Category: Scripture

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, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Confession

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1

It was the summer of my rebellion.  I know, some people are born compliant, and some are born a little on the rebellious side.  I was born compliant.  I have always been a rule keeper—well, at least most of the time.  I suppose that is why I took to religion so well.  You see religion is all about keeping the rules.  The idea is if you keep enough of the rules then people will like you and most importantly, God will like you.  And sure enough, it worked—well, at least part one worked.  In my younger years, most of the adults thought I was a good boy.  Church? Got it.  Drinking? Not a drop.  Drugs?  Nope. I can hear them saying it now, “That Dewayne is such a nice boy.”  And, I suppose outwardly I looked pretty good, but pretty good won’t get you to heaven.

You see the second part of the religion mantra is that you can make God happy by performing—by keeping the rules.  That one is 100% false.  There is no one, except Jesus, that was good enough to go to heaven.  Yet it seems so many church people say they believe that rules won’t get you to heaven but act as if they will. They carefully do this and that and boy, if you happened to be one of the ones who didn’t keep the rules, you were tried, convicted, and sentenced.  That’s why I had to keep my cussing summer quiet.

I think maybe all the rule keeping must have finally got to me.  The bottom line is during the summer between my junior and senior years of high school—I started cussing.  I had a job at an apartment complex down the road from our house and I worked with the son of the head maintenance man.  He was not a Jesus person, and he did like to cuss.  So, one day, I just started cussing too.  I had heard enough cuss words at school to know most of them, so I didn’t have to have any lessons…though I did have to work on my voice inflections.

It was a very tricky time in my life because I had to turn the cussing on at 8:00 am and I had to be sure and turn it off at 5:00pm.  That’s what you have to do when you are living a double life.  Under no circumstances did I want to spoil my good boy image at church or with my Momma and Daddy. I do remember one time I let a small one slip and Momma looked at me with eyes that said, “Where did that come from?” Of course, I didn’t, I couldn’t let her know that her baby son was a cusser.

And, as quickly as it came, it passed.  At the end of the summer, I had to go back to school and therefore had to quit my job.  All I know is that the cussing stopped and my rule keeping world got a little easier.  I managed to please a lot of people, but I knew I was far from pleasing God.  It would be several more years before I finally figured out that rule keeping didn’t work and religion didn’t either.  When I was 21, I finally found grace and boy was that a game changer.  Honestly, it is taking me a long time to shake the deep roots of rule keeping and religion.  I’m still working on it.

You might ask, “How do you know if you are under the influence of religion and rule keeping?”  Well, its two main indicators are self-condemnation and a tendency to judge others.  Rule keepers are acutely aware when they or others around them break a rule.  Rule keepers (and religious people) like to point out other people’s sins and faults because it makes them feel better about themselves.  If they can make you feel bad, then it makes them feel better.  It’s a twisted world.

God’s way is so much better than religion and rules.  Did you know His Book, the Bible, actually says that when someone believes in Jesus and becomes one of His followers that there is no condemnation—none—nada?  I mean when the prosecuting attorney and the judge both acquit you—the trial is over.  I’m slowly learning just how valuable that is.  There is an audience of One that Jesus followers must live for and that is God…their Heavenly Father…their Abba Father…their Dearest Daddy.  I love what Toby Mac (a contemporary Christian singer) said, “I gave God a million reasons not to love me.  Not one of them changed His mind.”  I like that!

Well, I’m glad my cussing summer is ancient history.  I still look back at those two or three months and wonder what in the world was I was thinking?  The truth is…I probably wasn’t.  But now, by grace, that, and all my other failures, warts and sins are forgiven…all because of Jesus.  I’m so grateful for that. If you have never discovered grace and forgiveness, especially God’s kind, I hope you will check it out.  Don’t get confused with religion and rule keeping like I did.  God’s got something far, far, better than that.  Think you’ve messed up too much to be forgiven?  Nope…don’t give it a second thought.  Trust me…He’s got this.  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, food, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, priorities, Scripture, Southern born

Poached Eggs. Really?

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” Matthew 5:16

Poached eggs.  For some reason they have never made it on my list of favorite things.  It could be the name.  When something is poached it usually means it was taken by some illegal means.  Well, now that I think of it…maybe the name does fit. To me, unless it was Easter or Momma was making egg salad sandwiches, eggs were cooked in grease not water. I can vaguely remember something about my mom cracking an egg and dropping it into some water…no wait, maybe that was teabags.  At any rate, the thought of eating an egg that had just been floated around in some water like a jelly fish never, ever, crossed my mind. Grease and eggs…eggs and grease…a match made in heaven.

However, interestingly enough, not everyone is like me.  One of my best buds actually likes poached eggs. Of course, you must take in consideration that he also likes sugar on his grits.  But anyway, you read it right–he really likes them.  So, we were having this discussion about how to cook eggs (don’t all guys have those discussions?) and his passion for poached eggs boiled to the top–no pun intended.  So how did he become such a fan of poached eggs?  Well, here’s the deal.

It turns out that his grandmother was a really big fan of poached eggs.  Anytime he (or another family member) went to her house, it was time for poached eggs.  Over and over again, “Hey, you want me to cook you a poached egg?” That standard answer was, “No Grandma, that’s ok.”  Apparently, she was insistent because the standard answer was, “Sure you do, let me whip one up for you.” And, before long, a nice, wiggly kinda cooked egg was sitting before him.  Well, before long he was sorta, kinda brain washed and before long he was hooked.  Now that I think about it, I wonder if he had an aunt that liked sugar on her grits?  Hmmm.

So, the long and short of it is, all these years later–he still likes poached eggs.  Truth is, if it wasn’t for Grandma’s passion, he wouldn’t be such a fan–but her passion became one of his. That really says a lot about influence and legacy. You see, we are all influencers…whether it is food, habits, or speech.  I know Judy and I, being from the South, don’t press buttons…we mash them.  Wonder where that came from?  We don’t give people a ride to the store, we “carry” them. Oh, and no I don’t eat sugar on my grits…and apparently neither did my relatives.

You know that passion thing is true about eggs, but it is also true about God.  It seems that things that we are passionate about are the things that end up in the lives of those around us…especially those closest to us. The bottom line is what we are passionate about is contagious. The more passionate we are about God the more likely it will be caught by someone else.  It might be our kids, grandkids, or the guy next door but our faith should be highly contagious. Someone once said, “our faith is more easily caught than taught.” There is so much truth in that.

The truth is, I don’t know how you like your eggs–but it just might be similar to the way your momma or daddy liked them.  Let’s be so passionate about God and our faith that someone can’t be around us without being infected–uh, make that affected! Jesus said in His Sermon on the Mount, “In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” In other words, make sure that what we do and how we do it, reflects favorably on you…but most importantly, on God. I’m sure God is not a fan of poached eggs, but I do know He is a fan of yours.  Don’t worry, He’s got this…poached or not. 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

Posted in Family, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful

Good Morning!

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.”  Psalm 118:24

Good morning, Sunshine! Ok…that might be an overstatement…especially as I get a little older.  But, regardless, I love mornings…especially the early mornings. All my adult life I have been an early riser—like 4:30 am early. With few exceptions, I don’t use an alarm clock and after a wake-up ritual, I am ready to go.

As you probably know older people tend to lean toward two extremes. One group is sleeping in—they revert back to their teen times. The other group wakes up before the crack of dawn—they revert back to when they were babies. That is me. I normally wake up when the first number is a four. I say good morning to the bathroom and head to my favorite room in the house—my man-cave or home office. I usually spend an hour or so with the door closed—it is my domain. You might wonder, “what do you do in there?”

Well, here is a look into the inner sanctum. First, I turn on the lights—all of them.  I found out a long time ago the best way to jumpstart your brain is to flood the room with light.  So, I do. Then, I make a cup of coffee with my Keurig. We are very close friends.  It took me a while to become friends because he had expensive tastes.  But when Sam’s started offering cheaper coffee—we buddied up. Next, I also turn on the fireplace, regardless of the season, light a candle and sit back for a few minutes of news and weather.

After those preliminaries, I pull out my iPad and open YouVersion and read several devotionals.  If you are a Jesus follower or a Jesus searcher, you really need to go to your app store and download YouVersion—it for free.  Whether you are growing in Him or searching for Him…it is a go to place. After YouVersion, I read several email devotionals to get some more insight for the day. I also read some scripture—either for study purposes or just to read. Then, either at my desk or back in my chair I usually pray thanking God and asking Him to watch over the one’s I love and the upcoming day. So, there you go.  This best part of waking up is a little coffee and a little more of God.

Mornings are my most productive time. Almost all of these stories are written early in the morning. My most productive study time is early in the morning. Most of my sermons are born then. If exercise is going to happen—it has to happen in the morning. Truth be known, half of my day happens in the first three or four hours of the new day. I often find what didn’t make sense at 4:00 pm makes plenty of sense at 5:30 am. What’s seemed overwhelming at 7:00 pm is no problem at 6:00 am.

Another of my favorite morning things, if the season is right, is to go out and sit on the patio and watch the sun rise—for the dawn to break and for the day to begin. I never ceased to be amazed at creation—the birth of another day. As darkness gives way to dawn, as night slips away to day, it is a visual promise from my Dearest Daddy that He is not done yet.  Psalm 118:24 says, “This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” His job is to make them, and our job is to enjoy them.  Even the more difficult days have lessons to learn…He’s not a waster…He is a provider.

Well, out on the patio I finish my last cup of coffee and sit back and take it all in.  A new day, a fresh promise, another opportunity to enjoy my Dearest Father.  So, what is your fresh start like?  It really doesn’t matter if it starts with a four or a nine.  It doesn’t matter if it is coffee or tea (but I can’t imagine that). It doesn’t matter if it is rain or sunshine…just make sure you know and remember that as you stroll with Him today…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, food, forgiveness, friends, Grace, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials

Warning Signs

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and suffer for it.” Proverbs 27:12

This is the kind of story I don’t like writing.  Since some of you know me and some of you don’t, I’ll start by saying that I have issues.  Yup…and more than one.  With that said, this story is about my health issues.  All my life I have had this battle with my weight.  Although people say I wear it well, I pack more baggage than I need to carry on this trip called life. Consequently, most of the time I am either on the way up…or on the way down.  That’s just the way it is.  And honestly, it is all about—sugar.

You see, I love snacks, and, I love sweet snacks.  Now I’m not talking about candy though I’m not saying I would turn down a Butterfinger.  No, I like the baked stuff and I am an equal opportunities eater.  Pies, cakes, donuts, cookies, brownies, cinnamon rolls—if it is baked and sweet—count me in.  To help counter the calories, I do try and exercise—at least some.  In fact, at the beginning of 2021 I managed to walk a couple of miles a day, five and six times a week for months.  Yay for me…but then something happened.  However, and whatever the cause, sometime in late fall I quit and when I quit—it happened.  The flat-out truth is I started gaining girth like a snowball going downhill.

Well, I did what any self-respecting foodaholic does—I just quit getting on the scale and, oh yes, I quit checking my blood sugar too.  Did I mention that I am a diabetic? Did you also know that donuts, cake, pie, cookies, and brownies don’t go with diabetes? But don’t worry, I’m not a severe diabetic. That’s another way you quit doing the right thing.  You simply justify your behavior. A guy said this week that justifying is “just a lying.” Ouch.

I was a recipe, no pun intended, for disaster.  I could tell I wasn’t doing well.  I could feel my body saying, “Excuse me.”  After binge eating on whatever was sweet one recent Sunday, I got on the scale on Monday.  Holy moly.  I also checked my blood sugar on Monday. Holy moly the second time.  Good grief.  I was so frustrated with myself.  I didn’t even have to ask; how did it happen?  I knew…all too well. In fact, a friend asked me what I did to end up there.  I told him the answer was, “What didn’t I do?”

