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.

Bumps Ahead

 

The other day I was spending some time alone by riding in West Alabama and East Mississippi.  I did not have any particular place to go or to be.  I wanted to meditate as I drove.  Each time I came to an intersection I would think a minute then turn.

I was traveling in places I had never been before.

Most of the traveling was smooth for my little Honda.  I like driving my old truck, but it takes too much expensive gas to joy ride in it, but it is more comfortable.  I drove without the radio or CD playing.  I just wanted to watch, observe, and listen to God.

Not knowing where I was or where I was going was uncannily soothing.  I was not lost because I knew that if I went north, I would intersect at I 59.  If I continued west, I would be in Meridian.  If I traveled south, I would intersect US Hwy 84.  If I went back east, there would be Alabama Highway 17.

Somewhere in East Mississippi, I was reminded of home.  The roads were deplorable.  They were worst than anything we had up home including red dirt roads and converted pig trails, but it was east Mississippi.  There were no signs to let you know where you were.  I thought I might have changed commissioner districts.  Used to be up home, commissioners responsible for our “red” neck of the woods could care less if we had good roads.  The commissioners claimed lack of money.  When they did get money, they would spray tar and cover it with crushed limestone that was excellent sand blasting material for pulverizing windshields, stripping chrome bumpers, and removing paint.

The poor commissioners did not repair potholes or ditches in the road when putting in drainpipes.   I hit a pothole in the town of Thorsby one time that caused my tire to go flat.  I thought I ruined the tire only to find I ruined a tire and the rim.  This highway was worse than Chilton County.

The landscape was very familiar until I saw something redneck that we do not have up home.  There was a fencerow that baseball caps adorned the top of the fence posts.  I noticed that the caps were Alabama and Auburn caps.  That is not unusual for East Mississippi, but it got me to thinking about the change in the road a couple miles back.  I paid attention to the car tags of the next house and discovered I was in Choctaw County Alabama.  I asked the Lord to forgive me for thinking bad thoughts about the poor poverty, last in everything, State of Mississippi.  I thought about it a moment and realized that the County tag for Chilton is 14 and the one for Choctaw is 15 and suddenly everything in the world made sense even the identical highway connecting Magnolia to Lamison.  I am getting scared to make a church visit to Lamison in my small Honda.  I am afraid if I don’t disappear in a hole, the potholes are going to destroy my front end.  But I get the same sensation when travel State Highway 183 from Union Town to Marion only poor Perry County has paved that highway three or four times in the past sixteen years.

I continued on the road, it carried me to South Choctaw Academy in Toxey, then Gilbertown where I crossed the railroad tracks and started back on my journey into uncharted territory in search of peace, meditation, and dinner.

I saw a sign with Welcome to Mississippi. Other signs warned of road closure, lane closure, flagman ahead, slower traffic keep right, and detours, low shoulder, and bump ahead.  I can testify that there was a bump, but it was a long way from the sigh. On my journey to “find myself”, I found that there were very few places that were different from where I have been.  I found myself at a catfish restaurant in Stateline, Mississippi. I found the people nice, the patrons friendly, and the catfish delicious.  In Stateline, I thought about the gecko in the GIECO commercial where he is jumping from Tennessee to Virginia.  When I turned left, the highway changed tunes and I saw the Sweet Home Alabama sign.

I drove slowly and thought about the things I saw.  I crossed over rivers and creeks that continue their journey endlessly flowing since the Lord created them.  I saw empty towns, houses, and land that were once productive now sitting idle and forgotten.  I saw large homes, small homes, new homes, rundown homes, mobile homes, and nursing homes. 

I saw a wreck or two and people helping.  I saw people in a hurry and some like me that were poking along.  There were the courteous drivers and the road rage maniacs.  There were safe drivers and the idiots that pass on hills and on double yellow lines.  There were new things and plenty of the same. 

In my time alone, God was showing that life is a journey and the road will have its challenges.  As we journey into a new year, we can expect the unexpected.   Every year I pray the New Year will be better than the last.  In some ways, it is, but there are ways that are as my journey. 

I pray that we travel the road God gives us with confidence and it will be a great journey regardless of the bumps.  I remind myself to thank God for roads, which remind of life.

 

The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.  Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain:  And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it (Isaiah 40:3-5 KJV).

Running

Several years back I went for a checkup on my knee replacement.  The doctors gave a great report.  I asked if I could continue walking seeing some people that have had knee replacement were told they could not walk for exercise but told to ride a bicycle.

The doc said walking would be good.  I told them that I did not want to wear it out prematurely.  They responded that the titanium knee would last me the rest of my life.  I responded that I had hoped to live to be an old man!  They assured me that it would last and to return to whatever I was doing.

I asked them if I could jog.  At one time, I was jogging three miles every other day.  Every once in a while, I would jog seven miles.  Doing that two days in a row, I decided to stick with the three miles.

I remember jogging one morning when a deacon from my church pulled along side of me.  He smarted by saying, “It don’t matter how much you plowed the mule, he’ll stay fat if you continue to stall feed him.  You need to push back from the table.”  I said, “I jog to eat.”

Back to the doctors.  I asked them what things can I do and they said anything.  I asked if I could play tennis.  They said yes, preferably with partners.  I asked if I could run, they said sure.  I begged please say I cannot run!

Running for me is a sign of punishment.  I remember having to run extra laps when doing something wrong in football.  We had to run when we lost, when practice was not suitable to the coach, when we missed a block or a tackle, and we ran to satisfy the coach.

It is hard for me to justify running, especially since both knees went bad.  I have done my share of running.  I have run chasing pigs, ponies, cows, chickens, and all kinds of animals.  I have run to catch footballs, baseballs, basketballs, and tennis balls.  I have run to catch a ride, to get help, and to be on time.  I have run from rattlesnakes, Doberman pinchers, and bumblebees.  I even ran from girls at one time and ran after them later.

I heard evangelist Jerry Pipes say that he quit running stating is was fruitless.  His reasoning was that God gives us so many heartbeats and he did not want to waste his running.  I agree whole-heartedly.  I wasted two good knees and no telling how many days I took off my life.

I tell people that I don’t run any more.  If you see me running, it’s gonna be real bad.  I have just returned to two miles of walking most days.  Six months later I had my left knee replaced and had to start the walking all over again.

I was out walking my two miles one day when by neighbor came running by me.  I told him I remember when I used to run.  I shook my head thinking to myself, what a waste of heartbeats.  You can get a high running.  The body releases endorphins that act like painkillers.  When I ran, I felt that I could compete in the Olympics.  That was the endorphins doing the thinking.

I worry about folks that run all the time.  I not talking about running here and there, but those people in their funny looking shorts, jerseys, and footwear that run, run, run.  They, along with bicyclists, are kinda weird.  I think they too have had just a little too many endorphins.

Running is a young person thing, but every once in while you read about some senior adult that has had an overdose of endorphins and they run.  Seeing senior adults in running apparel can be an ugly site.  There are things that just ain’t right.

In ancient times, it was considered very undignified for a senior man to run.  Aristotle expressed the same Shibboleth: “Great men never run in public.”  Shibboleth means belief or custom that distinguishes one group from another.  All I know is if I see a senior adult running, I gotta see what’s chasing him or her.

When you think about Aristotle’s quote, it makes us look at the Father in the story of the prodigal son in a different light: I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.  And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.  And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry (Luke 18-24 KJV).

In a period when everyone wants to feel warm and fuzzy about church, Jesus reminds those that listen about repentance.  We must return to the Father.

Jesus reminds us in the parable that the Father, who is a picture of God, ran as fast and as quickly as he could to express the longing of his heart to welcome his son home.  Did you get it?  God runs to us.  Our willing to return to the Father unleashes His immense, incalculable responsiveness.

Something Is Not Right

Have you ever had that funny feeling that something is missing.  My late uncle Clifton, my favorite, had one of those moments.

Uncle Clifton lived in Beloit, Illinois for years and moved down the road to Rockton.  After several years, he decided to add another room to his house.  He took his time to measure and plan out his new addition.  He dug the footing, poured the concrete, and pulled string to designate where to place the cinder block addition.

Uncle Clifton laid two rows of blocks and took a satisfied look at his handiwork.  Something did not look right.  He checked and the blocks were level, the corners were square, and the walls were straight.  Still puzzled, he knew that something was not kosher, but laid another couple of rows and stepped back to admire his artisanship.

There was something wrong, but he could not put his finger on it.  Once again, he checked, the walls were straight, the corners were square, and the blocks were level.

Sensing something was wrong, he asked an old Jewish friend to give a second opinion.  This old Jewish man took uncle Clifton in and loved him as the son he never had.

The old man studied uncle Clifton’s construction with the eye of an inspector.  He told Uncle Clifton that something was wrong and asked if the walls were straight.  They pulled a line and they were.  He asked if the corners were square.  They placed a square in the corners and found them to be perfect.  He asked if the blocks were level and after placing a level atop the block walls, found them almost perfectly level.

As they both stepped back with a puzzled look, the Jewish friend asked my uncle, “Where are the doors and windows?”  There were none.  Uncle Clifton and the Jewish man entered the addition from the house.  Uncle Clifton had to remove blocks to have windows and doors.

Failure to see something is missing happens to all of us.  If you remember, one year I grew a mustache and beard to play Santa.  I had several people say that it made me look younger, some said older, and some said I looked like a college professor.  I had several lady friends that said I looked handsome, I think they need glasses, but I was not married to them.  The wife hated it.

Hating to shave, I liked the new look for a while.  Folks said I looked like the late country singer Charlie Rich.  Others said I looked like Kenny Rogers.  I always asked, “Kenny before or after the facelift?”

Before long, I was spending as much time trimming the beard and mustache as it took to shave.  The wife was persistent in wanting me to shave so I did.  You know what?  I did not say anything for three days to see if she noticed.  She did not.  In fact, we were headed out of town when I asked if she noticed anything missing.  She responded with “nope.”  I said I shaved three days ago.

Last week’s blog I said that if I received a vicious letter, I would check to see if the letter writer was bold enough to sign his or her name.  If a signature is missing, I will not read it.  Well, something was missing originally.  When I write an article, I email it to Pam the Bethel Baptist Association Secretary.  She cuts and pastes it from my Microsoft Word program to her Publisher program where the Alabama Baptist can print it for you the faithful reader.  Pam and I will proof it, but mistakes are made and things are left out as we try to fit the article into the limited space that becomes the back page.

As Paul Harvey would say, “Here is the rest of the story.”  The suggestions for dealing with vicious people were not there:

 Dr. Andy Westmoreland, former president of Samford University makes these suggestions for dealing with vicious people.

Boldly Resist:  Then answered one of the lawyers, and said unto him, Master, thus saying thou reproaches us also.  And he said, Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! for ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers. Luke 11:45-46

Negotiate:  Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.  Matthew 5:25

Turn the other cheek: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. Matthew 5:38

Oh, another thing.  I did receive a note to shave that silly beard of my face.  It was signed, but I did not shave it until I was ready.