Minutes with the Master Racer

March Madness

My 9 year old granddaughter

My nine year old daughter rode 115 miles an hour as a passenger on Orlando's Richard Petty Speedway.  I had done the same thing on my 70th birthday, only I got to drive alone. It was

an exciting experience and one that will never be forgotten.  There was one more participant 

on the racetrack that was key to my success.  It was a pace car.  I felt all the power of independence and, yet, my success depended totally on the pace car.  I was told to do what the pace car did.  When it went up, I did.  When he went down, I did.  He flashed green lights on his bumper that meant I 

was doing fine and to keep going.  However, when my three laps were over, he flashed his 

yellow lights which meant slow down and go into the pit area.  Some of my friends asked me 

why I was not afraid, and suddenly I thought about that question.  I had never driven a race car

or any other car 125 miles per hour alone and certainly not a stick shift.  I felt confident in some-

thing that I had never done before, and why?  God called me into the office and said, "Bring your 

paper and pen.  I want you to record the minutes of this meeting."  I knew the routine.

God spoke, "Do you realize why you were not afraid? It was because you had a lead car.  That is 

how it is with us, Martha.  I am your pace car.  I go before you and make the "turns" in life 

straight.  When you are weaving in and out of life's traffic, I show you the way.  Not that you

are a robot.  You really drive your own car, but I am the still, small voice, just like the pit crew's

radio in your ear, saying 'Time to come in and get a refill of fuel.  Time to rest.  Time to trade your 

tired, human ways in for new tread that grips and digs in around the turns of life.'  There are other 

crew radios trying to communicate.  Do not listen to those voices.  Listen to Me.  You know my voice.  Sheep know the sound of their shepherd.  You know the sound of your pit chief.  Some-

time you do not want to do what I say.  I say, 'come in' and you say, 'I don't want to!  I can go

another lap.' However, if you do not want to crash, you will obey.  Remember, if you are tired 

you can always just come closer to my pace car and just catch a draft from my lead, and you can rest while I blaze a trail for you to follow.  You see, the battle is not yours; it is mine.  I will lead you to 

front of the race.  You will be able to finish well.  Then when the checkered flag comes out, and you finish your last lap, I will hand you the trophy and say, 'Well done, my good and faithful servant. 

you I am well pleased.  Come into the winner's circle.  Listen to the cheers. You ran a good race. You finished the course.''

I gathered up my papers and walked back into the world.  I found my friend and pulled her aside. I said, "Do you remember when you asked why I was not afraid during the race? Well, I know why. God was in the number 1 poll position, and He led me the whole way.

The Bubble 

There are so many places to visit on this planet. However, there is no place to visit on this planet where all things are magical, beautiful, and filled with cotton candy and snow at Christmas in Florida.  I have gone to Disney World at least ten times, but one time was most memorable than the others. My son and daughter-in-law allowed us to bring two children from our school on this vacation.  We flew from Shreveport, and my family drove from Tallahassee.  Our guests had not been out of the city limits.  It is difficult to express the joy and excitement on those two children's faces when we boarded the plane.  They could not believe that we were flying above the clouds.  I said to them, "How do you like flying above the clouds?"  The younger child said, "I will just be happy when the clouds get back where they belong!" To the point!  My son does not know what it means to rest in "the bubble".  We call it the bubble because nothing bad happens there. We do not watch the news or talk about anything of value. The greatest decision we ever make is which ride to get  a"fast pass" for and what pin we will trade to get another new pin.  We went to the parks at 7:00 AM and left for the hotel at 2:00 AM. I could not feel my legs from the waist down, and once I glanced at my socks and I thought the red Nike check mark on my ankle was blood.  Just then, as we were on the way to the boat taxi, my son spotted the princesses in a room, not just one but all of them.  He grabbed the guests and my granddaughter and ran quickly to the building, heeding not one word or phrase that we were saying.  I fell back on one of the benches near the exit and wanted to weep.  My daughter-in-law thought that she saw Prince Charming, but it was a mirage. I was actually upset with my son.  The children had seen enough! I was a tired grandmother and he was not aware of my age and what he was putting on me. God told me at that moment to get my yellow pad out and watch what was about to happen. I found a pen with my numb fingers. I readied myself by holding the pen with my thumb as I did in first grade.  An hour later, here came my son with three beaming children. Their dreams had all come true.  They had just gotten autographs and pictures of all the princesses.  Pure joy. What a wonderful, magical moment!  I started writing down everything God was showing me. "Remember when I said that it "delighted Me to give you the desires of your heart?"

My son did not realize what he had done,  He had just given my two little students from the inner-city the hour of their lives.  However, God knew he had.  You see, God deals in great joy.  The Bible says that God does new things every day.  Over and over, scripture tells us that God is the source of our joy and that great are those here on this earth who bring joy to others in His Name.  We are His Hands extended offering hope and joy to the oppressed.  That night in the hotel they hugged my son and told him that they would never forget the day they just had. How did we attribute that joy to God?  What did we do in a carnal world to bring the joy of the Lord?  The Word says that the joy of the Lord is our strength.  Disney? God? Princesses?

We cannot be so "holy" that we are no good for anyone else.  Those two little girls trusted me enough to get on an airplane, fly to an unknown place, ride "scary" rides simply because I said that they would be fine. That kind of faith in me can be used to show people that if they think I can be trusted, how much greater can God keep them safe?  If I love seeing them joyful, how much more joy can God pour into their hearts?  If I am willing to spend hours of my life just allowing them to experience new things, how much more does God find joy for them?   We prayed that night for my son, and we thanked God for this incredible experience. They fell asleep, one on each side of my granddaughter.  I began to rub my sore feet, as I put my yellow pad under my pillow.  Meeting adjourned. "It's a small world after all.  It's a small world after all.  It's a small world after all.  It's a small, small world."

Minutes with the Master

"Minutes from Martha"

Not long ago I was asked to visit the teen wing of a local detention center as part of a project to share with Community Awareness Workshops, My assignment was to go to the high school boys' area and ask them to write a poem comparing being in a detention center to being handicapped.  It seemed like a very creative idea until I started across the bridge over the Red River.  I began to panic.  How am I going to get the attention of 10 or 12 boys in high school and especially when I suggest that they write poems?  My hands began to sweat on the steering wheel; so, of course, I went to the Lord.  My pleading prayer went somewhat like this: "Lord, I am asking, begging you to prepare those boys for me.  Soften their hearts, give me favor with them. Help me to find creative ways to engage these young men, and if all else fails, help the M&M's work."  I travailed all the way to the center.

To sum up, I was a hit! The boys loved it and me.  They wrote profound poems and were interested in the project.  Actually, they were nicer and more responsive than the Sunday School class I taught the Sunday before at my church!  When I left the boys, I had to pick up all of my belongings that I had given to the guards with shaking hands.  The guards began to brag on me!  They told me that I was the best they had ever seen.  They said their jobs would be easier if everyone was as talented as I. By the time I got to my car, I was puffed up and strutting.  Man, I was good!  Yep!  I have a talent!

As I started across the same bridge that I had earlier used, God put His hands on my shoulders.  It was so strong that I first thought someone was in my back seat. I got my yellow pad and pencil because I knew what was coming. God called me into His office, and I began to take minutes.  He did not ask me to respond.  He just started talking. "Did you not remember that you cried out to me to make a straight path for you? Did I not prepare the boys' hearts for you? Did I not anoint you with favor and creativity?  Did I not do all that you asked?  I had your audience so prepared that a five-year-old could have gone in there and been a success.  A robot or a ghost could have been a favorable facilitator.  You did nothing on your own to be a success except pray, and that was your only godly trait.  Why did your success surprise you?  Do I ever fail to answer your prayer? Take this down, Martha.
If you ever become proud of yourself instead of acknowledging me as the means of your success, you will begin to fail, and I will not be able to use you anymore."  Be Ye Humble and I Will Lift You UP.

I cried all the way across the bridge, and since that meeting I have maintained a humble spirit.
It hurt so bad I never want to feel that way again....Meeting Adjourned.


Would you share with me an experience that you learned from a meeting with God?  I would love to take down the minutes!

Please respond:

Minutes with the Master

 

I love football. I was one of those rare high school girls who really watched the games. When I graduated from college, I began teaching English in the largest high school in Louisiana Woodlawn High in Shreveport.  After 20 years there, I moved to Evangel Christian Academy as an English teacher and counsellor.  I adored all of my football players and I knew each one's jersey number, home conditions, GPA and ACT
scores, how to enlist them with the NCAA clearinghouse, and their current grades in all their classes.  I never missed a game, and some of friends told me that that I would love any boy with a size 15 shoe.  It was true.  Our varsity team won 13 state championships and one national title and were known as a football powerhouse.  When I walked out of the field house into the Friday Night lights, I could smell the pride, the legacy, and the victory. I knew most stadiums in Louisiana and what they had at the refreshment stand and if the restrooms were usable. If they were not, I would quit drinking liquids at 5:00. I went into the all stadiums expecting a victory or at least a close loss: down to the last second, with inches to go, and a failed field goal.

Except that night in Longview...When the boys got off the bus, they did not look up at us, and the coaches trailed behind.  I talked to one of those coaches, and feeling as part of the inner circle, I asked, "What is wrong with the boys?"  The coach answered that Longview was so good this year, and we really did not have to schedule this interstate game.  I was stunned because Evangel had always felt that we could hold our own against the Saints or the Cowboys.With a tinge of anger, I sat down with great faith, surrounded by my rowdy friends on the 50, about 10 rows up because we were convinced that our yelling and screaming was directly a major part of the Eagles' success. I had permanently damaged my vocal chords from yelling, and only laser surgery would help; so damage being done, what difference did it make? "Go, Eagles, Go!"

I am coming directly to the point.  We played the worst game in our history.  We fumbled, got every penalty the refs had in their book, ran the worse plays ever called incorrectly, and missed an onside kick.  We also threw helmets and were generally unruly on the bench.  The boys were cramping up which meant they had not practiced as hard as they should, and they were just sitting on the bench playing with their helmets when not in the game. I finally got so disappointed and sick that I got up and walked up to the back of the stadium.  The breeze felt good on my red cheeks, and i noticed several other fans were there just shaking their heads.  I announced loudly, "I think I will just go to the car!" I could not believe I had said that.Then in a moment's time, God called me into his office, gave me my yellow pad and a #2 pencil and said sternly, "Take notes."
"Why did you get up and leave the game?"
"Because they can do so much better. They know what they are supposed to do out there.  They have read the playbook. They know all of the playbook.  They know the signals. There is no excuse."
"Oh, so they are having a rough day and you are going to the car? That is strange because when you have a bad day, that is when you need me most. Do you want me to walk away because you are losing?  Don't you know your playbook?  Do you sometimes get your signals crossed and things do not work out? That is when I remain most loyal to you. That is when we get in a huddle, and I reintroduce to my plan for your life and my next call.  Maybe they don't deserve praise tonight or even your loyalty, but your job is to go back to the 50 and yell your vocal chords off just as do for you when you need encouragement. After the game go to the bus and hug your boys.  You want my love when you are a winner and a loser. Get back downstairs."

I tore off my minutes I had taken, and I ran to the concession stand and bought some M&M's as an excuse for my absence.  I sat down and offered my seat mates some candy. Meeting adjourned.
(The score was much worse than it was when I left.)  Go, Eagles.

Please share your experiences or your response to my story. I will have another meeting with the Master this time next week. I think we can all teach each other from our yellow notepad.