Category: Trials

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

Patience 101 – Repeating the Class

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confession

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Angel Named Tom

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warning Signs

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Leap of Faith

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Slip is Showing

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart. What you say flows from what is in your heart.” Luke 6:45

Pardon me, but your slip is showing.  Change is everywhere.  I can well remember my Momma getting dressed for church.  In those day she always wore a couple of extra “accessories.”  First, she was a big fan of what I guess was called a girdle.  As I remember, these things were designed to hold things in place around a lady’s waist.  I never saw Momma put one on, but I know she wore one.  How?  When we were sitting in church, I would get bored and start doing “things.”  Things are anything that helped me pass the time.  So, I would poke my Momma in the side, only to find that it was hard as a rock.  As impenetrable as the Great China Wall, there was something firming things up.  I suspect it was “the girdle.”

The other thing was something called a slip.  As best as I could tell it was worn under a lady’s dress to ensure that nothing was seen through.  Now I know more about this because my Momma always wanted to be sure her slip wasn’t showing.  It was important to have the slip shorter than your dress by a couple of inches.  Well, since she couldn’t see behind her (we didn’t have a full-length mirror), she would say, “Dewayne, is my slip showing?”  I would get behind her and give her the report.  I think in our early years of marriage, slips were still in vogue.  I’m pretty sure Judy asked me to give her the “slip” report too.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to get to church and have their slip showing.  How many times did we get somewhere public and there in front of us would be a lady with her slip showing? Momma would sadly shake her head and say, “Oh my, her slip is showing.  She should have had someone check.”  Well, some time ago slips went out of vogue and so also went the way of the slip report.  No slip…no report.  But the saying still lingers.

When you hear someone say, “Your slip is showing.” it means that something they intended, or perhaps should have intended, to be hidden is there for everyone to see. Well, here’s a news flash.  Someone needs to tell everyone that their “slip” is showing in social media.  Now I am not a social media person.  I use it to post Grits, to make a couple of church announcements and wish people happy birthday.  But beyond that, it just isn’t my thing.  But even with that limited exposure, and thanks to folks who sometimes tell me what they see, well, there are a lot of “slips” showing.

I’ve almost stopped being shocked at what people write on social media.  It seems people confuse the privacy of their journal with things like Facebook.  Things that should never be written or spoken spew on the pages like a bad case of the stomach flu.  Hurtful, painful words too often fill the screen of our devices.  I remember one time a lady who attended our church at the time wrote some very un-Jesus like words.  I asked her about it, and she said, “Well, I didn’t know the whole world would see them.” What? Duh?”

So, I think when we see someone being unkind and harsh in social media we should just say, “Pardon me, but your slip is showing.”  Now “showing your slip” with unkind words is never right.  You know your Momma taught you, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”  Well, Jesus gives us another perspective and warning.  He tells us that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.  In other words, what comes out of our mouth is simply revealing what is in our hearts. And if hurtful, unkind, and sometimes untrue words flow from our mouths, or our fingers, according to Jesus, it is just revealing what is in our hearts.

I know, if you aren’t a Jesus follower that doesn’t make a lot of sense but hey, kindness is really in vogue these days even in the secular world.  It might be selective kindness, but it is there.  Now, if you are a Jesus follower, God gives us a word for this kind of practice.  It is called sin.  No matter the circumstances or the way we attempt to justify it, it is sin.  If you feel the need to express your displeasure with someone, why not try praying.  God is always up for an authentic prayer on behalf of someone and you also won’t be surprised to hear “your slip is showing.”

I happen to be one of those people who too often speaks without thinking but I am learning to hit the pause button.  They say the older you get the more you lose your filter. You say things…and write things…that are just not right, or kind or both.  Then, you end up telling God you are sorry and experiencing that regret thing.  Of course, you may not have any remorse…and that is the saddest of all.

So, what do you say?  Let’s start a “Pardon me, your slip is showing” campaign.  It is a gentle way of letting someone know that their communication, whether it be social media or spoken, shall we say, is embarrassing. They may not thank you now but maybe, just maybe, they will later.  And if you are like me and sometimes wrestle with putting your mouth in gear when you shouldn’t, ask God to help.  He will, trust me.  This is a big deal to Him.  The good news is that like everything, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne