Tag Archives: hope

Cowboys Fan Fights Depression

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Depression knocked on my door recently, but I refused to answer. It was tough, though. Who wouldn’t be depressed if a tiny team upset your favorite college team and if–it’s hard to think of it–the mighty Cowboys crashed and burned. All in one weekend.

What’s left to live for? A friend who is crowding 70 laments, “My life is winding down. Don’t believe I’ll live much past 100, giving me another 30 years or so. My point is that I don’t believe I’ll get to see the Cowboys in another Super Bowl.”

I’m quitting football and I’m going to start watching professional wrestling.

NOT!

If your team wins, hope smiles pulling you forward in a warm cocoon of anticipation. If they lose, you languish in a gray prison. If you see progress towards your goal, “Yippee!” If not, “Oh me!”

Often at the beginning of the year, I ask the Lord for a word, something to work on during the year. In 2018 the word is “hope.”

Old Men and Hope

Hope lights you up while you move towards what you want. You know what my problem is, though? I don’t always know what I want. Or maybe, I’ve wanted some things so long, that hope withered on the vine. Continue reading →

The Word That Rocks 2018

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Sometimes I ask the Lord for a word for my life for the new year. Some years ago, it was, “thanksgiving.” So, for several months I was intentional about making thanksgiving a big part of my life.

Another time the word was, “trust.”

I wanted to reuse “thanksgiving” for 2018 but the word, “hope,” kept intruding. So “hope” it is for 2018.

We’ve downgraded “hope.” A friend who loves the outdoors says, “I hope I catch some fish today.” But, there’s always a question. I’ve come home from a lot of “hope so” fishing trips muttering to myself, smelling more of fish bait than fish.

But the hope that comes from God is a direct result of faith. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for.” You can’t have one without the other.

When I’ve got hope, I do my best. It pulls me forward. When hope flees, all color washes out of my life and I go through the motions.

One day I was visiting a mental hospital in Luxembourg. As I talked with my friend and saw observed other patients, I realized that there was probably less hope per square inch in that place, than anywhere else in the country.

Something snaps when we lose hope.
Continue reading →

Survivor of the Scorpion War

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I survived the first war of the scorpions.

Four years ago I stayed in a duplex located in the countryside for about five weeks. Birds sang, crickets cricketed, and I could see a beautiful lake from my front door.

And I was nervous and on edge for five weeks. Drought bit the Texas countryside at the time and it must have brought out the scorpions. I never saw so many scorpions in my life—in the kitchen sink, climbing on curtains, lurking on the bathroom floor, in the garage.

At the end of five weeks the score was Porter 30, Scorpions 0. That’s how many scorpions felt the pain of the underside of my sandal or whatever I found at hand to whap with.

The music of the countryside sounded like: “Tweet, tweet,” “cricket, cricket,” “WHAM!”

“Take that!”

I said the score was 30-0 in my favor but that’s not all the truth. I didn’t get stung but they had me spooked. I was afraid to put my foot on the floor at night without house-shoes. I left my house-shoes on the nightstand or a chair where the little rascals couldn’t sneak in and wait for my innocent toes to wiggle in and stab me with their scorpion stinger.

The truth was that the psychological score was Porter 30, Scorpions 300. They took a lot of joy out of my life.

Although who knows, a mama scorpion who sees a size 11 sandal smash the life out of her beloved young scorpion offspring would probably be traumatized, too.

So maybe it was 300 to 300.

That was why I was a little leery when we moved back into the same apartment recently for five months of visiting churches in the USA.

You know what? The house had been sprayed and I’ve haven’t seen a scorpion, spider or anything except several dead crickets.

And the birds still sing, the crickets, the ones that don’t get too close to the house, still cricket and I’m really enjoying living here. Beautiful countryside. In the morning I step out in front of my house and look at that little lake and praise the Lord.

So, what’s the difference, David? You didn’t get stung last time so what’s the big deal? Continue reading →