Who Stole My Pomp?

Can you begin to estimate how many times “Pomp and Circumstance” has been played recently? Around mid-May, the college graduations began.  High School graduations have dominated the past couple of weekends.  I remember the great wisdom my favorite son offered us after his High School graduation.  After having attended the three previous years as a member of the band, he said the best thing about graduating was not having to play “P & C” a hundred times (especially the boring series of quarter notes that made up the trombone part).

Anyone who has read my column for more than a week or two knows that, for the most part, I observe life, chuckle and/or groan, and then columnize about it. (I think I just made up a word.  I do that a lot, too).

I don’t attend many graduations anymore.  Having attended three of my own, those of my siblings and my offspring, and a few nieces and nephews, I am pretty selective on how much P&C my backside can endure.  But when I do, it is the response of the graduates’ families, not the graduates themselves, that gets my Spidey senses tingling.  Banners, cheers, whistles, air horns, tears … I wonder how many prayers were offered that this child would not drop out before graduation.  I wonder which one is the first in his family to graduate.  I wonder which one is the baby of her family and the nest is about to be empty.

I wonder if they give much thought to what they are graduating TO.

Speeches about the future abound, but in reality, those days celebrate what they are graduating FROM.  So, you are graduating  FROM High School … what are you graduating TO?  College … what then?  Grad school … then what? 

As trite and cliché as it sounds, the old saying is true, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”  And I will let you in on a little secret.  For most of us, there’s not a lot of pomp in our real world circumstances.  As one of my nieces, a recent college graduate, often laments, big girl world is not a lot of fun.

What you graduate TO is life.  The training wheels are off.  Landlords expect to get paid.  Employers expect effectiveness and efficiency. Sometimes you have to take the job you can get until you can get the job you want.  At some point, you may be tempted to ask, “Who stole my pomp?”

Life is not about pomp.  It is about purpose.  Our lives matter so much to God that Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”  That’s it.  Not a life of pomp, but a life of purpose.  You really can go out and change the world if you decide to make a difference in one life at a time.

Pomp?  You can have it.  The trombone line is boring anyway.

BAD-itude or GLAD-itude ... Our Choice

I confess to being an amused/amazed observer of social trends. It is both amusing and amazing to note that, as a wise man once said, “There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)  Anybody remember mini-skirts, hip-huggers, and bell bottoms from the first time around?  Seen any lately?

There was a time when the walls in our homes were decorated with little plaques with inspirational or humorous sayings.  Maybe some of them still are.  But that decorating trend has evolved into the digital age where the “inspirational” signs now adorn our Facebook walls and Pinterest boards. I put the word “inspirational” in quotation marks because I sometimes wonder what they are intended to inspire.

For example, I saw this on Facebook this morning: “Don’t get confused between my personality and my attitude.  My personality is who I am, my attitude depends on who you are.”  I wonder how many people liked it and shared it so that it now adorns their own wall.

Full disclosure requires me to admit that I have often taken this approach and let the actions of others determine my attitude.  It is easy to let others “make” us mad or frustrated.  It is easy to let the high-maintenance joy suckers in life “make” us want to throw them out a window.  We have also been the beneficiaries of those serendipitous moments when someone else’s encouraging or gracious personality has “made” our day.

So what’s the problem with the “inspirational” saying? Once again, there is nothing new under the sun.  It illustrates a problem that goes all the way back to the Garden of Eden.  Adam: “The woman … gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it.”  Eve: “The serpent deceived me and I ate.” (Genesis 3:12-13).  The problem is that we don’t want to take responsibility for ourselves. 

Follow this line of logic:  If the actions and attitudes of other people determine our attitudes (he “made” me so mad), and if our attitudes lead us to behave in a certain way (I snapped at the cashier at the store), and if our attitudes and actions affect those around us (the cashier responded rudely to the next person in line), we have all become a part of a vicious circle of “Bad-itudeness” for which none of us is truly responsible.  After all, the person who “made” me mad was previously affected by someone else.

Is that really the way we want to live?  How about this: I cannot choose my circumstances, but I can choose my response.  My attitude does not depend on who you are, it depends on who I choose to be.  If I walk away from you mad, you did not “make” me that way, I chose it.  I can also choose NOT to be that way.

Our lives matter so much to God that He gave us the ability to choose.  When I consider my life, I choose GLAD-itude.  How about you?

They Talk Funny Here

“They talk funny here.” That’s what Mrs. Sweetie told me the first time I took her to Alabama to a family reunion.  I reminded her that, since we were the ones from out of town, we were the funny talkers there.  

Did you know that in Alabama there are only 25 letters in the alphabet?  There is no R.  “Pass the buttah, please.”  In Texas, we vocally capitalize the R, even in the middle of the word.  That’s why the name Carl sounds like a two-syllable word. (If you are reading this in a public place, I hope you didn’t just embarrass yourself by trying that out loud).

I had an “Aha” moment during the worship service in the church I attended this past Sunday. Those moments should occur in church a lot more frequently than they do, but that’s another topic for another day. 

I was worshiping with one of our Hispanic congregations. I took three years of Spanish in school over 35 years ago and grew up in west Texas where there was already a large Spanish-speaking population, so I can understand enough to generally keep up with what is going on.  But I miss a lot, too.  On some of the songs, I may only catch a phrase or two before it’s over.

It was during one of those unfamiliar songs that I had my “Aha”.  I realized that I didn’t have a clue what they were saying, but I had joined my heart with theirs in the worship of our God.  I clapped along with the rhythm, hummed along in harmony, and raised my heart to God.  I did not have to like, understand—or even agree with—every word to join with them in spirit.

I had a similar experience in the Crimean city of Sevastopol about three weeks ago.  Except this time the service was in Russian and the only word I ever understood was the Russian word for God.  But I worshiped as they lifted their hearts and voices to their God and mine.

I got to thinking about the complaints I have heard from church-goers over the years.  Complaints because they didn’t like they style of music.  Complaints because they didn’t agree with everything the preacher said.  Complaints because they might agree with it, but they just didn’t like the way he said it.  Complaints because the service was too long or the thermostat was set too low or the sound system was set too high.  Complaints because … you fill in the blank. Sometimes one might get the impression that we think the worship service is about us.

Jesus once said, “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him.” (John 4:23)

Our lives matter so much to God that He is seeking us so that we can seek Him. Even if we talk funny.

My Red Solo Cup

Who would have ever thought a silly song about picnic supplies would be a major country music hit?  Oh yeah, it’s country music.  No insult intended.  Just an acknowledgement that if you can hit a down-home, regular old boy vibe with a catchy melody, you might have a country hit.  Every genre of music has its own sweet spot. 

I just watched the YouTube video of Toby Keith’s performance of this song on the recent Academy of Country Music awards show.  Over 1.7 million people watched this video before I did.  Crazy.

I don’t have any great affinity for any particular picnic implements although I do have a list of picnic essentials, based on my upbringing.  Probably most of the picnics I remember from childhood were meals that my Granny Lewis turned into picnics.  She always had Fritos, bean dip, and those little sweet gherkin pickles.  I have no idea what in the world a gherkin is, but if you don’t have them, you don’t have a picnic.

Granny Lewis went to be with Jesus and Grandpa in 1990, just about 4 months before my son was born. I have a few quilts and afghans that she made, but one particular item stands out.  It is a little neck pillow that she made for me when she was still able to sew.  I don’t remember at what point I started putting it over my face at night to block light, but for the past 30 years or so, I can’t sleep without something over my face.  Fortunately, Mrs. Sweetie hasn’t felt the need to put the big bed pillow over my face.

Granny’s little pillow began to look a little thread-bare a few years ago, so Mrs. Sweetie used it as a pattern to make me another one for every day use.  But I still carry Granny’s when I travel.  I looked at it on my recent trip to Ukraine and noticed that the fabric is now tissue paper thin, the cotton batting is in clumps, and it doesn’t block much light anymore. 

I got a little nostalgic thinking that the time is soon coming that I will have to retire it completely.  Toby Keith says the red solo cup is his friend.  I guess this little neck pillow is my red solo cup.  It reminds me of picnics, back rubs, and Granny’s tiny kitchen.

Last week I wrote about looking forward rather than looking longingly backward.  That doesn’t mean that memories are not precious and heritage is not important.  When I look back on how God used special people in my life to prepare me to be the man I am today, it makes me want to be sure that I am allowing God to use me in the lives of those around me.  Who knows what my future grandchildren will remember about me?

Our lives matter so much to God that He wants us to finish well.  Granny’s little pillow is my reminder.

AJ & Doris - My Newest Heroes

The latest superhero move, The Avengers, has broken all kinds of box office records over the past few days.  More than likely, my first viewing will be in a few months when I can watch it on pay-per-view from the comfort of my own recliner and hit pause for the necessary potty breaks. That was probably too much information.

During my recent trip to Ukraine with the Singing Men of North Central Texas, I met a couple who have become my newest heroes.  AJ and Doris Stroud are the parents of one the men in our group.  How rowdy this group must be when we have to have our parents go along as chaperones!

Seriously, this trip consisted of 95 singers, and another 70 or so wives and “mission partners”.  Their role was to do the real work of the ministry.  In other words, if it didn’t happen on stage, they were doing it--going out on the street to pass out concert invitations, serving as greeters at the concert venues, conducting English lessons with locals before each concert, praying through the concert, and distributing free CDs and Bibles (more than 8000 of them) at the exits at each concert.  All of these mission partners are the true heroes of a trip like this.

So what makes AJ and Doris stand out among all these heroes?  Well for one thing, they celebrated their wedding anniversary on this trip.  They could have gone anywhere in the world to celebrate their anniversary, but they chose to spend it sharing our ministry. 

But that is only part of the story.  What really makes them my newest heroes is that this wedding anniversary was their 67^th.  No, that is not a misprint. These globetrotting octogenarians have been sharing life, love, and mission for 67 years! 

I got to visit with them for just a few minutes on our last morning in Ukraine and I told them how they blessed and inspired me.  If the Lord is gracious enough to allow me another 39 years of marriage to Mrs. Sweetie, I hope that we will be still looking for new ways to serve Him together.

A modern version of Philippians 3:13-16 says, “Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward — to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. So let's keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us. If any of you have something else in mind, something less than total commitment, God will clear your blurred vision — you'll see it yet! Now that we're on the right track, let's stay on it."

Our lives matter so much to God that He doesn’t want us looking longingly backward.  AJ and Doris are already planning their next adventure with Him.

So am I.