The Pink Shirt

 The Pink Shirt

One thing I miss during this time of no school is having someone else pick out my clothes. The past two years it has been Jill and she is very good at it!  This is about something I wear, from June 3, 2012.

I would guess I'm not the only one who has ever claimed they would never do something... and then they did. For example, I always said I would never buy a new car but two years ago, I purchased a 2010 Honda Fit. Then there were the proclamations that I would never use a computer but school procedures intervened. I was certain I would never buy my own computer and have the Internet at home but when I started this blog, it became almost mandatory. Then, it was I'd never buy a laptop, the same laptop on which I'm typing this entry. I also was never going to have a cell phone- I still don't have a regular one, just the pre-paid variety, the number of which is a mystery to me- but that's becoming more of a distinct possibility as I'm paying for a land line which is barely used. It's just one more crack in the armor that has encased me.

It's Sunday so it's confession time. I broke another one of those 'I'll never' creeds of mine this afternoon- I bought a pink dress shirt. It wasn't in my plans; it just kind of snuck up on me. Jos A. Bank was having this incredible sale for valued customers, of which apparently I am one, to where I could buy $87.50 oxford dress shirts for only $26.25! There was a catch; to get that price, you had to buy at least five Traveler Dress Shirts. I'm not low on shirts right now but on back-to-back weekends in the fall, I'm giving a speech at a fundraising dinner and preaching a wedding so I'll need two new white ones. That left three and eventually, I'd have to buy them so why not get them at this terrific deal? There were several checked pattern shirts that I didn't have so that brought it down to one and the only shirt in my size that I did not possess after this transaction was pink. Let me explain that I have an aversion to that color. A number of female students have given me pink ties and I'm always complimented when I wear them. A number of female students also have told me, 'That tie/those pants would be perfect with a pink shirt!' to which I would reply that I have no pink shirt. Of course, they would come back with, 'You could buy one!' and my response has always been, 'No.' Well, until today and now I'm the possessor of one pink Jos A. Bank Traveler Dress Shirt.

Do you know who I think of when I hear the word never? Peter. Look what these statements he made to Jesus in the Gospels: 
"This will never happen to you, Lord!"  Peter said this when Jesus told His apostles He was going to die. Immediately, Jesus referred to Peter as Satan.
"You will never wash my feet." Spoken at the Last Supper, Peter recants and then asks the Savior to give him a whole bath.
"I will never disown you!" Directed at Jesus after the Master told Peter he would deny him three times. We know how that ended!
On the other hand, Jesus made some never claims as well:
"Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away." (Mark 13:31)
“I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 6:35)
"I tell you the truth, if anyone keeps my word, he will never see death.” (John 8:51)
I love those never pledges by Jesus because we know they will never be broken. I'm afraid I'm like Peter in the going back on your oaths department, but at least he walked on water for a little while! And I'm hedging my bets on the pink shirt. It's still in the Jos A. Bank bag, all stick pinned up with the sales tag adjacent. You know, I may never wear it. Good thing they have a generous return policy! But you know what's funny? Every time I've reversed myself on one of those never statements, I've been glad that I did in the long run. This one may be wait and see. I'll probably need a few compliments to be convinced.

Applicable quote of the day:
“I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.”
Audrey Hepburn

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Mistake

 The Mistake

One demand I make of my students is that they read the Bible. Each Monday when we come into class, I project the assignments for the week on the screen in front of the class. Sometimes, we are not as accurate as we need to be in copying down our homework and it leads to problems. The following is from May 5, 2006.


We began my sophomore Bible class today during second period as we do quite often, with a quiz. I estimate we have taken close to one hundred such mini-tests this school year. Amazingly, I have discovered that students are much more apt to read assigned material, and read it thoroughly, if there is a grade involved. Our tenth graders at Westbury Christian take The Life Of Christ as part of their required curriculum. All our readings are from the Gospels of Matthew-Mark-Luke-John, although some of our memory verses have come from the epistles. We usually have several minutes to review before we pray and I hand out the quizzes. As the first students received their papers this morning, almost immediately I heard, "Coach, you gave us the wrong quiz!"
My response? "No, I didn't."
They were insistent but, of course, incorrect. This is what happened. Each Monday when they walk into class, the week's assignments are written on the board. It is their responsibility to write the quiz/memory verse/test down in their notebooks. Of course, only one of them on the right side of the room took the time to do so one week ago today. It was Marian, one of my best students. The homework assigned for the weekend was a quiz over John 11. Marian inadvertently put the 11 in front of John which changes it to a Roman numeral. In her notebook, the assignment was a quiz on Second John, an extremely short book consisting of only thirteen verses. The students who abdicated their obligation asked her what the quiz covered. She correctly told them what she had transcribed, which unfortunately was incorrect. Needless to say, the grades were very poor on that side of the room. On the other side, where the students last Monday did what I asked them to do, there was no confusion and the grades were much higher. There is a parable in this scenario, I'm sure!

It doesn't take much of a mistake to cause a much bigger problem, does it? Moving numbers from the right to the left of a word completely changed its meaning and its interpretation. Relying on other people to handle our thinking causes headaches as well as heartaches. It was a little thing, just a quiz grade. In truth, because I give so many grades in my classes, it did not seriously hurt anyone's chances to keep their A for the six weeks. But history is full of examples of societies that allow a few influence makers to dictate the thought process for an entire nation, negating any input from what should be an informed electorate. Christianity has also been laced with movements fueled by lack of knowledge of the scriptures by the common people. I am saddened by how little Bible literacy my students as a group possess, especially knowing their parents usually have some sort of a religious background. So much of what these youngsters believe is similar to the situation with Marian; passed along without double-checking and accepted without question or personal research. The bright spot is that their parents want them to be in a Christian environment, learning what the Lord has to tell us through the Word. That's where I come in. Marian, bless her heart, can afford to mess up. I cannot.

Applicable quote of the day:
"Learn from the mistakes of others- you can never live long enough to make them all yourself."
John Luther

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

For The Love Of Family

 

For The Love Of Family

In my Gospels' classes, we discuss one of the miracles of Jesus, taken from John chapter 4. A government official comes to Cana from Capernaum, undoubtedly on foot, and begs Jesus to return with him and keep his son from dying. I mentioned that it is twenty miles from Cana to Capernaum and how parents will do anything to save the life of one of their children. The following, from 12-7-06, is the story of a father who paid the ultimate sacrifice for his family.

The found him yesterday. The body of James Kim was located in Oregon's Klamath Mountains in the waters of a shallow creek Wednesday. His family had been the focus of an intense rescue effort after they disappeared two weeks ago. Headed for a resort lodge, the Kims took a wrong turn and ended up stranded in an area considered nearly impassable during winter months. With almost no supplies, James, his wife, Kati, along with their four year old and seven month old daughters, tried to stay warm by intermittently running the engine until the gasoline was used up. On the sixth day of the ordeal, James left his family to try and find his way on foot through deep snow and bitter cold to a town which he mistakenly believed was only several miles away. He never made it. His lifeless form was discovered only a mile from where the other Kims were rescued on Monday but authorities feel he might have traveled up to ten miles in his bid to save his family. The official cause of death is listed as hypothermia. There should be an asterisk in the official coroner's report, clarifying the finding. James Kim died trying to bring deliverance to Kati, Penelope, and Sabine Kim. The man deserves the dignity of the truth.

We discussed the Kim family in class today. If James had stayed with his family in the car, he would undoubtedly be alive this evening. But hindsight makes us brilliant and he did not have that option. He did what most men would do if they thought the only way to save their loved ones was to strike out on their own. You do what you have to for the lives of your flesh and blood. What a legacy he left for those two little girls. There are few Bible themes more prevalent than that of the relationship of the father to the family. Let me quote twice from Paul using his insight on the paternal role in God's plan:
"For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting, and urging you to live lives worthy of God..."
1 Thessalonians 2:11-12

"After all, children should not have to save up for their parents but parents for their children. So, I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well."
2 Corinthians 12:14-15

James Kim died on Monday at age thirty-five. He was a successful businessman in California. He was a good husband and father as well. His children will grow up not knowing the man who helped give them life but they will always be aware of his dying wish, that they would safely make it home. He got his wish.

Applicable quote of the day:
"I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection."
Sigmund Freud

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Day Dad Became A Barber

 The Day Dad Became A Barber

This is from May 13, 202o, right at the beginning of COVID
I got my hair cut this morning. It had been 12 weeks since I'd seen Kim except for passing in the peanut butter aisle at WAL-MART early into this quarantine. Barbers were allowed to re-open last Friday in Texas and she's been swamped since. Kim cuts the hair of a good number of  men in our congregation; Kevin, one of our elders, was in her chair when I arrived shortly before nine. She  has an encyclopedic memory of the people who she's made look good over the decades. Kim moved here from South Korea forty years ago. She is brutally honest, unabashedly patriotic, and a really good barber to boot! I left with an excellent hair cut; after almost three months, anything would be an improvement. She always calls me young man. Just one more reason not to go anywhere else!

My brother, Dave, and I were born in New York and our folks moved us to York, Nebraska when I was four. There are vague memories of being in a Brooklyn barber shop but nothing specific at all. When we moved to York, our parents embarked on a cost cutting measure. They purchased a hair cutting kit, probably from a catalog, and embarked on their own salon of sorts. It was decided that Mom would be the barber and that lasted until midway through the first effort. I'm not sure if it was Dave or me who was the test case but Mom was not adept at her new job. From family oral history, the plot goes that halfway in, she burst into tears, called Dad who was at the office (a good ninety second walk away), and he came home and finished the job. From that hour on, I never went to a barber until I went to college and I'm fairly certain Dave or Scott, who came along three years later, did either. And Mom never again volunteered to cut our hair.

Here's the main thing I learned along the way of surviving boyhood. You never want your father to cut your hair when he's mad, particularly when he's angry with you. Truthfully, I think Dad became pretty good with the clippers although my brothers may disagree. Saving money was a big deal in the Hawley household so it definitely helped stretch the dollars. But I've never understood why our mother got so upset over a haircut. The funny thing is that I can remember ladies in our church coming to our house and Mom giving them perms, for free of course. The aroma of those chemicals was overwhelming! And Mom was good at anything she put her mind to so why not cutting our hair? Maybe because moms take things more personally, especially family matters. Luke 2:19 tells us Mary treasured all these things (about Jesus) in her heart. It doesn't say that about Joseph. I'm a lot more like Mom than Dad in terms of personality but it was easier for me to deal with Dad. I can't say that mothers care or love more than dads but I do think it's true mothers love and care differently. When our folks died and we were going through their things, guess what we found that Mom had kept? An envelope of VERY blonde hair from Scott's first hair cut, performed by Dad. Who would keep hair? Moms. Our mom. Maybe you or your mom. Maybe that's why Mother's Day comes before Father's Day. Maybe that's why we love our moms so much.

Applicable quote of  the day:
The worse the haircut, the better the man.
John Green


God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Selfish Student

The Selfish Student

I wrote this four years ago today, May 12, 2020.

This isn't about Becca and Chiso, the two young ladies who are pictured above. No, it's about the times when I didn't practice what I, now at least, preach. You see, when I was the varsity girls' basketball coach at Friendship Christian School in Tennessee and Westbury Christian School, we put up a nameplate with the word UNSELFISH at the top of the locker room door. The players would touch it when exiting as a reminder to put others first. I've found that gets more important as we get older. But in retrospect, I've learned what I thought at the time was being unselfish was likely quite the opposite.

I was in our church office this morning working on funding relief for our Vietnamese brethren who I will dearly miss this summer.  While seated in the office of Ann Stone, our church accountant who handles my mission funds, I was privy to her conversation with Colin Elk, our worship leader. Their discussion centered on how our congregation is going to handle our special Senior Sunday, a service in which we traditionally honor those from our youth group about to  walk across the stage at their respective schools, passing from being youngsters to more or less the adult world. It's tricky- there is no protocol for this, an event which has always been live. We are dealing with it at school as well. Our WCS Senior Chapel has been on the calendar for tomorrow afternoon for a year. But our church auditorium where both ceremonies were to take place will be eerily silent both Wednesday afternoon and Sunday morning. There will be video presentations online which is what Ann and Colin were talking about. It will be wonderful and amazing but due to the world condition, it won't be quite the same. My guess is there will be tears shed. I'm also guessing a fair share of the tears will belong to moms and dads.

What I say next is from the perspective of a fairly extreme introvert which is not an excuse. When I was a senior in high school in Nebraska, I didn't want to get any announcements for graduation. My folks insisted I get at least some for grandparents. They wanted to have a celebration- I really wanted nothing to do with it. I graduated from York High on a Sunday afternoon and several people came over- that was it. Fast forward six years. I was graduating with my Masters degree from Harding University in Arkansas. My folks, who by then lived in Lubbock in west Texas, had already watched me graduate from high school, York College, and Harding with a BA. I just assumed they didn't want to drive fifteen hours to watch me repeat the process so I told them I wasn't going to walk for graduation. They accepted it; after all, they knew me better than anyone else. I found out years later, they really wanted to come but someone denied them that opportunity. That someone was me.

Usually this time of year, I give a speech to my students about doing things because it means something to their folks even if they aren't thrilled about the idea. Obviously, I couldn't dispense those words of wisdom this May. My folks knew I didn't like a fuss made, going back to early childhood and they, being unselfish, did not insist. I wish I could have seen that earlier. Some of our kids get it, though not with graduations. Their parents take losing a ball game much harder than their offspring athlete does. My parents didn't know sports but they did know school as well as anybody. They knew what these milestones would mean- I didn't. I regret that I robbed them of some of their joy and a chance to celebrate their son.

As we get older, we start to see ripple effects from innocent or unavoidable acts with unintended consequences. One of the wonderful things about our Senior Chapel is the passing of the flame. Each senior has a lit candle and meets a designated junior in the middle of the stage. The 12th grader  symbolically lights the 11th grader's candle, and walks out after symbolically passing the torch to the new seniors. Two weeks ago, I had a heartbreaking note from one of my junior boys who is from another country. He told me he was devastated that he would not get to participate in this tradition. He even told me the senior young lady who was going to be his partner and he had waited since he was a freshman for that moment. You know, it never occurred to me up to that moment how far reaching these loss of rites of passing are. Johnny Nash sang, "I can see clearly now......" So can I but it's too late to tell Mom and Dad. Maybe I'll light a candle in their memory. If I was the commencement speaker this year, something I've done twice, my message would be simple. Love your parents. There would be some stories and quotes and Biblical admonitions but it would come down to those three little words; love your parents. The time will come when there is no time.

Applicable quote of the day: 
If someone comes to you with, 'It's my kid's graduation,' you don't tell them, 'Sorry, you can't go to that.' You just don't do that. You figure out some other way. 
Bob Iger


God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Hymn Of Healing

 

Hymn Of Healing

This is about one of the favorite songs we sang in worship when I was a boy- I wished we sang hymns like this on a more regular basis. It's from June 22, 2009.

One of the few disagreements I recall my parents having was over their preferences in church music. Mom liked upbeat gospel songs with choruses and Dad preferred the older hymns, many of which had no refrain. For example, Mom would have liked To Canaan's Land (I'm On My Way) while Dad would have selected Lead, Kindly Light. I would guess their likes were based on their upbringings in different parts of the country. On this issue, I fall into the Dad camp. The hymns I love, the ones I have my students memorize, have fallen out of usage in recent years, supplanted by more praise-type songs. Below are the words to one of my favorites that we often sang when I was a boy, At Even, When The Sun Was Set:

At even, when the sun was set,
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
O, with what divers pains they met!
O, with what joy they went away!

Once more ’tis eventide, and we,
Oppressed with various ills, draw near;
What if Thy form we cannot see?
We know and feel that Thou art here.

O Savior Christ, our woes dispel;
For some are sick, and some are sad;
And some have never loved Thee well,
And some have lost the love they had.

And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,
For none are wholly free from sin;
And they who fain would serve Thee best
Are conscious most of wrong within.

Thy touch has still its ancient power.
No word from Thee can fruitless fall;
Hear, in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all.

Written by Englishman Henry Twells in 1868, the original contained eight verses. These five were the ones used in our hymnal. Twells wrote it while waiting for a very slow student to finish an exam, basing his thoughts on the story of Jesus healing the sick at the home of Peter. Here is that account in the fourth chapter of Luke, verse forty:
When the sun was setting, the people brought to Jesus all who had various kinds of sickness, and laying his hands on each one, he healed them.

Two thousand years have not lessened the need for healing. I highlighted verse three as a microcosm of churches, even today. Our minister, David Yasko, is closing out a series of Sunday morning lessons on recovery. Yesterday, he spoke specifically on the reasons for relapse. In the middle of the sermon, David called one of our men to the pulpit. The brother, a recovering addict, gave his testimony of turning away from alcohol through the strength of the Lord. As we closed our service, we were told of the death of a beloved brother who was diagnosed with cancer and died within the week, leaving his precious wife, who has serious health issues, a widow. We found out that a wonderful Godly sister had just been placed in hospice care. During communion, former members who were visiting with us learned of the death of their one year old grandson. Have we ever needed the healing message of that hymn more than now? A number of years ago in Tennessee, I heard my minister say, "The church is the only army in the world that shoots its wounded." His point was that Christians have, at times, turned collective backs on brothers and sisters who desperately needed them. Jesus never did and that's why outcasts, as well as the sick, turned to Him as their only hope. That hasn't changed in two thousand years, either. I pray that we can.

Applicable quote of the day:
"You know when you're young you think you will always be. As you become more fragile, you reflect and you realize how much comfort can come from the past. Hymns can carry you into the future."
Andy Griffith

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Scent Of My Mother

The Scent Of My Mother

This is appropriate on Mother's Day. It is from April 23,  2017.

I was sitting in worship this morning when I smelled my mother. It was only for a couple of seconds but I know it was her. Maybe it was just some lady walking down the aisle or the air conditioner blowing just right very briefly but I felt like Mom was in my presence. This isn't some mystical rambling or deep psychological need to share inner thoughts. No, I simply became aware of the aroma of Jergens Lotion. I don't know if my mother wore perfume- I assume she did- but she always wore Jergens Lotion. So briefly this morning, I was whisked to my childhood by a long forgotten fragrance which I never really forgot. It's pretty hard to forget the bouquet of the one who brought you kicking and screaming into this world and subsequently raised you. For a very brief moment, I was a little boy again.

Part of the Biblical teaching of being fearfully and wonderfully made is, I believe, the God given gift of being able to transport yourself to another time and place through something as simple a sight or a scent or a sound. The departed come alive again for a second and the sweet reliving of a moment can bring a fleeting smile. Mom smelled like Mom but the neat thing is she smelled like Mom to many other people as well. She never turned anyone away who needed love, much to my chagrin as a kid. She was my mom- our mom if you throw in my siblings- and not the whole world's mom which was a role in which she seemed to relish. There were those mourned the death of my mother as if it were their own, which to many, it was. Paul taught that believers are, or should be, the aroma of Christ. Today, I was reminded Mom fit that description. She just came wrapped in the contents of countless plastic bottles of Jergens Lotion.

Applicable quote of the day:
My mother was a Sunday school teacher. So I am a byproduct of prayer. My mom just kept on praying for her son. 
Steve Harvey


God bless,
Steve/fortunate son of Sarah Nelda Chesshir Hawley
Luke 18:1