After my first executive position with a secretary, who was Columbian and
spoke no English except for “OK, Mike,” at my next job I had a real secretary.
Who spoke English, and I shared her with two others, than three. Her name was
Bernice, known as Bernie, and she was older than me, but not quite old enough to
be my mother. And at first I had trouble asking her to do things for me,
because of her being older, but when reminded that I had no trouble asking my
Mother things, interpreted as demanding, I got better at it. And it was her
job, and she was pretty good at it. Particularly when having to juggle demands
from four men, where maturity had skipped a generation. My two bosses were both
married, but womanizers, I tripped over one in safe light conditions with
another woman, not his wife, and the other one said things in front of Bernie
that made me embarrassed for her. But she held her own, and as any good
secretary does, a bit of mothering was involved. She was very attractive, and
would flirt enough with them just so they knew who was really in charge, while
maintaining a certain dignity in the office. She was tough enough that even the
dirtiest jokes wouldn’t faze her, but ladylike enough that they would always
apologize afterwards. A mutual respect kept us all working together, and I was
amazed at how anything ever got done, seems it was always play time, and work
breaks followed coffee sessions that had lasted for hours. If this was how big
business was conducted, I wondered how anything ever got done. I only hoped
that my mother and father conducted themselves better at work and when out, for
I would be embarrassed if my mother was talked to this way, and if my father
talked to another woman this way. Fortunately they never gave me a reason to
worry.
Did I mention that Bernie was married? And that she was coming up on her
20th wedding anniversary? During the many coffee breaks we all shared together,
we learned all about her husband Bob. She loved him dearly, always bragged
about him, and let the other two know that she was a one woman man, and he was
it. Monday mornings were filled with what “Bob and I” did last weekend, and
the other girls when gathering were always jealous of her and Bob, and their
love for each other. So when her 20th approached, they were making big plans,
and she tantalized the girls with them, while chastising the other men for not
showing love and respect for their wives. Although we never met Bob, we all
were in silent admiration of him, and Bernie. And as the perfect weekend in the
Catskills unfolded, she gave hints of her weekend to come. It seemed every
moment was choreographed, from arriving, to dinner, to Saturday’s activities, to
Saturday night, when they would celebrate 20 years. Jokes were made to her
about consummating the marriage that night, but Bernie just shrugged them off,
telling them they were jealous, while I just listened. Saturday night was their
night, and the weekend with Bernie was about to begin.
Now being the jokesters my two bosses were, they had to do something, but
with the anniversary couple 200 miles away that presented a problem. And their
childlike minds were active for days, until when sitting in a meeting, Walter’s
pager went off. Remember Dr. Beeper on Caddyshack, just like that. And the
idea was born. Walter would place his beeper in Bernie’s bag when she left, a
bag she went everywhere with, and tell the service no calls for the weekend.
With only him being allowed to call. And the plan was Saturday night at 1130,
when per the schedule they would be back in their cottage, full of wine and
romance, he would call. Cruel but funny, depending on which side you were on.
And Walter giggled all day Friday waiting for Saturday night. And at 1130 he
called the beeper, and laughed himself to sleep. And couldn’t wait until Monday
morning to see Bernie’s face, and see how mad she was. We all got to work
before her, and she came in beaming after her perfect weekend. She bragged
about how everything was perfect, and when asked how Saturday night was, smiled
and sighed, making me blush. And as much as Walter tried to ply any words about
the beeper going off, she never said a word. Which drove him crazy, and after
all day of wondering what wet wrong, confronted her with what he had done.
It seemed the pager had gone off at 1130, just like planned, and did for
almost 20 minutes. They didn’t know what it was, and had called security, who
finally found the pager after going through her luggage. Bob was mad, Bernie
madder, but they decided to play possum, and not say a word. The joke would be
ineffective if they got upset, so when the pager was found, and the security men
asked her what she wanted to do with it, she requested a hammer, and the two
beat it into pieces. Placed it in a bag, and she gave it to Walter when he
couldn’t hold out any longer. The joke may have started out to be on her, but
he had underestimated Bob, and got back his pager in pieces. Which he paid
for, no questions asked, and sulked for days. Not for the price of the pager,
about $100, but that she and Bob had gotten the best of him. The weekend with
Bernie didn’t turn out like he planned, and all joking in the office was to
cease for some time to come. Walter had won a battle, Bernie won the war. And
for weeks would have her friends call Walter on his beeper at unopportune times,
she had the final word. Many times over. Case closed.
When we talk of spiritual maturity, I often think of Walter and his
immature prank he played on Bernie. But more of how he ended up being the
victim. It has been said that paybacks are a &^*%^, so I find that I try to
do unto others as I would have done to me. And I don’t carry a beeper, or cell
phone. It seems when joking gets out of hand, someone gets hurt. And our walk
with Christ can be like that. Satan cannot prevent us from becoming a
Christian, but he can make our growth process painful. By trying to divert our
attention to anything or anyone but Jesus, when we don’t grow in Christ, we
don’t mature in our walk. We become disappointed, doubtful of God’s claims, and
soon fall into bad company. Stop fellowshipping with others, quit praying,
reading the Bible, and caring for others. We stumble, sometimes fall, and it
takes a beeper going off in our lives to remind us of our salvation. Paul
refers to this as a “thorn in the flesh,” as a messenger sent from God to remind
him to continually seek Jesus, and how we need him daily. In all aspects of our
life. Yet this thorn is always from someone close to us, a fellow Christian who
is struggling, has a wrong doctrine, or is jealous. A friend, an evangelist
once told me if it wasn’t for other Christians he would have no enemies, and
many times that has proven true in my own walk. But when I see how God has
placed them there, how it turned me to him, I see how all things work out for
me, just as scripture promises, because I love the Lord, and he has given me
purpose. Walter had provided a wake up call as a joke, God sends them to wake
us up. To get us back to him, to repent and go on. To mature in Christ, and to
be an example to others. We all laughed at the prospect of Bernie’s weekend,
but secretly we were bothered by it afterwards. A lesson to remember when
plotting a joke. And how when paybacks come, the joke wasn’t that funny. You
see we truly reap what we sow, so sow seeds of love, joy, compassion, all based
on the love of Jesus Christ. Let your attitudes and words reflect him in your
life. And when the weekends come, rest assured in his grace. Safe in your
salvation which can never be taken away from you. Yes we will be tormented,
doubt, sin and sin again, but we are forgiven. And once our name is written in
the book of life, it is there forever. We may turn away, but Jesus sticks with
us.
So stay in the Word, stay in fellowship, and keep praying. But listen to
what the spirit has to say, and be guided by it. And when the thorns torment
your flesh, turn to Jesus. It is us who stray, not him. Sometimes it is a
small thorn, but to me sometimes I feel like I fell into a sticker bush, but God
‘s grace is sufficient. Just what I need, when I need it. Someone rather than
something. It is in the tough times we grow, we mature in Christ. Paul knew
that, and rejoiced. I know it, but have trouble rejoicing. I’m still a work in
process, immature, but saved. The one who can give life, who gave you life is
there to protect you. And to heal the wounds from the thorns. No one else can
or ever will.
Jesus Christ must be more than a Bible study. More than a Sunday
tradition, and more than a lifestyle. When he is the center of your life you
grow in grace. It takes a commitment, one he has made to you. As the saying
goes “no pain, no gain.” But we know that it was “his pain, for our gain.” And
if he suffered, we will too, but will be risen with him. The world may put
beepers in our lives to annoy, only God will turn them to times of glory. And
when he is glorified, we get the blessings. So turn off all electrical devices
for a minute, and concentrate on God. Let him grow you in grace, be diligent
about your relationship with him, and when the devil calls, turn to Jesus and
say “it’s for you.”
The parable of the weekend at Bernie’s. The ad asked what’s in your
wallet, it didn’t ask what is in your purse. Jesus wants to know what is in
your heart. That beeping just may be the spirit calling you back to him. And
your answer is....
love with compassion,
Mike
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