Rob Prince's Blog, page 58

A Riddle from Pastor Grim Reaper

Do you like puzzles?  Here’s a riddle:  I have a cousin who isn’t having a birthday this year. She didn’t have one last year and she won’t have one next year either. She will have one in two years although. Here’s a hint: while she is nearly eligible for social security, she can truthfully make the claim to still being a teenager since she has had only 15 birthdays.

Answer:  She was born on February 29 so her actual birth day only rolls around every four years. I’m not sure if she celebrates her big day today or if she blew out her candles yesterday.

While, I don’t have my cousin’s excuse, there may be days when I act like a teenager (so says Karla) but there are probably more days when I feel like I’m ready for the rocking chair. In either case, the truth remains I am closer to the grave than ever before.

Moses, who knew a thing or two about birthdays (on his last birthday he blew out 120 candles), wisely instructs us in Psalm 91: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 91:12). Moses understood whether born in a leap year or not, we are not guaranteed any birthdays. Our days are numbered and we aren’t the one who numbers them.

None of us are promised another year on planet earth.  As many of you know, our family has recently experienced grief (Karla’s dad passed away less than two months ago). Likewise, many in our church have freshly faced death’s menacing reality. Just this week, a classmate of some of our children passed away.  Our kids had prayed for this precious little girl last Sunday in Children’s Church and now that little one is in heaven; yesterday a pastor officiated the funeral of a 25 year old man; tomorrow our funeral committee (they are awesome servants by the way) is preparing a post-funeral meal for the family of a church member; and then on Saturday I will attend the funeral of mom and step dad of a lady from Central both of whom passed away within two weeks of one another and the family is having one funeral for both parents.  Death is a constant reminder that our lives on this old world are numbered, and we aren’t the ones who number them.

Added to these tragedies is the national grief we are experiencing in the wake of the latest school shooting.  Politicians will debate the best strategy moving forward, but all of us can agree that school shootings are a national disgrace. Our kids need to be safe and should be worrying about who to ask to prom not if there’s an active shooter is in their building.  By heart breaks for the students and grieving families in Parkland.

My intention isn’t to be Pastor Grim Reaper today, but simply to remind us that each of our numbered days is precious. Every day is a gift.  Hug your kids a little tighter and let go of grudges a little quicker.  Don’t take your days or your relationships for granted.  Use your days for God’s glory whether you are 14 or 84.

Why Nazarene Church Membership Matters

The next two Wednesdays I will be teaching a church membership class. We will talk about what our church believes and how we operate. I won’t teach the secret handshake (we don’t have one) or give out decoder rings to the Central Church pyramid scheme (umm… we don’t have those either).  Generally, at the start of the class I say something like, “I’m the least membership oriented pastor you will ever have.”  The reason for that admission is that one’s “Nazareneness” or lack thereof will not be a part of the entrance exam into heaven (there’s an entrance exam?).  St Peter (or whoever is the gatekeeper, actually I don’t think there is a gatekeeper) will not ask to see your Central Membership Card prior to entry (we don’t give out membership cards. We are a church not Costco).  You also won’t have to give your favorite Nazarene Potluck casserole recipe, name any of the general superintendents or tell how many Sunday afternoon Nazarene Naps you have taken.

Having written all of that, I still believe church membership matters.  Here’s why:

1)  Church Membership doesn’t say, “Yippee! I have finally found the perfect church.”  Central isn’t perfect. We have humans (including me) making decisions and we aren’t perfect (especially me).

2)  Church Membership doesn’t say, “We have everything figured out.”  We clearly don’t have everything figured out.  Every four years the Church of the Nazarene has a gathering where the elected delegates (I was one last summer in Indy) change our by-laws and re-work them.  Some stuff gets taken out and other stuff is added.  The Manual of the Church of the Nazarene is a working, changing document.  All this to say, we don’t think we have a corner on the truth.

3)  Church membership says, “These are my people.”  We can’t pick our biological family, you are stuck with them (even the crazy ones).  But a church family– you get to choose.  You say, in effect, these people are my people, even the crazy ones.  They are not perfect. Some of them didn’t vote the way I voted.  Some of them don’t like my kind of music and are very bad at social media interaction.  They are not always refined, but I will stick by their side, in good times and bad.  I will support and love them and receive support and love from them. They are mine and I am theirs. I belong here.”

Here’s the bottom line on church membership.  I think there is something refreshing in an era when commitment to anything seems to be at all-time low and when more and more people are identifying as a “none” when it comes to church affiliation, for people to stand in front of a church and say: “These people can count on me to love, serve and join with them to see God’s Kingdom built in Flint (in our case) as it is in Heaven.”  I love when people band together and say, “We are better together and God is up to something good in this place because of it.”

Fact Checking Punxsutawney Phil and Other Animal Holiday Proposals

Tomorrow is GROUND HOG Day.  You know how it works. If the fraidy cat rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, sees his shadow, we get six more weeks of disgusting winter.  It’s kind of a dumb tradition if you ask me. I won’t take a Pennsylvania ground hog’s advice on just about anything, let alone the winter weather patterns over the next several weeks.  Still my calendar (with little regard for fact checking of the meteorological marmot) calls tomorrow: Ground Hog Day.

All of this got me thinking: “Why should ground hogs be the only animal to have a special day?” There are plenty of other creatures in the animal kingdom who are just as deserving to have a day designated in their honor (maybe more deserving than an overly nervous Pennsylvania woodchuck). So to that end, I offer the following:

Lion Day. Second Sunday in September. If a Detroit Lion sees the shadow of a goal post, it hides and Lion fans get six more months of bad football.  Like other holidays that have special greetings (i.e. “Merry Christmas” or “He is Risen” on Easter), people in Detroit on Lion Day tell each other “Wait ‘til next year.”

Giraffe Day. If a Giraffe feels rain on the top of his head, then rain will certainly hit other creatures very, very soon and that day will also be known as a “rainy day.”

Deer Day.  December 1.  If a deer sees his shadow, he does a little dance because he or she has avoided a hunter’s bullet throughout the Michigan Deer Hunting Season.

Turkey Day.  I know what you’re thinking: “We already have ‘Turkey Day,’ it’s slang for Thanksgiving when we eat turkey and watch the Lions lose.”  Not so fast, pilgrim. Thanksgiving is a day to be grateful for your blessings. Period. The REAL Turkey Day is more of an anti-Thanksgiving holiday when we recognize the real turkeys are not in the oven but those that refuse to appreciate and count their blessings.

I don’t have much hope that Congress will recognize any of these special days, but there is one day that I know will happen.  It’s called LAMB Day and get ready for this: Every day in heaven will be LAMB Day.  This is how Revelation 5:11-13 describes it:

  Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12 In a loud voice they were saying:

  “Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,

to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength

and honor and glory and praise!”

13  Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb

be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!”

We can do without all of these other animal holidays (and a few others made by Hallmark holidays), but let’s determine to not miss LAMB Day.  In the meantime, have a great day honoring the Lamb with your lives and actions.  And let’s hope that the silly ground hog doesn’t see his shadow tomorrow.

Starbucks and Building God’s Kingdom

A new Starbucks opened on Hill Road.  This may prove to be a problem because it is in my direct path of coming to church on most days.  I’m not a coffee snob as some people are (READ: my son Ben, who thinks purchasing Starbucks coffee is being a sell-out to corporate America and is NOT “real“ coffee).   I usually enjoy a dollar coffee that I’ve picked up at the McDonald’s drive-thru (which coincidentally is across the street from the new Starbucks).  I’m not sure I can write Ben’s opinion of McDonald’s coffee.

Generally, I have found that Starbucks establishments have better lighting, better music (for when I decide to start my day writing a sermon in a public place rather than my church office) and of course better coffee than McDonalds.  The problem is all of this ambiance carries a price tag. McDonald’s coffee is a dollar.  Starbucks might want to change their name to “Five-Bucks.”  Still there will be times in the future (shhh… don’t tell frugal Karla) that I will stop into the new Starbucks and pay a little more for all of the above reasons.

What I’m trying to say is that for the real thing, in the right environment and at the right time, I am willing to pay a little more.  I hope that the church notices these same characteristics. The church is a volunteer organization.  No one is forced to come (my boys might have argued that point about ten years ago).  There are a lot of options for people.  That’s why it is important that all of us strive for excellence in all areas.  Everything must be done well from the preaching, to the singing, welcoming, cleanliness of the building, the nursery staff, children’s and youth workers and everyone else.  If people walk into a church and feel it is unfriendly or untidy or underwhelming in its care for their children, you can have Billy Graham behind the pulpit and these folks will never come back.

We used to sing a hymn back in the day with the title, “Give your best to the Master.”  It still applies. Whatever your task in God’s Kingdom give the Master your best. I think that was Paul’s point too when he told the church folks in Colossae:  Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters (Colossians 3:23). 

We have a world to reach for Jesus and all of us play a role in this global evangelism effort.  Let’s make sure all of our efforts (both inside and outside the church walls) are pleasing to the Master.  What you do and how you do it matters!

Alzheimer’s and the Most Interesting Man in the World

I’m sitting beside my father-in-law’s, Arling’s, bed as I write this post.  Arling is in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease.  He hasn’t known me for months.  The hospice nurses don’t believe he has many more days on this old earth.  Soon his faith will be sight and Alzheimer’s will be a distant memory (pun intended).

For my Flint Central Nazarene friends most of you have only known Arling with Alzheimer’s.  You didn’t get a chance to know the man who is as unique as his name. (Have you ever run across another “Arling”? I bet not).

There is a beer commercial that touts some guy as “the most interesting man in the world.”  The fictional character selling beer can do all sorts of remarkable feats (usually with a beautiful woman by his side). Arling truly was an interesting man (usually with Mary his wife of 56 years by his side). He was a tool and die maker for most of his life and I’m told a very precise one.  But Arling was much more than his employment.

I played golf with him a few times.  Once we were on a par three hole that had a pond between the tee box and the green.  He proceeded to sink a half dozen balls into the water before finally getting a ball onto the green.  “I knew I could do it,” he proudly proclaimed.  He was a bad golfer (consider me as the pot calling the kettle black) but he was determined.

He wasn’t a great businessman either.  At least not when it came to his Christmas tree farm.   I think he gave away more trees than he sold.  “No one should be without a Christmas tree,” he told me.

He was snowmobiling into his 70’s, cut ice with the Amish, served in the army reserves and was an inventor.  (He came up with a better umbrella for his Amish friend’s horse and buggies).  One skill I wish he would have taught me is backing up a car with a trailer attached. He could back up a trailer straight as an arrow for two hundred yards without batting an eye. I have trouble backing up my car with its rear-view screen and no trailer at all.

I took Arling on a mission trip to Dominica about 25 years ago.  Arling was usually the last one on the van. His tardiness annoyed some of the team members (truth be told, sometimes it annoyed me too).  But Arling wasn’t delayed by extra-long grooming times or slowly eating his dinner. Usually he had found a child and had devised a game to play or noticed an older person with whom he could have a conversation. Some things were more important than being on time.

Arling was a faithful servant of the Lord.  A lifelong member of the Reading Church of the Nazarene, he taught Sunday School and was the head trustee for years and years.  Teaching the Word and serving Jesus were Arling’s loves.  When he finally passes, his obituary won’t make the headlines of the New York Times, but this world will have lost a most interesting man and heaven will have gained the man I’ve been honored to have been his son-in-law for almost 30 years.  Arling doesn’t remember my name, but I assure you the Lord has written his unique name in the Lamb’s Book of Life.

I Like Flint

“Phooey” is not the Greek word that means: “You are wrong about Flint,” but it should be.  This week I read another article containing another stupid list of the worst cities in America and, of course, the New York biased or Los Angeles biased author (I bet dollars to Donna’s donuts the author has never eaten a Koegel hotdog or stepped foot in our city) placed Flint on his worst cities list.  Pardon my not-so-ancient-or-accurate Greek, but “Phooey!”

I like Flint. In fact, here are just a few things I like about Flint:

I like…

The people of Flint. They are generous and loving!
Flint’s history of how a labor sit down strike lifted the working people of America.
That jobs are coming back to our city.
The pastors I’ve met as we worked together since the water crisis who love Jesus a lot!
We are becoming a pretty great college town.
That Flint has a downtown ice rink, even though my ice skating days are behind me.
The Capitol theatre is opening up again.
The Farmers Market is great!
The Crim is the coolest race in America not named “the Boston Marathon”
The brick streets down town—I especially like it when the brick streets downtown are filled with old cars during Back to the Bricks.
The Vehicle City signs over Saginaw Street.
The Sloan Museum.
The General Motor’s Factory One is a very cool venue.
We have a minor league hockey team, although I would have named them the Stones, not the Firebirds, I still like them!
That when someone mentions the Flintstones, we don’t think about Fred, Wilma or Pebbles but of basketball players Mateen Cleaves, Morris Peterson, and Charlie Bell
Koegel hotdogs, Donna’s Donuts Foster’s Coffee, Totem Books and the Crepe Company!
The Whiting Auditorium is a wonderful place to see a concert.
Halo Burgers (although their bill board announcing “salvation is just ahead” on the highway annoys me mostly because it’s Jesus who brings salvation not an olive burger)
Chipotle and Panda Express have built new restaurants in Flint this year and if Chick-fil-A were smart, they’d open one too.
When people debate on the yumminess of a Flint or a Detroit Coney (True Confession: I like Detroit coneys. Don’t hate me).
How at Central Church we purposely misquote the Lord’s prayer just a little bit and pray that God’s kingdom would come “IN FLINT as it is in heaven” (of course we want God’s kingdom to come to the whole earth, but are just kind of partial to idea of God starting in Flint as His kingdom comes).

OK, more honesty, there are a few things I don’t like too. I don’t like…

That poverty is still high in Flint and crime and drug dealers and sex traffickers are present, but too often our kids are growing up when their moms or dads are not present in their lives.
That people are still afraid to drink the water, because they don’t trust the politicians who told them it was ok to drink the water (when it wasn’t) in the first place.
We have too many liquor stores, bars, strip joints, boarded up houses and pawn shops not enough Holy Spirit filled outposts of God’s Kingdom.

Still, I like Flint and I like to think that Jesus was thinking of Flint too, when he grabbed a scroll in the Nazareth synagogue and unrolled it to Isaiah 61 to read:

 “The Spirit of the Lord is on me,

because he has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.  (He didn’t say it, but I think we could have said, “I’m looking at you Flint, Michigan!”)

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

and recovery of sight for the blind,

to set the oppressed free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

  Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him.  He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:18-21)

I like Flint and I know God loves Flint, and far, far, far from turning his back on Flint or has forgotten Flint or in some way has abandoned Flint and certainly unlike what any author of an article that says how terrible things are might say, God has great things in store for the hard working, fun loving, generous and wonderful people of Flint in 2018! In fact, I think God is FOR FLINT and if we are on God’s side we will be saying, “I am FOR FLINT TOO.” In other words, I think Jesus would have read that article about worst cities in America and would have said, “Phooey! People said the same thing about my home town of Nazareth, but it was a lot like Flint and I loved that place too!”

Merry Christmas Flint! God is on our side!

Our Overly Honest Christmas Letter

Dear Reader of the Prince Christmas Letter:  For the last 28 years, each Christmas season I have managed to brag, boast, crow and swagger about the vacations we’ve taken, the sites we’ve seen and our boys’ accomplishments from the previous 12 months.  Well, I ‘m done with all of that, instead I offer you….

  Our Overly Honest Christmas Letter

Ben and Madison.  Graduated from Olivet Nazarene University in May; got real jobs this summer, tied the knot in November, but aren’t coming home in December.  They made some lame excuse about wanting to go on a honeymoon to a tropical island instead of spending Christmas break visiting their loving parents in not-quite-so-tropical paradise of Flint, Michigan.  We offered to go with them on their Dominica Republic honeymoon, but they said “no” to that suggestion too. We may have lead in our water, but that poor decision, virtually guarantees coal in their Christmas stockings and is seriously bringing into jeopardy any inheritance they may reap in the future.

Alex and Blaire.  Of course, we aren’t sure we want Alex and Blaire to squander our life savings after we pass through the pearly gates either. Blaire tells us, she gets her “baby fix” working as a nurse in the Mother/Baby unit at Kansas University Medical Center. Alex says he travels too much for work. Translation: They have a dog but there will be no babies anytime soon.  Both Alex and Ben work for the Cerner Corporation and travel all over the country but not once have their jobs brought them to the state shaped like a mitten. Karla may be calling Cliff Illig (the Cerner CEO) soon to discuss this matter.  Still we are glad that both boys and their wives have jobs and most importantly aren’t living in our basement.

Rob and Karla.  The personal growth that Rob experienced this year, unfortunately has been mostly in his waist size and the excessive hair growth in his ears, eyebrows and nostrils. Speaking of unwelcomed occurrences, Rob still has headaches most of which can be attributed to the fact that the sporting teams he supports continue to disappoint him.  While to date no one at Central Church has tossed rotten tomatoes in his general direction during a sermon, he has been considering taking dodgeball lessons just in case. Moreover, he is a bit worried that as he gets closer to his life insurance expiration date, Karla may recognize that he is worth more dead than alive and begin to plot Rob’s expiration date.  Speaking of Karla, she continues to work as an assistant at the church for a couple of days a week.  Read: Rob get bossed around at home and work. Karla has been observed secretly spying the senior citizen’s portion of the menu at Bob Evans. Proving that her frugality is stronger than any vanity she may have about getting a year older.  Much of her time is consumed with her parent’s care.  Like the US Men’s Soccer team, Karla’s folks are still kicking but won’t be attending any World Cup matches in 2018.

Totally Honest Conclusion:  We’ve had a pretty good 2017 (a few “downs” but mostly “Ups”) and we are looking forward to a great 2018.  We hope you are too!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas as you celebrate the birth of our Lord!

Rob and Karla

An Alternative to Social Media Bitterness

True Confession: I am not as mature as I think I am or want to be. I know this because of how I experience a flip in my stomach when a “friend” who has hurt me in the past posts something spiritual on social media. They are not writing anything about me, mind you. It is not directed at me at all. Usually the post is some spiritual platitude or Bible verse or how God has been speaking to them or blessed them in some fashion. My default response to such a posting too often is: “Really? God has been speaking to you? I think if God was really speaking to you, the Almighty would have first reminded you how much your actions have hurt good ol’ Rob Prince.”

I don’t like that like that about myself. It is so petty. I have preached on loving our enemies dozens of times, and yet such petty-mindedness still creeps into my heart. Here’s what I have found: I think it’s easier to “love our enemies” if the enemy is a faceless enemy like a terrorist who hasn’t encounter Jesus or an atheistic blowhard that hasn’t meant a “true Christian.” When my enemy is a “Facebook friend” that has wronged me or spoken ill of me I want God to right the offender and do something about it. Oh I don’t want the Almighty to send a lightning bolt in their direction (I’m not that extreme), but a wart on the end of their nose or a case of head lice would be nice.

Obviously, I am still working on forgiveness. Forgiveness means forgiving even when the other person doesn’t ask for forgiveness. Sometime forgiveness means forgiving even when the offending person doesn’t realize how deeply they have hurt you.

Here’s what I’ve decided to do (I hope this helps): When I see a social media post from such a “friend” who has hurt me, I’ve determined to pray for him or her. Not pray that God would send the fleas of a thousand camels to infest their armpits, but pray that God would truly bless them. I want to genuinely pray that they would experience the power and majesty of God and know the joy of the Lord. I want to pray this not so that they will have some revelation that they have hurt me. I want to pray with the expectation that they may never know how deeply they have hurt me, but quite frankly (and to be honest somewhat selfishly), I need to see them in another way other than bitterness. Carrying in my mind a list of hurtful people is crippling and not particularly healthy. Resentment is a joy thief.

I’ve been camping out in Ephesians 4:32: Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Oh how I want to live out that verse. Bottom line: Bitterness and forgiveness cannot fill the same heart. I want to choose forgiveness.

If Clement Moore wrote a poem about our house…

There was (and may still be) a mouse in our house. Yesterday, Karla found a recently deceased furry creature in our basement storage area when she went to retrieve some Christmas decorations. Apparently, if Clement Moore was writing a poem for the Prince home this Christmas season, it would have read:

Twas three weeks before Christmas and all through our house,

Not a creature was stirring, especially not that dead mouse.

Rob will be hung by the chimney by his beak,

If another mouse shows up by the end of the week.

You get the idea. The thought of a mouse that may or may not be in our house has made for a spouse with no visions of sugar plums dancing in her head. It’s more like nightmares of Willard the Rat seeking his revenge. I tried to convince my bride that there probably weren’t any more mice in our house. “Our dead furry friend probably died of loneliness,” I told her. “The solitude killed him. Poor lil’ guy.” She wasn’t buying it. She thinks mice are like socks, shoes and Bartlett fruit—they come in pairs (or pears).

In order to ease her mind, I bought a four pack of mouse traps that I promptly stationed around the storage area—just in case. If there is a second mouse, he will soon join his friend in mousy heaven. There is a side of me that hopes there is a second mouse in the house and that he stumbles upon the trap, so I can say: “Mission Accomplished. We got ‘em! We can sleep easy tonight.” If the traps stay empty, with every noise and every clatter, Karla will be kicking me out of the bed to see what is the matter. There won’t be many long winter’s naps even if mama is in her kerchief and I in my cap.

Here’s why I share my mouse/house/spouse woes: It is so easy to worry over imagined threats—on issues much bigger than a mouse in the house. I heard someone say that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. I don’t know if that percentage is true or not, but I do know it’s a waste of time to worry. Jesus said so: Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? (Matthew 6:27). Worrying about what might or could happen is like waiting for a mouse, only you’re the one stuck in the trap.

In everything give thanks… even for the Lions

I have watched every Lions’ Thanksgiving Day football game for the last 50 years. One in the hospital following a ruptured appendix (1975); one in the Silverdome stands (1995) when Herman Moore and Barry Sanders made the Minnesota Vikings look silly in a 44-38 shootout (Could we get Barry to come out of retirement for todays’ game against the Vikings? The Lions could use some help at running back); but the Lions’ game on Thanksgiving 1980 was my most memorable.

The plan was to eat our Thanksgiving Dinner immediately after the Lions’ football game. As mom was busy in the kitchen, the rest of the family gathered around our Philco console color TV in the family room as the Lions were beating the Chicago Bears. It was 10-3 at half time and it wasn’t that close. The Lions were killing the Bears. The great Bear’s running back Walter Payton was looking more like Walter Cronkite and had gained only a few yards. It seemed like the Lions would surely get the win when they entered the fourth quarter leading 17-3. But the Bears scored a touchdown, then got the ball back with about 3 minutes left. They promptly marched down the field and on the very last play in regulation time, the Bears quarterback (a journeyman football player named Vince Evans) scampered like Joe Montana for five yards and scored a game tying touchdown. 17-17! Ugh!

As the game went into sudden-death overtime, my mom was not happy. Not because of her love for the Motor City Kitties, but because her dinner was ready to be eaten and the football fans weren’t ready to eat it. Mom didn’t want to serve cold turkey and warm jello, but we didn’t want to jinx the Lions by not watching and cheering in their time of need (obviously, the Lions don’t need anyone’s help in jinxing them). After the Lions lost the coin-toss (of course), on the opening kickoff in overtime (the OPENING KICKOFF!!!), the Bear’s kick returner (a guy named David Williams, a back-up running back, who never did much in the NFL except for stabbing me in the heart on that Thanksgiving Day) ran the ball 95 yards for a touchdown. The game was over 21 seconds into the overtime (at the time, it was the shortest NFL overtime game ever). Are you kidding me?

My mom was the only one smiling during that particular Thanksgiving dinner. Her meal was delicious. The hot food was hot and the cold food was cold. But you couldn’t have proved it from me. The game left me with such a bitter taste in my mouth, the turkey tasted like liver and onions and there was not enough cool whip and pumpkin pie in the world that could sweeten my football sickened heart.

Why tell you my Lions’ woes this Thanksgiving Day? Just to remind us don’t let anything (especially not the Lions) spoil your thankfulness. Instead live into Paul’s words in 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “In everything give thanks!” Let’s be thankful and show our gratitude in word and deed both to the Lord and our loved ones on this Thanksgiving Day!

Happy Thanksgiving! Go Lions!