Golden Rule

In both scientific research studies and informal surveys of friends and family, people considering purchasing electric vehicles often cite charger availability as a potential barrier. Most of the time, it’s purely about the lack of charging stations in a particular geographic region or metro area. But even in places where EV charging stations exist, availability can still be scarce, because of people who overstay their vehicular welcome.

One prominent charging company is trying to solve the problem. A CNN report identified Electrify America, one of the nation’s largest charging firms, as the first to enact a strict time limit in ten of its busiest fast charging stations in California. Once a car’s battery reaches 85 percent, charging ceases and the user is warned to disconnect or face a penalty fee of 40 cents per minute for idling.

Tesla cars are known to do something similar automatically; when a Tesla reaches 80 percent capacity, it requires a user override to continue. But at the Electrify America stations, there is no such possibility for override. It wants its customers to leave so that others can use the service.

According to Electrify America president Robert Barrosa, the public’s charging behavior is a carryover from a lifetime of experience driving gas cars, where it’s customary to fill to 100% capacity. “Once you’re at a charger, it’s like ‘Oh, yeah. I’m filling all the way.’” He went on to say that some drivers may not even be aware of the drop-off in charging speed to get to full battery status. Others may be aware, but could be planning trips in places where charging stations are scarce, and therefore feel justified in taking the extra time.

Still others might be incentivized by free charging agreements from certain car manufacturers. Like customers who take advantage of all-you-can-eat buffets at restaurants, they may not feel like there’s any downside to filling to their heart’s content.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Every act of consideration for another, no matter how small, can be a way to love our neighbor as ourselves.

In CT magazine, author and podcaster Jen Wilkins writes:

It was a typical Friday night at the Wilkin house. A spontaneous dinner had collected a growing number of neighbors and friends. As the kitchen swelled with people and chatter, I leaned over to each of my kids and whispered the code they were probably expecting: “FHB.”

Family hold back. Maybe you know this strategy, too. Surveying the food relative to the guests, it became apparent that we needed a non-miraculous solution for our five loaves and two fishes. My husband prayed over the meal and then, quietly, the Wilkins slipped to the back of the line, serving themselves minimal portions to stretch the food. They knew they wouldn’t go without; it was not a matter of if they would eat but when. Worst case, we’d order a pizza once the guests had gone home.

Nobody wants to be at the end of the line. Given the choice, we want to go first, to get the full portion, to sit in the most comfortable chair. But Christ-followers understand that life is about more than doing what we want. It’s about doing what we wish. Let me explain.

We can all imagine times when we wanted to be treated better, when we longed for more care, recognition, and grace than we received from others. We are not wrong to hold these wishes. They illustrate the basic human need to be known, loved, and accepted. And what we do with how we feel about our wishes, met and unmet, will shape the course of our lives. To that end, Jesus invites us to live lives directed by wishful thinking, though not in the way we might anticipate: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matt. 7:12, ESV).

Put simply, Jesus tells us to do what we wish. Thinking about our own wish list, we then act accordingly toward others. We give the encouragement we wish we had received…and serve as we wish to be served. We step to the end of the line. We move to the least comfortable chair. We defer what we wish for ourselves and instead secure it for others.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Every day we look for ways to do what we wish others would do for us. It’s easier to take the smaller portion when you know the lack is only temporary. This world is flat-out starving for kindness and decency. It is ravenous for meaning and purpose, and we are just the family to invite them to the table. Do it as Christ did for you.

At the end of her freshman year at the University of Tampa, Kira Rumfola packed her bags and headed to the airport with her favorite roommate: a colorful betta fish named Theo. Kira, 19, was headed home to Long Island for the summer and was happy to be bringing home the little fish that she had bonded with. She figured there would be no problem taking Theo onboard the plane in a small portable fish carrier. She said, “I’d done it before over the holidays with another airline, so I filled the container with water and put Theo in it.”

But there was a problem. While she was checking in, a customer service agent Ismael Lazo noticed the fish and explained to Kira that the airline’s pet policy allowed only small dogs and cats onboard in carriers. No other pets are permitted on planes.

Kira said, “All of my roommates had already gone home for the summer and I had nobody to leave Theo with. “I was really sad and wondered what I was going to do. He’s my pet.”

Lazo said he understood Rumfola’s concern for Theo. “I have two dogs—I wouldn’t want to abandon them somewhere. How about if I take your fish home to live with me and my fiancée until you come back for college in the fall? You can text me over the summer to see how he’s doing whenever you like.”

Kira’s face lit up, Lazo said. Right away, he felt good about his unusual offer. Kira promised she would check in often over the summer to see how Theo was faring in his temporary home.

As soon as she arrived home in New York, she texted Lazo: “Hi Ismael, it’s the girl from the airport with the fish! I was just wondering how he is doing.” Lazo quickly responded: “Hey! We are heading to the store to buy him a bigger tank.”

Lazo said that he didn’t feel sad when Kira returned to classes in late August and it was time to reunite her with Theo. “To be honest, I was worried about something happening to him on our watch. So, I was happy for Kira to have him back.”

When Rumfola went to Lazo’s apartment to pick up the fish, she gave him and his fiancée a store gift card and some candy as a gesture of thanks.

In the spring of 2018, Charles Battle II had no idea that he would become the focal point of his local community’s struggle to reform the way police interact with its citizens. But now he’s as engaged in the struggle as he’s ever been.

Police detained Battle as a suspect for a robbery he had not committed, all because an eyewitness identified him as having been involved minutes prior. However, Battle was not wearing any apparel that matched witness testimony, and the witness at the time was not wearing her glasses. The only thing Battle had in common with the suspect description is that he was young and Black. Nevertheless, he was arrested and kept in police custody. It wasn’t until six months later that the Denver District Attorney’s Office dropped the charges for lack of evidence. His mother said, “He’s been traumatized. He says, ‘Mom, any day I leave I could not come home.’”

The police technique used to identify Charles is informally known as a “showup.” Unlike the traditional technique of having witnesses pick the suspect out of a lineup of several potential suspects (or to pick from a photo array, which uses the same principle), police bring witnesses in person to the area of the crime to identify a potential suspect without being shown any other alternatives.

As a result of her son’s arrest, Sharon Battle collaborated with Together Colorado, a multifaith advocacy group, who spent years advocating for changes in the way law enforcement conducts witness identifications. The resulting bill has gotten bipartisan support in the Colorado legislature, and it prohibits the use of showups except in situations where lineups and photo arrays are not possible, but the potential suspect is detained “within minutes of the commission of the crime and near the location of the crime.”

Rep. Jennifer Bacon, the bill’s sponsor said, “Everyone deserves to have the right person be held accountable for these actions. You shouldn’t just be Black on the street and be thrown into the system because we can’t identify people properly.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

All of us, and especially those of us in positions of leadership, have a responsibility to behave as honorably as possible to promote justice. If our behavior injures or offends others, we have a responsibility to correct those behaviors and make things right with those who were wronged.

A homeless man facing criminal charges was given a chance at redemption by looking at life through the perspective of the person he targeted. Harold Eugene Denson III faced two criminal charges for his role in an incident with a Ukrainian immigrant. Denson approached the immigrant, spat in his face, threatened him with a knife, and told him to go back to his own country.

Consequently, he was charged with unlawful use of a weapon and second-degree assault, which is classified as a hate crime under Oregon law. However, by pleading no-contest to both charges, the judge was willing to remove the bias charge if Denson could submit a 500-word essay that focuses on the experiences of Eastern European immigrants.

Multnomah County Judge Christopher Ramras said, “What I am asking you to do is put yourself into their shoes.” Deputy District Attorney Nicole Hermann said she hopes the report helps Denson “better understand many of the struggles and the difficulties that people who come from other countries go through when they move to this country and have lived side by side with people who are sometimes not as friendly or kind as they can be.”

Denson was grateful for the judge’s offer. “I appreciate the opportunity to write a report ... rather than stacking up a charge on my record,”

Potential Preaching Angles: Empathy is not only seeing through someone else’s perspective, but doing so because God loves them just as much as us. We live the mission of Jesus when we can encourage and promote peace through the practice of empathy.

Whereas the conventional wisdom calls for killing your neighbors with kindness, resident Bryan Stewart took the idea to its literal extreme.

According to the Pensacola News-Journal, Stewart was approached by neighbors about unpleasant yelling and other noises emanating from his home. Stewart responded by exiting the house with his hand in a strike position, wielding a machete with the word “kindness” scrawled across. One of the neighbors stepped in to block the oncoming blow, and in the ensuing fracas, suffered a cut on his left hand.

Police eventually responded and arrested Stewart, who was booked on charges of aggravated assault, aggravated battery and assault with a deadly weapon without the intent to kill.

Potential Preaching Angle:

Kindness, rather than a weapon to be wielded literally or figuratively, is the default posture we are to have if we want our enemies to become our friends.

After the Paris massacre, we heard some unexpected wisdom from an unlikely source—the singer Madonna. During a concert, Madonna paused in between songs and said, "The way we change the world is that we change the way we treat one another on a daily basis," she said. "We must start treating every human being with dignity and respect." Apparently she took a lot of heat for that comment. News outlets thought it was too simplistic.

But Christian writer Joni Earecksen Tada commented, "Sometimes it's the simple statements that ring the truest." Then she added, "[During the days of the apostle Paul], Paul and his friends were facing their own global demons—Christians were being crucified, torched, thrown to lions, and dragged from their homes to be stoned to death. Civilization was crumbling within and beyond the borders of Rome, yet, inspired by God, Paul advises his friends, "Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone … Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Rom. 12:17-18, 21).

Take this simple test: After your next long conversation with someone, estimate what percentage of it you spent talking. Be honest. No, you're already underestimating. How do I know? Because it's more fun to talk than to listen. Talking is like drinking a great Cabernet. Listening is like doing squats … Listening is like reading a corporate report. Talking is like eating a cinnamon bun.

—Rob Lazebnik, a writer for the TV show The Simpsons

By the very nature of the business, L.A. County traffic cops receive plenty of complaints about their work. After all, most motorists don't think they deserve a ticket. Each complaint gets documented and placed in the officer's personnel file.

But, surprisingly, over the past 20 years, L.A. Sheriff's Deputy Elton Simmons has made over 25,000 traffic stops and cited thousands of motorists with traffic violations without a single complaint on his record. When his supervisor Captain Pat Maxwell started looking through Simmons' file, he was stunned. Maxwell found plenty of commendations but not a single complaint.

It was such a shocking story that a CBS News crew was assigned to follow Simmons in an attempt to learn his secret. First, they noticed Simmons' "pitch-perfect mix of authority and diplomacy" without a trace of arrogance or self-righteousness. Of course Simmons still hands out plenty of tickets; they just don't come with the standard guilt trip.

Here's how Simmons described his approach: "I'm here with you. I'm not up here" (he motions his arm up towards the sky). One thing I hate is to be looked down on—I can't stand it—so I'm not going to look down at you."

A driver who got a ticket from Simmons agreed. The driver said, "You know what it is, it's his smile. How could you be mad at that guy?"

"Apparently, you can't," concluded the CBS News team. "Time after time, ticket after ticket, we saw Officer Simmons melt away a polar ice cap of preconceptions. And his boss [claims] there's a lesson in there for hard-nosed cops everywhere."

Preaching Angles: Communication, Gentleness, Leadership—It's possible to make hard truths more winsome when we communicate with gentleness rather than self-righteousness and harshness.

In their book The Baseball Codes, authors Jason Turbow and Michael Duca share a story from the world of baseball that shows how widely-accepted cheating has become in America's favorite pastime. They write:

[One day in 1987], New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner was watching his team play the California Angels on television, and was shocked when the camera zoomed in to show close-ups of what appeared to be a small bandage on the palm of the left hand of Angels pitcher Don Sutton. The Yankees television broadcasters brought it up whenever the pitcher appeared to grind the ball into his palm between pitches. It was, they said, probably why Sutton's pitches possessed such extraordinary movement that day. He was in all likelihood scuffing the baseball.

Outraged, Steinbrenner called the visitors' dugout at Anaheim Stadium and lit into [the Yankees' manager at the time], Lou Piniella. Was he aware, asked the owner, that Sutton was cheating? "Our television announcers are aware of it," yelled Steinbrenner. "I'm sure the Angels are aware of it. You're probably the only guy there who doesn't know it. Now, I want you to go out there and make the umpires check Don Sutton!"

This wasn't exactly breaking news about Sutton. He had been thrown out of a game in 1978 for scuffing. By 1987, he was among the most discussed ball-doctors in the game.

"George," Piniella responded, "do you know who taught him how to cheat?" Steinbrenner confessed that he did not. "The guy who taught Don Sutton everything he knows about cheating is the guy pitching for us tonight," Piniella said. "Do you want me to go out there and get Tommy John thrown out, too?"

So what do we do when it seems like everyone else is cheating? And not just in baseball. Do we we give up and give in, joining the ranks in doing whatever it takes to get ahead? Or do we trust God, take a stand for honesty, and do what's right even if it costs us?

In Western Colorado there is a road called the Million Dollar Highway. My guess is that both tourists and even most of the people who live on the western slope don't know how this road got its name.

They probably assume it got its name because it was expensive to build. That's not correct—although it probably was expensive to build because it runs through very difficult terrain and at a high altitude. The real reason it's called the Million Dollar Highway is because waste material from the ore in gold mines was used as the bed for that highway, and not all the gold dust and nuggets were removed by the mining processes available at the time. As a result, there is a partial roadbed of gold that is probably worth a lot more than a million dollars.

It isn't the cost that gave it its name, but rather what is inside it.

The same is true for the royal law of love ("Love your neighbor as yourself"). Sure it's costly, but what gives it the name is what it is made of: it is made up of God, the God who is love."

Joe Stowell writes in “Jesus Nation”:

Every day there are opportunities for each of us to reach out to others to demonstrate the excellencies of Jesus. There are family members, colleagues at work, and strangers that happen to intersect the trajectory of our lives who are waiting to be touched by a [follower of Jesus]. In fact, my recommendation is that you plan to commit one intentional act of [goodness] every day just to stay in shape.

It was six o'clock in the morning, and I had just finished my early run. As I passed the local Starbucks, I decided to stop in and get a couple cups of our favorite lattes and take them home to [my wife], who would be waking up. Since the café had just opened, there was only one other person in line in front of me. But it wasn't your ordinary wait-in-line-for-coffee drill. The guy in front of me was in a tense argument with the clerk. In loud and no uncertain terms, the customer was complaining that all he wanted was the copy of the New York Times that he was holding in one hand while he was waving a fifty-dollar bill in the other. The fight was over the fact that the clerk did not have enough change yet to break the fifty-dollar bill, which made it impossible for him to sell the paper.

It dawned on me that this was an early morning opportunity to commit one intentional act of [goodness] by demonstrating the excellence of the generous spirit of Jesus. So I said to the clerk, "Hey, put the paper on my bill; I'll buy it for him." This immediately defused the tension, and the grateful New York Times guy walked away saying, "Thanks a lot. All I have is yours!" Which evidently did not include the fifty-dollar bill.

To my surprise, when the barista handed me my coffee, he said, "Mister, that was a really nice thing for you to do. This world would be a lot better place to live if more people were like you." What he didn't know was that if he really knew me, he probably wouldn't say that.

His comments caught me totally off guard, and I knew that I could say something at that point that would point the glory upward…but nothing came. So I made some self-deprecating remark and walked out, haunted that I had missed a great opportunity to glorify God. As I was walking down the sidewalk, it came to me. I should have said, "Well, this world would not be a better place if more people were like me. But it would be a better place if more people were like Jesus, because he taught me how to do that."

I turned around to go back and tell him that, only to remember that by the time I left there was a line waiting for coffee. It didn't seem to me that it would be a great idea to break into the line and make a religious speech. My only conclusion was the thought that I was wearing my Moody Bible Institute hat. So I prayed that he would have noticed my hat. That he would always remember that Bible people do things like that, and that the world would be a better place if there were more Bible people around.

In a sermon, Pastor Bryan Wilkerson shared the following story:

Years ago I visited one of my kids' pre-school classes. On this particular day, the kids were really excited because the teacher had promised to bring in a real, live rabbit to show them. The kids all gathered on the rug, and she brought in the wire cage, set it down in the middle of the rug, and opened the door so the rabbit could get out. No sooner had she done that then the kids crowded around the cage, started calling for the rabbit to come out, and waved carrots at the opening of the cage. One little guy stuck his fingers through the cage and began poking and prodding the rabbit to move.

Do you think that rabbit came out? Not even close! Then the teacher made a suggestion: "Children, why don't we all back up to the edge of the rug and sit very still and be very quiet and see if the rabbit will come out by himself." Not a chance, I thought to myself. If that rabbit's got half a brain, he'll stay as far back in that cage as he can. But sure enough, after a few minutes of quiet, that rabbit came to the opening of the cage, sniffed around a bit, and then hopped right out to the middle of the rug, and even made it's way over to some of the kids, who this time gently patted and spoke to it.

How many times do we make the same mistake with people—especially nonbelievers? We pounce on them. We talk at them. We try all sorts of things to fix them or to get them to do what we want them to do. But sometimes the best thing we can do is just back off, sit still, be quiet, and wait until they're ready to come out in the open and receive whatever God wants to do in their lives. That's patience. That's what I would call redemptive waiting.

In a self-devised integrity experiment, Paul Kinsella dropped 100 wallets in various places around his hometown of Belleville, Illinois, to see who would return them. Each wallet contained $2.10 and a fake $50 gift certificate.

Kinsella eventually received 74 of the 100 wallets back, something local police lieutenant Don Sax found surprising.

"I think it's great that they did [return the wallets]," Sax said, "especially with such a small amount of money being in there."

Who says there's no integrity in the business world? In the spring of 2006, an administrative assistant at Coca Cola's Atlanta headquarters left work with several classified materials hidden in her purse. These materials included recipes for upcoming products, future promotions, and a beverage sample for a product not yet on the market.

With the help of two other employees, the secretary sent a letter to Pepsi—Coke's oldest and biggest competitor—offering to sell the secrets. It was a chance for Pepsi to seriously damage its competitor for a relatively low price.

Immediately upon receiving the letter, however, Pepsi officials contacted Coca Cola's headquarters, which then called the FBI. The Feds conducted a sting operation that netted three conspirators two months later, when they agreed to part with the secrets for $1.5 million.

"We were just doing what any responsible company would do," said Pepsi spokesperson Dave DeCecco. "Despite the fierce competition in this industry, it should also be fair."

Sebastian Junger is author of The Perfect Storm and A Death in Belmont. Long before he became a famous writer, however, he decided to hitchhike his way across the country as an interesting experience. The following story occurred while he was making his way through the aftermath of a blizzard in Gillette, Wyoming:

After two or three hours I saw a man working his way toward me along the on-ramp from town. He wore filthy canvas coveralls and carried a black lunchbox, and as he got closer I could see that his hair was matted in a way that occurs only after months on the skids. I put my hand on the pepper spray in my pocket and turned to face him.

"You been out here long?" he asked. I nodded.

"Where you headed?"

"California."

"Warm out there."

"Yup."

"You got enough food?"

I thought about this. Clearly he didn't have any, and if I admitted that I did, he'd ask for some. That in itself wasn't a problem, but it would mean opening my backpack and revealing all my obviously expensive camping gear. I felt alone and exposed and ripe for pillage, and I just didn't want to do that. Twenty years later I still remember my answer: "I got some cheese."

"You won't make it to California with just a little cheese," he said. "You'll starve."

At first I didn't understand. What was he saying, exactly? I kept my hand on the pepper spray.

"Believe me," he said, "I know. Listen, I'm living in a car back in town, and every day I walk out to the mine to see if they need me. Today they don't, so I won't be needing this lunch of mine."

I began to sag with understanding. In his world, whatever you have in your bag is all you've got, and he knew "a little cheese" would never get me to California. "I'm fine, really," I said. "I don't need your lunch."

He shook his head and opened his box. It was a typical church meal—a bologna sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips—and I kept protesting, but he wouldn't hear of it. I finally took his lunch and watched him walk back down the on-ramp toward town.

I learned a lot of things in college, I thought, and I learned a lot from the books on my own. I had learned things in Europe and in Mexico and in my hometown of Belmont, Massachusetts, but I had to stand out there on that frozen piece of interstate to learn true generosity from a homeless man.

Author Kevin Harney tells the following story in his book Seismic Shifts:

It was a battle. A wrestling match. A test of wills. Every day, at exactly the same time, Margaret would go to the bathroom cabinet, open it, and take out a huge bottle of castor oil. Then she would head to the kitchen to get a tablespoon. At the sound of the drawer opening and the silverware rattling, Patches, her Yorkshire terrier, would run and hide—sometimes under the bed, at other times in the bathtub or behind Margaret's recliner. Patches knew what was coming.

Someone had convinced Margaret that her beloved dog would have strong teeth, a beautiful coat, and a long life if she gave him a spoonful of castor oil every day. So, as an act of love every 24 hours, she cornered Patches, pinned him down, pried open his mouth, and—as he whimpered, squirmed, and fought her with all his strength—poured a tablespoon of castor oil down his little doggie throat. Neither Patches nor Margaret enjoyed their daily wrestling match.

Then one day, in the middle of their battle royal, with one sideways kick, Patches sent the dreaded bottle of castor oil flying across the kitchen floor. It was a momentary victory for the canine, as Margaret let him go so she could run to the pantry and grab a towel to clean up the mess.

When Margaret got back, she was utterly shocked. There was Patches licking up the spilled castor oil with a look of satisfaction only a dog can make. Margaret began to laugh uncontrollably. In one moment, it all made sense. Patches liked castor oil. He just hated being pinned down and having it poured down his throat.

Welcome to the world of evangelism!

Bible College professor Yohanna Katanacho pastored a small church in the Israeli city of Jerusalem. As a Palestinian living in Israel, and a Christian to boot, he faces a wide variety of persecution. One of the more dangerous forms of harassment comes from the Israeli soldiers who patrol the city, looking for potential terrorists. These soldiers routinely impose spontaneous curfews on Palestinians, and even have the legal right to shoot at a Palestinian if he or she does not respond quickly enough to their summons.

Christ's command in the Sermon on the Mount to "love your enemies" seemed impossible to Yohanna. And yet there it was—unambiguous and unchanging. "For me, love was an active and counter-cultural decision, because I was living in a culture that promoted hatred of the other," Yohanna says. "And not only did the context promote hate, but the circumstances fed it on a daily basis—the newspapers, television, media, neighbors, everything. One of the markers of the Israeli Jews and the Palestinian Arabs is alienating the other. To break that marker, I must have some other worldview."

At first, Yohanna tried and failed in his attempts to feel love. Instead, the Israeli soldiers' random, daily checks for Palestinian identification cards—sometimes stopping them for hours—fed Yohanna's fear and anger. As he confessed his inability to God, Yohanna realized something significant. The radical love of Christ is not an emotion, but a decision. He decided to show love, however reluctantly, by sharing the gospel message with the soldiers on the street. With new resolution, Yohanna began to carry copies of a flyer with him, written in Hebrew and English, with a quotation from Isaiah 53 and the words "Real Love" printed across the top. Every time a soldier stopped him, he handed him both his ID card and the flyer. Because the quote came from the Hebrew Scriptures, the soldier usually asked him about it before letting him go.

After several months of this, Yohanna suddenly noticed his feelings toward the soldiers had changed. "I was surprised, you know?" he says. "It was a process, but I didn't pay attention to that process. My older feelings were not there anymore. I would pass in the same street, see the same soldiers as before, but now find myself praying, 'Lord, let them stop me, so that I can share with them the love of Christ.'"