Loose Connection

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

My daughter’s television pixilates. Turn it on to watch a show, and every few minutes the action stops. Like a game of Red Light-Green Light, actors freeze in odd poses. Their faces blur. Sometimes the audio continues, giving the frozen frames a storyboard effect. So, naturally, we worked that into a homeschool lesson on the art of animation.

Despite its educational value, interrupted programming is annoying and hard on the eyes. My husband tried troubleshooting. He replaced the cable. No difference. He traded boxes from another room. No difference. He reset the entire system multiple times. No difference. When all else failed, he called for help.

The cable guy was scheduled to arrive between 8:00 AM and noon. You know what that means—he arrived at 11:59 with a few seconds to spare. He proceeded to do all the things we had already done. No difference. He then checked the main connection upstairs. It was so loose the cable detached when he touched it! He tightened some wires, and voila! Big difference.

All that for a loose connection.

Sometimes life gets pixilated. I go along my merry way when suddenly my forward progress halts. Images become unrecognizable. The continuous audio is the chatter in my head, the noise of me making my own plans.

I troubleshoot. Did I skip something on my schedule? No difference. Did I neglect to pay a bill? No difference. Did I leave the iron on when I left the house? No difference. Time to reset the system and call for help.

In John chapter 15, Jesus gave an illustration regarding the importance of staying connected to Him. Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15: 5). When we disconnect from Christ, our lives pixilate and our signals scramble, much like a faulty TV. The scene gets fuzzy, and despite our own best efforts, nothing makes it any better. Clarity is not restored until we reconnect to the Source.

Don’t miss the educational value of the pixilation. Go to the Man Upstairs and tighten your loose connection.

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award winning freelance writer and Senior Content Editor of The Christian Pulse. Find her editing services at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com, and let her show you how Disney IS school at www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com.

The Right Fit

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

In seventh grade, Kaepa tennis shoes were all the rage at my junior high school. With their unique dual lace design, you could mix and match shoelace colors to coordinate your outfit or show school spirit. They were great for 1980s fashion.

Kaepas came in an affordable canvas style, but the cool kids wouldn’t be caught dead in those. No, to be cool, you had to have the much pricier leather ones. Well, my family didn’t have a money tree in our backyard, and my mom was a struggling, single parent at the time, so no matter how much I begged, she just couldn’t say yes to such an expense…until one day at JC Penney.

Mom and I had gone shopping. As we strode past the shoe department, I noticed a big red SALE sign by the most awesome shoes in the whole mall: the leather Kaepas. “The shoes! Mom! The shoes! Please, please, please!”

She said, “OK.” Yes!

I grabbed the nearest salesperson and asked for a size 7. He brought out a 6-1/2, the last box in the store. I didn’t hang my head in surrender, though. I squeezed my feet in, loosened each lace, and strutted across to the mirror to admire the glorious prize. I was on the verge of coolness. They fit perfectly—not.

The shoes were snug, but I was afraid that if we left the store without them, my mom would never again agree to buy them. So I lied. I said they fit great, that they were the most comfortable shoes I’d ever owned. Mom knew they were too small, but I wouldn’t take them off. I wore them every day for the rest of the school year.

I was cool. Or at least my shoes were cool. But how much better would I have felt—both physically and emotionally—if I had trusted my mom? If I had listened to her assurance that we’d get a better fitting pair at another store? If I would have waited for the right thing?

I must confess I still struggle with trusting and waiting. The issues don’t necessarily concern shoes anymore–well, maybe sometimes—but often important life decisions tempt me to jump into situations that might not be the right fit. In those times, I end up somewhere snug and uncomfortable. However, if I trust my heavenly parent, God the Father, and heed His gentle assurance, His provision will always suit my need.

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor who would really like to have a size 8 vintage leather pair of split-lace Kaepas, circa 1983. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or at www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Stop the Clock

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

I was watching a football game with my husband the other day, and one team scored a field goal to up the lead. They went ahead just enough that the opponent would need to score more than one touchdown to win. Few minutes remained on the clock, so implying imminent victory, the announcer said, “Nine is a really big number!”

I scratched my head and thought, “Really?” Now, I’m no mathematician, but nine is pretty low on my scale. I mean, it’s not even double digit! I started wondering what other wisdom I might glean from the sport, and I discovered something that could be quite handy: the ability to stop time.

Now, NFL officials don’t actually prevent seconds from ticking away, but they do halt progress of the game periodically. Someone blows a whistle and the teams retreat to the sidelines to rethink their strategies.

I want to stop time.

Imagine how handy that would be. If I’m about to spill spaghetti sauce on my new white shirt, tweet—time out! If my daughter’s about to snatch her little brother’s favorite toy, tweet—time out! If I’m about to miss an important deadline, tweet—time out! Mistakes would be a thing of the past. I’d stop the clock and rethink my strategy as I went along. Writer’s block simply would not exist. I’d just hit pause until play resumed in my head. If only I could stop time!

If everyone had the ability to control time, however, the world would be one big mess. So it’s good that only God can control the clock. Only He can call a time out. Only He holds the whistle. After all, “Whoever obeys his command will come to no harm, and the wise heart will know the proper time and procedure” (Ecclesiastes 8:5). No need to retreat to the sidelines and rethink strategy. The Head Coach knows the game plan.

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Gum Won’t Fix It

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Just so you know, gum won’t fix a decapitated snowman. Legend has it, on a slushy Christmas Eve, 1986, as two brothers tossed a football in the sleet and snow, Frosty’s distant relative (of the Styrofoam cutout clan) went for the interception and encountered a personal foul. The snowman’s head dropped into the receiver’s hands while the ball slid under the bushes.

Being the responsible teens that they were, the brothers attempted to re-head the snowman with the only adhesive available, chewed up bubble gum. Now, either it was really sticky gum, or it froze quickly in the twenty-eight degree night.

Daylight betrayed the boys’ blunder and exposed their cover-up. When the sun thawed the Bubblicious, the snowman’s head slid down his shoulder and rested on the broomstick in his hand. My husband and brother-in-law, the kids in question, learned then that God “brings hidden things to light” (Job 28:11b NIV), for “He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22 NIV).

Christmas morning, instead of tearing into ribboned boxes of cassette tapes and Atari games, the boys led their mom out to the yard. The snowman’s tilted noggin made her giggle. She wrapped her scarf around his neck to secure the gum repair, then stepped back and hugged her boys. Her gift of forgiveness was their most treasured present that year.

An errant pass broke the snowman, but sin, like the deception of hiding a wrong-doing, severs God’s children from the body of Christ. The world’s biggest gumball couldn’t begin to mend such separation.

Fortunately, the Christ child born in a manger two thousand years ago, who knew no sin, took on the sin of the world. He, the Bright and Morning Star, revealed the Truth. He did not conceal our transgressions; however, He washed them all away so that we may sparkle as new-fallen snow.

This Christmas, when you gather with loved ones, sipping hot cocoa and watching flurries flutter, remember to acknowledge your sin to the Father, for He did not blanket our iniquities but forgave the guilt of our sin (Psalm 32:5 NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Some Days the Fish, Some Days the Bait

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

My husband and brother used to fish together. Used to, that is, until one day when the bait nearly hooked the wrong fish.

The two men waded chest-deep into a small stream. My husband held his reel, flipped it back to cast, and heard, “Yeeeow!” He had smacked my brother in the cheek with a bloody chicken liver. Fortunately, the hook did not set. My brother, however, did back upstream another twenty feet.

“‘Come, follow Me,’ Jesus said, ‘and I will make you fishers of men’” (Matthew 4:19 NIV). My husband must have taken that verse literally. I have to wonder, though, if Jesus had told them they’d be the bait, would the disciples so quickly have bitten the hook? It’s easier to tell someone about Jesus with words than it is to live out faith. It’s a lot easier to stand in front of a large crowd and speak than it is to lose an infant daughter, suffer disease, watch your mother die, and proclaim your love for the Lord while maintaining your hope in Him. It’s way harder to smile through pain than to say, “Jesus died for you.”

Bait. When you can be the answer to the question of how a loving God allows bad things to happen, you are the bait.

When men cast lures into the water, they can’t see the fish. They can’t see the fish. When you are in the midst of a trial, you’re often too submerged in murky misery to see what you’re fishing for. In those times, pray God will remove the cloudy me-ness and make apparent those who are missing His message. Find them in their hiding places, like the bass among the branches. They are often hard to spot through the fog of, “I’m fine,” but they hunger for the healing that only Jesus can provide. Sometimes living out faith is the only way to catch and relieve a desperate soul.

Gently reel if you feel a tug. Offer sincerity, or you’ll break the line. Reveal God’s provision. Be the bait, meet the fish’s need, and you will demonstrate that God works all things for the benefit of those who love Him and allow His control.

May it not hurt to be the bait.

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.