Being Wanted, Part Two

Chances are very good that there are those in your church fellowship, workplace, or family who feel unwanted, forgotten, unloved (and unlovely!)—and are more lonely than words can express. I wish to speak on their behalf and in their defense today. Strange though it may seem, these are often the people most difficult to love. Why?

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Bigness

It was a cold, blustery January night in 1973. Senator John Stennis, the venerable hawkish Democrat from Mississippi, drove from Capitol Hill to his northwest Washington home. Although older (71), he was still the powerful chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. At precisely 7:40 p.m., Stennis parked his car and started toward his house 50 feet away.

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Cracks in the Wall

The longer I live the less I know for sure. That sounds like 50% heresy . . . but it’s 100% honesty. In my younger years I had a lot more answers than I do now. Things were absolutely black and white, right or wrong, yes or no, in or out, but a lot of that is beginning to change. The more I travel and read and wrestle and think the less simplistic things seem.

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Comparison

If I may select a well-known phrase from the cobwebs of the fourteenth century and wipe away the dust to garner your attention, it is: COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS. Odious . . . disgusting, detestable. If you want to be a miserable mortal, then compare. You compare when you place someone beside someone else for the purpose of emphasizing the differences or showing the likenesses. This applies to places and things as well as people.

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The Broken Wing

It is quite probable that someone reading my words this moment is fighting an inner battle with a ghost from the past. The skeleton in one of yesterday’s closets is beginning to rattle louder and louder. Putting adhesive tape around the closet and moving the bureau in front of the door does little to muffle the clattering bones. You wonder, possibly, “Who knows?” You think, probably, “I’ve had it . . . can’t win . . . party’s over.”

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Beginning Again

INSTANT REPLAYS HAVE BECOME OLD HAT. We now expect them in all televised scenarios. Whether it’s a tennis pro’s impressive backhand or an in-store video camera capturing the sticky-fingered shoplifter or a squad car dashcam chronicling an officer’s every move! These days, we never should worry about missing it the first time around. It’ll be back again and again and, probably, again—splashed across cable news.

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Open Minds, Open Hearts

THE LONGER I LIVE THE LESS I know with absolute certainty. In my younger years, I viewed most things as either black or white. Over the years, my perspective has been transformed—by the seasoning of years, the pain of disappointment, the reality of adversity, and the still small voice of God tempering my long-held convictions. Now I’m much more uncomfortable with sweeping generalities.

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Nit-Picking

TWO CONGREGATIONS OF differing denominations were located only a few blocks from each other in a small community. They thought it might be better if they would merge and become one united body, larger and more effective, rather than two struggling churches. Good idea . . . but both were too petty to pull it off. The problem? They couldn’t agree on how they would recite the Lord’s Prayer.

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Pursuing Worthy Trophies

HE WAS BRILLIANT. Clearly a child prodigy, the pride of Salzburg, a performer par excellence. One of the most brilliant and gifted composers of all time left earth at the young age of thirty-five. The man lived most of his life in abject poverty. He died in complete obscurity! His official name was Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Amadeus Theophilus Mozart. With a handle like that, he had to be famous.

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Our Words Matter Much

ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S COFFIN WAS pried open on more than one occasion. Once in 1887, twenty-two years after his assassination. Why? It was not to determine if he had died of a bullet fired from John Wilkes Booth’s derringer. Then why? Because a rumor was sweeping the country that his coffin was empty. A select group of witnesses observed that the rumor was totally false, then watched as the casket was resealed with lead.

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