Category: Southern born

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, life, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials, wisdom

The Old Clock

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.” Genesis 3:8

I have a clock.  Well, the truth of the matter I have lots of clocks.  Throughout my adult life, starting in about 1978, I have had this love affair with things that go, “tick-tock.” Then, somewhere along the way, I even began to love clocks that didn’t.  That doesn’t mean they were broken it just means they were electric.  One of the things that I love about clocks is their tenacity—like the Energizer Bunny—they just keep going.  I have some “tick-tock” clocks that are well over a hundred years old, and they are still ticking and still tocking. Something that is almost equally impressive as that are some of the electric clocks that are almost that old and they are still humming along.

And that brings up the clock.  About thirty years ago, I was at a friend’s antique shop on a Sunday afternoon.  I had been there many times before.  As I browsed around, I came across a camel back electric mantle clock.  I instantly recognized it…not because I had seen it before, but one like it.  It was a General Electric, Model 414, Westminster Chiming clock.  The reason I knew it so well was because my grandfather and grandmother had one like it and every time I went to their house, I listened to the song of that clock.  And this clock sounded just like it because—it was.

The song transported me back in time…to a different era when life was slower and to some extent easier.  Well, the clock in the antique shop that day found a new home.  It went first to 319 E. Poplar Street in Cobden and followed me to 217 W. Poplar Street in Harrisburg.  For the last 35 years or so, it has filled the place where it sat with song.  I loved it. Well, about two months ago, I heard sometime and realized it was coming from my beloved friend.

A very distinct noise, more than a hum but less than a grind, was coming from the clock.  The long and short of it is the old motor, after more than sixty years, was showing signs of death.  When the noise started, I immediately did some research and landed at a site of a man who works on this kind of motor…a Telechron.  I told him what my songbird was doing, and the prognosis was grime.  He said the noise meant that the motor was nearing the end of its life and the only answer was to replace the motor.

Well since the clock was still working and because the rebuilt motor was far from inexpensive, I decided to try and live with the clock…noise or not.  But I need to be honest and let you know it is not going well.  Now instead of hearing and loving the beloved song, all I can hear is the sounds of a motor dying…getting louder by the day.  And the problem is the sound of death has drowned out the song of life.  Oh, the dear old clock is still singing its song but for some reason all I can hear is the noise it is making…not the song it is singing.

Somehow, almost unintentionally, I have decided to listen to the noise and not the song.  While the noise is louder it is not louder than the latter.  The noise only wins the day because I choose to listen to it.  Try as I may, when I walk into the room, the first thing I hear is death and not life.  I wonder, no I know, that this happens in our lives.  In a world filled with wonder and life, if we are not careful, we only hear a world heading south. Instead of hearing a baby’s first cry or a robin’s spring song, we choose to listen to brokenness, loss, and death.

I know I have a choice with the old clock, I am just struggling to choose wisely.  It must have been that way for Adam and Eve when God came to the garden each day to visit.  Genesis, the first book in the Old Testament part of the Bible, says that they would hear God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.  It was a sound they used to run to but now it caused them to run away.  Sin, their sin, had gotten in the way.  If you find yourself running from what you used to run to, maybe just maybe, something has gotten in the way. Perhaps you are hearing the noise of dying instead of the song of living.

The answer for the old clock is a new motor and the answer for us is new heart or maybe a new or adjusted perspective.  If you’ve not discovered the joy of believing in God, check Him out.  You will find a song you’re sure to like.  For some of us, it might be an adjustment in our hearing, choosing to hear the song and not the noise.  Regardless, we have one confident assurance…He loves us and cares for us and no matter what, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials, wisdom

What Lurks Beneath the Surface

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!     And see if there be any grievous way in me.” Psalm 139:23-24

There was something stinky right below the surface.  There were a lot of things I just didn’t know or understand growing up, but that was ok because my world was pretty low key.  Looking back, maybe, perhaps those were some of my favorite memories in this journey called life. This was especially true in the years before junior high.  As an elementary age kid, it was sunup to sundown adventures. Little did I know that something was brewing right beneath my feet.

We lived in the country which meant no city water or sewer.  In fact, I think I can safely say I didn’t even know there was such a thing.  We had a well and pump in our backyard and that is where our water came from, and I thought that is what everyone did.  We also had something called a septic tank.  That handled all the, uh, waste, from the Taylor Tribe.  There were two things I didn’t know. First, I didn’t know we had one and second, I didn’t know it was right under our back porch.  All that changed when one day big truck pulled into our yard.  It turns out they were there to “pump out our septic tank.”  Now anything that was big and mechanical I was all about.  I watched in amazement as they moved some dirt and pried this huge, heavy slab of concrete off an equally huge tank thing.

It was just about then, I decided to back up because whatever was in there was not cool.  They put a big hose in that tank thing and began to suck it all out.  Now I know this is a bit gross but stay with me.  So, the tank was empty, and they slid the lid back in place and off they went. Well, soon I forgot the big truck and forgot about the thing under our porch.  Months later, I was playing in our backyard, and I noticed that water was bubbling up from the ground…not in one place but several.  And, soon, my nose took me back to what was under the porch.  It turned out that thing under the porch had what was called a drain field…and it wasn’t working. And because it wasn’t working…what was hidden beneath the ground soon wasn’t. The stinky was revealed.

Well, afford it or not, like it or not, they came and dug up a big part of our backyard and replaced the old clay tile pipes with new ones. It was all pretty interesting and soon the holes were covered up and the equipment moved on and magically, the stinky was gone.  Looking back, I think it was funny that something so funky and yucky could be right there beneath my feet and I never knew it…until it came to the surface.  And once it started to bubble up…what was hidden no longer was.

I’ve lived long enough now to know what was true in my backyard is true in life.  So often we allow some foul stuff to hang around in our lives.  You know, secret sins, bad habits, and destructive addictions—stuff rolling around in our minds or banging around in our hearts.  We manage to keep it all under control, “under the ground,” until one day…it bubbles to the surface, and you find yourself wondering, “Where did that come from?”  Worse than that, people start wondering the same thing.  You can take it to the bank that secrets often don’t remain secret.  Moses, yup, the guy who led God’s people out of Egypt, said that we can be sure our sin, or our habits, or our addictions will be found out…they will eventually come to the surface.

What I learned about septic tanks as a kid is true today too.  They needed regular maintenance and sometimes repair to function right.  We need the same.  We need to regularly examine our heart and our conscience to see if there is anything we need to get “pumped” out.  If we are God followers, we need to have the courage to ask Him to check out what lurks below the surface of our lives.  One of the writers of the Psalms in the Old Testament part of the Bible said, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me.”

Some prayers are harder to pray than others…and this is one of those.  Search me, know me, try me…know my thoughts.  Giving God permission (though He really doesn’t need it) to pry into your stuff is hard but profitable. I mean, the prying isn’t for Him…it is for you.  It helps you be a better you.  Oh, and don’t worry…you can’t surprise Him.  The big surprise is when you hear Him say, “Oh all that stuff, no problem.  I’ve 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, fear, friends, Grace, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, Trials

They Drove Us Batty

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

He will again have compassion on us; He will vanquish our iniquities. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea.” Micah 7:19

It was years ago but trust me…it is still fresh in my memory. We had made one of our journeys to the land of grits and collards to see family.  We enjoyed some good southern cooking, some great times of fellowship and revisited several places from Judy’s childhood and our days together before God and the Air Force sent us on the next chapter of great adventures.  There’s no place like home, Dorothy said it and I agree.

We decided to do something different so rather than stay with the relatives, we rented a nice Victorian home in Valdosta at a very reasonable rate.  It was wonderfully decorated, and we had the whole house to ourselves.  The location was great, the hot tub in the backyard was great, everything was just great…and then I looked in the sink. Something was moving.

After we arrived, we were still checking out the place and my wife Judy and I went into the kitchen and happened to look in the sink and there were some rotten banana peels lying there.  Well, that wasn’t too cool.  Who would leave rotten banana peels in the kitchen sink of a nice rental house anyway?  The answer—no one.  You see, about that time one of the banana peels moved!  Yikes—they weren’t banana peels after all—they were—BATS—five of them.

Well, I mustered my courage and threw a towel over them, scooped them up and tossed them out the door.  There—gross but end of the story—nothing could be worse than that—right?  Wrong.  That evening we were watching some TV and I stepped out of the room to hear Judy holler “Dewayne, here’s another one!”  Sure enough, one was walking across the floor, so out he went.  Then I looked and one was hanging on the fireplace screen—out he went too.  Well, surely it can’t….don’t bet on it. We went to bed that night and I dozed off pretty quickly…Judy didn’t.  Soon, I heard, “Dewayne, there’s one flying around in the room!”  Well, she was wrong…there wasn’t one–there were two.  The batman (that’s me) knocked ‘em down and hauled them out and called the owner.

The next day a bat removal guy came. He told us he had been there the previous Saturday and had patched a couple of entrances he assumed the bats were using. I guess he missed one…or two.  Well, he searched the house and came up with seven more bats. Can you believe this?  He patched and sealed some more entrances and we thought that was the end of problem—finally!  Well, that is we thought.  Long story short—by the end of the week we had removed 25 bats from the house. He caught and released them somewhere.  It turns out they were endangered…more so than they knew.

This is one reason I said, “There’s no place like home.”  The only bat at 217 W. Poplar is a ball bat! So, by now you are wondering, “Why didn’t you guys leave?”  Well, the landlord did offer us a partial refund and there was a bed and breakfast down the road, but the bottom line was twofold.  First, we really, really liked having the whole house to ourselves and in such a good location.  Second, I didn’t know on day one that there were 25 bats in the house—I always thought the last one was the last one. I was wrong.

I wonder if my reluctance to leave explains why some people continue in a bad habit or a sin even though everything in the world is telling them to get out. It becomes obvious that we like the habit or the sin.  Sin can be pleasurable but mark it down—it not only offends God, but it is also expensive (on a couple of different levels) and it can wreak havoc in your life (or your vacation). Secondly, sin will take you further than you want to go and make you stay longer than you want to stay.  I kept thinking the last bat was the last bat but there was always one more.  Finally, the week was gone and if nothing else I became an expert at bat removal.

So, if you need a house to stay at in Valdosta and you don’t mind bats let me know.  I can promise you it will be an interesting visit to say the least. Personally, it just about drove me batty…pun definitely intended.  Oh, and if you need someone to help you remove some of the “bats” from your life, I know just the One.  He is my Dearest Daddy, and He would love to help you out.  He will cast those pesky “sin bats” to the bottom of the sea. You can trust Him…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, 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, 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, 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, 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