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 “The Lord God is my strength, and He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, and makes me walk on my high places.” Habakkuk 3:19

Ok…it just hurt. I grew up down South and there and especially then things were just a bit different.  Back in those days before Nintendo and Game Boys, we played…I mean we just played.  Even though we had television, and yes, it was black and white,  it was rarely on…especially during the day.  When school was over for the day, we would go outside and run the neighborhood and…the woods.

We lived in a small country neighborhood that was surrounded by woods.  We played army, built forts, and played every game you could imagine.  We had a large Chinaberry tree in our backyard, and we would load our pockets with the small berries and then chase one another trying our best to “ping” someone with the berries. As you can imagine we ran…a lot. And the best running shoes then were no shoes at all.  We ran and played barefoot most of the time.  There were times of regret, like when we would stub our toe on a big old pine root, but most of the time we did just fine.  Of course, all that “barefoot-ness” toughened our feet up till the soles were leather tough.

Well, things change, and we all grew up and started wearing shoes.  With the shoes, we lost our toughness but not our love to occasionally go barefoot.  There’s still just something about the feel of grass and soft sand on the bottom of your foot.  Yup…what good memories…that is until I stepped on a stupid rock. It all started when I went outside early in the morning, as in the sun was still yawning, to have a cup of coffee with Judy.  Of course, I wasn’t wearing shoes.  We have a paved driveway and patio so no deal…right? Not so fast.

I walked out to the patio, visited awhile, and then decided it was time to head back into the house to get ready for the day.  Our patio is a foot or so higher than our driveway and we have a small step there to make things easier.  So, I stepped down onto the step and then on down to the driveway.  Not thinking, nor thinking to look, right where I stepped was a nice, small rock.  Now this wasn’t the smooth stone kind of rock but the kind that you find in an unpaved alley.  Anyway, I stepped, and stepped hard and landed right on that stinking rock.  Ouch.

As things would happen, it was in the middle of my heel, and it just hurt.  I muttered something about stupid rocks, picked the rock up and chucked it back in the alley where it belonged.  It really was a “no harm, no foul” deal.  I mean, it wasn’t like it hurt all day and it wasn’t like I had to go to the doctor, but for those few moments…it just hurt and for those few moments…I was mad at the rock. Mad.At.The.Rock.

Wait…later I decided there was something wrong with that.  I am sure that rock didn’t wake up that morning (do rocks wakeup?) and decide to be in the exact wrong spot.  In fact, I am sure the rock had nothing to do with it at all. I am sure that I am the one who chose not to wear shoes that morning, who didn’t look to see if there was a rock in the way, and who wasted my emotional energy by getting mad at a rock.  It sounds like this one is on me.

The bottom line is when you do life, you will occasionally step on a rock and it may cause some pain.  But like the Disney song says, maybe we should just, “let it go.” The Bible gives us some even greater counsel.  It says that we are to remember that God is our strength, and we should ask Him to guide our feet as sure as a mountain deer.  In other words…to help us watch where we step…whether it is off our patio or into a questionable decision. 

Well, I know, and you know it wasn’t the rock’s fault that day and really, in the scope of things, it wasn’t mine either. It was just one of those things.  Oh, and this morning, I went out barefoot again but before I stepped off the patio, I looked and that means, I may have learned and that is always valuable.  So be sure and look before you step and remember, even if things don’t go exactly like you plan today…He’s still got this. Bro. Dewayne

Oh wait…I thought that was the end of the story but it wasn’t.  So, the same day I wrote this, at lunch I went home to eat and kicked my shoes off.  As I was walking across the kitchen floor I stepped on a…get ready…rock.  Yup, right there in the kitchen.  I guess you just never know.

“Once you were alienated and hostile in your minds expressed in your evil actions. But now He has reconciled you by His physical body through His death, to present you holy, faultless, and blameless before Him.” (Colossians 1:21-22)

It was a moment I will probably never forget.  My wife and I love adventures.  We look for ways to do things on a limited budget and we’ve actually gotten pretty good at it.  A few years back we discovered we could take a train from Carbondale to Chicago, stay downtown at a nice hotel for a couple of nights and enjoy whatever was happening around us…all on a shoestring budget. We would usually go around Memorial Day or the Fourth of July.  It was pretty awesome.

Several years ago we went the week of the 4th.  We grabbed a very nice hotel room and managed to snag a room that literally faced the fireworks display.  It was awesome.  At Millennium Park they have these incredible free outdoor concerts.  Thousands of people from all walks of life gather on the large lawn to listen.  Because it is the 4th, they share a lot of patriotic music. They usually have a section where they honor the veterans by asking them to stand when the theme for their branch of the service is played.

I am a veteran.  I served in the United States Air Force for 12 years and it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. And that’s the problem.  You see, because it was so rewarding, I always felt awkward standing to be honored because I felt like I received so much more than I gave.  So that night, I knew that part of the concert was coming, and I was dreading it.  I knew that Judy would urge me to stand, I would say no, and she would give me the look.  Again.  But that night, for some reason, something changed.

It was time.  The stirring songs from each branch of the service began playing.  Soon, the Air Force theme was playing.  I looked at Judy and said, “I’m going to stand just for you.”  As I stood something happened.  First, I saw others standing that had served in the Air Force and I felt community…I stopped feeling apart and instead felt a part—a part of the family.  But what happened next was amazing.

There was a mother with a couple of young boys sitting about eight or ten feet from me.  The younger of her sons, probably seven or eight, looked at me and said this, “Mom, is he a hero?”  And I watched and listened as she said, “Yes.  He served our country so that we can be free.”  Then she turned to me and mouthed the words, “Thank you for serving.” Well, that was the highlight of the trip for me, and it was the day an unexplainable wall fell.

I am certain that I do not deserve the title hero.  The men and women with crosses over their graves in all the national cemeteries deserve that.  The warriors who came back from the various wars and conflicts bearing the physical and emotional scars of war deserve that.  But the one thing that I realized that night was that we should be thankful for our freedom.  We can and should honor each person who served for their willingness and sacrifice.

I’m still shy about standing at Veteran’s Day events.  I still feel awkward at concerts when veterans are asked to stand.  But it’s not because I’m ashamed to say I served. No, it is because I received more than I could ever give back.  I was privileged to wear the uniform of my country.  And that is pretty awesome.  But wait. There’s more.

As I write this story another one is stirring in my heart.  It flashed in my mind that this isn’t the only time, the only circumstance, that makes me feel this way.  It is also my faith in God.  That day when I followed Christ, I also received more than I could ever give back. That day I was welcomed into the family of a God who loved me enough to give His Son to a Roman cross.  Paul in the Bible tells us that we went from being alienated and hostile toward God to being able to call Him Father. Jesus caused my billion failures to disappear so He could present me faultless and blameless to His Father.

We all need heroes.  This Memorial Day would you take the time to remember those who bled and died that we could be free?  Would you take your kids to the cemetery for your community’s Memorial Day service?  I hope that you will.  But I also hope you will pause and thank the Hero of Heaven for sacrificing His life so that people like you and me can be truly free.  And finally, next time you have the opportunity to stand not as a hero but because of the One, stand proudly and thank Him.  Thank Him that you can rest in Him.  Thank Him because He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

 “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 6:23

I was shocked. Most of us are familiar with the term “sticker shock.” That normally applies to cars. You know when we finally decide it is time to shop around for a new vehicle. The air is filled with excitement at the prospect of something new sitting in our driveway. We can feel the neighbor’s admiring smile as they drive by our driveway and admire our new wheels. We can’t wait until we can go to the dealer. There is the car of our dreams. We stop, get out and look and then we see the sticker price and then quickly our dream becomes a nightmare. We quickly get back into our car before we can be accosted by the salesman. We know he is bent on convincing us we can afford the car which is worth just about half the value of our house. Sigh and then sigh some more.

Sticker shock chapter two.  Sometimes it doesn’t take a visit to the auto dealer to experience sticker shock. Sometimes it can be right there in our email inbox.  Just last week I was going through my emails to sort out things I need and things I don’t. I like a nice and neat inbox.  So, I receive several “good deal” emails and occasionally I find some very good deals. Today was not one of those days—but something did catch my eye.

The top of the email advertised a bunch of deals from Amazon—up to 85% off. Well, I learned a long time ago that “up to” doesn’t mean a thing in advertising but still it was intriguing.  I took a look, and something caught my eye—not because it was such a good deal, but because it was a sticker shocker. Amazon was proud to announce that you could buy six regular size Hershey bars for…get ready…hang one…recharge your pacemaker…$5.38.  The regular price was $7.10. I was shocked.

My problem was twofold. First, I guess I don’t buy many candy bars, so I was unaware that candy bars and gold were on the same level these days! Someone reading this will probably think, “Where has this guy been?” Well, apparently on another planet…and that leads to problem two. You see, when I was growing up, and I acknowledge that was a few years ago, I can remember going to the store with my Daddy.  On special occasions he would splurge and buy a six pack of Snicker bars. I suppose it was always Snickers because that was his favorite.  The price was a whopping 49 cents…not for one but for six.

No, I am not stuck in the sixties but the last time I checked candy prices I thought it was like 69 cents…and for the record I thought that was too high.  As you can imagine I had candy bar sticker shock on steroids. The bottom line is everything is going up and everything costs more than it used to so I guess we might as well get used to it.

Of course, there is one thing that is immune from inflation and that is God’s gift of eternal life. Over the centuries it has never gone up…and it never will. You see, when God sent His Son to earth and when His Son willingly died on that Roman cross the price was paid in full. Anyone willing to ask can have the gift free of charge. Imagine all your sins forgiven and wiped away and a forever home in heaven. Oh and did I mention a new Best Friend who will never leave you or forsake you?

I may be shocked about this extravagant gift but not because of sticker shock…but because of love shock. How could the God who made it all pay it all for a world of people who are all unworthy.  And that is the amazing thing.  Because He is God. So, no matter how long your sin list, I hope you will trust and believe and take God up on His amazing offer.  Trust me…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

 “And above all things have fervent love for one another, for “love will cover a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

It’s an old, old story…at least for we Taylors.  As the baby of our family, I came along toward the tail end of so many good memories.  Daddy and Momma had eight kids in all.  They had five, apparently needed a break, and then decided to have three more. Well, I’m not sure how much it was a decision as it was a fact of life…no pun intended.  There were plenty of tales in the Taylor household but like I said, some happened before I came along.

Daddy and Momma started out with three boys.  From everything I know, they were all rough and tumble and that’s just the way it was.  Well, apparently, one day things got a little out of hand.  More on that in a few minutes.  What you need to know now is that one day my Momma went out to use her washing machine and made a startling discovery.  Someone had cut the hoses to the machine and the natural suspects were the three older brothers.  I’m not sure why they were suspects unless that was part of their rough and tumble motif.  I can’t verify it, but I would suspect that at some point, Momma said, “Just wait till your father gets home.”

Well, eventually he did, and Momma told him what had happened.  He lined the boys up for a time of interrogation.  They assured him that while they were rough and tumble, they weren’t stupid—there was no way they cut the hoses.  Well, Daddy didn’t buy it.  He was sure that they did.  I’m not sure how long they were in the “police lineup” but eventually Daddy said if no one would confess they would all get punished…and they did.  I don’t know if it was a switch or a belt, but they got a spanking.  Case closed.  Daddy was sure they wouldn’t be cutting anymore hoses.

Well, the only problem was this—they didn’t cut them in the first place.  Several days later, one of their rough and tumble “friends” confessed to the deed.  It turns out in their rough and tumbling the “friend” had gotten mad and decided to get a little revenge so…he cut the hoses.  When word got back to Daddy, he called a meeting of “the boys.”  Again, I wasn’t there but I heard it went something like this.  “Boys, I found out you didn’t cut the hoses to the washing machine—your “friend” did it.  Now, at this point in the story it would seem logical that Daddy would at least attempt to apologize for the undue punishment.  That didn’t happen.  Instead, he said something like this, “You probably needed the spanking anyway.”

I know, you’re thinking, “What! That’s not right.  It’s not fair.” But don’t be too quick to cast judgement on my Daddy.  The bottom line is he should have apologized, but that was a different time and we don’t know all the details.  Sometimes it is hard for people to apologize…even when they are wrong.  Can you identify with that?  I know I sure can. Often the words, “I’m sorry” just couldn’t find their way off my tongue. And if you are a member of the human race, you have probably experienced that too.

Here’s what I do know.  My Daddy was a good man, but he wasn’t a perfect man.  He, like me, made mistakes.  When I heard this story a long time ago, honestly, we probably all laughed.  Later, I’m sure it made me think and I came to this conclusion. Instead of judging him for a lapse of judgement in a moment of time I decided to go with what I knew to be true.  My Daddy loved them, and he loved me and that was simply enough.  I was willing to let love cover a multitude of sins.  I know God’s love has sure covered a big multitude of my sins…and I am grateful for that.

The big take away is this.  If you find someone has cut your washing machine hoses the most likely suspect probably doesn’t live in your house—possibly but not probably.  But more than that—always remember we are recipients of a whole pile of God’s grace and we should be willing to extend a little.  Forgiveness is not for the person you’re forgiving—it is for you.  A heart willing to forgive is a happy heart.  And, when you find yourself against a rock and hard place trying to forgive someone who hurt you…just remember your Heavenly Father is an expert at forgiving and trust me, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “When they kept on questioning Him, He straightened up and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:7

I should have listened.  I was a pretty good kid when I was young but let’s be honest.  Pretty good doesn’t mean perfect and pretty good doesn’t mean not mischievous.  I think it means I was somewhere close to normal.  The only thing is normal can still get you into trouble.

One day I was with the family and I’m pretty sure we were at a laundromat.  Apparently, the washing machine had broken down and we had to do the wash at the mat.  My Daddy and I were out in the parking lot while Momma was washing the clothes.  I was about nine and bored and that is not a good combination.  The parking lot was gravel and all those rocks just seemed to be saying, “Throw me.”  So, I obliged.

At first it was a little toss here and there but the more I threw, the more I wanted to throw.  First it was random, but then I started taking aim.  Several things were laying along the edge of the parking lot and they made great targets but then I got an idea.  If hitting a can was good, imagine hitting a moving target.  So, I started chucking the rocks in the direction of the road and at the cars passing by.  Bad idea.

Now, if you are going to chuck rocks at a car, every nine-year old rock chucker knows you don’t just chuck your rock with obvious intention.  You ease into it. Well, I started easing into it and before long, my rocks were landing dangerously close to cars going by.  My Daddy thought it was kinda accidental and it garnered a “Dewayne, be careful not to hit the cars.”  He hadn’t caught onto my real plan to “ping a hub cap.”  Anyway, I kept chucking so he upped the warning.

“Dewayne, listen, don’t throw rocks at the cars.” He had finally caught on and I should have quit while I was ahead.  I finally got close enough so that we entered “Final Jeopardy.” “Question—what happens if you hit a car? Answer—I’m gonna give you a spanking.”  Yeah, well, you can probably guess where this is going.  I chucked a rock and hit a car going by and it was “Final Jeopardy.”  Daddy got mad, the driver got mad, and I got in trouble.

Well, Daddy was able to talk to the driver and he promised him the “grapes of wrath” would fall when we got home.  As he drove off, Daddy explained about the “grapes of wrath.” Translated it meant I was gonna get a spanking when we got home, and it wasn’t gonna be a little one.  So, as soon as we pulled into our driveway, I ran into the house and hid under the dining room table.  Soon, I heard Daddy’s voice, “Where are you, Dewayne?”  I felt like Adam and Eve in the garden after they had chucked rocks at God and decided to sin.  God was looking for them and they were hiding too.

And that’s where things get fuzzy.  I don’t remember the spanking which means I probably got grace instead.  It probably means that Daddy and I had a long talk about chucking rocks at cars and how that was not a good thing to do.  It must have worked because I don’t think I ever chucked another rock at a car…at least one that was moving. That day I learned about obedience and how it has a whole lot less consequences than disobedience.  I also learned about grace.  Grace is when you deserve a spanking but instead you get a talking.  But I also learned about rock chucking. I learned that it was ok to chuck rocks at things like stumps and cans, but it is not ok to chuck rocks at things like cars. When you do there are consequences…big ones.

Now, there’s another kind of rock chucking that I’m still learning about and that is chucking rocks at people. I’m not talking about waylaying someone with a stone but rather waylaying them with our judgmental acts and words. It’s what we do when we see someone fail and we decide to make ourselves feel better by knocking them down.

Jesus ran into this when some religious people found a woman sinning big-time.  They dragged her into the middle of a crowd and wanted to stone her.  They asked Jesus what would He do?  He told them that the person that had never sinned should chuck the first rock.  Well, slowly they all walked away because they had all messed up. “Where are your accusers?” Jesus asked the woman.  She replied that they had left…and indeed they had.

The only ones left were her, the sinner, and Him, the One who had never sinned.  He could have chucked rocks but instead He loved her and forgave her.  She deserved the rocks, but He gave her grace.  I like that.  A lot.  So, He dismissed her a smile and a word of “now don’t go on sinning” and the rocks stayed on the ground…right where they belong.

I am so grateful for grace…and you should be too.  If we have experienced grace, we should extend some too. You see, rocks make great parking lots and driveways, but are terrible weapons. They need to stay in the quarry or on the ground.  My Daddy showed grace then and my Dearest Daddy shows it every day.  We should too.  It’s good to know though when we are hiding under the dining room table and He calls, we can come out and sit in His lap and learn about the consequences of sin but also the wonders of grace.  So, come on out from your hiding place. We can rest in Him because, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

 “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” (Hebrews 12:11) 

I just couldn’t resist.  All of us have stories that we don’t necessarily remember but are passed down through the years.  Some are humorous, some are serious, and some are the things legends are made of.  Well, this one I believe qualifies as all three.  

When I was quite young, probably six or seven, life was pretty good.  We lived in a country setting that was rapidly becoming the suburbs of Jacksonville, Florida.  There was a subdivision being built right next to where we lived.  Some of the men who were working there would drive these cool wedge shape sticks in the ground at the corners of each lot.  They had numbers on them.  They were surveyor markers for the lots.  We thought they made great rubber band guns so we would help ourselves.  We had an endless supply of rubber bands because the newspaper came each day with one or two wrapped around it. We weren’t trying to be mischievous; we were just trying to have fun.  I bet it wasn’t fun for the guys who did the surveying.

Sometimes, our fun might become someone else’s pain.  And, this is where the story really begins.  Back in those days, going to the grocery store was the great adventure.  My dad got paid every other Friday.  Payday night we would load up in the car and go to buy groceries.  It seemed we would always buy the stuff to make sandwiches for supper when we got home which invariably included a gallon of chocolate milk.  It never saw the light of the next morning.

Well, one Friday night, we were at the grocery store and apparently, I had a rubber band left over from my adventures that day. I must have reached in my pocket and found the small piece of rubber and thought, “You know, we can have some fun with this.”  Well, I probably should have thought that through a little better, but when you are six or seven and mischievous by nature, anything is game.  I started looking for targets.

Down the aisle was a rather large woman.  And what happens next has been blocked from my memory but is stated as fact.  As we got closer to the woman, perhaps as she studied what brand of mayo to buy, I took the rubber band, placed it between my thumb and pointer finger, moved my hand, in close proximity to the intended target and let it fly.  I can only imagine what happened next.

First, I am certain she was shocked.  It must have felt like a killer bee had bit her but that wasn’t logical since she was in a store.  I’m thinking she probably spun around and looked only to see this smiling kid with a rubber band still in his hand.  To me it was all fun.  To her it was all pain.  Lesson one.  Don’t let your fun become someone else’s pain.

Second, I am certain my parents were devastated.  Since this would have been about 1960 or 61 there were not the social rules about child discipline that we have today.  Knowing my Daddy and Momma, there was probably swift and lethal retribution.  I can imagine one of them, perhaps both of them, making sure my bottom felt like her bottom.  No one would have called Children and Family Services.  They all would have said, “Let me help you with that.”

Third, I believe that this was when I began to really understand repentance.  Repentance means to turn around and go in a different direction.  If I could have gotten loose from Daddy that night, I would have definitely practiced repentance…I probably would still be running.  The other meaning of repentance is to have a change in attitude.  I am certain that happened.  If you were to ask me how many other times I decided to pop a strange lady with a rubber band in the grocery store that number would be zero.  Somehow the urge suddenly left me.  I had repented.

This is going to sound hokey, but it is memories like this that show how much my parents loved me.  They loved me enough to teach me right from wrong, respect for other people, a strong work ethic and to believe in God.  And they loved me enough to give me a swat or two when I needed it.  It all came together to help me grow, and live and love.

God is the same way.  My Daddy and Momma loved me very much, but God outshines even them.  He loves me and teaches me to do life with fewer oops and fewer consequences. I never carry rubber bands in my pocket just to avoid the temptation.  But He also loves me enough to discipline me when I need it. The author of Hebrews says it best.  He writes, “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” Spot on.  He must have popped some lady too.

So, try and show some grace.  I shouldn’t have popped the lady and I haven’t popped any more.  Don’t judge my parents for taking care of the problem.  I am grateful for the way they raised me.  And don’t be mad at God if He disciplines you.  He is way too wise to make a mistake and way too loving to do the wrong thing.  He is our “Abba Father,” our Dearest Daddy so we can trust Him.  We can rest in Him.  Because…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

 “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” Song of Solomon 2:15 

She did it again. I know you have heard about the Tooth Fairy and probably your Fairy Godmother but have you ever heard about the “Underwear Fairy?”  I am pretty certain this is not a one house deal.  I haven’t researched it extensively but from what I can gather this behind-the-scenes, mythical being shows up in houses across America and possibly around the world.

So it goes something like this.  Everyone has routines and mine looks something like this.  Wakeup, coffee with the weather lady on our local channel, quiet time with God, more coffee, exercise, breakfast, nice hot shower and get dressed for the day.  Part of that getting dressed thing involves the unmentionables of the underworld—underwear. And here is where it gets amazing.

Everyday I open a drawer in my bathroom and behold there are underwear in there.  I grab them up, put them on and bam out the door I go. Amazing.  As the days pass, the supply gets lower and lower.  And then out of the clear blue sky the drawer is full again and the process starts all over again.  I couldn’t really figure this out till one day it dawned on me.  There must be an “Underwear Fairy” who washed, folded and put my unmentionables right in my drawer.  Without reward, without asking, day after day and week after week, it happened.

It took a while but I finally decided to find out who this mythical person was.  So I camped out in my shower behind the curtain like a kid waiting on Santa Claus. And sure enough, I heard the sound of a drawer sliding open and jumped from behind the curtain and yelled, “Got you!” And what did my wandering eyes should behold?  An old guy in a red suit with eight tiny reindeer? No, that would have been weird.  A bunny rabbit with a basket? Weirder. Nope.  It was my wife Judy.

Yup…all along it was her.  She would go and get the dirty clothes basket out of my closet, carry those clothes down three flights of stairs, throw them into the washer, go back down later and throw them in the dryer, go back down later and get them out of the dryer and take them upstairs and fold them.  She would then sneak into my bathroom and quietly fill my drawer with my drawers and tee shirts.  Amazing.  And here is the crazy part.  She has been doing this for almost 50 years.  I can’t believe it took this long to catch her.

Well, that is how I came to discover the “Underwear Fairy” and that is also how I came to begin to learn something.  While all of us appreciate the big things people do for us, sometimes, maybe a lot of the times, it is the small things that matter.  Since this discovery it is not uncommon for me to say my wife, “Judy, the “Underwear Fairy” came.” And hopefully that is followed by a thank-you and maybe even a kiss.

I really had to weigh it carefully if I could write about underwear.  I even asked the fairy herself if she thought I could.  She wasn’t sure.  Well it wasn’t a matter of could…it was a matter of should.  Each day our lives are filled with the small things that people do for us…things we take for granted.  Why not take a moment today and say thank you.  If your husband takes out the trash, or the kids pickup the house, or one of the guys at the office buys donuts or any of a thousand things…say thanks.  Learn to appreciate the small things.

Tucked away in the Song of Solomon in your Bible (That is one of the books the preacher never preaches from. You might need the table of contents.) are these words, “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.”  The little foxes can be those missed opportunities when we take others for granted resulting in ingratitude. Relationships can grow stale and love can whither on the vine if we fail to water them with gratitude. Remember that.

So you might need to stop and look for the fairies and foxes in your house, your neighborhood or where you work.  Be sure and thank those around you that make your life just a little easier.  And for sure if you see the fox of ingratitude—“shoot that thing.” Oh, and on your list, be sure you have God at the top of the list of things to be grateful for.  Everyday from sunrise to sunset and beyond He is working behind the scenes and writing you love notes with acts of mercy and kindness.  Things like letting you rest in Him.  Things like letting you know, “I’ve got this.”  And He does.  Bro. Dewayne 

 “Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” James 1:2-3

At first it seemed unfair but then, there it was, conspiracy.  There is a lot of talk today about conspiracy schemes.  When and whatever happens there is someone who will say there is a dark diabolical reason for it happening.  I wasn’t sure about it until it happened to me.  Yes, there was a conspiracy.

During the COVID mess, my wife Judy and I were able to attend a pastor’s conference in North Carolina.  It was so good to pack a few things, jump into our 44 mpg Jetta and hit the road.  Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” was ringing in my ears.  We cruised across Tennessee and were heading toward North Carolina when it happened.  About five miles from the border, our GPS talky thing said, in her most gentle voice, “traffic ahead.”  Well, it wasn’t like we were in Chicago or something so that could only mean trouble.

Soon, very soon, trouble was staring me in the face.  Break-lights and slowing vehicles were everywhere.  We were in a slowdown—we were in—traffic.  Signage and the talky thing confirmed my worse fears—there was construction ahead.  Now you need to know something.  First, I am not patient in traffic.  Ok, that wasn’t totally transparent.  I am totally impatient in traffic.  In fact, I’m not patient period.  Whether it be in traffic or at the store, I am changing lanes like a one-armed paperhanger looking for the shortest and fastest lane.  The Bible says we are fearfully and wonderfully made but I must have missed the patience part.

Have you ever been driving and the traffic going in the opposite direction is stopped and you are feeling sorry for them?  Well, I was the one stopped, and I could just feel the empathy of the other drivers.  It turned out to be about a 45-minute stop and go.  The amazing part was I did pretty good.  Judy was beaming at my surprised patience.  I even said, “Well, at least going home we won’t have to deal with this.”  Soon (though not soon enough) we were through the construction—we were on our way.  Hit the fast forward button.

That was Wednesday.  Too quickly the days of the conference went by and in no time, it was time to go home.  After the conference ended at noon, we jumped into our 44 mpg Jetta and hit the road toward home.  Willie was once again whirling around in my head singing “On the Road Again.”  We were nearing the site of Wednesday’s lesson in patience feeling confident and glad that we were heading in the other direction.  And then it happened.  The GPS talky thing mentioned traffic, 14 miles per hour, and delays. Wait. What?  We were not supposed to have to deal with this. And this is when I knew there was a conspiracy.  They had changed sides.

Here’s how I think it played out.  The North Carolina Department of Transportation called the conference center, asked when I was leaving and then quickly moved the construction to the West bound side so they could get me again.  I am sure of it.  So, another slowdown, another wait in traffic, but this time they were merciful since it was only 27 minutes and 14 seconds.  Oh yes, I was counting.  And the people going east, were zooming by with looks of mercy for those of us stuck.  It just wasn’t fair.

I know the Bible well enough to know that you don’t pray for patience.  That is one prayer you won’t hear passing through my lips.  Pray for patience and you end up with traffic. Pray for patience and you end up locked in your house with three kids for three months.  So, I got that.  But there is a pesky couple of verses found in James 1:2-3 that says, “Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” I really like the Bible, but I really don’t like those verses.

Of all the emotions I feel when I am sitting in traffic, joy is not the one that comes to mind—and certainly not great joy.  But then I read verse 3 and it gives me pause.  James says I should appreciate the moments in traffic because it helps me to grow. It helps me to be a better person.  It helps me be stronger—it builds endurance.  Like lifting weights at the gym strengths muscles so trying situations strengthens our faith in God.  Which means part of our crazy world should be to make us stronger in our faith.  Hmmmm.

Well, in the end I did pretty good through traffic lesson number two and we managed to get home that evening just about on time.  Truth be known…God was good, God was faithful and even in traffic, God can be trusted.  No matter what, He has my good at His heart.  He wants me to thrive in this world and not just survive.  And that means sometimes learning patience sitting in traffic.  As you travel today wherever and however that looks, just know God is the traffic manager of your life.  Just sit back, enjoy the pause and rest in Him. He’s got this. Honk, Honk.  Bro. Dewayne

“Be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.” Luke 6:36

I heard her before I saw her. I was sitting in the backyard enjoying a beautiful Spring early afternoon and I could hear two things.  First, there was a heavy, shuffling of someone’s feet. It is the sound when a person’s feet never quite leave the ground amplified by the heavy shoes on their feet.  Second, there was a quiet mumbling coming from the same place.  I got up for some reason and walked from the patio to our driveway and as I did, I glanced down the alley that runs next to our house.  That is when I saw her.

She was wearing a worn-out flowery dress that hadn’t seen a washing machine in a very long time.  The heavy shoes that I had heard were a pair of rubber boots that strangely were flowered like her dress.  With each step, as I suspected, her feet barely left the ground. At first, I thought she might be physically challenged which caused her shuffling but then I noticed that she was staggering as her feet shuffled. It was obvious that she was under the influence of something—drunk or high or both.

I said hello to her, but she didn’t hear me or ignored me.  It was one of those times when she was there physically but not mentally. About that time some of my tribe joined me in the driveway.  My son-in-law recognized the woman and said the other day she had pulled a hatchet on him and my daughter while they were walking, and I guess that explained what happened next.

I mentioned how sad I felt for her, but I guess because of the hatchet deal he didn’t share my compassion. She struggled on past us and make it to the end of the alley.  While attempting to cross the busy street in front of our house almost stepped in front of a car. We all sorta gasped and it was then that someone mumbled something along the line that it probably would have been better if the car had hit her. I gave the Jesus lecture about she was someone that God loved, and Jesus died for, but they weren’t buying it. Oh, not that they are a hard-hearted lot, but compassion for her had been fatally wounded by the story of an old rusty hatchet.

In this crazy story, I was wanting to judge them for judging her. The bottom line is they should have felt more compassion for her—hatchet or not and I should have felt more understanding for them because of the hatchet.  You see, it really is easy to enter the courtroom of judgement in life, isn’t it? And it’s too easy to extend mercy to one while withholding from another. Perhaps it would be better to leave the judging to the one true Judge while extending mercy to everyone and anyone.  After all, that is what He did and that is what He does.  Until we have walked a while in someone else’s shoes, we probably will misread the story.  When you find yourself in an alley or anywhere else and you are tempted to judge, just remember the One who extended mercy to you…the One who no matter what…always has this.  Bro. Dewayne

 “Pilate said, “So you are a king?” Jesus responded, “You say I am a king. Actually, I was born and came into the world to testify to the truth. All who love the truth recognize that what I say is true.” “What is truth?” Pilate asked. John 18:37-38a

I am a fan of history but that doesn’t mean I know a lot.  I really do like to investigate things of the past. To me it is always fascinating to peer into the past and discover how things happened…or didn’t happen.  And, of course, there is the learning factor.  If we are wise, we can look back and learn. It has been said that those who don’t learn from the past are destined to repeat it. That can be a deal, or no deal but it can also be a tragedy.

I was reading a devotion from Pastor Greg Laurie recently.  He has a great ministry out in California, and he was writing about a guy we think a lot about—especially at this time of the year. His name—Pilate. He plays a minor major role in the Easter story.  He was the Roman leader that interrogated Jesus asking, “What is truth” and then washed his hands, figuratively and physically, of the whole Jesus affair.  In so doing, he condemned Jesus to the cross and by personally rejecting Jesus—he condemned himself to an eternity without God.

In the Roman world, men like Pilate, placed in power by a totally corrupt empire, thought themselves as gods.  They held absolute power and sway over people and their lives. Offend them and you probably would pay heavily for it. I can imagine Pilate that day somewhat drunk with power as he presided over the fate of Jesus. We can see he did wrestle with the decision but in the end, securing his continued power was all that mattered. He couldn’t risk making Rome mad, so he threw Jesus, so to speak, to the dogs.

I never considered what happened to Pilate, but Laurie sheds some light on the matter. He writes, “Pilate gave up everything for power and prestige. And how did it work out for him? According to history, he ultimately suffered banishment from high office to a place called Gaul. There, he was left broken and destitute, unwanted by Caesar, and all alone.”

But wait, there is more, much more. Laurie continues, “One night, under the cover of darkness, Pontius Pilate, the great Roman governor who could have received forgiveness from the Son of God, went out and hung himself. A workman found his body. His craving for popularity cost him everything. Had he chosen to, he could have believed in Jesus on the spot, and Jesus would have forgiven him.”

What an incredibly sad ending to a sad story. If there ever is a time when we need to learn from the past…it is here and it is now. If you are pondering the reality of Jesus and whether to follow Him or reject Him, if you are wondering if it is truly worth it or not, if you are weighing the price, remember Pilate. He indeed gave up everything for power and prestige. There is a song that asks, “What will you do with Jesus, neutral you cannot be. One day your heart will be asking, “What will He do with me, what will He do with me.” God is inviting you into His family. Worried you messed up too much?  You don’t need to. He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne