Jordan and Sawyer, Two Lives, One Prayer

   It was a quiet walk around the 3 holes of our golf course this morning. No one playing, not even any mowers or grounds people moving about. Just me and the birds.

   A question was on my mind, and I wondered how Jordan Spieth woke up today with a green jacket on the hanger in his closet. I did not know the answer to that, but I did know what I wanted to do.

   I spent some of that early morning walk, praying for Jordan, and for his life.

   Now, I can't really know any more about him that what CBS portrayed and what the media has written (and will really put out today), but I was impressed with his style and demeanor on the course and in the Butler Cabin yesterday. I liked his smile and his family hugs. It was a "feel good" moment for all of us.

   I have a grandson who is the same age as the Master's Champion, and I would pray the same things for him as he leaves the known of college and goes out into the world of the unknown, of life with that degree.

   Neither of their paths will be the same in the future.

   I prayed for God's protection over their lives.

   I prayed that they would stay grounded in their family.

   I prayed that they would stay strong, and that the deception of sin and Satan would be known for what it is, and what it can do to a life.

   I prayed that both would seriously look for God's leadership in the decisions that they will be called upon to make.

   I prayed that God would bring into their lives, people who could counsel wisely, and who would live that wisdom out in front, and beside them.

   And I prayed that they would both find the joy that comes from serving their Creator, living in His will, and serving others in the process.

   Lives with promise. Lives with opportunity.

   What a time to be alive...

An Inmate On My Path...

   During the night I woke up from a dream, and this morning as I got out in the coolness, the story line was still there. It looked like this:

   I was somewhere I did not recognize; it seemed like a third world country. I had gone into this small school for some reason, and the teacher, who was also the local priest or pastor, came over to talk to me. He shared about his community and how they were destitute and suffering.

   All of a sudden my wife and I were in a room with a bunch of ladies trying to sell us something. One of these women presented us with a bill for $58 for something we had not even thought about buying. We saw the scam and refused to pay, getting up and leaving in a huff.

   In the dream, I walked outside into the street and looked around at all the poverty of the place. The thought hit me, and, indeed stayed with me as I woke up, what could I do to help these people? What was my responsibility to those that I saw in need? How could I even begin to help those masses of needy, in my dream place, or anywhere for that matter?

   As I sat and thought and prayed, I looked over and saw a letter on my table, one that had come a few days back from an inmate in one of our Georgia prisons. Even though I knew the individual, I had not responded. We had corresponded occasionally over the years since I had met him, but we were not close.

   He told about his life there behind bars, his attempts at getting a new trial, and his families' shunning of him in his situation. In reality, I guess he was just looking for someone to care.

   And there the letter sat, unanswered.

   It was as if God had moved my eyes toward that spot on my table. Sure there were masses of people around the world that had needs, but here was a man that was right in my face, and I did not respond. All I needed to do was look around, even sitting in my condo, on my couch. there he was.

   There are times when the masses of needs out there can paralyze us into inaction on the ones we can minister to in some way. I just needed to see what was right in my path and respond.

   Any inmates on your path?

A Memorable Day, For Sure...

   Sometime back in the previous century, probably around the late 70s or early 80s, a friend called me and said that he had an extra ticket to the Masters for the next day, and he also had plane transportation to and from Augusta. Could I go, he asked? My answer: "What time do I need to be where?"

   I thought about that trip to Augusta National as I looked at my computer this morning. This was Day One for the 2015 Masters, and I had been there for this day so many years ago.

   I can't really remember who won that year, or even which players I got to see, but I do remember the course, how green it was, how the azaleas colored the grounds, how the crowds were so hushed, almost reverent, how good the $1.00 egg salad sandwich was, and how thrilled I was to actually walk on such a course.

   In subsequent years, after we moved south, I have been able to go a couple of times, but always on a Tuesday, the practice round day before the opening of the tournament. It is always great to see the course and the players, but it makes a difference when you watch a golf shot being hit and know that the result actually counts.

   I remember, too, the special transportation we had that earlier day. We flew to Augusta that day on a Lear jet and flew home on a Beechcraft Queen Air. Not a bad way to get down and back.

   Thirty or so years later, these are the things that I most remember. All because of a friend's invitation to watch some golf on a beautiful day.

   I remember it fondly, I wonder if he does?

College Professor Wins Bowmanor Challenge

      In one of the premier NCAA basketball pools for the 2015 National Championships, a contest that draws contestants from all over the country, the winner for this year is a college professor at the University of Central Arkansas. Correctly calling the Duke Blue Devils win over the Wisconsin Badgers, she finished on top of the very competitive Challenge.

   The confinement of space for this blog post restricts me to the top ten finishers, but here they are in descending order:

1. A College Professor from Conway, AR
2. A Retired Pilot from St. Simons Island, GA
3. A High School Chemistry teacher and Track Coach from Cornelius, NC
4. An Eighth Grade Soccer Player from Blacksburg, VA
5. An Eighth Grade Math Wizard from Conway, AR
6. A Freelance Writer from Conway, AR
7. A College Professor from Blacksburg, VA
8. A Retired Middle School History Teacher from St. Simons Island, GA
9. A Fifth Grade Honor Student from Conway, AR
10. A High School Math Teacher from Blacksburg, VA

   The Bowmanor Challenge is an exclusive, invitation only, contest open to qualified individuals residing in the United States. For information on joining the group for the 2016 Challenge just comment on this post in the proper section. Applicants will be screened and notified in time for the 2016 contest.

   The 2015 winner will receive the Bowmanor Revolving Trophey along with a cash stipend donated by an anonymous donor, the amount to be determined.

   (Pictured above, from left to right, is A Fifth Grade Honor Student, the winner, and an 8th Grade Math Wizard)

   Congratulations to all who finished in the top 10, and the reporter apologizes for not having room for more. No persons were disqualified for shoddy workmanship this year.

Easter and Kenya

   Easter Sunday, 2015

   The crowds poured into and out of church yesterday morning. People were dressed in their finest, kids all looked great in new outfits and bright colors. The weather was absolutely beautiful and even the gnats were not too bad.

   The message was good, the music uplifting. It was a good Sunday to worship the Risen Christ and the life that He gives to those who believe.

   The contrast was striking with the news out of Kenya of the massacre of the 147 college age Christians by Islamic militants in the north of that country.

   I tried to imagine what the parents of the killed and the other students who knew them at that university were dealing with on this same Sunday.

   We get in the habit of thinking that all Christians, no matter their home country or area, are all in the same boat, and in some ways we are because of what we believe. But in so many places around our world, Christians are being singled out and persecuted for their faith.

   Persecution in those places is not just a degrading remark or a hard look, but physical harm and death.

   How would the American church fare in these kinds of attacks? How many of those people who only come on Easter and maybe Christmas would show up for services if a threat of death hovered over just getting out of the car to go inside? How about even those of us who show up every week?

   Jesus told his followers that as the world had persecuted Him, so they would be also.

   God, give us the strength that we read about in those lands overseas. May we be steadfast and true when and if it comes to us.

A Great Stuckness

   My thoughts as I walked this morning early were on the events of Easter, and particularly on the lives of those disciples of Jesus as they woke up and lived through Saturday, the day between the awfulness of the crucifixion  and the glories of Easter, a day they could not see yet.

   ?here was probably not a "one size fits all" type of reaction to the events of that Friday. It was certainly not a "good Friday" in their minds. They may have been emotionally drained, they may have wanted to stay in the bed and pull the covers over their heads, they may have spent this Sabbath Day worrying about what was ahead for them.

   In the words of the old golf saying, they were like "a lost ball in the high weeds".

   They were stuck in Saturday, a day they did not particularly want to live in.

   These 11 men, and the others who had been close to Jesus were stuck, like we were yesterday in Savannah.

   We were driving to some friends house for lunch, our lives moving along the expressway, when all of a sudden both lanes of traffic going east, stopped. There was only one road to get to our friends, and lunch, but we were in a great stuckness.

    Looking in the mirror, all I could see were cars sitting behind me. Ahead I could see two lanes of eastbound traffic sitting still, all the way to the bend where the road curved. What was the problem? What was beyond my vision?

   As the minutes ticked by, and the cars along with me inched forward, I did not know what we could do. "Just wait it out, I guess". Lunch was up there somewhere, but it was unknown to us at the time.

   Those disciples, if they ventured out of the house on that Sabbath, could see others going about their day, just as we could see cars heading west on that road, going about their business. They were not stuck.

   As we sat there, I'm sure there were people wondering about their shrinking gas supply. Were they scared? Were the disciples scared of what might happen to them on the morrow? Their hope gauge was sitting on E.

   We could see cars making U-turns, heading back to their lives before the jam, and giving up on their plan to get to the beach. Did some of the disciples think about that?

   Our problem was temporary, the traffic eventually moved, and we got to our destination. God was in control through it all.

   He was in control way back then on that first Easter weekend, too, but, to those followers of that Rabbi, Jesus, those hours between that dark Friday and that eye-opening Sunday must have been long and hard.

   They were in "a great stuckness".

   And we, like them, can joyfully say:

   "Thank God for Sunday"

 

 

5,000 Word's Worth

   If a picture is worth 1,000 words, this is a 5,000 word Spring essay.

Easy on the Eyes

and

A Short Read, Too