MuddyPuddles

I have an adopted brother, Jonathan, that many of you don’t know about.  I haven’t seen or spoken to him in quite a few years.  I don’t even know where he lives.  He has chosen to go his own way.  I was already in college when my family adopted him so I never really got to know him as well as my younger brothers and sisters did.  My parents had felt that God had blessed us so much that they wanted to share those blessings with another child who had not been so fortunate.  So, at the age of five, Jonathan came into our home.   Jonathan liked cats.  So, from somewhere, he was allowed to bring home a little white kitten.  As fate (or providence) would have it, that kitten probably saved the lives of all of my younger brothers and sisters. 
My dad was on the board of the telephone coop.  That was a rural program which enabled people who lived in the country to have telephone service.  The economics were not there for a regular business to be profitable in providing service to the spread out people in the country so people had to band together to make it happen if they wanted the service—thus the rural telephone cooperative.  The board had meetings about once a month or quarter, I think, and then once a year there would be a national meeting somewhere that the coop would pay the way for.  (I remember one year we went to Washington, D.C. as a part of that.) 
It just so happened that Dad and Mom were going to go to some kind of meeting or special event or luncheon late one Saturday morning and as they were backing out of the garage they ran over and killed Jonathan’s kitten.  What a bad way to start out the day.  Jonathan was crushed (not as badly as the kitten, but crushed, nonetheless).  My parents felt bad.  So, they asked Jace to take all the kids to the matinee movie in Clovis (about 20 miles away) to help take Jonathan’s mind off his loss.  So the kids loaded up in the other car and headed toward Clovis . 
Shortly after they left, the house exploded.  We are not sure if it was the water heater or if it was the pickup (parked in the garage), which had recently been converted to propane fuel or what, but whatever it was had created a violent explosion.  It blew down the brick wall on the opposite end of the house.  The house was burned to the ground in about 30 minutes.  It is not likely that anyone inside would have made it out.  It still makes me shudder to think about how close my family came to a major tragedy that day.  But, thank God—literally—tragedy was avoided. 

(That fire was a turning point in my family’s life.  It had actually been the second house fire within about a two or three year period.  The first one only partially destroyed our house and we rebuilt it afterwards.  With the second fire and the total destruction of every thing in the house, Dad thought that maybe God was telling him it was time to move on and to do something different (his allergies had been worsening every year).  Therefore, he purchased a mobile home to live in until the crops were in and then the family moved to Ruidoso NM where he began building houses.)

I’ve thought about the death of that kitten many times through the years and what might have been had it not died.  It seemed like a tragedy at the moment of the cat´s demise, but it was, in reality, a true blessing.  We often get frustrated about what we perceive to be setbacks or tragedies or obstacles in our lives.  Maybe we shouldn’t.  If we trust in God and we know that he loves us and wants the best for us, then maybe we can consider that he might be putting some of these things in our lives to protect us.  Maybe things don’t work out like we had planned because God has something better in mind for us.  In the past couple of years I can think of several things that didn’t work out like I wanted.  To those things I say “thank goodness” because even better things happened that couldn’t have if my original plan had worked.  Therefore I’ve adopted the mindset that God is in control.  He loves me.  He wants to bless me.  If I trust him and I give him the glory, I know he will bless me bountifully.  That’s just the way he is.  Having that mindset has taken a lot of stress out of my life.  That in itself has been a great blessing.  I encourage you to adopt that mindset as well, because I know he wants to bless you as well (and in deed has been blessing you).  May God Bless you this week as you give him the glory for all the many good things in your life.  Dennis

I have a few friends (that I can count on one hand) that fit into a special category in my life.  They sharpen me.  I know that every time I talk to them for more than a few minutes, that my mind is going to be challenged.  I’m not talking about my wife, Bonnie.  She does sharpen me, but she’s more like the Ginsu Knife sharpener.  You know, that “V” shaped apparatus which only requires a few swipes and then you are looking for tomatoes or papers to whack?  She is wise and observant and occasionally she will just put some information together in a way that just makes sense.  Light bulbs come on.  These friends that I’m speaking about—they are more like the old whetstone type of sharpeners.  This is where you lay the knife almost flat—tilt it just a little and pull or push it across the surface or make small circular motions to hone that fine edge on the blade.  If you don’t tilt it enough, you don’t affect the edge, where it needs to be sharp.  It’s wasted motion.  Tilt it too much and you actually take the edge off of the blade.  You make it dull.  It is not only wasted motion, but it actually does damage as well.  Tilt it just right and you sharpen it to a razor thin edge.   My special friends do it just right—and with them, it’s always mutual.  I sharpen them too. 

We talk about all kinds of things, but especially spiritual things.  We talk about the Bible and God and the Church.  We talk about relationships and how to impact others for the good.  But subject matter is not what makes my friends special, because I talk about those kinds of things with lots of people.  What makes these friends special is the give and take between us.  We are not afraid to disagree with one another in good conscience—without judgment or condemnation of one another.  We challenge each other in what we believe and why we believe it.  We try to poke holes in each other’s conclusions and how those conclusions were derived.  At the same time, we are each open to being persuaded.  We each have an understanding that the way we believe about things, though we believe it is right, is possibly wrong and we can be moved if one makes an argument that is more just and powerful than our own.  Our primary goal is not to prove ourselves right.  Our primary goal is to understand what IS right.  More important to us than defending our position is finding out what is the correct position—the truth.  Our feelings are not hurt if we disagree.  In fact, if we disagree and don’t speak up about it then we feel cheated that the other one had a chance to do a little sharpening and let it pass.  We seldom fail to sharpen.   And that is good.  That is healthy.

Unfortunately, that kind of friendship (and/or interaction) is rare.  So many people, especially in the Church of Christ (maybe any church), have the mindset that if you disagree with them then you are being disrespectful of them or those who taught them.  If you disagree with them, your understanding of the truth is inferior.  If you don’t see it their way, you are a danger to the church.  If you disagree too much, you are labeled “divisive” and are relegated to second class “christianship”.

The effect this has is that these people can’t be sharpened with the same type of whetstone.  You could rub on them for days and not see much difference.  Believe me, I’ve tried.  I just get blank stares in return.  Even the Ginsu Knife Sharpener doesn’t work on them.  I’m beginning to think that maybe they have just come out of the preliminary shaping furnace and have been laying in a stack over there in those bins.  The only way you can sharpen them is to lay them on the anvil flatways and start pounding on them with a ball peen hammer.  Then, after you’ve pounded on them for awhile, you take them to the rough grinder.  This starts the smoothing process.  You have to be careful though.  If you don’t periodically dip them in a cooling solution (for those of you in Rio Linda, you have to dip them in water if they start getting too hot) you’ll ruin the edge or they will get brittle and break (it’s not a pretty sight).  Then you have to move them to the fine grinding wheel.  Then they are ready for the whetstone.  Even with all of those special procedures, I’m not sure they can be sharpened.  It’s just that their mindset is that disagreement is bad.  Things must be black or white and you must agree with them because they have the “truth”.  If they don’t condemn you for seeing things differently, then to their way of thinking, they are tolerating evil—and that’s just not an option.  That puts their souls in danger.  And there are no shades of gray.

Sometimes I just feel like writing them off.  But that would make me just like them—and I know that’s not right.  So, I’ll do what I can to bring them around.  Anybody seen my ball peen hammer?  I’ve got some pounding to do.  God Bless.  Dennis      

I’ve been associated with the “ Church of Christ ” all of my life.  It has come to my attention, because of my observational prowess, that some revisions need to be made to the Bible.  These revisions will save the members of the “ Church of Christ ” a lot of splaining (“explaining” (for those of you in Rio Linda)).  What I mean is that every single time verses like the ones listed below are read or discussed, it inevitably leads someone to feel the need to say something to the effect of “and of course, they must also be baptized.”  Therefore, if we just go ahead and add that information to the Bible at those particular locations, it will add clarity to God’s word and save us a lot of “splaining” time.

Acts 16:29-34 The jailer called for lights, rushed in and fell trembling before Paul and Silas. [30] He then brought them out and asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” [31] They replied, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved–you and your household.”

John 20:31     But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

Romans 10:9-13     That if you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. [10] For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. [11]As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” [12] For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile–the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, [13] for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

1 Cor. 1:21     For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.

Ephes. 1:13     And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit,

1 Tim. 1:16     But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.

Hebrews 10:39 But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.

You would have thought that God, in his wisdom, would have added the part about baptism in each of these verses.  But, for some reason, he didn’t.  So, at the very least, we should publish them with an asterisk beside them so that we can add the part about baptism down below?  What was God thinking?  Thank goodness that, until we get the revisions completed, we always have some alert brother or sister who feels behooved to take up the slack that was left in those parts of the Bible.

Another revision that we need to make is that we need to put all the regulations for New Testament worship into one single chapter or book of the NT.  In the Old Testament, the regulations are clearly spelled out— multiple times.  They even start out with a statement like “These are the regulations for . . ..   What was God thinking when he wrote the New Testament?  Did he forget about putting a clear concise list of rules about worship?  We’ve had to really twist our minds into weird shapes to be able to come up with our own list since He forgot to include it.  It would have been better if he just clearly spelled it out.  Then, there would be less controversy today.  We tell people how God wants us to worship but sometimes they don’t go along with it because it is not clearly spelled out in the Bible.  So, we just need to take care of this problem ourselves. 

If you have any other suggestions that we need to include in this new “ Church of Christ ” Bible, just let me know.  You will have a two week period to submit your suggestions.  After that, we’re heading to the presses.  Thanks, Dennis

I have in my filing cabinet a large envelope that is crammed full of late notices from a bunch of mortgage companies.  These notices warn me about how I’m in danger of hurting my credit, of how my payment is past due, of how I’m in danger of losing my houses through foreclosure and other similar warnings.  This stack only represents a fraction of all the notices I received many years ago.  It doesn’t include, at all, the myriad of phone calls and answering machine messages that I was receiving on a daily basis.  It doesn’t include all the vacancies I had in my rent houses and the non-payers I had in the ones that were not vacant.  I was broke.  That’s putting it mildly.  I was actually broke minus.  I had four stacks of checks on my desk.  The first stack was the lowest priority mortgage payments that I had not yet mailed from four months ago.  Each other stack was the consecutive months following that first stack.  I had houses that were badly in need of repair but I didn’t have the time to work on them after getting home from my job and I didn’t have the money to hire someone else to work on them either.  Therefore, with junky houses, I couldn’t get good tenants.  Many of the tenants I had couldn’t pay their rent because the economy had taken a major down turn and many of them had been laid off.  Therefore, I couldn’t make my payments either.  Thus, the notifications started pouring in.  And what was so depressing was that it was so painfully obvious that this ship wasn’t going to right itself for quite a few years to come.  I so dreaded going down into my office to work each night.  All it would do was help me lose less money than I would have lost had I not gone down.  How depressing is that?  I knew that God molded people.  It wasn’t until this point in my life that I realized that he sometimes extruded them.  It was also about this time that I realized that it is easy to be a man of integrity if you have more money coming in than you owe.  But the question I was having to deal with now was “how can I be a man of integrity if I can’t pay my debts?”.  It was a difficult situation (not even including all the ripple effects of strained relationships and struggling self esteem, etc.). One day when I was driving down the highway, in my beat up old pickup, I got pulled over by a highway patrolman.  I really needed that (not!).  He asked me for my license and then asked me if I realized that I was speeding.  I told him that I didn’t realize it and that I guess I just wasn’t paying attention.  I was just numb.  There were no colors in my life—only shades of gray.  He took my license and went back to his car to do whatever it is they do when they go back to their car.  When he came back he handed me my license and then he looked me in the eye and asked me if I was okay.  I didn’t feel okay but I said “yes” (sure, why not?).  I remember feeling so beat down–so depressed.  I guess he picked up on it because he hesitated and then asked me again, ”Are you okay?”  Again I said “yes” but my voice was a little shaky this time.  My eyes started welling up with tears as I looked straight ahead and down a little bit.    Then I could contain it no more.  I lost it.  I hit bottom.  My emotions welled up inside me as I began crying first and then sobbing.  With great difficulty I told him that I just didn’t know life was going to be so hard.  “It just wasn’t supposed to be this hard.”  He put his hand on my shoulder.  He had compassion on me.  He listened to my weary soul as I grieved and as I let out my frustration and my weariness.  He just listened and cared.  It was a turning point. I didn’t get the man’s name.  Many times through the years I’ve wished that I had because I have wanted to meet with him again and to thank him for his kindness and compassion.  I sometimes wonder if he was an angel that God sent to touch me.  If he wasn’t, I know that he has no clue about how his gentle spirit ministered to me.  As I look back I know that even in my worst times I was still blessed beyond most of the people in the world.  But while you are going through it, that knowledge just doesn’t seem to help much.  I also know that even though that was the worst time of my life, it was, in another way, the best time of my life.  More than any other time my priorities—what’s important to me—came clearly into focus.  Now, many decisions that would have seemed difficult are like child’s play to me.  Questions of integrity are easily answered.  Integrity is more important than riches.  People take priority over things.  Relationships matter.  Making a difference in people’s lives—putting your hand on someone’s shoulder when they are struggling—are the things that really matter.  Everything else is just “stuff”.  I keep the stack of late notices as a type of reminder of how it was and how it can be.  I never want to forget what it was like to go through that hell.  I truly appreciate God for bringing me out of it and for blessing me so.  He has made my life easier since that time.  And I know that all my blessings are from God.  I shall never forget that.  Thank you my God for blessing me so bountifully! And my prayer is that God may bless you as you make a difference in someone’s life today and in the days ahead.  Sincerely,   Dennis

One of my good childhood memories is that of riding around with my dad when he was going about doing his business.  He was a farmer for all of my growing up years and so sometimes I would get to go with him to buy tractor parts or to the cotton gin or to the fertilizer dealer or just down the road to talk with a fellow farmer.

The conversations would be about crops or business or politics or church or family.  It didn’t really matter to me what he talked about, I just enjoyed listening in on his discussions—how he approached things—what he believed.  Sometimes he would brag on me to his friends.  That was always special.  He was good at making me feel special.

The only time I saw him cry was when we went to the funeral home when his mom had died.  I remember him sitting on a bench and bawling like a baby and saying the exact words “I would have never amounted to a hill of beans if it hadn’t been for her.”

He was a patient man.  There were several times that I remember thinking that I really deserved punishment for something I did.  But he would usually go pretty easy on me.  I could tell I frustrated him at times (I know that’s hard for you who know me to believe that I could ever have frustrated anyone, but I really used to be that way (in the past)).  I was truly grateful when he had mercy on me.  I mean, even at the time and ever since that time, I have been truly grateful for his mercy on me.

One time I had been driving a tractor for a few hours and I just got fed up with driving it.  So, I  brought it back to the barn and parked it.  Then I started swinging in the big elm tree beside the barn.  He drove up a few minutes later and asked me what’s wrong.  I said “nothing”.  He asked if the tractor was working okay.  I said, “yes”.  He asked me if the plow was working okay.  I said, “yes”.  Then he asked me about why I drove it to the barn.  I told him, “I just got tired of driving it.”  He paused for a moment.  Then he said, “You can swing for a little while and then go back to plowing.  Okay?”  I said, “Okay”.  And, I did.

He was a good father.  I could and can see God in him.  It’s easy for me to see God as loving and patient and merciful because I saw those characteristics modeled in my earthly father.  I am thankful to God for blessing me with that great role model.  It was much more than I deserved.  I want to be like him in those respects.  What a good man.  God Bless.

Dennis

A friend of mine  (I’ll call him Bill) who attended a large congregation had a major problem.  He was just beside himself with frustration and anger.  It had to do with religion and some things that were going on during the worship service.  After he had gone through more than he could stand, he decided that he had no choice but to go before the Elders of the congregation to get it straightened out.  

When he got to the church building he was directed down the hall to a room where about a dozen people were waiting to speak with the Elders.  The Associate Minister came out and said that he wanted to jot down what each person was there for so that the Elders could expedite the meeting and take care of the quicker cases first for the convenience of the group.  So, one by one, the Associate Minister asked the purpose of the visits.  He asked Bill for the purpose of his visit first.

Bill said that he was so frustrated with the things that were taking place in the worship service.  He said that there were several of the teenagers and even a few adults that were clapping during part of the song service.  “It’s just not right and this congregation is in danger of losing its soul.  I cannot, in good conscience, let it go without at least bringing it before the Elders.”  Then the Minister turned to the next person in the room.  His name was James.

James said that he was there to ask the Elders to pray for his son, Elliot.  He said, “I think I’m losing Elliot.  He’s gotten in with the wrong crowd and has been doing drugs and alcohol and sharing needles and doing all kinds of sexually perverse things.  He left home three days ago and was angry with me and my wife and I don’t know where he was or even if he is alive at this point.  I want the Elders to pray for him and for us.  I would love to hear him clapping beside me in church.  I would give my right arm for that, in fact.” 

The next person in line was there because their children and grandchildren were no longer interested in coming to church.  They used to come and were starting to enjoy it until one of the long time members griped at them for letting the children eat of the bread and the fruit of the vine during communion even though they had not been baptized.  It totally embarrassed them and demoralized them.  “I haven’t been able to get them to come back since.  I want to ask the Elders what I should do to get them to come back.  I don’t care if they clap or not.  I just want them to come back.”

The next person in line said, “I would give anything to hear my precious Jimmy clapping his hands in church.”  “He was killed by a drunk driver two years ago today and I just have so much anger at God.  My soul is still grieving these two years later.  I want the Elders to tell me what I should do—how I can handle so much grief?  How can I ever survive this trauma?”