Here’s the deal.  You know those red lights and crossing guards at railroad crossings?  Do you know the consequences when you ignore them?  Well, I ignored the lights and the crossing guard and the easiest way to do that was just quit—quit weighing and quit sticking your finger.  Anybody can tell you the truth of this. To start down the wrong path just STOP doing the things that help you be accountable.  Maybe, your AA meetings.  Maybe your exercise.  Maybe going to church.  Maybe reading your Bible.  Well, the list goes on and on.

I stumbled on a really, good verse in the book of Proverbs.  It says a wise person will see danger and take cover.  A foolish (or inexperienced) person will see the same danger and keep right on going.  That’s a good verse. No, that’s a great verse. What about you, what is it in your life right now that you can see the red lights flashing and the crossing guard down?  More importantly, what are going to do with it?  Trust me…it is really important.  You see that decision will determine your regrets and consequences.  Remember that “holy moly” moment I wrote about? Yup, that’s the deal.

The answer is simple.  Stop saying tomorrow and start today.  There’s a saying I just love—when you are tempted to stop, just remember why you started.  I know I’m only just started but already I can feel and see a difference. When I visit my doctor again in about three months, I hope we can have a different conversation than the one we had recently. I am grateful that my body still responds to doing the right things.  And for me it is relatively easy…at least with these two things.  But trust me there are other things that are a daily battle.

The good news is I have Someone who stays by my side…as the Bible says, a friend closer than a brother.  Who would that be?  My Dearest Daddy.  He is for me and never against me.  He has things planned for me that are too good to miss. I know this season of COVID has messed with our spiritual stuff badly.  But I hope you will make the decision, today, to “get back on the scale.”  Your Heavenly Father will be there to help.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

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

A Leap of Faith

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet I have never seen the godly abandoned or their children begging for bread.” Psalm 37:25

It was a one and only, life changing, Valentine’s Day. It was 1982…forty years ago.  My wife Judy and I were enjoying life and enjoying our still “new to us” daughter who had just turned one.  And that isn’t all.  My wife Judy was expecting our second child due that August.  As Gomer Pyle used to say, “Surprise, surprise, surprise.”  But there was more…a lot more.  You see, about a month before that Valentine’s Day, the pastor where we attended church had asked me to speak on Men’s Day.  In case you’re wondering, Men’s Day in a Baptist Church is where the men step and do something.  It could be singing in the choir or like me, speaking.  Yup, the pastor had asked me to speak that day and I said yes.

That wasn’t a total surprise.  The previous year he had asked me to share my Jesus story…how I met and responded to faith in Jesus.  He later asked me a curious question.  “Dewayne,” he said, “have you ever thought about becoming a pastor?”  Well, the truth was I had but not seriously. After all, I had a great career going in the Air Force and with another baby on the way, well, it wasn’t on my radar. So, I sat down and wrote something that I thought would work and I guess it did. But from that moment on, something was restless in my soul.  I was afraid if I ever tried this speaking thing it might start something and it did.

For the next month or so, things kinda rolled around in my soul. Something was stirring but I think even I was surprised by what that thing was.  So, that Valentine’s Day, Judy and I did what we always did on Sunday…go to church. I’m sure there were cards exchanged and most likely a gift or two but it was a normal, “get up and go to church” Sunday.  We went to our Bible study class (which remains one of our favorite memories…great friends getting together).

After class we headed to worship.  We were sitting in our “normal” spot…center section, five or six rows back.  We sang, we prayed, we gave, and then we sat down to listen…and apparently, God was talking…to me.  At the end of the service, we always had a time for people to go forward and pray or perhaps make some sort of commitment. Well, without any warning (God does that sometimes), an unexpected passion or urgency came over me and I found myself leaving me my seat and heading toward my pastor.  I took him by the hand and told him God was calling me to be a vocational pastor.  I don’t believe he was shocked, but I can tell you I was.  I knew this meant a total life change and career change.  It still amazes me as I think about it.

Well, there’s a lot to the story but that decision led me to leave the Air Force after 12 years and jump headlong into the pool of faith and trusting God.  Today, February 14th, marks that day forty years ago.  You might be wondering, “So, Dewayne, how did that work for you?”  Well, there has been bumps, but I want to tell you that God has been so faithful to us. We have had the ride of our lives and it has been incredible. There’s a verse in the Bible where the author says that he had never seen someone who followed God forsaken or begging for bread.  Well, that’s a pretty broad statement and it is certainly needs to be taken as a principle and not a promise, but I can tell you God has watched over us these four decades.

Valentine’s Day is and should be a special day.  I know it was probably a ploy by Hallmark to make a ton of money.  I know it can be a blessing for those who remember and a bane for those who forget.  But for me, it is a time to remember the day I jumped…and God caught me. You might know that in the military if you serve 20 years you can retire handsomely. You may have done the math and concluded that if I had served eight more years, I would have been “fixed” for life.  You ask, “Do you every regret getting out and losing “all of that?”  My brother-in-law asked that one time and my answer was, “Absolutely, 100%, no.”  I wouldn’t have missed this story for the world. Oh, and the best part is…it’s still being written.  You might wonder why I can end each story with, “He’s got this.” Well, the truth is, He’s proved it over and over again.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, friends, gratitude, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, wisdom

Chatting With the Father

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.” 1 Kings 19:12

“What was that, again?”  Last week we had a winter storm.  Though it wasn’t as nasty as they said it was going to be it was still more than enough to warrant staying off the roads and in the house. Turns out, it was a two day in the house deal.  Well, we had an invitation to go eat dinner with a couple on Friday night, but it looked like the weather was going to nix that.  Another good friend was invited to go and frankly, I was disappointed when it looked like it wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t sure the roads would be safe. I mean, this was one of those good invites…great friends and great food.  So, my wife Judy and I were thrilled when she called and said it looked like the roads were going to be clear enough…so Friday night we were off and running.

Judy sat up front and I was in the backseat.  Our friend owns one of those Toyota off road things…you know, the kind that would be at home in a safari in Africa so trust me the roads were not going to stop us.  I told her we should go four-wheeling before the night was over. Smile. So, anyway, soon we were on our way.  Now, her vehicle may be made to conquer Africa, but it is not made for conversation…especially for those in the backseat.  I was content to just ride but several times a question or something came from the front seat, directed my way.  The result was a “Huh,” or a “What?”

You see, first, I do have some hearing loss.  There are some frequencies that I hear perfect and some that I just don’t.  Usually, questions from my wife fall in the latter category.  Second, her Africa eating vehicle had those tires that like to sing…loudly. Third, there was a pretty good portion of wind noise and finally, I was in the back seat, and they were in the front seat facing away from me.  The bottom line, there wasn’t going to be a lot of conversation…at least not any that involved me.  It was true going…and it was true coming home. All that was fine by me except when it was a question requiring an answer and then well, we were back to the “Huh,” and “What’s.”  I must confess it was just a hair frustrating.

I wasn’t surprised…with that much interference a person with good hearing would probably have struggled.  You put enough interference out there and nobody can hear anything.  That is true with people and wait for it, it is equally true with God.  I believe in prayer…not the wish list kind but the kind where I get to know God better. I believe in prayer…the kind where I can chat with my Dearest Daddy.  No, it is not formal, but it is respectful.  The one thing I forget too often is that it is a conversation, going both ways.  I do the part of me speaking very well…I just don’t do the part of me listening as well.  Sometimes I forget that He probably has more to say to me than I do to Him.  How interesting.

Another thing is that interference thing.  Just like my experience in my friend’s “over the river and through the woods” vehicle, so too often there is plenty of interference between me and my Father.  Yesterday’s sin and failures, today’s plans and worries about tomorrow all tend to speak loudly in my mind and heart and if I am not careful…drown out His voice.  You see God often is more of a whisperer than a shouter and trust me His whispers are worth hearing. One time, He was talking with one of His prophets.  There were all kind of big things going on, a fierce wind, fire, and earthquake and yet God didn’t speak through those…instead, He whispered.

So let me encourage you to take the time to get away, get quiet and get still.  When you get there have a chat…not filled with big and flowery words but words from a sincere heart spoken directly to a Dearest Father who loves you more than you can imagine.  Then be sure and give Him a moment or two speak into the conversation.  Listen carefully for He might speak softly.  He will whisper His love and probably just assure you that, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne