Posted in Family, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

More Notable than a Two-Dollar Bill

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are My disciples.” John 13:34-35

I have three. Sometimes money can be quite a rarity. In fact, when I was in the military and was paid every two weeks, sometimes it became quite rare indeed. The other day, I decided to display a couple of bills I have—one rare and one pretty rare.  The rare one is a one-hundred-dollar bill printed and hand dated from the Civil War. It is dated 1862 (which makes it 162 years old) and promises to pay the bearer $100 dollars, and 2 ½ cents per day in interest within six months of the end of the war—if the Confederate States won.  Oops. Perhaps the strangest thing is the fact that no one know where it came from. I found it in my mother’s Bible but beyond that…it seems no one knows how she acquired it.  Hmmmm.

The second bill I have is not nearly as old but still has an interesting story. It is a United States two-dollar bill. I read that while they are still printed in limited numbers, they are usually snatched up and stuck away. I have several—most of them received at a store or bank. I gave one to one of my grandsons. He spent it. Now what is most interesting about this two-dollar bill is the story of why it exists in the first place.

Here’s the story I heard. I read many years ago that the government wanted to measure the impact of a military base on the local economy and at the same time let the people see that impact. So, they would pay (keep in mind this is long before direct deposit) the soldiers, sailors and airmen in two-dollar bills. As the money entered the local economy, it was a ready reminder of the difference the base, or bases, were making there. In Jacksonville, Florida, where I was born and raised, we had four naval bases in the area so you can imagine there were quite a few of these two-dollar bills floating around. Whether it is true or not, it brings up a good point to consider.

If you think about it—it was a smart way to measure impact. It also made me wonder if there is a way we can measure another kind of impact—the impact of believers and churches in our communities. I remember being asked the following question at a pastor’s conference. The speaker said, “If your church closed tomorrow, would the people in your community even notice?” That was years ago but it still rings in my heart. In my years of pastoring, I always tried to lead our church to be a church that was active in our community. Here’s another tough question. If you stopped praying tomorrow would anyone besides you or those in your immediate circle know, notice or care? You see, sometimes we tend to pray—and live with a limited scope.

So, what do you say—let’s be Christ followers that don’t need a two-dollar bill (or a shirt, or a hat, or a bumper sticker) for people to notice that we belong to Jesus. Let’s let our presence be so impactful that the sweet aroma of Jesus goes wherever we go. Let’s let our words, actions, values and attitudes be so different they are noticed. After all, that is why we are here—to impact our world for His kingdom. Need a little help? All you have to do is ask. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, USA

Bumped, Bruised, and Battered

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

It was the week before Memorial Day.  Well, believe it or not, I have started exercising again.  For the last six weeks, I have been walking a couple of miles five times a week. To keep it interesting, I try and walk different routes.  So, on the Thursday before Memorial Day, I decided to walk in our local cemetery.  It is quite large, and I had a route picked out that was about nine tenths of a mile long.  I would do two laps and then part of another to get my two miles in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inside and Out

 For as a man thinks in his heart, so is he.” Proverbs 23:7

 There he stood, tall and proud…I thought.  Well, you all probably know I am pretty keen on America.  Even with all her warts and imperfections, she is still the greatest nation on the earth.  I know because I have visited plenty of other places and they all are pretty special but not like Lady Freedom.  I think all of this somehow started in my early years. My Daddy was big on respect and that meant a lot of things.  At the top of the list was God’s Word and right near the top was respect for our country and her flag.

Well, the other night we were down in Vienna, a small town about 45 minutes away where my oldest daughter and her husband and family live.  She teaches high school English there and I’m pretty keen on her and her tribe too.  My next to the oldest granddaughter was being recognized as an eighth grade member of the middle school volleyball team. At the start of the game, they played the national anthem. It was time for a teaching moment.

The whole crowd stood and faced the flag and the men were asked to remove their caps. Check and check.  I was standing next to my youngest grandson who is a whole seven years old and I must admit…pretty good at it.  So, when we stood, he stood also. I bent down and whispered that we should put our hand over our heart as a kind of respect for the flag. I was so pleased when he immediately did so.  The music began and swelled to fill the small town middle school gym.  I guess you could say it was small town America at its finest.

I glanced down to see how my grandson was doing and he was doing just fine…or so I thought. He saw me glancing down and his eye caught my eye. And, there, smack dab in the middle of The Star Spangled Banner, we had a short conversation.  It went something like this.  “Papa, do we have to do this?”  I told him no, we didn’t have to do it, but we should because we are showing respect to the flag.  He asked again, “But do we have to do it?”  I told the honest truth, “No, we don’t have to but we should want to.” I thought that was the end and I guess in a way it was because he said, “Good” and promptly sat right down.

Ok, let’s be honest here.  I was more than just a little disappointed.  When the anthem was over, if my memory serves me right, we had a short talk that went no where.  The bottom line was, he just didn’t understand if we didn’t have to, why we should. Well, he is only seven and I’m sure this topic will come up again and one day, I am hoping that he will get it and do it.  But until then I’m going to do my part to set the example and try to mold him to do what is right…even when he doesn’t want to.

Several things crossed my mind that night and even as I am pressing keys tonight. Several things prompted this story—things like showing respect and honor, things like passing on something to the next generation, things like standing up and for things that are worthy. But there is something more.  It made me question how often, how many times do we do something just because we have to?  You see, it made me think that while it is important to do the right thing…we should always check and evaluate the why—why we tell the truth, why we don’t steal or lie, or why we stay faithful to our marriage vows.

Check the why and do the right thing—that makes sense to me.  Proverbs 23:7 says, “For as a man thinks in his heart, so is he.”  In other words—the heart is what matters. It is more important than doing something just for others to see.  So, remember, check the why and yes, do the right thing.  Sometimes that is easy and sometimes hard but don’t lose heart. Remember, there is always Someone waiting to help—and always, without fail, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in birthday, Christmas, Family, friends, gratitude, life, love, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Keep What You Treasure

You don’t love me or each other as you did at first! Look how far you have fallen! Turn back to me and do the works you did at first.” Revelation 2:4-5

I was so excited…until I wasn’t.  Every new, store-bought toy was cause for big excitement at 6008 Carlton Road.  Like I’ve said before there were plenty of things laying around that a kid like me could turn into a toy. Sticks became guns and China berries became bullets.  In my eight-year-old world, a trip into the woods was as good as a trip to Africa.  But let’s be honest.  Nothing could quite beat a store-bought toy.

New toys usually showed up two times a year.  First, of course, was Christmas.  I would anxiously wait for the wish books to show up in the mail so I could start wishing.  Sometimes there were trips to the department stores downtown to window shop the trains and planes that were there on display. I remember letters to Santa, and to Momma and Daddy just in case he wasn’t available.  I would state my case and then wait for the big morning and though we never got everything we want—what we got was more than enough.

The other time that store bought toys came to 6008 was on our birthdays.  As I wrote those words, I am still amazed at how good my parents were to us…willing to do whatever it took to give us a Merry Christmas and a Happy Birthday.  I remember too that a lot of years there was a birthday party in the plans and that multiplied the gifts and the memories.  It was just all good.  In the days that followed Christmas and January 6 (my birthday and the original Christmas Day before some Pope changed it) I would play and play with those new toys…until I didn’t.

There always came a time when I got too rough and it broke, or I got bored as the newness wore off, or I just moved on to something else…but it always happened.  The thing I thought I couldn’t live without became a discarded memory.  One of my favorite Christmas toys was a Daisy double-barrel BB gun. I loved that gun and if I had taken care of it, today it would be very valuable.  Well, I didn’t.  I learned at my brother’s funeral that apparently his son and my nephew claimed it after I had discarded it.  Where it went from there is anybody’s guess.

The truth is we are a fickle bunch.  We soon enough grow tired of whatever is our current fancy and before long what was yesterday’s treasure is today’s trash.  Rarely do we care for things the way we should. While it is true of toys, unfortunately, it is also true of the more important things in life.  We give our word about something but find it only lasts while it is convenient.  We make vows to love someone “till death do us part” and too often rewrite the deal to read, “till I change my mind.”  We build our character and then trade it to save face.  We often sell the truth so we can buy a lie for the same reason—convenience or pride.

It is amazing how quick we grow tired of the toys, people, and values in our life.  We say we value this or that but as soon as this or that becomes difficult or inconvenient, well, what once mattered suddenly doesn’t anymore.  So, what should we do?  Good question.  I believe the root of the answer lies in remembering. Someone once said before you quit you need to remember why you started in the first place.  That’s good.  And before we discard, something or someone, we need to remember what caused us to make the commitment in the first place.

In the book of the Revelation, near the end of the Bible, Jesus spoke and said this, “You don’t love me or each other as you did at first! Look how far you have fallen! Turn back to me and do the works you did at first.” Those are powerful words…words that we should pay attention to.  If we do, perhaps, we will be slower to throw away, to walk away, or run away from the things that matter…what we used to value.  The really good news is that the God who created us never, ever grows tired of us.  We are as precious to Him as the first day we met Him.  He loves us so much and wants to help us.  In other words, as always, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne