by Andy Wood on April 9, 2009
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Rag. Now there’s an every-day word.
Unsophisticated, earthy, almost guttural – rags are blue-collar, made-for-dirt, hidden-from-company kind of stuff.
We all have them, but some people go to considerable lengths to deny it.
“It’s not a wash rag, dear. It’s a wash cloth.”
“Oh. Yew not from around heah, are ya’?”
That t-shirt or those shorts you’re wearing? Rags in the making.
I grew up with wash rags, shop rags, shoeshine rags, snot rags (my dad’s term), and dust rags. “Dust cloths” were the property of Yankees and people from other parts of town. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on March 13, 2009
Interested in getting a head start on your firewood for next winter? I once heard of a unique way to drop a tree. It seems some villagers in the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific have learned how to conquer the really big ones. If a tree is too large to be felled with an ax, the natives cut it down by yelling at it. (I’m not making this up. I read it in a book, so it must be true.) Just at dawn these woodsmen with special powers sneak up on a tree and suddenly scream at it at the top of their lungs. They do this every day for 30 days, and the tree dies and falls over. The theory is that yelling kills the spirit of the tree. According to the villagers, it always works.
Felling by yelling. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Crazy enough to be true.
I’ll have to admit, though, I’ve never seen it happen. I’ve never yelled at a tree (and I wouldn’t tell you if I had). Not for thirty days. Not for one day. Furthermore, I’ve never seen anyone else yell at a tree. So I can’t say by experience that hollering works on trees.
But it does work on kids. I have seen that happen.
Works on spouses, too.
Some people yell at their cars or their washing machine, and it doesn’t seem to do much good. But I’ve seen it drop a few pastors. And I’ve seen it kill the spirit of a friend or two as well. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on February 7, 2009
(Note: This is out of sequence, but I couldn’t pass this by. I’d like to know your thoughts.)
First, read this:
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another. (Galatians 5:22-26, NASU)
Then read this: A Botched Abortion in Mother’s Own Words
Then read this again:
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another. (Galatians 5:22-26, NASU)
Please tell me you feel at least a little outrage.
Please tell me that you haven’t lived so long in a culture of death that this leaves you untouched.
But while you’re at it, please give me something better than violence or political rhetoric. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on February 4, 2009
Preston is about 14 months old; his future is literally wide open in front of him. But even as young as he is, he already is feeling the effects of a broken home. He didn’t ask for it, but for the rest of his life he’ll be living in the Land of Nod.
Gina grew up in the perfect family – at least that’s what everyone believed. But they didn’t hear the verbal and occasional physical abuse Gina suffered growing up. Very few understand the strange combination of anger and shyness that marks her personality today. But the long trail of disrupted friendships and broken romances tell the painful story. Gina is living in the land of Nod.
In the aftermath of history’s first broken relationship, the Bible says that Cain “went out from the presence of the Lord and dwelt in the Land of Nod, on the East of Eden” (Genesis 4:16). As a race, we’ve been living in the aftermath of broken relationships – in the Land of Nod – ever since.
Are We Still That Clueless?
It’s amazing. Thousands of years of history have passed, and we’ve learned an awful lot. These days the knowledge available to the world doubles at rates we measure by minutes rather than centuries. What’s more amazing to me, however, is what we have yet to learn. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on June 16, 2008
(A Turning Point Story)
“I never thought the doors of a church would be locked,” said Danny Kincaid. But locked they were. So Danny spent the night on the church bus. It was the only place he could find to put a roof over his head.
Danny was in his early 20s; I was in my early college years. I met Danny after some other people (who weren’t exactly thrilled about his accommodations) met him first. They introduced him to our youth pastor, who led Danny to faith in Christ. He also offered Danny a place to stay – his own home – until he could get on his feet. That’s where I came in. I was a youth ministry intern, and got to know Danny as he hung out with Willard and the rest of us. Way too old for the youth group, Danny was a fixture around the youth staff as we practiced a version of “discipleship by hanging out.”
One day Danny and I were driving around town looking for him a job and place to live, and he told me a story that haunts me to this day. When he was very young, through a series of circumstances beyond his control, he came to live with his grandparents. I don’t remember why. Maybe it was a divorce. Maybe his parents died. At any rate, Danny wound up growing up in South Carolina with a grandmother he still referred to as “Mommy.”
As Danny became a teenager, he went through the typical rebellious stages that most adolescents encounter – made all the more extreme because his generation gap was times-two. He had a temper. And a mouth. And he knew how to flex both.
One day Danny and Mommy got into an argument, and it got pretty heated. She said some things. He said some things. They got madder and madder. Finally, Danny screamed out, “I wish you were dead!” And he stormed out of their mobile home and slammed the door.
[click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on June 2, 2008
Bret* was a Sherman tank. Didn’t drive one; he was one. He was ticked off – at me! And he wasn’t in a mood to pout or negotiate. He came with a verbal Uzi, convinced I had done him wrong, and he was going to let me know about it. (For the record, he was wrong about me doing him wrong, but he was in no mood to hear it. Or hear anything, for that matter.)
Right in the middle of the tirade, as this hulk of a man was blowing me away, I had this surreal experience. It was the Lord, I believe, speaking to me. “Just let him finish. With everything he has to say.” So I did. I just sat there and took it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like his attitude. I didn’t like his complete blindness to the facts. But I took it.
“Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s about it,” he said very gruffly.
“Okay, well I’m very sorry you feel that way. I’ll see to it that you never feel that way because of me again.”
That was 11:00 a.m. At 2:00 p.m., the phone rang; it was Bret again. Totally different story.
“Man, I just want you to know, I’m on your team. I so appreciate you.”
I quickly ruled out the possibility of demon possession, mental illness (that one took a bit longer), or bribe money. No, Bret had just emptied himself of his poison. And he meant it. He was on my team.
[click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on April 16, 2008
The question was relevant and greatly needed. A wife in couples counseling once asked, “How do I deal with resentment so that I don’t explode at my husband and say things I’ll regret?”
“You toss the Oreo,” I replied.
To their honestly-delighted quizzical looks (she loved Oreos), I explained:
Here’s a communication technique that can help you communicate your feelings and ask for your partner’s help. I call it “tossing the Oreo.” And no, I don’t mean getting mad and hurling cookies at your spouse!
[click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on April 11, 2008
A Turning Point Story
This is for all you jocks, coach dads, and soccer moms out there who never were in the band or had a kid in one. Other than my year of football futility, the primary point of my non-academic energy was spent in the band. And during football season, I got to wear the fuzzy hat. Yep, I was the drum major – the band’s field director during my junior and senior year.
The high point of marching season was traveling to either the Florida or Mississippi coast to participate in a regional band contest. Can you imagine the energy, the excitement that fills a stadium when more than 30 bands gather and perform, with no football team in sight for miles? Unlike football games, where half the crowd heads for the concession stands, at a contest people in the stands cheer loudly for every slick move, every powerful burst through the line. And did I mention that there isn’t a football team in sight?
[click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on November 28, 2007
On November 25, 1907, the Mobile Press Register printed the following report:
“Yesterday afternoon about 2 o’clock Jim Wilson , chauffeur for Mr. Louis Forcheimer , while driving the automobile of Mr. Forcheimer to the garage on St. Joseph street, passed the Bienville Hotel corner at a rate of speed which (he) himself said was not over ten miles an hour, when the speed limit is eight. He narrowly escaped running over a little son of Mr. George Hervey , who was crossing the street. … The complaint was made to Steward Jack Dair , who located (the driver), and Wilson was placed on the docket to answer the charge of furious driving.”
How’s that for road rage? Needless to say, we’ve changed the rules. It makes me wonder what “furious driving” will look like a hundred years from now:
• “Driver arrested for flying too low. Insists it was his clone.”
• “Wilson cited for hovering in a school zone.”
• “Forcheimer and Hervey purchase Bienville Hotel; Wilson appointed to oversee new helo-auto docking stations.”
• “Chauffer crashes car when Great-great-great-great-great-great grandson of George Hervey sends a holographic image into St. Joseph street. ‘Revenge at Last!,’ exclaims little Georgie.”
Regardless of how technology changes, human nature will still be, well, naturally human.
There will always be somebody testing the limits.
There will always be somebody moving at a different pace (either faster or slower) than you.
There will always be somebody putting themselves in danger without realizing it.
There will always be somebody who will want to cite you, charge you, humiliate you, or lock you up whenever you do something “furious.”
There will always be somebody to announce your issues to the world – if not the press, somebody in your network.
There will always be somebody saying, “It’s not my fault.”
And a hundred years (or days, or hours) later, there will be somebody – like me – who thinks the whole thing is really funny.
Jan is a mother of four, two each from two failed marriages. This morning, her 19-year-old lost his temper and verbally crushed his mother with a flurry of profanity and rage. Jan wanted to die, literally. I got the call.
