Category: Trials

Posted in Family, fear, food, friends, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

Bare Shelves and God’s Faithfulness

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

So don’t worry, saying, What will we eat or what will we drink? or what will we wear? For [those who don’t trust God] eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.”  Matthew 6:31-32

One of the things (among at least two billion) that was weird about the time during and since COVID was the various shortages that we experienced. Some were expected and some were not. It really was (and still is) a strange sensation to go to the store and find everyday things not there every day. Oh, and did I mention inflation? It seemed like the land of plenty had become something else.

I’m not much for going grocery shopping and that is probably a real paradox. I really like food–we are great friends–just not buying and preparing it. I remember sometime last year Judy and I went to the park for a walk (good idea–walk with your wife…she cooks food) and then I agreed to go with her to WalMart to get a few items.


So, we get to the store and there was in fact plenty of food there. For sure some items were sold out (toilet paper—remember that? Still have a supply stashed?) but others were plenteous. The cookie isle was hard hit but strangely the broccoli wasn’t. But the shocker was when I got to the bread isle it was empty…bare. For a southern boy who was raised to believe that bread is its own food group, well, that was a crisis of Biblical proportions.


It made me think about the children of Israel and their trips to the grocery store. For forty years they would walk outside the camp and there all around them were little mounds of manna. The Bible describes manna as small, round and sweet (Krispy Kreme’s?) and it was always there. Never a time did they go out when the store was open (it was closed for the Sabbath) and the shelf was bare.


God was teaching them—and us—something. They couldn’t hoard (can someone say toilet paper?) because God told them to go out every day and get one day’s supply. The only exception was the day before the Sabbath when they could get two. And every day they went and there were the “Krispy Kreme’s” all around and they would pick them up and God would say, “I am good, I am faithful, and I can be trusted.”

Day after day, week after week, month after month–“I am good, I am faithful, and I can be trusted.” Never a bare shelf, never a failure to deliver, never an oops. Can you imagine? As Jesus followers, I think we can and should. We may not have manna laying around today, but we do have the faithfulness of that same God. He takes care of His kids. You can bank on it.


Jesus talked about this in the Bible when He said, “So don’t worry, saying, What will we eat? or what will we drink? or what will we wear? For [those who don’t trust God] eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.” Let that soak in.  We don’t have to worry because we have a Dearest Daddy who loves us and cares for us.  Period.


So, as we reflect on the past and present, and look forward to the days to come, we can rest in the blessed assurance that God will be there. We need to remember every time there is a need met or a blessing given, to say, “Thank You, Father.” And slowly but surely, we will learn the valuable lesson of God’s faithfulness. God is good. God is faithful. God can be trusted. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, life, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials, wisdom

Walking Away

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

“I am doing important work and cannot come down. Why should the work cease while I leave it and go down to you?” Four times they sent me the same proposal, and I gave them the same reply.” Nehemiah 3b-4

Well, it was definitely smarter than me.  We live in a world of smart devices. I remember years ago when phones were just getting smart, and I was all in up to my eyeballs.  Through the years, I have been amazed as device after device got smarter and smarter. Everything from locks to thermostats to televisions got smarter and smarter and smarter.  And then one day, they got smarter than me.

A while back I bought some smart plugs.  These little wonders allow me to control a device either from my smartphone or with my girlfriend Alexa.  I just tell her to turn on the lights and she does.  In my living room, I have several lights all plugged into a couple of these smart plugs.  All I have to do is say, “Alexa, turn on the living room lights” and just like that all the lights come on.  Want to turn them off?  No, problem.  Just tell Alexa and she will turn them off.  How great.  How smart.  How awesome.

Well, one day my smart world came crashing.  All the smart plugs became very not smart.  None of the lights would turn on and none would turn off.  After an hour or so I figured out I needed to restart my internet modem and bam…just like that…we were back in business…almost.  There was one plug that didn’t get the message. It said no, nada, ain’t gone happen.  Well, I figured if I messed with it long enough, I could persuade it to get on board.  I was wrong.

I messed with it and messed with it and then messed with it some more.  It wasn’t a matter of minutes but hours.  I finally gave up and went to bed, but I am not one to throw in the towel.  First thing in the morning, after coffee and Jesus, I started in again and it wasn’t long before all that Good News Jesus stuff had leaked out and I was one frustrated dude.  And just about that time it occurred to me to…just stop…and I did.

I picked up the tools and put them away and walked away.  It occurred me that nothing including a smart plug gone dumb or one that was smarter than me should have that much control over me.  And guess what.  That particular light still does not have a plug…at least not one that is smart.  I might give it another shot one day but that day was not yesterday, is not today and probably won’t be tomorrow.  It just isn’t that important. Let’s be honest…I like to win but there are times when walking away is better than fighting a battle that doesn’t matter.

Someone once told me to be sure and choose my battles carefully.  We need to learn to ask, “Is this a hill worth dying on?”  So often our pride keeps us in the fight long after the fight doesn’t matter—after the fight has long left us. So, when you find yourself beating your head against a wall or bumping into that same stubborn wall, ask yourself, “Does this really matter?” Now if it does you stay in there but if it doesn’t don’t let your pride keep you where you don’t belong.

You know, Jesus knew about “hills worth dying on.”  The one that held Him and His cross, Calvary, was so important nothing, and I do mean nothing, could keep Him from it.  At the same time, He knew when to walk away…to let it go. We should do the same. Nehemiah, one of the guys in the Old Testament, was on mission to rebuild the wall that surrounded his hometown Jerusalem. His enemies kept trying to distract him so he finally said, “I am doing important work and cannot come down. Why should the work cease while I leave it and go down to you?”  Isn’t that great? And four times they tried and four times he said no. He simply refused to leave what mattered for something that didn’t.

So, like the song Kenny Rogers made famous, “You need to know when to hold them, know when to fold them and know when to walk away.” It will not only make your life easier, but it just might also make it more purposeful.  Need a little help figuring out when to do what?  No problem, just ask the One who is never wrong.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Right Results. Wrong Guy.

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16

I was driving and the phone rang. A few weeks ago, I signed up for an intense program provided by my insurance company to help manage my sugar problem.  I am in the very early stages of the program and one of the first things they did was provide an appointment to get a complete workup on my blood.  When the results came back, they were generally pretty good.  My own efforts to get my sugar numbers down had worked very well but it came at a price.  As I began to eat virtually no sugar and far less carbohydrates, I began to eat more protein…mainly meat and cheese.  Well, as the sugar numbers came down, my cholesterol numbers went up…not in the “oh, no” range but in the “You need to watch this” range.

Well, I was driving back from a funeral and the phone in my car rang.  You need to know my phone comes through my radio, so this was a hands-free call. Though I didn’t know the number, I decided to answer it anyway.  It turned out to be one of the doctors from my new program.  She said she needed to discuss some of the results on my labs.  I thought she was going to praise me for the relatively good numbers but instead she began a series of questions that clearly indicated she was very concerned.  Did I feel ok? Did I have a headache? Was I experiencing any chest pains? Shortness of breath?  Did I feel excessively tired or confused? I told her I was feeling very well and asked what was going on.

She explained they had received a second set of numbers from the lab and in a word, they were horrible—in fact, they were life threatening.  She told me she wanted to schedule another blood draw immediately and suggested I might need to go to the emergency room.  She promised to get back with me very quickly to see what the next step should be. Well, when I got back to the office, I rechecked my results and sure enough they were good.  Something didn’t make sense. Well, soon the phone rang again and it was a nurse checking back.  Apparently, almost assuredly, the lab had sent another set of results to them in my name—and they were most certainly bad.  To be sure, though, they scheduled me for another test and while the results are pending I’m sure I’m good.  But someone is not.

Out there somewhere is a person who most certainly does not feel well and who probably is going to get some really upsetting news.  They are sick…very sick. While I am very glad that person is not me, I couldn’t help but think about that poor soul who was about to get some yucky news.  If it wasn’t so serious it would be funny.  Trust me, if I knew who and where, I would be calling or knocking and letting them know they need to get the doctor…fast. I would let them know they were in danger of dying.  I wouldn’t let anything stop me.  They need to know the truth.

I know that would be the right thing to do. I would do it and most likely you would too.  But what about this?  Every day we bump into people who are in a greater danger than my unknown friend.  Every day we pass people who have no assurance of what is on the other side of their last heartbeat.  Every day we see and talk to people who are facing life and eternity without the hope of Jesus and the love of God in their lives.  They either haven’t heard or haven’t acted on the greatest news ever—that “God so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

You see, just because my unknown friend doesn’t know, that does not exclude him from the consequences he is about to face.  Bad numbers are still bad numbers whether he or she knows them or not.  But they deserve the opportunity to act and that is where you and I come in.  Oh, I could assume they wouldn’t want to know.  I could assume they might be offended but wouldn’t they deserve the chance to know, to act, to decide?  Sure, they would.

If you are a Jesus follower, if your “numbers” are good today because of grace, if you can call God “Dearest Daddy,” why not share that news when an opportunity comes knocking?  We often let the fear of rejection override our willingness to share hopeful and helpful news.  Let’s let that stop today.  Let’s let someone know of a God who loves them.  Skip the spiel on religion and get to the heart of the matter…God loves them and no matter what they have done He will forgive them.  They need to know that He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, missions, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, travel, Trials

I Can’t Hear You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But Peter said, “I don’t have silver or gold, but what I do have, I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk!” Acts 3:6 (CSB)

I can’t hear you.  A friend and I were standing on the shores of an island in Lake Victoria, Uganda, East Africa.  He was telling a Jesus story to a man and trying to determine if he knew Jesus.  While he was sharing another man walked up and began to listen.  At the end of the story, we asked a couple of questions.  The first man indicated that he knew this Jesus.  The other did not.  And he couldn’t hear.

Let me explain.  It wasn’t that he had a hearing problem.  His ears were working quite well.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand.  Our friend understood English and when we hit a bump our translator would jump in and help.  But he couldn’t hear.  Then he explained the problem.  He said something like, “I can’t hear about this Jesus because my stomach is so hungry.”

Now hunger is not usually a big issue in Uganda.  While the food may not be the best nutritionally it is usually sufficient in quantity.  Our friend was one of the exceptions.  For whatever reason he hadn’t eaten that day or maybe the day before.  The growling of his stomach was blocking his heart from hearing the message.  We tried to explain that while we may hunger here, God had a place in heaven where no one would be hungry. I decided to tell him another story from the Bible.

I told him the story of Peter and John entering the temple.  You can read it in Acts 3:1-10. It goes something like this. There was a crippled man there who made a living begging.  When he saw Peter and John, he thought they could help.  He looked up expectedly and perhaps even lifted his hand to receive a coin or two.  While his hand remained empty, he got something more than a coin.  Peter said, “We don’t have silver or gold but what we do have we will give you.  In the name of Jesus of Nazareth rise up and walk.”

As Peter reached his hand down and the man reached up, his ankles received healing strength and he stood and walked into the temple.  I smugly smiled my preacher smile.  The perfect story.  The perfect truth. Eternal is better than temporary. Surely my friends would see it, and everyone would go their way happy.  Only it didn’t happen.

I asked him “So what is better a few coins now or something that can change your life forever?”  I, of course, expected him to agree that the gift of eternal life is certainly more and better than a few coins or a quick meal.  His answer caught me totally off guard. He replied, “A few coins or some food.”  What?  I couldn’t believe what he was saying.  Surely, he understood.  Surely, I had made the story clear.

Then he said it.  “Heaven is good, but I am hungry now. I need food now.”  Well, sadly, he wandered off.  Still hungry.  Still lost. My friend continued to share with the first man but my heart was heavy and my mind on the other man.  Suddenly, I saw him again standing a few yards away. It was then I heard the Whisperer whisper.  It was short and simple.  “Give him food” the Whisperer said.  I had totally forgotten that in my backpack I had some tuna, chips, crackers for my own lunch.  I dug several items from my bag, as did my friend.

I walked over to the man and said, “This isn’t much but I hope it will quieten your stomach so you can hear Jesus.” He quickly took the food and left. There’s no bow on the package, no happily ever after ending, no prayer to receive Jesus.  But I know two things. I know he knew we cared, and I know he heard the truth and this time that had to be enough.  Maybe the seed would sprout later…only eternity will tell.

I learned a couple of things that day.  I learned that sometimes before we can share the Good News of the Gospel with a person, we need to touch them in a real tangible way.  A casual God bless you and a pat on the back doesn’t do much for an anxious soul or a hungry stomach.  We must talk Jesus, we must share Jesus, but we must be Jesus.  Someone said, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.”

In these crazy, troubling times people need more than a sermon—they need to know we care.  How do we do that?  That’s the second thing I learned.  We must listen for the Whisperer.  We need to be sensitive to His gentle nudges. We must still our own souls and hearts if we are to hear His gentle voice. These days call for new ways…different ways.

So, as you walk about life, keep your eyes open, your heart still and watch in wonder at what God can do through you.  You don’t have to be in Africa to be on mission.  That can happen, must happen right here, right now.  And in these days of fear and frustration people are more ready to hear about God than ever before.  What a privilege to be entrusted with God’s work.  Up for the challenge?  God believes so.  Remember, He’s really big on you.  So, rest in Him.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Crash! Grind! Bummer.

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.” Romans 8:38 (NLT)

It happened just like that.  I was new to the game…too new to the game.  I had had my driver’s license just a few weeks or at most a couple of months.  I can honestly say I wasn’t one of those cocky kid drivers, in fact I was probably scared to death. I had a job at a Food Fair a fair distance from where we lived at 6008 Carlton Road, and someone had to take me to work. Then my Daddy did it. He trusted me. One day he said that I could take the car and drive myself to work. They weren’t going anywhere, and it would save them from going and coming and coming and going.  I couldn’t believe it.

I remember the first time I carefully backed out of the driveway heading toward Ricker Road.  That day, and for several other days, things went well.  Again, I was careful, I didn’t break the rules and I wasn’t a speeder. Of course, our 1961 Plymouth station wagon wasn’t exactly a race car anyway.  There and back, I went, and all was well…until it wasn’t. One day, like several other days, I was going to drive to work.  Daddy car-pooled and wasn’t home yet.  I backed out of the driveway like every time before and headed for Ricker Road just like every time before…but it wasn’t like every time before.

Apparently, I had opened the back door on the driver’s seat to put something in the backseat and didn’t close the door all the way. As I pressed the gas pedal, the rear door swung open and that is when Mr. Inexperience took over. I heard the road noise, look over my shoulder and saw that the door was open. Well, instead of stopping and closing the door I tried to turn and reach over my shoulder to close the door.  When I turned and reached, I accidentally turned the wheel and, gulp, I ran right into—or actually over—one of our neighbors’ mailboxes. Crunch, grind, bummer.

I hit the brakes and sat there in total shock.  The mailbox was one of those that kinda sat on a little arm and that little arm had hit my windshield and cracked it.  It seems the mirror took a direct hit too. I was so afraid, and I didn’t know what to do…so I ran.  Yup, I was a hit and run driver, but I didn’t drive away…I ran away leaving the car running, my driver’s door open and the mailbox lying dead on the side of the road.

Since I hadn’t made it very far, our house was just a few dozen yards down the road, and I ran all the way. I ran into the kitchen and right into my Momma’s arms. She wanted to know what had happened and the best I could I explained it and then she asked where the car was and the best I could I explained that too. We went back to the car and brought it home and I’m sure Momma and I made a trip to the neighbor’s front door to explain what happened.

Let me tell you what didn’t happen.  Though I was certain it had—the world didn’t come to an end.  After a short while, Daddy came home, and I told him what had happened.  He wasn’t happy but he didn’t disown me…after all I was his son…before and after the accident.  I don’t believe there was any punishment either, but I am sure there was some instruction about how to close a door when the car is moving. “Stop. Close door.”  I also imagine there was some instruction about not leaving the scene of an accident.  And the neighbor…I simply don’t remember but I guess he didn’t press charges. Smile.

I’m sure my little accident cost my Daddy and Momma more than they could afford…even without repairing the mailbox.  I am sure it was money that could have been better used paying an electric bill or buying groceries for our “not too small” family.  But my best memory of all was the fact that Daddy and Momma loved me regardless and anyway.  Oh, I guess you could say it was because I was the baby of the family and their favorite (smile) but the truth is love ruled the day that day.

Looking back, I realize that was one of those times when my Daddy reminded me of my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. My Daddy could have extended wrath, but He extended grace and love—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. I think I learned that day that my Daddy wasn’t someone to run from but to run to—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. Paul, the one in the Bible, said that nothing can ever separate us from the One who loves us most.  How about that?  We have a Dearest Daddy…a Heavenly Daddy that is always there and always willing to whisper, “I’ve got that.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, friends, gratitude, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, Trials

Liver Anyone?

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and He will give it to you.” James 1:5b

They were laying there taking a bath in rich, brown gravy.  Well, we had to make a trip to the South when my brother died.  He lived where I was raised, Jacksonville, Florida and was laid to rest next to our Daddy and Momma.  Well, if you know anything about Florida, you know that sitting right north is Georgia and you know the quickest way to Florida, and Disney World, is down Interstate 75.  Finally, and we are going somewhere…no pun intended…if you go down Interstate 75 to Florida you must go through Valdosta, Georgia.

As I understand it, there are only two Valdosta’s in the whole world…one in Georgia and one in Italy. Well, Judy was raised in the one in Georgia and that is where we were married so I think you could say that Valdosta is kinda home for us.  Well, we are big fans of southern cooking and there is a place in Valdosta called the Old Time Country Buffet and it has become a favorite of ours.  So, a couple from our church was visiting in South Florida and we managed to meet them on our way to Jacksonville in Valdosta.  They were offering a free lunch and a hug—both sounded really good.

So, we met at the buffet and before long I was introducing them to everything from cream corn to collards to fried chicken.  As I circled the buffet, I saw something that looked good…real good. It was a pan full of rich brown gravy and swimming in the gravy were thick slices of beef.  I had to have some.  I stabbed a couple of pieces of beef, spooned up some gravy, both for the meat and my mashed potatoes and moved on.  Things were good and they were about to be better…or so I thought.

I got back to the table, showed my plate to my friends and dove in. One of the first stops on the grand tour of my “heaped high” plate was the beef and gravy. It was tender and looked delicious and without hesitation I took a nice, big bite.  Well, immediately I thought to myself, “Hmmm, maybe beef with gravy isn’t their specialty.” It had a twang to it that I thought tasted familiar. I couldn’t quite identify it, so I took another bite and it just wasn’t good…and then I remembered.  That strange twang was not beef…it was liver…beef liver.

There are only a few things in the food world that I don’t like, but liver is definitely one of them. Yuck. Gross. I realized I had been tricked…fooled…betrayed.  Well, needless to say, that was the end of the liver.  I always try to clean my plate…usually motivated by the memory of starving kids in Africa…but this was one time the liver was heading to the trash.  Not even guilt could force me to eat this beef wanna be.

I told the people at the table how I thought it was one thing and it turned out to be something else and now…I am telling you.  It may have looked like beef but all the looks in the world wasn’t gonna change its true identity…its true taste. There was probably a sign that properly identified this “sheep in wolves clothing” but my eyes were on the pool of gravy and not the little sign.

Now I know and you know that this doesn’t just happen at buffets.  The truth is our world is filled with things that seem to be one thing and in fact are something totally different. Now if we take the time and look closely, hints of truth are usually all around but we too often see what we want see.  What we need to see is the truth.  So, the next time you are tempted to take the plunge, be sure and know what you are diving into.  Before you throw away a marriage and family, before you toss out your character, before you take a swim in the pool of regret…take the time to evaluate and count the cost.

Jesus said one time that it is foolish for a man to start building a tower before counting the cost.  After all, think how foolish he would look if he started it and couldn’t finish it…sorta like stabbing beef and getting liver.  James, the half-brother of Jesus, said that if we lack wisdom, all we need to do is ask God and He will gladly give us what we need. Beef or liver—your choice but remember this—even when we mess up God will be there to help us.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, loving others, Military memories, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Mr. B

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you.” Deuteronomy 31:8

It was a long, hard day.  When my wife and I lived in Warrensburg, Missouri we were renting a home in a still developing subdivision called Valley View.  We were just back from a three-year USAF stay in Germany, still newlyweds with only four years under our belt, and with a newly hatched dream.  While we loved the house we were renting, we, like so many, dreamed of owning our own home.  It was a crazy time economically as interest rates were running about 18 percent and inflation was at a record rate. And then a window opened.

The developer of our subdivision was a rough around the edges man named Mr. B.  We bumped into him around the neighborhood as he was still building houses. He planted a thought in our minds and hearts.  He said the government had a program that might allow us to build a house.  They would pay half the interest.  Well compared to eighteen percent, nine sounded pretty enticing. And before we knew, we were approved and a piece of land on Hilltop Drive had our name on it.  He let us add a few things like a bay window and a fireplace in the basement.  It added a bit to the bottom line, but they were worth it.

I’m still not sure if this was a wise financial decision for us.  It ended ok, and that’s another story, but it did cause some financial tension.  To help, he suggested I do some work equity and let me tell you…it was hard work.  I ended up doing all the painting and staining inside and out.  And for a guy who had never done anything like that—it was a challenge.  That’s another story, too.  There was also another opportunity to help with the financial tension.

Mr. B told me that he would be willing to let me work for him on Saturdays doing some basic labor.  He then said he would pay me $15.00 per hour.  Now that was good money back in 1983 so I agreed although I was way out of my comfort zone.  To set the stage, I was in the Air Force, that was my day job, I was pastoring a small church for a whopping $50 a week, that was my Sunday job, and now I was going to work for Mr. B on Saturdays.  Like I said…it was way out of my comfort zone.  So, Saturday came.

The work site was just down from our rental house, so I just walked over.  It was early in the morning and we were going to be putting up metal (as in heavy metal) forms to pour a basement for another house.  We had to lift the forms in place and hammer pins in place to hold it all together.  Well, besides dropping my hammer one time inside the forms, things went pretty well.  We called it a day about 4:00 pm…just in time for me to get home and start trying to write a sermon for the next day.  I was exhausted.  I bet that was at least one short sermon!

So, the next week I bumped into Mr. B and he had a check for me.  Finally, the fruit of my labor that Saturday was in my hands.  Based on his comment about $15.00 per hour and eight hours of labor, I was expecting a check for around a hundred dollars. Instead, I found a check for forty dollars and some change.  I was, uh, shocked.  I said, “Mr. B is this right?” He assured me that it was, and I said, “I thought you were paying $15.00 an hour.”  He chuckled and said, “Oh, I was only kidding about that.  We pay laborers $5.00 an hour.”  I wasn’t laughing.  In fact, as much as I liked him, I felt betrayed, like I had been ripped off.  From my view, one thing was promised, and another given. And that was my first and only Saturday working for Mr. B.

Betrayed and ripped off.  Have you ever felt that way?  Have you ever felt that way about another person?  Have you ever felt that way…about God?  Because people are broken and imperfect, just like us, there is a measure of understanding. It doesn’t make it any less painful but at least it sometimes softens the blow.  But what about God?  What about when it seems God doesn’t keep His Word?  That’s a tough one.

What I have learned over my years as a Jesus follower, and as a pastor, that when it seems we feel betrayed or ripped off by God it is because we have misread or misapplied His Word.  You see, His Word is full of promises, but we need to make sure that the promises were made to us and for us.  We can’t claim promises that were made to another person or group of people.  God made promises to Abraham that just aren’t ours to claim.

Too often, unfortunately, preachers, teachers, and ordinary people make promises on God’s behalf that God never intended or said.  And, when they don’t come true, well, we blame God and that is not right or fair.  I’ve been a Jesus follower for 45 years now, and I can tell you one thing—He has never failed me or failed to keep His Word.  He is a promise keeping God—when the promise is mine.  No, I’ve not always liked how things turned out or His way of working something out, but I can say I’ve never felt betrayed or ripped off.  He is a good God who is good at being God.  You can trust Him.

Well, Mr. B’s little joke was a hard lesson for me to learn but it was a valuable one.  His heart was good, but his sense of humor was not.  I’m glad my Dearest Daddy, the God I can call Father, has a perfect heart and His will and plan for me is perfect.  I know no matter what I will face, His plan is for my good and His glory—and that is good enough.  I can face today knowing, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, friends, gratitude, life, love, priorities, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Don’t Forget the Dasher

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13

I churned and churned and then I churned some more.  It was 1976 and it was a big year for sure.  America celebrated her 200th birthday and on June the 26th, my wife Judy and I were married. I was in the Air Force stationed at Moody Air Force Base and she was a cute Georgia peach. We sealed the deal on a hot, and I do mean hot, Georgia afternoon.  After our honeymoon in Florida, we settled into our apartment in Valdosta, Georgia.  We lived in a nice complex that came complete with a swimming pool. We were living high on the hog…especially when you considered I was a sergeant in the military. Even with that, as would become a trademark of our lives, God was good to us.

Shortly after we were married, on another of those hot Georgia afternoons, we decided to invite Roy Smith Allen, Judy’s Daddy over for supper.  I can’t remember what Judy cooked but I am sure it was good. What I do remember is what we had for dessert—homemade ice cream. After dinner was done, Roy Smith Allen and I retired to the patio so I could churn the ice cream.  I was a bit nervous because quite frankly, Roy Smith Allen could be a bit intimidating.  He was a real good guy and he definitely had taken a shine to me—but still—he was Roy Smith Allen.

Well, Judy mixed up the ice cream recipe and before long I was seated beside the churn, churning away.  This wasn’t one of those electric mixers, no, this was the real deal, one of those “you gotta work for your ice cream”, mixers.  So Roy Smith Allen and I sat there and made casual conversation while I churned. This went on for quite a while and I realized that the ice cream was taking a long time to freeze. I was churning but it wasn’t making.  After about thirty minutes or so, the inevitable happened.  Roy Smith Allen said, “Son, what’s wrong with that ice cream?”  Well truth be known I didn’t have a clue. We added some more ice and added some more rock salt but no matter what we did…it just wasn’t freezing.

Just about then, Roy Smith Allen, asked a question. “Boy,” he said, “you did put the dasher in…didn’t you?” Dasher…I knew that was town near Valdosta, I knew that someone who was in a hurry was called that, and I even knew it was supposed to go in the ice cream churn to stir up the ice cream.  What I didn’t know was if I had put it in.  I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I hadn’t. Bummer. This was something that Roy Smith Allen wouldn’t forget and wouldn’t keep to himself.

Well, I stopped churning and removed the crank thing from the churn and then removed the top from the thing that held the mix.  There was no dasher. Shoot. Well, I don’t remember what Roy Smith Allen said but I am sure it involved a couple of “Son’s” and a couple of “Boy’s.”  Well by now I was thoroughly embarrassed as I put the dasher in and thankfully within just a few minutes we had ice cream.  Turned out the mix was so cold; it was more than ready to cooperate and freeze.  So, it all turned out delicious in the end and trust me, I never forgot again to put the dasher in and I’m sure Roy Smith Allen didn’t forget about the time I did.

When it comes to making ice cream several things are really important.  The ice, the salt, and the dasher.  Leave those out and you will be drinking sweet milk instead of eating ice cream.  And guess what?  There are more than a few things that are really important in life.  You probably have your own list, but mine would definitely include God, love, and people.  God is like the dasher…He makes life happen.  Love is like the ice and salt. It makes the conditions right for making life sweet and creamy.  Oh, and people, well, like ice cream, life is better if we have someone to share it with.

So, as we journey down this road called life, make your list, check it twice, and make sure it is a list with things worth having. And might I add, God, love, and people is a great place to start to your list. When Paul was writing to the church in Corinth, he shared one of his lists and it included three things…faith, hope and love.  And the greatest was love.  Love might well be the dasher of life because the Bible also says, “God is love.”  And somewhere I bet it says, “I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Me, Momma, and Mrs. Crabtree

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36

I went just a little too far.  When you are an overactive six-year-old, church can be quite difficult.  My pastor was one of my favorite people but when you’re an overactive six-year-old, preaching can be, well, a little boring.  I’ve always loved church music but when you’re an overactive six-year-old, well, the best singers just aren’t enough.  Momma tried to keep me busy.  Her favorite tool was to give me the bulletin and a pen or pencil and I would color in all the little circles.  You would be amazed how many different little circles there were each week.  Well, that would work for a while, but you know, when you are an overactive six-year-old, nothing is going to work for long.

Well, one particular Sunday, the circle thing didn’t even make it past the song service.  By the time they were passing the plates I was out of things to do.  The service was always very predictable.  There would be an opening song, the announcements, a couple of more songs, then the offering, a special music thing, and then the preaching.  After the pastor finished, we would have one more song and call it a day.  Of course, there were always a couple of prayers thrown in for good measure.  So, I knew it was just about time for the preacher to start preaching when I heard Mrs. Rosalyn Crabtree start singing.

Now let me tell you right now, Mrs. Crabtree could flat sing.  I don’t know if she had voice lessons or not, but she sounded like one of those opera singers.  When there was a solo in the choir it was usually Mrs. Crabtree who sang, and more often than not, she sang right before the preacher.  She and her husband Jake were two of my favorite people too.  They taught me in the youth department when I got older, and we even had Rosalyn sing at our wedding when my wife and I were married.  They were great folks.

But this Sunday, well, it was just destiny that I was going to get in trouble.  I was bored by the time the offering was done, so I started poking Momma in the side.  She had her girdle on and it always amazed me just how tight that thing was.  Well, she finally had enough of the poking and said so in a way that I knew if I continued, it wasn’t going to be pretty.  But then Mrs. Crabtree started to sing.  Well, while she was singing, I decided to cover my ears with my hands. Why?  Well, I guess that is what overactive-six-year-olds do.  Well, when I took my hands down there was obviously a big sound difference.  So, I put them back up and then took them down.  I had discovered a new game.

I thought this was a pretty grand entertainment. Momma didn’t think so.

I found out if I did this fast it made a “wa-wa” sound in my ears.  The faster my hands covered and uncovered my ears, the faster the “wa-wa.” I thought this was pretty grand entertainment. Momma didn’t think so. I stopped for a minute but decided it was worth the risk. It wasn’t.  Before I knew it, she and I were heading out the door. I had crossed the line and me and Momma had a little “come to Jesus” meeting.  And do you know what?  That urge to put my hands over my ears strangely disappeared and has never returned.  I guess you could say that Momma discovered a vaccine for that like the one for the COVID virus and it was highly effective. Very.highly.effective.

I am glad that I had a Momma who knew how and when to administer a little discipline…even if it meant taking me out smack dab in the middle of church.  And I am glad that we had a church where no one smirked, and no one said I shouldn’t be there.  We had a church where families and kids were more than welcome and I have tried to make sure that at the churches I pastor, the same is true today.  Rich or poor, black, white, or brown, young, or old—everybody is welcome.  I know that is the way it ought to be because that is the way that Jesus did it. I figure if that was the way He did it—we should do it too.

One time when Jesus was teaching, He looked at the people and had compassion on them because He saw them like a flock of sheep needing a shepherd. Compassion—love in action.  Compassion—love that says come on in, you are welcome here.  I like that.  You see, God is an inclusive God.  He even invites overactive six-year-olds like me and you into His presence.  And He’s always ready to help, always ready to love and always ready to say, “Don’t worry…I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Not Bad, Just Hard

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.  No one comes to the Father, but by Me.” Jesus in John 14:6

It was Monday…and my brother died. It wasn’t a total surprise as we knew his health was deteriorating. He and his wife had been living in an assisted living facility for several years.  As he grew older, as often happens, his body began to wear out and finally Monday morning it just quit working.  He not only was my brother, but he was my oldest brother. He was seventeen years older than me and in so many ways he was more than just a brother…he was like a second father. To a large degree he helped mold me into who I am today…especially spiritually.  My brother was a believer, a Jesus follower and if I may say so…a pretty good one at that.  In fact, I can’t remember him ever not being a Jesus follower. 

He was the one who always made sure I had a ride to church.  He was one of those three-time-a-week goers, so I suppose that is why it has been a habit in my life too.  Over the years, he shared a lot of good advice with me…advice that has guided me along my journey. When I became a pastor, he offered me some Godly wisdom and for my birthday gifted me with a couple of foundational books.  At one of the churches I pastored, he felt led to lend a hand financially…something he did for more than a few years. He was like a father but he also was like the State Farm commercial that says, “just like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.” He was always there.  Oh, we lived in different parts of the country…but that didn’t matter.  That’s how some relationships are.

My brother wasn’t just my oldest brother…he was my last brother.  When he left town on Monday for a bigger and better place, I looked around and realized I was the last brother standing.  And that was another of those, “mortality moments.”  He was just shy of 86 when he left here and went there—there being heaven.  Eighty-six is a pretty good number, especially for men and especially for Taylor men. At first there were five of us Taylor men and three had already changed addresses—thankfully all in heaven.  So, that left the bookends—my oldest brother at one end and me, the youngest at the other. He lived a long, good life…not the richest guy, not the most popular guy, and not the most powerful guy. In the end those don’t matter anyway.  What matters is he was a Jesus guy. He made a difference. He made an impact. He left a legacy.

So, what happened that Monday morning when the last heartbeat came? Often our first thought is something bad happened.  Well, I guess you could say God, through His Word, helped me have a different view.  As I looked at all of this, death, life, and all that it entails, it seemed God said, “Dewayne, this isn’t bad…it’s just hard.”  It immediately became lodged not in my throat but in my heart.  Not.Bad.Just.Hard.  Now don’t misread this, because there is plenty of bad in the world but with God painted into the picture, His grace and mercy can change bad to just hard.

You see, when my brother’s heart stopped the other day, he gave up a broken world for one that is perfect. He gave up a broken body for one that is perfect. He gave up sickness, tears, and sadness for a place where none of that exists. No assisted living, no hospitals, no funeral homes—just a home like none we can ever imagine—at home with his Dearest Daddy.  See, it’s hard for us, sometimes really hard for us, however for him…no…he’s doing better than ever before. You might say that he is more alive than ever before.

My brother loved our family reunions and guess what? There is one coming that will outshine them all.  Because of my pastoral responsibilities and distance, I didn’t make too many of the reunions but this one coming up…I’ll be there.  Oh, it isn’t because I’m a preacher, or go to church, or belong to one denomination or another.  No, just like my brother, I’ll be there because I am a Jesus guy and He is the way to the reunion of all reunions.  Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life and no one comes to the Father but by Me.”  Yes, it is a narrow road but the grand part is everyone is invited to participate.  All you have to do is say, “Yes” to Jesus.

So, my brother died…well…actually His body died but not him.  I’ll see him again and that’s not bad. The separation is hard but there is a party coming…one for the ages.  You need to know that God wants you there also, and He made it possible for that to happen.  Jesus, faith, grace, and mercy.  Indeed, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne