Jesus Is Coming Soon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Hypocrites

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too Simple to Work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


 

 

Sorry the System is Down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

What Stuff?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

My Way

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Anka rewrote the song specifically for Sinatra.

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

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

 

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

 

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

Character Centered/Achievement Centered

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pivotal Moments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

In the Mirror We Stare

 My, my time has quickly passed

Just yesterday, you came unexpectedly fast

The moment I saw you, you became my special angel

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

Watching you grow has been frightful, yet wonderful journey

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

 

Many special moments flood my memory

You with lifted arms saying, “Hold you me”  

 

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

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

 

You riding down the sidewalk making the Bigwheel tire flat

To learning to drive the car, just like that

 

The many volleyball practices that we spent together

Sharing doubts, hopes, and dreams to make things better

 

The places, sights, and things that we have shared

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

Happy Birthday Angel

Love Dad

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Still of the Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

Let me encourage you to be followers of Jesus.

Bumps Ahead

 

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

I was traveling in places I had never been before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Running

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something Is Not Right

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Vicious People

There have been some vicious people in the world.  Vicious people have killed millions I i  of people and destroyed nations. People can be vicious, especially church folks. 

There was a tall frail lady in one of our churches that always had to comment on my size when I made a church visit.  I know that I am larger than the average person, especially tall frail ladies.  After about the third or fourth time, or it could have been on a Sunday that I really did not want to accept insults, I smarted back to her.  She said, “You are too big, you need to lose weight.”  For a minute, I thought I was at the doctor’s office.  He always says that I need to lose weight.

I smarted back to her by saying, “Listen you remind me of my Honda Civic with a little four-cylinder engine.  It is cheap on gas, but I am like the big eight-cylinder in my pickup oioh ok I’m sorry but pop l BC job.  I am bigger and stronger than you are and I require more fuel to get around than you do.

When I have lost weight, there are those vicious little ladies, both church and extended family that crush our spirits.  I am feeling proud to have lost fifteen pounds and they say, “Whew, you shore have gotten fat.”  Us fat people got feelings!

As long as we go along and contribute to their fulfillment and pleasure, they tolerate us.  Watch out if you get in their way.  I try to know God’s love and purpose.  Without that assurance, facing vicious people can be a hopeless and terrifying experience.

It has been a long time but I received a vicious letter.  No, it was not directed at me, but to me.  I learned a long time ago to see who sent or wrote the letter before I read it.  A preacher friend told me a long time ago that upon receiving vicious mail, check to see who wrote the letter.  If it is not signed, tear it up immediately.  He said you won’t have the temptation to read it if you destroy it.  His reasoning was that if the perpetrator was a coward if he or she did not sign it.  He said if a letter is not signed, I do not read it.  I have lived by that principle for years.

Seeing that the letter and packet of material was defamatory to the character of a co-laborer in Christ and was not signed, I promptly sealed the package and disposed of it.  I had a pretty good feeling who sent it and what they were trying to do the ministry of a Godly man.

As the devil would have it, I was in revival the week I penned the article.  After preaching Monday night, I received a card in the mail.  I noticed that there was no return address and a note on the back of the envelope.  It was an odd message, but I got the jest of it.  It said I need to preach Jesus.  The title of Monday night’s message is “A Pink Note from God” from Psalm 46.  It is a personal testimony of God presence in one of the darkest hours of my life.  It was when our house burned in 2012.

Monday night I received some of the best compliments for the same sermon that I have ever received.

The front of the card had “A Note from, the words had been marked out with a black marker, God above the black mark, and “Pink” placed with an arrow between “A Note.”

Inside the card was a bunch of Scripture verses.  I looked for a signature, finding none I tore the card into little bitty pieces.  Shoot! The whole sermon was about God being our refuge, our strength, and very present in times of trouble.

However, the damage had been done.  Whoever penned the note was vicious.  Satan and his vicious agent were trying to stop revival.  My first thought was I would like to punch Satan’s agent right in the mouth, but I figured it was a little old lady.  I am a pastor I gotta have thick skin.  Then I thought, and I felt sorry for the one that Satan used.  I think in his or her feeble mind that they were being an agent of light, not darkness.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Since I did not know the vicious person, I turned the other cheek.  It still stings a little bit!

The defamation of my so called pastor friend that I destroyed, turned on me years later.  Turned out he was vivious toward me himself.  I turned the other cheek and it stung too.