Rule 6 - Work smarter or work harder, but get up and go to work. A man needs to provide.

The majority of my life growing up, Bud Wilson worked graveyard shift, or 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. That meant that I watched him roll out of bed around nine every night, eat supper/breakfast (it’s a confusing lifestyle), shave, dress and breeze out the door by ten. While we slept, he worked. I would not appreciate that sacrifice until much later in my life, when I too adopted the “midnight” shift as my own for several years. While there are advantages, there are many disadvantages too. You miss a lot of your family’s life, as you try to catch a few hours of precious sleep. You never get “good” rest; it wears your mind and your body out prematurely. You live on caffeine, sugar and grease; you run on empty more than you care to admit. I have often wondered how many days of Dad’s life may have been shortened by shift work; I’ve wondered the same for myself.

At the time, I thought Dad made good money working in a union plant for a major automobile company. After he was gone, I ran across some of his pay stubs, and realized that what I thought was “big money” was just a modest living wage for a family of five. Dad worked hard for that, and I don’t know that I ever thanked him enough.

Even during the day, when Bud could have been getting some rest, he often spent his time fixing fences, working in tobacco and hauling hay. He kept the farm where we grew up in pristine condition, cleaning the underbrush from the wood lots and bush hogging the pastures. He enjoyed work, and for him it gave great satisfaction.

I learned that life lesson from him growing up and now that my children are grown, I can see that the work ethic passed through, even though I didn’t know it at the time. My son worked a variety of jobs from the time he was ten years old until his untimely death. My daughter worked throughout high school, and now as a stay at home mom, she provides a domestic environment that is clean, warm and inviting. Her husband is a solid father and provider and I’m proud of them all.

Why is this important? Because a solid work ethic is a lost art in the world we live in today. As I write these words, there are people camped in every major city in this country to “occupy” business and government, expecting a job, benefits, the cancellation of debt- you name it. An even larger number of people feel the same way; they just lack the initiative to even sit in the cold and demand a handout.

Please understand; I know times are hard. I know that people are frustrated. But we have to be willing to work for what we get. It’s not just a principle of capitalism; it’s a principle of faith. The first thing God gave Adam was a job as a gardener. He had to work, even before the fall of man. He just had to break a sweat after the curse of sin. Likewise, Proverbs says to consider the ant, in its working ways, and Paul says that if a man doesn’t work, he doesn’t eat. More importantly, he also said that a man that doesn’t care for his family is worse than an unbeliever and unworthy of the Christian faith. The idea of a solid work ethic is pervasive throughout the Bible.

This world needs a people that are willing to work for what they have. This country needs a work ethic in order to succeed. Your family needs you- it’s your responsibility. You; not the government, the church or your parents- You.

If you want to be successful, work is the way to do it. Yogi Berra said, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.” That’s very true. Publisher’s Clearing House is probably not coming to your house with a check. I’m not saying you have to dig ditches for a living; but find something that you are good at and do it.

A lot of people are looking for their dream job, but believe me, sometimes you have to learn to love what you do. I think we set our kids up for disappointment sometimes when we ask them, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Because really, it’s more about what you have to be than what you want to be; after all, there are only so many baseball players and ballerinas.

So if you work, be proud of what you do. Putting shoes on your children’s feet, a roof over their head and food on the table is God’s way of showing them His love through you. It’s gratifying and satisfying. We were made to love and made to live. But we were also made to work. 

Rule 5 - Faith in God doesn’t have to be complicated, as long as it’s real.

Dad was not a theologian. He wasn’t a preacher or a deacon, and I can’t really tell you about any deep meaningful talks about spiritual matters we had with each other. I would like to tell you that Dad spoke in lofty, ecclesiastical language, but he didn’t- not even close. He was a southern country man, with southern country ways, including a salty word here and there, when not in mixed company. He was a common man; perhaps the quintessential common man.  But one thing I can tell you; Bud Wilson was a Christian. I know it because I saw it. I know it because I saw Jesus in his life in a very simple, practical way. Blue collar Christianity- the kind that gets its hands dirty; the kind that applies to real life. That’s the kind of faith I saw in my father.

Bud Wilson had the kind of faith that got up in the middle of the night and gave some stranger’s stranded car a boost. He had the kind of faith that respected his parents and honored them. He feared God and took great offense when anyone within earshot “took God’s name in vain”. He was quick to break a garden for a neighbor and help the older folks in the community plant a crop or repair a fence. He sang loud in church, and testified with tears in his eyes. In fact, his tears were never far from the surface; he was very tender hearted. He said grace at every meal.

One of my fondest memories of Dad was just a few years before he left us. I had been invited to sing during a revival at the church where he was saved when he was sixteen. We sat on the pew where he had prayed so many years before, and at the end of the service, he stood and gave his beautiful, simple testimony. With tears in his eyes, he described how he had sat on that pew, in that spot, and how God had convicted him during just such a revival. He remembered the night; moreover, he remembered how he felt that night. Sixty years had passed, but he had not forgotten what the still, small voice of God sounded like.

That’s the kind of faith that matters. That’s the kind of faith that makes more of a difference than long, flowery “King James” prayers, a big check in the offering plate, or a seminary education. Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of men and women just like Bud with a simple, genuine faith in Jesus. They make up the Body of Christ. Abraham Lincoln said, “God must love common people; he made so many of them.” I’d have to say that’s true, because He not only made so many, He saved so many.

I’ve been in some form of ministry or another for about thirty years. During that time, I’ve had a lot of deep, theological discussions about just about every major doctrinal debate you can think of; eternal security, baptism, the gifts of the Holy Ghost, end times- you name it. But none of those topics had ever really inspired me the way that the lyrics of “Amazing Grace” can, when sung by some little old lady with a quavering, off key sincerity that can’t be debated, questioned or explained. Real faith doesn’t have to be complicated- it just needs to be genuine.

When we stand before God, I believe that we will all find out that there are a number of ideas we have about Him and His ways that are wrong. On that day, I also happen to believe that God really won’t care how you got baptized, what church you belonged to, or what your position was on foot washing. On that day, it’s going to come down to the basics:

Did you trust Jesus as your Savior?

Did you love others as you love yourself?

Did you do the best you could with what God gave you to work with?

On that day, the simplicity of faith will win. Life’s hard enough- God never intended salvation to be difficult as well. It’s a gift, after all. Thanks Dad, for teaching me that.

Rule 4 - Some people can tell a joke, some can’t. If you can, treasure that gift; it is rare.

There are a lot of things I remember about my father. I remember the smell of his aftershave (Skin Bracer), look and feel of his hands and the way he answered the telephone. (He didn’t say hello, he said, “Alright.”) I remember his gruff baritone growl, the look he gave someone when he was angry, and the fact that one of his eyes got a little lazy when he was tired. (Thanks for that genetic trait, Dad. I see it in about half the pictures taken of me.)

But the thing I remember most when I remember my dad, is his laugh. Bud laughed; he laughed a lot. He laughed many times to tears. He laughed with his friends and family because they were laughing; and most of the time, they were laughing at a joke he had told.

Bud Wilson probably knew a million jokes; at least it seemed that way. More importantly, he knew how to tell a million jokes. I know, because I’ve heard him tell jokes for hours. He was genuinely good at it. He had a great memory for punch lines, perfect timing, and the ability to change a story depending on his audience.

Dad loved jokes, and instilled in me a love for humor. When he came home from work, he often brought us kids a little something; some candy, a half melted popsicle, etc. But if he had heard a new joke while he was at work, that was the real prize. Because he would have to tell it. Because he would just about burst if he didn’t.

Bud instilled that love for humor in me. I love jokes and stories of all types, and if you know me, you know that I’ve always got one…or five. When I was about ten, my elementary school principal pulled me aside one day and advised me not to tell so many jokes and stories. “People don’t like that,” he said. Well, while there is a right time and a wrong time for jokes and stories, I’ve often wished that I could tell that old principal of mine a thing or two about the ability to tell a joke. He was wrong; people do like that…a lot. Over the years, I’ve spoken to thousands of people and been in many highly charged business situations, and I can tell you that the ability to simply tell a joke is probably one of the most valuable assets my father gave me.

A well told joke builds rapport, while at the same time diffusing tension. It helps us connect with people. No matter who you are or where you come from, it feels good to laugh; and people like someone that makes them feel good. Many times, I’ve seen a weighty, tenuous situation that was handled deftly and delicately because someone had the tact to insert a little humor into the mix. In college, I once walked into a communications class along with a herd of frightened classmates, and instead of producing a prepared speech, I stood with no notes and delivered an old joke I had told a hundred times. The instructor gave me an “A+”. That’s the value of humor.

Now I say a well told joke, because we have all been at the mercy of someone that can’t tell a joke. They have no sense of timing, they can’t remember the punch line, or they simply don’t understand that the joke may not relate at all to the situation at hand. I’m thinking of just such a person as I write this; you probably know one too. It is brutally uncomfortable and embarrassing to stand there with a polite smile and a forced chuckle while someone butchers a joke. It hurts; it offends the sensibilities. Humor is like good music; we all know instinctively what it should sound like; but we don’t all have the talent to make it happen.

If you know I am talking about you, don’t worry. There’s a lot of humor to go around. Enjoy the jokes of others. Practice your own. (The jokes I tell best are the ones I’ve told the most.) And if you can’t tell a joke well, tell it anyway. If they don’t laugh with you, maybe they can laugh at you. (That was a joke- could you tell?) By the way, that’s another thing. Never explain a joke. If they don’t get it the first time, let it go. That ship has sailed. Don’t waste your breath.

That’s why I say if you can tell a joke, rejoice in the ability; revel in it, use it. Make the world a happier, funnier place. I saw my father do that, and in the end, his friends and family loved him for taking the edge of what can be a hard, cruel life. Pull the plug on the tension; we take ourselves was too seriously. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A merry heart is like good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.” You don’t want dried up bones do you?  So lighten up. God gave us laughter for a reason. It’s a beautiful thing. When I get to Heaven, I’m going to look my father up and I can guarantee you this; if he’s not at the feet of Jesus at that moment, he’ll have someone cornered and he’ll be telling a joke…and he’ll be laughing. I can’t wait.