That someone you are passing is made in God's image.

Take Time to say, "Hi."

Some of the news recently reminds me of my daily exercise walk. Besides that, I figure it's about time for an update on the pavement pounders. Kathy and I have walked on the route from the Yigo (jee-go) Fire Station to the "X," where the road is blocked, for over a year now.  At 3.2 miles/walk, I figure we've put in over 600 miles.  There are two rules that Kathy and I maintain as we walk. We walk fast, and we greet everyone we meet. We meet some famous and glamorous folk who, like us, are out for some exercise in the morning. Famous or not we speak to all of them. Unlike us, Sean Penn is a runner. We see him a couple of times a week. He has never introduced himself, but as I look at him through my sweat impaired eyes, as he is running one way and I am walking the other, I'm sure it is him. Even though he generally wears a hoodie, the nose is a giveaway. He's exactly what you would expect.  He always looks like he's puzzling through some deep existential crisis. He never smiles, but on occasion, he breaks his runners-high trance long enough to grunt a reply to our greeting. I'm not holding my breath for an invitation to his gated villa surrounded by Guamian jungle and few hundred guards. I've never heard anyone say anything about Penn living here. No doubt it's because he has sworn them to secrecy. Some of you are under the mistaken notion that Mr. Miyagi, Noriyuki "Pat" Morita is dead. No, he's alive and walking, and looking pretty good I might add. I always resist greeting him with "Wax on. Wax off," but he looks to me like he is still into catching flies. Though I resist the line from the movie, we always tell him hello. He is as friendly as he used to be in the movies. It's not as hard for him to blend in as it is for poor Sean. A Hafa Adai tee-shirt is all it takes for Miyagi-san to blend in with the island's Asian culture. There are a bunch of other regular greetees that I don't know as well. There is a guy who is either an Asian stock trader or a spy. I figure he has a hidden earphone he is listening to. He doesn't have time for us; he's either saving the world or becoming its richest man, so I understand. It's always a pleasure to see the world's best-dressed walker, bright, perky, hair well-groomed, and perfectly color coordinated. She, her less colorful companion, and the man they drag along, always return our greeting. Those we know well, some even by name, we begin to greet when we are about ten yards apart. That way we can have time for a brief exchange. For some, like Lily and Hector, an older couple who stroll along like they wouldn't mind spending all day on the little dead-end road, we'll often stop and chat for fifteen or twenty seconds. Two things are true about all our companions. None of the walkers pass us, and we greet them all, even the Asian sage, no doubt a descendant of Confucius, who is even less talkative than Sean. Recently the news has been full of reports that President Trump said some unfortunate things about some of the people in the world. He and his spokesmen deny it. Me? I'm following the lead of Penn and the Sage. Whether he said what others say he said or not, is beside my point. The news gives us opportunity to ask: Why should we show respect and kindness to everyone we meet on life's walk? Some don't return our kindness, some even treat us badly, though we treat them well. James confronts his far-flung congregation, folk who had met more than their share of ill-treatment, with a basic reality. James 3:9–10 (NASB95) With [the tongue] we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the likeness of God;  from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way. The Apostle Paul says that our speech should be that which builds up, not tears down. Why? Because people are created in God's image. They should be treated as such. The next time I walk down that road in Yigo, indeed, wherever I walk for the rest of my days, I will never meet a human being who is not worthy of respect and kindness, because everyone I meet is a bearer of the image of the God of the universe.  It's STTA.

Maintaining the balance between expecting a miracle and walking in the mundane:

A LITTLE AT A TIME

I appreciate taking giant leaps. I totally believe in the God of miracles. Even in the ordinary realm of getting from one place to another, as much as I dislike standing in line, being X-rayed, and asking myself a million times if I have my passport, I really like getting in a plane and getting out thousands of miles away a few hours later. Right now, my prayer list contains requests for a couple of things that fall in the shock and awe category. Yet, while I pray for, wait for, even expect--on my more faith-full days--the amazing, I need to not despise the mundane. Again, "Blessed are the Balanced."I (OK, the point could be made that people who have enough sense to not stand on beach balls, especially if they weigh a couple of tons are truly blessed, but cut me some slack.) I look at one of the times in Bible history that was weighted down with miracles, the months surrounding God's deliverance of his people from Egypt, yet in the midst of Divine plagues, paths through the sea, pillars of fire and bread from heaven there was the totally ordinary exercise of walking. How did the people of Israel get from Egypt to Canaan? On the one hand, the answer is, "It was through a series of miracles." In another way, though, it is entirely accurate to say, "They walked." I'm working to balance on those two realities, and I'm not doing it with nearly as much grace as a large pachyderm doing a circus trick. Here are some of the realities, as I see reality that I'm seeking to hold in the right tension. I can't turn loose of either end:   God expects me to do my very best today < > My best is insufficient. God generally uses human instruments < > All those human instruments, including me are terribly inadequate. The miraculous is not miraculous to God, and the mundane is full of God's hidden (to me) hand of providence. I ought to be properly concerned, but I should not worry. If you see me wobbling, you are seeing correctly. I identify with the man who proclaimed, "I do believe!" but before he drew another breath asked, "Help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). I don't know, but I figure some of you have the same struggles. It's not only something to think about; it's something to pray about. Let's work on it together. It's STTA (Something To Think About).  Here is a different presentation of the Good News in Christ. You can find several ways to explore the Message of Grace here.