Sons died; by knowing them, I now know their fathers; the Lord taketh away, and the Lord giveth

Pastor Tom Paino, in his 90s, is one of the men I'd like to emulate. My good friend, his son Tommy, died that I might know his father. Jesus died that I might know His father.

Tom told me of his wonderful heritage. I have a wonderful heritage. Tom's mother and father erected a tent from town to town preaching the gospel. My dad preached at mission shelters.

One day Tom's parents erected the tent in Indianapolis. The meetings lasted for weeks, as long as each night someone was saved or filled with the Spirit. This was the beginning of Westside Gospel Tabernacle. 

Eventually Tom went into the ministry and the church grew. He needed a large facility. He said God also put on his heart to build a convalescent home to meet the needs of the elderly.

His dad challenged him and told Tom that he would ask two people who didn't attend church for $1,000. A funeral director and another man each gave $1,000, and Tom's dad told him, "You're to buy the land and build."

So Tom, with no credit history, secured the loans and put up the two structures. But his back was against the wall. He owed nearly $150,000 - by the end of the month - and he didn't know where it would come from.

A man offered to buy the convalescent home, and Tom invited dozens of men to help him decide. He said that to a man, they recommended selling it...

...until a man - who didn't go to church - stood up and asked, "Did God put the convalescent home on your heart?"

"Yes."

"Is your God big enough?"

Tom fell under conviction, dismissed the meeting and pressed on successfully with both projects.

Since then, God led him to raise funds for well over 100 global missions projects before he retired and twice that many after he retired. Most recently he took funds into Cuba to build a Bible school. He raises upward to $1 million a year for these projects.

He said his greatest joy is seeing young men he mentored - some whom he dedicated as wee ones - now pastoring thriving churches, some with congregations over 1,000.

I greatly miss his son Tommy, my mentor, with whom I ran the Indianapolis 500 mini-marathon in the early 1980s. He died of  Lou Gehrig's Disease in the late 1990s. We had moved to Poulsbo, Washington, where we met and loved Pastor Marc Pearson. Too soon Marc died of Lou Gehrig's Disease. He had been praying for Tommy.

Both kept their humor to the end. My mother-in-law, Helen McMillin, wanted to meet again with Tommy in his wheelchair. Tommy told her, "Helen, some day soon, you and I will be dancing partners in Heaven!"

Tommy had told of his visit to the dentist. Two strong men helped him stumble past the empty waiting room in to have his teeth cleaned. When they helped him out, the waiting room was full. 

He shouted, haltingly, "When...I...went...in..there, I...was...perfectly healthy!"

Near the end, Pastor Marc called his family together, looked at each one and whispered, "I love you."

Then he whispered, "I...have...to...go."

His son reassured Marc that this day was what he looked forward to his whole life and, of course, his family releases him. He may go to meet his Lord.

"No!...I...have...to...go...pee!"

Graciously, God replaced my Thomas Paino III with Thomas Duchemin and Marc Pearson with Mark Vroegop. 

The Lord taketh away. The Lord giveth.

My next home

I've tried returning to my childhood homes. Nothing's the same. I have far, far, far more to look forward to in my next home. I grown to love Max Lucado and his thoughts about this:

The most hopeful words of that passage from Revelation are those of God’s resolve: “I make all things new” [Revelation 21:5]. It’s hard to see things grow old. 

The town in which I grew up is growing old. I was there recently. Some of the buildings are boarded up. Some of the houses are torn down. Some of my teachers are retired; some are buried. The old movie house where I took my dates has “For Sale” on the marquee, long since outdated by the newer theaters that give you eight choices. The only visitors to the drive-in theater are tumbleweeds and rodents. Memories of first dates and senior proms are weather-worn by the endless rain of years. High school sweethearts are divorced. A cheerleader died of an aneurysm. Our fastest halfback is buried only a few plots from my own father. 

I wish I could make it all new again. I wish I could blow the dust off the streets. I wish I could walk through the familiar neighborhood, and wave at the familiar faces, and pet the familiar dogs, and hit one more home run in the Little League park. I wish I could walk down Main Street and call out to the merchants that have retired and open the doors that have been boarded up. I wish I could make everything new . . . but I can’t. . . . I can’t. 

But God can. “He restores my soul,” wrote the shepherd. He doesn’t reform; He restores. He doesn’t camouflage the old; He restores the new. The Master Builder will pull out the original plan and restore it. He will restore the vigor. He will restore the energy. He will restore the hope. He will restore the soul. 

When you see how this world grows stooped and weary and then read of a home where everything is made new, tell me, doesn’t that make you want to go home? What would you give in exchange for a home like that? Would you really rather have a few possessions on earth than eternal possessions in heaven? Would you really choose a life of slavery to passion over a life of freedom? Would you honestly give up all of your heavenly mansions for a second-rate sleazy motel on earth? 

“Great,” Jesus said, “is your reward in heaven.” He must have smiled when he said that line. His eyes must have danced, and His hand must have pointed skyward. For He should know. It was His idea. It was His home. 

Study Guide Read Revelation 21:1–8. • Think of a time when you anticipated an upcoming event. What was the waiting like? • What do you anticipate about heaven? • In what ways will our relationships with God be different in heaven? • Describe the new heaven and earth? • How can you prepare for life there? • List some words that describe what you think it will be like to spend eternity with God. • What causes you to take your eyes off your wonderful future with God? • List some of our responsibilities until the new heaven and new earth come.

Avoid criticism by doing nothing or get muddy in the trenches and take flak

I LOVED the Army Corps of Engineers, where I was honored to be media spokesperson. Not only is their take from the U.S. Treasury smaller, because like a business they charge customers, but I'm delighted when they take a lot of criticism. Why? Because, as I told the critics/media, we're down in the trenches getting muddy and getting things done. EPA hired us to do the dirty work to avoid criticism. My response to the media included this: "Yes, certainly, we welcome the criticism, because it means we are making good things happen. We can avoid criticism by, well, doing NOTHING." Privileged and HONORED to participate in the aftermath of the Valdez oil spill; Desert Shield; Tropical Storm Allison; Hurricane Katrina; deployments to New Orleans; Albuquerque; Houston; Jeddah, Saudi Arabia; Verona, Italy. My colleagues deployed to Afghanistan, Iraq, and Korea. 

Where I got my public affairs/media relations legs was as an instructor at the Defense Information School, Fort Harrison, Indiana, during which I met my lovely wife of 38 years.

 I was thrilled to be invited after retirement for two short-term assignments to the Corps' Seattle District's new building after a couple decades in a leaky building built by Henry Ford as an assembly line. Then Boeing used it to build the Lunar Rover. Then I occupied it.

 OK, I had Navy bosses and taught 5 services.

Legacy, hope & fulfillment for those who come after me

:

(Paraphrased)

To my sons/grandsons, that they might continue on their journey 

to becoming uncommon men.

TONY DUNGY (& ME)

To my daughters/granddaughters, that they might hold out for someday spending their lives with uncommon men.

NATHAN WHITAKER (& ME)

Watch:

MAY ALL WHO COME BEHIND US (ME) FIND US (ME) FAITHFUL

My career inspiration: insightful Paul Harvey

Lots of joyful tears today remembering my inspiration, Paul Harvey. An older high school kid at church told me about a class at the University of Washington in broadcast writing. He said they studied Paul Harvey and his "pregnant pause." Knowing that I would fall short in my chosen changing majors of math and music (I couldn't get there before the draft), because of Paul Harvey, I chose radio-television as a major at the University of Washington. I listened to Paul until his death at 90. I consider him the greatest broadcaster in history. After you view my previous post about his brilliant essay on zucchini and dirt roads, please, please, please carve out 44 minutes in front of a fireplace to watch this profound program broadcast at Paul's death. Wow!!!!! What great insight about the distaste of war and so many other subjects. He was a conservative against the Vietnam War. A thinker. He inspires me to communicate better. Dress better. Pray better. Be better. See his life-changing interview HERE. Some excerpts:

In today's wars there are no more civilians (and maybe war will become obsolete because there is no longer any place to hide).

He hit the nail with his head...

Excesses end up in their own undoing.

Tomorrow has always been better than today.

On obesity: Spread the gospel of discipline.

I spent a lot of time on my knees that night (after a brilliant surgeon restored his voice).

Zuchinnis & Dirt Roads: Paul Harvey's masterful reminder

This is what Paul Harvey once said about Dirt Roads.

What’s mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.
There’s not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn’t be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character. People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride. That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it’s worth it, if at the end is home…a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.
We wouldn’t have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along. There was less crime in our streets before they were paved. Criminals didn’t walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they’d be welcomed by five barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun. And there were no drive by shootings.

Our values were better when our roads were worse! People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn’t tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks. Dirt Roads taught patience.
Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn’t hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk. For your mail, you walked to the mail box. What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy’s shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.

At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap. Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole. At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn’t some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini. At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you’d have to hitch up a team and pull them out. Usually you got a dollar…always you got a new friend…at the end of a Dirt Road! — Paul Harvey.