What Then Is This Child Going To Be?

Lisa

2012-01-31T20:33:00.000-06:00

One of our coaches and development directors at WCS, Blair Moon, once worked for actress Jessica Alba, who I think is gorgeous....and married. Blair kids me about J.A. although I happen to know what famous guy Blair likes! The following, from November 3, 2005 centers on a local celebrity crush of the author.

The first time I saw her was right after I moved to Houston in August of 1998. After Sunday morning worship, friends took me to a new barbecue place having its grand opening. Her name was Lisa Foronda and she was gorgeous. A reporter for Channel 11, Houston's CBS affiliate, she was doing some sort of promo for the restaurant. I was taken by her grace and, of course, her beauty. Immediately, I became a fan of Channel 11 and faithfully watched their evening news, especially when she was anchoring the broadcast. I think alot of unmarried people have a Lisa Foronda in their lives. One of my teacher aides, Beverly McDonald, told me she is planning to marry Astro's reliever Brad Lidge and former student Patricia Estrada told me her future includes becoming the wife of Brandon Backe, another Houston pitcher. (I'm suspicious that there is a correlation between the Astro's recent World Series appearance and these young ladies' romantic aspirations.) I have to confess. For a time I strayed and let my attention focus on actress Angie Harmon, from NBC's Law and Order. The bottom dropped out of my life when Angie married NFL star Jason Sehorn. He made about $10 million per year so I can't say I blame her. Sheepishly, I realized I was better off with Lisa, repented, and returned to my true love. But, last spring I was crushed when the reports surfaced that she was engaged. Some architect proposed to her in Greece- BIG DEAL! Then, the inevitable happened. They got married and I was crushed. I have been so heartbroken, I haven't found a television dream girl replacement yet. Some dreams die an agonizingly slow, drawn out death.

It all came to a head yesterday. Right at the end of school, Sam Ruiz, one of our Spanish teachers and basketball coaches, ran into my room and breathlessly told me, "You have to go to the elementary library right now!" I asked why and Sam said, "Lisa Foronda is in there!" Now, I have been the recipient of practical jokes before so I made Sam promise that if he was lying, I could slap him. Without hesitation, he agreed so I took off for the library. I became gun shy as I got close. What would I say? Even though she is a married woman, just to say hello would be enough for me- maybe I could congratulate her on the marriage and wish them a deliriously happy life together. I neared the door and I saw her through the glass. I had an awkward angle so I pulled the door open and there she was.... except it wasn't her. Jessi Colter had a huge country hit with a song called "I'm Not Lisa" - it would have been fitting to have had it playing in the background. Now, it kind of looked like her and the woman I saw is also on television, an anchor/reporter with the local FOX station. She was at WCS to do a feature on one of my students and like Lisa, she is striking. I could see how Sam got them confused. But, it wasn't Lisa and I walked away, my heart rate returning slowly to its normal pattern. Life is so unfair at times.

I feel bad. I should have been honored to meet the other reporter. I hope no one is ever disappointed in finding out I am not someone else. Once, I was mistaken for Hall of Fame baseball player Mike Schmidt and the young lady who made the mistake took it hard when she learned the truth. People had erroneous views of Jesus. The apostles told the Messiah that the word on the street was that he was either John the Baptist, Jeremiah, Elijah, or one of the other prophets. Few knew the truth until the end. When Jesus gave sight to a man blind from birth, his neighbors said it wasn't him, it just looked like him. How would you like to convince someone you have known all your life that you are really you? I have a sign outside of my door that the kids touch when they enter Room 258 each day. It is a quotation from John 20:15. After his resurrection, Jesus asks Mary Magdalene, "Who is it you are looking for?" She was looking for the Lord but she didn't recognize him when she saw him. I want my students to be looking for Jesus daily when they sit in my class and if I carry out God's plans, they will see the Master. Who is it you want to meet? My opportunity to meet the Lord in a meaningful spiritual way is much greater than my chance of meeting a celebrity. The first I can control, the second comes down to randomness. I thought my chance to meet Lisa had come- I KNOW my relationship with God is real.

I have decided to pardon Sam and forego the slap. He really did think it was her and he believed he was doing me a tremendous favor. I'll live and my students thought it was hilarious. There will be other times and other unmarried news anchors but there will only be one Lisa Foronda. Her husband is a very lucky man. I wish them all the best.

Applicable quote of the day:
"A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears."
Woodrow Wyatt

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

(Lisa's picture courtesy of www.snapus.org)

Never Too Late

2012-01-30T18:55:00.000-06:00

We talk almost daily about forgiveness in my classes. Most of the time, the object of our forgiveness is another person. Sometimes, it's a company as in this entry from January 18, 2009.

As I've mentioned, a number of my students blessed me at the holidays with presents. One of those was Laura, a girl in my fifth period sophomore Bible class. Laura, an excellent student, presented me with a gift card from BLOCKBUSTER. Since I do not have a membership to that video/DVD outlet, I decided to use it in Wichita while staying with my family. Shortly into the visit, I told Scott and Karen- who love movies- that I had a gift card and would treat them to a free film. Scott offered to drive. He gritted his teeth when I mentioned that the freebie would come from BLOCKBUSTER...and I knew why.

Scott has no love lost for the video giant. A number of years ago, he turned in a movie a day late into the slot and assumed they would simply pay the late fee when they made another rental. Instead, Scott began getting letters and calls from the company, threatening them with bill collectors and damaged credit. Scott took care of the situation but the scenario repeated itself when Karis, a college student at the time, turned in a movie late. There were again letters and calls warning of dire consequences simply for a late fee. I don't know if Scott took a vow never to enter BLOCKBUSTER again before he died ...but he might as well have. But, then, he could not forsee THE GIFT CARD.

As we entered the store, providentially only a block from their house, Scott stood in line to see if his membership was still valid. The young man at the register could not have been nicer. And, imagine my brother's reaction when the BLOCKBUSTER employee informed him of the following:"Mr. Hawley, I see it has been more than one hundred days since you rented anything from us. We want you back in our store so your rental tonight is free! We want your business!"
I immediately put my gift card back in my wallet! Scott had a dilemma. Does he hold onto to his anger or does he give them another chance? The guy at the counter wasn't the same one who caused him grief in the first place- I'm sure it was a company policy- and he sincerely wanted Scott to resume his role as a customer. (I should interject that Scott and Karen have gone the NETFLIX route.) How can you stay mad at someone who so obviously is trying to win you over? I teased Scott as we left the store but we've all been there. Do we ever stay mad because we like to be mad? I had a teacher's aide several years ago who freely admitted she enjoyed being angry; she would let it go when she had fulfilled her quota of glee. But as we mature in the faith, we must let our anger go and move on. I'm not sure if we are under obligation to forgive corporations....but we are to forgive one another. In the meantime, since I still have Laura's gift card, Scott and I will venture back into his favorite business come Spring Break. Reconciliation is a slow process!

Applicable quote of the day:
"Most of us can forgive and forget; we just don't want the other person to forget that we forgave”
Ivern Ball

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Ball

2012-01-29T21:57:00.002-06:00

Our basketball season ended on Friday. It was unlike any season of coaching I've had in either baseball or basketball. Twice, I coached baseball teams that qualified for the high school state tournament in Georgia. My first middle school team at WCS went 24-2 and my high school squad here won the state championship in the private schools' division. On the other hand, my first high school baseball team won one game and a number of my basketball teams had sub .500 records. But records and emotions can deceive. The best coaching job I ever did was with a team that posted a 4-27 mark and coincidentally, my favorite team ever. My 2011-2012 WCS Middle School Lady Wildcats did not win a game. In our final game on Friday, we were tied at the end of the first quarter, the deepest we had been in contention all season. That same team had beaten us by forty points in November so we talked about the strides we made. Only one girl on the team was not a sixth grader and we played an eighth grade schedule. These kids, while tall for their ages and decently athletic, had zero basketball experience among themselves. If they work hard, they can be competitive and perhaps even very good by the time they finish eighth grade in 2014. As with everything, time will tell. Regardless, in the past six months, these mostly not yet teens have secured a place in my favorite team category.

When I started with this bunch of girls in August, we stressed the most important concept of the game which is team. As we began learning on the court, we stressed the most important thing is THE BALL. It was something we struggled with all year although showing marked improvement late in the season. We did not always value possession of the ball and were very careless with it. On defense, we taught the two primary rules:
1. SEE THE BALL!
2. STOP THE BALL!
It sounds simple but if you have played, you know it isn't, especially if you are a novice at the sport. The game revolves around THE BALL. At the start of each year, I ask the kids, "How many points did Lebron/Kobe/etc. score last year?" They always give a variety of answers, usually in the upper twenties to lower thirties per game range. It's a trick question because Lebron/Kobe/etc. NEVER score, it's THE BALL that goes through the hoop and so it is vital to know where THE BALL is at all times. If we learned nothing else this year, I think we are beginning to grasp this concept.

As a Christian, I sometimes struggle with the same thing as my basketball players but instead of the ball, I lose focus on the cross. I sometimes don't value it as I should. I lose sight of it. Other things in life distract me with little resistance on my part. Without the ball, there is no game. Without the cross, and the One who willingly gave it meaning, my existence is fleeting and of little value. My players will mature in basketball if they choose to make it part of their life going forward, and we always make sure they understand it should only be a small part of their life. The question is, will I grow into my view of the cross as I go onward or will I be content to be stagnant in my relationship with the Lord? Basketball is seasonal; Christianity is daily....or at least, it needs to be. Check back this time next year and I'll update you on some girls and THE BALL and their coach and the state of his vision. We pray for improvement on both fronts!

Applicable quote of the day:

"In sixth grade, my basketball team made it to the league championships. In double overtime, with three seconds left, I rebounded the ball and passed it - to the wrong team! They scored at the buzzer and we lost the game. To this day, I still have nightmares!"
Zac Efron

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Pledge

2012-01-28T19:53:00.000-06:00

On Thursday, I saw a great posting on Paola Estrada's Facebook wall. Paola, one of the ten best students I have ever taught, is now a US citizen! The following, from 1-25-07, is about another one of my students who followed the same path as the wonderful Paola.

This evening we hosted an open house for prospective students at Westbury Christian School. On a twice yearly basis, we invite the public to meet our students, faculty, and staff and encourage those with youngsters to consider us for the furthering of their children's education. We have a video presentation followed by a short program. Two students, Leah Holder and Russell Leonard, spoke of the impact WCS has had on their lives. Before Leah and Russell presented their thoughts, two other students helped kick off the festivities. Alan, who has been at WCS for twelve years, opened our meeting with prayer. And then, Rudy stood, walked to the the microphone, and led the audience in the recitation of The Pledge Of Allegiance. Usually, I am matter-of-fact about The Pledge. After all, most of us began elementary school days with hands over our hearts, repeating the vow we could say in our sleep. Tonight found new meaning for me as we, with one voice, promised to be faithful to our red, white, and blue banner and the values it represents. The flag was no different than the one we normally use. The difference was Rudy. One of our juniors, Rudy became a changed young man this week. Several days ago, Rudy became an American citizen. Born in El Salvador, he and his family have resided in Houston for several years. He plays on our varsity soccer team and last year was a student in my sophomore Bible class. He is a polite, talented teenager and now, like me, Rudy is a citizen of the United States of America. I stood up straighter as we followed Rudy's lead with The Pledge tonight. The thirty-one words did not mindlessly roll off my tongue as they normally do. The Pledge Of Allegiance was fresh to me for one reason: Rudy's example.

We take citizenship for granted. We take our relationship with Jesus for granted. Those of us who grew up in Christian homes may not remember a time when Jesus was not a focal point of our family life. New Christians don't take that relationship for granted. When the Ethiopian eunuch was baptized into Christ in Acts chapter eight, he went on his way rejoicing. Familiarity drains the rejoicing out of our joy. I wish I could say I go away rejoicing after each time of worship or study....but I want to be truthful. I accused one of my female students of glowing today. She denied it but the symptoms were undeniable. It leads me to the only rational conclusion; there is a new boy in her life! I see that glow in Rudy and I see that glow in the story of the eunuch. I just wish I would see it in me on a more consistent basis.

Applicable quote of the day:
"It is the flag just as much of the man who was naturalized yesterday as of the men whose people have been here many generations."
Henry Cabot Lodge

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Final Chapter

2012-01-27T20:00:00.000-06:00

We played our final basketball game this afternoon and I can safely say I've never had a season quite like this . We did not win a game this year but it was a successful season. Our kids were basically sixth graders playing against eighth graders and it showed. But the team that beat us by forty points in December beat us by only twenty-one today. Katy Shirley and I were honored to coach this group of young ladies. This entry from February 6, 2007 is about another end of the season..

We were the Picture of the Day on the school website this afternoon. By we, I mean my Westbury Christian School junior high girls' basketball team. This morning, we presented a trophy in middle school chapel to Greg Glenn, our WCS Athletic Director. Last month, the Lady Wildcats claimed the runner-up trophy at the St. Francis Episcopal Tournament, bringing home the second place hardware which we handed over for display. The girls were proud of themselves and they should be. Due to various circumstances, we concluded our season two weeks ago with only seven players, down from the fourteen listed on the roster. Academics played havoc with our chances but I think we learned from the journey. A number of girls who played little early on were starters as the season wound down, gaining invaluable experience. The young ladies who struggled in the classroom and were required to sit, either by the school standards or their folks' criteria, hopefully also gleaned some insight from their enforced idleness. Since we have a practice period built into our schedule, we are already preparing for next year. The sixth graders are now seventh graders in my eyes and the seventh have been elevated to eighth. The next time the eighth graders play in a game, they will be in high school and in another world. You rebuild every year in middle school. I like it that way.

This was a special group, starting with parents. For the last game, one mother made large signs for the gym wall. The Friday after our last contest, some of the team moms provided a wonderful breakfast for us, complete with decorations. The kids were a joy as well. The eighth graders had to ride to the away games in my Toyota with me so Ayramis, Deandra, Jeannett, and Tynae spent hours with their favorite coach in transportation mode. They sang, they laughed, they whispered, they were silly....and I loved it. Tynae was the only returning player who had ever stepped foot on the floor for us before this season and that for only fifteen minutes of game time. On the court, there were highlights and not so lofty moments. In one game, we held our opponents to two points in the last two-plus quarters...and lost. Right before Christmas, we beat a team that had trounced us by thirty points only weeks before. But the best times come in the practices, when it was just us. That's when the memories are made. I have four more months with this bunch of kids, before I round up the practice gear and take the eighth graders to our traditional end of the year lunch at Chili's. I pray for each of these kids every morning before school. The attachment a coach can have with a group of kids is amazing. Paul told the brothers and sisters in Colosse that, "We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you." (Colossians 1:3) Although every coach has a frustration level, and I certainly have mine, it is an honor when a child addresses you as Coach. The title sticks with you as do the remembrances. My lasting memory of Tynae, who made it through three years of my whistle blowing, came in the last quarter of her last game. We were down by more than ten points with scarcely a minute on the clock. A girl on the other team stole the ball and was headed for an uncontested layup. By all rights, the outcome of the game was long decided. It didn't matter. Tynae, who played practically every minute of every game, chased the girl down from thirty feet behind and knocked the ball out of her hands, saving two points. It was one of the greatest plays I have seen but not many people really understood the importance of what she did. Paul, in 2 Timothy 4:7, described it this way:"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." That's what Tynae did in her final act as a Lady Wildcat- she overcame exhaustion and prevented two points, honoring her teammates and me with her effort until the very end. Most kids would have emotionally cashed it in by that point. Some, like Tynae, never quit. That's why we coach. That's why there's next year.

Applicable quote of the day:
"The best thing about sports is the sense of community and shared emotions it can create."
Bob Costas

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Potty Mouth

2012-01-26T21:02:00.003-06:00

Our memory verse in my Gospels' classes today was James 3:9-10 which is as follows:
With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.
As we reviewed, I really stressed how flippant (one of the three favorite words in Nelda Hawley's vocabulary) we have become as a society with the name of Jehovah and the way we often speak of others with contempt. I related how I once caught myself, lip reading, exclaiming Jesus Christ as I watched a game tape of my basketball team and I was not praising God with the use of the Savior's name. I told them our janitorial service faithfully cleans all the toilets in our school each night but that no one would quench their thirst there, no matter how disinfected they were; you don't use the same source as a bathroom and a drinking supply. And yet, we can outwardly worship God and degrade another person made in God's image with the words flowing over the same lips. None of the students had ever heard talking out of both sides of our mouth but I told them this passage defines that phrase. The lesson really boiled down to the last four words- this should not be. And yet, so often with us, it is.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I have often repented speaking, but never of holding my tongue.

Xenocrates

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Not Fade Away

2012-01-25T18:00:00.000-06:00

Do you ever wonder how close you have come to death and not realized it? Or maybe one small seemingly insignificant choice allows you to keep on living. The following, from February 2, 2009, addresses that scenario in the life of a very well know celebrity.

My bonus question today on our Bible quizzes was guessing the age of Buddy Holly at the time of his death. (The correct answer was twenty-two.) Predictably, the 50th anniversary of the death of singers Holly, the Big Bopper, and Ritchie Valens has triggered a round of articles dealing with the plane crash and its aftermath. One article dealt with a glaring oversight- there were four fatalities that night in Iowa. Pilot Roger Peterson also was killed in that frozen Iowa corn field. I find it fascinating that the shows and tour went on as scheduled. I also find the story of Tommy Allsup, who is quoted in the following account, fascinating. He lived because he lost a coin flip. Do you think he has ever flipped a coin to decide anything since? Ellen Young, a member of my congregation, knows Mr. Allsup. I bet he has thanked the Lord every day since February of 1959.

By Melissa Rentería - Conexión
The plane that crashed with Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper on board had other intended passengers — two young men who gave up their seats on the doomed flight.
Tommy Allsup, a guitarist for Buddy Holly, was minutes away from boarding the 1947 Beechcraft Bonanza when he lost a coin toss to Valens, who had asked Allsup to give him his seat on the plane.
"Not a day goes by that I don't think about it," Allsup said by phone from his hotel room in Clear Lake, Iowa, where the Grammy-winning guitarist was set to perform a series of concerts as part of a week long tribute to Valens, Holly and J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson.
The three rockers, along with pilot Roger Peterson, died in the Feb. 3, 1959, plane crash that was immortalized in the 1971 Don McLean song "American Pie" as "The Day the Music Died." This year marks the 50th anniversary of the tragedy.
Allsup and Waylon Jennings, who also played guitar for Holly, were scheduled to board the chartered plane after performing in Clear Lake, Iowa, as part of the "Winter Dance Party" tour. Holly chartered the small plane for himself and his band members after growing tired of riding the tour bus, which had a malfunctioning heater. The plane would take them to the tour's next stop in Fargo, N.D.
"Buddy said to me, 'How'd you like a seat on the plane' and I said 'that sounds good,' " recalled the 77-year-old Allsup, who at 27 was among the oldest musicians on the tour. Valens was 17, Holly was 22, and Richardson was 28. Peterson, the pilot, was 22.
Allsup's voice sometimes broke with emotion as he recalled the events leading up to the plane crash. The events, Allsup said, didn't occur as they were depicted in the 1987 Valens biopic "La Bamba," which showed the fateful coin toss happening at the airport.
Allsup, along with Holly and Richardson, who earlier had persuaded Jennings to give him his seat on the plane, were loading up a car to take them to the nearby Mason City Airport.
Allsup went back inside the Surf Ballroom, where the performers had just finished a show, to make sure they hadn't left any equipment behind. He passed Valens in the doorway on his way in.
"Ritchie was busy signing autographs and talking to some girls," Allsup said.
As Allsup made his way out the door, Valens, who earlier had asked Allsup to let him ride on the plane, once again tried to persuade the guitarist to give up his seat.
"I told him, 'Let's flip for it,' " Allsup said. "So I reached into my pocket for a 50-cent piece and said, 'Call it.' He called heads."
Allsup headed back to the car to tell the others that Valens would be riding on the plane with them, and he asked Holly to mail a letter home for him. In those days a special delivery letter required the mailer's identification, so Allsup searched his wallet for a form of I.D. that would work.
"Buddy told me to just give him my wallet," said Allsup, who later would be listed as a possible casualty when crews began searching the plane's wreckage and came across his wallet.
Allsup and the other musicians boarded their tour buses for the overnight trip to Fargo. They arrived at their hotel in the morning, and Allsup asked for a room next to Holly.
"The clerk said, 'Mr. Holly's not here and he's not coming. He died in a plane crash. It's all over the news,' " said Allsup, who had seen images of Holly and the others on a hotel lobby television but thought it was an advertisement promoting the upcoming show.
"I couldn't believe it," he said.
Allsup and Jennings played the scheduled show that night with Jennings singing lead vocals in place of Holly. The two would continue performing for the remainder of the tour, which, despite the three stars' deaths, was not canceled.
"I've been really blessed to play music all these years," said Allsup, a longtime record producer and session guitarist who has played on more than 6,500 recording sessions.
Despite the 50 years that have passed since the plane crash, Allsup said he still thinks about it daily "in some way or another," particularly around the anniversary date. His close call with that doomed flight has made him appreciate his life and his music more, he said. "I've just devoted my life to playing music and made the most of it. That's all I could do."

Applicable quote of the day:
"I can't remember if I cried,
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day the music died."
Don McLean (American Pie)

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Point

2012-01-24T07:00:00.000-06:00

I give at least one grade in every class every day. (Today, my eighth graders had three!) Every day, I have a bonus question that is completely random. Today, I used two: the birthpace of Etta James who died last week (Los Angeles) and her maiden name, which was Hawkins. Sometimes, the bonus is to pen a prayer request. Below, from December 13, 2006, is why I do this.

I can breathe again. The past eight days have been grueling in terms of time. My girls' basketball team played six games in that stretch and on one of the two off nights, I had a upper school music concert to attend. I am worn out and I didn't even have to run one time down the court like my twelve Lady Wildcats. Last night, the final evening of this marathon, we returned to school after 10:00 PM following a trip to the other side of Houston. (My kids were excited, beating a school that had drubbed us by thirty points last month.) My voice is making a slight comeback- I'm upgraded to hoarse. Each day in class, we have a grade and I always come up with some sort of random bonus question to throw in at the end. Usually, I list seven answers on my board so the students have a 14% chance of getting extra credit even with no knowledge of the topic. Today was test day in all my five Bible classes, the last exam before semester finals commence this coming Monday. With no time to prepare an extra credit question, I made this the bonus: Simply write down a prayer request on your test and you will receive the additional point. On a normal test day, about twenty percent of the kids would write down things for me to pray about. Today, it was close to eighty percent. (One young man said he didn't have anything to pray for. He should have reconsidered; fifteen minutes later, he was issued a detention for using his cell phone during school hours.) The difference between twenty percent and eighty percent? One point.

As always, I was touched by what the kids had on their hearts. Today, there were simply more kids sharing. Almost all directly dealt with family and friend issues. These requests were not selfish in nature, although who am I to judge that, and they revealed how much the kids believe prayer can alter the situations they are in through intervention from the Lord. It probably helped that both the eighth grade and sophomore exams included the writing out of The Lord's Prayer. We talked about its brevity and what are difficult features from our perspective: only asking for daily bread and requesting mercy from God equal to the standard of mercy we apply to others. We speak often of the power of prayer in class but my students don't respond with the frequency I would prefer. There is so much hope offered to the believer in the teachings on prayer in the scriptures but we often take no advantage of what is our birthright as Christians. Maybe I'll start using prayer requests for bonus on a more regular basis to get these teens to share and more openly cast their fears and hopes on the Heavenly Father. When they do, it won't be pointless.
Applicable quote of the day:
"We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties."
Oswald Chambers

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Prayer

2012-01-23T20:24:00.001-06:00

My eighth graders' memory verses this week are the four stanzas of one of my favorite hymns, If I have Wounded Any Soul Today. Also known as An Evening Prayer, this short song has been one of my favorites since I was a small child, probably since it was a favorite of my mom and dad. The words are:

If I have wounded any soul today,
If I have caused one foot to go astray,
If I have walked in my own willful way,
Dear Lord, forgive!

If I have uttered idle words or vain,
If I have turned aside from want or pain,
Lest I myself shall suffer through the strain,
Dear Lord, forgive!

If I have been perverse or hard, or cold,
If I have longed for shelter in Thy fold,
When Thou hast given me some fort to hold,
Dear Lord, forgive!

Forgive the sins I have confessed to Thee;
Forgive the secret sins I do not see;
O guide me, love me and my keeper be,
Dear Lord, Amen.

It was hymn #551 in the blue book (Great Songs Of The Church) we used when I was a boy in York, Nebraska. I have to admit that I am old fashioned and particularly drawn to the perfect rhyming sequence of the thoughts by C. Maude Battersby which perfectly fit the tune penned by Charles Gabriel. While we express praise and gratitude and petitions in our prayers to the Father, the confession aspect is part of our outpouring as well. I can see myself in each verse of this hymn as I review my day at school. Katie, one of my basketball players in Tennessee, told me she sang this as her evening prayer. Katie had the right idea. We pass ourselves as strong but if we are honest, we know the truth. The most easily remembered prayer for me in Scripture was that of the tax collector in the temple as quoted by Jesus in His parable in contrasted to the prayer of a Pharisee:

"God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
I can add only one word to that unnamed guy who the Savior said went home justified in the sight of God: AMEN.

Applicable quote of the day:

"Confess your sins to the Lord, and you will be forgiven; confess them to men, and you will be laughed at."
Josh Billings

(Please take two minutes and listen to this gorgeous rendition of If I Have Wounded Any Soul Today.)

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

WE ARE ..........

2012-01-22T19:00:00.000-06:00

Many of you have heard of the passing today of Joe Paterno, a college football coaching legend. The last several months of his life were tied up in a scandal which led to his termination at Penn State. This entry is about a time with less turmoil in Happy Valley, Pennsylvania, at least outwardly. This is from November 6, 2006.

Joe Paterno got hurt Saturday. The seventy-nine year old football coach at Penn State was injured in a sideline collision in PSU's loss to Wisconsin. He has undergone surgery to repair a fractured tibia and torn knee ligaments. He vows he will be on hand to coach this Saturday as the Nittany Lions take on Temple. In his 41st year coaching in State College, Paterno ranks second in both total wins in NCAA Division 1 and longest tenure at one institution. Paterno leads one of the most tradition-laden programs on the college level. Games at Beaver Stadium routinely surpass 100,000 in attendance. One of the great cheers/chants on the intercollegiate level reverberates throughout the fourth largest university venue on autumn Saturdays:WE ARE....PENN STATE.
WE ARE....PENN STATE.
WE ARE....PENN STATE.
The chant is revered by Nittany Lion fans and reviled by opponents. The Penn State student body and alumni define themselves by those four words. It is a very simple, very memorable definition.

My eighth and tenth grade Bible students are learning some self-defining statements as well this week. In the gospel of John, Jesus defines himself in what are called The Seven I AM Statements. The Savior of the world characterized himself as follows:
I am the bread of life.
I am the true vine.
I am the good shepherd.
I am the gate for the sheep.
I am the light of the world.
I am the resurrection and the life.
I am the way, the truth, and the life.

The way Jesus looked at himself stands in marked contrast, in my opinion, to the way many viewed him then as now. I think the manner in which we look at ourselves through simple definitions can shed light on who we are as well. I asked my students to finish the sentence, "I am _________." Following is a sampling of their replies:
Rachael: I am tall.
Leah: I am a babysitter.
Aaron: I am clumsy.
Josh: I am athletic.
Veronica: I am shy.
Andrea: I am Hispanic.
Christian: I am smart.
David: I am good looking.
Lauren: I am kind.
Kenneth: I am five different ethnicities.
Marc: I am a twin.
Ben: I am the older twin.

I thought the kids did a good job. They were willing to commit publicly to how they viewed themselves. For the most part, they couched their categorizations in positive terms. I like that. Soon, we will get into the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus gives the converse of one of his statements by saying, "YOU are the light of the world." And, none of us want to be seen in a negative light!

Applicable quote of the day:
"Losing a game is heartbreaking. Losing your sense of excellence or worth is a tragedy."
Joe Paterno/ Penn State football coach

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

As Told By Tosin and Chelsey.....

2012-01-21T19:54:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, my devotional was a series of rewrites of The Good Samaritan as penned by my eighth graders. In the coming weeks, my high school students will undertake the same assignment. It's amazing what comes out of kids' minds when we give them a chance to speak about things they know. In all of the years that we have performed this updating of Jesus' great parable, I have two that have stuck with me more than the others and perhaps not coincidentally, both of these young ladies were on my basketball team. One was written by Tosin Ajiboye when she was in eighth grade and the other came from the mind of Chelsey Villarreal as a sophomore. I bet they make you smile, too!

A girl was shopping in the mall, wearing her six inch stiletto heels, when she fell and twisted her ankle. A group of girls saw her screaming in pain and took her bags. A clerk from Hollister saw her lying on the ground and thought, 'Hey! I don't have to help- she had an attitude with me!' The clerk walked around her. Next, her boyfriend and a group of his friends saw her on the floor. She thought that help had come! Her boyfriend's friends asked him, 'Dude, isn't that your girl?' The boyfriend thought, 'Man, this could really mess up my rep!' He says, 'No- just a wannabe!' Then, one of the boys from the Chess Club saw her and immediately bandaged her and took her to the nearest hospital..and she was all better.
PS: A week later, they started dating!
Tosin

One day, there was this really nerdy guy who was riding his bike home from school. Out of nowhere, he got hit by a car! The driver just kept driving, not thinking twice about it. The first to walk by was the valedictorian. He looked at the boy and calculated how fast the bike was moving and how fast the car was going for him to get hit and be thrown that far. When he figured out the problem, he left and went home to start on his homework. Next, a football player ran by. He said the boy would make a good tackling dummy, laughed for awhile, and left. Then, a gorgeous cheerleader walked by. She grabbed her cell phone, and called for help. She went with the boy to the doctor. The boy ended up being the school mascot, all because of the cheerleader!
THE END
Chelsey

Jesus made his teachings applicable to the crowds and masses. We still have that obligation today. While we might think Tosin's and Chelsey's versions were a little bit silly, let me assure you that middle and high school kids can relate to them. I just wish I could make it this simple.

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Good Samaritan, 2012

2012-01-20T19:31:00.005-06:00

Every year, I have my students rewrite the parable of the Good Samaritan in their own words in ways that make sense in their own world. Here are some stories from my eighth graders. If you are an SEC football fan, you have to love Kaitlyn's!

While running on his way home, a barber fell and broke both of his legs. As he lay there unable to move, a doctor walks by, but saw the man had no medical insurance so he moved on. Then, one of the barber's regular customers walked by and thought to himself, "I'll keep walking, I won't need another haircut for awhile." Then, a man who was going naturally bald came over and helped the barber to the nearest hospital. -Ibe

Aubie, the Auburn University mascot, was walking to Toomers Corner to celebrate their BCS title, when he was knocked down by the Oregon Duck mascot. Aubie couldn't get up! The Auburn Tigers rode by in their bus, but only laughed at how ridiculous he looked. Then, Coach Gene Chizik walked past Aubie, only giving him a high-five, not realizing he was injured. Then, a die-hard University of Alabama fan walks past him, but Aubie knows for a fact Alabama and Auburn could never help each other. Just as that very thought is running through Aubie's mind, the Alabama fan turns around and runs to give him a hand. At this point, Aubie is shocked! The Alabama fan then asks Aubie if he would like a ride to Toomers Corner, and that night Auburn and Alabama celebrated together. -Kaitlyn

Peter was cruising through the desert in Nevada, on his way to Las Vegas for his brother's wedding, jamming to some hardcore music, not even noticing his gas gauge was on "E" (that's for empty). Suddenly his car started to slow, finally realizing he ran out of gas. Peter was unaware that this part of the desert was known for famous groups of bandits robbing people that pass through. Sitting there, Peter reached for his phone, but saw he had no service. He didn't know what to do. At that very moment some guys jumped out of the bushes and took everything he owned; his wallet, stereo, comb, and quickly pushed his car away into the desert. Leaving him there with a broken leg, black eye, and blood everywhere, Peter thought he was going to die from the searing heat of the sun. All of a sudden, Chris Tomlin's tour bus pulled beside him. Chris slowed but kept driving, not caring at all that poor Peter was injured. Another car came passing through soon after with Peter's pastor at the wheel, probably on the way to the wedding. He looked at the beaten young man, then at his watch and decided to keep on his way, slowly blurring out of Peter's view. Finally, a ragged, homeless-looking man stopped, set Peter is his basket on the back of the bike and took him to the nearest hospital. Once they got there, the homeless man took out the small amount of money he earned over the past few years and gave it to the hospital for Peter's care. Peter was ever-so grateful to the man who saved his life. -Cory

A man walked down a bad road, and was robbed and beaten. He was small so he couldn't defend himself very well. A police man drove by looking at the small man on the ground, but drove off eating his doughnut because he didn't want to be late to work. An ambulance drove by the man, but decided to keep going because it was already too crowded with paramedics. After that, an ex-gang member walked by and wept because he knows this is what he used to do to other people. After he wept, the ex-gang member picked the small man up and took him to his one bedroom apartment. He gave him his bed and slept on the stone slabs he had there. The next day he helped him until he got well, and dropped him off without asking for any thanks. -Travis

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Schedule

2012-01-18T21:00:00.000-06:00

Less than three weeks into a new year, we keep hearing ads about improving our lives. Sometimes, improvements in our lives turn out to be anything but. This is from six years ago, March 3, 2006.

I am convinced that most people who don't work in a school don't know how one functions. Schools run on calendars and clocks. At Westbury Christian School, we have four different class schedules, down from the unwieldy eight we had several years back. Our school day contains eight class periods intertwined with lunch, chapel or activity time, and four minutes to pass between each class. The schedule we use 90% of the time is Schedule A. Today, we were on Schedule D. Under this format, each class is shortened by two minutes, there is no chapel/activity time, and we have a forty minute assembly at the end of the day. Friday's assembly was the kickoff for our jog-a-thon, modeled after the reality show Fear Factor. There is a quirk in Schedule D. Fifth and sixth periods flip flop. After eight years at WCS, I still can't figure it out. Kids ask me where they go next and I have to refer to the printed schedule tacked on the wall. If I stay here eight more years, I may be able to comprehend Schedule D but it isn't a lock. My life is such a routine that the slightest deviation throws me for a loop.

My apartment went online this week. I KNEW my entrance into the Internet at home would make life easier. I was mistaken. My reasoning for wanting to be connected to the web was so I could write my blog at home and not be confined to my classroom. There were things I never took into account. First, my school computer is much faster and more efficient than the laptop sitting at Braesridge Apartments. I become accustomed to writing under pressure at school- I couldn't leave until I had my entry posted. It is much easier to put it off now. I find myself finishing later each day and it's interfering with sleep. What I believed would be a blessing so far has been a trial. In the end, it will be a boon to my life but that hasn't happened yet. Like so many things, I didn't think it through. The Lord has it worked out if I have the faith to use his timetable. We might think our lives are on Schedule A when in fact God has us on Schedule D, maybe even E or F. In John 7, Jesus chastises his brothers who are mocking his ministry. Jesus tells them, "for you any time is right." The Savior contrasts their concept with his own by stating, "for me, the right time has not yet come." I wonder if I am any different in forcing an agenda for my life instead of turning it over to Time's Creator. I'm impatient even when praying, "Your will be done." What I probably am subliminally asking is, "Lord, please line Your will up with my will." I don't have a clock in my class because kids watch it and shut down when the bell is near. I want them to focus the entire forty-six minutes instead of cruising to the finish line when class is deep into the fourth quarter. Maybe the Lord is doing the same with me. Maybe he's telling me, "Steve, just play the game and I WILL manage the clock for you." Maybe he's showing me I need to spend a little money and get a new computer so I can better manage the twenty-four hours he has loaned to me. Maybe he's letting me know I am not quite ready for the next step in my life. Maybe he wants me to slow down a little. Maybe, just like Jesus told his brothers, "the right time has not yet come."

Applicable quote of the day:
"Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them."
Dion Boucicault

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Sister Act

2012-01-17T19:30:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon, I attended the funeral of Marie Gage, a wonderful woman in our church who was a part of our school family as well. In front of me sat a lady from our congregation who was signing for her deaf daughter. The mother was her child's channel into the hearing world. The following, from January 1, 2009, is about one of my students who served in the same capacity for her family.

Several mornings ago, I dropped by a Starbucks near Dave's house to get my A.M. jolt. Again this Christmas, my students showered me with Starbucks' cards to facilitate a habit I rarely indulge with cash. After receiving my order, just a regular coffee, I moved to the little counter where they let you doctor your drink with sugar, sweetener, honey, chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, and about six different types of dairy products. To the left of me, two women were conversing in those comfortable chairs that make you want to hang around and visit. Neither said a word. The two were signing to each other and I made the logical assumption that one or both were deaf. Who knows what they spoke of. That world is a mystery to me and the billions who don't comprehend the language of gestures and subtle movements.

Her name was Wanda and she was in my one of my eighth grade classes in Tennessee. One day, Wanda informed me that she would be missing school in the future because her mother was pregnant and the due date was rapidly approaching. That in itself was not uncommon. What was out of the ordinary was the reason she would be present for the delivery. Both of Wanda's parents were deaf and it was going to be Wanda's responsibility to teach her baby sister to speak. The doctors wanted her to hold the infant as soon as she was born so there would be bonding. The baby came into the world as planned and Wanda bestowed on her little sister a gift her parents could not- the ability to communicate verbally with a hearing world.

Think what a responsibility Wanda had! The Scriptures are filled with admonitions to parents regarding the training of their little ones. Consider what pressure Wanda would have had on her thirteen year old shoulders. We mimic what we hear but the rest of us have a combination of voices that become the blend of our vocabularies and accents. The voice heard in that home by that small girl would belong exclusively to Wanda. As the child moved out into the world as she grew, other voices would demand her attention but the first voice makes the most lasting impression. In Psalm 34:11, David wrote, "Come, my children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD." Wanda had that opportunity with her sister. So do I with the kids I teach the Bible, many of whom hear it nowhere else but at school. As much as Wanda had her mission, I have mine and many of you have that same task. It won't be in International Sign Language but it will in the vernacular of Jesus and expressions of his love. And that can be universally understood.

Applicable quote of the day:
" I have always thought it would be a blessing if each person could be blind and deaf for a few days during his early adult life. Darkness would make him appreciate sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound."
Helen Keller

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Beatitudes, 2012: Closing Comments

2012-01-16T19:17:00.000-06:00

Blessed are those who are barefoot, for they will wear Air Jordan Concords in Heaven. –Bryce

Blessed are the ugly, for you are most beautiful in God’seyes. –Ivy

Blessed are those who are poor, for God will be your dollarbill. –Devon

Blessed are those without homes, for Heaven is the eternalshelter. –Megan

Blessed are those who are short, for you will grow in thename of God. –Jordan

Blessed are those who have struggles, for they understandwhat it is like to be able to fight through pain and see each way God has madethem stronger. –Brianna

Blessed are those who live on the streets, for God provideseveryone with Tempur-Pedic beds in Heaven. -Bryce

Blessed are those who love to talk, for God has a patientear. –Sylvana

Blessed are those who are insecure, for you will see theimperfections God has made in everyone. -Brianna

Blessed are those who can’t swim, for God will be theirfloatie. -Devon

Blessed are the weak, for your strength will be unmatchablein Heaven. –BJ

Blessed are those who have lost loved ones, for, in Heaven,no one is lost. –Alison

Blessed are those who lose, for everyone is a winner onGod’s team. –Nicholas

Blessed are the blind, for you will one of the first to seethe pearly gates of Heaven. –Erin

Blessed are those who work at night, for God will always bethe light on your road. –John

Blessed are those who are faithful but suffer, for God isthe ultimate reward. –Raven

Blessed are those who lose parents, for your strength willgrow with God’s word. –Will

Blessed are those who think they aren’t good enough, for Godknows you are perfect in your own way. –Chelsea

Blessed are the heart-broken, for God is the master ofmending hurt lives. –Gabe

Blessed are the barren women, for they will produce muchfaith in the eyes of God. –Sarah

Blessed are those who are discriminated against, foreveryone is equal in God’s eyes. –Ben

AND A FITTING CONCLUSION,

Blessed are the inartistic, for they will be a Picasso inHeaven. –Dyani

And the teacher said, "AMEN!"

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Beatitudes, 2012: Fourth Quarter

2012-01-15T19:58:00.001-06:00

Blessed are those who are not athletic, for you will be fit in Heaven. –Tre’Jean

Blessed are the fatherless, for God the Father is alwayswith you. –Autumn

Blessed are the stressed, for there are no worries inHeaven. –Walter

Blessed are those who don’t believe, for they will soonunderstand the ways of the Lord in Heaven. –Danielle

Blessed are those who are in detention, for their slateswill be wiped clean. –Matthew F.

Blessed are the Bieber fans, for you will be his “baby.”–Tiffany

Blessed are those who now sit on the bench, for in Heaventhey will be starters. –Ryan

Blessed are those who are paralyzed, for you will jump withjoy in Heaven. –Hannah

Blessed are the homeless, for they will find shelter withGod. –Keaton

Blessed are the weak at mind, for the Lord gives you astrong heart. –Shelby

Blessed are the people who can’t walk, for they will fly inHeaven. –Jason

Blessed are those who are handicapped, for there are nolimitations in Heaven. –Darian

Blessed are those who smell bad, for God will be youreverlasting fragrance. –Devon

Blessed are those who don’t have enough clothes in winter,for God will warm their souls. –Tam

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Denny Doherty And Friends

2012-01-14T20:02:00.000-06:00

After working out this afternoon, I ran into a nearby grocery store for some fresh fruits/vegetables. As I came out, a man approached me, carrying a Bible. He told me he had been looking for work all day and he was hungry. We had a short conversation, I gave him two dollars, and he asked me to pray for him, which I did immediately. As I turned the corner to exit the parking lot, I saw him enter a liquor store, holding the Bible and two dollar bills, a scene eerily similar to the one in the entry below.In my classes, one of our emphasized memory verse is always Ephesians 2:10 which speaks of the good works God plans for us to do. Sometimes, it isn't easy for us to know what to do. The following is from January 21, 2007.

Denny Doherty died two days ago. The Canadian singer, best known for being a member of the 1960's quartet, The Mamas And The Papas, was sixty-six. Along with Cass Elliot and husband and wife duet, John and Michelle Phillips, Doherty took the pop music world by storm with hits like California Dreamin' and Monday, Monday. Their beautiful harmonies and ultra-chic outfits brought the California music and fashion scene to the rest of the country. But inside the group, the frailties of human nature ate away at the fabric of the foursome. Cass was madly in love with Denny. Unfortunately, Denny was in love with Michelle who inconveniently was married to John. Denny and Michelle carried on an affair for a time until the truth came into the open. In a documentary shown on PBS, John explained how he got his revenge. He wrote the lyrics to a song about infidelity, based on Denny and Michelle's affair, and as the de facto leader of the group, made the guilty parties sing it. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, the tune became one of their biggest chart successes. The title: I Saw Her Again Last Night. I wonder if Michelle Phillips, the only surviving member of the group, cringes when she hears that song. It can't be easy when the indiscretions of your youth are perpetually blared from the towers of Oldies' stations.

I saw him again last night. I only eat ice cream on the weekends so yesterday qualified. My store of choice for buying ice cream is the Fiesta Super Market a block from my apartment. Walking over, I purchased two pints of Blue Bell along with my breakfast apples and oranges for the week ahead. (FYI. I tried the new flavor, Cake Batter. I doubt I will again.) As I headed home, he stopped me. He had no idea who I was but we had met before. In the Spring of 2000, I was in a video store several miles down the road when I encountered the same guy. He was walking through the aisles with a cell phone and paging Clint Eastwood in a loud voice. Outside, he engaged me in a ten minute conversation and kept taking my picture although I doubted the camera held any film. It struck me enough that I wrote about him in my book. It was him again. He was standing outside a liquor store and he smelled of alcohol. He grabbed my hand and asked my name. I told him Steve and he began referring to me as The Six Million Dollar Man, after Steve Austin in the television show of the same name. As people walked past, they jeered at him but he did not seem offended. He rambled on for several minutes as my ice cream began getting soft. He never asked for money and I have no comprehension of what he was trying to say to me. I left him on the sidewalk to strike up his next conversation. I would guess our paths will cross again.

I'm always at a loss in situations like that. My guess is that he is deranged or an alcoholic/drug addict or a combination of the two. Does he medicate himself because he is mentally challenged or do his emotional problems stem from the substances he has, at least to my perception, ingested? This has always been hard for me to grasp. On one hand, the Scriptures condemn drunkenness and stress the temperate life. On the other hand, Proverbs 31:6,7 condones the use of alcohol for those who are in desperate straits:
"Give beer to those who are perishing,
wine to those who are in anguish;
let them drink and forget their poverty
and remember their misery no more."
I tell my students that if you start, you don't know whether you can control the alcohol or the alcohol will control you. We have all seen too many cases of families devastated by chemicals. I am glad my folks did not drink and God bless those who have overcome their addictions, whatever form they take. The ones that haven't, they need Jesus, too. The Cross can shatter the bottle or the syringe. If the name of Jesus could drive out evil spirits, it can conquer the demons which plague so many in our world today.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I've seen the needle and the damage done,
A little part of it in everyone,
But every junkie's like a setting sun."
Neil Young/ from The Needle And The Damage Done

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Material World

2012-01-13T20:25:00.000-06:00

Many of you already know of the tragedy which struck our school family last night. Marie Gage, a wonderful Christian lady, lost her life as the result of a home robbery. Marie was the mother of Loa, our Athletic Department assistant and George who works in our transportation section. She was also the mother-in-law of Greg, our Head of School, and the grandmother of Amber, Richard, and Cody, three of our WCS grads. Marie leaves behind her equally wonderful husband, Bill. You could never find a more generous couple than these two. Six years ago, I wrote about them; I hope it shines at least a little light on the saints they were. This is from May 22, 2006.

The Gages moved to Texas last summer from their Florida home. I doubt it was for better weather; August in Houston is brutal. It might have something to do with the fact that the house they purchased is directly behind some close relatives. Their daughter, Loa, is our registrar at Westbury Christian, son-in-law Greg is our Athletic Director/boys' basketball coach, and grandkids Amber, Richard, and Cody are WCS students. The Gages are in the process of condensing their lives by reducing their possessions. Closing down their Florida dwelling has saddled them with a storage dilemma. For months, Marie has continually asked what I could use in my apartment. They have become my version of Wal-Mart. An iron and ironing board, pots and pans, towels, trash cans, a clothes hamper, clothes hangers, dishes, etc.- they have more than met my needs! Loa called last night and asked if I might like additional furniture. Her folks are clearing a room and have two spacious cabinets I would be welcome to. I went to see them after lunch this morning, which they also graciously provided at Saltgrass Steakhouse, my favorite restaurant in Houston. The bureaus would be perfect for my clothes as my dresser is plywood with metallic handles. Tomorrow, Greg and I will pick up my new furnishings and after hauling them up one flight of stairs, deposit them in my living quarters. I see only one problem. (Well, actually two as I need to do some straightening up.) My apartment is not tiny but it leans in the small direction. I don't have a great amount of possessions but adding two sizable bureaus leads me to an undeniable conclusion. Something has to go, maybe multiple items. I'm taking a wait and see policy until the move-in is completed.

The Lord is generous to us. He is so much better to me than I deserve. I have seen kids in a Haitian orphanage with their worldly goods in a tiny suitcase with plenty of room to spare. What a problem, to have more stuff than we can comfortably fit in our homes! (The Parable of the Rich Fool comes to mind as told by the Savior in Luke 12) Our lives often mirror our possessions. We are offered the chance to be involved in things, good things, but our plates are already overflowing. We reach the point that to take on another good work, we have to give something up. I am convinced it isn't the taking on that presents the problem. It is our reluctance to delete anything which we feel good about. We hesitate to say no to requests for our help on some project or program. Maybe it's ego- often we are picked because it is perceived we have ability that make us logical workers in that particular vineyard. I feel guilty about turning down opportunities, especially when the offer comes from friends/fellow Christians I admire OR feel I owe a favor to. But a crowded life is like my soon-to-be crowded apartment. If I don't subtract when I add, I will find myself running into obstacles which will just cause me pain. Sorry this is short but I have some BIG decisions to make!

Applicable quote of the day:
"Many wealthy people are little more than janitors of their own possessions."
Frank Lloyd Wright

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Beatitudes, 2012: Chapter 3

2012-01-12T21:03:00.000-06:00

Blessed are those who are misled, for God is the way, thetruth, and the light. –Clara

Blessed are those who starve, for God will fill you with Hisword. –Jon

Blessed are the musty, for God will cleanse you. -Natalie

Blessed are those who hit all the wrong notes, for yourvoices will ring in God’s choir. –Tre

Blessed are those who don’t get any presents for Christmas,for God will bless you with heavenly treasures. –Catherine

Blessed are those who are bullied, for they shall reignsupreme with God. –Godfrey

Blessed are those who are mute, for your heart speaks theloudest. –Shannon

Blessed are those who are paralyzed, for you will be a trackstar on God’s team. –Rene

Blessed are those who are overweight, for there will be nophysical differences in Heaven. –Lindsay

Blessed are those who can’t hit three-pointers, for theirshots will fall in Heaven. –Travis

Blessed are the academically challenged, for getting intoHeaven doesn’t require a report card. –Claire

Blessed are those who feel unwanted, for God will be yourcompanion. –Xavier

Blessed are those who stray, for God is the best Shepherdand will bring you home. –Apple

Blessed are those who were never shown love, for you willsee only love in Heaven. –David H.

Blessed are thosewith broken families, for your experiences will help your faith grow. –Stacey

Blessed are those who can’t drive, for in Heaven you willfly. –Johnny

Blessed are those with a traumatic past, for God helps youlook toward the future. –Lizzy

Blessed are those who fall, for God will always be there topick you up. –Andrew

Blessed are you who are short, for you will reach thehighest shelf with God. –Melody

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Beatitudes, 2012: ACT II

2012-01-11T21:17:00.000-06:00

Blessed are those who are single, for no one is married inHeaven. –Kaylan

Blessed are those who don’t make wide receiver, for God willalways catch you when you fall. –Dominique

Blessed are the poor, for your money will be nothing inHeaven. –Wanlisa

Blessed are those who lose their phones, for God is the onlycontact you need. –Matthew H.

Blessed are those in the military who don’t get to see theirfamilies, for you will get to watch over them every second in Heaven. –Britney

Blessed are those who can’t shop, for God will provide youwith everything you need. –Talghin

Blessed are those who are not rich, for you will beabundantly wealthy with the joy of God. –Nickie

Blessed are those who are weak, for God will be youreverlasting body guard. –Chris

Blessed are those who are lonely, for you will be surroundedwith the love of God. –Victoria

Blessed are those who don’t have a set place, for you willbe safe and secure by God’s side. –Deiondre

Blessed are those with ugly toes, for everything in Heavenis considered beautiful. –Hadiya

Blessed are those who are dumb, for God will grant you theIQ of a genius. –David A.

Blessed are those who have failed, for you are able tounderstand success. –Jill

Blessed are those who are old, for your wisdom is beyond itsyears. –Kyle

Blessed are those who fail, for your faith in God is whatpasses you. –Francie

Blessed are those in need, for you will not want foranything in Heaven. –Paul

Blessed are those who are hard of hearing, for God hearsyour praises the loudest. –Lilly

Blessed are the unsatisfied, for God will satisfy you beyonddemand. –Demoi

Blessed are those who feel neglected, for you are always onGod’s mind. –Emily

God bless,

Steve

Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Beatitudes, 2012

2012-01-10T19:36:00.002-06:00

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

My Bible classes began working on the Beatitudes recently. The nine statements of Jesus at the outset of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew's chapter five are familiar to Christians but are often foreign to the way we act. How are we supposed to rejoice and mourn concurrently? Who feels good about being mistreated? Philip Yancey translated these teachings as Lucky Are The Unlucky. Our class periods centered around our own translations of these contradictory, to the non-believer, words of truth from the lips of the Savior. Each student was assigned the task of recreating the Beatitudes in ways that made sense to them in twenty-first century Houston, Texas. What follows is a sampling of the theology of my eighth grade students:

Blessed are those who always feel like runners-up, for everyone is equal in God's eyes. -Lindsay

Blessed are those who must keep their Christianity a secret, for they will find liberation in Heaven. -Matthew D.

Blessed are those who get their phones taken away, for communication with God is the best kind you will receive. -Kaitlyn B.

Blessed are the poor in sight, for you will see great in Heaven. -Jeremiah

Blessed are those who are lonely, for you will be surrounded by angels. -Madison

Blessed are the blind, for you will not have to see the horrors of this world but the beauty of Heaven. - Devin

Blessed are the sick, for you will never have a cough again in Heaven. -Mallory D.

Blessed are the dead, for you will live in Christ. -Cory G.

Blessed are the ones who cannot afford college, for Jesus' teachings will guide you through life. -Kaitlyn B.

Blessed are the homeless, for Heaven will be their true home. -Sheyi

Blessed are those who have blank minds, for the Word will fill them with knowledge. -Avery

Blessed are the hated, for God will love them ten times over. -Richard

Blessed are those who cannot hear the voice of the Lord, for He will always be with you in Heaven. -Laura

Blessed are those who die for freedom, for there are no wars in Heaven. -Derrick

Blessed are the bored, for there will be an enormous amusement park in Heaven. -Mallory

Blessed are the angry, for God will find love in you. -Gino

And the teacher said, "AMEN!"

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Rains Came Down.....

2012-01-09T19:30:00.002-06:00

WOW! Last night in my FACEBOOK status update where I post the topic and link for that day's devotional, I added two postscripts: GO TEXANS (in honor of our big win over the Bengals on Saturday) and as I often do, PRAY FOR RAIN! Some of you must have taken me up on the request and the Lord must have been listening. Across Houston today, we received a consistent five inches of the wet stuff, a much needed blessing in a city which was over two feet shy of normal precipitation in 2011. It's cleared off now but it was a wild day all over town. We had a tornado drill this morning which was perfect timing considering the weather. A series of very strong storms moved through the area and tornado warnings came from the National Weather Service. Since WCS is a K-3 through 12th grade school, that led to some shared space in the interior first floor hallways, away from any glass. I was in the wing below my classroom with a number of high school students and a bunch of very little children, supervised by a group of teachers and administrators. After thirty minutes, the danger had passed and we resumed a much more typical school day. Sunny skies are forecast for tomorrow.

It was interesting watching the group in my designated area. I saw some tears from little ones and later, some of my eighth graders admitted to fear, as well. There was laughter (soft, of course, with hovering teachers) and bewilderment. I saw boredom and even some napping. I could not tell you if we were ever in any real danger but you don't take chances in these kinds of situations. What I thought was fascinating was my consideration of two of our principals, Jennifer White (lower school) and Casey Farris who is over our intermediate and middle school departments. Besides their roles as administrators, both also have spouses who work at Westbury Christian. Even more intriguing to me was that they each also have two small children in our school. I wonder what goes through your mind when you are charged with the welfare of many children and that includes your own? The safety of the group insures the safety of your own flesh and blood. I like to think that's how the Lord looks at me, and all His children, in times of danger. That even in the midst of a calamity, He's got me on His mind, that even then I matter. We endure the tornado drills of life constantly although sometimes we must be unaware. I heard someone say last week that it's a miracle any of us make it to adulthood, that all grown ups are in a sense, survivors. We made it through unscratched today and I know many parents breathed a sigh of relief. I would guess our Father is smiling, too.

Applicable quote of the day:

“There are two big forces at work, external and internal. We have very little control over external forces such as tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, disasters, illness and pain. What really matters is the internal force. How do I respond to those disasters? Over that I have complete control.”
Leo F. Buscaglia *God bless,* Steve *Luke 18:1* www.hawleybooks.com E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Small, Still Voice

2012-01-08T20:01:00.000-06:00

I've never actually watched the show but I've sat through plenty of commercials for The Voice, the singing contest on NBC. From what I can gather, several celebrity singers pick from a number of auditioning contestants with the catch they can only hear their voice with no idea of their appearance. I like that idea. We are swayed so much by looks anymore, especially it seems in the entertainment business. On this show, it's the voice that counts.

That's where I introduce myself into this story. As of this moment, I have no voice. Four basketball games in a space of twenty hours over the weekend has reduced my voice to a whisper. Today, I asked a brother to cover my duties as the speaker for communion in our Chinese congregation and I passed, with regret, the opportunity to pray during our English service tonight. It's just not easy for me to be understood right now. By tomorrow, I will be back to almost normal, Lord willing. It's not a bad thing, necessarily, reducing the quantity of words coming from my mouth. In my Gospels classes, as we study the Sermon on the Mount, we see how Jesus makes a number of points in how we use our voices. In Job 6, verse 24, the man with all the problems pleads with the Lord, "Teach me, and I will be quiet.'' Maybe the Lord has a lesson in mind for me or maybe even multiple lessons. When we teach and coach girls, every word and comment is saved in twelve year old memory banks, along with the body language accompanying the jargon. I'll be speaking softly tomorrow; it might just be a blessing to a number of youngsters.

Applicable quote of the day:

"The human voice is the organ of the soul."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Theory Of Relativity

2012-01-07T18:09:00.000-06:00

I am worn out! My basketball team has played five games in less than forty-hours so imagine how tired the girls are! Yesterday and today, we were in a sixth grade only tournament which is good for us because six of our eight players are in sixth grade. We got some oohs and ahhs when we walked in the gym because we are very tall for a sixth grade team. That is balanced by the fact that none of these young ladies have ever played the game before. You'll get the height reference as you read this entry from from 12-6-05.

Life is relative. The first thing Todd Burnett, one of my students, said to me this morning was "It sure is cold!" The temperature in Houston was 38 degrees, which for where we live is frigid. Thirty-eight degrees in many places in December is considered evidence of global warming. One Christmas, we visited my sister Cece who lives in Montana. The temperature one morning was 30 degrees below zero. It was so cold, it hurt to breathe. Now that's COLD!

I attempt to help my students understand the relativity of certain matters. I'll ask if a girl who is five feet in stature is short or tall. The invariable answer is 'short', to which I reply, "Not if she's in kindergarten." I'll choose a young man who is 6'3" and ask if he is tall. When they assert that he is, I state, "Not if he's in the NBA." Comparisons show discrepancies in any number of areas that we deal with. Most of my players and students think they work hard. There is always someone working harder.

Her first name was Elsa and she was a Copeland. It seemed like half the kids at the school were Copelands or related to Copelands. I taught her for three years in history classes and was blessed to be her coach her senior year. Elsa was driven. Life was full throttle for her. She was a student in an elective US History class which was unlike any I have ever instructed. The kids were beyond competitive in their test grades. The exams were simple, usually only two essay questions, but they would write non-stop for the entire period and beyond. Elsa was always extraordinarily prepared. She always made a perfect score. Curious to find out how much it meant for her test to be flawless, I asked, "Elsa, how much extra would you study to make a one hundred on your test instead of a ninety-nine?" Notice, I didn't ask how much would she study but how much EXTRA; she was already putting in hours the night before. She thought and her reply was "Five hours." That blew me away. The difference between 99% and 100% is minuscule. On top of that, we were on the A-B-C-D-F system. A 99% and 100% were the same grade. Elsa was such a perfectionist that the one point, which would never show up on her transcript, was vitally important. That May, at graduation exercises, guess who gave the valedictory address? There was never any doubt it would be Elsa.

Most don't understand hard work. When I tell the story of Elsa, my students are incredulous. Her study habits, according to them, were out of line with rewards she might reap. We have a conflict- we want to be good but we don't want to do what it takes to get there. I had a young lady who played basketball for me as an 8th grader and a sophomore. Last season, she made the NCAA All-Tournament team and her Baylor Bears won the Women's Final Four. Her name is Emily Niemann. I believe she was the best shooter in the country. In class, I asked one of my middle school basketball girls if she wanted to be as good a shooter as Emily. Her quick reply was "Yes!" Then, I described the countless hours which Emily spent on becoming a tremendous shooter; how she would come in an hour and a half before school in 8th grade, go through both MS and high school practices, lift weights, and then find a pickup game against guys. I described how as a 10th grader, she told a FOX reporter in a TV interview how she had played basketball everyday since 4th grade. After going through Emily's story, I asked my player if she still wanted to shoot like Emily. When she saw what it took, she changed her answer to "No." We are all like that. Jesus had people say they would follow him but they did not know what it entailed. I have to love you more than my family? My possessions have to be sold and given to the poor? What's this about carrying some cross daily? We haven't changed much. We talk a good religious game. We want to follow Jesus sort of. I have my classes write letters to the seriously ill or grieving. When a student asks, "How long does it have to be?", they are asking, "What's the least I can get by with?" That describes our spiritual lives at times- the minimum effort to still be considered a Christian. I don't see in myself the dedication I see in those who gave up all and followed Jesus. Elsa would dedicate five extra hours for one point. What is worth five hours for me?

Applicable quote of the day:
"A man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. He sits on a hot stove for a minute, it's longer than any hour. That is relativity."
Albert Einstein

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Corner

2012-01-05T20:10:00.000-06:00

One of my goals each year is to make as many new connections and maintain old ones as possible with our Westbury Christian students. Since I only teach eighth and tenth grade classes, much of my contact comes outside the classroom. The meeting place in our school is the hallway. This is from May 5, 2006.

I man my post every afternoon at 3:25 when the bell rings, ending eighth period and the school day. It's a voluntary job. As teachers, we are required to stand in the hallways during the four minutes allowed for passing between classes but after school, I am on my own. Our kids are good but extra eyes and a physical presence in the halls serve as preventive medicine. At 3:25 and thirty seconds, I take my station in front of our high school office on the second floor of Westbury Christian. My spot has a unique vantage point. Two halls converge blindly at that spot. Our students are rushing to get to their lockers and out the doors. Some are hurrying to tutoring or practices. From where I stand, I see kids coming from two different directions. They are on a collision course with each other but they are blissfully unaware. The closer they cut the corner, the less time there is to react to a student coming from the opposite direction. I watch the drama unfold as we have youngsters collide, or nearly collide, with their schoolmates repeatedly. No one gets hurt- running is not allowed- but there are some pretty good bumps. Maybe a book falls or classroom notes are scattered but no real harm occurs. The biggest byproduct of the corner is embarrassment but there is little recovery time required for that setback.

I hope this doesn't sound irreverent but standing at the confluence of the two halls, I get a sense of what the Lord's view of time and circumstance might be in a very limited way. I can see what is about to come to pass before the participants do. As adults, we try to intervene with kids when we can sense they are navigating into turbulent waters but we are just guessing what the outcome will be. Our Father in Heaven knows our steps and is aware of the disasters awaiting us if our courses are not altered. He sees both sides of the equation. Do you ever wish you could see around the corner in your life, to know what is on the horizon and avoid the catastrophes before they reach the point of fulfillment? I asked one of my classes yesterday and the consensus was NO. The feeling seemed to be that the spontaneity of life, even though it leaves us unsure of our immediate future, makes life more enjoyable. I think not knowing what tomorrow holds gives us the hope that it will be better, that we can make wiser choices. The promises of God seem to be more of a general nature, regarding our long-term well being and not so much of our everyday scenarios. Of course, we know those day-to-day scenarios, when strung together, are our future. Maybe not every collision is a negative one. Perhaps we learn valuable lessons or run headlong into the one we are going to marry. (That's for all you hopeless romantics out there!) Tomorrow afternoon, I'll be patrolling my little corner of the WCS universe once more. It could be I'll prevent a minor calamity or help pick up the pieces of a bruised ego. I am no prophet but I have seen the future and it's coming to a hallway near you!

Applicable quote of the day:
"We drive into the future using only our rearview mirror."
Marshall McLuhan
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Ten Years After

2012-01-03T21:07:00.000-06:00

It wasn't something I planned. This afternoon, in my fifth period, eighth grade Bible class, I prefaced a topic which required some maturity from my students with my usual intro:
"Are we all all adults here?"
They all nodded their heads. I asked Bryanna, a young lady who played basketball for me last year,
"Are you sure?"
She looked around and this time, she shook her head NO. I knew what she meant. I asked her, "Are you referring to the opposite gender?" She shook her head YES. It was predictable. Most eighth grade girls think their male counterparts are silly and immature. Most eighth grade boys don't care what girls think. It's a standoff.

Normally, I would have just gone on with our discussion but it seemed like a good time to make a point. I asked the eight wonderful young ladies in this section if they thought they were special and different in a good way when compared to other girls in the world who are being raised without discipline and spiritual values. My female students (Bryanna, Avery, Madison, Mallory, Kelsey, Kaitlyn, Lindsay, Laura) all agreed they are, as do I. So I asked them if the same wasn't true for these young men (Gino, Matthew, Jeremiah, Cory, Derrick, Richard, Sheyi, Devin) who share Room 258 from 12:09-12:55 PM five days a week. The girls had not considered that. I went on to say, with the voice of experience and being a recovering eighth grade boy myself, that in ten years, their male classmates, irritating and annoying as they are to them now, would be good men and the kind of guys they will want to fall in love with and marry. When spun in that light with a decade of distance, the girls agreed once more, not even grudgingly. Girls, I believe, are able to project themselves into the future more easily than boys at that age and what they can perceive of these young men in 2022 is much more than what meets their eye today. Statistics show the odds are small that any of these kids will marry each other but you never know. Maybe we learned today that our present does not have to be our future. I'm confident the Lord sees me that way. With the coming decade to work, He can even mold me into someone less annoying, irritating, silly, and immature than my present status. Get back to me in ten years. I might be busy preaching some weddings.

Applicable quote of the day:

"Boys will be boys. And even that wouldn't matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls.”
Anne Frank God bless, Steve Luke 18:1 www.hawleybooks.com E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Nothing But the Blood

2012-01-02T20:57:00.000-06:00

We are back in school tomorrow! Today, we had teacher in-service. I was sitting between our AD, Russell Carr, and our Upper School Administrator, Dr. David Lacey, when I noticed my right arm was bleeding. Since Dr. Lacey was wearing a very nice suit, I tried to nonchalantly keep my blood from making contact with his expensive-looking jacket and I succeeded. Blood is blood...but it isn't. The following is from 2-26-06.

We had a blood drive at Westbury church of Christ today. One of our deacons, Gary Keese, made an impassioned plea for donors. Our congregation has a long history of giving blood but apparently our efforts are down from past years. Gary gave stats for us to consider. Only 4-5% of those eligible give the gift of life and each pint helps three to five people who need blood. We had plenty of time slots available for this afternoon's session so Jon Thompson, who oversees the program, stood at the back of the auditorium with his clipboard. I feel guilty when I don't participate in giving blood but there is a reason- they won't take it. The last time I went in, I made it through the questionnaire phase. There was an interview and I was flying until the following question: "Have you been outside the United States in the past twelve months?" I answered in the affirmative. The lady asked what my destination had been; I replied that I go on a yearly mission to Honduras. She closed her clipboard and said, "I'm sorry." She explained that Honduras is on a list of countries that expose travelers to certain diseases; I think it was malaria or hepatitis, or maybe both. The crux of her denying my donation is this; my blood is tainted. I have never been sick but that is not the point. Whoever got a transfusion from me would be at risk. My blood does no one any good but myself.

I remember when the AIDS scare began. It made a big impact on high school athletics in the short term. We had state mandated meetings on the proper way to handle blood. We were NEVER to touch a bleeding player without wearing gloves, kept at court side. We also kept an AIDS bottle on the bench, which was simply a spray container with a solution of 90% water/10% bleach. If blood spilled on the floor, we immediately washed it down. As time went by, the hysteria wore off and we stopped being so careful. It doesn't seem to be an issue anymore. Do you know what blood type I am? That makes two of us; I don't know either. Somewhere, I have it printed on a medical card they gave my parents when I was born but I'm not positive where it is. I've never had a blood transfusion in my life and hope I never have to. That doesn't mean I haven't required blood to save me. God told the Israelites from early times that life was in blood. Forgiveness of sins for the Jewish people included the shedding of blood through animal sacrifices. When the time was right, God sent his Son to the world to willingly give up his blood for the redemption of the human race. I have been exposed to malaria, hepatitis, and maybe even polio when I went to Haiti but I have been infected with a plague more sinister and deadly. I've been exposed to sin. My blood is worthless but the blood of Jesus is priceless, perfect, and his own words, "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." (Matthew 26:28) I could give blood if I gave up mission trips but I'm not willing to do that. What I can do in foreign lands is tell of the greatest blood donor of all. My pint might help several who are physically endangered. His blood can deliver mankind from the deathbed of evil. The Messiah told his detractors that the ones who require medical attention are the sick, not the healthy. We refer to Jesus by many titles but one seems especially appropriate today-The Great Physician.

Applicable quote of the day:
"Some people give time, some money, some their skills and connections, some literally give their life's blood. But everyone has something to give."
Barbara Bush

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/ E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Sense Of Direction

2012-01-01T15:42:00.000-06:00

I'm back in Houston after fourteen days on the road. If you've read the past several days, you know I had a wonderful time with my mother's family in Nashville, Arkansas after spending ten days in Kansas with my brothers and their families. Tomorrow is back to school as we have a teacher's in-service. We have some classroom time scheduled in after meetings so I should be ready to go when the kids come back on Tuesday. It's a new semester with every student having a clean slate as far as grades go. Basketball games start for my girls on Thursday with our season ending the last week of the month. It's hard to believe the school year is half over. Christmas comes at a valuable time in more ways than one!

Since my parents passed away, I drive during the holidays because Southwest does not fly to Wichita and because I now possess a better car. The driving this holiday was uneventful; great gas mileage, no snow-sleet-ice on the roads, few traffic issues. However, the last leg of my journey commenced with a detour and I mean that literally. I'm notorious for getting lost while driving so in the past few years, I've come to rely on printed directions courtesy of Mapblast and Mapquest. This trip, I used Bing.com/maps and was able to navigate easily the first legs of my trek. I departed my aunt and uncle's farm, my mother's birthplace, shortly before 6 AM on Friday in a very dense fog. I stopped at the McDonald's in town for breakfast and a check of my e-mail/FACEBOOK. As I prepared to exit McDonald's, I looked at the map/directions and it told me to enter, and I quote, US 278 HWY W which I would follow 24.9 miles to Hope (Home Of President Bill Clinton) and I-30 West. From the outset, it didn't seem right but as I mentioned, there was a heavy fog and the Internet does not make mistakes. However, as you can see in the above map in the extreme southwest corner of the state, Hope is clearly to the east of Nashville. Due to the limited visibility, my speed hovered around twenty mph and I began noticing there were no signs citing the distance to Hope. When I entered the hamlet of Center Point, I stopped at a convenience store and the very kind lady told me I was going the wrong direction and I would have to retrace my route, still in the fog, to Nashville, if I wanted to go to Hope. I was grinding my teeth the entire eleven miles back to Point A. The good news was the fog was lifting and the sun was breaking through. Well, at least it was outside. It remained overcast inside my Honda Fit for several more hours.

You know, I don't blame Bing.com/maps for my going the wrong way. I had this feeling that I was covering the same ground as three days previous when I came into Nashville by way of Oklahoma but I kept going until it became painfully obvious I was on the wrong track. I just needed someone to confirm it. In my Bible classes at school, we discuss the concept of repenting as turning around or changing directions. The kids tend to think of it as simply saying I'm sorry but as we mature, we see it encompasses so much more. I changed directions/turned around and headed back on US 278 E ....... but it still took time to get there. I lost about an hour of time but I made it back to Houston safely, and who knows, maybe my mistake saved me from an accident! In Psalms 103 and verse 12, David wrote about forgiveness with these words:
as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.
King David knew that east and west were opposing directions thousands of years ago and he did not even have he advantage of the Internet. It probably would not hurt to pass that information on to Bing.

Applicable quote of the day:

*“The Bible does not provide a map for life - only a compass”*
Haddon Robinson God bless, Steve Luke 18:1 *www.hawleybooks.com* *E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com*

On A Hill Far Away

2011-12-31T17:48:00.000-06:00

On Wednesday, I spent close to an hour with Aunt Jerry and Uncle Jack in the New Corinth Cemetery outside of Nashville, Arkansas. It's not a family graveyard but it's safe to say, I think, I have some sort of a DNA connection with most interred there, including my parents and grandparents and assorted kin. Someday, I'll be laid to rest on that small piece of land as will a good number of my cousins, aunts, and uncles. If you had asked me when I was a kid if it would bother me to see my parents' grave, I'm sure I would have said yes but I've found it's not the case. It won't matter when I'm gone but it's a beautiful setting, this hilltop cemetery, overlooking the countryside and full of history. There was a church building adjacent to the tombs, the place where my folks exchanged their vows. Aunt Jerry told me that the only two weddings ever held in the Corinth church building were my parents' and when Mom's first cousin, Gena, married John Davis several years later. I loved going to worship there when I was a little boy but as often happens in rural areas, the church closed and the members went to other congregations.

My brother, Scott, was in charge of arranging the ordering of the headstone for Mom and Dad's grave and he was blessed with the assistance of Uncle Bill who has at least a passing acquaintance with every person in Arkansas and the surrounding states. Between them, they did a wonderful job! As I took some pictures Wednesday, I noticed something for the first time; our folks' anniversary was carved into the stone, intertwined with the date which you will see happened to be Christmas Day. Knowing Scott, I'm sure he asked for input on the specifics of the marker but as I did not remember, I was so happy to see it there. In my memory, I can't separate one from the other because to me, they were one as God stated in Genesis 2. Several minutes ago, I was talking on the phone with a friend and she asked about my holiday. From force of habit, I told her that, 'I went to see my folks.' I quickly corrected myself but you know, there was some accuracy to my original statement. Mom and Dad don't live in that meadow in Howard County, Arkansas but I feel happiness walking the site of their burial because of how they lived their lives. They lived their lives together.

Applicable quote of the day:

A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.
Charles Spurgeon

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Country Roads, Take Me Home

2011-12-29T11:25:00.003-06:00

This morning, I woke up on the piece of land where my mother was born and raised in rural Arkansas. I walked out as the sun peeked over the horizon and the earth was still and the pastures were frosted. I ran for close to a half hour down the same country roads my mother walked as a little girl and turned around at the creek where she waded as a child. I passed my grandparents’ house, huge and majestic when I was in kindergarten but reduced by the years to mere quaintness. I could nearly picture posing with my cousins on that front porch where the men once gathered and talked and often smoked. And I wished I could remember even the slightest details of the days which we could not have known would become the precious memories we sing of at funerals.

Last night, Uncle Bill and Aunt Tommye came over and visited for several hours with Aunt Jerry and Uncle Jack. Sometimes, the most appropriate thing one can do is sit still and listen, the same message we often ignore as youngsters. Every time I’m with my maternal relatives, I learn so much family history and lore. Yesterday, I found out my mother’s first cousin, Jo Scott, knew EVERYBODY’S birthday to the point she could correct dates listed on tombstones as she walked though the cemetery. I now know my grandmother, Ruth McClure Chesshir, boiled every eating utensil after meals. And Aunt Jerry told me something about my mother that as far as I know, Mom never divulged to any of her kids. When she was a girl, my mom tested positive for tuberculosis, a potential death sentence in that generation. She was tested again later, a test which turned up negative, but due to that scare, Mom felt my grandmother protected her, a feeling to which Aunt Jerry, her younger sister, affirmed. Though Mom lived to the age of eighty-three, I have to wonder how that incident affected her outlook on life, perhaps even on parenting. It’s too late to ask her now.

We were talking this morning about how children these days don’t have to listen like they did in previous decades. Many children wear headphones the way we wore socks, listening to music at every opportunity. Many cars now resemble entertainment centers which occupy the attentions of the younger passengers. I would guess there is often no interaction between parents and offspring in many families while traveling between POINT A and POINT B. When I was little, we had a family of seven, a front seat/back seat car, NO AC, and NO RADIO. There was no option- we had to talk. At the dinner table, we were required to converse throughout the meal, not allowed to leave until everyone was finished and we were dismissed- and there were occasions when Mom banned the mention of any sports related topics! To be honest, there were times when I chafed at my folks’ methods but what I would give to hear their voices again. In the Scriptures, Jewish parents were strongly encouraged to pass on wisdom and history and Godliness to their daughters and sons by engaging them in conversation. Israelite moms and dad didn’t have to compete with I-pods and I-phones and I-tunes while they spoke about the I AM. There was so much for the children to learn. The learning curve is no less steep today, even though distractions can make it even more of an uphill climb. It’s amazing what we can discover simply by listening. That applies to children of all ages, even those who have attained adulthood.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen."

Ernest Hemingway

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Christmas Day Update On Dad

2011-12-28T12:44:00.000-06:00

Good afternoon from Nashville, Arkansas! I drove here yesterday from Kansas. I'm staying with Aunt Jerry and Uncle Jack. My cousin Marsha and her children, the wonderful Emma and Walker, just left to return to their home in Searcy, Arkansas. Last night, we visited for several hours with Uncle Bill and Aunt Tommye who live only a mile away. I learned some things which I'll speak of in coming days, Lord willing. I'm always nostalgic when I am blessed to come here, the birthplace of my mother. The following is from Christmas Day, 2007. It was my folks' anniversary and the last one they would spend together. It's a precious memory.

Merry Christmas! Dad had a very good day. Ben and I filled up Dad's pill trays with his prescriptions. (Ben will start med school in the Fall so it was good practice!) Dad is diligent about doing his morning and evening therapy exercises. Sally made a very good Christmas dinner for us. We picked up Mom from the West County Care Center for lunch. It was the first time Mom had been back home since she moved to West County. Dad was in heaven! After lunch, Mom and Dad sat on the couch for an hour together and Mom went to sleep on Dad's shoulder. It was Dad's best gift! This also happens to be their 58th wedding anniversary! Dave and Sally leave in the morning and Scott and Karen and kids drive in tomorrow from Iowa. We will be meeting on Thursday with a lawyer to help facilitate their move to Kansas. We will also meet with the realtor and a friend of Mom and Dad who is in charge of painting the inside of the house. Please pray for us as we help our parents make this transition. I hope your holidays are blessed and your family is safe. Thanks for all so many of you have done for us!

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Ring Of Fire

2011-12-26T09:43:00.001-06:00

December 25, 1949
Corinth Church of Christ
Nashville, Arkansas

I've watched a number of movies during the holidays. Some were films on television- Sound Of Music, Hoosiers- that I've seen before. I also watched several DVDs that were new to me that I really enjoyed, At Dave and Sally's, we watched Music And Lyrics which was pretty good considering I had never heard of it. At Scott and Karen's, we watched the highly acclaimed The Help which I thought was tremendous. We thought about going out to the movies yesterday afternoon but decided to stay in and watch a DVD in their collection called Fireproof. I had vaguely heard of it and knew Kirk Cameron was in it but that was the extent of my knowledge. It turned out to be a movie with an excellent Christian perspective on marriage. Cameron plays a fireman, Caleb Holt, who is a hero in the community but obviously a poor husband, past the point of caring. After a blowup with his wife, she tells him she wants a divorce and he doesn't object to the idea. However, his dad begs him not to give up without going through a forty day program based on treating his spouse with kindness and respect. Reluctantly, Caleb agrees but as time goes by and he begins seeking the Lord, he ultimately wins back his skeptical wife and his relationship with his own mother. It's a low budget film that did well at the box office and not surprisingly, was loved by the religious community but not by secular reviewers.

As I reflected on Fireproof, I thought it interesting that we watched it on what would have been the sixty-second anniversary of our folks' wedding. Mom and Dad were united in matrimony on Christmas Day, 1949, coincidentally, also a Sunday. Roger Hawley and Nelda Chesshir were married in a ceremony officiated by our grandfather, Harold Hawley, AFTER evening worship in a little church building in Nashville, Arkansas. My folks made it fifty-eight years before death separated them. After we finished Fireproof, my sister-in-law, Karen, commented it would be a blessing for all married couples to watch this movie. I think she's right although it's hard for me as a bachelor to completely relate. I do know our parents-to-be exchanged both rings and sacred vows that late winter afternoon. But vows can be broken and rings can be slipped off. Both occurred in that movie where fire was an overriding theme. Experience teaches that fire can destroy or fire can shape and perfect. It all depends on who we let control our flame.

Applicable quote of the day:

Marriage is a pretty amazing thing when you think about it. For two people to live together for so long under the same roof is a big accomplishment. Fifty-year anniversaries are becoming extinct, yet again proving that long marriages deserve awards and praise. Sometimes I see old people in restaurants sitting together eating their meals and I watch them. Sometimes it makes me sad. They don't even talk. Is it because they have nothing else to say, or can they simply read each other's mind by now.

Jenny McCarthy

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

C-H-R-I-S-T

2011-12-25T17:11:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas from Wichita, Kansas! It's a beautiful Lord's day as well as simply a beautiful day on the Great Plains! They (Scott-Karen-Karis-Nathan) are upstairs watching a movie, Cowboys And Aliens, that I just didn't get into. Karen made a wonderful traditional Christmas dinner that matched any I've ever partaken of. The worship this morning was full of praise and thought provoking. Before worship, Scott and Karen were SKYPING with Seth in Kuwait and I was able to speak to my nephew for a few minutes. It hit me that I have not seen him since the funeral of my dad (and Seth's grandpa) four years ago. To quote Isaac Watts, time is like an ever rolling stream. It's a stream that becomes a rampaging flood before we know it.

This afternoon, I've been doing some short Christmas greetings to FACEBOOK friends. As you might guess, each short message contains the same two words, Merry and Christmas. You know how when you start to type in a name, FACEBOOK tries to help you remember by showing the possible recipients based on the letters you have already typed? Well, each time I was typing Christmas and finished the first five letters, three names appeared below by script:
Christy McDonald

Christina K (Knaub)
Christian Sanders
All three of these good folks have connections to me at Westbury Christian School. Christina and Christian were students of mine and Christy is the mother of one of a precious little girl in our lower school. What I find intriguing is that the use of the title of Jesus reminds FACEBOOK of Christy, Christina, and Christian. Maybe some day, when people see Christ or read Christ or hear Christ, S-T-E-V-E will come to mind. What a friend we have in Jesus, even on FACEBOOK. Merry Christmas to all.

Applicable quote of the day:
The dearest friend on earth is a mere shadow compared to Jesus Christ.

Oswald Chambers

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

King Kong And Christmas

2011-12-24T17:30:00.000-06:00

My Bible reading this morning from Genesis 4 included the birth of the son of Adam and Eve whose name was Seth. Coincidentally, that also happens to be the name of my nephew, Seth, AND it also happens to be his birthday! Seth, like many American men and women, is serving his country overseas in the military and is separated from his wife, Lauren, and their two year old, Noah. The following entry, from 12-26-05, was about a Christmas tradition surrounding his birthday. Be safe, Seth.

I am terrible at remembering birthdays. I know those of my folks, my siblings, and several people who share my big day but that's it. There is one exception. I know the birthday of my nephew, Seth. The middle child of my brother, Scott, and his wife, Karen, Seth was introduced to the world on Christmas Eve, 1986. To make sure his birthday is not overlooked, Scott and Karen have always gone to lengths to make sure we celebrate it. When he was young, it was Chucky Cheese and a movie. Now that he is a high school senior, Chucky Cheese has fallen by the wayside but the trek to the theater has remained. It's always Seth's choice. With advice from slightly older cousin, Ben, Seth opted yesterday for the Hawleys to take in this year's holiday blockbuster, King Kong. I rarely go to the movies but I will attempt a short Ebert and Roper-like review for those of you deciding how to spend your time off and your entertainment dollar:

King Kong is a three hour extravaganza that seems like four. It could have been cut in half and no one would have been any wiser. The special effects are incredible at times- the final showdown on the Empire State Building took me to the brink of nausea. There are the required heroes and villains and those who can go either way. Naomi Watts is absolutely stunning in reprising the role Fay Ray made famous in the 1933 version. Kong is a misunderstood monster who directly or indirectly is responsible for the deaths of hundreds. Jack Black as the huckster Carl Denham closes the movie with the most predictable line in the history of cinema. I never fell asleep but the thought crossed my mind. Seth succinctly summed up King Kong as we exited the Des Peres Cinema with his own unique teenage wisdom: "Ben, you owe us seven dollars!"

I realize many of you will disagree with my assessment but critics aren't in the business to make friends! King Kong will make money and little kids will love it but to me, it typifies our society. Make it bigger, flashier, and more expensive. Make the chases longer and more outlandish. What would the story of the Savior's birth have been like had Hollywood written the script? We can rest assured it would have been more exciting than an obscure couple in a little-known village in an oppressed part of the world. It's not that the messiah was not anticipated-it's just that the scenario was misinterpreted. The movie trailers pique our interest for upcoming attractions. The scriptures also had trailers but they called them prophecies. Movie characters are larger-than-life. Jesus was life personified. You couldn't miss Kong- the theater shook when he was introduced. Most people could and did miss the appearing of the one who loved all the unattractive and not just one breathtaking blonde. In the end, Kong dies and his story dies with him. When he hits the pavement, his obituary is written. Jesus dies, too, but that's just Act One. There's a sequel, you know. They call it The Greatest Story Ever Told. It won't just hang around for two months before retiring to Blockbuster Video like King Kong. It has a playing date throughout eternity. Movies live and die on the basis of self-appointed media experts. Positive comments sway public opinion and perhaps turn an average effort into a money making phenomenon. Jesus had the greatest review of all-time, the alpha and omega of reviews. I humbly close this Christmas night with these words from Matthew 3:17, heard only by a crowd on the banks of the Jordan River roughly 2,000 years ago:
"And a voice from heaven said, 'This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.' "

Applicable quote of the day:
"Pleased as man with men to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel!"
Isaac Watts (from Hark, The Herald Angels Sing)

PS: I give this entry two thumbs up!

God bless and Merry Christmas,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Reindeer Games?

2011-12-23T18:42:00.002-06:00

My parents were very traditional when it came to the holidays, especially Christmas and especially my mother.We had a number of rituals which centered around the family that we observed faithfully, a term not used in a religious connotation but one of habitual re-enactment. Mom would have left the Christmas tree up year round and she played Christmas music in July, which I found annoying as a kid but now recall fondly. We always spent Christmas in one of three places: Michigan, with Dad's family: Arkansas with Mom's kin; Nebraska by ourselves and perhaps some relatives who came to visit. It was a simpler time without as many distractions as our culture endures today and not as many outside forces competing for our attention. This morning, I read an article linked here written by Jen Floyd Engel on MSN/FOX called Do We Really Need Sports On Christmas? (Please copy and paste the link below into your address bar.)http://msn.foxsports.com/nba/story/Christmas-sporting-events-show-how-excessive-weve-become-122011
Ms Engel takes professional sports to task for scheduling games on December 25. My mom, no doubt, would have agreed with her. If you get a chance to read her short piece, I would love to hear your reaction, either on blogger comments or my FACEBOOK page. Which ever view you subscribe to, Merry Christmas!

Applicable quote of the day:

"Christmas… that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance -- a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved."Augusta E. Rundel

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Shedding Of Blood

2011-12-22T17:00:00.000-06:00

Last Saturday, I was once again lured into my new favorite store, Jos A Bank, by the offer of BUY ONE, GET TWO FREE! Since I love their Traveler dress shirts, it was a natural for me to check out what they had for sale. I reached into a stack of size 15.5"/34" shirts to see if they were of the button down variety. Suddenly, I felt a sharp stinging sensation on my left hand. I had been gashed in two places on a finger by one of the many stick pins used to precisely hold these shirts in a perfectly folded position. My finger immediately started leaking blood. Also in the store at the same time were my good friends, Becki and Randy Glover. (If you want to know how they fit into my trying to be better dressed equation, please read my post on this wonderful Christian couple at http://stevehawley.blogspot.com/2011/05/fitting.html.) I assumed being a typical mom/grandmom would require Becki to have a Band-Aid in her purse but Becki was empty in the bandage department. I found Silvia, the lovely sales lady who always helps me, and she was able to round up several adhesive strips to staunch the flow of blood. Pressure was applied to the mini gashes and the Band-Aid did its work. I was able to continue my shopping experience unimpaired and walked away with three shirts, two of which were free!

Do you know what I was afraid of when I pricked myself? I was worried I would get blood on those shirts and no one would buy them. I mean, who would spend money on a shirt stained by the blood of an unknown donor? (Knowing my penchant for feeling guilty, I might even buy shirts in the wrong color/size/style simply because I would feel responsible!) And yet, as believers, we know our only hope is to be dressed in garments washed in the blood of the Lamb of God. My blood ruins; His blood saves. What a gift from above! Merry Christmas to all.

Applicable quote of the day:
"“The thorn from the bush one has planted, nourished and pruned pricks more deeply and draws more blood.”
Maya Angelou

God bless,
Steve

Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The One Word Judgment

2011-12-21T10:24:00.009-06:00

Yesterday, I was doing some Christmas shopping for an unnamed relative so I went into a nearby Starbucks. All I wanted was a simple gift card but found they now have multiple options, including sets of five cards. With a little help from the nice young lady at the counter, I found what I needed. In the course of our conversation, I used the phrase, "Yes, ma'am." She immediately thanked me for addressing her with that term. I explained that I live in Texas and it was commonplace. Her response was along the line that she wished it was commonplace in Wichita as well. We finished the transaction and as I left, she thanked me again. For me, it was a wonderful present that was delivered without a bow.

When I grew up in Nebraska, very few people that I recall habitually referred to others with the monikers of sir and ma'am. My mom, who was from Arkansas, liked and even encouraged it but I can't say we were required to use it. I once had an elementary teacher from the south who did not understand why none of the kids in her class practiced the sir and ma'am habit. I think her take was that we were impolite, at least in that arena. I don't think so- it just was not part of the Midwestern culture. But as I lived more and more in the south and echoing back to Mom, I became more and more a practitioner of the southern vernacular. I like it when my students in Texas address me with yes, sir and no, sir but I understand not all of their parents are raising them with that habit. I do tell them that I am impressed with polite people and usually that is demonstrated by the way we speak.

You might think this is some sort of short treatise on manners but that isn't really what I'm trying to say. What hit me as I thought about the Starbucks encounter was that I didn't even realize I called the young woman ma'am. It simply is so commonplace for me that I have no idea it comes from my mouth. That's a wake up call to me. Others, even strangers, notice so much about us that we often aren't aware we are projecting. Our speech, our mannerisms, our way of dressing are not in a vacuum. In this case, the other person liked what little she saw in me on the surface in a one minute interaction. In Titus 2, verse 10, Paul teaches Titus to instruct the Christians who were slaves to live up to certain standards around their masters so that in every way they will make the teaching about God our Savior attractive. That's pretty good advice for me, as well. I don't know if the Starbucks barista-

first time I've ever used that term- made any judgments about my spirituality based on our brief time together. I do believe she has the perception, rightly or wrongly, that I'm a polite guy based simply on the use of one word. Another's perception of me might just as easily go the other way. Sir and ma'am? Just a matter of preference. But my responsibility as a believer cuts to the core of how I conduct myself in this world.
(PS: Who was the last person called Sir in the scriptures? That would be Jesus as addressed by Mary Magdalene by the tomb on the third day, Gospel of John.)

Applicable quote of the day:

“The English are polite by telling lies. The Americans are polite by telling the truth."

Malcolm Bradbury

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com

E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Cash Only

2011-12-20T20:21:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, Dave and I went to a number of places in Wichita as he ran errands and I tagged along. Most trips with my older brother end up at Barnes And Noble where he could happily browse the aisles for hours. Toward the end of our stay, Dave asked if I wanted something from the Starbucks that is built into the store. I'm not one to pass up good coffee. Since I had several Starbucks gift cards in my billfold, I magnanimously offered to pay and Dave readily accepted my offer. However, when I got up to the front of the line to order my coffee and his caramel hot chocolate, the nice young lady at the register told me they don't accept STARBUCKS gift cards for payment, even though it's a STARBUCKS. She did tell me I was eligible for a 10% discount if I had a Barnes And Noble card which I don't. With a tiny bit heavier heart and slightly thinner wallet, I paid for the two drinks and brought them to where Dave was sitting. Funny, my coffee left sort of a funny taste in my mouth.

Over the past several weeks, I've listened to the complete CD series of Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University graciously loaned to me by my beautiful niece, Karis. One point Ramsey makes is that it's much easier to be generous with our money when we see ourselves as only a steward of our wealth and not as the owner. I think he is absolutely correct. And to me, the gift card is a perfect example. I did nothing to earn those gift cards; they were, well, gifts. As a result, it was easy for me to volunteer to cover our bill when I thought it would simply come off the pieces of plastic to which I have no attachment. But when I had to pull the cash out of my pocket, it wasn't so easy. I don't think I'm very materialistic but if I'd known about the policy in advance, I might not have been so generous to my brother, who along with his lovely wife, Sally, has taken care of all my needs graciously since my arrival over the weekend. King David wrote in Psalm 24 that,
'The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it...'
I take it that everything would cover the cash in my Dockers as well. And all the Starbucks coffee in a bookstore. And all the books in all the Barnes And Nobles. So, I think I'll survive my five dollar outlay and thank the Lord for what He has done for me, praying I'm a little more generous tomorrow. And do you know what I was reading right before the coffee incident? A Dave Ramsey book. Somehow, it just seems appropriate.

Applicable quote of the day:
"Think of giving not as a duty but as a privilege."
John D. Rockefeller Jr.
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Come Back!

2011-12-19T20:42:00.000-06:00

I'm in Wichita which is expecting heavy snow tomorrow. My niece, Meagan, is driving here in twenty-four hours from Oklahoma so I pray it does not affect her travels. Sally went to work this morning and Dave was out running errands so I turned on the television. With hundreds of selections to surf over, I locked onto a movie channel. The film showing was the all-time best Western, Shane. Even better, the scene was the lead in to the best fight scene ever when Shane and farmer Joe Starrett fight off a whole band of cattlemen in a bar. Even though I've watched the mvie at least twenty times, I had to finish the fracas. Even though I knew how it ended, I wanted the satisfaction of good triumphing over evil with Starrett's little boy, Joey, watching in rapt fascination. Do you know why I love Shane? Because right and wrong is clear cut. Because good and bad are easily defined. Because even though the heroes are flawed, they're still heroes. Today, it seems almost everything is complicated and shaded and skewed and I get weary trying to sort it all out. That's why three words we could stand hearing more of are the famous last words of this classic movie:
"Come back, Shane!"

Applicable quote of the day:
"There's no living with a killing. There's no goin' back from one. Right or wrong, it's a brand... a brand sticks. There's no goin' back. Now you run on home to your mother and tell her... tell her everything's alright. And there aren't any more guns in the valley."
Shane (Alan Ladd)

Please take three minutes and watch a wonderful clip from Shane!

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Today In History

2011-12-18T17:10:00.007-06:00

At our Hawley grandparents' home in Michigan:
Dad, Grandma Hawley, Mom
Dave, me giving high five

Our mother would have turned eighty-six years old today and we miss her. I have never met anyone quite like Mom. Below is a tribute I wrote December 18, 2007 on her eighty-second birthday.

Today is December 18. It's a good day for birthdays; Steven Spielberg, Ossie Davis, Betty Grable, Keith Richards, and Brad Pitt all have (or had) this day listed on their birth certificate. Those celebrities have fans but a far more important individual to me shares December 18. My mother turns eighty-two today. Born at home on a peach farm outside Nashville, Arkansas, Mom made her entrance onto the world stage on this day in 1925. It was a big year for news. Calvin Coolidge was in the White House while Al Capone took over the bootlegging mobs in Chicago. John Scopes was arrested for teaching evolution in Tennessee while in Germany, a disaffected Adolf Hitler published Mein Kampf. And in Howard County, Arkansas, Jord and Ruth Chesshir rejoiced at the birth of their second daughter.

The couple begat (I like that old Bible term) four children at six year intervals. Besides my mother, there were daughters Evelyn and Jordine (Jerry) and son Bill. My grandparents had no name for Mom for six months; she was simply 'the baby.' At one-half year of age, she was christened Sarah Nelda Chesshir. She was always called Nelda but later in life confessed she would have preferred Sarah. She followed her sister Evelyn to Harding College where she met a young man from Michigan, several years her junior. A romance began, leading her to the altar with Roger Hawley on Christmas Day, 1949. (My folks never kissed until engaged which my students believe is some sort of urban legend.) Mom taught elementary school in Arkansas and Nebraska before and after having three babies- Dave, myself, and Scott. Wanting a daughter to complete the family, my folks tried to adopt but the Lord had other plans. Foster sisters Cecelya and Sandy came to live with us when I was eight and became part of the Hawley clan. Seven of us lived in a tiny house with three bedrooms, one bathroom, no shower, and two teenage girls. Besides managing a hectic household, Mom found time to be a Cub Scout Den Mother and sponsor for a women's social club at York College. She loved every child who found their way into our home and there were many. Mom's and Dad's lives were redirected on a number of occasions. My father's preaching/counseling took them from Morrilton, Arkansas to Brooklyn to York, Nebraska to Thousand Oaks, California. After California, they moved back to Nebraska, then to Lubbock, Texas and finally to St. Louis. At each stop, Mom touched lives and in the process, became a surrogate mother for many who lacked what I took for granted. Over the years, my parents became involved in Marriage Encounter and Marriage Enrichment. Mom became a noted speaker for womens' groups in churches and colleges. She was naturally shy and had to step out of her comfort zone to stand in front of strangers but it's remarkable what we can do if we believe the Lord is leading us to mentor others. That, in a nutshell, is my mother.

But no biography, no matter how brief, can simply be facts and statistics. The telling of a life story comes from the daily events that together connect the dots to form an outline of who we are. My memories of my mother had to with unconditional love. Unconditional did not mean there were no consequences to undesirable behaviors. It hurt her when we misbehaved and fought which meant she was hurting quite a bit of the time. I don't recall Mom spanking me-that was left to Dad- but I remember getting my legs switched for various offenses. She was so disappointed in me when I broke the chandelier in the living room playing one-on-one with Dave. The protection of her children was paramount. When Scott was very young, he drank Energine, a high powered solvent cleaner. We had one car and Dad had it but somehow she got Scott to the hospital. When the first doctor she found did not take it as seriously as she thought warranted, Mom snatched her son away and ran to find another physician who immediately had Scott's stomach pumped. Mom standing up to a doctor seems so out of character but she may have saved my brother's life. A dozen years ago, I underwent hernia surgery. Like most tough guys, I told her I could make it just fine without her assistance. She would not hear out of it. Driving through a blinding rainstorm for most of the 400 mile journey, Mom did as she did when I was little and nursed me back to health. I remember Mom making my pregame meals when I played high school basketball, sitting with me while I ate. She knew nothing about sports and was not particularly concerned if we won or lost as long as we enjoyed ourselves. The fact that Dave, Scott, and I felt no pressure to perform or succeed athletically may have led the three of us to careers in high school coaching. We retained the enjoyment because we played for ourselves and not as as result of any parental obligation. I remember Mom being a terrific cook (BEST apple pie ever) and making her own clothes and some of ours. She always made a big deal of birthdays and holidays- traditions were big to Mom. We made yearly trips to her ancestral homeland of Arkansas. As a child, there seemed to me to be an endless parade of third cousins, great aunts and uncles, and down the road childhood neighbors but she cherished each and every one, acknowledging their role in making her who she was. And who was she and is she? Simply a remarkably Godlike woman who never became famous but I have no doubt has had more influence for good in the world than those celebrities she shares this date with. Speaking for all your children, your husband, siblings, cousins, grandkids, nieces and nephews, and the thousands of others who love you for who you are and what you stand for, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

Applicable quote of the day:
"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."
Tenneva Jordan

Applicable quote of the day # 2:
"When love is gone, there's always justice. And when justice is gone, there's always force. And when force is gone, there's always Mom. Hi, Mom!"
Laurie Anderson

God bless,
Steve (#2 son)
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Sound Of Silence

2011-12-17T20:54:00.000-06:00

I read yesterday that a government agency has proposed banning the use of cell phones while driving except in cases of emergencies. I think that's going to be a very hard sell in a nation that has become used to instant communication. I don't have the addiction as I still use a pre-paid cell phone but it's possible that will change in the coming months. The following, from December 27, 2008, is one of my few forays into the cell phone arena!

For Christmas, Scott bought Karen one of those little Bluetooth cell phone head sets. Scott says, and his children concur, that Karen can be a hazard driving to school, holding her cup of coffee and talking on the cell phone at the same time. The Bluetooth earpiece is a perfect solution. There was a problem, however. Karen's phone was damaged when it got wet and wouldn't adapt to the Bluetooth. After Scott was unsuccessful in his attempts to repair the damage, Karen spent several hours yesterday in a Verizon store buying a new phone. This morning, she sat on the couch programming her Christmas present. Unbeknownst to me, you can have a distinct ring tone song on a cell phone to distinguish callers. Karen had one for Seth and was kidding Scott about what would be his signature tune. Not wanting to be left out, I inquired as to what my signature music would be. My lovely sister-in-law informed that I never call her so I don't warrant my own ring tone. Understandably, I was devastated and retreated to the downstairs bedroom where I reside while in their home. There was only one option. I took it.

You may not know this but I have a pre-paid cell phone I use when traveling. Someone from church gave it to me anonymously for Christmas last year when Dad's health was such an issue. I admit it has come in handy and I continue to add enough minutes to keep it functional. When Karis programmed it for me last December, she put her mother's number on instant dial. So, from the basement of Scott and Karen's house, perhaps for the first time, I rang Karen's number. I could hear her laughing upstairs as she picked up the phone and I demanded my own musical identification. She asked my preference and I requested Hey, Tonight by Creedence Clearwater Revival. Karen relented and so now, whenever I call, she'll know it's her favorite brother-in-law from Houston. The question remaining is when, and if, that call will come.

I wonder if the Lord ever feels like Karen does with my very infrequent attempts at communication. Seth calls Karen constantly and she expects to hear from him. No matter how many times he calls from his military base in Alaska, she never is too tired or busy to listen. She delights in hearing from her oldest son as well as his beautiful bride, Lauren. I think she'd love sharing a line with me, too- I just don't make the effort. The Scriptures are filled with the blessings flowing from the outpouring of prayer from the believer to a loving Father. Karen did not perceive my cell phone calls as justifying my own ring tone, one meant just for me. I wonder if God would have that same perception regarding my prayer life. In a practical sense, would I have to add minutes if I used my cell phone to contact the Lord? He always listens and awaits my call but there has to be a voice coming from my end. It takes two to have a conversation. Karen is not alone- I need the Lord on my speed dial.

To hear my ring tone, click below!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1PpTXtlnb0

Applicable quote of the day:
"I drive with my knees. Otherwise, how can I put on my lipstick and talk on my phone?"
Sharon Stone

God bless,
Steve (brother-in-law of Karen)
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Daddy's Home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-12-16T19:37:00.001-06:00

The passage of time can be a blur. Four years ago today, I wrote this piece about a wonderful breakthrough in a very difficult time for our family. Dad had suffered a stroke and desperately worked on his rehab so he could go home. We were so proud of him. I found that in the middle of a crisis, it's tough to think long term, or at least it was for me. To those of you who knew my mom and dad, I hope this brings a smile. This is from 12-16-07.

Our prayers have been answered and Dad moved back home this afternoon, living in his own house for the first time since July 31! He is at peace with the condition of the house and has already had guests! The health care people are in place and ready to go. I asked what he wanted for Christmas and he said to have his children home. I further asked if this exonerated us from buying presents and he was emphatic with his NO! This morning at worship, it was my honor to introduce friends of my parents who had never met each other. Jack and Linda Coffee from St. Louis were here visiting their daughter. Gayle and Grace Napier, now of Georgia but formerly great friends of Mom and Dad in both Nebraska and Lubbock, are in Houston visiting two of their daughters. We have been blessed as a family to have people who we love and who love us all over the United States. Both the Coffees and the Napiers have had profound impacts on the Hawleys....but their paths had never crossed.
A special thanks to Don and Jeanette who moved Dad from Surrey Place back to Twin Oaks! Dad's new/old phone number is 636-225-7448. He would love to hear from you! He will have time on his hands and the best thing he does is talk. It would be a Christmas present to him if you call. We praise God for all he has done of our family and we thank him for all all of you!

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Trail Of Tears

2011-12-15T18:30:00.002-06:00

SHINE MISSIONS
Honduras 2006
(This scene was the completion of a church building in the hills outside of Choluteca, Honduras. Four WCS faculty members, both at the time and in the future, are in this shot. I'm on the second step at the left in blue scrub top. April Cusic is standing on the same step in a red t-shirt. On the back row are Casey Lankford- red bandana- and Ben Johnson with the big grin!)

Last Thursday, our quiz in my Gospels classes was taken from Luke 10:1-24. This reading covers the sending of seventy-two missionaries on a mission trip to places Jesus was about to visit, to prepare the soil. You might remember they returned full of joy because even evil spirits were subject to their power. Jesus told these six dozen ministers they should instead be rejoicing that their names are written in heaven. Like us, these early disciples sometimes were elated for the wrong things.

After our quizzes, in all of my classes, including the eighth grade, we watched a video of my first mission trip to Honduras in the summer of 1998. Our mission team was called TORCH or Training Of Redeemed Christians Heavenbound. The thirteen minute movie showed our group, mostly teens, from takeoff in Nashville to the joyous return two weeks later, back when families could meet returning travelers at the gate. Between the beginning and end were scenes of gut wrenching poverty and beautiful children surviving in third world conditions and our attempts to share the love of the Savior with those who are impoverished. When I turned off the video and we settled back into the routine of class, one of my students asked me a question. Sylvana Okde, who has committed to play basketball for the University of Louisiana-Lafayette for the next four years, inquired, "Did you cry?" At first I thought she meant watching the video, which I have probably watched close to one hundred times. But then, I realized she was referring to the time I spent in one of the earth's poorest nations. I had to think about it for a minute. After fifteen mission trips, including those to China, Vietnam, and Haiti, the shock diminishes a little bit. In fact, I've caught myself in Vietnam this summer as we traveled in the countryside that this could be Honduras. I've had the same thought traveling through rural Haiti and China. After awhile, the memories become a kaleidoscope, running together and it's hard to distinguish one trip from another. That's a shame because each journey is unique in terms of makeup and culture and need but the potential for tears is always there.

I teach the New Testament and there are snippets of weeping throughout the books. An unnamed woman with a sinful reputation wept over the feet of Jesus at Simon's house. Peter wept after he betrayed the Lord. John wept when no one was found to open the scrolls in Revelation. Mary wept when she looked into the tomb of the risen Savior. Jesus spoke to the daughters of Jerusalem as they wept as He walked the road to the crucifixion. And the Messiah Himself wept as He overlooked Jerusalem and as He faced the tomb of Lazarus. That's a pretty decent honor roll of tear shedders. What caused their outpouring of emotion? Sin, shame, death, degradation, poverty, frustration, rejection- basically the same scenes which came through the human portraits in the video. The human condition caused the Master and His contemporaries to weep in their time. Should it not be the same today? Apparently, Sylvana thinks so.

Applicable quote of the day:
"Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again.”
Alex Tan

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Baby Steps

2011-12-14T21:16:00.002-06:00

Our school is having baby mania! One faculty family gave birth last week, one yesterday, and another is due VERY SHORTLY. You have to love the miracle of birth! The littlest ones make us rethink many things we habitually do.This is from six years ago, December 19, 2005.

There is contained in the Scriptures what is referred to as the 'unpardonable sin.' I live in an apartment complex and although not QUITE as eternal in consequences, we have our own unpardonable offense- NEVER PARK IN SOMEONE ELSE'S ASSIGNED SPOT! Those spaces are sacred to apartment dwellers. There is a lady in our complex who writes down license numbers of offenders and turns them in to the office. I have been in the same apartment for eight years and I don't mean to gloat but I have a perfect place for my Toyota to reside while I sleep. It's under a carport and right next to my entrance to the stairs. Last Friday afternoon, I came home from work exhausted after having arrived at school at 4:30 a.m. It was the last regular day of the semester- we began finals this morning-and I couldn't wait to unwind. As I rounded the corner, I couldn't believe my eyes- SOMEONE WAS IN MY SPOT! Pulling my car across the drive into the guest spaces, I stomped across the extra 30 feet I had to walk to see who could have trampled on my rights so blatantly. There they were- a mother and her little, little baby sitting in the back seat. Someone had obviously run inside and took the nearest spot so the baby wouldn't have to be out long- did I mention it was very cold Friday? My anger abated and my old familiar shame for once again acting like one of our elementary students bubbled to the surface.

There's something disarming about babies. Tough men melt in the presence of the tiniest ones. We are having a baby boom at Westbury Christian. Four teachers and our athletic department assistant are in the family way. (Family story. Mom was expecting on a trip to her home in Arkansas when she used the term 'pregnant' at the dinner table with my dad sitting there. My Grandmother Chesshir, a very genteel Southern lady, pulled my mother-to-be aside and told her, "Nelda, you shouldn't say pregnant in front of Roger!") I have attended two baby showers in the last three days, definitely estrogen-driven affairs. I have a rule: make sure I have an escape route! I love the food and the perspective parents but guys are uncomfortable at passing baby stuff around and commenting. My standard gift is foolproof; a Wal-Mart gift card accompanied by a touching handwritten note in a homemade envelope. It's easier being a guy. Nobody thinks anything if you leave early. Everybody is shocked you came in the first place! Josh Bontrager, one of our Bible teachers, got on me for leaving without grabbing him. I didn't think he could exit with his wife in attendance! But it all goes back to babies. One of my best memories is holding my nephew Nathan on the day of his his birth. To me, that is one of the miracles of this Christmas season-God in such a little package. I wonder if those Bethlehem shepherds asked to hold the Lamb of God in their dirty, chapped hands. I would guess there were no pre-birth showers for the Prince of Peace but what a great one when those fellows from the East showed up. No diapers or bibs or formula or Wal-Mart gift cards. They brought GOLD! What a fitting tribute for the King of Israel, the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God. He started just like these babies being born into our school family, just like you and me. The odds are I will never see that parking space baby again but isn't it amazing how an infant can shake an adult out of his immaturity and soften the harshness I let dominate my consciousness? I guess the Lord had a pretty good idea two thousand years ago- and he still does today.

Applicable quote of the day:
"A baby is God's opinion that life should go on."
Carl Sandburg

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.stevehawley.blogspot.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Not Even A Mouse

2011-12-12T20:12:00.000-06:00

I just returned from our annual WCS faculty/staff Christmas party hosted by our wonderful board of directors. All the men employees received a Westbury Christian backpack which I deperately needed! The following, from December 19, 2006, is about a gift I took to the Christmas party that year.

We had our faculty-staff Christmas party this afternoon at Westbury Christian School. By tradition, it is held during first semester finals when our school day concludes at 1:00 PM. Our board of directors serves an Italian catered meal and words of praise for the job we are doing. (I can't neglect the envelope with the TARGET gift card, either!) It's an enjoyable time where we sit down as a school family for the first time since inservice in August. A relaxing moment during the hectic days of exams is welcomed, especially when combined with the public pronouncement that we, as a group, are making a difference in the lives of children. Part of the program each year is a gift exchange. We are instructed to bring a wrapped present, (or in my case, a gift bag in which I received a tie) worth a minimum of $5.00. We play a game where we pass the presents to the right, left, or to the person across from us based on the words in a Christmas story read by school president, Robert McCloy. I don't much like party games but this one is fun. After being temporarily in possession of perhaps twenty-five items while the game progressed, I ended up with a pumpkin-scented candle. That was fine. My big dilemma was what to bring as a gift. I hate shopping and I have no idea what others might like to take home from the party. Yesterday, I had a brainstorm. When I purchased my Dell Computer last spring, it included a mouse as part of the package. Since I already had a nice model which functions without a roller ball, that Dell mouse sat unused on my desk for nine months. What a perfect solution! The mouse would retail for more than five dollars, it was certainly practical, and I didn't have to make an additional trip to the store! I have no idea who ended up with the mouse. My hope is that it came to rest with a worthy family who will give it the love it never found in Apartment #3329. I never even named it.

Yesterday, I gave my traditional Christmas presents to the new players on my middle school girls' basketball team. As always, the gifts were One Year Bibles from Tyndale Publishing. Divided into three-hundred-sixty-five readings, these Bibles allow one to read through the scriptures in a calendar year at a manageable pace. But each Bible has much in common with that mouse which found a new home this afternoon. If it sits on the desk unused, it has no value. If it is never plugged into the life of the young lady, it might as well contain blank sheets of paper. Its effectiveness will never be based on the contents but on the holder of the pages. I gave the book but God gave the words of life inscribed between the covers. In the coming twelve months, those One Year Bibles can produce life altering changes in a bunch of teenage girls...or just end up being swapped in some gift exchange next December. I made that pretty difficult by personalizing each of them with a note. There was a positive sign today; I saw Chelsea carrying hers in the hall after finals. Chelsea will give the Bible a good home. I am confident it will make a home in her heart.

Applicable quote of the day:

"Do give books- religious or otherwise- for Christmas. They're never fattening, seldom sinful, and permanently personal."

Lenore Hershey

God bless,

Steve

Luke 18:1

www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

A GREATER GIFT FOR CHRISTMAS (Jennifer Weeks Crain)

2011-12-11T20:09:00.001-06:00

Tonight, we are blessed by a guest author, Jennifer Weeks Crain. I think it's likely I have not seen Jennifer since I was a teenager but many of my childhood memories include Jennifer's family. My parents and hers, Patti and Jerl Weeks, always seemed to live close to each other. Dad's first preaching job, when he was twenty-one and a newlywed, was in Morrilton, Arkansas where Pattie and Jerl lived. (Mom taught at Morrilton High School.) My folks moved to Brooklyn and her folks moved to New Hampshire. My parents relocated to Nebraska and hers to Iowa. Our two families often traveled to spend time together, even holidays, as their children and my siblings roughly lined up in age. When I taught in Tennessee, Patti and Jerl were living one hundred miles away in Cookeville and my folks made a number of trips to see them. Both sets of parents passed away in the past several years so we now share a common grief but rejoice in knowing we will be reunited in heaven. Through the wonders of FACEBOOK and the chance that we shared a student, the wonderful Rachael Dailey, Jennifer and I have reconnected. Here is a beautiful and touching story she penned about one of her last holidays with her beloved parents who were so much like y beloved parents.

Christmas Eve day, just a few years ago, I sat in my parents’ house in the woods, surrounded by love, but distressed over financial worries and our mutual inability to exchange gifts my family could never afford.

As snow quickly covered the roads, my father rushed to gather the trash that had to be driven through the woods to a nearby dump. The snow was deepening, he was gone longer than usual, and we began to worry. He finally came through the door with a troubled look on his face, and sat long and thoughtfully in silence before he was able to convey what he had experienced.

As he was unloading trash at the dumping grounds, he encountered an elderly man digging through the garbage, carefully examining items before returning them back to the ground. The man explained that he and his wife loved the holidays, but they had fallen on hard times. He was rummaging through the trash in hopes of finding some discarded treasure to take home to his wife for Christmas.

We wanted to go back to reach out to him, but the roads had quickly covered with ice, so we were left to agonize over the inability to go to his aid with anything we might have to offer. The aged hands that sifted alone through garbage, driven both by empty pockets and love for the wife he longed to shower with gifts, haunt me to this day like a missing piece of my heart I can never find to help or comfort.

He reminded me of my parents who had little to give materially but gave all the love they had to make Christmas, and life itself, meaningful. The heartbreak of those empty pockets truly pales against the wealth of a life lived with such undying love.

Little did I know that would be one of our last holidays together.

Three years ago, just before Christmas, my mother and I spent hours recalling numerous events of our lives and agreeing that no matter how many mistakes were made along the way, the love we had for each other prevailed and was all that mattered. We had no idea that just days after that talk, my mother would unexpectedly die.

Just two years later, a few days after Christmas last year, my father was found unconscious on the floor. Just like the passing of my mother, there had been no warning and no time to say goodbye. But we discovered that during his last moments when he felt himself slipping away, he thought of us and gave all he had left to give.

From the floor where he lay dying, he had pulled a chair up to his body, removed a pendant from his neck that he had wanted us to keep, and tied it to the bottom leg of the chair so it would be found by us after he was gone.

The wedding band he never removed, so cherished in memory of my mother, was also missing from his hand. Later, we discovered that just before he fell, he had placed the ring in a wooden box on his dresser for us to find and keep. Even in his last moments, his final thoughts and deeds were for us.

The elderly gentleman at the dumpster and my dear parents all found a treasure far beyond any this world has to offer. I can’t find the man at the dumpster, but the gift of his and my parents' hearts taught me to live with resolve to show that same compassion to desperate people everywhere – lonely people hurting over losses, elderly people feeling unloved and useless, empty people searching for some kind of meaning to make their lives worthwhile. Compassion first taught by example burns like a fire long after the teachers are gone.

Christmas is approaching, and this will be the first with both of my parents gone. I am bracing myself like a soldier determined not to break, even while tears flow with a mind of their own. I have lost much, but found even more. No matter how cruel this world can be, there is a love that can motivate a man to dig through trash in the cold for a wife he adores… or to crawl through a house placing mementos for loved ones to find and treasure, even as he is dying.

In our darkest hours we ache for someone who loves us this much, but the only control we really have is to turn the tables and be that person for someone else. Even when the human heart is breaking, it can still give to others. While praying for comfort through these losses of my own, more people thirsting for compassion were placed in my path than I ever imagined possible. In pushing past my own despair to reach out to them, I have received back more than I ever gave, and I believe this was God’s answer.

There is a season of life when Christmas is purely joyful, and a season in life when it can be brutally painful; but truly, in reaching past our pain to embrace others, we can find a greater comfort and higher calling than we ever knew before. Dr. Seuss’s words for children resonate profoundly to an old soul: “Christmas day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp.” …And even when some of those hands are gone, the love remains and leaves us richer than kings.

To the memory of my parents, to people I love and friends I have yet to meet, and to the stranger at the dumpster wherever he may be: Merry Christmas, everyone.

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

My Coach

2011-12-10T20:32:00.001-06:00

This afternoon, my York College Heritage, my alma mater's alumni magazine, arrived in my mailbox. There was one story I was particularly delighted to see. My college basketball coach, Colis Campbell, and his lovely wife, Dolores, were the first inductees in the Yor College Hall of Fame. The world does not revolve around atletics but coaches can have a profound impact on youngsters. Sometimes, it takes years for the imprint to be noticed. This entry, from January 19, 2006, is about one of those coaches.

This morning on ESPN radio, talk show hosts were ranking the remaining coaches in the quest for the Super Bowl; Mike Shanahan, Mike Holmgren, John Fox, and Bill Cowher. Coaches are defined by one or two moments. Last weekend, I saw Glory Road, the story of the 1966 NCAA basketball tourney won by unknown Texas Western who toppled mighty Kentucky in the finals. One subplot was the battle between the new kid on the block, Texas Western's Don Haskins and the old guard, Coach Adolph Rupp of Kentucky. It was clearly portrayed as good versus evil, black versus white, the future versus the past. The theater audience cheered as the clock ticked down ending the championship contest. Jerry Bruckheimer took a few liberties with facts but the result is an excellent film that will educate this generation about one of the great sporting events and sociological happenings of the past fifty years.

Haskins and Rupp were not the only basketball coaches of the sixties, although they were two of the most famous and, in their own ways, influential. Most coaches are not well known but they still positively change the lives entrusted to them. Few on the national scene ever heard of Colis Campbell but to many in the Midwest, he was York College. Colis Campbell was my college basketball coach. I wish I could say I always appreciated what he did for me but that would be a lie. Playing college basketball was not what I envisioned but there is only one to point the finger at and he is typing. My high school playing experience was extraordinary. I expected playing in college would be the same. While I was a good high school player, my talent was average at best at the college level. On top of that, I quit working hard so I played very little as a freshman. Of course, it was everybody's fault but my own, ESPECIALLY Coach Campbell's. He was different from my high school coach and that was part of my problem. I viewed my coach at York High, Dale Neal, as brilliant. He was right out of college and the definition of intense. I got yelled at in my pre-college days and it didn't bother me. Most boys are used to being yelled at and understand it isn't personal. Coach Campbell not only didn't yell, he didn't raise his voice. I thought he didn't care. I thought his coaching methods were old fashioned. (I had an intellectual dilemma because Coach Neal, who had also played for Coach Campbell, thought he was a tremendous coach.) We had nicknames for Coach Campbell and his assistant, Dave Simpson. They got matching warmups so someone- I think Paul Wade- tagged them 'Yogi and BooBoo,' never to their faces. Like all players, we could imitate our coaches. Coach Campbell came into the lockerroom one day when Lowell Siebert was doing his impersonation. He didn't make a big deal out of it. We had limited success during my two years as a York College Panther in terms of wins and losses but my memories, while not totally pleasant, could fill a vault.

Let me tell you a little more about Colis Campbell. He attended Harding College where he knew my folks. He and his lovely wife, Dolores, moved to this small Nebraska town in the mid-1950's when York College was reopened by members of the Churches of Christ after being closed for several years. He coached almost every sport offered in addition to his duties as Athletic Director, Bible and P.E. instructor, and Director of the Mission studies program. Dolores worked as Dean of Women, the toughest job on any college campus. They spent years in Japan as missionaries and raised two beautiful daughters. Colis was one of the first elders of the East Hill Church of Christ while my dad was the minister. I remember my brother, Dave, and me staying with the Campbells as little boys when my folks traveled. Colis was also the first coach I knew. Dad took Dave and me to YC games from the time I was four years old, still one of the highlights of my life. Coach Campbell amassed a wonderful record in the sixties, recruiting kids to a small and very strict junior college in the middle of nowhere. My first heroes were the young men who wore the Panther blue and white. I fell in love with basketball. My assumption was that I would play at the University of Nebraska before signing with the Celtics. The truth was, nobody else recruited me so at the end of my senior year, Coach Campbell said he would love to have me on the squad. That was the extent of my being wined and dined. We are so much smarter in the future than we are in the present. He, and Coach Simpson, did so much for us and I was never grateful. I know he had to be spending his own money to feed us on trips because we were a poor school with a miniscule budget. I acted like a jerk and he forgave me. I swore LOUDLY one day in practice and he didn't write me off like I might wash my hands of one of my players. There were times when I was an idiot but he never gave up on me. It took my becoming a coach to appreciate the terrific impact he had on my life. In a fashion I could never foresee, I now try to be like him.

Coach Campbell turns eighty this month. That is shocking-I thought he was eighty when I played for him! A number of years ago, I wrote him a letter and apologized for who I was at eighteen-nineteen-twenty. (I also wrote one of my American Legion baseball coaches. If you think I owe you a letter as well, please contact me!) I am sure of this. Without Colis and Dolores Campbell and a small core of families like them, York College would never have survived the lean times and I would not be what I am today. I just finished coaching a game which we won. I lost my voice yelling in the first quarter. That part of Coach Campbell's legacy I have yet to perfect- maybe when I am eighty!

Applicable poem of the day:
A True North
"Our ships are tossed
Across the night,
Our compass cracked,
For wrong or right.
True North is there,
Or over here?
Confusion rules
Our sea is fear.
Then suddenly a beacon bright
Is shining through
This stormy night.
It's pure and straight
To his true course.
The coach is seen.
He is True North."
-Steve Jamison

God bless,
Steve (#12 at home, #13 on the road: YC Panthers)
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

2011-12-09T20:27:00.001-06:00

Do you know what today is? It's the forty-sixth anniversary of the initial airing of Charlie Brown Christmas! On December 9, 1965, this now legendary holiday special was seen for the first time on CBS. The animated cartoon strip, which CBS executives feared would be poorly received, garnered a whopping 49% share of all televisions tuned in that night! I work with the Chinese portion of my church and I've found not everything American translates into every language. Preaching to brothers and sisters from another culture presents some unique challenges as you will see in this entry from December of 2005.

On the last Sunday of each month, I preach for our Chinese congregation at the Westbury church of Christ. On the first and third Sundays, the pulpit is filled by Dr. Robert Farrar, our Westbury Christian School chaplain. We are blessed with an excellent translator, Yirong Gu. This past Sunday, Doc began his sermon with an illustration. He mentioned a comic strip- Yirong was not sure what that was. Doc then made reference to Charlie Brown and Peanuts- another blank. Linus, Lucy-our interpreter was clueless. Yirong's English skills are excellent and he has lived in the US for a number of years but it didn't matter. I asked my Chinese students this week about Charlie Brown- same response. I guess Peanuts just doesn't cross some cultural borders!

This week marks the fortieth anniversary of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Its initial airing pulled in almost half the nation's viewing audience. There were a number of concerns about running it in the first place. Linus read straight from the scriptures, quoting from Luke 2. The soundtrack was much more jazz-oriented than the usual season's fare. The voices were supplied by children, some who could not read and were taught their lines phonetically. There were no adults in the cartoon and the action was terribly slow by modern standards. But the charm of this cartoon special has endured, now a fixture in five decades. I showed A Charlie Brown Christmas in my classes today, borrowing Karen McCarty's copy. (I am going to have to find a new tape- the wonderful Karen and family are moving to Italy in January.) This classic tale might be considered dull when compared to the animation possible today. A Charlie Brown Christmas is just a simple story about children and the way they look at Christmas. The sad truth is, they look at it like adults often do. The point Charles Schulz hammered at was the commercialization of the holiday season. We consider the 1960's to be such an innocent age- how much worse is the commercialization today? I heard a radio commercial this morning: "Nothing says I love you like a Rolex." Jesus had a much better interpretation of how to say you love someone:
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16)
Charlie Brown is all of us- he can't do anything right. He knows what he needs but he has a hard time expressing it. He lets his circumstances beat him down. He feels unworthy. That's the story of Jesus- the Savior coming to the world to save those who can't save themselves, a lost humanity stumbling in search of any hope. That's the best Christmas story of all because it's really the only Christmas story.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I'm not alone at all, I thought. I never was alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses."
Taylor Caldwell

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Brick

2011-12-08T19:16:00.000-06:00

We are having a very interesting basketball season to say the least. We are very young and have yet to win a game but we have made remarkable progress on several fronts. This morning, I gave my team, every player of which is new to the program this year, their Christmas presents, a One Year Bible. I was touched with their sense of gratitude. (Several told me they've already started reading their gift!) I've coached a great number of young ladies over the years. The following, from November 2005, is about an unforgettable girl- now a woman- on the first basketball team I ever coached.

I had no idea what I was getting into when I started coaching girls' basketball. Barely into my teaching career, I had only worked with our boys' program at Georgia Christian School when the girls' job came open. I had told the administration I would NEVER coach girls but the vacancy surfaced in July, a difficult time to fill the position. I felt a sense of obligation to help out and I liked the kids I knew would be on the team. There were concerns. First, they had been awful the previous season. Secondly, our boys' team was in the middle of a 125 game winning streak and the girls felt overshadowed. And most importantly, I had no idea of how to do the job. I sat down and talked a long time with Angie Patrick, one of the returning players, and came away convinced it could be a good fit. My world was fixing to change dramatically.

I inherited two seniors on that first squad, Elsa and Elizabeth. They were wonderful kids and showed great improvement through the year. Elizabeth was probably the funniest girl I have ever coached. Before I arrived, she had attained (some said it was self-christening) the nickname of 'the Brickhouse,' based on the Commodores' song about a well-built young lady. Elizabeth, tall and very thin, was referred to simply as 'Brick.' A good student from a wonderful family, she was my post player that year. Since I had no experience at heading up a girls' program, I asked for advice from a seasoned coach on how to work with the fairer gender. His response was to ''treat them like boys.'' That's what I did. My coaches always yelled at me as a player and I survived so I yelled at my players. The first day of practice, we ran. When we had done quite a bit of conditioning, the tears started to flow so I shouted, "If I see ONE MORE TEAR, we will NEVER stop running!" Magically, the fountains dried up and I learned my first lesson- they can help themselves. At first, I was stunned at our progress, which I knew was attributable to great coaching. Bursting with pride, I told our boys' coach, Mike Roller, "I think we are going to be good!" Mike's response brought me back to sanity: "No, you're not." He said anybody can look good practicing against themselves- and he was absolutely right. Reality set in with our first game. It was ugly. Our victory total for the year was only seven wins but it was a great season. The girls grew tremendously as players and in closeness. They were very tolerant of my countless mistakes. Immediately, I began planning for the next year. For coaches, there is always a next year. For seniors, there is not.

Shortly after our season concluded, a student brought me a note. It was written by Elizabeth and she had permission to share it with me. In opening up to her friend, Elizabeth said some things that have stayed with me. The note said, "I used to hate it when he yelled at me. Now, I would give anything to have him yell at me one more time." That bothered me. Although I knew I yelled, I thought the girls handled it like I did. But Elizabeth also was finding out what we all find out- that there is a clock ticking in our window of opportunity and it just struck midnight for her. It went on. "I could have been good. Instead, I'm just OK. Nobody wants to be just OK." We all live with regrets and Elizabeth was no different. She realized she'd decided too late that she wanted to be more than an average player. It doesn't bother us to be average in some areas. I am barely passable on the computer but that's all right. I have no mechanical skills and I can't figure out my tax forms but I don't mind. But like Elizabeth, we all wish we could go back and make some changes and alter the direction of parts of our lives. We talked in class this week about Jesus going to the common people and how nobody wants to be common anymore; especially, no ones parents want them to be simply average. Average in America is a four letter word spelled with seven letters. To be great, we have to do more than think about how nice it would be to have others consider us exceptional. It takes an incredible amount of work. Elizabeth was right- she could have been a good player. I might have been a world class guitarist or chess master but we will never know. I am sure of this. Elizabeth, while an average basketball player, was a world class person. It's never too late to start in that department. Several years ago, I met a woman in Honduras who was baptized into Jesus on the eve of her 100th birthday! Even if we are just average in heaven, we are in heaven! Whatever it is you want to do, whether social, physical, economic, or spiritual, start today. So many accomplishments that have bettered the world were the result of too old, too untalented, too average people simply deciding to succeed. Like others, I've made a list of fifty things I want to do before I die. There is only one obstruction- ME. I can do a better job than anyone else of keeping me from my dreams. I have made the decision not to stand in my own way anymore. I'm going to lean on God and step off the diving board. Elizabeth taught me this-don't wait until it's over. Do it now. Give yourself a chance . Don't wait until the end of your senior year.

Applicable quote of the day:
"There is nothing like a dream to create the future."
Victor Hugo

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Northern Lights

2011-12-07T20:39:00.002-06:00

Thanksgiving is over and the season of Christmas music has begun. My mother loved playing Christmas music and I kind of like it or at least the memories it brings to mind. The following is about one of my favorite songs that I associate with the holidays even though it technically is not a Christmas song. This is from December 20, 2005.

Most of us in the mainstream have little patience for celebrities, especially athletes, musicians, and movie stars. We think they make too much money and are self-absorbed but the public eats up every morsel of news of the rich and famous. How else can we explain shows like Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood which fawn over the celebrities we proclaim to detest? Increasingly, the famous take up causes and endorse candidates. In 1984, a group of British musicians, calling themselves Band Aid, took on hunger and famine in Ethiopia by collaborating on a song entitled Do They Know It's Christmas? with proceeds going to African relief. In January of 1985, an assemblage of rock stars tabbed USA For Africa followed suit with We Are The World. Other efforts have followed over the years, most notably Live Aid and Willie Nelson's Farm Aid. I must admit my political leanings are quite different from what I perceive to be those of the performers and some debate the effectiveness of their campaigns. However, these men and women have at least attempted to address global disasters by using their best assets, their talents.

My favorite musical venture to help the starving was one you may not have heard of. Shortly after Band Aid and USA For Africa, approximately fifty Canadian recording artists came together under the the moniker Northern Lights to do their part. The all-star cast included legends Gordon Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Bryan Adams, and Burton Cummings. The lyrics were written in both English and French, most notably by Adams. The tune, Tears Are Not Enough, sold more than 300,000 copies, eventually raising more than $3.2 million for famine relief projects in Africa. What struck a chord with me from the Northern Lights ballad was the simple truth of the chorus:We can bridge the distance, only we can make the difference
Don't you know that tears are not enough.
If we pull together, we could change the world forever
Heaven knows that tears are not enough.
Tears are not enough- what a terrific way to put it. In James 2:15-16, the scriptures say, "Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, 'Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?" Throughout the Bible, we are told of God's love for the poor but he also gives to believers the responsibility of taking care of the least fortunate. James defines religion that is acceptable to God as carrying the burden for orphans and widows, groups that still feel the lash of poverty on every continent. It is much easier to discuss the dilemma than to attack it. Talk is cheap-and tears are not enough. The new TIME Magazine is out, the People of the Year issue. Guess who graces the cover? Computer billionaires Bill and Melinda Gates along with rock star Bono. The trio was selected based on their worldwide activism in the war against hunger and the spread of AIDS. We don't have the money of Bill Gates nor the charisma of a superstar like Bono but we can be effective in our own orbits. If we have the desire, the Lord will provide the circumstances for us to be ambassadors for his kingdom. Northern Lights- great name for a terrific song. When our lights shine, a little more darkness disappears. Jesus, in referring to himself, said "I am the light of the world." He also said, referring to his followers, "YOU are the light of the world." It doesn't take much light to make a difference. Jesus told us the poor would always be around . They see us- will we see them?

Applicable quote of the day:
"Remember the poor- it costs nothing."
Mark Twain

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Anniversary (Love And Hate)

2011-12-06T20:11:00.000-06:00

Last month, I had an anniversary of sorts. On October 18 of 2005, I posted my first devotional blog so now I have eclipsed six years in the blogosphere. The idea had come from a college classmate of mine, David Barnett. David was working for Thomas Nelson Publishers and suggested I start a blog to draw attention to the website for my book. On October 17, my student aide, Bouba Matouszak, set up the format and I wrote a little introduction. On October 18, I sent my first thoughts out to an unsuspecting public. It was much easier at first, even though I did not know the ins-and-outs of the Blogger network. Now, more than 1500 entries later, I am very proficient in Blogger IQ- I can now copy and paste and download pictures!- but find it increasingly difficult to keep up the pace of writing new material. The biggest blessing, as I am sure I have stated before, is that this forum became my main avenue of keeping family and friends updated on Dad's condition after his stroke and ultimately, his death. That alone made it worthwhile. And so, without further ado, here below is my first devotional blog entry.

Love And Hate
As I mentioned, I am an instructor at Westbury Christian School in Houston, in the middle of my 9th year at WCS. My B.A., Masters, and teaching certificates are all in Social Science but I have become a full time Bible teacher. This year I am teaching both our 8th graders and sophomores. The 8th grade is studying the Gospel of Luke and my 10th grade curriculum is the Life of Christ, covering Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. I enjoyed teaching US History but I love teaching the Word of God. It is a blessing to have a job you can't wait to get to every day. Today, my 8th graders will discuss Jesus' healing of a paralyzed man and my sophomores will learn about the meeting of Jesus and Nicodemus. But, as we often do, I am going to spend some time talking about something in the news. These kids have to understand that the Christian life is not lived in a vacuum and that they are affected by their culture and current events.

Did you see the "60 Minutes" interview on CBS this past Sunday with Bill Romanowski? The controversial former NFL star spoke about his career and his reputation as being the most despised-feared-dirty player in professional football. When asked the secret to his success on the field, he summed up his week to week motivation in one word- HATE. He said he hated his opponents, their coaches, their city, etc. Romanowski detailed how he worked himself into a rage which allowed him to be a tremendous, although loathed, athlete. I was taken back. Never had I considered hate to be such a strong psychological weapon. My 8th grade students memorize hymns. We are currently working on Martin Luther's classic, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. In the first verse, Luther portrays Satan as being 'armed with cruel hate.' As Christians, we have to be ready to do warfare with the overwhelming power of hatred. How can we survive? Our kids are growing up in a society that teaches them never to back down. The Scriptures teach a different concept. The answer is LOVE. It isn't easy but Jesus told us not just to love our enemies but to pray for them, do good to them, and lend to them. This is a difficult teaching for my students to swallow. Hating is easier- and sometimes more enjoyable. Love is harder and not much fun at times. We have the best example, though. God sent his Son to save us from the power of Satan and the power of hate. We show the love of God to others in the way we live our lives. Someone will be watching and the power of the love of Christ they witness in us may help snatch them from the grips of hatred. Is there any Bill Romanowski in us today? Probably- and it is time to let it go. Otherwise, it will destroy us.

Applicable quote of the day:
"We have just enough religion to make us hate but not enough to make us love one another."
Jonathan Swift

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Fight

2011-12-05T20:19:00.000-06:00

Tonight's entry is the culmination of three related posts, the other two being last Wednesday's called Chuck and last Thursday's entitled BIG BAD JOHN. AS you might guess, this is about Chuck and Johnny! This is from April 28, 2006.

This is a first. I have never written related entries on back-to-back days but it's like the old song by The Fixx, One Thing Leads To Another. Yesterday's story centered on Johnny, a baseball player I coached at Georgia Christian School who miraculously overcame a broken hand to make an appearance in the State Tournament. One comment posted concerning Big Bad John was written by Chuck DeWeese, Johnny's teammate. Chuck verified that the incident did indeed take place and that apparently, I was one of the few in the dark at the time. So much for coach-player communication; all that stuff is overrated, anyway! But, I felt I could not go on to other topics, however pressing they might be, without one more stroll down a memory lane that leads to a baseball field deep in South Georgia.

It was Chuck's and Johnny's senior year. We were playing on a new field on our campus and enjoying, for us, unparalleled success in the won-loss column. Chuck and Johnny were good friends, both coming from nearby Quitman. I was talking to some players by the dugout before we officially started practice one afternoon. Chuck and Johnny were standing in the vicinity of home plate when a fight broke out between them. To this day, I have no idea what sparked the brawl but it escalated. I sprinted and grabbed Chuck and someone else, I think Jerry Bridges, pulled Johnny away from the fracas. Chuck's fondest memory of the fray is that even though Johnny nailed him with a good shot to the head, temporarily clouding his vision, he never went down. It ended quickly, as do most flare-ups of that nature. I don't remember anything else from practice that day except I was livid. We made it through the session without further incident. That's not the end of the story. After practice, I drove to the convenience store in Dasher, the tiny community that was the home to GCS. Guess what I saw? Chuck and Johnny were inside, playing pinball together as if that afternoon had been erased in some sort of Back To The Future scenario. It was obvious they had both been in a fight- dirty, disheveled, bruised- but the incident, if not totally forgotten, was not an issue. You would NEVER have believed that two hours before, Chuck and Johnny were trying with all their might to maim each other. It was hard for me to stay angry when they had resolved the conflict.

I tell the Chuck and Johnny story in my Bible classes. The boys understand it but some girls struggle with the almost instantaneous forgiveness granted by the combatants. In fact, I have had female students tell me it makes them angry that boys can forget and absolve each other with, what seems to them, so little effort. In Matthew 18, in response to Peter's question regarding the number of times we are required to forgive, Jesus tells the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant. In concluding the teaching, the Savior says torture is the fate of the servant who was unforgiving to his fellow servant. The Lord gives this warning: "This is how my heavenly father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart." Chuck and Johnny, our third baseman and our catcher, forgave each other from the heart that day. They let it go and moved on. Their ability to do so blessed their lives and blessed our team, which meant more to each of them than individual honor. I can't pretend to know the hurt that goes on in the lives of others and the havoc wreaked on innocents by extremely guilty people. I do know the need to forgive permeates the teachings of Jesus Christ. I have forgiveness ONLY because of him. I can't withhold it from another. As an educator, I pride myself on teaching life lessons to my students. Two teenage boys at a pinball machine in rural Georgia modeled for their coach a sermon on the essence of forgiveness.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note- torn in two and burned up so that it can never be shown against one."
Henry Ward Beecher

God bless,
Steve (The Peacemaker)
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Memories In Black And White

2011-12-04T19:19:00.001-06:00

York City Auditorium
York, Nebraska

Last night, my entry was about growing up in a small town in Nebraska. This evening's entry is a semi-sequel. The following, from August 6, 2006, is a trip down my athletic memory lane.

Video tape has spoiled us. I can tape a basketball drill and immediately take my players off the floor to watch it. It was different when I played. Our high school games (York High: York, Nebraska) were recorded on Super 8mm film but because it took time to develop, we never watched them. Our coach, Dale Neal, swapped the films with other coaches for scouting purposes. Several years ago, York High sponsored an alumni basketball tournament. One of my high school teammates, Don Knipfel, found five cans of film from the games our senior year. Apparently, they were about to be thrown out and were available for anyone who wanted them. All five were home games played at the York City Auditorium. Don acquired the films and converted one into VHS format. I was blessed when he sent me a copy, along with the four remaining canisters. This week, I had one of the games converted from Super 8mm to DVD with a musical soundtrack added. By the end of the week, I hope to have mailed copies to my seven senior teammates from that long ago season. I have been looking for a way to reconnect and maybe this is the way the Lord will provide.

Do you believe in the supernatural? When I initially I viewed the films, it was like seeing a ghost. For the first time in my life, I saw myself playing basketball. I was a seventeen year old kid, with other seventeen year old kids, who thought the world revolved around Friday and Saturday nights from December through February. What emerged from those cans of film is grainy, black-and-white footage. It's obvious that the game itself has changed in the intervening decades. There was no three point line back then and every held ball resulted in a jump ball. Basketball was less physical then. More kids lift now and different interpretation of the rules allows a greater degree of contact. That's the coach side of me. The teenager side of me is struck by a flood of memories. It isn't the specifics of the contest that fascinate but a general glow from the time when I was blissfully ignorant. I catch myself getting frustrated when I miss a shot or fail to block out. In all five films that Don rescued, we won. I don't know if I could relive a loss, even years later. I don't remember who the camera man was but at the end of each game, there is a minute or so focused on the cheerleaders. They still look pretty good to this day.

I am so glad Don took the time to preserve those films. What those cans hold has meaning to twenty people or less in the world but to those select few, it might be pretty important. It wasn't just the act of saving the films; they had to be restored. Without the technician who performed the conversion, the memories would have remained celluloid strips disintegrating in a metal container. With the right touch and procedures, long dead images are in motion once more. Restoration is a dominant theme of the Bible. A nation gone astray; a child whose life-breath has ceased; a believer who has wandered- all needed the touch from the restorer of all things, physical and spiritual. When that touch came, precious life was restored. We all go through stretches where we long for restoration to friends, family, a happier time, or to the one who created us. Sometimes, we're just like that Super 8mm film. We just need someone to take us out of the can and hold us up to the light, making us useful again. Maybe in the restored version, we can edit out all my missed shots!

Applicable quote of the day:
"In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified."
John Updike

God bless,
Steve (#32-white uniform)
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

A Salute To Small Towns

2011-12-03T21:03:00.005-06:00

My entries tend to be on the spiritual side; I guess that's why they're called devotionals. This one does not have the same type of emphasis but it's about home and home is a Biblical concept. Last night, my old high school opened its basketball season. The other high school in the contest, Centennial, has the been the opeing game opponent for more than forty years. That's a pretty solid tradition for both schools! (I shouldn't brag but my Dukes won last night over the Broncos!) In big cities like Houston, kids change schools like Paris Hilton swaps outfits. That was not the case in Nebraska and it made a difference. This is from 12-2-05.

My alma mater opens its basketball season tonight. The York High Dukes from York, Nebraska are hosting the Centennial Broncos. It's the same season opener as when I was in high school several years ago. Centennial was the first consolidated school I remember, combining kids from the tiny communities of Waco, Beaver Crossing, and Utica, its name coming in honor of Nebraska's 100th year of statehood. Rules governing high school athletics were so much different in Nebraska than in Texas. We could not play games before December 1st. In contrast, our girls' varsity team at Westbury Christian will have played sixteen contests before the 7:30 opening tip off at YHS this evening. I may have been as nervous the day of my first senior game as I have ever been. Never had I anticipated anything as much as that campaign. Everything was important to me: our new shoes, our new uniforms, Hub Foster announcing the starting lineups, how we slapped hands during the introductions- everything. We won that night and despite crippling injuries, we finished the year ranked 6th in Nebraska in Class B. Our ultimate goal of playing in Lincoln in the State Tournament fell by the wayside, one of the most crushing disappointments I've experienced. There were eight seniors that year: Bryson Braasch, Randy Georges, Don Knipfel, Jerry Larsen, Scott Naber, Ron Sawtell, Dan Leininger, and myself. We had grown up together, some through elementary school, all through junior high. After winning only six games as juniors, we learned how to win, infinitely more complicated than simply improving. That long ago December night marked the beginning of three of the best months of my life.

There is something about living in a small town that people from big cities miss. I feel sorry for my students who have only lived in Houston, a metropolis of 4,000,000. There is a sense of community that can't be defined to those who have not enjoyed it. I knew from the time I was little that I would go to York High and I would be a Duke. I watched from the balcony of the York City Auditorium as a boy, watching players like Keith Staehr and Jim Nixon grace the hardwoods, hoping it would be me someday. Like all loyal Dukes, I stood each time the band struck up the fight song, "Onward to Victory," which strangely was the same tune as "Anchors Aweigh." In a small town, everybody goes to fairs, parades, pageants, and high school ball games. The hometown newspaper, in this case, the York News-Times, becomes the official source of all information; births, deaths, arrests, weddings, hospital reports, and high school sports. I devoured the sports section as a boy and never quite got used to my name and picture being on those pages. I developed a sense of responsibility of playing for the town. Kids in private schools or metropolitan public schools don't feel that sense of civic duty. I believe it meant more to us then, because there were fewer options and extracurriculars making demands on our time. Some of our boys at WCS have played in eighty AAU basketball games over the summer, often changing teams and uniforms in the process. There was only one team for me and blue and gold were the only acceptable colors. (Our technical colors were 'buff and blue' but that was just a long forgotten formality.) That April day when I first wore my letter jacket, which had to be earned according to strict standards, was one of the proudest days I have known. The thermometer might have read 80 degrees but that was not going to stop me. The Y on that long-since faded jacket symbolized, to me at least, that I was part of the fabric and history of that one particular town. When people ask me where I live, I say Houston. But when they ask where I'm from, I tell them Nebraska. Bob Gibson, Johnny Carson, General John J. Pershing, William Jennings Bryan, and me- Nebraska boys. Indiana native John Mellencamp sang,
"I cannot forget from where it is that I come from."
His English was mangled but his sentiment was flawless. So, to those kids taking the floor tonight for good old York High School, especially whoever wears the #32 my brother and I both played in, remember you are playing for more than yourselves. You're playing for guys you will never meet, including one Nebraska expatriate in Houston, Texas.

Onward to victory, onward York High.
This let our motto be
That we will fight and win
RAH, RAH, RAH!
Fight, then, and do your best
Fight for the goal.
We'll try to do the rest
We're with you and we'll boost you heart and soul!

Applicable quote of the day:
"I hate small towns because after you've seen the cannon in the park, there's nothing else to do."
Lenny Bruce

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

BIG BAD JOHN

2011-12-01T21:02:00.000-06:00

On April 27, 2006, I penned the following entry. It is tied into the story I told yesterday entitled Chuck. Sometimes kids and events leave their mark on a coach/teacher. Johnny was one of those kids.

Another high school baseball season is drawing to a conclusion. I haven't been to a game this year. Our school's home games are played a considerable distance from campus and I have been unusually busy. If I could go to one high school game, it would be back at the scene of my first coaching job. Years ago, I took over the baseball program at Georgia Christian School in the village of Dasher, five miles down the road from Valdosta. We struggled from the outset but we improved with parental and community support and kids who wanted to play. In my third year, a beautiful baseball facility was constructed on our campus. Not coincidentally, it was the first season we enjoyed any success, the culmination of players who bought into what we were trying to do. There was a senior on that team named Johnny. To say he was a character doesn't do justice to the word but Johnny was one of the favorite kids I've ever coached and one of the toughest. Several weeks before we concluded our regular season, Johnny got hurt. He was catching against Worth Academy and there was a collision. It was the first game of a double header and Johnny played every inning of both games. When the day was over, his right hand, his throwing and dominant hitting hand, was swollen to the point of being almost round. X-rays confirmed the hand was broken, ending his senior campaign. As fate would have it, we qualified for the State Tournament for the first time in the history of GCS. Days before the opening round, Johnny approached me. If he obtained a doctor's note clearing him, would I let him play at State? There were two dynamics at work. The first was I knew how hard he had worked to make it to that level as a player, coming light years between his tenth and twelfth grade years. It would be heartless to say no. The second was I knew there was no way he had healed enough to get clearance, even if he had removed his own cast. It was easy to give consent. I knew it would never happen....but it did. The next day, Johnny brought me a doctor's note giving him a clean bill of health. I was shocked but Johnny said they took an x-ray. I spoke to our school president who gave me the thumbs up. So, Johnny's name was penciled into the lineup for the first State Tournament game GCS ever played, in right field to minimize the chance of re-injuring his hand. We were out of our league and got thumped but it was a terrific memory for Johnny and his fellow seniors in their final high school contest. I hated to see them go.

That summer, the kids filled me in on the Miraculous Healing of Johnny's Right Hand. Johnny told them he pulled a switch at the doctor's office. When the technician prepared to perform the x-ray, Johnny simply offered his left hand instead of the injured right one. Of course, it came out clean with the doctor finding no evidence of any fracture. As hard as it is to believe that he could pull it off, it was so brazen I could see him getting away with it. Perhaps the clinic was extremely busy at the time- I don't think there was any negligence on their part. If anyone would have been liable, it might have been me for not double-checking. As a player, I know exactly how he would have felt, to come so far and yet be denied the ultimate team goal. As a coach, you have to love the spirit of a kid who wants to win that badly. As an adult, I know that love of baseball cannot override sanity: the safety of the youngsters who play for me has to be of the utmost importance. But as a dreamer, don't you wish something mattered to you enough that you would do whatever it takes for one chance to fulfill your dream? Dreams die agonizingly slow deaths by neglect as we get older. I would never condone what Johnny did to simply put on his baseball uniform one more time. If the story is true and not simply another urban legend, (or rural legend in this case), he deceived a number of people, including me. But, sometimes, I wish I had the passion to pursue my outlandishly wild hopes and dreams one more time. The Bible is full of scriptures that give the believer hope in making big plans, as long as we consult the Chief Architect in charge of The Big And Crazy Dream Department. Give him a call. I guarantee He won't make you take an x-ray!

Applicable quote of the day:
"A catcher and his body are like an outlaw and his horse. He's got to ride that nag until it drops."
Johnny Bench/ Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame catcher

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Chuck

2011-11-30T17:53:00.000-06:00

Last night, I presented the pre-game devotional for our undefeated WCS boys' basketball team which is undefeated and will be climbing, I predict, into the national rankings. My lesson was based on the following story from 11-8-05.

Baseball wasn't big at Georgia Christian School, located in the hamlet of Dasher, when I arrived. I'd been hired to take over the program and teach history classes. Our boys' basketball team was successful, on the verge of the second longest winning streak in high school history. There would be 125 straight victories so that team garnered most of the attention. There were drawbacks to my job. The kids hadn't won in recent years so there was no culture of excellence. The uniforms looked like pale blue pajamas. There was no batting cage and we practiced on the school's softball field. Games were played five miles away. On top of that, our young men were inexperienced. In our second game my first season, we beat the defending state champions on their field, the biggest upset I've ever been involved in. It was our only win.

We had one thing going for us- a core of kids who played no other sports and were baseball nuts. After that first year, they began practicing on their own when I was tied up with basketball. A parent asked what we needed to become competitive. My reply was we desperately needed a batting cage and pitching machine so the kids could hit year round. Next thing I knew, the equipment was purchased, set up, and functional. That core of young men began hitting non-stop. It paid off- we were much better in year two. Right before school the following August, GCS parents M.C. McLeod and Buster Christie told me their dream to build a baseball field in the middle of campus! Never doubt the dreams of visionaries. Within a month, we had a beautiful diamond- our own Yankee Stadium! I can't tell you how proud I was of that facility, christened ALUMNI FIELD. Living on campus, I used to walk the base paths and through the outfield at night. I've never built a house but this was my baby. Solomon had his temple- I had my baseball field.

All that brings us to Chuck DeWeese. Chuck was one of that group of kids who were baseball fanatics and key to raising the interest level for the sport. He came from a wonderful family and his sisters both played basketball for me. It was his senior year. Scouting report on Chuck:Position: 3rd base
Throws: right
Bats: left
Power: good
Arm: average
Speed: NON-EXISTENTNow, Chuck possessed good hands defensively and one of the sweetest left-handed strokes in my memory bank but he was one of the slowest kids I ever coached. Let me give him some praise. Unlike many players, Chuck knew his limitations. He was more than aware of his quickness level. Also unlike many I have coached, he went to work to do something about it. Many youngsters concentrate on what they are good at to the detriment of fixing their weaknesses. Not Chuck- he had a plan to give himself a chance.

We sowed rye grass on our infield during the winter. It fills in until the normal stand of grass wakes from dormancy and gives you a bright tint when everything else is still brown. Chuck's dad managed an International Harvester store so Chuck knew about grass and making it grow. He had unlimited access to fertilizer. He took possession of the third base area. Slow with an average arm is a bad combination at the Hot Corner. Thick grass slows the ball and allows you to play shallower, compensating for slow/average arm. Chuck made sure his domain received a VERY HIGH concentration of seed and a VERY HIGH concentration of fertilizer. He was like a greens keeper at Augusta. Every time I turned around, he was watering his kingdom- before school, lunch time, etc. As a result, the grass around third base was so thick, it would stop a cannon ball. Saying we had to use a chain saw to cut it would only be a slight exaggeration. It was rain forest, jungle quality turf. It paid off- Chuck had a terrific senior year and for the first time, the Georgia Christian Generals qualified for the state tournament. I can't say the only reason we had a great year was the gardening expertise of Chuck DeWeese, but I can also tell you, it made a difference. In sports, a difference is all you ask for.

In the Bible, we are told how to protect ourselves from things that can hurt us. Paul tells us in Ephesians 6:13 to put on the full armor of God. We're not helpless- there is hope! BUT, no one puts the armor on for us; it's our responsibility. The grass was Chuck's armor. He didn't moan about his shortcomings or leave it up to others to take care of his deficiencies. Paul concluded that verse by saying. "after you have done everything, to stand." Chuck did everything he could. The Lord gives us options. Like Chuck, we must take advantage of them.

Chuck tracked me down last spring and talked about making a visit to Houston. He caught me up on his life as a happily married husband/father who is active in his congregation and his Alma Mater. Guess what he has framed on the wall of his office? A panoramic view of his old baseball stomping grounds, under the caption "Field of Dreams." I'd love to see it- it really was a field of my dreams, too. Back then, I had an agreement with the school that should I die, I could be buried behind the center field fence- dead center, if you don't mind the baseball pun. Dean McLeod even made a tombstone that resided there for years, inscribed with STEVE HAWLEY-R.I.P. The tombstone long since disappeared but not the memories. I spent some of the happiest years of my life on that two acre plot. I moved to Tennessee while still in the land of the living but retained for years a desire to be be laid to rest in the sandy soil of South Georgia. Have you ever seen movies when people are down to their last breath and they have a dying wish? I knew how I wanted to leave this world. On my death bed, thinking of my peaceful grave site, I had my last request ready to go: Chuck, will you take care of the grass for me?

Applicable quote of the day:
"Baseball was made for kids and grown-ups only screw it up."
Bob Lemon

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Portrait Of An Artist

2011-11-29T20:45:00.004-06:00

The funny thing about kids is that they have this tendency to grow up! The following is about a young lady who now sits in my fifth period class. This is from September 18, 2006.

Everyday, when the end-of-school bell rings, Avery comes to see me. I can't pinpoint when it started, probably several weeks into the school year. Avery is a fourth grader at Westbury Christian School. Her mom is in charge of special events on our campus and her grandfather, Robert McCloy, is our school's president. Last year, Avery was great friends with Jennifer Mills, one of our graduating seniors, kind of a little sister-big sister thing. I don't think Avery grasped the concept of graduation and she would come upstairs to the upper school hallway at 3:25 pm, searching for her departed buddy. Several of the teachers stand in front of the high school office, doing crowd control, and Avery began hanging out with us. She's not shy like I would have been in the presence of adults at her age. She shows us the braces in her upper mouth and informs us she just lost several baby teeth. Today, she was sporting shortened hair and new tennis shoes, noteworthy happenings for anybody's weekend!

As the faculty conversations die down and the hallways clear, the teachers drift off to our respective classrooms. Usually, I have about ten minutes of end of the day business to manage and Avery comes along. This afternoon, she picked up paper. Once, she untangled wooden Honduras crosses on strings that had knotted up. Most days, she draws. Avery is a portrait artist. She has concluded several masterpieces of me, one of which hangs on my classroom door. Last week, I introduced Avery to Skye, another gifted artist who is a student in my eighth period sophomore Bible class. The next day, Avery presented her newest friend with a Picasso-esque pencil likeness of Skye. This morning, my middle school girls' basketball team could not practice outside because of inclement weather. Instead, we took the opportunity to write my niece, Meagan, who will begin a two year mission to Zambia next month. I asked Avery if she would draw a picture of Meagan to include with the letters. She agreed and I showed her Meagan's picture from one of those little magnet prayer reminders. Avery, with the artist's eye for perfection, had to get it just right from the tint of the hair to the shade of the complexion. As always, her ten minute project proved gallery-worthy. Meagan, even though she probably will never meet Avery, is sure to love it. These days, anybody with a cell phone can take a picture. A photograph is the work of a machine while a drawing is the combination of mind and hand, guided by the imagination lacking in a camera lens. We took school pictures several weeks ago but my proofs will remain in my teachers' lounge mailbox. I don't care what some school pose indicates that I look like. I care who the eye of Avery says I resemble.... and I hope it's a child of God.

Applicable quote of the day:
"The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work."
Emile Zola

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Cinderella Man

2011-11-28T20:32:00.002-06:00

The real life Jim Braddock.

I may be wrong but it seems the television networks run a large number of feel-good movies during the holiday season. We like the good guys to win and if the odds of their triumphs are long, that's just icing on the cake. We'll be seeing It's A Wonderful Life pop up on the small screen in the coming weeks. Several years ago, I caught part of the quintessential film on that same theme, except this one centered around a real-life version of George Bailey. What follows is from 12-11-05.

I rarely go to the movies; it's cheaper and more convenient to rent. Finally, I'm getting the hang of my DVD player's intricacies so I get all the extras included along with the feature. The last two movies I've watched are about boxing. Last summer, I rented Million Dollar Baby with Clint Eastwood, Morgan Freeman, and Hilary Swank. The first 75% was as good as I've seen- the final 25% was the worst. I have nothing against sad movies but it left me with feeling there was nothing to hope for. Last night, my viewing choice was Cinderella Man, the real life story of Depression era heavyweight James J. Braddock. Once comfortable from boxing purses and investments, Braddock lost everything in the events following the crash of Wall Street in 1929. Injuries caused Braddock to lose his boxing license and his family was forced to dwell in a shanty-like apartment that could barely be considered livable. Reduced to manual labor, Braddock secured employment on the docks when he could, hiding his broken right hand. When the utilities to his home were turned off and the milkman stopped delivering because of overdue bills, he grudgingly accepted public assistance from the state of New Jersey. Given a second chance to fight and toughened by the life of a dock worker, Braddock improbably won a series of bouts versus top contenders before being matched in the ring against Max Baer, the reigning heavyweight champion. Baer, whose fists had once caused the death of an opponent, was such an overwhelming favorite that many feared Braddock could forfeit his life by climbing through the ropes for the shot at the title. In true fairy tale form, Braddock survives a fierce fifteen round struggle with Baer, taking a unanimous judges' decision and being crowned "Heavyweight Champion of the World!" Many movies work the 'rags to riches' angle. James J. Braddock was the flesh and blood embodiment of everyman whose rising from the ashes inspired a nation in need of a hero.

Feel-good movies leave us... feeling good. It's amazing how many are sports related. Hoosiers, Seabiscuit, Cool Runnings, etc. You know the plot. A team/athlete with no chance defies the odds and reaches breath-taking heights that none, including themselves, believed possible. That's what I found hard to swallow with Million Dollar Baby. It followed the formula to where I was sucked in, only to have the rug pulled out from under me. (I won't spoil it for you in case it hasn't played in your living room yet.) We accept that life will be hard and, to our way of thinking, unfair, but we want desperately to believe there is hope. Those are my favorite Bible stories. Too old Abraham and Sarah have a son who fulfilled God's promise that Abraham would be the father of nations. Too scared Gideon takes 300 men and defeats a much stronger opponent. Too young David chops down the mighty Goliath. We all have a too characteristic that we let deny our dreams and duties. God is bigger that any too. What problem is too big for the one who created the universe? Hollywood dramatizes the storyline to make it sell. For example, Max Baer apparently was not the ogre he's portrayed as but a hatable villain makes the concluding victory sweeter. Our problems need no exaggeration- they are more than real to us. God knows- and God cares. Genesis through Revelation is a script of the greatest love story ever told. His concern for his children resonates through each chapter. There are high points and low lights, from Adam through Paul, from Mount Sinai to Golgotha, but the rug won't be jerked out from under the believer when the final credits are shown. You want a feel-good ending to the saga of man and their Creator? How about this for a review? "The story of the Bible is the same as Cinderella- we live happily ever after. The End."

PS: Is Cinderella Man an oxymoron?

Applicable quote of the day:
"She believed in dreams, all right, but she also believed in doing something about them. When Prince Charming didn't come, she went over to the palace and got him."
Walt Disney (speaking about Cinderella )

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

God And Money

2011-11-27T20:04:00.002-06:00

This morning, I preached to our Chinese congregation. My sermon was based on the following thoughts. This entry is from December 5, 2005.

I am borderline illiterate when it comes to my money. I don't balance my checkbook- I make of a cushion in case of emergency. Tax time requires the services of accountants and the Lord has blessed me with Larry Roder and Mike Flanagan to help me maximize my charitable donations. (Larry was a longtime employee of the IRS- talk about inside information!) You might find it interesting to know my teaching certification considers me a qualified instructor in Economics. GNP, inflation, supply and demand- that stuff is easy. But when it comes to my own fiscal policy, I struggle. I don't even know for sure how much money I make. When offered my yearly contract, I sign without looking. I am not being noble- I would sign for whatever the school thought I was worth and my salary has never decreased. I pray my streak continues!

When I lived in the Nashville area, I picked up a radio talk show that focused on people and their money. Callers would phone in questions about family finances. The host was syndicated planning guru Dave Ramsey who doubles as a best-selling author. Ramsey has several ironclad rules to live by. Give your first 10% to the Lord and get out of/stay out of debt. Those guidelines seem simple but his common sense approach to wealth has made him rich and in demand. His tips are so easy to understand, even a coach with an Economics teaching degree can comprehend them. One specific he emphasized has stayed with me. Put your money in your house and not in your car. His point was the value of a house always appreciates while the value of a car always depreciates. You never recoup the investment in your car but your home is a terrific investment. I always buy used cars so I take his advice in one department. However, I have never owned a house- waiting until I marry- so he might think I'm throwing hard earned cash down the rental drain, never to be seen again.

Ramsey condensed his beliefs into a thirteen week course called Financial Peace University. The seminar, usually offered through churches, helps families construct budgets, draw up savings plans, and wean themselves from credit cards. His materials are excellent. Our seniors at Westbury Christian School use his writings as a supplemental text to the Bible on handling finances in a Godly manner. Jesus also dispensed wisdom on money and wealth:
"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." (Matthew 6:21)
"You cannot serve both God and money." (Matthew 6:24)
While laying foundations of priorities, Jesus also made shocking statements about possessors of wealth. He told his followers how hard it would be for the well-to-do to enter his kingdom. He praised a widow who had the faith to give the sum of her fortune to God, even though it was less than parents give kids to drop in the collection plate. Bad guys in his parables were likely to be wealthy. He put the beggar Lazarus in comfort in the afterlife while a rich man suffered unspeakable torment as the reward for the path he took on earth. A prosperous farmer met an untimely end because he was not 'rich towards God.' Understandably, Jesus seemed to make more headway with the disadvantaged than the crowd who had the dough. We identify with the poor in the Bible but we are closer to those who opposed the Savior than we are comfortable confessing. Cyndi Lauper, and I hate to admit I know who she is, hit the nail on the head when she sang, " Money changes everything." When we don't have it, we want it and when we have it, we want more. Money, in the words of Jesus, is a master. A master involves servitude. We can pick one or the other. Faith requires us to trust that if we believe in the care of our Father, we will be provided for. Dave Ramsey is terrific but all his books and seminars cannot match this simple statement by Jesus Christ in the Sermon on the Mount:
"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and ALL THESE THINGS will be given to you as well." (Matthew 6:33)
The all these things refers to basic necessities. Jesus says God knows we need them and will take care of them for us. That, if we believe, is the essence of true financial peace. My car will depreciate but my soul will never decrease in value. My financial adviser in heaven is investing it for me!

Applicable quote of the day:
"A billion here, a billion there and pretty soon, you're talking big money."
Senator Everett Dirksen (Illinois)

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

Shoes R Us

2011-11-26T18:47:00.002-06:00

I didn't buy anything on Black Friday this year although I walked around several stores with Dave. One time, I did get up early! The following is from November 27, 2005 and centers on what we take for granted, shoes.

I broke a vow this morning. Today is the one they call 'Black Friday,' the day after Thanksgiving dedicated to sales and Christmas shopping. Apparently, the 'Black Friday' tag comes from retailers' hope their bottom line will change from debt to profitability. Consumers are deluged with ads and the network morning shows do remotes from malls that can't fit one more car into the parking lots. I hate shopping anyway so why go on the worst day of the season? Kohl's got to me. The Kohl's circular with the bargains we have all been waiting for arrived in my parents' driveway on Wednesday along with Penney's, Target, Famous-Barr, etc. In spite of myself, I peeked and there it was: New Balance 470 running shoes for only $29.99! It was an Early Bird Special, only valid from 5:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. I live in running shoes and New Balance usually run between $40-50 so I really had no choice. I woke up at 4:15, drank enough coffee to keep me awake, took a quick shower, and headed out the door to Kohl's which is only several miles from my folks' residence. I thought I would be the only one there. Instead, the store was already crowded at 5:10, the moment I entered. It only took five minutes to get the shoes; standing in line took longer. I was the only person who was only after one item. It was a family affair, with well coordinated attacks on different departments. Kohl's is smart. They give shoppers a great reason to get there early and to justify their presence, they buy alot of stuff. It's brilliant! The customers in Kohl's were calm and friendly, not like the people I saw fighting on news clips over gifts that always seemed to be toys or electronic devices. I feel good about the whole experience, except not being able to get back to sleep at 5:45 when my shopping safari concluded, almost before it began.

For years, I only wore Nike shoes. Nike sponsored the basketball camp my players put on at Friendship Christian School and I would have felt disloyal to wear anything else. Now, I go with the best deals whether the brand is Nike, New Balance, or Adidas. Two years ago, I discovered my feet were growing! I've always worn size 10 but I found myself needing 11's and I even purchased a pair of 11 1/2's! A second growth spurt- I would probably also shoot up three more inches to 6'4"! I was crestfallen when Casey Farris, one of our coaches, told me Nike changed its sizing system. What used to be a 10 is now an 11, etc. He thinks it's so boys can say they wear bigger sizes. My illusions of catching my brother Dave in height went up in canvas. I never appreciated the luxury of shoes until I went on mission trips to Haiti and Honduras where footwear is ragged at best. We worked with men in Haiti who drove metal into rock with sledge hammers, wearing no shoes. Children in Honduran villages run barefoot through streets littered with broken bottles and jagged tin can lids. I rotate my shoes to keep them fresh. The rest of the world should be so lucky. Society kids American women about shoe obsessions but many boys in my classes have 20 plus pairs themselves. Both genders in the US are shoe gluttons. We want the latest styles and colors while the world wants only warm and protected feet.

We don't consider feet objects of beauty. One of my former basketball players, Angie Tucker, was a model for L'Eggs hose and sent me a catalog using her pictures. She included Russell Athletics advertisements which used photos of her hands and feet. Angie was a beautiful young lady and apparently possessed very lovely feet but we don't really notice feet. The Bible had different standards than we do. Romans 10:15 quotes Isaiah 52 when it states "how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" Paul also speaks of feet in Ephesians 6:15 when describing the armor of God. The apostle tells us to have our "feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace." I don't think my New Balance have that feature. I am more concerned about comfort/style than those shoes taking me where I can be a blessing in the kingdom. I was willing to get up very early and inconvenience myself for physical shoes. Would I be as eager for a sale on the footwear Paul mentions in Ephesians? Angie had beautiful feet in the eyes of the fashion world. Would anyone think my feet are beautiful in the spiritual realm? As they always do, the scriptures have a way of taking ordinary things and making me take a hard look at myself. As I often do, I come up short. My New Balances are 11's but my religious shoes are about a 5 1/2. I'm not giving up hope! By this time next year, I plan to be wearing a 6 1/2 or 7 and that without some Nike sizing hocus-pocus! If Kohl's can get to me with a 1/4 page ad, think what the Lord can do with the 66 books of his catalog of catalogs, the Bible. Now, I just have to get ready for the after Christmas sales!

Applicable quote of the day:
"I buy shoes for women and they use them to walk away from me."
Mickey Rooney

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
www.hawleybooks.com
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com

The Ace

2011-11-25T18:14:00.043-06:00

It was a big week for my nephew, Ben. The youngest child of my brother, Dave, and gorgeous sister-in law, Sally, Ben is married to the wonderful Courtney and is in his fourth year of med school at the University of Oklahoma. On Wednesday of this week, Ben did something few athletes accomplish in their lifetime: he hit a hole-in-one Wednesday on the par three 17th hole at Tallgrass in Wichita. Ben was a very good high school multi-sport athlete who picked up golf quickly in his teens. We talked about it yesterday before dinner. Ben told us at first, he assumed he would ace a hole sometime in his life but the longer he played, the more he saw players who had golfed for decades without a hole-in-one to their credit. I think a sliver of doubt began to creep in. We discussed whether it was more difficult to hit a hole-in-one or bowl a perfect 300 game. (I think it's harder to bowl 300 because you have to be perfect on fifteen consecutive rolls of the ball.) Regardless, I think Ben is the only family member to do either so his young life is off to a pretty good start!

What are the chances of a golfer recording that ace? Answers I found vary but here is a section from Answers.com:
But as close to an official source as exists on this topic is Golf Digest.

The odds Scheid came up with were lower than any others cited above: 5,000 to 1.

If you play 1,000 rounds in your life, according to Scheid, you have a 20-percent chance of recording an ace.

If you play 20,000 rounds, you're odds are 1:1.

The Golf Digest study provided many great nuggets of information, even breaking the odds down by quality of play:

Tour player making an ace: 3,000 to 1

Low-handicapper making an ace: 5,000 to 1

Average player making an ace: 12,000 to 1 Some other highlights from Scheid's calculations:

Average player acing a 200-yard hole: 150,000 to 1

Two players from the same foursome acing the same hole: 17 million to 1

One player making two holes-in-one in the same round: 67 million to 1

I can't say I understand all the statistics of the above piece. My brother, Scott, who has taught AP Physics, had some doubts about how they came to their conclusions but in any case, it's no easy feat. I found the stat fascinating which calculated that if you play 20,000 rounds of golf, your odds are 1:1 or 100%. I did some figuring and discovered that to play that many rounds, you would have to tee it up every day for fifty-four years, nine-and-a-half months. That's alot of time on the course! And I would doubt, based on my one time adventure on the links, that their calculation would hold true for me.

I never asked Ben why he plays golf. Maybe it's because it's outdoors or maybe because it's a challenge. Maybe he knows it's a sport he can enjoy all of his life or maybe it's more socially related. I am pretty sure of this; he did not start playing golf simply with the goal of hitting the elusive hole-in-one. The ace was simply a product of the time he has spent on various courses, the ability he has developed over the years, and his competitive nature which has enhanced his skills. Ben has some physical talent but then, so do I, I think. But I will never accomplish what he did this week because I have chosen not to be a golfer. The people that do great things are the ones who try, who participate, who attempt. The Christians who get their prayers answered are those who pray. Isn't it funny there are no Biblical examples of walking on water where there was absolute failure? We may make fun of Peter but like we've heard it said, at least he got out of the boat. Ben may never hit another hole-in-one BUT he's got one more than me. At least I can figure out this one simple mathematical equation: you can't hit a perfect shot from your living room..... or from your laptop screen. The club has to be swung.

Applicable quote of the day:
"A hole in one is amazing when you think of the different universes this white mass of molecules has to pass through on its way to the hole."
Mac O'Grady

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
http://www.hawleybooks.com/
E-mail me at steve@hawleybooks.com