Breaking the Rules, Busted by Barney Fife

During a big sale many years ago when I was working in retail sales, the staff was covered up trying to take care of customers. One of the challenges was to keep change in the register. Noticing the smalls bills were about gone, I took out a $100 bill and started to the front, but was approached by a customer. So instead of putting the bill back in the register, I stuck it in my pocket and took care of the customer, after which I went to get the change. Later that day, a young manager (I think his name was Barney Fife) confronted me about not having on my suit coat. I told him the heat was unbearable. He argued that it didn't matter because the dress policy required coat and tie. I said the policy was not always practical, and I told him about the $100 bill to illustrate my point. He left and in a few minutes, I was called into a meeting with several managers who were making some serious accusations against me. In fact, I had to talk pretty hard to save my job, even though I was the number one salesperson in a multi-state region for the second year in a row. I was in disbelief and embarrassed.

I have thought about that incident for a lot of years and now wonder if accusations are motivated by the following:

1. Genuine concern for good outcomes,
2. Need for personal significance (Barney Fife),
3. Smoke screen - to distract from personal behavior, or
4. Transference of immoral disposition to another in the same way a thief or liar suspects others of stealing or lying.

Whatever, hurt as I was, I didn't miss a step, because I knew what was in my heart.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 10A23

Loony as Heck: Losing Hope in the Hooey I Hear

I was happy for the high school senior when she announced to our West Virginia church years ago that the father of her best friend was paying her way through college. Although the man had a better than average job and was generous in his giving to the church, I knew he was not wealthy. When I asked him privately how this could be, he explained that he had unexpectedly come into a significant amount of money. Pressed to tell me a little more, he said he had received a notice from Ed McMahon informing him that he was the winner of their multi-million dollar giveaway. Of course, the revelation of that information was disappointing to the hopeful young girl and her family who had already begun making preparations for her leaving. So we weigh twice what people say.

Also, some of what we hear can be dismissed at once. During my last run on a park trail in Atlanta, I came upon several little oriental girls sitting and giggling on a landscape rock. I smiled and waved just as one of the little cuties pointed to me and said, "My mommy says you are my daddy." I got the heck out of there and don't think I'll go back.

Then, sometimes, we don't know what to think about what people say. I sat reading a book in a doctor's waiting room recently when a distinguished black minister and his first lady walked in. He held a large Bible up close to his heart. The large gold letters on the cover identified it as "The Spirit-Filled Believer's Bible." After learning that they were in the wrong office, the couple turned to leave and was out the door, first her, then himself. Suddenly the door popped open and he stepped back in to stand in front of me.

"Are you an author?" he asked.

Startled, I said, "Well, no...."

"But am I completely wrong?" he asked.

"Well, I am not published anyway," I said.

"You are definitely going to be!" he declared in his deep, boisterous voice.

"Thank you!" I managed to say.

"And how do I know that?" he boomed rhetorically as he disappeared behind the door for the second time.

Indeed! How did he know that? Was he prophesying a word of knowledge from the Lord? But wait a minute. That did not fit at all with my dispensational theology.

So much for that, I thought.

But then the door popped opened a third time. This time the dynamic pastor only stuck his head inside the room. "It's the shoes!" he said of my tan Bass loafers with kiltie and tassels. "It's definitely the shoes!" he repeated. Then he was gone.

Yes, of course. It was the shoes. That is how he knew I would be published. Now I have hope.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8K08

Getting Past Preoccupation with Appearance

The Georgia Division of Driver Services person at Window 9 said I could only renew my drivers license for five years since I was now 60. Also, that I would need a new photo. I especially hate that.

So do I grin, smile, look serious, what? It never matters, I always look terrible. Ready, one, two, FLASH! No, I'm not ready! Give me a second, for crying out loud, to get this silly nice guy grin off my face!

Too late! This time I managed the absolute dumbest pose of all time. I looked like a big goof with gas pains. I plan to laugh about it when I can get over the embarrassment. Wife, Carole, wanted to see it, but I told her she would only laugh. She promised she wouldn't, but she did. She said she couldn't help it

Why should my stupid looking picture matter so much to me? Why are we recovering legalists so preoccupied with what others think, what we wear, what others wear, how we look, etc?

From our understanding of grace concepts we know that the answer is rooted in our need to be what it is all about to someone. When that need is not met, we suffer heartache, loneliness, fear and anxiety, confusion, and feelings of rejection and worthlessness. It even shows up (Haven't you noticed?) in us ministers, in our writing and in our speaking

Hurting people feel and behave differently. When our inborn need to be "what it is all about" to someone is not met, we become "what it is all about" to ourselves. Mostly we become very self absorbed. How do I look? How am I doing? What do you think of me? Almost every word and action scream "Me! Me!" This is the worst of bondage, as any of us knows who suffers in this way. And we long to be delivered.

"Who will rescue me from this body of death? I thank God - through Jesus Christ, our Lord." - Romans 7:2

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8J20

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Carole: The Tearful Transition

Today, wife, Carole, ends her service as an office manager and executive assistant with The Salvation Army territorial and divisional headquarters and also metro command in Atlanta (almost 17 years). She is transferring to serve with The Army in Greensboro, North Carolina beginning next week.

Smiling through tears

She received earlier this week a tearful farewell from about a hundred current and former work associates and bosses, quite a fanfare for a non-officer, and brought home several gifts and cards, including a scrapbook crafted for her with pictures and notes to express love, appreciation, and good wishes.

Among the kind expressions, her bosses said she had set the tone for the workplace, helped them keep their sanity, fulfilled her duties until the last hour of every day, even during her last week, and that throughout her seventeen years, with consideration of the frequent transferring in and out of commanding officers who differ in administration styles and personalities, she had worked successfully with everyone.

Sometimes to counselees, I tend to present the image that I am an investor at home, and that Carole's health reflects that. But the truth is: She was gifted with charm and grace before I knew her. Her history with me from the beginning has been to never condemn my stupidity and failures, except to sometimes playfully roll her eyes, or threaten to pow-zoom me to the moon Jackie Gleason style.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8J17

Misfocused and Missing Turns

Before last ministry trip, I took special care to print out Mapquest directions to our location. Enroute, wife, Carole, and I privately expressed our humble dismay that people sometimes obviously do not focus to give good attention to communications we send them in emails. On and on we went, noting examples of the experiences we have had with people who would respond to our information, sometimes requests, as if they did not take the time to read and comprehend the whole message. Why couldn’t people be more like us we humbly lamented. At the height of our humble lamentations, I grabbed the travel directions and hollered, “Oh no! Where are we?" As it turned out, we humbly missed our exit 15 miles back.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8H14

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Henry

On Saturday, I met Henry, the greeter at our local Wal-Mart. Just before wife, Carole, and I entered the store, I took a phone call on my cell, so got left behind. Fifteen minutes later, I entered and asked Henry to point me in the direction my wife went. He laughed at my silly humor. I teased that, if he could help out that way, customers would be impressed.

Henry was likeable and engaging for conversation. He said I would be surprised how many people and names he knew, not because he set out to remember them, but because of his interest in people and the repetition of seeing them come into the store. He told me he learned to speak a second language that way. His teacher, he said, spoke five languages and mentored him to forget trying to associate Spanish words (for example) with English words, but instead to associate them with the items, concepts, and experiences they represented as if the English language did not exist, perhaps as a child would learn a first language (or something like that). The point seemed to be that there is a difference between memorizing and learning.

But sometimes, the hurry-up method of association works just fine. For example, when I run a new trail, I identify landmarks so that I can remember my way back home. Also, on more than a few occasions I have used it to impress small groups of as many as 20 persons attending a seminar by asking them to introduce themselves, then through association, immediately calling back each of their names.

Of course, I wanted to remember Henry’s name, so I associated it with Henry James, a BBQ restaurant in Carole‘s hometown. But sometimes, the association method can let you down. Having caught up with Carole at the checkout, and now on the way out the door, I smiled and waved at Henry.

Showing off my memory skills, I leaned over to whisper his name to Carole.

“That’s James!” I said.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8F09

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Mrs. Greer

Years ago, I stayed in the country lakeside home of Mrs. Greer while serving as an interim Sunday School growth consultant in a Florida church. I remember her prayers before bedtime. They were different than mine. Publicly, I prayed with poetry, prose, power, and pomp to move heaven and earth, also to impress. Mrs. Greer prayed humbly with confession of need, also with full dependence upon God to meet them. She messed me up for praying publicly, so I had to give it up.

Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8E03

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An Embarrassing Story Before I Forget

This week I walked to my office about 300 yards from my home. At lunch time, I hurried out to a meeting, first walking back home to get my car and also to retrieve a needed box. I got the box and carried it back to my office. Shaking my head, I walked back home a second time to get my forgotten car and drove to my meeting leaving the needed box this time at the office. I drove back to my office to get the forgotten box then back to my meeting.

Stress is a lead cause of forgetfulness. Once while introducing me to a reception line, a pastor of his state's largest Baptist church momentarily forgot both my name and the name of the people he was introducing. As a young minister, I was sort of in disbelief. But not any more.

Stressed by an unusally heavy work load one Christmas Eve not too many years ago, I rushed from my office mid-day to buy an item for my wife at the jewelers. After work, I rushed back to the same store in heavy traffic to buy the same item again before I realized I needed to be home resting.

President Don

I was recently elected president of our homeowners association and am bringing a new kind of leadership to the community and Board of Directors. The philosophy I put forth is "Investing for an Outcome!" The idea is to increase the number of residents who are in compliance to the Community Guidelines through information, explanation, encouragement, and only lastly, enforcement, instead of attempting head on to eliminate the non-compliance through intimidation to pound on people for a solution. On the way out the door at the close of our last BOD meeting, one member of the Board looked at me and said, "Good meeting!" Then he said, "But you are funny." I think he meant to say "You're different!" Or maybe not!

Knowing Him Was A Real Pressure

Years ago, I contracted for several months to work as a church growth consultant to a legalistic pastor. He was the first I ever knew who deducted a tithe from the paychecks of his staff. He also burdened his wife with heavy expectations to support his career and well-being. She cried to me on several occasions about her unhappiness and broken health. I dared to tell him of my own failures in legalism. His explanation was that his demands and expectations of his staff and family were appropriate to guarantee their performance. Then he terminated my contract to punish my impertinence. I thanked him, stepped outside his office, grieved a moment, tapped my shoes to knock off the dust, then left. (Last account, he left his wife and church.)