Posted on by lgandre

Read the Bible

If you were to stop by the Bostic house on a weekday morning, you just might find the girls and me on the couch with our heads bent over our Bibles.  We started in Genesis on January 1, and we have our sights set on wrapping up Revelation by the end of the year.  On July 1, we are just about a week behind, but even at that, we’ve navigated through Creation, the giving of the law, the conquest and judges, Saul, David, Solomon, and the books of wisdom, and we’re working through the successor kings in the divided kingdom and starting their interactions with the prophets.

Perhaps the reason this is so significant is that it speaks volumes to the influence of my mom on my life—and vicariously—on the life of my girls.  I don’t know exactly when it started, but every year for a decade or more of my growing years, Mom started our day with all of us at the kitchen table as she read the Bible out loud. 

I didn’t see a lot of point in it then.  My ever-multitasking brain was always trying to think of ways that I could use that time besides just sitting and listening to the Bible.  I was convinced (and even told her) that I didn’t get a lot out of reading the Bible through every year.  I mean, there is a lot of seeming useless information in the Bible…genealogies, old prophecies, laws…words…words…words.

But Mom was determined there was value in getting an overview of the Bible; in being familiar with its stories, characters, and places.  To let the Bible begin to come alive in our minds as one complete story.  She knew we would do specific Bible studies in church and other small groups; but home was the only place we would just read it through.  So she read it through.  Every year.

Times have changed in the last thirty years.  There are a thousands more secondary resources out there.  Books—both fiction and non-fiction, videos, coloring books, and TV series’ abound;  So does the temptation not to read the actual Bible but just to rely on books and shows about it.  The idea of making it “fun” and “understandable” sounds noble.

That’s where I’m thankful for Mom’s influence.  I might have caved to that temptation had it not been for those hours sitting around the dining room table. And now that I’m on the other side, I’m convinced of the value of actually reading it through—not just other people’s commentaries and interpretations; not just bite sized pieces; not always a watered-down kids’ version; not just a “fun” dramatization.

Turns out, reading through the Bible is not for cowardly parents.  By the time you get through Genesis, you will have dealt with a ton of tough stuff—a ton.  I decided that if concepts went over the girls’ head, they probably weren’t ready for them yet.  If they started asking questions, I tried to have honest though still age-appropriate conversations with them.

They like to read with me, so we take turns and it’s been good for their reading and listening skills.  They’ve learned how to pronounce a lot of hard words.  They have asked a lot of insightful questions along the way that help me get perspective on where they are in their understanding of God and His word.

There is still a lot that isn’t getting absorbed on this read through; and that’s okay.  I’m absorbing more than ever before and there is still plenty I don’t know and understand (but far less than there wouldn’t be if I hadn’t had the first 12-15 times through).

We chose a five-day-a-week reading plan that puts the Bible in chronological order (So it isn’t necessarily in book order).  This has made it a little easier to get lost and we’ve ended up repeating a chapter or two here and there.  To compensate, we’ve sometimes listened to longer passages on car rides to help get caught up if we’re lagging behind.  On a regular day, it takes about 30 minutes to read the designated passages. This may not seem like a lot, but it does take some determination to stay even close to on track.

But it’s good for us to do hard things.  And I’m convinced that my Mom was right—it’s good to invest our time and energy in reading the Bible.  There is a richness there that goes far beyond the value of the sum of the words themselves.   And God did not waste words; every record has a reason.  The geography, the genealogies, the associated history…the lines that were drawn when we read through have had a lot of shade and color added by subsequent travels and biblical studies.

And when I’m gone, if my girls look back and remember the time we spent on the couch with our heads bent over the Bible, my life won’t have been wasted.  In fact, I’ll be in heaven cheering and Mom will be next to me saying, “See what I mean?”

Read the Bible.

 “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
         And do not return there without watering the earth
         And making it bear and sprout,
         And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater;

“So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth;
         It will not return to Me empty,
         Without accomplishing what I desire,
         And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:10-11

Posted on by lgandre

One year ago, Today

I waited 43 years. Almost. 

And when it finally came, the day felt surprisingly ordinary. 

I woke up in a largely empty house—most of the furniture had already been moved.  But I still made the girls load the dishwasher. They thought that was cruel and unusual considering what day it was. But a dirty dish is a dirty dish…even on your wedding day. 

The weather was about ten degrees warmer than promised just a few short weeks before. Not a welcome turn of events for my very Charleston wedding. 

The engraved glass bottles with bamboo lids that we had planned to fill with ice cold tea and lemonade as a gift for our guests had been exploding as they were filled. We had to give up on that particular party favor even though it killed me. I guess that’s better than killing unsuspecting guests. 

Curtis was exhausted from the weeks leading up to the wedding that he had spent trying to give Peaceful Way a face lift. He had been painting, trimming, fixing, oiling, moving, cleaning, sorting, and generally wearing himself out physically and emotionally. Because that’s what hard working men do sometimes. 

Our venue had refused to let us finish some of our set up and decor…I’ll leave that for another day. But I felt bad for a friend who had donated considerable time and energy trying to make the huge tent into a beautiful space only to be told she couldn’t carry out her plan.  

I had stayed up until midnight re-writing the seating chart and a speech for our reception. 

All that to say, it didn’t feel exactly magical. 

But as Curtis and I often said to each other, “this is real life.”

And when it comes down to it, I’d rather have the rugged beauty of the real than the imaginary beauty of a fantasy life. 

Maybe that’s what 42 years in boot camp will do for you. 

My sisters and bridesmaid friends were wonderful. They prayed with me. Cheered for me. Let me feel special in their own ways. All of them are seasoned wives and mothers and fairly unflappable. Thank goodness. 


Because the disappointments were not entirely over as the clocked ticked closer to ceremony time. A vendor let us down. A few of our special effects didn’t work in the end. My ring-bearer nephew almost made me turn into a bridezilla when he refused to do what he was told. Some of our technology went AWOL.  The programs I worked so hard on never got handed out. Two of our friends left the wedding sick from the heat. 

Someone told me, “a year from now, you won’t remember all the things that went wrong.”  

Guess what?  It’s been a year… and I still do. 

But that isn’t all I remember. 

Not at all. 

I remember the beautiful sound of the voices of the group “Selah” carrying across the lawn singing “Before the thrown of God above, I have a strong and perfect plea…”

I remember taking my dad’s arm and getting ready to walk down the aisle in front of four hundred of our friends and family—some who came from across the country and some who came from around the world. 

I remember handing my bouquet to my sister and taking Curtis’ strong hands. 

I remember him looking into my eyes and singing to me, “You make me Better.”

I remember meaning every word of the vows I said. 

I remember him picking me up and feeling like it might have been a good idea for me to sew tread on the back of my wedding dress just in case. 

I remember smashing cake in Curtis’ face because…there were a bunch of people watching and I felt like I had to do something. 

I remember the coolness of the reception hall and the calmness of violin music. A wave of peace washed over me. Hopefully no more guests would be going home sick.  

I remember getting up to say thanks and feeling very, very blessed for the community that had stood beside us through this huge transition in life. 

I remember sharing the words from our processional, “And should this life bring suffering, Lord, I will remember; what Calvary has bought for me, now and forever…God, You’re so good. God, You’re so good to me.”

I remember having peace in my heart as the sunlight faded and the final hugs were given.  

Because I never felt like this day was about me. 

And this is real life.  

And God was good. 

The pictures lie. I’m kinda glad they do. It’s fun to page through an album and see a beautiful day on the bank of the Ashley River forty two years in the making. The picture of Curtis holding me under a mossy oak turned out to be my favorite—we were both genuinely smiling (and he would never drop me).

But I guess I feel the need to post this disclaimer along with the pictures because I want to tell the brides and brides-to-be out there to enjoy their “real” and not live for the fantasy.  

Marriage is real life.  Whether your wedding day feels magical or not, sooner or later, real life will set in. You can choose to focus on the frustrations and disappointments or you can choose to be thankful for the good.  You will have both, but your life will take on the flavor of which ever one you focus on. 

One year ago began the most beautiful season of life yet. I meant every word when I said my vows.  I mean every word of what I’m telling you now. 

I love my real life. 

God, You’re so good.  You’re so good to me. 

Posted on by lgandre · 1 Comment

We’ll Never Forget You, John Gates

The kids in Sunday School proffered their feelings of sadness as we opened class.

“I’m going to miss Uncle John.”

“Me too.” Another agreed. “He was always so nice.”

“He called me his grandkid.”

“He always cheered the loudest for me. I could hear him yell my name…”

They were talking about John Gates.

John came into our lives through a simple act of kindness. He was attempting to trim some overgrowth in his yard one day and Curtis happened to be driving by. John had suffered a stroke and was almost complete paralyzed on one side. This made it extremely difficult for him to maneuver the clippers. Curtis and his sons jumped in and were able to make short work of the lawn care.

As they talked, Curtis learned that John was in need a of a lawyer. After years of making payments on his home, he was being told that the checks were not owner-financed mortgage payments as promised, but simply rent. Instead of turning over a deed, the owner wanted to turn him out. Unfortunately, John had been on disability for years and did not have funds to pay for an attorney.

So that was how I first met John; When the Bostic Law Group took his case. Which, I might add, we won. John was in tears when he thanked us for our help. He got to keep his home and we got a new friend.

In fact, John began showing up regularly at church. Despite his severe limp, he would work his way down to the front to sit with the Bostics whom he called, “his family.” He would often then often join them at home for lunch, chatting with Jenny as she would finish preparations. The stroke had left him to struggling some for words and stuttering a little bit, but that didn’t stop him. The man could talk.

I hung around some too and heard him share about his life and background. As best as we could put together all of the pieces, it appeared he had a rough upbringing and some even rougher adult years. In fact, it seemed that the litany of health issues that he dealt with were partially caused by years of drug abuse.

But despite whatever the challenges of life had been, he had kept his tender heart and sensitive nature. And in very little time, the whole church started becoming his family. I remember when Curtis and Jenny threw him a birthday party.

His first birthday party.

Most people thought he was turning 70, but in fact, he was only in his early fifties. And he was as excited as a kid. We were celebrating his first birthday party, but he was celebrating his first family. I remember watching him cry as we sang to him in the law firm conference room.

I thought Curtis was a little crazy when he suggested taking John to Disney World. That generally isn’t where you take fifty-somethings who struggle to walk (even with a cane), have one arm in a sling, have no children or grandchildren, and have frequent health struggles.

But John said it was on his bucket list. So we loaded up and went to Orlando.

And we had a grand time. Curtis rented motor scooters for John which helped him get around and helped all of us get in the “short line” everywhere we went. I felt mildly guilty cutting in front of the poor vacationers spending their whole day weaving back in forth in the long lines. Don’t worry, the feeling passed.

We even went to Sea World, and Stephen got John’s picture on the big screen during the Orca pre show. I doubt he ever forgot that.

One of my favorite memories of John was when I got assigned to a dessert contest judging panel with him and one other guy. After talking about his judging responsibility for days (and telling everyone not to tell him what dessert they were bringing), the time finally arrived for us to taste the huge spread of delicious looking pies, cakes, and cookies.

That’s when he announced that he was allergic to all nuts, berries, and chocolate. So…my apologies to everyone who entered that contest. It was rigged. Sorry.

I think having more to life than watching TV did great things for John’s health. He even seemed to be regaining some of the use of his paralyzed limbs. Weeks before the big day, he asked me to spot him while he walked to the front of the church one morning because he planned to do it without his leg brace. It was a huge deal to him as we paraded to the front—him carrying his cane and me carrying his brace.   It was a good reminder to me of the little things we take for granted every day, like two good legs.

Over the years, folks at church helped John in various ways. Jay and Anita brought him meals. Jenny drove him to the hospital a few times. Families like the Sterretts had him over for meals. People included them in their Thanksgiving and Christmas plans. Mary Lou helped care for his dog and would take him to Walterboro to watch the young people from church show horses. He talked all the time about how much fun he had watching them win ribbons.

John wasn’t just a on the receiving end of love and attention. He liked to “pay it forward” as it called it. He took an interest in all the kids at church, but particularly fell in love with the Remember Hope Children’s Home. He sponsored two girls in Burma faithfully, sending small gifts or funds for them to purchase new school uniforms. He was very proud of his efforts to procure hundreds of pencils, pencil sharpeners, and erasers with the help of the fine folks at the Dollar Store.

Last Tuesday, Jenny hosted another birthday party for John. Little did she know, it would be his last. It was Mary Lou who found him lying unconscious in his home a few days later when she stopped by to give his dog some meds. He passed away quietly at MUSC.

He can walk without his leg brace now. And he doesn’t need me to spot him.

John didn’t leave behind a lot by way of worldly possessions, but as Curtis went through his things he found what was perhaps most important to him—letters and cards written by members of our church over the years. I’m so glad he didn’t die a lonely old man with nothing to do but watch a TV set. He died a member of a huge, loving family.

The next day, I sat with some friends who were explaining to me why they didn’t go to church any more—just watched a service on TV. I thought about Charleston Bible Church and the incredible way this body of believers welcomes and loves others whether or not they can pay it back or “pay it forward.” I thought of our meaningful worship, solid Bible teaching, and practical encouragement for godly living. These folks are missing out.

I told them I loved my church and a little bit of why, but I didn’t say enough though. Or perhaps I said too much.

I can sum up my feelings about church in two words: John Gates.

Posted on by lgandre · 1 Comment

Shoveling Coal

You gotta love the gym. Where else can you be updated on all the evils in the world all at once? TVs everywhere on every channel can give you updates from 6 points of view simultaneously. War in Israel. Chaos in Iraq. Mess in Washington. Mayhem in Detroit. Ebola in Liberia. Actors killing themselves.

Good Morning, America! It’s another day in our broken, messed up world.

You can turn off the TV, but you can’t turn off the problems. They are there.

So…what is there to do? What to do but put your head phones in and run. Run.

I can’t fix the Middle East. I can’t fix poverty. I can’t fix drugs and depression. I feel like I should do something, but what? And what would matter anyway?

Despite trying to shut it out, I can’t help but keep asking myself those questions while I’m running. Yep, I’m watching six TVs playing six different channels, I’m listening to something else on my headphones, and at the same time, I’m trying to solve the world’s problems in my head. It’s little wonder I’m exhausted before I even break a sweat.

This morning, my phone was playing Kisses from Katie, the recent story about of young lady who is trying to “do something.” She moved to Uganda after high school where she has adopted 13 children and helps provide for 600 more through a non-profit organization called Amazima.

I have a lot of respect for Katie Davis and what she is doing to show the love of Christ in a destitute corner of the world. However, although she is investing her whole heart into the lives of needy orphans, she too confesses that she feels some days like she is trying to empty the ocean with an eye dropper. Every little drop takes resources, but it is just a little drop in a sea of sickness and poverty. Even with her every effort, the world doesn’t look much different in the grand scheme of things.

Katie opined that God didn’t create more people in the world than He provided for. And that’s true. Her conclusion was that those with more should share with those with less. And we should.

But I don’t think that’s the whole answer.   How many billions of dollars in aid has the US poured into remote parts of the world and what do we have to show for it? We can pump billions of dollars into the Middle East and Africa—as we have done—and it will still be a mess. In addition to giving nationally, we can give individually. But it’s kind of like dropping 8,000 meals on a mountain hiding 40,000 refugees…a good thing; but how long can you go on 1/5 of a meal?  

Katie has also worked to help Ugandans “help themselves” which is a good thing, but I noticed that, like many organizations, Amazima primarily derives its support from people who are in the US or by selling handmade jewelry to people in the US.

Stick with me here; I’m trying to solve the worlds’ problems and it takes a little time to explain.

We can’t all quit our jobs and move to Uganda. Because if we did, we would simply be one of the far too many starving Africans. We could all quit our jobs, move to Africa, and try to find work there, but that seems a little silly seeing as we had jobs here that we are probably better trained for and adapted to than what we might find in a village in Buziika. Not only would we all need Amazima, but there wouldn’t be an Amazima because there would be no one to give.

So the end result of that plan to fix the world has everyone starving. Cross that one off the list.

So, what to do about the world’s problems?

I’m convinced of a few things: We should stand with Israel. We should fight against radical Islam. We should try to help the sick and feed the poor. But frankly, more than anything, I believe that we should live ordinary lives. Go to work. Take care of our families. Shovel coal.

Hear me on this.

What the world needs is not another leader. Not a movement. Not an aura of peace. What the world needs is healthy families working hard and providing for themselves and others.   At the end of the day, that is what works. That is what stamps out poverty. That is what cures AIDS. That is what diffuses conflict. That is what would solve most of the policy debate in Washington.

If people around the world understood the concepts of family and hard work, it would go a long way toward solving the evils in the world. Of course, those are both biblical concepts, so most of the world is going to try to find a more modern way to achieve a peaceful, prosperous existence. But they won’t.

Some of us may travel to distant countries. Some of us may start organizations. Some of us may be leaders. But most of us will do the most good by showing the world that family and industry work— husbands and wives who love each other providing for their own and then a bit extra—create the most successful nations.

That means, for some of us, the most important thing we can do is to shovel coal. Go to work. Be productive. Come home. Take care of the people God has placed in our lives. It isn’t glamourous. It’s not exciting. It wouldn’t be a good plot for an Indiana Jones movie. And apparently, it isn’t good fodder for the morning news.

Don’t be ashamed to enjoy what the blessing of God and hard work have given you.  Share what you have. Give till it hurts. But enjoy the fruit of your labor.

Some of us have an eye dropper. Some of us have a coal shovel. If you have one, don’t rip on the person who has the other; cheer them on. We may not win over the rest of the world, but we can keep from becoming them only one way—working to provide for ourselves and our families and just a little bit more.