Is There Carpet in Heaven?

Several years ago, when I was working as a substitute mail carrier, I got called into the Post Master’s Office.  Through the years, I have been “called on the carpet” on many occasions for various reasons.  You might say I have plenty of “on the carpet” experience from high school, college, work, and yes, even church.

In this particular situation, I was working midnights at the cement plant burning the cement kilns.  I had worked off midnights on a Saturday morning, showered at the plant, ate breakfast at Hardees, and arrived at Montevallo Post Office early.  I thought about quitting the cement plant and working for the postal service since I was a bi-vocational pastor.  Postal work would be straight days instead of rotate shifts.

When I got to the post office, I put up the mail, pulled it down, and delivered it.  That afternoon I went home slept until time to work midnight and pulled another shift.

As we all know, there are folks that know more about your business than you do.  Well, the post office Miss Busy Body informed the Post Master that I had worked the previous Saturday without a good night’s rest and was unfit to deliver the mail.

On the carpet, the Post Master informed me that I needed a good night’s sleep before I delivered the mail.  He reiterated that the mail was a precious commodity that must be delivered with the utmost accuracy and extra care as I traveled the rural roads of Shelby County.  He notified me that if I did not correct the error of my way that he would discharge me.

When I finally got the opportunity to reply, I let the Post Master know a thing or two.  I asked him, “How much sleep did you get night last night, and what time did you get up yesterday morning?”  He responded that he had gotten up at six, went to bed at eleven, and rose this morning at six.

I told him that I had more rest than he had.  I said I went to bed at eleven in the morning, slept until nine, went to work at ten thirty, got off at six fifteen, reported to work at seven thirty, returned home around three in the afternoon, and slept until time to return to midnight shift.  I reminded him that his day was from six in the morning until eleven that night, which is seventeen hours before rest.  The Saturday I worked my time starting at nine thirty and ended at three thirty the next day which was fifteen hours.

I continued to tell him that Miss Busy Body’s son, also a rural carrier substitute, bragged to me how he did not get home until four in the morning and reported to work at seven thirty and if I was not mistaken, that’s only three and half hours.

I told him that each day that the cement plant entrusted me with two cement kilns that costs of millions of dollars, used thousands of tons of coal, produced millions of tons of cement, and I didn’t believe the mail I carried cost that much.  I told him that I understood responsibility and took many safety classes that stressed the importance of rest and work.  I worked sixteen hour shifts and many occasions at the cement plant.   I worked every other Saturday delivering the mail and worked seven consecutive days burning the kilns.  Did I say he had a sheepish look on his face?

At some point in each of our lives, people trust us.  I remember the first time dad let me drive in town.  He had an injury to his hand and he needed to go to Bessemer for a part.  We loaded into a 1958 Chevy and dad said, “You drive.”  I was scared to dead, but I knew daddy trusted me enough to drive and I was not going to let him down.

Years later, I needed someone to drive my car home from Chilton County ninety-eight miles to Gallion while I drove my old truck.  My son Aaron was thirteen.  I told him to drive the car, stay close behind me, and watch my taillights.  He had been driving enough around the Gallion community that I trusted him.  We drove slowly and safely an hour and half trip late at night and in heavy fog.

God did something amazing before the cement kilns and before mail delivery.  He in trusted me with the most important task of mankind.  He called me to share the Gospel.  It is ten simple words:  Jesus died for our sins and rose from the dead.  God is bringing the Lost to Jesus and I am part of the action.

 

But as we were allowed of God to be put in trust with the gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts (I Thessalonians 2:4 KJV).

 

I wonder if there is carpet in Heaven?

Whose Trophy You Got

As I parked my old, ragged GMC pickup at the Big Mo Country Club, I seemed out of place.  It was plum funny.  An old pick parked alongside of a Mercedes Benz, an Audi, and other fancy sports cars.  I felt as comfortable as a sore tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  My fellow golfers had new clubs, expensive bags, cute buggies, and nice carts.  They wore fancy hats, nice shoes, and leather gloves.  For me, I had some used clubs and bag donated by a former church member and some out-of-date golf shoes I bought on sale.

I knew golf protocol and the proper attire.  I did own a decent golf shirt and pair of docker slacks.  With each new arrival, the more insignificant I felt.

The only reason for my attendance at the two-man scramble at the country club was to help my brother’s church raise money for a mission project.  I am not a golfer, but I did take golf as an elective at the University of Montevallo.

I was good enough that Dr. Collins, the golf teacher, asked me to join her college team.  I was pastoring a church, working at the University carpenter shop, and taking a full set of classes.  I spent my spare time being a husband and dad.  I told Dr. Collins that I did not have time to play golf.

Dr. Collins said that I had a gift for putting and loved the way I could hit the long ball.  One day in class, she observed me as I practiced pitching the ball using the pitching wedge.  She asked, “Can you make that shot with the whole class watching?”   I told her that I thought I could.  She had the class stop for a moment and informed them that Mr. Hopper was going to demonstrate how to pitch the ball to the hole.

I took dozen balls and pitched them to the hole from a distance of about fifteen to twenty feet.  Each ball hit the flagstick and fell into the cup.  As I made each shot, Dr. Collins discussed my form and rhythm. 

In putting class, Dr. Collins asked how learned to putt.  I told her that she would not believe me. You should have seen her expression when I told her I learned at putt-putt golf.

Before the two-man scramble, I had played very little golf.  I did not have the time or the money.  Playing golf is an expensive hobby.  In reality, I had rather throw a football or shoot a basketball than chase a little white ball all over creation.

Well, that morning at Big Mo Country Club I did not know what to expect being my first Tournament.  There were dozens of men going through rituals and preliminaries of the game.

Among the players was a former co-worker from the cement plant.  Butch had to retire from the electrician crew due to a crippling injury to his wrist.  Butch was a member of my brother’s church.  He loved and played golf as often as any retiree could. 

He and I became partners in the two-man scramble, and we were paired with a couple of guys to make our team.  Butch and I kept their scores and they kept ours.

Butch and I made a good team.  He could knock the cover off that little white ball, but he struggled putting.  My strong suit was putting.  On each hole, Butch insisted that I tee-off first.  He wanted to see how good my drive was.  By rule, two-man teams could choose the best ball on each play/stroke.  If I made a good shot, Butch would take a chance; he knew if he blew the shot, we could play my ball.

In the beginning, our two teammates were winning.  Butch and I were not bad, they were better.  We had fun.  On one hole, I sliced the ball so bad that it hit a tree and bounced in behind us.  That put pressure on Butch to make a good drive.  Butch stuttered if you looked him in the eye.  On my bounce behind drive, Butch stuttered, “Give me that club before you kill somebody.”

The fifteenth hole was “dog leg” 550-yard, par five.  I had my best drive of the day.  I hit a perfect drive straight to fairway directly below the hole.  Butch stuttered, “I’m gonna hit the ball over the pine trees toward the hole.  As he hit the ball, it went high above the pines toward the hole.  It was a beauty.  It wasn’t too pretty for the other two guys.  Our two incredible shots must have frustrated them.  On this hole, one wrapped his club around a huge pine and the other threw his club in the swamp, I think to be with the ball he hit there.  I still don’t know what the pine tree did to the other player.

Our partners wasted several strokes trying to get close to my ball.  Several minutes and strokes later, we drove our carts down the trail adjacent to the fairway to locate our golf balls.  Mine was easy.  It was about 150 yards from the hole.  Our teammate’s balls were harder to find, but Butch’s was the hardest.  We thought Butch’s ball might be lost. We started looking in the rough, and finding a couple I wanted to make sure it was Butch’s ball, so I asked what the name of the ball he used was.  I found several, but none was his.  When we finally found Butch’s ball it was not in the fairway, nor the rough, but fifteen feet from the hole, just a foot off the putting green.  I putted it in.  That means that it was three strokes under par, what I think is called a “double birdie.”

When I got home, I was carrying a large trophy, which is now in my home office.  The wife and kids wanted to know whose trophy I had.  I told them that I won it.  They said, “Sure you did.  You don’t even play golf.”  I said I don’t, but I know how and that Butch and I won the tournament and a score of 72.

I did think it was ironic that we won, but we made a great pair.  Our combined skills and gifts complemented each other.

In the devotional Playing the Game in the section “Character: The Infallible Test,” the late Dr. Stephen Olford writes, “No other sport requires the level of integrity expected in the golf game.”

 

. . . if anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules (2 Timothy 2:5 NIV). 

Do You Need to Write it Down?

 Are you a list person?  Most people are.  I went to the grocery store one time to buy a bell pepper.  I did not need a list to buy a pepper.  That bell pepper cost me over fifty dollars.  No, the pepper was not expensive.  They had a sale on steaks that were approaching their expiration date.  I bought them because they are better when they age.  Steaks go well with baked potatoes, so I bought some big baking potatoes.  Steaks taste good marinated in Dale’s Steak Sauce, so I bought a bottle to make sure I had some.  As I checked out, I told the cashier that the bell pepper sure cost me.  I should have made a list, but I still would have bought the steaks.

I quit trying to have a “to do” list.  As I started the list, I realized there were some other things that needed my attention.  I listed several things that I wanted to do that day and the day after.  I never got around to finishing my list for the day so I postponed them to the next day, which postponed my next day list.  Not being able to complete my list, I threw the list away.

Lists are important.  During my years at the University of Montevallo, lists were very prominent.  There were list of classes, lists of degrees, lists of grades, lists of scholarships, lists of job opportunities, lists of those graduating, lists of those who owned tuition, lists of those who were on academic probation, lists of books, lists of required reading, the dean’s list, and the president’s list.

There were lists at the cement plant such as work detail lists, work order lists, absentee lists, employee job lists, requirement lists, job awards lists, vacation lists, lunch menu lists.  If you were fortunate or unfortunate, you got on the boss man’s list.  That was not a good list.  He would give you a list of the worse jobs in the plant.  The plant had an employee list and an employee timecard number list.  There were lists of job positions, daily job lists, preventive maintenance lists, and danger lists.

Lists remind me of the couple who were having trouble remembering.  Their family doctor told them they needed to make a list.  They did and it helped.  One night as they prepared for bed, the husband decided he wanted some ice cream.  He asked his wife if she would like some.  She said yes and asked if he would put chocolate syrup on it.  Knowing his forgetfulness, she asked if he needed to write it down.  He said no, that she wanted ice cream with chocolate syrup.

She then said could you put some whipped cream on it.  He said he would.  She asked again if he needed to write it down.  He said that she wanted ice cream with chocolate syrup and whipped cream.  She asked him to put some walnuts on the whipped cream.  She asked him if he needed to write it down.  He reluctantly repeated her list back, ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and walnuts. She then added one more item asking him to top it off with a cherry. 

“Do you need to write it down,” she asked.  He answered, “No, you want ice cream with chocolate syrup, whipped cream, walnuts, and a cherry on top.”  With that, he went to the kitchen.  Pans rattled, dishes clanged, and cabinet doors slammed.  After twenty minutes, the husband returned with a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits.  The wife was infuriated.  She said, “I told you to make a list, you forget the buttered toast.”

Lists are important.  The Bible is full of lists.  When you read a list of “begats,” remember that each name has a story behind it.  Take time to read each one. 

And the days of Adam after he had begotten Seth were eight hundred years: and he begat sons and daughters. . .  And Methuselah lived after he begat Lamech seven hundred eighty and two years, and begat sons and daughters (Genesis 5: 4-27 KJV).

Speaking of the importance of names, God keeps lists.

He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father, and before his angels (Revelation 3:5 KJV).

Agape

 Love comes in many forms.  There is philia which is love for one’s neighbor.  Eros is the love one has for his or her mate.  Mania is a mentally excited, excessive and persistent love. This type of love is like an obsession or craving. Storge is the love parents have for their children.  The highest love is agape, the love God has.  Agape love is the most powerful force in all of creation.  The old song says love can pick up and put you can put you down, take your world and spin it all around. There is nothing in the world stronger than love. 

It was love that kept Jesus on the cross.  It was love that raised Jesus from the grave. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:6(KJV)

When the Church at Corinth had disputes over different attributes, the Apostle Paul stressed love.  Paul called love the queen of graces.  The church has many attributes and talents, but love is the greatest.  Paul preached Jesus.  Jesus is God’s greatest expression of Himself to mankind.  Love is the motive for ministry.  Love never changes.

When I was a small boy, I would go to the wood yard with daddy.  I love the smell of cut pine.  There at the mill were huge saws cutting and sizing the logs.  The men were fun to watch chewing their tobacco, wiping sweat, and telling tales. 

Daddy got out of the logging business, and I did not go to the wood yard for many years.  When I did, I noticed that things had changed, but one little man did not.  Some of the old hands were fatter, gray haired, bald, and wrinkled, but the named Mr. Bob looked the same.  He wore the same hat, drove the same truck, and spit tobacco the same way.  I thought I had gone into a time warp.  The last time I saw Mr. Bob he looked the same with the exception that he drove a new pickup truck.  Mr. Bob seemed to never change, but he did.

Unending love is always the same because God never changes.  It is His nature.  Love spoke all creation into existence.  It is the expression of God’s being.  There is no love apart from God.  Love will last as long as God and that is a long, long time.  Love is forever.  And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. I Corinthians 13:13 (KJV)

God wants us to demonstrate His love to a world that has perverted love.  This Valentine’s Day give more than a fancy card, fine chocolates, and flowers.  Share the love of God.

 

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day

 

PS:  Guys don’t forget the fancy card, fine chocolates, and flowers!