Better with Age

I don’t really drink bourbon.

It’s not that I dislike it – I just don’t know a lot about it and can’t appreciate what I’m tasting. So, I’ll sip at whatever I’m offered and occasionally enjoy a Manhattan or an Old Fashioned (mostly if my brother makes one for me).

A couple weeks ago, though, I went to Kentucky with my dad to experience the Bourbon Trail.

We went on a tour of the Maker’s Mark distillery, and it was incredible. If Disney put on a distillery tour, they’d do it like Maker’s Mark. The grounds are beautiful, the buildings pristine, and guides as friendly and knowledgeable as you’ll find anywhere.

Again, I know nothing about bourbon – so I had a lot of questions and our tour guide patiently answered them all.

He mentioned that Maker’s Mark bourbon ages for five or six years – to get it just right.

That got me curious.

I don’t have a particularly refined palette. So, I wondered if I’d be able to tell the difference between a bourbon aged, say, four years, versus five or six when it’s fully matured.

“Oh yes,” he said. “A year makes an extraordinary difference in the quality of the bourbon. Tasting it at four years compared to five years would be an entirely different experience.”

Bourbon has no free will – no power of agency. Yet it manages to get better over time.

I do have free will – I have the power of agency. But I’m not sure I’m getting better over time.

I can’t help but wonder if I’m living the same year over and over again.

I don’t want that.

I want your experience of me today to be different than your experience of me a year from now. I want you to detect stronger notes of grace, to sense more humility, to taste more love and joy and kindness.

I hope you want the same.

Let’s resolve – together – that we’ll be better a year from now than we are today.

Drawing Targets

There once was a little boy that received a bow and arrow set for his birthday. He excitedly ran outside to practice his shot on the side of an old barn that stood on the property. After he’d been at it a while, he ran back in to get his parents. “Mom! Dad! Come look!” he shouted.

They followed him out to the barn and were amazed at what they saw. Along the side of the barn, half a dozen targets had been drawn in chalk, each with an arrow lodged in the center.

Every single one had hit a perfect bullseye.

“That’s incredible! How did you manage to hit the bullseye every time?” his father asked.

“It was easy!” said the boy. “I shot the arrow first and then drew the target around it.”

You’ve got to admire his creativity.

Did you know, though, that the word “sin” is an archery term?

It means to miss the mark. It doesn’t matter if you miss by an inch or a mile – it’s a “sin.”

I’ve gotten really good at drawing circles around my sins. I’ve gotten good at justifying the miss by simply changing the target.

But the target isn’t mine to draw.

God has already done that.

And the target He has given me is Jesus.

If it’s not in obedience to Jesus, I’ve missed the mark. If it’s not in alignment with His heart and character, I’ve missed the mark. If it’s not how He would love and serve, I’ve missed the mark.

Instead of drawing our own targets, let’s spend a little more time improving our aim at the only target that matters.

End of Construction

Ruth Bell was born in 1920 to medical missionary parents serving in China. She came to know Jesus as a young age and always thought she would remain single and, like her parents, serve as a missionary in Asia. God, though, had other plans. In 1940, while enrolled at Wheaton College, she met a man named Billy.

In 1943, the two were married and Ruth Bell became Ruth Bell Graham.

Neither could have predicted the adventure ahead. Neither could have known how God would use them to advance the cause of Christ. Through their ministry, hundreds of millions of people heard the message of Jesus.

Ruth passed away in 2007 and was buried at the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte, North Carolina. Next to her tombstone is a plaque that says, “While riding down the highway years ago, Ruth noticed a sign beside the road: ‘End of Construction – Thank you for your patience.’ With a smile, she said that these were the words she wanted on her gravestone.”

I’ve been under construction for three decades now. By the grace of God, there has been a lot of progress, but there is also still a lot of work left to be done. I’m more generous than I used to be, but I still hold tightly to what I perceive to be mine. I’m more forgiving than I used to be, but I can still hold a grudge. I’m more faithful to Jesus than I used to be, but I still wander. I’m more selfless than I used to be, but I still put myself first most of the time.

I’m not alone in that. None of us has arrived. None of us is all that God created us and saved us to be. None of us is without fault and failure. None of us is without sin.

We’re all still under construction. Let’s be patient with one another.