Recognizing the Lasting Imprint of Our Steps

Do you remember the “Footprints in the Sand” story? It’s about someone dreaming of walking along a beach with the Lord, watching a panorama of scenes from his or her life and seeing two sets of footprints trailing behind. Then the person observes that at times, there’s only one set of footprints.

 

“I notice that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints,” the person says. “I don’t understand why you left my side when I needed you most.” To which the Lord replies, “…I never left you during your time of trial. Where you see only one set of footprints, I was carrying you.”

That imagery has always moved me, sometimes to the point of tears. Because I can remember numerous times in my life that, if God were not carrying me, I would not have made it through. In the Scriptures, the Lord promises to be with us at all times – it’s just that sometimes, He’s doing all the heavy lifting.

 

A plaque with this story, in the shape of a footprint, hangs on my office wall. It came to mind while reviewing the final draft of a novel that a friend, Sondra, has written. Only, she offered a new twist.

 

Describing a scene where several couples have come together for a social gathering, she writes: 

“…I notice the footprints on the carpet. Indentations made by everyone’s shoes. Some large, some small. But the steps visibly show where the guests have walked. All had left their mark. It hit me. Our walk through life leaves a mark. Everywhere we go, everything we say and do, we leave a print. Good or bad, we leave a mark that says, ‘I’ve been here.’” 

 

“Footprints in the Sand” focuses on singular footprints left by the Lord, but Sondra gives a great reminder about the impression, the mark that we leave behind – the impact we have on others as we cross paths with them during our journey through life. 

 

Have you ever stopped to wonder what kind of mark you’re leaving behind? 

 

Remember the ‘WWJD” fad of some years ago? “What Would Jesus Do”? That idea was originated in a little book, In His Steps,” by Charles Sheldon. The title is drawn from 1 Peter 2:21, in which the apostle exhorts, “To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” In the book, an entire congregation resolves not to make any decisions of consequence without asking the question, What would Jesus do?

 

But there’s another side to that. There are people around us – family members, friends, coworkers, neighbors, people we minister to – who are watching us, following us. The Scriptures acknowledge that, and say we shouldn’t shrink from such an important, yet humbling responsibility. 

 

Writing to the church in Corinth, after speaking about the freedom believers have in Christ, the apostle Paul boldly declares, “Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God – even as I try to please everybody in every way. For I am not seeking my own good, but the good of many, so that they may be saved. Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:32-11:1). Earlier in the book, the apostle gives an admonition that seems almost audacious: “Therefore I urge you to imitate me” (1 Corinthians 4:16). Yet, shouldn’t we be willing to say the same?

 

To the church in Philippi, Paul wrote, “Join with others in following my example, brothers, and take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you” (Philippians 3:17). And in writing to his young protégé, Timothy, he says, “Follow the pattern of the sound words you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus…” (2 Timothy 1:13).

 

As a child, did you ever walk in some mud and then proceed to track it through the house? What about the tracks you leave when walking across freshly fallen snow? The mud can be mopped or swept up, and snow tracks will disappear when it thaws or when additional snow falls to fill the indentations. But the tracks we leave in the lives and hearts of those whom we interact from day to day are usually long lasting, even permanent.

 

So it’s not a question of whether we’re leaving a print or mark as we march on this exciting, sometimes perplexing adventure we call life. The question is, what kind of mark is it that we leave? And are we satisfied with that? If not, what can we do about it – starting right now?

Learning to Look on the Inside, Not the Outside

Got a question for you: If you were in a hospital, in desperate need of a blood transfusion, would you ask whether the blood had come from a Caucasian, African-American, Asian, Hispanic or Middle Eastern person?

 

When a cardiothoracic surgeon opens someone up to perform open-heart surgery, do you suppose he or she is concerned about whether the patient is African-American, Hispanic, Caucasian, Middle Eastern or Asian?

 

The answer to both questions is – or should be – an emphatic, No. Because on the inside, all human beings are the same. Blood and plasma are the same, regardless of the race or ethnicity of the donor. On the inside, we each have a heart, a liver, kidneys, lungs, intestines, and all that other stuff. And they all function in the same ways – it doesn’t matter whether you come from a rich family or poor, what language you speak, or whether your skin color is naturally dark or you have to lay in the sun or a tanning booth to get that way.

So why in the world do we continue to remain so hung up, so obsessed with the amount of pigmentation – or lack – of someone’s skin?

 

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but vividly remember the time I was meeting with a young African-American man, his first name was Rhon. We were early in a discipling relationship, and one day out of the blue he asked, “Bob, if Jesus were to come up and stand in front of me, would He see a black man?”

 

Thankfully, I didn’t have to fumble for a response. A verse I had recently read came immediately to mind: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). Although I believe God created different skin colors and ethnic features, perhaps simply for the sake of variety, just as He created cardinals and eagles, blue jays and robins, barred owls and sparrows, He doesn’t regard us differently because of our skin, status or sex.

 

In fact, 1 Samuel 16:7 states this emphatically. After the prophet Samuel had become frustrated after examining each son of Jesse and finding none to be of God’s choosing for the next king of Israel, God told him, “…The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

 

Elsewhere, speaking about motives but also referring to the folly of judging solely based on externals, Proverbs 21:2 tells us, “All a man’s ways seem right to him, but the Lord weighs the heart.” Similarly, “The lamp of the Lord searches the spirit of a man; it searches out his inmost being” (Proverbs 20:27).

 

Today our nation is once again embroiled in racial strife. Factions are demanding an end to racism, sometimes through acts of violence and hatred. Which is like trying to put out a house fire with a blowtorch.

 

Without intending to sound simplistic, the real answers to racism, prejudice and ignorance are not found in more legislation, or other forms of governmental force. It’s by learning to do as the Bible instructs – to stop concentrating on outward appearances, whatever they may be, and discovering how to look inward, to the heart. Recognizing one another as God’s creations and, potentially, as His children. It’s offered to all who respond to the gracious gifts of salvation, forgiveness and reconciliation, provided through the shed blood of Jesus Christ on a crude cross 2,000 years ago.

 

On this page I’ve included an image of white and black hands clenched together, with an American flag in the background. I don’t know its artist, but it wonderfully captures the spirit and hope we all should seek to show toward one another.

 

With forces in our society pressing to keep us separate and perpetually at odds, intending to destroy and divide, only in Christ can we achieve true and undisrupted unity. As Philippians 2:1-2 declares:

“If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.”

 

Did you notice that the key word in this passage is “if”? A tiny word, yet its significance looms as large as the entire world. Jesus Christ gives us the capacity. Are we willing to implement it?

Riding Along with ‘Chariots of Fire’

The famous beach running scene from "Chariots of Fire"

A newsletter from Alistair Begg, a Scottish preacher with a wonderful radio ministry, recently prompted me to again watch the movie, “Chariots of Fire.” It was the first time I’d watched it in years, but as with other classic films, I never tire of viewing it.

In case you haven’t yet seen it (so sorry!), or you’ve forgotten the story line, it centers around a spirited competition between two stellar runners, Scotsman Eric Liddell, and Harold Abrahams, a man obsessed with achieving unparalleled success. 

 

Liddell, born in China to missionary parents, was preparing to return to the mission field there. However, he also was a fast, gifted runner, and did not believe that ability could be cast aside. He – like Abrahams – had aspirations for representing Great Britain in the 1924 Olympics. 

 

Eric Liddell assures his sister, Jenny,
of his commitment to missions.

In an iconic scene from the film that I referenced in my last post, Liddell talks with his sister, Jenny, who has expressed concern that his running is diverting him from his calling to serve as a missionary. He responds, “I believe that God made me for a purpose – for China…. But He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”

Then Liddell adds, “To give it up would be to hold Him in contempt. You were right. It’s not just fun. To win is to honor Him.”

 

Each time I’ve viewed the film, or thought about his words – even though they’re part of a movie script – I can’t help but wonder: Do we understand and appreciate God’s purpose for our own lives? And when we engage in what He has gifted us to do, can we feel His pleasure?

 

Contrary to what some might surmise, God is not some divine spoilsport, determined to keep us from doing the things we enjoy. Consider a fleet Thoroughbred horse – when it runs fast, as it’s designed to do, can you imagine it feels God’s pleasure? Or a physician whose life is dedicated not only to medicine, but also to serving others in God’s name. Do you think that doctor, in helping very sick patients back to health, feels God’s pleasure in the process?

 

But there’s another plot line in the film that struck me just as powerfully. Abrahams in a driven soul, constantly striving and desperately afraid of failing. When Liddell beats him in a race, he’s devastated. Even later, when he wins the Olympic gold medal in the 100-meter sprint, Abrahams feels empty and unfulfilled. At one point, he bemoans the fact that – for him – his entire life is defined by how he performs in a 10-second race.

 

Contrast that to Liddell, who opted out of the same event to stand firm in his convictions. Qualifying heats for the 100 meters were scheduled for a Sunday, and he refused to waver in his belief that he should not compete on the Sabbath. Instead, he was entered in the 400 meters, set for another day. Even though that was not his primary event, Liddell stunned the experts by winning the gold.

 

Afterward, the joy he felt was not simply the thrill of victory. He had honored his God, and saw an Old Testament promise fulfilled: “Those who honor Me, I will honor…” (1 Samuel 2:30). That was the last Olympic appearance for the man popularly known as the “Flying Scotsman,” but Liddell went on to the mission field in China where he faithfully ministered to people in northern China for two decades before his death in 1945.

 

Once, when asked if he ever regretted leaving the fame of athletic competition, Liddell responded, "It's natural for a chap to think over all that sometimes, but I'm glad I'm at the work I'm engaged in now. A fellow's life counts for far more at this than the other.”

 

Jesus addressed this perspective in His so-called “sermon on the mount” when He said, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-21).

 

So the questions remain for us to answer: Are we engaged in things that, when we do them, we feel God’s pleasure? And do we understand His purpose for us so that, when all is said and done, we’ve devoted our lives to the pursuit of things that count for much more than other things?

Wailing Voices and Joyful Noises

For the last several weeks, my wife and I have been “serenaded” by someone in a neighborhood next to ours who sits on his back patio, strumming his guitar and singing – actually, kind of wailing – old folk songs. I’ve never met the fellow, but he sounds like some of the outtakes that are featured as each season of “American Idol” begins.

 

I do have to give him credit. Even though he’s never going challenge the likes of Josh Groban, Kenny Chesney or Michael Buble, he’s obviously giving his all. He’s putting his heart into it, even though his vocal range leaves something to be desired.

 

Which reminds me of an admonition from the Scriptures. Psalm 100:1 says we’re to, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord,” and if you’ve ever heard me sing – in a church setting, or anywhere else – that’s the best I can do. If I were to audition for the church choir, the director would ask me to sing “far, far away” or solo – actually, so low that no one could hear me. So, “wailing Willie” has nothing on me.

 

But I wonder what God thinks. Other translations of the verse above are to make a “joyful shout.” The key word is not what kind of noise we make, but how it’s done – with joy. Philippians 4:4 admonishes us to, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” And in 1 Thessalonians 5:16 we’re told, “Be joyful always.” It’s not the quality of the sound, but what’s behind the sound – our joy in Christ – that matters to the Lord.

 

My musical vehicle of choice is playing the drums, a pastime I renewed this year. I was in the percussion section in my high school band, and kept a set of drums into my early adulthood, but then I sold them, leaving me with only the steering wheel on my car to drum on. Finally, something prompted me to invest in an economical set of electronic drums and I’ve had fun pounding on them. My wife doesn’t seem to mind, at least not too much. Especially since I can turn down the sound to minimize the disruption.

Like the guy down the hill who belts out his tunes as best he can, my drumming will never merit my entry into any talent contests. Even for senior citizens. But I enjoy it; it’s a way of relieving some stress in these very stressful times in which we live today. And I suspect the Lord doesn’t mind my “joyful noise” either.

 

Colossians 3:17 says, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” If God gives us a passion for something, whether it’s writing or drumming or playing tennis or knitting or gardening, and we do it in the name of the Lord Jesus to the best of our ability, I suspect that’s perfectly fine with the Lord.

 

I often think of the scene in the film “Chariots of Fire,” where Eric Liddell’s sister confronts him, questioning why he devotes time training for competing in the Olympics instead of preparing to become a missionary to China.

 

Liddell acknowledges his calling to mission work, before observing, “But God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” Are you fortunate enough to have something that, when you do it, you feel God’s pleasure?

Importance of ‘Me’ Is Greatly Exaggerated

We spent a couple of days recently babysitting for two of our grandsons while their parents took a much-needed getaway. It was fun, but also tiring as we monitored their non-stop antics. It also served as a good reminder that humans, no matter how small, don’t need to be taught the importance of “Me.”

 

Whether it’s actually buried somewhere deep in our DNA, I don’t know, but it’s obvious we’re all born with a “sin gene,” the propensity to exalt self from our early conscious moments. We don’t have to teach our kids how to be selfish and self-centered. It comes naturally. Some “experts” would attribute this to an innate self-preservation instinct, but that doesn’t explain why a child perfectly happy with one toy suddenly becomes upset when a sibling picks up another one.

 

Unfortunately, the focus on “Me” doesn’t seem to diminish as we get older. In some respects, it might even intensify. Years ago we heard a lot about the “Me Generation,” and that segment of society seems as self-absorbed as ever. The coddled individuals who all received participation trophies, regardless of how they performed in their youth sports, now expect the good things of life delivered to them on silver platters with little or no effort on their part.

 

But let’s not just pick on one generation of people. Consider: What happens when we hear about someone’s misfortune, or a storm devastating another part of the country, while our life is going well and there’s nary a cloud in the sky where we live? We’re inclined to feel badly for the other folks but for us, “Life is good.” There’s even a line of clothing that goes by that title.

However, things may be going extremely well for other people, but if our immediate sphere of existence has been upset – by illness, personal problems, or bad weather – life is bad, right? What happens if, to borrow a term from “Star Wars,” there’s a “disruption in the force”? Our personal world has been turned upside-down? Life is bad – because it’s all about “Me.”

 

One of the secrets to a rewarding life – one that I’m still trying to learn and master – is it’s not all about me. I haven’t been placed on this earth, and allowed to live this long, for a non-stop exercise in self-realization. Life’s at its best when we take advantage of the privilege to enhance the lives of others.

 

That’s why one particular scripture passage, one I like to call the “do nothing” verse, has become so significant for me. Philippians 2:3-4 tells us to “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

 

Do you see it? In just a handful of words, God is declaring that the importance of “me” is greatly exaggerated. In fact, even about Jesus Himself we’re told, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28, Mark 10:45). 

 

Jesus demonstrated this truth on numerous occasions. In His time, the primary form of transportation was walking. Roads weren’t paved, so sandaled feet got very dirty over the course of a day. As the Passover Feast was approaching – as well as His sacrificial, atoning death on the cross – Jesus paused before an evening meal to perform an act of service for His disciples: Washing their feet.

 

After pouring water into a basin and using a towel to wash each of the disciples’ feet, He declared, “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:13-15). 

 

Can you imagine, God incarnate, literally stooping to wash the filthy feet of His followers?

 

Where do we see illustrations of this in our society today? We don’t see it in individuals who turn peaceful demonstrations into opportunities to riot and destroy property, even harming others. We don’t see it in people demanding their “rights” as we all strive to cope with the ongoing pandemic. We don’t see it with politicians doing and saying anything to ensure they gain or retain public office in an election year.

 

If anything, we’ve degenerated with the Me generation. Maybe it’s time for some healthy self-searching and admitting that, it’s not all about Me.

Teachability: A Much-Underrated Trait

When do we stop learning? I vaguely remember my first days of kindergarten, a little guy walking down cavernous hallways to the classroom where a lot of unfamiliar faces greeted me. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’ I probably wondered, being the shy, quiet sort that I was. 

 

But as I recall, “K” was a very pleasant time. The launch of my lifetime of learning. My teacher, Mrs. Ashenbach – I think that’s how her name was spelled – was kind, and I made many friendships. A couple of those connections continue to this day, amazingly enough, via the marvels of social media.

 

These days, of course, kids are wondering whether there will be school at all. As the progression of the pandemic continues on its puzzling, erratic course, many options are being tossed about, ranging from part-time physical attendance to a resumption of totally computer-based online instruction. I don’t believe there’s no substitute for face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball learning. And I fear the consequences of not gathering in the “schoolhouse” for classes, physically, emotionally and academically, are greater than most people understand.

But I digress. Thinking about when we stop learning, the best answer is, hopefully never. If we’re truly teachable, there shouldn’t come a time when we conclude, “Well, I’ve got it. I’m done. Nothing more for me to learn.” Even the smartest person can’t begin to absorb everything there is to be learned, even in his or her own areas of interest. So the greater question becomes, are we willing to remain teachable even as we get older?

 

Before anyone asks the question, ‘What do we mean by ‘teachable’?’ I’ll offer a very simple, down-to-earth definition I heard recently: Teachability is having the humility to admit, “I don’t know everything.”

 

Why does this require humility? In case you haven’t noticed, there seem to be a whole bunch of people who have anointed themselves as know-it-alls, whether it’s about politics, science, social issues, even matters of religion and spirituality. Sadly, many of these folks seem to live by the motto, “My mind’s made up. Don’t confuse me with the facts (or truth).”

 

Teachability is a trait the Scriptures insist upon for leaders. Consider:

“Which of you is a wise and well-instructed man? Let him prove it by a right life with conduct guided by a wisely teachable spirit” (James 3:13, Weymouth New Testament).

“Therefore, an elder must be blameless, the husband of one wife, stable, sensible, respectable, hospitable to strangers, and teachable" (1 Timothy 3:2, International Standard Version).

“A servant of the Lord must not argue. Instead, he must be kind to everyone, teachable, willing to suffer wrong” (2 Timothy 2:4, International Standard).

 

Many translations of the Bible state “able to teach” or “apt to teach,” rather than teachable, but I think a teachable person has far greater impact than one who believes he or she has everything figured out.

 

In his writings, the apostle Paul also put a high premium on teachability, trusting those he ministered to would learn and apply what he had taught them, and in turn, teach the truths to others: 

“Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put into practice…” (Philippians 4:9). 

“And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others” (2 Timothy 2:2).

 

Growing up, my father would sometimes speak of people that were “educated beyond their intelligence.” In other words, knowledge is not always the equivalent of wisdom, or even common sense. For instance, Paul wrote about people that were “always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 3:7).

 

The greatest teacher of all time – Jesus Christ – also communicated the importance of humility in learning. He said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28-29).

 

Earlier I referred to my memories of kindergarten, when the vistas of learning were just opening up. Have you ever noticed the eagerness, the wonder of children when it comes to learning? Jesus loved being around children, in part because of their simplicity, lack of guile, and inquisitiveness. 

 

On more than one occasion, He commended their receptivity. Contrasting them with the stubborn, self-satisfied people He would encounter everywhere He went, Jesus declared, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children” (Matthew 11:25).

 

Most children are humble, wide-eyed, sponge-like in learning about everything they encounter. Perhaps we need to shift back into that mode at times, restoring our teachability by becoming like a child and humbly admitting, “I don’t know everything.”

Making the ‘Love Chapter’ Up Close and Personal

I’ve been pondering what’s often called “love chapter” of the Bible – 1 Corinthians 13. Couples like to include it in their wedding ceremonies; after all, the day is all about “love, love, love, love, love.” And quoting from the Bible does give the event an appropriate tone of spirituality.

Recently, I heard a speaker who suggested taking a different approach for considering this passage, one that forces us to where the proverbial rubber meets the road.

 

First, in case you’ve had a memory lapse, or are honestly not familiar with the passage, here’s the portion of the chapter most frequently recited before the bride and groom:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, is keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

(1 Corinthians 13:4-7).

 

Doesn’t reading that make you feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy? We tend to view the love that’s described in romantic or affectionate terms. However, the Greek word used here is “agape,” which refers to a selfless, sacrificial, unconditional form of love, A love that isn’t governed by feelings of the moment.

 

The speaker encouraged listeners to replace each use of the word “love” with your own name. For instance, in my case, the passage would read, “Bob is patient, Bob is kind. Bob does not envy….” That, I found, gives these verses a strikingly different meaning and impact.

 

By inserting my name – or your name – in place of love, it forces a bit of introspection: Am I patient? Am I kind? Am I not envious, or boastful? Am I proud? Am I self-seeking? (Are you feeling convicted yet?)

 

Reconfiguring this famous passage with our own name brings these characteristics, as a sports network used to say, “up close and personal.” Am I easily angered? Do I keep a record of wrongs? Do I delight in evil, rather than rejoicing in the truth? In my expressions of love, am I always protecting, trusting, hopeful, and persevering?

 

What if our answers to some of these questions are “no” when they should be “yes,” or vice versa?

 

As we survey the world around us, it seems love is quickly becoming overcome with hate; distrust replacing trust; despair overriding hope; quitting a more common choice than perseverance. What can we do about it, besides feeling guilty if we’re not patient or kind? Or if we’re prone to anger or letting our memories becoming historically hysterical in our relationships?

 

While putting this together, I happened to listen to an old Michael Jackson song, “The Man in the Mirror.” Regardless of what you think of the late pop artist, the lyrics have great application for what we’re talking about. Some of those are:

I’m staring at the man in the mirror

I’m asking him to change his ways…

If you want to make the world a better place

Take a look at yourself, and then make a change.

 

If we’re lacking in any of the love traits, perhaps it’s time to take a look at ourselves – and then, make a change. Better yet, ask the Lord to start making those changes in us, because the Scriptures promise, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

 

Then, as we participate with Him in the transformation process, we can realize the truth of the closing verse of the love chapter: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).