Grace – Page 89 – Grits with Grace

Family, Grace, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, wisdom

A Little Misunderstanding

Posted on July 2, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone.” Colossians 4:6

It was just a little misunderstanding. The story is told of a pastor who visited a man in the hospital. As he stood by the bed, the man began to be in deep distress. Unable to speak he quickly wrote the pastor a note, handed it to him and then just died. In all the confusion of the moment, the pastor slid the note into his pocket and forgot about it. Several days later the pastor was conducting the memorial service for the man. The pastor was describing the man…his life, his good heart and his service for others. Then it happened.

The pastor suddenly remembered that he had the note in his suit pocket. He told the audience, “I have just remembered the day Joe died I was visiting him in the hospital and he slipped me a note right before he passed away. I failed to read it and have just now remembered it is in my pocket. How special it would be if we can share his final thoughts together now. So the pastor reached into his pocket, pulled out the note and read, “You’re standing on my oxygen hose.” Smile.

As a pastor you can bet I’ve got some pretty crazy stories and a lot of them revolve around little misunderstandings and lack of communication. One day I was visiting one of our members in the hospital and she was quite ill. When I make a visit I naturally slip into my “let me make you feel better mode.” For me there are two great fix-alls—humor and food. But sometimes, many times, a person just needs compassion and kindness. This was one of those times.

I walked into the room and she was lying in the bed softly moaning. I moved over by the bed and whispered her name. She opened her eyes, slightly smiled and said, “Pastor, thank you for coming by.” We shared for just a few minutes and it was obvious she was very sick. And then she said, “I just want to go home.” I softy said, “I know.” And she said it again and then another time. Each time I responded with some simple words of understanding. After the third time I upped my game. I said, “I know you want to go home and when God is ready, He will take you.”

Well, imagine my surprise, and embarrassment, when she said, “NOT that home, pastor, my home.” Oh…oops. I was ready to ship her off to heaven and she was just wanting to go back to her house. Like I said, sometimes there is just a lack of understanding and communication. When that happens we need to admit that we missed it and if necessary ask for a little grace or perhaps give a little grace. I quickly apologized for the misunderstanding, she did get better and indeed went to her home. We even had the chance to laugh about it later.

In the world we find ourselves these days there are multiple opportunities for misunderstandings. When we find ourselves in too close of quarters for too long, when we have differing opinions about everything from the corona virus to what’s wrong with our country—misunderstandings are bound to happen. In the regular world the normal response would be to get mad and often get even. In the regular world the normal response would be more anger and more division. But for Jesus followers that is just not an option.

The Bible tells us over and again that if we follow Jesus we are to act like Jesus. We often get that when it comes to moral responses—and rightfully so. But we too often miss the biggest application—how we respond when we bump into other people…or they bump into us. Paul, one of the major writers in the Bible says, “Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone.” I like that. Gracious and attractive. Mama used to say this, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”. I wonder if Mama knew Paul?

Well, the bottom line is there will always be plenty of opportunities to bump into people. There will always be plenty of opportunities to respond in a “not so Jesus way.” But what if we hit the pause button right before we speak and ask ourselves, “Is this gracious or attractive? Is this nice?” I wonder how things would change? In these dark days the world needs “Jesus lights.” It needs us to shine for Him even when we get a little tired and a little weary. We need to recognize that is just a setup for regretful words. Let’s choose option “B.” Let’s just rest in Him and choose to think before we speak. After all, He’s got this.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture

My Name is Sue

Posted on June 29, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

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 Francis. Like Sue…it was a somewhat unusual name for a man and Francis was an unusual guy. I met Francis 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. I was 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 would have been me, I would have grabbed some flowers, dug a hole, stuffed them in, and added dirt. Good luck. Not Judy. She decided that the flower bed should go along the front of the house and that it need 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 Francis that Judy wanted a flower bed. Now Francis 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, “Francis, Judy would like to have some railroad ties for her new flower bed”. Francis didn’t miss a beat. He said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five.”

Well, sure as shooting, the next day at five, Francis 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. Francis 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 ways and then…Francis 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.

Francis 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 distant train whistle.

Now I didn’t think a thing about it. I always was a bit gullible and way too trusting. I had just assumed that Francis 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 whistle the second time and it was decidedly closer. I noticed that Francis had picked up the pace…he was definitely moving a little faster. I still didn’t think a thing. I just assumed he didn’t want to be that close to the tracks when the train went by. Well, that was kinda true.

The whistle blew again and this time it must have been about a mile down the tracks and Francis said it, “Preacher, we gotta go.” I did sense a bit of urgency in his voice but I kinda 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, “Francis, 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, Francis 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 of them were guilty as sin. One knew all about it and the other was just learning but both were tie stealing criminals. Francis 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. Francis helped with that too. Years later when I would return to the church to preach, share at a funeral or maybe just drive through town, I would look and see the ties. I didn’t remember the sin (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 Francis kind of friends. Of course if you’re gonna steal railroad ties, you definitely need the Jesus kind of friend. As a matter of fact, He says, “go steal no more” in Ephesians 4:28, and I didn’t. 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.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, Military memories, missions, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel

Forty-four Years

Posted on June 26, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times! Don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants.” Ephesians 5:16-17

Forty-four years. 16,071 sunrises and sunsets. That’s the length of the on-going saga of our story. It seems like yesterday but it also seems like another lifetime. We both were young… maybe too young. But we were in love, we wanted to walk together so that day, this day forty-four years later, we started walking and just never stopped.

We were chatting last night before we drifted off to sleep and I told her we were blessed. There have been bumps but not the kind of bumps that come from wanting to quit or wanting something new. They were the kind of bumps that come from life. The death of our parents, starting over when the Air Force or God gave new orders, kids being kids and people being people, and yes, me being me and her being her. But what a journey.

Forty-four years. I remember the excitement of our wedding day. I in my snazzy light-blue tux and patent leather high heeled shoes (hey, cut me some slack…it was the seventies) and her standing at the back of the church in her white wedding dress and long brown hair. Her standing and then walking…walking to me to join me…to start life together. I was marrying up…and well.

Forty-four years. I remember embarking on the first of many great adventures as we flew to Europe not for a honeymoon but to live. The Air Force sent us to live in Germany and while the separation from family was hard…life was enchanting. I remember looking out our apartment window overlooking an alpine valley with the trees covered with a light dusting of snow. I remember our German landlord knocking on our door and presenting my new bride with a freshly skinned rabbit. He was beaming and she was wondering, “What do I do with this?”

Forty-four years. I remember coming back to the USA after three years and seeing our country through new eyes. Leave for a while and you never see it quite the same. Leave for a while and the warts and imperfection all fall into perspective. I remember traveling to the Midwest for the first time and finding out that not everyone liked grits or even knew what they were. I remember the birth of our first daughter and realizing that we weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Forty-four years. I remember daughter number two surprising us…and what a good surprise it was. Our family was complete (or not) and our future secure in the Air Force…until the Whisperer whispered. So long Air Force and hello pastoring and walking by faith. With a young wife and two kids ages three and two, no insurance and a pastorate that paid $12,000..well, faith was a little harder…a little less sure. About then I began to realize just how big, how sure, God is. I’m still learning that one but He has a perfect track record.

Forty-four years. I remember the day when we had to pack up and leave a bunch of people we loved a lot and that loved us a lot. With a station-wagon and a U-Haul stuffed to the gills we moved to a little town called Cobden. It was new all over again and we fell in love again with another wonderful group of people. It was at Cobden that God surprised us with daughter number three. It was at Cobden we raised our family because God let us stay 14 years. It was at Cobden we learned deep lessons of love and grace. After fourteen years the Whisperer whispered again and we knew we had to obey. It was one of the hardest things we ever did.

Forty-four years. I remember coming to Harrisburg and to Dorrisville Church and wondering how God would write this new part of our story. I remember wondering how long this chapter would be. Well, here we are 20 years into this part of our story—almost half of our married lives—and I am still amazed at God’s grace and His people’s patience. Our kids are grown, we have eight grandkids and Judy and I are experiencing what it is like to grow old together. I highly recommend it.

Forty-four years. James, the half-brother of Jesus tells us that life is like a vapor. In other words it goes by quickly. Remember how you breathe on a cold morning and your breath appears as if smoke? As quickly as it appears…it leaves. That’s life. I am amazed at my age, the length of our marriage and just how awesome life has been been…and is. Paul, another Bible guy, had it right. He says, “So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times! Don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants.” Good advice, Paul, good advice indeed. Forty-Four years. Yup, life is good. I’m still in love with Jesus, still in love with Judy, and still in love with my kids and grandkids. I get up each day just waiting to see what God has in store…waiting for the next whisper…the next great adventure. Till then I bet you can guess what I’m going to do. Yup…I’m going to rest in Him. He’s got this.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, Scripture, travel

Patience or “Not”

Posted on June 25, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” James 1:2-3

At first it seemed unfair but then, there it was, conspiracy. There is a lot of talk today about conspiracy schemes. When and whatever happens there is someone who will say there is a dark diabolical reason for it happening. I wasn’t sure about it until it happened to me. Yes, there was a conspiracy.

As you may remember, my wife and I were able to attend a pastor’s conference in North Carolina. It was so good to pack a few things, jump into our 44 mpg Jetta and hit the road. Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” was ringing in my ears. We cruised across Tennessee and were heading toward North Carolina when it happened. About five miles from the border, our GPS talky thing said, in her most gentle voice, “traffic ahead.” Well, it wasn’t like we were in Chicago or something so that could only mean trouble.

Soon, very soon, trouble was staring me in the face. Brake-lights and slowing vehicles were everywhere. We were in a slowdown—we were in—traffic. Signage and the talky thing confirmed my worse fears—there was construction ahead. Now you need to know something. First, I am not patient in traffic. Ok, that wasn’t totally transparent. I am totally impatient in traffic. In fact, I’m not patient period. Whether it be in traffic or at the store, I am changing lanes like a one-armed paperhanger looking for the shortest and fastest lane. The Bible says we are fearfully and wonderfully made but I must have missed the patience part.

Have you ever been driving and the traffic going in the opposite direction is stopped and you are feeling sorry for them? Well, I was the one stopped and I could just feel the empathy of the other drivers. It turned out to be about a 45 minute stop and go. The amazing part was I did pretty good. Judy was beaming at my surprising patience. I even said, “Well, at least going home we won’t have to deal with this.” Soon (though not soon enough) we were through the construction—we were on our way. Hit the fast forward button.

That was Wednesday. Too quickly the days of the conference went by and in no time it was time to go home. After the conference ended at noon we jumped into our 44 mpg Jetta and hit the road toward home. Willie was once again whirling around in my head singing “On the Road Again.” We were nearing the site of Wednesday’s lesson in patience feeling confident and glad that we were heading in the other direction. And then it happened. The GPS talky thing mentioned traffic, 14 miles per hour, and delays. Wait. What? We were not supposed to have to deal with this. And that is when I knew there was a conspiracy. They had changed sides.

Here’s how I think it played out. The North Carolina Department of Transportation called the conference center, asked when I was leaving and then quickly moved the construction to the West bound side so they could get me again. I am sure of it. So, another slowdown, another wait in traffic, but this time they were merciful since it was only 27 minutes and 14 seconds. Oh yes, I was counting. And the people going East, they were zooming by with looks of mercy for those of us stuck. It just wasn’t fair.

I know the Bible well enough to know that you don’t pray for patience. That is one prayer you won’t hear passing through my lips. Pray for patience and you end up with traffic. Pray for patience and you end up locked in your house with three kids for three months. So I get that. But there is a pesky couple of verses found in James 1:2-3 that say, “Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” I really like the Bible but I really don’t like those verses.

Of all the emotions I feel when I am sitting in traffic, joy is not the one that comes to mind—and especially not great joy. But then I read verse 3 and it gives me pause. James says I should appreciate the moments in traffic because it helps me to grow. It helps me to be a better person. It helps me be stronger—it builds endurance. Like lifting weights at the gym strengthens muscles-—so trying situations strengthens our faith in God. Which means part of this whole pandemic deal might be to make us stronger in our faith. Hmmmm. Well, in the end I did pretty good through traffic lesson number two and we managed to get home that evening just about on time. Truth be known…God was good, God was faithful and even in traffic, God can be trusted. No matter what, He has my good at His heart. He wants me to thrive in this world and not just survive. And that means sometimes learning patience sitting in traffic. As you travel today wherever and however that looks, just know God is the traffic manger of your life. Just sit back, enjoy the pause and rest in Him. He’s got this. Honk, Honk.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, Southern born, thankful

Stonehenge

Posted on June 24, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

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 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.

Family, Father's Day, Grace, gratitude, life

Daddy

Posted on June 19, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Exodus 20:12

He didn’t wear a cape or an iron suit but he was a hero to me. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I was born. It all happened on January 6, 1954 in Orange Park, Florida. I was number eight in a family of eight. This can’t be confirmed but I think it went something like this. My daddy was somewhat of a perfectionist and he and my mom had tried seven times to have the perfect child. He went to my mom and said, “Well, honey, I know we have tried seven times to pull off this perfect child thing and I say we give it one more shot. I really think eight is going to be our lucky number.” So, ta-da here I am…living proof that persistence pays off.

My daddy was 42 years old when I was born. He had plenty of experience at the Father thing and you know, I think he did a great job. I don’t recall a lot of special events in my early and later childhood but that isn’t because they didn’t happen. I can remember family camping trips to the beach as well as all night fishing trips to the same. I can remember family vacations to see relatives in all the hot vacation spots like New Jersey and Texas. I can remember trips to Silver Springs, Six Gun Territory and Doctor’s Inlet which was a great place to go for a lake swim. But there are also several memories with just dad and me.

When I was about six, daddy took me fishing on Cedar Creek. It was just me and him. At this age, I wasn’t very good at fishing or paying attention. Truth be known I had a hard time staying focused on anything for very long. Anyway, the fish were biting that day but I had a hard time watching the bobber. Over and again, daddy would ask, “Dewayne, where’s your bobber?” I would look and it was gone. We lost a lot of good worms that day.

Later, when I was about ten, daddy took me hunting. The big deal was that he allowed me to take my BB gun. I wasn’t allowed to carry a real gun; you will see why in a moment. So, we were walking through the woods and I was about four feet behind dad. Silent as a F5 tornado, I crept through the woods. I was too noisy but dad was way patient. And then, well, I shot him in the back. Now wait, don’t panic. It was only a BB gun and he did have his heavy hunting jacket on. I had my finger on the trigger (oops) and every so slowly and without even realizing it, increased the pressure. Just like that it went off and got dad square in the back. Bummer.

Do you know what? He didn’t holler and in fact he didn’t say a single word. He just looked over his shoulder and gave me that “I’m glad that wasn’t a 12 gauge” look. I appreciated that and have never forgotten the fact that he could have made me feel “less than” but didn’t. I’m sure we had a talk about gun safety and it must have worked out because I never shot him again.

My two favorite memories of him don’t involve a fishing pole or a gun. They involve God. Honestly, daddy didn’t go to church a bunch but I know he was a Christian because of the way he lived. Two events, two memories are burned into my mind and heart. The first is a time when we were having prayer time together as a family. Some people call it family altar…at the time I probably called it too long. I remember it was time to pray so we all got down on our knees around the room. I got a little bored so I peeked and there across the room was my daddy, on his knees, talking to God. It made a big impression on my young heart.

Later, when I was about 17 I caught daddy praying again. I came home from a date late one night and there sitting at the kitchen table was my daddy—praying. With his hands clasped together he was talking to God. I don’t know what prompted the late night prayer meeting but I know it again made a big impression on me as a young man. And that is the point. My daddy made an impression on me that impacted so many areas of my life. Integrity, work ethic, caring and providing for your family and being a man were all part of the core curriculum.

I didn’t get to keep my daddy too much longer. When I was in high school he had a massive heart attack. He lived a couple of more years but when he was just 62 and I was 20, God decided to take him home. Suddenly, on a Sunday morning he went to heaven. It was hard and is hard to this day. He never got to meet my wife, children or any of his eight great grandchildren. He never got see much of my career in the Air Force or hear me preach a sermon. I hope in heaven they keep tabs on us down here and I hope I’ve made my hero proud.

Well, now that we are all sad and weepy let me throw this in. Whether you are young or older, take the time this Father’s Day, and every day, to tell your dad (and mom) how much you appreciate them. One of God’s big commands is that we honor our parents and when we do—we honor Him. There’s no better way to do that than to tell them and show them that you love them. I know things don’t always work out with dads and if that is the case with you I am so sorry. My dad wasn’t perfect…none are but his love outweighed his warts. If you are a Jesus follower, I hope you can extend some grace…just like God did to you. And always remember, you have a Heavenly Father who is perfect, who always gets it right. He’s always waiting for you to crawl up in His lap and take a rest. And the icing on the cake is He is stronger than a super hero…and because of that, He’s got this.

Grace, gratitude, life, Scripture, thankful, travel, wisdom

We Shouldn’t Be Here

Posted on June 18, 2020June 18, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?” Esther 4:14

I looked at Judy and said, “We shouldn’t be here.” I know when you normally hear those words you are at a movie and a couple of teenagers are standing in a cemetery at midnight with a full moon with a wolf howling and a guy with a chainsaw standing a few feet away. That was not the case.

So, as you know we live in a world of cancellations. Vacation. Cancelled. Conference number one. Cancelled. Conference number two. Cancelled. In an attempt to get some refreshment I went ahead and registered for conference number three. About ten days before it started they called and said due to state regulations (North Carolina this time) they were having to dramatically reduce the number of attendees—from 400 to 110. Judy and I didn’t make the cut…by a long shot. We registered in early April and they were cancelling all the way back to December of 2019.

I had gotten used to the rejection notices by now. Like a struggling actor or writer it seemed nothing was going my way. So, after my normal foot stomping, “this is crazy” and the all time favorite, “when will it ever be normal” I settled back into life…desperately needing a fresh drink of water from the well. Then it happened.

Less than a week before the conference was to start I received a phone call on my Dick Tracy Apple watch. I checked the caller ID and it was the conference center. I ran to the kitchen to get my phone, answered, waiting to see what they wanted. She told me that they had been allowed to open an overflow room and would we be interested in coming? If I could speak ten languages I would have said yes in all ten.

So we arrived at the conference and this is when it got interesting. The people in the main auditorium (and there were only 110 of them—normal attendance is 400) had white name tags and the ones in the overflow had tan name tags. We received our tan tags and waited for supper. I began to notice that there were not many tan tags. How interesting. When it was time for the conference to start, the white taggers headed to the main room and tan taggers headed upstairs to the overflow area. And that was the turning point.

In this room meant to hold 150 people there were 28 of us. Blue covers draped over the back of 28 chairs showed where we could sit. It turns out I was member of a pretty, small select group. Totally attendance was only 138 people and somehow I was one of them. Keep in mind all those people who made reservations before April were in front of me in line and somehow, some way we were here. That’s when I said to Judy, “We shouldn’t be here.”

The topic for the conference was about rebuilding the church in a post quarantine world. One of the first things he said was that perhaps each of you are here for a specific reason. He then told the story of a young Jewish girl who, against all odds, found herself as queen in a foreign land. A plan had been hatched to kill all of the Jews in the land and her uncle was asking her to go the king on the Jews behalf. He said, “Perhaps for such a time as this God has put you here.” For such a time as this. Hmmm.

I honestly feel that for some reason God has allowed me this opportunity to help lead my church in the coming days. The speaker made it clear that any thought that things are going to be same are just not true. It is going to be different and challenging. It is also exciting. All of this has caused me to revisit the sovereignty of God in all of this. I mean, I just believe that God is in charge. Not circumstances, not government, not me. That means that He does have a plan that He is working out. The only question is are we going to trust Him and be a part of His plan or are we going to write our own. Spoiler alert. That never goes well.

So whether it your every day, walk around life, or a business, or a church, if you are a Jesus follower, are you willing to let the Whisperer whisper and share with you His plan? I hope I will have the wisdom and courage to do so. It will mean stepping out of my “I’ve done it this way for 38 years” comfort zone and perhaps, just perhaps, do something different…perhaps radically different. Who knows, maybe we, with Him, can change our world. So, we shouldn’t be here but I sure am going to be listening for the Whisperer to speak to my heart. I know it will be right. I know it will be challenging. I know it will be exciting. I know somewhere along the way He is going to say, “Rest in Me. I’ve got this.” He does.

Family, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, Scripture, thankful

Flag Day

Posted on June 15, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the expanse proclaims the work of His hands. Psalms 9:1

It was for better or worse. In a little more than a week my wife and I will celebrate our 44th wedding anniversary. I know if you have ever seen us you would find that hard to believe because we look so young. Smile. The years have flown by so quickly. I can remember the days we would go to a conference and something and they would introduce the guest speaker saying they had been married for 35 years or so. The crowd would erupt in applause. I would think how old they were. I am now that person. But they say that age is just a number and that’s true.

When I married Judy that hot (and I do mean hot) June day in south Georgia we made a commitment to each other. It went something like this, “for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health till death do us part.” It was a deal we made with each other that no matter what we were stuck on (and not stuck with) each other. We decided that we were in this for the long haul. There have been speed bumps, detours and even a few fender benders but love somehow learns to forgive, and sometimes ignore, those.

I bet you think this story is about marriage, didn’t you? Got you. Nope, it is about my love for this country. Yesterday, June 14th, was Flag Day. It garnered a place on our church marquee and a mention in the sermon intro. Oh, and I also worn a flag pin. But it had a much bigger place in my heart. I love my country, the land where God put me, America…not because it is perfect but because I can stand every week in our church and say what I want…and no one is going to arrest me. I love America because it is still the land of the free. I am writing this in Tennessee. I didn’t need anyone’s permission to leave; I just got in the car and off Judy and I went. Yup, I love America. Having lived in and visited over twenty-five countries in this world…I have seen and experienced many others and America still tops the list.

You are probably wondering, “Dewayne, with all its warts and imperfections, with all its injustices and wrongs, with all its junk, how can you love America?” Well, the answer is two fold. One, from where I sit, it is still the best place in the world to live. Its landscape and people-scape are just amazing. It is filled with people willing to die for what they believe…that is why we are free. It is a place where you can speak your mind and even protest a wrong. The second reason is I signed up for the long haul. Its kinda like the deal that Judy and I made. “For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health till death parts us.” I’m an American till the end.

Judy loves me…a lot. She somehow manages to love me in spite of my failures and faults. It kinda reminds me of God. He just refuses to give up on us. He extends grace and mercy and works to make us more and more like Him. With that comes a better me. As we work to make America a better place to live and work, as we extend grace and mercy to each other, we are mirroring Him. Sounds like a good plan to me.

Like I said earlier, yesterday was Flag Day. When I look at Old Glory I see the rich history, imagine the price that countless men and women have paid for this experiment in democracy and fall in love all over again. And in these stars and stripes I see the hope not only for you and me, not only for America but for the world. I see the gospel according to Old Glory. I know each color and each part of the flag has special meaning but allow me some liberty…pun intended.

When I see the field of stars I am reminded that in Psalm 19:1 “the heavens declare the glory of God.” It reminds me that every star in the sky is a witness to the existence of God. The blue field reminds me that there is a King in heaven. Blue is the color of royalty and it points to the King of the universe…the creator of all. His name is Jesus and He loves everybody regardless of skin color, language spoken or place lived. The red reminds me of the measure of this King’s love..He died on a Roman cross. He was not murdered and He wasn’t even martyred…He willingly died. The payment for sin…all sin…was death and He paid the price. Amazing.

And the white…well that is my favorite color because it stands for forgiveness. White shouts that my sins are forgiven, that I am free and that I can call the Creator of the universe, “Abba Father or Dearest Daddy.” I know you might think I’m taking a little too much liberty with that title but that is what He is.

Anyway, I’m grateful for a wife who loves me regardless of my shortcomings. I am grateful for a place to call home that gives me the freedom to live, worship and believe as I see fit. Perfect? Not even by a long shot but I’m gonna stick around and do what I can to make her better. I’m gonna stick around and make sure the America my grandkids grow up is even better that the one I knew and know. And I am very grateful for a God that loves me unconditionally, that He is big enough to handle all the fears and warts of life and big enough to give me a place to rest…in Him. Oh, and I’m glad that He is big enough to conquer sin, death and grave because it just proves…He’s got this.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, Military memories, Scripture, thankful

This Day

Posted on June 12, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

June 12th is a special day in my life. I graduated from high school on June 8, 1972. I am amazed that 48 years have passed beneath the bridge of my life. Time seems to travel so quickly. As a child it was a gentle stream and now as a mature (that is in years and not necessarily actions) adult it seems a raging torrent. So 48 years ago I was member of the largest graduating in the state of Florida for that year…714 seniors from one high School. Trust me…it was easy to be a small fish in that big pond. By Monday all that was in the rearview mirror.

On Monday, June 12, 1972, I raised my right hand and swore to protect and defend the constitution of the United States and to obey the orders of those appointed in rank above me. I was eighteen, naive, had never been away from home and wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into. If I remember that day correctly we took the oath, had last minute medical exams, and filled out a mountain of paperwork. They took us to Morrison’s Cafeteria for a last meal of sorts and then on to the airport for the flight to Lackland Air Force Base. Intentionally we arrived at about 2:00 am…something they still do today. We were given a couple of hours of sleep before beginning the great journey of becoming airmen.

The privilege of serving my country for the next twelve years marks that day as one of the great days of my life. The training I received there impacted the rest of my life. The skills I received in my advance training and then in my career prepared me for something far greater then I could imagine. Little did I know on June 12, 1972, what God had planned for me. Saddle up your horses boys…this is the great adventure.

After twelve years in the Air Force it became apparent that the winds of change were blowing in my life. I so loved the Air Force—it was my niche, my calling. Starting in 1980 there were these whispers from Abba Father, my dearest daddy, that He wanted to do something more. It was a whisper from Him to jump into the unknown. It was a whisper to trust Him at a level that I had never before experienced. He was calling and it was undeniable.

The details are still vivid in my mind but time doesn’t allow the whole story to be told. On February 14, 1982, I went forward in a morning worship service and told God I would do whatever He wanted. Four short months later I found myself still in the service but in His service pastoring a small church close to our home. Those days were crazy days. Over the course of a few months the deal was sealed. He whispered that He wanted me to give myself completely to Him. He no longer wanted share me with the Air Force. With that, Judy and I, along with our two very young daughters, prepared to jump big.

That leads to our second June 12th. On that date in 1983, on a hot Sunday afternoon, I sat before a large ordaining council and a larger crowd. That day, June 12, 1983, I was ordained, set apart, to serve Him. My fondest memory of that day came after the council had asked all their questions. They had been graceful to me and I was grateful. The chairman of the council told the moderator that he had no more questions. The moderator then asked if anyone else had an questions. I only thought I was done.

An elderly pastor, slowly stood to his feet and said, “Young man, the Bible says that the husband is the head of the home. It also says that a pastor is to rule his house well. Are you going to rule your house well?” And he sat down. If there was ever a time that I needed for God gave me the right words to say it was probably then. With all the intentional fortitude I could muster I said, “Yes sir…if Judy will let me.” The room erupted and I got ordained.

And here I sit thirty-eight years later so grateful for a God who believed in me and hundreds of people who were patient and loved me. I have seen wheelbarrows full of grace from the God of the universe and His people. If you ever wonder why I am grace heavy in my teaching it is because I have needed it so much and I have experienced it so much. I am blessed. Game. Set. Match. The Bible says that this day, this very one, is a day that the Lord has made. We get to choose how we are going to live it and how we will remember it. Well I am so grateful for two days in June, both the 12th. They are markers for this incredible journey called life. How about you? Do you have some special days that God moved, that God spoke, that God just showed off? Let me encourage you to celebrate them…and Him. He is such a good Abba Father to do less is unimaginable. So go ahead, relive the times, relive the days when He showed up, when you rested in Him, when you just knew “He’s got this.” Then you can be the whisperer and softly say, “Thank you, Father.”

Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture

Losing Your Grip

Posted on June 9, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

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 on 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 have had some pretty good failures in my life. And do you know what? Very few of them where 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. So, I’m gonna put the picture back on the wall. This time it won’t be with a sticky thing. I 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.