When the Menu is Manna

  I grew up as the child of two parents who were outstanding athletes, specifically in basketball. I am sure they both hoped I would follow in their footsteps. From an early age, my mother would take me to the court and try to teach me the basics of dribbling. Looking for something that would bring about commonality among the other kids. For reasons I could not understand, they seemed to eat, breathe, and sleep sports, and where I lived, that primarily meant basketball. I tried, but honestly, I didn't have much motivation. After all, who wanted to stand there and repeatedly try to make a ball go into a basket that was so far above my head I was sure it would forever be impossible? I kept trying, but my future attempts at this as well as other sporting opportunities were short-lived. At age 7, after being hit head-on in the face with a softball on my little league team, I turned in my mitt feeling as if I had disappointed my parents but knowing that my desire and interest did not in...

Harvey Brown was a gentleman I will never forget. I met him during my sophomore year in high school while playing the piano for Sunday morning services at the convalescent center in the town where I lived. Mr. Brown was the song leader for the service and also a center resident. Each week, he and I would gather a few minutes before the service to pick out the songs we would sing. Within minutes, the congregation members would begin to arrive and find their places in the small chapel pews. I chuckled under my breath as we greeted our worshipers. The same rhetoric could be heard weekly: "How are you this morning, Miss Audrey?"  She would reply: "I can't hear you!" "Can't you speak up a little bit?" or "Good morning, Mr. Johnson. How's your day so far?" The reply was the same almost every week, "When is this gonna be over? I'm hungry," even though breakfast had not even been over an hour at that point. One by one, they took...

  I t had been one of those weeks. Unexpectedly, I found myself amid a conflict that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Caught in this without warning, I had no time to think through the situation much less determine how I should handle it. I was truly “in the moment.” With my mind racing back and forth, running through the options, weighing the risks and considering the fairness of it all, I knew no matter what stance I took, it was going to present a problem. There would be a struggle. I would be met with opposition. It might cost me something, and most likely, I would not be supported. Yet, I knew the decision I had to make, and I could predict the outcome, but God was calling me to obey His prompting in my spirit. As painful, unpopular and not well-received it would be, I had to simply stand. James, the brother of Jesus wrote a book bearing his name for the very purpose of encouraging the early Christians to stand on Biblical truth in a world that was less than perfect. "Co...