Heart and Soul

I will never forget the first time I met Pam Gibbs. I was preaching revival at Providence Baptist Church in Gallion, Alabama. Allen Patterson introduced me to her stating that Pam made the best cakes. Usually Allen bragged when he wanted something. He had “the look” when wanting something for nothing however I found Pam to be a very good cook, especially cakes. She had a secret making very moist cakes.

Later that year Gallion Baptist church called me as pastor. Gallion Baptist was near the Hale/Marengo County line seven miles north of the Providence. Providence was a member of the Bethel Baptist Association in Lindon, Alabama while Gallion was member in the Hale Baptist Association near Moundville. Gallion was closer to the Bethel office.

Since I pastored on the county line, Allen invited me to attend their monthly pastors’ conferences. Hale Association did not have them. Pam was the associational secretary. Director of Missions Gene Walley and Virginia his wife were cooking beignets the first time I attended. Since Pam and I were acquainted, she introduced me to them.

For the next three years I became a regular at the meeting enjoying the southern hospitality and country cooking of Pam. Brother Walley decided to retire, and I asked Pam if she had received many resumes. She said she had a few and asked me if I had thought about summitting one. I prayed and gave her one. I was one of thirty that applied and I was selected to number one.

I fulfilled the search committee’s requirements, and the Association called me as Director of Missions in June 2003. I served with four different associations on several different levels but never as director. I remember asking Pam to help me become a director of missions. For the next fifteen years Pam helped me. She and I made a great team, and we assembled a great team. The Alabama State Board of Missions recognized Bethel as one of its best associations.

Pam was a great hostess for all of our events. She told me she did not want to be in the limelight. I represented the association, but Pam was the heart and soul of the Bethel Baptist. She did all the planning, the work, and I got the recognition. My second year with her Samford University selected me as Director of Missons Town and Country 2005.

Pam and I had a wonderful working relationship. I was her troubleshooter. She had equipment issues that I solved for her. One time the office printer failed to function after a paper reload. Pam asked me to lay my hand on it. She told me what she did. I noticed the door where she reloaded the paper was not shut completely. I closed it laid my hand on it, mumbled something, and told her to try it. It worked. After a laugh I told her what I did.

Another time she had a computer printer that would not print then for no reason it would print. After buying another printer I discovered that the problem was that when she commanded the printer to print she did not designate how she wanted it printed. It was a wireless printer and sometimes when she went wireless the printer had been waiting for long periods of time for the command. She and I wrestled with technological demons for fifteen years.

Pam and I had many talks, lots of laughter, and serious conversations. That is one of the things I miss most. She would tell me that I was like an older brother that she could confide in and say anything. When you spend time with someone you have a special bond.

Pam made Bethel Baptist Association function. She was a wonderful planner, talented decorator, and delicious chef. Her giftedness was her ability to prepare food. She was a culinary wizard. Every event had a theme and menu to match. She continues to cook all kinds of cakes for various occasions. So much of her work and dedication were taken for granted. I knew that the success of the association was she was living her God given calling and I was able to share that time with her. We helped each other.

She did not enjoy being honored and I would surprise her with every chance I had. She deserved it. I wished I could have honored more. She was a great inspiration for me. She produced bi-monthly informational page in The Alabama Baptist. One time she did not have enough information and asked if I could write a paragraph. This started me authoring articles which became a hit for the Association.

When my days were numbered at the Bethel Baptist Association, Pam wanted me to end with dignity and pride. I told her I wanted to “ride off into the sunset.” Pam, along with Virginia Seales and Nell Dunaway, planned a very big retirement party for me. It was tremendous. Pam, it was the best event you had while you and I were together. I will never forget that when things were bad and I needed support you were there. When people were critical and sinical about my tenure, you undergirded me and held me high. Thanks for your support.

There were so many good times. I wish that the Association had held a better retirement for you. I felt as though you were not honored. You deserved better. I know that you and I served during the greatest of times for the Bethel Baptist Association. Jesus says it best: His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord. Matthew 25:21 KJV

Pam and Wayne, you were an important part of my life and ministry. There have been weddings, funerals, anniversaries, birthdays, and many more events that have drawn us together. Though distance separates us, you are always in my thoughts. I know that y’all are enjoying retirement and great-grandchildren keeps enlarging your family. Pam, thanks for the memories my dear friend and co-laborer.

 

There is a River

A fellow Alabamian the late great Hank Williams, sang,

“I went down to the river to watch the fish swim by

But I got to the river so lonesome I wanted to die, oh Lord

And then I jumped in the river, but the doggone river was dry.”

Hank understood being lonesome and the experience of heartbreak. I love the song and think of it each time I visit a river. Rivers are symbols of life and journeys, change and transformation, and renewal and emotional flow.

I went to the Tombigbee River in Demopolis, Alabama earlier this week. I find peace and solitude there. I started vising the river in 2000 when I became the pastor of the Gallion Baptist Church near Demopolis. It became a place to escape the vigorous demands of being a pastor and a place to spend time alone with God and pray as in Alison Krauss’ song Down to the River to Pray:

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

Sitting under a crepe myrtle tree spending time listening to God watching the river flow reminds me of God’s faithfulness. This last visit is one of many that I have visited since moving two hours northeast of Demopolis eight years ago. I continue to journey to Demopolis to visit my chiropractor, ophthalmologist, dentist, and medical doctor and of course the Tombigbee. It is a time of wonderful reflection especially after seeing my medical friends and receiving a good report.

Most of my visits to the Tombigbee are in the morning. Mornings on the river are special as the fog begins to dissipate with the rising sun. It’s symbolic of the clearing of my mind and the ability to see things from a different perspective.

Lights on the river at night are beautiful. Watching a coal loaded barge headed to the Gulf and to possibly China is intriguing. Watching the Demopolis Christmas parade on the water on a cold December night is beautiful. The spender of a midnight ride to the river on a motorcycle and sitting alone is transformational and the emotional renewal is formidable.

Times such as these remind me of gospel songs of the river. One is Robert Lowery’s Shall We Gather at the River.

Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

As I enjoy the flowing river I think of the longevity of the Tombigbee. It has been flowing for since the great deluge. Numerous peoples have witnessed its flowing. Many have traveled by canoe, riverboat, and tugs on the river. Scores have swum and played in its flow. It reminds us of the river of God that the Bill Gaither wrote There is a River:

There is a river, and it flows from deep within
There is a fountain, that frees the soul from sin
Come to this water, there is a vast supply
There is a river, that never shall run dry

Monday I gazed at the other shore of the Tombigbee from Demopolis and casted a wishful eye. There is nothing across except woods with the town of Livingston beyond. Samuel Stennett in 1787 penned On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand:

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
I am bound for the promised land,
I am bound for the promised land;
Oh, who will come and go with me?
I am bound for the promised land.

I am like the Hebrews in exile. They were longing to return to worship in Jerusalem. The river is a place to reflect on the greatness and faithfulness of God.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. Psalm 137:1 KJV

 

Beautiful Feet and Pig Tales

When I was Director of Missions for the Bethel Baptist Association I had the opportunity to preach at the Linden Baptist Church. My brother and his family having not heard me preach for a long time drove two hours to encourage and to hear me. I was honored to preach at a county seat church in Alabama and my brother’s family to attend that Sunday.

When my brother returned to Chilton County and his home in Jemison, Alabama, people asked him about his visit. My brother said, “Bobby preached at a large church. After having a seminary and doctorate degree he preached about the Hoppers raising pigs. I laughed because Bobby had the audience spellbound. The people sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation as he spoke from God’s Word.”

Growing up we were very poor. We tried to farm and we depended on others to plow our ground because we did not have a tractor. Somewhere along the way dad got us a Welsh pony. The pony was mean spirited, and we could not ride him. The pony was now happy with us and ran from home all the time.

Most of the time he would break into a neighbor’s pasture and spend time with cows. Finally our neighbor told daddy that he would trade two pigs for the pony. Pigs were cheap and our neighbor not able to sell the pigs wanted the pony. So, the Hoppers started raising pigs. I was in the ninth grade.

We discovered that pigs are smart. Undoubtedly they did not like living with us either and they would get out. Pigs are not rabbits, but we found that they multiplied very quickly. Piglets are prettier than puppies. Watching piglets enter into the world was fascinating for my brothers and me. More pigs created more escapes. We had good fencing, but constant repair was mandatory.

We all had pet pigs. I had a black striped landrace sow I named Getrude. Landrace pigs are high quality pork producers. They are long and are known for reproductive efficiency and adaptability.

Getrude continually escaped the pig pen. Momma and I searched but could not find how Getrude escaped. One day mom hid in the wild plum trees and watched Getrude. Gertude sashayed to the hog wire fence and climbed it like a ladder, escaping over the top like convict. She got pregnant escaping like a young lady in trouble. We never saw Getrude again.

Someone commented that they remembered that I was a great defensive football player. They wanted to know how I learned to tackle. I said, “Chasing pigs. If you can catch a pig, an opposing player is nothing.” Every football team needs to spend some practices at a pig parlor. Chasing pigs enhances agility, speed, and tackling techniques.

I been considering drafting a book about our growing up with pigs. I am going to name it Pig Tales.

I believe pigs are mean because of what happened when Jesus put the demons into them in Matthew 2:31-32. So the devils besought him, saying, If thou cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of swine. And he said unto them, Go. And when they were come out, they went into the herd of swine: and, behold, the whole herd of swine ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the waters. I know they are the devil to raise. I always joke saying, “Jesus made the first deviled ham.”

Now the sermon I preached at Linden Baptist Church. I got permission from a preacher friend to use his devotion illustrating his grandchild’s feet and I tweaked it. Using the child’s toes, he taught the Gospel using Romans 10 and the rhyme “This Little Piggy.”

He played with the big toe and said, “This little piggy went to market.”

He wiggled the second toe and said, “This little piggy stayed home.”

He wiggled the third toe and said, “This little piggy had roast beef.”

With the fourth toe he said. “This little piggy had none.”

With the little toe he said, “This little piggy squealed wee, wee, wee all the way home.

 

“This little piggy went to market” – Some believers that preach pay the ultimate sacrifice becoming missionaries, some dying.

“This little piggy stayed home.” – Some believers never leave the local church producing more believers.

“This little piggy had roast beef.” – Some churches and believers have unlimited resources.

“This little piggy had none.” – Some churches and believers have limited resources.

“This little piggy squealed wee, wee, wee all the way home.” – In the end all believers we be home with God.

 

And how shall they preach, except they be sent? as it is written, How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things! Romans 10:15 KJV

Sacred and Intimate: The Supper Table

When time was simple and less complicated we would gather around the supper table. Most of the time this was a place of comfort and replenishment but there were times of discord and discomfort. Looking back, there was more comfort and replenishment. The difficult times are more forgotten.

When we were all home, daddy sat at the head of the table, and I sat at the other end. Brothers David and Glenn sat to dad’s left with David next to him and Glenn next to me. Momma sat on dad’s right and sister Diane sat between momma and me.

Momma was last to sit on most occasions as she finished placing food on the table. When we were poor, mamma would stand at the sink and say she was not hungry. I realized she was sacrificing for us. During the good plenteous times momma fixed multiple dishes. There would be oiled taters for daddy who did not eat butter of dairy products and creamed potatoes for the rest of us. Mamma always fixed two pans of chicken and dressing. One did not have onions for David. We did not have much beef but had lots of pork when we started raising hogs. I can still smell momma’s pork roast she would have for Sunday dinners.

At one time mamma and daddy both worked evening shift. When my brothers, sister, and I got home from school, momma would have our supper waiting on the table. When momma went to working, she would buy us store bought cookies instead of having her homemade cookies, pies, and cakes. Most people call it progress we called it yuck.

Momma was a great cook. Our teenage friends discovered her cooking and the folks around the table grew exponentially.

The Hoppers are big eaters. I remember morning when daddy and my brothers are pancakes faster than momma could flap them. Hoppers often distain leftovers and daddy encouraged us to eat everything the first go-a-round. Our poor dogs and hogs suffered the consequences of our total annihilation of the food.

When times were hard, we ate fried potatoes, field peas, and cornbread. I once told momma that if I ever got grown that I would never eat fried taters, peas, and cornbread again. I was true to my word until I realized I missed momma's taters, peas, and cornbread. I wish I had some now!

Momma got used to cooking large meals and when she was alone after daddy died, she could not prepare a small meal. I remember her coming home from work and preparing a seven-course meal having to invite folks to have supper with her.

Supper time was family time. All of us were sharing life and discussing problems. Grace was always spoken. Daddy would usually call on one of us to say it. There were rules at the table. If someone asked to past a bowl or plate of food, no one could intercept food until after the one requesting got his or her portion.

Another important rule was if you dipped it, you ate it. There was no waste. Another rule was one piece at a time until everyone had a chance to get a piece. There was no reaching across the table. One politely asked to pass the food such as “pass the biscuits please.” If there was one piece left you had to ask, “Does anyone want that last piece of chicken?” If no one wanted it then you could have it.

There is a sacred bond and intimacy formed at the supper table. Hats at the table were forbidden. Shirts were mandatory. Before leaving the table, you had to ask, “May I be excused?” We were poor but tried to have good manners.

Slowly the supper included wives and husbands, kids and friends and another table. Eventually the family suppers dwindled and neither the table nor the house exists. There are wonderful memories of the supper table. Love and family traditions continue as we gather at family suppers. We all look forward to Jesus’ Supper.

 

And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God Revelation 19:9 KJV

The Infamous Bobby's Crack

I did a personality inventory when I studied for my doctorate. The presenter told me that I was scored highly in working with my hands and that for me to be creative I needed to build something to increase my creativity. He told me to build something each week if it was nothing but a bird house. I responded that I had been building my whole life until I was called into the ministry.

I have built houses, churches, bridges, cabinets, tree houses, barns, and a "she shed" for my wife Lisa. Everywhere I have served as pastor and director of missions I have remodeled or new construction. I helped create the Chilton Baptist Builders for my home Association after serving with the Carpenters of Christ back in 1982. Was a member of the Bethel Baptist Builders when I was Director of Missions for the Bethel Baptist Association from 2003 to 2017. 

I served as a building advisor for the Alabama Baptist State Board of Missions helping churches across the state of Alabama build sanctuaries, education buildings, and remodeling. My experience was the reason I was asked to serve as advisor. In each endeavor I learned some that Dr. Chuck Swindoll wrote in his book, Hand Me Another Brick, “It is impossible to lead anyone without opposition.”

When I was called to serve at the Friendship Baptist Church in Clanton in 1995, the church had been trying to build a fellowship hall. The church was utilizing an old house adjacent to the church and were wanting a new, up-to-date building but some members wanted a gymnasium. They had been debating for a decade or longer.

Seeking help, I contacted the ALSBOM (Alabama Baptist State Board of Missions), and they sent a building advisor. I never imagined that I would be one years later.

Friendship had a building committee that could not agree. After the advisor’s presentation, he suggested that we visit a building in the Birmingham area. I knew the pastor from seminary and scheduled a meeting.

My pastor friend showed us the church’s Family Life Center or a Multiservice Building. I asked what he would do differently if he had to do it again. He gave us some very pertinent and valuable information. His greatest selling point was a family life center is anything you want it to be. Friendship wanted a family life center.

The ALSBOM advisor gave us the name of a Cristian contractor, the one that build my pastor friend’s facility. He had been many across the state. To help the church the contractor told me that if the church had some to serve as its subcontractor the church could have ten to fifteen percent of the total cost, which did. I became that person.

I secured all the permits and codes. The first problem was a forty-five-minute rain after the concrete slab was finished washing it down to gravel. The chairman of the building committee said, “Well it’s God’s house and if He wants to wash the concrete, He has a reason.” We continued.

We had one building committee member that eventually “crawfished.” The family life center was seventy-five completed when I had a visit from an Alabama State Building Inspector. The committee member had a relative that was an architect. The inspector could not find any problems other than the architect tried to discredit the licensed draftsman who drew the plans.

The first event in the Family Life Center/Multiservice was a children’s play, Down By The Creekbank. The disgruntled committee never caused any more problems. Dr. Swindoll states, “It is essential to face opposition in prayer.”

But it came to pass, that when Sanballat heard that we builded the wall, he was wroth, and took great indignation, and mocked the Jews. And he spake before his brethren and the army of Samaria, and said, What do these feeble Jews? will they fortify themselves? will they sacrifice? will they make an end in a day? will they revive the stones out of the heaps of the rubbish which are burned? Now Tobiah the Ammonite was by him, and he said, Even that which they build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone wall. Hear, O our God; for we are despised: and turn their reproach upon their own head, and give them for a prey in the land of captivity: And cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out from before thee: for they have provoked thee to anger before the builders. So built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half thereof: for the people had a mind to work Nehemiah 4:1-6 KJV

 

The Family Life Center/Multiservice Building made me infamous. After the deluge and repair of the 100’ X 80’ concrete slab and before cutting an expansion joint, it cracked across the eighty feet. They call it” Bobby’s Crack.” All I can say about that is, “It’s a big un.”

 

 

 

 

SPAM or spam?

In 1983 there was a commercial that asked, “Is it live or Memorex?” It was an advancement in audio. It was difficult to make the distinction. The evolution of sound and special effects are unbelievable and imagination infinite. If you watch old movies or programs in high definition the evolution is remarkable.

Years ago my youngest son and I were doing a Star Wars marathon during the Christmas Holidays. He made the comment that Episodes IV, V, and VI needed updating. I took a few minutes to explain that when these movies previewed they were “cutting edge” technology. Most people thought that Stars Wars would flop, but millions of dollars and people followed.

Television and movies rely on deception. In high school remember watching game tapes of our Friday night football games. Coach would ask, “Hopper why didn’t you tackle that player?” I would say, Coach the film is lying, the opposing player was not that close.” The camera angle made the opposing player appear closer or just the opposite just like the passenger mirror on most vehicles do: Objects are closer than they appear. That is why football games today film with multiple cameras.

In preparation for this article, I thought about spam emails, the deception, and dangers they pose. Being global in my thinking I thought about SPAM the meat which uses pork shoulder and ham. As a young man starting a family and all that is involved, I remember that a can of SPAM was enough to last me a week. Guaranteed I had to slice it very thin. Times were hard and sacrifice was just part of “getting by.”

While researching, I found an interesting fact about SPAM. “Spam has long had a somewhat dubious reputation in the United States and, to a lesser degree, the United Kingdom, as a poverty food. Spam as a low-cost meat product gave rise to the Scottish colloquial term "Spam valley" to describe certain affluent housing areas where residents have an outward appearance of wealth but, in private, may be living at poverty levels.”

Growing up we thought SPAM was rich folks' food. My wife Lisa keeps SPAM in the food pantry. Fried SPAM and eggs for supper is a staple for us. Now I can cut thick side slices and make a SPAMburger. I deceive myself pretending it is a big juicy hamburger.

That brings me back to Spam emails which are unwanted or unsolicited messages sent to large numbers of recipients. Ranging from harmless marketing promotions to dangerous phishing attempts or malware delivery one has to use wisdom. SPAM is the inspiration for Spam.

It is rooted in a Monty Python cafe sketch using SPAM in every food item. This gave birth to Spam being digital clutter. It reminds me of my ninth grade Communism class where I learned that if you tell a lie big enough and long enough, people will believe it. Mama and daddy taught me, “Don’t believe anything you hear and half of what you see.” Repeated bombardment of stuff changes society and culture.

With AI (Artificial Intelligence) it is getting to where one cannot believe what one sees. There are spam and scams that seem real, but when held under scrutiny they are fake. I fear that with continual advancement that AI, or something more sophisticated, will be more deceptive.

Spam and other malicious malware play on human emotion to deceive. SPAM may fill the needs of people in times of hardship; technological spam offers that which leads to hardships. Let us use wisdom when tempted. Knowing the Word of God is key to discerning with faith what is Live or what is Memorex so to speak.

And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression.1 Timothy 2:14 KJV

Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. 1 Timothy 4:1 KJV

 I think I'm going in the kitchen and fix a SPAM and sliced onion sandwich with mayonnaise and mustard. 

 

 

 

CUZ: A Good Samaritan

One spring night a young woman traveled from the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico to the Bluegrass state of Kentucky. She had experienced the sun, the suds, and the sin of spring holiday on the golden beaches. Her and other beach worshippers filled Interstate 65 creating a steady flow of headlights pointed North.

It was not long after passing exit 231 just north of Calera, Alabama when she heard the roar and felt the disintegration of one of her tires. Her joys of the spender of the blue waters and blue skies now replaced with the darkness, an eerie feeling, and the unknown of an Alabama night. The continuous flow of beach worshippers focused on home.

Good beach worshippers changed lanes and passed on the other side. Other people saw the dilemma and passed on the other side saying, “That poor girl.” They feared delay and trepidation of the unknown as the stranded vehicle disappeared in the hundreds of headlights that blinded those that looked in their rearview mirrors.

Just a few miles from her situation MC and Charley were bathing after a shift of working in the cement plant. MC, an oiler helper on the cement kilns, washed the cement, coal, lime dust, and grease from his tired body. Charley, a feed end man on the lime kilns showered away the dust and grime from crushed limestone that covered him.

MC and Charley transferred from a sister cement plant in North Birmingham Plant when it closed. In the move, they retained their seniority and other benefits. Charley began working in 1948, four years prior to my birth, which was over thirty years at the time.

MC ‘s tenure was not as long as Charley. Charley and MC rode to and from North Birmingham, about fifty-mile round trip. Their mode of travel was a tan 1969 Dodge Charger covered overtime with cement and lime dust from the plant. It was ragged, but dependable.

Bathed and dressed in fresh street clothes after working from three until eleven pm, the two journeyed from Calera. As these two friends of mine started home they spotted the young lady sitting alone just about a mile from the exit. They stopped a short distance behind. MC could see the flat tire and very carefully got the young lady’s attention.

MC told me the story of what happened. MC and I had made friends working side by side as cement kiln oilers. Our bond was strong enough that we called each other Cuz. He, a black man from North Birmingham, and I being a country boy from rural Alabama, were an odd mix. We were close friends and he said he knew the young white girl has horrified in the dark night.

MC was dark skinned and could look and be intimidating. Most of the men in the plant feared him. I have watched him sharpen his pocketknife as our foreman and other employees would confront him. He said sharping the pocketknife softened the confrontation.

Once some boycotters at a department store would not allow him entrance. MC walked back to his automobile, opened the truck, and retrieved a pistol. Reaching the boycotters the second time, he pointed the pistol in their faces and said, “If you sorry people would work, this department store would hire you. I’m going in to pick up my lay-a-way.” He did.

MC taught me about dealing with intimidation. He said, “Cuz, look them in the eye and don’t backdown. Most people that intimidate are cowards.” I found his wisdom very true.

MC said, “I walked up to the young woman and told her to stay in her car and open the truck that Charley and I would fix her flat.” She told him that she did not have a spare tire. MC told her that his Charger tire would fit her car and she could travel to a service station or she could continue to use his tire. He asked where she was headed. She said that she was headed back to college in Kentucky. MC asked, “What school?”

The school was the same one as MC’s daughter attended. MC told his daughter’s name and said when you get another tire give mine to my daughter.

MC told me that he treated the young woman as he hoped someone would help his daughter. That’s the kind of friends MC and Charley were. After I became a minister, MC said, “Cuz I knew all along God was calling you to preach.

 

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Luke 310:30-35

 

Thanks for the memories Cuz

 

 

 

 

Breanna, Hummingbirds, and Moments of Contemplation

 This morning, I was enjoying the morning sun climbing above the trees as four hummingbirds battled for three feeders. The feeders are close proximity to the porch swing where I was basking in the glow of the beautiful morning.

I have named the birds and have gained their trust. They fly right up to my face and we make eye contact. There is Tootie Green, Rebel, Johnny Reb, and Redneck. Tootie Green is the self-appointed guardian of the feeders driving the others away. Rebel and Johnny Reb are gray and while Tootie is gone they will simultaneously feed on opposite sides of the feeder. Tootie has a green ring around its neck, while Redneck of course has a red ring around his neck.

Tootie is the aggressor while Redneck is a loner. Watching my tiny friend war reminds me of WWI aerial dog fighting. It is a constant battle and amusing spectacle as they chase one another.

I remind Tootie not to be so greedy. There are three feeders with four ports for their long-pointed beaks to feed. While meditating on their rush and battle to be ahead, I thought of Breanna, the driver of a hummingbird type of white compact SUV. I have not been properly introduced to Breanna. My first encounter with her was on US Highway 31 between Thorsby and Lomax, Alabama. She had perfected the art of tailgating or drafting as they termed it at the Talladega Speedway in Talladega, Alabama.

I was the sixth vehicle in a caravan on the long stretch called Bean’s straight. There were oncoming cars and none of the six of us could pass. The white SUV’s driver was a young blonde female who kept drafting me as she zigzagged in and out the center lane.

The five vehicles ahead of me were maintaining a safe distance from each other. Traveling speed was consistent with the fifty-five miles per hour speed limit. Suddenly, the while SUV flew from behind me to pass six vehicles which is illegal in Alabama. Having been hit by a speeding car in the pass, I slowed and the young blonde speed merchant cut me off. That is when I spotted her name on her vanity license plate, Breanna.

She took my place for the remainder of the way to Lomax where she quickly darted and exited to the left. I guess she was frustrated and decided to go another route.

A couple of weeks later Lisa and I were headed to Jemison, Alabama. We stopped at the railroad crossing and continued to US Highway 31. A white SUV with a young blond lady pulled from a service station and never looked to her left where Lisa and I were approaching her. Lisa stopped and I told her that it was the second white SUV with a young lady pulling out in front of me. We were up close and almost personal with the SUV and then I saw the name on the vanity plate. It was Breanna, imagine that!

It seems that everyone is always in a hurry. I learned a long time ago to leave in plenty of time to arrive on time. If one is five minutes late it is very difficult to make up for the lateness. I am amazed that there are not more accidents.

I try to take the advice from Simon and Garfunkel’s song, The 59^th Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy):

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobble stones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy

The Bible gives us intelligent words to slow down.

 Also, that the soul be without knowledge, it is not good; and he that hasteth with his feet sinneth. Proverbs 19:2 KJV

The thoughts of the diligent tend only to plenteousness; but of every one that is hasty only to want. Proverbs 21:5 KJV

WHY US?

 May 7, 1931, Joe and Ethel chapman welcomed little Roe Leecie Chapman into the family. Two older sisters and brother preceded Leecie and two sisters followed her. She became Joe’s long-legged Sally. She was the tallest of the six inheriting her height from Joe. All the others were short like Ethel.

Leecie would be Joe’s second son wearing overalls and work shoes working alongside of her brother doing chores around the farm. Everyday Leecie would wrestle her brother holding him to the ground until he yelled “calf rope.”  She worked and fought like a man. She could plow a mule, drive a tractor, and split firewood.

Leecie hated school. She went to the seventh grade before quitting to pick cotton and to work as a hired hand doing the chores of maintaining a farm. She worked hard her entire life. Even though she worked long and hard she never had much money, but she married and had four children which she said made her rich.

She married Mitchell Clark Hopper Jr. on February 4, 1950. He was seven years her senior. Folks called him J M for Junior Mitchell. Where Leecie never ventured far from Chilton County Alabama. J M had traveled to North Africa and Italy with the United States Army. J M would take Leecie to live in Illinois when Leecie was in her mid-twenties returning to rural Alabama in March 1960.

In 1969 she went to work outside the home to help support the family. In 1982 doctors diagnosed J M with two brain tumors. Leecie worked and cared from him until his death May 27, 1984. Leecie had a mole on her back that was melanoma cancer. Doctors removed the mole and diseased tissue down to her spine. She never allowed the pain to prevent her from caring for J M.

Losing J M was devastating for Leecie. One to never quit, she seemed give up living. By brothers and sister encouraged, but she grew discouraged and had aliments that doctors could not diagnose.

One Saturday I went to eat Saturday breakfast with her. Sneaking up behind her I squeezed her. She said, “You broke my ribs.” I told her that I did squeeze that hard. Doctors were shocked when they x-rayed her. I had collapsed her right rib cage. Cancer had swept through her body ravishing her rib cages, number four vertebrae, esophagus, right arm between elbow and shoulder. And multiple other parts of her body. Stage four melanoma had riddled her precious body. 

Mom had gone with me to hear me preach in September 1986 just before I “bear hugged” her. When they operated on her right rib cage, they said she had six months to a year to live. She had some issues around Thanksgiving and doctors said she had three to six months to live. At Christmas doctors said she had days.

When mom was bedridden, my sister was a trooper and wonderful taking care of her. My sister spent the week with her while my two brothers and I spent the weekend from Friday evening until Monday morning. Mom spent most of time in a hospital bed in my brothers and my old bedroom.

One Saturday morning I was aggravating momma and told her to get out of bed and “fix” me some biscuits. Hers were the best. Grabbing the triangular bar above he bed she struggled tiring to sit up. She had lost strength on her right arm. It broke my heart to see her try her best and she could not.

She looked in the eye and said, “Bobby I know when you are lying. Tell me how much time I have.” With tears swelling in my eyes I said, “Days.” She said, “I thought so.” She then asked, “Why us?” I asked, “Why not us. If you could give your cancer to someone, who would you give it.” She said, “I wouldn’t give this curse to anyone.” I said, “God allowed you to have it because He knows you.”

For the next few moments momma said that the only thing she wanted in life was to have a Christian family. God blessed me with a pastor son, two deacon sons, and a daughter Sunday School teacher. I am ready to go.

Mom went to be with the Lord on January 28, 1987.

 

Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong. I Corinthians 16:13 KJV

 

Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. II Corinthians 12:10 KJV

 

Stella -Angel Of Muscoda

 Attending a deacon ordination in Muscoda Baptist Church near Bessemer, Alabama I watched a senior adult lady enter the auditorium. Dressed in an evening gown she was stunning and I thought overdressed but it was a sacred moment for the church.

She was singing for the ordination. As she slowly approached the pulpit I could tell she was older than I thought. Curiosity flooded my mind. I was baffled wondering how this elderly lady would perform.

When she started her performance I sat in total shock at how wonderful this nice lady could sing. She sounded like country music legends Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline. The voices of most people her would be crackled and not vibrant or clear. This lady was amazingly serenading as an angel. Her smile, her hair, and gown glowed mesmerizing the audience.

I left the service proud of the man ordinated He was a friend and former church member of mine. I left that night astonished at the voice and vitality of a senior adult lady. Most people her age cease to serve. She was a wonderful testimony how the LORD uses His people.

Several years passed and I was invited to speak at a ladies' luncheon. I had worker years earlier with some of the women and they heard that I was preaching and they wanted me to encourage their group. It was a good reunion.

One of the women had invited a friend, Stella Hill, to sing. The lady began to sing, and I realized that I had heard her before. When she and I finished the program I said, “I think we have met before. Did I heard you sing at a deacon ordination at Muscoda Baptist Church in Bessemer several years ago?” She said, “One in the same.” We reminisced for a while. She was wonderful. I asked for her telephone number.

Chilton Baptist Association in Clanton, Alabama hosts a Senior Adult Reunion each year. My sister-in-law Kim was the director of the Associational Senior Adults. Since I was serving in another association, she invited me to return home to preach for the annual event. I asked her who she had invited to do the special music. Still in the planning stage, she said she hadn’t secured anyone. I coerced her to invite Stella. I told Kim she would be perfect for the senior adults. Kim did.

I will never forget the morning of the Senior Adult event. It was good to be back home, and the buzz of excitement was electric. When Stella arrived Kim said, “Bobby Hopper what you got me into?” I smiled and said, “Just wait.”

Kim did a magnificent job with the event. A church full of three hundred plus senior adults singing the old gospel favorites was a blessing. As I write I have fond memories of that day and I am sadden that most in attendance that day are now with the Lord.

When it came time for the special music, Kim had me introduce Stella. I smiled, almost giggling, because I could sense the anxiety of Kim and see the uncertainty of the crowd as Stella stood beside me. I stepped aside and let the angel from Muscoda sing.

The look of unbelief spread through the crowd like an old brush arbor revival as Stella sang. When she sang How Great Thou Art she received a standing ovation. Preaching after her rendition was a joy and honor. Going to the dinner senior adults showered Stella with praise and hugs. Kim looked and me and said, “You were right Stella was amazing.”

While we were eating, a young choir director stopped to share with Stella how beautifully she sang How Great Thou Art. He commented that he had never heard the second verse she sang. Stella said, “I forgot the verse and made it up as I sang.” Everyone laughed. She was amazing.

When I was called to be Director of Missions for Bethel Baptist Association in Linden, Alabama I wanted to have Stella come sing at the Bethel Senior Adult banquet. I called her and she was wonderful as always. She was not able to help me, but she did sing for me and associational secretary Pam Gibbs viva the telephone. That would be the last time we would talk. Stella passed away March 7, 2020, at age 94. I thank God for placing Stella in my life.

Marlon Vines writes in her obituary, “What a wonderful Angel that is now singing in Heaven's Choir. I wonder if she's telling Gabriel what key to play it in? She brought much JOY into our lives with her beautiful singing & quick wit.”

I agree!

In the world today there are those that cannot wait for the older generation to be gone. There is wisdom of the aged if younger generations will listen.

 With the ancient is wisdom; and in length of days understanding. Job 12:12

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing; Psalm 92:14 KJV

Open Arms

When Max was a lap baby, he was very ill. He was having a difficult weekend breathing and had a fever as his parents sought medical help. Sunday morning in Montgomery, Alabama, a medical team made a diagnosis and decided that he needed to transfer to Children’s Hospital in Birmingham. His condition was serious mandating an airlift to Children’s. Max got to take his first helicopter trip.

His illness was complicated because dad and mom could not ride the helicopter. They were anticipating a two plus hour trip. It would be an anxious and terrifying two hours. Max was in great care, but it was not momma.

Traveling Interstate 65 can be a nightmare and it was for mom and dad. Murphy’s Law grasped the moment shutting down the Interstate. Mom and dad had to travel back road routes to downtown Birmingham as anxiety, fear, and the unknown flooded their hearts and minds.

During this ordeal, Lisa and I were attending a homecoming at one of the churches I served in Hale Baptist Association near Moundville, Alabama. We were able to head to Children’s before Katie (mom) and Brian (dad) left Montgomery. Children’s was about an hour from us, the grandparents Nanna and Poppy.

I will never forget the moment we found Max’s room. Nanna ran to consult with doctors and nurses. I went to the little tent where a frightened little boy was uncontrollably crying. Our eyes met, we smiled at each other, and he reached for me. Unfortunately, we could not touch but we rubbed against each other with the clear tent touching our cheeks.

The doctors and nurse were wonderful trying the best of their abilities and training to comfort a traumatized baby boy. Very sick, separated from mom and dad, rushed into a helicopter, flown high in the sky, and placed in front of strangers wearing all manner of medical equipment to help him. When he smiled at me the nurses, in sweet voices, said, “Awe, someone knows somebody.” They were hesitant to allow Nanna and me into the room, but all that changed with a smile and raised arms.

Max and I have a special bond. I know that he was small, but traumatic events are memorable moments. Each time he sees me he hugs me and when he leaves, he says, “Love you, Poppy.” He loves to tease Nanna by calling her granny.

I had a church member ask me if God hears the prayer of a lost sinner. I told him yes and no to which asked, “What do you mean yes and no.” I asked him if there were children in the yard playing and one is injured and yells “DAD” what happens. He said all the dads looked. I said that is right, but who responds? He said the dad of the injured. A lost sinner does not have God as his father.

I said the prayer that God hears from a lost sinner is God save me. Where do you find that in the Bible?

 My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. John 10:27 KJV

Max recognized me when he saw me. At that point he was too young to know our relationship, but he knew me.

And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them. Mark 10:16 KJV

 

 

Hey Dad

One hundred and two years ago on April 9, 1924, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby boy entered the world in a place named Waycross, Georgia. The second son of Mitchell and Reba Hopper who were logging that an airport could be built. Mitchel from Perry County, Alabama and Reba from Bibb County, Alabama traveled to Georgia with four small children and expecting a fifth. That little boy born on April 9 is my dad, Mitchel Clark Hopper.

There is a photograph of Mitchel and Reba (Granny) standing beside a wagon loaded with one huge log pulled by two long horned steers. Not long after dad’s birth one of the steers that pulled the log wagon gored grandaddy Hopper rippling his stomach. This was the 1920’s and his injury was severe. Their logging endeavor ended and they moved back to Perry County Alabama where grandad spent life as an invalid. Granny and five children became sharecroppers in rural Alabama.

One morning as Uncle James, sixteen years old, and dad, eleven years old, were digging post holes for a fence when they heard a loud explosion inside the house they rented. As Uncle James and dad entered the living room they saw blood, skin, and brain material dripping from the ceiling. I have pictured that scene ever since I first heard dad tell it. That was a horrific and terrifying moment for anyone, especially family.

The struggle of the Hopper family was hard. Granny Hopper sharecropping with nine folks trying to make a living. I written this before- dad said they were so poor that when they slaughtered hogs all they threw away was the squeal. Every part of the hog was used. I know I used to help Granny Hopper sling chitterlings (clean hog intestines).

Hard years passed quickly, Uncle James was drafted and fought in WWII witnessing the horror and gore of combat. When dad turned eighteen on April 9, 1942, the next week he went for basic training and eventually North Africa to serve under General George C. Patton.

As the Allies moved north, dad went to Italy. There he received two Purple Hearts. One was from a machine gun as bullets ripped his stomach under his heart to his groin making a large S which called dad superman. He lay in a foxhole bleeding as German soldiers using bayonets made sure that soldiers were dead. Dad used two dead soldiers in the foxhole to shield him from the bayonets. He felt the bayonet penetrate one soldier as the second penetrated to other one. When the German soldiers queried about dad being dead or not one said he was and they moved to another foxhole. Dad knew enough German to understand God spared him.

The second Purple Heart was for shrapnel from a grenade riddling his body. One piece of shrapnel lodged at the base of his skull near the spinal cord in operatable. You could feel the knot.

While in Italy, the German Army captured dad. Dad and several other men were loaded and carried to hill to be killed. Realizing that they were about to be executed, dad and a few other country boys decided to make break and run. Dad said everyone ran in different directions. He said the bullets buzzed by him like angry bumble bees. Escaping and an old Italian farmer hid him in a hay barn for three months. His was listed as missing in action.

Dad shared many war stories. They were humorous and very few were about the horror and gore. I would ask how many enemy he killed and he would say, “We were following orders and so were they. We just shot at one another.”

On dad’s 102^nd birthday I thought about things he taught me. I was the first born and was training ground and learning curve for dad. I realized from a young age that dad lived his life without a dad. He spoke of grandad often. That was one of my biggest reasons for wanting to spend time with dad.

Every time he went somewhere besides work, I wanted go. One time I was anxious that when he said I could go I slammed the front door of the house on the fingers of my right hand. When I yanked them from the door I pulled the fingernail from my middle finger. It bled and throbbed for hours, but I was with dad. I was worth the pain. As a little boy I wanted to cry. I wanted dad to be proud I was though, stupid but tough.

I wanted to be big and strong like dad. He had large hands that carried many scars. He was respected for his size and strength. Most men feared dad because of his background powerful demeanor. Kids loved the gentle giant, and women were attracted to him.

In nineteen eighty-two doctors diagnosed dad with brain tumors. One, the size of a lemon, was in the frontal of his brain. The other was a pea sized near the pituitary gland near his brain stem. Surgeons were able to remove ninety percent of the lemon sized tumor but could not operate on the pea sized one.

Prognosis was that dad would lose his memory, lose his eyesight, and lose his balance making him unable to walk. As people and churches prayed doctors performed saying that God aided them. After the surgery and during recovery, dad got cold and got out of bed moving it away from the air-conditioner. Nurses panicked. Not too bad for some with no memory, no balance, and no sight. Nurses thought him delirious. He told them he was cold.

Dad was bald before surgery. One day after chemo treatment, my daughter used his head for tic tac do. Dad did well for two years. During that time, he and I would go walking and sharing life. One time at a church cleanup, dad and I headed home. He said, “Son I used to wish I did not have to go to work. Now I wish I could.”

Not long before his passing one morning I went to eat breakfast with mom and dad. Mom said to dad, “Tell Bobby about your dream. He will understand.” Fearing being called stupid or made fun of dad was reluctant to share the dream with me. I said you can share it with me.

Dad said, Last night I dreamed I died and I was going toward a bright light in heaven. As I got closer, I saw Jesus with His arms open. As I got close, He was waving motioning me back tell me it was not time yet. And then I woke up.”

I told him that I believed him and that others had similar testimonies. He smiled and said thanks son.

Dad turned sixty on April 9, 1984, and died eighteen days later on April 27. I held that big old right hand as he took his last breath.

Thank You God for allowing me to spend thirty-one years with dad. I think of him daily. I think of him when I see my brother David who looks like him and my brother Glenn who acts like him. I think of him and how he struggled in life. From age eleven, serving in WWII, and thousands of other things that dad experienced remind me of dad, Mitchel Clark Hopper Jr. known best as JM (Junior Mitchel)

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. Exodus 20:12 KJV

 Here is picture of dad holding me on one of his logging horses. Dad was 6' 3" standing behind "Jabo". Picture taken @ 1954.

 

 

 

  

He Is Not Here

Remember those monstrosities called answering machines? You know the ones that use a cassette tape to record messages. I won one that turned out to be a hunk of junk. I think that is why I won it. I finally got rid of it when the telephone company added it as a service.

My favorite message went as follows: “Now that you have let the phone ring seven times you have awakened my dragon and if you do not leave a message, he will be very angry. I’m not here so leave a message.”

One message was, “Now that I have awakened your dragon, I know you are not home. That is a good way for people to rob you while you are way. Do not say you are not home.”

The whole answering machine evolution has given us cell phones with emails, text messaging, and leave a message. I was opponent of text messaging in the beginning, but I use us more than anything now. It is convenient and prevents one from interrupting. I think it helps with cell phone etiquette.

If you are as I am you made that important call and you reach that infernal answering machine: “To speak English press one. If you know the extension press two. If you want to speak with a representative press three. To repeat the menu, press four. To speak with an operator, press zero.

Years ago, I was representing employees at the cement plant that filed a grievance because they could not reach the plant when returning a callout phone call. This was back before the telephone companies changed to push button phones. It was difficult to press numbers on a dial-up telephone. The all-knowing human resource person gave me a smart aleck response and said he would give me the money to buy a push button phone. I replied, “You dummy the phone lines have not been updated. The lines are still pulsing dialing, and one cannot press one, two, three or four.” I told the smart aleck that “I did not fall off the turnip green truck yesterday.” The grievance was awarded to the employees.

One of the churches I had opportunity to serve had a sophisticated phone system. Churches members from that church complained to me about not being able to speak with the pastor. I admit that it was difficult to get a hearing with the pastor. There were ample people there to answer the phone, but you had to push those aggravating buttons. It remained a problem for years. People stopped trying to call or see the pastor and finally started calling me or visiting my office.

It can be troublesome trying to reach someone and not knowing what button to push or where to find a person. It can be good on occasion. When you could not call or see a person when you are angry. Things went much smoother when you had time to cool off. How about the time you made a decision? Lord changed your position and you were glad the person you were to tell was not there initially.

This past Sunday was Resurrection Sunday. Before the break of day, Mary made her way to the tomb of Jesus. She was expecting the worst. There was no way of communicating with the keepers of the dead. There was no press one to speak Arabic. No press two to speak with the gardener. No press three to speak with the stone movers.

There is a 1958 song The Angels Listened In and another in 1960's song Trouble in Paradise - Calling All Angels by the Crests. Had Mary known who was waiting at the tomb she could have called Angels that were waiting.

What she did find was an Angel waiting at the tomb. No buttons to push just a living being saying:

He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. Matthew 28:6 KJV

LIKE A ROCK

Excitement filled the air as scuttlebutt surfaced at Blue Circle Cement. Chevrolet was going to make a commercial about their Chevy pickups. Chevy was filming the “Built Like A Rock” Commercial the Roberta Plant in Calera, Alabama. The scene of a Chevy pickup racing up the quarry road is still seen in current commercials.

There was one gigantic problem. The filming was closed to the employees. General Motors management did not anticipate the rock hardheaded men of the plant. Good old boy ingenuity found a way. Though the employees were not close to the scenes, high silos conveyor belt towers, and buildings provided amble venues to watch the filming. The long hours of filming were reduced to just a few seconds of commercial time. Those employees that had sneak previews told of things that did not make the film.

The best scene was a lift dropped a one-ton (2000 lbs.) bag of lime into the bed of the new dual-wheel pickup. The first take the tailgate exploded from the pickup and traveled approximately thirty feet through the air leaving the side of the pickup bed warped open. It was so severe that they could not attach the tailgate back. After several tries, the final cut that aired was without the tailgate. I know engineers designed the pickup to haul a one-ton payload but dropped from above the force was more than the tailgate could handle. I can only imagine if they had dropped a one-ton limestone boulder into the pickup truck bed.

Rocks have been in existence for a long time. Some areas of our planet are mostly rock. Rocks have been and remain a main source of building material. I love to collect rocks. My grandpa Chapman removed rocks from the ground where Lisa and I live. He removed the trees, stumps, and rocks to cultivate the ground. He hauled all the rocks into the woods on the back side of the property. I have slowly moved back into the yard for flower beds, and other nice stonework. I suppose that somewhere in the future someone will move them out again.

The largest rock that I have ever seen and been on top is Stone Mountain in Georgia. That is one humongous granitic rock. One has to ride a sky lift to reach the top. Jesus said the wise man builds his house on the rock. I did not see a house on Sone Mountain but there was a building up there. It would take an abundance, deluge to wash it way.

As Jesus fasted, the devil tempted Jesus with a rock. Devil said if Jesus was hungry to turn the rock into bread. David as a shepherd boy slew Goliath with a single rock and had four more to slay Goliath’s four brothers. As the Hebrews crossed the wilderness in route to the Promise Land they ran out of water. Moses struck a rock and it produced water. Had Moses touched it as was the thing to do, God could have produced a lake, and Moses may have gotten to enter the Promise Land. Simon Peter’s faith was compared to a rock.

Rocks have been used to build altars, as foundation, designate line lines, inscribed as tablets for laws, used to cover graves, and block openings. Rocks have been used as weapons since the first person threw one at an animal or person. Stoning folks was common for millennials. When the lady caught in the very act of adultery was thrown in front of Jesus, Jesus instructed those without sin to cast the first stone.

God is the rock when we search the Scriptures. The song “Rock of Ages” is a great Theological song.

Since this is Passover Week in Christendom there is a beautiful passage in Scripture that our pastor read on Palm Sunday about rocks. During the Triumphant Entry of Jesus people were shouting and praising Jesus as the coming Messiah. When forces tried to quieten the people, Jesus said in Luke 19:40 KJV:

And he answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.

Hope Y’all have a wonderful Resurrection Sunday.

 

 

 

Lightning and Thunder

The power of lightning flashing and roaring thunder fascinate me. One morning while enjoying an early morning sleep a flash of lightning lit up the bedroom. I saw the flash with closed eyes. Suddenly thunder loud and long shook the house rattling the windows. It seemed to roll forever. An awesome way to start the morning.

I was carrying a friend to Montgomery when a large thunderhead cloud covered Interstate 65. I smiled as a beautiful streak of lightning lit up the southern sky. It was a stunning display of raw power. My friend, from Baltimore City, Maryland, shook in fear. She was not used to the violent thunderstorms of Alabama.

One of my history professors from the University of Montevallo explained that the mentality of most Southern gentlemen is like that of a thunderstorm. Long dry and hot days the earth stores the energy of the sun. The energy builds and builds with each passing day. When a cold front approaches, the earth releases the stored energy. The longer the storage the more violent the storm. Dr. Fuller, the professor said that Southern men are easy going until pushed too far, then they explode like a violent thunderstorm.

The morning after the storm passes, the Alabama sky is a clear and beautiful blue. The air is cooler and everything turns green and starts to renew what was dry and almost dead. These things are what makes Spring my favorite time of the year.

Lighting storms cause destruction too. Power outages can last for days, and the impatience of power customers grows exponentially. Winds, hail, and rain can wreak havoc on property. Storms can ruin springtime events, like Resurrection Sunday.

Maudy Thursday and Good Friday remind us of prelude of one of the greatest storms in history. As Jesus celebrated His last supper with his disciples, sin began to manifest Satan’s evil plot. Through the centuries before the Resurrection, evil battled God, and His people. Everything imaginable confronted the men and women of God. The events of Calvary went deeper than a hand full of disciples shaken from their belief. The climax of their last days with Jesus was one of sin. That great moment when God walked among them the disciples allowed sin to dominate their thoughts, their actions, and their ministries. Their dreams and ambitions ended in defeat and just beyond them the unseen world of evil rallied in victory. The lie defeated the truth and Truth lay in a cold dark tomb bound by rags and smothered by perfume and burial spices.

While those who loved the Lord wept with hurt, mourned with regret, and cried in anger, the forces of darkness danced, drank, and celebrated victory. Finally evil could do what they wanted and there would be no accountability, no repercussions, and no judgment. The powers of darkness with every unimaginable display of sinful prejudice, partying, and pure filth celebrated. Satan and his legions of demonic prodigies had slain the Incarnate, Eternal God.

As the storm raged from Friday night through the events at Calvary, believers wept with the heartbreaking events flooding their thoughts and being. Suddenly the Son flashed as lightning and the thunder rolled, darkness scurried away, and evil cleared its throat, as hearts ached, eyes cried, and hands trembled waiting for the break of day, Truth broke the power of evil. Satan, his evil crew, and groupies faced the risen Savior knowing their future was the eternal abyss.

The words of Matthew ring in our hearts and ears.

 “And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.” Matthew 28:6 KJV

Until Resurrection morning, sin and sickness dominated life robbing it of joy. Sin, sickness, and sadness are realities of life until the Lord returns. One day Jesus is coming to take believers out of this heartbreaking world of sin, sickness, and sadness. Until He does, believers have the help of the Holy Spirit. Until He comes, believers have the assurance and the prayers of other believers to help. Our salvation is commitment to Christ and His Church. Because He lives we live in hope.

Resurrection Sunday is a great day for the church. It is the largest day of attendance for most churches, but that is not the reason for its greatness. It is great because it is the day we celebrate the victory over death. For believers it is a reality every day.

SHARE WITH A FRIEND

LEAVE A COMMENT