LEAN ON ME
We don't serve a God
of happenstance;
the kind of God
who leaves anything to chance.
He won't ever say:
"OOOPS" or "Oh, by the way."
He's just that certain
about each moment of your day.
You can never catch Him
"at a bad time."
He won't have to "get back with you"
when He clears the other line.
He won't have His people
get in touch with yours
or put you off
until He's sure.
So, who would you trust
in the world today
to chart your course,
to map your way?
Who can you depend on
in a world such as ours?
How about the One
who hung the stars?
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Bob Won't Be in, Today
When we arrived at work Friday, Looking forward to the weekend, Bob's wife called. "Bob won't be in today - he's dead." I'm sure that's not the way she said it, but that's the way it was. He was here a minute ago and now he's gone.
As the word spread quickly and quietly from one to another, it was received each time with the universal response: "No." We often want to stomp our foot and say: "No! Now wait a minute! We weren't advised of this, there was no inter-office communication" - but Word came down from the top. And we can shake our heads and stomp our feet and let our jaws hang slack in disbelief; but God has the final authority in this matter and Bob won't be in today.
We began to eulogize him immediately. How much he would be missed, not only by his family and co-workers but also by his clients. Bob was one of the few lawmen who regarded those lawbreakers as clients rather than Probationers and Parolees. Sure, he knew they were felons, liars, addicts, thieves and even murderers. But they were people, some of them Bob's - all of the God's, and Bob would give them what they needed. A firm handshake, a pat on the back, a reprimand, a sanction, 90 days in rehab or 18 months in prison. And after all the "Bob Hours" that went into making those decisions, all the supervisory contacts, background checking, resource hunting and lie verifying. When all was said and done. He would sit at his desk and wonder and ask the question: "Have I done enough?" Bob will be missed.
I was sure that I heard Bob's voice at least three times Friday. Each time it was followed by the bittersweet awareness that it will be awhile before I hear that voice again. So, I replay our last conversations and remember how it made me shrug my shoulders and duck my head to watch him walk through doorways, wondering if he would clear them. He'd just laugh and say that's how he knew when he needed a haircut.
Bob was a giant of a man with a booming voice and hands like little catcher's mitts and a big heart - a very big heart. But that heart failed him on Friday and Bob won't be in, again.
As the word spread quickly and quietly from one to another, it was received each time with the universal response: "No." We often want to stomp our foot and say: "No! Now wait a minute! We weren't advised of this, there was no inter-office communication" - but Word came down from the top. And we can shake our heads and stomp our feet and let our jaws hang slack in disbelief; but God has the final authority in this matter and Bob won't be in today.
We began to eulogize him immediately. How much he would be missed, not only by his family and co-workers but also by his clients. Bob was one of the few lawmen who regarded those lawbreakers as clients rather than Probationers and Parolees. Sure, he knew they were felons, liars, addicts, thieves and even murderers. But they were people, some of them Bob's - all of the God's, and Bob would give them what they needed. A firm handshake, a pat on the back, a reprimand, a sanction, 90 days in rehab or 18 months in prison. And after all the "Bob Hours" that went into making those decisions, all the supervisory contacts, background checking, resource hunting and lie verifying. When all was said and done. He would sit at his desk and wonder and ask the question: "Have I done enough?" Bob will be missed.
I was sure that I heard Bob's voice at least three times Friday. Each time it was followed by the bittersweet awareness that it will be awhile before I hear that voice again. So, I replay our last conversations and remember how it made me shrug my shoulders and duck my head to watch him walk through doorways, wondering if he would clear them. He'd just laugh and say that's how he knew when he needed a haircut.
Bob was a giant of a man with a booming voice and hands like little catcher's mitts and a big heart - a very big heart. But that heart failed him on Friday and Bob won't be in, again.
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