Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

As the story has been told to me, I’ve been going to church since I was two weeks old.  I’ve never been one that’s had to be forced to go either.  When I got older, I went of my own free will.  I’m 30 years old now, living on my own, and I still go to church on Sunday.  I go because I want to, not because I feel like it’s right, or good for me, or I need to score a gold star in attendance to keep myself out of hell.

I’ve worked in Christian Media.  I’ve hosted 3 different Christian music video shows (CCM Video Countdown, Rewind & The YourMusicZone Top 10).  I’ve worked on another one, East 2 West, which you may now know as Most Requested.  I’ve been involved with 3 Christian radio stations, Life 100dot3, Joy 1250 and KAOS 99.5.  I was even a character voice on the first 3 installments of the God Rocks children’s video series.

In a phase of my life which I never would have predicted had you ever asked me beforehand, I even ended up as a Youth Pastor.  Never in a million years did I see that one coming.  It just sort of happened one day.  I loved it though.  I was in Youth Ministry for a couple of years.

My point in sharing some of these highlights about my past is to paint a bit of a picture.  To show you that I’m pretty serious about my faith.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you need to be a Pastor or work in Christian radio in order to be serious about your faith.  They are just areas I felt called to.

Over time, a lot of Christians have done a pretty fantastic job of painting a lousy picture to the rest of the world about who we are and what we believe.  In fact, I read a statistic that claims 80% of adults find Christians confusing.  I suppose I’m not entirely surprised by this.  I get confused by Christians and I am one!

The media has been on Christians pretty hard in the past couple of days because of the whole Perez Hilton / Miss California deal.  Check the blog post In Support Of Miss California for more on that.

Media loves to quote “Christian Leaders” who say a lot of stupid things, and then use that to paint us all with the same brush.  I confess, it’s frustrating and embarrassing.  I suppose some of these “Leaders” are trying to say the right thing.  Maybe they genuinely think they’re doing good.  I don’t know.  It’s not my place to judge them, and I certainly don’t hold enough degrees or doctorates to try and make sense of them.

I don’t always do so well in church.  I have a tendency, when something really gets to me, to be a little outspoken.  I have most definitely got myself into trouble with leadership on more than on occasion for speaking, quite openly, about my opinion on issues.  I’ve had many civil conversations, and a few heated ones in my day.  I believe what I believe, and I believe it strongly enough to defend it when necessary.

I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I will give anyone the benefit of the doubt until they give me a reason to not.  That is to say, I’ll sit down with you.  I listen to what you have to say.  When you’re done, I’ll formulate my opinion.  All I ask is that, in return, you extend me the same courtesy.  Maybe we’ll agree.  Maybe we won’t.  At least both sides can be heard.

So, let me tell you a few things I believe.  I believe in God, and I believe He created the earth.  I believe that courtesy of the fall of man in the Garden of Eden, all of us now have a sin nature.  Don’t believe me?  Consider this.  Why do we have to be taught right from wrong as children?  Why do we so often prefer to do wrong even after said teaching?  If we didn’t have a sin nature, such teaching would be irrelevant because we would all just do right naturally.

Because of our sin nature we were separated from God.  This is where Jesus comes in.  Think about Jesus and his entry in the world.  Born in a barn to an unwed mother.  Back in the day, it really didn’t get much worse than that.  He became human to connect.  So we could connect.  It’s hard to fathom, much less relate, to a heavenly being, floating on a cloud, drifting around in space looking down on us.  But a man, well… we can understand a man.  We can relate to a man.  We can have a relationship with a man!

That is the key.  Relationship.  To often Christianity is portrayed as an annoying religion and the Bible is its rule book.  Follow the rules in the Bible, get to heaven.  Don’t follow the rules in the Bible, go to hell.  This is where we (Christianity/Christians) lose people.

Jesus wants a relationship with us.  Part of that relationship is the offering of forgiveness.  He understands our sin nature, and He understands that we are less than perfect.  But He loves us in spite of our flaws.  I suppose, in it’s most raw sense, the Bible does have rules for right living.  The thing is, when you have a relationship with Jesus, when you accept that forgiveness, you genuinely want to live different.  To live better.  Suddenly, the Bible doesn’t become about rules to guide you between heaven and hell, it becomes a guide to lead you closer to the creator of the universe.

If I had to sum it up in a word, it would be love.  That is not a word commonly associated with Christians today.  I am a sinner and by definition that makes me no different than the thief, than the gay, than the murderer.  In God’s eyes, we are all the same.  He extends forgiveness to us all the same.  He loves us all the same.

You don’t have to go to church every Sunday, read your Bible for 3 hours a day, and pray over your Big Mac to receive this love.  It’s yours for free.  You don’t need to wear a WWJD bracelet, you don’t need to wear a cross necklace, you don’t even have to have “Amazing Grace” as the only song on your iPod to receive forgiveness.  You just have to ask.

A common misconception is that you need to have your life together before any of this can happen.  I am sorry to say that the church has done a very good job of feeding this myth.  The reality is, that’s total crap.  Right now, wherever you’re at… it’s yours.

Another common misconception is that if you ask for forgiveness you have to start living a perfect life or you get “kicked out of the club” so to speak.  Again, I’m sorry to say the church has done a pretty good job of feeding this myth as well.  And, again, this is total crap.  Nobody will ever live a perfect life.  I don’t care if you’re the Pope or Billy Graham.  Forgiveness doesn’t happen once.  It happens as often as we need it.

It’s not an easy road, this Christ following thing.  It does mean you’re going to make some changes.  But that’s not because you have to.  It’s because you’ll want to.  You may start going to church, and I bet you’ll even open up a Bible.  You may still not pray over your Big Mac, but I bet you’ll have a conversation or two with God.  From time to time, you may even been grouped with the “Christians” that so many in society would rather ignore.  I’ll tell you this much though… it’s worth it.

Odds are, you’ve had a bad experience with a Christian.  It seems to happen a lot.  Maybe it’s turned you off.  I can certainly understand that.  I’ve had a few of those conversations myself.  Let me just say this, not all smarties are red!  Not all of us who call ourselves Christians are the same.  If you ever want to give the conversation another try, you know where to find me.

I’ve been sick for two days.  When I say sick, I mean, I’ve been sick!  No work.  No fire.  For those of you that know me, you know that’s serious.  For those of you that don’t, let me tell you… that’s serious!  It takes a lot to put me out of commission.

I don’t recall a time in 30 years that I’ve felt as awful as I did on Monday.  I will spare you the colorful details, but let me just say that it was entirely unpleasant and an experience I’d be quite content to never live again!  Tuesday, while still highly unpleasant, wasn’t even in the same realm.

I haven’t done much for two days.  I couldn’t.  I didn’t eat, there was no point.  I could barely move.  A venture of any distance greater than 15ft from the closet place to vomit was most certainly not in my best interests.  My life since around 12:34AM on Monday has consisted mostly of two things… sleeping and thinking.  OK, well, three things if you count puking, but I promised to spare the colorful details.

One thing has been in my head more than any other.  A simple question.  Yet, this simple query has consumed my thoughts, using nearly every ounce of what little energy I’ve actually had.  In my head, amidst the pounding of the Keebler Elves contributing to my migraine (no offense to Keebler, that’s just always how I’ve visualized the inner workings of a bad headache) was this question, “What is worse… being sick?  Or being sick alone?”

I am, admittedly, a big baby when I’m not well.  I’m apprehensive to speak on behalf of an entire gender, but I feel confident in saying that a good many men are in the same boat with me.  Need me to shingle your roof?  Build you a wall?  Program your VCR (not that anybody uses them anymore)?  Fix your computer? I’m great at all that stuff.  But make me sick, and I’m reduced to little more than a whimpering pansy.

I was married for a while.  Being sick was a lot easier back then.  Monday I forced myself to make a trip to the store for ginger-ale.  All told, to get dressed, walk there and back, it should have been about 5 minutes.  In my physical state, it took me nearly 30.  I would have done nearly anything to feel the tender, gentle caress of fingers rubbing my back while I lay in bed sweating, then freezing, then sweating again.  Moaning and groaning is inevitable with me, yet, I had no one to sympathize with my excessive drama, even if they were laughing at me on the inside – and rightfully so.

Single life has revealed many things to me.  In many ways, truthfully, I’ve had to learn to live again.  Things I had never done before, experienced before, tried before, I’m facing now.  Some of those things have been good, but others have not.  One of those experiences that has not, has been being sick.

I can’t say that nobody cared.  That’s not true.  Many friends and family have reached out and checked in and reminded me a hundred times to drink lots of fluids.  For each of them, I’m grateful. To each of them, I love you.  That said though, it’s still not quite the same as having somebody with you, who loves you, who puts up with you, all to bring you back to good health.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have that again.  I pray I will.  I promise this much, if I do, I will make sure I never take it for granted!  If you’re a man reading this, and you have someone in your life who takes care of you in these times, appreciate them!  Thank them.  Love them!  If you’re a woman, and you do these things for the over-dramatic sick man in your life, may God bless you for your patience and nurturing!

I never want to be sick, nobody does.  But I definitely don’t want to be sick alone.  Having the love of a good woman to help me through is definitely one thing I miss!

I’ve never been a big fan of winter.  I think it’s mostly the cold I don’t like.  Actually, it’s the cold and the snow.  Outside of that, I suppose winter is a grand season.  Outside of that, what’s left of winter?  Christmas comes during winter.  That’s a good thing.  The birth of Jesus.  Turkey Dinners.  It’s A Wonderful Life.  Cranberry Ginger-ale.  Come to think of it, maybe winter isn’t so bad after all.

There is one thing about winter that I do love.  Despite the fact that I loathe large snowfalls and the shoveling and the driving, there is a scene that captivates me each time I see it.  There are, in my opinion, few scenes in nature greater than fresh snowfall.

A blanket of pure white caresses all that will hold it.  Color becomes irrelevant because everything looks as one.  Sunlight twinkles and dances from the reflections off the newly rested flakes.  There are no footprints, no tire tracks, no trails from the child’s toboggan.  There is just an untouched, smooth covering over the land as if the world was dressed in marshmallow.

It’s a perfect, beautiful scene.  Pure, crisp, clean.  I could look at something like that all day and never grow tired of it.  I find myself torn between two desires.  There is a part of me that wants to leave the scene without so much as a blemish from a step of my foot.  This pristine natural wonder is too romantic, too enchanting to be disturbed.

Then there is another part of me.  The part that wants to throw myself into it.  I look upon the canvas God has painted and I long to be in it.  A fresh layer of snow simply cries out to enjoyed.  A snow angel needs to be placed in it’s midst.  There are forts to be built, toboggans to be ridden, and Frosty can’t come to town and play if nobody takes the time to roll him into existence.

It really is a true thing of beauty.  Just another wonder of God’s creation.  Regardless of how I feel about the cold, my feelings for winter aside, I will always take time to look in awe upon a fresh snowfall.

It’s important to enjoy those moments while they last.  Take them in.  Remember them.  Store them in your heart, file them in your memory.  Appreciate them for as long as you can.  You see, no matter how much you may love them, no matter how deeply you long for them the last, no matter how much joy they may bring, there is one thing in this life that is beyond our control.  Some moments are simply to brief because, try as we may to hold on, seasons change.

It was a beautiful Sunday.  A Sunday that I didn’t actually have to work.  I did everything you should be able to do on a Sunday, things I’ve missed out on for a long time now.  I got up early and went to church.  I spent some quality time on the couch.  I watched the NASCAR race and a couple of movies.  I made a nice dinner.  Yes, it was good to feel like a normal person living a normal Sunday.

I think I may have taken things just one step too far though.  After my chicken experiment, which I had for dinner, I got the bright idea that I should take advantage of a calm Sunday evening to go for a jog.  I do work out, but I don’t jog much.  I now understand why.

The skies were dimming, the air was crisp.  The sun was beginning to fade behind the horizon, and it seemed as though nature itself was calling to me.  The problem, so I discovered after the fact, is that nature and I don’t seem to speak the same language.  You see, I thought the call said, “come jog and spend time in my beauty.”  What it really said, or so it seems, was “I dare you… I bet you die.”

I live right across the street from the river, and along the river there is a nice path for walking, jogging or riding.  I walk it frequently when the weather is nice.  It’s a lovely place for a stroll.  Many agree.  You see others jogging, each step seeming to move with the rhythm of the music coming from their iPod’s.  There always seems to be a couple out for peaceful romantic walk, hand in hand, with the soothing lull of a gracefully flowing river and whisper of a gentle breeze caressing the trees as their background.  Then there are the Canadian Geese who are often much less poetic.  Mostly they honk, charge, and crap.  It kind of ruins the picture doesn’t it?  But hey, we put them on our currency, so that has to count for something

Yes, it seemed a perfect evening for a jog along the river.  I brought along my iPod, but quickly learned that with each step forward my ear buds were just going to keep falling out.  After giving up I followed a different rhythm.  That of my heart, as it pounded, perhaps even visibly, out of my chest.  There was a coolness in the air, but it was crisp and refreshing.  After getting started I had no concern of being cold.  The burning sensation that quickly began to stir in my legs was more than enough to keep my body warm.  Though leaving the house without water, it became evident early on that I needn’t fear dehydration either, as I was confident after a very short distance that at any moment I would begin coughing up blood.

I am resilient, or so I like to think, so I wasn’t prepared to stop.  I had a destination in mind and I was convinced I was going to make it.  After all, 500ft isn’t really that far.  I recall passing one couple on my journey.  They were in each others arms, leaning against a fence with the perfect back drop of a setting sun reflecting off the river behind them.  Rays of light beamed through the trees, bathing them in it’s glow.  It like It looked like something straight from an artists canvas.  God’s I suppose.  I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt their tender moment, I’m pretty sure the gentleman was going in for the kiss.  Such a priceless and tender moment, however, loses something when a man comes trouncing by with the heaviness of an elephant, breathing with a force equivalent of an F5 tornado.  I hope I didn’t cost him his kiss.

When I finally reached my destination it seemed a crowd had gathered.  While I suspect this had more to do with coincidence than it did with people standing by waiting to administer CPR, I felt compelled, mostly by pride, to put on a show.  I’ve often said it’s not as much about how well you know what you’re doing as it is about how well you can fake it.  I had every intention, and desire at this point, of collapsing to my death.  Anything to stop the pain.  I couldn’t bring myself to do it in front of all these people though.  The story, as I will tell it from this day forth is… my shoes were untied.  I needed to get on the ground to tie my shoes.  After all, I can’t be taking the risk of tripping and breaking a bone now can I?

I’m back home now.  I can’t recall specifically how I got here.  I think my heavy breathing robbed a certain amount of oxygen from getting to my brain, so there seems to be some blank spots in my memory.  I do know that I started to write a will though.  I remember telling one special person they could have my Macbook – the very instrument I use to write these notes to you.  The rest of it is a blur.

I’m going back to the couch now.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get off it again.  If not as a result of death, then most likely as a result of my legs currently having the consistency of jello!  It truly was a beautiful Sunday.  I can’t wait to have another one next weekend.

Have you ever noticed how when the crap hits the proverbial fan in our lives, we often immediately do one of two things.  First, we read the book or Job.  Second, we think we are Job!  I have been no less guilty of this than anybody else.  For whatever reason, when things go wrong, that just seems to be our first association.

How many times have you apologized to God and said I’m sorry for whatever it is that I did, but if You’d just forgive me, and make things right, I promise I’ll do better next time.  It’s funny.  I don’t recall God ever painting Himself as one to be negotiated with.  It’s as if Heaven is a Pawn Shop and God is the crotchety old man behind the counter that we dicker back and forth with trying to get ourselves the best deal.  Somehow, I just don’t think that is how He intended it to work.

I’ve had my share of crap over the years.  I had a wife; she divorced me.  I had a house; now I live in a tiny apartment.  I had a dog; I was left with a picture.  I had money in the bank; now I have debt up the wazoo.  That’s another thing, who came up with the word “wazoo” anyway?  I digress.  I had my dream job; now, I have a job.  If anybody has a reason to be bitter, I suppose an argument could be made that I could be that guy.

Somebody asked me the other day, well aware of my history, how it is that I am so happy and easy going.  What a great compliment!  I don’t suspect they intended it that way, nevertheless, that is how I took it.  They are going through some stuff of their own, and they just struggle to find a reason to smile.  It’s wearing of them.  A weary heart is perhaps one of the heaviest loads one could ever carry.

I gave it some thought, this question I was asked.  What I decided is that, I can’t control my circumstances, most of the time anyway, but I can control how I handle them.  Certainly I could sit around and wallow in self pity, I won’t lie, the thought has crossed my mind, or, I can pick up, dust off, and press on.

Look at the picture up there, the one on the top right corner of this blog I mean.  Tell me, what do you see?  When I took this picture a couple of years ago, it was far and away one of my absolute favorites.  I was so proud of that shot.  I was walking the causeway at the church camp I attended in my youth, and this image just reached up from the shores of the pond and grabbed me.  I had to snap that shot.

I showed it around to a few people and mostly, the response was something to the affect of, “well done… you took a picture of a dead branch.”  I can’t deny that they were right.  It was indeed a dead branch.  But that isn’t even close to what I saw.

The picture that caught my eye was that of a long, brilliant branch, standing at attention, undisturbed by the breeze that swirled around it.  Its metamorphous from a bright, living green to a blend of burnt orange and red, undeniable against the gently rippling backdrop of a gray-blue pond, was captivating to me.  In the midst of a grassy shore of similarity, rose an undeniable, single splash of color waiting for somebody to notice it.

There is a life lesson in there, if you’re willing to hear it.  So much of how we feel, so much of how we think, so much of how we react, is, in my opinion, based upon perception.

Look at the picture for a second time.  What do you see now?  I’d be more than willing to bet upon first glance, you saw a dead branch like so many others did.  However, after reading my interpretation, I can’t help but think you saw so much more.

Attitude can’t necessarily change your life, but it can certainly alter how you view it, and approach it.  A story was told once of two men in prison.  One day while looking out the barred windows of their concrete dungeon, each of them commented on what they saw.  One looked down with defeat and saw mud.  The other looked up with hope and saw stars.  Two people, the same window, the same view, to entirely different perspectives.

I’m so happy and so easy going, despite all I’ve experienced, because when I look ahead I see hope.  I see possibility.  Opportunity.  I see God guiding my thoughts, my choices, my steps.  I already see him restoring me.  I look out the window, I look up, and I get lost in the expanse of a night sky filled with stars, and the limitless potential of that scene is enough to make anybody smile!

The other day I was on the air, about half way through a break, when all of the sudden I was hit with an overwhelming need to sneeze.  As quickly, and gracefully as I could, I talked my way out of the break, and hurried myself off the air.  I did it, not a moment too soon.

As I turned the mic off, I sneezed, and with quite substantial force.  In fact, I hadn’t even had time to move back from the mic, so the result of the sneeze involved my head bouncing off it.  It was actually quite amusing, though I am thankful that radio, unlike television, is not a visual medium.

As I sat there recovering from my head injury I couldn’t help but wonder something.  Why is it, that I can’t sneeze on the radio?  I reflected back on 14 years in broadcasting.  I pondered the wisdom and advice handed down to me by 5 different Program Directors, 1 Consultant, and, I even considered advice I myself have handed down during my tenure as  a PD.  Nowhere, in all of those memories, could I recall a moment when I had been instructed, “whatever you do… don’t sneeze on the air.”

I have been told not to swear.  That’s easy.  I don’t swear.  I recently learned that it’s a bad idea to make fun the Oscars on the air.  Mental note recorded.  No more making fun of an awards show that begs to be made fun of.  Oh wait… I’m not supposed to say that!  I’ve been told not to make fun of listeners on the air.  That seems fair.  Off the air, open season… on the air… not so much! :p  Yes, many little pearls of wisdom have been extended to me over the years, but never anything about sneezing.

Then I wondered, what about belching?  Again, back through the archives of wisdom, advice, and commandments of radio etiquette, I go.  Searching.  Contemplating.  Nothing… I’ve got nothing.  Nowhere in that library was there anything regarding belching.

Why is it then, that I am afraid to sneeze on the air?  I mean, seriously.  Everybody sneezes.  My dog even sneezes.  It’s just a part of life.  A natural phenomenon that can’t be ignored.  Belching… same deal.  Everybody belches.  I don’t care who you are, and how much you deny.  And yes, my dog belches too.  Quite well I might add!  So what’s the big deal?

At what point in our society, in our culture, was it determined that these things were wrong or bad or inappropriate?  Why can’t they be done in certain arenas?  I mean, if I’m watching Matt Hayes tell me it’s going to be Sunny and 6 tomorrow and in the midst of that prognostication he lets out with the mother of all belches, I’m going laugh.  Hard!  Then I’m going to think, wow… people on TV are just like the rest of us.  I always wondered, but I was never sure!

This is even worse in Christian circles.  I don’t know why.  I don’t recall the part in the Bible where it says, “thou shalt not allow noises of any form or fashion to escape from your body unless it is in speech.”  If I missed that verse, somebody help me out.

When people refer to the, sometimes, high and mighty front that certain Christians put forward, I’ve often heard the quote, “Oh, he’s a Christian.  His farts don’t stink.”  Can I just say that’s awesome!  Awesome because it’s the perfect summation of sad but true fact.  When did we start thinking we were better than everybody else?

Some will blacklist me now for blasphemy, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and bet that all the great heroes of the Bible belched and farted and sneezed, and, I suspect, they didn’t care!  I’ve gotta believe when God told Noah to build the ark he probably had a little gas.  I suspect the same to be true for Moses standing before the Red Sea.

My point is not that we should all go around freely belching and farting in public, although, if you need to let one go, by all means, let ‘er rip.  I just wonder when we got to a place where we started taking ourselves so seriously.  When did this overwhelming fear of the perception of others set in for us?  When did what we thought of ourselves, and more importantly, what God thinks of us, take a backseat to how everybody else views us?

I am an all-star belcher.  I can belch the alphabet to the letter “V” or, at least I have in the past.  I’m OK with this.  God created me.  I belch and fart and sneeze.  I can only assume then, that God created belches and farts and sneeze.  Since God sent His own son as a man, this only further leads me to assume that Jesus belched and farted and sneezed.  If it was OK for Him, I guess it’s OK for me!

Life is to short to sweat the little things.  The insignificant things.  The stupid things.  We all just need to relax.  We all need to get to that place where we are happy in our own skin, regardless of how it looks, and what noises it makes!  God made us all, and there is a verse in the Bible that says, “God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.”  Get that?  You’re good!  Regardless of what you family may say.  Regardless of what your friends may say.  Regardless of what the person in the checkout line, the guy that cut you off on the 403, your boss, the cable repair man and pimply faced kid behind the counter at McDonald’s says… you’re “very good.”

Let that be good enough!

I am a colossal moron.  How’s that for the ultimate opening sentence of a blog?  That’s a hook if ever there has been a hook.  Send this link.  Tell all your friends.  Date it, time stamp it, print the screen.  Marc just said he’s a colossal moron!

Monday I got a phone call from a client informing me that their web site was down.  Upon inspection I determined that I had absolutely no idea what the problem was.  As you see, I’m very good at what I do!  I looked over some of the files, pondered it, looked a little more, and ultimately determined that the site had been tampered with and as a result I had lost any and all access to it.  That, is an extreme pain in the butt.

You know what’s annoying… pimply faced, twinkie stuffing, pocket protector sporting, techno-nerds with too much spare time and unhealthy sums of intelligence.  I don’t want to paint the word of individuals that do these things with an all encompassing wide brush, but, nevertheless, I’m frustrated, and venting! :p  If only we could harness their powers and use them for the forces of good.  Just imagine!

After accepting defeat with regards to restoring the site in it’s original location, I felt it would be best to move it somewhere else, and that is exactly what I did.  All told, the process should take about half an hour tops.  This, was Monday afternoon.  Tuesday night, at approximately 11:34pm… I finally, successfully completed the transfer in question.

I spent hours upon hours looking at codes, databases, server settings and everything else under the sun trying to figure out why this process, which I have done 100 times in the past, and a trained monkey could do with very little effort, was not working.

I transfered, deleted, transfered, deleted, transfered and deleted the site from the old location to the new location about 15 times.  I imported databases, exported databases, deleted users, created users, at least 40 times.  No matter what I did, I could not make this deal work.

And then it happened.  After doing about 400 push-ups this evening to release frustration, and after drinking nearly 2 litres of Dr. Pepper, which my stomach, by the way, is now thanking me for… I discovered the problem.  b.  That was the problem. b.  That’s it.  One stupid letter.  One stupid character.  One stupid key stroke.  Somehow, in the midst of my blurry eyed efforts, I managed to misread my own handwriting (and I blame the computer for that… but that’s another blog for another day) and I changed what should have been a 6 to a b.  I am a colossal moron!

I am a recovering workaholic, and as a result of that, I used to struggle with patience.  I had too many things to do, and not enough time to do them.  I was a multi-tasker to the 10th degree.  In my old office, I had 3 computers all going at the same time, and I had a different project on each one of them.  My desk was just a long line, and I’d roll my chair side to side from one computer to the next.

Then one day, I decided I didn’t want to be a workaholic anymore.  I thought to myself, “Hey self… instead of causing yourself to have a heart attack and die by age 30… maybe you should learn to pace yourself.  Take your time.  Say no to things.  Take a little time to smell the proverbial roses.”  So that is what I did.

In the midst of my transition, I had to ask God to grant me patience.  Patience that would allow me to pace myself.  Patience that would allow me to accept a slower, more relaxed lifestyle.  Patience to to press on.

Be careful what you ask God for.  You see, I thought, in all my wisdom, by asking God to grant me patience He would do just that.  A little fairy dust, a point of His finger, a wave of His hand, whatever He deemed appropriate and alakazam… I’d be patient.  I was wrong.  Oh so very wrong.

Instead, what I learned, is that when you ask God for patience, He will instead provide you with ample opportunities to develop and practice this skill, and He will keep doing it until you get it right.  Then, when you get it right… He’ll keep doing it so you don’t lose the skill.

I really think God must have an awesome sense of humor, and that is one of the things I absolutely love about Him.  I mean, really, He had to find the last 48 hours of my life as funny as I did.  Sure I didn’t think it was exactly a knee slapper when I was going through it… but when I discovered my mistake, I nearly busted a gut.

I never lost my cool.  I never threw my iMac across the room.  I never yelled.  I never punched my poor pillow.  I just sat there, persistent as all get out, convinced that I was going to fix the error or die sitting in my chair trying.

I may be a colossal moron… but I’m the most patient colossal moron you’ll ever come into contact with!  And for that, I thank God for giving me exactly what I asked for.

When is the last time you randomly blessed somebody?  I don’t mean when is the last time you purchased a birthday gift for your sister, or brought home a fun new chewy toy for the family dog.  I mean, when is the last time you truly, randomly blessed somebody?

How self absorbed are we?  Have you ever sat down and honestly looked over your finances to see where your money goes?  If I did, I know I’d cry, or have to slap myself!  And if I slap myself, depending on angle and velocity, it might hurt and I’d still end up crying.

We love to buy new clothes.  We love to eat out.  We have fancy cell phones, high speed internet, cable TV, filled refrigerators, nice cars.  We have all the toys.  In North America we don’t have the sweetest clue how unbelievably fortunate and blessed we are.

I am not saying that such things are wrong.  I don’t believe they are, in context.  We do live in North America after all, and that is certainly to our benefit.  I’m just afraid that as a society we have become so selfish.  Look at the way we talk.  How many sentences do you speak on any given day that start with the words “I want?”

I recently took a moment to take a good long look in the mirror and examine my selfishness.  I didn’t like what I saw.  God has given so much to me.  All my needs are met on a daily basis.  Somedays, I can’t even explain how.  When the math in my budget doesn’t add up, at the end up the month all the bills get paid.  When I need a little something extra to take care of an unexpected expense, money comes from somewhere.  I’m so grateful, and yet, at the same time, I realized I was so ungrateful!

Kurt Warner is the Quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals, and Kurt Warner is a stand up guy!  Whenever Kurt and his wife go out for dinner, they have made it a practice to always pick up for the check for another table in the restaurant.  A random act that has, until recently, always gone without notice or mention.  On Friday, Kurt and his wife picked up a check for 20 Pittsburgh Steeler fans who were in town for the Superbowl.  This really stuck out to me.  Sure, Kurt is a millionaire, and can no doubt afford to do this.  But that isn’t what impressed me most.  It’s whom he chose.  Steeler fans.  People who had traveled across the county to root against him.  Yet, selflessly, humbly, he paid for their dinner.  A beautiful, and random act of kindness.

At Christmas I went through all of my possessions.  I gave several pieces of furniture to a family who had recently lost everything in a fire.  I also cleaned out my closet and took a bag of clothes and dropped them off at Goodwill.  Then, instead of buying myself my new flat screen TV – when my current TV still works – I adopted a family completely anonymously, and paid for their Christmas.  Despite all the blessings I daily receive, I have never felt so blessed as I did this Christmas when I blessed others.

Cynics will read this and call me a braggart.  Please understand, that I share this not to bring glory to myself, but instead to encourage you to try the same.  Those simple, small, random blessings were some of the greatest decisions I’ve made in a long time.  

We are more than blessed on a daily basis, but we lose something with each blessing when we become to selfish to share that which we receive with others.  We all have something to give.  Maybe it’s not money.  Maybe you can give the gift of time – become a Big Brother or Sister, or volunteer at your local Food Bank.  Perhaps you can share the gift of a talent – teach a class, sing at a Seniors Home.  Do you really need 600 pairs of shoes or 83 different outfits – donate to a family in need, or drop off some clothes at Goodwill?  Are you still holding on to all the items from when your child was a baby?  Bless a new mother.  Is your attic filled with boxes of toys blanketed in years of dust?  Bless a child.

My challenge to you is simple.  Take a few moments as you finish this note, and search your heart for a way to genuinely bless somebody today.  Bless a stranger.  Give a blessing in silence.  Seek no glory.  Seek no recognition.  If you’re truly stuck for an idea, when you’re sitting in the Tim Horton’s Drive Thru tomorrow morning, pay for the person who is in line behind you.  What will it cost you?  $2?  What will it give to them?  Could you think of a better way to give a person a smile as they begin their day?  Give it a try and let me know how it feels!