Good Words for Bad Golf

“You’ll never be any good. You’re too old to start now.”

The words were iffy, but the tone was loving, and I knew my friend meant well when he tried to dissuade me from taking up golf.

I ignored him. I mean, how did he know how good (or bad) I would be? I can spot an off-center window even if it’s just half-an-inch; surely, it couldn’t be that hard to line up a putt. It’s not like the hole moves, for crying out loud.

How hard could golf possibly be?

Pipe down, all you links-lovers out there. (I don’t really want an answer; that question was the rhetorical sort.) And besides, having played a grand total of two lessons, one clinic, and 12 holes now, I’ve pretty much got the picture.

You have to get the grip right. And keep your eye on the ball. And make that “L” thing with your arms. All on top of trying to find a skirt that looks halfway cute.

I get it, okay? It’s not easy.

Especially when every time you think about grabbing your clubs (and I’m up to three now; my plan is to learn them one at a time, then add on), you hear a voice in your head saying: You’ll never be good. You’re too old.

Words matter.

In fact, words satisfy the mind as much as fruit does the stomach; good talk is as gratifying as a good harvest. Words kill, words give life; they’re either poison or fruit–you choose.

That’s Proverbs 18:20-21 in The Message translation.

And it raises a couple good points. Like the fact that what we say (even in the nicest of ways, bless her heart) can build people up, or rip them apart. Our words can bear fruit…or bring poison.

And it’s up to us to decide.

But instead of dwelling on all the ways we’ve gone wrong (which would be like talking about how many times I chunked it in the clinic last week, which is how I wound up Celebrexed in the bed), let’s look at how we can do right.

Like, instead of cursing someone (whether it’s with a four-letter word, or a slur on their golf game–or their parenting style, or whatever), let’s look for ways to build up. Let’s be alert to the opportunities God gives us to encourage. To speak freedom and hope. To spark joy.

Let’s be Givers of Life.

But…let’s also be honest. On our own, this job might be tough. Our fuses are short, and our speech patterns (which in my case tilt toward sarcasm) may be pretty well set. Plus, Charles Krauthammer–who never used a bad word when a really good one would do–is gone.

Thankfully, though, we don’t have to go it alone. We can enlist the Lord’s help. Even now, Philippians 2:13 reminds us, he is at work, giving us the desire and the power to do (and say!) what is good.

Even (and maybe especially?) when we run into somebody who looks like they could use a blessing–some sort of hopeful and encouraging word–spoken over their golf game. 🙂

Heavenly Father,

Let us be speakers of life! Let no unwholesome talk come out of our mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29)

Amen

 

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What I Learned from a Crossbow

Our niece got married last weekend. Twice.

Caroline’s beloved is of Indian descent, and the first ceremony featured a bevy of gorgeous sari-clad guests, traditional Indian dancers, and a spectacular procession (the “baraat”) led by the handsome groom on a majestic white horse.

The second wedding, held the very next day, was every bit as glorious as Caroline and Dave double-tied their knot, American-style:

Both nuptials took place on the farm where Robbie grew up (and where we were staying for the weekend). Having married off two of our own daughters in back-to-back weddings three years ago, we knew exactly what our family should do.

Stay out of the way.

Happily for us, the Maryland countryside is crawling with Berndts, and we decamped to Robbie’s sister’s home, where our brother-in-law Noby played host. Noby tells people that he’s in insurance (and I guess he probably is), but I don’t think that’s why God created him. I am pretty sure that God made Noby because the world needs more energy, more excitement, and more contests you can’t stage indoors.

“Camp Noby” has all the stuff you might find in a typical American yard, stuff like bocce ball, corn hole, and ping pong. But Noby has other stuff, too.

Stuff like Blow Darts. And Chinese Death Stars. And a big field with a John Deere tractor designed not so much to mow as to race.

As Noby demonstrated the how-to’s of each successive competition in what turned out to be a decathlon, I felt like I was watching a bizarre farmer’s version of The Hunger Games.

The operative word here being watching. I had no plans to participate in the official events. My best sport (as anyone will tell you) is tanning, and as I lay there by the pool while the rest of the family tried not to kill themselves, I knew I led the pack by at least three shades of bronze.

And then, from just over the hedges, I heard somebody say, “Mom.”

If you’re a mother, you know what that means. Especially during a farm-country decathlon. You get up to see who’s been stabbed.

As it turned out, all the kids wanted was for me to hit something. Having gone to all the trouble of getting out of my lounge chair, I obliged. I picked up the nearest piece of equipment, which happened to be a Bigfoot-sized crossbow.

(Because who doesn’t have at least one of those lying around?)

Noby showed me how to load the thing (if that’s the right term?), and explained all about how to use the scope and the importance of keeping the safety on until I was ready to go. I took it all in, flipped the switch, sighted the target, and pulled.

Nothing happened, so I pulled again.

Still nothing. My arrow sat snug in its groove.

The safety was off, and I could not figure out what the problem could be. Finally, after my third failed attempt, Hillary intervened. “Are you meaning to pull the trigger, Mom? Because that’s not where your finger is.”

Alrighty then. I went back to square one, pulled the darn thing, and came THIS CLOSE to the bull’s eye. Everyone cheered, but the whole experience was more than a little humiliating (and not just because I was wearing a bathing suit to shoot a lethal arrow in front of 12 people, only four of whom actually have my blood in their veins). I realized that, if I ever confronted something–or someone–I had to kill, my only chance would be for them to die laughing.

All of which reminded me of an convo I had a few months ago with my friend, A.J. Tata.

“Can you tell,” I asked him, “whether an opponent knows how to handle a weapon? I mean right at first, even before he tries to shoot anything?”

A.J. (“Tony”) is a retired brigadier general, a best-selling author (check out Besieged if you like save-the-world stuff), and a national security expert who’s always popping up on CNN and Fox News. He’s seen his share of bad guys, and I figured he’d know how to size someone up.

And he did.

“It’s easy,” Tony said, “to tell if an adversary is versed in how to handle a gun. If they are experienced and trained, their grip is firm but relaxed, their eyes are scanning the horizon looking for targets, their movements are fluid and instinctual; rapidly attacking or responding to threats.”

He continued:

“An untrained marksman is just the opposite. He carries his weapon awkwardly, his hands in the wrong positions on the grip and stock. When the inexperienced shooter aims, it’s jumpy and awkward, as much worried about himself as he is about whatever he might be shooting at. His hesitation leads to mistakes.”

Oh my goodness, people! Tony was talking about how a soldier handles a gun, but he might as well have been pointing at me! Let’s review, shall we?

An untrained marksman is “awkward.” (Check.) His hands are in the “wrong position.” (Double check.) He is “as much worried about himself as he is about whatever he might be shooting at.” (Hello? How much worse would the worried marksman be in a bathing suit???)

Why do I tell you all this? (Why debase myself in this way??)

Because (and I know this blog is already too long, but stay with me) Tony’s assessment APPLIES TO US ALL. Like it or not, we’ve all been given a weapon. Hebrews 4:12 tells us that God’s word is sharper than a double-edged sword, and that we are supposed to use it – both offensively, in shaping our thoughts and our prayers, and defensively, as we counter threats, lies and attacks (even the ones that come from inside our own head):

You’re not worthy! (Oh yeah? Psalm 139:14 says that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made.”)

You’re not up to the job! (Really? Because Philippians 4:13 says I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.)

That person hurt you. You deserve to cut them off or get some revenge! (Um, no. I’m gonna take the 1 Peter 3:9 approach and repay insults with blessings, cuz that’s what God’s called me to do.)

See what I mean?

The Bible is meant to animate our actions. To shape how we think. To be used in our lives. But if we aren’t comfy with it in our hands (or our heads), it’s not going to work all that well. We’ll be hesitant. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll be awkward.

(We will look, that is to say, much like I did, pulling whatever it was that was not the crossbow trigger.)

(And trust me. That is not a great look.)

But here’s the thing. We don’t have to enlist in some army, or go to the Bible version of Camp Noby, to get ourselves up to speed. God has already equipped us with all that we need. We have the Bible. We have the Holy Spirit (whose job is to translate God’s message into our hearts, and give us the power to use it). And we have each other.

If you’re not in a regular Bible study this summer, consider asking a friend to read part of it with you. My pal Margaret and I are plowing through Acts (we try to talk once a week), and boy is it rich! Reading the Bible with another person is so good: You’ve got someone to bounce questions off, to glean insights from, and even to say, “Did you do your reading this week?”

It’s like having your very own Noby, keeping you pointed toward the goal. And honestly? The more experience we get–the more we dig into Scripture and let it animate our hopes, our prayers, and our dreams–the more our lives will begin to line up with God’s plans. And the more of his bull’s eyes we’ll hit.

Heavenly Father,

Your word is inspired. It teaches us what is true and makes us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right. (2 Timothy 3:16, NLT)

Give us the training and experience we need to use the Bible–our “sword”–wisely and well.

Amen

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Who is Your Father?

 

The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.

At least that’s what the Bible says. But…how often, or how much, do we truly believe that?

A couple of weeks ago, I shared a post about how we can’t let anyone label us with the wrong name, because God calls us “Beloved.” And this week, as we look ahead to Father’s Day, I am thinking the same thing holds true for God. No matter what our concept of “father” might be, we can’t saddle our Heavenly Father with any names that don’t fit.

God labels himself. And thankfully (incredibly, actually), he tells us exactly who he is, so we can know him. And so we don’t get it wrong.

He is faithful (even when we aren’t). He is patient (even when we are super slow). He is loving (even when we are the worst kind of un-lovable).

And the list goes on.

If you really want to dig into who God is (and what that means for our lives), grab a copy of Ruth Myer’s book, Thirty-One Days of Praise (which you can find featured on my bookshelf right now). It’s a resource I turn to, again and again.

Why? Because it is just so darn easy to get things mixed up! Instead of taking God at his word–believing he is who he SAYS that he is–we sometimes put him in a box. We negate his nature. We put limits on his love.

We might not say it out loud, but deep inside we might wonder…

How could he love me, after all that I’ve done?

How could he possibly care about my little problems, when there is so much that is wrong with the world?

How could he ever forgive me for ______ ? (Fill in the blank with whatever it is that you think separates you, or disqualifies you, from God’s love.)

All of which is a bunch of…  I was going to say a word I don’t let my kids say, but I’ll just go with “baloney.” And not only is it baloney, but it is also (buckle up, cuz this part is not pretty) jaw-droppingly arrogant. I mean, who are WE to say what God can or can’t do? He says he loves us. He says he’ll provide. He says he’s got everything under control.

We don’t have to understand all this stuff for it to be true.

(We really don’t.)

So this Father’s Day, as we think about the One who named himself Father, let’s not get things mixed up. Let’s take our cue from the One he named Son, and talk to God the way Jesus did, when he invited us to call him “our” Father. Old-fashioned gal that I am, I kind of love the “hallowed be thy name” lingo that King James trotted out, but I have to say that I’m also pretty pumped about the last few lines of the Lord’s Prayer in the Message. Let’s pray it together:

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
    as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You’re in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You’re ablaze in beauty!
    Yes. Yes. Yes.

(Matthew 6:9-13, MSG)

P.S. If the idea of a Father who does “what’s best” and who is “ablaze in beauty” feels foreign to you–either because you don’t really know God that way, or maybe because your earthly dad colored your world with a not-great perspective–you’re not alone. For years, I’ve loved getting weekly encouragement via email from Sylvia Gunther, and this week she shared her own painful journey being physically and emotionally abandoned by her father. To read her story–and discover who you really are, as God’s child–click here.

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A Blue Marble, a Beach Book, and Abundance

“Can you take our picture?”

Virginia and I were walking on a nearly deserted stretch of beach when a young couple ran up and asked for our help. They were friendly and cute (fresh out of Tulane), and we gladly obliged. And afterwards, they had one more question:

“Can we give you something?”

Virginia and I exchanged a look. “Sure…”

We walked up to their beach camp and the fellow got out a little jar full of marbles. Blue ones. Like this:

“This is part of movement,” he explained, popping the lid and giving us each one of his stash. “There was a professor who had cancer and resolved to live life to the full, even during his chemo. And every day that he did it–every day he felt like he’d experienced abundance–he put a blue marble into a jar. So now we are doing the same thing. And I hope you will, too.”

I’m a little hazy on the details (like, I’m not sure if the professor is still alive, or if the beach couple even knew him), but anytime anybody talks up abundance, I’m in. Especially when it’s paired with words like “life to the full,” which (if you’ve been around this blog for awhile) you KNOW takes me straight to this verse:

The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I came that they might have life and have it abundantly. (John 10:10, ESV)

That’s Jesus, outlining the whole reason he came. The whole reason he died. The whole reason why we can live free.

So…is the “blue marble movement” a Jesus-y thing? I don’t know. I looked it up on Instagram (@bluemarbleday) and the organizers cite the Bible as one of their texts (along with a few other not-Bible books), and the three tenets that undergird what they are doing–encouraging gratitude, promoting hope, and kindling love–are three things I’m pretty sure Jesus would like. I do too.

But the lack of any overt mention of Christ got me thinking. Not about the Blue Marble People (cuz I think what they are doing is great; who doesn’t need to be more intentional about things like gratitude?), but about my own self.

And about God.

And about whether my idea of abundance parallels his.

Like, if I were going to put a marble in my jar at the end of the day, it would probably be because I’d enjoyed some combo of coffee, exercise, time spent with people I like, and time spent with God. And if I had done something truly significant–something like, say, moving my winter clothes out of the closet so that the cute summer tops could come in (a task I have yet to accomplish in 2018)–I might even give myself two, and call it a Blue Blue Marble Day.

But is that what Jesus would say? Like, is checking projects off the to-do list part of his “abundant life” vision? Is treating myself to a venti-sized latte what he meant when he said I could live life “to the full”? Is it really all about getting…exercise?

I kinda doubt it.

(Okay, I seriously doubt it.)

But I wasn’t sure, exactly, what Jesus would say. And then, wouldn’t you know (and I am not making this up), I picked up the book I had brought to the beach and read this:

The root word for “abundantly” [in John 10:10] is perissos, meaning “exceedingly more, going past the expected limit.” The word for”life” is zoe, and it encompasses our physical presence and future eternal existence.

(Seriously? I picked a beach read with Greek words? Sheesh. I didn’t know. The cover is pink!)

The author went on, contrasting the world’s definition of abundance with God’s: If abundance is exceedingly more, going past the expected limit of life, we’ve got to check our hearts to be sure we’re not just expecting God to produce exceedingly more, going past the limit of stuff. It’s the age-old struggle: Do we want more of what God can give us, or do we want more of God?

(Ahhh. We’ve been there. Several times, in fact–including back in 2016, when I wrote a post called The Gifts or the Giver.)

Obviously, we have to want God more than stuff. But what happens when we don’t? What happens when we turn to things like Netflix or date nights (or, in my case, tidy sock drawers and lattes) to make us feel good? To fill in the gaps? To help us relax or re-charge?

Here’s what happens: “When we take our needs to the temporary, less-than-perfect comforts of this world, we are left feeling empty and wanting more.”

At least that’s what Jess Connolly says. She’s the gal who wrote my beach book, which is all about pursuing holiness (instead of just rule-keeping), embracing grace (the transformative kind, not the stuff that just winks at our sin), and stepping into abundance (as in, the for-real life God offers). The book is called Dance, Stand, Run: The God-Inspired Moves of a Woman on Holy Ground. And, for whatever freaky reason, it’s just $3.79 on Amazon right now, so if you want it, click here.

And…what if you also want some blue marbles? I know I do–I’m getting some for all of my kids. I’m gonna wrap ’em up in a bag and attach a John 10:10 tag, and tell them what I’m telling myself:

This summer, when you find yourself facing a need (whether it’s a desire for peace, or more energy, or just to feel better and more confident about what life looks like right now), press into Jesus. Trust him to supply what you lack. Take him at his word–that is, give him the chance to show you who he is, and what he can do.

Expect exceedingly more.

And then, at the end of the day, give yourself a blue marble to remind you how all-sufficient God is, and how incredibly much you are loved.

Heavenly Father,

Thank you that Jesus came so that we could have life, and have it abundantly. Help us take hold of that promise, knowing that as we draw near to you, you will draw near to us. Let us find our deepest satisfaction and joy not in your gifts, but in you. (John 10:10, James 4:8, Psalm 90:14).

Amen.

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Unplug and Engage: Make the Most of Your Summer

I am not the biggest Podcast Gal. Alert readers will remember when I did my first one, with a hip young mom who podcasted (?) out of her family room. We’d been talking for 15 minutes when I asked when we’d start recording. “Oh we’ve been recording this whole time,” she said. “We love it when our shows feel organic and natural!”

Organic and natural. At my age, we don’t do much of that stuff. My crowd tends to go in for things like hair dye and Botox. I have one friend who can’t go out of town for more than two weeks, for fear of missing her scheduled maintenance. “It takes a lot of time and money,” she says, “to look this natural.”

Anyhow.

Relic that I am, I do actually tune in (if that’s the right word) to a few of my favs, one of which is a show called The God-Centered Mom. It’s hosted by Heather MacFadyen, who has four strapping young boys. (Which might explain why she barricades herself in a room once a week and interviews interesting guests about all sorts of fascinating topics. I think I would too. If I knew how.)

This week, Heather’s guest was an author I love, Andy Crouch.

Andy has written a slew of good books, including one called The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place. He talked about how to do that–how to live in a techno-based world, without letting devices control our thoughts, our time, or our relationships. To listen to the podcast, click here…and in the meantime, I’ll give you the Cliff Notes.

Andy is big on pulling the plug. He’s not anti-technology; he’s just into “active-engagement”–as in, things that captivate our kids (and us) in ways that go beyond screen time. When we look back on the “best moments” of our family’s life, nobody is going to say “It was when I got to Level 16” on Fortnite, or whatever. Instead, Andy says, it will be those times when we were really “present” for each other. When we were engaged.

Which, for a lot of us, might demand a willingness to burn through the boredom. As in, not immediately strapping on earbuds (airbuds? airpods?), or binging on Netflix to fill the space in our lives. “All creativity,” Andy maintains, “is on the other side of boredom.”

Andy and his family take a two week vacation every summer and completely unplug. For those who find that prospect daunting (hello, Berndt fam?), he gives the okay to start smaller. Even just one hour sans screens–no TV, phones, computers–can make a big difference. Chez Crouch, they even douse the lights during dinner and dine by candlelight.

(Which is a practice, BTW, that I am a huge fan of. Who needs Botox when a good power outage will do?)

But here’s the thing about ditching devices. The first third of any new endeavor, Andy says, is often the rough part. Get through that–get through the first 5 days of your two-week techno-vacation, or the first 20 minutes of your techno-free hour–and the lightbulb (or more aptly, the candle) ignites. Things get creative. Things get engaged. Things get fun.

I get that.

We didn’t even have screens when our kids were young (unless you count one big box TV), but when it came to any sort of “mandatory fun,” the burn-in time was still real. Most of the stuff I’d suggest was not greeted with cheers, but once we hit our stride, we were hooked. Or at least most of us were.

If you want to start small–with, say, just an hour or two of actually Being With People (!) this summer–here are a few active-engagement tactics we’ve tried:

  1. The Candlelight Dinner. It actually works. Don’t do it every night, but every once awhile light ’em up–and when your kid (or your man) wonders why, just say, “Because.”
  2. Star-Gazing. Invite another family, pull out the big blankets, and hit the backyard. Have a few convo-tips at the ready (What are three things you liked this school year? If you drove across the country, name two friends you’d want to have in the car. If you could learn to do one new thing this summer, what would it be?), and add ice cream sundaes, or maybe Bomb Pops, to the mix.
  3. The Original Audible. Turn the lights down low and pick a good book. Have mom or dad read it aloud, or invite older kids to jump in. The Narnia books are always a fav, but we discovered others by accident, just because they were on the school’s “Summer Reading” list. Both The Bronze Bow and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle were winners with all of our kids.
  4. Game Time. We’ve never been all that big on board games (too many pieces look like kibble to dogs), but three years ago, Salad Bowl was a stay-cation hit with the college crew, and Would You Rather is still a staple on every car trip.

I’m sure you have other ideas; post a comment if you’ve got one to share. And P.S., Andy’s pointers are not just for kids. There’s a whole section in the podcast devoted to grown-ups, and how our technology obsession can negatively impact our world. Want to sleep better, fall more in love with your spouse, or wake up without being greeted by email, first thing?

Get the screens out of your bedroom.

(But not, of course, before you download The God-Centered Mom.)

 

 

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