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Alice and the Four Bears

It was almost time for the church service to start as we stood in our Sunday morning prayer circle at the altar. With hands clasped together, the various prayers went up one by one until it was my turn, as the pastor, to give the final prayer. I began, "Father, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. Help me not to do any of them today. . . "Except for a couple of chuckles and a hearty amen or two, I was left alone with my confession of stupidity.

Some may have thought I was trying to be cute, but I was extremely serious. It was one of those "naked moments" when we bare our souls for all to see who we really are. I'm not sure what had occurred that morning to cause me to ask God for such a thing, but it has become a regular part of my prayers ever since. Maybe it is age, or possibly wisdom, that has brought such insight into my life. Whichever it was, it was needed.

Stupid stuff. We've all been there haven't we? A friend of mine jokingly called it a "spirit of stupid" that comes upon us. Maybe the next time I preach I'll give an altar call for those with the "spirit of stupid". On second thought, maybe not. I'd probably be there for hours praying over people who lined up for deliverance from stupidity!

Did you know that David even had a problem in this area? Yes, even the mighty shepherd boy who became a king sometimes did stupid things. You don't believe me? Listen to his confession from Psalm 69, "O God, You know my foolishness." If I may translate his words for you, "Lord, You know the stupid things I've done." Remember, David was just a boy when God called him from a field of sheep to become a king, and boys do boyish things. Possibly, his father had been embarrassed by his daring more than once and that's why he, at first, didn't bother to call David from the field to meet with Samuel when Samuel was checking out Jesse's sons for kingship.

I'm sure that right now you're thinking of some foolish things that you'd like to erase from your past. I know there are some that I'd like to erase from mine. Why, there was this time . . . never mind! When I look back over my life, I wonder, "How in the world did some people put up with my foolishness?" If I could erase the moments, the hours or the days that I did stupid things, instead of fifty-four, I would only be around forty something. Okay, maybe only in my thirties. The point is, I'd be a lot younger with those times missing from my life.

On one beautiful Florida day, I stood before the morning class I taught each Sunday at my church in Sopchoppy. I was the pastor of the church and this was the adult Sunday School class. I can't remember a single subject that I taught them, but I'll never forget that moment of revelation. With her frail hand raised into the air, she spoke softly, "Pastor Chris, I have a problem with the four bears." I stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights with no idea what to say. So, confused I asked, "Mrs. Alice, what four bears?" She replied with a grin that can come only from an aged lady of her fine quality, "You know the ones the Apostle Paul talked about." Still confused, I stepped into the trap. "Mrs. Alice, Paul never talked about any bears." And then it came. "You know Pastor, where he said 'forbear one another'." Apparently the other "old timers" knew what was coming as their laughter was aimed at the "kid" teaching them about life. Mrs. Alice had crossed the seventieth year hurdle of life, and I was the ripe ole' age of twenty-two.

Looking back now I suspect that my foolishness at this age, and being her pastor, I was the one that she often had to "forbear." Don't think so? Now tell me, how many pastors have you known that drove a Dodge Demon with Monroe air shocks, Headman Headers, traction bars, wide back tires and side pipes to church each Sunday? The kids loved it! The ole' folks, I'm sure, had to "forbear" as their pastor bounced down the dirt road with pipes rumbling.

Yes, I confess, I've done some stupid things in my life, and I'm sure that there are more of those moments to come. My only hope is that God will grant to those around me the grace to "forbear".

How about you?

And that's just a thought . . .

My Final Word . . .

What a fine lady Mrs. Alice McKenzie was. She didn't speak often and when she did, she spoke very softly. Her smile was unforgettable, as was her charming nature. There are some people who come across our lives, and they leave a wonderful impression on us. Mrs. Alice, for me, was one of those very special people.

I will forever remember the lesson of the four bears, and I agree with Mrs. Alice, often the "forbears" are the hardest for me to deal with in my life. There will always be people who challenge us to live like Jesus. One Bible version says, "We then who are strong ought to bear with the scruples of the weak, and not to please ourselves." I wonder, how often has Jesus called upon me "not to please" myself with a reaction to someone else but, to bear with their "scruples"?

Lying at various places around our house, I have placed several small rocks, and on each rock is a verse that reminds me that it is the person without sin who should cast the first stone. Certainly, I don't qualify for stone casting, but oh what a challenge it is sometimes! Each time I want to throw a stone, I'm reminded that I've also done a lot of stupid things and, to expect grace, I must give grace.

As David said, "O God, You know my foolishness." I think sometimes God smiles, or even laughs at the crazy things we do, but then there are those times when I'm sure He wonders, "What in the world were they thinking!"

After picking my grandson up from school the other day, I decided to help my daughter out a little by encouraging him to cooperate with his mom in the mornings as they prepare to leave the house. His excuse, "But when I go to sleep at night my brain turns off and when I wake up in the morning I don't have enough power to turn it back on!"

Maybe that's an excuse I can start using when I do stupid things, "My brain was turned off and I didn't have enough power to turn it back on!" Think it'll work?

Father, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. Help me not to do any of them today!

Chris

Potty Chair Grace

Have you ever potty trained a little one? I've not had the distinct privilege of doing it all alone, but I've helped a little here and there along the gruesome process. Nothing like stinking diapers, missing the target on the potty chair or just plain laziness on the part of the trainee to mess up what would otherwise have been a good morning's cup of coffee. I've heard that boys are harder to potty train than girls, wonder why? Devin, our grandson, was just three and all boy when it came to things like this. But I'm getting a little ahead of the story, so let me digress.

It all started on a deer hunting trip to the mountains with a good friend of mine, Mark. We took a break from the hard work of hunting to visit the Knothole, a craft store nestled into the mountains of western Maryland. While making a bathroom visit I saw it! No potty chair would ever compare to this work of art! With a bear for the back, cutout hearts in various places, a toilet paper holder and of course what every little man needs, a book rack! It was the potty chairs of potty chairs! Well, how could I resist such a piece of artwork? Can you picture two grown bearded men dressed in full camos with that, "I've been in the mountains a few days" look walking out of a craft store carrying a wooden potty chair?

With no deer in tow I entered our house declaring with great pride our first grandchild's first potty chair! "How much did it cost?" she asked. "Just a mere $64. What a bargain!" My wife now leaves me in the truck when she goes "crafting" as they call it these days.

Now, back to Devin's great adventure. It was during a period of time when I was the designated daytime watcher (baby sitter) that I helped with what every little guy has to learn, how to do the job. For weeks I extended to him all the grace I could muster! I praised him when he did it! I politely corrected him when he failed. I never gave up on him knowing that sooner or later he'd make it. My heart was filled with grace for the little guy. While I don't have memories of my journey through this difficult process of my life as a child, I think I still have emotional scars! So, I gave him grace.

Then that fateful night came. It was bath time and somehow with two other women in the house, mom and grandma, I was elected to give him his bath. Just so you'll understand the complexity of this process for an overweight guy of my age; our bathroom is a little small. I've been known to say that it's a cross between a coffin and a phone booth! Scrunched down between toilet and tub, my knees begin to ache. I needed something to sit on while getting the grime off this squirming fussing little ball of determination. Then it came to me; just sit on the potty chair. Somehow I don't think the builder of this work of art had this in mind when he designed it. Who would know that my $64 potty chair could split into so many parts? I gathered up the broken pieces that scattered across the floor while two little beady eyes watched with horror from the edge of the tub. Can you imagine the emotional scars left on him as he watched Pop Pop go prostrate across the wet bathroom floor; arms flinging in the air for something to grab!

Now the dilemma, how would I explain my sin to the two women of the house? After all, "it was just an accident," I kept telling myself. It could have happened to any 200+ lb guy like me! While trying to make an informed decision on the matter it happened before I could blink an eye. Bare-chested, bare feet slapping the floor, a Snuggie pull-up making that swishing sound that only they can make, he broke for the door! Like an 18th century crier walking the streets of Boston, he proclaimed loudly throughout the house, "Pop Pop broke potty chair! Pop Pop broke potty chair! Pop Pop broke potty chair . . ." Over and over it went until both women appeared at the bathroom door to behold me standing wet with bathwater holding the remaining pieces of my precious potty chair.

I was emotionally wounded, embarrassed, hurt and extremely disappointed in myself for my sin and there he stood, his little finger pointing at me! After all the grace that I had given him week after week of stinking diapers, there he stood pointing at ME! AT ME! How could he have given me up so easily! All I wanted was a little grace. Didn't I deserve it? After all, who had wiped his bottom when he had an "accident?" I felt betrayed, let down by a fellow grace receiver!

Grace! It's wonderful to receive, sometimes difficult to give. Have others given you a second chance when you fell? Did they "cover" your sin for you? Maybe you've been given grace more times than you care to remember right now, but you have difficulty giving it to others. After all they're guilty aren't they? There they stand dripping wet with the broken pieces cradled in their arms. You know they did it; it's perfectly obvious isn't it?

Rather than declaring it before the world why not just give them a hug and let them know, "its ok Pop Pop, you can fix it." After all, a little grace goes a long way!

And that's just a thought . . .

At that point Peter got up the nerve to ask, "Master, how many times do I forgive a brother or sister who hurts me? Seven?" Jesus replied, "Seven! Hardly. Try seventy times seven.

Matthew 18:21-22 (MSG)

And above all things have fervent love for one another, for "love will cover a multitude of sins."

1 Peter 4:8 (NKJV)