Life interrupted and they never married. Recently, through friends, they learned both of them were now widowed and they reconnected. This month—after 60 years apart– they finally married. Whoa, talk about patience…

I wonder if there’s a comparable award for Not Waiting Well. If so, I definitely win. I blame the Internet for my impatience. It puts the world and knowledge at our fingertips in seconds, so we expect everything else in life to happen fast. But, honestly, my speed gene was honed years earlier as a broadcast and print journalist working “on deadline,” then more years when I was a crisis management consultant, where gathering information, making decisions, and acting quickly were prerequisites. To be honest, I could probably qualify for a Lifetime Achievement Award in Not Waiting Well.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now. But it’s still a big surprise to show up on God’s doorstep with my list of things “we” need to resolve, only to learn…again…that God is not “on deadline.” He’s not in a hurry and he feels no pressure to act because of my circumstances, however urgent they seem. In fact, waiting is one of the most effective ways he reminds me I’m not in charge.

Nearly four years ago we put our home on the market, in preparation for an eventual move south, for health and other reasons. It was priced right (below market value), it showed well, and it was in a great location. But it took three years, four realtors, and five failed signed contracts before it sold.  Oh, the stories I could tell.

I kept thumping on God’s chest asking, “What’s the deal, here?” We had not undertaken the move lightly. We sought advice from trusted friends. Much thinking, planning, prayer, and preparation went into the decision. Why the interminable wait?

Last week I started a list of all the good things that have happened as a result of the forced wait. For example, our destination city changed, for reasons too complicated to explain here. Hindsight showed the latter choice was much better for us. Plummeting real estate prices over the past three years made it possible to purchase more house for less money, with a 1.7% lower mortgage rate than the prevailing rate at the time we originally put our old home on the market. The list goes on and on. Did that making the waiting easier? Hmmm. Short-term, no. Long-term, yes.

Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

- Waiting gets our undivided attention. It forces us to stand with empty hands until God decides to fill them. It gives God room to turn the spotlight from our circumstances to the state of our heart.

- What happens in us while we wait is often more important than what we’re waiting for. It’s definitely not downtime. I’m learning to be more flexible, to trust God more and to live in the present moment, which is where life is the richest.

- We may not yet be where we want to be, but we’re also not where we used to be. It helps to see how far you’ve come and what you’ve learned so far, not just how far you have to go.

We all wait. Waiting is part of life—whether it’s simply a wait at an interminable red light or a wait for biopsy results that could change everything.

But humans are also choice makers. We choose how we are going to respond to our circumstances. What are you waiting for at the moment? Choose to wait with humility and patience. God knows what he’s doing and your life is safer in his hands than any of the alternatives.

My favorite part of writing this blog has been sharing an experience, information, or insight that taught me something I thought might be useful to you as well.

I believe in the power of story. Every one of us is writing a story with our life. Together we are part of an even bigger story that God is writing. Sharing our stories is one of the most powerful things we do as human beings. There would be a lot more love and understanding in the world if we knew each other’s story–our real story.

But we hide.

Sometimes we hide with good reason. Not everyone is a safe person. I understand the importance of boundaries. Nevertheless, we lose something when we fail to connect deeply and authentically with each other, especially in this fractured, technologically-manic era that has left us with the attention span of a gnat and feeling more disconnected than ever.

That’s why I thought this blog would be a great way to foster a deeper conversation about what matters in life. It turns out it’s been the hardest writing I’ve ever done.

For one thing, sharing deeply on the Internet is almost an oxymoron. It’s the Wild Wild West, where people rant and pose and hide behind fake names. A lot of what’s out there is not what it seems. It’s like trying to talk about life purpose at a carnival. I’m somewhere out there in the crowd, waving my arms and yelling, “Over here, over here!”

Once people find this site, I receive wonderful notes from readers sharing poignant stories and personal wisdom–most of which I can’t share because it’s confidential, although it tells me there are lots of people trying to figure out life. I also hear from malcontents and people who have ordained themselves as the Righteousness Police and who can’t stand anyone who colors outside their lines.

I deeply admire writers like Henri Nouwen, Brennan Manning, Anne Lamott and Donald Miller who are able to be stunningly vulnerable in their writing, with a total disregard for self-preservation or fear of being misunderstood. Somehow they’ve found a way to let the crud roll off their back. I’m not good at that part.

Once you get past that issue, there are endless blog experts who warn that the only way to be heard above the noise is to build a platform, post on lots of other blogs that will drive readers to you, crank out lots of free stuff people can download, join every social network under the sun, post at least three times a week, blah, blah, blah. I forget the rest. It made me so tired I had to take a nap.

I know there are an astonishing 70-160 million blogs today, depending on whose statistics you use. No wonder bloggers are hungry for a way to stand out from the pack. But at what price?  Nothing should trump real life, face-to-face relationships, wrestling with God about your doubts and questions, putting an arm around each other when it’s needed. That’s what matters.

So get out there and live. Live like you mean it! I’ll do the same and we’ll leave the outcome to God.

She was unprepared for what I call guerilla decision- making.

Guerilla warfare typically involves an unconventional battle with someone or something that poses an imminent personal threat. The enemy catches you by surprise, knows your vulnerabilities, capitalizes on them, rushes in to do the damage and then beats a hasty retreat.

Guerilla decisions bear some similarities. These are not the hundreds of decisions we make every day that are relatively uncomplicated and made on the basis of things like personal preference or how much time or money you want to spend.

Rather, these qualify as Ground Zero choices–a situation that catches you totally off-guard and, in an instant, capitalizes on a vulnerability. Maybe you’re angry or lonely or tired or scared when it happens. That’s the moment when guerilla decisions are made.

What you do in that split second changes everything. There’s no time to develop a conscience or choose a value system. Yet what you decide could affect your peace, your focus, your commitments…everything…from that moment forward.

What is your Ground Zero? Food? Sex? Ambition? Jealousy? Slander? Lying? What current personal behavior or activity or relationship poses the greatest threat to your emotional and spiritual health?

I read a fascinating article recently about Navy SEALS  and how they train for guerilla warfare. Some of the principles that guide them seem analogous to principles useful to us as Christ-followers in making better guerilla decisions.

1) They prepare. SEALS go through 30 months of brutal training, because they know if they aren’t disciplined enough to train when lives aren’t on the line, they probably won’t make good choices when lives are at stake.

2) They stick together. Their focus is on unity and teamwork. One of their most important credos is, “No man left behind.” They don’t attack each other. They are not the enemy.

3) They know who they are and what they stand for. Navy SEALS embrace the fact that their lives may be tough and will involve guerilla warfare. They stay focused and on-mission, minimizing the prospect of surprises and vulnerabilities. They never coast. 

As Christians, we, too, can  prepare for those Ground Zero moments by saturating our hearts with scripture and time in prayer, addressing our vulnerabilities, asking God to build character in us, with the help of the Holy Spirit.

We can stick together and support one another, instead of judging each other or creating divisions or acting like spiritual lone rangers. Even the Lone Ranger had his sidekick, Tonto.

We can accept that, as Christ-followers, our lives will and should be different. Some of our choices may be out of step with cultural norms, so there will be push-back. Why is that a surprise? Our values differ. But God still expects us to engage with our world, to bring light and life and hope where hope, in some places, is barely a flicker.

Being a Navy SEAL is voluntary with a limited term of service. There’s where the analogy breaks down. Becoming a Christian is also voluntary. But once you’re in God’s family, he promises to stand with you in every guerilla decision you ever make from now until you see him face to face. That will be a moment worth preparing for.

Best-known to the world as the genius behind “American Bandstand,“  I remember him as the man who taught me to love music and dancing and who modeled that the color of our skin should not divide us.

Legacy is one of those important-sounding words we use  to describe how a person changed the world with their life. Jonas Salk found a cure for polio. Steve Jobs changed the way we use technology to create and communicate.

Their legacy isn’t hard to recognize, but what about the rest of us? Do you ever think, “What will be my legacy? How will I be remembered? Have I done anything that’s made a difference?

No need to fall into a pity party because your stamp on the world may not be global. The truth is everyone leaves a legacy, whether they know it or not. The only question is what kind it will be.

One person who made a deep impression of my life was Gladys Valentine (a name she was given because she was born on Valentine’s Day). She was my grandmother.

She lived an ordinary life in a tiny farmhouse in Galesburg, Kansas–not exactly the epicenter of greatness. Her life was tough–a fierce amalgam of poverty, marriage to a mean man, failed crops, and a stillborn child. Yet nothing seemed to bow her indomitable spirit.

Every summer a posse of grandkids and great-grandkids would vie for invitations to visit her one-bedroom farmhouse, which had no air conditioning and temperatures routinely topped 100 degrees. We were “guests” by only the loosest of definitions. We were more like extra farm hands, albeit pint-sized. Still, there was something magical about the place.

Wheat harvest was my favorite time. At dawn I’d drag myself out to the fields to take up my post behind Uncle Ralph on his rusty old combine. For hours he would guide the  machine through the blazing hot fields of wheat as the sun beat down and wheat chaff glued itself to our eyebrows, skin, and ears. It felt like important work.

Some years a drought or floods or tornadoes seized the wheat before its time. Farmers would gather at Dutch’s Grocery Store, smoke Camels, and talk with vacant eyes about how it would be a tough winter. For Grandma it meant no new cloth coat and another year without indoor plumbing. I never saw her shed a tear. She’d “make do.” She always did.

Grandma worked harder than men twice her size and half her age. She was up before dawn to feed the chickens, gather eggs and slop the hogs. Then came the enormous breakfast she prepared each day for the farm hands and assorted hangers-on who showed up at her table at 6 a.m. After the men left for the fields, cooking began all over again for the other meals of the day. Mounds of fried chicken accompanied giblet gravy, mashed potatoes, homemade biscuits, pole beans and at least two kinds of pies.

She could wield an axe with exquisite precision, chopping off the heads of endless unfortunate chickens destined for the lunch table after the grandkids plucked off the smelly feathers–an onerous job from which there was no escape. Afternoons meant more chores, laundry, mending, and forays into town to pick up feed. Always something.

She loved to eavesdrop on her crank-up wall phone and listen to bickering neighbors who shared the line. With great delight she would place her hand over the mouthpiece and report their arguments word-for-word. We felt like dangerous little spies.

After everyone went to bed she’d sneak a bowl of homemade ice cream from the freezer and listen to “Fibber McGee and Molly” on the giant Philco radio. It wasn’t much, but, to her, it was enough.

I asked her once if she was happy. The question mystified her. “Happy? Well, hon, I don’t think about it much. I have work to do, enough to eat, and folks around me that I love. What more do I need?”

By example, she taught resourcefulness, the value of family, hospitality, perseverance, gratitude and, yes, even fun. There was no media frenzy or tribute dinner when she died. But her legacy lives in all those grandkids still paying her legacy forward.

There’s still time to be more intentional about your legacy. If you need a blueprint to guide you, check out Romans 12:2-21. The words were inspired by Jesus. His legacy has lasted more than 2,000 years.

The school’s response? Oops. Sorry.

For the school it was a PR nightmare. They promised to keep the students wait-listed…for now. But, for the crushed applicants, expectations of being UCLA-bound were dashed.

Whether we’re aware of it or not, dozens of times a day expectations affect our lives. We expect our car to start tomorrow morning when we leave for work, because we take good care of it. We expect our friends to keep in touch with us, because we try to keep in touch with them. We expect doctors to deliver an accurate diagnosis, because they appeared on a list somewhere of Best Doctors.

Think of it like a long clothesline, on which we hang all those things we consciously or unconsciously believe we need to have happen to make us feel happy and safe.

Add to it all the outside expectations pinned on our happiness clothesline. For example, the media breathlessly try to tie our happiness to what they say to expect in election outcomes, health scares, economic forecasts, weather, gas prices and the housing market.

When they’re wrong? Oops. Sorry.

The cumulative weight of all those expectations–especially the ones that disappoint–can break our clothesline, theoretically taking our happiness down with it.

Motivational speakers say the answer is to think positively. Positive expectations create positive outcomes. I’ve attended more than one seminar where the mantra was some variation of “YOU can make it happen!” Change your attitude, they say, and the universe will bow at your feet. Believe good things and good things will come to you. It sounds wonderful…but, sorry, I’m not drinking the Kool-aid.

Yes, attitude matters. Hope matters. But the reality is that we live in a fallen world with fallen people who, on their best day, won’t always make wise choices, act justly, and treat us with love and compassion. I’ve been in three major car crashes at the hands of drunk or addicted drivers. They apparently never got the memo that I expected to be safe on the road. To tie our happiness and hopes and dreams to a benevolent universe and a smiley face is magic-think.

There’s a better option. It involves God and, where God is involved, we usually have a role to play.

According to Peter Scazzero in his book Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, first we need to look at how we may be partially responsible for our disillusionment and  disappointment, because some of our expectations are flawed:

1) Unconscious expectations–ones we don’t realize we have until someone lets us down.

