Immanuel

Immanuel - Audio/Visual

Immanuel

An innocent person died for those who are guilty. Christ did this to bring you to God. (1 Peter 3:18)

The eighty-seven year old man moped through life, living in a sleepy village outside Rome, Italy, with his books and seven cats. His wife had died twelve years ago, and his only daughter worked in Afghanistan. He seldom ventured out, and rarely spoke to others. Life was drab and lonely. And on the day he decided to do something about it, Giorgio Angelozzi put himself up for adoption. Correct. The octogenarian placed a classified ad in Italy's largest daily news-paper: "Seeks family in need of a grandfather. Would bring 500 euros a month to a family willing to adopt him." The ad changed his life.

The paper ran a front-page article about him. Inquiries poured in from as far away as Colombia, New Zealand and New Jersey. Angelozzi became an overnight celebrity. He went from having nothing but time on his hands to having scarcely enough time to handle all the interviews and requests. A pop star responded. A millionaire offered servants and a seaside villa. But one letter stood out, Angelozzi explained, because every member of the family – father, mother, sister, brother – had signed it. He settled into their ground-floor apartment, taking walks in the garden, helping with dishes and homework. "I couldn't have chosen better," he says. "Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was God looking after me, I don't know. . . . I knew right away I had found my new home."

The latter explanation makes the most sense because heaven doesn’t export monotony. Christ once announced, "I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." (John 10:10) Nor does God author loneliness. Among our Maker's first recorded words were these: "It is not good for the man to be alone." (Gen. 2:18) We may relish moments of solitude – but a lifetime of it? Probably not. Many of us, however, are far too fluent in the language of loneliness. “No one knows me,” we think. “People know my name, but not my heart.” “They know my face, but not my feelings.” And maybe the saddest . . . “No one's near me.” We hunger for physical contact.

Ever since Eve emerged from Adam’s rib, we've been reaching out to touch one another. We need to make a connection. And we need to make a difference. The anthem of the lonely heart has another verse, too: “No one needs me.” The kids used to need me . . . The business once needed me . . . My spouse no longer needs me . . . Lonely people fight feelings of insignificance. What do you do with those thoughts if you have them? How do you cope with these cries for significance? Some stay busy; others stay drunk. Some buy pets; others buy lovers. Some seek therapy. A few seek God.

But God invites all of us to seek him, and his treatment for insignificance won't lead you to a bar or a dating service, a spouse or even a social club. God's ultimate cure takes you to a manger. The babe of Bethlehem. Immanuel. Remember the promise of the angel? "'Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,' which is translated, 'God with us.'" (Matt. 1:23) Immanuel. The name appears in the same Hebrew form as it did two thousand years ago. "Immanu" means "with us." "El" refers to Elohim, or God. Not an "above us God" or a "somewhere in the neighborhood God." He came as the "with us God." God with us.

Not "God with the rich" or "God with the religious," but God with us. All of us. Russians, Germans, Buddhists, Mormons, truck drivers, taxi drivers, even librarians. God with us. And don't we love the word "with"? "Will you go with me?" we ask. "To the store; to the hospital; through my life?" God says he will. "I am with you always," Jesus said before he ascended to heaven, "to the very end of the age." (Matt. 28:20) Search for restrictions on that promise and you won’t find any. You won't find "I'll be with you if you behave . . . or when you believe.” Or, “I'll be with you on Sundays in worship . . . or at mass." No, none of that. There's no withholding tax on God's "with" promise. He is with us.

You see, prophets weren't enough. Apostles wouldn't do. Angels didn’t suffice. God sent more than miracles and messages. He sent himself; he sent his Son. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." (John 1:14) For thousands of years, God gave us his voice. Prior to Bethlehem, he gave his messengers, his teachers, his words. But in the manger, God gave us himself. Many people have trouble with that teaching. Islam sees God as one who sends others. He may send angels, prophets or books, but God is too holy to come to us himself. Christianity, by contrast, celebrates God's surprising descent. His nature does not trap him in heaven, but leads him to earth. In God's great gospel, he not only sends, he becomes; he not only looks down, he lives among; he not only talks to us, he lives with us as one of us. He swims in Mary's womb. Totters as he learns to walk. Bounces on the back of a donkey. God with us.

He knows hurt – his siblings called him crazy. He knows exhaustion – so sleepy, he dozed in a storm-tossed boat. He knows betrayal – he gave Judas three years of love; Judas, in turn, gave Jesus a betrayer's kiss. Most of all, he knows sin. Not his own, mind you. But he knows yours. Every lie you've told. Person you've hurt. Dollar you've taken. Promise you've broken. Virtue you've abandoned. Opportunity you've squandered. Every deed you've committed against God – for all sin is against God – Jesus knows. He knows them better than you do. He knows their price because he paid it. "For Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God." (1 Pet. 3:18)

Maybe little Blake Rogers can help us understand Jesus's heart-stopping act of grace. Blake offered a remotely similar gift to his friend, Maura. Blake and Maura share a kindergarten class. One day she started humming. Her teacher appreciated the music but told Maura to stop – it’s not polite to hum in class. She couldn't. The song in her head demanded to be hummed. After several warnings, the teacher took decisive action. She moved Maura's clothespin from the green spot on the chart to the dreaded blue spot. That meant trouble. And that meant a troubled Maura. Everyone else's clothespin hung in the green. Maura was blue, all by herself. Blake tried to help – he patted her on the back, made funny faces, even offered comforting words. But nothing worked. Maura still felt alone.

So Blake made the ultimate sacrifice. Making sure his teacher was watching, he began to hum. The teacher warned him to stop. He didn't. So she had no choice but to move his clothespin out of the green and into the blue. Blake smiled, and Maura stopped crying. She had a friend. And we have a picture of what Christ did for us, because we’ve colored ourselves blue. Every single one of us has sinned a blue streak. Our clothespins hang from the wrong end of the rope. Our sins have separated us from God. But Jesus loved us too much to leave us alone. Like Blake, he voluntarily passed from green to blue, from righteous to unrighteous. But the analogy ceases there. Because although Blake took Maura's loneliness, Christ took so much more. He took our place.

He passed from green to blue so that we might pass from blue to green. "For Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God." (1 Pet. 3:18). Christ takes away your sin, and in doing so, he takes away your anonymity. No longer need you say, "No one knows me," because God knows you. He engraved your name on his hands and keeps your tears in a bottle (Isa. 49:16; Ps. 56:8) "LORD, you . . . know all about me," David discovered. "You know when I sit down and when I get up. You know my thoughts before I think them. You know where I go and where I lie down. You know thoroughly everything I do. . . . You are all around me . . . and have put your hand on me." (Ps. 139:1-3, 5) God knows you. And he’s near you. How far is the shepherd from the sheep (John 10:14)? The branch from the vine (John 15:5)? That's how far God is from you. He’s near.

See how these four words look taped to your bathroom mirror: "God is for me." (Ps. 56:9) It makes no sense to seek your God-given strength until you trust in his. And his kingdom needs you. The poor need you; the lonely need you; the church needs you . . . the cause of God needs you. You are part of "the over-all purpose he is working out in everything and everyone." (Eph. 1:12) The kingdom needs you to discover and deploy your unique skill. Use it to make much out of God.

Some time ago, I received an overdraft notice on the checking account of one of my daughters. I encouraged, and still encourage my college-age children to monitor their accounts. Even so, they sometimes overspend. So what was I to do? Let the bank absorb it? They won't. Send her an angry letter? Admonition might help her later, but it won't satisfy the bank. Phone and tell her to make a deposit? Might as well ask donkeys to fly. I know her liquidity. Zero. Transfer the money from my account to hers? Seemed to be the best option. After all, I had $25.37. I could replenish her account and pay the overdraft fee as well. Besides, that's my job because my sons and daughters do something no one else can do: they call me Dad. And since she calls me Dad, I did what dads do. I covered my daughter's mistake. When I told her she was overdrawn, she said she was very sorry. Still, she offered no deposit. She was broke. She had only one option. "Dad, could you . . . ." I interrupted her mid-sentence. "Honey, I already have." I met her need before she even knew she had one.

And long before you knew you needed grace, your Father did the same. Before you knew you needed a Savior, you had one. And when you place your trust in Christ, he places his Spirit in you. And when the Spirit comes, he brings gifts – housewarming gifts of a sort. When you become a child of God, the Holy Spirit requisitions your abilities for the expansion of God's kingdom, and they become spiritual gifts. The Holy Spirit may add other gifts according to his plan. But no one is gift-deprived. Lonely? God is with you. Depleted? He funds the overdrawn. Weary of what seems like an ordinary life? Your spiritual adventure waits. He is near. Immanuel.

Grace,

Randy

Audacity

Audacity - Audio/Visual

Audacity

God doesn't want us to be shy with his gifts, but bold and loving and sensible.

(2 Timothy 1:7)

What’s your perception of how God treats you? Do you think God treats you with the sensitivity of a prison guard, let’s say? If so, that assumption guarantees daily deliveries of dread. On the other hand, do you believe that God cherishes you like Stradivarius would his violin? Believe that, and then you’ll extract your strengths with great joy. Jesus made this very point in his dramatic parable of the talents: “For the kingdom of heaven is like a man traveling to a far country, who called his own servants and delivered his goods to them. And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, to each according to his own ability; and immediately he went on a journey.” (Matt. 25:14-15)

Before "talent" meant skill, it meant money. It represented the largest unit of accounting in Greek currency – 10,000 denarii. According to the parable of the workers, a denarius represented a day's fair wages. (Matt. 20:2) Multiply your daily wage by 10,000, and you discover the value of a talent. If you earn $30,000 a year and you annually work 260 days, you make about $115 a day. A talent in your case is valued at 10,000 times $115, or $1,150,000. So place this in perspective. Suppose a person earns $30,000 a year for forty years. Her lifetime earnings are $1,200,000, only $50,000 more than a talent. One talent, then, equals a lifetime of earnings. That’s a lot of money and a key point in the parable.

Your God-given design and uniqueness have high market value in heaven. God didn't entrust you with a $2 talent, or a $5 skill. Consider yourself a million-dollar investment, or a multimillion-dollar enterprise. God gives gifts, not miserly, but abundantly. And not randomly, but carefully – “to each according to each one's unique ability." (v. 15) Remember, no one else has your talents. No one. God elevates you from common-hood by matching your unique abilities to custom-made assignments.

In the parable, the first two servants rewarded their master's trust. "Immediately the one who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and gained five more talents. In the same manner the one who had received the two talents gained two more." (Matt. 25:16-17) The five-talent servant jumped to the task. He "went and traded" the money. He bought investment magazines and watched the business channel. A reliable tip led him to examine some property. He heard about a franchise looking for capital. He pondered his options, crunched the numbers, took a gulp, and took the plunge. He invested the money. The second servant showed equal eagerness. He may have had only two talents, but he put them to work, too. Like the first servant, he negotiated, traded and invested.

Both took risks. Both dared to fail. Who was to say their investments wouldn't NASDAQ into pennies? But they took the chance nonetheless. And their master commended them. When he returned from his journey, he applauded the five-talent man: "Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things." (v. 21) With these words Jesus permits us a glimpse into the end of history, the unannounced day in which the "earth and all its works [will be] exposed to the scrutiny of Judgment." (2 Pet. 3:10) "Well done," Jesus will say to some.

Don’t you want to be numbered among them? To have your Maker look you in the eyes, with all humanity watching and listening, and tell you, "You did a good job"? Maybe your dad never praised you, or your teachers always criticized you, but God will applaud you. And he’ll call you "good." And when God says you’re good, it counts. Only he can make bad sinners good. And only he makes the frail, faithful. "Well done, good and faithful." Not "good and flashy," or "good and famous." Not even "good and fruitful" – just faithful.

Having addressed the five-talent servant, the master turned to the two-talent worker. The master had heaped praise on the $5 million manager. What would he say to the $2 million man? Exactly the same words. "Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord." (Matt. 25:23) He altered no phrase and omitted no honor. The two-talent servant who faithfully fills soda cups for the homeless receives the same applause as the five-talent evangelist who fills stadiums with people. Different fruit, but equal praise. The point? Use your uniqueness to take great risks for God. If you're great with kids, volunteer at the orphanage. If you have a head for business, start a soup kitchen. If God bent you toward medicine, dedicate a day or a decade to AIDS patients. The only mistake is not to risk making one.

Such was the error of the one-talent servant. Did the master notice him? Yes, he did. And from the third servant we learn a sobering lesson. "Then he who had received the one talent came and said, 'Lord, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not scattered seed. And I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground.'" (vv. 24-25) Contrast the reaction of the third servant with that of the first two. The faithful servants "went and traded." (v. 16) The fearful one "went and dug." (v. 18) The first two invested. The last one buried. The first two went out on a limb. The third one hugged the trunk. He made the most tragic and common mistake of giftedness – he failed to benefit the master with his talent.

All people have talents, and this parable, indeed Scripture, assures us as much. But how many people invest their gifts to profit the Master? Many discover their "what." They may luck into "where" to use their "what." But "why"? Why did God pack your bag as he did? If you’re an accountant, how do you explain your number sense? And if you’re an investor, you read the stock market like Bobby Fischer reads a chess-board. Have you ever wondered why you have such a skill? Or, if you’re a linguist, foreign languages paralyze most tongues, but they liberate yours. Why? And if you’re a homemaker, you make your household purr like a Bentley. But why? So people will love you? Pay you? Admire you? Hire you? If your answer involves only you, you've missed the big reason for your gift, and you're making a big mistake. Sin, at its ugly essence, confiscates heaven's gifts for selfish gain.

Which one of us hasn’t given a needy person some cash, only to see them staggering later in the day from the effects of too much alcohol? If you’re like me, you’re just a little perturbed. "I gave him that money to buy food. How dare he use it to get drunk?" Is it wrong to be upset? No. He misused the gift. So, is the Master wrong to be angry when we do the same? No. And according to the parable, God will be. Some invest their talents and give the God credit. Others misuse their talents and give God grief. Some honor him with fruit. Others insult him with excuses. The one-talent servant did. "I knew you to be a hard man," he said. The master wouldn't stand for it. So, brace yourself for the force of his response.

"You wicked and lazy servant, you knew that I reap where I have not sown, and gather where I have not scattered seed. So you ought to have deposited my money with the bankers, and at my coming I would have received back my own with interest." (Matt. 25:26-27) Whoa. What just happened? Why the blowtorch? You’ll find the answer in the missing phrase. The master repeated the assessment of the servant, word for word, with one exclusion. Did you note it? "I knew you to be a hard man." (v. 24) The master didn't repeat a description that he wouldn't accept. The servant levied a cruel judgment by calling the master a “hard man.” The servant used the exact word for "hard" that Christ used to describe stiff-necked and stubborn Pharisees. (See, Matt. 19:8; Acts 7:51) The writer of Hebrews employed the term to beg readers not to harden their hearts. (Heb. 3:8) In other words, the one-talent servant called his master stiff-necked, stubborn and hard.

His sin was not mismanagement, but misunderstanding. Was his master hard? He gave multimillion-dollar gifts to undeserving servants; he honored the two-talent worker as much as the five; he stood face to face with both at homecoming and announced before the audiences of heaven and hell, "Well done, good and faithful servant." Is that a hard master? Infinitely good, graciously abundant, yes. But hard? Not a chance. The problem is that the one-talent servant never knew his master. He should have. He lived under his roof and shared his address. He knew his face, his name, but he never knew his master's heart. And, as a result, he broke it. He could have known his master. The other servants did. He could have at least asked them. But he didn't. In the end the master instructed: "Get rid of this 'play-it-safe' who won't go out on a limb. Throw him out into utter darkness." (Matt. 25:29-30)

False servants populate the Master's house. They enjoy his universe, benefit from his earth; they know his name, his habits; they even frequent his presence. But they never know his passion, and as a result they misuse their talents. So, who’s this unprofitable servant? Well, if you never use your gifts for God, you are. If you think God is a hard God, then you are. And you’ll live a life of buried talents. You'll stick your million-dollar skill in a coffee can, hide it in a drawer, and earn nothing for God. You may use your uniqueness to build a reputation, a retirement, an investment account, or an empire, but you won't build God's kingdom. You may know your story, but you won't share his. Your heart will grow cold. For fear of doing the wrong thing for God, you'll do nothing for God. For fear of making the wrong kingdom decision, you'll make no kingdom decision at all. For fear of messing up, you'll miss out. You’ll give what this servant gave and hear what this servant heard: "You wicked and lazy servant." (v. 26)

But you don't have to. It's not too late to seek your Father's heart. Your God is a good God. He lavished you with strengths in this life, and a promise of the next. So, go out on a limb. Be audacious; he won't let you fall. Take a big risk; he won't let you fail. He invites you to dream of the day you feel his hand on your shoulder and his eyes on your face. "Well done," he’ll say, "good and faithful servant."

Grace,

Randy

Greed

Greed - Audio/Visual

Greed

Be content with who you are, and don't put on airs. God's strong hand is on you; he'll promote you at the right time. (1 Peter 5:6)

A businessman bought popcorn from an old street vendor every day after lunch. One day, he found the peddler closing up his stand at noon. "Is something wrong?" he asked. A smile wrinkled the seller's leathery face. "By no means. All’s well." "Then why are you closing your stand?" "So I can go to my house, sit on my porch, and sip tea with my wife." The starched businessman objected. "But the day is still young. You can still sell." "No need to," the stand owner replied. "I've made enough money for today." "Enough? That’s absurd. You should keep working." The spry old man stopped and stared at his well-dressed visitor. "And why should I keep working?" "To sell more popcorn." "And why sell more popcorn?" "Because the more popcorn you sell, the more money you make. The more money you make, the richer you become. And the richer you are, the more popcorn stands you can buy. The more popcorn stands you buy, the more peddlers sell your product, and the richer you become. And then when you have enough, you can stop working, sell your popcorn stands, stay home, and sit on the porch with your wife and drink tea." The vendor smiled. "I can do that today. So I guess I have enough."

“I'm rich enough” – that’s a phrase going the way of the dinosaur. We love to super-size our French fries, television screens, even our closets. Who could disagree with Linda Kulman, who wrote: “We are a nation that believes in having it all. In 1950, American families owned one car and saved for a second. In 2000, nearly 1 in 5 families owned three cars or more. . . . Americans shell out more for garbage bags than 90 of the world's 210 countries spend for everything. Indeed, America has double the number of shopping malls as it does high schools.” Here’s another stat. In 1900 the average person living in the United States wanted 72 different things and considered 18 of them essential. Today the average person wants 500 different things and considers 100 of them absolutely essential.

And our obsession with stuff carries a hefty price tag. The average American family devotes a full one-fourth of its disposable income to pay outstanding debt, and we spend 110 percent of that same spendable income trying to manage debt. Who can keep up? We no longer measure ourselves against the “Joneses” next door, but against the star on the screen, or the stud on the magazine cover. Hollywood's diamonds make yours look like a Cracker Jack toy. Who can ever satisfy Madison Avenue? No one. For that reason Jesus warns, "Be on your guard against every form of greed." (Luke 12:15)

Greed comes in many forms. Greed for approval. Greed for attention. Greed for applause. Greed for status. Greed for the best office, the fastest car, or the prettiest date. Greed may have many faces, but it speaks just one language: the language of more. Epicurus noted, "Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little." And what did John D. Rockefeller say? When asked, "How much money is enough?" he responded, "Just a little bit more." Wise was the one who wrote, "Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income." (Eccles. 5:10) Greed has a growling stomach. Feed it, and you risk more than budget-busting debt. You risk losing your purpose. Greed can seduce you right out of your sweet spot.

You've seen it happen, haven’t you? The popcorn peddler has one stand and one job and manages both with great skill. But though his daily sales meet his needs, they don't meet his tastes. So, to make more money, he buys more stands; to supervise the stands, he abandons his own. The street vendor no longer sells; he manages. Which is fine . . . if he was made to manage. But suppose he was made to sell. Suppose he swaps the open street and the river of people and personalities for four walls, a desk and green eyeshades. Will he give up more than he gains? God's answer to that very question lies in Scripture's first parable. However, long before readers pondered the stories of the prodigal son and the Good Samaritan, they reflected on the parable of the trees. Jotham tells the story.

