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

Trust

Hi Grits Family! My wife Judy and I are going to be “out of pocket” aka “not available” to write for the next couple of weeks.  During that time, we decided to send out some of our past stories.  I hope you enjoy the ones we selected and look forward to some “fresh Grits” in a couple of weeks. God bless.  Bro. Dewayne

Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the LORD holds them by the hand.” Psalm 37:24

It seems so easy…but it just not. In the Disney movie Aladdin, the central figure named Aladdin (bet you saw that one coming) and the beautiful young princess are in a difficult situation.  Options are limited because the bad guys are just about to win the day–grab her and jail him.  He reaches out his hand, looks her in the eyes and says, “Do you trust me?”

Well, you have probably seen the movie a dozen times, but the bottom line is she does, they escape, and eventually live happily ever after.  But not before one more precarious situation, one more extended hand and one more time the all-important question asked, “Do you trust me?”  She does.  She extends her hand and well, you know.

Times like these times help us begin to understand just how difficult it might have been for these two fictitious characters.  To not trust meant certain disaster. To trust meant risk.  It’s a hard call–well especially in the movie because Aladdin wasn’t some dashing, super strong, super-hero but a, gulp, “street rat,” a nobody, from the wrong side of town.

But what about us–what about our plot–our uncertainty.  Well, there is an extended hand and there is that all important question, “Do you trust me?”  But that’s where things change.  The hand extended to us doesn’t belong to a “street rat” but rather to the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.  It belongs to the One who speaks, and a billion stars begin to twinkle. And the one on the receiving end?  Oh, that would be us–the one He calls son, daughter, child of mine.

I love Psalm 37:24. Speaking of God and us, it says, “Though they [that would be us] stumble, they will never fall, for the LORD holds them by the hand.” Never fall, never perish, never. Let that soak in.  The word picture is that of a person—perhaps a small child or maybe a frail senior adult—who has lost their footing and consequently is on their way down to certain pain and suffering.  Then, at the last minute, the hand reaches down and takes hold, and they are saved.

That has to be what caused the prophet Habakkuk 3:17-18 to say, “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, 18.  yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”

It’s not a hard call really.  I mean He’s all powerful and loves us like no prince has ever loved his princess…cares for us more than any husband his bride.  He has a perfect track record. Never fails…no, not once. Regardless of how scary the days were or may become, He is bigger, He is stronger, and He can be trusted. So, listen carefully today. Tune out or turn down the volume of a screeching world and you will probably hear a soft whisper saying, “Do you trust me?”  And look with Spirit eyes and you might even see a hand extended.  You don’t even need to try and take hold for He’s got you and yes, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, wisdom

Bruiser

Hi Grits Family! Hey, my wife Judy and I are going to be “out of pocket” aka “not available” to write for the next couple of weeks.  During that time, we decided to send out some of our past stories.  I hope you enjoy the ones we selected and look forward to some “fresh Grits” in a couple of weeks. God bless.  Bro. Dewayne

The one who walks with the wise will become wise, but a companion of fools will suffer harm.” Proverbs 13:20

I saw it coming.  I never saw it coming.  Both are true, and the truth is, it didn’t matter. So, about a month ago now, two-thirds of the family (that would be two of my three daughters and their families) were able to jail break and go to Florida for a week.  The middle daughter had been going to the Palm Coast of Florida for the last several years and she suggested we give it a try. I was a reluctant participant.

You see, I was raised on the Northeast coast of Florida.  My growing up years consisted of regular trips to the beach.  Many years later I discovered the Gulf coast with its sugary white sands and clear blue-green waters, and I was sold.  Because of this, I wasn’t overly excited when the plans for the East coast were drafted.  However, having done life being the only male in the house (there was my wife, three daughters, a girl dog, a girl cat or two and six female tropical fish.  Even the mice in the barn were girls.) I realized that resistance was futile.  So off to the East coast we went.

I was pleasantly surprised.  We were about an hour or so South of Jacksonville (where I was raised) in a nice condominium complex. We shared the place with our middle daughter and family, and it was just perfect.  It overlooked the golf course with a great view of the ocean.  The grounds were well maintained, and it had two very nice pools—one family and one for the adults who liked things a little quieter.  The normal vacation crowd was much smaller and that was good news given the COVID thing. The only problem was “they” were there.

“They” were waves.  Pretty big waves.  You see on the Gulf side you usually have little friendly waves.  The waves gently bump into you and seem to say, “Hi, we are glad you are here.”  The waves in the Atlantic are from the Southside of Chicago.  They are gangster waves. When we went to the beach they were waiting.  This is the part I remember from my growing up and from one or two vacations from earlier years.  You can hear them before you see them.  They are inviting you into the water—so they can bully you.

Anyway, we get to the beach, and you know they didn’t look too intimidating.  I mean they weren’t gentle “hey, glad you are here waves” but they weren’t “terminator” waves either.  We set our stuff down on the beach and off we went into the water.  First, I tested the waves with a knee-deep stand.  Not bad.  Then I went a little deeper.  Still not too bad but I could begin to feel them.  They wanted me.  They had my number.

I was out in waist deep water and realized the power of perception.  Those waves that didn’t seem so big from shore were suddenly larger—much larger.  I turned to talk to Judy who was close by and looked back just in time to see a large wave coming.  Fortunately, I was able to keep my footing and survived the onslaught.  I smiled.  My sunglasses were still on my face and my hat was still on my head.  I was an overcomer.  Who’s the man now?! That’s when “Bruiser” came.

“Bruiser” was epic, “Bruiser” had one goal in mind—take me down.  I saw him coming but it was too late.  “Bruiser” was well over my head and broke right on top of me.  One minute I was standing and the next minute I was in a washing machine of ocean water…in the spin cycle.  When I came to surface, of which I was very grateful, “Bruiser” had moved on.  My swim shirt was over my head, my hat was gone, and my pride and body were a little bruised.  He had won. I had taken on the big boy and come up short.  Probably worse of all my Seattle hat, the one I had worn for several years was lost to the jaws of “Bruiser.”   It never had a chance.  May he rest in peace.

Well, one time in the spin cycle was enough for me that day. And somewhat gratefully I was glad to learn that others in the family had suffered similar fates. Even the son-in-laws got bowled over a time or two. Hats and sunglasses were lost but what was found was the joy of being with family.  We had a good time.

I did learn, or perhaps more accurately, relearn a lesson about the waves of the Atlantic.  They can be powerful.  Usually there is a flag system that warns of particularly rough waves.  Our beach didn’t have that, but I later heard on the news there had been some big waves.  Oh well, hindsight is 20/20.  Sometimes they manage to sneak in but even when you see them coming, they can take you down.

Life is the same way.  A day at life’s beach can quickly turn into a spin cycle of ocean water.  We can get bowled over by circumstances, uncertainties, tragedies, and pandemics. Even when we see them coming, they can be overwhelming.  After my encounter with “Bruiser” that day, I decided it was time to visit the pool—eventually all of us did.  The Bible says, “The one who walks with the wise will become wise, but a companion of fools will suffer harm.”  Translated another way that means there is a time to swim in the ocean and there is a time to head to the pool. Wisdom is knowing when to do what. Wisdom is also knowing that no matter what life throws at you, we can rest in the One who makes the waves because He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, missions, prayer, priorities, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials, wisdom

Got Your Boots On?

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Philippians 1:21

Thank you, Ruby and Laura.  I was preparing for a message that I was going to share at the church I pastor.  I am always amazed how God brings to my mind different angles and ideas and illustrations to help make a truth stick.  I learned a long time ago if we can’t remember what we hear, well, it can’t help us a lot.  Stories help things to stick.  They are like “duct tape” and I’ve learned that sermons need a lot of duct tape.

The message was about being ready…ready for whatever God has next in our lives.  And for the record that can be just about anything.  My wife, Judy, and I have had several God “whatevers” through the years. Some we saw coming and some we didn’t, but it was always exciting to know that God was and is on the move.  Well, when I thought about being ready, I remembered part of a message that pastor John Piper taught.  He was speaking in the year 2000 to a huge group of young people and he was making the point that they should make their lives matter.  Well, let’s just say he did a good job.

As part of his message that day, he told the story of two women, Ruby and Laura.  Ruby was a nurse who had committed her entire life to caring for the poor and broken of the world for the cause of Christ.  She chose to remain single so she could devote everything…everything…to her mission. She was all in…one hundred percent.  Laura was a medical doctor who took “early retirement” so she could do the same thing.  She wanted to make a bigger difference, so she closed up shop and joined Ruby doing mission work.

So, they were loving God and loving people in Cameroon, East Africa.  By the time the story was told, they were, well, older.  Ruby was into her eighties and Laura was chasing her…she was in her very late seventies.  As John Piper tells the story, these two incredible ladies were driving their jeep in the mountains when, without warning, their brakes went out and they sailed over a cliff and literally into eternity.  Both ladies died in the crash and both ladies went out “with their boots on.”  At a time when most would be at home rocking grandbabies, they were still making a difference.

I know, some would say what a tragedy it was that these two ladies died that day.  Some would wonder why they just didn’t play it safe.  I have a feeling that Ruby and Laura would tell us that they were playing it safe—because their lives were not held by circumstance or chance but rather by God.  They would tell us they danced into eternity with the One they loved…Jesus and they would, of course, be right.

I find myself desiring to finish well.  I know, I will not be a Ruby or a Laura, but I do want to go out “dancing” with the One who loves me most and best.  I want to go out with my boots on.  Sometimes we see our later years as years to relax but I wonder if we aren’t missing something. Maybe our later years are our best years to serve Him and them.  Maybe our later years are intended to be the finest chapters of our lives.

Tomorrow, Judy and I will be getting on a plane and flying to Europe to minister to a group of folks from East Africa. They are in a poverty-stricken area and few, if any, know Jesus.  It is going to challenging but it also is going to be a great adventure. I won’t be driving a jeep on dangerous mountain roads, so I won’t have to worry about my brakes giving out. Smile.  But I do know that no matter what, our lives are in the hands of our Dearest Daddy and that is never a bad thing.  In fact, there is nothing better.

Paul, the guy who wrote a chunk of the New Testament, knew about dangerous mountain roads and losing your brakes.  He was an “all in” sorta guy and ultimately was martyred for his faith.  Anyway, he wrote, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” In other words, if God chose to keep him here on earth…that was good.  If God chose to call him heaven…that was good too.  All that mattered was living “all in” and going out “with his boots on.”

So, no matter what, if you are a Jesus person let me encourage you to go “all in” and leave the details to the One who loves you most.  If you haven’t discovered Jesus yet, let me encourage you to make that your pursuit starting now.  It is a journey you won’t regret.  Living “all in” and being willing to go out “with your boots on” can sound daunting. Truth is, it just doesn’t sound daunting…it is.  The good news is the One who loves you most will always be right by your side, whispering softly, “Go ahead, don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, life, love, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

It Was an Accident

Don’t be deceived: God is not mocked. For whatever a person sows he will also reap.” Galatians 6:7

I am sure the doctor just rolled his eyes.  When I was eleven or twelve, you know about sixth grade, my Daddy and Momma got me one of the coolest Christmas presents ever.  Most of you have seen the movie “A Christmas Story” about a kid who wanted a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. Well, this story isn’t like that, but it’s about something even better than a Red Ryder BB gun.  That year, wait for it, they got me a Daisy double-barrel BB gun.  It was designed after a real double-barrel shotgun.  It had two barrels (you probably figured that out), two triggers, and even broke in the middle to cock it. It was amazing.

I can remember going outside to shoot that gun…there was not another one like it in the whole neighborhood.  I wish I could tell you how well I took care of it…especially since, if you can find one now, they would sell for well over a thousand dollars.  But honestly, it was well used, and under cared for, and one day one of the barrels stopped working.  Well, I always enjoyed fixing things, so I just started taking things apart to work on it.  I figured out that the left barrel wasn’t working.  So, I took the “BB thingy” inside the barrel out, cleaned it really good, oiled it, and then stuck it back in.

After I put everything back together, I cocked the gun and pulled the trigger, but as far as I could tell it still wasn’t working.  I decided that I would put my finger over the bad barrel to see if I could feel any air coming out.  Now, I know that sounds like a really, bad idea, and it was.  I know it was not smart or safe.  I know it was just pure old dumb.  But, regardless, I did it.  I sure wish I hadn’t.

Well, things wouldn’t have been so bad because as it turns out the barrel wasn’t working.  The problem was that I had my finger over the wrong barrel and pulled the wrong trigger and as I squeezed that trigger, the gun fired, and a BB went right into my finger…clear to the bone.  Oh, and yes, that was a dumb idea, and yes, it did hurt…boy, did it hurt.

I put the gun down and ran into the house holding my throbbing and bleeding third finger on my right hand.  Momma didn’t have time to give me a lecture or even holler at me.  We headed straight to the emergency room.  After checking in we saw the doctor who when he heard the story gave me that, “what a really a dumb idea” look. After numbing things up, he proceeded to dig around with a medical tweezer until he found the BB, got ahold of it and pulled it out.  Shot or no shot—it hurt.  I got a nice bandage and the opportunity to make a story up on what happened.  I wasn’t about to tell the truth…that was way too embarrassing.

If you look on my right hand and at my ring finger you can still see to this day a nice little dimple where the BB went into my finger.  It is there to remind me not to stick my finger over the barrel of a BB gun…or any gun for that matter.  It is there to remind me that there are consequences when we choose dumb over smart, or wrong over right.  It reminds me of that part of the Bible that says the rules of God are always right…whatever you plant, you harvest.  Do dumb and you get dumb consequences…every time.

I hope this Grits will help me and you both to think before we act…you know, to think things through.  Fortunately, God is more than ready to help us make the right decisions if we are willing to ask.  Uh, I didn’t ask that day and when we just don’t get around to doing that…well, He is still there to help us deal with the consequences too.  I’m glad He’s not like the doctor, rolling His eyes at my mistakes.  No, He is too loving to do that.  In fact, if you listen, you will hear Him say, “Don’t worry, dumb or not, I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

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

I Hated Him (part 2)

But when [Peter] saw the strength of the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand, caught hold of him.” Matthew 14:29-31

His name was Richard Jackson…and I hated him.  Of course, if you read the story from July 13, you already knew that.  He was a bully and for some reason he chose me to push around.  It was the eighth grade and Richard Jackson was bigger than every other eighth grader.  He was probably bigger than half of the Marine Corp.  Anyway, I was his target.

He and his lackey Mark Williams announced one day that they would be riding my bus to my stop and would then proceed to “beat me up.”  It was a long day waiting to get beat up, and they did board the bus, they did get off at my stop and sure enough, egged on by Richard Jackson, Mark Williams started the fight.  He popped me in the mouth and knocked me down.  I did my best to fight back but it was clear my best was not going to get the job done that day.  I wish I could tell you how I taught him a lesson but that would be fiction.  He was on top; I was on the bottom, and I was losing.

This is the part of the story that is very hard for me to write because every guy that ever reads this is going to write me off as a loser.  All I can say is before you do…you weren’t there.  Well, here goes.  My older sister was on the bus that day and while she was smaller than Richard Jackson, she was bigger than me and bigger than Mark Williams. So, she, well, she rescued me.  She pulled Mark Williams off me and proceeded to tell him to “leave my brother alone.”

Well, that broke the fight up and we started the long walk to our house which was about a third of a mile away.  Behind us, Richard Jackson and his lackey chided us and threatened us.  It was the longest third of a mile I ever walked and with every slicing word and insult from Richard Jackson, I felt smaller and smaller.  When we arrived at our driveway, my Momma just happened to be standing in the yard and when she heard and saw what was going on she made sure Richard Jackson and his lackey understood that they had better leave her son alone.

Now this is hard.  First, I knew I needed their help but to be rescued by, first my sister, and then my Momma destroyed any self-dignity I had…which honestly wasn’t much. But at the same time without them, well, it would have been even uglier.  You see, the truth is sometimes we just need help.  Actually, the truth is we need help almost every day. We are not built to stand or fight alone.  That is true for life and its ugly circumstances, and it is true when we fight the spiritual battles in life.

Even if you don’t believe in God, you must admit there is plenty of evil in this world and at the end of the day that will point you to a very real devil. And just like Richard Jackson, he wants more than anything to destroy you or at least make you feel like you’ve been destroyed.  Like it or not…we all need a rescue and the good news there is a rescuer, and His name is Jesus.  God took on Satan a long time ago and it was a no contest.  Read the Bible and you will see in the end—God wins and if we choose to follow Him—we win too.

In this world, with all its craziness, I know it seems that evil is going to win.  I bet that day when Jesus was nailed to a Roman cross and died…Satan assumed the war was over and He had bested God.  Well, three days later proved a different reality.  No, he didn’t win the war and he didn’t win the battle.  He played right into God’s hands.  So, while I was embarrassed that day, I was also grateful for the rescue. You may think you don’t need rescuing; you don’t need God but trust me…without Him…well, hard just got harder.

Why not ask Him to rescue you today? When Peter was about to drown one day, he called out…and Jesus was there. Why not finally admit this thing called life and eternity is a battle we can’t win on our own? Why not give God a shot at being the rescuer you need?  If you do, if you will, you will never have to fight the bullies of life alone again.  You will always have…not a sister…not a Momma…but a Mighty Warrior by your side.  And, when the bullies of life walk up, you can be assured that He will whisper, “Don’t worry…I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

I Hated Him

And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ.” Ephesians 4:32

His name was Richard Jackson and I hated him. I know, I know…hate is a strong word, and you aren’t supposed to hate someone or anyone.  But lying is wrong too and the truth is…I hated him.  Besides all that I was in the eighth grade, so it was a long time ago and it was also before I decided to follow Jesus. I’ve wanted to write this story before, but I’ve always put it off…until today.

Anyone who knows anything can tell you that junior high, or middle school as they call it now, can be difficult…and mine was.  I never was in the cool crowd at school…I just didn’t make the cut. And add to that I was a little too short and a little too pudgy and I guess that just made me a target. Richard Jackson wasn’t in the cool group either he was in that nether land where people go who aren’t really nerdy but aren’t cool either.  In another world, Richard Jackson would be a target like me…but he wasn’t.

Richard Jackson wasn’t a target because he was the one who targeted others.  By a twist of fate, he was big, real big.  I’m not sure if he was big because of his DNA or the fact that he probably spent too many years in the eighth grade.  Regardless, he was big and for whatever reason, when he looked for someone to push around and bully, he found me.  We didn’t share classes, we didn’t live in the same neighborhood, and we sure didn’t go to the same church.  Come to think about it, I’m sure Richard Jackson didn’t go to church.

Anyway, Richard Jackson, for most of my eighth-grade year made it his business to make me miserable. He would push and shove and threaten me almost daily.  To make matters worse, Richard Jackson had a lackey who would hang around him.  If Richard Jackson was big, Mark Williams wasn’t. He was skinny, almost scrawny, but all that didn’t matter because he belonged to Richard Jackson.  Well, Richard Jackson decided that Mark Williams should beat me up and one day he said just that. He promised to ride my bus and get off at my stop and pummel me.  That was a long day as I waited all day to get beat up.

Well, I got on the bus, they got on the bus and when it came to my bus stop…we all got off.  Richard Jackson instantly started in on me and at the same time encouraging his lackey to hit me.  Well, he did, square on the mouth and then we took to the ground and wrestled around a bit before it was all over.  Well, every day for months I would take my tongue and feel the large knot on my lip.  Every day for months I relived those few moments trying to make the outcome different.  It never was. To this day, I hate that day.

I think, though I am not sure, that soon after this Richard Jackson lightened up some.  In fact, by the time high school rolled around he was almost civil.  His lackey Mark Williams went somewhere…maybe parole school for all I know.  All I know is for a long time I allowed that day to define me.  For a long time, I allowed the fear of another bully showing up to cause me to live in fear.  And then finally, slowly, the fear disappeared but the scar remained.

As I write this, I still can feel the emotional pain that Richard Jackson and Mark Williams inflicted on me.  And, honestly, it wouldn’t be too hard for me to hate them all over again but then I realize that wouldn’t accomplish anything.  I’ve given them enough free rent in my brain already.  Besides all that since those days I had another important day—I met a Man who loved me enough to die for me.  I met a man who forgave me of everything I had ever done wrong.  I met a man who said since I have forgiven you don’t you think you should forgive him…forgive them.  And I realized He was right.  If I didn’t, I was no better than they were.

Is there a Richard Jackson or a Mark Williams in your past…for present?  Is there a scar on your heart the size of Texas because someone decided to put it there?  Maybe just maybe it is time to let it go.  Maybe it is time to forgive.  As I wrote this, I was amazed at the emotion that still lingers in my heart and in my memories and I realized this forgiveness thing isn’t as easy as it seems.  But that’s ok because the One who asked me to forgive stands ready to help me to forgive.  He stands there ready to help, whispering, “It’s ok, I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, Military memories, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Daddy’s Heart Attack

We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

Thanks, Dad…for the heart attack. It was back in 1976, June 26th to be specific, that I married Judy Allen.  She was a Georgia peach that was quite the catch.  I met her when I walked into a strange, new church on a Wednesday night. I entered the side door and boom—there she was.  Standing in a circle of ordinary young ladies, this young lady was anything but.  Then, there was a phone call, a date and well, here we are forty-six years…she is still quite the catch, we are still in love, and we are still grateful for a God who has a plan.

I was talking with Judy the other day and said, “What if we had never met?” I honestly cannot fathom my life without her…but what if?  It was really a strange set of circumstances that got us together.  I was in the Air Force and my Daddy had a pretty major heart attack while I was home on leave.  It sure changed our Christmas plans, but it also changed my life.  My Momma, and don’t ask me how since this was way before the internet and smart phones, found out through the Red Cross that the Air Force would sometimes grant a “humanitarian reassignment” to airmen to the base nearest their home.  The conditions were strict, and the odds were long, but we (Momma and I) decided we should give it a shot.

It required all kinds of statements from the doctors and a bunch of other stuff that I don’t even remember.  At the time I was stationed at Minot AFB in North Dakota and trust me that is a long way from home.  Anyway, we applied and then one day I received a call from Base Personnel letting me know that my request had been approved and I was being reassigned to Moody AFB in Valdosta, Georgia. Soon, it was so long Minot and hello Moody.  I arrived at my new base in April of 1973.  I would drive home every weekend (about two hours) to see family and friends and come back Sunday evening.

Gratefully, God allowed my Daddy to live till midsummer of the next year when He decided heaven was better than here.  Of course, his leaving changed everything. I think my Momma went to stay with one of my brothers or sisters for a while and suddenly there wasn’t as much reason to go home.  I was a regular church goer, but it really wasn’t my desire to go to church that Wednesday night as much as it was…boredom.  Valdosta wasn’t a big town and Moody wasn’t a big airbase, so I just needed something to do.  And, as they say, the rest is history.

Which leads to my opening line…Daddy’s heart attack.  If it hadn’t had been for that and my Momma’s persistence, well, I would have stayed in Minot and probably froze to death. Smile. I would have never met Judy, there would not have been our three precious daughters and hence no eight grandchildren.  And, honestly, I probably wouldn’t be pastoring and wouldn’t be writing this today.  But God is a God of infinite details and design.  He tells us in the Bible that every day of our lives is planned before a single one of them is lived.  I like that…a lot.

He also teaches us that for those who love Him and are called by Him, He can take anything and everything and bring good out of it.  No, not everything is good…not even close and that isn’t what He said.  He said He can bring good and in the case of my Daddy’s heart attack, my life path is part of that good.  Have you ever thought of life that way?  Can you think of a situation where God did that for you?  I bet you can. You see, God is good, God is faithful, and God can be trusted.

One day I will see my Daddy again…in heaven.  I’ll probably chat with him and ask if he ever thought about the good that God brought about because of his heart attack.  And then, well, I’ll tell him all about Judy (if she isn’t there yet) and his great grandkids.  It’s gonna be a great reunion.  Till then, I hope I remember to trust my heavenly Dearest Daddy each day, and know that no matter what, no matter how big…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in fear, forgiveness, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, missions, Scripture, thankful, travel, Trials

Sleepy Lions

Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8

We found him sleeping in the grass.  Sound asleep.  A while back I had the privilege of going to Uganda and visiting with Watoto ministries.  The trip allowed me to see the incredible work of Watoto up front and personal.  They work with orphaned babies and children as well as single mothers.  They raise the kids to become Christian leaders and help the mothers provide for their families.

Part of the trip involved us going to Northern Uganda to see the work there. It also gave us the opportunity to take a one-day safari.  A safari gives you the opportunity to see animals in the wild.  You are on their turf and their terms.  We saw a large variety of animals but there was one we all wanted to see.  The lion.  It is like the holy grail of safaris–to see the “king of the jungle.”

Our guide that day just happened to be one of park rangers, so he had access to areas others did not.  So off we went.  Before long there was a report of a lion sleeping in a tree.  We went cross country and before long, bam, there was a lion…sound asleep.  Well, it was pretty incredible–asleep or not. We snapped about a hundred pictures of our sleeping friend and moved on.

We drove for about 30 minutes and another report came of a group of lions about 50 yards off the road.  Our guide, the ranger, told the driver to drive though the ditch and he did.  Sure enough, there were the lions.  There were about five or six of these magnificent beasts–all sound asleep.  What is up with lions and sleeping?

Well, it turns out that lions sleep 20 hours a day.  They hunt, eat and sleep.  That’s about it. Our driver gets to within five or six feet of the sleeping feline.  Our guide shouts, the driver honks the horn and nothing.  And then he does something totally unexpected.  He throws water on the lion.

What? Excuse me? Well, the king of the jungle, who turned out to be a queen, sits up, yawns and looks at us.  Hmmm…this lion thing is not what it is cracked up to be.  You would be tempted to think that every lion was like this lion.  That would be a mistake.

You see, there are some nasty lions out there and they would like to invite you to lunch. Lions are vicious predators and will eat you. I’ve watched enough National Geographic shows to know that not all lions are created equal.  I also know this.  Not all lions live in Africa.  In fact, there is one who lives close–very close.  He doesn’t have a mane or a tail, but he does have an appetite.  His name isn’t Mufasa or Simba. It is Satan.

The Bible, in 1 Peter 5:8, says this, “Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” On the safari we stayed alert looking for a lion. In this case we need to stay alert because the lion is looking for us.  And guess what?  He’s looking for lunch.

Peter said Satan is like a roaring lion.  If you’ve studied lions a bit, you know that a lion doesn’t roar when its stalking prey.  A lion roars for two different reasons.  One, he is declaring his dominance.  He is claiming his territory. This is mine.  He also roars to invite others to join his pride. The devil does both.

Satan is always roaring saying “this is mine and that is mine” but nothing is truly his. Nothing. It belongs to a much larger, much stronger Lion–the Lion of Judea. Satan is a liar–remember that. He wouldn’t know the truth if it stared him in the face. No pun intended.

He is also looking for others to join his pride.  He is looking for people who are discouraged and disheartened with life and with God and inviting them to join him.  Joining him is a big mistake. He is a loser, and he knows it.  That is why he is roaring so loudly.  His time is limited and he wants to take as many with him as he can.

Now if you are a believer, Satan can’t steal your salvation, but he can steal your peace, your character, your witness, your family, your integrity–well the list goes on and on.  That is why Peter said, “Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith.” Peter knew from experience just how good Satan is at taking what is not rightfully his.

Jesus said in John 10:10 “The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy.”  That’s the enemy but Jesus isn’t done speaking. He goes on to say, “I have come to give you life and life more abundantly.”  He is saying, “if you trust Me, the Lion of Judah, you can rest in Me. I’m never asleep and I’m never out-gunned. I’ve got this.” And, He does. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, food, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials

An Angel from Bowling Green

The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord…and He delights in His way.” Psalm 37:23

Did you know that some angels come from Bowling Green, Kentucky?  Well, my wife Judy and I recently returned from vacation.  Now, I really like vacations.  We are blessed that God has provided the means for us to go and our church (I’m a pastor) provided the time.  And believe me…it was time.  We saved, planned, and decided a return trip to Punta Cana sounded like just the thing we needed.  We bought tickets, made the reservations, and like the old Willie Nelson song says, we were back on the road again. And…we were excited!

We decided to stay at a place where we had stayed several times before.  We figured with Covid and all of that it might be better to go to a place we were familiar with.  We had a great flight down and soon we are were in paradise….well, sorta.  Truthfully, it was somewhat apparent that Covid had taken the wind out of the sails of our familiar place. It just wasn’t the same.  But, like we always say…at least we were away. The Dominican is a great place, but you still must be careful…stay at the resort, eat at the resort and above all…don’t drink the water. Most of the time Judy and I are good rule keepers…and we were this time, too.

Then came Wednesday.  That day I could tell my appetite was a bit off, but it was no deal. At supper that night I ate very little and as we walked back to the room, I told Judy I just felt a bit sad.  Well, in a few minutes, I found out I wasn’t sad…I was sick.  In spite of all my precautions, I apparently had the dreaded “traveler’s disease.”  If you don’t know what it is…I’ll let you look it up, but it is enough to say it ain’t fun. Period.  Well for the next two days I pretty much stayed in the room and by Saturday, going home day, I wasn’t much better.  We boarded the bus for the airport and things went from bad to worse.

As we sat there, my stomach got more and more queasy, and I was pretty certain I was going to quickly be the most unpopular guy on the bus.  Meanwhile as I doing my best to “keep my cookies,” Judy was having a great conversation with the mother of a family sitting by us.  She was talking to them, and I was talking to myself, “Don’t lose it, don’t lose it.”  Soon we arrived at the airport, thankfully with stomach intact, and got into a very long line to check our luggage for the flight.  I tried but I just couldn’t stand there so I told Judy I was going to the restroom and try and sit-down.  She kindly handled the luggage and both backpacks and I went and collapsed.

I watched from a distance.  I was praying, “God, I sure need Your help, but I know I need to trust you…so Your will be done.” While I was praying there, Judy was praying in line. Soon, but not soon enough, Judy was almost at the counter and waved for me to come on over.  I did and when I got there, the friendly family “just happened to be” in front of her.  I was standing there, more miserable than ever, and the mother’s mother, mouthed the words, “Are you ok?” I simply said I was not, telling her my stomach was very upset.  And then…it happened. The mother said, “I have some Pepto Bismol in my luggage, would you like some”?  I responded with a very grateful “yes”.

So right there, though she was next in line, she laid her luggage (which was the size of Texas) on the floor, opened it up, dug around (she packed like Judy…smile) and quickly produced a small bottle of Pepto.  I quickly opened it up and took a swig.  Borne on the wings of prayer, within a few minutes, and I do mean a few minutes, I was much better.  No, I wasn’t normal, but I knew I wouldn’t be losing my cookies.  A dose or two later and I was much, much better. I was going to survive.  And all of that…because a caring Dearest Daddy heard the prayers of His kids.

Some would be tempted to say it was happenstance, some would say it was just a nice person being nice, but for those of us who know God, we know differently.  It makes me go back to that great verse in the Old Testament part of the Bible, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in His way.”  You see this whole thing was all about God and not about me.  He took care of me…and it delighted Him to do so.  I love that.  So, while the vacation didn’t make the top ten…God did.  In fact, He is number one and the only One.  It just proves what we have learned together…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, love, loving others, Scripture, Trials

Busted

He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins.”  Ephesians 1:7

I got caught…plain and simple.  It was a long time ago, and I was just short of being a teenager, that I got caught.  My sister and brother-in-law lived in Daytona Beach and once a summer they would invite me down to spend a week with them.  I always thought it was pretty cool that they did that.  But apparently, it wasn’t cool enough.

You see, every day, they would have to head off to work.  They would leave early in the morning, and they would get home later in the afternoon but at different times.  My brother-in-law would get home first and then about an hour later my sister would arrive. It was kind of them to invite me and trust me with the house during the day.  There were only a few rules so it shouldn’t have been a big deal to follow them.  Of the rules, there was one that was at the top of the list.  It was, wait for it, don’t adjust the thermostat. It was hot, as it always was, in Florida in the middle of summer.  So, one day, I decided to break the rule.

I’m not sure what prompted my act of ingratitude and rebellion, but I turned the thermostat down, way down.  Then I sat back to enjoy the cool, cool air while the meter outside went round and round.  My plan, and it was a good one, was simply to turn the air back up in time for the temperature to adjust before anyone got home.  It was a good plan, but it wasn’t foolproof.  Sometime, oh about 1:00 in the afternoon, I decided to go outside.  So, with the air conditioner humming, I went outside and closed the door which promptly…locked.  Yes, friends, I was locked out of the house with the air conditioning

running.

Well, I stewed and fretted about what to do and the best I could come up with was to rush into the house as soon as my brother-in-law got home and turned the thermostat back up.  Surely it would work.  The fallacy was of course the temperature.  There is a big different between a house that is supposed to be 78 degrees and one that is 65…a big difference.  So, he came home, and I sneaked around and went to the thermostat and immediately turned it back up. Of course, it stopped running and it was then that I heard the voice of justice.

From the kitchen I heard these words, “Dewayne, did you mess with the thermostat?”  Well, I knew the answer and so did he.  I got caught red-handed.  Now, I don’t remember the conversation that followed, nor do I remember if there were any consequences.  But, let me tell you what I do remember. I remember the feelings of remorse that I had treated their kindness with disobedience.  I felt it then and believe it or not I feel it some today. I may have been a young preteen, but I was old enough to know better and my conscience let me know it.

What was true then is true today…and rightfully so.  Sometimes a guilty conscience is a more fitting punishment than anything else.  I had betrayed their trust and that, at least to me, was a big deal.  I only wish I had realized it before that little voice in my head persuaded me to adjust the thermostat.  It’s possible in some small way I felt what Eve felt that day in the garden.  The amazing thing is my sister and brother-in-law must have extended grace because it wasn’t the last time I was invited down.  Oh, and by the way, I never messed with the thermostat again—never.

We all break rules.  Some people break them more often than others, but we are all rule breakers and too often we break the ones God gave us in His Book.  He gave them for our good, but we are just rule breakers by nature.  The amazing part is He loves us so much that if we ask Him, He will extend grace not once or twice but over and over and over.  I know that from experience.

More than once I have “turned the thermostat” down and got caught.  But each time, when I asked, He met me with forgiveness and love. That is pretty amazing.  No matter what you have going on or what rule you have broken, why not try asking Him for some grace.  He loves you and He loves to forgive.  He is a just God, but He is a loving God too.  And no matter the deal, He can handle it.  His grace is enough.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne