Sugar Ridge

 

Sugar Ridge 

Sugar Ridge not sweet but named from sour sarcastic pun

Filled with adversity, heartache, and pain

Days growing up there were full of hard work, plenty of love, and fun

Especially the days smelling plum blossoms after a spring rain

 

Smells of honeysuckles, clover, daffodils filled the air

Where the outhouse, pigpen, and chicken coop are no more

Where children ran hills and hollers with their feet bare

Gone the sweet aromas that made it wonderful to be poor

 

Smells of burning fields and fresh plowed ground

Burning hickory, boiling water, killing hogs and stewing lard

Now only the odor of cutgrass, wild onions and wild garlic abound

Mixed with the smell of primrose and sweet shrub permeate the yard

 

Sugar Ridge, home sweet home of the Hoppers

JM, Leecie, Bobby, Diane, David, and Glenn

The home place burned reduced to a pile of bricks, ashes, and copper

No one has lived there since death, marriage, and life caused the end

 

“Welcome Home to Sugar Ridge” a saying started by dad told to mom

For her constant plea to leave God forsaken Perry County and return home

No satire today for Sugar Ridge in its grandeur and magnificence today

It is a reminder of family, peace, and serenity regardless of where you roam

 

Thank you God for giving the Hoppers Sugar Ridge and love

As we enjoy the beauty of the good Earth, we call Sugar Ridge today

It is nothing compared to the joy, comfort, and hope from above

Sugar Ridge is a reminder where there is a will there is a way, Your Way

 

 

 

 

Bobby E. Hopper

April 9, 2021

“Dad’s Birthday”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sin Will Do It Every Time

Several years ago, I received a card that informed me that I won one of several gifts.  The gifts included a brand-new ford Bronco, a big screen TV, $2000 cash, or a two-week vacation on the Caribbean.  All I had to do was call a toll-free number to receive my new gift.  So, I did.

You will never guess what happened!  I won!  I gave them the number on the card and the voice on the other end said, “Congratulations Mr. Hopper, you won the New Ford Bronco.”  He wanted to know my name and address and the information was in the mail.  It would be the information on the Bronco.  He wanted to know the nearest airport where he could send tickets for my wife and me to exotic Las Vegas and be part of giant celebration they were doing in my honor.

All kinds of visions danced in my head.  I had never won anything.  I needed a car.  I could not believe that Bobby’s ship finally came.  I said, “To heck with that rich uncle and his box of money.”  I had a new Bronco.

All the excitement was the best thing that could have happened to the Hopper family.  Then, the voice on the other end of the line asked, “Mr. Hopper are you acquainted with New Lifestyle vitamins?”  He said the gifts were part of a promotional for the vitamins.  He said that it would be great if I actually used them.  I did not know about them, so he asked if I would purchase some.  Me being the man of integrity I am, I decided that I would buy some.  I asked him how many I needed to buy.  He said a year’s supply.  I said okay, how much?  He said $650.  That was a lot of money for me working for minimum wage at the University of Montevallo.  To tell you the truth it was more than I made in a month.  I weighed the cost and said $650 is a small price to pay for a brand-New Ford Bronco.  I gave him my master card number and he said that he would send me a 30mm camera to take the family’s picture to send him to him to use in the promotional.

Before the camera and vitamins arrived, the voice from Las Vegas called.  The charming and persuading voice on the other end said that since I won the New Ford Bronco, the committee wanted me to purchase another year’s supply.  I smelled a rat.  Suddenly I had long ears and went Hee Haw.  I told that charming voice on the other end a flat and very less charming no.  Shortly I received my cheap 30mm camera, a year’s supply of vitamins, a book of coupons for all the film I would ever need for the camera, and an envelope.  I thought I finally got the plane tickets to fly to Las Vegas.  What I got was two tickets to the Caribbean.

I called Las Vegas and the representative told me in order to be eligible for the Bronco I would have to buy more vitamins.  I was not about to buy any more.  Suddenly, I had this sick feeling.  They snookered me.  I bought a bill of goods and an idea for $650, but I did have two cruise tickets.  I contacted a travel agent only to find that they were not worth very much.  They were actually a two for one cruise.  I never wanted to go on the cruise anyway.  I wanted my Bronco.

I called Las Vegas and told them I did not want the vitamins.  They were not any good and I wanted to do an Elvis and “Return to sender.”  They told me they could not accept the vitamins back for fear of tampering.  They did tell me I could exchange my cruise for another gift.  I told them they could exchange it for a Bronco, but I settled for a $650 answering machine.

Not long after this film-flam, I read an article in the Area Magazine, the rural electric cooperative mail-out.  They told of several people who had been snookered.  The article said beware, but they already got me.  The article said to contact the better business bureau or state attorney general. 

I called Las Vegas again.  This fat boy from Alabama acted like Slim from South Alabama in the Jim Croce song.  I called to get my money back or I was calling the better business bureau and the Alabama Attorney General.  I got $190 dollars back, an answering machine, a 30 mm camera, coupons for film, and vitamins.  I never got the Bronco, but I did learn some valuable lessons.

 

Romans 7: 14-17.  For we know that the law is spiritual: but I am carnal, sold under sin.   For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.   If then I do that which I would not, I consent unto the law that it is good.  Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me.

 

Paul says that he was sold on sin.  That means that he was sold an idea, but he got something he really did not want.  I know the feeling Brother Paul.

 

That Must Have Been 20 Years Ago

 

I looked up on the wall of the office one morning and made a startling discovery.  I have been in the ministry over thirty years.  The date on my Certificate of License is dated 27^th day of February 1983.

Moments earlier, I read an article in the Cooperative Farming News, From Pastor to Pasture: That Must have Been 20 years Ago!  Glenn Crumpler, author of the article said he heard a family member say of an event, “That must have been 20 years ago.”  He said that when as a kid he could not imagine how someone could remember something that happened twenty years earlier.  Ironically, he said that happened 45 years ago.  Life is short.

Thirty-one years ago, I would hear preachers say that they had been in the ministry 20, 25, 30, and 40 years.  I remember thinking that is a long time and that I wish I could be in ministry that long. Well, I is there!  That’s not correct subject-verb relationship, but it is true.  Time does fly.  Life is only a vapor!

Ministry has made significant changes in the last thirty years.  When I was pastor at Gallion, a person from the community came to church for the first time in twenty-five years.  After the morning service he told me that church had changed some much since his last visit.  He said he thought he had been to a nightclub instead of a church.  I looked puzzled at him.  He said that the music of the worship service and the humor in my sermon were like that of a comedy club.

I understand his rationale.  The last Christian youth concert I attended I commented that when I was a teenager momma did not allow us to attend rock and roll events at school and now we have them at churches.

Speaking of changes, one night at an Association event, someone asked if she might make a suggestion.  We are always open to suggestions because as Association Ministry Directors, Pam, and I would always evaluate our events.  This person suggested to us that we not  schedule association events that interfere with sporting events.  This question happens more often that you might think.  One time before, I was scolded by a member of one of our churches for having an event during Spring Break.  Bethel Baptist Association ministered in six different school districts, which at that time did not observe spring break at the same time.

Back to the sporting conflict or may I say spiritual conflict.  I learned in thirty plus years of ministry as a pastor, that any event the church schedules conflicts with some activity outside the church.  I assured the questioner that we do our best to dodge as many possible conflicts as we can.  We would never have any ministry events if we tried to dodge conflicts.

My concern here is when did a sporting exercise for a child take precedence over spiritual training?  A majority of student athletes will never use their sporting exercises in the professional arena, yet most parents spend more money and time at the ball field than in studies and time for God. 

When did our communities become consumed with sports and recreation?  I played football, baseball, basketball, and volleyball while growing up.  My dad loved sports and enjoying watching my brothers and me play ball.  Dad taught us that it was a game and that work and chores around home and school came before sports.  Sports were extracurricular events.

I have walked home, around seven miles, after practice to slop pigs and load firewood many times.  I have missed games because dad and mom were at work and I did not have a way to go.

Coaches, schools, and clubs would never allow practice or games to interfere with church events.  Coaches would always allow players to leave early if there was a revival or church event that an athlete needed to attend.  This is not the case today.

The issue at the association event was not with the interference with the athlete playing an event, but with priorities.  I am burdened that parents do not see spiritual development as more essential than worldly development.  I want to weep when I see dads taking their boys hunting or fishing instead of to worship on Sundays.  My dad was a lost man, but he prohibited us to go hunting or fishing on Sundays.  Dad taught priorities.

Before I became a pastor, I volunteered to attend an association brotherhood training event.  The event was on a holiday, but because I worked rotation at the cement plant, I was not off and was scheduled midnights.

My midnight shift allowed me to attend the workshop and not miss work.  Before leaving to attend the workshop, I received a call from the plant that the second shift man did not show and I needed to come in four hours early, six o’clock pm.  I told the second shift foreman that I could not come in early.  He wanted an excuse.  I said that I had committed to our church brotherhood director that I would attend the workshop and I was taught to keep my commitments.  He reminded me that that I was turning down double time and half pay because I was being called out on a holiday.  I reminded him that my commitment was greater than the pay.  I am not bragging, but speaking of commitment and priorities.

Association Ministry Directors, Pam, and I had a yearly planning day where we try to avoid conflict.  We publish this calendar as early as possible where Church Executive Lay Members can share them with their churches.  Conflict is inevitable, commitment is inconvenient, and choice is a matter of priorities.

Not long ago someone inquired of my commitment.  I quoted sports writer and poet, Grantland Rice’s poem “Alumnus Football”:

For when the one great Scorer comes

To mark against your name,

He writes -not that you won or lost-

But how you played the game.

For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day (II Timothy 1:12b KJV).

Attitude Adjustments and Cultural Change

 

Spending time with my cousins was almost like living in a utopia because I thought that life would always be about family closeness.  There were sixteen boys and six girls in our Chapman extended family.  We were more like brothers and sisters than we were cousins.  We went to church together, played together, and ate together.  One of my favorite pictures is one where I am about five years old and we are together to eat at Grandmoe Chapman’s table.  We thought those days would never end.   

Years later I realized that I was the only grandchild of Joe and Ethel Chapman that built and lived on family land.  Methodically, we ventured into the world.  College, vocations, and marriage separated us.  Precious are the moments we spent together, but there were quandaries.

It never failed that when I spent time with certain cousins that momma and daddy would have to give me an attitude adjustment.  The adjustment started with a verbal warning in the form of a question.  “Am I going to have to whup, slang for whip, the ‘cousin’s full name’ out of you?”  It never failed.  It was guaranteed that I would get a whuppin’ after spending time with certain cousins.  I didn’t realize the negative influence my certain cousins had.  There were some, older ones, that always had good advice, but the younger would get you in trouble.

After an adjustment or two or three or four, heck a bunch of them, I decided I needed to be selective with my cousins’ advice.  The adjustments helped me with life and the art of listening to folks.

People ask me about my decision-making.  I must process information, usually sleeping before making a decision.  I try to research all the information. Good information leads to good decisions.  I must not allow peer pressure to form or sway my decisions.

Peer pressure has been around for a long time and it changes with age.  I believe that the older I get, the more peer pressure pushes my way.  It is hard to go against the flow.  Going against the flow, means standing alone.

As a teenager, when I played football there were those that tried to get me to drink beer.  I chose not to drink.  I remember in state playoff one of our best backs fumbled a kickoff.  He told us that he saw two footballs and he caught the wrong one.  He later was murdered for gambling debts.  Other teammates and classmates are now alcoholics.  Some have failed marriages, lost jobs, and have nothing to show except a life of regrets.

I remember working at Hiwassee Land Company in high school.  The older boys, in their early twenties, pressured me to date, to take girls parking, and to whisper “sweet nothings” in their ears.  I never will forget their reactions when they quizzed me the following week.  They asked me what I whispered into their ears.  I said “sweet nothing.”

In class, there was the pressure to cheat for those that were either lazy or dumb.  They assured me that it would not hurt anything.  Looking back, I hurt them more than I helped them.

In the work place, there was the pressure to buck authority or not to work.  I received ridicule when I would work hard, while fellow employees goofed off.  They said they made just as much as I did.  I reminded them that I could face the paymaster and they needed to walk up backwards to receive their payday.

I have listened to the wrong advice through the years and the consequences are not good. Even as a pastor, there is tremendous peer pressure from within and without the church when the church is struggling.  I am reminded of my call into the ministry almost forty years ago.  During the 1980’s, people questioned the church’s relevancy.  Entertainment, gimmicks, and programs replaced preaching the Word of God. I think were are reaping those seeds today.  Back then, God made it very plain that His Word was not being preached and that I was to preach the truth.

His call is more emphatic today.  There is a shift in conventional wisdom.  It seems that the younger generation has all the answers and wants the old white-haired preachers and leadership to get out of the way.  They are even belligerent and hostile in conversation with older church members and preachers.

Good decision-making means listening to the right people.  Too many believers are listening to the enemy.  The enemy has the ear of the world and it is becoming clearer with each passing day.  Right is wrong and wrong is right if you listen to some folks.

 

President Woodrow Wilson said, “The ear of the leader must ring with the voices of the people.”  Good leaders encourage followers to tell them what they need to know, not what they want to hear.

 

And the king answered them roughly; and king Rehoboam forsook the counsel of the old men, and answered them after the advice of the young men, saying, My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add thereto: my father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions.  So the king hearkened not unto the people: for the cause was of God, that the Lord might perform his word (2 Chronicles 10: 13-15 KJV).

 

According to John Maxwell, Rehoboam refused to listen to history, his followers, the wise counsel of his staff, and to God.

Rehoboam heard, but did not listen and failed to connect and learn.  Rehoboam failed to listen to the right people.  I wonder if when he was a kid if his mom, Naamah, or dad, Solomon, every whupped the ‘Jewish cousin’ out of him?

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                        

Dawg Tied

Have you ever put yourself in a sticky situation or gotten into a tangled mess?  I do from time to time.  Recently Aaron and I were “Super Gluing” a plastic part on the oven.  It made me think back to my first job a Keystone Metal Moulding in Clanton after graduating from high school.

There was this guy named Jerry that liked to pull pranks on young, naïve, and unsuspecting new hires.  I had never heard of “Super Glue.”  Keystone used this new glue to adhere vinyl to anodized aluminum.  Jerry told me to hold out my finger to which he placed a drop of this glue.  He proceeded to tell me to hold my finger to my thumb.  Well, dummy me did as I was told.  Jerry the jokester laughed when he told me to try to open my finger and thumb. I could not.  Most of Jerry’s victims panicked and ripped their fingers into the quick.  I felt foolish, but did not panic.  I spent several minutes with my finger and thumb soaking in acetone before the Super Glue dissolved.

I told Aaron the story giving a few minutes for the plastic oven part to dry.  Guess what?  I could not put the plastic part down.  I had glued my thumb and finger to the plastic part.  Having been down that idiotic path before, I sent Aaron, who was laughing, to the bathroom to retrieve some fingernail polish remover, which contains acetone.  After a few minutes of slowing massaging the fingernail polish remover between my fingers and Aaron slowly cutting the glue, I was released from my own entanglement. 

Speaking of tangles, I am always amazed how electrical cords can become so tangled.  After undoing a tangled extension cord, I stepped to start the process of rolling up the cord and tripped over the extension cord.  I had wrapped the cord around my feet.  I don’t think I could have done better it I had tried.  I laughed because that was not my first time to tie my feet together by accident.  I had our two dogs, Rockco, Australian Cattle Dog, and Loki, half German Shepherd and half Great Pyrenees, on leashes and in their excitement to spend time with their master they tied me up.  We looked like casting rod line all jumbled together.

One Sunday several years ago I was visiting Calvary Baptist Church.  Pastor Irby had a great sermon on drug and alcohol addiction.  One of the verses he used was from Proverbs about being caught in our own traps or snares.  I immediately thought of an incident at Gallion Baptist Church.

While pastor there, I received a frantic call from the church pianist, Janelle Baker.  Bill, her husband and music director, was gone and she had a critical situation.  Aaron and I jumped into the truck and went to her rescue.

When we arrived, it was ugly what we found.  Bill and Janelle’s favorite beagle, Tuffy, was in a mess.  Bill’s rod and reel stood against the garage wall.  Tuffy, for some odd reason must have thought she was a fish, a hairy bass and decided to catch the fishing lure tangling from the rod.  The light brown beagle was red with blood from its mouth and all four paws.  Tuffy, other than covered with blood, appeared to be praying with her front paws attached to her mouth.  It was bad, but cute.

The best we could decipher was that the beagle got one of the treble hooks in its mouth.  When she tried to get it out with its paw, it got hooked.  She repeated the process with all her paws.  I did not know what to do as the Tuffy whined and whimpered.  I had caught a many of catfish, but it was my first “dogfish.”

I asked Janelle if Bill had a pair of wire cutters or pliers.  She did not know, so I sent Aaron back to the Pastorium to get my tool bag.  When he returned, Janelle and I had calmed Tuffy somewhat, I preformed emergency surgery as Janelle and Aaron held Tuffy.

One by one, I cut the barbs off the treble hooks.  Aaron and I giggled.  It reminded us of the time I cut a hook from his nose.  Jamie, his cousin, hooked Aaron in the nose as she cast her red worm baited hook while bass fishing.  Aaron had to stand still with a red worm wiggling against his nose as I cut the barb from the hook.  That experience enabled me to cut the eight barbs from Tuffy only she was not as obedient as Aaron was.

The episode with Super Glue, electrical extension cords, dog leashes, and Tuffy reminds me of our lives and sin.  For some odd reason of humanity, we get tangled with the snares of sin.  When we try to free ourselves, we are glued, tangled, roped, and hooked even more.

When death and the grave had entangled our Lord, the power of the Resurrection released Him from death and the grave.  That power is the power that frees us.  Like Tuffy, the harder we try to free ourselves, the more tangled we become.

This is how the God’s Word version of the Bible translates Proverbs 5:22, Irby’s text on “Snares of the Enemy,” A wicked person will be trapped by his own wrongs and he will be caught in the ropes of his own sin.

 

He (Jesus) is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay (Matthew 28:6 KJV).

 

I am glad no one saw Rockco, Loki, and me entangled.

"Puttin' On The Hawg"

I had the opportunity to perform my niece’s wedding several years back.  I always remind couples that the wedding is a magnificent moment for them and their families.  It is a new journey on the road of life.  It is a time of worship, a time of new beginnings, and a time of celebration.

For the Hopper family is a time of “Puttin’on the Hawg.”   You might say “Putting on the Dog.”  We do not do weddings in the tradition of most folks.  Yes, we have all the dainty foods of most weddings, but we take it just a step further.

Here is how we do it.  Once the date is set, I, the preacher of the family do the marital counseling and offer my cache of wedding ceremonies.  I have the spiritual responsibilities of Hopper weddings.  In fact, I had another Hopper wedding in November of same year as the one above for a nephew at the same church. 

My sister, mother of the niece and nephew, usually decorates the church and a fellowship hall and cooks most of the food and the wedding cake.  She sure had a delicious wedding cake this time.  My sister also hired a DJ (disk jockey) to play music.  No, the DJ was not at the church, but at the Jefferson State Performing Arts Hall.

One of my brothers, and his father-in-law grilled one hundred chicken halves and pulled the meat.  He marinates the chicken in a secret sauce.  You do not need any barbeque sauce to moisten the chicken when cooked in this family secret sauce.  As with any true Southern barbeque, the secret is in the sauce. 

If you are wondering about “Puttin’ on the Hawg” and I am writing about chickens, my other brother cooked a 150-pound pig.  Yes, he slow cooked a whole hog.  In the dining hall, there was a whole hog, with an apple in its mouth, on the serving table.  Can you tell it was not a Jewish wedding?  His wife cooked potato salad, baked beans, and slaw.  All other family members help serve and do cleanup.

We have always shared God’s blessings with anyone who attends one of our gatherings.  That’s the way it is when the Hoppers have a wedding or any other kind of get together we invite everyone and anyone.

When I entered my nephew’s wedding celebration that night, I saw an old friend.  We call him “The Comiss” because he is one of Chilton County’s Commissioners.  As I passed him on the way to the DJ to make a special announcement, he called out to me saying, “Hey Hopper, you sure have made a fancy preacher.”  I mingled with the guests.  After a while, I asked “The Comiss” and his wife if I might sit with them and reminisced. 

Heedy, “The Comiss,” was the first person that invited the Hopper family to church.  I will never forget that night.  Heedy had only been a Christian for a short time, but he immediately started sharing his faith.  Looking back, he was very young, less than twenty-five years old.

I was ten or eleven years old when he visited our house.  I was lying on a ragged couch in our old shack of a house.  I remember that I had on an old jacket without having on a shirt.  My brothers, sister, and I always took off our school clothes and put on our ragged clothes when at home. 

What amazed us about his visit was that he was inviting us down to the place all the rich and well-to-do people were going.  We could not understand why he would do something like that.  We were poor, lived in a shack.  Church had better sheds and barns than our shack. I felt embarrassed that night.  I remember looking up at the deteriorating sheetrock ceiling, the worn tar exposing linoleum, and the old propane gas space heater and wondering why he wanted us to come to church and hear more about Jesus.

We did start going and Heedy would become my RA leader.  After I married, he and I would decorate the church for special events.  We would take swimming pool filtering equipment and clean the dirty creek water that we pumped out of the fire truck into the baptism pool.

He and I were elected deacons at the same ordination.  We fished, hunted, worked, played, and most of all, worshiped together.  We sang in the choir, took the RA boys deep-sea fishing and all night camping, and went on church visitation together.

I cannot help but think about all the push on evangelism today.  I am glad folks like Heedy share their faith.  I am leery of more emphasis on evangelism without discipleship.  I thank God for a church and a friend that did more than invite to come to church, they were mentors who discipled me.

During the wedding ceremony I reminded everyone that we in a worship service.  In fact, When Heedy invited the Hopper kids to church; he was introducing us to Jesus, the groom, in anticipation that we would become part of the church, the bride of Christ.

The wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy.  Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage (Matthew 22:8-9 KJV).

Somebody Help Me

Hope is something that this world desperately needs.  People are confused about hope.  I think most people are like Stanley Johnson in the Lending Tree commercial on the riding lawnmower.  If you remember, he says, “I have a great family, a four-bedroom house in great community.  Like my car? It’s new. I belong to the local golf club.  How do I do it? I’m in debt up to my eyeballs.  I can barely pay my finance charges.”  He seems to be living the American Dream until he looks into the camera and says, “Somebody help me.”

Stanley’s idea of hope was getting help and out of debt.  He killed his hope by spending more than he made.  Debt is a “hope killer” unless it makes you hope that you can pay the debt.  People in debt “Rob Peter to pay Paul.”

I remember in one of the churches I pastored that a deacon wanted to give more to the church, but he could not because of debt.  I asked him how serious he was to increase his giving.  After a discussion, he decided either pay off his debt or consolidate his bills and have money to increase his giving. 

Numerous believers do not give due to indebtedness.  I encourage couple contemplating marriage to live by the 80/20 rule.  It is give ten percent to God, save ten percent for themselves, and live on eighty percent of their income.  I tell them to base their income on thirty-two hours, rather than a forty-hour income.  This principle allows you to have room for an unexpected event that you cause them to miss a day’s work.

Unfortunately, most believers do neither.  The first place people cut from their budget is in giving.  I think it is important to remember that the Bible teaches the tithe and that God holds us accountable for the ninety percent He has blessed us.

Momma reminded us of hope every day my brothers and sister were growing up.  She taught us that a better day would come.  We had to focus on the Lord and his plan for our lives.

I remember one time when daddy was on layoff.  This seemed to be quite regular when I was young.  Daddy would “Draw His Pennies.”  The best I could tell was he did not have enough pennies to pay the bills.  One day a man, the dad of one of my classmates, and another man dressed in a shirt and tie drove into the yard in a pickup.  I watched momma cry as the two men loaded our furniture into the pickup truck.  When they left, we did not have a living room or dining room suite as well as some other things.  I felt sorry for momma as she pleaded with the men not to take her furniture.  I found out at school the next day that my classmate’s dad got the furniture for hauling it away from our house.

I do not remember a time that daddy and momma were not in debt.  Daddy had a tendency to make debt and then not pay for it.  Sometimes it was due to a layoff, between jobs, or at other times pure negligence.

Sometimes when I see or read the news, it seems that America spends more than it makes.  In recent days, there have been reports of America’s indebtedness to China.  Our National Debt is astronomical.  The Outstanding Public Debt as of 16 Feb 2011 at 09:29:29 PM GMT is: $14,142,147,989,931.15.  According to the National Debt Clock it was $27,898,933,000,000 as February 11, 2021 12:26 pm CST.

Speaking of the National Debt, I recall my friend “Big Ugly” complaining about it twenty years ago.  He wanted Uncle Sam to print more money.  I told him that he was part of the National Debt.  After he gave me a few “choice” words of admonishment, I asked him if owned any money.  He had mortgages on an auto, a pickup, and a mobile home.  After a long discussion on economics, I helped him see he was part of the National Debt and that the government was a reflection of the people.  If people do not have hope, how can a government of the people, by the people, and for the people give hope? 

Money is a medium of exchange.  Escalating debt is greed.  According to Charlotte Johnson’s article, “The Reason People Get into Debt” says, “In 2007, the average American household possessed $9,480 in credit card debt.”  There are many reasons for this.  She continues saying, “Although many people would shy away from calling themselves greedy, the simple fact is that greed leads to debt. The age old problem of matching or exceeding your neighbors' wealth status still exists. People often see something they want and hastily purchase it rather than saving for the item over time and waiting to purchase it when they have enough funds (or refusing to purchase it all together if it is unnecessary).

Greed is a “Hope Slayer.”

Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.  And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee (Psalm 39: 6-7 KJV).

For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?  But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it (Romans 8:24-25 KJV).

 

 

 

Notes of Love

 

I may be a little old fashion in a high-tech society because I collect books.  I’m glad that I do because books are on the endangered species list.  Thanks to all the new electronic gadgets and the evolving smart phone, books will soon disappear.  My publisher has conferred that books are no longer in demand and want my future writings to be in electronic format.

I have a good number of books that the authors have autographed.  I have a signed copy of Herschel Hobbs’ My Faith And Message, which Dr. Hobbs autographed three months prior to his death.  I will never forget my conversation with him at a senior adult retreat at Shocco Springs Baptist Retreat at Talladega, Alabama.  We had some mutual friends.  Dr. Hobbs spent his childhood in north Chilton County a few miles north of where I grew up.

I have several book autographed by Dr. Calvin Miller.  It was Dr. Miller that encouraged me to write.  And his books are special reminders that we were friends and that his passing left an empty spot in my heart.  In his book, The Sermon Maker, Tales of A Transformed Preacher he signed , To Bobby, A Great Friend.  In another, The Book of Jesus,  that he edited he signed, To Bobby from an old, old prof and admirer. Calvin Miller.

I always date the books that I read.  I underline pertinent things that help to write articles such as this one.  I have my own order to how the books are on my shelves and usually can find them without much searching.  I know most of my books by color and size and it drives me bananas when I cannot find one quickly.

Since this is Valentine month, I decided that I would look for some Valentine cards that my children have given me through the years.  I knew that I had some in one of my old Bibles.  Instead, I found a Father’s Day note that Aaron gave me in 1999.  It is a white piece of paper with heart stickers all over it.  On the front, Aaron has written Happy Father’s Day!! in blue and he has drawn a red heart with I love you in it. 

Inside are twenty heart stickers on the left and the sticker page where the hearts were is on the right.  Above the missing heart sticker page Aaron writes, “Your the best dad anyone can have you don’t drink and cuss and I thank you for being a good christian.”  The back page has, “from Aaron I love you always. June 20, 1999”

There was a Valentine card from Andy.  It looked like one a small child would draw, but was a published card.  It said, “Dad, here’s a Valentine just to say “I love you.””  The inside reads, “No, I haven’t been drinking and I don’t want to borrow money.  Happy Valentine’s Day.”  Love Andy

Little Valentine Cards from Angel simply say, “Will you be my Valentine.” 

I do not know if children still give Valentine cards at school.  I know I had to give them to classmates that I really did not want to be my Valentine.  There were those little girls that chased me that I really did not need to foster their thoughts about me being their Valentine. There were those pretty, little girls that I had very special Valentine cards.  I took time to write special words to declare my intentions.  Some of those little girls I really thought special felt the same about me as what I felt about the ones I did not want to receive a Valentine.  Well, that’s love.  Sometimes I have wondered, “Did I run too fast and from the wrong girls?” 

My wife Lisa wrote some beautiful love language in last year’s Valentine.  One special line was, “I go to sleep every night knowing that I am loved by you & also that you are my one true love.  I’m lucky I could not outrun her.

 Jesus has sent us a wonderful Valentine card, the Bible.  The Bible is God’s love letter to you and to me.

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8 KJV).

Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God (1 John 3:1a KJV).

We love him, because he first loved us (1 John 4:19 KJV).

Matthew Henry stated, “As the Father loved Christ, who was most worthy, so he loved his disciples, who were unworthy. All that love the Savior should continue in their love to him, and take all occasions to show it...Christ’s love to us should direct us to love each other.”

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY and as you might guess; I was not able to find all those hidden Valentines.

 

Turn Your Radio On

 

One morning I got a special note from a friend who listened to my Tuesday morning Moody Radio broadcast.

 

Good morning Brother Bobby,

It made my day to hear your voice this morning!! You are always so happy and cheerful, your laugh makes me laugh! We love you and your family and pray you will have a Happy Valentine’s Day! Blessings to you!!! 

Hugs to the Hoppers,

It is always good and encouraging to get notes.  In fact, this morning I sent several text messages to some special friends that are enduring some difficulties and I remember how important an encouraging word can be when your world is tumbling downhill.  Sometimes you just need to hear a voice.

People tell me I have a great radio voice and that I should consider going into radio.  I think that they say that because they can cut me off when they do not want to hear me.  I often tell people that I have a great radio face to go with the voice.

I will never forget the first time I was on the radio.  I did not know it.  Here’s how I found out about it.

I had surrendered to the ministry and I had opportunity to do supply preaching.  I had been asked to supply at the Liberty Hill Baptist Church in Clanton on a Sunday night.  Back then, I knew very little about hermeneutics or exegesis.  Hermeneutics is a fancy word, or should I say a technical or Greek word, for the science of Biblical interpretation.  For example, Paul writes in Second Timothy 2:15 “rightly dividing the word of truth.”

Exegesis is the Greek word meaning “narrative” or explanation.”  Paul and Barnabas exegeted to the Jerusalem council the wonders God had done through them among the Gentiles (Acts 15:14).  Back then, my fathers in the ministry gave me sermon outlines.  They said here is the skeleton.  It is left up to you to put the meat on the bones.  My sermon that night at Liberty Hill was JESUS.  J, Jesus Justified us.  E, Jesus gives Eternal life.  S, Jesus is the only way for Salvation.  U, Jesus provides Unity for His people. S, Jesus Supplies our every need.  It was a simple sermon by a simple-minded beginner.

The following Sunday morning I headed to the Chilton County jail.  No, I was not arrested for disturbing the peace or preaching a bad sermon even though I probably should have been.  I was going there to pick up a trustee who was a product of our jailhouse ministry.  On the way, I listened to WKLF radio in Clanton.  A well-known preacher from central Alabama, Hyman Atcheson was preaching.  Reverend Atcheson is the father of Randy, a renowned concert pianist at Carnie Hall, and Wayne, author of Faith of the Crimson Tide and other books of faith.

I had visions of what it would be like to preach on the radio.  I thought that I would never have the opportunity to preach on the radio.

I picked up the trustee and headed back to my home church.  When I went into the sanctuary, Mrs. Georgia Crumpton greeted me.  She said I enjoyed your message last Sunday night.  I replied with thank you.  I told her that I did not see her and I hate that I missed her.  She said that she was not there and that she heard me on the radio.  Earlier I wondered how it would be to preach on the radio and now I find out that I had been on the radio.  Since that night, I have been on the radio, television, and the internet.

People all over West Alabama tell me how much they enjoy listening to the Tuesday morning announcements on Moody Radio out of Dixons Mills and Tuscaloosa, Alabama.  Traveling the around the state, people say, “I am so glad to put a face with that radio voice.”  There are times when we meet radio personalities, their voices do not match how we imagine them to be.  One lady told me that my voice sounded much younger than I looked.  With all the assorted compliments, I remind them that I do have a great radio face.  People recognize me by my voice, my laugh.  They say, “I knew that had to be Bobby Hopper.  I could tell by your laugh, your voice.”   It is wonderful to be heard and recognized. 

People ask me have you heard the voice of God.  I say I recognize His voice just as if I would if mom or dad spoke to me, saying, “Bobby. . .”

The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty (Psalm 29:4 KJV).

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me (John 10:27 KJV).

Purple Hull Peas and Fried Taters

 

I recollect telling momma that if I ever got grown that I would never eat purple hull peas and fried taters again.  It seems that we ate them every night for supper.  At other times, all we had was googie gravy and biscuits.  For something extra momma would peel a mater (tomato) for the gravy.  Momma was a wonderful cook, but she had very little to make supper during my early teen years.

I remember when dad moved us to Illinois from Alabama.  My uncle Clifton convinced daddy to move there to get a job at Beloit Iron Works.  I commit to memory when we left.  Mom had a few suitcases on the back of an old truck that had the bed removed to haul paper/pulp wood.  She told me to watch the suitcases from the window of the cab of the truck.  I can still see one old brown suitcase in the stack bouncing as she let the truck roll down the dirt road hill to crank it.  The battery was dead.  She pushed the truck and as it started down the hill, she jumped into the cab, pushed the clutch, put the floor shift into gear, and popped the clutch.  We road to the bottom of the hill and she turned around and we began our journey leaving the “Heart of Dixie” to Illinois, the Land of Lincoln.

Daddy moved us into this old wharf rat infested apartment.  I was five years old but I remember how scared momma was.   Momma was twenty-six, my baby sister Diane was two, and we were a long way from the cotton fields of Chilton County Alabama lonely and full of anxiety.  When we arrived, we did not have much to eat so momma fixed some buttered toast and sprinkled it with sugar.  Diane and I did not know any better and thought it was delicious.  It remains one of my favorite things to prepare for a quick snack.  As Diane and I ate our sugar sprinkled buttered toast momma stood guard with a large butcher knife in case one those Yankee wharf rats wanted some of our sweet delights or two small Dixie kids.  I think of  momma imitating Jim Bowie and throwing the butcher knife at the Yankee rat that looked like an Alabama opossum.

We didn’t live in Illinois but about three years. Daddy made us a good living and food got better.  One of our homes had a cherry tree in the backyard.  Momma could fix the best homemade cherry pies.  I love cherries.  I ate my first pizza there.  I used to walk across the street and watch a man in a Chef Boyardee hat tossing pizza dough into the air.  I tasted salami there, drank drinks made from mixing water with fizzies tablets, and ate Wisconsin cheddar cheese.  We lived on the Illinois/Wisconsin line.  We lived in Illinois and daddy worked in Wisconsin.  All I had to do to cross the state line was walk across the creek, which I did almost every day.

Living in Yankee land there were no purple hull peas or fried taters.  Momma got homesick and daddy moved us from the bounty of the North to the poverty of the South.  Daddy had a difficult time finding work in Alabama.  Once again, food was scarce.  I remember my Grandpaw Chapman bringing us food on Saturday mornings until daddy could find work.  I can see him driving up in his old 1950 Plymouth Special Deluxe with the passenger seat filled with sacks of groceries.  Daddy thought himself a failure and would not ask for help.  If he were alive today, he would be really ashamed at how people want handouts.  He worked hard to provide with very little yield but at least he worked.

Looking back I never thought of us as poor.  Everybody out where we lived was just as we were.  All of us were still feeling the results of a hundred years Reconstruction.  Momma was doing the best she could with what she had.  As daddy found work and life got better momma could fix the best Sunday dinners.  Her table looked as a buffet at Shoney’s.  Daddy said momma learned to cook while having grown up ‘fixin’ possum and coon.” 

It was humorous realizing that we were eating “high on the hawg” compared to momma.  Purple hull peas and fried taters, even though they got old every night, were better than possum and coon and we knew that Sunday dinner was coming.

I did get grown and went a long time without peas and taters, especially since momma and daddy have passed on into eternity.  We didn’t have the wonderful enmities that folks have today but we did have love.  It amazes me at the panic created by the 2020 COVID 19 virus and the run on toilet paper and groceries.  Heck, I was almost grown before we could afford toilet paper when we moved back to the Heart of Dixie, the land of cotton and outside toilets with Sears’s catalogs and corncobs.

The other day I reminisced and thought, “I wished I could have momma fix me some purple hull peas and fried taters.  Some googie gravy and biscuits wouldn’t be too bad either.

Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a fatted calf with hatred – Proverbs 15:17 KJV

The More I Attend School, the Dumber I Become

I want to squash a vicious rumor that has slowly circulating around.  As with any rumor, it is hard to locate the source.  Rumors and gossip have a tendency to be bigger and better than reality.  Rumor has it that I am very intelligent or as some say, smart.  Well, It ain’t so.

Truth is you do not know what I do not know.  In the words of the great communicator and master of wit, Will Rogers, “It isn't what we don't know that gives us trouble, it's what we know that ain't so.”

My late father-in-law once asked me why I was going to school, referring to seminary, for so long.  I responded by saying that when I was a young man I thought I was pretty smart.  That was until I started classes at the University of Montevallo.  Once I started into the wonderful world of academia, I realized I did not know anything.  I told paw-in-law that the more I went to school the dumber I got.  Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Knowledge is knowing that we cannot know.”

I know that I cannot spell.  I rely heavily on the dictionary, the thesaurus, and the spell check.  That reminds me of my late friend Lamar from the University of Montevallo carpentry shop who talked real slow, but could spell anything.  He asked me how I spelled correctly.  I said, “I use the dictionary.”  With all of his Chilton County Alabama wit he asked, I might add very slowly, “How do you use a dictionary if you don’t know how to spell the word?”  I called Lamar a “Smart Aleck!”  What’s funny is I had to use Roget’s Thesaurus to look up “aleck” while writing this article because spell check could not understand what I was trying to say.

The thing is I appear to be more intelligent than I am.  I enjoy being with intellectual thinkers, theologians, and people of wisdom.  I listen more than I speak and act as if I know what they are discussing.  If I listen long enough, a familiar topic will pop up and I will chime into the conversation.  I remember one time in church they were talking about Communion.  I sat among these church folks and I was clueless.  I had visions of something from a hippie commune or something.  I kept my mouth shut long enough to realize they were talking about the Lord’s Supper.

I like what Christian motivational speaker Zig Ziglar says, It's not what you've got, it's what you use that makes a difference.  He also says, “Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude.”  Confucius says, “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance.”

In Seminary, my friends would ask, “How in the world are you an English minor and cannot spell?”  I replied, “Very limited vocabulary.”  During lectures, I was continually asking my friends how to spell theological words and terms.  I remember the professor talking about “exegesis.”  I was clueless to what exegesis was and spelled it Xahjesus.  Hermeneutics was another one.  I spelled it hermahnudecks and was clueless to what it was.  Regardless of what Lamar says, I am glad I had a dictionary at home to look up these words.

I had a pastor friend call and ask me what I knew about “such and such ism” that was the new hot topic in scholarly thought.  Having no clue, I said, “I don’t know, what do you think?”  After a while, I figured out what he was referring and I told him my take on the subject.   Jewish scholar Mivchar Peninim says, “A wise man’s question is half the answer.”

It is always good to ask someone how to act and what to wear when attending special events.  Admitting that you do not know something is a very important step in the road to knowing something.  To know that you do not know is true knowledge.  Knowing when to say I don’t know is very librating.  I like Yogi Berra philosophy that says, “If you ask me anything I don’t know, I’m not going to answer.”

It reminds me of a statement from a preacher friend’s sermon on Esther.  It is important knowing what you do not know.  Esther was not afraid to ask for help when meeting the king.

When the turn came for Esther (the girl Mordecai had adopted, the daughter of his uncle Abihail) to go to the king, she asked for nothing other than what Hegai, the king's eunuch who was in charge of the harem, suggested. And Esther won the favor of everyone who saw her (Esther 2:15 NIV).

 

Happy Birthday Andy

 You are Beautiful

For you are fearfully and Wonderfully made Psalm 139: 14

 

I remember when your momma told me that she was pregnant.  I was so excited that we were going to baby.  Technology to reveal whether a baby was a boy or girl had not been developed.  Your mom had a glow about her as you began to grow inside of her. 

 It was a long hot and dry summer in 1975.  We lived in a second-hand trailer that had been wrecked.  It was all that we could afford and did not have many of the amenities that are commonplace today.  I remember coming in from work at the machine shop in Montevallo to find you mom lying on the living room floor, big belly pointing to the ceiling, cooled by a fan.  I felt so sorry for her as she held you inside.

 Momma and daddy were excited to hear they were having a grandchild.  You would be first and would become the joy of life for them.  We could not wait your arrival.  God blessed us with the excitement of the first Hopper grandchild coming into our lives.  We knew that things would never be the same.  We prayed that you would be a perfect baby with all ten toes and fingers and all the other magnificent things that arrive with the first baby.

 I will never forget the night before you were born.  I was at a brotherhood supper at Union Springs Baptist Church.  I stayed after the meeting playing ping-pong with the Pike boys.     As I left the church, I noticed that the night sky was crystal clear and the moon was full.  I was amazed how beautiful the heavens were not realizing that God was about to hand your momma and me something more beautiful and majestic than that January heavenly view.

 The night air was cold and the old trailer was hard to heat.  Your mom and I went to bed and snuggled up for a good night rest not knowing that in a few moments you would begin your journey in life.

 About two-thirty in the morning your mom woke me telling me that her water had broke and that we were having a baby.  I asked, “Are you sure?”  She said, Yes, I’m sure.  We had some bags packed and ready to go.

 Helping down the old steps of the trailer, I loaded her into the green Cutlass and we started to St. Vincent’s Hospital in Birmingham. This was before Interstate 65 was complete and we had to travel US Highway 31.  I did not want to panic so I drove safely to St. Vincent’s.  I remember telling your mom is was cold and saw a bank sign that said it was 14 degrees.  The sky remained gorgeous and I now realized how special that was.  You came on a midnight clear on Sunday morning at 10:22.  News of your anticipated birth spread quickly at church

 As your arrival drew closer, I prayed with your momma and kissed her as they carried into delivery. Back then, they would not allow the fathers back with the mothers.  I waited with several other excited dads.  Finally, a nurse entered the waiting room and said, “Mr. Hopper.”  I stood and she said, “You have a baby boy.”  I was elated, but suddenly I realized the awesome responsibility I now faced.

 When one of the most special moments came, I saw you lying on your mother’s stomach.  She was so happy and you were so wonderfully made.  Happy 45^th Birthday my son.  I love you, dad.

Double or Nothing in a Technological World

 

I like gadgets.  I can spend hours in hardware stores, automotive shops, and electronic shops looking at all the neat things to have at your disposal.  I guess it is a guy thing, but having the right gadget or tool makes all the difference in the world for doing “honey do” projects.  Wow, have some of these electronic wonders changed the way we work and communicate.

Lately though, I have noticed that many electronic gadgets are beginning to be a nuisance.  I have been to several meetings where ultimately, someone’s cell phone will interrupt the meeting with some ridiculous ring tone.  What makes it ridiculous is that the host most often asks each attendee to turn off their phones or if they are expecting that, “all important call” to put their phone on vibrate.

At the last Southern Baptist Convention I attended, I saw the rudeness of many in attendance who were on their cell phones, blackberries, or laptop computers during times of preaching or business.  I am always amazed at how many people attend a conference and the first thing they do is open laptops, now even smaller “notebooks,” and read e-mails and other stuff during meetings.  It makes me want to buy one of those illegal gadgets that jams the frequencies of phones, blackberries, and laptops.

I remember a funeral I attended last year.  It was the mother of a former church member.  This former member is a respected medical doctor and a family friend.  My sister and I sat together, unbelievably, without daddy making us.  That was punishment for fighting when growing up.  I leaned over to her and said, “I bet you a supper that a cell phone rings during the funeral.”  She agreed with the deal.  Right on cue, someone’s cell phone started ringing to the tune of “Sanford and Son.”

I smiled at my sister and said, “Double or nothing I bet another rings.”  She agreed again.   Did I mention that my sister is gullible?  A few moments later, another phone rang.  It was in a lady’s purse and she fumbled for what seemed an eternity trying to turn it off.

Feeling kind-a bad about my sister owing me two suppers, I asked her to go double or nothing again.  I was thinking that by now everyone made sure his or her cell phones were off and sister could break even.  By the way, my sister is a very good cook.  Before the end of the funeral, another cell phone rang.  After the funeral, I told my sister all she had to do was fix one supper.

We have heard lately about the security breeches, the train wreaks, auto accidents, and other disturbing effects that cell phones and text messaging are causing.  I know I have preached at a couple of churches were the young people are text messaging during worship.  Now our young people can pass notes electronically.  It makes me want to text the sermon to them or have God text them, “LISTEN TO THE SERMON.”

I hope I do not sound like I am on a soapbox, but I think that we are losing our respect for one another.  The other day this dude was talking, I thought, to me.  I was having this conversation with him when I realized he was talking to his ear and I was talking to myself.  He wore another gadget makes people look like an alien from a “Sci Fi” movie.

In Wal Mart, two ladies were walking side by side pushing their buggies while talking on cell phones.  I saw four girls in a car on the Interstate all four talking on their cell phones.  Has it gotten that bad that we have to have cell phones to communicate with one another while with one another?

I know that during the holidays it was hard to carry on a conversation with family and friends because they were constantly talking or text messaging to someone.

As we all know too well, cell phones can be critical in keeping us safe and connected. Technology, its myriad of benefits, and all its gadgets are not the issue, people are.

“Some people have gotten so fed up with rude mobile phone users they have turned to illegal cell phone jammers. These devices knock cell phone users off their lines and prevent a reconnection with the cell tower until the user wanders out of range. The rate at which jammers are selling speaks to the lack of manners among yappers.”

Thinking of cell phone etiquette, we need to remember the words of the Apostle Paul.  And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you (Ephesians 4:32 KJV).  The words of Jesus my express it better.  A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another (John 13:34 KJV).

The next time you are in worship or at a funeral, remember to turn off your cell phone.  It is not likely that God will be using Verizon, ATT, or Southern LINC to contact you and that cute ring tone might not be appropriate.