Jotham was one of Gideon’s sons, and the sole survivor of a seventy-man massacre. Abimelech, Jotham’s brother, authorized the slaughter. He sought to kill anyone who would keep him from the throne. Jotham comes out of hiding just long enough to address the citizens of Israel and tell them this story: “Once upon a time the trees decided to elect a king. First they said to the olive tree, ‘Be our king!’ But it refused, saying, ‘Should I quit producing the olive oil that blesses both God and people, just to wave back and forth over the trees?’ Then they said to the fig tree, ‘You be our king!’ But the fig tree also refused, saying, ‘Should I quit producing my sweet fruit just to wave back and forth over the trees?’ Then they said to the grapevine, ‘You be our king!’ But the grapevine replied, ‘Should I quit producing the wine that cheers both God and people, just to wave back and forth over the trees?’ Then all the trees finally turned to the thornbush and said, ‘Come, you be our king!’ And the thornbush replied, ‘If you truly want to make me your king, come and take shelter in my shade. If not, let fire come out from me and devour the cedars of Lebanon.’" (Judg. 9:8-15)

Using the parable, Jotham warned the Israelites against the thorny Abimelech. And using this same parable, God warns us against greed-driven promotions. The trees entice the olive tree, fig tree, and grapevine with a throne-room invitation: "Be our king!" One by one they refuse the offer. The olive tree wants to keep giving oil. The fig tree wants to keep giving figs, and the vine wants to keep bearing grapes. All refuse to pay the price of promotion. These plants take pride in their posts. Why abandon fruitfulness? In the end, only the thornbush takes the offer. Be careful, the story instructs – in a desire to be great, one might cease being any good. And what good is a thornbush? Not much, unless you like getting stuck. Not every teacher is equipped to be a principal. Not every carpenter has the skill to head a crew. Not every musician should conduct an orchestra. Promotions might promote a person right out of his or her sweet spot. For the love of more, we might lose our purpose. If trees offer you royalty, you don't have to take it. And just because a king gives you armor, you don't have to wear it. David didn't.

When he volunteered to go mano-a-mano with Goliath, King Saul tried to clothe the shepherd boy with a soldier's armor. After all, Goliath stood over nine feet tall. He wore a bronze helmet and a 125-pound coat of mail. He had bronze leggings and carried a javelin and a spear with a 15-pound head. (1 Sam. 17:4-7) And David? David had a slingshot. That’s like a VW Bug playing chicken with an eighteen-wheeler; a salmon daring the grizzly to bring it on. When Saul saw David, pimpled, and Goliath, rippled, he did what any Iron Age king would do. "Saul gave David his own armor – a bronze helmet and a coat of mail." (1 Sam. 17:38) But David refused it. Look at this wise young man. "David put it on, strapped the sword over it, and took a step or two to see what it was like, for he had never worn such things before. 'I can't go in these,' he protested. 'I'm not used to them.' So he took them off again." (v. 39)

David rejected the armor, selected the stones, lobotomized the giant, and taught us a powerful lesson: what fits others might not fit you. Just because someone hands you armor, you don't have to wear it. Just because someone gives you advice, a job, or a promotion, you don't have to accept it. Let your uniqueness define your path in life. "You, LORD, give perfect peace to those who keep their purpose firm and put their trust in you." (Isa. 26:3) Examine your gifts; know your strengths. "Have a sane estimate of your capabilities." (Rom. 12:3) Don't heed greed. Greed makes a poor job counselor. She tells fig trees to bear no figs, olive trees to bear no oil, and vines to bear no grapes. Don't consult her. "Don't be obsessed with getting more material things. Be relaxed with what you have." (Heb. 13:5)

Isn’t the right job with a little better than the wrong job with a lot? "It is better to have little with fear for the LORD than to have great treasure with turmoil." (Prov. 15:16) As the Japanese proverb says, "Even if you sleep in a thousand-mat room, you can only sleep on one mat." Don't let the itch for things, or the ear for applause derail you from your God-intended design. In his book Money: A User's Manual, Bob Russell describes a farmer who once grew discontent with his farm. He griped about the lake on his property always needing to be stocked and managed. The hills humped his roads, forcing him to drive up and down. And those fat cows lumbered through his pasture. All the fencing and feeding – it was a massive headache. So, he decided to sell the place and move somewhere nice. He called a real-estate agent and made plans to list the farm for sale.

A few days later the agent phoned, seeking his approval of the advertisement she intended to place in the local paper. She read the ad to the farmer. It described a lovely farm in an ideal location – quiet and peaceful, contoured with rolling hills, carpeted with soft meadows, nourished by a fresh lake, and blessed with well-bred livestock. The farmer said, "Read that ad to me again, would you?" After hearing it a second time, he said, "You know, I've changed my mind. I'm not going to sell after all. I've been looking for a place just like that my entire life." Paul would have applauded that farmer. He learned the same lesson: "I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content." (Phil. 4:11)

Before you change your job title, examine your perspective on life. Success is not defined by position or pay scale, but by doing the most with what you do the best. Parents would do well to give that counsel to their kids; tell them to do what they love to do so well that someone pays them to do it. And spouses would do equally well to urge their mate to choose satisfaction over salary. Better to be married to a happy person who has a thin wallet than a miserable person with a thick one. Besides, "a pretentious, showy life is an empty life; a plain and simple life is a full life." (Prov. 13:7) Pursue the virtue of contentment. "Godliness with contentment is great gain." (1 Tim. 6:6) When choosing or changing jobs, be careful. Consult your design and then consult your Designer. Don’t consult your greed – it’s a poor career counselor.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Randy

S.T.O.R.Y.

S.T.O.R.Y. - Audio/Visual

S.T.O.R.Y

The Lord looks down from heaven and sees the whole human race. From his throne he observes all who live on the earth. He made their hearts, so he understands everything they do. (Psalm 33:13-15)

Consider this idea for a reality television show. The goal here is simple. Each contestant must journey to a certain city, find a prescribed neighborhood, and assume a particular role. Call it Find Your Place. The challenge? No one tells you where to go or what to do when you get there. The host identifies no city. She designates no countries. He distributes no job descriptions. All contestants must discern their destinations by virtue of one tool – their supplies. Upon leaving the starting point, each one is handed a bag of supplies that provide the clues to that person's destination.

The host, for example, hands one person a cowhide bag crammed with sweaters, a parka and a soccer ball. In the side pocket, the contestant finds coins – Bolivian currency – and a teacher's attendance sheet from a language school. Looks like the destination and position are shaping up. Another is given diving equipment. Oxygen tanks. Fins and goggles. Someone is going near an ocean. And what's this? A wrench? Deep-sea divers don't carry tools. But here’s another clue. A book. Diagrams of offshore drilling rigs. This person seems to be headed to a drilling platform. Think the networks will syndicate the show? Too boring? Well, address your complaints to the originator of the plot. God. He developed the story line and enlisted you as a participant.

You didn't exit the womb with your intended career tattooed on your chest. No printout of innate skills accompanied your birth. But as life progressed, you began noticing your gifts. Skills, revealed. Knacks, uncovered. God gave you those. "It is God himself who has made us what we are and given us new lives from Christ Jesus; and long ages ago he planned that we should spend these lives in helping others." (Eph. 2:10) No one else has your skill makeup. And disregard it at your peril. An oil-rig repairman won't feel at home in a Bolivian schoolroom. And if God made you to teach Bolivian kids, you won't enjoy offshore derrick repair. And the kids in the class and the workers on the platform? Don't they want the right person in the right place? Yes, and you do too. But most of all, God does. You are the only you God made.

God made you and broke the mold. "The LORD looks from heaven; He sees all the sons of men. From the place of His dwelling He looks on all the inhabitants of the earth; He fashions their hearts individually; He considers all their works." (Ps. 33:13-15) Every single baby is a brand-new idea from the mind of God. Scan all of history for your replica; you won't find it. God tailor-made you. He "personally formed and made each one." (Isa. 43:7) No box of "backup you’s" sits in God's workshop. You aren't one of many bricks in the mason's pile, or one of a dozen bolts in the mechanic's drawer. You’re it. And if you aren't you, we don't get you. The world misses out. You offer a gift to society that no one else can bring. And if you don't bring it, it won't be brought. "God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies." (Phil. 4:9) The Unseen Conductor prompts this orchestra we call living.

When gifted teachers aid struggling students and skilled managers disentangle bureaucratic knots, when dog lovers love dogs and number-crunchers zero-balance the account, when you and I do most what we do the best for the glory of God, we are "marvelously functioning parts in Christ's body." (Rom. 12:5) You play no small part, because there are no small parts to be played. "All of you together are Christ's body, and each one of you is a separate and necessary part of it." (1 Cor. 12:27) The Author of the human drama entrusted your part to you alone. Live your life, or it won't be lived. We need you to be you. You need you to be you.

You can't be your hero, your parent, or your big brother. You might imitate their golf swing or hair style, but you can't be them. You can only be you. All you have to give is what you've been given to give. Concentrate on who you are and what you have. "Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life." (Gal. 6:4-5) God never called you to be anyone other than you. But he does call on you to be the best you that you can be. The question then is, at your best, who are you? These five questions may help you on your way.

What are your strengths? God gave you, not a knapsack, but a knack sack. These knacks accomplish results. Maybe you have a knack for managing multitudes of restaurant orders or envisioning solutions to personnel issues. Synonymous verbs mark your biography: "repairing," "creating," "overseeing." Perhaps you decipher things – Sanskrit or football defenses. Maybe you organize things – data or butterflies. Strengths – you employ them often with seemingly little effort. My cousin, an interior decorator, told me this about her work: "It's not that hard. I walk into a room and begin to see what it needs." "Not all of us see it," I responded. Truth is I can't even decorate my bed. But she can redecorate a garbage dump. And people pay her handsomely to do what she’s good at! "God has given each of us the ability to do certain things well." (Rom. 12:6) What certain things come to you so easily that you genuinely wonder why others can't do them? Doesn't everyone know the periodic table of elements? Nooooo, they don't. But the fact that maybe you do says a lot about your strengths, not to mention your IQ. It also says something about your topic.

What’s your topic? Once you know your verbs, look for your nouns. What objects do you enjoy working with? Animals? Statistics? People? Your topic can be as abstract as an idea or as concrete as . . . concrete. God implants these passions. Listen to the way he described the builder, Bezalel. "I have filled him with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, intelligence, and skill in all kinds of crafts. He is able to create beautiful objects from gold, silver, and bronze. He is skilled in cutting and setting gemstones and in carving wood. Yes, he is a master at every craft!" (Exod. 31:3-5) That's God talking! Can you hear the pleasure in his voice? He sounds like a grandpa flipping photos out of his wallet – or on his iPhone. It depends on the grandpa, I suppose. But what makes your pulse race and your eyebrows arch?

And then, what are your optimal conditions? What factors trigger your motivation? Some people love to respond to a need. Others are motivated by problems. A competent bookkeeper likely thrives under predictable routine. The firefighter relishes a day packed with different surprises. God never called you to be anyone other than you. A 9-1-1 situation starts the firefighter’s engine. What starts yours? Building or maintaining? Clearly defined structure or open-ended possibilities? Assembly-line assignments or boundless opportunities? What are your optimal conditions? And . . .

What about relationships? Think back over your moments of satisfaction and success. On those days, how were you relating to people? Some seek out a team, a club, a society. When it comes to yard work, they want the whole family to be outside. Some people are stimulated by groups. Others function better alone. They pass on the community softball teams or bowling leagues. They prefer to hike or fly-fish or play golf. It's not that they don't like people, but more that they don't need people to achieve their assignment. Still others enjoy a group, but they have to lead the group. In fact, they cannot not lead the group. They may come across as pushy or domineering, but they don't mean to, generally. They just see what others will see but don't see yet. Know your ideal relationship pattern. If you like to energize others but your job plops you in front of a computer screen, your days will pass with glacial speed – slooooowly. So, diagnose your relationship style, and then determine what makes you say …

Yes! In the movie Chariots of Fire, Eric Liddell defended his devotion to running by telling his sister, "God made me fast, and when I run, I feel his pleasure." When do you feel God's pleasure? When do you look up into the heavens and say, "I was made to do this"? When do your Strengths, Topic, Optimal conditions, and Relationship pattern converge in such a fashion that you say, "Yes!"? When they do, you are living out your S.T.O.R.Y. So, incarnate yours. Accept God's permission to be whom he made you to be. The time you spend quarrying your God-granted skills is time well spent.

Rick Burgess and Bill "Bubba" Bussey host the wildly popular Rick and Bubba Show, a drive-time radio broadcast that originates in Birmingham, Alabama. Animators once made a cartoon out of the two characters and invited Rick and Bubba to provide the voices. Rick was the voice of Rick, and Bubba, the voice of Bubba. Duh. Bubba, however, couldn't seem to please his producer. He suggested that Bubba change inflections, volume and other details. Bubba grew understandably impatient. After all, he was voicing himself. He turned to the producer and objected, "If I am me, how can I mess me up?" Great point. When it comes to being you, you were made for the part. So speak your lines with confidence.

Grace,

Randy