Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Satan At Church

"Satan is always at the church before the preacher is in the pulpit or a member in the pew. He comes to hinder the sower, to impoverish the soil, or to corrupt the seed. He uses these tactics only when courage and faith are in the pulpit, and when zeal and prayers are in the pew. But if dead ritualism or live liberalism are in the pulpit, he does not mind because they are no danger to him."

-E.M. Bounds, "Winning The Invisible War"

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Look Out Larry!


If you'll click on the link on the right, "Conversations With Dr. Dave," you'll find a new episode on my podcast site. It is an interview I did with McCray Dove of the Dove Brothers Quartet. If you prefer, you can subscribe to the podcast via iTunes and always be up to date when new episodes arrive.

Now I know that many of you are not familiar with Southern Gospel music, or even know who McCray Dove is. Not to worry. As a matter of fact, soon I plan to upload an interview with a pastor friend who was recently elected to a denominational post. I want to get his views on denominational issues in general and Southern Baptist issues in particular.

Also, I'll be uploading in the new few weeks an interview I did with the Nelons, a reinvigorated singing group. The Nelons are historically known for their Southern Gospel roots. But this edition of the Nelons, while keeping some of the SG, is branching off into praise and worship as well as other genres of Christian music. At a recent concert I hosted, they brought the house down with their inspired singing and harmonies. On a personal note, Kelly Nelon Clark is a hoot!

So stay tuned. My longtime dream to have Larry King's job is coming true. (In part!)

Lost and Not Likely To Be Found

It appears that an entire church is missing.

The 200-year-old Church of the Resurrection was last seen in July, as Russian Orthodox Church officials were considering reopening the abandoned church. This fall, however, it appears that villagers from the nearby village of Komarovo (northeast of Moscow) dismantled it and sold it off brick by brick, according to a Nov. 13 AP story. A local businessman apparently paid one ruble (4 cents) per brick.

"Of course, this is blasphemy," an Orthodox priest told The Associated Press. "These people have to realize they committed a grave sin."

In poorer, rural regions, vandals or petty thieves regularly steal gilded icons or donations from churches and sell them for alcohol or drugs.

However, this may be the first reported case of stealing an entire church building.-From Preaching Now, Vol. 7, No. 41, November 18, 2008

Now what about those missing from the church?

Friday, November 14, 2008

New Orleans Garden District




Over the years, I have heard many horror stories about the city of New Orleans. I had never been there or even been through there. In fact, despite the fact that I have lived in Louisiana, I have only been there twice: Once to pick up a rental truck and quickly leave town to return it and then this week to attend our Louisiana Baptist Convention.

On Tuesday of this week, I joined some minister friends. I have to use this term because only one of the other three was a pastor. One was an Executive Pastor, one a bivocational Music Minister, and the other a Church Administrator.

The Executive Pastor took us to the uptown Garden District to eat lunch at the Superior Grill, leading one cynic among us to comment that he never heard of a "Mediocre Grill." In fact, the food lived up to its name. As we sat on the patio, with perfect weather, people passing by on the street, and occasional cigarette smoke wafting by, we engaged in a bit of "preacher talk."

"Preacher talk" usually consists of discussion (gossip?) about other preachers and ministers we all know. "Where is so and so now?," someone will ask, usually leading a discussion of other churches the dear brother has served.

There was also the usual critique of the convention and the speakers, coupled with other small talk. Our host/chauffeur/guide/benefactor told fascinating stories of his ministry in New Orleans and of the famous one time pastor of First Baptist, New Orleans, Dr. J.D. Grey. I was riveted.

The meal finished, we took a tour of the garden district as we headed back to the Convention. Our host told stories of the area and pointed out landmarks. We saw Loyola University, Tulane University, and a Notre Dame Seminary. We saw the old location of First Baptist, New Orleans, which is now a Catholic School. Fascinating.

But it was the beauty of the homes that I enjoyed most. They were huge stone structures belying a time when art and construction went together. No telling how much the smallest was worth, either. The tree lined boulevard was lovely. The landmarks were interesting. There is one street blocked off with a guardhouse. Our host told us that the area is so exclusive that no one could even walk down that sidestreet.

I came away impressed. Very impressed. New Orleans has its share of problems. Many of them are endemic to the area. But it is also a place of great beauty and history. It was worth the trip down just to spend a lunch hour with good old/new friends, enjoy conversing with guys like me, soak up the beautiful autumn weather, and see breathtakingly beautiful homes.

I had prejudged the city. I now repent.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Sometimes It Hurts To Be A Parent

I am the father of two fine sons. The oldest is married, living in the Dallas, TX area and is doing quite well. In his growing up days, we had more than one scare that his life was threatened. I've often said that he was spared from life threatening injuries and sicknesses due to the fact that God has a special plan for his life. He's now rejoined the blogging world. CAUTION: He tends to look at the world with much more of a jaded eye than I.

Check it out, if you dare.

That's son #1. Now for Son #2.

Caleb is our youngest son. We adopted him as a newborn baby after his birth mother at age 14 decided to give him up. (Another reason for my passionate pro-life stance.)

He is a very active 12 year old. He is quite small and skinny for his age and not particularly athletic. The other day, he came home wanting me to sign a permission slip for him to try out for the middle school basketball team. He enjoys basketball, but like his father, is not overly talented, due to his size and height and lack of consistent practice.

Eagerly the next morning, he bounced off to school to give his best shot in order to join the team. As I picked him up after school that day, he was down-trodden. "I know I'm going to get cut from the team," he said. He knew that he wasn't as fast, skilled, or as talented as the other boys. Nevertheless, he held on to some bit of hope that he would make the team.

This was a Wednesday afternoon. We went on the church that evening. On the way home, Caleb begged for me to take him to the school to see if his name was on the team roster. As we arrived at the school campus and into the parking lot, he practically had the door open before I could stop the car.

I waited patiently as he trotted to the gym door to see if his name was on the list. One look at his hanging head and slumping steps as he returned told me all I needed to know. "Coach put all the football boys on the team. I didn't make it." I knew he wanted to cry, but because he was with his dad, he resisted as best he could. I wished I could take the hurt away. I tried to tell him he did his best and that other boys also did not make the team. Of course, those words are little consolation in a situation like that.

We arrived home and he, still with a hanging head, beat a path to his room as I explained to his mother what had happened. With her best motherly compassion, she hugged and comforted him. We both wished we could hurt for him. But that would not be fair. I reminded Caleb that life wasn't always fair. I recalled how I hadn't made the first string football team when I was in middle school. Still, I wished I could wave a wand and it would be all better.

Life does have its disappointments.

Sometimes it hurts to be a parent.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Because, After All, It Is Southwest Louisiana



I moved to this area from East Texas. I was told shortly after I arrived that I would need to buy a rice cooker, because rice with a meal here is one of the five food groups. I also discovered that if it is fried, swims. or doesn't eat you first, you will likely find it on the dinner table in southern Louisiana.

The folks who live here also have a different slant on life. They value the family, seem to respect pastoral authority in the church, and love to have a good time. They love parades and none is complete without something to throw at the crowd. "Throw me something, mister!"

This time of year means that it is gumbo weather and time to go hunting for ducks and deer. One man told me that every zoo in Louisiana has two signs outside animal's cages: one that displays the name of the animal and another that lists cooking instructions.

Cajuns here tend to look at life a bit differently than folks living in other areas of this great country.

Aieeeee!