Monday Memo

by Steve May

Pringles. They’re potato chips, right? Depends on who you ask. According to Proctor and Gamble, they’re savory snacks. Why the distinction? Because in the UK, potato products (including potato chips) are taxed, other types of food products aren’t. It made sense then, financially speaking, for P&G to claim that Pringles aren’t chips after all. They’re just snacks.

Britain’s Supreme Court wasn’t fooled. They declared that Pringles — which consist of more than 40% potato flour — are, in fact, chips. And being potato chips, Pringles now owes about $160,000,000 in taxes. Of course, I don’t suppose you can blame P&G for trying.

The truth is, we try to do the same thing. We spin bad habits in order to justify bad behavior. The workaholic calls himself committed. The perfectionist says he has high expectations. The tyrant claims to be a great leader. The man with a brutal temper claims that he is intense. The miser claims he’s frugal. The greedy man claims he’s driven. The bully says he’s assertive. The lazy man calls himself laid back. And so on.

Shakespeare said, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” And that which we call a potato chip by any other name still tastes something like a potato. And any other name we give to sinful behavior still does the damage that only sin can do.

Paul wrote to Titus, “Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and always to be gentle toward everyone.” (Titus 3:2-3)

He saying that we need to do good and do it in a good way. Let’s not try to repackage hurtful attitudes, pretending they’re actually virtues. Let’s be honest with honest with ourselves and with others, and seek to do good in a good way.

Anatole France once said, “Nine tenths of education is encouragement.” The same can be said for preaching, with a slightly different percentage; according to Paul, 33% of preaching is encouragement. He said, “But everyone who prophesies speaks to men for their strengthening, encouragement and comfort.” (1 Corinthians 14:3)

This applies to our conversations, as well.

Here’s my point. We need to check the content of our sermons (and our conversations) to see how much time we spend encouraging others, as opposed to how much time we spend pointing out their sins, or complaining about how bad things are, or warning about how bad things will get, and so on.

People need encouragement.

So, what is it? What does it look like? According to various online dictionaries, it can be defined as:

-contributing the progress or growth of someone or something.
-the expression of approval or support.
-to motivate, incitement to action or practice.
-to give hope or courage to someone.

You could say that encouragement is telling someone what they most need to hear in order to take the next right step.

The sermons (and conversations) that I find most encouraging are the ones  that remind me that God’s mercy is always more powerful than my sin, and there is no situation beyond his ability to restore, and that restoration can begin today if I start taking action today.

The sermons (and conversations) that I find most encouraging are the ones that remind me that holiness isn’t an unattainable goal, that becoming like Christ isn’t beyond my grasp, that it’s the birthright of every believer — including me — if I will only start taking steps in that direction.

All of our sermons (and conversations) should have an element of, “You can do it. Here’s how.” Whether we’re behind the pulpit or just talking to a friend one on one, we’re called to be voices of encouragement.

You probably already know most of Johnny Cash’s story. He became famous in the fifties at the same time as Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis. While his career sky rocketed, his personal life bottomed out: he nearly destroyed himself with drugs and alcohol.

In the late sixties he gave his life to Christ, gave up drugs, and married June Carter. A couple of years later his son, John Carter Cash, was born.

Johnny Cash was determined not to repeat the mistakes that he made with his four daughters. One significant change was that Cash spent a lot of time with his son. He took John on the road with him. When they were home, he took him fishing. When John became an adult, father and son worked together in the studio, and they wrote songs together. They were, in Johnny’s words, “like soul mates.”

Johnny Cash will always be remembered as a legend in country music. But when he was once asked how he would like to remembered, he simply said, “I’d like to be remembered as a good daddy.”

Paul tells us, almost in passing, what it means to be a ‘good daddy.’ Here’s how the Message says it…

With each of you we were like a father with his child, holding your hand, whispering encouragement, showing you step-by-step how to live well before God, who called us into his own kingdom, into this delightful life. (1 Thessalonians 2:11-12)

That’s the process of being a good dad. It involves some hand-holding, some whispered encouragement, and some step-by-step teaching. Dads, here’s to meeting the challenge.

If you’ve ever watched football on TV, you’ve probably seen Referee Ed Hoculi. He’s easy to spot; he’s the one with the big arms.

He’s also one of the most accurate referees ever to work the game. Each week, the NFL invests 8 hours per game analyzing each official’s performance on each play. Every play earns a grade; the highest scoring officials work the post season; the consistently low-scoring officials don’t last long in the league. Ed has always scored among the top.

Again, if you’re a football fan, you know what I’m leading up to. Last September, in the final minutes of a game between the Denver Broncos and the San Diego Chargers, Hochuli made one of the worst calls of his career. When Denver quarterback Jay Cutler fumbled the ball, Hochuli blew the whistle and called it an incomplete pass. He knew it was a mistake the minute he made it, but there was nothing he could do; an inadvertent whistle is a non-reviewable, non-reversible call. Instead of San Diego getting the ball, Denver was allowed to keep it. They scored a couple of plays later and won the game.

Needless to say, the San Diego fans were furious. They all but called for Ed Hochuli’s head on a platter. Many wanted him fired and banned forever from the NFL. His office in Phoenix was flooded with angry calls. His Blackberry was jammed with angry emails.

Ed’s response to the mistake, first of all, was to admit it immediately to San Diego coach Norv Turner. He walked to the Charger sideline, told Turner that he had made a bad call, he apologized, and explained that there was nothing he could do about it.

Ed also told the San Diego Union-Tribune that week, “Affecting the outcome of a game is a devastating feeling. Officials strive for perfection — I failed miserably.”

And then, Ed began responding to those angry emails, one by one. His response amazed people, resulting in even more emails — upwards of 20,000 — many from fans thanking him for owning up to his mistake. Ed said, “People were saying how great it was that I admitted I made a mistake. Obviously, I was wrong. Obviously, I felt terrible about it. What’s so surprising about it?”

The best thing a leader can do is own up to a mistake. It’s the best thing a father or mother can do, a coach or boss. Or a pastor. It’s the only way to earn back credibility. It’s also the best way to build accountability.

James said, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” (James 5:16)

A few weeks ago I heard Joel Osteen use an illustration that’s been told in many sermons over the years. It’s one of those preacher-stories that gets used again and again — but it’s a good one, so I’ll tell it here one more time.

One day a farmer’s old mule fell into an empty well. The farmer was disappointed because it was a good mule, but he concluded that the mule couldn’t be rescued, since the well was too narrow and too deep to retrieve the animal. He decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth saving, and his only option was to fill the well with dirt. [I know this sounds like a terrible way to put a mule out its misery. Remember, it's only an illustration.]

The farmer grabbed a shovel and began to fill the well with dirt, one shovel full at a time. It turns out that the animal wasn’t as close to dead as the farmer had guessed. When he felt that first pile of dirt hit his back, he instinctively shook it off and trampled on it. Another pile landed on him and he shook it off and trampled it. This went on all afternoon: shake the dirt off, trample it, and step a little higher, shake the dirt off, trample it, and step a little higher. Finally, after a few hours of this, that mule had risen to a new height; he was able to step triumphantly out of the well.

Osteen finished the story saying, “What’s interesting is that the dirt that was meant to bury him actually saved his life.”

Another story about a well.

His illustration reminds me of the story of Joseph, how his brothers had the idea of throwing him in a well. They were tempted to kill him, though they ultimately decided to sell him into slavery, settling on destroying his life rather than ending it.

God, however, had a different plan for Joseph — a plan that would make him the second most powerful man in all of Egypt. Instead of dying in a well or living as a slave, God destined him for wealth and power and prestige. And God gave him the opportunity to save his brothers from starvation.

Years later, long after Joseph had reconciled with his brothers, they were still afraid he would seek revenge, but Joseph had a different perspective on his life. He said, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.” (Genesis 50:20)

When you’re down, you can be sure that there will always be someone willing to throw a little dirt on you. Remember that mule: shake it off and trample it; it will help you step up. This difficult situation may appear to have the power to destroy you, but by God’s grace, it will actually serve the purpose of taking you to the next level.