Under the Influence

We had unfinished business to wrap up, so I wasn’t surprised to see my friend today.  I was surprised when he talked instead about a personal project.

“We got them out of storage on Saturday, Paul.  Man, they were filthy!”

I looked quizzically at him.  He grinned as he realized I was in the dark about what had been in storage.

“I went two whole miles yesterday!  Two!”

Again, the look of utter stupidity on my face gave the impetus for him to keep going.

“It’s the first time we’ve had the bikes out in over a year!”

The fog lifting, I came to life and began to understand his former comments.  He had gotten his bicycle out, cleaned it up, and ridden it for a couple of miles.  I was still a bit bewildered about why he was so animated regarding the accomplishment, but I thought I should play along and see if all would be revealed as we talked.

It was.

The middle-aged man turned to his friend who had come through the door with him and explained to him (and, unwittingly, to me).

“When I was in here on Saturday, Paul told me about his recent quest to get healthy.  He told me he was hoping to ride about ten miles or so that afternoon.  I decided if he could do ten, I could do two.  I was puffing, but I did it!”

His buddy was obviously impressed, slapping him on the shoulder and exclaiming good naturedly, “Way to go, man!”

I added my praise, but mentally, I was still assessing the situation.  I was the one who had ridden over ten miles.  Why was he getting the praise for his two measly miles?  But, even as my selfish spirit was grappling with that inequity, my heart was beginning to grasp two truths.

“Tandem” by Ramon Casas

First:  Those two miles were two miles more than my friend had ridden in over a year!  That was something to celebrate, if only in a small way.

Second:  I had something to do with that accomplishment!  He had come to report the good news to me, recognizing my part in it.

The selfish thoughts faded quickly into the jumble of my thoughts, as the magnitude of what was happening became apparent almost immediately.  I have talked many times about wanting to influence people around me to do good things, but this was almost mind boggling in its simplicity.

Two days ago, I mentioned to him that I was planning an activity and gave a sketchy background of what was driving me to participate in the endeavor.  I talked about losing weight and feeling better, not with the intent of convincing him, but simply to share the joy that has come along with the life change.

Today, he reported he had acted on the basis of that casual conversation, announcing further that he intends to keep going.  Time will tell if he is able to follow through.  I’ll keep checking on his progress.

The specific subject of fitness has almost nothing to do with the reality of what I learned today, though.  That reality is a lesson I believed I already knew.  It was actually just the day before I spoke with this man about my lifestyle change that I talked with another friend about what I have always believed was my purpose in life.  Almost with thinking, I said the words.

“I believe every person who comes through that door enters for a reason.  It’s not just to make a purchase, either.  I hope that I can influence them for good.  I almost think it’s a ministry of sorts.”

Those words have come from my mouth before.  I’ll say them again.

I don’t think I’ll say them with the same flippant attitude.

You have to understand the lesson I learned today.  It’s not just when I think about influencing people that I do it.  They are influenced by every word that comes from my mouth.

Every word.

Can I just stop there and let that sink in for a moment?

Every word–and every act.

Need another moment?

I am ecstatic that my friend went cycling.  I am amazed when some little tip I give to a customer leads them to develop a skill that I’ve never been able to master.  I hope that every positive thing I’ve ever said yields fruit in the life of the person to whom it was uttered.

I wonder though–what about the excuses I’ve made for poor behavior?  What about the snippy comments I’ve made behind people’s back to someone standing by?  How about that time I lost my temper completely and gave that fellow a piece of my mind?

I wonder, do those things influence folks too?

I don’t have to answer that, do I?  For some reason, my mind jumps to the name of the best-selling book, written nearly eighty years ago by Dale Carnegie, entitled “How to Win Friends and Influence People”.  I haven’t read the book, but the title itself gives plenty of food for thought.

I want to win friends.  I also want to influence people–to do good.  My problem is that I frequently make enemies and influence people to anger, or to cheat, or to lie.  Every word and every act, whether good or evil, wins and influences.  I don’t get to choose which ones have an influence.  They all do.

What I get to choose is how to act.  What I get to choose is how to speak.

I can’t help but remember the old television ads for the investment firm, now defunct, E F Hutton.  The ads all finished with the statement, “When E F Hutton speaks, people listen.”

What I’m saying here is that when I speak, people listen.

When you speak, people listen.

They act on what we say every day.

I wonder, will tomorrow bring another joyful revelation of positive influence for me?  Or possibly, the realization that a life has been ruined by words I said?

If I turn and face the years past, I can point to situations where, over and over, I wielded my influence for selfish, wicked reasons.  I cringe at the thought and the prospect that one day I may learn of the disaster wrought by my words and actions.

But, I’m reminded that there is One who influenced the world permanently for good by His entire life, and then by His death.  That influence covers mine today.  Grace and forgiveness for the past are found as His influence takes effect.  It will suffice.

Once again, I turn to the future.  Tomorrow is a new day, with nothing written on its clean page.

Yet.

Win.  Influence.

There is still work to do.  You’re coming too, aren’t you?

“If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.”
(James 4:17 ~ NIV)

“We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why.”
(Stephen King ~ American author)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2014. All Rights Reserved.
Did you enjoy this post?  Let your friends know about it by “liking” our page on Facebook! 

Still Under His Wings

I have words welling up inside of me.  They have been spilling out for a couple of hours already tonight.  I am ashamed to say that I faithfully wrote them all down on pages in front of me–and then deleted every single one of them.

There are times when the truth that is actually trying to break out from its prison inside of me has to push aside all the noise, and the ideas, and the fluff just to get to the surface.  Then, instead of screaming and jumping up and down to get my attention, it just stands there quietly, waiting its turn.  I don’t always notice in a timely manner.

The unassuming, the patient but essential, is not what gains our notice in this rowdy world, is it?  We give way to the loud and boisterous, the implausible dressed in the ridiculous garb of hyperbole, but seldom do we stand and listen for the soft, steady voice of the foundational truths.

After hours of striving, I am listening.  You see, the sum of my literary regurgitation earlier was this: There are no safe places–places where we can go to lock out the problems, the people, and the fears that surround us in this brave, new world in which we live.  
And finally, after all that time, and all those words, I remember.  There is a safe place, but it will never be found in the location we expect, nor will it be protected by the frail hands of any human being.
Photo: Jeannean Ryman
I have been made aware through various means, over the course of my life in a general way and in the last few days in a more pointed manner, that we cannot depend on the safety governments and their laws inspire, nor even the security a good job promises.  Those assurances are empty and ultimately, vain.
I am not the first to come to this conclusion, nor will I be the last.  It is not a new idea.  Centuries ago, the Teacher, when He walked with those who followed Him, reminded them that worry was ineffective, even useless.  Planning for tomorrow would lead to disappointment.  He could have left them (and us) there, depressed and hopeless, but the next words gave new hope–and a solid place on which to rest.  He told them to look at the ravens and consider how much they worried, and how much they planned for the future.  
You are far more valuable to Him than any birds!
My photographer friend, Jeannean, recently captured, in her camera’s lens, the essence of what I am thinking tonight.  The photo, at first glance simply a drab, almost colorless image, is of a mother bird lying on the ground.  The lesser nighthawk has her wings slightly, almost nonchalantly, spread.  Then, as you gaze at the scene for a moment more, the whole picture suddenly comes into focus.  There are two chicks lying under her, one under each wing, protected from the sight of predators above and covered from the heat of the midday sun.  
A place of refuge.
More words from me would just muddy the waters.  Well maybe just one more word–the word the Psalmist used often–a suggestion that we pause to contemplate what we have seen and heard.  
Selah.







“He will cover you with His feathers.  He will shelter you with His wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.”
(Psalm 91:4~NLT)

  

“Under His wings, Under His wings,
Who from His love can sever?
Under His wings my soul shall abide
Safely abide forever.”
(from the hymn Under His Wings~William Cushing~American hymnwriter/pastor~1823-1902)

(Special thanks once again to my childhood friend, Jeannean Ryman for the use of her amazing photograph.  Jeannean has a gift for seeing the beauty in the ordinary and giving us a glimpse, too.  You may view many examples like this one at http://jeannean.zenfolio.com if you are interested.

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2013. All Rights Reserved.

Did you enjoy this post?  Let your friends know about it by “liking” our page on Facebook! 

Nobody Knows

“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen;
Nobody knows my sorrow.”

Third grade music class.  It was 1965.  Mrs. Jones was trying to kill two birds with one stone.  I’m not sure the attempt was all that successful.

We were in the midst of the Civil Rights movement, a national crisis which went almost entirely over the heads of the riff-raff with which the dear lady held court on a twice-weekly schedule.  She was doing her part to teach us about the past.

The old player on her desk spun the records and the airy timbre of the diamond needle riding along the scratchy vinyl grooves brought the voices from the past to our ears.  The words spoke of trouble and sorrow and loneliness.

Spirituals, they called them.  We were to learn that they were actually songs of protest, the meanings clear to the singers, but hidden to the slave-owners who loved to sit on their porches and listen as the cool, late-night breezes wafted the melodies up from the squalid shacks that served as slave’s quarters. Surely, people who sang like that couldn’t be unhappy with their plight.

We were learning music.  What’s more, we were learning about the resilience of the human spirit amidst the cruelty of humans to humans.  We didn’t care much about either.  We just knew that nobody was cramming arithmetic or grammar down our throats for an hour or two.

Life was good.

We sang along.

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.  Nobody knows…
                   

I had an epiphany in the grocery store awhile back.  Yes, I know that’s a shocking statement.  Not that I had an epiphany; those come when they will.  The shock is that I went to the grocery store.  I usually find a project that needs doing about the time the Lovely Lady is headed out the door.

She’s not all that disappointed I’m not tagging along.  I embarrass her at the grocery store, as I organize the contents of the cart.  Frozen goods have their place, cans stay in their corner, and the fruits and vegetables are carefully stacked around each other, so as to maintain their pristine condition.  And, don’t get me started with the chips!

But, I’m rambling, aren’t I?  Yes, I thought I would.  It is becoming a habit of mine, as the years have piled on a bit.  I tend to repeat myself and lose my train of thought.  Where was I?

Oh yes!  An epiphany.

I was struggling with the placement of bags of pecans (Vegetables?  Chips?) when I heard her.

“Don’t buy those.  You won’t eat them anyway.  They’re never fresh.”

The voice was tired-sounding and exasperated.  I couldn’t see her, since she was on the other side of the shelves, but I immediately had a picture in my mind.  Gray hair, frown on her face, she would be the personification of the grumpy old lady, complete with a shiny leather purse hanging over her arm.

Soon, she came into view, and I nodded my head.  Just as I expected.  Well, maybe the frown was a little more pronounced than I anticipated.  Several times more, as we shopped, I encountered her voice wafting through the air.

“No. I don’t like that brand!”

“Don’t take so long.  I don’t want to be all day shopping.”

As we headed for the checkout counter, the Lovely Lady by my side looked at the length of the queue and suggested that I go ahead and get in line. She had forgotten an item, but would be right back.  I noticed the unhappy woman got behind me in line, her husband in tow.

A thought hit me.  I would give them my place in line.  I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t get anything close to whatever it was.

I moved aside and suggested my wife might not make it back in time, so I would be happy for them to take my place.  A little surprised, they moved forward to put their groceries onto the conveyor-belt.  There was not a word of thanks.  Not a word.

Well, there was a little conversation.  But, it was only a stage whisper from the grumpy one to the silent one.  It was delivered as the speaker kept shifting her eyes from me to her husband’s handiwork at unloading the cart and back to me again.  Obviously, she didn’t like what she saw either place.

“I wonder what he wants.”

I smiled and kept quiet.  I think my keeping quiet was only because the light was beginning to dawn.  I knew it wasn’t about me.  She had been grumpy long before I came onto her radar screen.  It wasn’t her husband; she treated him no differently than she treated me.  Why, she even treated the food she didn’t want the same way.

No.  There was something more.  Come on, Paul.  You can get this!

Aha!  The breaking of the dawn came in a flash.

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
                   

Is it still too muddy?  Not quite crystal clear?

I stood and complained to my friend just yesterday.  Someone had taken words I had said in the wrong way and was unhappy, not because of the words, but because of a situation in their own life.

“Why can’t people realize that just because they’ve experienced bad things, it’s no reason to take it out on people around them?  Life goes on!”

I stopped short and looked up into the face of my friend.  I saw it in her eyes, and was sorry for the words.  I want them back.

I saw her brother, struck down by a massive heart attack before he was forty-five years old.  I saw her father and mother, both gone well before they reached old age.  Daily, she cares for a husband who is in poor health.  One doesn’t experience that much loss without paying some sort of price.

Nobody knows the trouble
                   

Is the picture coming into focus?

Was somebody short with you at work today?  Did that guy yell at you on the highway?  Did she just completely disrespect me on the telephone?

Here’s what I learned in the grocery store.

It’s not about you.  It’s not about me.

People carry around unseen burdens from their lives that they will never shake.  Never.

Nobody knows
                   

No.  That’s not quite true.

There is one other thing to understand from the old spiritual you were humming along with me at the first of this little essay.  You see, it’s not a song of defeat.

It’s not a song of loss.  It’s not a song of poor, poor pitiful me.

Listen again:

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
Nobody knows like Jesus.
Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
Glory Hallelujah!

Glory Hallelujah?

Those words, Glory Hallelujah, don’t belong in a lament.  They don’t fit into the blues at all.  The writer of this song is celebrating, not whining.

Me too.

Nobody knows like Jesus.

 

 

 

“Be nice to mean people.  They need it the most.”
(Anonymous)

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
(I Peter 5:7 ~ NIV)

 

 

© Paul Phillips.  He’s Taken Leave.  2014.  All Rights Reserved.