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People Are Too Delicate

I’m afraid that we, as humans, have become too delicate. We’re not tough enough; we’re soft.

We have great fears for our personal safety that motivate us to make laws and restrictions that prevent us from just enjoying life. 

When we are born we don’t come with warning tags tattooed to our bottoms that read, “Warning: this package is fragile”, but we kind of treat people like those tattoos exist. 

The other day I was in a hockey arena change room and, for some reason, began talking about some of the stunts I pulled as a youth pastor back in the 80’s and 90’s.  

They were fun stunts that had some risks attached to them … but no one ever got injured too badly.

Having said that, in every city we ever travelled to, someone from my youth group visited a hospital … and never to give them a tour of the place. It was always a concussion, broken collar bone, asthma, infection or stitches related necessity.

These former students are all fine now, in their forties and with families of their own.

One time I had some of my youth play a game of chubby bunnies. My intent, however, was to make it as gross as possible. 

At the time I couldn’t think of anything grosser than brussels sprouts so that’s what we used. 

You know how the game chubby bunnies goes – well, maybe you don’t because, according to one guy in the change room the other day, they have outlawed chubby bunnies!

I’m not sure how “they” would do that. I’m not sure the police would raid a youth group because of a rumour that a game of chubby bunnies was going down at Beulah Alliance Church. But maybe church boards and insurance companies would frown on the game.

The game is played with contestants who each put a marshmallow in their mouths and say the words “chubby bunny”. They continue to add one marshmallow at a time, saying “chubby bunny” until their mouths are packed so full of marshmallows that they cannot say the words “chubby bunny” anymore. 

It’s really funny to watch and hear them say “chubby bunny”. 

Using slightly warmed brussels sprouts gave the added effect of green slime oozing out their mouths and down their chins when they attempted to say “chubby bunny”.  

It was awesome and hard to look at all at the same time.

But I guess we couldn’t play that game now because someone once choked on the marshmallows and died. 

It’s incredibly sad that someone died, but it’s also hard to imagine just how many people played the game and lived to laugh and talk about it. 

Today we try hard to protect against fun that comes with risk. 

But life is not safe: You can get hit by a car, trip over the sidewalk and hit your head, or fall off your chair to devastating results. 

Thankfully, that’s not most of the time. We are not that fragile and we shouldn’t treat each other as if we are. 

We should enjoy life; live it to the full. 

Yes, there will be some risks involved; some hospital visits may follow. But keep in mind that with every injury, every trip to the hospital, there is a great story to tell. Let’s not deprive one another of those opportunities.

Here’s the thing: Living for Christ is not without risk. Don’t try to live as a Christian risk-free. If you do, you will miss out on much of what God has in store for you. Living life to the full will come with risks, but oh what powerful stories you will have if you risk for Christ.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: How have you been living life a little too safely? Leave your comments below.

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My Injuries Keep Coming

I’m finding it more difficult to diagnose minor injuries than I used to. 

Years ago, when I had an ache or a pain, I could pinpoint the precise cause or incident of my injury. Now, when I find myself with a bit of discomfort, I’m not necessarily sure what happened to bring it on.

This is all new for me. For my wife, Lily, on the other hand, this is a phenomenon that has plagued her most of her life!

Throughout our marriage when Lily would say, “I’m sore”, and I would ask her what happened or what she had done, she would always say, “I don’t know. I’m just sore.” If she got a bruise, about 90 percent of the time she didn’t know how she got it. 

I’m kind of catching up to her in this regard, because lately I’ve had some sore spots on my body that are a little mysterious.

I wrote about my sore elbow back in the fall (read about it here), and although it is now slowly getting better, it’s been six months of pain. … I still have to be careful to warm up before I start taking shots on a goalie. 

It turned out to be a ligament problem and I’m still not completely sure how I got it … although possibly it was from excessive wrist shots in hockey.

The latest thing that has been bugging me is a sore thumb around the joint on my left hand. It’s been sore for a few weeks now. 

And I don’t have a clue how it happened!  

I wondered if I was getting a touch of arthritis when the knuckle at the base of my index finger of my right hand got swollen and very painful.

I didn’t have any explanation for my knuckle either, and it has been swollen now for close to two weeks. … It doesn’t help that I sometimes move it the wrong way or that people shake my hand with a little pressure. 

One of the guys I play hockey with said it was gout, but that was because he had just finished experiencing some gout in his foot. I knew his diagnosis was only based on his experience and had nothing to do with really being able to identify my problem.

But yesterday at church, I may have figured something out. 

I asked my doctor if I possibly have a bit of arthritis, but when I described what I was experiencing, he didn’t agree. So I responded that maybe I did just injury it. He kind of nodded.

A few minutes later I was talking with a group of other people and the topic of injuries came up.  While I was relaying to them my conversation with my doctor an idea came to my mind. 

I had grabbed a puck out of the air with my hand a week or so ago. Maybe – just maybe – my sore knuckle was a result of catching that puck with my hand. 

My conclusion: injuries come more easily as we age, but also our memory is not as sharp in identifying incidents with injuries. 

Here’s the thing: The only way to prevent sin from going unnoticed in your life is to stay diligent in identifying and addressing it each time. When you let sin slide, your memory starts to fade, and you then don’t easily identify the ramifications to that sin. Stay on top of your sin by identifying it right away and dealing with it. It will lessen the chance of a lingering sore spot.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What mystery in your life do you need to identify? Leave your comments below

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The Case Of The Disappearing App

We all know what disappearing ink is like, but I have an app on my phone that sort of behaved the same way.

When I was a kid it was fun to try to make a secret message that no one could read, except the person you wanted to get the message because they had the formula to see what was written on the paper.  

Disappearing ink is made with lemon juice and to read it you need to get the paper close to a heat source. Then what was written in invisible ink can be seen.

There are also other ways to get ink to disappear. For instance, over time, in certain light ink starts to fade. 

On the wall of my office hangs my ordination certificate, signed by the six men who interviewed me and agreed that I should be ordained. That was almost thirty years ago and the signatures on that certificate are quite faded. In fact, they will likely disappear completely in the next few years. 

The proof that I’m a Reverend will be gone. I may have to retire. 

Ink doesn’t last forever. I shouldn’t expect more of it. 

But the other day, six pages of notes suddenly disappeared on me – notes that I’d made in writing my sermon. 

I probably have a peculiar way of studying, but I stand and make notes on a white board. When the white board is full, I use an app on my phone to scan the contents of the white board and turn them into a PDF. 

Then I erase  the whiteboard and start writing more notes. 

By the time I’ve finished making my notes, which I do over three days, they are all saved into my app as a PDF. I then refer to that PDF on my tablet as I write my sermon. 

Well, this week I opened the app to view my scanned notes, and the app opened as if it had never been used before. There was a splash screen and then some “let’s get started” slides. I thought that was strange, but I also figured that perhaps the app had updated during the night. 

But when I went to find my scanned whiteboard images, there was nothing. 

Nada. None. Nowhere to be found. They just all disappeared. … and I had no intention of making them secret notes! 

I searched the app for a way to get them back. Nothing. 

I started an online chat with a representative from the app, but couldn’t help but notice how much time was ticking by. 

I should have been well into writing my sermon, but I hadn’t started. Instead, I spent two hours trying to recover my disappearing scans. 

In the end, the person I was chatting with had to pass my problem off to more technical employees who would get back to me sometime after they investigated my problem.

I couldn’t wait for that to happen, so my notes were lost to me in writing my sermon. 

… I still haven’t heard back from the company. I’ve finished writing my sermon, so I don’t really need them, but there is still no sight of my disappearing notes!

Here’s the thing: Guilt can be disappearing on us. You might think that’s a good thing – it is and it isn’t. Guilt serves a purpose to draw us back to God in repentance – that’s good. But if we don’t act on that guilt, it begins to fade and will completely disappear, leaving us in our sin and drifting away from God – that’s not good. Don’t let guilt disappear. Act on it and draw close to God. 

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What have you let disappear that you want to get back? Leave your comments below.

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My Easter Present

I got a present for Easter this year. It was sitting on our doorstep.

We don’t usually exchange gifts at Easter, though this year Lily’s birthday did fall on Easter weekend, so she got some cards and a few gifts.

Traditionally we used to give our kids some chocolate Easter eggs when they were young – we’d even send them on a hunt to find them.  

The present at the front door, however, was an actual present with a card. It was hanging on our doorknob. But when I took a closer look in the bag, I realized it wasn’t an Easter present for me after all.  

