Being Different

By Jarrod Spencer –

Ketchup, bread, and chocolate chip cookies. What do these all have in common? You can go to the store and have your choice to pick out any one of these in a variation of brands – each one still being about the same idea. There isn’t much difference in the taste and texture in the variation of these three (within their own categories). The idea that they are pretty much the same brings us to this quote by Coco Chanel, “In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.”

A few years ago, Heinz brand ketchup came out with variations in order to make their brand a bit different. Bread companies have tried different things to make their bread seem different. Chips Ahoy brand cookies has “Soft Batch” and “Chocolate Chunk” to try to be different. Once a product is made, others will try to mimic that product. So, the constant challenge is to stay ahead of others in the same business, just to make sure you maintain a status of being irreplaceable.

As Christians, we all are equipped with the same amount of bones and other body components as anyone else. So, what makes us different? Understanding that is a constant challenge. We can be polite and kind, but so are others. We have to keep going toward what is uncommon in order to make sure that we are not ‘replaceable.’ For example, are others able to turn the other cheek when being “hit” in life?

How will you be different? I pray that your individual uniqueness will allow you to find ways to be irreplaceable!

Looking for ways…

PRAYER: Holy Father, I am thankful that You are different. That You will forgive when I do not deserve forgiveness. That You sent Your Son to a world that did not appreciate Him. As a human father, I cannot imagine giving up my son for others’ lives. Thank You for being different!

BIBLE VERSE: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2a NIV).

 

Campus Security

By Emily M. Akin –

“You’re not walking back to the dorm alone after 11:00 p.m., are you?” Mom’s face scrunched up with worry.

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea,” Dad agreed.

“Oh, it’s OK,” Jenny said. “Don’t worry. Some of the guys walk back to the dorms with me. No one leaves the building without an escort.”

Like all parents of female freshmen at large universities, these parents were concerned about their daughter’s safety, particularly walking on campus at night. The “panic” buttons posted on utility poles along the walkways were no comfort. Jenny had told them she went to the church-related student center every evening to study with friends. Most nights, she stayed until it closed at 11:00 p.m.

It was parents’ weekend, and the student center was hosting a lunchtime cookout for parents. To ease their minds, Jenny had promised to introduce Mom and Dad to some of the young men who served as late-night campus escorts.

“Mom, Dad—this is Harry. He’s one of the guys who walks us to the dorms at night,” she said.

Dad smiled, although, at the same time, his mouth dropped open. Simultaneously, Mom’s eyebrows shot skyward. Harry, who was all of 5 feet 2 inches tall, extended his left hand in greeting. This was necessary because his right arm sported an enormous cast.

Dad, speechless and wide-eyed, pulled Mom aside as soon as he could without being rude. “Is he supposed to be the bodyguard?” he hissed. “Why, he’s not as big as she is! What’s he going to do? Whack the attacker with that cast?”

“Please!” Mom shushed him. “Contain yourself.”

“Well, for Pete’s sake, Jenny could beat him up herself—with one hand tied behind her back,” Dad said. “He might be useful as a witness, but that’s about it.”

I wonder if God has the same reaction when He sees us cooking up some of our clever schemes. He may mumble to himself about how that won’t work. But, God loves us, so He lets us do our own thing.

Too Much Salt

By Alan Mowbray  –

We all know about salt. You put it on french fries, potato chips, pretty much anything your mother-in-law cooks (well, not mine, of course), and foods that just don’t make your tongue dance.

Why? ‘Cause it tastes good. Well, technically, that’s actually the result of using salt, but it doesn’t answer the question of why adding salt makes things taste good.

Salt is a flavor enhancer. Those of you that bake know that recipes for sweets often have a bit of salt added. It’s there just to make the sugar and other ingredients taste better. This is where the “Salt” part of this comes from.

As a Christian, the Word tells me (Matthew 5: 13-16) that I am “…the salt of the earth.” This is a description of who I am – or should be. Salt enhances flavors; not by making them saltier, but rather, by enhancing the flavors already present in the other ingredients.

If I am to be salt, my life, my actions and my character should enhance the life of others. How I think, speak, act, and interact should be run through this filter of: “Am I actually making this other person’s life ‘taste’ better to them, or am I actually making it worse?

Worse? How could that be?
Did you ever put too much salt on something? Bleh!

By being a bit too overbearing and lording our Christianity over others, we can cause their taste for Christ to bitter. Our lifestyle, demeanor, reaction to adversity, and etc. all reflect on whether we are enhancing the flavor of others’ lives or whether we are too “salty.”

When first learning how to witness my faith to others, I was trained to boldly confront everyone with the message of Jesus Christ, but the tactics I was trained to use gave ME a bad taste in MY mouth. I couldn’t stomach banging on a stranger’s door, asking him if he know where he would go if he died tonight, and telling him he was destined for hell if he wasn’t saved… not that this is necessarily bad, but is it a proper use of our loving salt?

Was I enhancing these people’s lives, or did they shut the door on me – solidifying their belief that Christians were pathetic and highly annoying losers? Even worse, there were times when the people I was with got into arguments with them.

Would you say that walking around picking fights on unsuspecting people is counterproductive, yet being ready for a fight, if you are attacked, is prudent? Using this thought pattern, let’s compare confrontational witnessing versus living a holy lifestyle – ready, at a moment’s notice, to explain why when asked?

I’ve spent a few years tossing this issue in my head and I understand now that I was being too salty. Instead of enhancing and watering seedlings of hope and faith, I was flooding them with briny, brackish fleshly water.

Now, I still believe that one should tell others about Jesus, but I’ve changed my personal message. It’s no longer – “HERE’S WHAT JESUS CAN DO FOR YOU IF ONLY YOU’D JUST BELIEVE – YOU IDIOT!!!!!” My message is now – “Here’s what Jesus does for me every day, even though I don’t deserve it!”

When you become salt of the world, you aren’t pushing the Gospel down people’s throats; you’re living life with them – loving them. That is true witnessing. That’s what Jesus did.

We are here to enhance the lives of others. Done in love, our lives too, will taste sweeter as a result.

The Perfect Stone

By Cheri Cowell –

Have you ever watched or participated in building a house? My husband and I own a cabin in the Tennessee mountains, a dream of ours for the first twenty years of our married life. It is on a rental program, so it isn’t like we are moving in next week, but it is still ours. We bought it while it was under construction so we saw it in its unfinished state. Then several months later we saw it in its final state with just the punch list of things to touch up. It is very gratifying to be a part of something in which you can see progress being made. Sometimes progress slows down or halts because a problem is found or something was not done right. In order for the house to stand when it is finished, it needs to be built correctly, each step of the way. God knows a lot about building a house and can show you how.

Stones were an important Old Testament symbol of God and the coming Messiah. The early church understood from this Stone the nation of Israel would rule forever, however, here the term ‘Living’ is added to remind them of the new understanding of the role of Christ the Messiah. The church is described as the new spiritual house, constructed of the living stones of believers who continue the role of priestly people declaring the wonderful works of God and offering our own lives as sacrifices.

PRAYER: God, I praise You for how You perfectly fulfill every detail of the Old Testament teachings. Thank You for being willing to be the capstone that was rejected. Help me stand as a solid rock You can build upon to further Your kingdom.

BIBLE VERSE: “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:4-5 NIV).

Speed

By Jane Thornton –

Sun glinted off my handlebars, the wind whispered around my goggles, and the leather seat jounced under my rear as my ATV slewed to a stop on the side of the sandy road. Grinning around my gritted teeth, I jerked the kerchief away from my face. “Wes! We’ve found our new retirement activity!”

I was ready to sell his ’67 Mustang, buy a pair of four-wheelers, and hit the road. For three hours, my family zipped and bounced along the mountain trails, relishing the speed, admiring God’s magnificence, and laughing at each other’s antics.

Toward the end of our jaunt, we had tracked down the wandering youngsters and were aiming for our rendezvous with the tour company. Our group had strung out along the trail to avoid dirt in our eyes. I careened into the parking lot with five minutes to spare. My niece was two minutes behind me. Wes should be pulling up the rear in a moment.

The owner of the company checked in our vehicles and nodded his understanding when we explained, “The dust was really getting to him, so he was hanging back. He’ll be right here.”

Minutes ticked by. Conversation grew awkward. Jokes about turning down the guided tour fell flat—maybe as flat as a tire? My brother Mark took off to find my husband. More time dragged by. Cell phones don’t work in the mountains. The boss sent an employee with a flat repair kit.

Rationalizations ricocheted through my brain and out of my mouth. The whole family endorsed all my possible reasons for the delay. The owner and his family waived away our apologies for holding up their excursion.

A rumbling motor announced the return of the company rescuer. With a serious face, he went straight to his boss. We heard the words “off the cliff.”

My heart went numb.

Robin, my sister-in-law echoed the pronouncement. “He said off the cliff.” Sound jabbered around my ears with no meaning. Off the cliff.

My thoughts flew to hospitals, lonely years, and funerals. I prayed, no, no, no. Reason told me God never promised life. No, no, no.

My gaze desperately followed the muted conversation. Finally, the owner approached. “He’s all right. He was walking.” Two short, amazing, powerful sentences.

When Mark putted back with Wes perched and clinging behind, we found him bloody and bruised, perhaps with cracked ribs. He told his tale:  he hit a boulder in the road, rebounded off an unbending tree, rolled down an eight-foot embankment, splashed into a creek, and lay dazed as the heavy machine landed across his shoulders. By nightfall the bank was twelve feet and the creek was a river. Two months later, I think he says he fell fifty feet into roaring rapids.

That evening as he tried to break the chill from shock and snowmelt, I hovered. He shuddered in the cramped bathtub, and I laid warm handcloths over him. I mopped up blood and ruined several butterfly bandages. I flitted out to the kitchen for boiling water. Reminded myself of every frantic birthing scene in movies through the years.

Depending on how you measure, five to fifteen minutes of terror can bring presumption to a shrieking halt and slap you in the face with perspective. Life is good. It goes fast. Every minute is a blessing.

“Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath” (Psalm 39:4-5 NIV).

Comment Prompt:  Share a time when you were struck by the fleeting quality of life?

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