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

My Friend, Frances

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” Proverbs 17:17

Johnny Cash sang it. “My name is Sue…now you’re going to die.” Well, his name wasn’t Sue, but it was Frances.  Like Sue…it was a somewhat unusual name for a man and Frances was an unusual guy. I met Frances when I went to pastor at the LaMonte Baptist Church.  The church had three deacons and they were named Leo, Francis, and Floyd.  All three of them were special guys and I grew to love each one of them for who they were.  I was a very young, inexperienced pastor and new at the pastoring thing.  So new, in fact, that when I mowed my grass at the parsonage, across the street from the church, I would wear dress pants.  I wasn’t sure if pastors were allowed to wear jeans so close to the church.  They can.

So, even back in 1984, Judy loved flowers and the parsonage was woefully short in that department.  In fact, I’m not sure there were any flowers in the entire yard.  Well, one day Judy declared that she wanted a flower bed.  She began to actually plan the where’s and how’s of the flower bed.  If it had been me, I would have grabbed some flowers, dug a hole, stuffed them in, and applied dirt.  Good luck.  Not Judy.  She decided that the flower bed should go along the front of the house and that it needed to be raised.  That means we needed to find some timbers to build up the height of the bed.  Again, after a little thought, she decided that railroad ties would do the job.

Somehow, I casually mentioned to Frances that Judy wanted a flower bed. Now Frances was the go-to guy when it came to things like the parsonage.  He had already led the charge in installing a brick flue so we could have a wood burner, so he was the natural choice for the flower bed.  I said, “Frances, Judy would like to have some railroad ties for her new flower bed.  Frances didn’t miss a beat.  He said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five.”

Well, sure as shooting, the next day at five, Frances pulled up in his big ole dually, white Dodge pickup truck.  You know there are pickup trucks too pretty to get dirty and then there are real pickup trucks.  Frances had a real pickup truck.   I climbed inside and we headed toward Sedalia, the largest town nearby.  I figured we were heading to the hardware store there to purchase some ties.  I was wrong.  You see, there was a railroad that ran parallel to the main highway.  We went down the road a bit and then…Frances turned.

Yup, he turned on a small road and then immediately took a right.  We had arrived at the railroad tie store, only it wasn’t a store…it was the factory.  I found myself in railroad tie heaven.  You see, the railroad company had recently replaced their ties and the old ones were strewn all down the rails.  As far as you could see there were railroad ties. I was just amazed.  I should have been afraid.

Frances said, “Preacher, how many ties do you think you will need?”  Well, I told him I thought ten or twelve would be enough.”  So, we started going along the tracks and selecting the best ones for the flower bed.  Just like a carpenter would choose the best 2×4’s at the lumber yard, we picked the best ties.  This was just awesome.  And then it happened.  I heard the sound of a distant train whistle.

Now I didn’t think a thing about it. I was always a bit gullible and way too trusting so I had just assumed that Frances had called the local railroad office, told them the church needed a few of their old ties and got permission to get some.  I was wrong.  I heard the train whistle the second time and it was decidedly closer. I noticed that Frances had picked up the pace…he was moving a little faster.  I still didn’t think a thing about it.  I just assumed he didn’t want to be that close to the tracks when the train went by.  Well, that was kind of true.

The whistle blew again and this time it must have been about a mile down the tracks and Frances said it, “Preacher, we got to go.”  I did sense a bit of urgency in his voice but I kind of thought it was a safety thing.  It turned out it was a bit more than that.  As we got back in his truck I said, “Frances, what’s the hurry?” I was thinking we could just move the truck further away from the tracks and we could even wave at the crew as they went by.  “Preacher, you don’t think they are giving us these ties, do you?”  Wait.  What?

Yup…I just discovered that we were stealing ties from the railroad.  It wasn’t a matter of safety it was a matter of not going to jail. So, Frances cranked the engine and mashed the gas and off we went just before the train came by. In the back of the truck were a bunch of railroad ties and in the front were two guys.  One was a preacher, one was a deacon, and both were guilty as sin. One knew all about it and the other was just learning but both were tie stealing criminals. Frances was smiling and I was wondering if I was going to jail.  But somehow it all seemed like a great adventure.

Well, we got back to the parsonage, and we built the flower bed. Frances helped with that too.  Years later when I would return to the church to preach, or perform a funeral, or maybe just drive through town, I would look and see the ties.  I didn’t remember the sin (After all, I’m sure I confessed it. God had forgotten it and I figure I should too.) No, I remembered a crusty old deacon, but more than that, a friend who wanted to help.  His way wasn’t ethical but all these years later, his willingness, his own brand of love is still lodged in my heart.  The Book says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.”

You know there are fancy friends, and rich friends and maybe even friends in positions of power.  And then there are the Frances kind of friends and that isn’t bad. Of course, if you’re gonna steal railroad ties, you need the Jesus kind of friend.  His specialty is forgiving when you mess up and He’s the best friend of all. He’s the kind of friend that wouldn’t have frowned or pretend He didn’t know you when He saw you in Walmart.  No, He’s the “stay by your side” friend.  Through thick or thin, jail or not, He would say, “Don’t worry…just rest in Me.  I’ve got this.” Now that’s my kind of friend. Bro. Dewayne

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

Call the Plumber

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

I knew it, I just knew it.  A while back, my wife told me that she had dropped her special eye liner down the drain in our bathroom.  It was the kind that was encased in a holder like a pencil and one day the eye thingy just slid right out.  Now, I’m not sure what an eye liner even does but I know it was important to her.  And, since it was important to her, it was important to me.

With my limited, and I do mean limited, knowledge of plumbing and drains, I did know that there is a thing called a trap on a drain.  It is designed to catch things and keep them from going wherever the water goes…the place of no return.  I also knew checking the trap was not a big deal.  You unscrew a couple of things and when you are done you screw it back on.  No deal, right? Uh, well, usually.

Well, I took it off and dumped it out.  There was some really ugly stuff in there but none of it had to do with eyes.  So, after cleaning it out I screwed it back on and checked to make sure everything was nice and dry.  It wasn’t.  One of the joints was leaking.  I took it apart 3,291 times and 3,291 times it leaked.  I finally called it quits and asked my real plumber son-in-law to swing by and check it out.  The diagnosis was simple.

The problem was a cheaply made part from China that was apparently, barely staying together before the eye-liner thing.  The answer was to buy a new part, screw it on and bam—you are back in business.  So, I go to store number one and buy the part the guy says I need.  I bring it home, take it apart, wrong part.  Bummer.  So, I went to another store and bought another part that the guy said I needed.  I brought it home, I took it apart and indeed, it was the WRONG part.

If nothing else, I am persistent.  I went to a third store where the nice guy behind the counter sold me a whole bag of parts at a very good price.  “Yay!” I said.  I went home, opened my big bag of parts, and discovered indeed that it would fix a problem, for someone, somewhere—but not my problem.  They didn’t fit either.  I gave up and went on vacation.

Sometimes a trip to Florida with family will give renewed clarity and determination.  When I got home, I decided if I just tried harder, if I just adjusted and twisted enough, I could make one of all those parts work.  Well, I got on the floor, dumped all the parts on the floor and took it all part again and…failed.  Miserably.  In fact, instead of one leak I now had two.  By now I was certain of two things.  I was not a plumber, and I was very glad God called me to be a preacher.

Well, I decided to give it one more try. This time I took the old broken parts with me to the store. Store one and two were closed but store three was open.  I walked in and the nice guy said, “Can I help you?”  I told him I honestly wasn’t sure.  I gave him the short story of how I now owned a small plumbing supply business, and I needed this part—and I showed him the dirty, slimy old part.  He reached down and pulled a bag full of parts off the shelf and together we looked.  There, inside the bag, was the part I needed.  He saw it, I saw it.  Things were looking up.

I bought the bag of parts and took them home.  I managed to rig the other leak with some electrical tape—hey it worked—and then I put on the new part, the right part.  It took exactly one minute to screw on the right part and ta-da—it didn’t leak.  Success. Victory.  I was one happy shade-tree plumber.  Of course, I now own two bags full of parts that I don’t need—yet—and probably spent enough to pay a plumber to fix it but it was done, and I was the hero!  I’m going down today to apply for my plumber’s card.

I bet you are wondering what today’s big truth is all about?  We could talk about frustration. We could talk about determination.  We could talk about some other word that ends with “ion.”  But the big truth is this.  I kept trying to put the wrong part in the right place and no matter how hard I tried—it just wasn’t going to fit.  It was like trying to put a square peg in a round hole—it wasn’t gonna happen. 

Of course, we do this all the time in life with God.  How many times do we have an issue, or a problem and we are sure we can cram something into that place that doesn’t fit and be happy?  How many new cars, houses and televisions have been bought trying to scratch an itch that only God can scratch?  Sometimes we just know if we “get religion” or start going to church, or start this or stop that, everything will be ok.  Our life, our marriages, our fears will all be better or disappear.  Those may be good things, but they are not THE thing.

The thing is a personal relationship with Jesus. You may have heard how He came to bring light into a dark world—including your dark world.  You may have even heard how He came to set things right between you and God—in fact, make it possible for you to call God Father.  It’s all true and it’s all right there in the Book.  Paul, one of the guys who wrote a chunk of the New Testament, said “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” That just means we are saved by believing and not doing.  It’s really quite amazing.

So, if you have a plumbing problem…save yourself some time and frustration and call your son-in-law the plumber.  If he isn’t one, hire one.  But if your life is a leaky mess, call on Jesus.  No matter the problem, no matter how big the problem—He is the fixer.  He can take care of it and you.  Why?  Because He loves you—a lot.  You can rest in Him when life wears you down.  You can turn to Him when life gets crazy because…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Trials

Losing Your Grip

How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.”  Matthew 7:4-5

It was definitely an “I need coffee” wakeup. You know sometimes you bound out of bed like an overactive gazelle and sometimes you just sorta fall out of bed.  Well, today was somewhere in between.  I am an early riser but today was earlier than normal…4:00 am. It wasn’t an overactive brain but an overactive bladder.  “Wakeup sleepy head.  Time to rise and shine.”  Yeah.  Right. Sure.

I went into my man-cave to tell the Keurig coffee machine I needed help…fast.  As I was getting things ready, I looked at the floor and there was a small round thing.  I recognized it as one of the mementos I had on a wall displaying memories from my stint in the Air Force.  It was then I looked up.  There was a gaping hole in the display.  A large picture frame that had been the center piece for the display was missing.

So, I stumbled around, keep in mind this is still before coffee, and started finding things.  First, there was the picture frame…not on the wall where it belonged but on the floor.  Also lying on the floor and on my desk where several things that I had placed on top of the frame.  It was like an avalanche of memories had fallen off the wall. What in the world?

Well, here’s the deal.  I am (or used to be) a fan of Command Strips.  It’s a product that allows you to hang things. You simply put a sticky thing on something and then put another sticky thing on the wall, press them together and ta-da you are done.  Well, apparently make that almost done.  Or, maybe done for a while. Or, maybe done till it decides it is done.  Regardless…the picture isn’t on the wall.  Of course, there is that thing about cleaning the wall with alcohol before you stick it there.  Did I do that?  Hmmm.  Probably not…the wall didn’t look dirty to me.

Anyway, there are a couple of things that made me think about this whole falling off the wall thing.  First, I walked into the man-cave and noticed a little round medallion on the floor but didn’t see the gaping hole on the wall.  Isn’t it amazing how we sometimes notice the small things and miss the giant ones? That’s what Jesus was talking about when He said we walk around with a 2×4 in our eye while telling someone they need to take care of a speck of dust in their eye. How weird is that? Or maybe not.

And then there is this whole falling off the wall thing. You see that picture had been hanging on the wall for well over a year. The two sticky things were stuck together like white on rice.  Then slowly over time they started to lose their grip.  Little by little the one stuck to the wall became loose and then one day…it just fell.  And when it did…it took several things with it.  I don’t think it woke up and said, “Well, today is the day I’m going to fall off the wall.” Nope…little by little gravity pulled and tugged until it won.

I’ve had some pretty good failures in my life.  And do you know what?  Very few of them were planned.  Most of them were just products of neglect.  Stopped getting on the scale. Stopped exercising for a few days…weeks.  Stopped having my time with God in the morning. Stopped telling my wife she hung the moon.  And then one day…you just fall off the wall.  You stop loving, stop believing, stop doing the next right thing. You suddenly find yourself in a hot mess.  And rarely does it affect just you.

So, what do you do? Well, I find that the Bible is a really good resource for avoiding the landslides of life.  Jesus said in Matthew 26:41 “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He says we should watch out.  Look for signs that you are losing your grip.  Beware of pattern changes, attitude changes.  Second, pray.  Yup, prayer is a big one…but maybe not like you think. Worry less about being on your knees and using big words and just tell God what is on your mind.  Then, get ready, trust Him with the answer…the solution. Last…be ready to acknowledge your own weakness.  It’s ok to acknowledge when our “want to” doesn’t measure up to our “gonna do” or our done.  That’s why we need God.  Big time.

I’m gonna put the picture back on the wall.  This time it won’t be with a sticky thing.  I’m gonna use a nice big screw.  That way, it can’t lose its grip…the screw will do the work. And I think I’m gonna try that with me and God.  I’m gonna stop trying to hold on to Him and let Him hold on to me.  I bet that is a better idea.  I bet I can rest in Him then.  After all, He’s got me…and He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, Military memories, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

“Foot in Mouth” Disease -Sir

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” Ephesians 4:29

I just shouldn’t have said it.  We all have said things that we wish we hadn’t.  I learned a lesson about that the hard way.  I had two bumps in Air Force basic training. One involved singing…you can check that one out on my blog www.gritswithgrace.com (https://gritswithgrace.com/2020/06/01/i-said-sing/). The other one also involved my mouth…I wonder if there is trend there?

In basic training guys were assigned to a flight (group) and each flight had a dorm chief.  He was someone, a peer of sorts, the flight chief selected from within or outside the flight.  Ours was selected from outside.  He had a weight issue so was put in a special group that helped men get down to a weight level that was acceptable.  That of course meant they had to stay longer in basic.  Well, our guy, whose name was Guy, was one of those guys.  Because of his longer tenure in basic he was appointed our dorm chief.

Now it could have been a little jealousy on my side, or it could have been that I was a little judgmental or maybe I had a momentary case of the stupid’s but I said something to one of the guys about this guy.  The words are lost to time, but it was probably something like, “Who does this guy think he is? He’s not a leader…he is a loser.”  Well, anyway, something like that. I said it and forgot it assuming it just died away.  It did not.

So, apparently either that guy told another guy who told another guy who told the guy named Guy.  The guy named Guy told the guy named Sergeant Catchings who was the same guy that caught me singing.  Well, things were about to go south.  There was a lesson that needed to be taught and I was the object of that lesson.

Sergeant Catchings gathered the flight outside his office and, leaving the door open sat down at his desk.  We all were like, “What’s this about?”  I quickly found out it was about me.  Soon a booming, “you’re in deep weeds son” voice said, “Airman Taylor, get in here.” I got up and went in the office and he instructed me to close the door.  I stood smartly at attention in front of the desk. Sergeant Catchings harshly invited me to take a seat.  There was no chair.

He had me place my hands flat on his desk and then squat by bending my knees till my arms were parallel with the top of his desk. Three things immediately came to my mind.  One, what in the world have I done? Two, this is very uncomfortable.  Three, I’m going to die.  Well in about one minute I found out that Dorm Chief Guy had told him I was mouthing off.  I had broken a cardinal rule…don’t mouth off about those in leadership above you.

Sergeant Catchings jumped to his feet and began to lecture me about respect for leadership and how I should never, ever disrespect those put in authority over me.  Now don’t forget.  One, I still “sitting” in the invisible chair with my hands on his desk.  Two, the entire flight is outside the door.  And by now he is screaming at the top of his voice.  For added effect, he would occasionally walk over to the door and kick it or slap it making it sound like I was dying.  I was.

Finally, after about ten or so minutes he opens the door and says two words, “Get out.” Imagine 27 guys looking in the office and seeing me squatting with my hands on the desk.  I can’t move.  I am locked in place.  My muscles leg and arm muscles were frozen.  He said it again, LOUDER, “I said get out.”  So, I fell over and managed to crawl, yes, I said crawl, out of his office. I was in agony and the rest of the guys were in shock and we all learned a lesson about gossip and respect for authority.

The lesson that day was very valuable. I wish I could tell you that I learned it so well I never had the “stupid’s” again but that wouldn’t be true.  But I can tell you this.  There is a reason the Bible talks so much about the tongue and the mouth. It isn’t a matter of finding a verse…it is a matter of choosing a verse.  We can start with a little nugget found in Proverbs 21:23, “Watch your tongue and keep your mouth shut,

and you will stay out of trouble.” I wish I had remembered that one before I uttered the words that prompted my visit to Sergeant Catchings office.

But the one that probably says it best is this, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” Imagine how less complicated our lives, our families, our marriages would be if we mastered that one.  Imagine how our work lives and even our worship lives would change.  A pastor once said that if we knew we would have to personally apologize to every person we slandered or gossiped about, we probably would hit “pause” a lot more often.

Oh well, I’m sure glad we have a graceful God.  I have learned over the years to deeply value his patience with me and His mercy for me.  There have been too many times I’ve had to go to my Dearest Daddy and have a chat about “foot in mouth” disease.  I’m glad He graciously invited me to come sit close beside Him. He has always heard my confession and honored my repentance.  I find rest right there…next to Him…because He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

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, 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, 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 fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, love, loving others, Memorial Day, prayer, priorities, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials, USA

Heroes

Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.”        John 15:13

Years later, it still tugs at my heart. I’m not sure how I found my way there, but I was grateful.  During my assignment in Sembach, Germany we had the opportunity to see so much.  From Hitler’s hideaway called “The Eagle’s Nest” in Berchtesgaden to the windmills of Holland to the Alps of Switzerland we were constantly amazed at what was all around us.  But nothing prepared me for Luxembourg.

We had some friends that we had known in our days at Moody Air Force Base in South Georgia.  They received orders to Germany several months before we did.  They were only a couple of hours from us, so we saw each other pretty frequently.  It must have been during one of our forays that we came to it—Luxembourg American Cemetery.  It was one of the most hallowed sights I have ever seen.

There, in the cemetery, are 5,075 white Lasa marble crosses and stars of David.  Row after row of headstones that mark the final resting place of American heroes.  Each one made the ultimate sacrifice for us, for you and me, that we can live in freedom.  General George Patton is buried there. Two Medal of Honor recipients are also buried there: David G. Turner and William D. McGee. Twenty-two sets of brothers lay buried side by side throughout the cemetery. Some, 371 in fact, were never found.  They are simply listed as missing in action.  102 are just unknown.

This place of honor was established on December 29, 1944.  Many of the soldiers died during the Battle of the Bulge…Hitler’s last push to turn the tide of the war in Germany’s favor.  It failed but it came at great cost to the Allied forces. It was a harsh winter and because of the urgency of the times many were sent to fight with little or no winter gear. The desperate Germans showed little mercy to those taken prisoner.  And all this occurred just nine months, nine months, before the war ended.  So many had survived D-Day and countless days of combat only to make the ultimate sacrifice months before the grand reunion with family.

Heroes.  It is a word we throw around lightly these days.  In a world where everyone gets a trophy, we are in danger of losing the value of this incredible word.  Hero. Dictionary.com defines it as “a person noted for courageous acts.” Oxford says it is a person who is admired or idealized for courage. Webster defines it as an illustrious warrior or one who shows great courage.  Another place said it is a person who at great danger to themselves puts others first.

I went to Toys-R-Us one time and there they had several aisles of superhero stuff.  As I turned the corner a sign caught my eye.  It simply said, “Real Heroes.”  Along that aisle were the soldiers and sailor figures as well as police, firemen, and other emergency responders.  If I went to that aisle today it would have to include doctors, nurses, and other medical professionals.  Real heroes…real people putting others first at peril to themselves.

But there would be one missing.  Jesus Christ, the Hero of Heaven, who willingly, who bravely, gave Himself to a Roman cross that men, women, and children could be free. The cross was so horrible it was called the death of deaths.  It was so horrible it was illegal to crucify a Roman citizen.  And yet…He went.  Why?  He loved me. He loved you.

Amazingly it was not for some of us but all of us. Skin color, economic station, language, nationality, capacity to be bad or good doesn’t matter.  The Bible simply says, “He came to seek and save that which was lost.”  It simply says, “Whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”  It simply says He is not willing for any to perish but all to come home. Anyone—I like anyone. Anyone who acknowledges their need for a rescue will find one in Jesus. And this Hero not only does a meet and greet, He invites you to join His family.  How about that!

So, when you hear the national anthem, place your hand over your heart as a salute to those who paid the price for our freedom.  When you see a veteran, thank them for his or her service and sacrifice.  When you walk through a cemetery with your kids, point out the graves of the men and women who served and tell them why they are so special.  And when you talk to the Hero of Heaven next time, thank Him for forgiving your sin.  Thank Him for always being there.  Thank Him for giving you a place to rest.  And, thank Him for having this….because He does.  Bro. Dewayne

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