Jesus is not happy with the Pharisees. He calls them whitewashed tombs, beautiful (“righteous”) on the outside but “full of hypocrisy and wickedness” on the inside. (Matthew 23:27-28 NIV)

When Dave and I first toured the Florida subdivision where we now rent, I envisioned Aunt Bea taking cookies to a neighbor and Opie fishing in a nearby pond. Aside from the Key West-style homes and the pristine landscaping, what impressed me most were the front porches—welcoming, friendly, a return to a once-upon-a-time era when neighbors sat together and caught up on each other’s lives. Rocking chairs, swings, and padded loveseats all seemed to say, “Come on up and chat a while.”

As it turned out, these didn’t.

For six months I have ridden my bike or taken long walks a few times a week, all hours of the day, expecting to find owners relaxing on their porches or strolling through their All-American, Norman Rockwell neighborhood. Two times (2!) I have found porch-sitters…both who ignored me until I greeted them first. When I meet up with dog-walkers, they speak only if I mention their cute canine. No one has asked my name or started a conversation. What am I to make of this? I mean, such a waste of these charming, inviting porches!

Dave says I’m to make nothing of it. It’s their home and they can use whatever part of it they want. No one has to talk to me if they don’t want to. The way they choose to live their lives is their business. I tell Dave that they probably are all sad people who never learned how to make friends, don’t know Jesus, and I probably should take them cookies. That’s what Aunt Bea would do. Then I reconsider. I know these types. They’ll accuse me of lacing them with arsenic or marijuana. Dave says I am making way too big of a deal out of this.

I tell him that I think our neighborhood is an excellent example of “what you see is not what you get.” It appears inviting, but isn’t. Jesus gave us a great picture of that when he addressed the hypocrisy of the Pharisees. (See Scripture above.) Remember, the Pharisees were the spiritual leaders, esteemed, pious Jews who knew “The Law” and insisted that everyone live accordingly. They looked the part and played the part and probably even had “Honk if you obey God” humper stickers on their camels, but their outer appearance defied what was going on inside them. Had Aunt Bea been alive during Jesus’ day, I’m convinced that she would not have been part of the Pharisees’ social registry.

Earlier in Matthew 23 Jesus calls it like it is: Everything they (the Pharisees) do is done for people to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long. (Side note: phylacteries were small cases containing Scripture that these religious leaders attached to their foreheads; tassels were a grouping of loose threads hanging at the hems of their clothes–reminders of the commandments God gave to Moses). To the Pharisees, wide and long meant bigger and better.

Let’s face it. Appearances can deceive. We can paint it, enlarge it, decorate it, even suspend a “Welcome” banner from it, all which reveal nothing about what’s inside. But isn’t that true of all of us? Could Jesus call me a “white-washed tomb” for expecting others to meet my front porch expectations but not working harder to meet theirs? Could I be that hypocrite? Could Dave be right after all? Could this be a problem that a few chocolate chip cookies could solve?

I think it is. I’m just not sure how long I have to sit on my front porch, waiting for someone to deliver them. But when they do, I’ll invite them to “come on up and chat a while.” After all, you have to start somewhere.

I think Aunt Bea would be proud.

Expecting to have no internet service, I am writing this a few days ahead of Hurricane Dorian’s projected arrival near where Dave and I are living in Florida. Yesterday I went to Costco to buy water…as did, it seems, a few thousand other people. Signs in the parking lot gave the bad news: “Out of Water.” So was Walmart. So were all of the grocery stores. Apparently, most people took this warning more seriously than I and shopped early. Today when I ran errands, I was amazed at how the lines at the gas stations circled the block, even though there was no regular gas to be had.

We are learning a lot about being prepared. As you can see from this picture, we installed the hurricane shutters necessary to stop flying debris. We were instructed to back our car into the garage door so the door doesn’t shake, thereby letting in wind and water which can lift the roof off the house. WHAT? We expect to lose electricity, but I must admit I’m not very creative when it comes to making meals without the use of a refrigerator, stove, microwave or toaster. Dave and I will fine-dine on Tostitos, bean dip and tuna fish.

I told Dave we should have rented on a top floor of a high rise, but yesterday the Weather Channel told those residents to evacuate because wet beach sand gets carried into stair wells and elevator shafts and makes it impossible to leave. Guess I’ll be happy to be where I am…three miles from the ocean in a two-story condominium where I can go upstairs if the bottom floor floods…unless, of course, that little roof-lift thing happens.

Good friends have called and texted, offering prayers and warning us to evacuate. Advice from them has included putting our important papers in waterproof containers, filling our bathtub with water and our washing machine with ice. We need to keep our devices charged (grateful for car phone chargers, when we lose electricity).

All of this involves preparation, and as I watch people scurrying around as the clock ticks away, there is an urgency like I have never seen. Living in the Midwest our concern is tornadoes, but we are not given a few days (more like minutes) to get ready. Let’s face it. Tornadoes or hurricanes, when we realize our lives are at stake, we get serious with our planning.

As we should. Still, there is a more critical call for us to be ready. 1 Thes. 4:16-18: For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.  After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

Talk about an evacuation! A day is coming when no amount of scurrying can help and our eternal destiny will be set, depending on how we have prepared by knowing Jesus and glorifying God. In that split second when Jesus returns, I wonder how many will wish they would have taken his message more seriously when they had a chance.

Maybe this should be a warning for all of us.

While biking in our subdivision the other day, I came across this construction site. A group of donors are making it possible for Sgt. Stefan Leroy and his wife to have a new home. I later Googled Sgt. Leroy and found this article posted on the Gary Sinese Foundation website:

“On June 7, 2012 while deployed in Afghanistan, Stefan and his platoon were clearing improvised explosive devices (IEDs). Suddenly, two IEDs detonated and Stefan rushed to aid those injured by the blasts. While carrying an injured soldier to a Medevac helicopter, Stefan was struck by a third explosion. He lost both of his legs immediately.

“Stefan was transported to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center where he spent over a month in the hospital. He spent two years learning to adapt to his prosthetics, drawing strength from his friends and the other amputees at the hospital. Sixteen months after his last surgery in September 2014, he ran the Boston Marathon. “Stefan’s current living situation does not accommodate his wheelchair, causing him stress in his day-to-day activities. The Gary Sinise Foundation looks forward to providing Stefan with a specially adapted smart home to ease his daily challenges.” Actor Gary Sinese, most known for his performance in “Forrest Gump,” started this foundation to make dreams come true for our defenders, veterans, first responders and their families. His website claims that over 1,000,000 soldiers have returned from Iraq and Afghanistan “bearing the mental and physical wounds of war.” Thanks to donations to his foundation, fifty-seven homes are completed, and twenty more are under construction. I rode back to the site to talk to some of the workers. Everything in this house will be wheelchair-friendly, from wider doors to lower sinks. The painters praised the efforts of Mr. Sinese who used his public platform to help those in need. When I got home, I looked further into what drove this incredible man to give so sacrificially. I was excited by what I found. Speaking at a Knights’ of Columbus dinner, an organization with which he has partnered, Sinese said this: “When I think about the life and sufferings of Christ, when I think about the stories of the extreme hardships and heavy burdens that our military men and women and their families were willing to, and continue to bare, I can’t help but think about this verse: ‘For greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’” If there is a better motive for sacrificial giving, I don’t know what it is.

Hurricane season is nearing, and we who live in Florida are being prepped with expert advice. The latest came from our trash removal service via the neighborhood newsletter. Apparently keeping our yard vegetation trimmed is key. We need to “thin out foliage so that wind can flow freely through branches, decreasing the chance of uprooting trees or plants.” That small step will prevent damage to cars, houses and people. Two years ago, according to the article, because of Hurricane Irma’s vegetative debris left on the ground, it took three months and cost more than $30 million to collect and dispose of all the waste.

Fortunately, Dave and I are renting in an area where the yard work is handled by professionals. That probably saves our neighborhood because my dear husband loves to prune (i.e., shred). He, a snip sniper, believes that plants and bushes need to end up basically at ground level so they can “start over.” Butchering more shrubs than I can count, Gardener Dave claims that his method will help the plant grow, bear better fruit and improve its appearance…which, given 30 or 40 years, is a possibility. Don’t get me wrong. I know that pruning is necessary, but it should be purposeful, not random from a Paul Bunyan wannabe who lights up at the thought of tinkering with an axe.

In the June update of “The Spruce,” the author calls pruning “tough love…(which) keeps (plants) healthy and encourages fresh, new growth and renewal.” Lopping off those sprigs or limbs keeps them from sapping the energy of the healthy part of the plant (you know, the part Dave has mutilated). If not pruned, the dead spreads and kills the entire plant.

Jesus knew all about pruning and used that analogy when instructing his disciples (and us) on what is necessary to thrive. I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:1-2).

Pretty simple. If we are fruit-bearers (bringing glory to God by discipling others), He, as the grand gardener, prunes to increase fruitfulness so the storms of life won’t leave irreparable damage in our lives. Pruning might mean we lose wilted relationships, superfluous possessions, unimportant status, lifeless habits, etc., but if that temporary loss causes us to rely more on God and less on what we think we need, we will bear more spiritual fruit.

One way God prunes is through His word, the Bible, where we learn of behaviors that sap our energy and keep us from maturing in our Christian walk. Removing the undesirable sin- branches frees us to grow. Hebrews 4:12 explains the importance of allowing the Bible to dictate how we live: For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

The questions remain: What in your life needs to be pruned? Perhaps there is something that creates a drain on you, and even though “good,” it is not “best.” Aleasha Morris of “Leadership Vision” wrote of the benefit of spiritual pruning: “Finding and removing what chokes our life can help us to breathe deeper, spread wider, and grow higher than we ever thought possible.”

Sounds like a plan to me. I just pray it doesn’t take 30-40 years to get there.

Two recent shootings have evoked a range of emotions from shock to rage to blame to guilt to grief. I get it. This is America! We should be able to go to Walmart or a restaurant or a concert or a movie or a mall or a softball practice or a nightclub or a festival or a church or a synagogue without looking over our shoulders, hoping some crazy person doesn’t pick us out as target practice.

The day after the massacres, I was listening to Christian radio as the hosts were discussing this tragedy, explaining that this is a fallen world and sin is rampant. I wondered if their “catch all” answers, albeit truthful, might come across as insensitive to the immeasurable sadness people feel during times like this. Do we Christians appear uncompassionate when our spiritual clichés ignore the depth of despair caused by such evil acts? If loved ones struggle with God during times like this, do we jump on such opportunities by evangelizing? I pray not.

We of faith know that the “Why’s” of hurting people are not too big for God to handle. Those grieving should be free to question without us pontificating about how Satan causes evil or by throwing out Christian platitudes as a means to dismiss others’ despair. Saying “It must be God’s will” or “God just needed another angel in Heaven” fails to recognize the pain felt by not only those left behind but also our Heavenly Father when evil prevails.

Wrestling with God during these painful times does not prevent Him from being in control, but Him being in control does not negate others’ pain. Lives are now changed because people were in the “wrong place at the wrong time.” Twenty-two died in the Walmart massacre, including a young couple shielding their two-month old baby, a couple married 60 years, buying a blow-up bed for visiting relatives, and a grandfather helping his granddaughter raise money for her soccer team. Today I received word that the sister of an owner where Dave and I live in Mazatlán, Mexico, had just left our complex and driven to El Paso. She was one of those killed. Nine were murdered in the Dayton shooting which involved college students, a young man celebrating his birthday and parents with young children.

Senseless. Sickening. Sin-based. Yes.

What are we to take from this? Pastor/author Rick Warren addressed the best way to handle grieving people in his sermon series following the suicide of his adult son. His advice? “Show up and shut up.” He called it “the ministry of presence” and reminded his congregation that the Biblical story of Job shares that his three friends left their homes to sit in silence with Job for seven days.” Warren’s counsel? “The greater the grief, the fewer words needed.”

Be there, he continued, and don’t wait for an invitation. Find a need and fill it. Warren said that his Muslim neighbor “showed up” every week, mowing his (Warren’s) yard, but saying nothing. Friends came with meals and a hug. No one recited scripture.

So, what’s the Christian to do? After all, we know the Truth, the same Truth that will set us free. Still, I believe that we are to be sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit, and unless told otherwise, that means we are to support those hurting by praying, listening, understanding, filling a need…and wait for a later, better time to share about the role of sin in our fallen world.

“Juan” grew up poor in a Mexican village, learned the dining business, and ultimately opened an upscale restaurant in Mazatlán. It has become a frequent, fine-dining establishment for many of my friends. Last January he sent his daughter to live on a goat farm in England. He “had it” with her “Princess mentality” and decided to bring her down to earth with a lesson in humility.

Juan and his wife met several years ago when she was visiting Mazatlán from London. They married, and along came “Princess.” Without realizing how they were catering to her every desire, both parents became alarmed when their seven-year old daughter began insisting she was “entitled.” Their years of doting on her had backfired, and now she lived in a parenting world they had created but abhorred. Designer clothes. No chores. Only rich friends. Hours in front of the mirror. Mani’s and Pedi’s upon demand. Inability to apologize. Pouting when things didn’t go her way.

In other words, a spoiled brat.

Even more alarming, Princess’s three-year old sister was beginning to mimic her older sibling’s behavior. The parents were soon to have two prima donnas on their hands. After talking, taking away privileges and grounding, Hector and his wife made no headway.

The answer? Make a phone call to the mother’s relatives in England to ask if Princess could spend six months there, living and working among their goats. Their prayers were answered when the relatives agreed. Mom and daughter left soon after.

Sometimes drastic measures are necessary. Sometimes those measures are the greatest demonstration of love.

A famous Bible parable is the story of the Prodigal Son. A man had two sons, the younger one demanding his share of his father’s estate. His wish was granted. Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So, he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs.

For a little background, pigs were considered unclean animals. (Still are, in my opinion, but gosh! I do love bacon.) Jews were forbidden to touch pigs, yet this once-privileged son had sunk so low, he was living in their porky sties, watching them eat better than he was. Pig Heaven this was not.

The Biblical tale has a teachable ending. Son #2 came to his senses, returned home and apologized to his father who was waiting for him with open arms. There are many lessons in this parable, not the least of which is how the son represents those of us in sinful rebellion who find ourselves living in less than God-honored conditions. All the while, our Heavenly Father wants nothing more than for us to humble ourselves and ask for forgiveness so he can shower us with His love.

Like the prodigal son’s father, Hector is praying his daughter will return home with a new heart. No doubt, God loves his request. After all, He’s in the business of changing people. Author Rick Warren said it well: “God changes caterpillars into butterflies, sand into pearls and coal into diamonds using time and pressure. He’s working on you too.” If He can do it to caterpillars and sand and coal, He certainly can do it for Princess…and for me…and for you.

Kind words are like honey—sweet to the soul and healthy for the body. (Prov. 16:24)

Last week, I wrote about heeding warning signs, especially those given to us by God dealing with choosing the right mate. It took no time at all for Dave to make me crazy. All I asked was for him to look up the definition of a clove of garlic—and yes, I should have known the answer. Bulb or clove, which is which? My brain simply refused to go there. (Sometimes it does that. But that’s a story for another time…provided I can remember it.)

Anyway, I was chopping garlic; Dave was sitting at the kitchen table, playing a word game on his phone. My recipe called for two cloves, but the “bulb-clove” thing confused me, so I asked for help. My sweet hubby needed to finish his game because he was being timed, and I guess he was going to win a kajillion dollars if he won, so I waited patiently. Then he started.

“Patty, did you know that garlic is related to the onion?”

“Lovely. What is a clove?”

“Did you know it comes from the genus Allium?”

“I don’t care where it comes from, Dave. What is a clove?”

“Here’s something interesting. It helps medically. Did you know that?”

“Did you know that I’m about to bang my head on the cutting board?”

“Patty, you’re really cranky, but I’m serious. It’s recommended for gout, snakebites, scalp ringworm, earaches, stomach aches, hemorrhoids…”

“That’s terrific, but unless you are getting a PhD in garlic, all I need to know is the definition of a clove.”

“Wow! It helps treat heart disease, enlarged prostate, chronic fatigue, stress, and…”
“Dave, if it’s recommended for stress, I’m going to suck down this whole thing just to get me through this conversation.”

It was then I left Dave, excitedly rattling off all kinds of garlic gobbledegook, and walked into the living room where my computer is located, googled “clove of garlic” and found my answer. As I stopped chopping and tossed my two cloves in with the other ingredients, sweet hubby was still sharing his research.

“Do you want to know how to get rid of garlic breath?”

“Do you want to know how to get rid of a wife, because you’re getting close.”

“Gosh, Patty, I thought you’d find this interesting.”

“About as interesting as swallowing a bowling ball.”

“Cranky, cranky, cranky.”

As I write this, I think of wonderful Christian couples who never would have a conversation like this. Their words are bathed in prayer, and they purpose to edify each other. From the minute sweet hubby said, “Did you know that garlic is related to the onion?” they would have stopped chopping and shown interest. They would have asked for a handout and memorized the spreadsheet. They would have put the other person’s feelings first. I know that’s what God wants me to do. I know that time is short and I won’t have Dave forever (unless, I guess, we eat a whole lot of garlic).

Proverbs 16:24 gives us advice to guide our talk: Kind words are like honey—sweet to the soul and healthy for the body. I need to memorize that scripture. Kind words benefit soul and body.

Then again, I could just chomp on a clove of garlic. If Dave’s lucky, maybe it remedies crankiness.

Our neighborhood here in Florida is filled with warning signs. The alligator notice posted above is one block from where Dave and I live.

The “cart” sign hangs on a wall outside our local supermarket, and a neighbor’s front door holds the “I’m happy…don’t ruin it” sign. None of us are unfamiliar with notices of caution, but how about this one? “Removing consumer labels from pillows is punishable by fines.” When I was young, I feared the pillow police would show up at my door if I tore off one of those scratchy tags. (Tell the truth; you did too.)

Humorous signs now are the norm. “Children left unattended will be given a Red Bull and a puppy.” “Do not cross this pasture unless you can do it in nine seconds because the bull can do it in ten.” “Stay off the tracks. They are only for trains. If you can read this, you’re not a train.”

Most warnings, however, are not laughable. We heed them…or we pay the consequences. Especially ones God has given us. Every book in the Bible cautions us about what our bad choices can do to us…and to others. Our problem is that sometimes we don’t take the warnings seriously, if we read them at all.

For example, God gave strict instructions on how to choose the right spouse. I have Christian friends who chose their mates only after much prayer, seeking God’s wisdom because of the decision’s lifetime importance. (I wasn’t one of those people, I admit, but God blessed me in spite of myself.) With the divorce rate in the U.S. nearing 40% (one site said that every 13 seconds, there is a divorce in America), many couples—Christians included– are choosing to split.

In Judges’ chapters 13-16, we read of a tragic story in which a young man disobeyed God’s marriage order, and it cost him his life. You’ve probably heard his name, synonymous with what NOT to do in choosing the right mate. Samson. For starters, he refused to listen to his parents’ warning. I have known three sets of praying parents who convinced their children that they were marrying the wrong person. All now are happily married in a union blessed by their father and mother and are grateful for the wisdom in their parents’ concerns.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying all parents know what is best for their children. Many times wedges are drawn when personalities clash with future in-laws as they circumvent God’s best with their attempts to break up a relationship. Children need to recognize the difference in motive. They need to pray for God’s wisdom.

That did not enter Samson’s mind. Worse than not heeding his father and mother, he disregarded God’s advice and lusted after a beautiful Philistine woman, a no-no to any God-fearing Israelite, much less a young Nazarite (set apart from birth to honor God) like Samson. Suffice it to say, Samson ended up being captured and blinded before dying, thanks to the sinful woman he chose as his wife.

Readers, I think I have this figured out. Messing with an alligator might be much safer than messing with an ungodly spouse.

Wimbledon, the most impressive of all tennis tournaments, is over, and I am sad. For two weeks, Dave and I record the matches so we can watch them together when he gets home from work. Seeing English nobility in the “Royal Box” is thrilling, and everywhere the camera pans, there is no shortage of excellence, including the ball-boys and ball-girls. These are no ordinary ball retrievers.

Over 700 teens apply, and after a written test, 250 are selected and train for five months to perfect their skills of tossing, catching, and rolling the tennis balls as well as learn how to “present” the towel to the sweaty athlete. They scurry like jackrabbits to nab errant balls and return to their assigned position where they stand like robots. Perfection is expected.

The code of professionalism extends to everyone. This year, Serena Williams (the best female tennis player ever!) was fined $10,000 for damaging the grass practice court when she frustratedly threw her racquet to the ground. Three players were fined when the umpire found their coaches giving advice during the match. Bernard Tomic was fined his entire $56,000 prize money when the umpire determined he had not “tried hard enough.” (If fans are going to pay big bucks to watch this level of tennis, they deserve to get their money’s worth.)

This year, Dave and I were especially excited when Saturday’s women’s final round involved Serena Williams (U.S.A.) and Simona Halep (Romania), two of my favorites. I watched the match live that morning but recorded it for Dave who would pick up Chinese food on the way home from the ballpark and we would view it together. (I would need to gag myself not to disclose who won.) It didn’t matter. As Dave left the locker room, one of the other coaches shared the news: “Hey, Roachie, could you believe Serena got crushed?”

So much for our Wimbledon picnic. Dave opted not to watch the game.

Sunday would make up for it. Roger Federer would take on Novak Djokovic (whom I rooted against because he rudely rolled his eyes at one of the ball handlers). Once again, I DVR’d the event, joining the almost-ten million fans who watched on their televisions. Following church, Dave and I would hold our Wimbledon picnic and watch Roger win. I was on the edge of my chair the entire time. Four hours into it, they were tied when Dave’s phone buzzed and he blurted out, “This can’t be right. This lists the years Djokovic has won Wimbledon, and 2019 is listed. How would they know?” I stared at him. In shock. “Because England is five hours ahead of us. That’s why we record it,” I reminded him.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Dave just did to me what the other coach had done to him. My day was ruined. The suspense was gone. I now knew the ending. Dave immediately moved to the kitchen so I could sulk alone…which I did well, thank you very much. But then something changed. I found myself relaxing. The “highs” of Federer’s aces and “lows” of his errors were gone because I knew the results.

For most things, life doesn’t work like that…which probably is a good thing. None of us know how our day/week/month/life will turn out. All we have is this moment…except, that is, where the Bible is concerned. From the beginning to the end, we are given the full picture of how life plays out. God created. Satan interfered. Jesus saved and will return again to open Heaven’s doors for all who make him Lord.

Granted, there are earthly, daily, unpredictable issues for all of us (like people who disclose tennis results prematurely), but we can relax and not get too concerned about our “highs” and “lows” when we know the outcome of what really matters. Jesus wins. Satan loses. And we all know that in eternity’s case, the stakes are much higher than those of a tennis tournament.

Proverbs 10:21 The words of the godly encourage many, but fools are destroyed by their lack of common sense.

We sat at circular tables, approximately 50 of us in all, each with a leader assigned to steer discussions and keep us from rambling. These groups are designed to indoctrinate us in the beliefs of the church Dave and I attend here in Florida so we can be plugged in as volunteers. Every weekend of each month a new “Journeys” group starts, four in total. In April I attended week one and two but was not here the last two weeks of the month. That meant I took the week-three class in May at which time I continued with a new group of people.

Our assignment after week two was to go online and take a test to determine our top three spiritual gifts which we would reveal to our tablemates. That third meeting we were allotted 10 minutes in which to share our findings, a countdown clock visible from where we sat. Sheila, our leader, started with me and asked (1) what I found out, (2) if I was surprised by my results, and (3) if I agreed or disagreed. My answer time: 30 seconds (yes, even I am shocked).

The woman to my right was next. She had not taken the test because her life was “a mess” and she didn’t “have any free time to work on it.” For two minutes, she shared some of the details of her messy life. Sheila was empathetic but encouraged this woman to please take the test. It would be helpful for her to know in what areas God had prepared her.

Bob spoke up. He thought it foolish to ask us to do anything on line because some people might not have a computer. He, of course, did, but did not take the test because he was protesting. Couldn’t Sheila just give him a hard copy? No, she couldn’t, she explained, because the questions were computerized so as to reveal our top three gifts. She was not equipped to determine the results.

Bob thought that was “ridiculous.” After all, he knew his gifts; his “main ones” were compassion and listening. (Surprise!) Sheila shared that sometimes we might think we know what our gifts are but that our ideas aren’t necessarily God’s and Bob might be pleasantly surprised by what he found out if he took the test. Unnecessary, he said. He “knew” his gifts. (Bob’s time: 5 minutes)

I’m not sure what happened next except Bob’s neck veins started to bulge. He turned and whispered something to “messy-life woman” and stared at his notes, fuming. Sheila moved on to the next couple who actually had taken the test and were excited about their results. Hospitality was #1 on their list, and since they love having people into their home, they considered this verification. (Time: 2 minutes)

That’s when Bob erupted, slammed his study guide down, grabbed his things and stormed out of the room, disrupting the class and loudly expressing his disagreement with the volunteer at the door. I stared at Sheila, looking for a response. Nothing. Not even an eyebrow-raise. Impressive. She smoothly moved on to the next two people at our table and was told–yet again–that they had “forgotten” about the test (which actually was fortunate since we now were out of time).

When class was over, I stayed to tell Sheila how much I respected the way she had handled our group, especially Bob. She had “represented Christ in such a loving way while still holding Bob accountable.” Too, she had not gotten upset with those who did not do their homework. Leading, I thought, had to be one of her gifts.

“Oh, you have nooooooo idea,” she answered. “I was biting on my tongue the entire time to keep from saying something I would later regret.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well,” I told her, “Maybe that’s the best spiritual gift of all.”

I’ve never given much thought to turtles. Granted, I might think about them when I stop my car to help them reach the other side of the road, and I think of them when I see one smashed on the highway…which I seriously do not understand. I mean, how hard is it to avoid a turtle? Just move your steering wheel a teensy tiny bit, Turtle Torturer. It’s not like it’s an elephant, for goodness sakes.

Montana, my granddaughter, visited Dave and me in Florida last week. Yesterday we visited a “turtle sanctuary” where wounded turtles are treated. From the tiny ones (you know, the ones we purchase and stick in a cantaloupe-size fish bowl and then dump when they become a nuisance) to gigantic 300+ pound ones (there typically because they have been hit by boat propellers or have swallowed large hooks when accidentally nabbed by pier fishermen), they all were being treated in the sanctuary hospital and were on individual plans to heal.

I learned much from our tour guide and was in awe of how God’s design of these reptiles took so many details into account. For starters, pregnant female sea turtles return to beaches where they themselves hatched years before (sort of like a sandy trip down memory lane). The trip is laborious as they seek a nesting spot in the sand high above the sea level mark. (Freshwater turtles like we have in the Midwest will choose moist soil.) Using her back flippers, the mother sea turtle spends one-to-three hours laying up to 100 eggs in a tunnel she created nearly 18-inches below the sand surface. She then drags herself back to the ocean, never to see her babies again. (I think that’s very, very sad.)

We learned how the hatchlings use a temporary tooth to break from their eggs and how they move as a group at night to the ocean (for sea turtles) or leaf litter (for freshwater turtles) which helps the little critters avoid waiting predators. We were told that years ago, when people began to study sea turtles, they noticed that hatchlings would emerge from the sand at night; attracted to light, they would move the wrong direction (“disorientation”) toward street and home lights. None survived unless rescued. (I also think that is very, very sad.)

Now, to protect these animals, laws regulate that during hatching season here in Florida, all street lights and parking lot lights must be turned off. Homes recently built near hatching areas are required to install “turtle protection” windows (tinted to reduce light projection). Because of those changes, baby turtles rely on the reflection of the moon and stars on the water (God’s design). No longer are they fooled by fake light.

We Christians know what that’s like. Sometimes we become “disoriented” and follow one who masquerades as light: Satan (2 Cor. 11:14). You know, the one who works overtime to make us believe we are okay right where we are because we marched down an aisle and asked Jesus into our heart, so grace will cover our sins. But read Jesus’ words found in Matthew 7:21: Not everyone who says to me “Lord, Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” Oops! Sounds like there’s a little more to this, doesn’t it? So, what is God’s will? Simple (well, writing and speaking about it is, but doing it? Lord, light our way). We are to love. We are to see all people as Jesus sees them. Only by relying on Him is that possible. He makes that clear in John 8:12: I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.

Unlike turtles (of whom only 1/10,000 survive—another sad thing and hopefully one turtle torturers will remember), God wants us all to spend eternity with Him. It’s our choice as to which light we will follow.

In 2002, when Richard Rodriguez was captaining a commercial flight, his lead flight attendant informed him that a soldier’s remains were in the cargo area. Rodriguez asked to meet the soldier’s escort. The captain later wrote of his experience. A perfectly dressed, young, army sergeant entered the cockpit and said, “My soldier is on his way back to Virginia.” After telling the escort that he had the toughest job in the military, Rodriguez and his co-pilot stood to shake his hand before the escort returned to his seat. About 30 minutes into the flight, the lead flight attendant called to say that the father, mother, wife and two-year old daughter were also on the plane. The family was upset because they were unable to see the container that their loved one was in before they took off. They were going to have to wait four hours for the connecting flight home to Virginia. The father of the soldier shared that knowing his son was below him in the cargo compartment was difficult and asked if it would be possible to be outside by the cargo door to watch him being taken off the airplane. Captain Rodriguez listened to the plea of the flight attendant and responded, “I’m on it.” He immediately contacted the air dispatcher, and two hours later, received this text: “Captain, sorry it has taken so long to get back to you. There is policy on this now, and I had to check on a few things. Upon your arrival a dedicated escort team will meet the aircraft. The team will escort the family to the ramp and plane side. A van will be used to load the remains with a secondary van for the family. The family will be taken to their departure area and escorted into the terminal, where the remains can be seen on the ramp. It is a private area for the family only. When the connecting aircraft arrives, the family will be escorted onto the ramp and plane side to watch the remains being loaded for the final leg home. Captain, most of us here in flight control are veterans. Please pass our condolences on to the family. Thanks.” Rodriguez wrote that after landing, when they checked in with the ramp controller, they were told that all traffic was being held for them and a team was in place to meet the plane. The captain recognized there was only one problem: when the seat belt sign went off, all the passengers would stand and prevent the family from exiting. Rodriguez asked permission to stop short of the gate to make an announcement. Upon receiving approval, this is what he said: “Ladies and gentleman, this is your Captain speaking. I have stopped short of our gate to make a special announcement. We have a passenger on board who deserves our honor and respect. Also on board are his father, mother, wife and daughter. Your entire flight crew is asking for all passengers to remain in their seats to allow the family to exit the aircraft first. Thank you.” When the family got up and gathered their things, a passenger slowly started to clap. Moments later, more passengers joined in, and soon the entire aircraft was clapping. Words of “God Bless You,” “I’m sorry,” “thank you,” “be proud,” were uttered to the family as they made their way down the aisle and out of the airplane. They were escorted down to the ramp to finally be with their loved one. Rodriguez concluded with this: “Many of the passengers disembarking thanked me for the announcement I had made. They were just words, I told them; I could say them over and over again, but nothing I say will bring back that brave soldier.” For the courageous men and women who fight for our freedom–too many times losing their lives in the process–thank you. May we remember them and their families this Fourth of July and every day.