Okay, gang-

Get a refill, this one's--waitaminit. Let me get the wavy chip off the keyboard where I dropped it. There's some passion in this one and it's hard to sit still. Here- I just brewed a pot of med-dark roast. Slide your mug on over here.

:)

It's just an ugly, regular mug that probably got picked up in a garage sale. It started out in a set, but time passed. Black isn't stylish any more; nobody wants black. And white? Oh, right: "Pure, clean, pristine, sparkly, who-do-you-think-YOU-are". It doesn't belong with all the snazzy, popular bright-colored ones. With logos. Brand names. The odd, ugly mug doesn't belong. Just ask the others; they'll tell you and everybody else.

The mug's story doesn't matter because the snazzy, regular, popular ones aren't interested. They've already made up their own and are busily assuring eveything else in the cupboard is hearing it. The ugly mug's real one only has a single use: ammo for the blabbing of the rest up in the cupboard.

I have one comment regarding that ugly, black mug.

It holds just as much great joe as any of the others and it loves refills.


"Whew! You were on a rant with that'n. Glad you've got that outta your system; it was getting a little close to meddling and you did promise that your articles would always lift, encourage, edify and challenge."

Right. I do a lot of the first three. Pay attention to the fourth. Not done here. Now comes this week's challenge.

Lakota Sioux warriors handmade their own hunting and warbows from seasoned ash wood. There's two ways to get seasoned ash wood: the easiest is to find a nice, well-shaped ash tree, cut it down and wait 5 years or more for it to dry. But the Lakota senior warriors were always watching for a rare mature ash tree that had been struck by lightning. When lightning hits an ash tree - any tree - it's instantly dried and cured by the jaw-dropping energy of the lightning. Any bows made from that tree would be way stronger.

Trees like this are hard to find, but the Sioux warriors treasured lightning-dried ash bows. Why? They'd taken the worst that the elements could put on them and survived - and weathering the worst makes anything tougher and stronger.

Think of it this way. Here's you bopping down the avenue, brand new threads from Burlington Coat Factory on board, Tommy Bahama shades in place, scoping out the '09 Challenger tooling past. Next blink here's you, smoldering and stinking mess, soles of your Asics melted in a puddle and you embarrassingly threadbare, tendrils of noxious smoke curling upward as the singular remaining clue that you were a second ago fully clothed and sort of in your right mind.

See, lightning can travel at speeds up to 130 THOUSAND mph, and up to 54 THOUSAND degrees F. There's no getting ready for a lightning strike, is what I'm trying to tell you. What happens, happens and you just deal with the effects.

From my little mug lesson, you might have an idea where this is going. But hang with me. There's a reason I have not one, but TWO stories. Like Tennessee Ernie used to sing, "If the right one don't getcha, well, the left one will..."

You can't tell from looking what kind of strikes have happened in another's life, any more than they can tell that about yours. That's really the whole point, but let me belabor it a bit. It's reasonable to think that because of significant lightning strikes in one's own life there would be a large margin of charity in his dealings with others. Experience seems to indicate to the contrary.

Does God really need to dunk a person, say, weekly in a major lightning strike to get them to lighten up on others whose lives bear the marks of their own? You know what it feels like, don't you? Any kind of strike (Sudden Traumatic Reality Indicating Kinetic Effort) in one's life gets immediate attention.

You can't see all the effects of lightning strikes in others' lives, but you can tell they've happened - just like you can tell a lightning-struck ash tree. Sooty, blown-to-ugly and blast-blackened. Broken stumps where once was beauty. Not pretty, just like that ugly old black coffee mug.

But to the discerning, there's just as much value in the gnarled, split blackened parts of another's life as there is to Lakota warriors in a lightning-struck ash tree. That's why some others try to mimic the look of ugliness without having the experience to back it up. Remember all those 'testimony' services in all those churches? Often sounded like a contest to see who had the scrungiest life. Nunh. That ain't victory, folks.

Nobody in their right mind celebrates the lightning strikes of life. What we celebrate - or ought to - is the strength, toughness and resolve - and healing - that arose within following the smoking, putrid aftermath.

Can you do that? That's the challenge, friend. Take a good look around you; there are some lives within your sphere of influence who show the unmistakable signs of some of life's sudden, fiery strikes. You can either appreciate, celebrate and encourage them - or you can join the snazzy cups with logos on 'em and put the ugly ones down, disappointing and maybe discouraging them from letting God do more wonderful stuff in their lives.

You can help them on their way or you can get in their way, because as in everything you have a choice.

One or two of you might be feeling a little like the ugly mug. You've had your share of the old 130,000-mph, 54,000-degree wake-ups and you're growing through them. And there're others who ought to know better who're making fun of you, snickering and talking.

I have one thing to say about that.

When Lakota warriors wanted a superior bow, they went looking for an ugly, burned lightning-struck tree; when God wants a superior servant, He goes looking for men and women who've taken the worst life could throw at them, wiped away the blood and tears, and through faith are the tougher and stronger for it.

"Um, God? Suddenly I'm not so sure I want to be up in the cupboard. Just leave me down here on the counter where folks can take a nourishing, comforting drink now and then. And black's just fine. You say in the back of The Book that eventually all of us who're following you will ALL wear beautiful, shining white. So whatever color, shape and style You want for me is fine. I'd rather be used than looked at, and when they look at me, I want 'em to see You. Oh--and, God? Thanks for the strikes; they're not fun, but I'm tougher and more seasoned because of 'em. You make out of me whatever You can use to help in the lives of others."

Amen.

Loving you,
Dan

Thanks to Dan for being a guest on my blog, although I'm sure he isn't even aware I posted this email...

I just wanted to share this with all of you today. I hope it speaks to you as much as it spoke to me. I truly appreciate Dan's effort to lift, encourage, edify, and challenge. What if ALL of us made an effort to do that every single day?!

Big Love,
Sarah