Meet WiMax

Don't you hate to wait on your computer? You wake it up and log on to the Internet, and the thing whirs and chatters and finally connects two seconds later. Then you open a browser and click on a file, and are forced to wait another second or so for the thing to load. That's three seconds of your day wasted. Now someone's going to do something about it, investing a mere $3.2 billion to give you the fastest Internet yet.

Today's Wall Street Journal introduces us to WiMax, the anticipated next generation of the Internet. Financial backers include Sprint Nextel, Clearwire, Comcast, Time Warner Cable, Google and Intel. The entire venture will eventually cost more than $12 billion. The new network will theoretically deliver much faster Internet access for cell phones and laptops. It's about time--literally.

You and I live in a "real time" world. It wasn't always that way, of course. I'm old enough to remember when Jack In The Box invented the first drive-through restaurant, with a clown taking your order and someone magically preparing it by the time you pulled up at the window. When I wanted a new bike, we collected S&H Green Stamps for months until we had enough, then brought them to the store, chose the bike, and waited weeks for it to arrive. My sons would understand nothing I just wrote.

Imagine doing today's email essay just 25 years ago at my first pastorate, where I inherited a mimeograph machine. I would use a typewriter to type this essay onto a "master," then affix it to a drum which transferred ink onto sheets of paper fed through the machine. Then I would stack the paper until the ink was dry, put it through a folding machine, stuff the letters into envelopes, lick and seal them, affix stamps, and take them to the post office. Three days later they would arrive in your mailbox.

Now everything's changing, quickly. More text messages will be sent and received today than the planet's population. Google searches this month will total more than 2.7 billion. Three thousand books will be published today. The technological revolution is shrinking the world and creating a global economy and experience.

But the things that matter most won't change. A wise pastor once claimed that every person needs three things: help, home, and hope. WiMax cannot create any of them. The Person who offers them all to your heart today is closer than your computer, more available than email. He's ready to hear your next prayer and heal your next hurt. He's holding you in his hand this moment (John 10:28). Will you hold his today?

- copyright @ 2008. GodIssues.org

Thought

*At the start of any given day, it is not a bad idea to pray for a fresh touch of God's grace to keep you sane for what lies ahead. Pray not to live in the past, lick old wounds, or nurse grudges. Those things will drive you crazy! Pray instead for the ability to focus on what is positive, honorable, and upright. These things bring you peace! And ask God to let you be authentically and truly human. To be "authentically and truly human" is to be what God created you to be. Reflect the image of our God into the world. Think sane thoughts about your own worth and dignity. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Be true to your commitments. Give your best to every task. And spread some joy in your world. Here is the way Paul said it long ago: "Don't copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God's will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect" (Romans 12:2 NLT). - Rubel Shelly

A Safe Place

The following poem sums it up well. In tribute to mothers everywhere:

A SAFE PLACE

She tied your laces so you would not trip,
and held your hand so you could not slip.

She gently wiped your runny nose dry,
and held you close when you would cry.

She sewed the button on your shirt,
and kissed your knee to stop the hurt.

She wrapped Life's gifts in ribbons and lace,
and handed you a world that was a safe place.

The years passed quickly, and along the way,
she guided you so you would not stray.

Now she needs you to hold her hand,
when she's too frightened to understand.

She needs you there to lend an ear,
to aches and pains she cannot bear.

And turn her fears inside out,
and smile for her while she may pout.

She's earned the right, as you well know,
to call you back after she's let you go.

So hug her now and hold her dear,
as she did for you in yesteryear.

- Ruth Sochaczewski
with permission from Horizons Magazine

Invisible Mothers

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it? I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel? I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she’s gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies. Then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you’re gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

CHRISTIAN

by Maya Angelou

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not shouting I'm clean livin.

I'm whispering I was lost, now I'm found and forgiven.



When I say..."I am a Christian"

I don't speak of this with pride.

I'm confessing that I stumble and need CHRIST to be my guide.



When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not trying to be strong.

I'm professing that I'm weak and need HIS strength to carry on.



When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not bragging of success.

I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.



When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not claiming to be perfect,

My flaws are far too visible but, God believes I am worth it.



When I say... "I am a Christian"

I still feel the sting of pain,

I have my share
of heartaches so I call upon His name.



When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not holier than thou,

I'm just a simple sinner who received God's good grace, somehow.