Encouraging and Hopeful Words for the New Year

Written by John Paul Carter on January 12, 2012

Here’s another inspiring article from our monthly guest columnist, John Paul Carter, as originally published in his twice-a-month column, “Notes From the Journey,” in the Weatherford (Texas) Democrat. 

One afternoon last year when we were in North Carolina visiting our friends Ann and Robert, we toured the Billy Graham Museum in Charlotte. The impressive exhibits not only chronicled the life and achievements of the world famous evangelist but also the lives of the other members of his team.

In an audio interview, Cliff Barrows, Graham’s dynamic music leader, told of a time early in his career when his dad took him aside and said: “Son, you did pretty well, tonight. But let me give you a little tip. You’ll never get people to sing better by telling them they didn’t do too good. Tell them they did well, but you think they can do better.”

“Ever since that conversation,” Barrows reflected, “I’ve always tried to encourage people.” The inspiring music of the volunteer crusade choirs was due in part to Cliff Barrow’s encouragement.

It reminds me of a time, several years ago, when the roles were reversed and I learned a similar lesson about encouragement from my son. My dog Gus was still alive and Rush was staying with us between jobs. Although house-trained, Gus had made a mess in the house and I was angry and yelling at him. Rush stepped between me and my cowering pup.

Speaking just loud enough to get my attention, he said, “Stop it, Dad! Don’t you know that Gus wants to please you more than anything else in the world?” He took the dog outside and I sheepishly cleaned the rug.

Later that day, as I reflected on the experience, I realized that my now grown son, whether he realized it or not, was not only talking about Gus but also about children. It was a lesson about the human need for more encouragement and less criticism. I wish I’d learned that much earlier in my children’s lives. But hopefully, old dogs can still learn new tricks!

Centuries before the birth of Christ in Bethlehem, Isaiah prophesied that the coming Messiah “would not break the bruised reed or quench the dimly burning wick.” In other words, he would come with encouragement for those who were down and almost out. Jesus of Nazareth did not disappoint.

One who caught this Spirit of Jesus was a man named Joseph, one of the first members of the early church. Acts says that the apostles gave him a new name, “Barnabus,” which meant, “son of encouragement.” He was Paul’s traveling companion and encourager on his early missionary journeys. But when Paul became disenchanted with young John Mark, Barnabus took Mark under his wing and he and Paul went their separate ways. Think of what our New Testament might have looked like, had it not been for Barnabus’ encouragement of Mark!

It’s been my experience that most of us are doing close to the best we know how. While we need help in lots of ways, one of the things we need most is encouragement and hope.

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Heralding “The Help”

Written by John Paul Carter on September 22, 2011

Here’s another inspiring article from our monthly guest columnist, John Paul Carter, as originally published in his twice-a-month column, “Notes From the Journey,” in the Weatherford (Texas) Democrat. 

William Barclay tells the story of a servant who was sent to meet a train on which his master’s friend, an English nobleman, was supposed to arrive.

The servant, who had never met the man, asked his master, “How will I recognize him?”

To which his master replied, “He will be a tall man helping somebody.” What a description!

I thought of that story after seeing the excellent film version of Kathryn Stockett’s best-selling novel, “The Help.” Set in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1962, the movie tells the story of three extraordinary women–Skeeter, a recent graduate of Ole Miss who aspires to be a writer–and two black maids, Aibileen and Minny.

Unlikely partners in a clandestine project to make public the working conditions of black maids in Southern households, their courage and determination forever changes a town and the way women – mothers, daughters, caregivers, and friends – view and relate to one another.

“The Help” exposes the blatantly cruel and unjust treatment of black caregivers by their prejudiced, white employers in a caste system based on race. At the same time, it graphically portrays a destructive human trait that is at the heart of slavery and racism but is as old as human history.

Wendell Berry describes it as “our inordinate desire to be superior – not to some inferior or subject people – but to our own condition. We wish to rise above the sweat and bother of taking care of anything – of ourselves, of each other, or of our country.”

As with the novel’s Hilley and her friends, there is in our society the pervasive belief that there are kinds of labor that are beneath us. It causes us to strive for a lifestyle that can afford to hire others to take care of the menial tasks, the dirty work, and the physical labor – often at less than a living wage. As a result, those who do such work are sometimes treated as second-class human beings.

In the movie, the tragedy went beyond what was happening to the black maids and extended to the relationship between their white employers and their children. Because the maids did almost all the caregiving for the children – changing, dressing, feeding, bathing, doctoring, playing, reading – the children became more bonded to the maids than to their own mothers. This diminished relationship between mother and child even continued into adulthood.

The lesson is clear that when we avoid the most basic kinds of labor, we weaken our essential relationships – with each other, ourselves, the earth, and our Maker.

It is the menial (from the Latin: “household”), repeated over and over, that binds us to each other.

Facing those same attitudes and practices in his day, Jesus identified himself as “the help.” He told his followers that he “came not to be served but to serve.”

And on the night when he was betrayed, Jesus not only shared the bread and cup with his disciples but also washed their feet.

By teaching and example, Jesus made it clear that to follow him is to join the ranks of “the help,” humbly serving each other and the world – not as second-class citizens but as his “friends.”

In our search for wholeness, the doctor of Lambarene, Albert Schweitzer, points the way: “I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”

 

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Good Medicine for Parched Souls

Written by John Paul Carter on September 5, 2011

Here’s another inspiring article from our monthly guest columnist, John Paul Carter, as originally published in his twice-a-month column, “Notes From the Journey,” in the Weatherford (Texas) Democrat. 

In the comic strip “Shoe” the young owl is sitting at his school desk taking a test. The quiz question is: “Name all the senses.” He writes this answer: “Sight, sound, touch, smell, taste, and humor.”

Who could survive without a sense of humor? “Our sense of humor helps us bear the unbearable,” says southwestern historian C. L. Sonnichsen, “and offers escape from boredom on the one hand and from pressure and stress on the other.” In the midst of our record-setting temperatures and drought, a sense of humor is a necessity.

A story that makes me chuckle in this relentless heat is told in “Tales of Old-Time Texas” by folklorist J. Frank Dobie:

One time during a terrible drought, a mover heading east stopped his team in front of the courthouse at Belton to water. The team consisted of a brindle-legged blue mule with long whiskers and a dun ox with a drooped horn.

While they drank and a speckled hound that followed the wagon lapped and a woman on the wagon seat took a fresh dip of snuff out of a brown Levi Garret bottle with a hackberry toothbrush, a man moved over to the wagon from the shady side of a store facing the courthouse square and remarked, “Sorter odd-mated team you got there.”

“Maybe so,” the driver said, looking by habit around the sky to see if he could detect a cloud. “You see, it’s this away. It had quit raining in the Aberline country before I filed on a section of land, out there. I had a pair of mules, but one of them died. Then I traded off a quarter-section, for this ox, so I could pull out; but the d… fool I traded with couldn’t read – and I got the whole section off on him.”

Then there’s the story of the west Texas rancher with a house full of children. One September night in the midst of a drought he begin throwing handfuls of pebbles on the roof. When his wife came out and asked what he was doing, he explained that he was breaking the kids into hearing something fall on the roof so that if it ever actually rained they wouldn’t stampede.

It’s been so hot on my own roof that I haven’t even heard the pitter-patter of the squirrels in more than a month. And if anybody tries to pawn off their parched land on me, I’m not taking it unless it includes the mineral rights!

I have to laugh at myself, because for all my complaining about the heat there’s a crazy part of me that revels when we get one day closer to the record. I guess I want to earn a t-shirt proclaiming that I survived the awful summer of 2011.

In the midst of drought, we can pray, trusting the grace of our Creator to provide. While we wait for the heavens to open, we can work to conserve our land and water and help our fellow creatures, great and small.

And we can look for the humor in life. Laughter is good medicine for parched souls!

 

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The Gift of Receiving

Written by John Paul Carter on July 28, 2011

Here’s another inspiring article from our monthly guest columnist, John Paul Carter.  

Have you thought about what you give to and receive from others?

I’m often asked how it feels to have the same name as a Pope. My first answer is that it can be very unnerving.

The morning after Pope John Paul I died, I was awakened out of a deep sleep by my clock-radio announcing, “John Paul is dead.”

What a way to start the day!

One of my favorite quotations comes from the pen of Pope John Paul II: “Nobody is so poor that he or she has nothing to give, and nobody is so rich that he or she has nothing to receive.”

His words remind me of the importance of both giving and receiving.

As a child, one of the first Bible verses I memorized was Acts 20:35, in which Paul quotes Jesus as saying, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (This saying is not found in the four Gospels.)

I took those familiar words so literally that I grew up ignoring the corresponding significance of receiving.

As a result, I always tried to be the giver and felt awkward when I was the recipient of others’ gifts.

I felt more comfortable saying, “You’re welcome,” than saying, “Thank you.”

I became one of those frustrating people who answer, “Nothing,” when asked what they want for a birthday or Christmas.

Later, when the tables were turned and those I loved were resistant to revealing what gifts they wanted and needed, I began to re-examine the role of the receiver.

I discovered that our Lord was not only a generous giver; he was also a gracious receiver.

Early in his life, his parents received the gifts of the Magi, which probably financed the family’s flight to the safety of Egypt.

Later, when a lad offered him his lunch of loaves and fish, Jesus blessed it and fed the multitude.

And in the last week of his life, when Mary bathed his feet with her perfume and tears, Jesus received her lavish gift, praised her, and defended her against her critics.

Receiving is as important as giving, Henri Nouwen says, “Because by receiving we reveal to the givers that they have gifts to offer…We make givers aware of their unique and precious gifts. Sometimes it is only in the eyes of the receivers that givers discover their gifts.”

If we only view the gift as a material object, we may miss the care and love that it represents.

Though the gift itself might seem insignificant, too lavish, or inappropriate, it is a part of the one who gives it.

By valuing their gift, we value the giver.

And when we receive gifts, we are in the presence of our own needs and limitations.

By receiving, we acknowledge our own dependence on and connectedness to the other persons in our lives.

Out of receiving, the gift of humility is born.

And humility and need make grace–the greatest of all gifts–a possibility!

 

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A Sensual Experience

Written by on June 2, 2011

Here’s “A Sensual Experience,” the latest entry from our frequent, and favorite, guest columnist, John Paul Carter.

We humans have three main avenues through which we take in information from the world around us: visual, auditory, and kinesthetic. Our eyes are the gateway for the visual; our ears for the auditory; and our bodies for the kinesthetic. Although we use them all, learning is usually easier through one of the three.

Sometimes when we take in information through one portal, our imagination helps us to transform it into our favorite mode. We’ve all heard people say, “I see what you’re saying.” Teachers know that there are some kids who need a gentle hand on the shoulder for them to get the verbal or visual message.

The visual seems to be my best path for absorbing information–especially if I see it on the page of a book. My weakest link may be auditory–a strange thing for a counselor to say about himself. (I compensate by taking lots of notes.)

However, the kinesthetic, hands-on, is my best approach for learning a task. And when it comes to relating to the people in my life, I’m partial to touch–a hand-shake, a pat on the shoulder, or a hug. I like to hold hands in the circle of love at the end of the early service or around the dinner table when we’re asking the blessing.

In addition to taking in information by seeing, hearing, and touching, we also have the ability to smell, taste, and imagine. The smell of frying bacon got me out of bed this morning. The taste of orange juice and Louisiana coffee awakened both body and mind.

And later, when I read from the gospels, my imagination not only put me in the story but also allowed me to anticipate how I might have “the mind of Christ” in the day ahead.

Gathering together at the Lord’s Table is a sensual experience – all our senses are called into play. The table with its trays of bread and juice is centered in our sight throughout the service. There are the sounds of organ music, prayers, words of institution, and the gentle clanging of the communion trays. Our imagination takes us to the upper room and reminds us of our own betrayals and the Lord’s mercy.

As we lovingly pass the trays to each other and share the bread and cup, communion becomes a hands-on experience. The aroma of the juice fills the air. Our taste buds are awakened as we partake. And we leave worship to follow Christ with the taste of grace still in our mouths.

Indeed, at the table the Living Christ knocks at every door of our senses, offering Himself to meet our deepest needs. Through our senses, His Spirit calls us to re-member with Him and each other and to follow Him into the world.

Lord, fill up our senses with your presence. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

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Saving the Best Part

Written by John Paul Carter, Guest Columnist, on May 19, 2011

Due to all the inspiring entries for our Memory of Mom (MoM) contest, it’s been quite some time since we ran a story by our favorite guest columnist, John Paul Carter. So today we check back in with JP, reprinting his ruminations on friendship: Saving the Best Part. Thanks, as always, John Paul!

The western art that fills most of our home’s wall space recently welcomed a new neighbor–a painting unlike any other in the house. It’s a small abstract watercolor by our lifelong friend Gale Johnston, a signature member of the Southwestern Watercolor Society.

We bought it last fall at an exhibition of her work in a gallery on Camp Bowie in Ft. Worth. We were attracted to it, not only because it was Gale’s work, but also because of its beautiful colors–especially the cranberry red, the aqua, and the golden threads. I also love its shapes, which invite my bizarre imagination to see a face with a long nose, a dog reminiscent of Gus, and a pacifier which reminds me of Maddy and her newborn sister.

But the most intriguing thing about our 6- by 3 1/2-inch picture is that it was once part of a larger 18- by 40-inch painting. A friend commissioned Gale to do an abstract depiction of the instrument panel of his airplane to hang over his fireplace. After almost completing the painting, Gale decided to start over. However, she saved and matted that part of her work that she did like. And that’s the painting that now proudly graces our dining area.

The painting itself reminds me of what the philosopher George Santayana wrote about friendships. “Friendship,” he said, “is almost always the union of a part of one mind with a part of another; people are friends in spots.”

Another wise person put it this way, “A friend is one to whom you can pour out your heart–wheat and chaff together–knowing that they will listen, keeping the best and letting the wind blow the rest away.”

As I view Gale’s painting, I’m reminded that the best friendships are based on mutual respect mixed with tolerance. I give thanks for those who have saved the best of me out of the worst and call me their friend. I hope to always be as gracious.

The watercolor also reminds me that on the night before he was crucified, Jesus told the 12 that he no longer thought of them as mere servants, but as friends. (John 17:15) Having been with them for three years and knowing what was ahead, Jesus clearly chose to trust the best in them. When the dust had settled, it was that friendship that sustained them as they took the good news of God’s unconditional love into the wider world.

Jesus offers us–each and all–that same grace-full friendship.

Lord, thank you for seeing and saving the best in us.

 

 

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The Real Meaning of “Kin”

Written by John Paul Carter on March 1, 2011

This is the second installment from guest columnist John Paul Carter. John Paul, my husband’s cousin, is a retired mental-health counselor, part-time pastor, and long-time columnist for the Weatherford Democrat newspaper in Weatherford, Texas.

He’ll be submitting his previously published columns from time to time and we’ll reprint them here.

They offer a wealth of wisdom and are just perfect for the Five More Minutes With audience.Thank you again, John Paul!

***

Author Forrest Carter is perhaps best known for his popular novel “The Outlaw Jose Wales,” which was made into the movie “Gone to Texas,” starring Clint Eastwood. But many believe that Carter’s one great novel was “The Education of Little Tree,” his autobiographical remembrance of his orphaned boyhood with his Eastern Cherokee Hill country grandparents during the 1930s depression.

Little Tree recalled that when, late at night, he heard his grandpa tell his grandma, “I kin ye, Bonnie Bee,” he knew that he was saying, “I love ye” – because of the feeling in the words.

“And when they would be talking,” Little Tree recollected, “and Grandma would say ‘Do ye kin me, Wales?’ and he would answer, ‘I kin ye,’ it meant, ‘I understand ye.’

To them, love and understanding was the same thing. Granma said you couldn’t love something you didn’t understand….Granpa and Granma had an understanding, and so they had a love….And they called it ‘kin.’”

Little Tree’s grandpa told him that “before his time ‘kinfolks’ meant any folks that you understood and had an understanding with, so it meant ‘loved folks.’ But people got selfish, and brought it down to mean just blood relatives; but that actually it was never meant to mean that.”

“Kin” is a small but powerful word that brings together two beautiful actions that are inseparable: love and understanding. When we feel understood, we feel loved. And when we feel loved, we trust that we will be understood.

To be understood is to be heard, validated, accepted, and valued. One of our greatest needs is love that understands – from other persons and from our Creator.

Love that understands requires the courage to express ourselves – to reveal our feelings, thoughts, differences, secrets, faults, and our pride as well as our shame.

Our greatest fear is that if I tell you who I am, you may not love me. (The courage to take such a risk is strengthened if there’s already some measure of trust within the relationship.)

At the same time, such love requires the will to understand the other – to listen with empathy and patience…without pre-judgment, criticism, or advice.

It resists claiming, “I know exactly how you feel.” And when told, “You don’t understand,” determined love responds, “I want to understand. Can you tell me more?” and then waits in silence.

Stephen Covey believes that one of the habits of highly effective people is to “seek first to understand, then to be understood.” My temptation is to let my own need to be understood, helpful, or right undercut my “hearing the other person out” in a way that might enable them to feel heard and valued.

In Jesus of Nazareth, God risked himself to understand us and to reveal his unwavering love for the world. Because we are all God’s kin, we’re called to “kin” one another.

In the words of Francis of Assisi, “O Divine Master, grant that we might not so much seek to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love….” Amen

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