Grace – Page 73 – Grits with Grace

Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, missions, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials, wisdom

Sleepy Lions

Posted on June 10, 2021June 9, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

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

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful

Herbert

Posted on June 9, 2021June 8, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

The Lord directs the steps of the Godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.” Psalm 37:23

It stands tall. When we moved to 217 West Poplar Street our yard was a blank slate. The house had sat empty for more than a few years and while someone made sure the grass was cut, no one cared if it was beautiful. When my wife Judy came…all that began to change. Somewhere along her journey she acquired what can only be described as a green thumb. She has a way with plants that causes them to grow…to succeed. What was once a blank slate is now a garden, lush and green, with many kinds of plants, trees, and flowers.

Her style, though planned, is not one that is starchy or stiff. The flowers and plants are allowed to grow freely…to multiply. While there are times when pruning has to be done and digging has to occur, largely they are allowed to “bloom where they are planted.” The best example of that is Herbert the tree. I need to tell you that I just named the tree Herbert. I thought it might add more human interest to the story. Anyway, several years ago, a maple tree began to grow in one of our flower beds. Now, honestly, that usually doesn’t end well for the tree. But this one, well, somehow the story turned out differently.

Herbert started growing too close to the fence in our front yard. I can say with certainty that he was probably cut down a couple of times and each time he came back. So finally, somehow, we decided to let him grow—and he did. Time gets away from us all and it may be longer than I think, but I think Herbert is now about five years old. He has grown from a little maple sapling into a 25-30 foot tall tree. He was planted by nature, but it was our decision to let him grow…to bloom where he was planted. I’m glad we did.

Herbert is now big enough to provide some shade in our front yard and he also adds depth and dimension to our yard and now, for the first time, when I rake leaves in the fall, at least some of them are mine and not my neighbor’s. Somehow that is satisfying. A friend says I should have cut Herbert down a long time ago…you know, wrong place. But I told him that we were going to give him a chance. While the place nature put him isn’t the best, he is a constant reminder to us to grow, to flourish, wherever God plants us.

Our life has been a series of great adventures. While some folks choose to grow in the same community all of their lives and maybe live in the same house…well, ours has been different. It really wasn’t us making the call…I believe it was a sovereign God working and planning what He thought best for us. Our path isn’t your path, but it was the one that God chose for us. One of the writers of the Jewish hymnbook in what we call the Old Testament said, “The Lord directs the steps of the Godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.” In other words, life, and especially the life of someone who follows Jesus, isn’t a series of accidents and circumstances but rather the handiwork of a Master Gardener. And for those Jesus followers, well that Master Gardener just happens to be their Dearest Daddy.

So, when you drive by our house on Poplar Street take a look at Herbert. He lives by the alley and by the fence on the East side of our front yard. Notice that he is closer to the fence than he should be but also remember that he is simply, “blooming where he was planted.” It seems to be working out well for Herbert and guess what? It seems to work out well for us humans too. Regardless of where you’ve been planted and regardless of the soil—just keep trusting the Master Gardner…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, Scripture, travel, Trials, wisdom

Joy in the Journey

Posted on June 4, 2021June 3, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” Philippians 4:4

It just depends. My wife Judy and I recently returned from a trip out west. It was a trip that would involve flying and driving. It was also a trip with one purpose…to get away, to relax, to enjoy. It is not uncommon for us to take a trip and encounter some less than perfect weather. We have learned to say, “Oh well, at least we are still away.” Away…that’s a good thing. You see, the purpose of a journey can often determine the success of the journey. Set your sights too high and too narrow and you will often find frustration and stress.

Let me explain. The first leg of our journey was simple…get to Colorado as quickly as possible. Because that was the goal…we flew. Also, because that was the goal every delay caused me to have a stressful moment. Long check-in, stress. Long security, frustration. Flight delay, double both. You see, the point was to get there…not to enjoy the journey. When I was much younger, just the thought of getting to fly was exciting. I would always ask for the window seat so I could watch the world go by. The joy was the journey, but now, alas, it is just a means to get somewhere, and the wonder and joy have slipped away.

Leg two of the journey was different. It was a hybrid of experiences. Renting a new and different car to drive, driving in a new part of the world, and going at a pace that better enabled me to enjoy it. Usually. But honestly, there was still a battle to be fought…an alligator to be wrestled to the earth. I had to determine if the destination was the goal…or was it the journey? I mean I know that there is always a destination but if that becomes obsessive, the joy quickly slips away. It was my call—enjoy the journey or race to the destination.

You see, if I am racing to the destination, then put me on an interstate highway where the roads are wide, and the speed limit is high. Out in Wyoming, the speed limit on the interstate was 80 mph…Katie bar the door. Oh, and those long, straight two-lane roads—yup, 75 mph. That fit my destination minded mindset just fine, thank you. But then there were the times that we were in the Rocky Mountains on a curvy, mountain road just driving. There really wasn’t a place we had to be—we were just driving and that changed everything. If there was a slower driver in front…that was fine. We would just sit back and enjoy the scenery as it slid by the windows. The journey was the destination and joy was the result.

But here is what I discovered. As soon as there was a “gotta be there” destination and mindset then that same road and that same slow driver became a stress point. The only thing that changed was the pressure to get there. That same scenery was an ignored blur as the only thing that mattered was looking for a passing zone so I could get there—wherever there happened to be. The end of the day often told the story—tired and stressed or refreshed and blessed—the way I traveled seemed to make all the difference.

There will always be a destination to get to and there will always be slower drivers and unexpected obstacles to keep us from getting there, but joy in the journey changes everything. Jesus knew that His destination was a Roman cross, but He never let the that stop Him from enjoying the day and loving those around Him. He loved the joy of the journey. I can just imagine Him smiling as He changed the life of a leper or blessed a small child…all joy in the journey. Paul, one of the guys who wrote a large part of the New Testament, said, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” In other words have joy in the journey…no matter what that journey looks like. He did that really well.

So, when you find yourself on a winding, two-lane road, enjoy the journey. Take a moment to watch the beauty around you slide by the windows. See what God has allowed to come into your world that day and the destination will come soon enough. And when you find yourself backed into a rushed corner, there’s a couple of things you can do. First, plan a little better when you can and then use that extra time to talk to the Father about that day or maybe relax in Him because, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Family, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, Military memories, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, travel, Trials, USA

Heroes

Posted on June 3, 2021June 2, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

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 hollowed 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 super hero 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

Family, Grace, life, Scripture, thankful, travel, Trials

Your Expected Wait Time

Posted on June 2, 2021June 1, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

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

Warning…whining ahead. Ok, I just wanted to give you a heads up that I am about to whine. It really isn’t my fault. I think I was born with it…wired with it. While most babies cried, I whined. If the milk wasn’t quite the right temperature…I didn’t cry…I whined. If it was a quarter past a diaper change…you guessed, I whined. And if someone failed to realize just how precious I was…whine, whine, whine. I am so good at it I believe it must be some kind of gift. I know the Bible talks about people having a special gift from God so who knows…maybe there is a whining gift. People sometimes say you shouldn’t whine but that is probably because they are jealous. Whining is an art, a talent but there is a problem. Nobody seems to appreciate a good whiner. Someone even gave me a little plaque to hang in my office. It simply says, “Thou shalt not whine.” Imagine that.

I try to be a good steward of my whining gift and save it for very, special occasions, but the problem is, to me everything day is special and almost every situation an opportunity to practice my gift. But tonight, tonight it is valid. Tonight, I have the right to whine…and I have. Here’s why. So, a couple of months ago, my wife Judy and I planned our fall vacation and decided to go back to Fort Myers, Florida. It just sounded like a good idea.

We began to make all the appropriate reservations and arrangements. Car rental…check. Places to stay…check. Plane tickets…check. Yup…we were all set. And then it happened. The airline, which I won’t name but whose name starts with a D and ends with an A decided to change our flight schedule. Hmmm.

We always fly in and out of Evansville because it is so convenient. As close as it is, it is still about an hour and a half from where we live to the airport. We had arranged for the return flight to land in the early afternoon. This is especially important since as a pastor I am supposed to speak the next morning. It’s always good to have a cushion…just in case. Anyway, here comes the email. Surprise, surprise, surprise…we have changed your flight from landing at 4:40pm in the afternoon to 9:09pm (yawn) in the evening. Add an hour and a half drive and it makes 5:00 am come pretty fast.

So, I checked and found out there was indeed a flight that landed at 4:40 pm and there were indeed seats available. I decided to call the airlines and ask them to fix the problem. I dialed the number and the chirpy voice on the recording assured me that I was a valuable customer (I even had a special number to call) and they would be right with me. The expected wait time was just four hours. I’m not kidding, 4:00 hours. Well, I just knew there had to be another way but after spending an hour trying to find it, I realized there was not one. Not an email solution, not a wish, or a prayer…nothing, nada. If I wanted to talk to the nice airline, I would have to stay on the line for four hours. Can someone say crazy?

Well, rather than stay on the line for four hours (yawn) I decided to spend the time writing a story about it. I just know all of you out there in grits land will understand and whine with me. I’m not sure how I’m gonna fix the problem, but I assure you it will not involve me holding on the phone for four hours. I can also assure you it will involve an appropriate amount of whining.

Now fortunately, not all customer service is as poor as this. In fact, there is one place where there is no wait, no busy signal and each person is indeed special. And, where would that be…on God’s hotline. I love the fact that my Dearest Daddy is never too busy, never too overwhelmed to take my call. And the best part? He always makes the right call—pun intended. He is too kind to be mean and too wise to make a mistake. Even when His way doesn’t match my way, I am sure that it is the best way. I guess I could ask Him for patience, but I hear the training program for that involves six hour hold times. Yikes!

Well, I feel better now. Thanks for reading and understanding. Who knows, all this might work out for my good…actually, I’m sure it will. I mean the Bible says, “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose,” and I suppose that includes long holds on the phone. Someone (and that would be me) tells everyone that will listen, “He’s got this” and I believe that He does. I even believe that includes airlines with four hour hold times. How about that. God bless you! Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, Military memories, Scripture, thankful, wisdom

It’s A Dippity-Do Dah Day

Posted on May 28, 2021May 25, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

If we say, “We have fellowship with Him,” and yet we walk in darkness, we are lying and are not practicing the truth.” 1 John 1:6

Hi Grits family. Hey, Judy and I are out of pocket today, so we are giving you the opportunity to revisit some of our favorites. So, God bless, enjoy and we will see you soon.

Dippity-do dah, dippy day, my oh my, what a wonderful day. I joined the Air Force back in 1972 and in so many ways it was a different world. At that time longer hair was still very much in vogue. It seemed the only guys with shorter haircuts were either born in the 1920’s or in the military. I was the latter.

It was also a different day in the way people viewed the military. The country was coming out of the Vietnam era and sadly many saw veterans and the active military in a dark light. I can well remember walking around town and getting the “one of those” looks. While I was never ashamed of being in the military, in fact, I was proud to serve, I did want to be cool—part of the in-crowd and short hair just wasn’t in. But you know the old saying, “Where there is a will, there is a way.” Hello Dippity-do.

It’s funny, I don’t remember anyone else doing it nor do I remember how I started. I found this hair stuff called, “Dippity-do.” It was a gel-like product and depending on how much you applied, it would make your hair stay where you put it. So I bought a jar and slowly I let the hair on the top of my head and sides grow out. I would wakeup in the morning and put this stuff, in fact a lot of this stuff, on my hair. I would comb it kinda on top of my head and toward the back. The effect was—well, effective. The funny part is when this stuff dried out it made my hair as solid as a rock. Of course, my mom always said I had a hard head.

I found that I could have the required white-wall around my ears and have all this hair glued down to the top of my head. When I got off work, I would go take a shower, wash this stuff out and believe it or not have enough hair to totally cover my ears. I looked like any other guy in the early 1970’s. Even as I write this I’m saying, “What?” But believe me it worked. I looked like a military guy during the day and a regular off-the-street guy at night. Looking back, it was weird.

Even stranger I worked in the command section of my squadron and to show how effective my ruse was, no one said anything. It looked, and I guess was, regulation. I remember one day walking in the local mall and coming straight toward me was my squadron commander, Major Hobbs. We passed within five feet of each other and he didn’t even recognize me. Yup—G.I. Joe by day and a 70’s hipster at night. Looking back there probably was a word for it. It was probably pretty hypocritical.

The word hypocrite means to “play the part” or to “wear the mask.” It was used to describe actors in ancient Greece who were one thing on stage and another off the stage. The one thing I remember is that I always felt a certain amount of fear while doing this. There was always the “what if I get called in and don’t have time to plaster my hair down” thing. What if my commander and my first sergeant saw me and did recognize me? I knew they respected me and what would happen to that respect? It’s the feeling you get when you are one thing one time and another thing later.

Well, finally I figured it wasn’t worth it and I’ll tell you that story another time, but the bottom line is I went and got a regular haircut. Two things happened almost immediately. First, I felt free. The fear of the wrong person seeing me at the wrong time was suddenly gone. It was like a weight was taken off my shoulders. The second thing that happened was I discovered that in spite of what the culture said, I was proud to be in the Air Force and that haircut identified me as part of a special family and team. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of…it was something to be proud of. And the best part, the girl I was dating, who I later married, thought I was even cuter. Now for the funny part. I have been out of the military now for 36 years and I never, not even once, grew my hair out. I decided I like shorter hair. More than that…I decided I like being real.

So, what about you? What is it in your life where you “wear the mask?” What is it in your life where you have decided to pretend—to be something you aren’t? While we find that in every aspect of life, sadly it’s also common in the Jesus follower world. People say one thing and do another—people who act one way on Sunday and another the rest of week. If I learned anything from my Dippity-do world is that authenticity beats a plastic mask every time.

John, one of the guys who followed Jesus in the Bible, said it pretty well. He said, “If we say, “We have fellowship with him,” and yet we walk in darkness, we are lying and are not practicing the truth.” In other words, if we say we are one thing and really are another—we are just living a lie. It is better to be real than fake. It is better to be authentic than counterfeit. I may have fooled my commander that day but I never fool God when I choose to be one thing in public and another in private. But the one thing I love about God is that He never rejects me. He is never ashamed to call me His child. I can always rest in Him and more than that, He can handle who I am—Dippity-do and all. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture, Trials

Murphy’s Law

Posted on May 27, 2021May 25, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

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

Hi Grits family. Hey, Judy and I are out of pocket for the next two days, so we are giving you the opportunity to revisit some of our favorites. So, God bless, enjoy and we will see you soon.

Good ole Murphy. You have probably heard about a thing called Murphy’s Law. The bottom line is that if something can go wrong…it probably will. I have been a strong believer in Murphy’s Law for a long time. In fact, I bet if I checked ancestry.com this Murphy fella is somehow related to me. Now I know if you are one of those optimistic folks you are not a believer. You probably don’t believe in Big Foot either. Well, hey, I’m a believer. Let me give you a couple of examples.

I have a 100 foot water hose that we use to water plants, wash the car, all kind of things. When I am done with the hose and it is time to roll it back up, there is a 90% probably that the hose will catch on something—a flower pot, a rock, a crack in the sideway, or even an ant. When it catches, it kinks and I will have to walk out and unkink it. And…there is 67.5 % chance that it will kink again. There you go…Murphy’s Law.

Are you up for one more? So, let’s say I am installing a light fixture in the bedroom and I have to screw three screws in to hold it. There is a 94.75 percent chance that I will drop at least one of the screws from atop the six foot ladder, that it will roll 7.5 feet over toward the wall and that it will drop into the heating or air conditioning vent. AND there is a 100% chance that I will not have a replacement screw AND a 84% chance that no one in town will either. See, it is Murphy’s Law—undeniable, irrefutable, you gotta believe it, proof.

Now the good thing about Murphy’s Law is that most of the things it involves won’t kill you or even cause serious injury …but it will definitely drive you crazy. I’ve lived long enough to come to the conclusion that it isn’t the major disasters in life that steal our joy, rob us of peace, or make us want to move to Montana. No, it is the little things. One of my favorite verses is tucked away in one of those Bible books we never read—the Song of Solomon. Trust me—don’t read it to your kids before bedtime—or maybe anytime.

Well, right in the middle of the book is this jewel, “Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom.” The author, who is a guy named Solomon, is saying he is not worried about a herd of elephants stomping and ruining his grapevines. Nope. He realized the danger is from those pesky little foxes that come along and eat the harvest one grape at a time. One.grape.at.a.time.

In these crazy days that have become some kind of new normal there are some elephants out there. The reality is that the corona virus can be very dangerous. There is a pretty small chance that I will get it. There is an even smaller chance that it will kill me. But there is just about a 100% chance that it and all its circumstances have and will mess with me. And that’s the problem—worrying about things that mess with me, things I can’t change, and the Rolaids stock goes right through the roof. Those stinking, pesky little foxes. We should be wary of the elephants, but let’s not give too much time and energy to the little foxes.

The foxes can and will mess with us. If we allow them they can cause us to be frustrated and even angry. They can mess with our peace, our joy, our relationships and even our sleep. But the truth is our God is greater than any elephant or any fox. All we have to do us trust Him—to lean into Him. The writer of Proverbs says it this way, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don’t lean into your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.” There you go…trust and acknowledge and He will straighten this mess out.

So, the next time the hose kinks or the screw disappears just remember Murphy is at work. The choice of what we do when he visits is ours. I think we should just probably introduce him to our Friend Jesus. We should let him know there isn’t room for he and Jesus in our circle of friends. Someone has to go and Murphy—it is you. So long Murphy. I’m gonna go rest in Jesus. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, love, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Stonehedge

Posted on May 26, 2021May 25, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.” Luke 19:10

Hi Grits family. Hey, Judy and I are out of pocket for the next three days, so we are giving you the opportunity to revisit some of our favorites. So, God bless, enjoy and we will see you soon.

“For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.” Luke 19:10

Roy Smith Allen was a genuine, authentic, real-deal Southern good ole boy. I met him on the road to falling in love with his daughter. I can remember virtually every detail of meeting Judy but Roy, well, its like one minute he wasn’t there and the next he was. I met Judy at her church on a Wednesday night. I walked in the side door and she was standing with a group of five or six girls. It was as if the others weren’t even there. She stole the show…and my heart.

I found out that when I started dating Judy, I also started dating her family. They were a crazy bunch of fun-loving people who turned every get together into a ruckus of stories and one-uppers. Right in the middle of the craziness was Roy. Well, for some reason, Roy took a shine to me. Judy will tell you that both of her parents liked me more than her. That probably wasn’t true. But I guess they trusted me because truth be known she was a little too young and I was a little too old. But here we are forty-four years later so we must have met somewhere in the middle.

Roy was a hard core, church going, deacon. He worked for the county as the superintendent of roads and had been the assistant warden at the county work camp. He had a gun…he carried a gun. He told Judy and I upfront he didn’t believe in pre-marshall (translated premarital) sex. We both agreed with that so the gun stayed in the holster which was a good thing.

About nine months after I started dating Judy, I asked her to marry me. It happened to be on April Fool’s Day which was kinda funny. But I was dead serious and happily she said yes. So, by now Roy had become Pops to me. So I knew I had to ask him if I could marry Judy. After his first heart attack, his doctor suggested he begin a walking regimen. One evening I joined him walking around the track at the park and I said, “Pops, I would like to marry Judy.” It wasn’t a question but it was a statement that needed a response and he gave one. “No you don’t, boy.” Pops called me “boy” a lot. It wasn’t derogatory but more akin to him calling me “son.”

I persisted and said, “No really, I want to marry Judy.” He stoically gave the same answer, “No you don’t, boy.” Well, I can’t remember how many times we bantered back and forth but eventually I took it as a yes. We were officially engaged…as soon as I could afford a ring.

Somewhere along the journey, her parents allowed me to stay in the spare bedroom at their house on weekends. The base was about twenty-five miles away so it seemed to make some sense. Pops liked to get up early and work hard and I became the “young buck” of his Saturday operations . He was building a shed about 20 miles out in the country and he saw in me some free labor. So, he would come in the bedroom at about 4:30 am and declare, “Time to get up, boy.” I would groggily roll out of bed. We would head to the Gold Plate Restaurant for a hearty breakfast with hot, strong coffee and then head to the building site where I wished I hadn’t eaten quite so much.

Pops had acquired some huge, like 10×10 inch, used bridge timbers from the county. While he supervised, I began digging holes and setting these monstrous beams. Then, we (make that me) had the pleasure of trying to hoist them up to form the roof. Well, it near-bout killed me. We never finished the building and I am sure forty-four years later those timbers are probably still standing like some sort of South Georgia Stonehenge.

In the fall of 1975, at church one morning, I went from being a church goer to a Jesus follower. That day I finally figured out that being religious was not the same as having a relationship with Jesus. It was and is a big deal. Everyone was really happy that I had made that commitment. There were plenty of hugs and words of affirmation but none matched Pop’s. He simply said, “I knew there was something wrong with you, boy.” It was apparent Pops wasn’t gifted in the affirmation department. But that was Roy…that was Pops. I was pretty sure he loved me and I know I loved him…especially since he didn’t shoot me.

So, about a year later, Judy and I were married and in spite of a bad heart he was there to walk her down the aisle. When Judy and I were assigned to Germany, Pops flew there twice to see us. When we were assigned to Missouri, here came Pops. He came out to see our new daughter and his new granddaughter, Rebecca. And then just six weeks later he was apparently working in his backyard there in South Georgia and sat down to rest. Sometime during the break, Jesus came and took him home. Pops was gone but the legend, the legacy lives on.

Roy Smith Allen had a lot of rough edges, a lot of warts, if you will. But buried somewhere beneath the rough exterior was a good hearted man. I’m sure he required a lot of God’s grace but don’t we all? None us could make the cut for heaven based on our own merit. We all are just like Pops…sinners in need of a graceful, loving God. The Book says that Jesus came to seek and to save lost people. People like Roy, people like me and people like you. And if we are willing to be found, He is will to forgive us and invite us into His family. In his backward way, that is what Pops did. Every time he called me “boy” he was calling me “son.” I like that.

So if you find yourself bumping along in life, rough around the edges, you might try what Pops tried. It wasn’t church…it was Jesus. I know it changed my life. It didn’t make me perfect but it did make me forgiven. And the best part? In this crazy, upside-down world, He is always there. I can always go to Him, rest in Him. I know, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, food, forgiveness, Grace, life

Stupid Watermelon

Posted on May 25, 2021May 22, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

For I am conscious of my rebellion, and my sin is always before me. Against you—you alone—I have sinned and done this evil in your sight.” Psalm 51:3-4

Hi Grits family- Judy and I are out of pocket for the next four days, so we are giving you the opportunity to revisit some of our favorites. So, God bless, enjoy and we will see you soon.

I should have just stayed home. You probably don’t know there is such a thing as a stupid watermelon but if you live long enough you will surely run into one. In my case it happened just a couple of weeks ago at our local grocery store. Before I begin the story you need to know that I am one of those slightly older people who has “old people’s skin.” In case you don’t know “old people’s skin” happens as a person ages. The result is skin that bruises and wounds easily. Let me just say, “It ain’t fun.” It goes like this.

You are opening the storm door with one of those automatic closing things. The wind catches the door, banging into your arm. Congratulations…you are the proud owner of a new bruise. You are carrying a pile of limbs to the rubbish pile and one shifts in your hands and against, or rather into, your arm. You win again. You are going up the stairs…yes, I said up the stairs, and your foot catches on the riser and you fall against the wall. Double congratulations…you win a bruise and cut. Sigh.

And it is always the hand you use the most. In my case I am left handed so my left arm continually looks like I play major league football or have wrestled with a full-grown lion. Either way…its’ not pretty. And mark my word, just about the time you get it healed up…bam…you start all over again. That, dear friends, is where the stupid watermelon comes along.

I don’t do grocery stores. I definitely do food…I just don’t do grocery shopping. Well, one evening I was feeling pretty jovial and decided to go to the grocery store with my wife Judy. We enter the store and get one of those cute (on no…I said cute again) mini baskets and off we go. We are heading back to the bakery so I am in a particularly good mood. I can already taste the greasy, fried dough. Then…it happens. There is a sign that says, “Watermelons – $3.99.” Judy loves watermelons.

We pause and begin to study the watermelons. She thumps them. She pats them. She caresses them. After several minutes the winner is chosen. “I want this one” she declares. Her galant, strong prince, hoists the winning melon out of the bin of losers and prepares to put it in the buggy. Because we have a mini-buggy, I decided to put it in the bottom rather than the top. That is where things got ugly.

I bend over and prepare to slide the watermelon into the too small bottom portion of the buggy. Just at the time of releasing the melon and removing my hand—it slips. As it falls into the too small bottom portion it rolls on my hand and catches my finger between the basket and watermelon. “Ouch,” I said. When I was able to maneuver my finger from between the basket and melon—I saw it. Not a bruise…oh no…but a nice ¾ inch skin laceration. It was bleeding. Badly. Profusely. It was then the true nature of the melon escaped my lips, “Stupid watermelon.” No wonder they were on sale for $3.99.

It seems at least they could have put a sign up that read, “Stupid Watermelons – $3.99.”

Well, I quickly became obsessed over the true nature of the evil watermelon. “Hey Judy, do you have a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from the stupid watermelon?” “Honey, do you want some cheese to go with the stupid watermelon?” On and on it went and the watermelon and I became mortal enemies. And the coup-de-grace? Not only was it stupid…it wasn’t even sweet. Sigh.

But no, I had to find out the hard way. About then Judy said something like, “Well, it really wasn’t the watermelon…it was the buggy.” I began to protest but I think she said something like, “And you know it happened because it slipped out of your hand.” By that I assumed she meant the one that was cut and bleeding. Somehow it didn’t make my hand feel any better and two weeks later I still have some healing to do. But…she was right.

It wasn’t the watermelon, it wasn’t the buggy it wasn’t even me. It was just one of those things that happen. I just needed to blame something because my hand hurt and 746 people were going to ask, “What happened to your hand?” Blaming it on a stupid watermelon just seemed easier. The truth is, it is easier to blame than it is to own. It has been that way since the beginning of time. In the garden, Adam blamed Eve and God for the hot mess they were in after they chose to sin. Eve, of course, blamed the serpent and the serpent, well, he just smiled.

Whether it is broken skin or a broken heart; whether it is someone’s fault or not; whether you own part of the skirmish or all of it—why not take a moment and own it. Press the pause button, calm down and then just eat the watermelon. That way, you will get the last laugh. Then, tell God about it, all about it and take a rest in Him. He’s got that and this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, missions, prayer, priorities, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials

It Was Hard

Posted on May 21, 2021May 20, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:18

And then I remembered…it was hard. I was looking for a picture to use in one of my Grit’s stories and that caused me to go back…to reminisce…to remember. It was 2007 and I was part of a vision trip to Niger, West Africa to check out the possibilities of our church ministering in that West Africa country. It involved an incredibly long flight which included a 12-hour layover in Casablanca, Morocco. This was new territory for all four team members and trust me it was an adventure. Perhaps my favorite, and most eye-opening part, was when I asked a coffee shop owner if he took dollars. His only response was a shrug of the shoulders that seemed to say, “What is a dollar?” Apparently, I had found a place that didn’t think America was the center of the universe.

Later that day, we continued our journey to Niger and arrived near midnight and I was sure we had somehow been diverted and landed on the moon. The landscape, the sounds, the sights, the smells and the culture were so different…and that was just the beginning. Though I had spent three years in Europe and made a journey to the Eastern European country of Bulgaria, nothing prepared me for this. Even though we were in the capital city of Niamey there was still extreme property and many dirt roads. Amazing. But that was nothing compared to “the bush.”

We were more than just on the edge of the vast, almost endless Sahara desert where the scrub bushes and sand seemed to go on forever. With the exception of our own faces, everyone there bore the signs of desert life. Faces were weathered and worn by the desert winds and feet were toughened by the grinding of the sand. And yet, the people were amazingly content. Things such as family and friendship seemed to matter more than anything western culture provided. It was eye opening.

We were in the bush for several days and every day was an adventure and every day we learned more and more about this harsh, yet beautiful place at the edge of the Sahara with all its challenges and opportunities. We slept out in the desert air, we took bucket baths because there was no running water, we lived by flashlights because there was no electricity, and we ate new and strange foods…very strange. I learned that millet was not on my favorite food list and I also learned that this southern boy could, with difficulty, go without bread.

Well, we more than survived and would return a half dozen times or so to this different part of the world before the political climate closed that door and we had to move on to another part of West Africa. That was another adventure and another story. But as I looked at those pictures and went back…reminisced…remembered, I realized, at least for me, that was a difficult trip. For one who was used to so many creature comforts, it was hard. I also looked at some pictures from another trip to the bush a couple of years later and looked into the eyes of weary westerners—tired from a long day’s ministry, loving and helping people and remembered…it was hard.

But here’s the deal. It was worth it…in fact, it was more than worth it. Those trips, those days, were some of the most memorable days we have spent on the African continent. During those days I made friendships with people and learned from them. They left their fingerprints on my life and heart and I am different today. I hope that I too left good fingerprints on their lives—good impressions of Someone much greater than me. We told Bible stories during those days and for many that was something new—something they had never heard, Someone, they had never known. I still remember how some were bewildered and some intrigued. Yes, it was worth all the hard and only eternity will tell the final impact.

Worth.The.Hard. That is not only true for trips to West Africa or other difficult places, it is true of life. You see, everyone’s journey is different, and everyone’s journey will include easy and it will include hard—and both are beneficial. The easy refreshes us like a desert oasis and the hard teaches us like a strenuous workout at the gym. If and when, we learn we need both, life takes on a different and better meaning. We stop holding on only to the easy and learn to embrace the hard and we are better.

Paul, a guy in the Bible who knew a lot about easy and hard said, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us.” Paul learned to appreciate both sides of the coin—the refreshment of easier days and the challenge of difficult ones. How about you? Can you imagine a better outcome when the harshness of life brings profit instead of loss? I know it is a challenge and a lesson that I am still learning. But there is one lesson that is at the top of my to-do list—to remember and believe, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne