“Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all.” Ecclesiastes 9:1
Marcus was in the warehouse today, unloading a truck full of candy bars and Grandma’s cookies. So at first he didn’t hear the call over the intercom for him to come to the front office. Ron heard it and caught Marcus the next time he drove by. “They’re calling you to the office.” Marcus gulped. He had only been called into the front office during the work day two times since he started at Colby’s Wholesale. Once to do some paperwork after a teenage driver got in a fender bender with him while he was making deliveries. The other time was when a Valero store manager called to compliment Marcus on his work. But he couldn’t think of any reason why he was being called in now. Unless the smaller orders and fewer deliveries had something to do with it. He was the low man on the totem pole. He jumped off the forklift. Ron jumped on so he could finish the unloading. He turned to watch his buddy walk to the office. Ron sighed and started the forklift.
“Do you see a man skillful in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men.” Proverbs 22:29
That same morning Dr. Lemke came into Lauren’s office. She had never spoken to the president during her workday, much less had the president come to her office to speak to her. But the conference that weekend had gone so well and it had so enhanced TJC’s reputation in the community, that he wanted to thank her in person. Lauren planned and organized the East Texas Technology Summit. It was a showcase of TJC’s technology applications in the fields of health care, education, and small-business development. Hospital administrators, superintendents, and local business leaders attended. Everyone was thoroughly impressed that TJC students received a high level of technology training but they were even more impressed by the organization of the conference and the keynote address Lauren presented Saturday morning. She was flattered and honored by the president’s visit, but as big a deal as that was, something more important was on her mind. As soon as the president left her office she got out her cell phone and opened the calendar. She kept counting the last few days of the month. Over and over again. She stopped by CVS on the way home.
She beat Marcus home by at least a half hour. She didn’t even change her clothes. She just waited for him at the kitchen table. When she heard him coming up the steps she met him at the door. “I’ve got some news,” she said, excited, but composed. “I’ve got some news too,” he said, disappointed but calm.
They were both taken aback, not expecting the other to have news. She could see his news wasn’t good, but that made her all the more anxious to tell him her news. He could see that her news was good, and that made him all the more anxious to hear it. Marcus smiled a puzzled smile, “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to count to three. When I say ‘three’ you tell me your news in just a few words and at the same time I’ll tell you my news in just a few words. Okay?” She looked at him for a long while. Somehow she knew what he was going to say. And somehow she knew that he knew what she was going to say. Two years flashed through her mind in two milliseconds. She took two steps forward and kissed his cheek. She stepped back. Quietly she said, “Okay.” Marcus said, “Onetwothree.”
He said, “I lost my job”
She said, “We’re having a baby”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Marcus Redding Hears A Poem
It was Thursday, the day that Marcus made deliveries. He liked working in the warehouse the rest of the week but he liked having one day where he could get out and drive around. He drove route 5 today, the route that goes west on 31: Chandler, Brownsboro, Murchison, Athens. He delivered candy bars and beef jerky and Grandma’s cookies. He had 17 stops to make. Thirteen gas stations. Four businesses. He liked getting outside, even though it was cold. He liked seeing the same people every week, finding out how they were doing. But most of all he liked having time to listen to his iPod as he drove.
He liked listening to the Bible and the spiritual songs, but he really enjoyed listening to the sermon podcasts that Eddie had loaded on his iPod when he first gave it to him a couple years ago. Every week he heard seven or eight sermons besides the two he heard on Sunday. He listened to a preacher from Sensenbrenner, Georgia, one from Lubbock, Texas, and another from Bakersfield, California. Good preaching from scripture. Applicable. Interesting. Persuasive. He learned a lot. And it motivated him to serve God more wholeheartedly during the day, show more love to Lauren, and set a Christlike example to his co-workers.
On the way out of Athens he listened to a sermon on the challenges of aging. He never heard a sermon like that before. But the preacher pointed out there is a lot in God’s word about getting older, old age is a blessing, and older people play a vital role in the work of the church. He paused the sermon while he made a stop at the Kidd Jones in Brownsboro. But after that delivery he climbed back up into the truck and pulled onto 31 heading back to Tyler. He put the headphones back in and listened to the end of the sermon. The preacher was telling about another, older preacher who often told portions of a certain poem to illustrate the value of older people in the church. So this preacher decided to close his sermon by telling the whole poem. This is how it went…
An old man going a lone highway…came at even cold and gray
To a chasm vast and wide and steep…with waters rolling cold and deep
The old man crossed in the twilight dim…for that sullen stream held no fear for him
But he turned when safe on the other side…and built a bridge to span that tide
“Old man” said a fellow pilgrim near…“You’re wasting your strength building here”
“Your journey will end with the ending day…and you never again will pass this way
“You’ve crossed the chasm deep and wide...why build a bridge at eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head…“Good friend, in the path I’ve come,” he said
“There follows after me a youth whose feet must pass this way
“This chasm that has been naught to me…to that fair-haired youth a pitfall may be
“He too must cross in the twilight dim…good friend, I’m building this bridge for him.”
It made Marcus think of 1 Peter 5:5, “Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’”
He liked the poem so much that as soon as he got back to the office he listened to it again and copied it down, all the time thinking of his Grandpa Sam and the older folks at church.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
He liked listening to the Bible and the spiritual songs, but he really enjoyed listening to the sermon podcasts that Eddie had loaded on his iPod when he first gave it to him a couple years ago. Every week he heard seven or eight sermons besides the two he heard on Sunday. He listened to a preacher from Sensenbrenner, Georgia, one from Lubbock, Texas, and another from Bakersfield, California. Good preaching from scripture. Applicable. Interesting. Persuasive. He learned a lot. And it motivated him to serve God more wholeheartedly during the day, show more love to Lauren, and set a Christlike example to his co-workers.
On the way out of Athens he listened to a sermon on the challenges of aging. He never heard a sermon like that before. But the preacher pointed out there is a lot in God’s word about getting older, old age is a blessing, and older people play a vital role in the work of the church. He paused the sermon while he made a stop at the Kidd Jones in Brownsboro. But after that delivery he climbed back up into the truck and pulled onto 31 heading back to Tyler. He put the headphones back in and listened to the end of the sermon. The preacher was telling about another, older preacher who often told portions of a certain poem to illustrate the value of older people in the church. So this preacher decided to close his sermon by telling the whole poem. This is how it went…
An old man going a lone highway…came at even cold and gray
To a chasm vast and wide and steep…with waters rolling cold and deep
The old man crossed in the twilight dim…for that sullen stream held no fear for him
But he turned when safe on the other side…and built a bridge to span that tide
“Old man” said a fellow pilgrim near…“You’re wasting your strength building here”
“Your journey will end with the ending day…and you never again will pass this way
“You’ve crossed the chasm deep and wide...why build a bridge at eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head…“Good friend, in the path I’ve come,” he said
“There follows after me a youth whose feet must pass this way
“This chasm that has been naught to me…to that fair-haired youth a pitfall may be
“He too must cross in the twilight dim…good friend, I’m building this bridge for him.”
It made Marcus think of 1 Peter 5:5, “Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’”
He liked the poem so much that as soon as he got back to the office he listened to it again and copied it down, all the time thinking of his Grandpa Sam and the older folks at church.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Marcus Redding Drives to Arlington
“Two funerals in a month. Are there cultures that only celebrate births and weddings and have no rituals for death? I want to move there.” Lauren was ready on cue, “You know what Ecclesiastes says Marcus, ‘It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart.’” “I know,” he replied, “but two funerals in a month is hard.” First Grandpa Sam, now his friend Ron’s mother had died. Lauren was sympathetic, “Yeah, it is hard. But I’ll be with you. And you know Ron will appreciate it. And this could help open a door for the gospel.” Marcus was resigned, “I know. But it’s still hard.”
Ten days ago Marcus drove Ron to Arlington so that Ron could reconcile with his dying mother. She was awake and alert when they got to Hospice Arlington. But a brain tumor affected her speech. She couldn’t talk. But her facial expressions showed that she recognized people and she was listening and understanding what they said. When Ron walked into his mom’s room he went straight to her bed. He held her hand. He told her he was sorry and all the reasons why. She just cried and smiled and squeezed his hand. They had reconciled. His mom passed away early the next morning.
Now Marcus and Lauren were making the Saturday drive from Tyler to Arlington for the 11:00 services. Marcus was behind the wheel. Lauren was looking out the window. “Have you ever been to that place, ‘World of Christmas Lights?’” “Yeah, I went there one time…in high school.” Marcus sounded ashamed. Lauren guessed why, “How old were you?” “I was 17. Let’s just say we caused malicious mischief and got in trouble.” Lauren chuckled and shook her head.
They pulled off in Terrell so Marcus could get some coffee. Marcus stayed in the truck while Lauren ran into Starbucks. Since Lauren quoted Ecclesiastes, he reached behind his seat and pulled out his Bible. When Lauren got back in the truck she put two hot paper cups in the beverage holder. As they pulled back on to I-20 Marcus said, “Will you read Ecclesiastes while we drive?” “Sure,” she said, “Why Ecclesiastes?” Marcus sipped coffee and said, “Seems like the right book to read on the way to a funeral.” Lauren set the Bible on her lap, “Okay, but I’ll have to take breaks so I don’t get carsick.”
She started reading, “The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.” She read a few minutes then looked up to avoid carsickness and they would talk about what they read. This went on until they crested that big hill on I-20. Lauren read the last verses, “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.”
It was quiet as they descended the big hill, traffic all around, bright cold winter day. After a few minutes Marcus broke the silence, “That’s what I like about the Bible. It’s real.”
It was quiet again. They passed a truck stop. They passed Mexican restaurants and green Wal-Marts. They passed gleaming mega-churches and Valero gas stations. They passed tall cranes and new construction. They turned onto 360 North and passed Whataburger and Six Flags and Cowboys Stadium. All these things came into view and passed away in the distance.
But the Bible sitting on the dashboard stayed the same.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Ten days ago Marcus drove Ron to Arlington so that Ron could reconcile with his dying mother. She was awake and alert when they got to Hospice Arlington. But a brain tumor affected her speech. She couldn’t talk. But her facial expressions showed that she recognized people and she was listening and understanding what they said. When Ron walked into his mom’s room he went straight to her bed. He held her hand. He told her he was sorry and all the reasons why. She just cried and smiled and squeezed his hand. They had reconciled. His mom passed away early the next morning.
Now Marcus and Lauren were making the Saturday drive from Tyler to Arlington for the 11:00 services. Marcus was behind the wheel. Lauren was looking out the window. “Have you ever been to that place, ‘World of Christmas Lights?’” “Yeah, I went there one time…in high school.” Marcus sounded ashamed. Lauren guessed why, “How old were you?” “I was 17. Let’s just say we caused malicious mischief and got in trouble.” Lauren chuckled and shook her head.
They pulled off in Terrell so Marcus could get some coffee. Marcus stayed in the truck while Lauren ran into Starbucks. Since Lauren quoted Ecclesiastes, he reached behind his seat and pulled out his Bible. When Lauren got back in the truck she put two hot paper cups in the beverage holder. As they pulled back on to I-20 Marcus said, “Will you read Ecclesiastes while we drive?” “Sure,” she said, “Why Ecclesiastes?” Marcus sipped coffee and said, “Seems like the right book to read on the way to a funeral.” Lauren set the Bible on her lap, “Okay, but I’ll have to take breaks so I don’t get carsick.”
She started reading, “The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.” She read a few minutes then looked up to avoid carsickness and they would talk about what they read. This went on until they crested that big hill on I-20. Lauren read the last verses, “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.”
It was quiet as they descended the big hill, traffic all around, bright cold winter day. After a few minutes Marcus broke the silence, “That’s what I like about the Bible. It’s real.”
It was quiet again. They passed a truck stop. They passed Mexican restaurants and green Wal-Marts. They passed gleaming mega-churches and Valero gas stations. They passed tall cranes and new construction. They turned onto 360 North and passed Whataburger and Six Flags and Cowboys Stadium. All these things came into view and passed away in the distance.
But the Bible sitting on the dashboard stayed the same.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Marcus Redding's Thanksgiving
The sun was just coming up when Marcus pulled his truck into his dad’s driveway. This would be the only stop he would make this Thanksgiving morning. In past years he would stop at Grandpa Sam’s and pick him up too. But not this year. Deep sigh.
His dad jumped in the pickup and they drove to Mrs. Hampel’s place out in Mixon just off FM 177. They did something like this every year. It was Grandpa Sam’s idea. The men of the church would find someone who needed work done around their place and make that their Thanksgiving Day service project. Mrs. Hampel’s old house needed painting and she had an barn that was in bad shape. The guys had spent a few Saturdays getting all the materials together. Now they drove out to Mixon and met six other guys from the church. All the ladders and cans of paint and brushes and lumber and nail guns were ready. They worked six straight hours and got the place fixed up the best they could. Mrs. Hampel thanked them profusely. They reminded her of Acts 2:44. They were just taking care of a sister who had a need. That’s what Christians do.
They got home a little after 12:30 and got cleaned up. Lauren and her mom and Marcus’s mom had spent all morning getting Thanksgiving dinner ready and visiting in the kitchen. The smell of turkey and pumpkin pie and dressing greeted the rest of the aunts and uncles and cousins as they came in around 1:00.
Most of them were Christians and so “they received their food with glad and generous hearts.” They watched the first half of the football game after dinner. At halftime they got out Monopoly. Four sets of Monopoly. They had four games going at the same time. Card tables full of Boardwalk and Community Chest and Get Out of Jail Free Cards and plastic green houses and tiny silver thimbles. A Redding Thanksgiving tradition. Just fun. When the third quarter started, they postponed their Monopoly games and everyone had dessert. Then the guys watched the rest of the game and the ladies cleaned up.
When the football game was over they finished Monopoly. The winner of each game got a prize: the privilege of being the first to give thanks. Since there was one winner from each of the monopoly games, the four winners took turns in order of their age—the oldest first on down to the youngest—then the rest took turns, all of them saying what they were thankful for. Here is what some of them had to say…
Lauren’s brother, Eddie…“I thank God that I still have a job.”
Marcus’s mom, Abigail…“I thank God for Ruth and Lauren. They have been a great blessing to our family.”
Marcus’s dad, David…“I thank God for the years we had with Sam. We miss him. But I know we’ll be with him again soon.”
Lauren’s mom, Ruth…“I thank God for blessing my daughter with a godly husband. I love you, Marcus.”
Lauren…“I thank God for David and Marcus. They love Abigail and me like Christ loved the church.”
Marcus…“I thank God for loving me and saving me through his son Jesus Christ.”
Hugs all around.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
His dad jumped in the pickup and they drove to Mrs. Hampel’s place out in Mixon just off FM 177. They did something like this every year. It was Grandpa Sam’s idea. The men of the church would find someone who needed work done around their place and make that their Thanksgiving Day service project. Mrs. Hampel’s old house needed painting and she had an barn that was in bad shape. The guys had spent a few Saturdays getting all the materials together. Now they drove out to Mixon and met six other guys from the church. All the ladders and cans of paint and brushes and lumber and nail guns were ready. They worked six straight hours and got the place fixed up the best they could. Mrs. Hampel thanked them profusely. They reminded her of Acts 2:44. They were just taking care of a sister who had a need. That’s what Christians do.
They got home a little after 12:30 and got cleaned up. Lauren and her mom and Marcus’s mom had spent all morning getting Thanksgiving dinner ready and visiting in the kitchen. The smell of turkey and pumpkin pie and dressing greeted the rest of the aunts and uncles and cousins as they came in around 1:00.
Most of them were Christians and so “they received their food with glad and generous hearts.” They watched the first half of the football game after dinner. At halftime they got out Monopoly. Four sets of Monopoly. They had four games going at the same time. Card tables full of Boardwalk and Community Chest and Get Out of Jail Free Cards and plastic green houses and tiny silver thimbles. A Redding Thanksgiving tradition. Just fun. When the third quarter started, they postponed their Monopoly games and everyone had dessert. Then the guys watched the rest of the game and the ladies cleaned up.
When the football game was over they finished Monopoly. The winner of each game got a prize: the privilege of being the first to give thanks. Since there was one winner from each of the monopoly games, the four winners took turns in order of their age—the oldest first on down to the youngest—then the rest took turns, all of them saying what they were thankful for. Here is what some of them had to say…
Lauren’s brother, Eddie…“I thank God that I still have a job.”
Marcus’s mom, Abigail…“I thank God for Ruth and Lauren. They have been a great blessing to our family.”
Marcus’s dad, David…“I thank God for the years we had with Sam. We miss him. But I know we’ll be with him again soon.”
Lauren’s mom, Ruth…“I thank God for blessing my daughter with a godly husband. I love you, Marcus.”
Lauren…“I thank God for David and Marcus. They love Abigail and me like Christ loved the church.”
Marcus…“I thank God for loving me and saving me through his son Jesus Christ.”
Hugs all around.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Marcus Redding Has An Idea
Marcus had been at work with Ron all morning and Ron hadn’t said anything. They usually talked about the Cowboys game or Ron’s projects he was working on at home. But this morning Ron was quiet.
So when Marcus got the next set of orders from the office he went up to Ron. “Do you want route 3 or route 5?” Ron looked stoic and said, “Doesn’t matter.” Marcus tucked the orders in a clipboard and set them on the back of his forklift. “What’s wrong?” Ron looked up, taken aback at the direct question. He hesitated, then finally said, “They’re going to put my mom in hospice.”
“Oh, Ron, man…I’m sorry.” Marcus knew about the tension between Ron and his family. His mom and his sister lived in Arlington. Ron’s dad had died when he was in high school. From age 16 to 21 Ron and Marcus lived the same life. Both suffered a tragedy in high school, both hit the bottle, now both of them were trying to get back on track. Faith was the difference between them. Marcus was back on track. Sober. Reconciled with his family. Married to a wonderful wife. Reading the Bible. Praying. Regular at worship services. Making friends with people in his church family.
Ron did not have faith. He resented Christians because of how folks from his parents' church didn’t help his mom when his dad died (or so he thought.) He did not attend any church services. He didn’t pray. He wasn’t interested in the Bible. He had a girlfriend, but nothing deep. He had reconciled some with his sister, but not with his mom, who resented him for abandoning the family after his dad died. But he had been dry for a while. He carried a one-year chip on his key ring. And he had a good heart. Just a lot of baggage. A lot of guilt. A lot of unacknowledged, unconfessed, un-repented-of sin.
“I’m sorry too,” Ron finally said. They were close enough that Marcus thought he could be bold. “Go talk to her.” Ron shook his head, “What would I say? It wouldn’t change anything.” Marcus challenged him, “How do you know? Remember my accident? Years later I went to Bruce’s parents and talked to them. Said I was sorry. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But they forgave me. And hugged me and we cried and all that. You’ve got to try.” Ron wasn’t on board, “Yeah, well, my mom is not like Bruce’s mom. She’d cuss me right out of hospice.” Marcus didn’t back down, “You’ve got two choices. You can either try to reconcile with her or you can live the rest of your life with guilt and wonder what if.”
Just then a truck backed up to the loading dock and set its air brakes. The sound interrupted their conversation. Ron found the out he was looking for, “I’ve got to unload this truck.” And he walked off. Marcus watched him open the back door of the truck. Then an idea hit him.
He jumped on the forklift and drove it around the corner. He got out his cell phone and called Lauren. He asked her if they had anything going on tonight. They didn’t. He told her about Ron’s mom and his idea. She told him to go for it, just call her on her cell phone.
Marcus didn’t say anything to Ron the rest of the day. At 5:25 Marcus clocked out and ran to the parking lot and got in his truck. He pulled it up to the warehouse, popped open the passenger side door, and waited. When Ron opened the door to leave Marcus hollered and motioned at him, “Jump in! Let’s go see your mom!”
Ron was stunned. “What are you talking about?” Marcus revved the engine. “I’ll drive you to Arlington! Come on! Jump in!” Ron stood in the doorway. His shoulders fell. Closed his eyes. Then looked back up. “What are you doing Marcus?” Marcus hollered again, “We’ll stop by Sonic on the way out.” He pounded on the passenger seat. “Come on!”
Ron heard a voice from behind him, “Get in the truck.” Ron turned around and saw six of the other guys that worked in the warehouse. They stood side by side. All looking straight at him. These were guys with scars. Guys with tattoos. Guys with rough beards. Guys with round circles in their back pockets courtesy of Copenhagen. Guys who were divorced two or three times. Guys who fight among themselves. Guys who might not have always done the right thing, but they knew the right thing when they saw it.
One by one they said, “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.”
Ron looked back at Marcus. Marcus revved the engine. Ron didn’t walk. He ran to the truck and jumped in.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
So when Marcus got the next set of orders from the office he went up to Ron. “Do you want route 3 or route 5?” Ron looked stoic and said, “Doesn’t matter.” Marcus tucked the orders in a clipboard and set them on the back of his forklift. “What’s wrong?” Ron looked up, taken aback at the direct question. He hesitated, then finally said, “They’re going to put my mom in hospice.”
“Oh, Ron, man…I’m sorry.” Marcus knew about the tension between Ron and his family. His mom and his sister lived in Arlington. Ron’s dad had died when he was in high school. From age 16 to 21 Ron and Marcus lived the same life. Both suffered a tragedy in high school, both hit the bottle, now both of them were trying to get back on track. Faith was the difference between them. Marcus was back on track. Sober. Reconciled with his family. Married to a wonderful wife. Reading the Bible. Praying. Regular at worship services. Making friends with people in his church family.
Ron did not have faith. He resented Christians because of how folks from his parents' church didn’t help his mom when his dad died (or so he thought.) He did not attend any church services. He didn’t pray. He wasn’t interested in the Bible. He had a girlfriend, but nothing deep. He had reconciled some with his sister, but not with his mom, who resented him for abandoning the family after his dad died. But he had been dry for a while. He carried a one-year chip on his key ring. And he had a good heart. Just a lot of baggage. A lot of guilt. A lot of unacknowledged, unconfessed, un-repented-of sin.
“I’m sorry too,” Ron finally said. They were close enough that Marcus thought he could be bold. “Go talk to her.” Ron shook his head, “What would I say? It wouldn’t change anything.” Marcus challenged him, “How do you know? Remember my accident? Years later I went to Bruce’s parents and talked to them. Said I was sorry. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But they forgave me. And hugged me and we cried and all that. You’ve got to try.” Ron wasn’t on board, “Yeah, well, my mom is not like Bruce’s mom. She’d cuss me right out of hospice.” Marcus didn’t back down, “You’ve got two choices. You can either try to reconcile with her or you can live the rest of your life with guilt and wonder what if.”
Just then a truck backed up to the loading dock and set its air brakes. The sound interrupted their conversation. Ron found the out he was looking for, “I’ve got to unload this truck.” And he walked off. Marcus watched him open the back door of the truck. Then an idea hit him.
He jumped on the forklift and drove it around the corner. He got out his cell phone and called Lauren. He asked her if they had anything going on tonight. They didn’t. He told her about Ron’s mom and his idea. She told him to go for it, just call her on her cell phone.
Marcus didn’t say anything to Ron the rest of the day. At 5:25 Marcus clocked out and ran to the parking lot and got in his truck. He pulled it up to the warehouse, popped open the passenger side door, and waited. When Ron opened the door to leave Marcus hollered and motioned at him, “Jump in! Let’s go see your mom!”
Ron was stunned. “What are you talking about?” Marcus revved the engine. “I’ll drive you to Arlington! Come on! Jump in!” Ron stood in the doorway. His shoulders fell. Closed his eyes. Then looked back up. “What are you doing Marcus?” Marcus hollered again, “We’ll stop by Sonic on the way out.” He pounded on the passenger seat. “Come on!”
Ron heard a voice from behind him, “Get in the truck.” Ron turned around and saw six of the other guys that worked in the warehouse. They stood side by side. All looking straight at him. These were guys with scars. Guys with tattoos. Guys with rough beards. Guys with round circles in their back pockets courtesy of Copenhagen. Guys who were divorced two or three times. Guys who fight among themselves. Guys who might not have always done the right thing, but they knew the right thing when they saw it.
One by one they said, “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.”
Ron looked back at Marcus. Marcus revved the engine. Ron didn’t walk. He ran to the truck and jumped in.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Marcus Redding Has Insomnia
What good was it doing to lie here looking up at the ceiling? The bed creaked as he got up. Lauren stirred. He went out to the couch and turned on the TV. But what was on at two in the morning? He clicked on PBS and saw they had a Sesame Street 40th anniversary show. His mind went back to Grandpa Sam. When he was a little kid, even before he went to school, sometimes he would stay the night with Grandpa Sam. In the morning he would let him watch one show, usually Sesame Street.
Marcus left the TV on and walked over to the kitchen table where Lauren left her laptop. He opened it up and clicked on the folder named “Pictures.” Then he clicked on another folder named “Marcus Family.” About three hundred picture files came up. Lauren had spent months scanning pictures from the albums Marcus’s mom had made. She tagged the pictures according to year and event and who was in them. So all Marcus had to do was type “Grandpa Sam” in the search field and there were all his memories.
He scrolled through the slide show. Marcus as a skinny school-age kid: fishing with Grandpa Sam, Christmas at Grandpa Sam’s place, on Grandpa Sam’s lap reading the Bible, arm wrestling, playing in the snow, a trip to Yellowstone. All of a sudden Marcus was not a skinny kid anymore, the next pictures were from their wedding, Grandpa Sam dressed in a tuxedo. But where were all the pictures from about age 16 until he turned 21? There were no pictures for about five years.
It didn’t matter. Marcus had plenty of memories from that time of his life. That’s why he couldn’t sleep. Ever since Grandpa Sam passed away those memories haunted him even more, so that every night when he fell asleep—if he could fall asleep—he had nightmares. The other night he dreamed about a former girlfriend. He stopped by her apartment to see her. He found her there with another guy. Marcus went back to his truck and got a baseball bat. He stormed the apartment and started swinging away while the girlfriend screamed for him to stop. Then he woke up. The worst part about this nightmare was that it really happened. So that made the insomnia worse. Even if he did fall asleep he could only expect these horrible reminders of the dark years.
Looking at these pictures helped him diagnose the cause of his insomnia: regret. And regret caused pain. And he wanted this pain to go away. He went to the fridge. There used to be beer in his fridge. Not anymore. But it would be pretty easy to get in his truck and drive about 20 minutes and he could medicate his insomnia/regret/pain with alcohol. It crossed his mind. He knew from experience this medicine worked temporarily, but the side effects were awful.
So he stood in front of the open fridge, suddenly caught in a battle between the Spirit and the flesh. Then he heard Lauren open the bedroom door. He watched her walk down the hall. She didn’t say anything. He stood there while she closed the door of the fridge, then put on a pot of coffee, then walked over to the table and noticed the pictures on the screen. She looked up at Marcus. He was still standing there facing the now closed fridge. She looked back down and clicked and typed a little then went to the living room. She turned off the TV and turned on their old CD player. She slipped in a CD of spiritual songs and turned the volume to “7.” The lyrics of “Wonderful, Merciful Savior” quietly filled the little apartment. She went to the couch and lay down. The smell of coffee and the sound of the song brought Marcus to his senses. And the battle was over for now. He heard Lauren mumble from the couch, “Look at the computer.” He angled the screen so he could see it. She had called up Ephesians 5:18-20 “And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with all your heart, giving thanks always and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The coffee was ready. He poured a cup and walked over to the couch. According to the clock on the front of the CD player it was 2:37 a.m. She sat up. He sat down on one side. She laid her head back down on his lap. He sipped coffee and listened to the music while she fell back asleep.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Marcus left the TV on and walked over to the kitchen table where Lauren left her laptop. He opened it up and clicked on the folder named “Pictures.” Then he clicked on another folder named “Marcus Family.” About three hundred picture files came up. Lauren had spent months scanning pictures from the albums Marcus’s mom had made. She tagged the pictures according to year and event and who was in them. So all Marcus had to do was type “Grandpa Sam” in the search field and there were all his memories.
He scrolled through the slide show. Marcus as a skinny school-age kid: fishing with Grandpa Sam, Christmas at Grandpa Sam’s place, on Grandpa Sam’s lap reading the Bible, arm wrestling, playing in the snow, a trip to Yellowstone. All of a sudden Marcus was not a skinny kid anymore, the next pictures were from their wedding, Grandpa Sam dressed in a tuxedo. But where were all the pictures from about age 16 until he turned 21? There were no pictures for about five years.
It didn’t matter. Marcus had plenty of memories from that time of his life. That’s why he couldn’t sleep. Ever since Grandpa Sam passed away those memories haunted him even more, so that every night when he fell asleep—if he could fall asleep—he had nightmares. The other night he dreamed about a former girlfriend. He stopped by her apartment to see her. He found her there with another guy. Marcus went back to his truck and got a baseball bat. He stormed the apartment and started swinging away while the girlfriend screamed for him to stop. Then he woke up. The worst part about this nightmare was that it really happened. So that made the insomnia worse. Even if he did fall asleep he could only expect these horrible reminders of the dark years.
Looking at these pictures helped him diagnose the cause of his insomnia: regret. And regret caused pain. And he wanted this pain to go away. He went to the fridge. There used to be beer in his fridge. Not anymore. But it would be pretty easy to get in his truck and drive about 20 minutes and he could medicate his insomnia/regret/pain with alcohol. It crossed his mind. He knew from experience this medicine worked temporarily, but the side effects were awful.
So he stood in front of the open fridge, suddenly caught in a battle between the Spirit and the flesh. Then he heard Lauren open the bedroom door. He watched her walk down the hall. She didn’t say anything. He stood there while she closed the door of the fridge, then put on a pot of coffee, then walked over to the table and noticed the pictures on the screen. She looked up at Marcus. He was still standing there facing the now closed fridge. She looked back down and clicked and typed a little then went to the living room. She turned off the TV and turned on their old CD player. She slipped in a CD of spiritual songs and turned the volume to “7.” The lyrics of “Wonderful, Merciful Savior” quietly filled the little apartment. She went to the couch and lay down. The smell of coffee and the sound of the song brought Marcus to his senses. And the battle was over for now. He heard Lauren mumble from the couch, “Look at the computer.” He angled the screen so he could see it. She had called up Ephesians 5:18-20 “And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with all your heart, giving thanks always and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The coffee was ready. He poured a cup and walked over to the couch. According to the clock on the front of the CD player it was 2:37 a.m. She sat up. He sat down on one side. She laid her head back down on his lap. He sipped coffee and listened to the music while she fell back asleep.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Marcus Redding at the Cemetery
“Things are going to happen right here.” The preacher had gestured with a sweep of his hand, looking over the rows of grave markers that surrounded them. Then he read from the fourth chapter of 1 Thessalonians.
He remembered Grandpa Sam’s graveside service which took place exactly one week ago. Now here was Marcus again the next Saturday morning, looking down at the grave marker. Grandpa Sam had chosen an unusual inscription: “Samuel Arthur Redding. 1929-2009. With Christ in life. With Christ in death. Looking Forward to Resurrection.”
Marcus took in a deep breath of the cool East Texas air and looked up. Why was he here? He felt the vague notion that he had to say goodbye, again, finally get some closure. He loved his grandfather. He died so suddenly. The funeral happened so quickly he hardly had time to think about how his number one fan and the man he admired so much was gone. Grandpa Sam had always been there. He never changed. Now all Marcus could think about was how he wanted things to stay the same. He did better when things did not change. Loss and change brought worry and stress. Not handling change, that’s what caused him to fall away.
His cell phone rang. Two short tones. A text message. It was from Lauren. It read, “Haven’t we been here before?” Lauren was reminding him of a few months ago when Marcus went to Bruce’s grave on the fifth anniversary of the accident. He texted back, “Need to say goodbye, one more time.” Marcus knew what was coming next because Lauren had said it before. She told him gently but firmly. Two short tones. Loud in the quiet cemetery. He opened the message, “Don’t look back. Look forward. 1 Thess 4:13-18.”
She was right. Nine times out of ten Lauren was right. Where would he be without her? Marcus looked back down at the grave marker, “Looking Forward to Resurrection.” He smiled and took a deep breath and turned away. “Looking forward,” he thought. He got up in his truck and leaned over to pick up his Bible off the floorboard of the passenger side. He looked up 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. He knew the main idea. But he wanted to read it word for word. Lauren was right. This was the closure he needed.
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
He remembered Grandpa Sam’s graveside service which took place exactly one week ago. Now here was Marcus again the next Saturday morning, looking down at the grave marker. Grandpa Sam had chosen an unusual inscription: “Samuel Arthur Redding. 1929-2009. With Christ in life. With Christ in death. Looking Forward to Resurrection.”
Marcus took in a deep breath of the cool East Texas air and looked up. Why was he here? He felt the vague notion that he had to say goodbye, again, finally get some closure. He loved his grandfather. He died so suddenly. The funeral happened so quickly he hardly had time to think about how his number one fan and the man he admired so much was gone. Grandpa Sam had always been there. He never changed. Now all Marcus could think about was how he wanted things to stay the same. He did better when things did not change. Loss and change brought worry and stress. Not handling change, that’s what caused him to fall away.
His cell phone rang. Two short tones. A text message. It was from Lauren. It read, “Haven’t we been here before?” Lauren was reminding him of a few months ago when Marcus went to Bruce’s grave on the fifth anniversary of the accident. He texted back, “Need to say goodbye, one more time.” Marcus knew what was coming next because Lauren had said it before. She told him gently but firmly. Two short tones. Loud in the quiet cemetery. He opened the message, “Don’t look back. Look forward. 1 Thess 4:13-18.”
She was right. Nine times out of ten Lauren was right. Where would he be without her? Marcus looked back down at the grave marker, “Looking Forward to Resurrection.” He smiled and took a deep breath and turned away. “Looking forward,” he thought. He got up in his truck and leaned over to pick up his Bible off the floorboard of the passenger side. He looked up 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. He knew the main idea. But he wanted to read it word for word. Lauren was right. This was the closure he needed.
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Marcus Redding Goes to a Funeral
Marcus sat in a classroom just down from the auditorium of Fairhaven Church of Christ. It was hot in there. All the members of his extended family were standing around waiting for the funeral to start. The air conditioning was trying unsuccessfully to cool them off. He’d have to call Ray’s Air Conditioning and Heating tomorrow.
Marcus was thinking about how long it had been since he had seen a lot of his extended family. They all knew he had fallen away but a lot of them didn’t know he had turned back to God. He noticed how they looked at the tattoos that crawled up his neck and the jagged scars on his hands.
One of the funeral directors poked his head in, “It’s time.” The family began the somber march through the foyer and down to the front of the auditorium. Marcus could hear his grandfather in his mind. He knew just what Grandpa Sam would say if he could talk to everyone.
He would tell them about Jesus’ funeral. Whenever Sam heard about how popular someone was or how many people he baptized or how many came to his funeral, Grandpa Sam would remind them Jesus only had two people at his funeral.
There could have been a thousand people at this funeral. Easily. Grandpa Sam was an elder of the church. He ran a successful insurance business. Member of the Rotary Club. Had a bunch of fishing buddies. Lived in Tyler all his life. Good reputation. Loved by everyone. But he had some clear instructions about his own services. He knew it was a time for remembering and grieving and saying goodbye but he wanted more attention paid to God than himself.
So he made arrangements. One scripture: 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. Two prayers. One at the beginning and one at the end. Three songs. “Wonderful, Merciful Savior,” “When I Survey The Wondrous Cross,” “Amazing Grace.” The message would be a series of short eulogies written by his two children and his four grandchildren. The eulogies would be read by the minister. Sam had given Marcus and his dad instructions that each of the eulogies focus not on what Sam Redding had done for them, but what God had done for them through—or in spite of—Sam Redding.
Marcus was the youngest grandchild. His eulogy would come last. He thought it would take him a long time to write his thoughts, but once he sat down at Lauren’s laptop it only took him a few minutes. Here is the text of the eulogy he handed to the minister on the morning of the funeral:
“The God before whom my fathers David and Sam walked, the God who has been my shepherd all my life long to this day, the angel who has redeemed me from all evil…praise his name. God worked through Grandpa Sam to teach me his ways. I followed them when I was young. I fell away for a few years. Now God has redeemed me from all evil. My grandfather loved me unconditionally. He prayed for me in my dark days. He welcomed me back with open arms. He performed the ceremony when Lauren and I got married. He taught me about God. He set me a good example. He loved his neighbor as himself. I thank God for Sam Redding. I miss him. But I’m comforted to know that he is in the presence of the Lord. I will keep my faith in God through his son Jesus Christ so that I can be in the presence of the Lord with Grandpa Sam someday.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Marcus was thinking about how long it had been since he had seen a lot of his extended family. They all knew he had fallen away but a lot of them didn’t know he had turned back to God. He noticed how they looked at the tattoos that crawled up his neck and the jagged scars on his hands.
One of the funeral directors poked his head in, “It’s time.” The family began the somber march through the foyer and down to the front of the auditorium. Marcus could hear his grandfather in his mind. He knew just what Grandpa Sam would say if he could talk to everyone.
He would tell them about Jesus’ funeral. Whenever Sam heard about how popular someone was or how many people he baptized or how many came to his funeral, Grandpa Sam would remind them Jesus only had two people at his funeral.
There could have been a thousand people at this funeral. Easily. Grandpa Sam was an elder of the church. He ran a successful insurance business. Member of the Rotary Club. Had a bunch of fishing buddies. Lived in Tyler all his life. Good reputation. Loved by everyone. But he had some clear instructions about his own services. He knew it was a time for remembering and grieving and saying goodbye but he wanted more attention paid to God than himself.
So he made arrangements. One scripture: 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. Two prayers. One at the beginning and one at the end. Three songs. “Wonderful, Merciful Savior,” “When I Survey The Wondrous Cross,” “Amazing Grace.” The message would be a series of short eulogies written by his two children and his four grandchildren. The eulogies would be read by the minister. Sam had given Marcus and his dad instructions that each of the eulogies focus not on what Sam Redding had done for them, but what God had done for them through—or in spite of—Sam Redding.
Marcus was the youngest grandchild. His eulogy would come last. He thought it would take him a long time to write his thoughts, but once he sat down at Lauren’s laptop it only took him a few minutes. Here is the text of the eulogy he handed to the minister on the morning of the funeral:
“The God before whom my fathers David and Sam walked, the God who has been my shepherd all my life long to this day, the angel who has redeemed me from all evil…praise his name. God worked through Grandpa Sam to teach me his ways. I followed them when I was young. I fell away for a few years. Now God has redeemed me from all evil. My grandfather loved me unconditionally. He prayed for me in my dark days. He welcomed me back with open arms. He performed the ceremony when Lauren and I got married. He taught me about God. He set me a good example. He loved his neighbor as himself. I thank God for Sam Redding. I miss him. But I’m comforted to know that he is in the presence of the Lord. I will keep my faith in God through his son Jesus Christ so that I can be in the presence of the Lord with Grandpa Sam someday.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Marcus Redding's Grandfather
It was the middle of Friday morning and Marcus was on the forklift unloading a truck when his cell phone rang. He stepped on the brake as he dug the phone out of his pocket. The screen said “Dad’s cell.” He never called Marcus at work. Marcus flipped the phone open and said, hesitantly, “Hi dad.”
“Marcus, we’re okay, but your grandfather…” Marcus knew something was wrong because his dad said “grandfather” instead of “Grandpa Sam.” They always called him Grandpa Sam. He could hear voices in the background. Commotion. His mom was pleading, “David, tell him, just tell him.” Marcus’s voice darkened, “Dad, what’s going on?” His dad answered but it sounded like he was not really there, “We’re in the ER at Mother Frances…” The cell phone started cutting out. All Marcus heard was “internal bleeding…fading…not time.” “I’m on my way.” He didn’t even turn off the forklift or say anything to his co-workers, he just ran out the side door, ran to his truck, and ran a few red lights on his way to the hospital.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he zoomed up 110 toward the hospital. Images. The first image was his grandfather in a suit at the front of the church building, holding a Bible, smiling at Lauren as she walked down the aisle to meet Marcus on their wedding day. His grandfather performed the ceremony. The next image was one he had never seen, just one he imagined for three or four years. It was Grandpa Sam looking at pictures of Marcus when Marcus was little and he would take him fishing. Grandpa Sam would look at those pictures then look out the window and there would be tears in his eyes because he grieved over Marcus, how he had fallen away from the Lord after the wreck. Marcus winced. Waves of regret flooded his heart. The next image that came to his mind was crazy: Grandpa Sam armwrestling Lauren’s brother Eddie. And Grandpa Sam always won! Why was he remembering that now? He laughed even though he was in a state of panic.
He turned right into the free parking lot across from the hospital. He couldn’t find an open space so he just ran his truck over the curb up onto the lawn, not caring if it got towed. He almost got hit by an ambulance as he ran across the road. He sprinted to the ER. “Sam Redding! Sam Redding!” A girl took him back and pointed. Marcus slowed down and walked up to the curtain. He pulled it back. Everything was quiet. There was his dad and mom. And Lauren. They hardly looked up at him. Grandpa Sam was on the bed. His eyes were closed. A nurse was turning down the volume on a monitor that was making one long steady tone.
Marcus went over to the bed. He stood by his grandfather. Then he dragged over a chair and sat down, still looking at Grandpa Sam. Lauren came over behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. Her could smell her hair as it brushed his face. His dad and mom came over and Marcus stood up. They hugged each other in a quiet four person huddle. No one was crying. After a long while Marcus’s dad stepped back and spoke. His words came slowly but his voice was surprisingly calm. “He was alert to the end. He blessed us. Each of us. He tried to move his arms, but he couldn’t. He looked at me and blessed me, then he did the same for your mom, and for Lauren…” Now David choked up. He looked at Lauren as if to say, “You tell him.”
Marcus turned to his wife. She took a deep breath and took his hands in hers. She looked up at Marcus and smiled. She had never looked so beautiful to him. “His last words Marcus...His last words...He said, ‘Tell Marcus I am proud of him. Tell him to always pray. Tell him, 3 John 4.’ Those were his last words.”
Marcus sat down in the chair and cried and cried. Lauren held his hand. His mom put her arm around him. His dad put his arms around them all and smiled the sad but joyful smile that only Christians know.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
“Marcus, we’re okay, but your grandfather…” Marcus knew something was wrong because his dad said “grandfather” instead of “Grandpa Sam.” They always called him Grandpa Sam. He could hear voices in the background. Commotion. His mom was pleading, “David, tell him, just tell him.” Marcus’s voice darkened, “Dad, what’s going on?” His dad answered but it sounded like he was not really there, “We’re in the ER at Mother Frances…” The cell phone started cutting out. All Marcus heard was “internal bleeding…fading…not time.” “I’m on my way.” He didn’t even turn off the forklift or say anything to his co-workers, he just ran out the side door, ran to his truck, and ran a few red lights on his way to the hospital.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he zoomed up 110 toward the hospital. Images. The first image was his grandfather in a suit at the front of the church building, holding a Bible, smiling at Lauren as she walked down the aisle to meet Marcus on their wedding day. His grandfather performed the ceremony. The next image was one he had never seen, just one he imagined for three or four years. It was Grandpa Sam looking at pictures of Marcus when Marcus was little and he would take him fishing. Grandpa Sam would look at those pictures then look out the window and there would be tears in his eyes because he grieved over Marcus, how he had fallen away from the Lord after the wreck. Marcus winced. Waves of regret flooded his heart. The next image that came to his mind was crazy: Grandpa Sam armwrestling Lauren’s brother Eddie. And Grandpa Sam always won! Why was he remembering that now? He laughed even though he was in a state of panic.
He turned right into the free parking lot across from the hospital. He couldn’t find an open space so he just ran his truck over the curb up onto the lawn, not caring if it got towed. He almost got hit by an ambulance as he ran across the road. He sprinted to the ER. “Sam Redding! Sam Redding!” A girl took him back and pointed. Marcus slowed down and walked up to the curtain. He pulled it back. Everything was quiet. There was his dad and mom. And Lauren. They hardly looked up at him. Grandpa Sam was on the bed. His eyes were closed. A nurse was turning down the volume on a monitor that was making one long steady tone.
Marcus went over to the bed. He stood by his grandfather. Then he dragged over a chair and sat down, still looking at Grandpa Sam. Lauren came over behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. Her could smell her hair as it brushed his face. His dad and mom came over and Marcus stood up. They hugged each other in a quiet four person huddle. No one was crying. After a long while Marcus’s dad stepped back and spoke. His words came slowly but his voice was surprisingly calm. “He was alert to the end. He blessed us. Each of us. He tried to move his arms, but he couldn’t. He looked at me and blessed me, then he did the same for your mom, and for Lauren…” Now David choked up. He looked at Lauren as if to say, “You tell him.”
Marcus turned to his wife. She took a deep breath and took his hands in hers. She looked up at Marcus and smiled. She had never looked so beautiful to him. “His last words Marcus...His last words...He said, ‘Tell Marcus I am proud of him. Tell him to always pray. Tell him, 3 John 4.’ Those were his last words.”
Marcus sat down in the chair and cried and cried. Lauren held his hand. His mom put her arm around him. His dad put his arms around them all and smiled the sad but joyful smile that only Christians know.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Marcus Redding's iPod
It was Eddie’s idea. Lauren’s brother Eddie. When Lauren was helping Marcus turn back to God. Eddie wanted to help his future brother-in-law. So he bought him an iPod.
From the day after the accident until the day he met Lauren, Marcus was filled with self-hatred. He was responsible for the death of his best friend and he himself had survived. Guilt overwhelmed him. And he acted in ways that reflected how he felt about himself. He got on motorcycles and drove really fast. He bought beer and drank a lot of it. He said hello to a girl one night and said goodbye to her the next morning. He listened to music with lyrics that would have made his mom faint. He hurt others. He hurt himself. All because he was hurt, with an incurable guilty wound, infected by sin.
When Lauren was first getting to know Marcus she would call Eddie for advice. She liked Marcus but she refused to date him until he had repented and been sober for at least six months. (She told Marcus as much. It motivated him to change.) But in the meantime, how could she help him? Eddie had an idea. He read the first verses of Colossians to his sister, “’If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.’ He’s set his minds on earthly things for so long, he needs to push that stuff out and replace it with the things above. I’m going to buy him an iPod. I’ll fill it with spiritual songs and scripture and good sermons. Tell him to throw away all his other music and just listen to this for the next six months.”
So for the next week Eddie spent his nights scouring iTunes for the most spiritual songs. He visited hundreds of church websites to find Eddie the best sermons. He downloaded a Bible. He got out his label maker, typed in “Colossians 3:1-2,” printed it out, and stuck it on the back of the iPod. He gave it to Lauren after the Sunday evening worship service.
On Monday morning, Lauren met Marcus next to Wagstaff Gym. She gave him the iPod and explained Eddie’s idea. Marcus raised his eyebrows, “Throw away all my other music?” Lauren looked him straight in the eye, “All of it.” Marcus could see she was serious. He sighed, “I’ll do it for you.” Lauren held his gaze, “Do it for God.”
Marcus was good on his word. The garbage sack was heavy with his old CDs when he chunked it in the dumpster “with the rest of the garbage,” he thought. And for the next six months—partly for Lauren, partly for God—he listened to Eddie’s iPod: on the way to work, on his lunch break, making deliveries, hanging out at his apartment. Every time he had a free minute or two. It set his mind on things above.
He got a lot from the sermons. He liked listening to James, and the Psalms, and Habakkuk. But he always came back to one song, “Draw Me Close.”
Draw me close to you, Never let me go
I lay it all down again, To hear you say that I'm your friend
You are my desire, No one else will do
Nothing else can take your place, To feel the warmth of your embrace
Help me find the way, Bring me back to you
You're all I want, You're all I've ever needed
You're all I want, Help me know you are near
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
From the day after the accident until the day he met Lauren, Marcus was filled with self-hatred. He was responsible for the death of his best friend and he himself had survived. Guilt overwhelmed him. And he acted in ways that reflected how he felt about himself. He got on motorcycles and drove really fast. He bought beer and drank a lot of it. He said hello to a girl one night and said goodbye to her the next morning. He listened to music with lyrics that would have made his mom faint. He hurt others. He hurt himself. All because he was hurt, with an incurable guilty wound, infected by sin.
When Lauren was first getting to know Marcus she would call Eddie for advice. She liked Marcus but she refused to date him until he had repented and been sober for at least six months. (She told Marcus as much. It motivated him to change.) But in the meantime, how could she help him? Eddie had an idea. He read the first verses of Colossians to his sister, “’If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.’ He’s set his minds on earthly things for so long, he needs to push that stuff out and replace it with the things above. I’m going to buy him an iPod. I’ll fill it with spiritual songs and scripture and good sermons. Tell him to throw away all his other music and just listen to this for the next six months.”
So for the next week Eddie spent his nights scouring iTunes for the most spiritual songs. He visited hundreds of church websites to find Eddie the best sermons. He downloaded a Bible. He got out his label maker, typed in “Colossians 3:1-2,” printed it out, and stuck it on the back of the iPod. He gave it to Lauren after the Sunday evening worship service.
On Monday morning, Lauren met Marcus next to Wagstaff Gym. She gave him the iPod and explained Eddie’s idea. Marcus raised his eyebrows, “Throw away all my other music?” Lauren looked him straight in the eye, “All of it.” Marcus could see she was serious. He sighed, “I’ll do it for you.” Lauren held his gaze, “Do it for God.”
Marcus was good on his word. The garbage sack was heavy with his old CDs when he chunked it in the dumpster “with the rest of the garbage,” he thought. And for the next six months—partly for Lauren, partly for God—he listened to Eddie’s iPod: on the way to work, on his lunch break, making deliveries, hanging out at his apartment. Every time he had a free minute or two. It set his mind on things above.
He got a lot from the sermons. He liked listening to James, and the Psalms, and Habakkuk. But he always came back to one song, “Draw Me Close.”
Draw me close to you, Never let me go
I lay it all down again, To hear you say that I'm your friend
You are my desire, No one else will do
Nothing else can take your place, To feel the warmth of your embrace
Help me find the way, Bring me back to you
You're all I want, You're all I've ever needed
You're all I want, Help me know you are near
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Marcus Redding Has a Normal Day
“Good night, mom. I’m glad you are feeling better.” It had been a week since Marcus came home and found her so upset about her mom. But Ruth was doing better, she had a good week at work, and Lauren took her to lunch over the weekend. Marcus asked how she was doing. Lauren shook her head and shrugged, “She just had a hard week. She’ll be all right. Like the Psalm says, ‘Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.’” Marcus yawned, “Speaking of the morning, it’s time for bed. What do you have on for tomorrow?” “Normal day,” she said, “normal as it can be when computers and people get together. What about you?” “Normal day...normal as it can be at Colby’s Wholesale.”
Marcus got up at 6:00. He made coffee and sat down at the kitchen/card table and opened Lauren’s laptop. He read a chapter from Romans on biblegateway.com. Then he checked espn.com and watched the highlights of yesterday’s baseball games. After another cup of coffee it was time to go to work. He climbed into his 2001 Dodge Ram to make the fifteen minute commute. He got there at 6:45 to open the warehouse, get the orders, and make coffee for the guys. One or two days out of the week he got to deliver, but not today. Tuesdays he was always in the warehouse. He worked till noon filling orders and loading trucks, took a lunch break from noon to 12:30, then he worked till 5:00 and left the evening shift to finish the work for the day. He usually passed Brookshires on the way home so Lauren had texted him a grocery list. He stopped and picked up toilet paper and bananas and orange juice. He got home at quarter to six and fixed a little dinner so it would be ready when Lauren got home. The orange juice made him think of breakfast so he cooked breakfast for dinner: ham, eggs, toast, orange juice.
Lauren’s workday was a couple hours different than his. This worried her when they first got married. She was concerned about her recovering alcoholic husband being home alone after work every day. It would be so easy for him to want to relax after work with a beer. But they talked about it and he was all right. Lauren was only 23 years old but she was over the Information Technology department at Tyler Junior College. She didn’t just work with computers, she was in charge of all the technology on the whole campus. She got to work around 9:00 and assigned the technicians to work on whatever projects needed attention. She taught a couple technology classes herself. And since there was always new software and software cost money there were always meetings with administration. She had a big job. And it was stressful. But Lauren was really good at what she did. The Christians who worked with her called her “Josephine” after Joseph in the Old Testament who succeeded at everything he did. She got home at 6:00 or 7:00 on weeknights.
Tonight Marcus had dinner (breakfast) ready, which was nice. Between bites of ham and eggs they talked about their days. Marcus had a regular day at work, no drama. Lauren had a regular day at work, plenty of drama. But it was a normal day. Too many days in a row like that made Marcus feel antsy, anxious to do something exciting, and he told Lauren as much. She swirled the last bit of orange juice in her glass, “Most of life is routine. We go to work, come home, go to church, you know. That’s how Jesus spent over half his life. Working as a carpenter, coming home, going to synagogue.” Marcus leaned back in his chair, “So if we can handle the routine of daily life then we can handle the big things that come up. Jesus said something about that, didn’t he?” Marcus was setting Lauren up to quote Jesus’ words, most of which she had committed to memory since she was a teenager…
Lauren picked up the dishes and glasses to take to the kitchen, then she came back to the table and kissed him on the forehead, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much. Thanks for making dinner.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Marcus got up at 6:00. He made coffee and sat down at the kitchen/card table and opened Lauren’s laptop. He read a chapter from Romans on biblegateway.com. Then he checked espn.com and watched the highlights of yesterday’s baseball games. After another cup of coffee it was time to go to work. He climbed into his 2001 Dodge Ram to make the fifteen minute commute. He got there at 6:45 to open the warehouse, get the orders, and make coffee for the guys. One or two days out of the week he got to deliver, but not today. Tuesdays he was always in the warehouse. He worked till noon filling orders and loading trucks, took a lunch break from noon to 12:30, then he worked till 5:00 and left the evening shift to finish the work for the day. He usually passed Brookshires on the way home so Lauren had texted him a grocery list. He stopped and picked up toilet paper and bananas and orange juice. He got home at quarter to six and fixed a little dinner so it would be ready when Lauren got home. The orange juice made him think of breakfast so he cooked breakfast for dinner: ham, eggs, toast, orange juice.
Lauren’s workday was a couple hours different than his. This worried her when they first got married. She was concerned about her recovering alcoholic husband being home alone after work every day. It would be so easy for him to want to relax after work with a beer. But they talked about it and he was all right. Lauren was only 23 years old but she was over the Information Technology department at Tyler Junior College. She didn’t just work with computers, she was in charge of all the technology on the whole campus. She got to work around 9:00 and assigned the technicians to work on whatever projects needed attention. She taught a couple technology classes herself. And since there was always new software and software cost money there were always meetings with administration. She had a big job. And it was stressful. But Lauren was really good at what she did. The Christians who worked with her called her “Josephine” after Joseph in the Old Testament who succeeded at everything he did. She got home at 6:00 or 7:00 on weeknights.
Tonight Marcus had dinner (breakfast) ready, which was nice. Between bites of ham and eggs they talked about their days. Marcus had a regular day at work, no drama. Lauren had a regular day at work, plenty of drama. But it was a normal day. Too many days in a row like that made Marcus feel antsy, anxious to do something exciting, and he told Lauren as much. She swirled the last bit of orange juice in her glass, “Most of life is routine. We go to work, come home, go to church, you know. That’s how Jesus spent over half his life. Working as a carpenter, coming home, going to synagogue.” Marcus leaned back in his chair, “So if we can handle the routine of daily life then we can handle the big things that come up. Jesus said something about that, didn’t he?” Marcus was setting Lauren up to quote Jesus’ words, most of which she had committed to memory since she was a teenager…
Lauren picked up the dishes and glasses to take to the kitchen, then she came back to the table and kissed him on the forehead, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much. Thanks for making dinner.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Marcus Redding’s Mother-In-Law
“Lauren…are you home?” Marcus noticed her car in the parking lot but she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. He walked down the hall, “Lauren?” He peeked into the bedroom and saw her curled up on the bed, still with her work clothes on, her long blond hair all messed up. She was crying. Half-worried, half-puzzled Marcus sat on the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Lauren, what’s wrong?” She sniffed and sat up. He grabbed her a couple Kleenex and she wiped her eyes. She sat still, looking down at the wet Kleenex in her hands. After a minute she looked up at Marcus, “I feel so bad for her. She’s so lonely.”
Her mom’s name was Ruth. Her dad’s name was Cal. He was in pharmaceutical sales—a “drug rep”—and he traveled a lot. Since Cal had a good paying job, Ruth could stay home with the kids, something she always dreamed of. One day he came home and said he would be gone for a couple weeks. He never came back. Ruth later found out he met a pretty young nurse at a doctor’s office in Plano.
Ruth was 28. Lauren was 7. Eddie was 10. She had to go to work. They hired her to wait tables at Cracker Barrel. Ruth worked hard, she was smart, and people liked her. She worked her way up to manager. She tried to fix her schedule so she could get home before the kids got home from school. It didn’t always work that way, but she tried.
Early on she decided that whatever else she lost, she was not going to lose her children to the world. With God’s help she would raise Lauren and Eddie with rock-solid faith. So every day, without exception, she talked to them about the Bible. Every day, without exception, she prayed for them and with them. Every Sunday, without exception, they went to worship services and stayed close to their brothers and sisters in Christ. In this way, both kids grew up devoted to the Lord, full of God’s word, full of love for God and others.
But great faith doesn’t make a hard life easy. Ruth struggled. Money was tight. They scraped by. She got so tired. Working. Looking after the kids. Taking care of the house. All on her own. And like every woman Ruth longed for attention and affection. Single men (and some married men) flirted with her at the restaurant. But she had decided long ago she would not even consider a relationship until the kids were grown. The hardest thing was seeing happy young families at church with loving and involved fathers. The first scripture Lauren every learned by heart was the one her mother always quoted, usually at about 10:30 at night when she tucked the kids into bed. It was John 16:33, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
This afternoon Lauren had been on the phone with her mom. Ruth started to cry as she talked about some of her regular customers, an older couple that had been married fifty years. They celebrated their anniversary last week with a bunch of family and grandkids. Lauren felt for her mom but she wanted to help her be strong. “Mom…mom…John 16:33.” Ruth took a deep breath and recited the verse, word for word, with a few sobs for punctuation. “Thanks for talking to me, honey. I feel better.” Lauren hung up the phone just before Marcus walked in.
Marcus sat on the bed a while. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Ruth’s number. She picked up after two rings. “Ruth, it’s Marcus. If it wasn’t for you raising Lauren to be faithful, I would be lost.”
Her mom’s name was Ruth. Her dad’s name was Cal. He was in pharmaceutical sales—a “drug rep”—and he traveled a lot. Since Cal had a good paying job, Ruth could stay home with the kids, something she always dreamed of. One day he came home and said he would be gone for a couple weeks. He never came back. Ruth later found out he met a pretty young nurse at a doctor’s office in Plano.
Ruth was 28. Lauren was 7. Eddie was 10. She had to go to work. They hired her to wait tables at Cracker Barrel. Ruth worked hard, she was smart, and people liked her. She worked her way up to manager. She tried to fix her schedule so she could get home before the kids got home from school. It didn’t always work that way, but she tried.
Early on she decided that whatever else she lost, she was not going to lose her children to the world. With God’s help she would raise Lauren and Eddie with rock-solid faith. So every day, without exception, she talked to them about the Bible. Every day, without exception, she prayed for them and with them. Every Sunday, without exception, they went to worship services and stayed close to their brothers and sisters in Christ. In this way, both kids grew up devoted to the Lord, full of God’s word, full of love for God and others.
But great faith doesn’t make a hard life easy. Ruth struggled. Money was tight. They scraped by. She got so tired. Working. Looking after the kids. Taking care of the house. All on her own. And like every woman Ruth longed for attention and affection. Single men (and some married men) flirted with her at the restaurant. But she had decided long ago she would not even consider a relationship until the kids were grown. The hardest thing was seeing happy young families at church with loving and involved fathers. The first scripture Lauren every learned by heart was the one her mother always quoted, usually at about 10:30 at night when she tucked the kids into bed. It was John 16:33, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
This afternoon Lauren had been on the phone with her mom. Ruth started to cry as she talked about some of her regular customers, an older couple that had been married fifty years. They celebrated their anniversary last week with a bunch of family and grandkids. Lauren felt for her mom but she wanted to help her be strong. “Mom…mom…John 16:33.” Ruth took a deep breath and recited the verse, word for word, with a few sobs for punctuation. “Thanks for talking to me, honey. I feel better.” Lauren hung up the phone just before Marcus walked in.
Marcus sat on the bed a while. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Ruth’s number. She picked up after two rings. “Ruth, it’s Marcus. If it wasn’t for you raising Lauren to be faithful, I would be lost.”
Friday, September 18, 2009
Marcus Redding Loses His Temper
Marcus hollered to his co-worker on the forklift, “Steve, can you bring out another pallet of peanuts?” Steve nodded and brought out a full pallet from the back. Marcus stacked three big boxes on the dolly and wheeled them to the truck. He didn’t see Steve nod to two other guys who were already hiding inside the truck. While Marcus was bent over loading the boxes, they jumped up and sprayed Marcus with silly string. Surprised, Marcus jumped up and banged his head hard on one of the shelves in the truck. It almost knocked him out. He was dizzy and seeing stars and a goose egg was coming up just at the top of his forehead. Corey walked up to him and said, “Oh, man I’m sorry.” Marcus reacted. He lunged at Corey and shoved him, calling him a bad name. Steve pulled Marcus back, “Whoa, whoa, whoa…it was just a joke…cool down.” Marcus jerked himself away and walked off. Corey went to the office and made Marcus an ice pack. He came out and found Marcus sitting on a stack of boxes in a corner. Again, he told Marcus he was sorry. Marcus just took the ice pack and looked away.
When Lauren got home he was lying on the couch with a fresh ice pack on his forehead. “Marcus Redding what happened to you?!” Marcus didn’t say anything at first. She sat down on the other end of the couch and spoke to him again, more gently this time, “Marcus, what happened?” He took off the ice pack. She raised her eyebrows. After a while he explained. Now it was Lauren’s turn not to say anything. The room was quiet for a minute or two. Marcus broke the silence, “I overreacted…I’m embarrassed…what is that scripture you told me about last week…from James…quick to listen…slow to speak…” Lauren helped him out, “Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness that God requires.” “Yeah, that one,” Marcus sighed, “And I’m supposed to be a Christian…a good example.” Lauren put her hand on his leg, “Just apologize tomorrow…first thing…and move on.” Marcus nodded and laid the ice pack back on his head. He prayed silently and confessed the sin of losing his temper.
Corey came in the door at 7:55 and Marcus was right there to meet him. “I’m sorry, Corey. I overreacted. Sorry. Let me buy you lunch today.” He held out his hand. Corey didn’t hesitate. He shook Marcus’s hand, “That’s all right man. That’s all right. You banging your head was my fault. Are you all right?” Marcus waved his hand, “I’m fine. Let me take you to El Lugar for lunch.” “You don’t have to do that,” Corey protested. Marcus turned and grabbed a dolly and said over his shoulder, “Twelve o’clock, El Lugar.”
Over the loud music and lunchtime conversation, they ordered their quesadillas and found a seat. They talked about sports and work as they waited for their food. The girl called for #47 and Marcus went up to the counter. But right as Marcus was about to turn in his number and pick up the tray, a teenage kid came up and grabbed their food and started to take it to another seat. Marcus said, “I think you got my food there buddy.” The kid looked at Marcus, then walked right by him and set the two plates on his own table. Marcus was more puzzled than upset. He went over to the guy and said again, “I think you got my food.” This time the kid ignored him. Now Marcus was upset. He was about to raise his voice when he remembered Lauren’s voice, “slow to speak, slow to anger.” So before he made a fool of himself for the second time in two days he turned around and went back to the counter, showing the girl the receipt, and the plastic #47 she gave him. The girl smiled and said she would take care of it.
Marcus followed her back to the kid’s table. When they got there, the kid was using sign language.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
When Lauren got home he was lying on the couch with a fresh ice pack on his forehead. “Marcus Redding what happened to you?!” Marcus didn’t say anything at first. She sat down on the other end of the couch and spoke to him again, more gently this time, “Marcus, what happened?” He took off the ice pack. She raised her eyebrows. After a while he explained. Now it was Lauren’s turn not to say anything. The room was quiet for a minute or two. Marcus broke the silence, “I overreacted…I’m embarrassed…what is that scripture you told me about last week…from James…quick to listen…slow to speak…” Lauren helped him out, “Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness that God requires.” “Yeah, that one,” Marcus sighed, “And I’m supposed to be a Christian…a good example.” Lauren put her hand on his leg, “Just apologize tomorrow…first thing…and move on.” Marcus nodded and laid the ice pack back on his head. He prayed silently and confessed the sin of losing his temper.
Corey came in the door at 7:55 and Marcus was right there to meet him. “I’m sorry, Corey. I overreacted. Sorry. Let me buy you lunch today.” He held out his hand. Corey didn’t hesitate. He shook Marcus’s hand, “That’s all right man. That’s all right. You banging your head was my fault. Are you all right?” Marcus waved his hand, “I’m fine. Let me take you to El Lugar for lunch.” “You don’t have to do that,” Corey protested. Marcus turned and grabbed a dolly and said over his shoulder, “Twelve o’clock, El Lugar.”
Over the loud music and lunchtime conversation, they ordered their quesadillas and found a seat. They talked about sports and work as they waited for their food. The girl called for #47 and Marcus went up to the counter. But right as Marcus was about to turn in his number and pick up the tray, a teenage kid came up and grabbed their food and started to take it to another seat. Marcus said, “I think you got my food there buddy.” The kid looked at Marcus, then walked right by him and set the two plates on his own table. Marcus was more puzzled than upset. He went over to the guy and said again, “I think you got my food.” This time the kid ignored him. Now Marcus was upset. He was about to raise his voice when he remembered Lauren’s voice, “slow to speak, slow to anger.” So before he made a fool of himself for the second time in two days he turned around and went back to the counter, showing the girl the receipt, and the plastic #47 she gave him. The girl smiled and said she would take care of it.
Marcus followed her back to the kid’s table. When they got there, the kid was using sign language.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Marcus Redding Falls Asleep
He said goodbye to his folks and put his guitar back into the case. It was 10:00 so he turned on ESPN. He watched SportsCenter with Lauren every Sunday night before they went to bed. He propped up on one end of the couch with his feet toward the middle. She propped up on the other end of the couch with her feet toward the middle. They watched football highlights (the punter hit the scoreboard at Cowboys Stadium…again!), the baseball highlights (Rangers won, Mariners lost), and talked about the upcoming week during commercials. They usually turned off the TV and went to bed right after the Top Ten Plays of the Week.
But this time Marcus didn’t make it to 10:45, he nodded off to sleep around 10:30. Lauren got up and turned off the TV. She got tomorrow’s lunch ready for Marcus and dropped a SHMILY note into the brown paper bag. As she brushed her teeth she turned off all the lights, except the lamp on the table next to the couch where Marcus was asleep. She moved a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer so Marcus could have his work clothes ready in the morning. As she was stuffing socks and T-shirts into the dryer something fell out of Marcus’s work pants and clanged on the tile floor, landing in the little space between the washer and the dryer. She couldn’t reach in to pick it up so she had to shove the washer over a few inches. When she looked down she smiled.
It was a small metal-rimmed picture frame, maybe a couple inches square, with thick plastic on both sides. She picked it up and turned it over a couple times in her hands. On one side was a little photo of 15 year old Marcus and his dad at Lake Padden. They were soaking wet and they had their arms around each other, big smiles on their faces. On the other side was a little photo of Marcus and her in front of a waterfall at a park in Arkansas. They had backpacks on and walking sticks in their hands. She squeezed it in her hand and started the dryer.
She went back out into the kitchen and sat at their kitchen/card table, set the little picture frame next to her computer, and opened up her laptop. She typed Marcus a note…
“I found this when I was doing the laundry last night. I didn’t know you still carried it around, but it reminded me how much I love you. I love this picture of you and your dad after your baptism. It reminds me of how you were buried with Jesus into death and raised to walk in a new life. And I love the picture of you and me at the waterfall. It reminds me of how Jesus said ‘they are no longer two but one.’ The fact that you carry it around shows that you love God and you love me.
Marcus, you always give me credit for helping you regain your faith. But all I did was turn you around and point you back to Jesus. You took the first steps. God saw you a long way off and ran and embraced you and kissed you. You have a good and honest heart. I’m so happy to be your wife. I’m so proud of you. I love you, Marcus.”
She printed out the letter and took it over to the couch where he was sleeping, half-snoring by now. She left the note on his stomach and put the picture frame on top of it. She kissed his forehead and went to bed.
When Lauren got up in the morning Marcus had already gone to work. He left a note on the counter that said, “James 5:19-20. I love you.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
But this time Marcus didn’t make it to 10:45, he nodded off to sleep around 10:30. Lauren got up and turned off the TV. She got tomorrow’s lunch ready for Marcus and dropped a SHMILY note into the brown paper bag. As she brushed her teeth she turned off all the lights, except the lamp on the table next to the couch where Marcus was asleep. She moved a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer so Marcus could have his work clothes ready in the morning. As she was stuffing socks and T-shirts into the dryer something fell out of Marcus’s work pants and clanged on the tile floor, landing in the little space between the washer and the dryer. She couldn’t reach in to pick it up so she had to shove the washer over a few inches. When she looked down she smiled.
It was a small metal-rimmed picture frame, maybe a couple inches square, with thick plastic on both sides. She picked it up and turned it over a couple times in her hands. On one side was a little photo of 15 year old Marcus and his dad at Lake Padden. They were soaking wet and they had their arms around each other, big smiles on their faces. On the other side was a little photo of Marcus and her in front of a waterfall at a park in Arkansas. They had backpacks on and walking sticks in their hands. She squeezed it in her hand and started the dryer.
She went back out into the kitchen and sat at their kitchen/card table, set the little picture frame next to her computer, and opened up her laptop. She typed Marcus a note…
“I found this when I was doing the laundry last night. I didn’t know you still carried it around, but it reminded me how much I love you. I love this picture of you and your dad after your baptism. It reminds me of how you were buried with Jesus into death and raised to walk in a new life. And I love the picture of you and me at the waterfall. It reminds me of how Jesus said ‘they are no longer two but one.’ The fact that you carry it around shows that you love God and you love me.
Marcus, you always give me credit for helping you regain your faith. But all I did was turn you around and point you back to Jesus. You took the first steps. God saw you a long way off and ran and embraced you and kissed you. You have a good and honest heart. I’m so happy to be your wife. I’m so proud of you. I love you, Marcus.”
She printed out the letter and took it over to the couch where he was sleeping, half-snoring by now. She left the note on his stomach and put the picture frame on top of it. She kissed his forehead and went to bed.
When Lauren got up in the morning Marcus had already gone to work. He left a note on the counter that said, “James 5:19-20. I love you.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Marcus Redding Sings
David Redding was sitting on a bench in the foyer. He looked at the time on his cell phone. 8:15! Sunday evening services were over at 7:00, but there were still three or four groups of people talking in the foyer. It didn’t bother David at all. He remembered Acts 2:44, “All who believed were together…”
Marcus and Lauren were talking with Armando and Terry Lilly. They had a lot in common, both young couples that really wanted to do God’s will. David was glad his son had friends in the church. He’d seen it over and over again. Kids who grew up in the church but didn’t form any real close friendships with other Christians…they fell away when they went to college and had trouble getting back.
Armando had to get up early for work so they said goodbye. Marcus told his dad and mom that he didn’t bring his guitar, but if they still wanted to hear his song they could come by the apartment and have a bite to eat, only he and Lauren would have to stop by the store and pick up a few groceries first. David said that was fine, he’d have to stay a while to lock up anyway, meet them at the apartment in a little while.
Lauren picked up milk and eggs and paper towels. Marcus got a frozen pizza (supreme) to share with his folks. As they drove back to the apartment Lauren turned and looked at her husband, “You still haven’t let me hear this song of yours, Mr. Shy Artist.” “More like Mr. Wannabe Artist,” he replied. “There hasn’t been anything to hear. It’s a work in progress.” Lauren looked back out the window, “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Marcus liked to play the guitar and he liked to sing, but he was always a little embarrassed about it. He knew music. Tunes just came to him. But he struggled with lyrics and he was hesitant to let people hear him sing, even his mom and dad, even Lauren. He was always worried his songs would sounds silly, too poetic, overdone.
But his dad knew all that and wanted to encourage Marcus to work on songwriting, a positive way to spend his time. It would be easier to fall back into his old ways if he wasn’t busy doing good things.
“Let’s hear it buddy.” His dad sat on the couch across from Marcus who sat on the floor with his guitar. “Okay, but don’t laugh.” First he played the chord progression without singing. Then he went through the tune again, this time picking out the individual notes, still without singing. Lauren sliced up the pizza and handed it to Marcus’s parents on paper plates. “He’s good, isn’t he?...there’s tea on the kitchen counter,” she spoke quietly so as not to interrupt Marcus.
When he finished playing through the second time, he said “Cirrus Highway,” and sang these lyrics:
Little brick house, big backyard, “Come on dad, let’s go outside”
Gray clouds roll in, starts to rain, they run and hide
Sun breaks through, the clouds burn off, “let’s go play”
They toss the ball back and forth, underneath the cirrus highway
Chorus:
Horizons dissolve/distress disappears
Cruising along the cirrus highway
Gravity’s gone/no more fears
Riding high on a cirrus highway
Another house, big gray bars, no place to play
Clouds roll in, thunder rolls, storms today
It’s dark and getting darker, no light, no day
Can’t see through to the cirrus highway
Number 203 on the door, coffee steaming in my cup
She walks in, let’s go outside, before the sun comes up
It’s bright and getting brighter, look to the west
Thin clouds on high, on high, cirrus highway at its best
He strummed the last chord and the room went quiet. A small round of applause. Lauren asked him, “Where did you get the idea for those lyrics?”
Marcus said, “1 Thessalonians 4:17.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Marcus and Lauren were talking with Armando and Terry Lilly. They had a lot in common, both young couples that really wanted to do God’s will. David was glad his son had friends in the church. He’d seen it over and over again. Kids who grew up in the church but didn’t form any real close friendships with other Christians…they fell away when they went to college and had trouble getting back.
Armando had to get up early for work so they said goodbye. Marcus told his dad and mom that he didn’t bring his guitar, but if they still wanted to hear his song they could come by the apartment and have a bite to eat, only he and Lauren would have to stop by the store and pick up a few groceries first. David said that was fine, he’d have to stay a while to lock up anyway, meet them at the apartment in a little while.
Lauren picked up milk and eggs and paper towels. Marcus got a frozen pizza (supreme) to share with his folks. As they drove back to the apartment Lauren turned and looked at her husband, “You still haven’t let me hear this song of yours, Mr. Shy Artist.” “More like Mr. Wannabe Artist,” he replied. “There hasn’t been anything to hear. It’s a work in progress.” Lauren looked back out the window, “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Marcus liked to play the guitar and he liked to sing, but he was always a little embarrassed about it. He knew music. Tunes just came to him. But he struggled with lyrics and he was hesitant to let people hear him sing, even his mom and dad, even Lauren. He was always worried his songs would sounds silly, too poetic, overdone.
But his dad knew all that and wanted to encourage Marcus to work on songwriting, a positive way to spend his time. It would be easier to fall back into his old ways if he wasn’t busy doing good things.
“Let’s hear it buddy.” His dad sat on the couch across from Marcus who sat on the floor with his guitar. “Okay, but don’t laugh.” First he played the chord progression without singing. Then he went through the tune again, this time picking out the individual notes, still without singing. Lauren sliced up the pizza and handed it to Marcus’s parents on paper plates. “He’s good, isn’t he?...there’s tea on the kitchen counter,” she spoke quietly so as not to interrupt Marcus.
When he finished playing through the second time, he said “Cirrus Highway,” and sang these lyrics:
Little brick house, big backyard, “Come on dad, let’s go outside”
Gray clouds roll in, starts to rain, they run and hide
Sun breaks through, the clouds burn off, “let’s go play”
They toss the ball back and forth, underneath the cirrus highway
Chorus:
Horizons dissolve/distress disappears
Cruising along the cirrus highway
Gravity’s gone/no more fears
Riding high on a cirrus highway
Another house, big gray bars, no place to play
Clouds roll in, thunder rolls, storms today
It’s dark and getting darker, no light, no day
Can’t see through to the cirrus highway
Number 203 on the door, coffee steaming in my cup
She walks in, let’s go outside, before the sun comes up
It’s bright and getting brighter, look to the west
Thin clouds on high, on high, cirrus highway at its best
He strummed the last chord and the room went quiet. A small round of applause. Lauren asked him, “Where did you get the idea for those lyrics?”
Marcus said, “1 Thessalonians 4:17.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Marcus Redding Worships God
Twenty people must have come up to him between the time he walked in the building and the moment he took his seat in the auditorium. It was a little embarrassing, but he appreciated it. Mrs. Jones gave him a hug and asked how work was going. Mr. Allen, who worked with his dad for years, shook his hand and talked about playing the guitar. His friend Kevin—they had gone to church together since they were three years old—always gave him the handshake-with-one-arm-half-hug-with-the-other-arm that guys do. It had been almost a year now since he regained his faith, since he held Lauren’s hand as he walked down to aisle to stand in front of his brothers and sisters—and his own mother and father—to express his repentance for four years of rejecting the Lord and letting Satan rule his life.
Bill Chancko stood in the pulpit to call everyone to worship. Marcus was glad to be there.
Blyn Dalltin led a mix of older hymns and newer songs of praise. Marcus didn’t sing loud, but he focused on the words. He loved the poetry of the second song:
The sands of time are sinking/The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for/The fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark had been the midnight/But dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth/In Emmanuel’s land.
Marcus knew “midnight.” He lived four years in darkness. Then he met Lauren. She showed him the Jesus he had forgotten. The dawn of heaven broke.
John Humble got up to preach. The sermon was on Mark 14:22-24. He encouraged everyone to consider that, by rights, it should have been our bodies that were broken and our blood that was poured out. But we were forgiven because Jesus was forsaken. We were accepted because he was condemned. We were alive because he died and rose again.
After the sermon the gentlemen prayed before distributing the bread for the Lord’s Supper. Marcus held Lauren’s hand and closed his eyes. “This is my body,” Jesus said. But Marcus thought about his own body, four straight years of sins that he committed in his body. A four-year blur in his memory, an alcohol-soaked mixture of resentment, fighting, and waking up in strange places and not knowing how he got there or who that was next to him. He took a piece of the bread. “This is my body,” Jesus said. “He died for me,” Marcus thought. He squeezed Lauren’s hand. She leaned over and whispered one word to him, “Grace.”
The gentlemen prayed before passing around the cups. “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,” Jesus said. Marcus repeated that verse in his mind but substituted his own name for “many.” Then he thought about the passage from Hebrews, “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin.” He looked at the scars on his forearms, his knuckles, his wrists. The ones he could see anyway. He had covered most of them with tatoos. He had bled a lot and made others bleed. He took a little cup and drank it down. “This is my blood,” Jesus said, “poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
“Thank you.” Marcus almost said it out loud.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Bill Chancko stood in the pulpit to call everyone to worship. Marcus was glad to be there.
Blyn Dalltin led a mix of older hymns and newer songs of praise. Marcus didn’t sing loud, but he focused on the words. He loved the poetry of the second song:
The sands of time are sinking/The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for/The fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark had been the midnight/But dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth/In Emmanuel’s land.
Marcus knew “midnight.” He lived four years in darkness. Then he met Lauren. She showed him the Jesus he had forgotten. The dawn of heaven broke.
John Humble got up to preach. The sermon was on Mark 14:22-24. He encouraged everyone to consider that, by rights, it should have been our bodies that were broken and our blood that was poured out. But we were forgiven because Jesus was forsaken. We were accepted because he was condemned. We were alive because he died and rose again.
After the sermon the gentlemen prayed before distributing the bread for the Lord’s Supper. Marcus held Lauren’s hand and closed his eyes. “This is my body,” Jesus said. But Marcus thought about his own body, four straight years of sins that he committed in his body. A four-year blur in his memory, an alcohol-soaked mixture of resentment, fighting, and waking up in strange places and not knowing how he got there or who that was next to him. He took a piece of the bread. “This is my body,” Jesus said. “He died for me,” Marcus thought. He squeezed Lauren’s hand. She leaned over and whispered one word to him, “Grace.”
The gentlemen prayed before passing around the cups. “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,” Jesus said. Marcus repeated that verse in his mind but substituted his own name for “many.” Then he thought about the passage from Hebrews, “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin.” He looked at the scars on his forearms, his knuckles, his wrists. The ones he could see anyway. He had covered most of them with tatoos. He had bled a lot and made others bleed. He took a little cup and drank it down. “This is my blood,” Jesus said, “poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
“Thank you.” Marcus almost said it out loud.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Marcus Redding's Sunday Morning
He woke up to the smell of Sunday morning coffee. As usual, Lauren was up early and made coffee for him. She didn’t drink coffee herself. More of an orange juice girl. But she made him coffee every Sunday morning.
After he got ready he sat down across from her at their kitchen (card) table. As she finished her Raisin Bran, she said, “You were asleep when I got home. What did you do last night?” Marcus looked at her and smiled an embarrassed smile and sipped his coffee. “I almost burned myself,” he said. Lauren frowned, “Well let it cool down before you drink it then.” “No, I meant last night…I almost burned myself last night.” And he told Lauren about going to Ron’s house to watch UFC 101. And how he left when he realized that he couldn’t be holy and also watch guys beat the tar out of each other. And how the smell of the beer they were drinking brought back bad memories for him. “So I left,” he concluded.
Lauren reached across the table—which wasn’t that far a reach—and squeezed Marcus’s hand, “I’m proud of you.” “I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.” “I’m proud of you.” “Thanks, Lauren.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Time to go.”
They drove to the church building. A ten minute drive from their apartment. Marcus parked away from the front door, just like his dad always did. He would explain, “Leave the closer parking places for older folks and families with little kids.” His dad was always doing things like that. In fact, his dad (David) and mom (Abigail) pulled up and parked right next to them. They all got out and greeted each other. Lauren held Abigail’s hand as they walked across the parking lot to the building. Marcus and his dad walked behind the ladies.
“How’s your song coming?”
“I’ve got the tune, I’m just working on the lyrics”
“Come over after evening services tonight and play it for me.”
“All right.”
As they approached the door, Marcus walked a little slower and let his dad go in front. David knew what was going on. He reached out to open the door and held it for the ladies. Marcus hesitated. David knew why.
This door to the church building was the same door David held open for Marcus and Bruce five years ago, the Wednesday night after he got his license, the Wednesday night when Marcus wanted to take his friend for a drive, the Wednesday night of the car wreck in which Bruce died. David had stood in this very same doorway five years ago and reminded Marcus to be careful and to check in on his cell phone or at least text him and to be home by 10:00. Since Marcus had only regained his faith less than a year ago, it still bothered him to walk through that door. And to see his dad there again. It brought back haunting memories. Some Sundays he would just take a right turn and go through the side door. Some Sundays it was all Lauren could do to hold his hand and keep him from walking back to the car and leaving all together. The flashbacks to the accident, remembering Bruce’s parents at the graveside, it was all too intense.
But this Sunday he was all right. Lauren had walked in with Abigail. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Then he saw his dad holding the door. The door into the place of assembly where he could worship the God who had saved him once…and rescued him again. “Come on, buddy,” David said, “Remember…Philippians 3:13-14.”
Marcus took a deep breath and walked in.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
After he got ready he sat down across from her at their kitchen (card) table. As she finished her Raisin Bran, she said, “You were asleep when I got home. What did you do last night?” Marcus looked at her and smiled an embarrassed smile and sipped his coffee. “I almost burned myself,” he said. Lauren frowned, “Well let it cool down before you drink it then.” “No, I meant last night…I almost burned myself last night.” And he told Lauren about going to Ron’s house to watch UFC 101. And how he left when he realized that he couldn’t be holy and also watch guys beat the tar out of each other. And how the smell of the beer they were drinking brought back bad memories for him. “So I left,” he concluded.
Lauren reached across the table—which wasn’t that far a reach—and squeezed Marcus’s hand, “I’m proud of you.” “I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.” “I’m proud of you.” “Thanks, Lauren.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Time to go.”
They drove to the church building. A ten minute drive from their apartment. Marcus parked away from the front door, just like his dad always did. He would explain, “Leave the closer parking places for older folks and families with little kids.” His dad was always doing things like that. In fact, his dad (David) and mom (Abigail) pulled up and parked right next to them. They all got out and greeted each other. Lauren held Abigail’s hand as they walked across the parking lot to the building. Marcus and his dad walked behind the ladies.
“How’s your song coming?”
“I’ve got the tune, I’m just working on the lyrics”
“Come over after evening services tonight and play it for me.”
“All right.”
As they approached the door, Marcus walked a little slower and let his dad go in front. David knew what was going on. He reached out to open the door and held it for the ladies. Marcus hesitated. David knew why.
This door to the church building was the same door David held open for Marcus and Bruce five years ago, the Wednesday night after he got his license, the Wednesday night when Marcus wanted to take his friend for a drive, the Wednesday night of the car wreck in which Bruce died. David had stood in this very same doorway five years ago and reminded Marcus to be careful and to check in on his cell phone or at least text him and to be home by 10:00. Since Marcus had only regained his faith less than a year ago, it still bothered him to walk through that door. And to see his dad there again. It brought back haunting memories. Some Sundays he would just take a right turn and go through the side door. Some Sundays it was all Lauren could do to hold his hand and keep him from walking back to the car and leaving all together. The flashbacks to the accident, remembering Bruce’s parents at the graveside, it was all too intense.
But this Sunday he was all right. Lauren had walked in with Abigail. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Then he saw his dad holding the door. The door into the place of assembly where he could worship the God who had saved him once…and rescued him again. “Come on, buddy,” David said, “Remember…Philippians 3:13-14.”
Marcus took a deep breath and walked in.
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Marcus Redding Taps Out
12:30. Lunch break was over. Back to work. The rest of the day went like normal until they were about to go home. Ron jumped off the forklift and plugged it in to the charger. He caught Marcus at the door. “Hey man, why don’t you come over to me and my brother’s house tonight. We’re having some guys over to watch UFC 101. Pizza’s on me.”
Now Marcus had a problem. He had been trying to set a good example for Ron, praying for his mom, inviting him to the Rangers game. Ron appreciated his kindness and Marcus knew this was his way of saying thanks. He wanted to go, if for no other reason than to keep building a friendship with him. And Lauren was working late tonight...
But he knew they would wash down that pizza with something. And it wouldn’t be Kool-Aid. And UFC? He’d watched highlights of mixed martial arts on SportsCenter with Lauren. Whenever it would come on she would say something like, “I can’t figure out why Christians watch this. Remember Philippians 4:8? I’d rather watch cricket than outright violence marketed as a legitimate sport.”
All these thoughts flashed through Marcus’s mind in about three seconds. Then he heard himself tell Ron, “I’ll be there.” Ron smiled, “All right. 7:00. You know where I live?” Marcus nodded. But his conscience had already gone to work on him.
For the next few hours as he washed up, played his guitar a little, and watched the news on TV, it was a battle of two voices. One said, “This is a chance to build a relationship with Ron and his brother. It’ll be fun. Harmless.” The other said, “Ron and his brother don’t drink Kool-Aid and UFC doesn’t stand for Ultra Friendly Croquet. What are you thinking?” But the first voice was stronger and he found himself knocking on Ron’s door at 7:00.
“Hey man, thanks for coming. Pizza’s on the way. Come and watch the undercard fights. Look at this guy.” Marcus sat down at the kitchen table and watched the big screen. Two fighters in the octagon. One had the other pinned to the ground, knee on his chest, and he was pounding away punch after punch. Then he let the guy up, it was obvious his nose was broken. Blood all over his face. The stronger guy spun around behind him and put him in a chokehold. The bloody fighter weakly tapped his opponent’s arm, the ref broke in, the winner jumped up and pounded his chest, the loser crumpled to the mat as the doctor flew in to help him. And Marcus heard Lauren’s voice, “Philippians 4:8.”
He tried not to pay attention to the fights and just talk to Ron and his brother and his friends. But every few minutes someone was opening another Coors Light. The smell of beer brought back memories. Right before the main event Ron’s brother sat down next to him, “Thanks for coming man. Ron says you are a good guy. He’s glad he works with you. Want a beer?” “Umm..no...thanks...how’s your mom doing?” But Ron’s brother didn’t hear him, he was watching the fight.
The other voice was starting to win. He knew he’d have a rough time at work. But he had to do it. He found a note pad. Scribbled a note. Came up behind Ron, who was sitting on the couch. Discreetly passed him the note. Tapped him two times on the shoulder and said, “I’m tapping out. See you Monday.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Now Marcus had a problem. He had been trying to set a good example for Ron, praying for his mom, inviting him to the Rangers game. Ron appreciated his kindness and Marcus knew this was his way of saying thanks. He wanted to go, if for no other reason than to keep building a friendship with him. And Lauren was working late tonight...
But he knew they would wash down that pizza with something. And it wouldn’t be Kool-Aid. And UFC? He’d watched highlights of mixed martial arts on SportsCenter with Lauren. Whenever it would come on she would say something like, “I can’t figure out why Christians watch this. Remember Philippians 4:8? I’d rather watch cricket than outright violence marketed as a legitimate sport.”
All these thoughts flashed through Marcus’s mind in about three seconds. Then he heard himself tell Ron, “I’ll be there.” Ron smiled, “All right. 7:00. You know where I live?” Marcus nodded. But his conscience had already gone to work on him.
For the next few hours as he washed up, played his guitar a little, and watched the news on TV, it was a battle of two voices. One said, “This is a chance to build a relationship with Ron and his brother. It’ll be fun. Harmless.” The other said, “Ron and his brother don’t drink Kool-Aid and UFC doesn’t stand for Ultra Friendly Croquet. What are you thinking?” But the first voice was stronger and he found himself knocking on Ron’s door at 7:00.
“Hey man, thanks for coming. Pizza’s on the way. Come and watch the undercard fights. Look at this guy.” Marcus sat down at the kitchen table and watched the big screen. Two fighters in the octagon. One had the other pinned to the ground, knee on his chest, and he was pounding away punch after punch. Then he let the guy up, it was obvious his nose was broken. Blood all over his face. The stronger guy spun around behind him and put him in a chokehold. The bloody fighter weakly tapped his opponent’s arm, the ref broke in, the winner jumped up and pounded his chest, the loser crumpled to the mat as the doctor flew in to help him. And Marcus heard Lauren’s voice, “Philippians 4:8.”
He tried not to pay attention to the fights and just talk to Ron and his brother and his friends. But every few minutes someone was opening another Coors Light. The smell of beer brought back memories. Right before the main event Ron’s brother sat down next to him, “Thanks for coming man. Ron says you are a good guy. He’s glad he works with you. Want a beer?” “Umm..no...thanks...how’s your mom doing?” But Ron’s brother didn’t hear him, he was watching the fight.
The other voice was starting to win. He knew he’d have a rough time at work. But he had to do it. He found a note pad. Scribbled a note. Came up behind Ron, who was sitting on the couch. Discreetly passed him the note. Tapped him two times on the shoulder and said, “I’m tapping out. See you Monday.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Marcus Redding in the Break Room
“Did you get a little love note in your lunch Marcus? Come on, what does it say...let’s see it.” He could have told Ron to mind his own business but then the guys would have teased him more, so he went on the offensive. “Here you go.” He handed Ron the note that Lauren left in his lunch--the one that had the happy face, the letters “SHMILY,” and the scripture Acts 11:24a.
Ron scoffed, “S-H-M-I-L-Y...Schmilly? What is that? Acts? Is that something from the Bible?” Rather than get defensive, Marcus just said, “It stands for ‘See how much I love you.’ The scripture says ‘he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith.’ She’s trying to convince me I’m a good man. I wish I was as good to her as she is to me.”
With that Marcus took his tupperware full of lentils and rice out of the old 1985-model break room microwave. The other three guys passed around the note but didn’t say anything, just went on chewing their sandwiches, reading the sports page, and spitting tobacco juice into styrofoam cups. After a long minute Ron said, “When I was a kid my mom used to leave a note in my lunch when I would go to school.”
This was not typical lunch room conversation. Right then it happened that Marcus picked up the community salt shaker and gave it a couple shakes over his lunch. That triggered another scripture in his mind. Another scripture that Lauren always threw into conversation when they got home at night and talked about their day: Matthew 5:13.
Marcus sat down across from Ron. “How is your mom doing?”
“She’s doing about as well as you can do for having cancer and Alzheimers at the same time.”
“Have you talked to your sister lately?”
“She called last week, Thursday I think it was. She said mom recognized her. But mom was mad they had to poke her with another IV. I don’t know why they are still giving her chemo. She’s not going to beat the cancer. It makes her weak and seems like it makes the Alzheimers worse.”
“When was the last time you saw your mom?”
Ron’s face hardened. He looked out the window. Not at anything. One of those long looks into the past. “It’s been a while. Haven’t got a chance between work and...” He words trailed off into a grim sigh.
“Your mom lives in Arlington, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Lauren got four tickets to a Rangers game from somebody at work. The game is next weekend. Come with us. We’ll leave early and we’ll take you by the nursing home so you can see your mom.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Can I pray for your mom?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.”
“Okay, I guess”
Ron awkwardly took off his hat. Marcus prayed. When he finished, he looked up and saw Ron had tears in his eyes. Ron looked down at his newspaper and said, “Your lunch is getting cold.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Ron scoffed, “S-H-M-I-L-Y...Schmilly? What is that? Acts? Is that something from the Bible?” Rather than get defensive, Marcus just said, “It stands for ‘See how much I love you.’ The scripture says ‘he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith.’ She’s trying to convince me I’m a good man. I wish I was as good to her as she is to me.”
With that Marcus took his tupperware full of lentils and rice out of the old 1985-model break room microwave. The other three guys passed around the note but didn’t say anything, just went on chewing their sandwiches, reading the sports page, and spitting tobacco juice into styrofoam cups. After a long minute Ron said, “When I was a kid my mom used to leave a note in my lunch when I would go to school.”
This was not typical lunch room conversation. Right then it happened that Marcus picked up the community salt shaker and gave it a couple shakes over his lunch. That triggered another scripture in his mind. Another scripture that Lauren always threw into conversation when they got home at night and talked about their day: Matthew 5:13.
Marcus sat down across from Ron. “How is your mom doing?”
“She’s doing about as well as you can do for having cancer and Alzheimers at the same time.”
“Have you talked to your sister lately?”
“She called last week, Thursday I think it was. She said mom recognized her. But mom was mad they had to poke her with another IV. I don’t know why they are still giving her chemo. She’s not going to beat the cancer. It makes her weak and seems like it makes the Alzheimers worse.”
“When was the last time you saw your mom?”
Ron’s face hardened. He looked out the window. Not at anything. One of those long looks into the past. “It’s been a while. Haven’t got a chance between work and...” He words trailed off into a grim sigh.
“Your mom lives in Arlington, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Lauren got four tickets to a Rangers game from somebody at work. The game is next weekend. Come with us. We’ll leave early and we’ll take you by the nursing home so you can see your mom.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Can I pray for your mom?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.”
“Okay, I guess”
Ron awkwardly took off his hat. Marcus prayed. When he finished, he looked up and saw Ron had tears in his eyes. Ron looked down at his newspaper and said, “Your lunch is getting cold.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Marcus Redding Goes To Work
So there he stood in the little dining area of their second-floor apartment. And there she sat in front of her laptop computer set up on their card table/dining room table. He had his arm around her shoulder. He was thinking James 5:19-20. That’s what she did for him. She had her arm around his waist. She was thinking Philippians 3:13-14. That’s what she wanted for him ever since they met two years ago.
So, still with her left arm around him, she used her right hand to type out that scripture. She turned the computer towards him and angled back the screen. He read it silently. Then he looked at her and smiled and said, “I’ve got to go to work pretty soon. What are you doing today?”
“I’m still working on that infrastructure improvement project for TJC.”
“Still?”
“Still. It’s a long-term deal. Some of the systems are getting old. So right now I’m creating a program that will monitor the electricity grid, the chilled water loop, and the hot water loop.”
“You are amazing. I’ve got to get ready for work. I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head and walked down to the bedroom—the only bedroom in their little apartment. As he got ready he looked up at their wedding picture then down at his guitar in the corner which reminded him of the new song he was working on. He hummed the tune as he looked out the window at their view of Albertsons’ roof and Loop 323. Ready to go, he walked back out and saw Lauren had a brown bag lunch ready for him, sitting on the corner of the table. “See you tonight,” she said, “Remember to eat your lunch.”
He had worked at Colby’s Wholesale for just over a year now. He mostly worked the evening shift, in the warehouse, driving the forklift, filling orders, loading trucks. A couple times a week Colby would let him get out of the warehouse and make deliveries to gas stations in Tyler and the rest of East Texas. Usually he drove the same route: Chandler, Brownsboro, Murchison, Athens. But sometimes they put him on the Whitehouse, Troup, Rusk route. He didn’t like those days. He had to take 346 into Whitehouse...
But today he was in the warehouse. It was a quiet day and he chatted with the guys as he worked. It took them a while to accept him after he came back to the Lord. He used to go drinking with them and his language was as filthy as theirs. But after Lauren helped him regain his faith, he wouldn’t hang out with them after work anymore and he cleaned up his dirty mouth. They resented that. Somehow they took it personally. But he was a good worker and a good listener. If they needed help with a project at home, he would bring his tools and pitch in. And they liked to hear him play his guitar on their lunch break.
But today at lunch he didn’t have his guitar. So as they talked about Obama’s healthcare plan and the storm last Tuesday and the Texas Rangers, he got out his brown bag lunch. A big tupperware full of lentils and rice with ham, two bananas, gatorade. And a little folded up piece of paper. Even as he unfolded it, he knew what he would see...
A happy face...the letters S-H-M-I-L-Y...and the scripture “Acts 11:24a.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
So, still with her left arm around him, she used her right hand to type out that scripture. She turned the computer towards him and angled back the screen. He read it silently. Then he looked at her and smiled and said, “I’ve got to go to work pretty soon. What are you doing today?”
“I’m still working on that infrastructure improvement project for TJC.”
“Still?”
“Still. It’s a long-term deal. Some of the systems are getting old. So right now I’m creating a program that will monitor the electricity grid, the chilled water loop, and the hot water loop.”
“You are amazing. I’ve got to get ready for work. I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head and walked down to the bedroom—the only bedroom in their little apartment. As he got ready he looked up at their wedding picture then down at his guitar in the corner which reminded him of the new song he was working on. He hummed the tune as he looked out the window at their view of Albertsons’ roof and Loop 323. Ready to go, he walked back out and saw Lauren had a brown bag lunch ready for him, sitting on the corner of the table. “See you tonight,” she said, “Remember to eat your lunch.”
He had worked at Colby’s Wholesale for just over a year now. He mostly worked the evening shift, in the warehouse, driving the forklift, filling orders, loading trucks. A couple times a week Colby would let him get out of the warehouse and make deliveries to gas stations in Tyler and the rest of East Texas. Usually he drove the same route: Chandler, Brownsboro, Murchison, Athens. But sometimes they put him on the Whitehouse, Troup, Rusk route. He didn’t like those days. He had to take 346 into Whitehouse...
But today he was in the warehouse. It was a quiet day and he chatted with the guys as he worked. It took them a while to accept him after he came back to the Lord. He used to go drinking with them and his language was as filthy as theirs. But after Lauren helped him regain his faith, he wouldn’t hang out with them after work anymore and he cleaned up his dirty mouth. They resented that. Somehow they took it personally. But he was a good worker and a good listener. If they needed help with a project at home, he would bring his tools and pitch in. And they liked to hear him play his guitar on their lunch break.
But today at lunch he didn’t have his guitar. So as they talked about Obama’s healthcare plan and the storm last Tuesday and the Texas Rangers, he got out his brown bag lunch. A big tupperware full of lentils and rice with ham, two bananas, gatorade. And a little folded up piece of paper. Even as he unfolded it, he knew what he would see...
A happy face...the letters S-H-M-I-L-Y...and the scripture “Acts 11:24a.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Marcus and Lauren Redding
There was her text message on his cell phone: 1 John 3:19-20. How many times his wife had reminded him about those two verses, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.” Marcus took a deep breath, looked down at Bruce’s grave, took another deep breath, then turned and walked back to his car.
As he walked back to his car he sent his wife a text message: Proverbs 31:10-11. It was kind of a game for them. Not a fun or funny game, just something they did, sending each other text messages with scriptures for whatever they were doing at the time. How many times he had thought of those verses when he thought about Lauren.
It was about a fifteen minute drive from the cemetery back to their apartment and he didn’t feel like listening to the radio. So he just blasted the air conditioning (it had been 100 degrees during the day for the last 3 weeks!) and thought about Lauren as he drove home. He remembered the first time he saw her. Or at least the first time he saw the top of her head. Behind a computer. In the computer lab at TJC.
He had come in to check his email and sat down toward the back. He heard two girls talking at the front. One girl was talking to Lauren, the teacher assistant in charge of the lab. The girl was a student, complaining that her computer wasn’t working and she desperately needed to turn in a project before 11:00. The poor gal was almost in tears, going on and on about how she’d fail the class if she didn’t turn this in on time. Lauren told the girl to calm down and she would help her. Lauren pulled an empty chair up next to her computer, patted the seat, and said, “Come on, I’ll help you.” For the next 30 minutes she helped the girl finish her project. Marcus never saw Lauren’s face, just heard her kind voice and could barely see the top of her head, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had his attention.
Though some might have considered it a form of stalking, Marcus noticed when Lauren left the computer lab and he nonchalantly followed her from a distance. After weaving through campus, trying not to actually look like a stalker, he noticed Lauren stop and talk to a group of 5 or 6 girls in front of the gym. He sat down on a bench and watched her, and them. One girl had a Bible and read it for a bit. Then all the girls bowed their heads. It looked like they were praying. Then they hugged each other and said goodbye. She walked into the gym. Marcus resolved to “check his email” the next morning at 10:30 in the computer lab.
By now he was back home. He parked the car and walked up the steps to their apartment. He opened the door. There she was at the kitchen table, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, typing on the computer, open Bible lying on the table. He didn’t say anything. Just went over and gave her a hug. “Did you get my text?” She said yes. By now he had tears in his eyes. Not weeping or crying. Just tears in his eyes. He told Lauren, “If it wasn’t for you, I would be lost...in more ways than one.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week...
As he walked back to his car he sent his wife a text message: Proverbs 31:10-11. It was kind of a game for them. Not a fun or funny game, just something they did, sending each other text messages with scriptures for whatever they were doing at the time. How many times he had thought of those verses when he thought about Lauren.
It was about a fifteen minute drive from the cemetery back to their apartment and he didn’t feel like listening to the radio. So he just blasted the air conditioning (it had been 100 degrees during the day for the last 3 weeks!) and thought about Lauren as he drove home. He remembered the first time he saw her. Or at least the first time he saw the top of her head. Behind a computer. In the computer lab at TJC.
He had come in to check his email and sat down toward the back. He heard two girls talking at the front. One girl was talking to Lauren, the teacher assistant in charge of the lab. The girl was a student, complaining that her computer wasn’t working and she desperately needed to turn in a project before 11:00. The poor gal was almost in tears, going on and on about how she’d fail the class if she didn’t turn this in on time. Lauren told the girl to calm down and she would help her. Lauren pulled an empty chair up next to her computer, patted the seat, and said, “Come on, I’ll help you.” For the next 30 minutes she helped the girl finish her project. Marcus never saw Lauren’s face, just heard her kind voice and could barely see the top of her head, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had his attention.
Though some might have considered it a form of stalking, Marcus noticed when Lauren left the computer lab and he nonchalantly followed her from a distance. After weaving through campus, trying not to actually look like a stalker, he noticed Lauren stop and talk to a group of 5 or 6 girls in front of the gym. He sat down on a bench and watched her, and them. One girl had a Bible and read it for a bit. Then all the girls bowed their heads. It looked like they were praying. Then they hugged each other and said goodbye. She walked into the gym. Marcus resolved to “check his email” the next morning at 10:30 in the computer lab.
By now he was back home. He parked the car and walked up the steps to their apartment. He opened the door. There she was at the kitchen table, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, typing on the computer, open Bible lying on the table. He didn’t say anything. Just went over and gave her a hug. “Did you get my text?” She said yes. By now he had tears in his eyes. Not weeping or crying. Just tears in his eyes. He told Lauren, “If it wasn’t for you, I would be lost...in more ways than one.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Meet Marcus Redding
It had been five years since he passed away. But it seemed like yesterday. That’s what Marcus thought as he stood at his best friend’s grave.
They had just finished their sophomore year of high school. It was three days after school got out and Marcus’s dad took him down to get his license. He passed the test. Making complete stops at stop signs. Signaling plenty in advance. Parallel parking like a champ. He said “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” very politely to the DMV guy behind the counter who issued his license. He marched outside the office with his head held high and showed his dad his new driver’s license. His dad smiled and gave him a high five. And then came “The Talk.” Marcus knew it was coming.
His dad told him how this was another step to becoming a man, how he trusted him to be responsible, how more freedom brings more responsibility, he even quoted statistics about teenagers in car accidents. But his dad said he trusted him. Marcus would have a curfew and he’d have to let his folks know where he was at all times (“That’s why they invented cell phones,” his dad said.) But as long as he checked in with his folks and came home on time, he was free to do what he liked. Then Marcus’s dad prayed for him, right there in the parking lot. Prayed Marcus would be responsible, safe, a good example to his friends as he took this next little step to maturity. Marcus gave his dad a hug and thanked him for trusting him and told him he would not let him down.
The next Wednesday Marcus was anxious to show off his license (and the 1975 El Camino his grandpa gave him) to all the kids in the youth group. After Bible study he invited a few friends to come with him for a ride. The youth minister told them to be careful and check in with their parents first. Turned out only his best friend Bruce could go with him. So they went out for a drive.
Standing at Bruce’s grave five years later, with five years of the grief process behind him, Marcus understood what happened that evening. It was a combination of being sixteen, just getting out of school, his dad’s trust, and a sense of invincibility that made him drive too fast down 346 to Whitehouse. And the sun was setting just low enough that drivers had to shield their eyes and try to stay in their lane while navigating the curvy road. Marcus came around a long turn and the sun hit him in the eyes. As he reached to pull down the sun visor he slipped off the right side of the road, pulled the wheel hard left, and overcorrected. The last thing he heard Bruce say was a quiet and fearful “No.”
The oncoming car in the other lane hit the passenger side of the El Camino head on. Bruce was killed instantly. Marcus, somehow, came away with only a mild concussion, a broken right arm, and a lot of his friend’s blood on his shirt.
The grief and the regret and the self-hatred had settled down in the five years since the accident. But the questions of faith had only intensified. Yes, Bruce was a Christian. Yes, he was saved. Yes, he was in heaven. That was some comfort. But Marcus remembered seeing Bruce’s parents at the funeral...and here at the graveside...and their white handkerchiefs, wet with tears, contrasting with his mom’s black dress and his dad’s black suit.
So Marcus never stopped asking “Why am I still here? Shouldn’t it have been me? It was my fault. Bruce was better than me, he prayed more, he was kind to all the kids at school, from the starting pointguard to the goths who hung out on the corner, he talked about going to Harding someday...”
The ring of his cell phone broke his thoughts. It was a text message. From his wife. She knew where he was. The message just said, “1 John 3:19-20.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
They had just finished their sophomore year of high school. It was three days after school got out and Marcus’s dad took him down to get his license. He passed the test. Making complete stops at stop signs. Signaling plenty in advance. Parallel parking like a champ. He said “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” very politely to the DMV guy behind the counter who issued his license. He marched outside the office with his head held high and showed his dad his new driver’s license. His dad smiled and gave him a high five. And then came “The Talk.” Marcus knew it was coming.
His dad told him how this was another step to becoming a man, how he trusted him to be responsible, how more freedom brings more responsibility, he even quoted statistics about teenagers in car accidents. But his dad said he trusted him. Marcus would have a curfew and he’d have to let his folks know where he was at all times (“That’s why they invented cell phones,” his dad said.) But as long as he checked in with his folks and came home on time, he was free to do what he liked. Then Marcus’s dad prayed for him, right there in the parking lot. Prayed Marcus would be responsible, safe, a good example to his friends as he took this next little step to maturity. Marcus gave his dad a hug and thanked him for trusting him and told him he would not let him down.
The next Wednesday Marcus was anxious to show off his license (and the 1975 El Camino his grandpa gave him) to all the kids in the youth group. After Bible study he invited a few friends to come with him for a ride. The youth minister told them to be careful and check in with their parents first. Turned out only his best friend Bruce could go with him. So they went out for a drive.
Standing at Bruce’s grave five years later, with five years of the grief process behind him, Marcus understood what happened that evening. It was a combination of being sixteen, just getting out of school, his dad’s trust, and a sense of invincibility that made him drive too fast down 346 to Whitehouse. And the sun was setting just low enough that drivers had to shield their eyes and try to stay in their lane while navigating the curvy road. Marcus came around a long turn and the sun hit him in the eyes. As he reached to pull down the sun visor he slipped off the right side of the road, pulled the wheel hard left, and overcorrected. The last thing he heard Bruce say was a quiet and fearful “No.”
The oncoming car in the other lane hit the passenger side of the El Camino head on. Bruce was killed instantly. Marcus, somehow, came away with only a mild concussion, a broken right arm, and a lot of his friend’s blood on his shirt.
The grief and the regret and the self-hatred had settled down in the five years since the accident. But the questions of faith had only intensified. Yes, Bruce was a Christian. Yes, he was saved. Yes, he was in heaven. That was some comfort. But Marcus remembered seeing Bruce’s parents at the funeral...and here at the graveside...and their white handkerchiefs, wet with tears, contrasting with his mom’s black dress and his dad’s black suit.
So Marcus never stopped asking “Why am I still here? Shouldn’t it have been me? It was my fault. Bruce was better than me, he prayed more, he was kind to all the kids at school, from the starting pointguard to the goths who hung out on the corner, he talked about going to Harding someday...”
The ring of his cell phone broke his thoughts. It was a text message. From his wife. She knew where he was. The message just said, “1 John 3:19-20.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
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