I lost my phone but it's okay

“Utility is when you have one telephone, luxury is when you have two, opulence is when you have three – and paradise is when you have none.”   Doug Larson

I’m not sure when Doug Larson wrote that. I am sure that when he did he never pictured our day when nearly everyone has their own personal phone that they carry with them in their pocket or purse. 90% of Americans own a cell phone. The average age when you now receive your first cell phone has dropped to 12 or 13. 67% of cell owners check their phone for messages, alerts, or calls — even when they don’t notice their phone ringing or vibrating. 44% have slept with their phone next to their bed because they wanted to make sure they didn’t miss any calls, text messages, or other updates during the night. And 29% of cell phone owners describe their cell phone as “something they can’t imagine living without.”

Recently, I’ve entered a brand new phase in my phone history. For the first time in my life, there is no landline in our home. Jane and I found that the vast majority of those who called our landline were telemarketers or robo-calls around election time. They were calls that we decided that we didn’t need. While it’s not a huge savings to be landline free, it adds up.  

I think we’re through the withdrawals, though I may still have to join a 12-step group. The morning after we pulled the plug, I was wondering if we’d made a mistake. I was attempting to call home about a timely matter, but couldn’t connect with anyone via their cell phones. I was ready to drive back home, when Jane got my message and returned my call.  

When I was a child, our home had two separate phone lines – one for the house and then a business line that was rarely used. They were both rotary phones (some of you may need to Google that). This was eons before call waiting or automatic redial. As I kid, I found having two lines handy for winning radio contests (“The winner will be caller number 8”). It increased my odds dramatically.

My favorite phone though was a party line. When my grandparents finally got a phone, I think my Dad may have even paid for it, it was a party line that they shared with someone else. I absolutely loved calling my Grandmother! I can still hear her voice echoing down the corridors of my memory though she’s been gone for over three decades. I don’t remember MaMa ever saying an unkind word to anyone. When I’d call, though it was difficult for her to walk to the phone, I was the most important person in the world. God used her to touch my life so many times.

January 29th was the one year anniversary of the loss of my brother, Mike. I miss talking to him on the phone. I can still hear his big voice and laugh. Mike was a night owl. Sometimes when I’d be driving home late or when we were driving through the night toward a vacation destination, I’d call Mike. I might have been starting to nod off; talking to Mike would jolt me back into alertness. He never minded the call. I can’t remember him ever telling me it was a bad time to call.

One of those drive through the nights brings back one of my favorite memories of Dad Cummins. Dad loved to use the phone. Because we were driving from Wisconsin to Alabama, and going to arrive in the middle of the night at his home, he had a hard time sleeping. Periodically, he’d call to check on our status. Dad Cummins faithfully used his phone as a ministry tool, probably better that anyone else I know. He was often on the road during his later years and had a list of folk that he’d call, many of them elderly and shut-ins. He’d call to touch base, just to encourage and minister to them. It was his “phone ministry.” He was truly one of a kind!

Probably, my children have taught me the most about using a phone wisely. If I was irritated or upset with them, I might leave them a voice mail on their cell, expressing my displeasure. I learned very quickly that it would weigh very heavily on them and ruin their day. The Lord used them to break me of that. To hear the hurt in their voice as we problem-solved it later, was too much for me to bear. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially those that I love so much.

This past week, I was reading Colossians in my time with the Lord. I love Colossians 4:6. Most of us should memorize it. Maybe it should be taped on the keypad of our phones. I’m not big on tattoos, yet this would be a great verse to have tattooed on the back of your hand or someplace else where you’d continually see it, where it would be a constant reminder of how to have godly speech: “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.”

Think how many verbal wounds you wouldn’t leave on others, if you followed the prescription. Think how many fights you wouldn’t have with your spouse or how many harsh things you wouldn’t say to your children if that verse was a bridle on your tongue.

Yet, think of how encouraging your words would be, if they were consistently gracious. Salt adds taste, yet it’s to be sprinkled, not poured. Personally, I find that when my words come “pouring” out, they have more potential of being sinful. If you’re like me, there are very few times when I regret things that I didn’t say.

There are folk that I love to talk to. Some of them are here at Grace. They’re consistently encouraging and affirming. Rarely, do they criticize or complain. If they do, they weigh their words. It tends to be constructive and edifying. My conversations with them seem to end too quickly. They refresh my soul.

I want to be like that, don’t you? I want God to so use my words that when I’m done talking, people leave refreshed, encouraged, perhaps even challenged. I want to be used of God to lighten loads, not increase burdens.

That means that I need to unplug my old flesh and let the Spirit control what comes out of my mouth. He wants to do that, yet I must first choose to surrender the control to Him. Colossians 4:6 gives a whole new wonderful meaning to salty speech, doesn’t it?