Tim Wildmon
AFA president
April 1995 – Have you seen the bumper sticker that reads, “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven”? Well, along those lines, we Christians go through many of the same trials and difficulties that non-Christians do. We have good days and bad days just like anyone else. At least that’s been my experience. But we have Someone greater then ourselves to lean on.
Have you ever had one of those days? One of those days where nothing seems to go right? The kind of day when you get in the shower and realize your shampoo container is empty? The kind of day when you get to work only to realize your socks don’t match so you try to stand up all day? The kind of day when you work on your computer for an hour, then hit the wrong key and your work is erased? You know, a ketchup-on-the-tie-day. The kind of day when – well you get the picture.
Recently, on one of my speaking engagement trips – this one to Vero Beach, Florida – I had one of those days when your patience is tested and you fight to maintain your Christian attitude.
My plane out of Memphis to Orlando through Atlanta departed at 6 a.m. so I decided to drive to Memphis and spend the night at a hotel. No problems yet, nor was I anticipating any. Checking out of the hotel, however, I guess I should have known it would be one of those days when the desk clerk helping me check out had an earring in her, well, it was in her nose. Which I suppose makes it not an earring, but rather a nosering. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. Why would a person do this to herself, I wondered. This was somebody’s daughter. How could she do this to her parents? While she was doing the paperwork and asking me light conversation questions, I’m tilting my head, staring at her nosering, wanting to ask her if it was painful. It surely looked painful.
As I walked away I was thinking to myself, “The day my daughter comes home with a nosering is the day I’ll consider my parenting a failure, I guess.”
The nosering girl was a harbinger of things to come for me on that day. Getting ready to board the plane I picked up my suit and noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that my pants had fallen off the hanger. I checked to see how this happened. A tiny screw had come loose and the hanger rung had fallen off. My pants had fallen onto the floor. If I had lost the pants it would have been coat, tie and wind suit pants that evening. California maybe. A community of mostly retirees in Florida, I don’t think so.
OK, I’m on the plane and we arrive safe and on time in Atlanta. Awaiting my connecting flight to Orlando I got the news every traveler hates to hear: “For those passengers awaiting flight 924 for Orlando, we have been informed it will be late arriving in Atlanta and so we have a new departing time of 2 p.m. Thank you for your understanding.” Understanding is assumed when this happens. Well, I had three hours leeway so this one-and-one-half hour delay wasn’t too big a deal I thought. I had hoped to take a short walk on the beach but that would probably not work out now.
But instead of one-and-one-half hours late the plane was two hours late leaving Atlanta. By the time I landed in Orlando I started to feel just a little pressure to get to Vero Beach on time. I still was OK but I had to move along. After quickly moving past the Disney World tourists to the car rental area I walked up only to find my rental company with a long line. None of the other rental companies had long lines, just mine. I thought, “Let’s move it. Get ’em through. No time to waste.”
Why is it, when you are in a situation like this, there’s always the couple at the desk ahead of you playing 21 questions with the clerk? “Now, can you go over those directions with us once again and can you suggest a nice restaurant and what about the beaches there, are the beaches nice and…?”
And the friendly clerk responds, “Yes sir, do you prefer Italian, Mexican, Chinese...” And there was the man talking about his hometown with another desk clerk and the fact she knew some people he knew and he knew some people she knew and...come on people this isn’t the coffee club. I’ve got to get my car and get out of here. In the immortal words of Sergeant Carter, “Move it! Move it! Move it!” I thought.
It still goes against my nature to be pushy so I just sort of stood there picking up my luggage and putting it down over and over and then sighing every minute or two. Body language, you know. I would have rolled my eyes or thrown up my hands but the clerks never looked my way. Finally I did get my car and I was off to Vero Beach. And I do mean finally. Getting a car rental nowadays is like signing mortgage papers on your home, 23 places to sign or initial.
I was going to be pushing it to meet my host at the hotel at 5:30. I hate the idea of someone waiting for me to get into town – and I’m late – when I’m the speaker. So at this point I was driving under grace and not the law. (Just a little, so save your letters.)
You would think I could make it now with just one connecting interstate (I-95) to hit. But, no. Somehow I miss the sign (I must have looked down just for that couple of seconds.) and the next thing I know I’m coming up to a stop light. “Funny, I’ve never had a stop light in the middle of an interstate before,” I thought. “Wait a minute, this isn’t the interstate. Somehow I’ve missed a turn.”
“Welcome to Cocoa Beach,” the sign said.
“This is great,” I thought, trying to weave in and out of traffic to find my way back to I- 95. From there I attempted a phone call to my host only to find my calling card not working properly. So I phoned my secretary and told her to call for me, and back to find I-95 I went.
Finally, back on the right trail again, I make my way into Vero Beach. Oh yeah, there’s one thing I haven’t mentioned. I hate to shave. It’s my cross to bear. I had planned on having ample time to shower and shave before meeting anyone in Vero Beach. Now, that was in serious doubt and I had a three-day beard. I prayed there would be a drug store somewhere along the way to purchase a razor blade or else it would be a barbaric looking vice president of American Family Association speaking to the annual banquet gathering for AFA Vero Beach.
5:25 p.m. – According to the map I am near my hotel. Thank you, Lord, there’s a drug store. I run in, run to find the razor blades, dash to the front counter. Two men and a couple are in line. I ask the guy – perhaps my age – about to check out,“Do you mind if I cut in line? I’m running late for a very important date.”
“Yes, I do,” he said sternly.
“OK,” I replied as thoughts from my darker side danced through my head. The couple behind him were very nice and I went ahead, paid, and dashed back to the car.
For you Floridians, I got behind the rude guy on the road and, for the record, he was not from the Sunshine State. While, driving behind him I had to deal with a strong urge to ram his car from behind. But I didn’t. Instead I looked for my hotel. According to my map I should have seen it. No hotel. I kept driving until I came upon the city limits sign and turned around, came up beside a local, honked, motioned for him to roll down his window, and asked directions (the ultimate act of male humility) to the hotel. As I drove into the hotel registration area, I saw what the problem was. The hotel was in the very act of changing signs. I’m talking guys out there pulling ropes up and down, taking down the old sign, and getting ready to put up a new one.
My AFA contact was waiting, I checked in, quickly shaved (one cut), threw on my suit (pants and all) and made the banquet. The people were great, everything went well, and I was taken back to the hotel after the banquet. Wow, what a day! A day to forget (with the exception of the banquet), I thought. I didn’t even get to see the beach except just for a minute or two as I drove away the next morning.
Now I realize this was one day of minor difficulty in the life of one small person on this huge globe. But still it’s comforting to know that when things aren’t going well, when you’re having problems in your life or people have done you wrong, there’s always another day. There’s always tomorrow.
You know our Christian walk is sometimes like this. We have bad days for one reason or another. We have bad seasons in our lives. Perhaps it’s due to something we’ve done or perhaps it’s just for reasons we don’t understand. Nevertheless, God is the God of a second chance. The God we serve is the Lord of tomorrows. He forgives, He helps us get up when we fall, and He restores us when we need restoration. He is our rock in times of trouble. Thank You, Lord, that You never change. 
