Funny Happenings in Check-out Lines

One would think with the economic recession that checkout lines would be shorter.  The other day a lady at Wal-Mart asked, “Is it always this crowded?”  I giggled and told her it was the first of the month check time.  From Arkansas, she was spending a few days at Foscue Park in Demopolis.  I told her that when people came to Demopolis, a trip to Wal-Mart was a “must” and that she should have been at the Grand Opening.  The new Super Store guaranteed more products with fewer associates to check you out.

The other night I thought I had a clear shot to a speedy exit when I noticed that the 20 items of less line had two people in it.  I rushed for some puppy chow and quickly got in line.  The first lady had one item and the young man in front of me had two.  I miscalculated again.  For some reason, the plastic cash would not calculate.   

After this, I decided to write an article about my checkout experiences that I have logged.  They have become rather humorous.  I am always excited to see what novel process I will encounter.  The other day a lady paid her bill with 63 one-dollar bills.  It was so refreshing to see someone pay with cash.  It startled the cashier to see that many dollar bills that she miscounted, counting 62.  She counted again and got 61.  The lady paying counted them and got 62.  The cashier counted again and got 62.  I laughed to myself while trapped in the aisle between the two financial whizzes in front and one lady growing very impatient behind me.  I was ready to give the lady a dollar just to get out.

It is fun to watch paper jam in the receipt printer, checks jam in the thing-a-ma-jig that processes your payment, and have the ink run out when it fails to jam the paper or the checks.

One night I got behind a customer who had one or two items remaining.  I thought it must be my lucky night.  I hurried in the line only to watch a WIC check not process.  The customer had two buggies of items and all I could see was the cashier swiping all the items again.  The cashier flicked on the dreaded blinking light and waited for someone with higher powers than her and the WIC check to clear up the chaos.  It is total exasperation when the dreaded blinking light comes on for a price check and then the haggling and bartering between the omnipotent associate and the tenacious customer begins over the price posted on the shelve and the one attached on the item.

I witnessed a cashier walk off one night.  Another time the cashier would pick up an item, examine it, swipe it, examine it again, place it in a bag, and look at her watch.  Checkout was very slow, so I started a conversation.  She told me that she got off work in ten minutes and she did not want to check out another customer.

Customers can be rude.  One time as I waited a new line opened and the cashier motioned for me to come.  I was so excited and started over when suddenly a lady, with the precision and speed of a Talladega driver, darted in front of me.  Being kind, I let her go.  She did not even say thanks.  At Food World, a young girl broke in line ahead of me.  She had some unmentionable items, so I figured she needed to go in a hurry.  Before she checked out, another dude broke in front of me.  I gave him the patented “Hopper Look” and said, “It must be Break In Front Of Bobby Day!”  The patented Hopper Look is another story.

Late one night in The Demopolis Food World, the main computer system in Birmingham shut down all the computers to update.  Talk about chaos, it was mass confusion.  Lines were three to four deep.  The poor cashiers apologized, but people who are used to having it now get very restless when they have to wait.  It is the fear of total annihilation by fire from money burning in their pockets that causes the tension.

The best checkout was up home at the Clanton Wal-Mart.  I saw my wife’s dad’s first cousin’s daughter running a checkout line.  I told her I would talk when I got ready to leave.  Upon entering the checkout, she said, “Bobby Hopper, I can’t check you out because we’re kin.”

I responded by saying, “Jackie, we ain’t kin.”

As she swiped items, I put the product separator higgy-ma-dodgie thing between my items and the other customer.

Jackie said, “Bobby Hopper, you fool, I can’t check you out.”

Jackie flipped on the dreaded blinking light.  When the omnipotent associate arrived, she wanted to know what the problem was.  You guessed it.  I was.

Jackie said, “I told this fool I couldn’t check him out cause we’re kin.”

The wise associate said it was the policy of Wal-Mart not to check out relatives.  I told her that we were not related that Jackie was my father-in-law’s second cousin.

The omnipotent associate assured me that I was.  I asked the associate, “If I was considered kin to Jackie, how in the world did Wal-Mart checkout anyone in Chilton County.  Everyone is that close?” 

The light continued to blink as the all-knowing associate checked me out.  Each time I checkout I expect something to happen.  I ask the Lord what He is trying to teach me.  The anticipation of Christmas shopping checkout is exhilarating.

Teach me good judgment and knowledge (Psalm 119:66a KJV).

Stupid Time Change

The calendar was October but the day November 9, 2016.  I was nuking a sausage burrito as the words met my eyes, “Life is ten percent of what happens to you, and ninety percent is how we respond.”

It is amazing how God puts things in the right place, at the right time, for the right situation.  That calendar has been hanging in the office workroom for six weeks and I never paid it any attention until I responded to the suggestion of my stomach that there had been a time change and, although the clock said twelve noon, my hunger remained on central daylight savings time.

Speaking of time change, I have not responded to well.  I go to bed way to early which results in me waking way too early.  My response to the changing of the time is, “Leave it one way or the other.  Stop changing my eating, working, and sleeping habits twice a year.”

When I think about responding I think of some wisdom shared with me when I first answered the call into ministry.  It happened at Shocco Springs, our Alabama Baptist Retreat Center.  It was not at a conference believe me I have attended many through the years.  It was one of my former pastors, David Meyers.

David said that he was happy to hear that I had surrendered into the ministry.  He and his wife Janice were a wonderful pastor/wife team for my home church.  David was my pastor when I first married.  In fact, it was David’s sharing with us the importance of belonging to the church in the community in which you live.  He taught us that being a Christian was one of happiness and joy.  He was a great pastor.

At Shocco, he said, “As one of your dads in ministry, I want to share one thing with you.  He said you will be pressured by the church and members of the church to respond I certain situations.  Do not let them pressure you.  Tell them that you will make it a consideration of and prayer and genuinely pray over it.  You will be amazed how many times God will work out problems for you.  Learn to wait on God.  Pastors’ biggest mistakes are trying to fix things that only God can.  We get into trouble when do not wait on God.”  I am so thankful that my pastor shared this and I have practiced for my entire ministry, lately more than ever.

David and Janice have both gone to be with the Lord.  Since it is Thanksgiving, I wanted to respond with thanks for the wisdom of those help and pray for each other as we struggle through life.

 

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord (Psalm 27:14 KJV).

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Thanks Dad

In one of my favorite pictures of my dad, he is leaning against a two by four board holding up the front porch.  Dad did not like to have his picture taken.  On this occasion, his brother was down from Illinois.  Dad had been hauling logs that day and had the smell of pine rosin and sweat mingled with the aroma of Camel cigarette smoke and grease on him.

In this picture, dad is tanned and muscled.  He was very strong from working with pulpwood and logs most of his life.  I, along with my brothers and sister, could not wait for dad to come home in the evenings.  We would spend many evenings lying on an old quit in the front yard just talking about life and looking at the heavens.

I remember that I could not wait to get old enough to go to work in the woods with him.  Back then, pulpwood was measured.  I carried a measuring stick and marked the fallen pine timber as dad cut.  He had a large, and heavy, McCulloch chainsaw.  As a ten-year-old, the chainsaw was very heavy.  It was all I could do to crank it.  When I could not, daddy would give the cord a yank and fire it up.  Ever once in a while, he let me run the chainsaw.  Most dads won’t let a ten-year-old run a chainsaw!  I had the best dad.

When hauling logs, dad allowed me guide the mule that pulled the logs back to the truck.  I was not sure I could do it, but dad said the mule knew what to do once I hooked the tongs to the log.  It was fascinating that the mule could find his way back to the truck.  I would jump on the log and balance myself as the log rolled, twisted, and turned going up and down the hills and hollers back to the truck.  It was even more fun to watch the side loading arms of the log truck throw the logs on the truck.  I don’t think momma would have let me go with daddy if she had known how dangerous it was.

I remember helping dad fall a giant oak.  He bated the tree and I helped to push.  Suddenly as the giant tree started to fall, a gush of wind caught the oak and pushed it back toward us.  Daddy yelled, “Run son!”

As a boy, I wanted to spend as much time with dad as I could.  Dad was what folks back home call a “jackleg mechanic.”  When you are poor and have nothing but junk, you spend a lot of time repairing.  Most of my time was spent under the hood or underneath cars, tractors, and trucks.  This is something I enjoy doing today.  It is therapeutic and nostalgic.

For some reason, dad went most places by himself.  On particular day, he was going to Montevallo to pick up his check.  Momma asked if I wanted to go.  I think she wanted me to spy on dad and see what he was doing.  I knew I had to keep my lips sealed if there was to be another expedition with dad.  I was so excited and could not wait to ride in our log truck with him.

As I went out the door, I closed the door on my fingers.  Doing the natural thing, I pulled them from the closed door, leaving one of my fingernails in the door.  Blood was flying and the finger was throbbing.  I was not going to miss an opportunity to spend time with dad.  I dare not cried.  He would have made me stay home.  I remember sitting alone for what seemed an eternity with my finger throbbing with the beating of my heart.  Dad wanted me to be tough.

Momma taught me how to drive, but daddy let me drive.  Dad went from logging to working in a rock plant.  Our family car became his work vehicle.  As usual, it needed repair another rear axle.  As we started to Bessemer to find a replacement, dad said, “You drive.”  I was twelve. 

On a long hill near Montevallo, I remember being scared to death as we descended.  I looked at dad and he seemed to have confidence in me.  That was until I kept riding too close to the outside of the highway.  Dad told me that there was more room to the inside and stop driving like momma. He said that we would have to have new tires and the front end realigned if I kept running off the road.  Driving in Bessemer was scary and exciting.  I had the time of my life, me driving my daddy.

In her book, Catching Fireflies, Patsy Clairmont says that she read somewhere that we get our role models from our same-sex parent and our sense of safety and security from our opposite same-sex parent.  I don’t know about all that, but I do know that I am glad I had a daddy that loved me and taught me much about life.  I know there are thousands of children that do not have a dad in their lives.  Society is paying a tremendous price for this.  This creates a negative view of God as our Father.  Those that have a nurturing and tender interaction with their dad helps in bonding with our heavenly Father.  Clairmont says that Deuteronomy 32:4, 9-10 gives us a glimpse God’s father-heart.

 

He is the Rock, his work is perfect: for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he.

For the Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness; he led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye.

 

November is the time for Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving.  Thanks dad!

Trick or Treat

Fall is here, leaves are turning, the air is changing, and the harvest continues.  Most people think of Halloween when they think of October.  I had a baby brother born the day before Halloween.

I remember staying with my aunt.  Mamma was in the hospital, and I had specific orders from her.  I was in the second grade, and I had been elected harvest king by the second grade.  Mamma told me to be sure to take my little suit to have the king and queen pictures taken.

I convinced my aunt, you know how second graders are, that it was not the day to have my picture taken.  Mamma sacrificed to buy the outfit.  I remember it hanging under the plastic by the door as I went to catch the school bus.  I knew I messed up the minute I got on the bus and saw a fifth grader with his suit hanging in the bus. 

Mamma was upset and I look like a little pauper in a shirt and blue jeans standing by my queen.  I sure was glad to see my little brother.  Mamma was so proud of him and did not spend too much time reminding how upset she was with me.  It did not help when I did not tell her about the pictures the school had for sale of the pauper and queen.

Mamma enjoyed Halloween.  We did not dress in typical costumes.  We dressed win old clothes and went serenading.  One year Mamma dressed up like an old man.  She wore false teeth from age thirty to her death.  Mamma was a tomboy growing up so she could act like a man with a very deep voice.  I drove her from house to house and when we got to her mother’s house, grandmoe ran her away with a double-barreled shotgun.  Grandmoe thought she was a cousin who was a drunk.  We had so much fun.

The fondest memory is of Mrs. Blonnie Crumpton.  We went to her house, and she had never had anyone trick or treat her.  We looked like a bunch hoodlums or rift raft.  Mrs. Blonnie was the second oldest member of my home church.  Her dad fought in the Civil War.  She cooked on an old wood stove. 

When momma explained the meaning trick or treat, Mrs. Blonnie said, “Come in children.”  She treated us to baked sweet potatoes.  They were in the warmer of that old wood stove.  They were not chocolate or caramel, but they were good.  Every time we bake them, I think of that great saint of God who my preacher explained as one of the greatest prayer warriors he knew. 

Today when most people think of Halloween, it is evil.  Evil things happen, but God’s people can do good things just as Mrs. Blonnie did.  Paul admonishes the Romans, “Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.” (12:21 ASV)  

Pastor's Appreciation Month

God calls men into the pastorate to build people.  Unfortunately, many pastors are guilty of using people and the platform God gives them for self-promotion and self-ministry.  God divinely assigns people to His pastors to whom the pastors are spiritually responsible before God.  The wise pastor is a good steward edifying believers entrusted to him.  He cares for them as a “shepherd” cares for his sheep.

The same is true for the church.  Churches are sometimes guilty of not caring for God’s man.  The Holy Spirit sends a man into ministry.  The church recognizes this and releases him to do the work God calls him to perform in the framework of the Lord’s local church.  The pastor does more than work a couple of hours a week.  When people ask me how they can get a job where they work only two, maybe three, hours a week, I say, “Get right with God and you can.”

The pastor’s job is not simply to preach, to administer the ordinances, perform funerals and weddings, or simply lead the staff and administer the affairs of the church.  It is the pastor’s solemn and signal duty to care for his people, to “shepherd the church of God which He purchased with His own blood.”

Part of Pastor’s Appreciation is furnishing the pastor with generous resources to shepherd.  There are those who have the philosophy, “Lord you keep the preacher humble, and we will keep him poor.”

I had affiliation with a church that was guilty of holding back on a visiting preacher.  The church announced that a pastor would be coming to do a week of revival.  The host church’s pastor and members of budget and finance committee agreed to pay a certain amount for each service and to take a love offering for the visiting pastor.

The revival came.  It was a wonderful revival and the love offering was very generous demonstrating true revival.  The member of the budget and finance who wrote the checks informed the pastor that the visiting pastor did not get the love offering.  When asked why, the member said that budget and finance chairperson told her not to do so.

The host pastor investigated.  The chairperson told the pastor that the love offering was more than the visiting pastor deserved.  The pastor reminded the chairperson that the church voted to designate the love offering to the visiting pastor and that that was where it was going.  The chairperson refused until the pastor explained the legality of the situation.   The pastor said one call to the State Board of Missions, the IRS, or to the legal counsel of Samford law school could make the chairperson rethink the situation.

The chairperson asked if the visiting pastor had a church and if that church paid him while in revival.  The pastor said yes to both questions but reminded the chairperson that was immaterial.  The pastor told the chairperson that the amount of the love offering was irrelevant.  The pastor said that there was a man in the congregation known to place a $1,000 check in the love offering designated to the visiting preacher.  If the love offering was $1.00 or $10,000, it was going to the visiting preacher.

Had the visiting preacher been aware of the conversation of the pastor and the chairperson, he would have refused it.  Knowing the visiting preacher as I do, he would have authorized the check and gave it back to the church.  The visiting preacher would have said, “Here you need it more than I do.”  I know this because the visiting preacher had a pastor friend who did just that.

Most pastors trust that the church will do the “right thing” in the matter of compensation.  Many pastors live frugal lives to afford some of the good things of life.  Some churches act as though the pastor is to be a “hireling” of the church.  A God-called pastor does not work for the church.  He has a higher calling.

But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep.  The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep (John 10:12-13).

Be generous to those called to shepherd you.

Jesus Is Coming Soon

My friend, and friend to Bethel Baptist churches, said something at the 125^th Anniversary of Catherine Baptist Church that reminded me of something funny that happened when I pastored in Clanton.

Shannon reminded us that church is a place of worship and praise, not a place of mumbling and murmuring, and messes.  He mentioned particularly people complaining about the church is too hot or cold, the sermon too long or too short, and a whole list of other complaints.

Having an attention deficit problem, I immediately thought about a college football game the other day where the temperature on the field was 130 degrees.  There were roughly one hundred thousand in attendance.  Packed like sardines in the sun, they were screaming their lungs out for their team.  Many of them would not do that in church.

At the church I pastored in Clanton, every Sunday I had those that complained the church was too cold and members would place songbooks over the air-conditioner regulators.  Across the church, others complained that it was too hot.  Now if you know me very well, you know that I am game for most anything.

One beautiful Sunday morning I asked all those that were cold to stand.  When they did, I asked those that were hot to stand.  They did.  I asked both groups to look at one another and said, “Trade places.”  The complaints ended.

My dear departed friend, Rabbit, real name S.O. Easterling had a similar situation at a sister church.  Rabbit, a senior adult, was a newborn believer still learning about church folks.  Rabbit was in charge of church maintenance.  He was having the hardest time with the auditorium thermostats.  Little old ladies, too cold, and deacons too hot, and others of both hot and cold feelings, kept adjusting them.

Rabbit bought thermostat covers that locked, but members would use pocketknives, hair pens, and other objects to adjust them.

Rabbit did something diabolical.  He unhooked the auditorium thermostats, but left them on the wall, and placed two new thermostats in closet walls behind the auditorium and beside the choir loft.

Rabbit said that the complaints ceased.  Everyone set the thermostats where they wanted, not knowing they controlled nothing.  It is kinda like most folks who think that they are in control.

Diablo, that is Satan is having a heyday as of late.  He knows his days are numbered and he is using every means available to place fear into the hearts of man through deception.

May I remind us that the Devil is the prince of the air?  The reason evil abounds is that many are deceived.  Deceive means to make one believe something that is not true.

Lately, I think of an old song that reminds me that one day Jesus will return, and we need to awake as the Church.  The old Deceiver cannot fool true believers 

For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect (Matthew 24:24 KJV).

 

For many deceivers are entered into the world, who confess not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh. This is a deceiver and an antichrist (II John 1:7 KJV).

 

And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him (Revelation 12:9 KJV)

 

Until Jesus returns, share the Good News of Jesus, Truth in the flesh.  Attend church to worship and praise God.

 

Hypocrites

One Sunday night I was making a church visit when I noticed a small pickup on the side of the road.  It had a camper and a handicap tag.  Our first thought was someone with a disability could be in serious trouble.

Daddy taught me to look out for people with special needs.  If my brothers and I wanted to get in big trouble, all we had to do was make fun or laugh at someone with disabilities.  He taught us to help those who could not help themselves.  He made sure we gave respect to everyone.

I slowed down, looked into the pickup, but saw no one.  We thought about the possibility of the driver struggling up the highway.  A short distance from the pickup we spotted a couple picking up aluminum cans.  At first, we thought one of them was walking with a cane, but we realized that it was a mechanical grip used to pick up cans.

What made the whole thing ironic was would this same couple park in the handicap parking of a business because they could not walk but were about a half mile from their truck walking and picking up cans out on the highway.

I racialized that people do what they want to do.  We make all kinds of excuses for not doing things for the Lord.  I would guess if I had asked this couple to attend worship with me, the church I was going was about two miles from the truck, they would have said they were not able.  The church that we were going has handicap parking at the front door.

So many times, people would rather make excuses about their predicaments and live off the discards of the world.  Some use the excuse that the church is full of hypocrites.  Someone using a handicap parking space without being handicapped is being a hypocrite. It makes me angry to see that, but it does not keep them from shopping in that store, eating at a restaurant, or attending a game. There are hypocrites in all areas of life, but that does not keep us from living.  Why should it keep us from church?

This couple would have benefited more from attending worship than from the few pennies earned from the aluminum cans.  The greatest impairment and disability is life without Jesus.

  Now Peter and John were going up into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour.  And a certain man that was lame from his mother's womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the door of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple;  who seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, asked to receive an alms.  And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him, with John, said, Look on us.  And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something from them.  But Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but what I have, that give I thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.  And he took him by the right hand, and raised him up: and immediately his feet and his ankle-bones received strength.  And leaping up, he stood, and began to walk; and he entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.  And all the people saw him walking and praising God: (Acts 3:1-9 ASV) 

Oh, by the way, when I got to the church there was a precious couple that always greets me.  I hugged the husband’s neck, reached into the wheelchair, and got my hugs from his wife.  God is so faithful to bless our faithfulness. 

Too Simple to Work

Has anyone ever asked you to do something, and you thought, “that’s too simple and it will not work.”  While reading my devotion I came across the word “exponentially.”  What was odd, I heard “growing exponential” in a sermon the day before.  Sometimes when I do not know what a word means, I generally see how it is used in the sentence.  This time, since it crossed my path twice, I looked it up.  The definition did not help so I looked to see a commonsense use of “exponentially.”

What I found was an old math equation using a penny.  It goes like this:  Would you work for a day for a penny if I doubled it every day for 30 days?  Most people say no.  In fact, I asked Pam, my secretary and she said no.  I would!

If I work for a penny a day, $0.01, and double it each day on the thirtieth day, I would be paid $10,737,418.24 for that day.  Did I ever tell you that algebra was the easiest subject I ever took?  This exponential function can be represented by the equation: f(x) = 0.01(2^x) where x = the day number. If you plug in 30 for x, you get f(x) = 0.01×2³⁰ = 10,737,418.24.  The problem, no pun intended, is the simplicity of a penny a day.

Take my friend Keilan.  After winter shut down at the cement plant, Keilan and I were in the process of starting up the cement kilns.  The coal hoppers had a slide at the bottom above the coal mills.  Normally it took someone hammering the slide out of the hopper.  It was hard to open when the hoppers were empty and very difficult when tons of coal was on top of the slide.  Knowing how problematical it was, I had greased the slide before pushing it in place when the hopper emptied for shutdown.  The shift supervisor instructed Keilan to make sure the slide was out while the tanks were empty.

Keilan could not find a sledgehammer.  Usually, they were everywhere.  I inquired why he needed a sledgehammer.  Keilan could be easily frustrated; worried coal would be put into the hoppers before he could get the slide out.  He had a few special words for me and again asked if I knew where there was a sledgehammer.  I asked him if he had tried to pull the slide out of the hopper.  I got a few choice words explaining that it was impossible to do that.

Keilan did not know was while he was in search of the hiding sledgehammers I went to see if I could pull out the slide knowing I had greased it while the hopper was empty.  It pulled right out.  I pushed it back in for a little fun with Keilan.

The bamboozled Keilan returned with no sledgehammer.  I asked again if he had tried to pull out the slide.  After a few more inapt words from him and some persuading words from me, Keilan consented to try to pull the slide. 

If I had not caught him, he yanked the slide with the fury of an agitated Hercules; he would have gone over a safety rail and fallen twenty feet onto concrete.  It was funny and Keilan and the slide, which weighed about seventy-five lbs., were heavy.  I think Keilan would have tried to kill me, but he was too indebted since I caught him.  Again, the solution was too simple.

On another occasion, my friend Bailey, a carpenter at the University of Montevallo, had spent several days and several dollars taking his infant daughter Ashleigh to the pediatrician to cure oral thrush, a yeast infection in the mouth caused by an overgrowth of fungus.  I worked four years with Bailey.  A co-worker and I said the old timers called it “thrash” and that he should take Ashleigh to a “thrash doctor.”  That’s where I took my children.  My Grandmoe Chapman was a thrash doctor.

Bailey was a college graduate and was reluctant to believe what he termed voodoo and old wives' tales.  Ashleigh grew worse, Bailey spent more money, and we encouraged him to use a thrash doctor.

One day an officer from the University police department visited the carpenter shop for a cup of coffee.  The morning conversation was the status of Ashleigh’s mouth and Bailey’s checking account.  Hearing our advice to see the thrash doctor, which do not charge for services rendered, Officer Satterwhite advised Bailey to take her to the thrash doctor.  Not believing my co-worker and me, Bailey took Ashleigh to Officer Satterwhite’s mother, a thrash doctor.  One trip healed Ashleigh.  The solution was too simple.

So Naaman came with his horses and with his chariot, and stood at the door of the house of Elisha.  And Elisha sent a messenger unto him, saying, Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee, and thou shalt be clean.  But Naaman was wroth, and went away, and said, Behold, I thought, He will surely come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper.  Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them, and be clean? So he turned and went away in a rage.  And his servants came near, and spake unto him, and said, My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? How much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean?  Then went he down, and dipped himself seven times in Jordan, according to the saying of the man of God: and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean (II Kings 5:9-14 KJV).


 

 

Sorry the System is Down

Several years ago, while returning from a conference in Montgomery, Alabama I made a pit stop at a service station across from the Alabama Air National Guard.  It was the place that former President George W. Bush did his flying while serving in the National Guard.  I always stop there.  I love watching the planes.

As I drove into the parking lot, I noticed that there were several people at the gas pumps, a tanker truck was filling the store’s holding tanks, and people were doing as I was.  I noticed one of the clerks standing in the door talking with a customer.  It’s nothing out of the ordinary, I witnessed this before at this particular station.

As I approached her, I say excuse me.  She said, “I’m sorry the station’s system is down.”  I thought she was referring to the gas pumps because the external gas tanks were being filled.

I told her that I wanted to buy a soft drink and a candy bar.  She said she could not make any transactions because the system was down.  I told her that surely, she could figure the cost of a soft drink and a candy bar.  She said she couldn’t.

All of a sudden, my mind raced back some twenty to thirty years earlier at a Sears Department store in Vestavia, Alabama.  On that day, there was a thunderstorm and the electricity had been off for just a few moments.  I was in the check out and the clerk said she could not check me out because the register was not working.  Now remember, this was when scanning items was in its infancy.  I noticed that the old cash register was still at the checkout counter.  I asked the clerk if she could use the old register or a calculator.  Her answer shocked me.  She said she did not know how to use them.

Another thought I had was an episode at the old Food World grocery store in Demopolis, Alabama.  For years I would do grocery shopping late at night.  Being from “the sticks” in Chilton County, we had to travel thirty-five miles to the Food World in Pelham, Alabama.  Not getting out much, we would make the trek about once a month throwing in an opportunity to eat at Quincy’s Steak House.  We just got into the habit of going at night.

At the Demopolis Food World, we were in the checkout line around ten pm when the Food World central office in Birmingham shut down all computers to do a recalculation or calibration.

It was mass chaos.  Some folks were in the process of checking out.  All open registers were two to three deep with buggies, and no one knew when the system would reload.  Several people got irritated, left their buggies, and went home.  The system came back up just as some were exiting.

When I wrote this article, Pam, the Associational Missions secretary was having trouble with logging church letters.  The Adobe Reader system continuous shuts down.  I spent thirty minutes with her trying to update or reinstalling the Adobe Reader.  Our office work depends on the system working.  The process of updating and adding programs to the system never ends.

After the system shut down in Montgomery, I read this statement in the October 1, 2012 issue of Time Magazine: “Technology makes us forget what we know about life.”  Our technological know-how is preventing us from the everyday know how of living.

These system shutdowns remind me of predictions of the future from preachers, writers, and old folk in the past.  They said that the Bible speaks of a time when there will be plenty, but no one can buy.  The service station had plenty of merchandize, but no one could purchase it.  It is frightening see how easy the world as we knew could quickly shut down.  With each passing day and each advancement in technology, we become more vulnerable to system shutdowns.  When one thinks of that possibility of vulnerability, how easy would it be for a person or group to disable and dismantle life as we know it?

Life is not about systems.  Systems fail.  We must remind ourselves that we cannot allow systems to uneducate or dumb down us about life and how to survive.  The Scriptures remind of a time when systems fail:

 

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine (Revelation 6:6 KJV).

 

And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads:  And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.  Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six (Revelation 13:16-18 KJV.)

 

These verses show us that in the future there will be plenty to buy, but most will not have the resources or opportunity.

Dr. Donald Grey Barnhouse says the above verse means, “The poor are getting poorer; and the rich are still able to retain their luxuries.”  He continues, “One of the great criticisms of the present time is there is scarcity in midst of plenty.  This is the situation which will be accentuated a thousandfold when the Antichrist begins his reign.  It is social maladjustment.”

Dr. M.D. DeHann says that the oil and the wine are symbols of wealth and the wealthy will have sufficient food for a time.  The poor will give a day’s wages for wheat and barley and the rich will be left untouched until the money is gone. 

Dr. DeHann wrote these words in 1948.  Dr. Barnhouse wrote his in 1971.  We are witnessing seeing signs today.

What Stuff?

On or near September 1, 2015 my daughter Angela’s birthday, she texted me and asked me what I thought about the days of God’s judgment and how did I feel about all the September 23 stuff.  My reply was, “What stuff?”

September 23 has something to do with the start of the days of atonement.  Angela said it was all over the news.  I refuse to watch much news.  It is always twisted and perverted in the eyes of those reporting it.  The 23^rd has something to do with the Pope coming and something the author of the book The Harbinger wrote.  I read the book and it was very entertaining.  I told my daughter that we had been in the “last days” since Jesus came, died, and ascended.

Last days have always been good for book sales because most Americans are afraid to lose their material possessions.  In my way of thinking, if people are worried about the end of time, to me is an expression of a lack of faith.  GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE!  Americans have not faced what Christians worldwide have already suffered.  According to God’s Word, it’s gonna get pretty bad before He raptures the church.

Second, if there is a genuine expectation of God’s coming judgment, we would be wise to share our faith with those who are lost.

I remember in the late 1970’s that the End of Time theme was everywhere.  People had identified the Antichrist, and all was doom and gloom.  I thought I would never pay off the loan on our house because the Lord was coming back any moment.  Well, we paid off the home and it burned to the ground a couple of years later.

During this period, my dad was lost.  Knowing the imminent return of Jesus was near I was burdened for dad.  I could not stand the thought of dad dying lost and we would be eternally separated, he to hell and me to heaven.

I talked with dad and for some reason he believed he was beyond the saving of Jesus.  I told him I knew God could save him, that I was praying for his salvation, and that the Holy Spirit would draw him to Jesus.

The Sunday morning that dad publicly confessed Jesus as Lord, brought tears of joy and shouts of hallelujah to Union Springs Baptist Church.  Dad’s conversion was, a cousin of mine said, a Saul to Paul Damascus Road conversion.

One week after dad’s salvation, doctors diagnosed him with inoperable brain tumors.  One tumor, the size of lemon was in the frontal lobe of the brain and a second the size of small pea at the base of the brain stem.  The prognosis was not good.

Doctors said the operation could leave him blind, paralyzed, and loss of memory.  The morning of his surgery, he asked me to pray for him.  This is before my call into the ministry.  I read from Psalm 55 and prayed.  All of Union Springs Baptist Church and many others were praying that this new convert could live and show the world that his salvation was real.  There were those who did not believe his salvation.

When the doctors talked to our family, they said they felt the presence of God guiding them as they operated.  They were able to get ninety percent of the large tumor and treated the rest and the smaller tumor with radiation.  Everyone waited in anticipation to see dad’s response.

Dad scared the recovery room nurses. Being cold, he got up to move his bed away from the air-conditioner vent.  Nurses thought he was going mad.  Nope, dad was just cold.

A few days later, I was hosting a cottage prayer meeting for revival at our home.  About thirty-five folks showed up.  To everyone’s surprise, dad entered the room.  I will never forget the way he looked.  He always wore a blue uniform from his job.  Tied around his head was the bandage from his surgery.  The hospital released him that afternoon and he came to prayer meeting.

Joy filled the room because of his presence.  We started to pray.  I sat on the hearth of our fireplace with our pastor and I began the prayer time with the pastor to close it.

I remember where dad was seated.  Closer and closer the prayer moved toward dad.  Faster and faster my heart beat.  Suddenly, dad started to pray.  I had never heard him pray.  He always called on my brothers, sister, or me to pray.  Remember he thought he could not be saved.  Dad was fifty-eight.  As dad prayed, tears of joy and the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the room.  For two years dad demonstrated what being a new creature in Christ is.

 

Want to change America?  God’s judgment is certain, Christ’s coming is imminent, and our mission is urgent.  Stop worrying and start praying and sharing God’s plan for salvation.

 

And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him.  Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much (James 5:15-16 KJV).

 

Oh!  Many of you will be reading this on September 23^rd , which is seven years past when all the End Times Stuff did not happen.

My Way

Back in 2015 while traveling to a funeral of a friend’s mother in Mississippi, I used the navigation system on the automobile.  I looked up the address of the church and found directions to the church.  I knew the general location of the church but wanted to use the GPS to track time. 

What I realized was that the address was so rural that neither of my iPhone nor the navigational system could locate the address.  Knowing what directions I got from Google, I ventured into uncharted territory, but one of my passengers had to be sure and wanted to know the way.  She called John, our friend and son of the deceased to get specific directions.  His address was different from the ones I got from Google.

After the funeral, I entered my Linden address into the navigational system and I realized that we were in the middle of the nowhere, which was the parking lot of New Sardis Baptist Church between Mize and Mount Olive, Mississippi.

So many times, I have argued with the lady in the GPS and took my way.  Had I done that Saturday, I would have missed my destination.  I am afraid that many churches and members miss the destination that God has because we want to do things our way.

If there is one thing wrong, and there are many, with the church today it is trying to have church our way.  Since the beginning, doing things “my way” instead of God’s way has caused much pain and regret.  Think about the song “My Way” sung by Frank Sinatra.

 

And now the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend I'll say it clear
I'll state my case of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exception
I planned each chartered course
Each careful step alone the by way
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I face it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill my share of loosing
And the now as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that and my I say
Not in a shy way
Oh no, oh no not me
I did it my way.

For what is a man what has he got
If not himself then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.

 

Although Frank Sinatra made it popular and Elvis, along with numerous others, did his version, Paul Anka is the one who wrote “My Way.”  Anka got the song from Claude Francois and Jacques Revaux.  It is based on the French song “Comme d’habitube” composed in 1967.

The lyrics tell of an old man reflecting on his life as death approaches.  This old man is comfortable with his mortality and takes responsibility for how he lived with all the challenges of life while maintaining a respectable degree of integrity.

Anka rewrote the song specifically for Sinatra.

“My Way” is most frequently played at British funerals.  Mikhail Gorbachev of the Soviet Union joking referred to the Soviet policy of non-intervention in the internal affairs of other Warsaw Pact countries as the Sinatra Doctrine.

The song has been reported to cause numerous incidents of violence and homicides among drunkards in bars in the Philippines and named “My Way Killings.”

 

The song is a testimony to those who want to exclude God.  A deacon once told me in reference to a church problem, “I don’t care what the Church Constitution and By-laws say or what the Bible has to say.  This is the way we are going to handle the problem.”  Dangerous words, bad direction.

 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord (Isaiah 55:8 KJV). 

Character Centered/Achievement Centered

 

Dr. Charles Colson writes in one of his books, The Body of Christ, that the Great Commission of Matthew 28:18-20 is an individual commission.  He goes on to write that the church needs to be more character centered than achievement centered.  To understand more about the Church, the body of Christ, the book is a good read and Colson is very prophetic in his wisdom concerning the church and secular influences on the church.

Colson as you may recall was the hatchet man for President Nixon and as result of the Watergate scandal was sentenced to prison.  In prison, he received Christ as his Savior.  Since his conversion and release, Colson has been a very prominent Southern Baptist leader for Christ as speaker and author.

The morning I read his comment or character verses achievement, I thought of a conversation I had with a pastor friend.  He and I would attend Southern Baptist rallies, national and state, and instead of being energized, he would get discouraged.  In his passion for evangelism, he became depressed because his church was not growing numerically.  That is achievement oriented.  This is how most Baptists, national, state, and local, judge success in our Convention, our states, and associations.

Keynote speakers at conventions are typically pastors who started with a few members and grew large churches.  The typical storyline was, “we started with 50 or less members in an open area and now we are running 500, 1000, or more.”

I would quiz my friend about these claims.  I asked, “Did you know that that church did start in a cotton field, but now there are subdivisions due to white flight and urban expansion?”  I would ask him how many people moved into his community within the last year.  He would reply that people had moved out.  I asked how expected his church to enlarge if the community was shrinking.

Another depressing concern for my friend was the inconsistence of his Sunday morning Sunday School and worship attendance.  Again, this was achievement oriented.  He continually complained that he would have a consistent attendance if he did not have so many members that worked on Sunday.  He told me on several occasions that they needed to quit their jobs if they had to work Sunday.

I would quiz him again.  I say quiz but it might have been me playing the devil's advocate.  I would ask him did he turn on the lights on Sundays.  He said yes and I said someone was working at the electric plant for him to have lights.

I asked if he drove a car to his church on Sunday.  He said yes and I said that many of the parts of that car were manufactured on Sunday and that the car may have been assembled on Sunday.

I knew he liked to eat out on Sundays, and I reminded him that those people were working Sunday.  I reminded him that I worked shift work for many years, which many of his members have, and had only one Sunday a month as an off day.  I worked shift work as a bi-vocational pastor.  I missed one Sunday morning, one Sunday night, and one Wednesday night every month.

My pastor friend preached for me when I missed these services.  I reminded him that most of the conveniences, luxuries, and necessities are produced on Sundays.  I told them that it was very costly and inefficient to start and stop a cement kiln so the operators could be off on Sundays.  It took several hours to shut down a kiln and several hours to restart.  That would make cement unaffordable.  That is true for most manufacturing.

When we focus on the achievement, we forget character.  The Great Commission challenges us to make disciples.  I asked my friend if his members that worked shift attended, taught, and tithed when they were at church.  His response was they do and even send their tithes and have a substitute teacher when they have to work on Sundays.  I asked him, “Well, what’s your problem?”  In reality, the members who were faithful in these areas were disciples by the character of their actions.  Besides this, they were witnesses where they were employed.  They were following the commission of Acts 1:8. They were witnesses at work.

But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth (Acts 1:8 KJV).

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:  Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen Matthew 28:19-20 KJV).

Colson says, “The first priority of those communities (Churches) is to disciple men and women to maturity in Christ and then equip them to live their faith in every aspect of life and in every part of the world.”

Pivotal Moments

You and I measure time by events.  The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us of that in Chapter three.  We have those pivotal moments that mark our living in births, deaths, holidays, special events, and tragedies.

Growing up daddy would say on the day you were born icicles were hanging off the house a foot long and we buried your momma’s Grandmoe Crumpton the day before you were born.

One of those pivotal moments came in October 1986.  Momma heard that I would be preaching at the Maplesville Baptist Church.

Mom had worked in the veneer mill in Maplesville thirty-five years earlier.  She wanted to go with me in hope of renewing some old acquaintances.  I hoped that she wanted to hear me preach, but she wanted to meet old friends.

It was rare for mom and dad did not get to hear me preach.  Both died within the first three years of my ministry.  I think the only sermon my dad heard me preach as a pastor was a Father’s Day message at my first church.  Mom heard a few more, but not many.

The trip to Maplesville was fun.  I spent time with mom.  She met a few old friends and for mom, she heard me for the last time.  In my ministry, my sermon has been the last message people heard before they died.  That is an awesome responsibility when standing behind the Sacred Desk.  My preaching what may be the last word from God a person hears.

The following week, I went to see momma on Saturday morning.  She was standing at the place she stood most, behind the kitchen sink washing dishes.  She was looking out the window as I sneaked up behind her.  Momma did a lot of humming and singing while doing dishes and this morning was no different.

I grabbed her from behind, gave her a big bear hug, lifted her from her feet, and turned round and round with her.  When I put her down, she said, “You broke my rib.”  I said, “Momma I did not squeeze you hard enough to break a rib.”

Momma worked hard her whole life and she and dad never had many worldly possessions.  For several years, mom suffered severe pain, but the doctors could never find anything that may have caused the pain.  Mom hurt so bad that she would spend a couple hours after work resting at my sister’s house before taking the thirty-minute drive home.  My sister lived a couple miles from where momma worked.

So, when I hurt mom, I just added to the pain.  After two or three days following my big squeeze, mom went to the doctor.  When Dr. Funderburk, family friend and former parishioner of mine, read the x-ray, he sent mom to a specialist.

A few years earlier mom had a stroke but recovered.  She rehabbed herself.  Later the doctors diagnosed melanoma cancer on her back.  She had successful surgery.  But the pain continued.

I shall never forget the moment when the doctor told me, I was with her when she had surgery following the hug that broke the rib.  The surgeon said, “Your mom is eaten up with cancer.”  He said the rib was not broken, but I collapsed her rib cage on the left, the good one, with the hug.  The other side is completely eaten away.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that cancer riddled her body.  The surgeon said, “Your mom has six months to a year to live.”  That was around Halloween.

Mom had a bad spell around Thanksgiving.  The doctor said, “Your mom has three to six months to live.” Mom was in the hospital at Christmas.  It would our last Christmas with her.  The doctors said, “Your mom has days to live.”

My sister, brothers, and I spent time with mom.  My sister was marvelous staying the week, while my brothers and I did weekends.  On one of my watches, mom was struggling, always the fighter.  Seeing she needed some encouragement, I said, “Come on old woman, get up, and fix me some biscuits.”  I was not ugly or disrespectful, that was the way mom and I picked on each other.  She loved to fix me biscuits and I loved aggravating her. She tried to get off the bed using her good arm; cancer destroyed her right arm, esophagus, number four disk, thigh, and neck among other parts of her diseased body.  After a gallant effort, she fell back in the bed, looked me dead in the eyes, and asked me, “Am I going to make it?  Don’t lie to me.  I know when you lie.  I can see it in your eyes.”

Mom was obvious to how short her time was.  I told what the doctors told me.  I said, “You have days.”  She said, “I thought so.”

She said, “God has blessed me.  He gave me what I wanted.  Christian kids.  I have a preacher, two deacons, and a Sunday School teacher. I never wanted to be rich, famous, or have a lot of stuff.  All I ever wanted in life was Christian children.  God gave them to me.”

Pivotal events came at Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the start of a New Year.  Twenty-seven days into the New Year momma died.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2a KJV)

 

In the Mirror We Stare

 My, my time has quickly passed

Just yesterday, you came unexpectedly fast

The moment I saw you, you became my special angel

There were so many plans God had for you I could tell

Watching you grow has been frightful, yet wonderful journey

From daddy’s little girl, to worried teenager, to mother of three

 

Many special moments flood my memory

You with lifted arms saying, “Hold you me”  

 

You in the ring swing from the oak tree in the backyard

Saying, “Higher daddy, push me high and hard”

 

You riding down the sidewalk making the Bigwheel tire flat

To learning to drive the car, just like that

 

The many volleyball practices that we spent together

Sharing doubts, hopes, and dreams to make things better

 

The places, sights, and things that we have shared

From a multitude of the world’s problems God has spared

 

The journey to this day, your 45^th birthday, has had it bumps

It is good that God forgives and throws all our wrongs in the dump

 

I have, and always will, love “my special angel” sent from above

Just remember there is nothing greater than a Father’s love

 

It seems as yesterday that you were little with monsters in her hair

Daddy trying to get them out in tender care as in the mirror we stare

 

At that moment not realizing all the things that God would allow

Having faith that the Lord up would honor our prayers as we bow

 

When troubles and sorrows toss you and you think you will drown

Your old dad will be praying that the Lord put you back on solid ground

 

Happy Birthday Angel

Love Dad

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Still of the Night

 While returning from a hospital visit at Shelby Baptist in Alabaster, I ran into torrential downpour on Interstate 65.  My windshield wipers could not remove the water fast enough.  I started to pull off to the side of the Interstate, but I was in the left lane and could not see anything.  When I slowed, I could hear cars beside me and behind me.  The last thing I wanted was to wreck in the rain, especially from the rear.

It was not long until I realized I was behind an eighteen-wheeler that was moving at a slow speed.  Every once in a while, I could see the outline of the trailer.  What I could see was his taillights. So, for what seemed as a long journey in darkness, I followed the red glow of his rear lights.

You have to be careful when you are following people.  The other day I led the funeral procession for Ms. Marlene Downey from the O’Bryant Funeral Home in Thomasville to the Old Union Baptist Church Cemetery.  When I was a young pastor and led my first funeral procession, the funeral home director told me not to run but forty to forty-five miles an hour.  He said the cars behind me and will always be running too fast trying to catch up.

When I pulled out from the funeral home, I was in the lead.  I think that mentality has carried over when I run up and down the highway.  I hate what they call wolf packs on the highway.  You know that when cars get in a group.  I will either lack behind or let them get out of the way, or I will pretend I am at Talladega Speedway and get far ahead.

The other day coming home from my uncle’s wake at my home church in Randolph; I had a person riding my bumper with his headlights on bright.  On a long straight I slowed where the dude could pass.  Thinking back, he might have been lost in the wilderness and was following my taillights back into civilization.  That is if one can say Selma is civilized.  He slowed too.  I finally pulled to the side and stopped.  He did too for a second and then pulled away.

Traveling in a caravan on the Bethel Baptist Builders trip is always fun.  The caravan seems like a Cannon Ball Run.  The Cannon Ball Run is where sports car drivers are racing across country to see who can have the best time from say from Los Angles to Miami.  Every Bethel Builder, with the exception of a slow poke or two, are racing to see who has the best time getting to the job site and who can return home in the fastest time without getting a ticket.  Oh yes, they have Bethel Baptist Builders magnetic signs on the sides of the vehicles.

Sometimes out of necessity, we do things that are I say, wrong.  Several years ago when I was pastor up at Gallion Baptist Church, I had to retrieve my old GMC pickup from my cousin who was also my mechanic.  I needed a driver.  I recruited my thirteen, maybe fourteen-year-old son Aaron.  Before embarking on the 100-mile journey from Montevallo to Gallion, I told Aaron, who was always up to the challenge to do something he was not supposed to do, to drive my Honda Accord and follow close to the truck.  Aaron was tall enough to pass for an adult.  My worry was what to do if we were pulled over by an officer of the law. 

We mapped out our journey by traveling all the back roads to Uniontown.  Highway 183 from Maplesville to Uniontown was foggy.  I told Aaron to stay close to me.  We drove the long journey slowly.  The twelve-mile journey from Uniontown to Gallion was the stretch I dreaded the most.  We made the journey in the still of the night without any problems.

Now, before you pass judgment too quickly.  Aaron was a very good driver.  He learned the skills of driving by bush hogging, go carting, riding ATVs, and riding around Gallion.  I knew he could do it.  Because I trusted him, he trusted me.

Aaron and I have fond memories of that night and one day he will have trouble explaining that to his boys when they want to drive before they are old enough.  That night is a sweet memory and one I thank God that we made it.

When Jesus discipled his followers, He admonished them to take up the cross and follow Him.  Paul in his letter to the church at Corinth encourages believers to be followers of God and walk in love.

 

Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour (I Corinthians 5:1-2 KJV).

 

Let me encourage you to be followers of Jesus.