, the group passed by a watercolor of a sunset which was paired with a charcoal of a waterfall in a hardwood frame. They were soon deaf to the beautiful music that played through speakers hidden within the walls. Several famous quotes decorated arched-doorways -- all went unread. Shadow boxes housed yellowed documents, but the experts walked on, now seemingly oblivious.

At the end of a long hallway, they were met by a group wearing biohazard-suits. The silent group in their protective suits efficiently escorted the experts off of the ship. The experts protested all the while, asking, then demanding to speak with the officials. The people in the strange looking suits robotically did their job, without a single display of emotion.

The last expert to exit the ship simply asked “Why?” A younger member of the biohazard team answered, “Because, after being exposed to countless ‘rejects’ there’s a real possibility that your group is infected. The inoculation period of many diseases are well over two months, meaning, the risk to the general population aboard the ship would be jeopardized, by you.” “Why not just quarantine us?” the men in the white coats all asked. “Nice try, Mac. If it were that simple, you experts would’ve suggested that long ago for the people you discarded.”

As the great machine defied gravity, slowly passing through the clouds, passengers admired the view. Out of the blue one man wondered out loud, “With all of precautions we’ve made to avoid infecting each other, or the planet we land on...” He paused, swallowing his quinoa, looking quite puzzled he asked, “What happens if we land on a planet filled with germs we aren’t immune to?”