There's a Good Day in Every Bad Day.

Image © by Brian E. Faulkner

Some days it's not easy to write, especially when words seem to have deserted you for the time being. It's not easy to go to school when a test looms or there's a bully on the playground. It's not easy to go out and jump your car battery on dark mornings when you'd rather stay in bed than go to work. Some days, it's even hard to pray. We've all been there. We may be there now.

Even believers.

Maybe especially believers, because when we cede our lives to Christ, we expect things to turn around like we’ve taken some kind of magic pill. Trouble is supposed to vanish like a lifting fog, and as soon as possible! But then, when illnesses don’t get healed and businesses still go bust and marriages crumble and your kid's college application gets lost in the mail and life’s disappointments continue unabated, what’s a believer to do?

Proverbs 3:5 suggests that we should trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding, which is where I go to get buoyed up when the world presses its weight down on me, those all-too-frequent times when neither reason nor prayer seem to be working.  I know the truth of that verse from long experience, which goes on to say that if you acknowledge God’s presence in all your ways, he promises to make your path straight – though sometimes his "straight" can seem more like a maze to you.

When doubt assails and discouragement stalks the corridors of your mind, know that the promises of God are real promises. You don't have to feel they are just then, but know they are. And then behave like you believe them, because your behavior is part of your testimony.

When I was in the Army, a very long time ago, there was a middle-aged man who worked the morning chow line at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.  He was a civilian who was getting paid to do the job, not a soldier who’d been shanghaied into doing it. This guy acted like he resented every scoopful of scrambled eggs or cream chipped beef he ever plopped on a soldier’s tray.  So I decided to experiment on him.

“Good morning,” I offered the next day, rather matter-of-factly.  He said nothing.
“Good morning,” I suggested the following day, with a bit more energy.  The rest of the week went on like this, and on toward Friday he looked up with at me with a glare that said “Stop bothering me with this Good Morning routine.”  It took ten days or so to get a reluctant smile out of the guy, which finally became a pleasant one that I actually missed on his days off.

Joshua Warren writes about a time he gave an upbeat national television interview when his heart wasn’t in it:

“My body was exhausted from an intense treatment for a chronic illness; a doctor had just reported that my dad would probably be dead in six months; and I felt like I was failing as a dad because I was spending too much time at work. I was lost in sea of depression and I couldn’t find my way home.”

But he put on a smile anyway.   All appeared well.

“I pulled out my earpiece, thanked the producer, left the studio and felt the weight of the world creeping back onto my shoulders …”

We’ve all had days like that, when we have to put our best face forward despite the worries churning inside.  And we’ve all had days when its hard work to muster a smile – at least if you’re anything like me.

A couple of years ago, my vacuum cleaner stopped working and not for the first time.  Vacuuming has a way of wiping me out, so I was more than a bit grumpy, an attitude I decided to take along on a trip to the vacuum cleaner store, where I was prepared to vent years of frustration on whichever clerk was unlucky enough to greet me. 

When I arrived, Clerk #1 was chatting on the phone and ignored me. Grrrrr!  Clerk #2 was doing a demo for a harried-looking couple with a bored child – and I had to admit, her demo was unusually good and filled with useful product benefits.  After a minute or so, she looked up from the pile of dust she’d just tossed on the carpet for her prospect to vacuum up, caught my eye and walked to the service counter. How can I help you today?” she chirped.

“My vacuum isn’t doing a good job. “

“How’s that?”  (gently stated)  

“It picks up practically nothing – just blows air around.  I have to pick stuff up with my fingers.”

“How long has it been doing that?”

“Years.  Almost forever.”

At that, she reached down under the counter and retrieved something, which she held up between two fingers, swinging it tantalizingly back in forth in front of my eyes.  A belt, about four inches around.

“I think your belt is broken.”

“I didn’t know I had a belt.”

“If the belt is broken, the beater bar won’t turn and the motor will just suck air.  Like you said.”

Hmmm … “How much is a belt?”

“Two for ten-bucks.”

“How ‘bout one for five bucks? I only need one.” (with only the tiniest hint of grumpiness).

She placed the belt in one hand as I fumbled for my wallet with the other.

“Put that away.”

“What?”

“No charge.”

“You’re GIVING me this belt?”

“Yes,” she said, eyes darting back to where her prospects had finished cleaning up the demo carpet and were about to convince their kid that the upright vacuum they were about to buy was, in fact, a dust robot.

“Why … thanks!” I said (really meaning it).  “You’ve made my day.”

Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4 that, “since we have received (Christ’s) ministry, we do not lose heart … For it is the God ‘who commanded light to shine out of darkness who has shone in our hearts …”  He goes on to speak of a “treasure in earthen vessels,” and even though we may be “hard pressed on every side,” we carry the life of Christ in us ready to shine forth -- despite our earthly distresses and discomforts. 

“So let’s be good to the cashier,” Joshua compels in his article, “our child’s teacher, the person driving poorly in traffic, our co-worker and/or our parents. Let’s give others the grace we all need (because) everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Including the grumpy guy working the chow line.  And possibly even the grumpy guy inside me!

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