Sermon Tone Analysis
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The Legacy Question
When my wife tells people that she “tried a new restaurant” what she means is that she went to a place that is different from the one where she normally orders a beef chimichanga - and tried their beef chimichanga.
Can anybody else identify?
Well, let me switch family members here… Specifically I want to share with you about my Dad.
My own Dad’s story
His Dad died when my Dad was 19.
Tragic accident with a heat stroke.
Dad went to college but didn’t complete.
Not that he didn’t want to.
He did.
But my Dad had to figure out how to be a grandfather, and a father-in-law all on his own.
You see, his grandfather was a PK.
That’s short for Pastor’s Kid.
A PK that coincidentally was a recorded Pastor of Spiceland Quarterly Meeting - that’s code for somewhere else in the Friends Church.
Fast forward a few years later and a tornado comes through, wipes out the Friends church that my Dad was the Monthly Meeting Clerk of, and they don’t have enough resources to rebuild.
He felt as though he was letting people down, but had no choice in it.
Fast forward a few short years later and we are attending New Castle First Friends.
Dad and Mom help with the youth group.
Dad taught me to take time to talk with people and hear their problems, and where possible help.
All of this to say, these are the stories that make up our lives.
And we get the opportunity to decide what they say about us.
What I didn’t grasp as a child when I was growing up , but is abundantly clear to me now is that my father’s story is simply a series of outcomes connected to a series of decisions.
You see, He was writing chapters in the story of my life, one decision at a time.
While there are no perfect stories, he certainly wrote a good one.
One worth telling and retelling.
You see, I never met my great-great grandfather, but his decisions, which created his story, would eventually intersect with his great-great grandson.
If my Dad had any idea that I would be a Pastor someday, would he have still been so down about his decision to move on after a tornado?
I don’t know.
It might have been different, but it might not.
You see, our private decisions don’t remain private.
Our personal decisions impact other people.
One our story becomes their story, it’s their story to tell.
Which brings us to our second question.
Question #2: The Legacy Question: What story do you want to tell?
Every decision you make, every decision becomes a permanent part of your story.
The story of your life.
Every decision you make has an outcome, a consequence, a result.
It may be good or bad.
Desirable, undesirable.
Expected, unexpected.
Whatever the case, that outcome becomes a permanent part of the story of your life.
You went out with him.
He was a jerk.
But he was cute.
And he was convenient.
And there wasn't anybody else on the horizon.
Two years later, the whole thing just evaporated.
You saw it coming, but felt stuck.
Now part of your story is that you wasted two years of your life dating in a relationship with someone that you knew early on was ...well ... wasn't the one.
Your boss asked you to lie to a client.
You're not a liar, but you lied.
The client called you on it.
Your boss threw you under the bus.
You lost your job.
Now, part of your story is that you lied and lost your job over it.
The better story would have been, You refused to lie and lost your job over it.
Your friends wanted to go out.
You had an exam the next day.
You told your friends no.
They pressed.
You pressed back and stayed in your dorm.
You aced the exam and now you have a diploma with an honors sticker to show for it.
You'll never forget that night.
Meanwhile, your college friends are ... well ... you're not sure where they are.
Decision by decision, you are writing the story of your life.
Decision by decision, you are writing the story of your life.
So, when you're making a decision of any magnitude, you owe it to yourself to pause, look ahead, and ask yourself: "What story do I want to tell?”
Here's another angle
The decisions you're in the middle of making right now ... this week . . .
today . . .
are going to be reduced to a story you tell.
Once it's behind you, it's a story.
Period.
If you lost your job recently, surviving this season without a job is going to be a story you tell someday.
What story do you want to tell?
I lost my job.
I was embarrassed.
I told friends I was doing consulting work.
But I wasn't consulting; I was consoling myself every afternoon with a bottle.
I racked up a ton of debt.
I lost the respect of my wife and kids.
Maybe worse, I lost my self-respect.
That's not a good story.
Losing a job . . .
going for a prolonged period of time without meaningful work is terrifying and demeaning.
But the decisions one makes in the valleys are eventually just stories they tell on the other side.
Write a good story.
Decide a good story.
Perhaps you're dating someone and things are going really well, but there's someone else at the office who's caught your eye.
She's married.
In spite of that, you find yourself gravitating in her direction, primarily because she seems to be gravitating in yours as well.
Eventually she makes it clear that if you're willing, she's willing.
Sounds fun.
But your decision becomes part of your story.
A permanent part.
What story do you want to tell?
You got involved with a married woman at work.
You lied to your girlfriend ... you busted this woman's marriage.
Now her kids ping-pong between two homes on the weekends.
Is that really the story you want to tell?
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