Devotional Thoughts

D.R. Valdosta: Miss Cooky

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Miss Cooky (with a y) Lundy has seen a lot in her 83 years—she’ll be 84 on Halloween. The Senior Saint has endured open heart surgery, the installation of a pacemaker, blood sugar issues and, two years ago, a broken leg. Ever since Covid arrived, she’s felt the need to listen to worship services on her car’s radio while sitting in the church parking lot. She’s estranged from her only child, two grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren, and lost her beloved husband Paul eight years ago. 

Her scars run even deeper. According to Jenna Fairbrother, a first-time volunteer with the Churches of Christ Disaster Response Team (DRT), Miss Cooky carries considerable baggage. “I was blessed to spend the day with Miss Cooky—my first DRT assignment. She’s originally from Fort Pierce, Florida. She and her twin were the youngest of six siblings, but her twin died at nine months, around the same time as her father. She never knew either of them. She was abused by her mom and grew up thinking the wrong twin had died. Her mother didn’t push back on that narrative and said young Cooky ‘wasn’t valuable.'”

Miss Cooky’s low self-esteem improved some when she fell in love with and married Paul Lundy, the love of her life. Their relationship was partly motivated by Cooky’s desire to get away from her family who wanted to have her committed. Paul was a trucker and the mechanically-minded Cooky helped him maintain his semis. Their first few years were rough because, as Cooky puts it, “He didn’t know how to love me. That took time.”

The two moved from Florida to Valdosta, Georgia, nearly 40 years ago and purchased a house that was built in 1863. All of its pieces were hand cut and her husband remodeled the home—added plumbing, installed a bathroom, and made other improvements. The couple lived there together for over 30 years, secluded in a forest, and filled the place with memories. Sadly, he died eight years ago and Miss Cooky’s world was once again turned upside down.

“I used to sit on the front porch and watch the road, waiting for my husband to come home. And finally, I had to tell myself, ‘Cooky, he’s not coming home. He’s gone. You’ve got to get your life together and go on with it.’”

Cooky’s attempts to move on with her life were dealt another blow when Hurricane Helene roared through town on Friday, September 27, 2024. Helene, the deadliest hurricane to strike the mainland U.S. since Katrina in 2005, took the lives of 228 people (and counting) in the United States, including 33 in Georgia. In Valdosta, terrifying winds of 100+ mph ripped off roofs, mangled metal, and tore up signs. More than 115 structures were severely damaged or destroyed.

Sadly, Miss Cooky’s home was not spared. The awful storm dropped a 42-inch-wide tree on top of her house, crushing her kitchen. The impact destroyed her roof and drove some of the piers that hold up her house deeper into the ground. She was home at the time but, thankfully, God spared her life. 

In the immediate aftermath of the storm, Miss Cooky once again became depressed. No one from her local congregation showed up to help her. (In their defense, the storm knocked out power and wreaked havoc on nearly everyone, so there was a lot of scrambling going on in those first couple of days.) Eventually, an unnamed team arrived to remove the tree and jack up the floor beams to level the house again.

She also heard through the grapevine that the Churches of Christ Disaster Response Team was helping storm victims in the area. When she heard that they could rebuild her kitchen and roof for free, she assumed it was a scam. She contacted a member of her church family who did some research and concluded DRT was legit.

John Albright, a DRT Coordinator for the past eight years, visited Miss Cooky with the necessary paperwork and got a tour of her damaged home. He told her, “We can do this, and it won’t cost you a thing. I’ll have the lumber here tomorrow and will line up a crew. DRT can tear down that wing of the house and rebuild the kitchen and roof and make it whole again.”

Miss Cooky frowned. She explained that her late husband had put his heart and soul into that home. It was, in a sense, an 1860’s shrine to him. It represents him in a very real way to her. She didn’t want anyone removing the remnants of her kitchen. That would be like taking her husband away again.

The DRT crew arrived a couple of days later and determined that they could save her walls. They chained those walls to a truck and pulled them forward to attach to new beams. They added new braces and ceiling joints. In the end, the DRT crew saved two-thirds of the original walls, clapboard siding, and even the square vintage nails. Seeing the finished product, Miss Cooky was more than a little chipper.

She told John, “Before the storm, I was feeling depressed and helpless and down. And y’all just showed up out of nowhere. My friends are telling me that what I’m seeing is an outpouring of love from God and I need to recognize it. Y’all are just like angels God has sent to me. You have healed my body and healed my mind and I feel so much better… because you guys are here helping me.”

John, recalling a devo that morning from Ephesians 2:10, told her, “Miss Cooky, we are God’s workmanship—His very best creation. He was at the top of His game when He made humankind. And He made us for a purpose—to do good works, which He has prepared in advance for us to do.” About that time, a gentleman from Miss Cooky’s church stopped by to donate to DRT. “Y’all are helping Miss Cooky, so we want to help you.” Another unexpected blessing in a week full of them.

After spending time with Miss Cooky, Jenna said, “DRT taught her how to give and receive love. Before that, she was only good at giving love. I can relate to that. I have my own family baggage, and I’m in therapy… I don’t mind you sharing that. I’m working through the 12-step program. One of my issues is allowing myself to receive love. I’m better at dealing with other’s trauma and emotions than my own. Maybe God called me to serve in Valdosta so I could meet, encourage, and be encouraged by Miss Cooky.”

John added, “Prior to the storm, she felt worthless. We have touched this woman and we have brought her back from the emotional brink and that is so much of what we want to do. The devo that morning gave me just the right words to say to her. That’s not coincidence. That’s God at work. And He’s at work all the time. I’m telling you, Steve, God’s at work here and it’s super obvious to me. You can’t mistake it.”

Another DRT group from Pennsylvania visited Miss Cooky and learned that her refrigerator was malfunctioning. She said, “Even before the storm, it wasn’t working right. After a few days, my food got slimy. I haven’t been eating too much.” She told Jenna she had lost 15 pounds over the past few weeks. She apologized for not having her teeth in because her dentures no longer fit her mouth. So, the Pennsylvania team bought her a new refrigerator and a hot plate. Problem solved.

Cooky & Jenna

John, tearing up, commented, “These are the things you hope for. I come here and pray and ask God for things, but I don’t always see the results. The people we help may not have an epiphany until later, if at all. She’d been real upset—thought her church had forgotten her. Thought the world had forgotten her. Thought she had no value. I think we helped change that perspective and that’s about as rewarding as it gets. As I said goodbye to her…” John wiped his eyes again and gathered himself. “She handed me a memento—a square nail from her home.”

Before Jenna departed, Miss Cooky asked her, “Is it too late for me?”

“No, ma’am. You can always learn to receive love—I’m learning that lesson now, just like you. It’s hard to fill another person’s cup from an empty cup.”

“I’m almost 84 and alone. Do you think I still have a purpose?”

“I know God has a purpose for your life, Miss Cooky. There’s a reason he spared you from that storm. Just today, you’ve had a wonderful impact on me.”

Miss Cooky looked around at her new kitchen and wiped tears from her eyes. “Look at my castle, just look at it. But Paul’s not here to enjoy it.”

“That’s true,” Jenna replied. “But you get to enjoy it. You deserve this house. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not valuable. You are more than worthy.”

Hurricanes and other storms often bring death and destruction. But out of the devastation, God’s blessings emerge. James 1:2-4 reminds us, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

I suspect, this week, Miss Cooky, John, and Jenna grew in their faith, becoming more steadfast, perfect, and complete. Even in a storm, God is faithful.

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Becoming Like a 1st Grader

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Last week I had the opportunity to substitute teach a classroom full of 1st graders at a local Christian school. My wife said I was crazy for taking this on—a “glutton for punishment.” She’s not wrong. Signing up to teach and corral 19 six and seven-year-olds on their first full week of school is fraught with danger. It’s eight hours of non-stop instructing, correcting, and keeping your head on a swivel. At the end of each day, I wanted to lie in a fetal position on the floor of my bedroom closet and not talk to anyone or answer any questions. By Friday afternoon, my appreciation for full-time teachers was at an all-time high. They are underpaid and underappreciated.

Still, it was an amazing week. In Matthew 18:3, Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” High stakes—He’s got my attention. But what does He mean by that? His charge, on the surface, sounds counter-intuitive. Shouldn’t 1st graders strive to become more like you and me? Perhaps in some ways. But this week reminded me of how much I can learn from a 1stgrader…

1st Graders are dependent on others and know it. These young people are at the mercy of their parents, teachers, and others to provide for them and sustain them. For 450 minutes each day last week, they humbly came to me for help tying shoes, opening milk cartons, microwaving chicken nuggets, making capital letters, and a hundred other tasks. They trusted me to do the right thing and help them solve each challenge. Similarly, God wants us to totally rely on Him. Too often, I strive for self-sufficiency. I pat myself on the back for some achievement, forgetting that every talent and ability I have comes from God. Apart from Jesus—the vine—I am nothing. (John 15:5) I need to empty myself, trust God, and humbly ask Him to fill me and sustain me. Without Him, I’m left with untied shoes and unopened milk cartons.

1st Graders are vulnerable and transparent. On Monday morning, the second day of school, I asked the students to complete a “First Day Feelings with Chester” chart. One by one, they indicated whether, on day one, they were mostly “Excited,” “Happy,” “Sad,” or “Scared.” Eleven of the 19 students, over half the class, admitted to being either “Sad” or “Scared.” Several commented that they missed their parents or were nervous about what to expect on the first day of a new school year. I appreciated their honesty and vulnerability. Too often, when someone asks how we’re doing, we say, “Fine,” even when things are not fine. We put on our happy faces, especially in church settings, and rarely ask for prayers or help. Here’s the problem: I can’t bear your burden (Galatians 6:2) if I don’t know what burdens you, and you can’t do the same for me. Whenever things are not “fine,” a 1st grader will let you know. Let’s learn from them and get the prayers and support we need.

First Day Feelings

1st Graders are loving. Oh, sure, there were moments of unkindness—not sharing or not including someone in a game at recess. But there were far more moments of kindness. As they lined up in the hallway waiting for their turn at the restroom on Tuesday, one young lady informed me that her friend was sad. Sure enough, there was another young lady in line with her head down, crying. I hadn’t noticed her but her friend had. She trusted me to investigate and do something to remedy the situation, which I did. Do we notice hurting friends? Do we do something to help them or involve someone who can? Do we pray for them? Becoming like a child involves having the sweet, caring heart of a child. 

1st Graders are curious and eager to learn. I love the joy on a child’s face when they work hard and finally figure something out. These young people watched and listened intently as I illustrated on the smartboard how prayer is us talking to God and reading the Bible is God talking to us. Later, one girl proudly and correctly used the word “cooperation” in a sentence—a word we had learned that morning. As I asked them questions after each page of a picture book I read to them, every hand went up. Without prompting, most of them thought to grab their little Bibles before going to chapel. Throughout the week, they listened, learned, and wanted me to know that they had learned. Do we have that same attitude toward Bible study? Do we hunger and thirst for righteousness? (Matthew 5:6) Or, in the realm of religion, are we content that we already know all that we need to know? I need a 1st grader’s eagerness to never stop learning, especially about God.

1st Graders are quick to rejoice and quick to forgive. We had a lot of fun last week. I’m finding I often relate more to children than adults—I don’t know what that says about me! I taught these children a class chant. Whenever I said, “Booga, booga, booga!” they said, “Ah, ah, ahhhh!” (I learned that at Air Force basic training.) I let them rename me for a day, and they chose “Mr. Chicken Head”—which caused more than a little confusion when one parent asked her child who taught them that day. At recess, I sat in the grass with a dozen girls and told them fanciful stories that I made up on the fly. They giggled when I informed them that Elf on the Shelf, during the off-season, lives in the pipes under the bathroom. I told them about Santa getting stuck in the chimney on Christmas Eve at “Molly’s” house, but Molly couldn’t hear him because she was snoring. Molly raised her hand and informed me that it couldn’t have been her because she had surgery to remove her adenoids. I stand corrected. We took a hike around the campus, turned over rocks, and chased butterflies. With each discovery and each story, the children laughed. They were full of joy. And when a classmate said or did something unkind to them, they were quick to forgive and move on as if nothing had happened. Do we rejoice in the Lord always? (Philippians 4:4) Do we still marvel at the amazing things in God’s creation? (Psalm 19:1) Do we forgive one another, as the Lord has forgiven us? (Colossians 3:13) I’ve got some work to do. 

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

I get it now.

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Devotional Thoughts

Staying on Track

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“Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.”  – 1 Thessalonians 5:11

David Schilling, a local youth minister, stepped onto Knoxville Christian School’s gymnasium floor to conduct chapel. As impressionable students looked on, he retrieved a beach ball and unrolled 30 feet of butcher block paper. He invited his son, a student at the school, to attempt to roll the beach ball the entire length of the paper without it going out of bounds. His son’s first attempt rolled halfway down the paper and then veered off to the left. His next try went two-thirds of the way and then faded off to the right.

Despite his son’s lack of success in completing the challenge, David made the task even more difficult. Halfway down the paper, he tore it in two and put the second half of the pathway at an angle. Unfortunately, his son’s third try was his worst yet. His ball was unable to negotiate the turn and once again went off course.

Life is like that. With all the twists and turns, staying on track seems impossible. There are temptations and bad influences all around us. We face unanticipated hurdles and roadblocks. In 2 Timothy 4:7, the Apostle Paul tells us, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” As difficult as it is to stay on the straight and narrow path, how can we follow his lead and finish the race?

With his son holding the beach ball at the starting line, David invited the entire 1st-grade class to join them on the gymnasium floor. He distributed about a dozen pool noodles to these students and asked them to sit along both sides of the butcher block paper—his son’s path. On his son’s fourth attempt, the beach ball went straight for several feet, and started to veer, but was kept on the path by an eager first-grader clutching a pool noodle. At the tricky turn, another student used an elbow to redirect the ball and keep it on course. To the cheers of the delighted crowd, the ball eventually crossed the finish line, and David’s son raised his fist in victory.

The note from the margin reads: The Christian journey is too difficult to travel alone. Christians need fellow Christians armed with elbows and pool noodles to help keep them on the path of faith. Those nudges are necessary though not always pleasant or appreciated at the time. Other times, Christians need to be the ones offering encouragement to help a friend finish the race. Today, let’s grab our proverbial pool noodles and look for someone to encourage and nudge along to the finish line.

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Devotional Thoughts

No Denying

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“For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” – Romans 1:20

Do not let the things you cannot understand overwhelm the things you cannot deny.

Electricity is fascinating to me. In high school Science, we studied the attraction of protons and electrons. A colorful diagram showed electrons moving around. Somehow, that energy moves to conductive wires and travels into our homes and businesses. I can’t explain it. If you handed me the necessary supplies, I couldn’t replicate it. Though I don’t fully understand the wonder of electricity, I can’t deny it. Evidence of its existence is all around me.

Yawning is another puzzling phenomenon. There is no universally agreed-upon theory for why we yawn, even though we all do it. Our best scientists have also been unable to prove why yawning is contagious. When we see someone yawn, we tend to follow suit. Though I don’t fully understand yawning, I can’t deny that it’s real.

There are plenty of things I don’t fully understand in the realm of religion and faith:

  1. How was Jesus fully human and fully divine at the same time?
  2. What exactly will Heaven be like? What will we do all day?
  3. How does God’s providence work? Why does He seem to answer certain prayers but not others?
  4. Why do we still feel guilty after repenting?
  5. How does our triune God function as three persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit?

My inability to fully answer these questions and many others doesn’t disprove the existence of God any more than my ignorance of electricity and yawning disprove those realities. The note from the margin reads: From the precise design of the universe to the intricacies of the human body, God shouts his existence. I see Him in fulfilled Bible prophecies, complex DNA code, innate moral law, and newborn babies.

Electricity exists. Yawning happens. God is real. There’s no denying these things. Do not let the things you cannot understand overwhelm the things you cannot deny.

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Devotional Thoughts

Souls on Fire

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“Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire.” – Jennifer Lee

Reach One, Teach One (R1T1) and Mi Esperanza—two missions we support in Honduras—are, on the surface, very different. They have different missions and address different underlying problems in Honduran society. However, in addition to being faith-based, they have another thing in common. Dalton Hines and Lori Connell, the respective founders and leaders, are dealers in hope. In myriad ways, they help the men and women of Honduras develop marketable skills, a sense of purpose, and hope for the future. Hold that thought.

Dalton and his R1T1 Crew
Lori and friends

Forty-one years ago, Jennifer Lee was a miserable middle-schooler with divorced parents. She was, by her own account, “Always a mess. Stains on my clothes… knots in my hair… chubby. I was born into a very modest life. I was a kid with ADHD, terrible in school. I don’t think people ever thought I could amount to anything.”

Jennifer’s life raft was a VHS tape of Cinderella, rewatched daily for its pep talk in perseverance. “Cinderella was bullied severely and I was bullied. But she stayed true to herself, even when it was really hard. Something about the concept of fighting through it helped me. I think a lot of us get knocked down often, over and over again, in our lives.”

According to Catherine Shoard in The Guardian, “After a few stumbles, Lee ended up in New York with a job in publishing, a postgraduate degree in film, and a young daughter. When Agatha was seven, they decamped to Hollywood so that Lee could do rewrite work on the script for Disney’s Wreck-It Ralph. Two months turned into 12 years; today, Lee is chief creative officer at the company where she once temped. She won an Oscar for Frozen in 2014, which also made her the first woman ever to direct a film (which she also scripted) that made more than $1 billion.” 

How do you go from a young, bullied Cinderella fan to a billion-dollar boss at Disney? You work hard and you never lose hope. Jennifer lived her famous quote, which undergirds our theme for this year’s mission trip: “Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire.”

The Apostle Paul had that fearlessness. In Ephesians 6:19-20, he writes, “that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.” Paul could have asked for many things, including release from prison and creature comforts. Instead, his heart and mind were focused on his responsibility to be an ambassador of the gospel. He wanted to share the Good News boldly and clearly. Through words and deeds, Paul’s fearlessness and hopefulness were on full display. Throughout his ministry, Paul’s soul was on fire.

Our goal on these mission trips is not to turn the people of Honduras into billionaires. No, we’re striving for something far more ambitious and significant. We’d like to see more Hondurans become self-supporting, productive members of society and, ultimately, Christ followers. That same goal has Dalton and Lori in a lifelong pursuit of what sets their souls on fire. They are fearless dealers in hope. 

We should be too.

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Devotional Thoughts, Uncategorized

Going Home

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My friend Tee Bolen is no stranger to poverty. His mom passed away when he was two, at which point his dad moved away to Columbia, SC, and his three siblings and a half-sister were farmed out to various families. Three ended up in orphanages. His grandmother insisted young Tee live with her, and for the next 17 years, they moved at least 17 times. 

“We had no income. We would be evicted from one place and move to another, sometimes back into an earlier place. We were destitute. Everything was a struggle. I remember waking up in the morning and seeing exposed ground through the gaps in the floorboards. We didn’t have anything—only each other. We survived by picking cotton in the cotton fields. I couldn’t provide for us until I turned 12 and got a job in a shoe repair shop. Steve, I know what being dirt poor is like. I’ve been there.”

Now grown and in the final quarter of his life, Tee’s been blessed with a Christian family, Christian friends, and a comfortable standard of living. Driven by his childhood memories, a love for God, and compassion for his fellow man, he is determined to “pay it forward.” He wants to lessen the burden of others in need. For the second consecutive year, Tee and his wife Mary paid for a home to be built for a poverty-stricken person or family in Honduras. When I start to shower praise on Tee for his generosity, he cuts me off.

“Listen, this isn’t about me. This isn’t even my money. This is God’s money. He’s entrusted it to me for a short while, and I think He’s curious what I’m going to do with it. Well, let me tell you what I’m not going to do—keep it all to myself and build bigger barns. Not when there are people around me in need.” 

A desire to “pay it forward” isn’t Tee’s only motivation for donating a home. His friend, Jewel Clifton, is nearing the end of a long battle with cancer.

Two months ago, Tee told me, “Jewel is a dear Sister in Christ. She’s frail and will be getting her heavenly reward soon. I want this house to be built in her honor. As she prepares to move into the room Jesus has prepared for her, someone she’ll never meet will move into an earthly home in Honduras. I doubt Jewel will live long enough to see the home built this summer in her honor, but she’ll know it is coming. I hope that brings her comfort.”

When I informed Dalton Hines, our full-time missionary on the ground in Honduras, of Tee’s donation and Jewel’s situation, his response was immediate. Rather than wait for the summer rotation of mission teams to build the house, Dalton and his local construction crew would complete the project within two weeks. Even better, they would use the project to create a house-building instructional video for future TORCH mission teams to use.

Dalton wasn’t done yet—his brain never rests. He’s as attuned to the needs of others as anyone I’ve ever met. He’s also extremely capable and resourceful—Central America’s MacGyver. On any given day, you’ll find him vetting future homeowners, stocking a tilapia farm, installing a water filtration system for a poor community, or mentoring his young students to build like carpenters and live like Christ.

Dalton suggested his team build the Tee Bolen-donated home for Israel, a 29-year-old Honduran. Although TORCH Missions typically builds homes for families, not older single guys, Israel’s situation is unique. His parents abandoned him as a boy and he is, for the most part, uneducated and borderline special needs. For many years, he bounced around, seemingly unloved. He was homeless—a classic poor beggar, struggling to survive.  

When Israel was 8 years old, he became friends with Christian, whose family agreed to take him in. That was his first big break. Later, as an adult, Israel was allowed to stay in a room on the family compound. Still struggling on many levels, he paid a modest amount for rent but was unable to fully provide for himself or get ahead. Christian’s family continued attending to Israel’s physical and emotional needs with love and acceptance. They are, to him, the eyes, hands, and feet of Jesus. They are the only real family he’s ever had. Their son Christian eventually went to work for Dalton, which would turn out to be Israel’s second big break.

While Dalton and his expert construction crew can build a home for someone in about four hours (three if they’ve had coffee), they took their time on Israel’s new house. The construction lasted several days, with Dalton narrating each phase of construction to the camera for the benefit of future TORCH teams. Over the course of several nights, Israel slept on the building materials to prevent theft. Having been homeless for so many years, he was comfortable being alone, staring into the night sky. I can only imagine what went through his head as the prospect of becoming a homeowner began to take shape.

Dalton and Israel

That brings me back to Tee Bolen, who has never met Israel, Dalton, or Christian and his family. He probably never will, this side of Heaven. He may never make it to Honduras to see Israel’s now-completed home in person. Pictures will have to suffice. But Tee trusts God. He knows that God can do more with his money than he could ever think or imagine. And that makes Tee more than just a friend to me—he’s a role model and a hero.

Friends, we serve an awesome God!

God heard the cries of a homeless, hungry 8-year-old Honduran boy and led him to a loving family.

God touched the heart of an older American man, once poor himself, and led him to make a generous donation.

God gave an American missionary the wisdom and heart to join the various pieces of this puzzle together into a beautiful masterpiece. 

As a result, tonight Israel will fall asleep in his very own home. As he looks down on the wooden floor, there will be no gaps or exposed ground. I picture him smiling.

And sometime soon, Tee’s friend Jewel will get a new body and a new, permanent home—with Jesus by her side. I suspect she’ll be smiling too.

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Thirty-Six Reasons

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On this, our 36th Anniversary, a small sampling of the reasons I love you, Janet Johnson…

  1. When something is crooked, out of sorts, or otherwise amiss, you call it “whomperjawed.” 
  2. Your adorable “young Kristy McNichol look/vibe” took my breath away on September 15, 1984, when I first laid eyes on you, as you sat on my knee at the freshman mixer… and still takes my breath away today! 
  3. You occasionally turn the ceiling fan above our bed on at 11 p.m., pull the covers off me by midnight, then graciously dole out a tiny patch of sheet at 2 a.m. to treat my frostbite.
  4. You read and take notes from God’s Word every single day. No wonder your Bibles “fill up” and only last a few years. No wonder I see Jesus in you.
  5. Our long, deep, intimate conversations, about any and everything, especially on long road trips. 
  6. After all these years, you still try out new recipes on me. The recent roast beef sliders au jus were the bomb! I also like how, at restaurants, you’ll stare at the hushpuppies on my plate until I offer you one.
  7. Yellow dresses, yellow… (well, you know). My kryptonite!
  8. You love your parents, in words but even more so in deeds. Few have honored their parents these past 5 years the way that you have honored yours. (You honored my mom similarly, especially in her final few weeks, doing the most difficult of tasks, and I’ll never forget that.)
  9. Your “career ambition” was never about money, titles, or promotions. You’ve always just wanted to be a loving, nurturing, present, wife and mother. That was enough. You are enough. 
  10. Your spandex pants once inadvertently drew the attention of onlooking family and our youngest son, even as he was about to propose to his girlfriend. 
  11. You once dropped an egg roll at Maryville’s Asian Buffet, then handed it to a nearby Asian woman who doesn’t work there.
  12. Our shared nightly “happy place”—snuggling on the couch with a tub of popcorn, watching Survivor, The Crown, or a movie. Also, the way you recently tried to get me to watch the series Tracker because the (oft-shirtless) Josh Hartley “is a fine actor.” I’m sure he is.
  13. All the inside jokes and references that only the two of us understand. We have our own little language!
  14. Our basement couples’ YouTube aerobics sessions. “Come on, hon! Get those legs up!”
  15. Your nightly bubble bath featuring Wordle, Quordle, iPad puzzles, and occasionally your spouse. 
  16. When ministry becomes frustrating, you pull me back from the ledge and help me to not grow weary—to not give up on people.
  17. I experience everything—the slightest touch, hug, kiss, gesture, glance, or comment—much more strongly with/around you. It’s magnetic, magical, and inexplicable… or maybe it’s just love.
  18. The way we recently looked at each other in the theater, crying, when that critically ill little girl finally got the break she needed.
  19. You model Jesus by serving so many people in so many ways at so many times. It’s just a natural part of who you are. When He returns, and we meet Him in the air, I hope you get the first high-five. You inspire me, lady!
  20. The adorable way you can’t pronounce “rural”, “vulnerable,” “Massachusetts,” or “Worcestershire.”
  21. How our “falling apart” while engaged made us realize how much we needed to fall back together, one final time. 
  22. Your willingness to teach Bible classes and share God’s love at Ladies Days across the country (including Pennsylvania this fall… road trip!) You also help me, in countless ways, lead mission trips to Honduras.
  23. Your selfless diligence in editing my books, down to the last comma, because you want the world to get the best I have to offer. I look forward to returning the favor on your upcoming book!
  24. How we (Nonni and Papa Fob) get this regular, insatiable desire to squeeze our precious Baby Bradford, then concoct a plan to convince our kids to invite us to Ballwin, MO for a long weekend. Also, how you care as much about our adult sons now as you did when they were children. 
  25. You know my love language—scalp massages, eye rubs, ear pulls, deep conversation, getting coffee, perusing bookstores, and long walks in nature. Truth be told, doing life with you is my love language.
  26. You used to get on top of our RV on sunny days with a bucket of suds, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, spraying it down with a hose. Based solely on safety considerations, I stood by and watched. Confession: I couldn’t wait to drive through the mud again!
  27. You look at me, smile, and say, “This says it all!” whenever Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On” comes on the radio. I say the same to you whenever Vince Gill’s “Look at Us” comes on. We’re both right.
  28. Almost all your Facebook posts are about elevating God and your family, not yourself. Without a doubt, you help me stay on the “straight and narrow” path toward God and Heaven.
  29. You let me hike the Appalachian Trail and, over six months, cheered my every step and planned a couple of unforgettable, soul-reviving reunions. The journey changed my life and reinvigorated my passion for writing. I will always be grateful to you for that.
  30. Your willingness to call me out, in love, when I need to be called out. You know my every flaw but value and emphasize my strengths. 
  31. On back-to-back Christmases, you got me an anti-snoring nose plug, followed by mouth-sealing “hostage tape.” If you ever find out I can breathe through my ears, I’m in big trouble! 
  32. Your “spaghetti”? Amazing, but the menu is diverse. You keep me guessing!
  33. On our Alaska land/sea cruise, you were a finalist in the onboard American Idol singing competition, rocking the house with “Dancing Queen” as you fulfilled a childhood dream. I was so proud of you and excited to have married a rock star!
  34. In addition to cooking and doing the laundry for our family, you often do the same for a former prisoner… showing him a love and concern that has too often been missing in his troubled life. You make him, the children of Didasko orphanage in Honduras, Anastasia, and so many others—“the least of these”—feel worthy. 
  35. The way you always loudly blow your nose right before going to bed. It’s only a matter of time before the neighbors complain.
  36.  I wake up every morning, not entirely sure how the day will go. But I always know that whatever happens, you will be in my corner. My battles will be your battles, and your battles will be mine.

My darling Janet, our journey across 48 states, 27 foreign countries, and 36 (really 40) years… by car, plane, boat, RV, and sometimes foot… has been incredible! You are God’s second-greatest gift to me, and I wouldn’t trade you for anyone in the world! 

As Vince Gill put it…

“Chances are we’ll go down in history
When they wanna see
How true love should be
They’ll just look at us.”

Happy 36th Anniversary! 

My dreams came true because of you!

I love you!

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Devotional Thoughts, Uncategorized

Becoming Like a Child

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“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”    – Matthew 18:3

I had a play date with my friend, Ham, recently. Every few months, we hang out to watch dinosaur videos on YouTube, launch ping pong balls at each other in the basement, and debate how long Godzilla would last against T-Rex. Our outings give his home-schooling mom a respite and sharpen me in my new grandfather role. I’m told Ham approaches his “Tio Steve” time with great anticipation.

His mom, Erika, dropped him off at Mr. Gatti’s Pizza, handed me his car seat, and wished me luck. Our itinerary included a pizza buffet, a one-hour journey to Gatlinburg (listening to dinosaur noises on YouTube along the way), and a couple of hours at a 30,000-square-foot arcade! At 1:00 p.m., though, my immediate need was food, and a plate with seven pieces of pizza atop a bed of salad awaited me.

I’ve prayed before most of the few dozen meals I’ve eaten at Mr. Gatti’s through the years. With a ravenous appetite and the scent of pizza engulfing my bowed head, my “Mr. Gatti’s prayers” are succinct—usually under seven seconds. But on this day, Ham offered to bless our food.

My buddy Ham’s prayers are neither succinct nor trite. This one lasted three minutes. He thanked God for the food which, frankly, met the minimum requirement for a Mr. Gatti’s prayer. He then asked God to “help all the people in this restaurant to come to know Jesus.” As I contemplated that utterance, he added, “And God, please be with that man sitting over there who is having trouble breathing. He’s on a machine.” As Ham continued, I opened my right eye. Sure enough, across from us near the salad bar, an elderly man ate pizza and breathed machine-supplied oxygen through his nose.

I hadn’t noticed the elderly man or any of Mr. Gatti’s patrons. They were just a generic conglomeration of humanity—a mass of strangers having lunch. So focused on the feast awaiting me, I didn’t contemplate their relationship with Jesus or the condition of their souls. I paid them no mind. 

Ham, a 7-year-old, not only noticed the diners collectively and individually but prayed for them. The note from the margin reads: Watch the children around you. You might just learn from them.

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Devotional Thoughts

Fleas and Potential

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“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.”   – Colossians 3:23

Steve Harvey shares an oversized truth using the minuscule flea. According to Mr. Harvey, fleas have a 36-inch vertical leap, which is higher than the average human’s leap. 

If you capture a flea, put him in a mayonnaise jar, and put a lid on it, the flea will attempt his usual 3-foot jump. Over and over, he’ll keep jumping and keep hitting his head on the lid. But after a while, after getting knocked down repeatedly, the flea adjusts. He begins to only jump to where he won’t get knocked down. His lid—his environment—now has him jumping not nearly as high as he could.

The flea sires a flea family, who join him in jumping just shy of the jar’s roof. That’s all they know—they’ve been born into the conditions of their environment. Despite having 36-inch vertical leaps, they duplicate Dad’s behavior. The fleas never reach their potential.

Some of you may have been born into mediocre environments. Perhaps your family’s church attendance was a sometimes occurrence, so long as other higher priorities didn’t get in the way. Maybe “punching the clock” was the goal, rather than being actively involved in ministry. Perhaps your teenage siblings and closest friends were all sexually active. That low standard of behavior was the norm in the environment you grew up in. You assumed that’s what all teens do.

Perhaps you came of age in a mediocre church environment. The worship felt routine and passionless. If the Spirit was present, He was confined to the pantry. The Christians around you seemed to approach faith like a country club membership. You showed up, followed a lifeless routine, returned home, and then repeated the process. There was no sense of urgency in reaching and impacting the community, much less the world. Your Christian “role models” were content to jump only to the top of the spiritual jar, so you followed suit.

Steve Harvey concludes, “Until you take the top off your mayonnaise jar, you’re going to duplicate your surroundings.” The note from the margin reads: We mustn’t allow ourselves to be limited by the mediocre spiritual environments we grew up in. We must work heartily for the Lord.

It’s time to overcome our imperfect pasts and blow the lid off our faith! It’s time to let God help us reach our full potential!

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Uncategorized

Every Scar, A Story

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Every Scar, a Story… what can you tell us about your new book?

It’s Act I of my planned three-act life story, which I hope to eventually cover in three roughly 25-year increments. 

So, it’s a memoir?

More of a memoir/autobiography hybrid. It’s not as comprehensive as a full-life autobiography, but it’s wider in scope than a traditional memoir. I tell my story (and, to a degree, my family’s story) through nearly 140 bite-sized scenes or vignettes. The “scar” theme runs throughout and ties them together.

So, it’s a tell-all?

It’s a tell-some. I put my life under a microscope and try to make sense of it. I turned over as many stones as I could find.

With all due respect, you’re not famous. Who’s going to read this?

Fair point. My sister Ellen asked the same question! (I love the raw honesty of a sibling.) I’m confident my sisters and sons will read it… and Dave Esslinger and Jeff Battreall, my buddies since high school. They have starring roles. As co-editor, my wife has to read it. Beyond that, I don’t know. If you want famous, you can read Madonna’s story or, better yet, the Book of Job. 

My goal has never been big sales. That’s a fleeting pursuit. That’s not why I write. In this book, I set out to tell my story in a truthful, hopefully captivating way, and draw some lessons from my life. I grew up in a military family and traveled all over the world. I’ve lived through some amazing, wonderful, and difficult experiences. My hope is that readers will see themselves in some of my stories and be encouraged, inspired, or at least feel something. I like the way author Anne Lamott puts it: “If something inside you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal… Write straight into the emotional center of things.” That was my target. The reader gets to decide if I succeeded. 

What inspired you to tell your story?

A couple of years ago, it dawned on me how little I know about my ancestors. You may know your grandparents but what about your great-grandparents? How about your great-great-grandparents? Not much, right? Most of my ancestors were content to live and die, leaving behind little to no documentation of their allotted time in history. These people—their lives, voices, and knowledge—are lost to us. I would love to know more about a family member from two hundred or five hundred years ago. How cool would that be? So, in a sense, this book is a gift—a love letter—to my family and especially my descendants, most of whom I will never meet. My new grandson, Bradford, will eventually get to read this book and learn a fair amount about his great-great-great grandparents.

How did your title come about?

While working on the project, I was perusing the Facebook page of a young man who hadn’t been to church services in a while. Sometimes social media posts give an indication of someone’s well-being. I came across the phrase “Every Scar, a Story” and instantly knew I had found my title. It works on a couple of levels. The book tells a single story—my story—yet it’s shaped, in part, by scars—physical, emotional, or spiritual. And each of these scars has a story.

How did you research and organize the stories?

I have two things going for me. First, I have an exceptional memory, fed by exhaustive family archives. I have an extensive collection of scrapbooks, yearbooks, photos, and family mementos. I still have gifts from elementary school girlfriends, a collection of old, nasty football mouthguards, and letters my grandfather sent home during World War II. I tapped into those resources—well, not the mouthguards. 

Second, I’m a nerd. I created an Excel spreadsheet, with the first 25 years of my life down the left hand side and, across the top, various categories of things I was looking for—decision points, lessons learned, the funny, the embarrassing, and the scars. Over the past 18 months, as memories randomly popped into my head, I noted them on the spreadsheet, then wrote about them. I also reached out to my wife, sisters, and other family and friends for their perspectives. 

Were the perspectives different?

In a sense, always. No two memories of an event are identical. We each remember things differently, based on our perspective, age, and baggage. Some memories form or evolve based on oft-repeated stories. We block out other memories. There’s a whole area of psychology dealing with our brains and how memories form. My friends and family corrected me in some places, and I was reminded of a few scenes long forgotten. The goal was to tell my story accurately and fairly, not to reach consensus. Keep in mind: this is my story. If someone has a different memory or perspective, that’s okay. They can write their story, and I’ll read it.

“Every Scar” sounds heavy?

There are some heavy moments, for sure. I had to go to some dark places, and I will have to dig up more skeletons in Act II. For a book like this to work, you must be vulnerable and transparent. You have to rip off some scabs. No reader wants you to drone on about how wonderful your life has been. Still, there are some sweet, touching moments, too. Plenty of humor. Self-discovery. Even some pop culture. I pack a lot into this book. I can’t wait for my family and friends to read it. 

How did you handle privacy concerns for those you talk about in your book?

That was tricky. I mostly went with first names. I also changed the names of my middle and high school girlfriends, along with a few people who did embarrassing things. To my knowledge, nothing is mean-spirited or unfair. In a few instances, where family members’ shortcomings are discussed, I either got their permission or used material that was already widely known. I don’t think anyone will be offended, but if so, I apologize in advance. I did my best. This has been the most difficult and personal of all the books I’ve written. I should also mention that I have many friends and family who I love, and who positively impacted my first 25 years, who are not mentioned in the book. Not every relationship or memory fit the construct I used. Please don’t be offended. You may even be thankful!

Did you learn anything about yourself?

You can’t take on a project like this without learning a ton about yourself. The process is self-discovery on steroids. I’m proud of some aspects of my life but I also rediscovered plenty of regrets. We all have them, don’t we? Most people put up a wall. We sanitize our past or take our mistakes with us to the grave. We put on our Sunday clothes and project an image of how we want people to see us. Not this time. I knocked down the wall. I talk about many (though not all) of my missteps with the hope others can learn from them. If you find yourself thinking “TMI” while reading, just move to the next story! The experience has also given me a deeper appreciation for my family—I’m so blessed. This project was an opportunity to forgive myself in some areas, put the past behind me, and move forward. It’s a healthy, cathartic, therapeutic exercise. Everyone should write their story, regardless of whether you publish it.

Any other projects in the works?

There are always projects in the works. My brain never rests! Just ask my wife! I try to write a monthly blog. I’m ¼ of the way through Faith in the Margins, Vol. 2. I’ll also keep nibbling away at Act II of my life story. I’m considering a leadership book based on my military, church, and other experiences. There may be another book, already partially written in my head, on prison ministry. I plan to keep writing, even though Maryville’s Vienna Coffee House, without asking, got rid of my favorite, weathered, wrinkly writing chair that sat in the corner. How am I supposed to write on shiny new leather?

What about fiction?

Aside from aspects of The Eulogy, which I co-wrote with Janet, I haven’t done much fiction writing. I admire authors who create imaginary people and worlds and take us there. We all need an escape from time to time. But I’m drawn to the real world. My calling as a writer—my niche if you will—is to point people directly or indirectly to Jesus. That’s non-fleeting—an endeavor that can pay off in ways that endure. I’ve found I’m best able to do that through non-fiction. In my latest book, as well as the previous six, I’ve tried—through board games, my Appalachian Trail hike, a dying man, the Genesis story, etc.—to illuminate a loving God. As long as He keeps me around, I’ll keep doing that. 

Anything else you’d like to add?

A few weeks ago, I spent a week looking after my dad at his Florida condo. He has dementia, is frail, and sleeps about 16-18 hours per day. But in those waking moments, we had some great conversations. He’s not able to read much anymore, but he can still speak, listen and understand. Each next day, though, his previous day is almost always erased from his memory. It’s sad but we’re doing the best we can to support him and his wife. At Janet’s suggestion, I started reading a late draft of Every Scar, A Story to him. He laughed out loud at points and shook his head at others. I helped him recall some family history he had forgotten. He even corrected a few details, as his distant memories are still partially intact. What a gift to be able to share my book with the man who was largely responsible for my existence—my story. The significance of the moment was not lost on me. It’s something I will always remember… until my mind starts to slip. Perhaps then my sons can read to me from Every Scar and revive old memories.

So, who will read the life story of just an ordinary guy? I don’t know. But I got to share a good portion of the tale with my old man in the twilight of his life. He smiled. He said it was good. That was enough.   

Every Scar, A Story is available on Amazon at:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CVNJPYP6/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1M3WW6A2VBVTO&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.9BdImdk7-sx9al5nRAir_Q.NRD-ZCrp6MHcTNYUV_ywEJjj4kIWi7WYGZHFx4X2Qo4&dib_tag=se&keywords=every+scar%2C+a+story+steve+johnson&qid=1707927705&sprefix=every+scar%2C+a+story+steve+johnson%2Caps%2C98&sr=8-1

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