WIDE LOAD

There is a specific issue that has been weighing heavily on my heart of late. It has been brought into focus through recent Bible studies, sermons, and conversations I’ve had. It’s not an easy subject, and I am hoping that my fingers will be guided as I try to type truth into this blog. 

There are many verses that speak directly to this subject. Here are just a few to jump-start your train of thought.

“The gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” – Matthew 7:13-14

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord!’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven…” Matthew 7:21

“I am the Vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in Me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from Me, you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” John 15:5-6

Are you fixing to stop reading, friends, because you know you’re in for a fire and brimstone sermon you don’t need? Or are you a little uncomfortable? If you answered yes to either of these, you need to keep reading! Shoot, even if you said no, you should! We are to continually exam ourselves to make sure we are in the faith (2 Corinthians 13:5). Only good things can come from it, for one of two things will happen. You will either pass the test and be affirmed and confidant in your faith, or you will fail and realize your need for change, which is the first step to true salvation!

Do you know what worries me? It isn’t the recent string of earchquakes we’ve seen here in my home state. I don’t lose sleep over the sluggish economy, or the upcoming elections. Global warming doesn’t get to me, and neither does the national debt.

I worry about our full churches, the well watched T.V. sermons, the huge percentages of “Chrisitanity” in our country. You might ask “Why in the world would you worry about that? Aren’t those good things?” But I would answer, “The gate is wide that leads to destruction! The way is narrow that leads to life… there are FEW in it!” It scares me to think of the people to whom the Lord will say, “I never knew you” when we get to Heaven. People I know. People I love. I am afraid that we will be shocked who doesn’t make it.

This is so serious I don’t even know where to start. The American gospel is easy and comfortable. Our comfort-zone expansions, our ministry outreaches, include knocking on friendly neighborhood doors and inviting people to church. Persecution is getting turned down when we actually get out to do it. Our evangelism is short and focused on one simple prayer, after which the convert is told he has received eternal life and is free from his deserved trip to Hell. Some are checked up on and some even make it into the church for a while. There they receive confirmation of their conversion every time the pastor asks for people who have never “accepted” Jesus to come forward. Our nurseries, children’s churches, and youth groups are full of kids we have raised to know the stories, answers, and actions expected of good Christian people. Unfortunately, we are discovering that these, our future, quickly melt away soon after they leave the rule of their Christian parents and enter the world. One has to wonder where real Christianity is in America today.

Now I don’t want to capsulate the entire Christian community under the heading of “Fake”. But when I think of the Pharisees, who were very learned in the Scripture and knew exactly how to “be godly”, thought they had it all figured out and missed the Truth, I have to wonder. We think we have it all figured out. We “know” the Scripture (although that is disputable). We can “be godly” (at least on Sundays). How can we know that we are not modern day Pharisees? What separates us from them? Or are we just like them, doomed to miss the Savior and His salvation as They pass right under our noses?

I am going to try to break this down as best I can and address separate issues within this big, over-all issue of the modern American ‘Christian’s state of being. With the Lord’s help, I pray that it will be eye-opening, thought-provoking, and maybe even life-changing to those who choose to read it, as well as to myself.

Sewot & Noduh

To all of us who have found ourselves in either of these clans, the clans of Sewot and Noduh. Whether we wonder how our current position helps (Say WHAT?!) or are the chosen few whose path is obvious (No DUH!!), may we all learn to trust the King's lead and assignment in every area of our lives and come to know the secret of contentment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sweat poured down her furrowed brow as she vigorously sloshed the dripping mop over the cobbles, mimicking the way the dirty water trickled along the cracks in the street. Her dirty-blonde bangs fell in front of her eyes again and she impatiently swept them back. The sun beat down on her, one lone figure in the middle of a small town, in the middle of a large kingdom.

Fighting the urge to straighten and gaze down the length of street she knew she needed to get done, she dropped her head even more and stared instead at the end of the mop. Swish swish, it droned. Swish. Its hypnotic rhythm almost lured her to a stop. But slowing down broke the rhythm and, shaking herself awake, she picked up speed. Strange, how working so vigorously could enervate a person rather than invigorate.

Slowly, stone by stone, her bare feet and battered mop made their way down the street. An occasional hale from a passerby would bring a brief stir of human interaction and the ring of horses’ shoes would occasionally break the silence of the hot summer’s afternoon. Besides these, however, her companionship was with her mop. Her mop, and her thoughts.

She tried to remember back to what she used to do before receiving this assignment. That felt so long ago, though she knew in her head it was but a brief span of her life thus far. But the longing she now held in her heart to return to previous days of hustling about in important business made it feel like a century had passed. Then was a time of collapsing into bed every night with a feeling of great accomplishment. Of focused determination during the day. Of excitement as she woke. She had been a part of the envied and the scorned, the clan of Noduh, the important, the obvious. Her life had been filled with purpose and plans not her own. But now…

Swish swish swish… A gratitude invoking breeze softly added its chorus to that of the mop, pushing some of last year’s dry leaves along the path. The rustle joined the swish and they droned together.

Then the clatter of rushing hooves and excited shouts! She could hear them around the corner, headed straight for the square! Eagerly her eyes sought them, focusing intently on those few gaps of space between the buildings. What was the cause for such haste? She wondered. And who were they who rushed in with such urgency? Surely it must be something of great importance. Oh that she could leave her duties to see and partake of that which she could hear so clearly!

A brief flash of blacks and brown filled the focus of her gaze, and then she saw only people as the square filled with the citizens of the town. Carpenters still held their tools, housewives carried both little children and their knitting, and even the butcher strode past, still holding a chicken whose moments of life had been prolonged. Hesitantly, she looked down at her mop. The length of street looked so long. And so dull.
A trumpet sounded in the square. Then a voice rang out… with sudden determination, she slung her mop over her shoulder and ran towards the square. As she rounded the corner and joined the quieting crowds, all eyes focused on one man.

His armor shone in the sun, a brilliant silver. He sat his horse atop the square’s central stage, so important and regal looking. His eyes were sharp and focused, and sparkled fiercely. As she looked on him, she recognized everything about his position. The look in his eyes used to be hers. The importance he was now feeling used to be hers.

“People of the Kingdom!” his voice rang out loud and strong, crystal clear to all in the square. “Know that today is the change of assignments! Each citizen is to pay heed to this document…” and he raised a scroll high in the air, “and change their current occupation accordingly. All assignments, as always, come from direct order of the King, long may He live!”

“Long live the King of Kings!” the crowds responded.

Turning his steed, the man flicked his wrist, sending the scroll unrolling into the crowd and tacked the end to the Assignment Post. A murmur started somewhere and gradually built as people pushed and shoved towards the scroll, eager to see what their assignment was.

But she didn’t need to push and shove to get their. The end of the scroll unrolled right at her feet. In that moment, all else faded. The groans of the citizens who saw the red mark of Sewot by their name, the cheers of the excited who saw the blue of Noduh, and the clop of the horses hooves, all fled her consciousness. Did she dare glance down? Did she really want to know what her new assignment was? She trembled, lest she saw again the red. Tears filled her eyes as the longing built, and she glanced up at envy as the man on horseback approached. He saw her glance and held her gaze. Finally, more because she knew she would have to eventually than because she wanted to, she looked down.

There it was. Her name. Right at the bottom of the list. And right beside it… the red mark. Sewot. The clan of the overlooked. The unappreciated. The misunderstood. Her.

The tears that had filled her eyes before now spilled over onto her sun burnt cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt at comforting her disappointed self. How long would she be here? So much potential was bottled up inside of her, and so much good she could do with Noduh was being wasted! It was so unwise of the King, long may He live! So unwise! She could do so much more…

Over time she became vaguely aware of a hand on her shoulder. Trying to sniff away her pain and viciously wiping away her tears, she looked up. And there he was. The one she so unreasonably hated in this moment.
She couldn’t quite read his face at this moment. It wasn’t pity in his eyes, nor was it scorn. It was if he felt her pain, but refused to recognize it as legitimate. And he was amused. And excited. All at once.

“Madam,” his voice was all tenderness, but was joined with an urgency she didn’t understand. “I know what you are feeling. I was not always in Noduh, as you once were. And I have suffered the transfer from this assignment I am now in to one like yours. There are few things more difficult to stomach than seemingly trivial tasks after having taken on the world for your King.” He paused and looked into the distance, collecting his thoughts. When he looked back into her eyes her tears were flowing again, and he cleared his throat. “But in all my years,” and he took off his shiny helmet, revealing his graying hair, “I have never known the King to make a mistake.” He took her chin in his hand and stared intently into her eyes. “Trust Him, my dear. He does know your potential. He does know your longing to serve Him in the more dangerous affairs of the Kingdom. And He does not scorn those things. But this time… this period in Sewot… will test you like Noduh never will. It will prove your steadfastness to His call on your life, no matter the occupation. It will challenge your ability to stay faithful; not by the resistance you experience from outside, but by the resistance you face in your own heart. And never think, for one moment, that the service you render as a member of Sewot is unnecessary or less important than what you rendered as a member of Noduh. Those are only feelings… do not believe them.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His look grew tenderer and he smiled. “And above all, do not think that the King is finished with you. He has not forgotten, nor are His plans complete in your regard. The King never forgets, and when you have completed all the assignments He has for you, He will come for you and take you with Him to His paradise.” His smile grew wider. “So mop strong and skillfully, madam, that the King may see how ardently you love and trust Him!”

Through the tears she saw him disappear around the corner. The buzz of voices gradually faded, and she was left alone. Her, her mop, and her thoughts.

She looked down. Her name. Sewot. Joined together once again. She looked at the mop, now dry in the afternoon heat. She looked past the buildings to her assigned street, still unfinished. And then she looked beyond, to the hills on the other side of that street. And she saw the palace of the King, and she walked as close as she could get, and started mopping.

Swish. Swish.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Fuzzy Mind Writing

Wow….

      That’s all I know for sure to say right now. This weekend has been mind-blowing, boggling, and tiring as I have sat and listened to men expound on important issues facing our country. Even now, as I write (sporadically, since this session is far more interesting than I anticipated), talk of economics and free enterprise disrupt my train of thought. Who knows what you will read in this post! J

      Yesterday was the first full day of sessions, and man did I go to bed wiped out. Not only did I have a foggy brain that was loaded down with weighty information, I also had this heavy question on my heart. It’s still there this morning. Now that I have all this information… what do I do with it?

      All of the history that David Barton threw at me that so desperately needs to be in textbooks because it is so different from what is there right now… The statistics that Robert Rector used to prove that God’s ordained family of marriage is vital in life and which are constantly being hidden or attacked by the media… The defining of civilization, where it came from and why it is going away, so convincingly done by Rabbi Daniel Lapin… It is all running around in my head, looking for an outlet.

      But I don’t want to just spout it out and have that be the end of it. There must be a constructive outlet, a way to apply it to my life or effectively feed it to receptive people who can spread the word and change the way things are. I was so fired up about the whole history thing I wanted to go become a teacher! :P Of course, this blog will give me one outlet, however I’m sure that many of my readers are my like-minded friends who probably already know what I have just learned.

      But this I know!

“[I] am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that [I] should walk in them.”

      He has a specific objective for me, and He will reveal it in His time.

Wanting God?

          Not long ago a family I barely knew lost one of their children in a tragic accident. His sudden death staggered hundreds of his friends, family members, and even acquaintances. People who barely knew him grieved over it, myself included. I had only met and visited with Jimmy maybe twice before, but in that short time it became extremely  evident that this young man had the deepest love for the Father of anyone I had ever known.

          But it was at his funeral that I was blown away with how truly absorbed he was in that love. He most certainly was NOT settling for good  in that heavenly relationship. He always said that his life purpose was to bring everyone he came in contact with closer to Jesus. According to all the people who knew him best, his actions portrayed the truth of his claim. He witnessed to everyone, followed the smallest promptings of the Holy Spirit, and devoured the Word like it was his life... In short, he was desperately in love with God. He was desperate to have Him in his life.

          I remember sitting there in the front pew as the worship filled the sanctuary, absorbed with thoughts of how much I wished that I wanted God as much as Jimmy wanted Him. I had to wonder if it came naturally to Jimmy. Did he have to choose to sit and read the Bible like I do, or did he have an appetite for it? He seemed to have such a deep, genuine desire... and I prayed. "God, why don't I want you like that? I can do all the right things, say all the right words, force myself to pursue You in actions... but how do I create a desire? I want to want You more!"

          It's a complicated theology when you try to figure out  the root of desire and the nature of man. Try to couple it with free will and self control and you have a real humdinger of an intellectual discussion. After all, sin has taken it's toll on our natural appetites, but then some people seem to have tapped into some secret vault of desire that is actually directed towards a rightful source. But as much time as I can spend trying to formulate, God blew all theology away when He answered my questions.

          You know what He said? "Jessica... you do want me."

          It took me back. I didn't believe Him, even started to argue. "No, I don't, God. At least not like I want to! Not like Jimmy did..."

          But He wouldn't budge. (Imagine that!) "Yes you do. You want me just as much as he ever did. You want me more than you know, more than you want anything else, more passionately than you can fathom. You just don't know it!"

          And suddenly, I got it. Everything that I pursue in life I pursue because I want something. Cliche, I know, but there's a God-sized hole in my heart. I do want God... I just don't know it.

         Jimmy knew what he wanted. He went after It.

         THAT is what I want to do!

          More on this later... I've thought about it a lot since then :)

The World is Calling

          I want to take a few moments to talk to all the girls out there who are being bombarded every day with lies about who they are and what is important in life. Namely, perfect hair, flawless skin, mannequin size bodies with Barby size proportions, and all the right moves. And please don't stop reading, ladies, even if you think you are above having self-esteem issues, because, I assure you, I once thought I was too. I was a confident, chunky 15-year-old (okay, I admit it, I did hate my acne) who was perfectly fine with no make-up and the signature ponytail. Then I began to notice a boy... yes, one boy imparticular ;) and the transformation began.

           The Christian community has gotten pretty good over the years about teaching girls that the inside is really what matters about a person. Now we know all the right things to say, both to ourselves and to the girls around us. And it is desperately needed because the world is calling our names, wooing us to believe differently.

          I remember the first time I got bowled over with my first bout of a real life self-esteem deficit. It was rough. I could count off all of the things about me I didn't like to a 'T' and that's all I saw. And on top of all the negative vibe I was giving myself, I felt extremely guilty because good Christian girls aren't supposed to have this problem. We are supposed to be totally focused on what God thinks of us, what the inside looks like, and shouldn't care about fitting in at all. 

          It's too bad we actually have a sin nature, huh?

          Last night, a couple of hours of watching Angelina Joelle rock the movie scenes plus the reality T.V. show portraying pre-teen dancers who did have all the right moves (don't know what the draw to that stupidity is...) had me going down that road again. All of the perfection on that screen blew away all of my confidence when I know all the imperfections of me. And what an opportunity for Satan to go to work in my mind.

          Thankfully, I have a husband who can sincerely build me up and to whom I can go with any, however unreasonable, fears. But the real battle is still in the mind... I have to choose to believe something about myself and what is real.

          The world is calling us, ladies, to fit in. It wants us to dress a certain way, do our hair correctly, make sure our make-up is in place, and work our bodies into shapes that simply will not be realized in the real world most of us live in. And our natural drive is to fit in! Perhaps especially as women, our need to be included is a strong driving force. We desperately want to heed that call.

          But the Lord is calling us as well, ladies. 

         I'm not sure I'm going to be able to adequetly articulate what all these verses spoke to me last night as they came ot mind. But I hope that, as you read them, they will be ingrained on your memories so that, when you face your esteem challenge, you will be adequetly prepared to face the enemy in your own mind.

James 4:4 " ⁴ Ye adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? Whosoever therefore would be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God. "

Romans 12:1-4 "¹ I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service.

 ² And be not fashioned according to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, and ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

 ³ For I say, through the grace that was given me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think as to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to each man a measure of faith"

The Prisoner

I wrote this a couple of years ago and thought I would reintroduce it to the world. A little long, perhaps, but if you don't have time to read it now, leave the window open and take it with you to lunch! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was conscience of cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck under his nape of black hair. Another bead of the stuff headed down his forehead, hiding for a moment in his bushy eyebrow before running into his left eye, making it burn. He blinked briskly but made no other move to ease his discomfort. Sweat was the last of his concerns at the moment. Let it come… it might be the last time he felt the sting.


The damp cool of his own private little room didn’t even mention itself to his mind as he slouched in the corner, head tilted back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. ‘Private’ did though, and he strained his hearing to the utmost. Still no sound. No voices, no footsteps in the hall. He was totally alone. Sweating in the coolness and alone. He strode to the door, footsteps echoing dully off the bare walls. He reached out his hand and laid it on the solid door, staring at his fingers, willing them to have the strength the brake this barrier down. They didn’t even flinch, never even tried. It was no use. There was no way out of this. No use.


Somewhere in the distance water dripped from a leak, matching his thoughts, word-for-word, drop-for-drop. No-Use, it splashed, No-Use-No-Use!


With a groan he let his forehead drop forward against that immovable barrier, hands clenched into fists against it. Though he could see no sun, had no way to see time passing, he knew it was. Time was passing… his time was passing. His life’s last sands were slipping dangerously close to the narrow neck of the hour glass and he stared, in his mind’s eye, at the mound in the bottom half. All the things he wished he had done, all the things he wished he had not, now staring him back in the face. It was too late now. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t change anything. It was too late.


Too-Late-Too-Late, the water mourned with him. Too-Late


It was the story of his life, every single one of his days summed up in two words… too late. The dreariness of that thought consumed his mind, eating up every last shred of hope he had been trying to cling to. As he stood there, exhausted from days of trying to find a way our, he felt he no longer had the will to try anymore. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do. For the first time in his life, he was truly and totally helpless. This impossible predicament he had brought down on himself was overtaking him, breathing down his neck, running him into the ground. Breaking him! Beating him! Destroying him! With a furious, desperate cry he raised his head and slammed his fists against that one thing that stood between him and his freedom, but it didn’t budge, didn’t even shudder. Impossible predicament. Hopeless. Absolutely…


Hope-less. It finished his thought for him.


He paused in his frantic search for hope, knowing he would find none and wanting to sink into blissful nothingness, to escape into himself. Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, letting his head sink forward to the door once more, slowing his racing heart and loosening taut muscles.


Hope-less, the drips reminded him. Hope-less, Hope-less!


“I know!” his mind screamed, but he refused to let his body respond. His breathing was ragged and heavy, his shirt now soaked and clingy. The stillness of this, his prison, clashed violently with the chaos in the prison of his mind where ideas fought for credibility, thoughts struggled against instinct, and his soul cried out for relief from its mental torture. His end was nearing… why couldn’t it come quickly? Must he endure this so much longer, only to die then?


Raising his head he turned, eyes roaming the bare walls surrounding him… nothing.


Somewhere on the other side of the door those drips continued, taunting him as they steadily splashed away, telling him of his predicaments. No-Use Help-less Hope-less


That’s when he heard them. Breaking the stillness, disrupting the rhythmic taunt of the drips, echoing dully off the bare walls as his own had… footsteps. The solemn tread of judgment filled the air, growing louder as the footsteps grew closer to the door, the door that, a moment ago, he longed to see open but which now, he only wished would remain closed.


Try as he did to keep hold of himself, fear began to shake him to his very core. Panic closed in. He gasped for air as this desperate, terrifying icy claw seemed to tear at his heart. He groped for the near-by wall, drinking in the cool firmness of it because his vision seemed suddenly to have blurred around the edges. With small, unsteady steps, he eased his way into a corner, away from that dread door, those dread footsteps. Sliding down the wall, he dropped his head into his hands, unable to even groan through his constricted throat.


Where was this loving God his parents, companions, colleagues, told him of? Here, in his darkest hour, why was he absent? If there was a God who loved him, he wouldn’t be here, now, waiting for his own death. The only God he saw here with him was a holy God of judgment, fixing to crush him through the owners of the footsteps that even now stopped outside his abode. Contempt darkened what reason he still had. Love? What place did that have?






Dread slowed his feet while his heart raced. Pain tore through his twisted arm as he bent forward, trying to escape just a little bit of this man’s iron grip. Suddenly, he found himself falling to the stone floor outside his physical prison. His hand barely made it between his face and solid rock before he hit, and he lay for a moment, stunned, barely able to move, waiting for a shower of blows to rain down upon him, but none came.


Instead, the raspy voice growled again. “Get up, you fool.” When he didn’t respond, rough hands grabbed him, pulling him to his feet and he suddenly found himself backed against the wall, nose to nose with a face so full of hate he could barely breathe. “Dog!” the guard spat out. His grip tightened, muscles bulged, nostrils flared… then the guard forced himself back away from his prisoner. “Go,” he snarled.


Confusions blanked out every bit of sense he had left. Go? What could that mean? He turned and stared down the long hallway, saw the open door at the end, but couldn’t will his feet to move. “Go! – Go!” the drips had found their voice again. “GO!”


“Barrabas…” he turned again, looking blankly at the guard. “You are free to leave.” The guard’s eyes were watery as he gazed at the very personification of evil. “Go, Barabbas. Look at the man who took your place.”


And he went.

Honesty in Today's World... What has Changed?

          The first word that pops into anyone's mind when you mention Abraham Lincoln is probably "Honest". I mean, no one has gone down in history like he has for being honest! For the slavery movement you have William Wilberforce, for the Civil War you have General Grant, Lee, etc... but for honesty, Abe takes the cake. Well, and maybe George Washington with his hatchet mess-up concerning his daddy's cherry tree. Wish I could vote for one of them in 2012... But back to my point. 

          Here's a question to ask yourself...Do you admire greatness or aspire to greatness?

         When we hear the story of Abraham Lincoln's two-mile walk to return 2 pennies to the guy who overpaid him, the general reaction is "Wow, what a guy". But I think that secretly, in the back of many minds, there's a mixed reaction. And I think that that mixed reaction has grown rapidly over the years. No longer is there pure admiration for feats of honesty like his. Instead, we have grown dull to such displays of character, and even find them irritating at times.

         I speak from personal experience on this... just last night I had an honesty dilemma that my Maker wouldn't let me wriggle out of. Please don't think of me as tremendously honest after this story... for the truth is that He had to twist my arm too much to claim that quality. After all, a coupon that the car hop didn't take isn't seriously a big deal, is it? I mean, seriously! But as I started to back out of the parking space and go on my way, (yes, I was secretly doing a happy dance in my mind over the fact that I was going to get another ninety-nine cent Route44) God tapped me on the shoulder and said, "That wasn't an accident". Of course, I got defensive. Really, I had just set it down to count my change out to her! Never once crossed my mind that she couldn't see the coupon, and, of course, wouldn't remember it! 

          "Liar." 

          I pulled out onto the street anyway and tried to laugh it all off. I couldn't count the number of times I had reused 'forgotten' coupons. It really was NOT a big deal. If I actually went back and gave it to them, they would no doubt laugh at me for being so ridiculous. I made it onto the interstate, all the while humming to try to block Him out. But all I could think of was that turning back was going to get harder with every block I drove, every mph I accelerated. And I had just asked God to speak into my life more, to use me more, to renew my faith and vigor in this walk... if I ignored Him now, would all of that be killed?

         Finally, with an exasperated sigh, I yanked onto an off ramp, drove the 2 miles back to Sonic, told 'James' that I owed him more than I gave him, and handed over the coupon. Of course, just as I expected, the reaction was somewhere between, "Oh honey, you're so exasperatinly sweet," and "Geez, woman, get a life". And I have no doubt that someone, somewhere, reading this, probably had similar thoughts, if but for a moment. 

          Why is it that we can applaud Abraham Lincoln for walking two miles to return two cents, but roll our eyes at Jessica driving two miles to return a dollar? Is it because his task was so much more difficult? But that doesn't make sense, because the fact that my task was simple means that there should be thousands of people doing it, right? It should be common place...

          We still applaud the woman who turns in the bag of dough to the police when she could have kept it, or the guy who runs after the lady who dropped her expensive purse. But when it comes to the little things, we have lost something terribly valuable. In fact, we have traded it for something much less worthy. God's standards and applause should never have been exchanged for man's value and approval. Yet, as I drove home last night, I realized that that was exactly what I had done in my own mind. Man would never have expected me to go back to make sure my coupon was in the proper hands. Man would snicker behind closed hands if I they saw me doing it. But God... God did expect me to go back and make sure my coupon was in the proper hands. And God...God would applaud me openly if He saw me doing it.

          Instead of simply cheering Honest Abe we should aspire to be an Honest Abe in our own right. Instead of simply giving kudos to the woman who turned in the cash we should eagerly look for our chance to be more like her. Instead of simply nodding and smiling our approval at the man who chases down the careless purse loser we should be as quick in our decisions over what to do when we see it happen.

          Whenever you hear stories of people doing tremendously honest things, like returning small amounts of money or including little truths in their accounts even when it might hurt them... watch your reaction. It could tell you a lot about the state of your heart, and whose opinion you value most.