Thursday, August 27, 2015

Lessons From a Truck Stop Diner

Occasionally, I get an e-mail that makes me stop and think.  The one that follows is a great example of what it means to be part of a functional family, which is what God has called His church to be.  Read it and see if you don’t agree.  (The author is unknown, at least to me, but if it belongs to someone you know, I will gladly give credit where it is due!)

“I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Steve. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.  But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I  wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Steve. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The  four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me, the mouthy college kids traveling to school, the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck germ;" the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Steve so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried.

After the first week, Steve had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Steve got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully put the dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

  Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so often, admitted
they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Steve being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Steve missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new  valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. 

Fannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the   
good news. Bell Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Fannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Fannie, what was that all about?" he asked.

"We just got word that Steve is out of surgery and going to be okay."

"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?"

Fannie quickly told Bell Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Steve's surgery, then sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said, "but I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills.  From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Bell Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Fannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.

Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Steve and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Fannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and funny look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked. "I didn't get that table where Bell Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said, "this was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Steve". "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Steve and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Steve" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.

Fannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply, "truckers." That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Steve is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Steve was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop  grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

"Hold up there, Steve, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me." I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Steve, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. Steve looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Steve" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Steve stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.  I turned to his mother.

"There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving."

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Steve, with a big, smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired. Plant a seed and watch it grow.”


Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!  Family!  When one is in need, the rest gather around to help.  That’s family.  When one hurts, the others surround him/her to bring encouragement and love.  That’s family.  When one can’t see where the next step is to be placed, family members guide the steps.  God has called us to be a family.  A functional family.  Not to fight, bicker and complain, but to love, uphold and lift up.  Functional families build up rather than tear down.  Functional families work to strengthen another’s weaknesses rather than shutting them out because of their shortcomings.  Functional families talk to rather than about each other.  And functional families support in the face of crisis rather than back away.  

Tell me--are you a functional family member?

Saturday, August 22, 2015

The Cure for the Bad News Blues

I don’t know about you, but I tend to enjoy the twisted humor of a good news, bad news joke.  I may not laugh outright, but I will often find myself letting out an amused groan.

Art Gallery Owner to one of his artists: I have some good news and some bad news.
Artist: What's the good news?
Gallery Owner: The good news is that a man came in here today asking if the price of your paintings would go up after you die.  When I told him they would, he bought every one of your paintings.
Artist: That's great!  What's the bad news?
Gallery Owner: The bad news is that man was your doctor!

See, there is always that little twist on the end that gets you.  You just don’t see it coming.  Here’s another one.

Criminal Lawyer to his client: I have some good news and some bad news.
Client: Well, give me the bad news first.
Lawyer: The bad news is that the DNA tests showed that it was your blood they found all over the crime scene.
Client: Oh no!  I'm ruined!  What's the good news?
Lawyer: The good news is your cholesterol is down to 130!

You didn’t see that coming did you?  That’s what makes the good news, bad news jokes work: the surprise ending.  And then there are some that have only an implied ending.

Doctor: I have some good news and some bad news.
Patient: What's the good news?
Doctor: The good news is they are naming a disease after you!

I’ll let you figure out the bad news.  Some of you are still saying, “I don’t get it.”
If they name a disease after you, it means it so new, they have absolutely no cure.

The life of Joseph is one whole good news-bad news story full of twists and turns that you could never see coming.  Favored son.  Despised brother sold into slavery.  Rises to the head of Potiphar’s house.  Does the right thing and ends up in prison.  Rises to the top position in the prison and interprets dreams for two of Pharaoh’s servants.  Is forgotten for 2 more years. Gets promoted to the top position in all of Egypt.  And you can imagine Joseph saying at each turn, “Wow…I never saw that coming.”

What inspires us about the life of Joseph is that he seems to take all of it in stride.  He’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy.  Once he gets beyond being the favored son with the multi-colored coat and pampered lifestyle and sold into slavery, he grows up quickly and has to make some hard decisions.  One of those decisions is that no matter what comes he will be faithful to God.   He didn’t wait until he got placed in the middle of the tests.  He pre-determined that though he did not know what lay ahead, he would be faithful, and that made many of his other choices much more simple.  It also caused him a lot of trouble as well.

We see that his faithfulness is what caused him to rise in Potiphar’s house, but we forget it was also his faithfulness that landed him in prison.  We get that it was his faithfulness that helped him rise in the prison and interpret the dreams, but we forget that it was his faithfulness that helped him hang on for 2 more years after having been forgotten.  And we rejoice when we see his faithfulness rewarded by moving into the second in command of all of the land.  But he then had to face his own demons, when his brothers showed up to buy food. 

If it had been you or me in that position, I dare say it may have been much harder for us to let it go with just testing them to see if they were changed men.  We would have had an opportunity to at least turn the knife a little bit and maybe make them suffer just a bit more than Joseph did.  And the act of forgiveness could only come through being faithful to seeing God’s bigger picture for all of their lives.

What is the cure for the bad news blues?  It’s really about perspective.  Our human perspective would have us looking to our bad news and dwelling on it.  We study every angle of our bad news and we fixate on it and we ruminate and stew and look for solutions.  Our hearts are weighed down and our souls are downcast.  We can’t see beyond the bad news.  That’s our perspective. But there is another perspective that brings a much larger view of our circumstances.  Let’s go back to our good news, bad news motif.

Good News. God created a perfect world. Bad News. Satan introduced sin as well as sickness, pain and death. Good News. Jesus came to die and rescue us from sin and death. Bad News. We still have a sinful world address and see and feel the results of sin. Good News. Jesus will return in the clouds of heaven, take us home for eternity and end the bad news forever.

When we begin to view life from this perspective, we can truly be thankful.  Not for all of the bad news, but that because of the Good news, we aren’t doomed to a bad news life forever.  And that no matter what comes, God will take the bad news in our lives and use it to create good news.  Listen to the words of scripture and gain a new perspective.

Rom. 8:18-28              I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.  19 The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed.  20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.
Rom. 8:22       We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?  25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Rom. 8:26       In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.
Rom. 8:28       And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.


Did you see any good news in there?  God wants you to be saved more than you want to be saved.  God sent Jesus to provide a mighty deliverance and He has sent the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness.  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Know Your Enemy!

Eph. 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Is Satan powerful?  Yes.  Is God more powerful?  Absolutely.
"He ain't got no teeth!"

Writing in Moody Monthly, Carl Armerding recounted his experience of watching a wildcat in a zoo. "As I stood there," he said, "an attendant entered the cage through a door on the opposite side. He had nothing in his hands but a broom. 

Carefully closing the door, he proceeded to sweep the floor of the cage." He observed that the worker had no weapon to ward off an attack by the beast. In fact, when he got to the corner of the cage where the wildcat was lying, he poked the animal with the broom. The wildcat hissed at him and then lay down in another corner of the enclosure. 

Armerding remarked to the attendant, "You certainly are a brave man." "No, I ain't brave," he replied as he continued to sweep. "Well, then, that cat must be tame." "No," came the reply, "he ain't tame." "If you aren't brave and the wildcat isn't tame, then I can't understand why he doesn't attack you." Armerding said the man chuckled, then replied with an air of confidence, "Mister, he's old -- and he ain't got no teeth."

That’s the devil.  Ever since Jesus died on the cross, he "ain’t got no teeth."  He can growl and he can roar, but he’s a defeated foe. As long as you stay in league with Jesus, there is nothing he can do to hurt you.

But ignore him.  Pretend he isn’t there.  He’ll be all over you.  You have to be up to the spiritual battle.  You must always be on your guard.  One final verse.

1 Peter 5:8-11   Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  9 Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
10        And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 11 To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.