I know the accepted adage is “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” a warning that there is danger coming. But these past few weeks of fires have shown me that the antithetical statement is also true: “Where there’s fire, there’s smoke.”

This year, no fire (so far) has threatened my hometown, but we have been affected by the smoke caused by those throughout the state. In fact, places as far away as Hawaii and Japan have experienced the smoke caused by the fires in the U.S. West. And  smoke is insidiously dangerous.

So even though many of us may not be caught in the direct path of a fire, we are still vulnerable to the unhealthy conditions that arise from it.

There are other “fires” raging around us, our nation, and the world, and each is producing its own lethal smoke. And just as we need to take precautions to keep ourselves safe and healthy from the smoke produced by the fires, so do we have to be vigilant and proactive to keep ourselves from risk in these other areas.

For instance, the “smoke” from the coronavirus is creating stress, anxiety, and depression; the “smoke” from someone’s anger has stimulated unrest and distrust, just to name a couple.

To keep ourselves healthy in these situations, sometimes we need to seek counseling or financial assistance. At times we need to remove ourselves from situations while at other times we need to be proactive and get involved.

Of course, our first response in these “smoky” situations should always be to turn to God who is our sustainer.

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.” Psalm 55:22

“Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”  I Peter 5:7

However, there is a flip-side to these scenarios which is also true: Smoke from someone's kindness can produce hope, and the smoke of a selfless act can save a life.

God has put us and others here to be his hands and feet on earth. There are physical, mental, and emotional things we can do for ourselves and others, and that others can do for us, during these difficult times.

So we would be wise to remember that the “smoke” from any of our actions and words (positive or negative) creates a ripple effect, impacting those around us and possibly people we may not even know.

I would like to leave you with a song by Matthew West. It came out in 2014, but once again, it has a message for today.

One huge advantage of avoiding TV this past month was that I had more time to listen to music, and, once again, I have found a new favorite. It is “There was Jesus” written by Zach Williams, Jonathan Smith and Casey Beathard and sung by Zach and Dolly Parton.

Though it was released in October of last year and written as a “reflection of Zach’s journey,” I think the song can also speak to all of us, as this year many of us have found ourselves walking down roads we never dreamed of walking.

I hope it speaks to you as it did to me.

I needed that.

Once I realized that I was fighting battles that weren’t mine to fight, I decided to take a month off to retreat and  regroup. I watched minimal news and viewed even less social media. I tried to avoid talking about politics and the coronavirus. I spent more time resting, reading, writing, walking, and praying. I am happy to report the following results.




I am refreshed. Just like an unexpected summer rain takes away the heat and pollution and tiredness that builds up, so too my respite has washed away my weariness and my energy has been restored.

I feel renewed and ready to resume my activities with a new spirit, and I have a visual reminder of this new lease on life. A creature of habit and routine, I really don’t like change. Consequently, for all twelve years that I have lived in my home, every wall in my house has remained the nondescript mocha it was when I moved in. That is until about a month ago. The lock-down left me with some time on my hands, and too much time staring at those walls. So I finally heeded the urgings of others and took a chance. I painted two rooms in bold colors. The dry walls soaked up the new paint, and the rooms took on a whole new freshness and look. I feel the same way.

Finally, I was able to reset. During my years as a teacher at Clovis West High School, I ran the clock for all the girls basketball games. Sometimes, I would get so involved in the action of the game, I would forget to start or stop the clock on time. As a result (usually because a coach noticed and complained), play would stop, and the ref would come over and have me reset the clock to the correct time. Then play would resume.

This was what I had needed to do as well. I had become so distracted by all the voices around me that I wasn’t listening to the only voice that was important. I needed to reconnect with my God and refocus on what He wanted me to hear. And funnily enough, in a world with so many conflicting voices and opinions, His command was so straightforward and simple and had never changed:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12: 30-31)

Oh, how different our world and relationships would be, if we just focused on these two things.

Around the eighth grade, my father began to teach me tennis. I loved athletics and high school was just around the corner. Basketball was a given as my father had been a basketball coach. Volleyball was fun and in the fall. That left the spring without a sport, so my father thought tennis would fill the void.

I fell in love with the sport immediately. However, that didn’t mean I was any good at it. In fact, my freshman year, I can remember hitting one good shot all season. I played mixed doubles, and we were playing at Roosevelt High School, and I had a backhand crosscourt approach shot. That was it –– for the entire year. My father put me in tennis lessons that summer.

The lessons paid off as I found myself in the #1 singles slot my sophomore year. The season started in February and all was going well. Then around mid March, the strings in my racket broke. I took my racket to my parents and asked to have it restrung. They said “no” and gave me another racket to use. This “new” racket was old and cheap, and I wanted nothing to do with it. After all, I was now #1 and awesome and thought I deserved a little respect. I did what any self-respecting fifteen-year-old would do. I pitched a fit. My parents were unmoved.

I had no choice but to play with the racket. I did have a choice, though, about my attitude, so I chose the best option––play the victimized martyr and keep complaining. For three weeks I took this tack and then I realized that my birthday was just around the corner.  Though I still grumbled a bit to show my discontent, I had resigned myself to the racket, so now it was now time to play the good child.

My birthday arrived. In fact, it was a surprise sixteenth birthday party with my entire tennis team. Lots of food, lots of fun, plenty of gifts. One gift I remember in particular. A long, rectangular box which held –– two brand new Billie Jean King rackets, strung to perfection. I was speechless.

My family was not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. I know because we ate liver and onions––a lot. So when I saw those two state of the art rackets, I knew they had required a bit of sacrifice to buy. To put it mildly, I felt stupid. My parents' “no” was simply because they had already purchased something far better than what I had wanted––what I thought I had to have to be happy.

That little scene comes back to haunt me every time I pull my fifteen-year-old attitude with God. When I stomp my foot and thrust out my lower lip because He has not given me something I want, and have to have, right now, when all the while He has something much better waiting for me.

The problem with demands is that we make them from an incomplete perspective. We absolutely believe that we know best what will make us happy and fulfilled, and that not getting that (item, person, job, etc) will conversely make us unhappy and unfulfilled.

I am sure, occasionally, God has given in to my childish, selfish tantrums and let me have what I wanted just to appease me, (or I have just bulldozed my will through the situation) and now I often look back and wonder what I had actually given up to have my own way. I will never know, but hopefully, I have learned that God’s gifts far surpass my demands. And at this Easter time, I am eternally thankful, that Jesus willingly submitted his will to his Father's so that I could have the greatest of gifts.

First published April 1, 2015

“The longest journey you will ever take is the 18 inches from your head to your heart.” Moikanos

I came across this quote the other day and it got me thinking, and the more I thought about it, the more I agreed with it. For instance, I have often found myself in total agreement with the following statements:
 



I need to exercise more often.
I should eat less and eat healthier.
I should be more patient, less selfish.
God is faithful and trustworthy.

     The problem is that often when I make these statements, they are only intellectual in nature, which means I agree with them, but I do not act on them. Somehow, that statement has to make the 18 inch journey from my head to my heart and only then will it be something I truly believe in. So though I know I need to exercise more often, not until I take it to heart will I actually act on it.

     This realization brought back an illustration I once heard that I think brings this truth to light. Perhaps many of you have also heard it.

     It is the story of Charles Blondin, the 1800s French tightrope walker who would perform various tightrope stunts, many across Niagara Falls. One particular time after performing a few different feats successfully, he then brought out a wheelbarrow and asked the crowd how many believed he could successfully cross Niagara Falls pushing the wheelbarrow. Either all or the vast majority raised their hands. He then asked for a volunteer to get into the wheelbarrow. Not one volunteered. Though all believed intellectually he could do it, none believed in their heart he could.

     Unfortunately, that is sometimes our view of God. We say we believe He is trustworthy, that we can trust Him with our lives, but in reality we aren’t willing to get in the wheelbarrow and give Him control. Why? There could be many reasons, but here are a couple I have had to work through. First, many of us really don’t want to leave this side of the falls. We like the life we have and even though we say we believe Him when He says He has an even better, more fulfilling life on the other side (and I’m not talking Heaven, just life here on earth), we say no. Second, we don’t trust Him to hold onto us as we cross some great chasms and fearful moments on this journey.

     To say we accept Jesus as our Lord and savior is one thing, to mean it means we are willing to get into the wheelbarrow, to give Him control of our lives. That’s step one. Then, as most of us have realized, throughout our lives, on our daily walk with Him, we have to choose again and again in various areas of our lives to willingly get into the wheelbarrow. We finally surrender one area of our lives after we have mucked it up enough times only to watch Him make something beautiful out of the mess. Yet we balk at giving Him control over the next area because we seem to be managing it okay for the moment. Our memories are short . . . both on His faithfulness and goodness, and on our ability to screw things up.

     A lot of us say we believe in many things: selflessness, generosity, commitment, God . . . but I would hazard to guess that in reality that list is much smaller than we think, for somewhere in that eighteen-inch journey, probably right about where our mouth is, that belief gets stuck right in the back of our throat.

First published June 30, 2015