The Mission Central Blog
Resources on Effective Leadership, Emotional Health, Spiritual Growth, and Faith and Work
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Growing up in a Christian subculture prone to both kitsch and mnemonic devices, I was subjected early on to many cringe-worthy didactic moments. One shining example was a motivational poster on the wall that asked, “Do you have an attitude of gratitude?” The subtext seemed to be, “We know how to make
Jesus turns the tables: Instead of accepting the imposition as an obligation, you can make it a gift. That second mile comes from you.
When someone lashes out in anger, sometimes they make the excuse, "It's just the way I am." Here, we see that Jesus agrees. Your words show you exactly who you are.
My attitude about my work can be self-centered, without me even trying. I worry about my reputation. I get stressed about my responsibilities, and think about how they affect me. My motive, if I’m honest, is about me, too: I need the benefits and the paycheck!
Think about the last time you looked at the moon. Really looked at it. You had to look up at it, to see it as part of the sky that you live under. It's a part of your environment. A luminous creature in the habitat of the heavens.
A crackling fire at dusk And the wind nipping at my ears As an autumn chill embraces us.
Cut between the pages of our prayers, The mirrored ghost of flowers on a stem. Purple petals, plucked and pressed and posted, Passed a fragile hope across two continents.
I thought about leaving at 4:30. It's the summer, after all. Most cubicles are empty. August clouds draw my eye from Windows to the windows. It's best to beat the traffic, I muse, and ponder a breezy evening and ice cream at home. But no—I forgot. If I leave now, there won't be time Before Thursday's meeting because of Thursday's other meeting. So I click through and make two more calls. (Will these particular prospects produce any progress? It's always hard to say.)
A final trilling of the bell and the rush to the lockers. Classmates weaving, waving, shouting through clutter in the halls. Miss Swanson, arms crossed, has that harried look that grown-ups get: Disapproval and relief and stifled laughter all at once. Jerry throws his spiral notebooks in the air like oversized confetti. In one smooth motion, Susan rolls her eyes and hugs joy and signs Felipe's yearbook.