Posted in Family, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Downhill/Uphill

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9

In one way it was so easy…the other…so hard.  Recently, I started riding my bike again.  I’ve been walking for quite a while…actually since I was about two. Just kidding…not that kind of walking…the exercise kind.  Ever since I fell way out of love with any sort of running, walking has been my go-to exercise.  I’m pretty good at it too.  I can still “pick ‘em up and put ‘em down.”  I usually walk a mile in about fourteen and a half minutes…which isn’t half bad.

They say it is good to change up your exercise routine, so I pulled out my trusty, older Diamondback bike, aired up the tires and started riding again.  My bike may be a couple of decades old, but she is still a good riding machine.  I knew, in spite of my regular walking, that biking was going to be a little challenging.  The reason?  Different muscles. The muscles you use to walk and the ones you use to pedal are totally different. So, I could definitely feel the pain…especially going uphill.

While Harrisburg doesn’t have any real hills, we definitely have some uphill grades and my legs let me know right away when I was there.  I usually do an out and back which means going out I can coast down the hill but coming back seven miles later it is ouch city. By the time I reach the top of “the hill” my heart rate has jumped, and my legs are feeling the burn.  Isn’t that funny…same road but different direction with dramatically different results. Remember, it is always easier to go downhill than up. Always.

The other day I was thinking about that principle when it occurred to me how true it is when it comes to sin and repentance.  The road to sin (you know the stuff that God says not to do) is always downhill.  It is way too easy to coast right into a mess and the longer you ride…the bigger the mess.  So, let’s say you decide enough is enough and you decide to turn around.  Yup, the uphill ride to repentance is never as easy as the ride out was.  Gratefully, God is always there to help you home, but it still takes His power and our will power to stay on course.

Someone said that no matter how far we walk away from God, the road home is just one step…the first one.  That is so true, but we still must feed the determination to stay the course because that downhill slope is oh so enticing. But He is there if we are willing to ask.  Me and a bunch of other imperfect people are oh so grateful for 1 John 1:9 which says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” That is such good news.  It’s great to know that His grace will be waiting on us to carry us home.  Always, and I do mean always, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, friends, gratitude, life, prayer, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Scars and Souvenirs

We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose., I have engraved you on the palms of My hands…” Romans 8:28 (CSB)

I was probably nine years old when it happened.  If you look at my hands you will see several scars.  Over here is one from an “exacto” knife when I was putting together a car model.  Over there is one from a car accident.  I was riding with my brother-in-law and the car in front of him decided to stop and he decided not to.

There is one on my right thumb—it’s the one that has been there for the last 60 years.  We were visiting with my Uncle Hardy down near Chiefland, Florida.  He was my Momma’s brother and the city manager of that small central Florida town.  They had an annual Watermelon Festival that included all the melon you could eat and an opportunity to ride on the back of the city’s garbage truck in the parade.  That was a big deal.  I didn’t get out much.

There are two things that Uncle Hardy had that impacted my life. One was a hairline that didn’t include much hair.  Thanks Uncle Hardy.  The other was a fish camp on the Suwannee River.  It was an old Florida cabin with a tin roof, the kind legends are born from, at least for a nine-year-old.  We would take boat rides, swim in the river, and eat watermelon. And that’s where “a scar was born.”

We were eating watermelon and I picked up a large butcher knife to slice off the watermelon from the rind.  I didn’t have a lot of experience with butcher knives, but I was feeling a little like “Indiana Jones”, so I picked it up.  Like I said, I didn’t have a lot of experience, so I began slicing the watermelon pulling the knife toward me and my little nine-year-old hand. My dad saw it and said, “Dewayne.  Be careful with the knife. Don’t pull it toward you—push it away”.

Well, when you are nine and know it all, and you’re feeling like Indiana Jones you don’t listen to your Daddy or common sense. So, I kept right on slicing and then it happened.  I got a little too close to my hand and neatly sliced a half-moon cut in my thumb.  Well, so much for Indiana Jones.  There was the usual holler, a bit of tears, daddy’s “I told you so,” a big bandage, a little embarrassment, and the makings of a scar.

It healed fine, leaving a scar and a gentle reminder.  When you are using a knife don’t pull it toward you…push it away.  Daddy was right.  There is only one scar on my hand from using a knife incorrectly. That is because every time I am tempted to do it wrong, the scar on my right thumb says don’t.  And now the scar has become a sort of souvenir. When I see it, I don’t remember the pain, the tears or the embarrassment, I remember the lesson.

How about you?  Have any scars…visible or invisible?  When you see them or think about them, does your mind instantly go back to pain? Do you find yourself constantly living “it” all over again—the hurtful word, the unkind act, the feeling of being rejected or forgotten?  What if we “scar bearers” could remember the lesson instead of the pain? What if we could remember the promise instead of the pain?  Promise?  Yes, the one found in Romans 8:28 “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purposes.” This is a “go to” promise for me because I have a lot of oops, bumps, bruises, and scars.  I’m learning, though, to look at all of that not for the pain they caused, but the good God brought from them.

I’m determined to learn to glean as much as I can from each day.  It’s something I picked up during 2020.  It’s ironic how 20-20 means clarity and yet we had so little of it.  But we have a God who can see all things with perfect insight.  So instead of singing the blues, I’m gonna work at turning my scars into souvenirs.  And I’m gonna lay my head down tonight and rest in Him. But there’s more.  I know now my daddy was a lot wiser than I was. He had experience with knives and watermelon.  And my heavenly Father…well, He knows everything, and do you know what?  He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

When We Need a Win

Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards.” Song of Solomon 2:15

It was one of those days…and I needed a win.  Well, it was Saturday and as days go that should have been a good thing…and I suppose in the scope of the universe it was. But closer to home in my universe, it was a bit more challenging.  I’ve learned that the things that make things challenging aren’t usually the big, scary monsters of life but rather the little things that go sideways. And it isn’t one small thing but rather when there is an avalanche of them.  Solomon said in the Song of Songs (a book about love in the Jewish and Christian Old Testament), “Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards.” Let me translate that for you, “Watch out for the little things that come your way, so they don’t spoil your day.” I guess I wasn’t watching.

I decided to begin the day by mowing and trimming the yard.  I also decided to trim first and mow second.  Bad choice. My string trimmer normally is pretty cooperative but that day it decided not to be. I primed, pulled, choked, unchoked, and pulled some more.  The answer was no, no and no so I went and got the mower and started mowing. By then I was a little hot and more than a little bothered.  When I finished, I tried the trimmer again and this time it decided to start and I told it, “Why didn’t you do that to start with?” Why indeed.

I finished the yard and went inside to have a late shower and breakfast and then decided to mess with one of my clocks. I had messed with it a couple of days before. It was running when I started and not running when I finished. Bummer.  So, every time I looked at the clock that proudly showed the wrong time, I was reminded of my failure. I had an idea of what was wrong, so I took it off the wall and messed with it again. Turns out that wasn’t the problem, so my clock was still messed up and I had an epic fail. Before putting it back together (this was one of those large, wind-up clocks) I went to the kitchen for something and I prayed a five-word prayer, “Lord, I need a win.” That was it.

I put the clock back together and back on the wall, and, just for fun, gave the pendulum a push and guess what happened…the clock started ticking and tocking and well, it is still running. Now what was that all about?  Well, for me there is only one answer—God heard the simple, five-word prayer from one of His kids.  It wasn’t profound and it wasn’t even spiritual—in fact, it may have been just a hair selfish—but my Dearest Daddy agreed that day—I needed a win—and answered my prayer. How about that?

It’s so good, so reassuring to know that we have a Father who is not too busy to hear us in the biggest and smallest moments of our lives. Sometimes it’s a yes, sometimes it’s a no, and sometimes it is a later but always, He hears.  Take that one to the bank…my Father, your Father loves us and cares for us.  No matter what, we can always know that “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, Military memories, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials, USA

The Longest Day

But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have told you.” John 14:26

It was more than the title for a movie.  One by one they are slipping away.  Who?  That generation newsman and author Tom Brokaw called, “The Greatest Generation.” This generation was born and lived through the Great Depression.  Their words and testimonies fill pages and pages of books and blogs.  Words like, “we were poor but didn’t know it” or l “we had nothing but each other…and that was more than enough” ring of their wisdom and courage.

But it would seem that living and surviving the Great Depression was just a warmup for their finest hour…that would begin with the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. That day, the day that President Franklin Roosevelt said, “would live in infamy,” marked the start of our country’s direct involvement in World War II.  Before it was all over, almost four years later, America would see 1,076,245 causalities.  That number includes 291,557 combat dead, 113,842 who died from other causes and 670,840 wounded.

One Memorial Day I heard a phrase I had heard before but this time it seemed to shout at me.  It simply said, “Freedom isn’t free.”  As I listened that day, I was freshly amazed at this generation of men and women, 16.7 million of them, who served during World War II. They marched off, self-forgotten, to strange lands and places and many of them would never come home.  Like I said, I was amazed.

Today, June 6th, 2023, is the 79th anniversary of what has been called, “The Longest Day.” It was the day that thousands of soldiers, airmen, and sailors, with thousands of ships and planes invaded Normandy, France to begin the retaking of Europe from the grip of Nazi Germany and the Axis powers.  The courage of those men who stormed those beaches is legendary.  Imagine with me small boats, called Higgins boats, riding the waves towards Normandy with shells exploding all around.  Imagine with me seeing many, too many, of these boats literally disappearing after taking a direct hit from enemy shells. Imagine knowing that each of these boats carried several dozen men.  Sacrifice. Courage. Amazing.

There probably are no words that can describe that day.  Films like, “The Longest Day” and “Saving Private Ryan” have tried to tell the story but though their efforts are valiant they always fall short.  That day, 6,603 Americans were killed, missing, or wounded. Imagine again, as officers knocked on doors and telegrams arrived, “The Defense Department regrets to inform you…” Freedom truly isn’t free.  I know we know but I only hope we won’t forget.  Yet in most minds, this observance of “The Longest Day” won’t garner a passing thought.

When the children of Israel of Old Testament fame were crossing over into the Promised Land, they were told to take twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan River.  The sole purpose of these stones was to remind them of the miracle and the day.  That way when years later and their memories were foggy, they had the stones to remind them.  I’m not sure what stone of reminder we need but it might be as simple as a visit to the cemetery and taking the time to READ the markers and stones of those who served.  It might be as simple as taking your kids with you to show them and teach them about sacrifice and courage.  Unfortunately, it may not be taught any place else.

December 7, 1941. June 6, 1944. These are only two dates of many that are worthy of remembrance…but they are a start. Jesus knew we would need help remembering about the things of God.  That is why He said, “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have told you.” And who knows, perhaps that same Holy Spirit will help us remember to be grateful for the sacrifice others have made on our behalf.  In fact, I’m sure He will help because that is what He does best…help. Like everything else, I’m sure, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

When it Comes to Flowers

For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

When it comes to flowers, Judy is no Jesus.  The one thing I really like about Jesus is that He was so inclusive.  If you were down and out—with Him, you were in.  If you were a leper—you were in.  How about the worst sinner around—the dreaded Roman tax collector?  Yup—in.  Caught red-handed committing adultery?  You were still invited to the party.  It just didn’t matter to Jesus because He came to seek and to save the broken, the bruised and the lost.  Now it drove the religious people nuts but that didn’t matter. He loved people and He especially loved sinners. How much? Enough to be almost beaten to death…enough to suffer the death of a Roman cross and enough to rise from the dead.  Now all that spells love.  Race, religion, or social class just didn’t matter.

Now when it comes to flowers, well, Judy really is no Jesus. You see my wife Judy is a real flower person.  You can count it a privilege to be planted in her garden…in her yard.  Only the best of the best makes the cut. Our neighbor was telling us that when people want to know where he lives and he tells them, and they say, “Oh next to the house with the beautiful yard.”  Yup, that’s Judy’s place.  But if you were a flower, there might be some bad news.  You either perform or you get pulled.  If you are just common, pack your bags and get ready to go.  The amount of grace varies from zero to some but is never unlimited.  Just like the daylilies in our front yard. By every right they really are pretty, but they are just too common to make the cut.  If you need some just let Judy know because they are going to go.

I am so glad that Jesus is no Judy.  If those daylilies had a soul, He would never reject them.  In fact, even the dreaded dandelion (the flower equivalent of a tax collector) would have a home with Him.  I’m glad I can let you know that no matter what you have done, how bad you think you might have messed up, whether you are the most common or most beautiful…Jesus loves you and if you are willing to trust Him and believe what He said and what He did—you are welcome to the party.

One of the most common and yet most beautiful verses in the Bible says it best, “For God so loved the world (that’s everybody) that He gave His one and only Son and anyone (that’s everybody too) who believes in Him will not perish (or get pulled up) but have eternal life.”  How about that? You, friend, are invited to the party.  So why not trust Him…today? Come and be a part of the most inclusive and beautiful garden of all—the garden of His family.  It is decision you will never regret—and you will always know, no matter what, that your Heavenly Father can handle anything…because He can. He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, love, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, Trials

Tragedy, Triumph, and Toughness

Where, death, is your victory? Where, death, is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:55

They may have feathers, but they are definitely a “band of brothers.”  A while back when I was walking in the park, I once again realized what a “band of brothers” the geese and ducks are in the park.  As I made my laps around the park pond, I couldn’t help but notice what was happening.  No, they were not a few like the Marines, and I have no clue if they were proud of anything besides the huge mess they make on the walking path, but they were quite the band.  Their slogan might be, “The Tragic, the Triumph, and the Tough.” Hmmm…that sounded better when I thought it up but hey, let’s see how it goes.

Monday of that week, I noticed in the geese and duck community that there were signs of tragedy brought on by a duck couple’s poor choices.  Monday, they had decided to lay some eggs and they chose the worse place ever—just three feet off the walking path.  It was simply a hole in the ground with no protection, no anything.  It was an invitation to disaster.  Tuesday she was on the nest, and he was doing his daddy duck thing—waddling, strutting, and quacking.  By Wednesday, it was game over.  Lap one, they were gone, and one lone egg lay on the grass outside the nest.  Lap two, they were back, and the egg was gone.  Lap three they were walking around quacking sadly.  I don’t speak fluent duck, but it seemed they were asking, “What happened?” I told them…out loud… “Bad choice guys, bad choice.”  It was a tragedy.

But with the occasional tragedy comes moments of triumph.  About ten or eleven days after the tragedy, I found a bunch of feathers by the walking path…bummer…and it looked like another sad tale…and it was.  But then something happened.  A little further down the path, there were two small ducklings that had somehow survived the onslaught.  They were survivors…they were beating the odds.  When I walked a few days later, they were still there…sticking together…a small “band of brothers.”  They were hanging around a couple of big ducks, but it was clear that they were on their own.  Way to go little ducks…keep on keeping on!  It was a moment of triumph.

And then there were the tough guys. They had survived being goslings and now they were big, they were bad, and they were tough.  The geese love to stand around on the walking path and, uh, well, you know.  It’s really quite messy.  That day, I was speeding along, and I soon realized the geese and I were on a collision path…either them or me were going to have to hit the grass and it wasn’t going to be me. So, I “parted the waters” and they all puffed their chests out and started hissing at me.  They hissed, I kept walking and they finally moved. We had played chicken (no pun intended) and I had won, but I had to admire their toughness. Like I said, “gutsy.”

Tragedy…Triumph…and Toughness. It seems life is life no matter what. We all know about tragedy…live long enough and it is going to mess with your life.  The difference is ducks and geese rarely see it coming and we often do. The difference is they must face it alone, but we have a Someone who will walk with us through the hard times. That someone is Creator God.  He is always there and always willing to help. He can turn tragedy into triumph.  While there are plenty of epic failures in our paths, we can also know the joy of winning…of triumph. I remember when ABC Sports tag line was “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” and that is the way of life.  Sometimes we win and sometimes…well, we don’t.

I know it is natural for us, like our goose friends, to puff our chest out, and hiss and strut around trying to prove how tough we are. But truthfully, often we are not tough enough and that is when we need to lean on the One who is.  Our Dearest Daddy loves us so much that He sent His Son to take on our greatest enemy…death…and soundly thrash it.  No wonder Paul, one of the guy’s God used to pen a lot of the New Testament, said, “Who got the last word, oh, Death? Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?”  You gotta love Jesus’ toughness when it came to taking on sin and the grave.

Well, if you live in Harrisburg, Illinois or if your town has a park with a goose and duck “band of brothers” stop by and see what you can see…what you can learn.  And if you’ve never met the God who took on death and won…why not check Him out today.  You will discover a God who is strong enough to say, with confidence, “I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, travel

The End Isn’t the End

The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship.” Psalm 19:1

It seemed like the end of the road…but it wasn’t.  My wife Judy and I live in Southern Illinois.  I know, when you think of Illinois you think about Abraham Lincoln and Chicago but believe me there is a whole lot more to Illinois than that.  The part of Illinois that we call home is south, way south.  Our nook and cranny of Illinois, which is right at the Shawnee National Forest, is crammed full of natural beauty.  Lush forests, rock bluffs, waterfalls, and hiking trails galore are but a few of our treasures.

Often Judy and I will get in our car and just drive. One of our favorite drives takes us up to U.S. Highway 1 heading east.  The area is pure country with plenty of green scenery and rolling hills.  The road ends in a small town called Cave-In-Rock.  There are a few stores, a couple of restaurants and, you guessed it, a large cave in a rock.  The story goes that the cave was used by river pirates.  Fess Parker’s movie, “The River Pirates” was filmed there.  It is worth seeing.  But there is one more thing that grabs my attention.

You see, U.S. Highway 1 ends at Cave-In-Rock and it ends by running right into the Ohio River.  You are traveling down on this really, nice road and all of a sudden…boom…you’re done…no more road.  The end.  But guess what?  It’s not really the end because right there in town where the road ends, is an old-fashioned, but fully functioning, ferry.  It is provided free of charge for those who need to keep going to the other side…to Kentucky. It turns out, about every 15 or 20 minutes the ferry makes a run carrying people to the other side.  So, what you thought was the end…wasn’t.

A while back I did a funeral for a real nice lady and told the crowd gathered there that it seems when we go to cemeteries that all the headstones seem to say, “The end” but I told them that isn’t necessarily so.  I told them that the end didn’t have to be the end, but rather a new beginning. I also told them about how a man, a man we shouldn’t know anything about, changed everything by dying and then coming back to life.  I told them that He promised that if we would believe in Him and what He did, that He would give us life eternal, too. That means that death isn’t a dead end, but a way for us to get from here, where things are broken, to a place called heaven where they aren’t.

I know, I know.  Sounds a little old fashioned?  Sounds a little archaic? But maybe it should sound like something else…like hopeful.  Maybe, just maybe it is worth checking out.  Some people think things like God, heaven and hope are just crutches to lean on, but I think something different.  I think they are a reality…something that each of us need to investigate.  When I look around at all this beauty in my part of the world, I just get the sneaking suspicion that it is too grand to be an accident. When I look up and see a zillion stars, they all seem to be saying, “Hey, God created us.” Yup, I have a feeling that it was created by Someone.  Amazingly a whole chunk of the world agrees.

I hope this Grits might at least stir your interest in the hope that Jesus can give.  I mean it is worth checking out since 100% of us are going to come to an end out there somewhere.  Why not check it out?  God can handle our doubts and accusations so don’t worry about offending Him.  Go to Him with your questions and listen carefully.  You might just hear a gentle whisper as He tells you He loves you and yes, “He’s got this.”         Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Memorial Day, Military memories, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials, USA

Freedom

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He has chosen as His own inheritance.” Psalm 33:12

I know Memorial Day is the in rearview mirror but this needs to be said and read…again.  It all started one Thursday night and we had gone to one of our favorite eating places in Marion…a town not far from where we live. We did our Sam’s Club thing and then decided to call it a night. So, we headed for 217 back in Harrisburg.  As we were driving down the highway, on a whim, we made a right turn at a familiar intersection.  We had driven by it so many times but this time we turned.

The sign said it went to Creal Springs, but I found out it went somewhere else—to something else.  We were cruising along just enjoying the ride when I thought I saw one of those “brown signs.”  These signs usually indicate a place of special interest.  As I went by, I thought I saw the words cemetery and Revolutionary War. I went down the road a ways and then told Judy I saw a sign for a cemetery…perhaps an old one.  I turned around.

Back down the road, there was indeed a sign. We pulled off the road and it said, “Ellis Family Cemetery and Revolutionary War gravesite.  I really couldn’t believe that it was true.  I mean, out East you would find those kinds of gravesites everywhere, but here in Southern Illinois?  We decided we had to investigate.  It turned out there was no road, just a driveway.  Well, after trying to decide if we were going to get shot for trespassing, we decided to give it a try.  As it turned out, the driveway went between two houses which led to a pasture.  Way at the back of the pasture we could see a small cemetery.  There wasn’t a road, but I could see where a car had gone before, so off we went.

When we got there, we found the gravesite of John Ellis.  He was born in 1754 and died in 1850.  He lived for 96 years, which is incredible, but even more amazing…he fought in the American Revolutionary War.  He had two monuments.  One was much newer, one much older.  The older one simply said, “For Military Merit” and someone had painted his name on it.  I was overwhelmed.  Here in Southern Illinois was the grave of a man, a hero, who fought for the birth of our country.

This man was there, on the battlefield, when a group of men and women declared our freedom from England.  This.man.was.there.  He put it all on the line for a cause greater than himself.  And for the last 247 years that is what freedom loving American heroes have done.  Through conflicts great and small they have served, they have bled, and many have died.  I value the saying, “All gave some, some gave all.” I value the sacrifice of all these freedom fighters through the centuries and decades.  I also love what they fought for.

I know these are difficult times for our nation, but we have seen difficult times before. At his first inauguration on March 4, 1933, Franklin Roosevelt said this. “This is preeminently the time to speak the truth, the whole truth, frankly and boldly. Nor need we shrink from honestly facing conditions in our country today. This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive, and will prosper. So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.” Don’t rush past those words.  They are powerful and they are worth believing.

I believe in this country.  I believe that even with all its warts and imperfections it is still the best country in the world.  Having visited well over twenty other countries, I’ve seen the competition and America wins hands down.  I spent an Independence Day in basic training for the Air Force in 1972. Lights-out was about 8:00 pm and I was lying in my bunk when the fireworks starting going off.  I crept out of bed and went to the window and watched as the fireworks exploded in the Texas sky.  Two emotions came over me.  One, I missed family.  Somewhere in Florida they were celebrating freedom. The other though, was more personal.  I was becoming an American airman serving my country.  I was one of her defenders and I was proud…proud to serve and proud to be an American.

The Book says, “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He has chosen as His own inheritance.”  That is so true.  As a nation when we choose God, when we choose to make Him ours, we do better.  When we don’t, we don’t.  It is just that simple.  The second part of that verse is equally important. God is still inviting, calling people to be His.  Skin color doesn’t matter, economic status doesn’t matter, creed doesn’t matter.  He simply invites every man, woman, and child to be His.  The invitation is open, and the decision is personal…individual.

So, God bless America.  If you are a God follower, a God believer, why not start today with a whispered prayer of thanks for this great country.  And then, pause, be still and listen for surely the Whisperer will whisper.  He may speak through His Word, He may speak through another person, or a beautiful sunrise or sunset.  Regardless, He will whisper, “You can rest in Me.  I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

Stinking Rock

The Lord God is my strength, and He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, and makes me walk on my high places.” Habakkuk 3:19

Ok…it just hurt. I grew up down South and there and especially then things were just a bit different.  Back in those days before Nintendo and Game Boys, we played…I mean we just played.  Even though we had television, and yes, it was black and white, it was rarely on…especially during the day.  When school was over for the day, we would go outside and run the neighborhood and…the woods.

We lived in a small country neighborhood that was surrounded by woods.  We played army, built forts, and played every game you could imagine.  We had a large Chinaberry tree in our backyard, and we would load our pockets with the small berries and then chase one another trying our best to “ping” someone with the berries. As you can imagine we ran…a lot. And the best running shoes then were no shoes at all.  We ran and played barefoot most of the time.  There were times of regret, like when we would stub our toe on a big old pine root, but most of the time we did just fine.  Of course, all that “barefoot-ness” toughened our feet up till the soles were leather tough.

Well, things change, and we all grew up and started wearing shoes.  With the shoes, we lost our toughness but not our love to occasionally go barefoot.  There’s still just something about the feel of grass and soft sand on the bottom of your foot.  Yup…what good memories…that is until I stepped on a stupid rock. It all started when I went outside early in the morning, as the sun was still yawning, to have a cup of coffee with Judy.  Of course, I wasn’t wearing shoes.  We have a paved driveway and patio so no deal…right? Not so fast.

I walked out to the patio, visited for a while, and then decided it was time to head back into the house to get ready for the day.  Our patio is a foot or so higher than our driveway and we have a small step there to make things easier.  So, I stepped down onto the step and then on down to the driveway.  Not thinking, nor thinking to look, right where I stepped was a nice, small rock.  Now this wasn’t the smooth stone kind of rock but the kind that you find in an unpaved alley.  Anyway, I stepped, and stepped hard and landed right on that stinking rock.  Ouch.

As things would happen, it was in the middle of my heel, and it just hurt.  I muttered something about stupid rocks, picked the rock up and chucked it back into the alley where it belonged.  It really was a “no harm, no foul” deal.  I mean, it wasn’t like it hurt all day and it wasn’t like I had to go to the doctor, but for those few moments…it just hurt and for those few moments…I was mad at the rock. Mad.At.The.Rock.

Wait…later I decided there was something wrong with that.  I am sure that rock didn’t wake up that morning (do rocks wakeup?) and decide to be in the exact wrong spot.  In fact, I am sure the rock had nothing to do with it at all. I am sure that I am the one who chose not to wear shoes that morning, who didn’t look to see if there was a rock in the way, and who wasted my emotional energy by getting mad at a rock.  It sounds like this one is on me.

The bottom line is when you do life, you will occasionally step on a rock, and it may cause some pain.  But like the Disney song says, maybe we should just, “let it go.” The Bible gives us some even greater counsel.  It says that we are to remember that God is our strength, and we should ask Him to guide our feet as sure as a mountain deer.  In other words,…to help us watch where we step…whether it is off our patio or into a questionable decision.

Well, I know, and you know it wasn’t the rock’s fault that day and really, in the scope of things, it wasn’t mine either. It was just one of those things.  Oh, and this morning, I went out barefoot again but before I stepped off the patio, I looked and that means, I may have learned and that is always valuable.  So be sure and look before you step and remember, even if things don’t go exactly like you plan today…He’s still got this. Bro. Dewayne

Oh wait…I thought that was the end of the story, but it wasn’t.  So, the same day I wrote this, at lunch I went home to eat and kicked my shoes off.  As I was walking across the kitchen floor, I stepped on a…get ready…rock.  Yup, right there in the kitchen.  I guess you just never know.

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Military memories, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God

War of 1812

Dear friends, don’t overlook this one fact: With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.” 2 Peter 3:8

Warning. Thought provoking story ahead. It was the strangest library you could imagine.  A while back a friend told me about a cemetery that had some very old graves. Now I know you are wondering, “What does a cemetery have to do with a library?”  And the answer is volumes and volumes.  First, lest you think me strange, I love history and especially American and local history.  Second, I love stories. This particular cemetery had some of both.

So, over the river and through the woods Judy and I went till we came to Lavender Cemetery Lane.  A quick right off Highway 34 and about half a mile down the lane and there it was—Lavender Cemetery.  There were two sections.  The first section was much older than the second, but both were filled with stories.  And, like I said, I love stories.

First was my friend’s grandfather.  I had already learned that he was quite the character.  He actually ran with the infamous Charlie Berger gang.  He did some time in the big house and died when he was only 48—though not from a bank heist or anything like that. I was fascinated.  Then we started looking around and it was amazing.  We found the grave of a veteran from the War of 1812.  Can you believe that?  Then we found families who had lost not one, not two but three children.  It was in the days before there were antibiotics.  Can you imagine how difficult that was?

There were many other veterans buried there.  There was a Vietnam veteran who had obtained the highest enlisted rank in the Air Force, Chief Master Sergeant and had earned a Bronze Star for Valor in the war.  Next to him was a veteran of the Korean War.  He had died aboard the USS Saris.  During a typhoon in Korean waters a naval mine broke loose and hit the ship and it sank in 20 minutes.  Four men died and one of them found his way back home to Lavender cemetery.  But wait, there is more.  World War II veterans were scattered throughout as well as World War I. There were even civil war veterans buried there.  Almost side by side, a young soldier from Mississippi was laid to rest by a soldier from the north.  On and on, old, barely readable stones told stories of valor and courage.

There were headstones with beautiful etchings of home places and poems about life and death.  Scratched into a large rock, one read, “My friends, here lies my body beneath the sod but my soul has gone home to God.”  In this obscure country cemetery, I saw a headstone for two people I know.  The dates of the death yet to be filled in—their stories still being written. Many of the headstones have been worn smooth by time.  Like their headstones, so many of their stories have faded into obscurity. But each one…each one…wrote a story that touched people and perhaps changed lives.

That afternoon at about 5:30 pm I found myself face to face with my own mortality.  My time, your time is limited.  The story will come to an end one day for each of us.  The question is this, “What kind of story are we writing?”  What story will be told at the service given to remember us? What story will be told when we stand before our creator either as His child or one who said no?  What kind of story?

Well, the good news is, there is still time to write.  There is still time to make sure your story is a story worth celebrating.  Peter tells us in the Bible that a thousand years is like a day and a day is like a thousand years.  That is a big truth.  We get the first part easily but don’t miss the second. A day is like a thousand years. That seems to say that even if we are in the second half of our life, or later, there is time. If there’s more in the rearview mirror than the windshield, it’s not too late. God can take those limited days and make it like a thousand years—plenty of time to start writing a new story.  So why not start now.  Right now.

Forget the regrets.  Forget the unwise choices. Forgive the broken promises just like God forgave you.  It’s in the Book.  Learn from each one but then leave the past in the past.  Paul did…check out Philippians 4:13…forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to the future in Christ, I press on.  Good, good advice. I don’t know what’s next in this crazy world, but do I know I am not afraid.  I know my Father is in control.  I know that the foreseeable future is going to be different. But I also know I want the story about how I handled it all… to be that I trusted Him to handle it.  He’s trustworthy.  I can lay my head on my pillow tonight and rest in Him.  So, pleasant dreams. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne