SNARES

When the winds blow, I pick up sticks, trigs, and limbs.  Mostly they are from the three large oak trees near my grill and barbeque pit. These are very handy to start a fire when grilling with hickory.  The pine limbs are a nuisance, not too tasty to use for cooking.

Before I learned the art of cooking with wood, especially hickory, sticks and limbs had other uses.  Momma would instruct us to get a limb, usually a peach limb, a plum limb, or black cherry limb to whip us.  Folks that know I am from Chilton County always brag on how wonderful the peaches taste.  Well, peach limbs don’t feel too spiffy and create a bad taste in your mouth concerning peach trees.

On occasion or two, pine sticks caused me to have to retrieve peach limbs.  Once when I visited my cousins.  They told me they had found a wonderful place in the woods, and they wanted me to see it.  As I followed them into the forest, I should have been more suspicious and less trusting of them.  After all, they were my flesh and blood.  We studied in Sunday school how brothers and cousins could do deplorable things to one another, but I never suspected that my favorite kin would harm me.

As we walked in the shadows of the large pines, they commented on the birds, squirrels, and other things.  Focusing on the things above, I did not see them deliberately sidestep a place on the ground.  All of a sudden, I felt like Alice in wonderland falling into a large hole.  When I looked up, I felt like Joseph in the pit about to be sold to the Ishmaelites.  There were my four cousins looking and laughing at me in this large stump hole.

They had taken pine sticks, trigs, made a rotten network of limbs and trigs, and covered their handiwork with pine straw.  Like a lamb being led to the slaughter, I fell into their snare.  I couldn’t wait to get out of the stump hole and see how my cousins created such a wonderful snare.

My cousins got me out and I helped them to redo the snare for some other unsuspecting cousin or friend.  In fact, I could not wait to get home to my pine ticket and make me a snare for my sister, brothers, and cousins.

I did not have a deep enough stump hole and had to do a little digging covering the dirt with pine straw.  I carefully weaved me a network of trigs and sticks across the top of my hole.  I fashioned the pine straw to make it look like the area surrounding the hole.  I had to create story to lure my victims into the pine thicket.  When I did, momma taught me another lesson using a peach limb.

Thinking back, we were fortunate that we did not get hurt really bad, but we were pretty tough.  Rolling down hills in old truck tires, sliding down pine straw on old windshields, swinging from muscadine vines, swinging out trees, and other fun stuff made us tuff. 

From time to time, we got caught in our own snares.  Truck tires would hit trees, knocking the wind out of us.  We learned that pines saplings were not the ideal tree to swing out to the ground.  Windshields would break into a jillion pieces when sliding across a rock.  Muscadine vines once cut, died, and turned loose from the tree when you were at the highest point of the swing, making landing on your back uncomfortable.

Ironically, a Friday morning devotion before a Sunday visit to Catherine Baptist Church was about the Scripture in this article.  At Catherine, Joe Harrison told me of another lion hunt he had in Africa.  Joe said that they had to dig a pit and use it as a blind to shoot the lion.  Thanks Joe!  The devotion and your story were the inspiration for this article.

 

A snare is defined as “concealed trap for a victim.”  A snare leads to eventual destruction.  Sometimes people, businesses, and organizations, yes even the church, unintentionally create snares.  A credit card makes buying easy, but the snare is debt.  A church can dedicate a building, piece of church furniture, or a picture and it becomes an immovable object or sacred cow.  A person praying for a good paying job can become so dedicated to that job that he or she forsakes their ministry, and eventually church.  That boat or motor home becomes something that we worship, spending more time with it than with God.  We did not intent to worship it, but we did. 

Take Gideon in the Book of Judges.  He never intended to create a snare, but he did.

 

And Gideon said unto them, I will not rule over you, neither shall my son rule over you: the Lord shall rule over you.  And Gideon said unto them, I would desire a request of you, that ye would give me every man the earrings of his prey. (For they had golden earrings, because they were Ishmaelites.)  And they answered, We will willingly give them. And they spread a garment, and did cast therein every man the earrings of his prey. And the weight of the golden earrings that he requested was a thousand and seven hundred shekels of gold; beside ornaments, and collars, and purple raiment that was on the kings of Midian, and beside the chains that were about their camels' necks.  And Gideon made an ephod thereof, and put it in his city, even in Ophrah: and all Israel went thither a whoring after it: which thing became a snare unto Gideon, and to his house (Judges 8:23-27 KJV).

 

The Hebrew word for snare means “a noose for catching animals or a hook for the nose.”  The ephod, because of its wealth and beauty became an object of worship.  Its original intent was to honor God, but people are prone to idolatry. 

I Noticed You Don't Limp

What keeps you going?  I do not know about you, but I need someone to push me when I won’t start, guide me when I need direction, pump me when I am down, move me when I am stuck, soothe me when I hurt, embrace me when I am lonely, and stand beside me when I struggle. 

I pray that as I face the uncertainties of life that I always have hope.  I have known several people that have given up hope and the result was death.  I want to have a living hope and that is difficult when I realize how fast evil is growing in our world today.  You and I must avoid killers of hope such as betrayal, trials, and death.

I had a yearly checkup with my knee surgeon on August 29, 2016.  After x-raying of both knees, Dr. Steele examined his handiwork bending my knees, straightening them, and swiveling them.  He asked if I had any issues.  Having none, he said, “I will see you in five years.”

That was great news considering that the last year had been a healing year.  Skibo, my knee therapist, saw me the one night at a Quarterly Men’s Meeting at Fairhaven Baptist Church in Demopolis, Alabama.  He said, “I watched you walking at Walmart the other day and noticed you walked without a limp.”  I responded, “I didn’t know I was supposed to having two new knees.”   He continued to tell me how good I did and how I was a poster child for his clinic Genesis Rehab.

Prior to my surgery, I was on the verge of giving up hope.  My greatest fear was losing the use of my legs.  I knew that there were hundreds of people that loss the use of their legs, especially veterans of the Middle East.  The uncertainty of total knee replacement, especially those I knew that were not totally successful, those that walked with a limp, got infections, and had to re-operate and replace replacements, made me doubt.

My knees deteriorated for over eight years after the initial diagnosis of severe arthritis, bone on bone, and a recommendation of total knee replacement.  The harder I tried to aid in the healing of my knees before surgery, the worse they became.  I eventually destroyed the ACLs in both knees and tore ligaments reaching the lowest point in my life physically, but it was beginning to affect me emotionally and spiritually.

Having had both knees replaced, Erma Davis from Dixons Mill Baptist Church, one of the churches I served, encouraged me have the surgery.  A pastor friend of mine told of a member of his family who had the surgery and wished he had done it years earlier.  When I started having fever, could not do steps, could not bend my knees, and could not move laterally, I paid attention to those trying to give me hope.

At our eldest son’s birthday dinner in Birmingham, we and our daughter, Angela went shopping in Brookwood Village.  Not being able to walk, I sat in the car.  It was a beautiful day for January 18.  I watched handicap students from the University of Southern Mississippi exit a van.  They were in town for a handicap tournament.

I noticed a student that had a prosthesis leg.  He wore shorts and tennis shoes.  I watched him move effortlessly in the parking lot.  I made up my mind that day that if I did lose my legs, I could do as this young man did.

During the pre-op for the first knee replacement, the lady in charge of pre-surgical exercises apologized for being late.  She had helped an eighty plus year-old lady into her car.  This little lady had had total knee replacement that morning.  I made up my mind.  If that little old lady could do well, I could.

The morning of my surgery, I had a Biblical, a Godly peace.  I knew that people were praying for me.  I knew that regardless of the outcome, that God would be with me every step, no pun intended, of the way.

I remember that there was no pain in my knee.  Sure, the knee was sore from the cutting of muscles and ligaments, the pulling, hammering, and cutting of bones, and especially the tourniquet, but there was no pain in the joint.  That afternoon after the surgery, I started walking.  Actually, having not bent my right knee in years, I learned how to walk again.  I couldn’t wait to replace the other one and wished I had not waited so long.

Learning to walk again is what we must do when betrayal, trials, and death wounds us, zaps our energy, and consumes our being.  Peter’s hope was obliterated after the betrayal, the trial, and death of Jesus.  But, after the Resurrection, Jesus picked him up from the pits of self-destruction and self-pity and challenged him.  Examine the difference in Peter when he wrote the early Christians when they were being persecuted.    

  

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, To an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you, Who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ: Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory: Receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls (I Peter 1:3-9 KJV).

Oh What A Night Back in 1969

Influence is a powerful word.  It was so powerful that momma guarded what influenced us.  When I look at society today, there are more venues of influence than any time in the history of the world.  Some years back, I read that people read more on one page of a daily newspaper than people did before the age of the printing press read in twenty years.  Can you imagine the magnification of that fact today with the media resources available today, especially smart phones and access to the World Wide Web?

When we discuss influence, VCR’s, DVD’s, and CD’s have entertained those that are in their mid to late fifties.  I remember discussing the subject of VCRs with a cousin that operated a video rental store.  These stores, as well as VCR’s, have gone the way of the dodo bird.  They no longer exist.  My cousin told me that VCRs were great babysitters.  Her sons, who now have teenagers of their own, watched VCR’s every day after school until her and her husband got home.  They may have been good babysitters, but the content of the VCR’s has influenced a whole generation.  The verdict of this way of life is pending.  Mama always said, “You will reap what you sow!”

Another one of mom’s favorite sayings was, “Birds of a feather flock together.”  Bad friends result in bad behavior.  If momma or dad said that they did not like a certain friend I had and that I had better stay away from them, I took note of it.  Dad was a very good discerner of people and momma wasn’t too shabby at judging folks either.

Because of a life without many amenities, I did not have many friends.  I was embarrassed to invite them to the shanty where I lived.  Most parents of kids from school had barns and sheds that were better than hour house.  I did not want people to see how poor we were.

In my late teens, I befriended some of my football teammates.  One evening after practice, some of them invited me to spend a few hours with them.  After hanging out at the local hamburger stand across from our football practice field, one of my friends, “Butter Bean,” invited to ride with him.  His dad was a mechanic and auto body technician.  Butter Bean’s dad had restored a 56 Chevy.  It was turquoise and white two-door hardtop with a 327 engine, four-in-the-floor, chrome mag rims, and Tiger Paw tires.  A chance to ride in it was wonderful since I was driving an old wore out junker 1950 Plymouth which have restored and currently drive.

I loaded up with Butter Bean and a couple of very impressionable junior high boys. We took off from the hamburger stand with the sound of cherry bomb mufflers sounding like the fluttering of angel wings with changing of all four gears.  We had not gone very far when I realized I might have made a mistake.  As they broke out the Miller High Life beers, I knew it could not be good.  I did not drink.  When we stopped at the I-65 over pass near Rocky Mount Methodist Church, I got suspicious.  When they opened the trunk and got out the cases of eggs, I had a sick feeling down in my gut.

About this time, I asked, “What are y’all gonna do with them eggs?”  Butter Bean said, “We are going to throw them at cars on the Interstate.”  Well, I was pretty naïve, but I’m not stupid.  I folded my arms, sat down in the open trunk and told them that I was not gonna throw eggs.  I watched as they had their fun and prayed that no one would get killed and that the Jemison police or Alabama State Troopers would not show.  They drank beer, threw eggs, and snickered in demonic timbre.

I was glad to return to the hamburger stand, get in my old Plymouth, and get home.  I told daddy what I had done in hopes that he would be proud that I did not participate in the demonic debauchery and revelry of interstate eggnog.  I hoped that he would believe me, and he did.  But he gave me some advice that I carry with me to this very day.  He asked, “What would you have done if the police showed up that night?”  I told him that I would have told them was not drinking and I was not throwing eggs.  Dad said the police would not know any difference and would have assumed that I had.  He said there would be no way to convince them that you were not drinking and had not thrown eggs, and the best thing would have been to start walking back to Jemison.  In my mind, I did what I thought was right and besides, I wanted to ride in the 56 Chevy again.

Thinking back to that night back in 1969, I am glad that no one was injured or killed.  Since that night, I have read and heard about numerous injuries and deaths due to objects tossed down onto innocent interstate travelers.  That night seems so trivial compared to the things teenagers are doing nowadays.  Today’s society is so much like those in the days of the Book of Judges.  

 

In those days there was no king in Israel: every man did that which was right in his own eyes (Judges 21:25 KJV).

The 141st Celebration of God’s Work

Somewhere between “God Give Us Christian Homes”

And “Holy, Holy, Holy”

The devil and his minions entered the small rural worship

What had been a small gathering of Godly saints

Evil ransacked with yelling, bitter tears, and division

In the interlude, there was a “Golden Anniversary”

It was perfect follow up to God Give us Christian Homes

The Golden Couple bubbled with joy sharing their wisdom

The small congregation honored them with song and smiles

Sunday School was the conversion of Saul

The church motto, “Showing What God Can Do” echoed

Men discussed issues and had prayer oblivious of Evil

Innocence and ignorance reared it two-faced head

Special celebration of the Golden couple was a secret

Evil used the occasion to fuel the sin of jealousy

Calm turned to storm, love turn to scorn, and disunity

Tears of celebration became tears of hurt and shame

The flames of hell lapped and an evil coldness engulfed

The men exited their prayer into frozen animosity

The pastor entered the Holy warfare with partial armor

As he waited and prayed, he sang Holy, Holy, Holy

It’s words and theology rang out as still God reigns

Satan disrupted using the sins of the congregation

Repentance is the key and forgiveness is powerful

God is Merciful and Mighty

Forgive us God for allowing evil to use us

Fun Meeting People

While attending the University of Montevallo I met people from all over the world.  Back then, Montevallo was the first school listed under Alabama colleges.  Alabama is the first state listed.  Many foreign students came because of its listing and its lower tuition.

I developed relationships with Rom from India, Boon Hin from Malaysia, Mercedes from Spain, Vanna from Iran, and Dan from Pittsburg.  Now Pennsylvania is in America, but Dan acted like a “fernier”, that is Chiltonian slang for foreigner.

It was fun meeting new people.  It was enlightening to learn from new cultures and seeing things from new perspectives.  I received four years of education from relationships that cannot come from books and lectures.

One intriguing person did not attend school but worked in the University carpenter shop.  He was native Alabamian, from Chilton County.  He wore long hair to cover a place on the back of his head and neck from a scalding accident as a kid. He talked in a slow southern drawl and walked in a slow, carefree, and plowboy manner.  He appeared to have little education but could spell anything.

Being a horrible speller, he and I discussed spelling on many occasions.  He wanted to know how I was an English minor and could not spell.  I told him I spelled with a very limited vocabulary and used a dictionary.  I had not heard of a thesaurus back then.  Boy does a thesaurus help writing these articles. 

He asked me in that slow southern drawl, “If you don’t know how to spell it, how do you look up a word in a dictionary?”  He did have a good point.  This was before computers had spell check. I use spell check, but sometimes it is wrong, and I look up a word in the dictionary and show it to the computer screen and say, “I told you that you was wrong.”  Spell check corrects the spelling but does not give the correct word at times

My friend had another talent.  He had a green thumb when it came to plants.  Plants filled the carpenter shop.  He collected plants from all over the campus that were in the process of dying.  Rather than throwing them away, he would nurture them back to good health.  I can see him now with his squirt bottle of water spraying his babies as he lovingly called them.  He talked to them as he ministered to them.

Where professors and members of housekeeping neglected the plants, my friend nurtured them back to good health.  The plants provided the carpenter shop with oxygen and beauty.  From time-to-time professors and members of housekeeping visited the carpenter shop.  They were amazed at the healthy plants.  Sometimes they did recognize that the plants were their former plants.

My friend retired from the University.  On a visit to the University, I noticed that my friend’s plants remain healthy.  His former coworkers maintain the plants.  My friend frequents the shop to check the plants and give the plants a pep talk.

If you come by our home at Sugar Ridge, you will see plants.  My friend taught me how to nurture and care for plants.  They remind me of my friend.  They remind me of the importance of nurturing people and churches.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.  Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.  Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me.  I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.  If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.  If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.   Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples. (John 15:1-8 KJV).