The Little Engine That Couldn't by Andy McDonald

First, for those who don’t know me, I’m a hopelessly optimistic person. I love stories where the impossible becomes possible by hard work and a positive optimistic attitude. You know—Everest gets climbed, a company gets built, the farm gets saved from foreclosure. I value optimism so much that I’m irritated by pessimism. A new challenge faces one of us, and the most annoying thing I can hear is someone saying, “I can’t!”

One of the things I love about America is that its founding and history is so much about “I can.” It was Henry Ford who said, “If you think you can do a thing or think you can't do a thing, you're right.” There are so many good things that could have been accomplished had people just thought they could. I’ve sat on many boards and committees, and I’ve watched good ideas get trashed because some voice simply said, “I don’t think we can do that.” Helpful, enriching, community building ideas scrapped over one vocal voice of small thinking. Fortunately, I’ve also experienced some against-all-odds ideas come to fulfillment because someone on the team kept waving the “I think we can” flag, and people were inspired to get behind their optimism.

Our lives have been imprinted by the famous story re-written by Watty Piper in the early 1950’s: “The Little Engine That Could.” Variations have been woven into children’s TV shows from “Captain Kangaroo” to “Sesame Street” to “Mr. Rodgers’ Neighborhood”. It is an endearing story that teaches the importance of not giving up easily and having that can-do attitude, telling ourselves, “I think I can.” We often discover that our hard work, perseverance, and positive attitude will bring our dreams to reality.

I’m afraid our American dream and this good and healthy way of approaching life have influenced our approach to righteousness. We begin to imagine that the mountain of becoming holy we must get over in order to be with a holy God can be scaled if we simply put the little engine story to work in our lives. Nothing could be further from the truth! Not to fall to pessimism, but when it comes to gaining access into heaven, perfect holiness – absolute perfect performance/obedience – is the price of the ticket, and all the “I think I can’s” in the world won’t conquer that mountain.

The Little Engine is a great story for so much of life – teaching endurance, perseverance, patience, positive thinking, etc. However, when it comes to getting into heaven, the better story is one of rescue. It is the person trapped in a hopeless situation without an outside party coming to the rescue. Consider the Chilean miners. What did they do to affect their rescue? NOTHING except not refuse the little capsule sent to pull them to the top. ALL the rescue effort, all the expense, all the work, and all of what it took for the rescue to become a reality was beyond them. Their rescue was a gift they chose to accept. That’s it! All their “I think I can” positive talk wouldn’t have gotten them out of the mine. Getting out was dependent on another’s effort.

So, when it comes to life in this world – business, education, completing tasks, etc. – remember “The Little Engine That Could.” It is a great motivating story. But when it comes to matters of salvation, think Chilean miners, and let the rescuing God rescue!

Andy McDonald

Embracing Ambiguity by Tami Cinquemani

When I was very young I had some unique ideas about what life would be like when I grew up. Some of these beliefs are common to children: I would always live with my parents, I would watch TV all day and never have to go to bed, and I would never EVER eat broccoli again. There was one thing I believed, however, that was not shared by others. I was certain that, when I grew up, I would be a boy.

This idea may have stemmed from jealousy of my brother’s social life. He was two years older than me, and it seemed that he was always going to birthday parties. For some unknown reason, I presumed only boys went to birthday parties. I remember clearly telling my mother in my most soulful, tear-filled voice, “When I grow up and become a boy, I’m going to go to lots of birthday parties too!”

My mother never corrected me. She would listen to me, smile, give me a hug, and quickly put an end to any teasing my brother sent my way. She knew I’d eventually figure out the truth, and it was more important that my brother’s criticism of my inaccurate understanding not cause any scarring on our relationship.

Rob Bell recently wrote a new book entitled “Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived.” There’s a lot of chatter out there right now because many mainline evangelicals don’t believe in its theology and are pretty angry about a message they consider contradictory to the “Church’s” historic interpretation. There’s a lot being said in criticism of the book, and also in its defense.

I haven’t read the book yet, so I don’t have an opinion on its contents. However, I have read numerous reviews and watched Bell’s recent interview with Lisa Miller from Newsweek. The thing that stands out the most to me is the determination many Christians have to be “correct” – and to prove how “right” they are and how “wrong” Bell is.

There’s certainly a lot of religious opinions out there, and let’s face it, they can’t all be true. Like my mother dealing with a daughter who misunderstood some basic facts of life, I think God smiles . . . maybe even chuckles at some of the things we believe. He knows we’ll all eventually understand. There will come a time when we’ll all have a clear picture of what’s true.

In the meantime, I think the scarring that takes place when we attack each other saddens Him. These conversations should be had, and discussion is healthy. However, at the end of the day, none of us has a corner on the market of what is truth. Personally, I think we should all do more listening, adopt a little humility, and embrace ambiguity.

Tami Cinquemani

Someone Is Watching You by David Achata

“If you’re going to date my daughter, you need to learn what it means to be a man of prayer.”

That’s what my girlfriend’s father told me when I was 18 years old. The next thing I knew, I was at a Promise Keepers conference. It was the most awkward, fascinating, inspiring event I’d ever attended up to that point in my life. For the first time ever, I saw grown men crying, praying and at the same time bashing chests together screaming victory chants about how they were going to be great men of God in this generation. I left that experience with a vision to be a man of God and a spiritual leader. Why? It wasn’t so much because of the conference, but what I saw in the man who invited me.

Jim was his name, and he was (and still is) a man of prayer. At that time, I remember him talking about a particular fascination he’d developed with early morning prayer. He’d observed that interesting things always seemed to happen at the wee hours of the morning in scripture. So he was up every morning by 4 a.m., walking and praying – sometimes for hours. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do. The example he lived seared an idea in my mind of what it looks like to live a life devoted to Jesus. I don’t know if he thought about it, but I was watching.

Whether you’re young or old, tall or short, fat or skinny, black or white—someone is watching you. Whether you’re married or single, parent or not—someone is watching you. What are they seeing?

Statistics show that most Christians have lulled themselves into spiritual complacency. The Barna group reports that fewer than 10% of Christian families spend any time during a typical week engaging in any spiritual conversation or activity. Yet, 72% of Christian parents believe they are doing well when it comes to providing regular spiritual experiences and instruction to their children. (p. 125, Transforming Children into Spiritual Champions) Do you see a contradiction here?

According to a survey by America's Research Group, 95% of kids from Christian families attended church regularly up until middle school. Then at High School, that number fell to 55%. But by the time they reached college, only 11% of those same kids were attending any church on a regular basis. That’s right—11%. And that’s just the Christian kids. That’s not even taking into account that today 15% of Americans claim no religion. Yet, when the same survey was done on 18 to 34-year-olds, the number of young adults who claim no religion shot up to 46%. (American Religious Identification Survey) Yikes! The younger a person gets today, the more likely they are to not attend church.

Why? It’s because they are watching us. These stats don’t mean these people have no faith. Sixty two percent of that same group claim to be spiritual. Simply put, many are leaving church to find faith. Why? I think it’s because they are seeing the time (or lack of it) those who claim to be Christian spend in study and prayer. They’re watching how we treat one another. They are seeing how we spend our leisure time and how we act when we work.

In 2 Kings 2:7-10, Elijah is about to be taken away. He asks Elisha (his protégé), “What can I do for you, before I am taken from you; ask anything.” Elisha said, “Your life repeated in my life. I want to be a holy man, just like you.” (The Message) That’s the cry of my heart. As I look to Jesus, I see a holy man I want to know and be like, and it’s my hope that others see my life and say the same about me. What about you?

I attribute much of what I’ve become to a handful of people I’ve watched through the years. Would you make a commitment with me? Spend 30 minutes each day looking at the life of Jesus in the Gospels for 7 days this week. See how it affects you, and notice if it affects others around you. I’d love to hear what happens.

The world is watching.

David Achata

Taking the Scenic Route by Chad Hess

I love efficiency. Truth be told, sometimes I’m a bit obsessive about being efficient. There are always so many things that need to be done that I can’t stand the thought of “wasting time.” I can get so focused on the end goal that I miss the benefits that come during the process of completing that goal. But I’ve learned over the years that rest is a necessary part of being efficient, and I’ve also learned the benefit that “interruptions” can bring.

Mark 5 tells the story of Jesus healing the daughter of a ruler named Jairus. In the middle of Jesus’ journey to the man’s house, he was interrupted by a woman with an “issue of blood.” Much to the dismay of the father whose daughter lay dying, Jesus stopped his journey to acknowledge the woman. The delay meant that Jairus’ daughter died, but this interruption led to an even greater miracle when Jesus raised her from the dead.

Last Saturday night, my family decided to go down to the Disney boardwalk. We took the “scenic route” to get there. We spent a while walking around the boardwalk at the pace of my one year old and then took the bus over to Downtown Disney to get some food. Finding that area too crowded, we took the bus back to the Boardwalk. All in all, it was a nice, wandering trip.

From my typical goal-focused approach, it was a very inefficient trip, but that night it didn’t bother me. It was clear that our goal was to simply get out of the house, walk around, and let our child burn off some steam. And, while it may have seemed like a long, inefficient trip, my son has been talking about his ride on the bus all week. I guess sometimes the "interruptions" are the most memorable moments in the journey.

Chad Hess