Narrow Vision

In 1925, Jane Beeson had an excellent piano student. So talented was he, she thought he could make a concert pianist. Instead, Richard Nixon turned his attention to other areas.

A little over forty years later, at his 1969 inaugural, Mrs. Beeson sat in the presidential box with President Nixon during a concert. The pianist Andre Watts was performing. Inspired, Mrs. Beeson leaned over and whispered to the triumphant new president, “Now, Richard. If [you] had practiced on the piano, [you] could have been there instead of up here!”

Obviously, Mrs. Beeson had a wonderful sense of humor (or a prophetic insight to the future, depending upon your political point of view!) When Richard Nixon was a boy, Mrs. Beeson thought she had clear insight on how Nixon could best use his gifts. Her vision was too narrow. Nixon would grow up to literally impact the world.

Reading this story, I could not help but think about the vision God has for our future. In the Apostle Paul’s case, unlike Mrs. Beeson, God saw clearly that Paul was going to reach the Gentiles for Christ—and impact the entire world. Paul, on the other hand, had early on seen the logical connection between his gifts and reaching the Jews for Christ. Paul’s vision was too narrow.

Have other people shared with you a vision for your gifts? Do you have a vision for your gifts? What might God’s vision be for your gifts?

The Presidential Candidate Who Cared

Imagine a presidential candidate today taking into his home a patient dying of AIDS during the race for the White House—and caring for him. That would be the equivalent of what Andrew Jackson did in 1828.

A family friend sent an individual dying of Tuberculosis to Jackson’s home in Tennessee—the Hermitage. Although stunned by the gesture, Jackson agreed to take the victim in. “… humanity compelled me to take him in, & tender to the distressed, all that a good Samaritan could do, in a few hours the unfortunate being will be at rest, & I will discharge faithfully the last act that humanity can bestow.”

Many contemporary newspapers were portraying Jackson as temperamental, barbaric, and crude. Although, at the time, he was still struggling to formulate his faith, in this instance, Andrew Jackson demonstrated himself to be a kind man who, sought to carry out his Christian duty. His influence came from Jesus, who taught in Luke 10 about the Good Samaritan.

The Day The Mob Stormed The President's Home

In Isaiah chapter six, there is an incredible passage in which Isaiah is confronted by the Lord Jehovah:

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted..." Surrounding God were angels calling to each other "'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.'" Then in verse four, "At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke."

"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty."
Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin is atoned for."

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"

And I said, 'Here am I. Send me.

Without question, Isaiah viewed God with reverence in the temple that long-ago day. It's funny, but sometimes I think it is easier for us to hold more awe for other human beings than for God.

I understand that many early Americans, when they had the chance to physically look at George Washington, did so with wonder. Washington was a courageous man and a selfless leader. Historians consider him to be one of the truly great men of history, and for good reason. Rarely has history seen a man who had such influence among his contemporaries, yet who was so humble.

A few years ago, GM sponsored a mini-series on the life of George Washington. In that series, they showed an incredible scene based upon an incident recorded in the prize winning biography of Washington written by Thomas Flexner.

There was a period in our nation's history when our government became unstable. We were having problems with France and there were some Americans who didn't like that, so they began the American tradition of blaming the president.

One night, some radical Americans so fiercely disagreed with Washington that they formed a mob, containing roughly a hundred people, and began stalking towards Washington's presidential home. Now Washington's home wasn't like the White House today. There was no fence surrounding the property to keep people out. There wasn't even the secret service. So the riotous mob was able to walk directly to Washington's front door. Suddenly, the screaming herd of people began hurling rocks at the presidential home and demanding that the President remove himself from office.

Inside the home, terror reigned. Servants in panic scurried about the house not knowing what to do. A frightened Martha Washington sought her husband. The government was in danger as it's chief officer faced the threat of being coerced into resignation, kidnapped, or worst of all, murdered.

Inside the house, only one was calm. Sensing the danger of the situation, Washington did the unexpected. Quickly, but with great dignity, Washington opened the drapes directly in front of the mob—and stood before them. The way he looked at the people is almost indescribable on paper. Washington's face expressed so much. There was pity—for the people. There was disappointment—that so many people would do something they knew deep down wasn't right. There was determination—that the fiasco taking place would immediately cease. These messages along with greatness and dignity were all chiseled in Washington's face.

The impact on the people was monumental. Slowly, the people in the back of the mob lowered their heads in shame, released the rocks from their hands, and in silence walked away. Like a wave that engulfed the people from the back to the front, the rest of the riffraff did likewise, until the mob's ringleaders were alone. And they, too, dropped their heads and walked away in shame. The nation was saved. When the rebels came face-to-face with Washington, he exuded such greatness, that the people were filled with awe, and they would never be the same.

Oh, that we will look at God with an even greater sense of reverence and submission. Today, God confronts us with a more glorious countenance than a president could ever muster.

That's what the cross and the tomb are all about. We angrily stalk to the cross with our stones of sin, ready to rebel and live like we want. But it is at the cross that we see God's love and grace. And we are changed. With bowed heads we walk to the tomb—it is empty.

We see the majestic Christ of the book of Revelation—Lord of Lords, King of Kings, a light as brilliant as the sun, possessing a voice which sounds like a deafening roar. And, as Isaiah humbly stood before God, now we stand before the King. We are one step closer to being poor in spirit. May we go to the cross, and to the tomb, daily.

“Useless”

3Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4perseverance, character; and character, hope (Rom. 5:3-4).

An eight-year-old boy nicknamed by his dad, ’Lyss, had a mission from his father—go to a prominent man in town and bargain with him for a horse he owned. ’Lyss faithfully complied.

’Lyss was good boy who honored his parents. He was a quiet boy, gentle and sensitive. His personality revealed no emotion. These traits were often misinterpreted to mean the boy was slow.

In one area he stood out—he handled horses exceptionally well. Because ’Lyss was so good with horses, his father had charged him to bring back a horse from a horse owner. Approaching the gentleman, ’Lyss told him, “Papa says I may offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won’t take that, to give you twenty-five.”

Those words sealed the fate of ’Lyss’s childhood. In his day, horse trading was art. To practice it well was important to the people of a town. Now, to citizens pre-disposed to believe that Jesse Grant’s boy, ’Lyss, also known by his full name—Ulysses—was a dullard, no further confirmation was needed.

Boys of the town cruelly tweaked Ulysses name. They began to call him—Useless.

The pain of that event and its aftermath burned his heart. Even as a man, fifty years later, he never forgot the words of the boys. “This transaction caused me great heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the village, and it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy the misery of their companions, at least village boys in that day did.”

Perhaps experiences like these explain why this individual knew so much failure for almost the first half century of his life. Although, he attended West Point, his military credentials for much of his career were unimpressive. He developed a drinking problem, perhaps due to self-loathing and feelings of inferiority.

Amazingly, during the time of war, some of the powers-that-be identified him as outstanding military leader. Most importantly, his commander-in-chief became his champion. Because of his leadership, we Americans today enjoy living in the United States of America.

After achieving the highest rank ever in the United States Army, shared only with George Washington, he completed two terms as President of the United States and became, literally, the most famous man in the world.

Success did not wipe out occasional failures. Robbed by a trusted business partner, he lost everything he had. Battling throat cancer, he decided to write his memoirs. Completion of his autobiography would assure that he would provide for his widow.

Racing death, he completed his memoirs a few days before he died. Today, they are considered along with Julius Caesar’s, GALLIC WARS, to be the finest works ever written by a military leader.

Maybe, Ulysses S. Grant was not “Useless” after all.

I like what Rick Warren has said. If I may paraphrase, he has stated that our lives here on this earth do NOT represent all that we will experience. We will spend more time on the other side of eternity than we do on this side. God is more interested in our character than our comfort.

I am thankful for all that Ulysses S. Grant experienced that helped prepare him for his successes. I am less thankful for my adversity. Still, by faith, I forbear through life’s difficulties as God produces blessings that I cannot foresee.

A Man of Sorrows

He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not (Is. 53:5.)

I take that passage for granted. What does a “man of sorrows” look like when he is not the son of God?

Years ago, I toyed with the idea of writing a book entitled, THEY WERE PEOPLE TOO. My motivation was to address the tragedies, so many of our nation’s chief executives faced.

Abraham Lincoln knew tragedy. Before the White House years (known then as the Executive Mansion), he and his wife, Mary, lost a son. Then, as president in 1862, during the dark days of the Civil War, Willie, age 11, contracted "the fever." Tragically, he died. Lincoln stoically mourned his loss.

Almost two years later, in February 1864, a fire alarm rang out. The Executive Mansion’s stables were on fire. A tall man dashed out of the mansion and vaulted over a hedge calling out, “Have the horses been taken out?” Seeing they had not, he used his strong hands to rip open the stable door. Inside, the stable was an inferno. In spite of the hellish conditions, the man prepared to sprint inside.

At this point, it dawned on bystanders that the man hurrying inside was the president of the United States. Furthermore, the thought occurred to the captain of his bodyguards, the fire might be arson, set to lure the president outdoors for an attempted assignation. Taking control of the situation, a Captain Bennett of the Union Light Guard, along with some of his men, seized the president and hurried him back into the Executive Mansion.

The night was controlled pandemonium as dozens of men sought to contain the fire and minimize its damage. Sadly, the stables burned to the ground. All of the horses inside perished.

Throughout the night, the president maintained a solitary presence in East Room, standing at the window watching the fire systematically destroy the stable. One of the guards noted the president weeping the entire time. Why? And why had he so foolishly risked his life attempting to rush inside?

Another of Lincoln’s boys, Tad, offered an answer. Inside the stable, was Willie’s favorite pony and constant companion. The president willingly risked his life to save Willie’s pony.

When Reliability is Not an Issue

23Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving (Col. 3:23-24.)

Nicole Mamo made a mistake. A citizen of the United Kingdom, she attempted to place an ad with Jobcentre Plus, a government employment agency seeking people to fill cleaning positions. Her error was to state in her ad that she was looking for only “reliable” and “hard-working” people to hire.

As WORLD magazine reports, the government agency rejected her advertisement because they considered it discriminatory against people who are unreliable. I hope none of the people she would have “discriminated” against were Christians.

Look at Me, I’m Willie Mays!

I love sports for a myriad of reasons. One of them is this: I think sports has done more to attack racism than any other societal entity, excluding those Christian churches willing to defy the societal and individual sins of prejudice.

I can think of a number of examples including:

Jackie Robinson and Branch Ricky collaborating to break baseball’s color barrier.

USC playing the University of Alabama in football in Birmingham in 1970, when Sam “Bam” Cunningham almost single-handedly destroyed the Crimson Tide. Suddenly, Tide fans were motivated to break the racial barrier.

However, my favorites are those innocent moments when a young child looks to an athlete of a different race as a role model. I speak from experience. When I was a boy, I loved Roberto Clemente. (As an adult, I view him not only with affection, but with respect for his humanitarianism.) I had posters of Julius Erving and Hank Aaron on my bedroom wall.

Sports make the color barrier melt, not because of the decree of Scripture or government, but because of the desire to become like the athlete.

It was in this vein, I read a line that caught my attention. James Hirsch, in his newly completed biography of Willie Mays, tells about a Little League baseball game played in Texas a few years ago. On one team was the grandson of a Ku Klux Klan member. A fly ball came his way and he made the catch. With great joy he shouted, “Look at me! I’m Willie Mays!”

Something powerful happens when the son of a member of the Ku Klux Klan enthusiastically and publically imagines himself—to be a black man.