2) Unrealistic expectations–illusions we have about others, about how they should act or treat us or see us.

3) Unspoken expectations–which we’ve never verbalized to a friend or spouse or boss, but which crush us when not met.

4) Un-agreed-upon expectations–where we have our own idea of what is expected in a relationship, but it was never agreed upon by the other person. (It isn’t a valid expectation if it was never mutually agreed upon.)

Beyond setting more realistic expectations, it involves anchoring them in Someone worthy of holding our most cherished hopes. Unlike the world around us and the broken people in it, God is more reliable…and he really wants the job! Whether we’re at work or fighting the flu, getting a haircut or balancing the checkbook; whether we lose a child or lose a job, God will never walk away.

Not only is that enough, but, if you reorient your life around it, it’s life-changing.

It gave stuttering Moses–a murderer hiding out as a shepherd–the courage to stand up to Pharoah and lead two million people out of Egypt. It gave shy David the confidence to fight a giant with seven stones and the will to keep going when King Saul sent armies to kill him. It gave the apostle Paul–slandered, beaten, imprisoned and shipwrecked–a rallying cry that trumps the “You can make it happen” mantra every time.

Paul wrote triumphantly, “If God is for us, who can be against us? … Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? …  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors.”

Conquerors don’t need clotheslines.

Everyone is invited to his house to celebrate. But he needs to know if you’re coming. Click here for details. See you there!

Verla Wallace

“In many respects I find an unresurrected Jesus easier to accept. Easter makes him dangerous. Because of Easter I have to listen to his extravagant claims and can no longer pick and choose from his sayings. Moreover, Easter means he must be loose out there somewhere.”

                                                                                  Philip Yancey

After the usual preliminary chit-chat, I finally said, “Why’d you do it? Why’d you walk away?”

It turns out it was a story he loved to tell. “I didn’t feel like I could serve God in the marketplace,” he said. “I felt I was taking the easy way out. Sure, I could share my faith and promote values in the workplace that would teach people to serve others, act ethically, etc. But I never really got my hands dirty. I never had to leave my upscale suburban home and all the perks that came with my life. It was convenient. But God didn’t say ‘Stay.’ He said, ‘Go… into all the world.’ I needed to go where the broken people were. That’s where the fruit is.”

He became more animated as he picked up speed. Our server kept replenishing our tea, as if to dial down the amps. I chose my words carefully.

“Look, there’s no doubt God asks some people to walk away from The Good Life and take on a challenge that would scare the rest of us. And your drive, entrepreneurial spirit, and resources certainly seem to support the steps you’ve taken.” Long pause.

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” he said.

“Well, I see a lot of reverse elitism in people who have done what you did. They signal that, ‘Now I’m doing work that matters.’ But when God said, ‘Run the race marked out for you,‘ he said nothing about there being a good, better, or best race. It was about finding your race.”

“Are you suggesting the non-profit gig is not my race?”

“Not at all! I’m just pushing back on the premise behind the decision. Whenever people ask me to help them sort out a major life change, I always ask them if they are running to something or from something. Working in a secular environment, sometimes it’s harder to stay than to go. There are no Indiana Jones adventures, no children who rush up to welcome you when you visit. Instead you may work with cynical, hardbitten people who wield power capriciously and who may find your values annoying. Get in the arena with those puppies and try to be salt and light.”

Long pause. More tea. His response came almost in a whisper.

“Okay, busted. I confess I looked elsewhere to serve because I stood in a boardroom during a merger and was told by a group of tycoons that I was being removed as CEO of my own company, because doing business with my values was hurting the bottom line. Behind my back they had bought out shareholders who were my partners, people who once shared my vision. Just like that…it was over. It shattered me.”

Our lunch was several years ago. Today, I’m happy to report, my friend and his non-profit are thriving. The point of telling the story was not to debate the merits of his decision or to debate the theology of work. Rather, it’s about the power of vulnerability, about taking emotional risks and learning to be authentic with ourselves and others. 

How did you feel when you read this story? Embarassed that he shared so much? Were you thinking you would never have been that vulnerable? (Rest assured, key details have been changed to protect his identity.)

Vulnerability is seen as a weakness in our culture. “Never let them see you sweat,” right? But here’s a surprise. Researchers who have made a lifelong study of the subject say that vulnerability is the most accurate measure of a person’s courage.

We think of courage as rapeling down a cliff or undergoing an experimental surgery…or going off to serve forgotten children. But the risk to share deeply and honestly with another human being takes equivalent courage.

Dr. Brene` Brown, one of the foremost authorities on vulnerability, says if you want to unleash creativity, innovation, and change in your life, it requires taking emotional risks, being willing to fail, to be misunderstood, or judged.

When was the last time you opened up about yourself to a spouse or trusted friend about your fears, the losses you’ve buried deep in your heart, the dreams you’ve been afraid to voice? Start with being honest with yourself. Then try taking a risk with God. Now that  you’re on a roll, tell fear to step aside, because courage has joined you and you and God are coming through.

Wisdom doesn’t come in giant bursts. It trickles in, drip by drip–unless, of course, we wall ourselves off from anything but our own preconceived ideas of how the world must work, in order for us to be happy.

No one ever writes on their To Do list: “Think about my life.” Thinking is harder than doing. Besides, the task is never done, so you can never check it off the list! Keep reflection on the list. It will change you and the list.

You can hurt yourself stumbling around in the dark–figuratively and in real life. But mostly it just feels awkward and makes us uncomfortable. It’s not the end of the world. There is both darkness and light in every 24-hour day and morning always follows the night.

When was the last time you felt like your “moment” had passed and your life was now about simply doing what has to be done and staying out of everybody’s way? It’s a lie. Don’t settle for a beige life.

God’s tactics and timetable are flexible but his End Game never changes. It’s so big and so important, it trumps our own plans. That’s not such a bad thing. His plans are much bigger than ours and he invites us to join him…which is more than we can say about how we sometimes treat him when it comes to our plans.

Just because nothing seems to be happening doesn’t mean nothing is happening. An elephant’s pregnancy is about 22 months. Really big things take longer.

Stability and security are not goals. They are a faux shield against what we fear. Pray, instead, for peace in the midst of the instability and the courage to face your fears.

Having answers still won’t prevent bad things from happening.

Careless words can do damage that a simple apology cannot repair.

Change might be more welcome if we were invited into it. But it often shows up unannounced and we don’t get to say goodbye to the way things were. Let it go. You don’t live there anymore.

Smart people are those with important things to say. Often they are children.

Priorities help when dealing with chaos. They make chaos shut up, sit down, and wait its turn. Maybe you’re having a nervous breakdown. But not today. Today you’re on deadline. Move it to Thursday.

Choose carefully the people and things you idolize. Do they love you back? God does.

Contentment means learning to live with unanswered questions.

How we handle interruptions reveals more about our character than how we handle our well-ordered plans.

You may be afraid of God, mad at God, disinterested in God. That’s okay. Start there. He’ll meet you and you can talk it over. He’s got all the time in the world.

We used to live in a development that surrounded two large ponds. Unfortunately, geese decided it was their favorite convention spot. The word got around in Geesedom and they brought all their friends.

The homeowners association installed tall natural plantings on the banks of the ponds, to make it hard for the geese to stroll on land and use our grounds as their outhouse. One of the property owners bought a loud horn to sound off, which was supposed to scare off the geese, but the geese called in reinforcements to outsquawk the horn. Residents didn’t know whether to shoot the geese or the guy with the horn.

Currently, we’re living in another home temporarily, before permanently relocating in the south. This place also sits beside a small lake. However, the grass along the banks is clipped short and there are even a couple small grassy manmade islands, all of which geese love.

The weather has been unseasonably warm, so the geese come in small bunches to sunbathe, stroll, snack, swim, much like picnickers out for a day at the park. Residents sit on their porches with a beer and a book. Nobody goes postal. It’s actually pleasant.

I’ve been trying to figure out what was different about the two scenes. The weather? The location? The season? Maybe all of the above. All I know is that the current situation is a lot more pleasant for all concerned.

I’m speculating here. But, if I can take a few imaginative liberties, what if this time both sides of Geese Wars realize they’re different and no amount of “push back” by either side is going to change that. Humans have certain expectations of what they want from a lakeside experience. So do geese. We can power up on them to make them behave…but they have a few tricks of their own to even the score. So when does it end?

There’s a spiritual corollary here. As Christians, we have a point of view that affects our values, our tastes, our must-haves and can’t stands. And people who don’t share our worldview see the world through a totally different lens. No surprise there. In fact, chasms exist even between different corners of the Christian world. If blame is your game, targets abound.

But I can’t think of a single time when bullying, shaming, and name-calling by either side–no matter how politely phrased and slickly packaged–changed anybody’s mind or created lasting change. Louder is not a strategy.

Rules aren’t the whole answer either. You can legislate traffic laws and child abuse and create regulations to keep food safe. But people still get drunk and crash into innocent motorists. Children are still discovered who have been locked away in basement cages by psycho parents. And current news accounts of “pink slime” remind us that there’s a lot we don’t know about what we consume.

Lasting change–in people, neighborhoods and our culture–happens when we are changed from the inside out. Heart change. And that kind of lasting change needs a hand from Someone much smarter than any of us, Someone who knows how our hearts were supposed to work before we screwed up the plan.

Don’t get me wrong. There are always plenty of things we can do to help. Food pantries, tutoring inner-city kids, serving on a school board, taking an elderly neighbor to the doctor, voting. But what about your heart? When was the last time you asked God about the condition of your heart and whether it was still aligned with his or has gone rogue over certain issues or situations?

We live in a time where politics, environmental issues, social justice issues, racial and ethnic divisions, demand a mindset that’s not all about us. God sent Jesus to show us what it looks like and told us what to do: Imitate him.

While successful on the football field, Marshall has had a history of violence and bad behavior off the field since 2004. The last straw apparently was a domestic battery incident last year–although this time it was his wife who came after him with a kitchen knife, allegedly in self-defense.

Charges were dropped and Marshall later would say his wife was not to blame, implying his own behavior provoked the incident. More importantly, Marshall finally admitted what had been apparent to those around him for years: he needed help. A 3-month intensive therapy program confirmed he has Borderline Personality Disorder (BDP), an emotional disorder characterized, in part, by anger, impulsivity and frequent mood swings.

Marshall says it was like turning on a lightbulb in a dark room. He learned he had no filter for regulating his emotions, no “switch” that made it possible to turn off his aggressive behavior when off the field. When he finally stopped making excuses and blaming everyone else for his troubles and faced himself honestly, change was possible.

He admitted it was tough to be vulnerable and go public about his BPD in the macho world of professional sports. But once he did, other players, Hall of Famers, and even umpires, began to approach him with questions about whether they or a loved one might need similar help. He’s now launched a foundation to increase awareness of BPD. As a touching coda to his turnaround, in January he was named MVP after scoring an amazing four touchdowns in this year’s Pro Bowl game.

A heartwarming story, right? Bad Boy Turns His Life Around? I hate to admit it, but as a somewhat jaded journalist and former PR professional, my first thought was actually, “His handlers deserve a bonus for reframing this guy’s story and saving his career.” A friend chimed in with, ”Here we go again. Another celebrity running off to rehab to get themselves off the hook for their disgusting behavior.”

Why is it so hard to simply accept Brandon Marshall’s story at face value? Why would we not root for all these kind of stories to be true? Do we secretly resent other people getting their act together because we haven’t been able to do it yet? Or do we think they “got off easy” and resent that no one ever cut us any slack? Or how about the argument that  if we could afford 3 months of intensive therapy with the best doctors and an army of spin doctors to rebuild the bridges we burned, we might look like heroes, too.

Ewww. Not exactly a picture of grace and a lame excuse for not addressing our own junk. It’s even a subtle form of spiritual prejudice, as if we have the inside track on the condition of other people’s hearts and have grown hazy about what God thinks of a judgmental attitude.

Henri Nouwen in Bread for the Journey, says, “We may think we’re judging people fairly, but “our spontaneous thoughts, uncensored words, and knee-jerk reactions often reveal that our prejudices are still there.

 People different than we are, stir up fear, discomfort, suspicion, and hostility. They make us lose our sense of security just by being ‘other.’ Only when we fully claim that God loves us in an unconditional way and look at ‘those other persons’ as equally loved…then the need to prejudge people can gradually disappear.”

Remember the scripture in Matthew 7 where Jesus warns against judging the speck in someone else’s eye without taking the plank out of our own eye? If Jesus were walking around in the flesh today, I picture him saying, “Hey, you wearing the really big Self-Righteous pin! Give it a rest. Did you forget the Self-Righteousness Police were decommissioned two centuries ago with my death on the cross? There’s only one Judge and it’s not you.”

Let’s retire our Self-Righteous pins and join the club that Brandon Marshall probably belongs to: Grateful for Another Chance to Get It Right.