Where’s the Door?

Earlier this week I found myself in a place familiar to all of us. I wouldn’t call it buyer’s remorse, not even decision regret. Probably more like, something’s not right, so a step back seems like a good idea.

When we find ourselves in these places, one of the best things we can do is stop talking only to ourselves and divulge our thoughts to someone else. Even if they don’t do anything but listen, we often get some perspective or different focus that uncovers a better viewpoint.

Within 24 hours of doing that, I came to a realization. What was really at play was there wasn’t an issue at all, other than I was looking for a way out. Rather than admit my own sabotaging, I was making a few small things one large thing. And then this thought smacked me in the head…

It’s not hard to find the door in the room.

So many times I’ve tried to leave the room before it was time. If you have that pattern, then you know what it’s like to be looking for the door but not know that you are. And when you’re looking for it, it’s pretty easy to find.

There are quite a few questions we can ask ourselves once we have this awareness. Truth be told, sometimes the right answer is to leave the room. More times than not our timing is off, and there are reasons to stay that we would rather not bother with or tell ourselves we don’t have the energy for. Here are three questions I asked myself this week once I realized I was asking, “Where’s the door?”

Why am I looking for the door? If this isn’t the most important question, it’s got to be pretty close. An honest answer will clarify if the search should continue. My honest answer told me to stop looking.

Who’s in the room? That might seem like an odd question, but it’s founded in the idea of grounding. When we notice the faces of everyone in the room, we are forced to pause and consider what leaving the room means to everyone, not just ourselves. Again, sometimes the person that needs the most consideration in the room is us, but leaving everyone else out of our consideration reveals an issue that most likely has little to do with being in the room with these people.

Why am I here? This question is a perfect follow up to who’s in the room. As we consider everyone in the room, a natural viewpoint to bring clarity is founded in purpose. Several times I knew I was supposed to leave a room even though others in the room disagreed. They believed my purpose wasn’t done, but I knew otherwise. TRUTH: It’s only time to leave when your purpose is done. If your purpose isn’t done, stop looking for the door.

Photo by Dima Pechurin on Unsplash

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Weeds in the Shadows

In my efforts to look up these days, something caught my eye today as I walked by this church steeple. Do you see it?

Looks like they’ve been growing for a while. Probably hasn’t caught too many people’s eyes…yet. It is on the other side from the road view. And the roofline of the building behind them also keeps them hidden. Do you see them?

My first question was a pretty obvious one: How in the world are those weeds growing there? Something like 30 feet off the ground, on a dirtless structure. Weird.

My next question was more reflective: How many steeples have weeds growing in their shadow that aren’t being addressed? In this case, I’m thinking about all kinds of things.

  • Accountability of leadership
  • Protection for members
  • Factions forming over nonspiritual concerns
  • Workaholic pastors
  • Financial mismanagement
  • Emotional imbalances

Of course, this thought could be asked about all social units, corporations, and communities.

Weeds aren’t hard to identify or address. This requires two basic routines: observant eyes and willing hands.

Observant eyes are aware that weeds grow and aren’t surprised when they see them. Without willing hands to address the weeds, the weeds keep growing, they go unaddressed. Willing hands define those who know that the weeds must be addressed and aren’t afraid to do so, the sooner the better.

Which are you, the observant eyes or the willing hands?

What’s being done about the weeds in the shadows in your family, in your city, in your business, in your church, in your own heart?

A Different Kind of Rich

Last night I finished reading Rich In Heaven by Chris Mackey.

This morning I got an example of what Mackey wrote about told to me by a stranger. There’s something about snowbirds (a northerner who moves to a warmer southern state in the winter) and conversation. They don’t shy from it.

I’m on vacation in Orange Beach, Alabama. If I turn my head just so, I see the Gulf of Mexico right now. This morning I decided to walk the beach first thing. After being stopped by one snowbird to view passing porpoises about 100 yards out in the water, I was stopped by another couple to chat. I really don’t know what started the conversation. But 10 minutes later, the husband had told me all I needed to know about his family.

I didn’t ask his name. Since he’s from Gardendale (which probably doesn’t really classify him as a snowbird…it’s in the same state), I’ll call him Dale.

Dale is retiring April 1st from Alabama Power where he’s worked for 46 years. One of his younger brothers retired today. His wife said Dale’s a little miffed by that. His other younger brother took over the family farm. His wife said he’ll figure out that wasn’t a good move.

Dale doesn’t care for the beach; he’d rather be on a bushwhacker. That reminds him of growing up on the farm with his parents. They’re both gone, but he’s very proud of who they were. When his dad passed, people told Dale stories of how he’d done something personally impactful for them that they’d never forget. That’s who he was.

From Dale’s own experience, he remembers when his Dad would announce in church that the next weekend his corn crop would be ready for people to come get whatever they wanted. They stood in lines for that free corn. And the same with the family chickens. They always had 2,000-3,000 chickens (Dale said that wasn’t a lot. I’ve never had one, so that sounded ginormous to me.). Dale’s dad would announce a Sunday prior that fryers would be available the next weekend. That meant Dale and his brothers would have to skin them to be ready to give away.

Dale said he never got a satisfactory answer from his dad why he didn’t ask folks to pay for that corn or those fryers. His dad only said, “One day you’ll understand.” When Dale said they were never rich or anything, I replied, “Your dad was a different kind of rich.” He replied, “And I understand now.”

Chatting with my vacationing neighbors reminded me of a few things Mackey wrote:

We ought to think about “us and ours” instead of “me and mines.”

The way to more blessing is giving what you have away.

God is displeased, not by what we choose to give Him, but by what we refuse to give Him.

The two types of people in this world are not the haves and the have nots but the “use wells” and the “do nothings.”

The rich in heaven are those who are not okay with God working out His plan apart from them.

Nothing promotes inaction more than comfort.

It is the place where you refuse to grant God access that marks the extent of heaven’s reign in your life.

I met some rich folks this morning. I’m richer.