Faith Activators » Mike

Soil on Steroids

Mike O'Quin — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 03:32:14 +0000

One thing that continually amazes me, after calling Indonesia my home for the last 12 years, is how fertile the soil is on Java.

Fertile is actually an understatement. Active volcanoes pour their nutrient rich dust on the landscape year round and the rainy season drenches our island for about half the year, the result of which is dust and mud on the city streets and happy farmers in the rice paddies.

Other Asian countries get one or two rice growing seasons a year. Java gets three. No other place I know gets the benefit of so much equatorial sunshine, rain and minerals, the perfect recipe for wealthy and healthy soil.

The way farmers in villages make fences here (and I am not making this up) is to pound cut branches into the ground next to each other all down a row. Because of the unbelievably rich soil, new sprouts will grow out of these branches which intertwine with the other branches forming a thick, natural fence.

The trees grow tall and the landscape is lush and green, especially during the dripping wet rainy season. My sister, upon arriving in Indonesia for the first time on a visit, gawked at all the greenery surrounding her, which stretched upwards to the heavens and marveled, “Man, this place is like nature on steroids.”

Jesus, very familiar with farming, once told a story to spiritually illustrate how important welcoming soil is to growing seed. The story is only parable that shows up in all three Synoptic Gospels and here it is quoted in Luke chapter eight:

“The sower went out to sow his seed; and as he sowed, some fell beside the road, and it was trampled under foot and the birds of the air ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky soil, and as soon as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. Other seed fell among the thorns; and the thorns grew up with it and choked it out. Other seed fell into the good soil, and grew up, and produced a crop a hundred times as great.”[i]

The only variable in this story is the soil, and there are four types. The cool thing is we get to choose which kind of soil we will be. “The seed,” Jesus explained later to his confused disciples, “is the word of God.”[ii] It remains the same, powerful and constant, and will grow in any soil that will welcome it.

How is your soil today? Crusty, tough and dry? Open and inviting? If your soil is choked with the thorns of the “worries and riches and pleasures of this life,"[iii] as Jesus called them, it’s up to you to remove them. Get your soil in the drenching rain of His presence and let His words root deep into your heart. Your life will become more fertile than the soil of Java and will produce even a greater yield.

Lord, make the soil of my heart soft for You again. Please help me remove all the rocks and thorns that have covered it over for so long. Drench it with the rain of Your sweet mercy and let your Word go deep into the hidden places of my heart. Thank You that You make all things new. Make me new today Lord Jesus.

[i] Luke 8:5-8, NASB

[ii] Luke 8:11, NASB

[iii] Luke 8:14, NASB

Honor Your Adversary

Mike O'Quin — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 13:00:31 +0000

Honor is an affirmation that who someone is and what he contributes is valuable. Honor is not something that can be selfishly grabbed…it is bestowed. There is no such thing as self-honor. Honor is a choice, an act of the will given to someone else to recognize his or her valuable identity and contribution.

It’s easy to offer that honor to others when we feel good about them and about ourselves, maybe on a special occasion like a birthday, an awards banquet, or just strolling along enjoying a sunny day together.

But we know that’s not where we live most of the time. In the day-to-day grind, honor is tested when we have conflict with the valuable people in our lives, the very people we love and yet who sometime drive us nuts. How do you treat someone when they are blocking your goals? I had some conflict recently with a couple of people I love dearly. One was done well and one was done poorly. The difference was simply that in the first one I honored the person I was having conflict with, and in the second one I didn’t.

Psychologist James Coleman, studying unhealthy conflict way back in 1957, wrote about the way the pattern of escalation moves from the “the specific to the general.”[i] Instead of discussing the matter at hand, you hurl words at your opponent like “never” and “always.”

Researching marriage relationships for over 20 years, Drs. Howard Markman and Scott Stanley have identified four “relational germs” that destroy relationships (adapted from their book, “Fighting for Your Marriage”)[ii]:

1. Withdrawal during an argument

“I'm not talking about that any more, it's too hurtful.”

“I'll just leave the house if you continue talking about this. End of discussion; it's over.”

2. Escalating during an argument

“It's your fault that he talks to me like that, you're a great example!”

“Forget it then. Go out with your friends, see if I care! Stay out all night, you like them better than me anyway.”

3. Belittling each other during an argument

“That's the dumbest statement I have ever heard.”

“When will you ever get it right?”

4. Having exaggerated or false beliefs about your mate during an argument

"You don't see it do you? You're too negative and it's driving me away!"

"You say you're sorry, but you keep doing the same mean things over and over. You'll never change!"

All of these four relational germs are germinated in an attitude of dishonor. In Malcolm Gladwell’s fascinating book "Blink," he tells the story of John Gottman of the University of Washington who since the 1980’s has brought thousands of couples into his “love lab” and analyzed them while they had conflict. Over time he has become incredibly accurate at predicting if their relationship would end in divorce or not. In fact, he only needs to watch one 15-minute video clip of their interaction and can predict within 90% accuracy if they will be together in 15 years. Over time he honed that down to just three minutes of observation with still impressive accuracy, and now says he can overhear a couple an arguing in a restaurant and tell if they are doomed or not.

How does he do it? He doesn’t need to read the data from all the devices hooked up to the couples in his love lab. He only has to watch for one trait emerging in their conflict: contempt.

“You would think criticism would be the worst,” Gottman explained in an interview with Gladwell, “Yet contempt is qualitatively different from criticism. With criticism I might say to my wife, ‘You never listen, you are really selfish and insensitive.’ Well, she’s going to respond defensively to that. That’s not very good for our problem solving and interaction. But if I speak from a superior plane, that’s far more damaging, and contempt is any statement made from a higher level.”[iii]

Our conflict with those we love can easily go from bad to worse: through all four relational germs on down to the basement of contempt which of course is the most fraught with hazard. But what if we did the very opposite, took the higher ground before engaging in battle and verbalized to our opponent, “You are very important to me and I want to work this out!” What if we climbed up from the basement of contempt and had our conflict with those we love on the rooftop of honor?

In a previous post I’ve written about using a technique someone called the "Grace Sandwich” when you need to bring up something that has a high potential to deteriorate into unhealthy conflict. Before you get into the “meat” of the offence, you offer a slice of the bread of affirmation first: “I really love and value you and I want to bring up something that I think is hurting our friendship….” Then you get into the sensitive issue, and afterwards you follow-up with another slice of affirmation: “I’m so glad we were able to talk about this because I love you and I value our relationship. Thanks so much for hearing me out.”

Gary Smalley has written a whole book on this subject of how to engage in healthy conflict which I would highly recommend: “Secrets to Lasting Love: Uncovering the Keys to Life-Long Intimacy.”[iv] The entire book is basically a treatise on how to honor your spouse with lots of research and years of experience to back it up. The whole foundation of that book is that honor is a choice.

Honor in conflict has been extensively researched but is actually not a new idea. Take a peek inside the New Testament. The Apostle Paul wrote, “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.”[v] And Jesus is our ultimate example, the one who though He had every right to treat others with contempt from His superior plane as the Son of God. Yet He humbled himself and came to honor us from the lower place of a servant. If we are following Jesus, then we are bound to follow Paul’s admonition, “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves.”[vi]

You are important! In fact, you are more important than me! I choose to honor you today (even though you have been driving me crazy). Forgive me for my harsh words. I love you and I want to work this out!

Choose to honor you adversary today.

Related Posts

This is the final article of a four-part series on honor. Previous posts:

Honor Part One: Preamble

Honor Part Two: Our Hearts’ Insatiable Appetite for Honor

Honor Part Three: Slowing Down to Honor Others

[i] James Coleman, “Community Conflict,” New York: Free Press, 1957.

[ii] http://www.growthtrac.com/artman/publish/the-four-relational-germs-736.php

[iii] Malcolm Gladwell, “Blink: the power of thinking without thinking,” Little, Brown and Company, 2005, pp 32-33

[iv] Gary Smalley and Norma Trust, “Secrets to lasting love: uncovering the keys to life-long intimacy,” Simon & Schuster, 2000

[v] Romans 12:10

[vi] Philippians 2:3

Glorious Whoa

Mike O'Quin — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 04:15:11 +0000

I’m attending some meetings in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia this week and while here I had a chance to visit K.L.’s most famous landmark, the gloriously tall Petronas Towers.

It brought back a memory from a few years ago when on the way to an international conference, our family and some teammates had 20 hours of transit time in this diverse city of Indian, Malaysian and Chinese cultures. We had just enough time to catch some sleep at a hotel near the airport, go into town for a meal, and get back to the airport in time to catch our flight.

The meal part excited me the most, because it was going to be a Tex-Mex meal, something that Texans living in Southeast Asia long for with all their Lone Star hearts. It had been at least two years since we had set foot inside a Mexican restaurant, and right smack dab in the middle of this sprawling Asian Metropolis rests an oasis of chips, salsa and fajitas: Chili’s Restaurant.

We were willing to splurge for the heavy taxi fare to get into town from the far-away airport and feeling pretty giddy en route. Ahead in the night light we could make out the city lights of K.L., and rising above them stood the gleaming Petronas Towers, which used to be the largest man-made structure in the world. The Chili’s is located in a large mall under those gargantuan sentries, which shone as a lighthouse of hope for our empty bellies that evening.

Before we entered the mall, my small children and I gaped at the Petronas Towers mega structure from the outside. They dominate the skyline at 1,483 feet, 88 stories of sheer bright height. I had seen pictures of these famous towers, of course, but standing next to these impossibly tall buildings took my breath away. I was stunned. I just couldn’t imagine anything man-made being so very…tall. Tall is a pathetic understatement. Bathed in bright light, these towers looked to reach all the way to heaven, like some kind of angelic Jacob’s ladder.

I invited my kids to lie down at the plaza in front of the towers and to look up and marvel with me. My embarrassed teammates with us that evening ducked out of sight under a portico as Malaysians walking through the plaza glanced at the strange family on the ground gawking unashamedly at their iconic emblem.

As I gazed upwards, something in my spirit stirred and I just had to shout out. I spontaneously lifted my hands and exclaimed loudly, “I glorify you, Petronas Towers!”

“Daaaaad,” my children on both sides of me whined their protest, as if I just uttered some Christian blasphemy in this conservative Muslim nation.

I said it again, louder, to make my point. “I GLORIFY YOU PETRONAS TOWERS!”

They protested again. “You can’t say that!” my daughter demanded, defending her 8-year-old theology.

Was my utterance that evening unabashed idol worship or something wholly and Biblically correct?

The sense of glory is experiencing something so amazing and humility-producing that you gape open your mouth and utter, “Whoa.” Then the only natural response is to turn to the guy next to you and say, “Do you see this? … Whoa.”

A New Testament dictionary, a little bit antiseptically, defines glory as “always a good opinion concerning one, resulting in praise, honor and glory.” Maybe when you hear the word glory you think of something stale and religious, stained glass window other-worldly chubby angelic kind of stuff. But true glory is worth getting excited about from the deepest place of you heart.

The Petronas Towers took my breath away that night, making me even forget my longing for fajitas (temporarily). After I caught my breath again, I had to exclaim my “good opinion” regarding it to the people next to me. I felt compelled to glorify those shiny beacons of light. I explained the theological semantics to the kids and they seemed to feel a little better. After that wonderful yet awkward experience we woofed down a lot of chips and salsa and my kids delighted in free Coke refills (something unheard of in Asia). A truly glorious evening.

When Jesus takes your breath away, when you really experience Him, like in those moments in worship when you are carried away to the very courts of heaven, something deep inside you wants to scream out: This one is worth knowing! I would gladly lay my life down for this King! Jesus you are everything to me!

Look up to heaven today, past the tallest man-made tower you could ever imagine. Connect with Jesus at a deep heart level, enough for Him to take your breath away. His Glory will call out to yours.

Whoa.

Honor – Part Three

Mike O'Quin — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 04:07:27 +0000

Recently I was trying to wedge my motorcycle into the tight bike parking area of our local grocery store’s parking lot. There was a tree one one side, a car on the other, and in the middle an older lady trying to get on back of a motorcycle which her daughter was driving. Before she could get on she was struggling to get all the grocery bags strapped to the bike and all around her, and it was taking a while before they could get it all saddled up and take off. The parking lot attendant was trying to help them.

It was a busy day. I was coming from one appointment and already late for another meeting. I was planning to swing by the store, grab a few things, and be on my merry fast-paced way again.

But here I was being forced to wait. So I did what you would have done. I revved up my motorcycle a couple of times so they could get the hint. Vroom Vroom. Hurry Up. The mother-daughter duo glanced up at me anxiously, now even more frantic to take off, and made their way from the parking lot into the busy street.

Actually I realize that’s not what you would have done. You would have smiled at them and waited patiently. But that’s not what I did. My soul was in too high of a gear to consider anybody or anything else but me, myself and my to-do list.

Honoring others requires that you down-shift your soul enough to value the person standing in front of you (or sitting on her motorcycle). Honor is a recognition that who they are and what they contribute is valuable.

A Type-A personality friend of mine joked once that he sometimes treats fellow humanoids as “these things with eyes that get in my way.” Honor is the opposite of that. I like the way Gary Smalley succinctly defines it: "Honor is a way of accurately seeing the immense value of a person made in God's image.”[i]

Woah! That person that you will interact with today—spouse, child, parent, co-worker, boss, friend, neighbor, or stranger—every single one of them is made in God’s wonderful image. Will you honor them as such? Will you treat them as immensely valuable, important enough to slow down for?

Paul wrote, “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves.”[i] He dares give us this difficult mandate because we are following Jesus, “who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant…”[ii]

In other words, if anyone had the right to act hurried and important, it was Jesus. Though He was in the very nature God, He didn’t throw his Son of God weight around but came to serve as a simple servant. We can too because He did.

Slow down and honor somebody today. Marvel at them as an image bearer of God. Smile at them and wait patiently.

[i] Gary Smalley, “I Promise: How 5 Essential Commitments Determine the Destiny of Your Marriage,” Thomas Nelson, 2006

[ii] Philippians 2:3, NASB

[iii] Philippians 2:6-7, NASB

Related Posts:

Honor Part One

Honor Part Two

No Kingless Kingdom

Honor – Part Two

Mike O'Quin — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 11:00:31 +0000

In my last blog post I confessed that there have been times in my life, okay more than a few times, where I have wanted positive feedback for something I’ve done say like preach a sermon. “Hey great sermon!” Oh no, no, no, I give all the glory to God but yes, yes, yes, tell me more.

The dumb question here is who doesn’t? All of us desire recognition, from a small pat on the back for a job well done all the way to the full blown awards ceremony for a great feat. You woke up early, trained, competed hard, and now you’re being presented with a medal…it was all worth it. The applause you hear now on that platform you heard in your imagination long before you hit the finish line. In fact it gave you the gumption to keep going.

In the next couple of blog posts I want to look at what it looks like to honor one another, how to cultivate a “culture of honor” in our communities. But before we can offer honor to others we have to deal with our own hearts first. What do we do with our deep-seated desire for honor that makes us feel sometimes like a mixed bag of motives? Serving God and others with one eye on the mirror…how am I coming across here? Am I being recognized for my contribution?

All of us want to feel valuable, that what we bring to the table matters, that we are impacting the world somehow. There’s nothing wrong with that…is there? I put this question, “Is my desire to be honored carnal or legit?” to our alert blog readers and here are some responses:

“I guess the easiest way to answer that question is with another. Were you seeking to hear it for your own glory or were you looking to find joy in knowing that God was glorified through you?” – Tim Stewart

“We are bondservants that are supposed to honor the Father and the Son (John 5:23 and John 12:25-26). We are to totally surrender (die) ourselves and serve Him wholeheartedly and then if He chooses, the Father will honor us. Why seek the applause of just people when our Creator, Loving, Almighty God wants to honor us. Why eat white rice when New Zealand Steak and Sate is an option?” – Anonymous (but I bet it was someone from New Zealand)

“We all want and need affirmation at some level. From God, but also from people we know. The problem is when this becomes driving motivation in what we do.” – Blake McDaniel

“…If EGO is Edging God Out you do have a problem…” – Vernon Lock.

Well put. Well said. Jesus seemed to have harsh words for the religious higher-ups who loved the “place of honor”:

“Everything they do is done for men to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long; they love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogues; they love to be greeted in the marketplaces and to have men call them ‘Rabbi.'”[i]

Let’s dig into this a little deeper. The key statement here is that their sole motivation for service was for “men to see.” Jesus is definitely blasting away at their corrupt motivation, but I don’t think He is going as far as to indict the base desire we all have to receive honor. That need in your heart to feel honored is not going away anytime soon. The question is what do we do with that valid desire? If we angle ourselves to get into the seat of honor, Jesus said watch out:

“When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests.”[ii]

The way you go about meeting that valid need for honor is by humbling yourself. The desire for honor is kind of like the desire for intimacy. A desire to have a deep connection with another human being is not wrong; it’s what you do with it that counts. If you cross a boundary in the pursuit of intimacy then you will face humiliation instead of honor. In the same way, If you cross a boundary to claw your way to the place of honor, you will be humiliated.

Jesus once told His knuckle-headed disciples to stop arguing about which of them was the greatest (ya gotta love ‘em…so honest and transparent). He basically said, oh you want to be great? Here’s how to be great…learn to be a servant. He didn’t squash their desire for greatness; he lifted them up to a higher value:

When he was in the house, he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the road?”

(When an omniscient God asks you a question, they say, it’s not because He’s seeking information…)

But they kept quiet because on the way they had argued about who was the greatest.

(Little thought bubbles over their heads, “Uh oh, this is going to be embarrassing…”)

Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all.”

(Then Jesus hammers home the point with a cute little kid):

He took a little child and had him stand among them. Taking him in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me.” [iii]

Jesus shows us here the true pathway toward honor…it’s in honoring Him and others above ourselves. We don’t have to sweat it if we feel slighted because God sees our contribution. He is the one who does the ultimate honoring.

Orient your soul to heaven. Lord, You see me. It’s okay whether I’m famous or obscure. Not only do You see me, but Your smile is on me, and one day You will reward me for how I’m living my life. That’s enough for me.

I’ve written about the “Judgment Seat of Christ” in some previous posts, and I don’t have the room here to unpack it but here are some previous articles to highlight this long-neglected source of high-powered motivation: The Final Smile, Magnum Opus, Undercover Boss

How do we find freedom from our mixed bag of motives? Live your life for an audience of one. A pat on the back is nice here and there, but it ain’t nothing compared to the applause of heaven.

Next post….If God is generous in honoring me, than I can be generous in honoring others…stay tuned…

[i] Matthew 23:5-7

[ii] Luke 14:8-10

[iii] Mark 9:33-37

Honor – Part One

Mike O'Quin — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 05:29:51 +0000

This past Sunday I shared the main message at a church service. Now this is embarrassing to admit, but afterwards I secretly wanted someone to come up to me during the post-service chit-chat time and say, “Hey Mike, good sermon…that really spoke to me,” or something like that.

In short, I wanted to be honored.

I wanted to feel that what I contributed was valuable, that it meant something to somebody. Here’s my question: was that secret desire to be honored okay? Or was it wrong, vain, a sinful thought I should repent from?

What are your thoughts? I am planning on launching into a series on the theme of honor over the next few blog posts. But I would love to hear from you first. Click on the word “comments” at the top of this article or the comment box may already appear below.

What say you?

The Monkey Man

Mike O'Quin — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 11:00:37 +0000

I was at home on a late Wednesday afternoon when I heard the familiar boom-boom sounds of a drum coming down our street. It was unmistakable and loud.

“It’s the monkey man!” I exclaimed to my wife and to my one-year-old daughter, who was not certain about the identity or merits of the monkey man.

“Are you sure?” Stephanie asked.

After years of living here in Indonesia we have become adept of recognizing the tell-tale sounds of the dozens of food peddlers that go up and down our street every day. The meatball soup man rhythmically strikes a hollow chunk of wood, the coconut dessert guy lets us know it’s him with the high pitch of his kettle, and the skewered chicken man loudly accents the second syllable of the word, “sate” over and over. “Tay…Tay…Tay…” It’s a veritable food court paraded in front of our house every day, at very low prices, and with a few free amoebae thrown in for good measure.

But there is only one man who offers door-to-door entertainment at discount prices. The boom-boom of his drum announces his 15-minute show. It was the monkey man.

I answered affirmative to my wife who had a plan that afternoon not involving primates and took Naomi outside to follow the monkey man. Luckily for us, he had just started a show in the courtyard of the house directly across from ours. There was a man I hadn’t met before sitting on the front porch, with his fascinated two-year-old daughter by his side. He motioned for me to occupy the vacant seat next to him, and I put Naomi down, barefoot on the front porch.

Our two daughters watched with rapt attention as the large monkey went through his routine, punctuated by the continual beating of the drum and the traditional Javanese song chanted by the monkey’s owner, an older man missing most of his teeth. The monkey rode a wooden decorated horse used in traditional ceremonies here, put on a lion mask used in Balinese dances, pedaled a toy motorcycle that had a real siren, flipped, jumped and rolled. He got the tight chain around his neck yanked if he veered from the show’s routine. By the beady look in his eyes and the way he bared his fanged teeth, it seemed to me that what he really wanted to do was eat the two little girls in his audience. It was quite a show and for only a little over a dollar.

The friendly neighbor insisted on paying the full price of the monkey man, but I felt I should offer something as I enjoyed 90% of the show too. He refused, saying I was his guest, and paid the monkey man the full price. I lamely gave a small tip to the old entertainer as a token of appreciation and he seemed genuinely thankful. He then commanded the large monkey to squeeze back into the small cage, hooked all the props around the sides, hoisted his drum up on his shoulder and went off in search for more paying customers. I’m sure later that night Naomi dreamed of large monkeys on motor scooters.

That was more than a year ago, and I haven’t thought much about the monkey man until last night. My son Jordan brought him up while we were working on his homework together. “Dad, remember the monkey man?”

“Yeah, whatever happened to him? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

And it dawned on me afterwards: when was the last time I took a little time out to share one of life’s unique pleasures with one of my kids? Sure, there is homework to work on and soccer practice to get to and my own to-do list to check off and bills to pay and appointments to make and meetings to attend and plans to implement ….but the little special experiences of life, what about those?

It doesn’t cost much if anything to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures and our kids will probably remember those shared moments more than all of our hours of homework helping and soccer practice ferrying. There may not be a monkey man down your street, but I bet there is a place to get ice cream, a neighborhood to stroll in together, or a sunset to enjoy.

The next time that familiar boom-boom comes down my street, I’m going to try to drop everything, grab one of my kids and share a memory with the monkey man.

Rope’s End

Mike O'Quin — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 07:16:41 +0000

It was 1 AM on Tuesday, June 6^th at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, Baggage Carousel Number Eight, when we came to our rope’s end.

Our family of six had just been traveling over a gruelling, 36-hour cross-Pacific Ocean trip from Malang, Indonesia to New Orleans, Louisiana (via Surabaya, via Hong Kong, via Los Angeles, via Dallas Ft. Worth) and our exhausted, jet-lagging bodies were looking forward to a refreshing night’s sleep a hotel near the airport. The next morning my parents were going to pick us up in their car, and I would rent an extra car to get us and all our baggage to their house in Mississippi two hours away.

That was Plan A.

Plan B started when we got to the airport and learned that my parents could not pick us up the next day because my dad was ill. My aunt, who lives in Louisiana, would be picking us up instead. I felt bad for my inconvenienced Aunt, my sick dad and the delayed reunion with my parents, but more worrisome for me was that my mom would not be able to bring us our new bank cards. Our old ones, I learned en route, no longer worked as our bank had changed over and we didn't receive the notice. So I was holding in my wallet worthless cards and a depleted supply of U.S. cash.

No problem. The hotel had free shuttle service so hopefully they would let me check in without a credit card, since they already had my number on file, and my aunt would pick us up the next day. We would borrow some money from her to pay for our stay, use her credit card for the rental car, and then pay her back once we got to Mississippi and were reunited with my folks and our new cards.

That was Plan B.

Plan C started when we got to Baggage Carousel Number Eight, and while waiting for our suitcases to wind there way to us, I learned on a courtesy phone that the hotel we had booked doesn't offer shuttle service past midnight. It was now 12:30 AM (yes, that would have been helpful information to know ahead of time). We set up camp at some benches in front of the carousel with our ten large suitcases and six carry-ons and four spent children while mom and dad made a plan. My wife suggested I go back to the courtesy phones and look for another hotel that offered 24 hour shuttle service. Surely there would be one.

That was Plan C.

Plan D started when I could find no room in the inn, at least an inn with 24-hour-shuttle service. I made my way slowly back to base camp, dreading the response of my near-delirium family. The reality was slowly seeping into my mind that we were going to have to settle down for the night right here in this metallic baggage claim area. While I shuffled back to them I kicked myself for not exchanging more Indonesian rupiah into U.S. dollars in Hong Kong. In one last desperate attempt at transportation before I delivered the bad news, I swung by a row of waiting taxis.

“Can you give my family a lift to the Comfort Suites hotel?” I asked a bored taxi driver.

“Sure thing.”

“Well, here’s the problem. I have a new credit card and the number, but I just don’t have it on me. But it’s really me.” Even as the words were leaving my mouth I knew how absurd and seedy that sounded. “I have the little CSC number too and can prove my address.”

The taxi driver looked at me like a man who has just been offered a Rolex watch from shady man in a trench coat. He waved me off.

By the time I got back to base camp, the two younger kids were trying in vain to sleep on the benches and the two older kids were walking up and down the deserted corridor. I'm not sure what they were doing—maybe checking for leftover coins in pay phone change slots. Ana looked at me sweetly and joked, “Dad, we will beg for money.”

“No,” I answered and quoted from Psalms. “I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread…and I'm not going to start now!”

This was the testing moment. I could see it in both Caleb and Ana’s eyes. Even though they are good sports and we were all sort of joking, they were watching my response to this stressful situation. How is dad going to respond to us being broke and abandoned at the New Orleans airport? And I had to answer those eyes. Am I going to have an emotional temper tantrum, maybe get into a fight with my wife while deflecting the blame? Or will I put my trust in God?

I decided right then and there that I was clutching on to Jesus. “Guys, you’ve heard me say this before, but God always makes a way where there is no way. We’ve seen him do it a thousand times. Jesus is not going to abandon us at the airport.” I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed it in this case but the conviction at least came through in my voice.

I got back to Stephanie and she was taking it like a seasoned trooper. She made another suggestion to get on-line to see if we could find more hotels that offer free shuttle service. We could put our new credit card number in their system and maybe that would be enough to get over the second hurdle of checking in without the actual card.

That was Plan D.

Plan E started when our laptop could find no Wi-Fi signal at the airport (come on, this is supposed to be high-tech America??!!). At 1 AM I marched back to the courtesy phones and decided to call every single hotel in the provided phone list, even the ones that didn't advertise shuttle service. One lonely night auditor named Dave answered the phone at the Quality Inn. I explained my situation, praying under my breath the whole time.

He answered slowly. “Well, I’m the only one on duty and I’m really not supposed to leave the property…” More desperate prayers through bated breath. “…but I guess I could lock up the lobby and pick you guys up in the van.”

Exhale breath. Take one more deeper one.

“Thanks so much, Dave. But there’s just one more thing. Can we check in with a credit card number and then tomorrow pay with a different card. We just traveled form overseas and we don’t have our new card yet.”

“Yeah, that would be fine.”

Exhale again, this time with joy. “You are a life saver Dave.”

I delivered the glad tidings to the clan and we set up a new base camp at the waiting bay for hotel shuttles. The airport was almost completely empty by then. The only sound was our our giddy family celebrating the success of Plan E by putting our last remaining American dollars into the vending machines to purchase cokes and Doritos.

Dave the Life Saver picked us up in the hotel van and we checked in at the Quality Inn at 1:30 AM without a credit card. We slept like only people with caffeine and Doritos and joy and jet lag in their systems can—very well.

God once again made a way for us O’s where there was no way.

Alzheimer’s Caregivers and Comforters

Mike O'Quin — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 02:00:06 +0000

“Okay dad, just turn around and you can sit down right here,” I say as I pat an office chair in my dad’s bedroom.

He is standing and looking at the chair confused. Either he doesn’t want to submit to my directive or he can’t figure out that you need to turn around first before sitting down in a chair.

He’s been a little testy this morning since I woke up him up at 11:30 AM to take his medicine. I tried to rouse him as gently as I could and we have had a tug-of-war of wills through the morning steps of getting him dressed and ready for the day.

He is finally seated and now comes the most critical part, getting him to take about a dozen pills that my mom left for him in a plastic pill box. They are for high blood pressure, seizures, and who knows what else to help jog his memory or stem his anxiety. I’m happy to help her take care of him this morning so she can do some errands. He asks about her whereabouts repeatedly, usually not remembering her name.

I keep reassuring him that she went to the post office and will be right back. I hand him him a blue pill and go over each step slowly: pill first, next drink, don’t swish your water, just tilt your head back and swallow.

The noonday sun is streaming through the windows and I’m waiting for him to finish off pill one and go onto the next one. I’m waiting and wondering. Wondering how Alzheimer’s could have robbed so much from my father, a man who as long as I can remember was always up by 6 AM and ready to tackle a day full of challenges. Last month he turned 69 but he moves like he is a decade plus past that. He is losing basic reason, fine motor skills and the remembrance of the people who love him the most.

He has been in a good mood mostly since we have been staying at his home a few weeks this summer, with a house full of grandkids and some fun memories together. Well, I guess not really memories for him but for us they have been treasures of time. This morning, however, is the most agitated that I’ve seen him.

We are on the last pill and I hear the garage door open. Though I'm glad I could give my mom some small support this morning, I’m relieved she has returned because he seems so nervous with me. When she walks into the bedroom he looks even more relieved, like a kid getting picked up from daycare. He tries to ask her a question but has trouble with the words. He motions with his hands and she seems to understand just with his gestures alone.

I exit the room while mom takes over. As I walk down the hall it dawns on me: that was just a half hour of my life and it was emotionally taxing. But this is her life 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. And there are a lot of wee early hours in that day when he wakes her up in the middle of the night to tell her something or ask a question.

A few minutes later she comes back out and asks me to come back in. She says that dad has been crying because he didn’t know who I was and now he feels embarrassed that he didn’t know me and was even rude to me.

Mom and I go back into the bedroom together, and dad is lying back on the bed, crying.

“Dad, it’s okay you didn’t remember me. It’s really okay.”

He looks up at me and whispers a “sorry” through his tears.

“I should have told you I was your son. My fault dad. I know that seizure medication you’re on affects your memory and I just forgot to tell you. That would be scary for me, too, to have someone in my room that I didn’t know.”

My mom massages his back while reassuring him. “Yes, honey this is your son and he loves you. You were a good dad to him, you coached his baseball team and you did lots of fun things together. You know him.”

Dad tries to pull it together and stop crying but he is having trouble. Mom keeps comforting him.

And she keeps on comforting him, everyday. She walks him through the routine steps of the day and assists him when he is having trouble, which is often. She reassures him. She reminds him that he is loved in tender words and deeds.

My loud applause and deep appreciation to my incredibly caring mother and hats off to all Alzheimer’s Caregivers and Comforters.

Undercover Boss

Mike O'Quin — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 12:37:12 +0000

What was the last novel, TV show or movie that made you cry?

Think about it for a minute before continuing to read on.

Okay you rebellious blog reader, I said think about it before continuing to read on…I mean it.

Since you are still reading and not even trying to remember the last piece of entertainment that really moved you, I’ll go ahead and lay my emotional cards on the table.

This is embarrassing to admit, but my tears came on a 14 hour flight from Hong Kong to Los Angles with my family yesterday, watching an episode of a TV show called “Undercover Boss.” It’s a reality TV show where the jet-setting CEO of a company discards his suit, disguises himself in blue collar working garb and mixes it up with the employees in the trenches to get a feel of what is really happening in the company he or she runs. At the end of the show the CEO’s true identity is revealed and the unsuspecting employees get rewarded for how they performed in the presence of their stealth boss. Great concept.

In the episode I watched, the CEO and president of Directv, Mike White, pretends he is an out of work salesman named Tom Peters who is participating in a special company program where cameras will follow two job candidates around during their training phases in the large satellite TV company. Mike as Tom gets trained by different technicians and service representatives, all of whom evaluate his performance as a trainee.

Phil the service technician shows Tom the ropes and how important it is to go the extra mile with the customer. During a drive from a new customer’s house back to the warehouse, Phil shares about his own escape from drug addiction and his efforts now to serve troubled kids in a youth ministry he leads.

Tom is also coached by a customer service representative named Chloe who seems to always have a positive attitude with frustrated customers while troubleshooting with them on the phone. Over lunch she shares how her background of living in foster care inspired her to want to go into law or business in order help kids also from difficult backgrounds. She does her shifts at Directv to work her way through college.

The dramatic crescendo of the show comes at the end when Tom the trainee reveals that he is really Mike the CEO of their 23 billion dollar company.

Mike praises a dumbfounded Phil for his excellent training and customer service and rewards him by offering to adopt some of his suggestions company-wide, and even more touching for Phil, gives a personal check of $5,000 toward Phil’s ministry which will enable his youth group to go on a mission trip.

During a follow-up interview Phil quotes from Proverbs: “Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men.”[i]

“From the character of how you carry yourself one day you’ll sit among kings and here I am sitting among a CEO,” he said. “I feel real good about being rewarded right now for hard work, and the real work that I did, it was recognized.”

Mike also reveals his true identity to a shocked Chloe and raves about her positive spirit even with difficult customers. He announces that Directv is starting a scholarship program for employees and that she will be the first recipient. He also offers to meet with her regularly to help mentor her in her promising career.

Through tears she asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

Something moved me in how these simple people, struggling through their lives and trying to be decent human beings, were honored and rewarded by their bosses.

John Eldredge talks in a recent podcast how we need to pay attention to our hearts when they are moved by certain storylines. “There is a heart that God put within you and every story that you love, every thing that stirs you to passion is reminding you of the life that you were meant to live, that you were created to live.”

For me stories with spiritual undertones touch me the deepest, or at least way more than a revenge motif in an action flick hat washes out of your system as quickly as caffeine. Stories with deep spiritual themes stay with us the longest because they are calling to us, as deep calls to deep.

That’s the deeper reason why the “Undercover Boss” episode gave me misty eyes. Believe it or not you are living in a storyline in which your behavior and character will be rewarded by your boss. But he’s like no boss you’ve ever had. He has a true and noble heart and He is looking for ways to reward you with heaven’s glory. In a blog post entitled “The Final Smile”, I wrote about the theology and inspiration of being rewarded at what the Bible calls the Judgment Seat of Christ.

In the parable of the sheep and the goats, Jesus said that we will be rewarded in whatever way we served the hungry, thirsty, homeless, un-clothed, sick and imprisoned: “The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”[ii]

We have an undercover boss. His name is Jesus and he is impersonating “the least of these” every day, all around us. He promised, “Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done.”[iii]

Let this truth move you today, more than just to tears.

[i] Proverbs 22:29

[ii] Matthew 25:40

[iii] Revelation 22:12