Today, being Valentine's Day, I am compelled to write something about love. Just off the top of my head, I'd have to say that the woman I wed 29 years ago is more beautiful today than she was the day we married, and I love her more than ever. And here is the kicker: Wonder of wonders, I believe she feels the same about me. Whether I've written or sung a song, wrote a book, brokered a business deal, or told a joke, her response matters more to me than anyone else's. And I believe she looks to me more than anyone for her approval as well.

Love grows. Everything else dies. But love grows. Love doesn't stagnate or decline; it grows.

But Love dies for the one it loves.

Winners and Losers

Our natural tendency in a conflict is to plummet into a win/lose mode. We believe that in order to resolve the conflict to our satisfaction we must win and the other party must lose. The misfit simply wants to solve the problem. Whether the conflict begins with a critisism, accurate or inaccurate, and we defend ourselves and/or respond with a stronger reciprocal critisism, or whether in a business transaction we want to best the other party, we want to win at any cost. The misfit understands that a true or false accusation can be absorbed or rejected without further ado to no one's harm and in a business transaction both parties must feel like winners for the sake of productive future business dealings. Turning the other cheek is not the same as being a doormat.

What Price

Yesterday, I was sorely disappointed in a man whom I have highly respected. Because his ego was threatened he yielded to a temptation which will probably cost him is job if not his career. This morning, the day after, I am transitioning from disappointment to near-abject trepidation, for I too have a price for compromise. And I don't know what that price is. I only know that I will not be tempted beyond that which I am able to bear via the means of escape provided if I indeed choose the way of Truth.



How much would it take to misrepresent the value of a business in a sales transaction? How much much sexual gratification would it take to be unfaithful to a spouse? How desperately do I want to win a simple game of racquetball that I would not disclose a subtle double hit of the ball with my racquet? Whether the immediate payoff is big or small, we all have a price we may be willing to accept and one that we cannot decline. We will surely confront the former but never the latter. The misfit will leave his cloak in the arms of his temptress; thirty pieces of silver was enough for the betrayer of the ultimate Misfit, Who refused to compromise his very life, which He gave for all misfits for all eternity.



Lest we all despair, let us all remember this: No matter the price of our compromise, grace cost infinitely more and is worth infinitely more.

Talkin' to Myself

We talk to ourselves all day long in conscious thoughts and then again at night (or whenever we sleep) in subconscious thought--dreams. We plan for personal success, sometimes to the benefit of others, and too often, I fear, to the detriment of others. We think about how we can make life better for a loved one--or if we are really having a good day, an enemy--and our thoughts are pure, unjumbled. We think about how we can make our own lives better and we think right until an accusation rears its ugly head or someone else's welfare poses a barrier. Then we begin telling ourselves things that just aren't true.

The trouble really starts when we ask the wrong questions. And the worst one is, "Why?" That one usually assumes we didn't get what we deserve or we got what we don't deserve. I, for one, would be dead if either of those contingencies were true. Our default would be to ask, "How?" "Why" leads to blame, guilt, and punishment; "how" leads to resolution, hope and resurrection. "Why" is past and is over--doesn't exist; "How" is future and starts now--the only reality.

If I ask, "Why," and proceed down a trail of fantasy, I will certainly become lost. If I ask, "Why," and proceed down a trail of reality I am compelled to seek retribution, many times for myself, and that can be just as destructive. If, on the other hand, I ask, "How," I am compelled to seek a solution. (My personal solution is published in my first blog--"Ten Daily Declarations" of truth which remind me that what I'm saying to myself must be true).

Our Father, God, has provided us with the propitiation. He already knows why we lie to ourselves. Like Adam, when we fail, our tendency is to lie and blame someone. It's the human condition, and our Father remembers that we are made of dust. All we need to know is the solution--Jesus.

Being Special

When I was a child information was hard to come by. I remember an assignment in which I had to research a subject and all I had were the encyclopedias that my parents sacrificially bought for us. When I couldn't find the information I needed there, it was over. We lived in the country and the closest library was probably 45 minutes from home; besides it was probably closed by that time of night.

Nowadays, in order to find anything all you have to do is "google." On the other hand, in order to be found, you must be extremely special so that the seeker is targeting that "needle in the haystack." And, for the most part, being a misfit isn't enough; you'd need to be a misfit that is especially interesting.

I'm so glad our Father in heaven not only seeks misfits; he prefers misfits. And he is relentless in his pursuit of those he loves. Just ask Jonah. Just ask me.

Memorials

God has vested in all of us--including the misfits--a need to mark the significant events in our lives. Whether to celebrate or grieve, we find every occasion to memorialize. Birthdays, funerals, weddings, anniversaries, holidays, photographs . . . blogs--all efforts to preserve the past so we have something to cling to for the future, for all we have is here and now.

Today, my beautiful bride, Cheryl, and I celebrate our 29th wedding anniversary as well as our youngest daughter's wedding. In turn, the wedding arrangements have reserved a place for the grandparents who have departed and wait for alll of us in heaven. We will shed tears of joy and sadness for new beginnings, final chapters, and memories that will bolster our courage for future victories.

The last time

There's something about the last time for anything that just leaves us with a sense of incredible loss. Whether it's the last time we experience something good or even something bad we can never experience it again and it leaves us feeling desperately lost. The last time I saw my dad ("Pop"), we took photographs of him, me and my son--the three generations. I had this forboding premonition that it might be the last time I'd see him--I hope I was wrong--so we spent a good deal of time trying to retrace and record the family tree, which I know will be lost with him. Then we played and sang some old gospel songs. Pop was never happier than when he was making music or hunting. The last time we went hunting, I didn't realize it would be the last--Pop lost part of his leg--and I didn't savor the experience as much as I should have. I haven't gone hunting since then, which is pretty incredible since, as a child, I looked forward to the first day of hunting season like most kids look forward to Christmas.

Tomorrow, I will walk down the aisle with my youngest daughter and give her away--the last of my three children to get married. Oh, I know no one can really belong to anyone, but the preacher will ask: "Who gives this woman . . . ?" Whether it's a business, a photograph, or a relationship, God has graciously given us the capacity to attach, an ability without which we could never empathize. And once we've given our heart to something or someone we really can never get it back. So, while we may come into this world naked and leave this world naked something in the insula of our brain struggles with our responsibility to be good stewards of God's gifts, and we grieve our losses. I guess that's why the first beatitude Jesus uttered was: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." The person who has no capacity for loss has no capacity for love.