SHOW DON'T TELL

Canada geese along the Arkansas River in Colorado.

How do these Canada goslings know what to do? Are mom and dad standing on the log squawking out orders like the famous insurance mascot duck?

Of course not.

Those furry little balls are simply doing what they see the grownups doing. The elders are showing, not telling—a feat which embodies the standing mantra in the writer’s world:

“Show Don’t Tell.”

The first time I heard this I didn’t understand. How can a writer show without telling since words are all he has?

Here’s an example. Which sentence shows?

1. She was so angry she could have choked him.

2. She squeezed her fingers around the arms of the chair instead of his throat.

Number 2 is the correct answer because a picture is worth a thousand words.

Show me the money.

Practice what you preach.

People evidently prefer show over tell or these clichés would not be cliché.

Last week a guest speaker at our church picked up on the writer’s catch phrase and proved that it’s nothing new.

“Show them, don’t just tell them,” he said of sharing our faith with others.

A couple thousand years ago a man named James pressed a similar point when he said, “I will show you my faith by my works.”

And roughly a thousand years later, a Franciscan monk put it even more succinctly:

“Preach the Gospel always. If necessary, use words.”

        —St. Francis of Assisi

Let’s work on our “show don’t tell.” How well are we showing others what we believe?

Are you full of it?

Writing assignment: Evaluate yourself as a friend.

I told my students to measure themselves against criteria that defined a good friend, and then write a short essay, supporting their findings with evidence.

Though it was a college composition class, some students had more difficulty with spelling than anything else, and as I read through their papers I noticed an unusual standard listed by one young man: faith fullness.

I knew he meant faithfulness, but the way he wrote it made me see the term differently—perhaps with the significance intended by the word’s originator.

Faith fullness.

I wondered about my own quota. How do I measure fullness of faith? Would it be the same way I measure a glass of water, a tank of gas, a heavy meal of Italian lasagna?

Would it be to say I am full of faith, half full of faith, hardly at all full of faith?

I want to be full, yet Jesus said a mustard seed-sized drop would do.

Whew! I’m so glad.

Sometimes when I look into the glass, a drop is all that’s there.




(Image creator: winnond)

Like Mother, Like Son

Easter was two weeks ago. Already, it’s Mother’s Day.

I don’t recall Easter ever falling so close to Mother’s Day, but the confluence of the two is wider than merely this year’s calendar.

Consider Mary, the mother of Christ. She never experienced our American custom of maternal recognition. She didn’t even know anything about Christmas, the season that usually brings her to our western minds. Easter? Nope. But she is intricately connected to all three observances.

This year, as I ponder the influence of mothers on their children, I wonder if the mother of Christ somehow helped prepare him for his calling as the sacrificial Lamb of God.

On the night of his blood-sweating prayer and ultimate betrayal, as all creation held its breath, did Jesus remember something he had heard at his mother’s knee? Did he consider what she had told him about a choice she made as a young woman? Did her words from three decades earlier influence him when he said, “Not my will but yours be done”?

Mary, in essence, had said the same thing. When she heard that God had chosen her to bear his son in human flesh, she said, “Okay.” Did she consider the cost? Had she known what she would face – the whispers, the wagging heads, the possible threats to her very life?

What does it cost to say, “Not my will, but yours be done”?

Obedience is a rare and precious gift that we can present to our Lord. But we can also give it to our children as we demonstrate our faith in God. Without the faith to obey, Jesus might have turned from the cross, and Mary might have said, “Not me.”

For both of them, obedience brought the miracle.

I wonder: What miracle will spring from my obedience, if any?

Unanswered prayer

Have you ever prayed for something so long that when it finally showed up you didn’t believe it?

Zechariah did. He was a Jewish priest in 1st-century Judea who prayed for years that he and his wife Elizabeth would have a child.

This man knew the miraculous stories of barren women giving birth to such giants of the faith as Isaac and Samuel. But they had lived decades earlier, not in the modern times of the Roman Empire, and so far, no tiny fingers had ever grasped his own.

Maybe he just quit praying. Or quit believing. Or maybe he figured that God’s answer was “no.”

And maybe that had something to do with his reaction when an angel stepped up and took his breath away with news that Elizabeth was going to have a baby boy.

I wonder what I would say to an angel like that – if I could get the words out. If I didn’t pass out. Hopefully I wouldn’t say what Zechariah said: “How can I be sure of this?” (Luke 1:18 NIV)

Hopefully the sudden and inexplicable appearance of an unusual figure telling me about something no one knew but God would, in itself, make a believer out of me.

But for whatever reason, Zechariah doubted, and because of that doubt he ended up speechless.

A few months later the same angel told a teenage girl that she would bear the Messiah for whom Israel waited. This girl Mary said what the more experienced and well-versed priest should have said: “OK. I am the Lord’s servant.”

Young Mary had a question, yes, but it wasn’t one of faith, it was a point of understanding. She knew how children were conceived and she knew she was still a virgin. And when the angel explained, Mary said, “OK.”

I want to be like Mary. I want to say, “OK, God,” when He sends an unbelievable event my way. I don’t want to recite every reasonable obstacle to my faith and say, “I don’t know about this, God.”

I want to say, “I’m your servant, Lord. Whatever you say.”

But the truth is, I’m more often like Zechariah – knowing God’s faithfulness and still wondering how He will do the impossible. And that’s why I’m encouraged by God’s choice of this man, the man whose first spoken words after months of silence were praise to a faithful God.

Yes, he knew the history of his people; yes, he had grown weary in his faith. But God had not given up on him, and He knew that Zechariah was the one to teach this child of “the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins” (Luke 1:77 NIV).

God gives all of us opportunities to say, “yes,” whether sooner or later. What will your choice be this Christmas season?

What will you say?

Grandparents Day

Tomorrow is Grandparents Day. Mine are long since gone, but I’ve taken their place. And it’s still a wonder to me when I recognize one of my children peeking out through the eyes of their offspring.

As a teacher, I meet a lot of grandparents, those who have picked up where their sons and daughters left off. Sometimes the family has fallen apart, and one young parent is in jail, in hiding or incapacitated. Often, grandparents help out with babysitting when both parents must work to meet financial responsibilities.

And sometimes they are just interested. They like being involved in the extended lives of their children and grandchildren.

I know of a boy named Tim who had a grandmother like that. She helped steer him into the right path when he was a youngster, and taught him that God was faithful and could be trusted.

Tim never forgot her words, and he grew up to be a leader among men and the close companion of a mighty man of God. The Apostle Paul encouraged young Timothy, writing, “I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice” (2 Timothy 1:5 NIV).

As a grandparent, you never know what influence you may have on a child – even those not of your family. Your patience, your joy, and your faith can stabilize a young life and point to the Savior.

It’s never too late to begin, for “today is the day of salvation,” not yesterday or tomorrow. Ask God to show you how to share His love with the little ones around you – even if they’ve grown up and have little ones of their own.

R.O.D.E.O.

What’s RODEO got to do with the Faith Walk?

Plenty.

When my husband was a rodeo clown and bullfighter, faith was the main course for every meal. Along with extra helpings of prayer and trust.

During those exciting years of crisscrossing the country from one rodeo arena to the next, we had faith that God was taking care of us as we traveled and worked. We prayed for His protection over our children, our vehicle, our animals and ourselves. And we trusted that He would lead us in the direction of His choosing.

A rodeo bullfighter is a great metaphor for Christ: he puts his life on the line to rescue the bull rider from certain injury or death. He is the “savior” who pulls the rider’s hand free from a twisted rope, or throws himself between a fallen cowboy and a charging bull.

“It’s my job,” my husband Mike once told a grateful rider who nearly had his bell rung.

“But there’s someone else who’s done a whole lot more for you,” Mike continued. “Jesus died to save you and give you eternal life.”

Today we no longer rodeo, so what could it possibly have to do with our life when there’s no more bullfighting, no more arenas, no more all-night, red-eye drives from one state to another?

Everything.

Rodeo reminds me how to face the bucking, twisting circumstances that often charge into my otherwise orderly life. Rodeo reminds me that I’m not in control, but God is. And rodeo helps me keep my concentration where it needs to be:

Rely
On
Divine
Energy
Only

Putting my faith in God means trusting Him to give me the strength I need.

So, saddle up!

II Corin. 4:8,9

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