Category: Uncategorized

 “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good indeed. Evening came and then morning: the sixth day.” Genesis 1:31 

It was a profound statement.  It was 1967, and I was in junior high.  In Jacksonville that meant grades 7-9 and it meant a whole different world from elementary school.  For the first time we went to separate classes and got to choose some of our food for lunch in the cafeteria. I remember, for a dime, you could buy a bowl of French fries. While they weren’t anything like McDonald’s, I do believe they were potatoes, and they were long and skinny.

It may have been the sixties, but there were rules. For the girls skirts and dresses had to be a certain length. For the guys your hair could only be so long and then there were the big three: shirt tucked in, wear a belt, and socks.  Break those and you and the principal had a date.  By the time I was in the ninth grade, things were relaxing some and that included the big three.  On Fridays, boys were allowed to untuck their shirts, not wear a belt, and not wear socks. Holy moly, what was the world coming to?  Looking back, the cool thing was to take the socks that you weren’t wearing and put them hanging out of your rear pants pocket.  Every Friday, my shirt was out, my belt stayed home, and my socks were flapping in the breeze.  Do you know why?  It was cool…and I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be in. I wanted to be accepted.

As you know, over the years the trends have changed, styles have come and gone, and so have the labels.  In high school Gold Toe socks were coveted and so were Gant shirts. We couldn’t afford either but when I joined the Air Force and could shop at the Base Exchange, they carried both and both became part of my world.  I was cool. I was in. I was accepted. Some things never change, and this is one of those.  There was always something that someone was wearing that if you had it, you just knew you would feel cool…accepted…part of the “in” crowd.  When I came to my last church, it was shirts with ponies and shoes named “Crocs.” Whatever the newest label, and there was always one, peer pressure and the desire to be cool, accepted, and in, pushed and pulled.  It seemed I always wanted to be what someone else was.

Thankfully, some of that has changed.  Ponies and crocs aren’t really that cool anymore, and I’m starting to realize that a label doesn’t define who I am.  I.Am.Me. In fact, my four favorite shirts are from Walmart and cost a grand total of $9.88 each. There’s nothing on the pocket—they are just plain shirts which is cool, because I define them…they don’t define me.

I read something one morning that was just profound.  Here it is. Are you ready?  “Each person was born an original; no one should die a copy.” Wow.  It goes like this.  Somewhere in heaven, God came up with a design plan for me.  He wrote the design and then declared it an original, and just right. In fact, in Genesis 1:31, the Bible says, “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good indeed.” And do you know what?  That includes me and that includes you. There is not another me or you, anywhere, and that was intentional. I don’t need to be you, and you don’t need to be me. We just need to be who God made us. Sure, fashion labels are fine, and I’m even sure there is a perfect weight and height, but those don’t dictate who we are…God does.

In the years that God gives me, I hope I will remember this.  When the clock stops ticking, the heart stops beating, and you are having a chicken dinner somewhere in my honor, I hope someone will be able to say, “That Dewayne, he was an original. God broke the mold when He made him.”  I don’t want to die a copy…I want to die an original.

Given my bent to be a people pleaser and desire to be cool, accepted and in, I’m sure that will be a challenge. Gratefully, my Dearest Daddy will be with me along the way to remind me that I am a custom-made job, and you are too.  And, if I am wise enough to ask and listen, He will help me be me.  Oh, and if I struggle, and I will, and you will too, just listen as He reassures us that, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “I look for someone to come and help me, but no one gives me a passing thought! No one will help me; no one cares a bit what happens to me.” Psalm 142:4-5

There she stood…alone and frightened.  I guess you could say I am a detail person. I notice things most others don’t see. A while back my wife Judy and I had just returned from a short trip to Nashville for a few days of “let’s get away.” We were sitting on the back porch chatting and drinking coffee and I said to Judy, “Did you happen to notice that the house over there (over there being at least two blocks away) has three pairs of shutters—one pair open and the other two pairs closed?”  Well, she hadn’t noticed and that was when she stated the obvious, “You are such a detail person.” And she was right…I am.

My attention to detail is just as keen back home in Harrisburg.  In our town we have quite a few people who are homeless—some by choice, some with mental illness and some who are just struggling with life.  As I see them—and I do see them—I often think about what their life must be like. How do they do it? What is it like to not have a place to call home? What does it feel like to feel abandoned and unloved?  It saddens me when I realize that the life they have now is most likely the only life they will ever know. Most won’t ever know anything better. And then, I usually pray asking Him to care for those who wander through life as they wander the streets. And I know that it is only by the grace of God that I am where I am. Charles Stanley, the former pastor of First Baptist Church of Atlanta, once saw a homeless lady pushing a buggy and he said, “There, but by the grace of God, go I.”

Right after that trip to Nashville, I was helping with the Fun Food ministry at the local Methodist church.  We were serving the kids there for Vacation Bible School. We had some popcorn, snow cones, and cotton candy. While we were waiting for the kids, a homeless lady wandered up. She was tall and as thin as a rail and her eyes were filled—not with life but fear. We offered her some of what we had but it was as if she was afraid to take it. She stayed a safe distance and with difficulty asked if we had some water.  We did not. I believe she did finally take some popcorn and maybe some cotton candy and then—she wandered away. The last time I saw her, her hands were empty and so were her eyes. She kept glancing back as if to make sure we weren’t going to harm her.

Well, a couple of days later I was reading the Bible and remembered a verse that I had discovered in years past.  It is found in Psalms 142:4-5 and says, “I look for someone to come and help me, but no one gives me a passing thought! No one will help me; no one cares a bit what happens to me.” What I saw and experienced that day gave me pause and it still does.  Here’s the deal.  Sometimes we can help physically, and we should do so…carefully. But something that we can do every time is to assign the same value God does to every person—regardless. We must treat every person with the same dignity that God does. Believe me—He values a life regardless of what station or color they are—and we should do the same.

Someone said, “Don’t let the fact that you can’t help everyone keep you from helping someone.” And do you know what? Sometimes that help looks a whole lot like Jesus—loving them like He loves us. The one thing I could do that day for that lady was to show love and treat her like she mattered—because she did. I know this can be challenging and honestly loving usually is.  But remember this…the One who loves you most is waiting to help you do the hard stuff like loving.  After all, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

 “See how very much our Father loves us, for He calls us His children, and that is what we are!” 1 John 3:1

Some things were just better in the old days…like the weather report.  Back in the sixties, when the local weather was sponsored by one of the local oil brands and the weatherman wore a service station (that is a gas place where they pumped your gas, checked your oil and cleaned your windshield) uniform, things were so much simpler.  He would get his magic marker out and draw some symbols on his paper map and forecast the weather. It was easy.  If it was going to be hot…he would say it was going to be hot.  If it was going to be cold…he would say it was going to be cold.  If it was going to rain…he just laid it out in simple terms.  Yup…those were the days.

It kinda reminds me of my visit to a gift shop in the Smokey Mountains.  They had what they called a “Hillbilly Weather Station.”  It was a rock attached to a string.  It also had a card that went with it that said if the rock was hot, it was hot. If the rock was cold, it was cold. If the rock was wet, it was raining and finally, if the rock was swinging on the string, it was windy.  I like that and I think it’s probably accurate!  But today, they must give us a lot more information and most of the time I am grateful, except for this time.

This is this.  Instead of simply saying it is going to be hot they must go a step further and give us what they call the “feel like temperature.”  In other words, if the temperature is going to be 90 degrees and there happens to be a bunch of humidity in the air, well, they let us know it is going to feel like 100 degrees and we are going to be extra miserable. And, if it is cold and there is a wind, well, just to make sure we know how miserable we really are, we have wind chill. Now I know their intent is good, but I just wish they wouldn’t go the extra mile in defining and describing my misery.

If that isn’t enough, the news folks seem to feel like they must top the weather folks.  They scrap up every bit of bad, discouraging, and disgusting news they can find and then read it to us with passion and glee.  It is almost like they want to say, “You only thought things were bad…just listen to this”.  And “this” is always about the awfulness of our broken world.  Yup, I think the weather and news people are in cahoots with one another to make sure we are miserable.

Well, if that isn’t enough, then there are some folks that we bump into in our world, and it seems they just can’t wait to slosh their negativity on someone else.  Like Eeyore in the Winnie the Pooh stories, theirs is a “woe is me” world.  Eeyore once said, “I wish I could say yes…but I can’t.”  Well, the truth is we can.  In a world where some choices are limited, the choice of how we act, and think, is all ours.  We get to choose what stories our “newscast” is going to cast and what report our “weather reporter” is going to report.

One of the reasons I love God is that He is a positive thinker.  His book, the Bible, is a reality check but it is also a book of good news.  In fact, when describing the story of how much God loves us and how He sent His son into this broken world to pay the price for our sin…it is called “the” Good News or Gospel.  And if you allow that Good News to be your good news—well it changes everything.  So, if you need a change, if you need some Good News, why not try the Bible.  It will tell you the truth, but that truth includes God’s incredible love for me and for you.

In a part of the Bible called the New Testament, John, one of Jesus’ closest followers wrote, “See how very much our Father loves us, for He calls us His children, and that is what we are!” Wow…the God who made it all loves us enough to call us His own.  Now that is worth hearing about and the place to go to hear it is His Word.  So, when you are feeling down and things look hopeless, why not look up…to the God who wants to be your Dearest Daddy.  Imagine a world of Good News…with Someone who is waiting to whisper to you, “Don’t worry.  I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

 “As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.” Luke 8:15

After all…it is Southern Illinois.  I was born and raised in the Southeastern corner of the United States and almost ironically—in the Northern corner of Florida.  Some people from the South want to downplay Florida almost like it is a Southern stepchild.  Anyway, I love the South and am proud of my Southern genes.  And just for the record—that doesn’t mean I am proud of everything Southern—if you follow me.

Now, with that said, there are plenty of things “Southern” that I love.  As an example, how about a hot serving of grits—no sugar ever.  Or how about a big slice of pecan pie or some collards, or turnip greens with side order of field peas. My goodness can someone say, “Amen.” And of course, you have to wash it all down with a big glass of iced sweet tea.  Anything else? Sure. How about an afternoon rocking on the front porch waving at people or maybe the kind of thunderstorm that shakes the windows and rattles the doors?  Oh yes, there’s plenty of the good life in the South.

Should I keep going? Well, there are peach orchards and those trees that produce the pecans for those pies. There are giant oaks and tall slender pines and yards filled with azalea bushes in full bloom and blanketed in Saint Augustine grass.  And of course, every imaginary image of the South needs a tall and beautiful Magnolia tree. There are two things that Judy and I can do to think of the South.  We can cross the bridge and visit Paducah “where they talk right” and we can just glance around town at the fine selection of Magnolia trees that grow right here in Southern Illinois.

I read in an article recently that the Magnolia is widely considered one of the most beautiful and fragrant trees of the South and I certainly agree. Its large, white and fragrant blossoms often dot main streets and gardens across the South—and I guess that includes Southern Illinois. But what I didn’t know is that its soil – when healthy – produces an equally wonderful aroma. They say the soil smells like a mix of cinnamon and fresh fruit—but there is more!

That good smelling soil around a Magnolia is a sure sign that the tree is in good condition. In other words—a tree in good condition smells good and so does the soil but the opposite is also true. When the tree is diseased or decaying, the soil around it produces a rancid, putrid smell that’s unmistakable. You might say the unseen is a good indicator of the health of what is seen.

How about you? When people are around you does your life smell of the fragrance of Christ?  Can people tell you belong to Him—not by the message on your hat or your shirt but rather the message of your attitude and actions? If someone was to dig around in your life, would they find the soil smells of Christ or something that is dead or dying? Let’s make it our desire, our goal to be like Him so we smell like Him. Let’s live in such a way that people, no matter how much they dig into our lives, know we are planted in the rich soil of His love. Let our fragrance be a life that shouts our faith—that “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “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

Boom…just like that.  This story dates back to when I still had to get up and go to work and it was one of those mornings.  I was running just a bit behind.  There wasn’t a clock to punch, no was going to say anything, but the truth is I needed to get to the office.  There was work to do and it seems there was more work than time.  I got everything done that needed to be done…I even remembered to take my medicine. I walked out the door and felt my pocket only to realize that the familiar lump wasn’t there.  I had forgotten my keys. Bummer.

So, I turned around, mumbling something about time and keys, and headed back into the house.  There is a place I usually put my keys and when I got there…they weren’t.  Bummer.  I walked over to the other side of the kitchen and checked on the counter.  Nope. Bummer. I walked back over to the other place, and they still weren’t there.  Then, I decided to go upstairs and check the pockets on the pants I had worn the day before.  Scratch that one too.  Then I went outside and asked Judy if she had seen my keys.  I think she gave me the “whose keys” look and said, “no.”

By now my frustration level was rising.  I checked in the car.  No.  I went back into the kitchen and checked the key thingy, and they weren’t there.  Bummer again.  So just for the fun of it I checked it all again and realized that I just might have misplaced or lost them. It was looking grim.  You see, this key wasn’t one of those go to Walmart three-dollar keys.  No, this was one of those three-hundred-dollar key fob things (there’s a reason I know this) and by now I am thinking of dollars.  I asked Judy to keep an eye out and I used the spare key and drove to work.

As soon as I got to work, I started telling the staff of my lost key woes.  I told them how I had looked everywhere, all with no luck.  They were sympathetic and I appreciated their shared woe but all of that didn’t help me find my keys.  So, I started doing some of that work I talked about earlier and after an hour or so, I texted Judy and asked her if she had had a chance to look for the missing keys.  Well, she hadn’t, so still no luck.  It was just about then that it happened.  She texted me and said she thought she had found the keys on the key thingy.  I told her that probably wasn’t them because I checked there twice.  She sent me a picture and there, in her hand, were my keys.

When I asked her where they were found and she said the key thingy, at first, I was embarrassed and then amazed.  Here is why.  I am one hundred percent certain that I checked there twice.  I would have bet my bottom dollar they were not there and yet…they were.  That only leaves two options.  First, I am blind and totally missed them. The second option is…God came to the rescue.  Call me crazy or call me nuts but I honestly believe that option two happened.  You see, given the nature of my Dearest Daddy I just wouldn’t be surprised if He didn’t reach down from heaven and placed the missing keys there.  After all, why wouldn’t He?  

I have had other incidents in my life when God did some crazy things and maybe that is why I’m sure He just did it again.  How about you?  Do you have any times when something crazy happened and looking back you realized there wasn’t an explanation?  I’m one of those people that believe God is a God who is into the details, and I also believe He is not too busy to do something like replace a set of missing keys.  Oh, God is a God of the big things, but He is not too busy to care about the little things too…like missing keys and wallets.

Let me encourage you to look for the small miracles around us.  In fact, let me encourage you to expect small miracles around us.  James, the half-brother of Jesus wrote a short book in the Bible.  In it he wrote, “Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.”  Spot on, James.  The God who made the stars can also do the small stuff…stuff that matters to us matters to Him.  So, as you journey today, and you hit a bump, don’t be afraid to ask for a little help from above.  He might help you over the bump or at least give you the grace to endure it.  Either way, you can know that “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

 “O Lord, our Lord, Your greatness is seen in all the world! Your praise reaches up to the heavens; it is sung by children and babies.” Psalm 8:2

Well, the guy who wrote Psalms was right. I know it, you know it, but the truth is the Bible knew it first.  Sometimes kids just say the best things in the best way. More than once in my forty-two years as a pastor I was amazed at the truth and profoundness of what kids say. In the old days, well, especially in the old days, kids were expected to be seen and not heard and occasionally they weren’t even supposed to be just seen. Well, according to our scripture today, kids can be sources of wisdom—and worship.  Surprised? Honestly, sometimes me too.

It turns out that there is always something new to learn from unexpected sources. What if I told you that a machine that we have in our house has also been teaching me something?  Well, it is true. I told you about my wife Judy’s mystical and magical robot vacuum cleaner a while ago. This thing maps out and remembers the floor plan of our house and really does an amazing job cleaning. Because of her (Judy decided it had to be a woman because it is so intuitive) it is a rare day when we have to drag out the good old vacuum cleaner.  

The other day, I paid close attention while it was talking. It has several messages it speaks out loud on different occasions. If it gets stuck, she lets you know. If she’s not happy about something, she lets you know.  Hmmm…maybe Judy is right about her being a female.  Well, I had heard something more than a few times but this time it stuck—in my brain and in my heart. You see, when her battery is getting low, she says, “Battery low—heading home.” Wait. What? Yup, she knows when it is time for a recharge, and she also knows that means it time to go—home. She turns off the cleaning thingies and devotes all her energy to making it home where she can be recharged and restored.

Ok, so am I the only guy in the room who thinks this is pretty cool—and pretty profound? I mean what if we could be smart enough to know when we are about to run out of emotional and spiritual juice and need to go home? What a game changer that would be. And by the way, she knows there is only one home, and knows exactly where to find it. She goes straight to it and parks.  She knows there is no place like home. How life changing would it be if we remembered that there is only one place for us to go when we need recharging? No, it’s not the recliner or the lounger—it is right at the feet of Jesus.  Mary, Martha’s sister, knew that and guess what?  That is where you would regularly find her.

Our vacuum friend knows there is no place like home and we should remember the same lesson. An old saying says, “home is where the heart is” and that is especially true when our heart belongs to our Dearest Daddy. So, when you find yourself feeling a little burned out and out of juice…say to yourself, “battery low—heading home” and then go. Park next to Him and relax knowing that He can and will recharge and renew you. He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

 ^“I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.” Philippians 3:13b

Baggage…it is a fact of travel and a fact of life.  A couple of years ago we were leaving for a great adventure—a mission trip to England to work with Africans—go figure. Our team of four checked in at the airport and gladly gave our baggage to the agent at the desk.  One by one, our bags, as varied as the people who packed them, were weighed, and given up.  And honestly, we were glad to do so.  With our baggage handed over, our journey, our travel experience was a lot easier.  When you give your luggage up, you always wonder if you will see it again.  Recently, the airline (at least the one we flew with) sent us a text letting us know everything was safe onboard our plane.  Nice.

Well, we landed in Atlanta and waited just a while and soon it was time to board the plane for our final leg of our journey…the one that would take us all the way to England.  Sure enough, a message let us know our bags were onboard and would make the journey with us.  That is always a good feeling.  A little over seven hours later, it was time to land and sure enough our bags were there, and we took an Uber to the hotel.  Well, the next leg of our journey was by train, so we had to walk a little and take the tube (the British word for the subway—not the sandwich shop) to the train station.  As we left our hotel, we had our first personal experience with our luggage.

You see, this time there was no one to take our luggage—except us. Some of us had smaller bags, someone had a bag so large we nick named it “the beast.”  There was a variety of smaller backpacks and whether all of them had wheels or not, they were a necessary hassle.  If it wasn’t for the fact that it is a common sight in London…I’m sure we would have looked quite comical. But we pushed and pulled, lifted, and dragged, squeezed through tight tube gates and balanced all of this on the narrow steps of several escalators.  Oh yes…it was fun.

Well, the good news is, we made it.  We made it all the way to our destination and when the time came, we made it all the way back home…well almost.  Turns out “the beast” got left by the airline in London, but it did arrive several days later.  Because I am a person who likes to prepare, I watched several travel videos to learn about England and how to travel there.  The guy in the video made one point very clear. When you pack, remember that everything you decide to take with you, you will have to push, pull, drag, and carry along the way.  And you know what…he was exactly right.  I was very glad that my bag was one of the smaller and lighter ones (32 pounds, thank you) and my backpack was too. I was glad that at the last minute I did indeed determine I didn’t need the kitchen sink after all!

Well, we all know that baggage is part of the travel deal, but baggage is also part of this journey called life.  Along the way, we pick up things, some of our fault, and some are no fault of our own at all, and we find ourselves dragging them through life.  A difficult childhood, a broken heart, a bad financial decision, or romance decision and on and on it goes.  Baggage…we all have our fair share.  But here is the good news.  It turns out that even if we can’t totally ditch all this unwanted baggage, we can at least lighten the load.  And often, it begins with two small words—letting go.

You see, we can’t undo what others have done to us and short of a miracle we can’t forget either but there is something we can do.  We can choose to refuse to allow the baggage to weigh us down.  We can determine to what extent we give the person or the event space in our lives today.  We can let it go…we can mostly leave it behind.  It will probably involve some forgiveness—whether it be someone else—or yourself. I really love the place in the Bible where Paul, who had tons of baggage, some he made and some others gave him, simply says he chose to forget.

Just for the record he wasn’t talking about actually forgetting, but rather choosing not to allow the baggage of the past to control his today. That was something he could do and something we can do.  And when we do…we are going to find out that life is a lot easier when we are not weighed down with yesterday’s baggage.  So, what do you say? Why not let today be the day we drop the bags of the past and sprint toward what lies before?  On our journey, we would sometimes help another person with their bags, and I am glad I can tell you that God is just waiting to help us with our baggage too.  Don’t you worry. He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

 “When He saw the crowds, He felt compassion for them.”  Matthew 9:36

It was the week before Memorial Day a couple of years ago. I had started exercising again.  For the last six weeks, I have been walking a couple of miles five times a week. To keep it interesting, I try and walk different routes.  So, on the Thursday before Memorial Day, I decided to walk in our local cemetery.  It is quite large and I had a route picked out that was about nine tenths of a mile long.  I would do two laps and then part of another to get my two miles in.

I like walking in the cemetery because of all the stories that are told on the various headstones. It is almost like walking through a large library with each headstone representing the book of a person’s life.  The length of life and the things they valued are often shown. Some have many details and others leave that up to the living to figure it out. However, on that particular Thursday, I noticed that many of the graves were marked with an American flag…the symbol of our great country.  These were largely on the graves of those who had served their country.  There were dozens and dozens, and I found my eyes drawn to them…and what they represented.

It was then that I noticed something.  While many of the flags were pointed straight to the sky above…others were not.  Some were bumped and haphazardly pointed someplace besides up.  They had been hit by something…whether a careless foot or lawnmower.  Others had been knocked completely down and lay in the grass and dirt…someplace they were never intended to be and then some had become victims of the mower’s blade and lay tattered. As I walked something began to stir in me.  It occurred to me that someone should do something.  It just wasn’t right.  And then it also occurred that that someone was me.

So, as I walked, I began straightening some, replanting others and gathering the shredded remains of others.  Yes, it did require some time, it did require some detours, but it was worth every minute.  It simply was the right thing to do.  On Saturday, I found myself again back at the cemetery and once again straightening, replanting and gathering shreds to be property disposed of later.  It was right and it felt right.  When I once again entered the cemetery that Memorial Day Monday, I looked at the flags and felt a good sense of pride that I had made a difference…not to all but to some.  And then it hit me.

In a moment of time, I didn’t see flags but I saw people. I realized that all around me were people that had been bumped, bruised, and battered.  And I began to wonder what could I do to help them?  I know that often there isn’t a fix…certainly not one as easy as picking up or straightening up a flag in a cemetery but maybe – just maybe, a kind word or action could help the wounded, the bruised, and the bumped have a better day.

So, today I write a story, but I am also writing a reminder to me, to you, to all of us.  The reminder is to look around with seeing eyes and look for the wounded and the hurting and extend a hand, a hug, or a heart.  And who knows, another day when you see that person you may see their step is a little lighter and their smile a little brighter…because you took the time to straighten the bumped, replant the bruised, and maybe help pick up the pieces of a broken life.  It is probably risky, and may be costly, but trust me it will be worth it.

Jesus was so good at this.  One time He was coming ashore after a ride across a lake, and he was greeted by a whole crowd of bumped, bruised, and battered people and the Bible simply says, “When He saw the people, He had compassion on them.” He loved them, touched them, and sometimes even served them lunch.  He simply couldn’t leave them the way they were…love wouldn’t allow it.  If you are a Jesus follower…and even if you are not…love demands that we act. Love demands that we show a little kindness.  Sound challenging?  It is but know this…that God you believe in or at least want to believe in is just waiting to help.  Trust me…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

 “Give no opportunity to the devil.” Ephesians 4:27

 

He was there…hiding in the relative darkness. The other day my conscience got the best of me. I was sitting on the patio…watching the bird’s flitter and flutter around eating the bird seed I so generously provided for them. It was just about then that I remembered it had been a while since I filled the feeders so I figured it was about time to do the deed.  So, I got up and walked over to the feeder in the backyard.

Now this is no ordinary feeder. This is one of those super-duper feeders that are designed to keep the squirrels from eating the bird food…and this one works. It is a rare day indeed when a squirrel gets my expensive as gold black oil sunflower seeds. To fill the hopper, you have to lift it away from the housing. It is not too difficult, but it can be a bit…drumroll…dangerous.  When I last attempted to fill the feeder I wasp flew out when I removed the hopper. I figured he was trying to build a nest up and inside but since I am a “live and let live” kind of guy…I let him go. He didn’t mess with me, so I didn’t mess with him. That was then but this was now.

That day, as I reached up to remove the hopper…before it moved an inch…a wasp flew out from inside the feeder and popped me on the hand. Out of pure reflex, the hopper went to the ground and what seed was left, left the hopper. It was a “shoot that thing” moment and then about six of his buddies flew out of the feeder and joined him in swarming the area. It turns out he had gathered reinforcements so I…ran. Well, the hopper was on the ground, the seed was on the ground, and I was just about mad. I carefully took a peek inside and discovered there was a pretty good nest up in the feeder…they had been very busy. They may have won the battle, but the war was mine.

My wife Judy keeps a can of wasp spray in the door of her car just in case some dude tries to mess with her.  I went to the car, got the spray, walked back to the nest and let ‘em have it. It was all over in about three seconds. And when the dust settled all the wasps were…stone cold dead. Revenge was so sweet…but I wasn’t done. I took the feeder down, scraped the nest off and laughed with glee as it fell to the driveway. I kept laughing as I stomped it to pieces. Don’t mess with Mr. T or you will pay the price.

In case you are wondering I didn’t and don’t feel any remorse. They got what they deserved.  Just ask my right hand…which hurt for several days. Now today’s big truth is not about bird feeders, wasps or sunflower seed.  The big truth is to remember that there are often things hiding in the dark…things like wasps and things like Satan. The wasp was just waiting for some dude like me to come along and when I did…bam…he got me. I didn’t know he was there and didn’t know he was coming until he had done his deed.

Now listen, Satan is much more dangerous than a wasp but he is just as tricky…or more so. He often lies away just waiting to pop some innocent (or no so innocent) bystander. And trust me the consequences of falling prey to him are much worse than a wasp bite. So be wise…play it safe.  Be sure and invite the Heavenly Father along to fill your feeders or whatever else you do. Regardless, it is always good to have Him along…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne