Category: loving others

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, thankful

The Bloat Load

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished upon us.” Ephesians 1:8

More is better.  I know, I know…that is a flawed philosophy because sometimes more is just more but often…more is better.  I am a foodie.  I like food and food likes me.  To me food is more than nourishment…food is like a warm blanket on a cold night and because of that I sometimes ask for…more.  When my wife Judy and I were much younger for a special treat we would go to Shoney’s for supper. It didn’t happen often, not because we didn’t like it but because our very limited budget said no. On an even rarer occasion we would get desert…either strawberry pie or chocolate ice cream cake.  When the choice was the latter, I would ask the serve to “smother” it with extra hot fudge and usually, they would.  The cake would come baptized in hot fudge. Can someone say, “Amen?”

More can indeed be better.  I’ve never been too shy about asking for more.  One time I was at our local restaurant. We were and are regulars there and whenever I ordered something that had french fries, I would ask them to be sure and add a few extra.  I know, my Momma surely taught me better and Judy was mortified but I did it and it worked.  My plate would come and sure enough…there were french fries enough to feed half the kids in Africa.  I would then douse them with ketchup and well, it was good.  More can be better.

On one particular visit I decided to change my approach, so I asked the server for a “boat load” of french fries.  I wasn’t sure how much a “boat load” was but I was sure it was more and yes; more can be better.  Well, it worked and once again my BBQ sandwich was accompanied with what had to be a five-pound bag of french fries. As we finished our meal, our server brought our ticket by.  Now, I’m one of those people who don’t normally even look at the ticket…I just assume it is right.  But this day I did…and I was glad.

No, the amount wasn’t wrong but what she wrote was hilarious.  She was probably not familiar with my southern humor or word pictures because she didn’t write “boat load,” she had written, wait for it, “bloat load.”  Even now as I write this a smile creeps across my face because it was both accurate and funny.  I am sure by the time I finished off the enormous pile of fried potatoes, I was most certainly, “bloated.”  Wrong word—right message!  And yes, sometimes more is better.

I know that is true with God.  In my Jesus journey, I have discovered that He is a “bloat load” God.  Mercy…bloat load. Kindness…bloat load. Love…bloat load. Patience…bloat load. Grace…mega bloat load.  In fact, I like the way Paul, one of the big players in the New Testament part of the Bible put it.  He said, “In Him [that’s Jesus] we have redemption [that’s rescue from our hot mess sin] through His blood [that’s the cross], the forgiveness [that means charges dropped] of our trespasses, according to the riches [that means a lot] of His grace, which He lavished [that means “bloat load”] upon us.” Wow. Now that is good news.

I thought it was always cool when the server accommodated my “more is better” request.  At the minimum they didn’t scorn me and at the most…well I received more and as you know…more can be better.  But nothing matches God.  The only place that God is a little stingy is in the wrath department.  Oh, He is just, and He is holy, but His preference is that each of us, all of us, come to Him and receive His grace.  After all, He did say He loved the whole world and after all He send His Son to die for that world on a Roman cross.  Can someone say, “bloat load?”

So, more can be better…especially if it involves hot fudge and french fries.  Oh, and more is always better when it involves the mercy, kindness, love, patience, and grace of my Dearest Father.  He wants you to be able to call Him Father also…just ask and He will lavish His great grace all over you and call you His own.  He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Me and Major Hobbs

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

I knew the outcome…I thought.  The list of the things I enjoyed while serving in the Air Force is long and varied.  Somehow, which I’m sure God arranged, I was assigned to work in the command section at all my duty assignments.  It all started when a guy named Master Sergeant Johnson picked me up at the small airport in Minot, North Dakota and casually said, “I think I’m going to let you work for me.”  He worked in the command section of the Combat Support Group and so it began.  Each new duty assignment found me working for the commanders and first sergeants of each unit.  It was awesome. So many of those leaders left their fingerprints on my life and help mold me in the person I am today.

1973 found me assigned to the command section of one of aircraft maintenance squadrons at Moody Air Force Base. My immediate supervisor, the first sergeant and even the commander became friends of sorts—within the parameters of military protocol.  All that leads to the point of this story.  After joining the service, I learned to play racquetball and loved it.  I suppose I was even pretty good at it.  Well, my commander, Major Hobbs, also played.  Normally, our path probably wouldn’t have crossed at the gym, but this young buck airman kept egging this 20 year my senior, slightly overweight, Major… to play him in racquetball.  I assured him that I could take him and then one day, he said, “Ok.”

He told me to get a court time and I did.  Now everything assured me that this was going to be a no match…and it was…but not like I thought.  On the appointed day and at the appointed time we met to do battle.  I was sure I was going to show my commander what a real racquetball player looked like.  I served first and I may have made a couple of points.  Then, it was his turn, and that is when I began to learn that the race doesn’t always go the swiftest…or the youngest.  Major Hobbs would serve and then move to the center of the court and proceeded to beat me like an unwanted tom cat.  He virtually didn’t move because he didn’t need to.  He totally mastered the ball with his racket and put the ball, almost every time, wherever I wasn’t

Well, a set (win) in racquetball, is three games…if needed.  We didn’t need them.  He finished me off in two games.  One player left the court drenched in sweat and exhausted and one left the court without a drop.  One player left the court dragging and exhausted while the other left with a strange bounce in their step.  You can probably guess which was which.  The young buck airman was taught a good lesson that day and it is one that I still remember today. It is not always about how light on your feet and how fast you can move.  Sometimes it is about strategy…how you play the game.

And so, it is with life. A wise man, woman or child will know that you need to have a plan, a strategy if you will, if you are going to win the game of life.  And the crazy part is the best strategy doesn’t depend on talent, wealth, or opportunity.  It leans, it is driven by – a close relationship with Creator God. Now don’t miss that.  Religion is nice, church is a great idea, but neither are the answer—a personal relationship with God through faith in His Son and the wisdom and guidance of the Holy Spirit is. It is a power team of three and yet One.  Amazing. With Him calling the shots, well, life just goes better…a lot better. Jesus invites us to come and do life with Him…and that is an invitation we need to accept.

That day, we left the court differently but there was one thing we shared…a smile.  The older, wiser Major smiled because he had helped a prideful, young airman learn a lesson in humility.  A lesson, honestly, he needed. And the airman, well, he smiled too because someone wiser than him took the time to teach.  God really does want to help us do life and honestly, we need Him. Don’t be pushed away by all the hype in religion.  Go ahead and schedule some court time with God and you just might discover how much He loves you and wants to help.  You might discover that no matter what…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

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

#friends

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their efforts. For if either falls, his companion can lift him up; but pity the one who falls without another to lift him up.” Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

There were times when having a sister was not a bad thing. So, I am the baby of eight kids.  Daddy and Momma, probably unintentionally, grouped the kids.  There were three older boys, then a girl and a boy, and finally two more girls and me—the object of my parent’s delight—the perfect child. Ok, that is not even close to true but after all, it is my story. Growing up there was not a brother too close to my age, so I was kinda a solo act and too often the object of my sister’s merciless teasing and testing. More often than not…we were at odds.  And, of course, they would run to Momma and tell her how bad I was.  But she knew better…oh yes, she knew better.

Now with all that said, there were times when having a sister was not a bad thing.  When they became teenagers a few years before me, sometimes I got to tag along on dates. Since their boyfriends had their driver’s license, it meant…freedom!   Yup, even sisters have advantages. Another of those advantages involved manual labor. You see when I was a kid, one of my responsibilities was to mow the yard.  While our yard was good sized, we also had a couple of acres that was just a big open field.  Every once in a while, that field had to be mowed.  Riding mower?  You’ve got to be kidding.

At one time or another, I do remember we had two push mowers.  They were nothing special—in fact they were anything but.  They were usually lawnmower corpuses that my Daddy had resurrected using spare parts.  I particularly remember one that didn’t have an off position on the throttle.  The only way to turn it off was to pull off the plug wire.  It was this mower that taught me the value of doing something carefully because if you didn’t remove the wire very carefully…well, let’s just say it was a shocking experience!

Well, I’m not whining (no, really) but that was a lot of weeds to mow.  So, every once in a while, I would talk one of my sisters into helping and sometimes they would even volunteer.  I mean you know how girls…even sisters…are about their figures and what I saw as work they saw as a weight loss plan.  Anyway, I would lead with mower number 1 and my sister would follow with mower number 2.  It sure helped–both physically and psychologically.  Just knowing I wasn’t all alone was really encouraging.  Well, I remember the time I was mowing my little heart out thinking my sister was right behind me with mower number 2.  Around and around, I went…never looking back…believing that she was still there.

Well, the bottom line is I went and went till I happened to look back only to realize that she had quit, and I was all alone.  Instantly the task seemed impossible and the field bigger than ever and I wanted to quit too.  The difference:  I was alone.  At that moment I realized that even though I didn’t always like my sister…I needed her. We may have fussed and fought but when it came to mowing, she was my helper–my partner.

Well, the point is this:  we really do need each other…especially in our life journeys, our spiritual journeys, our day-to-day bump into stuff journeys.  Having someone we can talk with, someone we can share our burdens with, someone who will pray with us and for us, someone who is slow to judge and quick to love is just invaluable.  Someone said, “No man is an island” and that is just the truth. I’m learning that you don’t have to always agree with someone to love that someone…or even like that someone.

Even as a person who values alone time—I know there is value in walking side by side. In the Old Testament part of the Bible, Ecclesiastes 4:9–10, one of the smartest guys ever to live said, “Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their efforts. For if either falls, his companion can lift him up; but pity the one who falls without another to lift him up.” Well, let me just tell you, I know that is true when you are nine or ten and mowing two acres and it is true today and every day.  There is no better best friend than the One who wants to be your Dearest Daddy.  He will never leave you alone…never quit.  You can trust that “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Patrol Boy

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look at his appearance or his stature because I have rejected him. Humans do not see what the Lord sees, for humans see what is visible, but the Lord sees the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7

It was a dream come true.  Growing up when I did was a blast.  I was born in 1954 (and yes, that was a long time ago) and things were just different.  Life was slower, people mattered more, things mattered less, and respect was a big deal.  I was raised to call people older than me, sir and ma’am.  It’s kinda humorous, but now I am the senior adult and I still call everybody and their brother, “sir.”  It was just ingrained in me from my earliest memories.

Back in those days, when you were in the sixth grade you were the king of the mountain.  You see in Florida in the early sixties elementary school went from first thru sixth grade.  There was no kindergarten.  Part of being the king of the mountain was the prospect of being selected to be a “patrol boy.”  Now, the first thing you need to know is the term “patrol boy” was a term of respect.  Today I think they still have crossing guards but back then…patrol boys were the state police of the day.  They had a belt that went around their waist and over their shoulder and of course, the flag.  It was a two-piece design that was about five foot long when put together.  Oh, I almost forgot.  They had a safety helmet too.  They definitely looked the part.

At the end of each school day, these brave traffic warriors would be dismissed from class a little early to go and man their assigned post. They would put on their belt and helmet, grab their flag, and head out for duty.  Now this was the real deal.  A teacher or aide didn’t accompany them.  The lives of their peers were in their hands—and they were granted authority to stop traffic.  Again, it was an honor and a dream to get that belt, helmet, and flag.  The selection process was done at the end of the school year of our fifth grade.  I’m not sure what the criteria was, but I do know not everyone got selected.

Ok, let’s be honest.  I wanted…I really wanted to be a patrol boy.  It was like I was born for it.  It was my destiny.  I could tell you that I wanted to help save lives.  I could tell you that the safety of every kid who crossed at my post was what drove me but that wouldn’t be true.  No, I’m afraid it wasn’t quite that noble.  I’m afraid it had nothing to do with safety…it had to do with…the belt, the helmet, and the flag.  Now don’t laugh, it was a big deal. The uniform has led a lot of guys to sign up for the Marines.  I was no different.  I wanted people to look at me and say, “There goes a patrol boy.  Leader of peers and a hero to boot.”

Well, it happened.  I was selected and honestly, it was just about everything I thought it was going to be—at least through my eyes.  No one ever called me a hero, nor did I outright save anyone’s life, but there was something about the way it made me…feel. Looking back, I think there is a word for it…pride.  You know there is a good pride…the kind that lets you know you did your best.  There is also the kind that says, “I’’m a patrol boy and you’re not.”  It’s closely related to the kind that says, “I have power and you don’t. You have to listen to me…obey me.”  Bummer.

As far as I know, at least from the outside, I did a pretty good job.  I received and proudly wore my little pin, which I got to keep at the end of the year that marked my service.  No one got ran over on my watch and I think I only got in trouble once.  That happened when one of my fellow patrol boys, a friend no less, made me mad and I whacked him with my flag.  It certainly wasn’t very hero like and trust me it wasn’t as pretty.  Something on the inside—that should have stayed on the inside—oozed out. I realize now that all of us have a tendency to play that game—pretty good on the outside and pretty dingy on the inside.  Someone once said you can fool some of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all the people all of the time.

There should be another saying that says, “You can’t fool God any of the time.”  You see, God’s got this “vision thing” that allows Him to see right past the skin and right into our heart.  He sees our real thoughts, our real motives, our real selves.  It’s been kind of a “go to” verse for me recently but here’s what it says, “The Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look at Eliab’s appearance or stature because I have rejected him. Humans do not see what the Lord sees, for humans see what is visible, but the Lord sees the heart.” Wow…that is one scary thought.  God sees what matters.  We need to remember that.

Well, I enjoyed my year as a patrol boy.  The next year I went to junior high and went from the top of the heap to the bottom.  In fact, now that I think about there were a couple of guys who did their best to make junior high hard for me.  Today we call it bullying.  I wonder if it was payback for some misused authority.  Hmmmm.  What goes around…comes around.  Anyway, I’m glad I don’t have just a “patrol boy” watching over me.  Nope, I have the King of Kings and that’s pretty awesome!  I don’t have a thing to worry about because “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, thankful, wisdom

Les Was More *

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

When He went ashore, He saw a great crowd, and He had      compassion on them.” Mark 6:34a

*Photo credit: used by permission Keith Cotton, keithcotton.com

Simply put…Les was more.  I had been the pastor of a church in the village of Cobden located in Southern Illinois.  When I went there in 1986, I didn’t know two things.  First, this would be my family’s home for the next fourteen years.  During that time our lives were bonded with the people of the church and the community in a way that I’m not sure I can describe.  Literally, we became family.  The memories and relationships of those days remain firmly stamped in our minds and hearts.  And, I guess, that is the second thing I didn’t know. So many of the people…young, old, rich and poor, single and married, in the church and out…were so very special.  And that leads us to Les.

Cobden had several iconic residents that lived in a local shelter care home.  Each one was special and each one was different.  But at the top of the heap was Les.  I officially met one day when he was walking by our church carrying his sickle.  He was old for his age and had more wrinkles than he should. Bent over, he would peer though his squinting eyes and occasionally have a conversation with himself…or maybe God.  Anyway, that day, I opened the office door and told Les hello and invited him to come to church.  He acknowledged me and asked if I happened to have any coffee.  Well, I did and invited him in to have a cup.  And that was the beginning.

From that day forward, almost every day, Les would show up at the office and ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have a cup of old, cold coffee, would you.”  I can still hear him today.  And usually, I could accommodate him.  It might be cold and sometimes it was old but to Les it didn’t matter one bit.  It wasn’t long before Les started coming to church.  Now you would be wrong to assume that Les was a slow thinker.  He was anything but that. No, he was just Les and I loved the way our people grew to love him…sickle and all.

One day, at the office, getting his cup of “old, cold, coffee,” he said to me, “I want to be baptized.”  Well, that surprised even me.  So, I gave him my full attention and explained that to be baptized you needed to believe that Jesus had died for your sins and believe that He was the Son of God. And that wasn’t all. I explained a person needed to be willing to follow Jesus…kinda making Him the new “boss” of their lives.  Well, without a moment’s hesitation, Les assured me he understood all of that.  So right there, right then, Les became a Jesus follower.

He then circled back to what had started the conversation…he wanted to be baptized.  I asked Les if he understood that to be baptized, he would have to go under the water…all the way under the water. I really wasn’t surprised when he said he did. Now Les was one of those fellows that with age and life had become pretty bent over.  To look out, Les had to look up.  So, I knew this baptism thing might be a bit of a challenge, but I also knew this was going to be special and it was.  So, in a couple of weeks, on a Sunday morning, I stood in the baptistry and took Les’ hand as he came down into the water.  I can’t remember but I may have called in reinforcements.  But, regardless, I smiled as he gently slipped beneath the waters and came up again.  And the church…well…it exploded in applause.

Years later, in fact nine years after I had left our friends and family in Cobden, I received a call from the local funeral home there letting me know Les had died.  They wanted to know if I would be willing to come back and do the funeral.  I assured them it would be an honor.  On that day we said goodbye to Les but really it was more of a “see you later.”  You see, Les, because of his commitment to follow Jesus had left the shelter care home in Cobden for a new home in heaven.  I also knew that he was no longer bent over by age and life…that he could now look out and not have to look up.  Now when he looked up it was to see the face of the Man who loved him and died for him.

As we journey through life, we need to realize that all around us are people like Les. Oh, not necessarily because they might live in shelter care, but more because they are just…special.  You see, God’s world is filled with special people…all we must do is learn to see them.  They might be a guy at the grocery store or the lady who brings the mail.  They might be our doctor or the guy on back of the truck that gets our trash.  Why not determine, starting today, to see people as God sees people?  Jesus did.  When He looked at people, and He did that a lot, He saw them as special and had compassion on them…loved them.  We all might need a little help in this department, but the good news is, our Dearest Father is just waiting to help.  Just ask…because you know, “He’s got this.”

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, wisdom

Shiny Keys

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

“The master was full of praise. ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant.” Matthew 25:21a

When I entered the room, I saw it for the first time. It’s funny how there are some things right in front of your eyes and you never, ever see them.  That happened today.  I was up early, and it was Thursday.  Thursday is my self-imposed deadline to make sure I am well on my way to have the next week’s Grits well underway.  My wife Judy and I have learned that it is better to get a head start on Grits and before that can happen, I must write them.  So, Thursday morning, found me at the computer and mashing keys.  And then it happened.

I needed to leave my home office for a minute and when I came back into the office, I noticed something.  Let me set up the scene.  In one corner of my desk, I have a desk lamp.  In the middle of the desk, I have my iMac.  The keyboard and trackpad sit right in front of it. So, as I came back into the office, the light was reflecting onto my keyboard and that’s when I saw it.  I noticed that several, more than a few actually, keys were shiny, and others were dull with their factory matte finish.  I backed up a step or two and replayed the scene.  Sure enough, some were shiny, and some were flat. How interesting.

Well, a closer look, a closer investigation revealed what I thought would be the case.  The shiny keys were those that I used the most. You know, the letters that you would find over and over again in any writing.  Some other keys were somewhere in the middle. While the matte finish wasn’t worn totally off, they weren’t members of the shiny club either.  And finally, other keys, like the “x” and “z,” keys looked practically brand new…because they were. And that made me think.

What if we could magically transform ourselves to the keys on the keyboard? I know, I know about now you’re wondering what I had to drink this morning! Sure it was coffee? Well, it was.  But if we could, would we be one of the well-worn keys that made a bigger impact in the story.  Would our lives impact the world around us in a positive and productive way? Whether it is the smaller circle of our families or the bigger circle of our community, would our impact be missed if we weren’t there?  My wife plays the piano and recently she was playing at our senior adult center.  One black key, a D#, was totally gone and she was saying how difficult it was to play without it.  Is that our impact?

I am sure of one thing.  When my Dearest Daddy finally decides it is time to disconnect my keyboard, I want to know that I have made a difference.  I want to finish like a shiny key—one that is worn smooth with life.  I don’t want to go out barely used and barely missed.  How about you?  Of course, that comes with a risk.  The keys are shiny because my fat, little fingers bang on them all the time.  And if the keys of your life’s keyboard are going to be shiny, it can only come with a lot of banging around.  But trust me…it is worth it.

The best keys, the shiniest keys, belong to those who have learned the grandest purpose in life…love God and love people.  If you get that one right, well, trust me you will have an impactful life.  And it goes further.  When we choose to love God like He says, we will have an impactful eternity.  I’m one of those folks that believes the end here is just a beginning there.  I believe there is more…a lot more…after the last heartbeat. And as a Jesus guy, I want to be sure that He is pleased with my keys. In a story Jesus told in the New Testament part of the Bible, the master of a servant was full of praise and says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” In other words, “Good job.”

I want to make it to heaven with a life of shiny keys…well worn, well used for others and Him. Does that sound noble? Well, I don’t know about that.  I think rather that is the least we can do for a Heavenly Father that loves us so much and is always there for us.  To be a shiny key, we need a lot of help and I know, and you know…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Baseball, Miracles, and Concubines

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed and said to himself, “Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?” Genesis 17:17

I just quit a little too soon.  So, I think there must be this line in heaven where all the babies wait to be assigned dads, moms, skills and bodies in heaven.  I can just imagine me standing there waiting.  I am watching as all the boy babies make it to the front and they are soon on their way with these bodies that are destined to be tall and muscular.  They make the jump to earth and their new homes just waiting to grow up and become the next Babe Ruth or Michael Jordan.  I can also imagine my turn at the front of the line and Saint Peter saying something about sports and I miss understood and thought he said something about ketchup, and I said, “Sure, I’ll take a squirt.” Anyway, I arrived on earth a little shorter than average and not a sports bone in my body.  I should have listened closer.

All this became pretty apparent when it came to choosing teams.  Whether it was kickball, volleyball, basketball, dodgeball or baseball, when the teams were chosen, I was near the end of the line. As far as school sports, well, there were hundreds of kids in the schools I attended and trust me no one ever offered me a contract.  The only place I had a measure of success was, of course, at church.  I managed to make the church softball team though it was the “B” team. We did play tackle football after our Bible study time on Wednesday nights and there I made a name for myself. One of our teachers was named Eddie and he was, well, one large man and no one could tackle him, so they called him “Big Eddie.”  While I wasn’t near that large, I was harder to tackle so I gained the name “Little Eddie.”  Hey, when you are nameless in the world of sports, you will take anything.

My only foray into “professional sports” was Little League baseball when I was about 9 or 10.  I don’t remember if I made the team or if everyone made the team.  Regardless, we were called the Gators and we, or rather they, were pretty good.  Again, I had absolutely no talents in baseball, so I was assigned to right field on the rare occasions that I got to play.  I was the kid who prayed a lot during the games.  It wasn’t that I was particularly spiritual—it was emotional survival.  First, I would pray that they wouldn’t play me and then, if they did, I would pray that no one would hit the ball to right field.  It didn’t work. Invariably someone would and well, it wasn’t pretty very often.

Then, of course, there was the batting thing.  Did you know that there are players who say they can see the stitches on the ball as it comes toward them?  Did you know there are players who actually know when to swing and how to swing?  Can you guess I wasn’t one of those players?  Nope, the pitcher would pitch, and I would wonder where the ball was. That wasn’t pretty either.  So, the sad (you are feeling sorry for me by now, aren’t you) bottom line is that one day I just refused to go to practice.  I made it through about three quarters of the season, and I just gave it up—I quit.

Well, guess what?  It turns out that even without me, the Gators ended up winning the championship.  Yup, they sure did.  I remember, the coach came by my house one afternoon and he was carrying a trophy.  He said that the team had won it all and even though I hadn’t finished the season he wanted me to have a trophy.  I probably mumbled something about quitting because I was hit by a semi-truck and thanked him for bringing the trophy by.  The truth was there was no excuse—I just quit. And the other truth is because of that the trophy meant absolutely, the grand total of—nothing.  I didn’t earn it and I didn’t deserve it.  Not because I wasn’t good but because I didn’t finish.

I really don’t have a lot of regrets life but that is a small one.  I’m ok with not being tall and gifted in sports but I really am not ok with being a quitter.  Not then—not now. If I would have waited, I could have been a champion, but I didn’t wait it out.  You know there was a guy in the Bible who had the same issue.  God had promised him a son, an heir.  The only problem was they both were old—really old.  In fact, this guy fell on his face and laughed and said, “Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?”

Instead of believing God he decided to do things his way or really Sarah’s way. Since she couldn’t conceive, they opted for a concubine rather than wait on the miracle.  What a bad idea.  He and the woman did have a son, but it wasn’t the son God had promised.  It really didn’t go well…and sadly it still isn’t going well.  Much of the conflict in that part of the world stems from this one man.  Oh, the consequences.

Oh, and by the way, guess what?  When they were both older than dirt, Sarah, his wife did in fact conceive and the promised son was born.  God came through after all—surprise, surprise.  If only they had finished the season…if only they had waited how different things would have been.  The good news is that God kept His word and blessed Abraham beyond his wildest dreams. You see even though Abraham quit believing, God never quit believing in him…and He won’t quit believing in you either.  I like that…I love that.  Regardless of what you are waiting on, just hang on…just be patient, just wait and see what God has in mind.  He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Trials

Patience 101 – Repeating the Class

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Finishing is better than starting. Patience is better than pride.” Ecclesiastes 7:8

And I thought I was just going out to eat! Just a couple of weeks ago, a couple of good friends invited my wife Judy and I to go out and eat.  It sounded like a special gig.  A restaurant located in a small town, oh, about 15 miles from our small town, had invited a renowned chef to come in and cook that evening.  My friend had received an invitation right from the owner’s lips to come and experience it and he invited us.  Now I am not much of a gourmet nor is gourmet food my deal.  To ring my bell, all you need to do is serve up some meat and mashed potatoes and another starch or two and I’m in.  Even so, it was chance to spend some time with these good friends…so we made a date.

They said they would make some reservations which for Southern Illinois is kinda unusual.  All we SI people do is show up and eat.  But I can be partial to reservations…especially if it keeps me from waiting.  So, with the idea this was a special thing for a small group of special people and with the safeguard of reservations, I was looking forward to our Friday night gig.  Oh, and a bonus was the fact this was Friday night of Valentine’s weekend and Judy said this could count as “date night.”  Sweet.  Can’t fail. In the bag. And then…the school bell rang.

As we drove from our small town to the other small town, the car was filled with chatty talk. Nice and easy…just the way I like it.  As we approached the restaurant, I noticed there were quite a few cars but that wasn’t totally unusual.  It was when we got to the door that usual went out the window. The small foyer, the area around the check-in stand and the restaurant was packed to the gills.  At that brief moment, my countenance may have sagged just a little. But since we had reservations…it was no deal.  And then the school bell rang.

One of my friends checked us in and came back with the news—forty-five minutes to an hour.  Wait. What?  I said, “But don’t we have reservations?”  Well, no.  It turns out only parties of eight can get those cherished promises of a quicker sit-down.  So, that is how God enrolled me, once again, into the school of patience.  So, there I sat in the small foyer with what seemed like a thousand other people. Some were there to enjoy the gourmet chef, and some were there for a fish dinner.  It didn’t matter. I was in the school of patience. My Dearest Daddy knew I had some learning to do in the patience department and He had enrolled me.

Well, our time in class turned into about two and half hours and when we finally ate almost all of the gourmet food was gone and I had a hamburger…which by the way was just fine with me. At the end of the evening, an unseen hand handed me my test.  There at the top of the page was a well-earned, unqualified, no doubt about it—F.  Yup I had failed again.  And the bad news is, this is required curriculum…which meant there would be other classes…other opportunities…for me to learn and get tested.  Rats.  I should have studied more.  I should have prepared more. I should have done something or anything, but I didn’t. Class dismissed.  See you next time, pal.

Now with all that said, it was a good evening.  I still got to be with my wife and friends.  I did occasionally smile and engage in conversation.  Oh, and the burger was really pretty good and, wait for it, my friend paid the tab.  I think he did it out of sympathy and compassion.  Regardless, it was kind. So, when we got home, I sat down and relaxed, confessed my failing grade to my Father and vowed to do better.  We will see.  We will see.  This is one area that this Jesus journeyman is a little slow to learn and God ain’t gonna let it go. Solomon, one of the smart guys from the Old Testament Bible said, “Finishing is better than starting. Patience is better than pride.” Boy, he hit that one on the head.  Looking back, I should have remembered, I should have believed that thing that I write every time I write, “He’s got this,” because…He does. Bro. Dewayne

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

An Angel Named Tom

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.” James 1:17

It was the same story every night. When my family and I lived in Cobden we had the adventure of living in a 100-year-old Victorian home.  It really was an adventure.  It was partially restored and over the thirteen years we lived there, we changed and upgraded so many things.  It was kinda like the kid’s song, “The Song that Never Ends.”  So many of the things we did were low budget because, well, we had a low budget. Money was a little tight, but it seemed God always provided.

The house didn’t have air conditioning and sometimes that was a bit uncomfortable.  It did have one of those big attic fans…you know, the kind that can suck the sheets right off the bed. That provided a cool breeze through the windows on those comfortable, Southern Illinois, nights.  However, if you’ve ever lived in a place like Southern Illinois, you know that often the days and nights are anything but comfortable.  It is more like living in the Amazon basin in South America.  Two words described it: hot and humid. On those nights, there was no attic fan in the world that was going to help.

Eventually we got a used window air conditioner and put it in our bedroom.  Then we would make beds on the floor, and everyone would sleep in the same room until the nights became more bearable.  We sounded like the Walton’s as we all said goodnight to one another. This went on for several years until one day hope…and help…arrived.  Someone had a used central air conditioning unit that they sold to us on the cheap.  The only problem, the upstairs didn’t any duct work or vents…nada…zero.  And then God sent us a couple of heroes…or at least to us they were heroes.

A family in our church had a son who installed air conditioning.  His name was Tom.  He lived an hour away but, knowing our plight, he wanted to help.  He said he would come over after work (driving an hour) and install our air conditioning…including building the duct work we would need.  And, that’s not all, his dad Bill, who attended our church, joined the team. So, for the next couple of weeks, in the heat of summer, after working a long day, these two men came and climbed into our attic and worked and sweated.  Oh yes, I was there too but only as a nuisance, I’m sure.

After a couple of weeks of intense, hot labor, finally the day came to flip the switch. Wonderful, magically cool air began flowing softly through the new installed system.  What was normal for so many was heaven for us.  What had been a hot summer routine of pallets on the floor and life with the Waltons came to a close.  And, even now, as my fingers mash the keys on the keyboard, I am smiling.  I am just amazed how God provided this family and these friends to help us…without taking a dime. Two angels of mercy with the unlikely names of Tom and Bill.

Over the years, there have been other stories, other angels of mercy and I’ll write about them too one day.  The stories need to be told because they are stories of love—both the love of God and love of God lived out.  The stories need to be told because they remind us, all of us, to be grateful for the things God has provided through this great adventure called life.  James, the half-brother of Jesus said, “Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.” There is no doubt in my mind that is true…not just for me…but for you too.

It’s a bit tricky but be sure and look around for the everyday blessings that God sends your way…oh, and He does send them.  When you see them, remember them, write them down in your heart or in a journal.  Then, when leaner times come, they will remind you of the faithfulness of your Dearest Daddy. Also, they will also remind you that no matter what, you can know, you can believe that, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, Trials

Be A Barney

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For instance, there was Joseph, the one the apostles nicknamed Barnabas (which means “Son of Encouragement”).” Acts 4:36

It happened driving down the road at 55 miles per hour.  When I was growing up, there was one man outside my family that I respected so much…one that garnered my admiration. It was my pastor.  His name was James Branch.  I happened to be an insider at his house because his son was one of my best friends. It didn’t matter when or where—I always saw him as a man I could trust and more than once he was there for my family.  When my Daddy died early one Sunday morning, he was at my house.  I can still remember him on the back porch in his white shirt minus the black tie he wore, consoling my Momma.  She was so upset and began to hyperventilate. Bro. Branch, with his hand on her shoulder, softly spoke words of comfort and peace. There can be no doubt he played a big role in how I would later serve as a pastor.

That might be why it stung so much.  I received an email a while back from a national organization. It revealed the results of Gallup’s national survey on American’s perception of the honesty and ethical standards of different professions.  Not surprising, 89% of Americans gave nurses high or very-high standards.  Doctors stood at 77% followed by pharmacists at 71%.  Well, I certainly can’t argue with that.  These dedicated folks have surely shown their colors during the COVID-19 pandemic.  Hats off to our schoolteachers too who scored 75% and our men and women in blue who scored 52%—the only other profession about which a majority of Americans say have high or very high ethics and honesty.

The article went on to say that clergy or ministers came in at 39% when it came to honesty—right between judges and nursing home operators.  While senior adults as a group ranked pastors higher (51%), the younger generation (ages 18-34) rated pastors only at 24 percent.  To put it in perspective, in 1985, pastors received a 67% rating.  When I think of my pastor in 1974 who stood on the back porch with my grieving family, I have to wonder, “what happened?”  Why is it that so many think so lowly of clergy? Some of the reasoning, I believe, is a cultural shift—while too much, might, just might, be the truth. It seems we can only go a few weeks without some named pastor being in the news for some breach of trust.  I just don’t know.

When I read this news, I grieved. After all, pastors, above all other Jesus followers, should be, must be, people of integrity.  We should set the example.  Granted, we are not perfect—in fact far from it.  Like the old saying goes, “Christians, including pastors, aren’t perfect, we are just forgiven.”  I like that.  This is why what happened that day driving 55 miles per hour meant so much.  My phone rang.

I looked at the caller ID and saw it was a young man who is a member at the church I pastor.  Honestly, I wondered why he was calling.  While we speak often at church, he is not on my speed dial and I’m sure I am not on his.  I answered the phone and exchanged greetings and said, “Hey, what can I do for you?”  What happened next was not what I could do for him, but what he did for me.  I won’t get it all right, but the bottom line is he said, “I know you have a really hard job right now with all that is going on.  I want you to know as one of the younger generation, I think you are doing a good job.” He shared how he and another of our young guys were talking the other night—sharing the same thing.  It made my day and I told him so.

It turned out that he was driving in the same direction as I was and had passed me and just felt prompted to make that call.  I’m so glad he did.  It is one of those times I just wonder if the Whisperer whispered in his ear and said, “Call Dewayne.  He needs a good word about now.”  And thankfully he did.  So, let me encourage you to be an encourager.  We all know people who just need a word to help keep them going.  There was a guy in the Bible whose name was Barnabas, which literally means “encourager.”  I’m assuming he was such a positive force in the lives of others, someone said, “We’ll just call you Barney…and it stuck”.

So, to my Barney that Friday morning, thanks.  Thanks for listening to the Lord and thanks for encouraging a guy who happens to be a lot older than you and who happens to be a pastor.  And keep it up.  There are a lot of empty cups out there that need filling. I love the fact that my Dearest Daddy believes in me.  I’m still amazed how much Judy believes in me.  But when someone outside that circle cares and believes…that is special.  Let’s join Jesus and be the light in someone’s day.  Encourage everyone you know and assure them that everything is going to be great. Why? Because “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne