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Years ago, I knew a man who was healthy and vibrant at age 50. He had a sailboat and loved hunting. As a builder, he was a craftsman. Then, he had a stroke. It left one side of his body, unable to function. As I spoke, tears came to his eyes. He was a strong man reduced to a wheelchair. Ian Corbin of the Harvard Medical School has interviewed people like my friend. He observed: Post-stroke isolation is one more symptom, badly compounding the damage done by stroke itself ... Studies show that stroke patients’ networks tend to contract in the wake of a stroke. Why? The causes are not perfectly clear, but we can say this: Too often in America, we are ashamed of being weak, vulnerable, dependent. We tend to hide our shame. We stay away. We isolate ourselves, rather than show our weakness. It is the human condition to show strength. Yet, in a paradox, Christianity turns it upside down. Paul wrote to the Corinthians about a thorn. No one knows to what it referred, but it was a source of suffering. Paul, as any of us would, wanted it removed. Prayer after prayer failed. Instead, he heard God’s message loud and clear. “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) Boasting in weakness is not normal. It takes greater faith and reliance on the Lord to elevate what we cannot do. Instead, it points to a Lord that makes weakness strength. Strokes can be devastating. What is worse is the hubris we are powerful on our own. Learn to say, in all things, “when I am weak, He is strong." -Robert G. Taylor-        

Sally Lloyd-Jones overheard a comment at New York’s famed Museum of Modern Art that spoke volumes. While viewing a painting by Rothko (an abstract painter from the 20th century) the voice said, “My child could do that!” There’s a central truth to that. Picasso observed, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” Lloyd-Jones goes on to say: The power of a child’s art is defined by what they can’t do--by their lack. They know they can’t do it. And as a result, their art is not about showing off skill or expertise. It’s coming from somewhere else. It’s all heart ... A child is physically not able to master [pencil or paints]. They struggle to depict things--and every line has heart ... The power of the art of a child comes not from their ability or their strength. It comes from their weakness, their not being able, their vulnerability. Jesus knew that grownup self-reliance clashes with his kingdom. It is not the one who knows and has it all together. Instead, Jesus said mature faith is childlike faith. “He called a little child to him and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:2–3) Can we trust like a child and love like a child? Can we turn loose of worries and let the Father care for them? All the childlike traits reflect the deepest faith. A parent loves a child’s art. God loves a childlike faith. -Robert G. Taylor-          

In 1876, Japan brought a lush vine to America as part of Philadelphia’s ornamental plant exhibit. It looked like the perfect solution to the soil erosion sweeping the nation during the Great Depression. It was planted in the south and never stopped growing. It was kudzu. It has roots that run up to 20 feet and grow 16 inches every day. Each plant will grow 100 feet per year. People have actually seen it grow. The only way to rid yourself of the plant is to kill the very root of it. Hollywood once wanted to make a horror movie about the vine. They called Dr. Jack Tinga, a leading authority on the kudzu, at the University of Georgia to serve as a technical advisor. He wanted no part of it. He told them, before hanging up, “It’s no joking matter. If you come across kudzu, simply drop it and run.” Some things create that much trouble in life. Jesus knew what they were. He used a similar illustration to describe one such weed affecting the lives of far too many people. “The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.” (Luke 8:14) What kills many spiritual lives is the pressure to keep up with their friends and present a false front of affluence. The treadmill plows worry into hearts and weaken the capacity to respond to God’s word. What have you planted in your heart? Is it a weed that saps your spiritual vitality? Take a hard look at what you allow to grow in your life. It may be choking you to death. -Robert G. Taylor-    

One day, Rhea Zakich found she could not speak due to polyps. Life became challenging. To communicate with her family, she wrote her thoughts on cards. When she saw some of her words put down in print, it horrified her, and she threw it away before anyone could see it. The cards turned into a best-selling game called The Ungame. One card instructed, “share something you fear.” Her husband drew this card. His response, spoken to his boys, was poignant. “With your mother ill, I worry what will become of us. I don’t know if I could bring up you boys alone.” The day came when doctors removed the polyps, and speech returned. But the voiceless time left an imprint. She had learned to listen. One day her son came home shouting, “I hate my teacher! I’m never going back to school again!” Here is her response. Before my vocal-cord problems, I would have responded with my own outburst: “Of course you are, if I have to drag you there myself.” That afternoon I had to wait to see what would happen next. In a few moments, my angry son put his head in my lap and poured out his heart. He said, “Oh, Mom, I had to give a report, and I mispronounced a word. The teacher corrected me, and all the kids laughed. I was so embarrassed.” I wrapped my arms around him. He was quiet for a few minutes. Then suddenly, he sprang out of my arms. “I’m supposed to meet Jimmy at his house. Thanks, Mom.” Her mouth did not make a difference, but her ears did. Listening is challenging because it demands so much from us. We have to give complete attention and, if done well, we experience what others feel. It can be unpleasant. James knew that most of life’s problems come from one source—open mouths and closed ears. That’s why he reminds us: “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,” (James 1:19) Zakich found joy in the silence because her heart could hear the hurts. We are all better off to stop talking so much. Just listen and discover the difference it makes. -Robert G. Taylor-