"I'll Have To Verify That"

The title of this post was the response I got from my son when I asked him whether there would be room for the rest of the family to spend the night at his house after a musical we were to attend put on on by him and his fellow church musicians.

It got a roaring laugh response. My wife, ever vigilant to "overhear" conversations I have with him burst into laughter. I don't think he ever got it. He deadpanned the response, much like an answer I would expect if I had burdened a customer sales representative with my latest problem. Of course, this would have occurred long after canned music and a plea to "please wait; your call IS important to us."

He hasn't even been married a month yet. But he gets it. Little goes on domestically unless She Who Provides Hospitality agrees. I learned a long time ago not to make plans, invite guests to our home, or make other foolish decisions without first checking in with the one who a friend of mine laughingly refers to as "The Comptroller."

As a matter of fact, they had no spare bed (no room at the inn!) and the guest bedroom is still full of wedding presents. To be fair, she was at work at the time and the possibility of overnight guests- even family- had not been discussed by the happy newlywed couple.

My wife joked, "He gets it!" He knows better to do anything unless he checks with headquarters. I guess for all the discussion and debate among Christians about "male headship," and the recent chiding of Republican presidential contender Mike Huckabee about the Baptist Faith And Message statement that a "wife is to submit graciously to her husband," us husbands still must "verify" our decisions. I am reminded of my friend, Bill, who is still in the doghouse with his wife over his procrastination concerning painting and wallpapering their new home. As a matter of fact, I couldn't resist bringing this up with him and her upon a recent visit to their house. I enjoyed throwing a couple of verbal hand grenades to them and watching them explode. Poor Bill. Am I a sadist?

Male headship? Father knows best? Sure. Just make sure you verify it. Most of us husbands know who the power is behind the throne really is.

With tongue in cheek,
D. Holder

What Is Really Important?

It is amazing how what one thinks is important changes over the years. A baby thinks eating and being comfortable are most important. A child thinks fun and games are very important.

Adults sometimes have their priorities shaken up. When illness strikes, health becomes the most important issue, when before it could have been many other things.

Several years ago, I was driving home on a Monday afternoon from a full day of classes in Little Rock, AR. My thoughts were on what I needed to do when I got home. However, the falling freezing mist changed what was important to me.

The road became icy. Bridges and overpasses were particularly treacherous. I began to consider "holing up" for the night. But at each possible stop I resolved to go just a little further, though very slowly. Many times I held my breath as I sensed my truck sliding over an icy patch.

I prayed. Getting home safely became the most important concern. Thinking of home, warmth and safety spurred me onward. I prayed some more.

When I arrived, I came home to a roaring fire in the fireplace and a wife and son eager to see me. I discovered that many of our church family knew of my plight and were praying for me. I learned again how much those things really mattered to me.

The welcome reception of a family, the prayers of the saints, and faith in my God became very important.

What else really matters?

From The Church Newsletter

This Christmas season will be very different for me and my family. First, slightly over two months ago, my mother died. My father died a little over two years ago. As someone recently told me, “It seems like mothers hold the family together. When they are gone, the children scatter.” With Mother gone, the Christmas celebration will be quite different.

Second, our oldest son was married a couple of weeks ago. He and his new wife used up the rest of their vacation time in Hawaii on a honeymoon; therefore, they will not have time to come “home” this Christmas. That will have to wait until after the first of the year. How dare them to do that! They chose a honeymoon over a Christmas visit with their folks!

Thus, the family changes. It loses members and it gains other ones. Isn’t it interesting how we go back in time in our mental trips and recall our childhood Christmases? I recall the presents under the tree, pizza on Christmas Eve, and a trip to Mississippi to see my grandparents.

Now we children have grown up, and the grandparents and the parents have gone on to glory. Things change. It is enough to make one feel wistful and nostalgic.

But life goes on. We still have another son at home whose eyes dance with delight when he mentions his Christmas list. The child in me lives on in him. One day he, too, will grow up and leave home to start his own family. Another change. In a sense, we lose another son.

But hopefully, from both of those sons, we gain grandchildren. The cycle begins anew. We lose loved ones. We gain new ones.

The apostle Paul declared that the sufferings of this world are not worthy to be compared with the gains in glory awaiting us. By faith I believe that one day, this old body will be exchanged for a brand new, glorious body in a home “not made with hands.”

Now, that’s a change I can eagerly await.

From my heart to yours and our family to yours, have a blessed Christmas.

Celebrating the Savior,

Good News, Bad News

I guess I am getting known for my love of church signs. Recently I received a copy of an article reviewing two books on church signs from a friend. By sheer coincidence, I was given a copy of one of those books last Thursday from some church members. Also recently, a pastor who happened to looking at our church website read this blog and sent me this picture.


He said some church members shared it with him. who had run across it on one of their travels. Honestly, I have to ask if this sign was intentional. The irony is obvious, unless, of course, the person who put the letters on the sign is unhappy with his or her pastor. Yet there is still another way to interpret this sign- being that the sign letterer was inviting the reader to hear the pastor preach on this vital topic.

Either option is possible given the lack of any other information. The lesson, though, applies to life. Virtually any happening can be interpreted in various ways. A person dying, while some would say is sad, in some cases could be quite happy. I recently officiated a funeral for a woman who was ready to die and couldn't understand why she had to linger. Her death, for some might be considered sad, but for her family it was a glad occasion. It all depends on how you interpret the event.

In the back of my mind, this discussion reminds of a routine on the old "Hee Haw" television show my father was fond of watching. As I recall, Archie Campbell and a companion would be discussing the latest news. After Archie would inform his friend of some event, the friend would comment, "That's good!" or "That's bad!" depending on how the news struck him. Archie would then reply to the opposite and explain why. The comedy team of Abbott and Costello were also know for this type of humor.

For instance, take this dialogue from an admittedly "corny" joke:

"Did ya hear I got married?"
"Oh, that's good."
"No, that's bad! She's ugly!"
"Oh, that's bad."
"No, that's good! She's rich."
"Oh, that's good!"
"No, that's bad! She won't give me a cent."
"Oh, that's bad
"No, that's good! She bought me servants and a big house"
"Oh, that's good."
"No, that's bad! The house burnt down."
"Oh, that's bad."
"No, that's good! She was in it

Good or bad? Many things, like the message on the sign, are a matter of interpretation.

That's good.

Or is that bad?

I'm Not Dr. Phil; My Brother Is

My brother, Phil, recently obtained his degree from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is Dr. Phil Holder. Of course, he is not to be confused with the other Dr. Phil. If you'd like his take on life and ministry, check out his blog here.

The other Dr. Phil is the currently reigning pop psychologist, with his own TV program and diet book. He enters the expert mode when questioned by news reporters about psychological issues. He dispenses advice with ease. No doubt his words are helpful to many. He is the "go to man" for many seeking wisdom in relationships and life.

A newly rediscovered trend in preaching is for the preacher to become a pulpit Dr. Phil. In this mode, the preacher dispenses advice in a sort of "how to" clinic with the communicants of his church serving as his "group." A tip of the hat is given to the Bible, but the authority of the Bible is diminished as verses are used to support and dispense advice for living.

This approach goes back to the days of the classic self affirmed liberal preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick. Fosdick said that every sermon must have as its object the purpose of solving some problem from life. I don't completely disagree with his words, but I am not sure that this approach proclaims the "whole counsel of God."

I read the other day in one preacher's blog how he had gone to church to hear a word from God, and only got a few verses dispensed with good advice on how to manage some life issue. That preacher said he left the service empty and hungry- hungry for a true word from God.

I have had a reformation in my own preaching. In my constant striving to be "relevant" and to "communicate," I found myself falling victim to the tip-your-hat-to-the-Bible and dispense-some-group-counseling mentality. In short, I believe I was short circuiting the message and authority of scripture.

I recalled the words of the apostle Paul, who once said that he determined to know nothing except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. It dawned on me that as far as good advice goes there are plenty of words from people like Dr. Phil. (Not my brother, but the psychologist.) In short, what I have to offer that is unique is a word from God. That is the word I must share. The field of pop psychology is full of many experts and wannabes. The sharing of a true word from God is in much shorter supply. Preaching the word of God is more than group counseling. It is the sharing and proclamation of a word from God that I am called. To this end, I will preach.

After all, I'm not Dr. Phil.
My brother is.
And he's a preacher, too!

Space Paintings

I have great faith in the future, because I am constantly amazed at the variety and creativity in the world. For example, check out this creative spraypainter....

I Married My Son

Last Saturday, on a chilly wet evening in Dallas, I stood before my oldest son and his bride and officiated their wedding. It was a momentous event for me- one that I don't intend to repeat, except for when my youngest son gets married and it had better not be soon.

It was an event unique for me. I have never previously officiated at a wedding and been the father of the groom. I had prepared myself. I thought through the ceremony and selected fitting paragraphs and vows. I also knew that the ceremony had to be personal. After all, this was my eldest son who I was marrying.

I noted his birth which came after two miscarriages and was followed by another. I recalled his profession of faith as a boy and found a picture just before we left of my baptizing him. Where did this little boy looking up at his father go? I remembered my discussion with him of a call to ministry and it being made public on a Sunday evening at church. I also noted how his mother and I prayed for his wife, Melody, before we even knew her practically since the day he was born. I made reference to all of this- at least on paper.

I had good intentions. I was going to recite these memories just before I led the happy couple in a recitation of their vows. That is, until the ceremony began.

It began a few minutes late. Because of the weather, there were several late arrivals, so we delayed the start. The crowd was a decent size, composed mostly of fellow workers of the bride and groom with a smattering of family and friends. Four people came all the way from southwest Louisiana to join us. I give them my "You Are My Heroes" award.

I was fine and relaxed until a corsage was placed on the seat my mother, the grandmother of the groom, would have sat. She died only two months earlier and was thus unable to see her first grandchild get married. Seeing the empty chair caused my lips to quiver and my eyes to get misty. I quickly attempted regain my ministerial composure.

Then, a humorous moment occurred as an usher- the bride's brother- prepared to usher their mother to the altar to light the unity candle. Just as the couple prepared to embark down the aisle, his cell phone went off. It was not a mild tinkle which was emitted. It sounded like some sort of rap song at full volume. The now rattled usher hastily ripped the phone out of his pocket and silenced its urgent appeal to be answered- at least for the moment. Then, just as the mother and her escort son prepared to march down the aisle a second time, the cell phone again announced its presence. Thoroughly rattled, the young usher deftly jerked the phone out of his pocket for the second time and slammed it against the wall. This did not silence it, however. It took the best man retrieving it out of the corner into which it had been flung and turning it off and into blissful silence. I struggled to keep from laughing out loud. After all, the doors were wide open and the guests, sensing something was going on, were beginning to crane their necks for a look back our way. We were all glad that this did not occur even 60 seconds later when the usher and his mother would be at the front of the auditorium. In my mind's eye, I still see this possibility and imagine his mother attempting some sort of violent act upon her son.

After this minor misfortune, the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. That is, until I mounted the stage and began the ceremony.

I choked.

I got misty eyed. The loss of my dear mother was still tender to me. The corsage in the empty seat only reminded me of this fact. The emotions of my eldest son getting married overcame me. I could barely speak above a whisper as I choked back tears. I paused. I spoke. I regained composure only to lose it again. I could barely speak the words I had carefully thought out. I was barely able above a whisper to recall my son's birth, salvation experience, call to ministry, and announcement that "this is the one" he would marry.

Not to worry, though. By the time we got to the "I will" part, I was back to more of my ministerial self. We got through the ceremony, the exchange of vows, and the giving of rings. My son and his new bride are on their honeymoon in Hawaii, and I am back home.

It is difficult to wear both of those hats- father of the groom as well as officiating minister. I suspect I did as well as any of my brethren in the same situation. People commented that the ceremony was very touching. I hope so. In one fell swoop, I proved that preachers are humans, too.

After all, I married my son.

Creative Signery

A friend of mine knows I like to collect examples of unusual signs, particularly church signs. He was only happy to oblige with the following offering recently. The words on the sign refer to a sermon the preacher was preaching, but I don't recall to what the title refers. Perhaps it was about John the Baptist. Anyway, you will probably agree that it is a particularly "arresting" church sign.

Hearty Hardy

Today, pastor Hardy Estes got the thrill and scare of his life. He preached the annual convention sermon at the Louisiana Baptist Convention. Hardy serves as pastor of the Marlow Baptist Church in Pitkin, Louisiana. You are forgiven if you don't know where that is. In fact, Hardy stated that it is located exactly "Four miles from the nearest cold coke." He preached on being good soldier of Jesus Christ. He also preached with good homespun humor filled with references to fishing and being from a very tiny "community."

This year, bucking the custom of having some rather well known preacher preach the annual message, our convention chose Bro. Estes. I say it with love- you don't get much more country than Hardy. This man has a heart as big as our state- and it shows. His preaching to Louisiana Baptists was probably one of the biggest thrills of his life. He admitted that he was scared to death. Imagine standing in front of a crowd of Baptists and trying to tell them anything. Especially preachers!

After admitting that he was standing in tall weeds, Hardy proceeded to share his heart with us. And that's what his message was- from his heart. I've heard many preachers stand to share "what God has laid on my heart," but never have I heard a message with more heart. Hardy is certainly a "hearty" preacher. He had the crowd laughing one moment and feeling convicted about not being a good soldier of Jesus Christ in another. I'll take his pathos over the well polished preachers, as I've aspired to be, who can conjugate Greek verbs with lexical precision but lack any real passion.

If I sound a bit gushing, Hardy is a friend of mine. I saw him a distance away after he preached and hollered at him. As soon as I came up to him, he gave me a bear hug that almost swept me off my feet. That's him- all heart. When I complimented him on his new looking sport coat, he noted that he got it for $35 on special at J.C. Penney. No pretentions with Bro. Estes!

I might also hasten to add that Hardy has been a student of mine in seminary extension classes. In fact, he took my "Introduction To Preaching" class. I would say that I taught him everything he knows. But I can't. I didn't teach him to preach from his heart. That can't be taught. But it can be shown and seen.

I saw it today in a country preacher from Pitkin, Louisiana.

Well done, my brother!

Controversies Make Conventions

I just returned from the 160th annual meeting of the Louisiana Baptist Convention in Alexandria, LA. We elected a new president, a first and second vice president, passed a budget, several resolutions and charter changes, heard reports from the various entities, and enjoyed some great gumbo in the exhibit area, which was provided by the Disaster Relief Team. (After all, this IS Louisiana!)

What we didn't have is controversy, unless you mean by controversy a group of well fed preachers debating over where to go for lunch.

What we also didn't have was a huge crowd. I didn't hear the final count of registered messengers, but it looked to me like there were fewer than even last year. I also noted that they seemed to have left even earlier. In fact, most of the business matters were rather routine, which delighted convention president, Scott Thompson, who noted joyfully more than one that "we are ahead of schedule." No complaint here.

In my short time in this state and in my experience with Baptist conventions some sort of controversy or controversies gets people out in attendance. It also makes for some interesting drama on the convention floor, and delicious overheard conversations as convention goers "politic" in the halls.

It is a bit sad that people don't seem to attend conventions when things are peaceful as when a fight is brewing. Is this the Baptist way? In a rather sad/humorous way, a friend of mine once dryly noted, "I went to a fight and a Baptist convention broke out." Because we are democratic in polity, and very much so, controversy is part of the Baptist way of life. A lack of controversy is what we pray for and seek.

