(Continued from 6/17/2010)
Have you ever gotten one of “those” phone calls? One day you are going through your routine and the next your whole world is different. This was one of those phone calls. I asked my dad to pick me up at the airport. He sent one of his employees. I walked in the room full of top dealership brass. I felt like a bumpkin. Here was the high power “elite” in the car business. These guys had taken a piece of dirt in north Phoenix and turned it into one of the highest volume stores in the United States in just 18 months. Why did they need me?
Dad dismissed the crew. He said, “We were supposed to sell 2,200 cars this year. We sold 10,000. Now the bank is calling me because we are overdrawn. What is going on?” I excused myself and made my way to the administrative office. It was humming along the way that you’d expect an office with over 30 “beaver” personalities to hum.
“Excuse me.” A few clerks looked up. “Can I take a look at the General Journal?” You’d think that I had asked for the pin number to their checking account. Reluctantly, the office manager retrieved the thick book with a ream of paper and thousands of meticulously entered numbers. I excused myself and began to rifle through hundreds of entries. After about an hour, I noticed a small two line entry on one clean sheet of accounting paper. $800,000 debit to cash and $800,000 credit to accounts receivable. It was the round number that caught my eye. What could this mean?
For the non-accounting types, let me explain. This entry meant that someone had taken it upon themselves to increase the amount of cash that the dealership had on hand and by the same amount reduced that amount of money that people owed the dealership. The entry was made out of whole cloth. It was a nice round number that made the bank account look fat and made the accounts receivable collection department look like heroes. The problem? It never happened. The bank account was just as empty as before the entry was made and the accounts receivable was just as uncollected. In business terms it was an unmitigated disaster.
I spent the next day rifling through thousands of entries and much to my amazement, if my calculations were correct, these champions of the auto industry had spent 18 months and $2 million giving away the store. I knocked on my dad’s door. “Have you spent any time looking at your books since the divorce?” “Sure!”, he replied. “We’ve been making lots of money. It’s just that we don’t seem to have anything in the bank.”
I could feel the blood filling the capillaries in my face and ears. “Dad, there are some disturbing entries in the books. You have over a million dollars out in receivables and most of it is old and probably not collectable.” He put his hands on the desk and gave me an unusual look. I had never seen him like this. “What are we going to do?” “Don’t worry. I have a plan. We can meet tomorrow and I’ll let you in on the details.”
I slipped out the door and headed for the desk that had been temporarily assigned to me as my “office”. Plan? Are you kidding me? I had no plan. I had no idea how this whole thing happened. I had no idea how to extricate this big business from utter incompetence and maybe even malfeasance.
The next day came. “Here’s my plan. We need to get an outside audit. We can figure out what we REALLY have here and what has evaporated. We also need to cut the payroll by 50%.” You could have heard a pin drop. It was awful. We had been asked to meet with the bank that afternoon. On the “come” Dad had scheduled a meeting so that he could unveil my big “plan”. It was a cordial meeting. I laid out the plan and somewhere in the conversation asked the bank representatives a simple question. “What happens if after this audit we should happen to discover that our liabilities are higher than our assets?” “Well, then you would have to declare bankruptcy.” Frank. To the point. No problem. “Thank you for coming.”
The one thing that I was sure of was even taking the most optimistic view of what I had discovered, this dealership was bankrupt. What now? “Son, I have a proposition that I would like to offer you. I would like you to sell your little store down south and use the proceeds to buy in with me. We can use the cash from your sale to make this deal whole and I will sell you this whole thing in 18 months.”
Are you kidding? I am going to be the MAN in Phoenix! All I have to do is sell my little store, come help this place and I will be the king. The king is dead. Long live the king! My ego was leaking out of my ears and my mouth. I called home. “Sell the house. I am going to sell the dealership to my uncle. He has wanted to get his hands on it for years. I am sure that he’ll jump at the chance.”
I never went home. My wife packed everything. I sold not only my dealership, but my house to my uncle. He was now the big man in small town Arizona and had the corner on the car market in Cochise County. It was a coup for everyone.
I tossed my polyester suit in the trash bin and promptly went down to a local tailor and bought five brand new Italian suits. I picked out a brand new 300ZX off the lot and rented a house in a nice neighborhood a few miles from MY new store. I had it all and now I was strutting. I had the world by the tail. I “saved” the dealership and made myself a rich man in the process. I had a hard time not breaking my arm off at the shoulder, trying to pat myself on the back. Everything was going my way, or so I thought.
(To be continued)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Root of Bitterness (Part 2)
(Continued from 6/16/2010)
One day soon thereafter Dad sent a process server to the house and presented my mom with divorce papers. It was a really weird realization. My parents were big fat liars. They had told us from the time that we were little, that they loved us and that the wanted the best for us. Frankly, that was nothing but a load of propaganda. Some people want to do the right thing. For others it’s enough to want to WANT to do the right thing. Those folks can easily find excuses for anything they decide to do.
My mom was devastated. She cried, but she caught herself quickly and found the deep, dark strength that her family had bequeathed her. In the short run, bitterness can seem to be an asset. For many years in became her focus and her desire to burn my father’s house down, with him, my sisters and me in it. Hard lines were drawn. If you so much as tip your hat in Dad’s direction, you are a traitor. Traitors must all be shot at dawn.
My dad acted a bit more casually. He hired the best divorce attorney in the state and set out to take whatever he deemed to be his, especially his new “metro” car dealership. The first place Mom’s attorney attacked was the dealership. Was it true that there was a moral obligation for Dad to give half of the winnings from his entrepreneurial endeavors to a mere housewife? Millions to the milkmaid?
Sickeningly, I was dragged into the proceedings at this point. Dad called me up and invited me to a meeting with his attorney. I figured that no harm would be done. What could he ask me? Was my dad a jerk? Did he have a violent temper at times? Did he like to drink a little? Was Mom angry often? Did she have the worst case of PMS in the universe? I could easily answer “yes” to all of those questions and be done with it, right?
Not so fast. Even though I was only 25, I could see where the attorney was going. “Did your Dad and Mom actually SELL you a piece of their business or was it a GIFT?” Hmmm… It was an easy thing to do. The attorney was so crafty and I was so willing. “You know, if your mom can prove that this was a gift, then she will be able to financially destroy the company. Where will you work then?”
I was convinced. Whatever that honorable barrister asked me to say, I would say it. Self preservation, right? I had a wife and kids, right? I needed to say whatever I needed to say to make it all go away. Go away it did. My dad ended up giving my mom several million dollars just to settle, but I could feel the tips of the bitter rootlets pierce my soul. But just a little.
Needless to say, my mom was livid. I saw my grandfather for the last time outside the attorney’s office. Now he was glowering at me. It’s amazing how alliances can be made and broken. “Many are defiled.” For the next almost six years I never talked to my mom. By 1990, I had four kids and I was deeply involved in my work and my Christian apologetics ministry. I had an ache to do the “right thing” with my mom. With the encouragement of a Christian friend, I called her on the phone and apologized. “Oh yeah? We’ll see.”
For the next three years, I saw Mom occasionally. We did Christmas. (Christmas was eerily reminiscent of the Christmas Eve’s of my youth!) We did a few Easters and an occasional dinner. She saw my kids, but wasn’t too interested. What she was interested in was for me to do my penance. Like a good Catholic, temporal punishment is necessary to absolve one of one’s sins. She wanted me to pay for my sin from the divorce.
My personality is such that I don’t really like to call people up just to chat. I am more of a substance and conflict kind of guy. I usually leave the social calendar up to my wife. As married folks do, some duties are always relegated to one spouse or the other. In the case of invitations and appointments in our family, my wife is the go-to girl. My mom would have none of it. If I didn’t call her personally and find a new way to apologize for my lack of loyalty from years earlier, then she wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, she said so in a letter. She was done with me . . . again. She has never seen my youngest son. He is now 15.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my dad’s business dealings were getting dicier and dicier. After draining the last of the cash from the car dealership, he decided to start dating seriously. This was a new affront to my sensibilities. It’s strange thing to hear your own father saying things to young girls that would embarrass Pee Wee Herman. “If you were wearing cowboy boots, I’d marry you!” to perfect strangers in public places and with ME in earshot! My level of tolerance was thinning. If it wasn’t the banging headboard from the hotel room next door on a business trip, (he was entertaining his “date”), it was seeing a 21 year old hottie driving a brand new 300 ZX fresh off the lot, (with his permission of course).
Who cares about cash flow when you have love? Dad spent much of his time entertaining the girls and spending money like he had it. The dealership was in trouble and he needed help. Just after the divorce I occasionally visited the “big store” in Phoenix. I had my own deal down south. (Remember the “gift”?) So I was only exposed to his new libertine life once in awhile. It never really sunk in until later that year. Dad called.
“Hey son? Would you mind coming up to Phoenix for a few days? We’ve been selling cars in record numbers, but there is something wrong with the bank. It seems like we don’t have any cash.”
(To be continued)
One day soon thereafter Dad sent a process server to the house and presented my mom with divorce papers. It was a really weird realization. My parents were big fat liars. They had told us from the time that we were little, that they loved us and that the wanted the best for us. Frankly, that was nothing but a load of propaganda. Some people want to do the right thing. For others it’s enough to want to WANT to do the right thing. Those folks can easily find excuses for anything they decide to do.
My mom was devastated. She cried, but she caught herself quickly and found the deep, dark strength that her family had bequeathed her. In the short run, bitterness can seem to be an asset. For many years in became her focus and her desire to burn my father’s house down, with him, my sisters and me in it. Hard lines were drawn. If you so much as tip your hat in Dad’s direction, you are a traitor. Traitors must all be shot at dawn.
My dad acted a bit more casually. He hired the best divorce attorney in the state and set out to take whatever he deemed to be his, especially his new “metro” car dealership. The first place Mom’s attorney attacked was the dealership. Was it true that there was a moral obligation for Dad to give half of the winnings from his entrepreneurial endeavors to a mere housewife? Millions to the milkmaid?
Sickeningly, I was dragged into the proceedings at this point. Dad called me up and invited me to a meeting with his attorney. I figured that no harm would be done. What could he ask me? Was my dad a jerk? Did he have a violent temper at times? Did he like to drink a little? Was Mom angry often? Did she have the worst case of PMS in the universe? I could easily answer “yes” to all of those questions and be done with it, right?
Not so fast. Even though I was only 25, I could see where the attorney was going. “Did your Dad and Mom actually SELL you a piece of their business or was it a GIFT?” Hmmm… It was an easy thing to do. The attorney was so crafty and I was so willing. “You know, if your mom can prove that this was a gift, then she will be able to financially destroy the company. Where will you work then?”
I was convinced. Whatever that honorable barrister asked me to say, I would say it. Self preservation, right? I had a wife and kids, right? I needed to say whatever I needed to say to make it all go away. Go away it did. My dad ended up giving my mom several million dollars just to settle, but I could feel the tips of the bitter rootlets pierce my soul. But just a little.
Needless to say, my mom was livid. I saw my grandfather for the last time outside the attorney’s office. Now he was glowering at me. It’s amazing how alliances can be made and broken. “Many are defiled.” For the next almost six years I never talked to my mom. By 1990, I had four kids and I was deeply involved in my work and my Christian apologetics ministry. I had an ache to do the “right thing” with my mom. With the encouragement of a Christian friend, I called her on the phone and apologized. “Oh yeah? We’ll see.”
For the next three years, I saw Mom occasionally. We did Christmas. (Christmas was eerily reminiscent of the Christmas Eve’s of my youth!) We did a few Easters and an occasional dinner. She saw my kids, but wasn’t too interested. What she was interested in was for me to do my penance. Like a good Catholic, temporal punishment is necessary to absolve one of one’s sins. She wanted me to pay for my sin from the divorce.
My personality is such that I don’t really like to call people up just to chat. I am more of a substance and conflict kind of guy. I usually leave the social calendar up to my wife. As married folks do, some duties are always relegated to one spouse or the other. In the case of invitations and appointments in our family, my wife is the go-to girl. My mom would have none of it. If I didn’t call her personally and find a new way to apologize for my lack of loyalty from years earlier, then she wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, she said so in a letter. She was done with me . . . again. She has never seen my youngest son. He is now 15.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my dad’s business dealings were getting dicier and dicier. After draining the last of the cash from the car dealership, he decided to start dating seriously. This was a new affront to my sensibilities. It’s strange thing to hear your own father saying things to young girls that would embarrass Pee Wee Herman. “If you were wearing cowboy boots, I’d marry you!” to perfect strangers in public places and with ME in earshot! My level of tolerance was thinning. If it wasn’t the banging headboard from the hotel room next door on a business trip, (he was entertaining his “date”), it was seeing a 21 year old hottie driving a brand new 300 ZX fresh off the lot, (with his permission of course).
Who cares about cash flow when you have love? Dad spent much of his time entertaining the girls and spending money like he had it. The dealership was in trouble and he needed help. Just after the divorce I occasionally visited the “big store” in Phoenix. I had my own deal down south. (Remember the “gift”?) So I was only exposed to his new libertine life once in awhile. It never really sunk in until later that year. Dad called.
“Hey son? Would you mind coming up to Phoenix for a few days? We’ve been selling cars in record numbers, but there is something wrong with the bank. It seems like we don’t have any cash.”
(To be continued)
Inbreeding Trouble?
Hello, Mr. Culiver, Laurel here.
I have a science question for you. I was talking to one of my friends in Music Man rehearsal last night and we were discussing various Biblical and philosophical topics. He asked me to give an explanation for how one excuses the problems of inbreeding if the earth was populated from only two people (Adam and Eve). I was wondering how I am to answer this question. He argued that because inbreeding eventually causes the recessive genes to appear, people would become dumber and dumber because they were coming from a gene pool of only two people. Thus, making the theory of Adam and Eve implausible. I am not sure where to find an answer, but I told him I would get him one. Any help?
Thanks,
Laurel
Thanks for the question, Laurel. First, even if you didn’t believe in the Bible, the entire human race MUST have come from only two humans, unless you posit that humans “evolved” into humans in different locations, happened to pair up and procreate and their respective progeny found each other. Thereby birthing the human race from two independently evolved “human” lines. Even THEN, you would eventually come back to a unique pair of ancestors, even if you claim that it was the first pair of APES that procreated.
In the beginning Adam and Eve were perfect. Adam lived for 950 years, even though the earth was cursed. His body, though cursed was able to survive for a long time because, by starting from perfection, it took a relatively long time to degenerate and die. Adam and Eve passed their slightly imperfect genes to Cain, Abel, (did he live long enough to procreate?), Seth and presumably a few daughters. If you look at the ages that the patriarchs died, they are truly multi-centenarians. You also notice a general trend for them to die at younger and younger ages. Even when you get to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, men were routinely living well into their second century. By the time you get to David, (3000 years ago), who lived to the age of seventy, the Bible describes seventy years as, “Then he died in a ripe old age, full of days, riches and honor; and his son Solomon reigned in his place.” (1 Chronicles 29:28)
Even with a lack of modern medicine, Bible characters lived into their 80’s fairly routinely. If we roll the clock forward to modern times, 80 years old was considered a freakishly long time to live. Benjamin Franklin lived into his 80’s and he was renowned for his extraordinarily long life. So what about today? Yes, men do live longer than they did in Franklin’s time, but only through technological means. At the turn of the 19th century the average American died at 50.
My point? I am convinced that since the Fall, man, like the rest of creation has steadily degenerated. The age that a human body can live has slowly but surely decreased. Entropy has taken its toll. The number of possible, horrible mutations that can be created from inbreeding have logarithmically increased over time. For Adam and Eve, the answer is simple. Virtually perfect people have nearly zero negative traits to pass on to their progeny. As for the “dumber and dumber” argument, maybe your friend has a point there!
I have a science question for you. I was talking to one of my friends in Music Man rehearsal last night and we were discussing various Biblical and philosophical topics. He asked me to give an explanation for how one excuses the problems of inbreeding if the earth was populated from only two people (Adam and Eve). I was wondering how I am to answer this question. He argued that because inbreeding eventually causes the recessive genes to appear, people would become dumber and dumber because they were coming from a gene pool of only two people. Thus, making the theory of Adam and Eve implausible. I am not sure where to find an answer, but I told him I would get him one. Any help?
Thanks,
Laurel
Thanks for the question, Laurel. First, even if you didn’t believe in the Bible, the entire human race MUST have come from only two humans, unless you posit that humans “evolved” into humans in different locations, happened to pair up and procreate and their respective progeny found each other. Thereby birthing the human race from two independently evolved “human” lines. Even THEN, you would eventually come back to a unique pair of ancestors, even if you claim that it was the first pair of APES that procreated.
In the beginning Adam and Eve were perfect. Adam lived for 950 years, even though the earth was cursed. His body, though cursed was able to survive for a long time because, by starting from perfection, it took a relatively long time to degenerate and die. Adam and Eve passed their slightly imperfect genes to Cain, Abel, (did he live long enough to procreate?), Seth and presumably a few daughters. If you look at the ages that the patriarchs died, they are truly multi-centenarians. You also notice a general trend for them to die at younger and younger ages. Even when you get to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, men were routinely living well into their second century. By the time you get to David, (3000 years ago), who lived to the age of seventy, the Bible describes seventy years as, “Then he died in a ripe old age, full of days, riches and honor; and his son Solomon reigned in his place.” (1 Chronicles 29:28)
Even with a lack of modern medicine, Bible characters lived into their 80’s fairly routinely. If we roll the clock forward to modern times, 80 years old was considered a freakishly long time to live. Benjamin Franklin lived into his 80’s and he was renowned for his extraordinarily long life. So what about today? Yes, men do live longer than they did in Franklin’s time, but only through technological means. At the turn of the 19th century the average American died at 50.
My point? I am convinced that since the Fall, man, like the rest of creation has steadily degenerated. The age that a human body can live has slowly but surely decreased. Entropy has taken its toll. The number of possible, horrible mutations that can be created from inbreeding have logarithmically increased over time. For Adam and Eve, the answer is simple. Virtually perfect people have nearly zero negative traits to pass on to their progeny. As for the “dumber and dumber” argument, maybe your friend has a point there!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Root of Bitterness
Hebrews 12:15 talks about a “root of bitterness” defiling many. For most people, this verse is a pretty obscure corner of the Bible, but not for me. My whole life has been lived in the tangle and taproots of bitterness. I come by it honestly though. My family taught me the practical implications of this principle and I have fear that somehow I may not have learned its lesson.
My earliest recollections are of uncomfortable Christmas Eve’s spent at my maternal grandparents’ house. I could feel the stress emanating from my parents as we drove to Tucson to do our Yuletide duty. As horrible as it seems, I hated my time at Grandma and Grandpa’s. My dad’s quick admonition as we drove into their driveway, “We’re getting out of here as soon as possible. Do you understand?” Two hours of hell, watching my Grandfather sip on his highball and glower as he looked at my mom and dad was almost too much for a little kid to handle.
Somewhere in my youth the pressure stopped. I never saw my grandfather for another ten years. I really didn’t understand until much later what was going on. My mom was the third oldest in a family of six. She lived in a traditional Roman Catholic home, with a good dose of ritual and dark realities. My mom was raped by her oldest brother when she was just a little girl. It seems that my granddad didn’t react properly to the situation, because my mom escaped at her first opportunity.
Her escape route was marrying my dad when she was only seventeen. It seems like both my mom and dad used each other to avoid unpleasant situations at home. Dad, it seems was a ne’er-do-well student that wanted his father’s approval. He was the middle child in a family with an over-achieving father and an athletic little brother. He spent much of his time alone, riding his horse and never made any close friends.
If you asked either of my parents about their place in this world and what reality is, I am sure you would get very different conclusions from those I am drawing. I think that must be the insidious nature of bitterness. Part of the defilement is to cloud your mind and obscure your view of what is really happening.
In May of 1984 my parents divorced after 27 years. My mom would never have divorced my dad. Her Catholic upbringing would never have allowed for that. She would have been miserable and made my dad’s life even more miserable. She would have kept her marriage vows until everyone involved welcomed the death that those vows contractually terminated.
My dad had bigger fish to fry. He had climbed on Mom’s back until he could see daylight. He was a small car dealer in a small town in southern Arizona. He lived life in the light green haze of envy every time he visited the big city. He wanted to be a BIG city dealer. Once when my cousin was doing a report for his Harvard MBA, he interviewed my dad. “What do you consider to be the measure of success?” “RESPECT!” My dad would have traded his life, money and family for respect. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what he did. In 1984 Dad finally got his BIG dealership in Phoenix. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
My earliest recollections are of uncomfortable Christmas Eve’s spent at my maternal grandparents’ house. I could feel the stress emanating from my parents as we drove to Tucson to do our Yuletide duty. As horrible as it seems, I hated my time at Grandma and Grandpa’s. My dad’s quick admonition as we drove into their driveway, “We’re getting out of here as soon as possible. Do you understand?” Two hours of hell, watching my Grandfather sip on his highball and glower as he looked at my mom and dad was almost too much for a little kid to handle.
Somewhere in my youth the pressure stopped. I never saw my grandfather for another ten years. I really didn’t understand until much later what was going on. My mom was the third oldest in a family of six. She lived in a traditional Roman Catholic home, with a good dose of ritual and dark realities. My mom was raped by her oldest brother when she was just a little girl. It seems that my granddad didn’t react properly to the situation, because my mom escaped at her first opportunity.
Her escape route was marrying my dad when she was only seventeen. It seems like both my mom and dad used each other to avoid unpleasant situations at home. Dad, it seems was a ne’er-do-well student that wanted his father’s approval. He was the middle child in a family with an over-achieving father and an athletic little brother. He spent much of his time alone, riding his horse and never made any close friends.
If you asked either of my parents about their place in this world and what reality is, I am sure you would get very different conclusions from those I am drawing. I think that must be the insidious nature of bitterness. Part of the defilement is to cloud your mind and obscure your view of what is really happening.
In May of 1984 my parents divorced after 27 years. My mom would never have divorced my dad. Her Catholic upbringing would never have allowed for that. She would have been miserable and made my dad’s life even more miserable. She would have kept her marriage vows until everyone involved welcomed the death that those vows contractually terminated.
My dad had bigger fish to fry. He had climbed on Mom’s back until he could see daylight. He was a small car dealer in a small town in southern Arizona. He lived life in the light green haze of envy every time he visited the big city. He wanted to be a BIG city dealer. Once when my cousin was doing a report for his Harvard MBA, he interviewed my dad. “What do you consider to be the measure of success?” “RESPECT!” My dad would have traded his life, money and family for respect. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what he did. In 1984 Dad finally got his BIG dealership in Phoenix. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
1929 Revisited?
I have been really concerned lately. I know of so many families that are losing their homes. Many people have been laid off by struggling employers. Many have lost most of their nest eggs in the ebb and flow of this awful economy. Along with these tragic stories, I have also noticed a very disturbing trend. There are able-bodied men out there that are losing everything that they have because they are unwilling to work in any station that they perceive as “beneath” them.
Without batting an eyelash, I can think of three families that are out in the street, completely because dad lost his high paying management position and just can’t replace it. It would be one thing if the equivalent of his old job were the only gainful work that was out there, but I’m here to tell you. It’s just not the case.
I have spoken to a few of these men as a counselor and begged them to at least go out and take a look at some lower paying jobs, at least until the economy comes roaring back. I haven’t had much luck. There seems to be an employment paralysis out there.
One fellow was an attorney. He won’t even put in an application. When I ask him, he just shrugs and says, “I’m praying about it.” Oh yeah? The Bible is very clear that we are called to work. We are called to work hard! 1 Thessalonians 4:11 and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we commanded you,
It’s amazing how much things have changed in the last couple of generations. Back in 1929 there were many men, many able-bodied, skilled men that lined up for jobs that today’s crop of men would never consider. How many men worked in the blazing sun in 1931 in the depths of the great depression to build Hoover Dam? They left homes and families, endured 120 degree heat, exhaustion and poor living conditions, just to keep paying the bills. The new crop of “men” would rather ditch their debts, break their contracts and shame their families than break a nail working in a restaurant, on a construction site or cleaning pools.
I am sad, but I think it may be one more sign that Jesus is coming soon!
Without batting an eyelash, I can think of three families that are out in the street, completely because dad lost his high paying management position and just can’t replace it. It would be one thing if the equivalent of his old job were the only gainful work that was out there, but I’m here to tell you. It’s just not the case.
I have spoken to a few of these men as a counselor and begged them to at least go out and take a look at some lower paying jobs, at least until the economy comes roaring back. I haven’t had much luck. There seems to be an employment paralysis out there.
One fellow was an attorney. He won’t even put in an application. When I ask him, he just shrugs and says, “I’m praying about it.” Oh yeah? The Bible is very clear that we are called to work. We are called to work hard! 1 Thessalonians 4:11 and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we commanded you,
It’s amazing how much things have changed in the last couple of generations. Back in 1929 there were many men, many able-bodied, skilled men that lined up for jobs that today’s crop of men would never consider. How many men worked in the blazing sun in 1931 in the depths of the great depression to build Hoover Dam? They left homes and families, endured 120 degree heat, exhaustion and poor living conditions, just to keep paying the bills. The new crop of “men” would rather ditch their debts, break their contracts and shame their families than break a nail working in a restaurant, on a construction site or cleaning pools.
I am sad, but I think it may be one more sign that Jesus is coming soon!
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