Thinking Out Loud

Those are the types of exclamations that you would likely hear enthusiastically offered by Brett Westcott and Cameron Brown if you walked past Wetherhill Lab of Chemistry on the campus of Purdue University on Wednesday afternoons between 12:30 and 2:00 p.m. That’s where the civil engineering major and the management major, respectively, began stationing themselves last Fall for a weekly appointment to shower passersby with words of affirmation and encouragement. They were quickly dubbed The Compliment Guys. Though there were some early skeptics who sought to attribute ulterior motives to their actions (picking up girls, a fraternity initiation ritual, a sociology project, etc.) most people came to accept Westcott and Brown for what they proposed to be: just two guys who wanted to interject some positive vibes and good feelings into a world dominated by bad news, a national economy in the doldrums, and campus life filled with test anxiety, research pressures, social complexities, tuition, and fees. It worked. People started rerouting their trips across campus to have a smile put on their face and a little pep put in their step. Word about The Compliment Guys quickly spread beyond West Lafayette, Indiana, and Westcott and Brown did the circuit of nationally televised morning news programs, appeared with Oprah, and are concluding a tour of major U.S. cities. All of this resulted from two undergrads with a simple agenda: take some time every week to spread a little sunshine.

It’s not a bad mantra to follow. I’m not suggesting that we all become Pollyannas, ignore the harsh realities of this world, or refrain from having the “hard conversations” that life sometimes demands. But, could we lighten up on the negativity just a little, or, better yet, a whole lot? We rag on everyone from the President to the pizza delivery guy, church leaders to checkout clerks. We celebrate sarcasm and have elevated insult to an art form. Doesn’t Scripture teach us better than that?

“Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear,” (Ephesians 4:29).

“Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person,” (Colossians 4:6).

I wish that more Christians were known as The Compliment Guys rather than be noted for our judgments, critiques, and condemnations.

Nice laptop! Excellent speed on the keyboard! Is that an iPhone? Cool! Thanks for taking the time to read my blog! Have a great day! Jesus loves you! Seriously!

P.S. Check out The Compliment Guys at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QShPNcjgtfs

Back in 1986, I had an opportunity to visit a nature preserve on the east coast of Australia near the city of Bundaberg. This stretch of protected beaches served as a favorite nesting area for sea turtles. When nesting time arrives, female sea turtles pull themselves onto the beach, safely out of the reach of crashing waves. They use their flippers to dig a sizeable hole into which they lay 150-250 eggs, then cover their clutch with a heavy, sandy blanket. After a couple of months of incubation, the young turtles tear through the membrane of their shells and struggle their way to the surface of the sand. Once on the beach, they instinctively head for the ocean. Researchers have discovered that it is not the sound of the surf or the smell of the salty spray that lures the little turtles into the sea. Rather, they have an innate drive that directs them to the distant horizon. Even at night, they can distinguish the barely visible line between the lighter sky and the darker ocean. God has given them a divinely-implanted GPS to lead them to their home.

Occasionally, a careless sea turtle will dig her nest beyond the crest of a dune. The sad result is that the hatchlings will totally ignore the roar of the ocean behind them and begin scampering toward the inland horizon, away from the protection and provisions of the life-giving water. Armed with flashlights that night on the Queensland coast, my friends and I assisted park rangers in looking for poorly placed nests. We picked up hatchlings that were headed for certain doom, carried them back to the sea-side of the dunes, gently placed them on the sand, then watched in amazement and amusement as these darling little turtles waddled their way into the waves.

God created us to be in fellowship and relationship with Him. He “set eternity in our hearts” (Ecclesiastes 3:11) so that we might look to the Horizon beyond this world of danger, despair, and death. Yet, our view of Home is frequently obscured by the dunes of this world that place idols before our eyes and fan the flames of sinful desires within our hearts. Ignoring His will, we have sought our own, foolishly setting a course that will only bring us harm and destruction. Rather than just leaving us to the consequences of our own devices and decisions, our Father graciously and mercifully sent His Son to seek out the misdirected, the wayward, and the lost. If we allow Him, Jesus will gently turn our hearts toward Home and lovingly lead us to the river of the water of Life.

My great-great-great-grandfather, Levi Garrison Pyle (an “s” was added to the family name in the following generation), signed his Last Will and Testament on March 20, 1851, in the Ebenezer community of Marshall County, Tennessee. He directed that his “much beloved wife” Stacy receive his farm of 163 acres, along with “my sorrel mare, one cow and calf, one wash pot, two beds, and one woman’s saddle.” Remaining property was to be sold and the proceeds used to pay off debts. Levi’s will also stipulated that if Stacy remarried, the land was to be sold and the proceeds equally divided between her and their children. Within the next month, Levi was dead, the will was probated, and an estate sale was held on April 19, 1851. That was over 150 years ago. I don’t know of anything that remains of Levi’s estate. The mare, cow, and calf would have only lived for a few years. The house has long been gone. Who knows what happened to the wash pot, beds, and saddle? The land has changed hands several times since then and is now owned (along with a total of 2,000 surrounding acres) by a media magnate from Maryland. Such is the nature of earthly possessions and inheritance.

When Jesus began His earthly ministry, he proclaimed a new message, “the gospel of the kingdom” (Matthew 4:23). His teaching revealed God’s plan and designs for a new covenant, a new testament, a new “will” of God, not just for the physical descendants of Abraham, but for all nations, tribes and tongues. Just as with an earthly will, these new divine directives from Jesus would only have full binding force and authority upon His death (Hebrews 9:16-17). With His “blood of the covenant” that we memorialize each Lord’s Day, Jesus made available “an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away” which is reserved in heaven for us (I Peter 1:4). The few family heirlooms that I possess and value will one day fade away just like every other physical treasure upon this earth, but through Jesus I have the assurance of a heavenly inheritance “where moth and rust do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19-21). “Lord, help my heart to dwell where my true treasure is!”

I can’t promise that this will be the last post that is connected to events surrounding our transition from Texas, but I do anticipate that they will significantly diminish in frequency now that the move has been completed. Today’s thoughts grow out of something that happened last Monday, which was our last day in our house in Carrollton. We were going through our normal “school morning” routine which involved waking Coleman up about 6:30 for a quick bath and breakfast before the bus picked him up at 7:00. Coleman’s developmental disabilities and limitations require that we still help him with bathing. As I was scrubbing him down and washing his hair, I began nostalgically reflecting on our 12 years in the house and wondering how many times we had bathed Coleman in that tub. Since he generally gets a bath each morning and then again before bedtime, a conservative estimate is that he has enjoyed over 8,000 “splash-fests” in that house. That’s a lot of water, soap, and shampoo! But, life, with its dust, dirt, and grime, demands that we cleanse ourselves over and over again. Wouldn’t it be great if we could be washed and cleansed so completely, effectively, and lastingly that we would never need to take another bath?

You know where I am going with this, don’t you? Sin stained us, defiled us, and covered us with guilt and shame. Lacking any means or power to purify ourselves, God sent His Son in His grace and mercy to offer a sacrifice powerful enough to take away our sin, the precious blood of the Lamb of the God (John 1:29; I Peter 1:18-19). In Christ, we have “washed our robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Revelation 7:14). God has chosen and willed that in baptism (a submissive, passive, demonstration of faith in the working of God) our sin meets the Lamb’s blood. Though enacted in physical water, baptism reflects the reality of a spiritual purification (I Peter 3:21) in which our sins are washed away (Acts 22:16). This “spiritual bath” is so effective and complete that Christ’s blood continually cleanses us from all sin as we lead confessional lives before Him (I John 1:7,9). One sacrifice! One baptism! Praise God!

(Adapted from my BA bulletin article for June 14)

Late last Sunday night, my family and I were completing the job of packing up our household items for loading by the moving company on Monday morning. In addition to packing boxes to move to Oklahoma, we also identified several things that just needed to be thrown out. Just before midnight, I decided to move all of the “discards” out to the street for pick-up by the garbage collectors. I made several trips from the garage to the street, each time walking over a thick carpet of St. Augustine grass that had been made lush and green by an unusually wet Spring. As odd as it may sound, I caught myself thinking, “I’m really going to miss this grass!” For twelve years, Kim and I have worked on the lawn and the landscaping around the house. Old gnarly shrubs and bare spaces had been filled with Indian hawthorn, azaleas, iris, lilies, ornamental grasses, lantana, dwarf crepe myrtles, and other things Kim planted that I never even knew what to call; they were just pretty. Even the grass had improved significantly in health and appearance.

As soon as I began to lament leaving the St. Augustine into which my feet were sunk, I realized the foolishness of my thinking. As good as the grass looks now, the scorching summer heat will soon take its toll, and winter will reduce its rich color to an extremely unattractive, dormant brown. The beautiful blossoms of Spring have already passed, and the radiance of the daylilies and tiger lilies will be gone before long. Words from Isaiah immediately came to mind. “A voice says, ‘Call out.’ Then he answered, ‘What shall I call out?’ All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; Surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:6-8). God’s point through Isaiah is that everything in this world is like grass and flowers; temporary, fleeting, and fading. So, why do I get so unwisely attached and hung up on the things of this world? Sunday night’s walk through the lawn was a great reminder to me to keep my focus on the things that really matter; the things that matter for eternity!

On a recent drive from Texas to Broken Arrow, I made a “necessity stop” at a fast food restaurant in a small town in southeastern Oklahoma. On the inside of the restroom door I noticed some graffiti. It read, “Obama is a secret Muslim.” My first reaction was one of being pleasantly surprised that the Sharpie-wielder did not inscribe any profanity, phone numbers, or inflammatory comments about the menu or service at the eating establishment. I was further impressed by the lavatory tagger’s political consciousness, although he chose an extremely limited and remote forum in which to sound his alarm about Islamic subterfuge in our nation’s highest office.

Rumors and urban legends have abounded about President Barack Obama ever since he announced his candidacy back in February of 2007. Earlier today, I Googled the phrase “Obama is a secret…” As I was typing, a couple of prompts appeared with suggested endings. One ending was “Muslim”; the other was “Jew.” Wow! A secret Muslim and a secret Jew! Now, there’s a conspiracy for you!

But, let’s consider the allegation at face value, that a U.S. President who claims to be a Christian is actually a Muslim in disguise. From what I have noticed about devotees of Islam, there is not a lot of stealth or subtlety in the practice of their faith: dietary and cleanliness regulations, five times of prayer each day, fasting during Ramadan, distinctive dress, Friday services at the mosque, etc. It seems to me that a Muslim who hasn’t “outed” himself would not be much of a Muslim at all.

So, I’m not worried about President Obama being a secret Muslim. But I do wonder how many “closet Christians” might be roaming the halls of government in Washington, our state legislatures, city halls, courthouses, shopping malls, and sports facilities. You know who I am talking about: people who deep down make a claim to faith in Jesus Christ as the Divine Son of God and the only way of salvation but who never really reveal any evidence of those convictions through their speech, attitudes, and behavior. I remember a question that my father asked during a sermon when I was a boy, “If you were accused of being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?”

Am I afraid of “secret Muslims?” Not really. Am I extremely concerned about “secret Christians?” You bet!

Many of you know that since March 1 I have been in the Tulsa, Oklahoma, area serving as the new pulpit minister for the Broken Arrow Church of Christ and that my family has remained in Carrollton, Texas, allowing the children to complete the school year. Thankfully, our days apart are drawing to a close. Hannah will graduate from Newman Smith High School on June 7, and the following day all of us will hit the road for Oklahoma. We are scheduled to close on a house in Tulsa next Friday, May 29. Please pray with us that everything proceeds smoothly with the purchase of the home. God has so generously taken care of our every need thus far, and it will be such a huge relief and blessing to have our family back together in one house (and state) again.

Over the last three months I have been able to make several trips back to Texas, often leaving after Wednesday night services for the four-hour drive to Carrollton, and then returning to Broken Arrow prior to Sunday. On a few of those late Wednesday night drives I have listened to Deutsche Welle Radio (Germany’s international broadcaster) which is aired (in English, thankfully!) at 9:00 p.m. on Tulsa’s Public Radio station KWGS 89.5. I find it interesting (often enlightening; sometimes amusing) to listen to different perspectives on world news and current events.

Last Wednesday evening, Deutsche Welle aired a story about Gerd Honsik who is currently on trial in Austria and could face up to 20 years in prison if convicted. His crime? Denial of the Holocaust. In Austria, it is illegal to propagate the idea that Nazi Germany did not wantonly exterminate millions of Jews. Now, I honestly don’t understand how someone could maintain that the Holocaust never happened, but I also can’t understand how a country (and a European one at that!) could punish someone for their ideas and their speech, regardless of how wrong and irrational they may be. Disagree with Mr. Honsik? Absolutely! Demonstrate the error of his thinking? Certainly! But, jail him? Apparently, some subjects have become so sensitive that opposing viewpoints cannot even be allowed to be heard. A bit scary, if you ask me!

What about us? Are we willing to listen to those with whom we may disagree, and then test the spirits to see whether or not they are from God (I John 4:1) and examine the Scriptures to see if those things are true (Acts 17:11)? Or, do we merely surround ourselves with those who say exactly what we want to hear (II Timothy 4:3)? Truth has nothing to fear in the open discussion of ideas! “Come now, and let us reason together,” (Isaiah 1:18)!

I stopped by a Whataburger restaurant last night for some take-out. Some of you just read that last sentence with no difficulty or questions whatsover. Others of you, depending on the where you live, have absolutely no idea “what a Whataburger is!” The fast food chain had its origins in 1950 in Corpus Christi, Texas, and now boasts over 700 stores, mostly in Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Louisiana, although you can also find Whataburgers in certain parts of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and Florida. When I moved to Texas 12 years ago, I started seeing Whataburgers all over the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, but it was still several more years before I actually visited one. I guess it was just a little “outside the burger box” for me. The stores feature a signature A-frame roof with orange and white stripes. Menu items have unique nomenclature like Whatameals (combos) and Justaburger (the less expensive, stripped-down model of the hamburger). However, I finally came to accept that the food is really quite good, and it has entered the fast food rotation in the Pyles family.

Anyway, I stepped up to the counter at Whataburger last night and ordered a Whatachick’n sandwich to go. As I placed my order, the pleasant, smiling young lady (and apparent new employee) behind the cash register turned to her manager and asked, “Is a Whatachick’n the fish?” Now, I know that some of the menu items have unusual names and I can appreciate that this may have been the young lady’s first night on the job, but still! “Is a Whatachick’n the fish?!?” The manager patiently explained, “The Whatacatch is the fish. Whatachick’n is chicken.” “Oh,” the cashier replied, “I still get those two confused!”

If you are expecting me to tie this story in to some awesomely powerful spiritual message or a cleverly relevant life application, I’m afraid you are going to have to fill in those blanks for yourself. I can’t stop laughing long enough to think about it.

On Wednesday, Kim and I closed on the sale of the house in which we have lived for the last 12 years. People who have lived in the same hometown for most of their lives would probably not consider 12 years to be an extremely long period of time. Yet, for me, it constitutes a significant portion of my life. Having moved around quite a bit when I was growing up and in my young adulthood, it was a new experience for me to live in the same house for 12 years. I spent 26% of my entire life in that house in Carrollton, Texas. (Yes, math geeks, that makes me 46 years old!) It is the house where Kim and I have spent over half of our married life and where we raised our children. I can’t tell you how excited I am that our family will be completely relocated to Broken Arrow in about three weeks. Still, despite my great anticipation, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness as we closed on the house and as the Sanchez family stopped by on Thursday to look at “their” new house. We are their “renters” for the next three weeks!

Last week was a good opportunity for me to tune my theology in with my life and emotions. Biblically, I am completely convinced that I am a “tenant” for my entire sojourn upon this earth. I am “a stranger and an exile” (Hebrews 11:13) who, like Abraham, seeks a city with foundations (11:10) and “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (11:16). I know that “this world is not my home, I’m just a passing through,” so why do I seem to get so easily attached and hung up on the things of this world as if they are permanent? These “treasures on earth” can be a deceptively huge distraction from the things that ultimately matter in life and in eternity. It is “relationship” not “real estate” that makes the Pyles family what it is. It is “love” not “location” that ultimately matters. The same goes for our spiritual family in Christ’s church. Yet, churches, too, can just as easily get overly “attached” (and even prideful) about mere buildings and physical locations. I pray that I (and we) will be reminded to not get so fixated on “brick and mortar” but to concentrate more on faith, hope, and love.

Almighty Father,

You are worthy; worthy to receive honor, glory, adoration, and praise! You are mighty; You spoke into existence everything that is in Creation. You spoke, and it was done. Such power is beyond my comprehension. Your Word is an irresistible call to the elements. There is no debate, no negotiation, and no resistance. You spoke and it was done. You commanded and it occurred.

You are awesome in Your mighty strength. I praise You as the one, true, and Living God, my Father, my Savior Jesus Christ, and my Blessed Holy Spirit. What am I that You would love me, care for me, protect me, provide for me, and sustain me? I am a speck in this universe, and yet, You know me, my every thought, my every feeling, and every cell in my body. You know me better than I know myself.

You are the Sovereign of this universe. No power can stand before You. Kings, rulers, presidents, prime ministers, and princes only have the power that You permit them to possess. May they all acknowledge Your power and authority.

I praise You through Your Son Jesus Christ, Amen!