stealing – Grits with Grace

Easter, fear, forgiveness, Grace, Integrity, school days, Scripture

Sinning Starts Early

Posted on April 4, 2025March 31, 2025 by Dewayne Taylor

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

I used to think I was a pretty good kid. As I have shared with you from my past, certain memories come to life. Some are humorous, some are serious, some are painful, and some are, well, criminal. I still think the crime of the century was when I decided to rob the little world bank that my Momma brought home from church…for safekeeping. But there was at least one more thing that I did that proved for certain I was, and still am, a sinner.

I was probably eight years old. While there wasn’t a WalMart to be found there were other stores that were the forerunners of today’s retail mega-giant. Ours was called Atlantic Mills and it was the place to go for good deals for just about anything you could imagine. I remember it well because that is where we bought our Easter outfits. We would go either Friday or Saturday before Easter (depending on Daddy’s payday, of course) and the girls would get their patent leather shoes and frilly dresses and I would get a shirt and tie. Even then it was quite the event.

Easter wasn’t the only time we went to Atlantic Mills. We would occasionally go just to shop around. Of course, at my young age, I equated shopping with buying. I still do. Why go to a store if you aren’t going to buy something? That’s like going to a restaurant with no intention of eating. What? Really? So, anyway, one time we went, and it was one of those times when we weren’t buying—we were looking. Well, that just didn’t work for me, so I started begging Momma for a dollar. Now, keep in mind, a dollar in 1962 was the equivalent of the entire economy of a third world country.

Momma said no. Period, nada, ain’t gonna happen. Well, I kept begging. (I was pretty good at it. Give me enough time and I could wear anyone down.) Finally, out of shear desperation, she reached in her purse and pulled out—a quarter. Was I grateful? Of course not. Even then a quarter just didn’t have a lot of buying power. I finally gave up and took my quarter to look for a treasure. Two things happened in the next few minutes. First, I started feeling guilty for hassling my Momma and decided I should spend the quarter to buy something for her. Someone say, “Awww.”

The second thing was I realized that besides candy, there wasn’t a lot in Atlantic Mills for a quarter. Well, I looked around and found a pretty scarf that I just knew my Momma would like. The problem was it was something like $1.49. So, my young sinner/criminal mind began cooking something up. I wasn’t about to outright steal it. That could get you hard time. So, I decided that I would switch the price tags. I looked around and found something for a quarter, found a place where no one could see me, and carefully removed that price tag and put it on the scarf. There. Done deal. No one would ever know the difference. Oops.

I went to the checkout counter and found out two things. First, did you know even then there was a code on the price tag indicating what department it came from. I found out too late that they didn’t sell scarfs in hardware. Second, the checkout lady was not a newcomer to the checkout business, and she quickly realized that this scarf was worth more than a quarter. Bottom line—she nailed me. She looked down at my frightened face and into my tearing eyes and said, “Did you switch this price tag?” Well, I “spilled my guts” and I believe I even told her why. She didn’t turn me in…she didn’t have too. Her words were enough punishment. I walked away a mess with my quarter still in my hand. As far as I remember I didn’t buy anything that day and I guess I gave the quarter back to Momma. It was a total disaster.

Now, before you act as the States Attorney and put me on trial, the stature of limitations has expired on this. And besides that, I was just doing what sinners do—sin. And since we are all sinners, all of us can probably identify with this sin thing. It didn’t matter that I was eight—I was old enough to know better. I don’t know if I told Momma or not but that didn’t matter because God knew, and He is even more important than Momma. It is things like this, and a lot more, that make me a big fan of God. The way He extends His grace to sinners like me is just amazing. It is so amazing they wrote a song about it.

I well remember the guilt and shame I felt that day which probably means I did confess to God and probably to Momma too. I’m sure both forgave me. A guy named John, who was a BFF (best friend forever) of Jesus and who wrote some of the New Testament said that if we are willing to confess our sins, God is more than willing to forgive us. That is good news. And the best part? There are no limitations. His love and grace go longer and further than the “Energizer bunny.” No matter what, if we come to Him in sincerity, He will sincerely forgive us. He can handle my eight-year-old sins and my sins today. And, as always, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, loving others, prayer, pride, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Crime of the Century

Posted on May 3, 2024April 23, 2024 by Dewayne Taylor

As Jesus went on from there, He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the toll booth, and He said to him, “Follow me,” and he got up and followed Him.” Matthew 9:9 (CSB)

It was the crime of the century. Somewhere right around the time I was learning how to cut watermelon with a butcher knife, I was learning how to be a criminal. I already had the regular sin thing down by then. I could be jealous, tell a lie, be angry, be envious and be selfish—yup I was a pretty good sinner. But one day, one ordinary day, I became a thief. I became the “Al Capone” of 6008 Carlton Road.

My mom was the Girls Auxiliary teacher at the church we attended. It was a class that taught girls about God and missions. As part of the class, they would bring their change, and put it in one of those small, metal world globes. Momma, to keep it safe, brought the globe home and one day, one ordinary day, I decided to steal.

My plan was never to take all the money—that would be too obvious. I wanted just enough to go to the store and buy a water gun. So, one day, Momma and my sisters left, and I was in the house by myself. I went and took the globe to our porch and with a butter knife I began to fish the money out of the globe. Nickels, dimes, and quarters fell to the floor. When I got what I wanted I put the globe back and collected my booty. I don’t remember if I felt remorse, but I did feel fear. “What if?” I said.

So, later, Daddy went to the store, and I tagged along. I went back to the toys and picked up my water gun and bought it. Now those were the days when kids didn’t have money laying around, so Daddy asked, “Where did you get the money to buy the water gun?” I panicked but quickly and efficiently covered the crime with a lie. “Oh, I found it.” I replied. Found it indeed.

The only thing I remember from that point on is going back to the crime scene and making sure I had found all the coins that had fallen to the floor. I didn’t find any, but I did find something else. More fear and a burden of guilt. I don’t remember how the story ended. I don’t remember confessing, I know I didn’t replace the money, and I know it still bothers me to this day. I bet Momma is going to have some questions when I get to heaven. The cat is out of the bag.

So, along with being a regular sinner, I fell into stealing from God and lying to my Daddy—and probably my Momma. Thankfully, somewhere down the road, I also became forgiven. It’s too long of a story to share here but when I was 13, I was plunged into grace. I threw aside an unhealthy dose of religion and got a relationship with the God of the universe and beyond. And do you know what? That sin, and all my other sins, were forgiven, eradicated, erased, and thrown away. Amazing.

So, put your rocks down. You might be wondering, “How can a professional criminal that stole from God be a Christian—much less a preacher?” That is the wonder, mystery, and power of God’s love. You see, the worst sinners in the days of Jesus were tax collectors. They were professional thieves who betrayed their friends and country men to the Romans. Matthew was one of those. He was sitting at his collection table taking people for a ride. Then it happened.

Jesus walks up to this most unlikely person and says, “Follow me.” The other followers’ jaws dropped, the Pharisees nearly threw-up and Matthew, well, he stood up, left it all behind and followed Jesus. And, like they say, the rest is history.

I don’t know what your story is like—maybe you’re a lot better than me—maybe a lot worse. Let me tell you what I know—God loves you and wants you in His family. If you are willing to turn from your sin and follow Him, He will forgive your sins and give you a new past and a new future.

You see God can handle all this stuff we are in. Crazy days and crazy sin doesn’t faze Him. He can handle your circumstances—and your sin, no matter how much you resemble Matthew or Al Capone. Come to Him today, rest in Him today. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, loving others, Scripture, thankful, Trials

My Friend, Frances

Posted on June 21, 2023June 21, 2023 by Dewayne Taylor

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” Proverbs 17:17

Johnny Cash sang it. “My name is Sue…now you’re going to die.” Well, his name wasn’t Sue, but it was Frances. Like Sue…it was a somewhat unusual name for a man and Frances was an unusual guy. I met Frances when I went to pastor at the LaMonte Baptist Church. The church had three deacons and they were named Leo, Francis, and Floyd. All three of them were special guys and I grew to love each one of them for who they were. I was a very young, inexperienced pastor and new at the pastoring thing. So new, in fact, that when I mowed my grass at the parsonage, across the street from the church, I would wear dress pants. I wasn’t sure if pastors were allowed to wear jeans so close to the church. They can.

So, even back in 1984, Judy loved flowers and the parsonage was woefully short in that department. In fact, I’m not sure there were any flowers in the entire yard. Well, one day Judy declared that she wanted a flower bed. She began to actually plan the where’s and how’s of the flower bed. If it had been me, I would have grabbed some flowers, dug a hole, stuffed them in, and applied dirt. Good luck. Not Judy. She decided that the flower bed should go along the front of the house and that it needed to be raised. That means we needed to find some timbers to build up the height of the bed. Again, after a little thought, she decided that railroad ties would do the job.

Somehow, I casually mentioned to Frances that Judy wanted a flower bed. Now Frances was the go-to guy when it came to things like the parsonage. He had already led the charge in installing a brick flue so we could have a wood burner, so he was the natural choice for the flower bed. I said, “Frances, Judy would like to have some railroad ties for her new flower bed. Frances didn’t miss a beat. He said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five.”

Well, sure as shooting, the next day at five, Frances pulled up in his big ole dually, white Dodge pickup truck. You know there are pickup trucks too pretty to get dirty and then there are real pickup trucks. Frances had a real pickup truck. I climbed inside and we headed toward Sedalia, the largest town nearby. I figured we were heading to the hardware store there to purchase some ties. I was wrong. You see, there was a railroad that ran parallel to the main highway. We went down the road a bit and then…Frances turned.

Yup, he turned on a small road and then immediately took a right. We had arrived at the railroad tie store, only it wasn’t a store…it was the factory. I found myself in railroad tie heaven. You see, the railroad company had recently replaced their ties and the old ones were strewn all down the rails. As far as you could see there were railroad ties. I was just amazed. I should have been afraid.

Frances said, “Preacher, how many ties do you think you will need?” Well, I told him I thought ten or twelve would be enough.” So, we started going along the tracks and selecting the best ones for the flower bed. Just like a carpenter would choose the best 2×4’s at the lumber yard, we picked the best ties. This was just awesome. And then it happened. I heard the sound of a distant train whistle.

Now I didn’t think a thing about it. I was always a bit gullible and way too trusting so I had just assumed that Frances had called the local railroad office, told them the church needed a few of their old ties and got permission to get some. I was wrong. I heard the train whistle the second time and it was decidedly closer. I noticed that Frances had picked up the pace…he was moving a little faster. I still didn’t think a thing about it. I just assumed he didn’t want to be that close to the tracks when the train went by. Well, that was kind of true.

The whistle blew again and this time it must have been about a mile down the tracks and Frances said it, “Preacher, we got to go.” I did sense a bit of urgency in his voice but I kind of thought it was a safety thing. It turned out it was a bit more than that. As we got back in his truck I said, “Frances, what’s the hurry?” I was thinking we could just move the truck further away from the tracks and we could even wave at the crew as they went by. “Preacher, you don’t think they are giving us these ties, do you?” Wait. What?

Yup…I just discovered that we were stealing ties from the railroad. It wasn’t a matter of safety it was a matter of not going to jail. So, Frances cranked the engine and mashed the gas and off we went just before the train came by. In the back of the truck were a bunch of railroad ties and in the front were two guys. One was a preacher, one was a deacon, and both were guilty as sin. One knew all about it and the other was just learning but both were tie stealing criminals. Frances was smiling and I was wondering if I was going to jail. But somehow it all seemed like a great adventure.

Well, we got back to the parsonage, and we built the flower bed. Frances helped with that too. Years later when I would return to the church to preach, or perform a funeral, or maybe just drive through town, I would look and see the ties. I didn’t remember the sin (After all, I’m sure I confessed it. God had forgotten it and I figure I should too.) No, I remembered a crusty old deacon, but more than that, a friend who wanted to help. His way wasn’t ethical but all these years later, his willingness, his own brand of love is still lodged in my heart. The Book says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.”

You know there are fancy friends, and rich friends and maybe even friends in positions of power. And then there are the Frances kind of friends and that isn’t bad. Of course, if you’re gonna steal railroad ties, you need the Jesus kind of friend. His specialty is forgiving when you mess up and He’s the best friend of all. He’s the kind of friend that wouldn’t have frowned or pretend He didn’t know you when He saw you in Walmart. No, He’s the “stay by your side” friend. Through thick or thin, jail or not, He would say, “Don’t worry…just rest in Me. I’ve got this.” Now that’s my kind of friend. Bro. Dewayne

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

Sinning Starts Early

Posted on March 31, 2022March 31, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

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

I used to think I was a pretty good kid. As I have shared with you from my past, various memories come to life. Some are humorous, some are serious, some are painful, and some are, well, criminal. I still think the crime of the century was when I decided to rob the little world bank that my Mama brought home from church…for safekeeping. But there was at least one more thing that I did that proved for certain I was, and still am, a sinner.

I was probably eight years old. While there wasn’t a Wal-Mart to be found there were other stores that were the forerunners of today’s retail mega-giant. Ours was called Atlantic Mills and it was the place to go for good deals for just about anything you could imagine. I remember it well because that is where we bought our Easter outfits. We would go either Friday or Saturday before Easter (depending on Daddy’s payday, of course) and the girls would get their patent leather shoes and frilly dresses and I would get a shirt and tie. Even then it was quite the event.

Easter wasn’t the only time we went to Atlantic Mills. We would occasionally go just to shop around. Of course, at my young age, I equated shopping with buying. I still do. Why go to a store if you are going to buy something? That’s like going to a restaurant with no intention of eating. What? Really? So, anyway, one time we went, and it was one of those times when we weren’t buying—we were looking. Well, that just didn’t work for me, so I started begging Mama for a dollar. Now, keep in mind, a dollar in 1962 was the equivalent of the entire economy of a third world country.

The second thing was I really realized that besides candy, there wasn’t a lot in Atlantic Mills for a quarter. Well, I looked around and found a pretty scarf that I just knew my Mama would like. The problem was it was something like $1.49. So, my young sinner/criminal mind began cooking something up. I wasn’t about to outright steal it. That could get you hard time. So, I decided that I would switch the price tags. I looked around and found something for a quarter, found a place where no one could see me, and carefully removed that price tag and put it on the scarf. There. Done deal. No one would ever know the difference. Oops.

Now, before you act as the States Attorney and put me on trial, the stature of limitations has expired on this. And besides that, I was just doing what sinners do—sin. And since we are all sinners, all of us can probably identify with this sin thing. It didn’t matter that I was eight—I was old enough to know better. I don’t know if I told Mama or not but that didn’t matter because God knew, and He is even more important than Mama. It is things like this, and a lot more, that make me a big fan of God. The way He extends His grace to sinners like me is just amazing. It is so amazing they wrote a song about it.

Family, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture

My Name is Sue

Posted on June 29, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” Proverbs 17:17

Johnny Cash sang it. “My name is Sue…now you’re going to die.” Well, his name wasn’t Sue but it was Francis. Like Sue…it was a somewhat unusual name for a man and Francis was an unusual guy. I met Francis when I went to pastor at the LaMonte Baptist Church. The church had three deacons and they were named Leo, Francis, and Floyd. All three of them were special guys and I grew to love each one of them for who they were. I was a very young, inexperienced pastor. I was new at the pastoring thing. So new, in fact, that when I mowed my grass at the parsonage, across the street from the church, I would wear dress pants. I wasn’t sure if pastors were allowed to wear jeans so close to the church. They can.

So, even back in 1984, Judy loved flowers and the parsonage was woefully short in that department. In fact, I’m not sure there were any flowers in the entire yard. Well, one day Judy declared that she wanted a flower bed. She began to actually plan the “where’s and how’s” of the flower bed. If it would have been me, I would have grabbed some flowers, dug a hole, stuffed them in, and added dirt. Good luck. Not Judy. She decided that the flower bed should go along the front of the house and that it need to be raised. That means we needed to find some timbers to build up the height of the bed. Again, after a little thought, she decided that railroad ties would do the job.

Somehow, I casually mentioned to Francis that Judy wanted a flower bed. Now Francis was the “go-to guy” when it came to things like the parsonage. He had already led the charge in installing a brick flue so we could have a wood burner so he was the natural choice for the flower bed. I said, “Francis, Judy would like to have some railroad ties for her new flower bed”. Francis didn’t miss a beat. He said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five.”

Well, sure as shooting, the next day at five, Francis pulled up in his big ole dually, white Dodge pickup truck. You know there are pickup trucks too pretty to get dirty and then there are real pickup trucks. Francis had a real pickup truck. I climbed inside and we headed toward Sedalia the largest town nearby. I figured we were heading to the hardware store there to purchase some ties. I was wrong. You see, there was a railroad that ran parallel to the main highway. We went down the road a ways and then…Francis turned.

Yup, he turned on a small road and then immediately took a right. We had arrived at the railroad tie store only it wasn’t a store…it was the factory. I found myself in railroad tie heaven. You see, the railroad company had recently replaced their ties and the old ones were strewn all down the rails. As far as you could see there were railroad ties. I was just amazed. I should have been afraid.

Francis said, “Preacher, how many ties do you think you will need?” Well, I told him I thought ten or twelve would be enough.” So we started going along the tracks and selecting the best ones for the flower bed. Just like a carpenter would choose the best 2×4’s at the lumber yard, we picked the best ties. This was just awesome. And then it happened. I heard the sound of distant train whistle.

Now I didn’t think a thing about it. I always was a bit gullible and way too trusting. I had just assumed that Francis had called the local railroad office, told them the church needed a few of their old ties and got permission to get some. I was wrong. I heard the whistle the second time and it was decidedly closer. I noticed that Francis had picked up the pace…he was definitely moving a little faster. I still didn’t think a thing. I just assumed he didn’t want to be that close to the tracks when the train went by. Well, that was kinda true.

The whistle blew again and this time it must have been about a mile down the tracks and Francis said it, “Preacher, we gotta go.” I did sense a bit of urgency in his voice but I kinda thought it was a safety thing. It turned out it was a bit more than that. As we got back in his truck I said, “Francis, what’s the hurry?” I was thinking we could just move the truck further away from the tracks and we could even wave at the crew as they went by. “Preacher, you don’t think they are giving us these ties, do you?” Wait. What?

Yup…I just discovered that we were stealing ties from the railroad. It wasn’t a matter of safety it was a matter of not going to jail. So, Francis cranked the engine and mashed the gas and off we went just before the train came by. In the back of the truck were a bunch of railroad ties and in the front were two guys. One was a preacher, one was a deacon and both of them were guilty as sin. One knew all about it and the other was just learning but both were tie stealing criminals. Francis was smiling and I was wondering if I was going to jail. But somehow it all seemed like a great adventure.

Well, we got back to the parsonage and we built the flower bed. Francis helped with that too. Years later when I would return to the church to preach, share at a funeral or maybe just drive through town, I would look and see the ties. I didn’t remember the sin (I’m sure I confessed it. God had forgotten it and I figure I should too.) No, I remembered a crusty old deacon, but more than that, a friend who wanted to help. His way wasn’t ethical but all these years later, his willingness, his own brand of love is still lodged in my heart. The Book says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” You know there are fancy friends, and rich friends and maybe even friends in positions of power. And then there are the Francis kind of friends. Of course if you’re gonna steal railroad ties, you definitely need the Jesus kind of friend. As a matter of fact, He says, “go steal no more” in Ephesians 4:28, and I didn’t. His specialty is forgiving when you mess up and He’s the best friend of all. He’s the kind of friend that wouldn’t have frowned or pretend He didn’t know you when He saw you in Walmart. No, He’s the stay by your side friend. Through thick or thin, jail or not, He would say, “Don’t worry…just rest in Me. I’ve got this.” Now that’s my kind of friend.