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 “For whatever was written in the past was written for our instruction, so that we may have hope through endurance and through the encouragement from the Scriptures.” Romans 15:4

It’s just a little confusing.  It was 2021 and after attending the Memorial Day service and doing a little yard work, my wife Judy and I decided to go to Paducah, Kentucky to look around for a couple of chairs or perhaps a small sofa to complete a project we have been working on at home.  We loaded up and headed south across the river to the land of grits. And the point of this story all began with traveling.  You see that year we did a lot of it in the spring. We had flown to Denver and then driven a thousand miles or so in Colorado, Wyoming, and South Dakota.  We saw a lot of things and a lot of them were simply beautiful.  The mountains and canyons were spectacular.  We also saw some things that were hard. We saw some extreme poverty as some folks tried to eke out a living in the barren desert hills and valleys of Wyoming.  We saw the results of a wildfire that ravaged a large portion of the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado.  Those were hard.  But some things there and closer to home were just confusing.

The confusing part centered around what to do with that 4×6 piece of cloth or paper which was called, “the mask.” If you remember, we used to only see them on the evening news and donned by folks in other countries such as China.  And then, suddenly, ready, or not, they became a part of our lives.  The big question was…mask or no mask? That year when it came to flying there was no doubt about the mask.  When you stepped in the airport it was required…and then you didn’t take it off till you, like Elvis, left the building. They were very adamant about it—threatening arrest, jail time and the loss of your first born if you didn’t comply.  I guess all that was fine, but it seemed to me they didn’t have to be so mad about it.

Once we left the airport, it was a whole different world.  Regardless of where we went or to what state we traveled to the mask requirement just wasn’t a deal.  Honestly to me that is good news.  By the time we took our trip, all the authorities were saying that the COVID thing, while not gone, was in full blown retreat.  I just wish someone would have told the airport folks too.  As we traveled, whether it was to a gas station down the street or to a National Park…no mask.  One restaurant proudly posted that, “following the CDC and Colorado Guidelines you are welcome NOT to wear a mask.”  That was followed by something like, “unless you want to.” That made me smile. Want to? Really?

Well, anyway, that was the way it was throughout the states we visited out west.  Now back to Paducah.  We stopped at a local business there. Walking to the door we realized that we had forgotten we were back in the Midwest, and I didn’t have a mask.  I told Judy we would just have to see.  When we got to the door, sure enough, it was plastered with signs about wearing a mask.  We went on in and asked the nice lady at the door if masks were required.  She told me that they were asking people to wear one and I told her I had forgotten mine…did she have one? She said they did, and I slipped it on. I asked her when their governor was going to “open the state” and she said, “Oh, that doesn’t matter, our company is the one making the rules.” What? See what I mean about confusion?  And, to make matters worse, virtually every person in the store was mask-less.  I wore mine for a while and then reverse peer pressure took over and I took it off.

By now you have got to be wondering what this story is about!  Me, too.  No not really. All of this was just a gentle reminder for me to be grateful for the Bible…the Word of God.  Though written over 1,500 years by a bunch of different writers, it has stood the test of time. It is as solid today as it was a couple of thousand years ago.  It is refreshing to know that God won’t change His mind and issue a revision tomorrow, next month or next year.  It is refreshing to know that He got His Word right the first time.  In a world where no one seems to know what is right or wrong…the Bible hasn’t changed and personally, I like that surety.

Paul, one of the guys who wrote most of the New Testament, was writing a letter to some Jesus followers in Rome.  It was during the time when being a follower of Jesus could cost you your life.  Speaking about the scriptures, he said, “For whatever was written in the past was written for our instruction, so that we may have hope through endurance and through the encouragement from the Scriptures.”  In other words, God gave us His Word to help us along this journey called life and to encourage us too.  That is good news.  If you haven’t read it in a while, you might want to check it out for yourself.  You might be pleasantly surprised.  It has sure been a help to me…especially during these morally and culturally confusing days.  It was there that I learned the great truth I close with each time we meet.  Here it is…are you ready?  “He’s got this” and indeed He does! Bro. Dewayne

 “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord…and He delights in His way.” Psalm 37:23

Did you know that some angels come from Bowling Green, Kentucky?  Well, about three years ago my wife Judy and I returned from vacation.  Now, I really like vacations which is why I really like retirement. It is kinda like one really long vacation.  We are blessed that God has provided the means for us to go  We saved, planned, and decided a return trip to Punta Cana sounded like just the thing we needed.  We bought tickets, made the reservations, and like the old Willie Nelson song says, we were back on the road again. And…we were excited!

We decided to stay at a place where we had stayed several times before.  We had a great flight down and soon we are were in paradise….well, sorta.  Truthfully, it was somewhat apparent that time had taken the wind out of the sails of our familiar place. It just wasn’t the same.  But, like we always say…at least we were away. The Dominican is a great place, but you still must be careful…stay at the resort, eat at the resort and above all…don’t drink the water. Most of the time Judy and I are good rule keepers…and we were this time, too.

Then came Wednesday.  That day I could tell my appetite was a bit off, but it was no deal. At supper that night I ate very little and as we walked back to the room, I told Judy I just felt a bit sad.  Well, in a few minutes, I found out I wasn’t sad…I was sick.  In spite of all my precautions, I apparently had the dreaded “traveler’s disease.”  If you don’t know what it is…I’ll let you look it up, but it is enough to say it ain’t fun. Period.  Well for the next two days I pretty much stayed in the room and by Saturday, going home day, I wasn’t much better.  We boarded the bus for the airport and things went from bad to worse.

As we sat there, my stomach got more and more queasy, and I was pretty certain I was going to quickly be the most unpopular guy on the bus.  Meanwhile as I doing my best to “keep my cookies,” Judy was having a great conversation with the mother of a family sitting by us.  She was talking to them, and I was talking to myself, “Don’t lose it, don’t lose it.”  Soon we arrived at the airport, thankfully with stomach intact, and got into a very long line to check our luggage for the flight.  I tried but I just couldn’t stand there so I told Judy I was going to the restroom and try and sit-down.  She kindly handled the luggage and both backpacks and I went and collapsed.

I watched from a distance.  I was praying, “God, I sure need Your help, but I know I need to trust you…so Your will be done.” While I was praying there, Judy was praying in line. Soon, but not soon enough, Judy was almost at the counter and waved for me to come on over.  I did and when I got there, the friendly family “just happened to be” in front of her.  I was standing there, more miserable than ever, and the mother’s mother, mouthed the words, “Are you ok?” I simply said I was not, telling her my stomach was very upset.  And then…it happened. The mother said, “I have some Pepto Bismol in my luggage, would you like some”?  I responded with a very grateful “yes”.

So right there, though she was next in line, she laid her luggage (which was the size of Texas) on the floor, opened it up, dug around (she packed like Judy…smile) and quickly produced a small bottle of Pepto.  I quickly opened it up and took a swig.  Borne on the wings of prayer, within a few minutes, and I do mean a few minutes, I was much better.  No, I wasn’t normal, but I knew I wouldn’t be losing my cookies.  A dose or two later and I was much, much better. I was going to survive.  And all of that…because a caring Dearest Daddy heard the prayers of His kids.

Some would be tempted to say it was happenstance, some would say it was just a nice person being nice, but for those of us who know God, we know differently.  It makes me go back to that great verse in the Old Testament part of the Bible, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in His way.”  You see this whole thing was all about God and not about me.  He took care of me…and it delighted Him to do so.  I love that.  So, while the vacation didn’t make the top ten…God did.  In fact, He is number one and the only One.  It just proves what we have learned together…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

June 12th is a special day in my life.  I graduated from high school on June 8, 1972.  I am amazed that 54 years have passed beneath the bridge of my life.  Time seems to travel so quickly.  As a child it was a gentle stream and now as a mature (that is in years and not necessarily actions) adult it seems a raging torrent.  So 54 years ago I was member of the largest graduating in the state of Florida for that year…714 seniors from one high School.  Trust me…it was easy to be a small fish in that big pond.  By Monday all that was in the rearview mirror.

On Monday, June 12, 1972, I raised my right hand and swore to protect and defend the constitution of the United States and to obey the orders of those appointed in rank above me.  I was eighteen, naive, had never been away from home and wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into.  If I remember that day correctly we took the oath, had last minute medical exams, and filled out a mountain of paperwork. They took us to Morrison’s Cafeteria for a last meal of sorts and then on to the airport for the flight to Lackland Air Force Base.  Intentionally we arrived at about 2:00 am…something they still do today.  We were given a couple of hours of sleep before beginning the great journey of becoming airmen.

The privilege of serving my country for the next twelve years marks that day as one of the great days of my life. The training I received there impacted the rest of my life. The skills I received in my advance training and then in my career prepared me for something far greater then I could imagine. Little did I know on June 12, 1972, what God had planned for me.  Saddle up your horses boys…this is the great adventure.

After twelve years in the Air Force it became apparent that the winds of change were blowing in my life.  I so loved the Air Force—it was my niche, my calling.  Starting in 1980 there were these whispers from Abba Father, my Dearest Daddy, that He wanted to do something more.  It was a whisper from Him to jump into the unknown. It was a whisper to trust Him at a level that I had never before experienced.  He was calling and it was undeniable.

The details are still vivid in my mind but time doesn’t allow the whole story to be told.  On February 14, 1982, I went forward in a morning worship service and told God I would do whatever He wanted.  Four short months later I found myself still in the service but in His service pastoring a small church close to our home.  Those days were crazy days.  Over the course of a few months the deal was sealed.  He whispered that He wanted me to give myself completely to Him.  He no longer wanted share me with the Air Force.  With that, Judy and I, along with our two very young daughters, prepared to jump big.

That leads to our second June 12th.  On that date in 1983, on a hot Sunday afternoon, I sat before a large ordaining council and a larger crowd.  That day, June 12, 1983, I was ordained, set apart, to serve Him.  My fondest memory of that day came after the council had asked all their questions.  They had been graceful to me and I was grateful.  The chairman of the council told the moderator that he had no more questions.  The moderator then asked if anyone else had an questions. I only thought I was done.

An elderly pastor, slowly stood to his feet and said, “Young man, the Bible says that the husband is the head of the home.  It also says that a pastor is to rule his house well.  Are you going to rule your house well?” And he sat down. If there was ever a time that I needed for God gave me the right words to say it was probably then.  With all the intentional fortitude I could muster I said, “Yes sir…if Judy will let me.” The room erupted and I got ordained.

And here I sit forty-three years later so grateful for a God who believed in me and hundreds of people who were patient and loved me. I have seen wheelbarrows full of grace from the God of the universe and His people.  If you ever wonder why I am grace heavy in my teaching it is because I have needed it so much and I have experienced it so much. I am blessed. Game. Set. Match.

The Bible says that this day, this very one, is a day that the Lord has made.  We get to choose how we are going to live it and how we will remember it. Well I am so grateful for two days in June, both the 12th.  They are markers for this incredible journey called life. How about you?  Do you have some special days that God moved, that God spoke, that God just showed off?  Let me encourage you to celebrate them…and Him.  He is such a good Abba Father to do less is unimaginable.  So go ahead, relive the times, relive the days when He showed up, when you rested in Him, when you just knew “He’s got this.” Then you can be the whisperer and softly say, “Thank you, Father.” Bro. Dewayne

 “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have told you.” John 14:26

It was more than the title for a movie.  One by one they are slipping away.  Who?  That generation newsman and author Tom Brokaw called the greatest generation.  This generation was born and lived through the Great Depression.  Their words and testimonies fill pages and pages of books and blogs.  Words like, “we were poor but didn’t know it” or like “we had nothing but each other…and that was more than enough” ring of their wisdom and courage.

But it would seem that living and surviving the great depression was just a warmup for their finest hour…that would begin with the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. That day, the day that President Franklin Roosevelt said, “would live in infamy,” marked the start of our country’s direct involvement in World War II.  Before it was all over, almost four years later, America would see 1,076,245 causalities.  That number includes 291,557 combat dead, 113,842 who died from other causes and 670,840 wounded.

Memorial Day of this year, I said something that I had heard many times but this time, as I spoke it, it seemed to shout at me.  I simply said, “Freedom isn’t free.”  As I spoke that day, I was freshly amazed at this generation of men and women, 16.7 million of them, who served during World War II. They marched off, self-forgotten, to strange lands and places and many of them would never come home.  Like I said, I was amazed.

Tomorrow, June 6th, 2026, is the 82nd anniversary of what has been called, “The Longest Day.” It was the day that thousands of soldiers, airmen and sailors, with thousands of ships and planes, invaded Normandy, France to begin the retaking of Europe from the grip of Nazi Germany and the Axis powers.  The courage of those men who stormed those beaches is legendary.  Imagine with me small boats, called Higgins boats, riding the waves towards Normandy with shells exploding all around.  Imagine with me seeing many, too many, of these boats literally disappearing after taking a direct hit from enemy shells. Imagine knowing that each of these boats carried several dozen men.  Sacrifice. Courage. Amazing.

There probably are not words that can describe that day.  Films like, “The Longest Day” and “Saving Private Ryan” have tried to tell the story but though their efforts are valiant they always fall short.  That day, 6,603 Americans were killed, missing, or wounded. Imagine again, as officers knocked on doors and telegrams arrived, “The Defense Department regrets to inform you…” Freedom truly isn’t free.  I know we know but I only hope we won’t forget.  Yet in most minds, this observance of “The Longest Day” won’t garner a passing thought.

When the children of Israel of Old Testament fame were crossing over into the Promised Land, they were told to take twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan River.  The sole purpose of these stones was to remind them of the miracle and the day.  That way when years later and their memories were foggy, they had the stones to remind them.  I’m not sure what stone of reminder we need but it might be as simple as a visit to the cemetery and taking the time to READ the markers and stones of those who served.  It might be as simple as taking your kids with you to show them and teach them about sacrifice and courage.  Unfortunately, it may not be taught any place else.

December 7, 1941. June 6, 1944. These are only two dates of many that are worthy of remembrance…but they are a start. Jesus knew we would need help remembering about the things of God.  That is why He said, “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have told you.” And who knows, perhaps that same Holy Spirit will help us remember to be grateful for the sacrifice others have made on our behalf.  In fact, I’m sure He will help because that is what He does best…help. Like everything else, I’m sure, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “But if we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins [including impatience] and to cleanse us from all wickedness.”  1 John 1:9

Traffic jams…good grief. Ok, before we go any further in this story, let me just confess that I know my impatience in traffic is probably a sin. I don’t think you will find it listed specifically in the Bible but that is only because no one had any cars.  But wait…maybe there were donkey jams…who knows.  Anyway, my wife Judy and I were on our way recently to the Billy Graham Training Center just outside of Asheville, North Carolina. We were cruising along, filled with anticipation, excited about the speaker, Jim Cymbala, and a great worship guy, Michael O’Brian. Yup it was gonna be good…if we could only get there.

Our faithful travel buddy, Waze, had warned me that there was a slight traffic jam coming up—you know, five minutes in traffic.  Waze is a great friend but this time, well, he or she failed…miserably. It went like this. To help us not sit in traffic, Waze had us detour.  It has done this before with stellar results, so I had no qualms about trusting it this time.  We soon found ourselves on a two-lane road cruising along and right before we were to rejoin the interstate there was a little, tiny construction zone—not on the interstate but on the Waze detour. No deal, right?  Wrong. This little, tiny construction zone required one lane to be closed which normally would not be a deal except for the twenty thousand people who also had Waze and had taken the detour.  The traffic people had a traffic light to manage the mess but as it turns out the light for our way heading east literally stayed green for about forty seconds.  I’m not kidding.  So, we sat there for almost thirty minutes waiting for our turn.  Ok, I was not a happy camper.  Try as I might there wasn’t an ounce of gratitude in my dusty dry soul.

Finally, it was my turn, and I sighed a great sigh of relief and then I saw it.  The thing that caused the whole mess, the mess on the interstate and all the cars on the detour waiting on the stinking light, was a forty-yard pothole repair.  That’s it. Nothing major, nothing earth shattering just a little itty-bitty road repair.  Ok, I was “fit to be tied”, and for the next fifteen miles I uttered under my breath about TDOT and whoever else had anything to do with that light and that repair.

Well, somewhere down the road the Holy Spirit was finally able to chip His way though my slightly hardened heart and I went from uttering complains to uttering a prayer that went something like, “God, it’s me. I’m sorry.” Suddenly, I realized just how foolish all this ranting and raving stuff was and boy did I feel foolish.  It was one of those times when I was very grateful for a Dearest Daddy that is more than willing to forget my disasters and my stupid’s. I’m so glad that He is more than willing to put out the fires of my soul with a big bucket full of His grace.  He is always willing to forgive.  In times like this I do wish I could better remember those three powerful yet simple words…He’s got this. Big or little…He does.  Bro. Dewayne

 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.” Proverbs 3:5-6

Perseverance…don’t quit.  In my inventory of weaknesses is something that I wish wasn’t.  I would like to tell you that I have the perseverance of a thoroughbred race horse bolting from the gate with only one goal—to finish and to finish first.  And while I am not a quitter, I do sometimes, “peter out.”  Merriam Webster defines that as “to gradually become smaller, weaker, or less before stopping or ending”.

During my journey there were too many times when I just wasn’t sure I was going to finish well—or finish at all.  But that wasn’t always a bad thing because it caused me to look inwardly and upward—to my Dearest Daddy.

During those times when I wasn’t sure of much of anything, it was then that I found myself turning to the One who was sure.  When my steps were unsure, I found myself tracking with the One whose steps were rock solid and sure.  The last several years have taught me something of hanging in there—to persevere—to keep going.  While I was out west a while back I saw it over and over again.  First, it was a wild flower blooming in what can only be called dust.  The roots had somehow dug deep and found the water of life.  I saw it in a small tree as it grew from a crevice in a large rock.  It made no sense but somehow that tree decided there was a way to grow in an impossible place.

I saw it too from another small tree growing from a large rock in the middle of a lake.  There was no soil to be found and yet it grew…it persevered.  It decided that it would survive, it would thrive, even though the odds were totally against success.  You see, the Bible is filled with stories of men and women who trusted God against all odds.  A shepherd boy becomes a king, another “has-been” shepherd leads a million or so people to a new land—the promised land.  A band of eleven men from various walks of life chose to follow a young rabbi (who happened to be the Son of God) and the message they shared changed the world.

All of these folks failed at one time or another, but they didn’t quit.  They chose to persevere.  If you wonder how America has lasted for these 250 years, there are two reasons.  The hand of God and the perseverance of ordinary men and women who gave what they had for a cause they believed in. A.Cause.They.Believed.In.

We have survived many challenges over the years—the pandemic of 2020 is just one on the list. However, I am sure the greater enemy wasn’t the pandemic, but rather the division that swept our land like a wildfire. Someone wiser than you or me once said that a house divided against itself cannot stand—Jesus said that before Lincoln did.

William Carey, a great missionary, once said, “The future is as bright as the promises of God” and I believe that is true today.  But we need to learn from the founding fathers, from the men who stormed Normandy or trudged through the jungles of Vietnam or froze on the hills of Korea.  We have to learn again to trust the hand of God.  The Bible says that we should trust God with everything we have and turn away from the tendency to trust ourselves.  If we do that…He will guide us…He will direct us.  We also need to learn the lesson of that small tree growing from that giant rock.  We will not quit, we will persevere—we will find life in the most unlikely of places.  Trust God and don’t quit.  That sounds like a plan.

With the pandemic in the rearview mirror, it seems to some degree we have been given a second chance.  I hope we will take advantage of this gift God has given us.  I hope we will learn the power of perseverance and the power of four simple words, “Love God…Love People.”  I may not know what tomorrow holds but I do know the One who holds tomorrow and that is good enough for me.  I am certain no matter what, that as always, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.” Mark 5:34

She knew the pain of isolation. For her rejection was a way of life. For twelve years she was alone. For twelve years she felt the pain of rejection. For twelve years she knew nothing but unworthiness. We don’t know her real name. Her condition named her–defined her. She was known as the “woman with an issue of blood.”

That name made her unacceptable in most circles. Church? “So sorry, unworthy.” Her neighborhood? “So sorry, unclean.” Her family? Well, there really wasn’t one that would claim her. Like I said she was an expert at social distancing. No one wanted her. And it hurt. A lot.

It wasn’t that she didn’t try to make things right. Her story is found in Mark 5 and in verse 26 we read, “She had suffered a great deal from many doctors, and over the years she had spent everything she had to pay them, but she had gotten no better. In fact, she had gotten worse.” She so craved an end to this nightmare of loneliness and illness. Her body was worn down by the blood loss and her spirit was worn down by the rejection. She had seen every physician, but the only result was a depleted bank account and a worsening condition. She was at the end. And that is where she found Jesus.

We are not told how she came to know of Jesus, but it was probably word of mouth. Someone said and someone repeated, “Jesus heals people. Jesus touches people…even unworthy people. Jesus accepts people…even people that no one else wants.” She heard a crowd. She saw a crowd and at the middle of this crowd was her only hope.

She weaved her way to the center trying to conceal her face because if they knew who she was, she would quickly be pushed aside. She believed that if she could just touch His robe, she could–she would be healed. Finally, she saw His back and stumbling she touched His robe. Immediately she knew it. Immediately she felt it–it was done. It was over. She was healed.

Jesus knew it too. He felt power leave His body and He asked the crowd, “Who touched me?” The disciples, perhaps with a smile, said, “Lord, you see the crowd. What do you mean who touched you?” But Jesus knew what they didn’t. Someone’s life was changed, and it was her. She, so used to rebuke and rejection, came trembling and confessed, “It was me.” Before she could apologize or explain, He said it.

In verse 34, Jesus says, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.” What did He say? Daughter? She had been called unworthy, unclean, unwanted, but “Daughter?” That was a name she had never heard. And He declared an end to her war with suffering. She was made whole. She was accepted. She was clean. Amazing.

It all happened because of a five-letter word. Faith. She believed. Let’s be careful here. She didn’t just believe, she believed in Jesus. It wasn’t just faith, it was faith in Him. You see when we believe there can be hope. But when we choose to believe in Jesus there is healing, there is life, there is rescue.

They parted ways then. There was a twelve-year-old girl who needed to be raised from the dead. She needed her own miracle. But for this woman, life was never the same. Maybe she went home. Maybe she went to the market. Maybe she went to the temple. It doesn’t matter where she went, the stigma was gone. She was no longer called unclean, no longer called unworthy, no longer called unwanted. She had a new name. It was “daughter.”

So how about you? Does this story resonate within you? Are her names… your names? Is her pain …your pain? Why not fight the crowd, break your spiritual social distancing, your isolation, and come to Jesus? And, like her, why not believe? Have the courage to believe that you will find healing and rest in Him. After all, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

 “The Lord is righteous in everything He does; He is filled with kindness.” Psalm 145:17

I almost missed it.  A long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away I wrote a Grits story about my ongoing “concern” with sticking a contact in my eye.  If you remember, and I realize you probably don’t, I only wear one contact and it makes it possible for me to read without having to wear readers. It’s quite amazing how the brain somehow makes it work.  Anyway, the only problem is that I just don’t do very well sticking my finger in or close to my eye. It took me just about a year to figure out how to do it and I still have some anxiety each time I do it.  I’ve gotten better…but.

Well, one morning was one of those “buts.” I have a ritual that I go through each and every morning to prepare for sticking this thing in my eye.  I put on my readers and get the juice that I use to wet the contact and my fingers. The contacts come in a stick of five and I always, and I mean always, break a contact off the left side.  Don’t ask me why. On that morning, I got the juice, glasses and contact all set up for the big event. I opened the contact, wet my fingers, put the contact on my finger and prepared to stick it in. It went south.

As I put it in I could tell something was wrong and the something was wherever the contact was, it wasn’t where it should have been. That could only mean it was lost somewhere—either in my eye or on the sink. Well, it wasn’t on the sink which meant—I was in deep weeds.  So, I got angry.  I’m not proud of it but I did. I was running late and didn’t have time to worry about this catastrophe. My eye doctor had retired so she couldn’t rescue me and as hard as Judy and I had tried in times past…our success rate was pretty low. So I just told God, out loud, that I didn’t have time for this. I threw the contact holder thing in the trash and got in the shower…still mad.

Well, I have this test I do to see if my contact is in or out. When I tried to see at the sink, it obviously was not in the right place in my eye.  So, I tried again in the shower and…I could see. I looked again and again, very obviously the contact had found its way home to the center of my eye.  Now it wasn’t totally happy, but it was where it belonged. After my shower, I went ahead and got the contact out, yay and put in a fresh one that went in perfectly. I was amazed and very grateful. There is no doubt that my Dearest Daddy had once again acted on my behalf.

I guess, in the loosest of terms you could say that my cry of anger and anguish was a prayer, “God, I don’t need this right now.” And in His grace, He agreed. There might be a time when it would have stayed lost but today, He acted on my behalf and took care of the problem.  You probably ought to know the kind of contact I wear is changed daily and it is very flimsy and when it gets lost—it stays lost. I cannot think of one time when it found its own way home…that is…except on that special day.

What He did was just so kind.  His Word says, “The Lord is righteous in everything He does; He is filled with kindness.”  All I can say is, “Amen.” As I was driving home for lunch, I decided that I hadn’t celebrated the faithfulness of my Dearest Daddy in a big enough way. This was a big deal. I needed to pause and thank Him again. It was the right thing to do.

I couldn’t think of a better way to say thank you then to write about it in Grits. As I stared at my computer screen, and it is crystal clear, I was reminded that I serve a God who can handle the big things and the not so big things. I was reminded that I serve a God that hears even a prayer sputtered and uttered in frustration and, yes, anger.  I serve a God who cares enough to whisper a sweet, short answer to those prayers,  “Don’t worry son, I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne