'Ode to a Big Green Cup

I have this huge green drinking cup on my desk at work.  It was one of a larger set that my wife donated to Goodwill because they, as she said, "are ugly."  That was a gloomy day in the Stith household for me.  I loved those green cups, mainly because they were so huge. I drink a lot of water and, well, they held at least two and half cups! Filling one of those babies saved me about three trips to the faucet.

Seeing my beloved cups sitting in a bag on the kitchen floor one morning, ready for donation, I was overcome with separation anxiety and did the unthinkable. Somewhere there is a family, one shy of a full set of beautiful, huge, green plastic cups.

For the past ten years -- could be more, I've lost count-- that cup has followed me through two job changes, each time taking it's honored place to the right of my computer monitor. It's been a faithful companion.

About two months ago, I noticed that my green friend had developed a small, almost invisible crack at the rim.   Because it was so small, I ignored it, thinking it was no big deal.  Sitting at my desk a few weeks later, having just filled my trusty cup to the brim with agua, I became alarmed to see a small puddle developing at it's base.  Turning the cup around, I noticed the almost invisible crack had developed into an inch and a half crevice. "I'm going to have to fix that," I thought to myself .  I quickly drank enough water to bring the level below the bottom of the breach and went on with my work.

That was five weeks ago.  Since then, the crack has steadily crept its way further and further down the side of my beloved green cup.  It's a shadow of what it once was.  Today, I can only fill it a little over half way full, not much more than a regular sized cup can hold.  If I had attempted to solder the crack when it first appeared, this may never have happened.  At this point, I'm not sure it's fixable.

In Ephesians 4:27 - 32 we read, "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil...Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you."

I realize the analogy isn't perfect.  After all, anger or bitterness toward a green cup is rather ridiculous.  I do confess, however, to having had some less than charitable thoughts when I absent-mindedly filled the cup to the brim and got water on my desk.  But you get the point.  

When cracks form in our relationships, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, we do everything we can to repair them immediately.  Left unattended, small cracks can turn into crevices. The level of love those relationships once held can begin to diminish, seeping out through unresolved hurts, perceived injustices or misunderstandings.

The sad truth is, relationships don't usually disintegrate because of one event. Rather, they are the culmination of months, maybe even years, of neglect. They are the end result of love taken for granted, care and concern never communicated, apologies never extended or hurts never healed.  Love, while it may be overflowing on the inside, if left unexpressed or purposely withheld during times of conflict, gradually separates even the closest of friends. It doesn't have to be that way.

Week after week, I watch the crevice in my cherished cup grow longer.  I know that eventually I'll have to send my dear inanimate friend to the great white dumping grounds, aka, the trash bin under my desk.  If only I had acted sooner. I'm not sure I'll ever find another quite as large, durable or reliable. They just don't make them like they used to. 

Maybe I'll try Goodwill.

Can We Skip to the Part Where I Care?

A few days ago, I passed a guy wearing a t-shirt with the message, "Can we skip to the part where I care?" My first reaction was to snicker, just a little. My second reaction was to think, "What a selfish jerk!" However, my third reaction was, "Hey, he's kind of got a point." Let me explain.

This past Sunday, I returned from a full and rewarding weekend in Big Sandy, Texas. I visited with church brethren, was treated to some amazing southern hospitality, and took in the very hot but beautiful East Texas countryside. Consequently, that Monday when I returned to work, I was excited to share my adventure. So, I did the one thing we humans do when we want attention-- feign momentary interest in someone else and then quickly switch the spotlight to myself. I asked a colleague, "How was your weekend?" Of course, I was hoping for a brief, "ahhh, it was good, how about yours?" Unfortunately, my plan backfired. He launched into a minute by minute recounting of everything he, his wife, children and the family dog had experienced that weekend. Apparently, I had made the mistake of picking someone who had a life.

I wasn't about to give up though. Seeing my opening somewhere after his third paragraph, I dove in with, "Well, at least you stayed cool. You wouldn't believe the weather in Texas...whew was it..." "Yeah, it wasn't too bad here," he butted in, "but you should have seen the..." and off he went again.

I listened politely for a few agonizing minutes until, catching a lucky break, his phone rang and he was forced to break off the conversation. Off I went, searching for someone else with whom I might share my experience. Ideally, someone who hopefully wouldn't have their own story to tell.

Okay, I realize I'm exposing a bit of personal carnality here. But, c'mon, you've all been there, right? Each of us, at times, gets so focused on our little corner of existence that we forget there are other people out there. People who have lives and experiences they care about just as much as we care about ours. Sometimes we forget that the earth doesn't stop spinning for other people when we leave the room. It's those times that being confronted by a message on a t-shirt that plainly, albeit rudely, tells it like it is from the perspective of those having to put up with our self-centered attitude, might actually do us a service.

Paul, writing to the Philippians tells them, "Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others." Philippians 2:3-4

It's a great idea in theory. Most of us can manage to look out for other peoples interests at least some of the time. But seriously, "esteem others better than myself?!" That's a pretty tall order, isn't it? That would require not only showing interest in the lives of others, but actually caring more about their lives than mine. How many of us really do that?

Well, come to think of it, there is one person who did.

Of all men who have lived, I'm sure we'd all agree that Jesus had the most amazing story to tell. Trip to Texas? Huh? Try a first class seat at the helm of the universe! Yet, with so much that He had to share with others, that's not what He led with. He came first and foremost ministering to the needs of others. He sacrificed His own needs, His own comfort, and ultimately His own life so that others could find meaning and purpose in theirs.

It's an attitude I wish I displayed more often than I do.

Wait a minute. I can.

Paul continues in Philippians 2:5-7, "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bond servant, and coming in the likeness of men."

That mind, that heart towards the needs of others can and should be in me. His mind in me should cause me to care about the things that He cared about. His primary care was directed, not inward toward the self, but outward toward others.

Our Lord's example is pointing us to a life lived outside the self, isn't it?

We live that life in a million little ways; sacrificing something we want so that we can contribute to someone who needs it more; directing our energy, skills, and our precious time to further other people's goals rather than our own.

Paul also tells us here that caring for the needs of others above our own needs is not something we can force. Forcing ourselves to love and care for others, when our heart isn't really invested, is an exercise in futility and a recipe for resentment. As Paul says here, we have to "let this mind be in (us)...". It's not something we force, it's something we allow. We have to allow His Spirit to work in us, filling us with His love so that we can share it freely with others.

Just imagine the day when His love will fill this earth and the hearts and minds all who inhabit it. There will certainly be much less taking and a lot more giving. Folks will be less focused on serving the self and more focused on serving others. And I'm not sure - it's just a hunch - but I'm guessing we won't see too many of those t-shirts around either.

The Ringtone of Truth

Several months ago I decided to change the ringtone on my cell phone. I had never really liked the default tone that was  on the phone when I purchased it but didn’t want to hassle with trying to figure out how to select something different. But one afternoon, finding myself with some time to kill and feeling adventurous, I decided I was ready for a change. I scrolled through the various options available, but none of them really appealed to me. They all sounded, for lack of a better word, a little too "new-agey."

I was just about to give up when I heard a tone that I knew was the one for me. It was the sound of an old fashioned telephone ringing. You know, from the time when phones used to hang on the wall with chords attached to them. "Vr..r..r..r..i..i..n..n..g..." Something about that ring just made me feel good. In the midst of our digitalized, techno driven world, this seemingly insignificant sound bite from the past spoke to me.

So, after a little trial and error, I successfully selected as my ring tone and didn’t think about it again. That is, until I sat at the airport gate waiting for my flight. Within the space of the hour or so, I heard my phone ring at least four or five times.  But each time I pulled it out of my pocket to answer, I discovered the ring wasn't coming from my phone, but from some other phone owned by someone among the mass of humanity swirling around me.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had found comfort in that familiar, old-fashioned ring. It could have just been an odd coincidence. But possibly, just maybe, it was more than that. Maybe it was a manifestation of one of those traits about being human that we all share. With so much changing around us, maybe that familiar ring spoke to a deep-seated need within all of us for consistency and stability. Maybe we're drawn to those things that, no matter how small or insignificant, give us a sense of grounding.

Hebrews 13:8 tells us that Jesus Chris is the same yesterday, today and forever.

In Malachi 3:6 we read "I am the Lord, I change not."

All around us economies are in turmoil. Wars and rumors of wars are sprouting from every corner of the globe. Forces are at work in our schools, the media and even in some of our churches to undermine many of the core values in which we believe.  As believers, how encouraging is it for you and I to know that there is one thing that never changes. There is one thing grounded solid bedrock.  Our God - His way, His love, the truth that is His Word - never changes. We don’t have to be, like so many in this world, anxious, fearful and insecure about tomorrow. In a world that is swirling with change, our feet are firmly planted.

I don't know about you, but I draw a lot of comfort from that knowledge. As we who read God's Word know, this world is only going to become more chaotic as the end approaches. People that don't know Him are going to become increasingly anxious and desperate as this physical system on which they depend crumbles around them.  You and I, having our feet firmly planted, will be in a unique position to lead them to solid ground.

I'm thankful that I don't need to rely on things that are passing away for consistency and stability. As the chaos and change in this world speeds up, I’ll cling to the things I know will never change.

I sure do like my new ringtone though.