Category: Southern born

Posted in Family, food, friends, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Thanksgiving

Thanks-Giving Living

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:20

Everything seemed bigger then.  I liked being a kid.  I know there were times I didn’t, but overall things were pretty cool.  For one thing, there were fewer responsibilities.  There was always someone bigger and more important than me to handle things.  I didn’t worry about where the food came from, who was going to pay the electric bill or what would happen if the wrong person got elected and lived in something called the White House.  My house happened to be white, so my world centered around that white house. Of course, there were only three channels to tell me about the world outside my small world so, yeah, l liked being a kid.

When I was a kid, the holidays were just a big thing and the two at the top of the list were Thanksgiving and Christmas. These were the mammoths of all holidays.  Thanksgiving, of course, came first and was like the kickoff for the Christmas season. Thanksgiving meant that it was ok to start doing Christmas stuff.  Now days that has been assigned to the Fourth of July. Smile.  But anyway, these two special days shared two things that made them special.  They were all about family and they were all about food. Family and food.  They were big then and they are big now.

Of course, big was relative…not relative like my grandmother or my Uncle Hardy…but relative in the sense of perspective.  You see, as a kid, everything was bigger.  A while back I went back to where I was raised. The house, though slightly remodeled, was still there and about the same.  But when I saw it that day, I remember thinking how small it seemed.  I mean it was never big, but it certainly seemed bigger.  The difference wasn’t the house but how I saw it.  Enter Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was so exciting because it meant that anyone who was related to the Taylor tribe was going to be somewhere together.  Most often it was home…the white house on the corner of Carlton and Wheat. It was a big deal because we had quite a big tribe.  Momma and Daddy had eight kids and they probably would have had more but I think they finally figured out what was causing it.

And then…there was the food.  Momma would cook the biggest turkey we could find…usually right around twenty-five pounds.  There would be dressing, plain and oyster, giblet gravy, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, ambrosia, and a bunch of other stuff.  There would be several kinds of pies including the infamous “minced meat pie.”  Best I could tell that was a pie for the adults because I think it really had meat and only an adult could like that.  Then after the vast spread was spread, we would all gather around the kitchen (we wouldn’t fit around the table) and someone would pray…usually my oldest brother because he was a lay preacher.  And then…we would eat…a lot.

From my kid perspective it was good, and it was fun.  I probably didn’t think much about what giving thanks was all about.  I mean, my big brother talked about being thankful when he was talking to God in the prayer, but really, I probably didn’t get the whole thanksgiving thing…then.  But now, well, I certainly understand it more.  As I grew up and some of that responsibility that my parents bore fell on me, I began to understand.  When I started to realize that things I took for granted didn’t just happen, that they took hard work and a lot of love, well, I started feeling grateful.  The more I understood, the more I appreciated all that my Momma and Daddy did for me as a kid.  They worried so I didn’t have to. They provided so I could have food to eat, a place to sleep, clothes to wear and a life that was…fun.

So, this week, I’m going to remember and be thankful.  I’m going to do my best not to grumble about what I don’t have and choose to be grateful for what I do. Somewhere this week I will play the role of my big brother and pray, and I will thank God for all the blessings He has given to me and my family.  This week I will celebrate that there is food to eat and family to enjoy…just like when I was a kid.  God is good…always has been, always will be.  Paul, the guy who wrote most of the New Testament Bible said, “Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I think he was telling us to be sure and celebrate Thanksgiving, not one day, but every day.  Oh, and when you are thanking God for being God be sure and thank Him because, each day and every day, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Thanksgiving, travel

The Rock

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” James 1:17

The Rock.  If you talk to someone that has done “hard time” they will probably think you are talking about Alcatraz.  If you talk to someone who likes action movies, they will probably think you are talking about Dewayne “The Rock” Johnson.  But if you are talking to me or my wife Judy, then we will know you are talking about “the rock.”  It’s a long story.

Judy and I met and fell in love in short order.  I walked into her church one Wednesday night. I asked her out the next week and ever since then we have been a “we”.  We were together as much as possible—we wanted to be together as much as possible. Since my Daddy had passed away that summer, Mama decided to spend Thanksgiving with my brother Joe up in the mountains, and I was invited to come join them.  It was a deal because I really wanted to be with Judy, but I knew my place was with family and my Mama especially.  So, I went.  I told Judy I would miss her, and I would bring her something back from the mountains.

Now I’m known for doing crazy things—it’s just me. While in the mountains I tried to think of something to take to Judy.  It didn’t seem appropriate to take her a typical souvenir, so I got an idea.  I would take her part of the mountains. I went out and found a rock. It was about the size of a pumpkin roll…elongated and was even orange with white stripes. As Thanksgiving rocks go…it was a pretty, good one.  I washed it up and put it in the car.  Game. Set. Match.

I’m sure in the book of love étiquette there is a chapter on what to bring your love when you go to the mountains.  I am also sure if I had read that chapter a rock would not have made the cut.  But hey, I was inexperienced.  So, I got back to Valdosta where I was stationed in the Air Force and where Judy lived.  After the appropriate number of hugs and kisses I presented her with her gift.  She seemed thrilled and seemed to appreciate my thoughtfulness.  Please note the word seemed.

Time goes by.  We were married a while later and the rock made the trip from her parent’s house to our new apartment.  We later received orders to Germany and the rock made the trip with us.  When we came home from Germany and moved to our new duty assignment in Warrensburg, Missouri, the rock came with us. And on and on it went.  To the home we built in Warrensburg, to the little parsonage in LaMonte, where I had my first full-time pastorate, to Cobden, Illinois where we pastored for 14 years.  Finally, it came with us to Harrisburg. It was part of the family. It was more than a pet rock it was “the rock.”

About ten years ago, around 2010, somehow the topic of the rock came up. I was sharing how endeared I was to the rock—how important it was and then it happened.  Judy told me she never liked the rock.  She told me that she wasn’t thrilled all those years ago. She only pretended to be thrilled to make me happy.  The bottom line was the rock was just a rock.  Oh, the agony.  Oh, the pain. Oh the “you’ve got to be kidding me.”  Here I’ve been hauling this rock all over the world for nothing.  I knew I should have gotten her one of those Smoky Mountain snow globes!

Well, like a pet who’s forgotten how to be potty trained, the rock was moved to the yard. It was still special to me, so it now sits on the grave of one of my favorite pets.  Somehow that just seemed appropriate and if I were to move tomorrow—yes, the rock would go.  If nothing else, it is a monument on what not to bring the girl you love from the mountains.  I’m glad that God is better at gifts than I am.  It seems—no, it more than seems, that He always gets it right.

He talks a lot about gifts in His Book.  He loads us up day after day.  Every sunrise and sunset are a gift.  Every breath is a gift.  Every fall leaf that floats to the ground full of color is a gift.  We need to look and recognize all that He gives us.  James, one of Jesus’ half-brothers, wrote that every good gift, every perfect gift comes down from our Dearest Daddy.  He just loves to shower us with His best and He does it again and again.

Well, it was no accident that I brought a souvenir rock home that year, it was no accident it was orange with white stripes, and it was no accident that it is still with us. In fact, the word souvenir is from the French, meaning “a memento, keepsake, or a token of remembrance which a person acquires for the memories the owner associates with it.” How about that! Still, I guess it wasn’t the right gift for her on that day. Today though, it was the right motivation to remind us of this year, above all years, to be grateful for a God, a Heavenly Father who is oh so generous to His kids.  Why not sit down today and make a list of all the things God has provided and all the needs He met?  Take your time…enjoy the moment and when you are done…read the list to Him and say “Thank-you, Father.”  And then for all the things that are bigger than you or for the things that just look like rocks, gratefully give them all to Him because, as always, He’s got this.     Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Thanksgiving

Bring on the Gravy

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.” Ephesians 1:7-8

It just makes good things better!  Just imagine…Thanksgiving is right around the corner. For most it will be a time together with family and friends— to rejoice and remember.  I know from this side of the fence the Taylor cooks are off the scale good.  Our menu, especially the one that lists the side dishes, is almost set in stone.  Homemade (is there any other) mac and cheese, sweet potato casserole, strawberry pretzel salad and other salads that makes you like salads, Apple pie…well you get the idea.  There is one thing that deserves more recognition at our Thanksgiving table and that is the gravy.

Now I am a Southern boy and gravy has always been a big part of my eating life.  Momma would regularly make both brown and white gravies for our supper and they were incredible.  I remember one time I was reminded that you can have too much of a good thing.  When she cooked a roast I loved to take two slices (one wouldn’t do) of bread and then smother, no drown, the bread in gravy.  Well, one time it got me.  I guess all the goodness in the gravy was too much and I got sick, real sick to my stomach.  It wasn’t pretty.

Momma also made a great giblet gravy at Thanksgiving.  She would take all those things that are tucked inside the turkey when you buy it, cut them up in tiny pieces and put them in her gravy.  Yup…it was incredible.  That’s when I began to learn the value of gravy.  It could take the driest dressing (never my Momma’s mind you) and make it the best dressing in the world.  It worked even better on leftovers.  You go back later that afternoon, fill your plate for round two of the feast, warm up the gravy and let her fly.  The dressing, the potatoes and the turkey all were reborn with a little gravy.

Gravy also can play the role of redeemer with biscuits.  Now even the best biscuits almost always need a little help to become great.  It might be a smothering of butter or butter and syrup and good becomes great.  By far the best soul mate of a biscuit is a flood of good sausage gravy.  On my goodness—that combination is its own food group.  Any good restaurant that serves breakfast is always sure to include that in its offerings. The bottom line is that gravy makes things better.

I know something else that does the same thing—even more so.  That is grace.  Grace is when we choose to extend something good to someone they really don’t deserve.  It might be an act of kindness, a measure of forgiveness or a kind word or two. As a pastor I know people have extended a measure of grace when they commented on some of my sermons.  “Best sermon this year, preacher!”  Well, truth be known it wasn’t that good—they were just being graceful.

Now hear this.  Just like a good gravy can make ordinary or less than extraordinary food taste incredible—grace can do the same thing for life.  Families are stronger, relationships are better, teams at work are more productive when grace is poured all over them.  You probably can remember how political opinions and COVID fractured relationships like crazy.  It divided families, friends and, yes, churches. Looking back, I know we needed to pour some gravy—some grace—all over it.

If you are a Jesus follower then you should be a grace expert.  You know that God extended that grace, His unmerited favor, to you and forgave all your failures, sins, and warts.  If you understand redemption right you know you didn’t deserve it—He just did it because of His love for broken people.  Grace makes the impossible possible.  Grace, like a good gravy, can redeem the worse and restore the driest.  God talks a whole lot about grace in His Book.  I encourage you to Google it and be amazed at grace—God’s grace.  It is so amazing they even wrote a song about.  Perhaps you’ve heard it—Amazing Grace.

Sometimes when I order at a restaurant, I will order my gravy on the side. Let’s be honest—not every place can make good gravy.  But when it comes to God’s grace don’t ever get it on the side.  Just ask God to pour it on heavy—flood the plate of your life. The Book says that through faith in Jesus we have redemption through His death on the cross.  When we believe that God forgives our sins through His grace that He lavishes on us…. wow bring on the gravy…bring on the grace. So, if your life is like a dry biscuit take a break and ask God to pour on the grace.  And if you are overwhelmed by circumstances that have left you like a 3:00 pm pile of dry turkey, ask God to pour on grace and you will soon be revived because…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Halloween, life, love, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Trick or True?

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

[He] does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he tells a lie, he speaks from his own nature, because he is a liar and the father of lies.” John 8:44b

In those days it was one of my favorite holidays.  Things change…we all get that but back in the day, Halloween was fun, it was candy profitable and we loved it.  There were church parties where we all dressed up in costumes.  And those costumes weren’t bought in a store…they were made from wherever was handy.  We would have hotdogs and chips and there was always a contest for the best costume.  Come trick or treat night we would again don our costumes. Mine was invariably a hobo—I just went to dad’s closet and boom—I was ready to go.

One of my favorite things was going to Momma’s cedar chest.  It was a magical place where so many cool things were stored.  It was filled with once-a-year delights and special treasures.  One time my daddy had to make a trip of Ecuador for work.  He was a mechanic at the Navy base and one of their planes broke down in South America. He was selected to make the trip and trust me—it was the trip of a lifetime for him.  He bought everyone souvenirs and mine was a poncho and a short bullwhip.  They were stored in the cedar chest for safe keeping.

But there was something else in the cedar chest—our trick or treat bags.  Momma had made one for each of us out of cloth scraps and in my mind’s eye I can still see them.  At the right time, Momma would open the cedar chest and get them out for the special night. Now these are different days but back then as soon as it began to get dusky, we would hit the streets of our neighborhood.  It was a wonderful time of innocence—no danger, no dark tricks…we were safe and free, and we would run the streets until the porch lights were all out and our bags were full. 

Things are tragically different now.  The meaning has changed, the danger is real and well, it’s just not the same.  When our daughters were small enough to trick or treat it was still safe, but we would never think of letting them go out by themselves and now, today, certainly not the grandkids. I wish they could have known the Halloween I knew but alas it is gone.  Things do in fact change.

Sadly, there is something that hasn’t changed.  The trick part of trick or treat.  Back when I was, oh, ten or so, we might, maybe take a bar of soap and soap a window or two—but even that was rare and brought a twinge of guilt. But those memories are not what I am thinking about.  I am talking about the ultimate, most evil trickster—the devil himself.  If you know anything about him you know he is a great deceiver and he loves to lead, or drag, people down a dark path of regret and consequences.  It’s who he is and it is something he was done since the beginning of time.  Just ask Eve and Adam. He promises the best treat—which is a lie—and never tells the rest of the story—the trick. Like he told Eve, “Go ahead and have a bite—you won’t die.”  Well, we know how that turned out.

Well, I know Halloween is still a few days off, but the big truth is for every day.  Never, ever, trust what Satan offers.  Jesus said he is a liar and the father of it and trust me—Jesus always tells the truth. What Jesus offers—love, forgiveness, grace, and peace—are all real and all can be ours for the asking.  He is the treat of a lifetime—with no small print and no tricks.  You can believe it—He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

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

Wait and See

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 quit just a little too soon.  I think there must have been 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 more closely.

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 are concerned, 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 nearly 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 talent 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 good.

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 know when 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 evening 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 in life but that is a small one I do own.  I’m ok with not being tall and gifted in sports, but I’m not ok with being a quitter.  Not then—not now. If I had 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 he and his wife were old—really old.  In fact, when God told him he was going to have a son, 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 concubine 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…actually, 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 never late and He’s never early, He’s right on time because He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, travel, Trials

The Devil in My Shoe

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Be sober-minded, be alert. Your adversary the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for anyone he can devour.” 1 Peter 5:8

I guess just being careful wasn’t enough.  During our recent journey south, my brother-in-law, JW, unexpectedly had a day off. Now you probably should understand that he is past the age when that should be normal, but he simply loves what he does and loves to work.  For that reason, I wasn’t too surprised when he announced that on his day off—we were going to work.

He had a couple of projects he wanted done at the lake house where we were staying and one of them included putting down some landscaping fabric in preparation for some rock that he was going to lay around the fire pit area.  No problem—well, almost.  First, for various reasons (like flying in an airplane), we didn’t make it to the work site until 3:00 pm and trust me—September or not—it can still be hot in North Georgia—and it was.

The other problem involved heat of a different kind.  At each end of the place where we were going to lay out the fabric, there were two very large Fire Ant beds. Now if you are not familiar with these demons from another very hot place, their bite is terrible.  It will fester and can be painful and itchy for weeks after the attack.  I determined then and there to stay far away from the two beds.

Well, for whatever reason, JW decided to attack the beds with his string trimmer (something that I would not recommend) which accomplished two things.  First, it made the Fire Ants very mad and second, it scattered them from here to kingdom come. Well, even with all of that I still managed to stay away from these nasty insects and avoid their bite—or so I thought.

That night, I noticed my big toe on my foot was itchy and a little painful. Well, since I had good shoes on with tight fitting socks, I didn’t think a thing about it—until bedtime. I slipped off my shoes and socks and right there, against all odds was a Fire Ant bite in all its not-glory.  Well, I had to scratch it and, well, it is still there almost a week later.  My question was, “How in the world did that devil get in my shoe and through my sock?”  I don’t know but I sure wish he hadn’t.

You see, sometimes you can do everything right and still end up with a devil in your shoe. Thinking back, maybe I should have spoken up and encouraged JW not to stir the pot with his string trimmer. Maybe I should have stayed even further away—like a mile or two. Like I said, I don’t know but this I do know.  When the Fire Ants (or the devil) are around we have got to do everything, we can to stay clear.  We may still get a bite but at least we would have done everything we could and should do to avoid their (or his) nasty bite.

I do think the next time I work with JW and there are Fire Ants involved, I believe I will consult an expert just to be sure I know everything I should know. And the next time I see the devil in my neighborhood, I believe I’ll get some advice from my Dearest Daddy. I’m sure He will give me some wise counsel—after all, as always, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel

Beautiful

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice; let the sea and all that fills it resound. Let the fields and everything in them celebrate. Then all the trees of the forest will shout for joy.” Psalm 96:11-12

I was surrounded by beauty.  As I write this I am in the holy land—no, not the one where Jesus lived—the one where people eat grits regularly and without sugar.  My wife Judy and I are in Carrolton, Georgia visiting with my sister Agnes and JW. Even though we have been in the Midwest for 43 years, in Southern (and I do mean Southern) Illinois for 37 years and in Southeastern Illinois for 23 years, we still deeply enjoy returning to the land of our roots.  You can take the boy and his girl out of the South but you can’t take the South out of them.

During our time here so far, we have seen several things that are beautiful.  During my time at my sister’s home, I would walk in the mornings.  They live in a delightful neighborhood with many beautiful homes.  As I walked the quiet streets, I can honestly say I appreciated the beauty of the neighborhood.  But remember, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

One day, a great couple, good friends of Agnes and JW, treated them and us to a day on a beautiful and large lake in Northern Alabama.  Now it truly must have been Northern because neither of our two new friends ate grits but they sure were nice people. We boated around this huge lake for several hours admiring the magnificent homes. It was a beautiful site to behold. But remember, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

Well, Agnes and JW own a small home on a small lake in the country and we were also able to spend a few days there.  Because of the design of home, which is a simple studio style one bedroom and bath, they call their place, “The Gazebo at Lake Tisinger.” Their place sits right on the lake…again not a large lake but one that is strictly private because there is no public access. There were no speed boats, no crowds, nothing except the beauty of nature.  Most of the shore line was filled with old growth trees.

So this morning I woke up, got my coffee, and walked outside and was just overwhelmed with the beautiful scene before me.  There, mirrored on the calm waters, was the reflection of the trees and the freshly minted blue sky of another of God’s days.  It was magnificent and I realized that as much as I enjoyed my sister’s beautiful neighborhood, and as much as I enjoyed seeing the magnificent homes on that much larger lake…it paled to the beauty of God’s handiwork. Beauty is in the eyes on the beholder and from where I sat, I knew I was seeing and enjoying one of God’s best works.

God never makes a mistake and He always gets it right but sometimes it just seems He goes over the top.  I think this time He did exactly that. Of course, I guess He does it a lot doesn’t He? Whether it is a cradle in a stable or a well used Roman cross on hilltop or an empty tomb—He does all things well.  Our challenge is to be sure and take the time to see, enjoy, and admire all that He does.  Does that really matter?  Yes, it really does.  When we learn to see and admire His handiwork, it reminds us to believe, understand, and know that no matter what, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials

The Lone Ranger

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion.” Luke 10:33

Who was that masked man?  Well, back in the old days…no wait…I mean the old days when the first two numbers of the year weren’t 20 but 19, there was a television show called “The Lone Ranger.”  He was a good guy, and he had an Indian (maybe that should be Native American) sidekick named Tonto.  The Lone Ranger also had a horse named Silver. In my eight- or nine-year-old mind, it was a great show—even in black and white.  The show had two famous lines.  The first was when the Lone Ranger was about to take off on his trusty horse Silver.  He would command, “Hi-Yō Silver, away.”  Invariably, the horse would rear up and off they would go.  The second famous line occurred when the Lone Ranger did his job and did away with a bad guy.  Invariably the bad guy would say, “Who was that masked man?”  It was of course…the Lone Ranger.

Well, during the great COVID shutdown history repeated itself only we didn’t have one masked man…we had millions.  Oh, but wait, we not only had masked men we have masked women…and boys…and girls…and babies.  Thanks to the pandemic, we all became Lone Rangers and we found ourselves asking, “Who was the masked man?”  I am certain I unintentionally ignored several church members at the store simply because I didn’t recognize them.  Equally as bad I carried on 15 minutes conversations with complete strangers thinking they were someone I knew.

A few years ago the Lone Ranger—the ultimate good guy—took on a new meaning. It wasn’t the Lone Ranger—it was the Road Ranger! We were traveling down to Gainesville, Florida to officiate at my Aunt Maryjo’s service.  She was my Daddy’s baby sister and the last of that generation.  As we crossed into Florida, we eventually hit Interstate 10 heading East.  We stopped at a rest stop because we needed to rest.  It is a long way to Gainesville, Florida.  My wife and I were stretching our legs and we walked by this cool truck.  It was some kind of official vehicle and had caution lights, big bumpers, a special receptacle on the front of the truck for jumping cars and all kinds of stuff in the back. It was a man truck only a man wasn’t driving it.

You see, on the side of the truck were the words, FDOT Road Ranger.  Beneath that it said, “A free (did you get that FREE) service sponsored by State Farm.  Standing next to the truck was a lady in a uniform.  From the signage I kinda thought I knew what it was, but I decided to ask.  “Ma’am, so do you go and help people that are broken down on the road?”  She replied they did.  If someone has a flat tire, they will help them change it.  If they have a dead battery…they will jump them.  And I suppose if you run out of gas, they have some on board to get you to the next station. Well, I told her I thought that was awesome and thanked her for her kindness.  She once again told me it was sponsored by State Farm, but I thanked her for her service to others.

I think that it is awesome that a company would sponsor a program like this.  When a traveler was at great need and when a company could take advantage of that—they offer free help.  Can you even imagine the comfort when “The Lone Ranger” showed up to help?  Can you imagine when the driver asked, “How much?” and the answer was “no charge?”  I’m telling you that is a breath of fresh air in what can be considered a stale world.

Well, Judy said, “You know, I think that would make a good story.”  I think she was right.  I mean we live in a world where so many folks are broken down beside the road of life.  They are hot, bothered, discouraged, battered, and beaten.  What if we were to become the Road Rangers along life’s road and began helping people…loving people.  Imagine the look on their faces when they realize we helped not to get paid, but rather just to help.  And, what if we were careful to make sure that they knew it was all because of what God had done for us.  Can you imagine?

I think I would like to be a Road Ranger…I mean really.  I don’t have the skill set but I do like to help people.  But what I can do and should do is be a Road Ranger on the road of life.  We all should.  You know that story in the Bible where the least likely guy helps the guy who had been beat up and robbed.  Remember how he went over the top to help?  Well, he was being a Road Ranger—do the unlikely for the unlikely.

So, keep this little fact tucked away in your travel log.  Should you breakdown on any major road in Florida, somewhere, not too far away, will be a Road Ranger to help you.  It is a real comfort to know that they are close by…ready and willing to help.  It’s even better knowing that Jesus is always there waiting and wanting to help all those broken down on the road of life.  Go ahead and place the call—or pray the prayer.  Let Him know you need Him, and He will be right there.  Until He arrives, just sit back and rest in the assurance that help is on the way.  Remember, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

Unexpected Treasures

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NIV)

One day, they arrived, unannounced in the mail.  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t like receiving good things in the mail.  Now, to be honest, good things don’t include everything.  Tax bills are definitely not on the good list.  But when I was a kid, we signed up to receive the “Weekly Reader.”  One day a week, during the summer, we would get this short newsletter with all kinds of cool kids’ stuff in it.  It was the highlight of my early years in the summer.  Even now, when I order something from out there in internet hyperspace, I await its arrival with great anticipation.  Of course, often, that is not via the mail but UPS or FedEx.

So, a while back, a small package arrived in the real mail.  I was not expecting anything, so I was just a little excited.  You would never guess in a hundred years what it was.  Are you ready?  It was an old pair of boys’ underwear.  What? Are you kidding?  And, no, I am not kidding.  Here are the details.  The package was from my oldest sister, Agnes.  She had recently moved and was going through stuff and tucked away she found something given to her a long, long time ago.  You see, when the Taylor girls turned sixteen, it was a tradition that they receive a “hope chest.” It was a cedar chest to put special things and other things that they might use to set up housekeeping.  Well, at least I think that is how it worked.  Anyway, Agnes is pretty sure that when she got her hope chest, Momma gave her this underwear. Now hold on…there is something coming.

She told Agnes that this underwear belonged to our Daddy when he was a boy of probably ten years old.  I’m not sure how Momma had them or why she kept them…but she did.  I can imagine when my then sixteen-year-old sister got this underwear.  I can also imagine my Momma saying, “Agnes, these belonged to your Daddy when he was a boy.  I know they don’t mean much now but later they will.”  Well, Agnes held on to them and what was in the beginning a novelty became a treasure.  Now, that underwear that my Daddy wore is right at a hundred years old.  Even as I write that I can’t believe it.  When she found them, she thought I might want them and that is how they came to be in the mail…an unannounced treasure.

There are so many things in our lives that when we first receive them, they might mean little but then something happens to change everything. A good morning kiss becomes one of the last.  A love note left on the counter saved becomes sacred. A simple card made by your baby girl becomes the highlight of your day when it is rediscovered on the day of her wedding.  The memory of a lingering morning hug given years before carries you through a difficult day. Or a century old pair of boy’s underwear reminds you of how God blessed you with wonderful parents.  Unexpected treasures.

As we do life, let me encourage you to look around—poke around. You might discover memories and things that magically have turned from ordinary into treasures. And then, take a moment and pause and give thanks. Take a moment and thank your Dearest Daddy in heaven for the treasure and maybe the person who made it possible. Remember the words of Paul when he wrote, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NIV) You see, not all treasure is found in gold plated boxes, sometimes it is found in common places.  Sometimes it is found in the quiet whisper from the Whisperer of heaven when He gently reminds us, “I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, life, love, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

I Heard You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and discipline.” Proverbs 1:7

Rule number one—it is never a good time to curse God. A while back as I sat out by a fire crackling in our outdoor fireplace, my neighbors were teaching their young son how to ride a bike. He is quite the young man, and he did well. Judy went over to help encourage him. There were cheers and yells as he took off and rode maybe fifty yards or more before he gently crashed into the grass. It all took me back almost sixty years.

I was about seven or eight years old. I’m thinking that I had already mastered the bike riding thing, though I can’t be certain. For one reason or another, I decided I wanted to ride my brother’s 26-inch Schwinn bicycle. Now, if in-fact I had already learned to ride a bike, and this was just a greater challenge—then that’s pretty cool. If I hadn’t mastered riding any bike—well, then this was a recipe for disaster. The bike was way too big for me, but I was stubbornly determined.

We had a road that ran in front of our house and that was where I was going to attempt this daring feat. Unlike my little neighbor next door, Momma and Daddy weren’t home. Neither were any of my brothers and sisters. It was just me—and God. So, the best I could, I straddled the mammoth bicycle and promptly fell over. I got just a little mad. I tried it once again and this time the bike rolled forward a few feet and once again—it fell over—on me. I got just a little madder. By now I am muttering to myself—probably condemning myself for failing.

The third or fourth try, by now I had lost count, resulted in another series of crashes and the frustration, the anger, and probably more than just a little shame boiled out. I shook my fist at God and yelled something like, “God, why won’t you help me.” What followed next is blurred in my memory, but I am pretty sure it came out something like, “God, I hate you.” It was spoken—it was shouted—hurled at the God of the universe. As far as I know it was the only time, I ever cursed God. Somehow, in my mind, all of this was God’s fault. It didn’t matter that the bike was way too big for me, or that I lacked the experience to ride such a large bike. All that mattered was in my mind God intentionally let me down—literally—at least four times.

It was about then that I heard a voice. It wasn’t God, but that probably would have been appropriate since I had just offended Him in a big way. It was a female voice. At first, I thought it might have been Mrs. Job. If you remember the story she told her husband, “Why don’t you just curse God and die.” But it wasn’t Mrs. Job. No, it was Mrs. Taylor—Mrs. Alston Taylor to be exact, and I was about to die. From behind the hedge that encircled our front yard came, “Dewayne Taylor, I heard that. Don’t you ever talk to God like that again.” When Momma called you by your first and last name at the same time—you knew you were in trouble. When she was talking about disrespecting God—you knew you were in double trouble—with her, with Daddy and with God. I was in deep weeds.

Well, once again the end of the story fades from memory. I am sure it didn’t involve me winning the war with the bike. But I am sure, pretty sure that there was more than a verbal rebuke from Momma. I am certain that I learned a big lesson about God that day. That lesson is that God demands and deserves our respect—whether we are seven or seventy. The Bible teaches us that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and discipline.” The fear that the Bible talks about is not the kind of fear when you think God is about to zap you. No, it is talking about respect. God is worthy of our respect—He is deserving of our respect. Period.

The verse goes on to say that a foolish person despises wisdom and discipline. Another verse I’ve grown fond of is Psalm 14:1. It says, “The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” I mean, I think it is foolish to write God off, but there is something more here. The words, “there is” were added by the English translators to make the verse flow a little smoother. The verse in the Hebrew literally says, “The fool says in his heart, No, God.” Whoa. It is a bad idea to tell Momma no, but it is really bad idea to tell God no. We need to write that one down.

When I told Judy what I was going to write about today, she asked, “So what did God have to do with you and the bike?” That’s a great question. But you know and I know we blame God for just about everything we don’t like—including when we fall off a bike, even one we had no business trying to ride. So, let’s learn a big lesson from seven-year-old Dewayne.

One, don’t try something that is clearly a recipe for disaster. I mean trying new and adventurous things is awesome—but keep them in reason. And, never, and I mean never—curse God—especially when your Momma is anywhere around. Just kidding. That is never a good idea. After the bike deal, I’m sure I was worn out and worn down. I hope I had the good sense to take a rest—in Him. And I hope I had the good sense to simply believe that He’s got this—but always in His way and in His time. Bro. Dewayne