Flight Attendant

By Brenda Black

The airline attendant ushered the pale and trembling young woman down the aisle of the plane. At 33,000 feet in the air, she weaved her way to an empty seat just across from me, where the stewardess cooly motioned for her to take a seat. In her hands, the weary woman gripped a paper sack that matched her pasty complexion. And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

While a dark-haired lady to the woman's left pressed herself into the window and never acknowledged her same-row visitor, I reached across the aisle and patted the back of the 20-something, expectant mother. She sheepishly turned her head up and glanced slightly toward me, afraid to leave that little bag of safety. She ventured, “I don't think the baby likes to fly.” Then she resumed position, shoulders rolled forward, head bent and one hand braced against the back of the seat in front of her, while the other pressed the plane's standardized equipment against her quivering lips.

For the next several minutes, I tried to soothe the fear, embarrassment and discomfort of my new charge. I tried to get her mind on other things through quiet, small talk. I rubbed her back and handed her yet another bag. She wore a spaghetti strap, next-to-nothing blouse and finished her not-so-winterized outfit with flip flops on her feet. The tattoos on her arm grew bluer black while what little pink she had rushed its way to freezing fingers and toes. I'm pretty sure the piercing in her nose echoed a metallic ring as hard as she shook from being so cold. When she began to shiver uncontrollably, I took my coat and draped it over her exposed shoulders.

Once again, she gazed upwards with gratitude beyond measure. “Thank you so much,” she weakly said. And I felt at a loss for words. All that I could do was pray for this lonely, afraid, very sick and desperate woman who looked more and more like a little girl.

I tell this story not for self edification. I tell it because that encounter opened my eyes to the human condition that seems more and more prevalent. People are desperate. Many are indifferent. A few are compassionate. Which are you?

What would you do if someone in need were placed at your elbow? Would you cling to the window, cover your nose and never offer a kind word like the woman in the window seat? Or would you offer a friendly gesture, be a knight in shining armor, an angel in disguise, a friend in deed?

This time I got it right and I lovingly reached out and offered comfort to a stranger. But a million times in my life, I've failed.

The reward for taking the time to show tenderness came from a young lady named Camie. When I exited the plane, a warmed and calmer young mother looked up and smiled and said, “Thank you for your kindness.” And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

Powerful Storms and Personal Scars

By Brenda Black

Giant trees uprooted. Branches strewn across a freshly cut lawn. Leaves and twigs litter a stretch along either side of the highway about a half mile long. No news will cover this small swath of a summer storm's havoc. No volunteer help will come from two states away to saw through fallen timbers or rake scattered leaves. Only a few homes are affected. No big deal.

I don't know the folks who hunkered down inside their old farm houses and heard the howling winds rip over their homes. I have no idea how many years ago they planted those lovely trees, full of bloom and beauty. So, whether the damage came by tornado or straight line winds is irrelevant. If it only ravaged their few acres and missed a nearby city far more populated doesn't matter. The gaping holes in the ground once filled by sturdy roots still leave scars. The fear brings real tears, regardless of the scope of the storm.

Usually only news of big, bad stuff that impacts multitudes is brought to the forefront. In the meantime, every human endures their own small storms; winces from their own scars. Every one of us is broken or uprooted in some way. And each time, it is a big deal – to the broken one and to the One who heals brokenness.

I passed those storm-hit homesteads early one morning. By evening, when I drove by, headed the opposite direction, I noticed a contrast between neighboring properties. Obvious clean up at one and nothing at the next. A big fallen tree in one yard transformed in a matter of hours into stacks of firewood with the help of friends and family. Scattered limbs became brush piles through the work of many. Next door, the yard remained covered in shattered remains. No activity. No help. No change.

Inevitably, storms will slam into our lives. The mess they leave will demand our attention. We can go it alone and take longer than necessary to clean up the clutter. We can call for help and hasten the healing. Or we can ignore it and let it lay in our lives and wilt and wither or slowly rot and kill the green grass underneath.

Honestly, there is no excuse in the body of Christ to ever endure the hard things alone. Often, the best help comes from someone who's been through a similar storm and knows exactly what you need to pick up the pieces. Jesus calls us to be His hands and feet, His heart and His helper. He also calls us to reach out and receive. It's a two-way street.

“Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.” (1 Peter 3:8)

That's heavenly advice. And it comes in pretty handy when neighbors are in crisis. Harmony makes the work easier. Sympathy soothes an aching heart. Love just makes the world a better place and certainly covers over a multitude of sins (1 Pet. 4:8). Compassion goes a long way in a broken life because we just need to know that someone cares and understands. Somehow that makes it possible to press on and shapes the family of God into the Father's image.

 The final act is humility. Living in a world with hurt may call on us to sweat a little and haul some wood or we may need to sit and listen and pray unselfishly. You can't care about the trial in someone else's life if you are consumed with your own real or imagined tragedies. Sometimes, the best medicine for brokenness is to help somebody else mend. You just might find your small gesture is a very big deal in the middle of someone's storm.

It's All Greek to Me

By Brenda Black

Zeus, the head honcho in Greek mythology, punished a Titan named Atlas by forcing him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. When Hercules sought the help of the encumbered Atlas to fetch the apples of the Hesperides, Atlas agreed on one condition: that Hercules assume his heavy burden while Atlas runs the dangerous errand. When Atlas returns, he tells Hercules that he is tired of holding the hulking globe and believes he'll remain unfettered while Hercules assumes his duty. Hercules quickly tricks the gullible Atlas and shifts the weight back upon his bruised and aching back. Once again, Atlas got the shaft, or in this case the axis, and all the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

Greek mythology is not eternally trustworthy. It's laden with worldly ideas that cloud God-Truth. Most certainly, we will discover one day when we meet Jesus face to face, that characters imagined by men are not present, nor do they hold any power in a place being prepared for God's chosen and beloved. It is not a simple-minded strong man who is holding this world in orbit. It is the Almighty One.

The stories, though contrived, prove beneficial at times if for no other reason than to convict or bring to mind scriptural principles. In fact, Atlas, just taught me something pretty significant. I cannot carry the world on my shoulders without a break. I can't expect someone to remove my burdens if I don't ask. And if I don't learn the lesson the first time, I'm doomed to repeat the same mistakes that put me under the poundage in the first place. 

I may have discovered these analogies in the fantastical tale of Atlas, but the teaching of Christ makes it perfectly clear that we are not called to bear any burden alone.

“'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.'” (Matthew 11:29-30)

Rest assured that the Lord is not saying life is a cake walk. In reality, life is rough and we better have a helmet – the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit! Jesus is waiting and willing to be our armor. He's also willing to get dirtied by our burdens, strap on the yoke and pull right along side us. In His cheering words above, the Lord does not give us a way out, He offers a way through the heaviness and He extends His helping hand to bear the greater burden in our behalf.

Sometimes the burden is temptation. God's yoke is resistance. The heaviness may be sorrow. God's yoke is peace and hope while we put one foot in front of the other day after day until we step a little lighter. The millstones we hang around our necks come in all shapes and sizes. But God crawls in under the onus load and whispers, “Let me carry this one with you.”

A team of oxen multiply their efforts exponentially. The load becomes lighter, the end of the row nearer. The power of Christ in every circumstance brings Herculean strength and Atlas stamina when we let Him in and accept His help. We were never meant to go it alone or take on the weight of the world. If that notion is Greek to you, then remember this: We were created and called to be cheered and carried by the real High King.

Jesus is no myth. He's everything we need.

Help, I Need Somebody

By Brenda Black

“And Moses' father-in-law said to him, 'The thing that you are doing is not good.

“'You will surely wear out, both yourself and these people who are with you, for the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.

“'Now listen to me: I shall give you counsel, and God be with you. You be the people's representative before God, and you bring the disputes to God,

“'then teach them the statutes and the laws, and make known to them the way in which they are to walk, and the work they are to do.

“'Furthermore, you shall select out of all the people able men who fear God, men of truth, those who hate dishonest gain and you shall place these over them, as leaders of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties and of tens.

“'And let them judge the people at all times; and let it be that every major dispute they will bring to you, but every minor dispute they themselves will judge. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you.

“'If you do this thing and God so commands you, then you will be able to endure, and all these people also will go to their place in peace.'

“So Moses listened to his father-in-law, and did all that he had said.” (Exodus 18:17-24)

I lived for a while thinking I could juggle all the balls thrown at me. I could be all things to all people. Wrong! It doesn't take long before the balls being thrown hit you square in the head and wake you up to your finite abilities. It was a humbling tumble with blackened eye and wobbly legs when I finally learned that there was only so much of me and there were others quite capable of stepping up to the plate if I would just get out of the way. I learned it the hard way. But I became so much wiser. Later in life, when I saw myself in a younger person headed down the same self-destructive path, I recognized the problem a whole lot quicker and gave it a name: Pride.

Self-reliant, confident, talented people can forget Who is truly in charge. Over achievers can lose sight of the One for whom they are working. Progressive thinkers, poetic writers, flamboyant singers are easily sidetracked from giving glory to God. And worst of all, we make pathetic listeners.

I love the verse 24 of the passage in Exodus 18. “So Moses listened to his father-in-law, and did all that he had said.” What a brilliant son! What a smart move!

Moses must have felt tremendous relief to have someone older and wiser to advise him after bearing all the leadership burden for so long through so much. Jethro was a breath of fresh air. Moses is not the only one who can benefit from the wisdom of elders. We all could learn a lesson or two.

Before you convince yourself that the buck stops with you, get an outside perspective from someone who's been around the block a time or two. As an old wives tale once declared, “Many hands make work lighter.” In the case of managing an entire Israelite nation, I think this is one time when that old wife was right. And the remedy holds true in most things we do in modern times. Mentors and mothers, big brothers, fathers, grandparents and teachers all have something to offer to those younger and less experienced. But will we listen?

It's time to take good advice and submit the counsel to prayer just as Jethro suggested to Moses. He was wise enough to present his opinions with one overriding condition: God needs to authorize it.

“If you do this thing and God so commands you,” Jethro clarifies.

Old doesn't make a man wise. Wisdom comes from God. From the outside looking in, Jethro brought a fresh and holy perspective and many, many people benefited. Who can you turn to when the load gets too heavy to carry and will you listen when they bring you a God suggestion?

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