The present was a Hulk action figure … I’m confident I haven’t taken up playing with toy dolls. 

There was a card in an envelope that gave a little more insight into the mystery of the present at our door. There was a name on the envelope, but we didn’t recognize it. 

Somehow, whoever delivered the present thought someone else lived in our house, or they made a mistake on the house. 

Since we’re the original owners of our home and have lived here for the last 23 years, I don’t think they were mistaken on who lived in this house.  

Our guess was that the present was delivered to the wrong address. 

In the process, I wondered who gives presents at Easter … I don’t mean some form of chocolate; I mean a present like you would get on your birthday. 

Then Lily and I remembered how busy the roads were earlier that day. The malls were packed with shoppers. 

We learned later through a Facebook post that Easter shopping is incredibly busy, rivalling that of Christmas. 

I was feeling a little like Sherlock Holmes as I began using my keen detective senses to deduce who this present belonged to.

I opened up my computer and typed the family name in the search line. I was not sure if I had the spelling correct because there was an “o” that could have been an “a”. 

I knew at once I was on to something when several suspects popped up immediately online, all from far away places through. … I can see someone going to the wrong house in a city, but it’s hard to believe someone missing the house by a whole country. 

I narrowed my search to my city and bingo, there it was: the name and address of the people this present belonged to. I knew immediately this was them because their house was one street over from ours. 

I surmised how the mistake had been made. Our two streets are next to each other and are both cul-de-sacs that look similar. 

And when I went to take the present over to the rightful owner, their house was the third house in on the left, just like ours.

A great mystery had been solved … but no Easter present for me … or was there?

Here’s the thing: We like gifts and look for any excuse to get them, but we already have a great gift at Easter. You see, at Christmas God hands us a present all wrapped up – it’s beautiful, it’s hopeful, our eyes are attracted to it. At Easter we get to open up the present. Christ comes out of the wrapping, having died for our sins, and then come alive. He’s our present. Take Him by faith and He is yours, and you are His forever more. 

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What did you give or get this Easter? Leave your comments below. 

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Hockey Is Like A Drug To Me

The title of this post is not completely accurate – really it is the Toronto Maple Leafs that are like a drug to me … and not necessarily in a good way. 

To make this analogy work, hockey would be the needle and the Leafs would be the drug.

It seems like every year, come playoff time, I inject myself with this drug and I overdose. 

I’m not talking about watching too much of the Leafs, or watching too much hockey in general.  I’m talking about OD’ing with my emotions. 

You see, a drug is supposed to give you some euphoric feeling – like everything is groovy, everything feels more real, and you can be like superman. And I’m sure you’ve heard all the other descriptions of how some drugs manifest in an addict. 

I do call myself an addict here because I can’t seem to stop taking the drug. 

And like a true addict, I don’t admit that I have a problem at all, even when the symptoms are pointed out to me.

But the day of the game, I’m a little agitated. I can’t tell you why – maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed; maybe I didn’t get enough sleep the night before.

Maybe it’s just that the Leafs are playing Boston tonight in game 4 of the playoffs … and the drug is flowing through my veins, rapidly making its way through my corpuscles to my heart. 

I know this because, by the time dinner rolls around, I’m not just a little hangry because I need food. There is way more going on than that.

I’m nervous like a junky who’s late for his fix. I can’t really sit still, so I pace between rooms, semi-listening to Lily tell me what has happened during her day, and trying to pick up on the predictions and analysis of the pregame show on TV.

I’m like a caged lion on the prowl … and it’s uncontrollable. 

When the game starts, I’m all tense. It’s like I have a rubber band around my arm and my veins are starting to pop for my injection.

And that is when I overdose. 

I never hit that high where everything is going to be all right. I never get that sense of sailing on silver clouds. … Maybe you get that reference, but it doesn’t matter. You know that this is a bad trip I’m on. 

And it lasts about two and a half hours. 

Well, that is not exactly true. If the Leafs lose, I go into a downer and then you might as well not talk to me, talk around me, or make comments, funny or otherwise. 

I’ve bottomed out.  

If the Leafs win, well it’s not like it was a great trip I was on. It’s just a relief that it’s over and I’m happy I’m still alive or that the Leafs are still alive in the playoffs. 

At any rate, I’m left feeling alone in my addiction. No one in my family really understands.

Here’s the thing: Two thousand years ago, Jesus was feeling much like I do. But His passion was for us – a love for everyone that He had in abundance – so much so that He endured all kinds of emotional and physical angst and pain. No one understood. He went through those agonizing hours to pay for the sins of the world – your sin, my sin – not just for a win, but for eternity. Christ died on the cross for you. Think on that this Easter.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What has you all tied up but you can’t give up? Leave your comments below.

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The Masters Left Me With a Different Feeling

Yesterday I had a different take on the Masters than most people did. 

I love to play golf and I’m also one of those people who likes watching it on TV.

For golfers, the Masters is a must watch event. It is one of the premier golfing events of the year.

But this year I had a different feeling than most people did watching the tourney.

Tiger Woods was making a charge; he was on a comeback. He hadn’t won the Masters since 2005 and he hadn’t won a major tournament in 11 years.

He’s had operations to fix chronic back problems, swing issues that has seen him completely change his swing, and emotional issues to overcome due to a marriage scandal which captivated public interest, coincidently 11 years ago.

Some thought that with all his issues, Tiger might not play golf again – at least at a level that would see him compete on the leader board.

Well, that is all in the past now. 

Tiger Woods played phenomenally this past weekend and his body, his swing, his mental toughness never looked better. 

Tiger is back.  

He certainly is one of the greatest – if not the greatest – golfer who has ever played the game. 

What I found disturbing yesterday, as I watched this amazing comeback and rise to the top for Tiger, was what seemed to be the worship of him. 

And it seemed consistent from the TV announcers to his fellow golfers to the crowds that paid homage with their cheers and praise. 

You can not take his golf ability away from Tiger. He truly is a marvellous golfer, but we shouldn’t be hailing him as the second coming of Christ! 

Ironically, Tiger’s win, and all the worship of him, came on Palm Sunday – the day Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, to the cheers and shouts of “hosanna” by the people who lined his path into the city.

Tiger made a triumphant walk from the green to the club house, his family in tow … well, at least for part of the walk. He left them all in the dust behind him as he gloried in his own greatness to the fans shouting his name and reaching out to touch a piece of him.

The announcers couldn’t say enough of his achievements and how truly miraculous this achievement was fighting back from adversity to reach this pinnacle. 

But I wondered how his ex-wife felt, not about how he played or that he won, but about how everyone worshipped this man.

As he stood on the green with his arms raised in victory to the thunderous applause, I wondered if Elin felt that all he had done to shame her and break up their family had been forgotten, been forgiven.

It was like that never happened. 

Like taking a brush to a chalkboard, this victory wiped out any memory people had of the life he has lived off the course. 

It is alright to celebrate a victory, but let’s keep in mind the character of a man who actually missed the cut.

Here’s the thing: Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to the shouts and cheers of “hosanna in the highest” … but it didn’t go to his head. Instead he shook off the adoring fans and went to the cross to die for YOU. Now that’s character.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: Is your character something to be copied or something to be hidden? Leave your comments below.

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It’s Confirmed: I’m Old

It was confirmed: I am an old man.

In my last post, I wrote about a decision I made, against my better judgement, to play in a hockey tourney. (You can read about it here.)

For this tournament we were guaranteed three games and, to be honest, I thought that’s all we’d play. But that was not how it turned out. 

We won our first game quite handily and I felt pretty good. My knee felt good, I wasn’t tired, and I was ready for game two. … Maybe I am younger than what my birth certificate says.

In game two we really took it to the other team and scored a ton of goals. Our team was on a roll, and I was still surprised at how good I felt.

I needed to reassess my day. 

I had thought we would be playing only three games, but it was looking like we could possibly play four. Then, if we got to the finals of the tournament, we would play five. 

My initial predictions were proved completely wrong when we won our third game. And in those first three games, the other team barely got the puck in our end. 

Our goalie, who played well, had long periods where he didn’t see any action, which makes it tough to stay sharp and focussed.

With three wins, we were going to the semi-finals and then possibly on to the finals. 

For the first three games we had an hour to an hour and a half break between games. But for our fourth, semi-final game we only had a half hour break.

As we got ready, we heard that the team we were going to play was dirty and mouthy. … We heard right! 

Some of our young guys got hit with cheap shots that weren’t called by the ref. Our bench exploded in comments to the other team and the ref.

