“I will confirm my covenant between me and you . . .” – Genesis 17:2 

Contracts are part of our lives. No one in this day-and-age can escape being party to a contract of some sort. If you have a roof your head, for example, whether a house or an apartment, rented or purchased, you no doubt signed a contract. And anyone in any kind of business is certainly familiar with the world of contracts. Even in professions such as my own, contracts between coach and client are common practice. Simply put, contracts are legal agreements that bind two or more parties to fulfill their part of the bargain.

Such documents, of course, would not be necessary if participating parties could be trusted to fulfill their promises. Unfortunately, though, humans from the beginning of time have had a history of failing to do so. There are exceptions, however, like Jerry – about whom I have written before – who for thirty years was my closest friend in my previous profession. He and I would talk daily during the work week sharing information and ideas. And although we were in the same business, we were in fact competitors – at least the companies we worked for were competitors, and bitter ones at that. Yet, through the years we partnered on hundreds of transactions that proved extremely lucrative for both our firms. But because these transactions demanded immediate decision-making, written contracts were not consummated until long after the fact, and then only to satisfy regulatory requirements for documentation. And not once in the course of thirty years was there ever a dispute, disagreement, or misunderstanding.

The key to success, you see, had little to do with a contract between two firms, and everything to do with the covenant between two long-time friends. The difference between the two according to writer, philosopher Os Guinness is that “a covenant is broader and a contract narrower, the one being emphatically moral and the other being purely legal.”

Indeed, God’s promise to Abraham was a covenant, not a contract. “I will confirm my covenant between me and you . . .,” He pledged. His was also a covenant with Moses and the Israelite people. Contracts are legal agreements devised for humans, but covenants include elements of the Divine. No one in this day-and-age can escape being party to a contract of some sort. What we need in our world today are more covenants.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.” – Isaiah 43:18 

The time finally came several years ago for Tee and her sister to move their Dad out of the old family homestead where he and their Mom had resided for some forty-six years – the place both daughters had called home for a good part of their childhood. Most adults at some point go through that experience of moving parents or grandparents out of their home. Such is a melancholy time for most of us as our minds are flooded with memories – good and bad – from the many archeological artifacts excavated from deep inside closets and attics. Not surprisingly, their experience was no different.

One thing did surprise me, however, and that was Tee’s reaction to all the buried treasures that were uncovered. While most did in fact conjure up fond memories of her childhood, it puzzled me to observe how few she chose to keep. There were a few exceptions such as the tiny hand-stitched doll dresses lovingly sewn by her great-aunt which found their way into a shadowbox where they are on permanent display in our home today. But as for the old photos, school yearbooks, pressed corsages from proms, and tattered costumes? Most went in the dumpster.

Why, I wondered, did she keep so few things? One explanation is that being a practical woman she realized most of it would just move from one dusty attic to another, leaving more for our own kids to dispose of in later years. On the other hand someone once said, “don’t cry when it’s over, smile because it happened”, which seems to reflect Tee’s philosophy about the past and perhaps better explains her lack of emotional attachment to most of those old keepsakes.

As good as life may have seemed in the past there is a certain attitude that says, “today is my best day and tomorrow will be even better.” It is an attitude that focuses on the present and the future rather than dwelling in the past. Don’t get me wrong, our home is filled with family heirlooms and treasures from the past, reminders of our loved ones and family history. The past is rich in the sweet memories it offers, the instructions on how to live our lives going forward – and hopefully it causes us to smile because it happened. As the prophet Isaiah urged the people, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.” Focus instead on today, make it your best day – and may tomorrow be even better.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good . . .” – Genesis 50:20 

In his recent bestselling book Grateful American, actor Gary Sinise tells the story about being seated on an airplane next to a man by the name of John Vigiano, who happened to be a retired firefighter with FDNY. Gary noticed John was wearing a button bearing a picture of his two sons, one a highly decorated New York City police officer, and the other, in the footsteps of his father, an FDNY firefighter. John wore the button in honor of his two sons who had sacrificed their lives in the Twin Towers’ collapse on 9/11, while valiantly and selflessly saving others. After sharing this story with Gary, John said something truly remarkable. “I believe more good came out of September 11 than evil,” this from a father who had tragically lost both his beloved sons.

Over lunch recently with one of my special friends, he began to share with me details about his childhood. Now, my friend happens to be a highly educated and successful businessman with a beautiful family who he adores. He is also one of those people whose broad smile and warm heart spreads joy everywhere he goes. Without knowing his background, one would never imagine the extreme cruelty, abuse and abandonment he suffered as a child. At the end of his story, though, as horrific as it was, he looked at me and shared something truly remarkable. “But the past is the past,” he concluded. “What matters is what we do with our lives going forward.”

Then there is Joseph, whose story is told in the book of Genesis, cruelly treated by his jealous brothers who sold him into Egyptian slavery, after which he was imprisoned on false charges, where he remained for years, separated from his beloved father Jacob who assumed him to be dead. Finally, after being called upon to interpret Pharaoh’s dream he was promoted to Pharaoh’s right-hand administrator which enabled him to rescue his family from starvation during a severe seven-year famine.

Three people, three tragic stories. All could have — and had every right to – embrace bitterness. Instead, they chose otherwise, trusting God to overrule the evil acts they had suffered and to use them for good. Their responses were truly remarkable, which Joseph summed up this way. “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up.” – Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 

Not being a fan of self-checkout in stores is just one more thing, I suppose, that puts me further and further behind on the technology curve. Part of my dislike stems from having always been a “late-adopter” of technology, thus being a bit slow and lazy about learning it. Except out of necessity, technology has never been one of my great interests. But there is another reason I resist self-checkout, and that is I happen to enjoy interactions with fellow human beings. So, it is not unusual to find me waiting in a long line to be checked out by a human, rather than using the more efficient self-service lanes.

In the late 1980’s when the technology revolution was rapidly gaining momentum, there was hardly an industry or profession whose workforce did not fear its potential impact. Plain and simple, the fear was that our livelihoods were in jeopardy of being replaced or reduced by technology. That was when the president of our company at the time, in an appeal to calm such fears, said something I’ve never forgotten. “There will never cease to be a need,” he said, “for the advice and counsel of a fellow human being.” Meaning, while the delivery methods for our services may change, the need for them never will.

Now admittedly, I personally am an extravert by its truest definition, that is one who is energized by being around people. But it doesn’t matter really whether we are extraverted on introverted, we are all designed for the purpose of companionship, not isolation, for intimacy, and not loneliness. Nor are we here on this earth to serve only ourselves, but to serve God and others. Simply put, people need people, always have and always will.

Does that mean self-service will disappear, and checkout clerks are going to make a comeback? I wouldn’t count on it; which means people like me are going to have to accept it and adapt to using it. But one thing will never change, and that is that “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up.” That is the way we are created, and technology will never change that fact. For as my old boss once said, there will never cease to be a need for the advice and counsel – and companionship – of fellow human beings.

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last.” John 15:16 

A man sat with a friend complaining bitterly about all the troubles in his life. After listening for a while his friend finally spoke up. “Look, Joe,” he said, “this is your life, and these are the conditions. Now, what’s the invitation?”

One of my favorite scenes from the movie “Forrest Gump” occurred when Lieutenant Dan climbed up the mast of Forrest’s shrimp boat. A storm arose, yet there he remained straddled to the mast throughout the night, all the while screaming at God about all the troubles in his life. It was there that Lieutenant Dan, who had lost both his legs in Vietnam, came to a moment of truth with God. Bitterly, he had kept asking the same questions over the years since his tragedy. Why did this happen to me? What am I good for now without my legs? Finally, atop the mast of a rickety old shrimp boat in the middle of a violent storm he laid it all on the line. Shaking his fist toward the sky he challenged God to either grant him some peace and show him a purpose, or let him die.

At long last the storm subsided, the seas calmed, and miraculously Lieutenant Dan survived. More importantly, he had faced the moment of truth about his life, an acceptance of the fact that this was his life, and these were the conditions. Now, “what’s the invitation?”

In the next scene we see Lieutenant Dan beneath the clear blue sky leaping off the shrimp boat into the calm waters like a kid in summer diving into a swimming pool, where he is playfully backstroking about, smiling at the sun, catching its glorious rays – free at last from his bitterness. And we hear Forrest Gump narrating in the background that Lieutenant Dan had made his peace with God. Invitation received, invitation accepted!

“You did not choose me,” Jesus said, “but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last.” God did not choose our condition; rather He invites us from whatever our condition – and appoints us!! – to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last . . . This is our life, yours and mind. Our respective conditions are what they are. Now, what is our invitation? How can we bear fruit with the conditions we’ve been handed?