But it doesn't necessarily make for well attended conventions.

Outside The Camp

During some recent commentary work, I discovered this bit of wisdom from a study of the book of Hebrews by A.W. Pink. The quoted material was written several centuries ago, but could well have been written today- with the exception of the controversies it mentions. Those were hot items in previous generations. We have plenty of our own new ones today.

Notice how this article insightfully reveals how people start cults, movements, and other uprisings. All one needs to do is insert the issue or controversy and the words apply. I would be interested in comments on this article:

In his most interesting and instructive work, "The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity" - a standard work which long found a place in all well-furnished libraries - Richard Hooker, three hundred years ago, described the tactics followed by the Separatist leaders who preceded or were contemporaneous with him. We will give here a very brief digest of the same.

First, In seeking to win the people's attention unto their "cause, the would-be Separatists, loudly proclaimed the faults and failings of those in high places, magnifying and reproving the same with much severity, and thereby obtaining the reputation of great faithfulness, spiritual discernment, love of holiness.

Second, those faults and corruptions which have their roots in human frailty, are attributed to an unscriptural and evil ecclesiastical government, whereby they are regarded as possessing much wisdom in determining the cause of those sins they denounce: whereas in reality, the very failures they decry will adhere to any form of government which may be established.

Third, having thus obtained such sway in the hearts of their hearers, these men now propose their own form of church government (or whatever else they are pleased to designate their scheme or system), declaring with a great blowing of trumpets that it is the only sovereign remedy for the evils which poor Christen¬dom is groaning under, embellishing the same with an ear-tickling name or designation.

Fourth, they now "interpret" (?) the Scriptures in such a way that everything in them is made to favor their discipline, and discredit the contrary.

Fifth, then they seek to persuade the credulous that, they have been favored with a special illumination of the Spirit, whereby they are able to discern these things in the Word, while others reading it perceive them not.

Sixth, assured that they are led by the Spirit "This hath bred high terms of separation between such and the rest of the world, whereby the one sort are termed, The brethren, The godly, and so forth; the other, worldlings, time-servers, pleasers of men not of God." (Hooker, Vol. 1, p. 106).

Finally, the deceived are now easily drawn to become ardent propagators of their new tenets, zealous proselytizers, seeking to persuade others to leave the apostate "Camp" and join them on "the true scriptural ground." "Let any man of contrary opinion open his mouth to persuade them, and they close their ears: his reasons they weigh not, all is answered with 'We are of God, He that knoweth God heareth us' (1 John 4:6), as for the rest, ye are of the world" (Hooker). Such was the policy pursued by the "Fifth Monarchy men," the "Brownists," Thos. Cartwright and his fol¬lowing in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Such, too was the course taken by John Kelly in Ireland, Alex. Campbell in Kentucky, more than a century ago—the latter founding “the Christian Church,” denouncing all others as unscriptural. So that Mr. J.N. Darby followed a well-trodden path!

Life Out Of Death

It has been an unusual season of pastoral ministry for me. I have officiated at 6 funerals in less than two weeks, attended others, and visited with families whose loves ones are struggling with life and death.

At each funeral service, I am clearly reminded that I speak to more lost people than on any given Sunday. On a Saturday two weeks ago, I officiated at the funeral of one of our long time members. Her nephew spoke at the service. By that afternoon, he himself died in a tragic motorcycle accident. The thought I had was that my funeral message was the last one he ever heard. I am so glad I made it clear how to know Jesus Christ as savior.

At another one a few days later, I shared the way to Jesus Christ. I then added (a bit uncharacteristically) that if anyone prayed to received Christ, I’d love to hear about it. As one lady made her way past the casket and out the door, she took my hand and said, “I prayed that prayer.” Out of death, comes life.

So lately, more and more I have been thinking about eternal things- things that really matter. Life and death issues. Buildings get built, and ultimately fall, but a soul won to Christ lives eternal.

Bro. Berry Is My Hero

Pastor Berry followed me as pastor at the first church I served right out of seminary. That was 20 years ago. He now celebrates his 20th anniversary at the same church. That is quite an accomplishment, given the propensity of pastors to "move to a new field" quite frequently.

Most will not recognize Bro. Berry's name. He serves in an out of the way place at a church that seems almost forgotten and literally sits a mile from Mexico. The church itself has an interesting history. It occupies a former cantina and holds Sunday School in rooms formerly dedicated to the pleasure of the Cantina's customers. The Church's fellowship hall sits on the site of a pit that has been since filled in that housed the former cantina.

The church has largely served an Anglo congregation and is surrounded by Spanish speakers. One of my frustrations was being unable to speak Spanish. Bro. Berry is fluent in Spanish and started a Spanish work at the church since his arrival. Over the years, the church has had it struggles. During one particularly painful trial, it almost lost all of its property and buildings to a pastor intent in building his own kingdom instead of Christ's.

If I named Lakewood Church, Second Baptist Houston, First Baptist Atlanta, or Saddleback church, you could probably name the pastor. I could talk all day about Bro. Berry and his church and most folks would respond with puzzled looks.

I have often said that it may well be that many pastors who labor faithfully in relative obscurity will hear a "Well done, thou good and faithful servant" long before some T.V. celebrity pastors will. Somehow we have bought into the largely American cultural belief that the larger the church, the better the pastor.

Bro. Berry is my hero, not because he is relatively unknown, has served his church for over 20 years, or even because he speaks Spanish.

I got a letter from some members of his church this week. It mentioned the pastor's anniversary and upcoming celebration. It also noted the church's recent struggles with finances. The letter noted as well that pastor Berry had served the summer months with no pay as a volunteer. The writing was quick to note, however, that finances had improved a bit and Bro. Berry's salary had been caught up. This past summer, the choice was either pay the electric bill. (in a South Texas summer this is quite a chore) or pay the pastor. The pastor chose the light bill over himself.

This was done without fanfare. This was done unknown to much of the world. But the Lord knows.

After I read that letter, I had tears in my eyes. This pastor served for free last summer to keep his churh open. Compare his unselfish act with those who constantly solict more money for their ministries and promise miracles to those who give. Think of Bro. Berry in South Texas when you are tempted to think that most preachers are in it just for the money.

For Bro. Berry, it wasn't about the money. It was about the kingdom.

Happy Anniversary, Bro. Berry. You're MY hero.

Dear Folks...

Among my parent's things as we cleaned out old papers and began the task of clearing up the estate, we found this letter I had sent them 28 August 1997, days after my 40th birthday:

Dear Folks.

Thank you for so many things:

1. Giving me life.
2. Giving me a Christian home.
3. Encouraging me.
4. Disciplining me when I needed it.
5. Being a constant in a changing world.
6. Caring for my wife and children- we had a wonderful time in Arkansas and you helped make it possible.
7. Insisting I get a good education.
8. Helping me buy cars, record players, and a building.
9. Praying for me.
10. Always showing love.

That's my top ten! Thank you also for the birthday money. I bought an organizer for my desktop. I had the best birthday I ever had. I'll have to tell you about it. Again, thank you for keeping Caleb, for the money, and so many things for which I could never thank you enough.

I love you both,
David

It Finally Happened

Slightly over a month ago I officially joined the "Over The Hill" club. (I have a vehicle decal and certificate to prove it.) I joined the ranks of those age 50 and over. The day was pleasant enough, with friends coming over that evening to share a meal and birthday cake. There were also various attempts to embarrass me. I admit they were successful when they took a picture of me outfitted in goofy glasses and buck teeth. I thought it was the end of the matter until this embarrassing photo appeared in church and on my pulpit the next day! Of course, no one admits to this prank nor knows anything about it.

I think I had fairly well adjusted to my new sense of mortality until I arrived home from being with my family during my mother's surgery and death. I had collected a number of receipts for meals and such. It was a bit of a shock when I discovered the receipt which I now display, with apologies for the poor contrast. If you notice closely, you will discover that along with the meal, I was blessed with a "senior discount." Now that is not so bad, but I did not ask for the discount! My insecurity kicks in and I ask myself, "Do I really look like a senior?" Admittedly, the hair is grayer, and the wrinkles are more numerous. But am I really looking my age? Apparently the clerk thought so and didn't have to ask, nor did I have to tell.

I mourned the passing of my mother. Now I mourn the passing of my youth. Both can never return. But in many ways I wish neither of them back.

Oh, well. It's not all bad to grow older. It even pays.

Expected, But Unexpected

Sometime last Friday night, my mother went to be with Jesus and all those who have gone before her in Christ. She had a surgical procedure done that day from which she never awakened on this side of eternity. Early Friday morning, after being informed that my mother had not yet awakened from the surgery, had no brain functions, and was supported by a respirator and IV drugs, my brother, sister and I decided to let her go. Within about 30 minutes all physical activity ceased. On one level, it was a relief, for it confirmed the fact that she was sustained only by life support- something she would not have wanted.

We buried her yesterday in a service that was fitting for one who had loved God, her family, her church, and growing things. Surrounded by these things, we had a service of remembrance and victory. My brother, Phil, and I shared brief words of Scripture and tributes. Jaylon and Karen Wall sang wonderfully. Her pastor, Scott Neathery, paid a wonderful tribute spiced with quotes and verses from Streams In The Desert devotional that she used for many years.

Mother had been a staunch member of First Baptist Church, Wake Village. She had served on various committees and in many ministries. She was a prayer warrior and a soul winner. Perhaps I am biased, but she was one of the Godliest women many others and I have ever met. The memorial service was a fitting tribute to a woman who no doubt heard “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” when she dropped the robe of flesh and rose.

Mother had faced breast cancer, caring for my father until his death with Parkinson’s and a number of other problems such as caring for my autistic brother with courage and faith. The past few years wore down her spirit and body, but her faith never wavered. So when it was time for her to cross over Jordan, she was ready.

My family and I just were not quite ready. But then, is anyone ever completely ready for a loved one to die? Thus the title of this entry- “Expected, But Unexpected.” We will all die one day. But will we all be ready? If “our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness” then we will be ready. If not, then no amount of time will prepare us for eternity- without Christ.

I wish we’d all been ready.

Space Paintings

I think you'll find this link interesting:

It's Been A Week

As a bonus for this day, I add a post from my brother, Phil's New Creation blog:


I am sorry I have not written in over a week now. My goal has been to write here at least twice a week. Sometimes, however, in the midst of the fun, life happens and priorities have to change.

As most of you know, my mother went into the hospital last Wednesday with a tumor on her brain. She has battled cancer for two years. The tumor is operable. We were told yesterday afternoon that the surgery will either be Thursday or Friday. The surgeon is very confident the surgery will be successful. Mom is also battling depression. I appreciate your prayers for both her physical and emotional well-being.

The words of Isaiah 26:3 keep echoing in my mind.
You will keep in perfect peace
him whose mind is steadfast,
because he trusts in you.

Baptists And Aboxistentialism

Earlier, this week, I attended the Executive Board meeting for our Louisiana Baptist Convention. We, of course, conducted business, ate wonderful food, and fellowshipped. I had a wonderful exchange with my friend, John, whom I have known since college days. The frightening thing is that he and I have similar sense of humor. I haven't laughed as much in a long time.

He knows of the existence of this blog, so I will please him and mention a particular reference we made to another church leader. This is also a gratuitous effort on my part since John now insists that this blog resides upon his "favorites" list.

The above mentioned church leader is one who, by his own admission, likes to "think outside the box." As we stood in the lunch line, it occurred to me that this man, to play off the term "atheist," is an "aboxist." This means that he is "without a box." With great delight I announced this thought to him and John. John, ever the quick witted one that he is, immediately extended the thought to include the idea that our friend subscribes to the philosophy of "aboxistentialism." Before long, we had our hapless friend on speaking tours, writing books, and becoming a talking head on his theories of "aboxistentialism." It was all great fun and perhaps the newly coined term can one day be used in polite company. We do need more leaders and churches willing to be "aboxistentialists."

To move on, another thing I enjoy about such meetings is the chance to network with other pastors and church leaders. I hear about what is going wrong and right at their churches. I heard a few horror stories and a few reports that are cause for celebration. One thing I took away is gratitude.

I am grateful that my church is not embroiled in some controversy.
I am grateful to have a staff that is willing and able to cover for me when I am not away.
I am grateful that an "out to get the pastor" squad has not yet been mobilized.
I am grateful for what God is doing in churches to reach and save the lost.
I am grateful to be able to hear the reports we heard and conduct the business we conducted.

I decided that when I return to my church, I just wanted to put my arms around the congregation and tell them I loved them. I realized anew this week "how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." I love my congregation and they seem to, for the most part, love me!

I leave refreshed, smiling, and thankful.

That's the kind of denominational meeting I wish I could grant to all who "labor and are heavy laden" in denominational service.

Hey, Sweetie!

Being a Diet Coke guzzler, I have occasion to frequent the convenience stores in my area, and in other areas when I am on the road. This means that I am daily, and sometimes more than once a day, in some convenience store filling my "jug." I like Diet Coke, but prefer it of the fountain variety. One friend of mine insists that he'd rather have it in the bottle because he says, "you get a consistent quality." He is right- some fountains dispense much better product than others. I have been known to dump the entire contents of my newly drawn jug of Diet Coke because of a bad taste. On the other hand, there are a few fountains I frequent because it tastes so good there.

Anyway, because of my frequent journeys to convenience stores, I do get known by the clerks. A few cut me some slack on my refill prices. In many ways, fountain drinks can be cheaper- another plus to consider in shopping.

Now to today's" what's up with this?" I have found a few clerks, all women, who call me "sweetie," "dear," "baby" "sweetheart," and other such endearing terms. To be sure, I do not know these ladies, which makes me wonder what they would call me if we were on a first name basis. I find this casual familiarity a bit disconcerting. I don't mind being friendly with strangers behind the counter, but I am not so sure about all this chumminess. For all these ladies know, I may be an outlaw on the run. I may have cased the store for a robbery. They don't know me. Why address me with such endearing terms? Frankly, it is a bit embarrassing and I wonder also if it is a bit unprofessional. If a male clerk spoke to female customers this way, would it be appreciated? I'll not even consider what would happen if a male clerk addressed another male as "sweetie."

Maybe it is the casual nature our society seems to relish. But truly the only sweet thing I seek in the corner convenience store is a Diet Coke. Speaking of, I'm on the way, sweetheart!

I Saw It In The Obituaries

I recently read an article which stated that one of the most read sections
of the newspaper is the obituaries. In our local paper, they are located
just inside the main section on page 2. Displayed prominently, they often
include pictures and other items of memorabilia of the deceased. In recent
years, I have noticed a trend on the obituary page that recalls the
anniversary or the birthday of the deceased. Usually an ad featuring a
picture of the loved one is included, along with the dates of birth and
death, with notes such as "It's Your First Birthday In Heaven," or "We Miss

You." Of course, the deceased is unable to read the ad, but the sentiments
of the grieving are expressed.

Because of my work (pastor) I try to keep up with the daily obituary notices
in the newspapers. I was once very glad I did. Early one morning, I
happened to notice that I was officiating at a funeral I didn't know about
for someone I didn't know. When I contacted the funeral director, he
admitted he hadn't contacted me, but said, "I had to put something in the
paper." Great, just be sure you contact the person whose name you put in
the paper before you do it. Actually, I had moved out of the area and was
unable to officiate. I always did wonder who ended up preaching that
service.

In reading obituaries, I note some are long, others very brief. Some have
no mention of birthdates or even service dates. Often, a presiding minister
or person is not mentioned. Are people having more "services of
remembrance," or "celebrations of life," as opposed to funeral services?
Some obituaries are as interesting as biography to me, particularly when the
person has led an active and noteworthy life.

I saw one recently that made me think. After it noted the death of the
person, it simply said, "She loved to play cards." It made me think: of a
long life, was there not more that could be said of this person? Life does
not consist of just playing cards. Was this the most consuming purpose and
pursuit of her life? Is not life more than card playing? I honestly hope I
will be remembered for something more than my pastimes.

On the other hand, another recent obituary noted a man who was an "avid
golfer," who loved sports and travel. He was also known as a generous,
loving man. Perhaps the most touching remembrance to me was the brief
observation that the man "was a man of honesty, integrity, and unbreakable
conviction." Ah, would that be said of me as well! Would that it could be
said of every man that we were men of generosity, integrity, compassion, and
conviction. I didn't know this man, but I wish I did. He sounds like my
kind of person.

When it is all said and done, more is said than done. This man went and did
it and did it well. Others said it about him.

That's my kind of obituary.

Dueling Signs

Today’s post includes one of my favorite blog topics: interesting church signs. Well ... it's not a church sign, but close. I have heard of church splits, but not a “cemetery split.”

Let my friend, Dr. Rick, tell the story: "Sardis Cemetery is an old, old, old, cemetery in Arkansas near a Sardis Methodist Church. The _____ Family Cemetery was created in 1985 because of a disagreement with those who run the Sardis Cemetery. (Notice the different spelling on each sign.)

I've always found it interesting that many churches are named "Sardis." I wonder if the founders ever read Revelation 3:1?"

75 Years Ago – Beauty Revue Protest

Haven’t times changed? The things that caused an outrage a generation or two ago are merely items of curiosity today. Case in point: a letter to the editor written by a pastor who is a predecessor at my church.

Editor, American Press: I, as a citizen of Calcasieu parish, wish to join with the Rev. R. H. Wynn in making a protest against a Bathing Beauty Revue being held in the little city of Lake Charles. It does seem to me that our people could offer a better moral attraction. First, it would not bring the class of people whom we would have as citizens. Second, it does not boost Lake Charles in a way we would have it boosted. I trust that the people sponsoring this move will reconsider and launch a program on a higher moral plane.~ W. J. Westberry Pastor, Sulphur Baptist Church

Unfortunately, I have no record of the result of the protests. I suspect that things went right on as they were intended. Today, we have issues much worse to protest in Lake Charles. Chief among them is the proliferation of gambling. One large casino here is working to become even larger. As part of its campaign to expand, it told of expanding job opportunities in our parish.

What astounds me is that area merchants seem to go along with their arguments. It seems to me that a dollar spent in a casino is a dollar NOT spent at a furniture store, a grocery store, etc. Some will say that this is discretionary money. Perhaps, but how discretionary is it to lose a house, valued possessions, jobs, and even a family due to gambling? The cost to private lives is immeasurable.

Beyond that, we in our parish have put so many eggs in the gambling basket, so to speak, i.e. become dependant upon gambling, that when Texas legalizes it, we will suffer greatly. For some, this is all well into the future, a mess for someone else to clean up.

At this point, being unable to change the way things are, I, too, must protest things like legalized gambling. I commend the good pastor for his protests on moral grounds of the Bathing Beauty Revue and wish that was all I had to protest in Southwest Louisiana.

Play By Play

Today I listened to a very interesting radio interview with sportscaster, Bill Mercer. He is a sports broadcasting pro with a voice to match. Since I have a great interest in radio and host a radio show as a hobby, I wanted to hear what he had to say. Currently, he teaches a course in sports broadcasting at North Texas State University.

He has a deep, resonant voice, one that he said he had to work to rid of an inbred "Oklahoma drawl." Just the voice is enough to capture my attention and make me want to listen.

Several callers rang in and praised this man for the professionalism and quality in his broadcasting. But it was something that he said almost in passing that has kept me thinking all day. He said that he refused to run down and criticise players on the field, unlike some broadcasters do.

He has a great point. I just read an appeal from Frank Page, president of the Southern Baptist Convention, calling for rational dialogue and a ceasefire in personal attacks and character assassinations, IN THE SBC! That's right, Southern Baptist pastors and leaders have had a field day attacking one another in blogs and websites. Page appeals, "For Christ's Sake, Can We Stop It?" I know that these same pastors would be upset if their church members talked about them the way they talk about fellow ministers.

What is needed is for people to talk civilly about each other, and refuse to run other people down, even if there is an obvious opportunity. Mercer is clear on that issue: he won't do it. Even the interviewer commented, "You won't say anything bad about anybody?" Mercer's reply was basically that there is enough of that going on and there is no need for it.

Amen! Say it, Mr. Mercer!

Mother said, "If you haven't got anything good to say about anybody, then don't say it."

That's good advice, on or off the air.

"Didja Find Everything You Need?"

This is what the nice gentlemen standing outside the store in the humid garden section asked as I was departing with a sack of newly purchased treasures. Normally, that is an offhand question and I normally give a equally bland reply, "Yep."

But this afternoon, the sheer silliness of the question struck me. Perhaps it is because I have been sick this week and had far too much time on my hands to think about and reflect upon things. I suddenly realized what a rediculous question the otherwise well meaning man made. Several thoughts ran through my mind:

1. Perhaps he is store security and asks questions like this of suspicious people to discover any nervousness, shifting eyes, or other signs of potential shoplifters.

2. "No, would you come inside and help me look?" (Wonder how he would have responded?)

3. Hey, would I be leaving this store if I DIDN'T find what I need?

4. This store doesn't have everything I need anyway.

5. Most of the stuff I think I need, I don't really need.

6. If there were something I REALLY needed, I might not be looking here anyway.

7. When I shop, unlike my wife, I zero in for the kill. I need little time to find, neutralize the target, dash to the nearest cashier, reach to the parking lot in record time. Trying to find things without asking anyone is one of the "guy things" I do.

8. What business of this is his anyway?

9. Why couldn't he just have said, "Thank you for shopping _________________."

10. Why couldn't he just have said, "Have a nice day?" Because I could then have said, "I'll have any sort of day I wish, thank you." (Owing to the "Big Bumper.")

11. "No, I just come in here and wonder around aimlessly hoping to find something I might need."

Finally,

12. "Well, I see you're fresh out of stuff I need today. I'll be back tomorrow."

Have a nice day. Thank you for visiting my blog. I hope you found something here you need.

Ode To 50

Today, I have reached half century mark. It was fifty years ago on this day that my mother bore her first child- me. And she has been paying for it ever since. I've thought about those clever things you can say and reflect upon as you reach milestones like this, so I have a couple of thoughts on becoming 50 years old.

1. There seems to be more people younger than me than older than me. Who moved? There are fewer grandfather/grandmother types, and now I am seeing fewer parent types. I am becoming, with my generation, "king of the hill."

2. There is a wisdom of life's experiences I can fall back upon to guide me in making decisions, leading my life, and leading my church. I certainly don't think I have seen it all, but I sometimes think I am coming close. That wellspring of wisdom I am passing on to a generation of new leaders. I told them last Sunday how I wish someone had done this for me 25 years ago.

3. I am finding it easier to just say what I think. In younger days, wanting to please others and not wishing to hurt feelings, cause conflict, or even disagree, I tended to keep conflicting perspectives and opinions to myself in one on one discourse. I didn't like confrontation. Really, I still don't, but I am not afraid to just say what is on mind, but temper the truth with love. I also find that the older I get, the more I appreciate this in others. So many people beat around the bush or indirectly hint at their points. Just tell me what you think!

4. Also, it is still good to have a birthday. They are not nearly as much fun as when I was six and got bicycle, and a tommy gun. For many years, my mother would make my favorite cake- strawberry cake with strawberry icing! Now the cake is the problem. A birthday is like a day when you are afforded a luxury to "have it your way." I like that for one 24 hour period a year.

5. Finally, though I enjoy birthdays, and enjoy celebrating with others, I am not as fond of having to sing the restaurant's birthday song as a fellow diner celebrates his or her birthday. I never liked much fuss over my birthday, so I try not to make a scene. Now, if I want to embarrass someone....

There is- me at mid century, midlife, and out of thoughts.

Culturocentricities

When we arrived at London Gatwick airport, jetlagged, we then took a two hour bus ride to Oxford. It was 7 in the morning London time and 1:00 am inside me. My son and I settled into separate seats to stretch out because the bus was not very crowded. It wasn't long as the English countryside passed by that I nodded off for a brief nap. I then dozed for the rest of the trip.

When we arrived at the Central Bus station, something seemed different to me about that bus trip.

I asked my son, Sam, "Did you notice anything different about that bus ride?"

"Not really," was his reply.

I said, "Did you notice how quiet it was on the bus?" He merely grunted. Not only was it sedate on the bus, but pretty much everywhere we went in England, things were fairly quiet, even in large restaurants. No boom boxes. No shouting, primping, yelling out, or calls for someone to pay attention. Even the most outlandish folks were not loud or obnoxious. There is a gentility present in the U.K. that is sadly lacking in American Culture.

It is natural to judge other cultures by one's own culture. By most of our yardsticks, the opposing culture gets lower marks. I did notice that things moved slower in England, and though people were friendly, they were, well, reserved. I was fascinated with the fact that radio dial found only 5 or 6 stations, and none of them walked on other, in contrast to the crowded dials for virtually any location in the U.S. I also missed the wide open spaces of home -the "uncrowded days-" and the variety of the local neighborhood megamart, but I didn't miss the "in your face; look at me!" attitude many Americans seem to have.

In that regard, our culture appears to be inferior. We lack the ability to have civil debates on television without someone shouting at someone else as we "take a timeout for this word from our sponsor." In short, many Americans seem to feel that the louder it is, the better it is.

I respectfully disagree. It was nice to snooze on a quiet busride through an English morning. Any conversation was low, civil and respectful. That's something that seems to be lacking in American culture.

In that regard, the British have us beat.

Things Are Different In England

Things like electrical outlets, phones, and even eating at restaurants are so different. There is a quaintness I have only read about.

Even phrases like "Give way,: (Yield) and explanations of things sound funny to the American ear. Not to mention that everyone drives on the wrong side. Double decker buses are everywhere.

People are quite friendly there. Everyone was most helpful in finding directions and one lady went after a piece of paper that blew out of my hand and brought it back to me.

Perhaps one of the greatest challenges for me was jet lag. As we arrived, we had been up about 20 hours and it was only 7 am at Oxford! I was bushed when we went to bed. I got about 3 hours of sleep in 24. The noise outside with people doing things at all hours and emergency vehicles has been a bit disruptive, but it was a good night's sleep.

We walked around and took in a few sights. Most all buildings here are very old and made of stone. They are very gothic and many look like castles. There are many "pubs," or public houses that serve food and drink. Even the toilets, as they widely call them here, are different. Many have big bowls on the wall above the throne.
The first day for lunch we ate at the pub (Eagle and Child) that C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein hung out as part of the "inklings." It was there that Lewis convinced Tolkein to publish the novel he originally wrote for his children- "The Lord of The Rings."

We later took a C.S. Lewis tour led by a man who knew Lewis as a child. He is quite adamant that Lewis' legacy needs to be preserved in his own country. Lewis garners more respect in America than in his own country.


More on Lewis later.
Cheers!

Proclaimer's Place

As promised, I will be posting some pictures from my recent trip to Oxford, England. Oxford University is a 900 year old institution comprised of 67 colleges offering one degree from the university.

Last week, at the Baptist College, Regent's Park, a few other preachers, my son, and I studied the art and craft of preaching with the homiletic genius, Dr. Joel Gregory. I wa careful exegesis, good hermeneutics, and creative homiletics. I was reminded of things I haven't considered in depth since seminary days. No doubt the setting at one of the world's top 5 universities was a big plus.s challenged to return home with renewed energy to approach the task of preaching with careful exegesis, good hermeneutics, and creative homiletics.


This is the class of approximately 20 men, meeting in the chapel of Regent's Park, discussing the preaching topic of the day. We came from Washington State, the South, and the Northeast. Some of us had attended the seminar before and others of us were like me, newbies. We sat in a small room for 5 hours each day with no air conditioning! Air conditioning really wasn't needed since the high temperature was in the high 70's with very low humidity. The greatest challenge with the open windows was the distraction of street noises and one persistent lawn maintenance worker!

Do we look like we learned anything?














On Wednesday afternoon, we took a tour a C.S. Lewis tour, hosted by Ron Brind, who knew Lewis as a child. He also is a childhood friend of Lewis' stepson, Douglas Gresham. Interestingly enough, the prophet Lewis is not without honor, except in his own country. Our host told us that of over 190 people he interviewed personally most at Oxford, where Lewis lived and taught, either did not know him, or thought that he had written "Alice In Wonderland." In my next post, I'll conduct a brief tour of C.S. Lewis sites, which will be somewhat limited due to the amount of space the blog host will allow me.

Learning To Preach (Again)

I've been quiet lately on this blog, but it is because I've been attending a preaching conference. You can read more about it here.

You will notice me in the corner of those shots. My son, Samuel, is the young man with long locks and an inquisitive mind. He took me on this trip. It is really neat that the guy would want his old man along. You will notice that I am doing my best to look scholarly and attentive.

We also took a C.S. Lewis tour and I will be posting some pictures as well as thoughts and reflections later.

Cheers!

The Day In Pictures

In a previous blog entry, I promised to post some pictures of the noteburning at Southside Baptist. I also promised to explain the signs on the gate. The reason for them is in part due to Hurricane Rita and in part due to my friend Bill.

When Rita hit southwest Louisiana, my family and I evacuated to Carthage with our RV in tow. We stayed at some friends' house and didn't need the RV. Because I feared high winds, I parked the RV (with permission) at Southside under their "pavilion." By midweek, after the storm passed, I was asked to move it due to the fact that the children needed to use the area it occupied for their AWANA activities. Bill and I were dutifully dispatched to move it to another location.

Unfortunately, as we left the house, I backed into a car standing in the street at the end of the driveway. Bill admitted distracting me with his talk, so I let him take the blame. :) The damage was minor to the other car -a dented fender- and almost unnoticeable on my SUV. After a visit from a city policeman and exchanging insurance information, we were again on our way. I was a bit shaken by it all.

We arrived at the church, hitched up to the RV and were again on our way. We arrived at another friend's place and I began to set up the trailer. I went inside and noticed sunlight streaming in from the roof. It was a curious thing to me as I tried to figure out why this was so. Just then, my wife and Kathy, another friend, arrived. My wife was (a bit) agitated.

She informed me that our rooftop air conditioner was lying on Southside's parking lot. That explained the hole in the roof. She also informed me that we had tried to go under a bar at the entrance to the parking lot designed to keep large trucks out. As we went under the bar, we neatly skimmed off the air conditioner on top, ripped the rubber roof, and messed some other things up.

We had no idea. As we went under that bar, neither Bill or I heard or saw anything. We were blissfully ignorant until my wife drove up. Again, Bill took blame for distracting me with his observations and insights. I was already upset because of the previous incident of backing into another car.

Two accidents in a very short time! When members of Southside Church learned of my plight, their response was to laugh and poke fun at my misfortune. I deserved it, though. Damage to the bar was slight, but I did notice Sunday that it was bent. I have had a history during my tenure at the church of being a bit absent minded and accident prone.

The ironic thing of it all is that our home and property recieved minimal damage from Hurricane Rita. Aside from some downed trees and a damaged fence, we got off very lightly. The RV we had taken with us to protect was the only thing that was badly damaged. The one thing I tried to save was the one thing harmed.

Hence the signs on the gate when I arrived Sunday. The congregation still enjoys a laugh at my expense and I have the deserved reputation of being a bit hapless.

As the old saying goes, if they're talking about me, they're leaving someone else alone.

A Good Day It Was

Today, I spoke in the morning worship service at Southside Baptist Church in Carthage, TX where I was pastor before I came here to Sulphur. The occasion was a note burning celebration. As I arrived, some very interesting signs made statements that reminded me of some embarrassing moments. Need I be reminded? I will post the pictures here soon. When I do, I must share the story of my misfortune at "the gate."

The church had relocated during my tenure and incurred about a million dollar debt. It was wonderful to celebrate with them the fact that they are now debt free.

There are many emotions and thoughts. Some could not be with us for several reasons. Others who were there looked a bit...older- as did I! Children have grown or are grown up. Some have children of their own.

It was a glad occasion. It was a very affirming time. It is good for a church to have something to celebrate. The Lord knows that many churches have far too many things to be discouraged about. This was a time to rejoice and be glad.

I cannot remember a time when I have felt so loved and affirmed. The church grew and was blessed when I was there. I felt like a homecoming as a conquering hero. Another former pastor and the current interim pastor also participated in the service.

I was honored to preach the service.

There was a very good crowd. I had to remind myself that it was not about me. I had a restless night last night. I kept thinking about the message and how I wanted to say the right things- somehow to affirm their accomplishment, and challenge them for the future, all the while keeping the emphasis off of me and upon the Lord Jesus Christ. To the degree of success I achieved, I will leave to that audience. But to stand there in that place felt so right and natural- like I had never left.

Then there was dinner on the ground. How good can it get?

A friend reminded me that no matter where I go or serve from here, the fact remains that I led that church to relocate and build, no small achievement. Time cannot change that reality. It can only affirm it.

I am now home from the weekend with a case of "warm fuzzies." I am reminded of many servants of the Lord who have labored long and hard in the fields of the Lord's service, and never heard human applause or been affirmed by the ones they serve Not so for me. I heard the applause and felt such love and warmth.

And hopefully, in the background was the applause of heaven as well.

The Fred Factor

At a luncheon meeting today, I heard about a book called The Fred Factor. I had to go to a bookstore this afternoon, and just happened to find it in the bargain bin! While my wife shopped, I read the entire book. Not that my wife is necessarily a long shopper, though she at times is, rather the book is a quick read. I admit I was a bit skeptical when I read an endorsement at the beginning which said it was a one hour read. It turned out to be so for me.

Fred is a mail carrier who went the second mile to care for people along his mail route. He even went as far as to retrieve a parcel left a few doors away at the wrong house and place it at the rightful recipient's- the author's- house. The book gives advice on how to become a Fred and how to teach others on your staff or team to become Freds.

The advice is simple and pointed. Which probably explains why the book has become a hit. But if one were to summarize the message, it might be that if I add value to others, I will find value added to my life. In short, I get back what I give. All sorts of biblical allusions come to mind..."do unto others as you would have them do unto you;" "Give and it shall be given;" "The greatest among you shall be your servant." I was reminded while reading the book that practicing random acts of kindness has been advocated recently in the secular world while servant evangelism is being advocated in the church world.

The motive should be to serve, not get a reward. But inevitably, the reward does come. Fred the postman probably never dreamed that he would be the subject of a bestselling book, a seminar, and a model advocated in public. Nevertheless, his service was noted and rewarded.

It is a simple idea and one worth emulating. I'm asking myself today, "How can I add value to others?"

1. It will not necessarily be planned. I will randomly bump into people I can serve. But whether scripted or unscripted, I can be a Fred.

2. I will randomly bump into Freds or Fredericas. A few months back, after a minor traffic accident, a lady passing by stopped to assist and mother my son, who was upset and very disturbed. She stayed with us until the wrecker came. I will never forget her unselfish service to a stranger. (A shoutout to you wherever you are!)

3. Interestingly enough, the Fred Factor seems to stand out in a culture of narcissism. Isn't this what plain old fashioned service is all about? It seems astonishing that people today will go out of their way to serve us, which is precisely why they stand out.

Finally, I asked myself, "How can I pass this message on to others?" You are reading one way. I'm working on passing the message on to those closest to me.

It's all about relationships. The better we can make them, the better we live.

Long Live Fred!

David Vitter's Sins

Recently, one of our senators, David Vitter, was "outed" when it was revealed that his phone number appeared on a list published by a Washington D.C. escort service alleged to be a prostitution ring. To his credit, Vitter has acknowledged a "very serious sin," and asked for forgiveness.

Vitter is well known as a social conservative championing family values. The situation is embarrassing in the least, and hypocritical at worst. Not to mention the cost to his family, reputation, and career.

Behind it all is porn publisher, Larry Flynt. Flynt was quoted as saying, "I don't want a man like that legislating for me, especially in the areas of morality."

What is wrong with the picture of a man who publishes a porn magazine making judgements about who is and who is not moral? By no means do I excuse Vitter's behavior. He admits it and has sought forgiveness and repentance.

Further, EVERY act of legislation is, in effect, an act of morality. When a law is passed, a moral judgement is made. The law states that an act is legal or illegal. No legislator does anything but legislate morality. What Flynt is saying that certain types of morality, namely sexual, should not be legislated. But even within that genre, certain types of sexual morality recieve legal treatment. There are legal limits upon the age of consent, and so on.

But the real issue to me is that in this story a pornographer is a hero and an admittedly sinful Senator is the bad guy. No wonder our culture struggles with what moral!

When a publisher of a girly magazine starts to sound more moral than a politician who stands for morality, then somehow we've managed to call evil good and good evil.

Who is the real bad guy?

Conversations With Josh Garner Of The Florida Boys

For those of you who enjoy Southern Gospel music, I have posted a new conversation with Josh Garner of the Florida Boys on our church website here. Josh is an intelligent, thoughtful young man who is obviously a big fan of his employers.

The Florida Boys have announced their retirement effective this weekend as they fill a few dates in Texas. How ironic is it that the group from Florida would finish in Texas. However, they will be honored in a special edition at the National Quartet Convention this September. They are a legendary group and leader Les Beasley is known for the innovations and contributions he has made to the music.

The conversation will also be available through christianpodder shortly. On the left side of the home page, look for music, then Southern Gospel, then

I intend for these conversations to be regular features on the web. You can even subscribe through iTunes and not miss a one!

I enjoy Southern Gospel music and host a weekly radio show. Another thing I enjoy is interviewing people on air. When I retire, I want to have Larry King's job! I hope you enjoy the interviews, and if you have suggestions for future interviews or comments, I'd be happy to hear from you. Please leave your comments.

Unusual Church Names

Some time ago, members of a pastor list I of which am part shared some more unusual church names. I leave it to the reader to draw conclusions and ponder the comments added.

One man used to pastor the “Dividing Creek Baptist Church” in NJ.

A church in Manassas, Virginia is called "Battlefield Baptist Church," as is one in Missouri.

There is a "Little Flock" and a "Little Hope" Baptist church.

One pastor tells of "Boanerges Baptist Church" (Mark 3:17-"Sons of Thunder")

Another was pastor at the “Tomotla Baptist Church.”

There is a “Hanging Dog Baptist Church,” and a “Five Points Baptist Church.” (Five points of geography or Calvin?)

One told of being pastor at the “Katherwood Baptist Church.” The land for the church was donated by a woman named Katherine Parks, who was actually a Methodist. In an attempt to thank her for her generosity, the leaders of the new church took part of her name and put it with "wood" to create the name. The "wood" was meant to identify the church with the community which was mostly undeveloped at the time.

One pastor shared that their name is “Wallers Baptist Church.” It was named after the founding pastor and great Baptist in the 1700's John Waller... or Swearing Jack Waller as he was known before his conversion. Founded in 1769, they were at one time at 1500 people under John Waller's direction. While I think that might have been a combination of three or four churches, that was still unheard of in the 1700's.

Northwest of Fort Worth is “Paradise Baptist Church” (in Paradise,TX).

About an hour east of Dallas is “Blackjack Baptist Church.” (Located in a community called Blackjack,TX).

Also, near the border of Texas and New Mexico is “Muleshoe Baptist” (Muleshoe, TX). If you look at a map, you'll notice that Muleshoe, TX is about 10 miles from Earth, Texas.

Another pastor was from “Mary Elizabeth Baptist.” Two families donated one acre of land each on which to build a church. The mothers of the donator were Mary & Mary Elizabeth so Mary Elizabeth was chosen for the church name. When the church incorporated in the late 1990's it was discovered that there was not another SBC church named Mary Elizabeth.

The "Gum Swamp OFWB Church" was founded in 1758 and got its name from the forest of gum trees surrounding it. They are planning to celebrate their 250th homecoming in September of 2008.

Dr. Dave's Southern Gospel Conversations

If you are a Southern Gospel fan, or like interviews with Christian musicians, you can find the first of many installments of my podcasts here:

I'll be posting new conversations weekly with more movers and shakers in the industry, as well as other interesting guests.

I am interested in your reviews, thoughts, and suggestions for future interviews. I have said many times that I would love to do what interviewers like Larry King do- talk to people on air about their lives and careers. If I weren't a pastor, that would be my second calling.

Check out the link and tell me what you think.

It gives me cold chills every time I pass by it...

In my home town is a major soft drink bottling plant. I remember driving by there as a child and seeing the soft drink bottles rolling down a line, being filled with refreshment. I also recall the elementary school field trips to visit the plant. I can remember hearing from an an employee after I had grown up how that very plant was busily crushing all its returnable bottles in preparation for using non returnable bottles. An era was passing.

But I digress....

Behind the plant is a church building. Once that church building held a lively and thriving congregation. Once it contained squirming children learning about God. Once that building rang with the sounds of a worshipping community, gathered weekly to sing praises to God and hear his word.

Today that church building is a warehouse, full of soft drink cases.

The building, with beautiful white columns and red bricks, looks like hundreds of church buildings throughout the South. But inside, pallets have replaced pews. Workmen replace worshippers.

What happened? Likely, the neighborhood changed and the church didn't. It had to move out or die out. It looks as if it did both.

Could it happen to other churches? Could it happen to ours? When compassion goes cold, worship becomes work, soul winning becomes secondary, service grows sour, and sacrifice becomes superficial, it will happen. If revival does not come, many churches will become empty shells, sad and stark reminders that churches cannot live in the achievements of yesterday.

We can choose- revival or a warehouse.

A Pastoral Day

It is Monday. It rained some today. Thus, it was a rainy day Monday. According to the Carpenters, "They always get me down." Being a pastor can get you down, if you let it.

Today, I have heard several personal problems, tried to clean the mass of papers off my desk, visited the hospital, called on some shutins, visited with a family in preparation for a funeral, ministered to a discouraged couple, contacted unchurched families whose children visited our VBS last week, and now reflect upon the day- not so much tired as exhilarated.

Days like today tend to run in shifts. There will be a lull, and then there will intensive ministry demands. I often think of the days when I worked the parts counter in a car dealership. We would have periods when we stood idly with nothing to do. Then it seems customers would come out of the woodwork and we couldn't move fast enough. It was either full throttle or slow idle.

So I call today a "pastoral day." It was a day full of pastoral ministry and witnessing opportunities. It was a day of heartbreaks, hugs, and prayers. I struggle with a popular image being propounded by some megachurch pastors and potential role models. I call it the pastor/ceo. I have to agree with John Piper, "Brothers, we are not professionals."

Today was a day when I realized again I am doing exactly what God called me to do. It was so much so that I am glad I am a shepherd, not a CEO. Call me what you wish, but "pastor" is what I like best.

Great Souled Men

One of my heroes is George Washington Truett, one time pastor of the First Baptist Church of Dallas, TX. In fact, I know few from the past or present who do not respect this great preacher and Baptist statesman, save for J. Frank Norris, who attempted to rattle and shake his state of mind.

Truett once preached a sermon entitled, "Baptists And Religious Liberty." Today it is considered a classic treatise on a Baptist view of church and state. He, though being dead, still speaks.

My point is simply, "Where have men like Truett gone?" Where are our great pastor/leaders like Herschel Hobbs, and R.G. Lee? What happens as now leaders such as Adrian Rogers are gone, and others are retiring or near retirement? Why do we not have such great souled men today? Is the nature of our culture so divided and partisan that we are beyond producing leaders who somehow rise above the fray and are able to speak to an issue in such a way that brings people together instead of creates more division?

A couple of years ago, I asked one of our Convention leaders this very question. His response was a bit telling. He said, "You know, I was just discussing this with some other Convention leaders. They don't know either."

Apparently the sentiment is shared outside the church. Today I saw a bumper sticker that lamented, "I miss Reagan."

We need more great souled men.

In the words of Rudyard Kipling:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

"They Were Almost (Home),..."

"...but out of darkness appeared the train." said the father of a 12 year young lady who was killed Thursday in Baytown, Texas along with 4 other teens. Two other boys miraculously survived. The father arrived at the accident site after discovering his daughter was not in her room and hearing a loud crash. He arrived at the accident site just in time time to see rescuers take her lifeless body out of the wreck.

The girl, Loral Moyers, had been warned by her father that very evening concerning several ground rules for the summer, among them bringing the computer to him by 10:30 at night so she would not spend all night on MySpace.

He had no idea that she had been seeing two other boys and planned on sneaking out that very night.

The tragedy occurred when a stalled train blocked an intersection in the night. The intersection where it was stopped was not well marked or lit. The group of teens had somehow commandeered a Jeep and were out joyriding. They were almost home when the driver, apparently not seeing the stopped train, collided with with it, shearing off its top while the rest of the vehicle continued under the train and ended up in a ditch. Railroad workers were not even aware at the time that the accident had occurred.

The words of the father are quite poignant. They were almost home, yet the train appeared out the darkness.

We make wrong, sinful choices in life. We come to believe that we are getting away with something. We are almost home free. But suddenly, unexpectedly, a train wreck occurs. It comes out of the darkness and out of nowhere. Lives are instantly changed forever.

Some time ago, while watching a reality show featuring paramedics, I heard one of the emergency workers say, "It only takes a split second to change lives forever."

Changed forever. Families will be without children. The lazy, crazy days of summer vacation are marred with terrible sadness. The train came out of the darkness.

A solemn warning to all of us. Life has its trainwrecks, some unavoidable, and some self inflicted. The Bible says, "Your sins will find you out." None of us truly "gets away with anything. The consequences of bad choices and willful sin may be delayed.

But they surely come, like a train out of the darkness.

My heart and my prayers are with those families.