JUST A MOMENT

Beginning at the moment of conception, life is a collection of moments until the moment of death. In reality life is short but we live as though we will live forever on this planet we call Earth. Humanity will live an eternity in one of two places, eternity in the Abyss or eternity with God. Someone once asked me where Heaven was. I told Heaven is where God is. They asked where hell is. I told them where God ain’t.

Many moments ago, my maintenance foreman asked, “Do you know why wars were fought with young men?” I told him that I ready never thought about it. He said, “Because old men won’t. Young men are ten feet tall, bullet proof, and will kill the enemy. Old men know mortality, hurt, and death.”

Precious, few, and temporal are the moments we share together in life. We build houses, families, communities, cities, businesses, and government thinking they will last forever.

Think about the cost of the average home and the thirty plus year mortgage. That house will need repair long before the mortgage is paid. Children will grow and leave home before the last house payment is paid in full. The new vehicle parked in the drive will be in the repair shop before the last payment is due. Children, house, vehicle, and neighborhood will become moments of the past. Everything will be out of date and undergo change due to the deterioration of time.

Someone mentioned in Discipleship class at church Sunday night that the world was nothing like the one we all grew up in. That truism is the same for each generation. Moments fleeing away metamorphizing by capturing the old and newfangled freshness filling the air. After a while contemporary replaces the traditional and eventually the contemporary becomes the traditional creating cycles of momentary accomplishment.

God created us with eternity in our hearts. There was a song we sang when I pastored at Brierfield Baptist Church that reminded me of our temporary time on earth. Some of the words were, “This world is not my home I am just passing through.” We are just passing through, but the WORLD tries to convince people that the here and now is it. The here and now will one day be “somewhere beyond the blue” cause we’re a just passing through.

God is without beginning or end. Special and divine moments fill our being. Momma used to teach us that things will get better. Moments would get worse in life, but the moments of pain and sorrow will one day pass. Looking at scars remind that the hurt that was once severe is now gone. It provides minute reminders that most pain will subside with time. Heartaches though austere are transient, death though cruel is transitory, and sickness though devastating is ephemeral.

The good news is:

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. II Corinthians 4:17-18 KJV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome To Earth Jack Barrett Hopper

God handed Jack Barrett Hopper to us on July 19, 2023 at 6:06 PM weighing in at 6 lbs. 12 oz and 19 inches long.  God left him Texas.  He was two weeks and four days old before I heard the good news. My brother told me.  He was gracious enough to send me a picture that my sister-in-law received through Facebook.  I don’t do Facebook.  Jack is my grandson and no one told me about the future Hopper boy.

What my son did not know was that God revealed to me through the Holy Spirit that Jack arrived on earth and that all was well.  Jack was an answer to my prayer that my son and his wife have a baby, especially a boy where the Hopper name would continue through yours truly.

I know that was a selfish prayer, but I felt as though the Lord was going to give me a Hopper grandson even though I may see him by picture or video.  I had faith but there had been some doubts for several years.  My younger brothers have Hopper grandsons.  I am a happy “Poppy” to a fifteen- year-old grandson, JonGrady, which belongs to my daughter.  He, ironically, is a Chapman, which was my mama’s maiden name.  My son-in-law had two sons from a precious marriage giving me three grandsons and I have two grandsons through my marriage to Lisa.  I am proud of my six grandsons and two granddaughters.  Jack Barrett will continue the Hopper name.

Jack Barrett’s dad and I have a broken relationship.  I have tried to mend it, something that only God can do, because I am a pastor and he is a Christian and we should do all we can to reconcile.  I pray, as my son become a dad, he will learn each day how much a dad loves his children, especially a son.  I know that when I had my first-born, a son, I learned to love dad even more.  Suddenly my hardheaded dad was intelligent.  The older I got; the smarter dad became.  My eldest is forty-six and I continue to learn how much daddy loved me and how God, my heavenly Father loves me because of my sons and daughter,. 

I love Jack Barrett’s dad and remember how as a little boy he would lay his head on my heart and listen to it beat.  I wish he could hear how much it hurts because the love we had for so many years lies buried deep in pride, falsehoods, and resentment.  Learning “through the grapevine” about my grandson’s birth hurt so badly that I was overwhelmed.  One more time in life’s journey that my heart felt ripped out, stomped, and tossed into hell.  All I knew to do was to take my old GMC pickup for a drive.  It was and continues to be a place of peace and meditation.

The old truck was the cradle that rocked Jack Barrett’s dad to sleep.  His dad was three years old before he slept all night.  I would come home from working midnights and his mom would say take him out of the house where I can get some sleep.  I would ride with him in the old GMC that we named “Gimmy” for hundreds of miles through the years.  He loved that old truck and helped me restore it before moving to Texas.  He hurt my heart when he sent me his set of keys from Gimmy that he had from a teenager to Alabama by his brother-in-law.  My heart died a little more.  At my passing, Gimmy will be Aaron’s.

With a heavy hurting heart, I took Jack Barrett’s dad on an imaginary ride.  I rode to the Union Springs cemetery to visit my mom and dad’s grave and do some ruminating.  I remembered how proud dad was when my eldest son was born was.  I never forget the way he caressed that first Hopper grandson.  Dad died before Jack Barrett’s dad was born, but he was as much like dad as he could be.  I nicknamed him “Little M” in honor of dad, JM.

I stood beside Grandpa and grandmoe Chapman graves and remembered my relationship with them. 

Then I rode to Shelby Memorial Garden to visit my in-laws’ graves.  Jack’s Barrett’s dad was the first grandson for the Moxley’s.  I remember Mr. Moxley holding that first-born grandson.  My heart was exploding with hurt thinking of dad and Mr. Moxley held their firstborn.  I remembered holding JonGrady and Max my grandson through Lisa.  I pined.  Would I ever get to hold infant Jack Barrett? 

I left there and rode down to the Tabernacle Methodist Church where Grandpa and Grannie Hopper graves are.  I never knew Grandpa Hopper.  He committed suicide when dad was eleven years old.  Then I walked over to Great-grandpa and great-grandma Hopper graves.  Jack Barrett was on my mine.   I do not know or understand what God’s plan is, but I know God is in control and things will be better.

From the time of my son’s birth, I prepared him as best I could to be a loving dad, a Christian husband, and dedicated employee.  People through the years folks tell me what a mature, generous, and polite man he is.  He is a gentle giant.  People commented that he was too young to have the wisdom he demonstrated.  He is a hard-working young man.  One of the heartaches I have is our broken relationship.  Best I can tell is that he thinks I lied to him about the trouble and divorce from his mom.  He said my story does not add up.  I reminded him that things are not as they seem and do not believe everything you hear and half of what you see.  I told him the truth, but most people do not want to know the truth.  It is not “juicy” enough.  He claimed I changed my story each time I told it.  I said each time I told it I was more specific.  I told him a lie is the same each time because you rehearse it.  He said I would tell the truth on my deathbed.  I go on record, Aaron, I told you the truth. I will not but if we discussed it again, I would be more descriptive and detailed than last time.  It happened, it is past, I cannot change the truth.  I live the fiasco daily wondering way.

Even if there is reconciliation, my relationship with Jack Barrett and his future siblings will be long distance, a Texas to Alabama vastness physically.  If no reconciliation, it will be an aloofness spiritually and a detachment mentally.  Like I told Aaron in a poem, he is always close to me.  He is in my heart.  Jack Barrett, “Listen to your dad’s heart.  It will be special to him during times of separation and disagreement.”

Welcome to earth Jack Barrett Hopper.  God has a great journey for you.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.  Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you.  And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.  Jeremiah 29:11-13

 

For it is not an enemy who taunts me Psalm 55:12a

This was the March 15, 2021 devotion from Servants Alive Ministries The Richly Indwelling Word, A 365 Day Devotional.   

Not all relationships are healthy and one of the greatest hurts in relationships is the betrayal of trust.  Some of our chief adversaries can be those that are in our inner circle of confidants.  Outwardly, they “have our backs” and we trust them only to find that behind closed doors they plot our demise by hypocritical untruths.

Social companions can cause much regret and harm.  When we develop intimate friendships, we risk vulnerability.  Love suffers when trust is broken.  The deeper our intimacy becomes, the deeper our hurt and the longer the agony of betrayal.

It is easier to prepare for enemies than friends who betray.  We are to love and pray for our enemies.  The Psalmist reminds us that we do not expect a Christian friend or a pastor to betray.  When they do, we must pray for them.

Life is difficult without community and fellowship.  It is pleasurable to have friends to share secrets and important events of our being.  Christian relationships that have good foundation provide counsel, yield pleasure, lead in enthusiasm, are sacred, and are carefully guarded.

 

Bobby E. Hopper                        

The Hurt in My Brother's Eye

Several years ago I had compassion for my little brother at a funeral.  It was my little brother’s best friend who had a heart attack at age forty-seven.  All of us were together back in May for a wedding of my nephew, my little brother’s son.  It is sobering remembering that in May we were having a great time singing with the aid of a Deejay with a karaoke machine and in September my brother and I were solemnly singing How Great Thou Are at his best friend’s funeral.

At the funeral I thought about watching my little brother and his friend when they were small.  Sometimes that is how you picture people regardless of their age.  My little brother is six feet four inches tall and weighs @ 250.  He looks like Steve Austin, the professional wrestler.  In fact he has stopped trying to convince people he is not Steve Austin and started signing autographs.  He said it was not worth the trouble.

One of my fondest memories is around the start of school and fall of the year.  My little brother was not old enough to be in school and one day when we got off the school bus he ran to meet us.  We could not wait to get home and pull off our shoes.  Don’t laugh.  We did not wear shoes during the summer so after a long day of new school shoes it was a wonderful to free cramped feet.

We were playing outside and we heard a loud scream.  Momma’s first inclination was kids fighting, but we were all with her except little brother.  Momma ran to find him.  He appeared to be all right so she asked him what was wrong.  He told her that he was okay, but momma told him that he screamed for some reason.

Now, you have to understand our upbringing.  If you got hurt you also got a whuppin’ which is Chiltonian for whipping.  That was life in the hills and hollers of Chilton County.  Don’t tell momma you were hurt.

Momma looked my little brother in the eyes and made a frightening discovery.  His eye was bleeding from four, that’s right, 4 holes in his eyeball.  Blood and other gooey substance were coming from his eye.  Knowing he would get a whuppin’, he refused to say what happened.   After threatening to kill him if he didn’t tell, my little brother “spilled the beans.”

It seems that the day had been cool and momma made him wear some work boots.  When we got home and pulled off our shoes, he wanted to pull off his.  The laces had a knot and somewhere along the way he had learned you could use a fork to pry loose a knot in shoe laces.  Using pressure in an effort to untie the knot, he poked the fork in his eye.  Afraid momma would “whup” him, he pulled it out.

Momma went ballistic.  She called daddy who worked evening shift.  He rushed home and took him to our family doctor, the famous Dr. Joe, my cousin Stevie’s best friend.  Dr. Joe sent daddy to the Eye Foundation Hospital in Birmingham.

This was back before Interstate 65 was complete.  Daddy swung back by the house to tell momma he was headed to Birmingham.  He made the trip of 50 miles in forty-five minutes.  That’s not remarkable now days, but in 1967 on dirt roads, farm to market highways, and old US Highway 31 it is pretty impressive.  Take into consideration that a Montevallo police pulled daddy over, it is pretty extraordinary.

When the officer asked daddy what was the hurry, daddy told my brother to look the policeman in the eye.  The officer told daddy to follow him and escorted our old 1958 Chevrolet Biscayne right to downtown Birmingham.

My little brother’s pupil is oblong and looks like a cat’s eye, but he has perfect vision.  I think often of that fork in his eye.  I noticed him at the funeral as he took a handkerchief and wiped tears.  Once again I saw hurt in my brother’s eye.

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?  Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?  Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye (Matthew 7:3-5 KJV).