Then there were two guys on the other team who were masters at getting under our skin. They were non-stop with their chirps and it payed off for their team.

We took more and more penalties. We got more and more frustrated.

And then it was confirmed. One of their two mouth pieces turned to me and said, “You’re all washed up, old man.” 

I knew he meant to make me angry, to get me all upset, but I was actually feeling what he was saying. I didn’t have any zip left in me. I wasn’t dragging, but I didn’t have tons of energy either. 

Their other mega mouth started in on me too, saying, “Number 7, you are useless.” … I think he also added a few choice words that I don’t feel right repeating, but you get the idea.  

By game four, I was that 62 year old guy who is turning 63. I was the old man who was washed up.

It was an enlightening moment. 

But then I thought, “I’m still playing against a bunch of 20 and 30 year olds, and I can still skate with them.” … Not bad for an old washed up guy!

Here’s the thing: We get chirped all the time. Sometimes the things others say can be hurtful. Sometimes it’s our own rotten self-talk that hurts. It doesn’t even have to be true to impact us negatively. Capture every thought and word that you speak or is spoken to you, and take it to God. Let Him tell you what He thinks of you.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: Who or what words have you allowed to put you down? Leave your comments below.

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I Knew I Was Making A Bad Decision

Sometimes you know when you are making a bad decision, but you make it anyway.

I’m not sure why we do it. Maybe it’s because our desire or want or hope is greater than our reasoning at the time.

We do it frequently though, even if it’s just that extra dessert, or extra helping of potatoes that ends up sitting in our gut like a rock for the rest of the day.

There are times we are pressured into making a decision we don’t think is the best. We just can’t keep saying no, so we cave in.

But I think the worst is when we make a decision that goes against our better judgement with no pressure and lots of time to rationally think it through.

I did that a few weeks ago. 

One of the guys I play hockey with on Saturday mornings entered a team in a tournament … and I said yes to playing.

I knew that saying yes meant playing more hockey in one day than would be good for me.

I also was unsure how my knee would hold up playing all day long. I have a torn ACL that I wear a custom brace for. But as I have gotten older, I have found that my knee is not as strong as it was twenty years ago.

As a result, now I will not play hockey two days in a row, just to give my knee a rest. 

A tournament would tax it for sure. 

I discovered that we were guaranteed three games in this tournament and yet I still said yes. Even when I gave the organizer my money for the tourney, I said to him, “This goes against my better judgement.” 

What was I thinking?

I know what I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking that I’m almost 63 years of age, and no longer have boundless, unlimited energy. 

I wasn’t thinking that I had a heart attack seven years ago and that hockey is not the greatest sport for the heart. 

The idea of playing hockey all day still resonated with my emotions, but my body and mind were screaming, “Who are you kidding, Paul?!”

I got myself so into the idea that when I heard we were going to have three full lines I was disappointed – disappointed because that would mean I wouldn’t get that much ice time. 

What was I thinking? Playing three games in one day, I’ll get all the ice time I need and then some. I will be so hockey-d out after three games that I will want to take a break from the ice for a couple of weeks.

The decision to play in this tournament was purely based in some recesses of my 25 year old psyche, that grabbed control of my 62 year old mind and wrestled it into a tap out hold that I couldn’t say no to.

At any rate, I was in and the tourney is just about to get underway. What have I done?(read about it here)

Here’s the thing: Sometimes we get pressured, played or simply convinced to do something that God would not approve of. Sometimes we just have a desire or want that leads us where we should not go. But sometimes we just walk head on into sin – no excuse, no one or thing to blame. We just make a bad decision. God can forgive those sins too. Don’t think you can’t go to Him and repent.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What have you done lately that you have no excuse for? Leave your comments below. 

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Everybody Wants Me To Be More Intentional

I have to be more intentional this year when it comes to flying my drone.

The other day I took my drone out for the first time in about two months. It’s not easy to fly it in the winter in Canada. You have to wait for the perfect day – a day that is not too cold and with not too much wind. 

Even then, standing almost still outside in winter for about 30 minutes starts to turn one into a human popsicle.

The other day the temperature was above zero and I had a little time. So I charged all my batteries and got all my gear together. 

Lily was willing to go with me, so we made a plan.

With new regulations for drones coming into effect shortly, it’s not as simple as going over to the nearby park or high school to send the thing up in the air. You have to know where you can fly your drone and the areas that are restricted.

I found a website that shows all the restricted areas in Canada. Granted all that is marked on this site are areas around airports and prisons … which covers much of Kingston.

I had to look outside the city until I found a great spot – just north is one of the locks on the Rideau Canal.

I thought it would be perfect. No one would be around. I would get to fly my drone and capture video of water rushing down over the rapids, possibly disappearing under the ice.

So with everything ready, we hopped in the car and drove about twenty minutes to the spot. 

As we approached, there were a lot of vehicles in the parking lot even though it was a Saturday, the lake was still covered in ice and the ground was frosty. 

I quickly realized that all the activity at the locks was by workmen. They are making repairs and doing it before the water starts flowing and boats want to make their way up the river system.

There were fences everywhere; the property was virtually off limits. 

… Even my plans and efforts to fly my drone were thwarted.

We got back in the car and looked on a map for another spot. 

There was a place I wanted to film – it’s an on-ramp to the 401 that they literally cut out of the rock. It looks really cool. But when we went to the spot, Lily thought it was too risky for me to fly there. 

I wanted to stand near the edge of a cliff above the ramp so I could see what I was doing but she didn’t like the idea of me being so close to the edge.

So we started randomly looking for a spot on the map. We ended up going to a place that will be the site of a new subdivision north of the city.  

It sure wasn’t the landscape I was hoping to film. 

This year flying my drone is not going to be random, but much more planned and intentional. 

Here’s the thing: How intentional are you in growing your relationship with God? Do you ask Him what He wants you to work on with Him? Or do you randomly attempt to work on some problem in your life that happens to pop up? Be intentional. If you ask the Lord, He will show you what you should be working on. The good thing is He works with you on it so you’re not on your own.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What is the number one area of your life you need to work on right now? Leave your comments below.

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A Near Perfect Installation

It was almost a perfect installation … except for the leak.

We have been having issues with our laundry room taps for some time. But for me, they are out of the way and rarely used, so I didn’t see it as a priority to deal with.

Recently, however, Lily put a bucket under the faucet and I couldn’t believe how fast the water filled the bucket even with the taps turned off. 

I knew we needed to do something, but the taps were over 20 years old and I’m not a plumber. 

My wife, Lily, found a really nice utility sink cabinet combo that also included a set of taps. So I threw caution to the wind and decided to try to install that bad boy.

One thing really surprised me about the old dripping taps was that when we would turn the taps on, it always seemed like the water was coming from some far away place, like the street or Lake Ontario. 

You would turn the taps on and then wait. You would hear the sound of something in the distance coming from the taps and it would get louder and louder before the water showed up at the spout. 

By then you had turned the taps to full, so the water came out like a rocket. 

“If the water is so far away,” I wondered, “how could the leaky tap now fill a bucket so fast?”

That’s a mystery – like who shot JFK – that will never be solved. I just have to let it go. 

The install of the new sink unit went pretty well. Lily helped with the measuring and I cut pipes to fit. 

I did not get one cut straight. I’m not sure how the pros do it. Maybe I got excited near the end of each cut and pressed harder, which in turn turned the blade of the saw just a little.

I was concerned about it, but all the pieces fit together. I was sure happy when it was done.

I put a bucket in the sink to test the taps and they worked like a dream. I wasn’t going to let any water go down the drain until the glue had dried so I waited 24 hours before testing it all out. 

The water came out beautifully and immediately. This time there was no going for a coffee before the water appeared.  

I opened the cabinet up and looked at all the drain work we had done. I thought everything was good. 

But then I saw a bead of water start to drip. And as the taps ran, it dripped more until there was a little puddle of water on the base of the new cabinet.

I knew right then that I would never become a plumber. 

The question was, “What went wrong?” Was it my crooked cuts? Was it the fact that the drain wasn’t 100% straight up and down? 

… Maybe a combination of both.  

All I know is that most of my attention was on what’s under the sink and not what everyone sees.

Here’s the thing: We all like to look good on the outside, and we spend a lot of time and effort creating and maintaining a public image. But before your public image has any credibility, what’s on the inside needs to be made right. Make sure you spend more time with God getting your inner life right than you do trying to make your public image look good. Your inner life will drive what people see. 

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What part of your inner life do you need to spend time on? Leave your comments below.