Heritage Not Hate

I inherited my love for history from my daddy.  Dad loved antiques and loved to talk of the way things were.  Visiting Perry County Alabama dad would point out old sawmills, gristmills, and whiskey stills in places where grass, bushes, and weeds covered.  We visited Old Cahaba, the first capital of Alabama when there was nothing but old foundations and pieces of brick.  We would visit the Brierfield Iron Works with only remnants of coke and broken-down furnaces.  At one time Brierfield was the third largest city in Alabama.  I had the honor and privilege of pastoring the Historical Brierfield Baptist Church.

I fell in love with Alabama history in the fourth grade.  The Massacre at Fort Mims, Andrew Jackson and the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, Daniel Pratt and the cotton mills of Prattville were interesting.  I loved Alabama history under Dr. Jesse Jackson and Dr. Justin Fuller at the University of Montevallo.  When Dr. Jackson described the sawing in the removal of General Stonewall Jackson’s arm sounded as an Angel playing a violin was so vivid, I felt as though I was there.  When Dr. Fuller talked of Montevallo and its role in Wilson’s Raiders and General Nathan B. Forrest and the battles of the Brierfield Ironworks, at Ebenezer Church in Stanton, and Selma it made me proud of the men and women that believed in the Constitution of the United States that they would fight for Alabama in the War of Northern Aggression just as General Robert E. Lee had for the State of Virginia.

Each year Dr. Fuller in his “Introduction to History” class would poll students as to their greatest historical figure, Jesus Christ excluded.  For years the number one answer was General Robert E. Lee.  There is not another general with Lee’s integrity, faith, and character.  It is a shame that those ignorant of history are tearing down General Lee’s monuments along with other monuments that are testimonies to our heritage.

General Lee did not own slaves and turned down Lincoln as commander of the Union Army to stand with Virginia.  Lincoln confiscated Lee's farm at Arlington turning into a cemetery.  Lee suffered defeat with Christian character and it is a disgrace to dishonor him and others who took up the Southern Cross to defend state rights which is part of our Constitution of the United States.

I am proud to be an American and pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and the Republic for which it stands.  I get chills when the National Anthem is played and I stand at attention with my hand over my heart.  The United States is imperfect because it is made of imperfect people, but it is the greatest free nation in the world and if idiots want to protest, it is their right, but remember I have rights also.

I think is ironic that those that are government assisted and do not work are the ones that protest while those that work pay for them to march.  It is also moronic that protests follow at the heels of a perpetrator being arrested and being mistreated.  I often wonder what the "victim" was doing to be arrested in the first place.  As a lawyer friend of mine said of divorce, “There is the husband's story, the wife’s story and what actually happened.”  It is true today in the irresponsible journalism being spewed from liberal media.  There is the arrestees' story, the police’s story, what the irresponsible reporter tells us that happened, and what actually happened.

I am proud to be from Alabama.  I love our state flag.  The is something about St. Andrews Cross, the red X on the white background.  Being from Scot-Irish ancestry I am doubly proud of our flag.  It reminds me that the message of Christ remains the only home for mankind.  Morality cannot be legislated.  There will always remain cultural differences and injustices as long as sin reigns and exists in the heart of humankind.

I am proud of the Confederate Flag and my Southern heritage.  I hate slavery and those that initiated it will suffer the consequences.  The fact is that African tribal lords practiced it, as did societies throughout the history of the world. Every ethos has suffered the sin of slavery.  It exists today in human trafficking, forced labor, sexual exploitation, and sweatshops.  It is estimated that there are 40 million people in some form of slavery, but today the target is something that is history.

I have a Sons of the Confederacy tag on my pickup truck.  I have a Rebel cap. I have several confederate flags and the more people tell me I cannot have one, the more I will buy.  It is part of my heritage and my form of protest and my right.  I love to see the giant Confederate flag on I65 north of Montgomery.

Social issues will remain if every Confederate Monument is removed.  Cultural differences will continue until the Lord returns.  Today it is Southern heritage, tomorrow it may be national monuments.  Will the American Vietnamese protest the Memorial Wall?   Will American Japanese boycott the Pearl Harbor Memorial?  I think you see my direction.  I saw a cartoon of the Statue of Liberty hiding wondering if she were next.

We create monuments to remind us of history.  Those that do not learn from history are destined to repeat it just as the Hebrews did throughout the Old Testament.

Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set. (Proverbs 22:28)

Why, seeing times are not hidden from the Almighty, do they that know him not see his days? [Some] remove the landmarks; they violently take away flocks, and feed [thereof]. They drive away the ass of the fatherless, they take the widow's ox for a pledge. (Job 24:1-3)

                                                                                                        

“The Truth Sets You Free”

It was a beautiful Saturday morning with birds singing and sounds of the morning playing throughout God wonderful creation.  Arriving at the cement plant for the start of seven-day dayshift, the beautiful melody of creation drowned in the sea of man-made noise.  As kilns roared, fans screamed, gears squeaked, and metal balls clanged it was the start of a new day.

AD, MC, and I were the cement kilns crew.  Gathered in the control with the shift we were relieving, we discussed what we needed to do.  My role of the three amigos was starting and testing the auxiliary diesel engine at the lake where all the return water from cooling machinery settled.

As I reached for the exit door, AD said, “Take all the food out of the refrigerator, and throw it away.”  The four crews that operated the cement kilns used the fridge to preserve and share.  Anything left in it was fair game to be eaten.  Saturday morning was the designated day to clean the fridge.

I collected the sandwiches and a lone apple.  On the way to the recycling lake, I saw a group/flock of magpies.  I grew up poor and we went without food on an occasion or two while dad was on layoff or without work, so throwing away food was a “SIN” for me.  I finished eating the apple to the core and tossed it to the magpies.  I unwrapped one sandwich from wax paper and took a second out of a plastic bag.  I tore the sandwiches apart to disperse them among the magpies.  There was no truck available, so I had to “hoof it” the half mile out to the lake and back.

When I rounded the corner of the ball mill building, I saw MC gathering up the remnant of food that those no good for nuthin’, ungrateful magpies refused to eat.  MC was tossing the last pieces in a dumpster when I saw “KILLER,” the most feared man in the plant. 

The Killer was Joe Killingsworth, the production manager of the plant. He was more powerful than the plant manager was.  I witnessed men in the plant running to hide and trembling in fear when the Killer was walking in the plant, which he did at all times.  Lookouts tried around the clock to spot Killer sneaking into the plant to catch some weary soul not doing his job and give the guilty worker a royal chewing. My shift foreman would visibly be shaken, as Killer would chew him out.

Killer stood before me with arms crossed and his face blood red like some Saturday morning cartoon character.  MC worked like a slave threatened by a cruel master.

I could not imagine what frightened MC.  MC did not fear much.

Killer looked me in the eye and asked, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO THREW THAT FOOD ON THE GROUND?”

I remember rocking from the balls of my feet, to the heels, then forward as to step on my tiptoes saying, “I did.”

Killer was notorious for throwing his hardhat across the floor and cussing so bad that would make a Corinthian sailor blush.  I knew that he loved to embarrass and humiliate people, especially his shift foreman.  I saw him reaching for his hardhat and thought here it comes.

He picked his hardhat from his head, almost tossed it, but slowly lowered it to his head and the blood began to seep from his face.  He said, “Do you have any earthly idea how much we spend in the plant to kill rats.” 

I knew it was not the time to respond with a Hopper wisecrack, but I did think to myself that whatever the price that they were wasting money.  The rats were so large that they could carry metal lunch boxes in their mouths as witnessed by several of my co-workers.  They looked like muskrats or opossums with file like tails.

I was smart enough to reply, “No sir.”  He said, “We spend $2,200 each month to kill rats and you’re feeding them. Why did you do such a stupid thing?”

I said, “I grew up poor and there were times when there was no food in the house.  For me it is a sin to throw food away.”

Thinking I was to be fired I waited for “YOU’RE FIRED, GET OUT OF HERE.”

I looked at him and said, “What do you want me to do?”

He calmly said, “Go to work and quit feeding the rats.  I said, “Yes sir.”

MC, still nervous and watching the despicable debacle take place, walked over and said, “He was going to fire you.  He asked me who done it.  I told him that I didn’t know, but that I would get it up and throw it away.”

Killer liked AD.  When AD asked Killer what he did to me, he said nothing except tell me to stop feeding the rats.  Killer said, “I had every intention to fire him but Hopper looked me in the eye and told me the truth.  I couldn’t fire a man who was truthful to me.”

Killer took a personal liking to me and trained me to be a kiln burner.  He recruited me to be one of his shift supervisors.  When I surrendered into the ministry, he encouraged me.

Before Killer died a couple of years ago, I saw him twice, both times at funerals.

I walked up to him and said, “If you wasn’t such an old man, I would roll you all over this parking lot.”  I can’t write in this article what he said, but when I told him who I was he said, “Good to see you boy.  You still preaching?”



And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free (John 8:32 KJV)

"Not My Daddy's Oldsmobile"

I made the comment the other day that my dad, as a lost man, had better Christian ethics than some believers today.  Dad would not do any work or shop on Sundays.  He would not let us go hunting or fishing on Sunday.  He would say that the Old Master rested and we would too.  Every time we sat down at the table, we had to take off our hats, put on a shirt, and had to say the blessing or grace.

Dad taught us to tell the truth, to protect the innocent and those that could not defend themselves.  We had to give an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.  If we wanted something, we had to work and save for it.  Dad taught us independence and not to depend on Uncle Sam for anything.  Dad was concerned because the government could take control and tell you how to live and what you could and could not plant.  He taught us to avoid charity and be willing to work rather than receive a handout.

He taught us to say, “Yes sir and no Mam.  Thank you and you are welcome.” 

Granny Hopper, dad’s mother, taught her family good, basic Christian ethics.  The problem was, most of her children were not believers, but were unsaved children with good Christian principles.

Somewhere in dad’s life, I think after he served in the Second World War, someone told him that he could not be saved because of all the things he experienced and participated in as a teenager and serving in the war.  Dad would have that mindset until age fifty-eight.

Part of the reasoning for his inability to be saved may have rooted in the doctrine of the Hard Shell Baptist Church which dad was nurtured.  I do not know much about the “Hard Shell Baptist,” but I know that it was not Southern Baptist.  Hard Shell Baptists do not get along with Southern Baptist regarding them as too liberal.  Today most of the Hard Shell Baptists are Primitive Baptist Churches and adhere to the five tenets of Calvinism, but oppose the elements of John Calvin’s theology such as infant baptism.  It is an intense conservatism church and belief system.

The mindset the Hard Shell Baptists when dad was young is a good indication of why dad developed the attitude that he could not be saved.  I know this because dad would comment, “There is no need to invite people to church.  They know where it is.  If a “feller” wants to be saved, he knows where to go and God does not need our help.”  The biggest difference between the Hard Shell Baptists and the Southern Baptists was missions.  Hard Shell Baptists are anti-missions and teach against it.

As I think of dad for Father’s Day, I am thankful that it was not what daddy did that kept dad from becoming a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, but what Jesus did to save him.  One of the greatest tools in the Devil’s workshop is the tool of “we have to get right before God can save us.”  That belief is the big LIE.  Over and over, dad would say, “Son, you don’t know what all I have done.”  My reply was dad I don’t care what all you have done.  God will forgive you if you ask forgiveness.

Repeatedly, he would say, “You become and Christian, because I can’t.”  You go to church and live a good Christian life. 

Praise God, Dad did become a Christian at age fifty-eight.  He finally realized that it was not what he had done or what he could do, but what God had already done through Jesus Christ the Lord.



And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.  I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.  And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was (John 17:3-5 KJV).

Positive Reinforcement from a Negative Action

Do you have a hard time letting things go?  I do.  I have an old sports jacket in the closet that I kept thinking that I would wear when I would lose weight.  It has been in there so long that it is out of style.  In that same closet are nice winter jackets and a couple of dress suits that are just a little too snug, but I hate to give them away because I like them and hate to get new ones that I might not like.

My clothes closet is full of shirts, pants, and other garments that need to go to Good Will.  I gave most of my old VBS shirts away not too long ago.  There was no way I was going to wear those 3X regular t-shirts.  They are not long enough or big enough after a few washes.  There are a few dress shirts that I like, but they are too small.  Wow, I sound like a broken record.

Then there is my work shed.  I have collected so much junk I cannot get in it.  I decided that I would throw out some things that I saved, but have not used in months, heck years.  As I readied each of them for the trashcan, I had mixed emotions, got sentimental.  My thought is that if I throw it in the garbage today, I will need it next week.  That has happened plenty of times in the past.

I have a system of collecting things, but honestly is there a need for a 1986 am/fm Citation car radio.  I keep thinking that someone might need one.  There is the old 8-track player beside a couple of more radios and there are all kinds of speakers.

I did break down the other day and threw away some old spark plugs, radiator and heater hoses, a couple of old belts, and vacuum lines.  I thought that was a sign of improvement.

I really want to have a big cleaning every time I try to locate something I have filed away and cannot remember which file I placed it.  I spend precious minutes looking in my converted fish tackle box for nuts, bolts, screws, and washers that I could run to Ace hardware and buy.

People will challenge me to throw stuff away.  I say I would but I might need it.  Problem is that happened way too much.  I am constantly repairing things with my collected resources.  If not for that, I would do as many corporations have done in recent years and that is clear out my inventory.  If I did that I would not need all those converted tackle boxes, converted toolboxes, nor all the storage shelves.

Speaking of shelves, I brought  home some wire shelves that my sister-in-law was throwing away when she sold her home.  Somewhere in the shuffle, the mounting brackets disappeared.  The wire shelves were fairly new, so when I hung them in the laundry room, I bought some new brackets at Ace Hardware.

I had three shelves left over that, I used in by workshop.  I decided to be creative, most people call it rigging, and I used some old Support Lift Struts from an old 1986 Trans Am rear hatch window as brackets to hold my shelves.  They worked like a charm.  I had two Support Lift Struts from the hood of the Trans Am that I used on the second shelve. 

There it was. I got a fix for my addiction of collecting things.  Psychologists would say that I got positive reinforcement from a negative action.  That being my habit was good and justifiable.

Some folks would tell me that I am good at saving stuff and using them in creative inventions.  Others would encourage me to buy a bigger building for my collecting of stuff.  But, I know that I need to rid my shed of stuff that I will never use and hinders me from using my time wisely.

You know the same is true in our Christian walk.  Sometimes we have to let go of stuff to make room for better things and opportunities.  If we are not careful, we have a tendency to collect stuff in our lives that hinders us from being productive.  The writer of Hebrews says it like this:  



Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us. . . (Hebrews 12:1 KJV).



Then sometimes I feel like Lazarus.  He was dead and Jesus raised him to new life.  Lazarus was alive, a resurrected person, but the old grave clothes kept him from really living.  He would have never been capable to achieve new things by keeping on grave clothes.



And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go (John 11:44 KJV).