Does God Have an “EASY” Button?

Posted on July 29, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onMost writers I know—including me—are neurotic. I don’t mean writers like pastors who transcribe sermon notes into books. Or business executives who, with the help of ghostwriters, translate business plans into how-to success manuals. I mean writers who define their life work as wordsmithing and regularly spill their guts onto a page for the rest of the world to love or hate.

I have a whole bookshelf in my office reserved for books by famous writers, describing how they handle those inevitable times when they lose the war with the blank page and confess to their computer screen, “I’ve got nothin’.”

Years ago during one such dry season, I signed up for a writing class with a woman who was an adjunct instructor at the Univ. of Chicago, an institution known for cranking out Pulitzer and Nobel prize winners.

She was an Indian woman, probably 5’ tall, if she stood up straight. She had a long braid down her back that reached her waist and was smarter than the combined IQ of the entire class. What she lacked in size, she more than made up for with her daunting personae. And she was serious as a heart attack about writing.

About 15 min. into the first class, I thought I had been dropped into Dante’s Fifth Level of Hell. It was Boot Camp on steroids. Anyone who signed up for a fun place to write little essays was in for a rough ride.

The first four weeks I was terrified. The next four weeks I hated her guts. Then followed a couple weeks of awe at what was coming out of my fingertips onto paper. (Who IS this person? This is really good stuff!) Then back to the terror part. (That was a fluke. I’ll never be able to write like this when my life is no longer in danger.)

Recently, when sorting through old office files, I ran across some of those writing assignments. I sat on the floor, surrounded by mountains of paperwork, mesmerized by the transformation I witnessed, over the course of my semester in her class. I kept thinking, “How did she do that?” How was she able to pull that ‘personal best’ out of me?”

I don’t know all the reasons, but I can name a few: I wanted what she had to offer, so I kept coming back each week, when every molecule in my body screamed, “Run!” I had a passion to write and she had a passion to help me do it.

Secondly, she gave me no wiggle room. Excuses were not an option. Students may have picked her class, but, if they stayed, it was on her terms. Nothing short of death gave any of us an “out.”

Reading those old essays helped me understand how God operates. I want something God has to offer–I want to live an authentic, fully alive life that reflects His values, His heart, and His agenda. But He’s no celestial “Easy” button I can manipulate to do things my way, on my timetable. I may have chosen to enter into a relationship with Him, but if I want all the benefits He offers, He insists I do it on His terms.

Like my writing instructor, He pushes me relentlessly into territory where I’m uncomfortable and terrified. Matters requiring trust, waiting, unanswered prayers– situations where my intelligence, determination, and gifts are of value only if submitted to His purposes.

Sometimes His tactics scare me. At other times I step back in awe and see who I’m becoming under his severe tutelage. I’ve loved Him, hated Him, and thumped on His chest until my fingers hurt. He’s not interested in my excuses. He’s interested in what kind of person I’ll be when our real-life Boot Camp ends on planet Earth and the prize is in sight.

I suspect, someday, if we don’t give up and run, we’ll be sitting on the floor somewhere, looking back over the assignments He’s put us through, and thinking, “How did He do that? How was He able to get me from there to there?”

Maybe the more important question we should be asking is, “What took me so long to ‘get with the program.’ “

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Can You Hear Me Now?

Posted on July 21, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onJust before dawn this morning, the space shuttle Atlantis touched down at Cape Canaveral, ending a 13-day business trip delivering scientific equipment and supplies to the International Space Station 250 miles above Earth.  It was the 135th and final mission, a poignant close to NASA’s 30-year shuttle program.

For the four astronauts aboard Atlantis, it was a quick trip–barely long enough for their kids to miss them. But for the two American astronauts who remained behind, aboard the Intl. Space Station, separation from loved ones is more difficult.

Astronaut Mike Fossum, the Space Station’s commander, told reporters at a press conference before he left Earth that the most challenging part of returning to space for his third six-month stint would be the long separation from his wife, four children and one grandchild.

Over the years NASA has tried to ease the pain of separation by giving astronauts an Internet and email link, videoconferencing, and an Internet protocol phone, so they can see and talk with family members frequently. In some ways, they may be more connected to their families than those of us with feet shackled to Earth.

It’s a far cry from our grandparents’ world, where friends and extended family lived within walking distance of each other. A friend of mine now lives in Nairobi, Kenya, so she called me the other day to “catch up.” We talked for an hour for three dollars. Other friends in Niger, Africa, use Skype, which is free, to stay connected to their kids and grandkids scattered all over the world.

Proximity may be preferable for nurturing relationships, but we also can’t blame distance if relationships flounder. In some ways, lack of proximity may actually be a blessing. It forces us to take more responsibility for nurturing intimacy when we are together and for finding new ways to foster it when we aren’t. Here are three suggestions:

  • Intentionality—My husband left before dawn this morning for a week of business and out of town travel. He made breakfast for me and left it on the counter with a lovely card and note. I know how to make my own breakfast and I already knew he loved me. But his gesture showed me his feelings in a way that said, “I mean it.”
  • Time—I frequently ask people what they feel is the most precious commodity they have to spend (setting aside, for a moment, those spiritual qualities Christ expects all of us to “spend” lavishly on others—love, grace, forgiveness, etc.). Hands down, people tell me their most precious commodity—because they never have enough of it–is time. Spending time with someone—even if it has to be at a distance–communicates honor and high regard. It says, “Of all the things I could be doing right now, I choose you. You matter.”
  • Attentiveness– There’s something very powerful about being fully present to someone. In the movie “Avatar,” we saw a creative demonstration of the difference between looking at someone vs. truly seeing them. Jake and Neytiri repeatedly used the words, “I see you,”—not only to express their love, but to communicate what happens when two very different people can look past their cultural differences and see each other. Seeing…really paying attention…changes us and our relationships.

The same principles apply to our relationship with God. Sometimes, He, too, can feel further away than the Intl. Space Station. Maybe we need to be more intentional about our relationship with Him. We may need to give Him and our relationship more time and our full attention–seeing Him with our hearts and letting him see ours. The distance will vanish, with no Skype or videoconferencing required.

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Heroes and Wannabes

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onLast weekend my husband was enjoying one of his favorite summer activities–an early morning bike ride, long before I awaken, on one of the wonderful bike trails in our area. The trails are not crowded at that hour and he doesn’t have to worry about car traffic.

There’s a break in the trail at one point, requiring a brief ride on a residential street. A large dog darted out of nowhere into his path, he swerved to miss the dog and took a very bad fall for his kindness. One arm and his entire side were bloodied and bruised.

A woman living nearby saw the incident and rushed to his aid, offering to transport him and his damaged bike back home. The only thing he knew about his rescuer was that her name was Sarah. In my book, Sarah was a hero that morning.

Our country loves heroes, though, typically, we laud heroes who are more impressive than Sarah. This week at the White House our country honored Staff Sergeant Leroy Petry with the Medal of Honor for his heroism in Afghanistan. Petry, severely wounded and under fire, picked up a live grenade and hurled it back at the enemy, just as it exploded, costing him his hand. It saved two of his men.

Petry’s heroism obviously deserves more praise and recognition than Sarah’s. And, instinctively, we know none of us will be Medal of Honor recipients. But, even if our heroism is destined to be more the Sarah-variety, we all long to feel that if a particular moment arrived that required us to “step up,” we would act.

In my yoga class recently, I thought I had a chance to be a hero. The first day of class I noticed a frail, older woman with long greasy gray hair, who walked into class wearing a black winter park with fake fur hood. It was 92 degrees outside.

Furtively, she unrolled her mat, never making eye contact with anyone. She wore black loose-fitting sweat pants about two sizes too big, a dingy white t-shirt, and a pair of even filthier men’s athletic socks, full of holes, with gnarly bunions peeking through the rips.

Once I got past the clothes, I noticed her face. She was very pretty, with fine chiseled features and beautiful eyes like oversized black buttons. During a break, I introduced myself and asked her name. It was Mary.

After that, each class I would try to place my mat near hers and say hello to her by name. She seemed such a lost soul. She started to smile when I spoke to her and, if she arrived late, she would come and place her mat by mine.

One day after class I asked if I could drop her off somewhere. She said she preferred to take the bus. I wondered if she lived in a homeless shelter and didn’t want anyone to know. Another time after class, I invited her to lunch as my guest at a nearby McDonald’s, thinking that might be a non-threatening option. She declined.

Despite the limits she placed on my efforts, I began to look forward to seeing her. I no longer noticed her clothes. It was her smile and her lovely lived-in face. I could tell she, too, looked forward to seeing me, glad to have someone to sit beside, someone who knew her name.

Then, before I had the chance to be any kind of real hero to Mary, our class was cancelled. The sponsoring organization decided it wasn’t cost-effective. It didn’t happen when class was in session, so there were no goodbyes. It felt like unfinished business.

It gnawed at me for days. I felt my path had crossed with Mary’s for a reason. I wasn’t sure what the reason was, but I was sure it had not yet happened. I e-mailed our instructor to see if she knew how to reach Mary. She didn’t.

As I talked to God about my disappointment, He gently reminded me He was the only rescuer in the room. My responsibility was simply to authentically connect with Mary and accept her. Mary didn’t want to be my project. She wanted to be my friend.

I’m embarrassed to admit I would rather have been her hero–to swoop in, make some noble contribution, then go home and watch “Dancing with the Stars.” It’s much harder to do the slow, tedious work of love.

In the end, it was Mary who was the unwitting hero, teaching me that unconditional love is messy and inconvenient and doesn’t happen in an instant. And it seldom comes with a medal.

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The Dilemma of “Reasonable Doubt”

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onAs I write this post, the Internet, the media, and the public in general, are aflame with outrage over the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial and the fact that she’ll go free in less than a week. 

For nearly seven weeks the public was fixated on the soap-opera-like case of the young Florida mom accused of killing her 2-year old daughter, dumping her body in a swamp, and then partying hearty before reporting her daughter missing 31 days later.

Interest in the trial rocketed the ratings of media outlets to their highest enjoyed in years. When the verdict of not guilty came after a mere ten hours of deliberation, the media frenzy was reminiscent of what happened after the O. J. Simpson trial.  

An avalanche of questions ensued. “How could they find her not guilty? What were they thinking? What kind of jury would acquit a baby killer?” I wasn’t in the jury room for deliberations, but it’s fair to say the jury was thinking about “beyond a reasonable doubt,” that threshold of proof required in criminal cases to justify a guilty verdict. Not guilty beyond all doubt, just reasonable doubt.

I hate reasonable doubt. It feels like it gives an “out” to criminals. In civil proceedings, the level of proof required in order for a defendant to be found guilty can be as minimal as finding the defendant more likely than not of committing the wrong with which they are charged. But in criminal proceedings, the bar is set higher for a guilty verdict. The defendant must be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

Here’s a thought. What if you had to defend yourself in a criminal proceeding against charges of fraud–of fraudulently masquerading as a Christian when, in fact, your words and actions don’t support that you’re a Christian. Would there be enough evidence to convict you?

The prosecution, in order to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you are not a real believer would likely subpoena your phone records and e-mails to get to the question of character. They might investigate your financial records to see how you spend your money and check your calendar to see how you spend you time and with whom. They would talk to your friends and neighbors and co-workers to ask how you act under pressure, who you admire, and what kind of entertainment you like.

Your defense attorney, on the other hand, might gather evidence to prove you make it to church fairly regularly, you gave to the building fund last year, and you drop a few bills in the offering plate when you are able. You own a Bible…somewhere. Isn’t that enough to demonstrate that you are, in fact, a bona fide follower of Jesus Christ?

Let’s say the prosecution then takes weeks to trot out a slew of witnesses damaging to your cause. The defense calls only one witness, Jesus Christ.

Jesus takes the stand on your behalf, to say that, yes, you are indeed one of His. He’ll vouch for you. In fact, in the event a jury of your peers finds you guilty, He’d like to assume the penalty for you—not because you deserve it, but because you two have entered into a partnership. Granted, He says, you haven’t exactly been living up to your end of the bargain. But He came to court today with extra grace and forgiveness, if you’d like another chance to get it right.

The jury deliberates less than an hour. (If the Son of God vouches for you, how can you be a fraud?) You are acquitted, thanks to Jesus. You’re free to go on with your life.

In your heart, though, you know you didn’t deserve to be acquitted. Jesus bailed you out…again. And you also know the grace He brought to court did not come cheap. It cost Him His life. Will that make a difference now in how you live? Or will you get away with murder?

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Tell Me, What Was It Like?

Posted on June 28, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onRecently, while searching for a stray document on my desk, I ran across a newspaper clipping I had saved to share with a friend. (You remember newspapers, those big sheets of paper with lots of words and pictures that used to show up on your doorstep before news was delivered on your iPhone or RSS feed?)

The article reported the death of 110-year old Frank Buckles, the last U.S. Veteran of World War I. I’m not a history buff, but Buckles’ first-person account of the war was riveting.

 He enlisted in the Army at 16, lying about his age, and begged to be sent to the French front lines with an ambulance unit. Eventually, he found himself in the infamous Flanders Fields, an area in Belgium where soldiers fought, hunkered down in endless rows of trenches that dotted the countryside for miles.

One fateful day, Buckles and thousands of other Allied troops were enveloped in a putrid yellowish-brown cloud of mustard gas, a lethal liquid hidden in the tips of artillery shells. By midnight, Buckles said, many of the soldiers were incapacitated as their lungs burned, their eyes swelled shut and their skin erupted with red blisters.

“It increased with every quarter of an hour, and about seven o’clock my eyes were scorching as I staggered back and delivered the last dispatch I was destined to carry in the war. A few hours later my eyes were like glowing coals and all was darkness around me.”

By some accounts, nearly half a million men died in a battle that gained less than two miles of ground, but what drew me in was one man’s firsthand account. I wanted to know what was it like, was he afraid, what ran through his mind? Reading about Flanders Fields in a history book was boring. But Frank Buckles was there. He lived it.

Those of us who claim a personal relationship with Christ also have a story to tell–the story of that relationship: How did we meet Him? What made us decide to be a Christ follower? Has it made a difference in our life? What’s it like to be connected on a day-to-day basis with a living, breathing deity? It’s like offering up our firsthand account.

I could tell you about a time I was on assignment for Christianity Today, covering a trial. At that same time in my life, I was trying to get a mortgage for a townhouse I wanted to buy. The townhouse was an excellent price and within my budget, but I was a self-employed single writer and business consultant. My income was respectable but uneven and lenders don’t like unpredictability in anything.

So despite excellent credit scores, no debt and the ability to make a 20% down payment, no one wanted to give me a mortgage. (This was long before predatory lending became commonplace.)

I was really depressed. I talked to God about it and asked friends to do the same—not because I deserved His help, but because I had done all I could do and I hoped He would step in.

On the first day of the trial, during a brief recess, the man sitting next to me in the courtroom, turned to me to chat. We exchanged pleasantries and then I asked, “What brings you to this trial?”

He said he had no involvement in the trial. His office was next door and he popped in occasionally to take a break from his work. He was a mortgage broker and a Christian and said he had a real passion for assisting qualified mortgage applicants whose circumstances nevertheless made them undesirable to traditional lenders.

You know where this is headed. I secured an excellent mortgage.

Can I prove it was God’s doing? No, but I don’t have to prove it. It’s part of my story, my firsthand account of my life with God. I lived it. I share it, hoping it will encourage others to remember God is always at work in the world. Sometimes we just don’t see it.

People tell me they don’t know how to share their faith with others. Sure you do. Just tell your story. It’s yours. No one else can tell it. It will be riveting.

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“Some Terms and Conditions Apply”

Posted on June 20, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onToday I received one of those alerts on my computer that announces a software update is available to download. When I clicked on the icon to install it, a Terms and Conditions contract appeared.

You know the drill. It’s that long, incomprehensible legal document full of words like “disclaimer of warranties” and “indemnification” and sentences that start with, “By agreeing to this document, you are expressly acknowledging….” In fact, Apple has an entire website devoted to Terms and Conditions agreements for all its products– each contract available in 17 languages. How thoughtful.

I don’t speak Lawyer, but, if you’ve ever actually read one of these contracts, the bottom line is usually: If anything goes wrong, it’s probably your fault, so don’t come whining to us. And, if you digress from these terms and conditions in any way, you will be roasted on a spit in full view of your children and your First Grade teacher. (Okay, that last part may not be in the document. I was too scared to read it to the end.)

You’re then asked to “Accept” or “Reject” the terms and conditions. There’s no chance to delete paragraph 56 or to ask questions about paragraph II.3(g). Take it or leave it. Oh, and, by the way, if you don’t click “Accept?” Game over. You get nuthin’.

Despite the attitude and the fact that most of us have no clue what we’re signing, I’ve never met a single person who refused to click “Accept.” When I ask people about this, they say, “I need this product. If I have to accept these terms in order to use it, so be it.” Or they’ll say, “If the product didn’t work, people wouldn’t continue to buy it. That’s good enough for me.”

Since I’m always trying to connect the dots between real life and God, here’s what puzzles me: When the God of the universe offers a deal with much better terms and conditions than a software update, why do some people find it so hard to click “Accept?”

I picture God saying, “You know, I made this world and left you guys in charge and you made a mess of things. But I love you so much I crafted a plan to get you back on track. Since I’m holy and you’re not, it wasn’t that simple. The penalty for all you’ve done wrong was death. The only person capable of covering that big a tab was Jesus. So I sent Him to pay your debt so you and I could once again have a relationship.

“Do you know how hard it was to let Him go? I feel like shaking some of you and saying, ‘Hey, were you worth dying for? This is a big deal, okay? Who else has loved you like that? Plus, you get the Holy Spirit to live in your heart and help you live more successfully until Jesus comes back to complete My restoration plan. Plus, I’m preparing a future for you after you die, so it won’t all end here. All I ask in return is for you to accept a couple Terms and Conditions!”

I knew it. I knew there had to be a catch.

“Hear me out! All you have to do is acknowledge that you messed up and that you’d like a second chance.  And you must agree to take my offer of help and decide you want to do life differently in the future.”

That’s it?

“I even provided a book (the Bible) with a history of My plan, stories of what happened to others who accepted the offer and those who didn’t, tips for getting the most out of our relationship, and, of course, the Ten Commandments.”

There you go, God, cramping my style with impossible rules.

“It’s not that different from a computer manufacturer telling you what to do and not do to avoid crashing your computer. Following those commandments will keep your life from crashing and give you more peace than you can imagine. ”

And what happens if I don’t click “Accept?”

“Well, when you draw your last breath, it will be Game Over. That’s when the offer expires. But until then, I’ll be hovering over the Earth, looking for fresh ways to explain what I’m trying to do. You’re reading this blog, aren’t you?”

I accept, God. And thanks for not giving up on us.

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Does Jesus Tweet?

Posted on June 14, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onI have a confession to make. I don’t tweet. I know, I know. Neanderthal. I’m not against social networking. I’m on Facebook and LinkedIn. But sometimes the exploding number of networking options leaves me feeling I’m being hunted down by stalkers who promise all kinds of benefits if I’ll just PAY ATTENTION TO THEM! How ironic that one of the first names considered for Twitter was Friend Stalker. I rest my case.

Twitter was birthed in 2006 in a San Francisco park. Co-creator Dom Sagoll and a bunch of techie friends were chowing down Mexican food, brainstorming ways to create a dispatch service to connect people by phone using text. One of his first tweets was, “oh this is going to be addictive.” Today there are more than 50 million tweets a day.

I suppose it’s just a matter of time before I jump into the Community of Crippled Thumbs and lapse into communicating in abbreviated 140-character messages. The good news, though, according to FORBES writer Samantha Ettus, is that about one-third of the people on Twitter don’t actually tweet! Instead, they develop carefully selected lists of people or industries they follow, to keep them informed on what matters most. The more carefully selected your list, she says, the more value you receive.

Ettus inadvertently stumbled onto an important spiritual principle. It’s not who you know but who you follow. Choose carefully who you follow, because it makes a difference in your life.

I follow Jesus, who doesn’t currently tweet, although if you tweet @God or @Jesus or @Christ, you’ll find a legion of well-known names eager to speak for Him, some more trustworthy than others.

Actually, Jesus is perfectly capable of speaking for Himself and He has no trouble saying something substantive in 140 characters or less. For example:

  • Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? (Matt 6:27)
  • I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly. (John 10:10)
  • Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.(Matt. 11:28)
  • Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me. (John 14:1)
  • Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. (Luke 12:15)
  • Love your enemies and forgive those who persecute you. (Matt. 5:44)
  • Love each other as I have loved you. (John 15:13)

If Jesus was on Twitter, He wouldn’t be announcing a flash mob or giving a shout out to Ashton Kutcher. With Jesus, the message was always personal, offering comfort, compelling us to be fully who we were created to be.

Reportedly, 8,463,739 people follow Justin Bieber on Twitter. But I’ll stick to Jesus. He’s been around a lot longer, He follows me, even when I fail to follow Him and every word He says has the power to change my life.

Posted in Life Purpose | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Better than WonkaVision

Posted on June 7, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onThe worst thing about aging is you start being careful. Careful about what you eat. Careful with how you spend money. Careful about where you step. Your mother might say, “Honey, that’s not being careful. That’s called ‘growing up!”

But who springs out of bed in the morning to call a friend to tell them, “Guess what! I just ate a bowl of All-Bran and then I flossed! Can you believe it? I KNOW. It’s awesome!”

As we age, we lose our sense of joy and wonder. Impossible deadlines, bills, sickness, disappointments, can make us very, very careful. In fact, they can suck life right out of us. Like Jack Nicholson said to Morgan Freeman in the movie “The Bucket List,” “I wish I had known you before I was dead.”

How do you restore wonder?  Willy Wonka, in the original “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” told the children if they wanted to see the world in a magical way, they needed to develop WonkaVision, a fresh sense of wonder.

Have you seen the movie “Earth,” the nature documentary that tracks one year in the life of three particular species on our planet?” We’re talking major wonder.

A funny thing happens when we step outside our everyday lives to look at the world with new eyes. Little trickles of wonder reappear and, inevitably, it leads us to God.

Take Job, for example–that depressing man in the Bible who led a charmed life of family, friends, success and wealth and then lost everything. No more wonder for Job.  All that remained were crabby, judgmental friends, whose go-to solution was “Blame God and die!”

Oh sure. That’ll work. Throw a pity party and invite everyone to come.

However, in Job 38-41 God shows up and decides to give Job and Doomsday Boys a lesson about wonder in the midst of the grim circumstances.

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? … Who shut up the sea behind doors …when I fixed limits for it …when I said, ‘…Here is where your proud waves halt?’ … Have you ever given orders to the morning or shown the dawn its place? … Do you send lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you? … Do you give the horse its strength? … Does the eagle soar at your command?”

God’s holy recipe for WonkaVision?  It’s not about having the right life circumstances. It’s about having the right perspective.

Whether your life seems just beige at the moment or very dark, God has it covered.  You may not know what to do. He does. Go back to the Source and reset your compass to Him as your True North. He’ll help you figure it out. That’s His job.

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The Dog Whisperer, The Situation and Me

Posted on June 3, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onI was sitting around with a group of friends recently and one of them asked, “What name would you give yourself that would immediately telegraph to other people who you are?” My daughter hates those kind of games, but I think they’re fun. They usually reveal more about a person than he or she might otherwise divulge.

My friend didn’t mean a nickname like “Bud” or “Missy,” but rather something like The Dog Whisperer, The Hammer, The Terminator, The Situation or The Donald. Most of us immediately know the people behind those monikers. Their “names” have turned them each into an instantly recognizable personal brand in a culture where it’s tough to stand out.

Michael Sorrentino was an unemployed fitness center manager and sometime underwear model when he was plucked from obscurity to appear on the reality show Jersey Shore. His role on the show? To be himself.  Somewhere along the way he began calling himself The Situation. I don’t know why. I don’t watch the show. I just read about him in the paper or online. I suspect he wanted to set himself apart from all the other colorful characters on the show.

It worked. The Situation became fodder for late night comic monologues and talk around the office water cooler. It also earned him a cool $5 million last year and guest spots on just about every major talk show on television, just for being a guy from Jersey. Now who’s laughing?

I decided my name should be The Talker (cue laughter from my friends). I come by the title honestly. Everyone in my family is a talker. Growing up, the only time it was quiet in our house was when no one was home!

What would you call yourself?  We often give ourselves names that are more painful than colorful–names like Failure, Idiot, Ugly or Stupid.

Names matter. They stick. They can hurt, even if we only say them to ourselves. They can alter how we feel about ourselves and life, which can set in motion a self-fulfilling prophecy. Psychologists say if you believe a lie long enough, it becomes your truth. Even Dr. Phil says, “We generate the results in life that we think we deserve.”

The outlook immediately improves when you bring Jesus into the mix. He knows who we are, where we’ve been, and what we’ve done and He loves us anyway. He may not have been happy with all our choices. But because of what He did on the Cross—settling our account with God so we could have a clean slate—we were all given new names–names like Forgiven, Beloved, Treasured Child and Friend.

Not bad.

I’m still The Talker, but now I’m The Forgiven Beloved Talker. And now I have something a lot more interesting to talk about than The Situation.

Posted in Self Esteem | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Life Behind the Ropes

Posted on May 31, 2011 by Verla Wallace

Verla--head onI don’t like rules. Rules of punctuation. Robert’s Rules of Order. Rules about not wearing white after Labor Day.

Once, as a reporter, I was covering what basically turned out to be a photo op with George Bush, the elder, when he was Vice President. Reporters were held back behind ropes 30 feet away, allegedly to make sure we didn’t get in the pictures of Bush with local dignitaries. The real reason was Bush didn’t want to take reporters’ questions about some hot issue making headlines. Stay behind the ropes. That was the rule.

Holding a journalist back from a newsmaker is usually followed by Reporter Behaving Badly. As soon as the photo session ended, I slipped under the rope and dashed for the Vice President, microphone poised for a sound bite.

The first thing I noticed when I got close to him was his remarkable blue eyes. Who knew? That lasted about 3 seconds, just before two Secret Service men slipped up on either side of me like stealth robots, each grabbing an elbow. Ever so efficiently, they lifted me a couple inches off the floor and wordlessly spirited me out of the room. It was almost polite. As they walked (and I glided), one of them announced into his wristwatch that “Trailblazer” (Bush’s code name) had left the room. I felt cheated that they had no clever name for me.

Now hear me out. I obey traffic laws. I pay taxes. I understand that rules are necessary to keep the world humming and to prevent anarchy. However, in this situation I was a professional journalist who had been properly credentialed for the Vice President’s visit. I was wearing my photo ID dog tags. The local handlers who staged the event knew me. No matter. The rule was to stay behind the rope, take my place outside the established perimeter. I did not belong in the center of the action.

Have you ever noticed how a lot of rules in life are not about public safety or keeping order? They’re really about keeping you behind a rope where you belong. Maybe your politics don’t fit in or your kid isn’t athletically good enough to be on the varsity squad or your boss doesn’t think you’re a team player. Whatever the reason, you’re not just outside, on the perimeter. You’re on the wrong side.

Those of us who self-identify as Christians are over-achievers in the rules business. I know people who feel it’s their spiritual gift to put certain people “behind the ropes.” Offenders are politely guided (or glided) outside the center of the action because their music or clothes or views about faith are, shall we say, a little messy? Or worse, they don’t know how, during a sermon, to flip to the book of Habakkuk in ten seconds flat or to understand Christian code words like “fellowship” or “quiet time.” (I was once asked if Christians had a secret handshake and, if so, where was it described in the Bible?) Quick, put them behind the ropes!

I’ve been on both sides of the ropes, actually, depending on the circumstance or the issue. Frankly, I kind of like being outside the perimeter. The view is better and the company’s more interesting. Besides, it was Jesus’ favorite place to hang out.

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