And so the list went on as the Minister went around the room.  One woman and her children were being abused by her husband.  She even suspected sexual abuse on her daughter.  Another young woman was distraught because her marriage was going through major turmoil and she was afraid that it was going to end in a bitter divorce.  Another lady had terminal cancer and was concerned for her small children at home.  It continued until all had reported.

After the list was given to the Elders, Bill was allowed in first.  He told the Elders about the evilness of this practice of clapping during the worship service.  He reminded them of how it was unauthorized and that if it was allowed to continue that it would lead to more and more evils in the worship. 

The Elders agreed to take it into consideration and would discuss among themselves what they should do about it.  Though they could agree that, technically they didn’t think it was scripturally wrong, it would probably best if the people did not clap during the worship service so that they would not offend those who were opposed to it.  For the sake of harmony it would be better if clapping were not allowed.  “We will make the announcement next Sunday,” they decided.  

“Next!”

Last week my 4 year old grandson, Trapper, came to see me for a few days.  We stomped around in the creek and caught frogs and fish and “memos” (minnows) and tadpoles.  We built towers out of firewood logs and poured imaginary cement (sand).  We played games and did computer things and read books.  We watched “Shark Tales” about 50,000 times.  We hid and wrestled and hiked and made messes in just about every room in the house (multiple times) and the yard.  What an awesome time we had.  I cannot describe to you how much I love that kid.  He is the sparkle in my eye. 

Even if he destroys my most prized possessions I will not stop loving him immensely.  He can’t mess up bad enough for me to stop loving him.  I know he loves me too, but he will never love me as much as I love him.  That’s just the way things are.  And as much as I love him I know God loves me more than that.  And when I mess up bad, I know that God still loves me just the same.  And I know that God is not looking for a way to send me to hell.  You wouldn’t always be able to know that if you listen to or watch some of the things that some of my Christian brothers are saying or doing, but it’s true.

I’m pulling for my sweet Trapper in ways that I can’t even describe.  God is pulling for me in ways that I can’t even understand.  He is my “abba Father.”  He’s your’s too, by the way.  Aren’t you glad?  Doesn’t that bring you indescribable joy?  It does me too!  God Bless.  Dennis      

When I was in the first grade my family moved into a house that basically had 3 rooms.  It had a rectangular room that housed the living room and the kitchen/dining room.  The bedroom was attached to the side of the living room part and the small bathroom was attached to the end of the bedroom next to the kitchen.  It consisted of a wall mounted sink, a toilet and a corner shower.

My family at the time consisted of my dad, mom, two sisters and myself.  When my first brother came along my dad added a large bedroom on the end of the house.  When my other brother came along my dad built a new house.

When I think back at that little house I think about how adequate it was in spite of being so basic.  It gave us a roof over our heads, indoor toilet facilities, a shower, a place to store and prepare food, a place to sit down and relax and even a place to lay our heads at night.  Good tasting water came through those pipes.  It was a nice little basic house that was very common for that time.  Like most of my friends, we did not have a TV.

In today’s basic homes one is likely to find all the conveniences of that original house plus a  microwave, computer, built in dishwasher, multiple bathrooms, cell phones, high speed (or slow speed) internet, a garage or many of the other conveniences that we didn’t have back then.

And yet, it still does the same basic things as the original house did.  It meets the same needs.  And the same good tasting water comes through those pipes. 

If we never knew about the new and improved version of the basic house we would probably be satisfied with the original version.  Since we know about the new and improved version, it is difficult to be satisfied with the old one.  This is easy for us to understand when we are talking about houses.

When we are talking about religion, however, it seems like there are quite a few among us that think that the 1950’s version is adequate and that these young people of today should be just as satisfied with it as we were at that time of our lives. 

It is as if we had a street full of rent houses.  On one side, builder Bob made all of the houses just like the old style that I described originally.  On the other side, builder Bill made all of the houses like the second house I described—the new style.   They are charging the exact same amount of rent for each of the houses.  The new style is filling up very fast while the original style has very few takers unless there isn’t a new style house available.

Some among us want to keep building the old style and can’t seem to understand why nearly everyone wants the new style.   After all, if the old style was good enough for us it should be good enough for them.  They say that these kids of today are just selfish.  “It shouldn’t be about having that extra bathroom or that high speed internet or computerized thermostats.  It should be about shelter, bathroom facilities, and places to eat and sleep.”

These naysayers may be right in one sense.  Maybe it shouldn’t be about these extras, but the reality is that if we keep offering the old style we are going BROKE because someone else will be offering the new style.  Like it or not, our young people are going to select the new version.  THAT IS A FACT!!!!!!.  Believe it. Own it.

We do have a choice.  We have the ability and the means to build the new style.  We don’t have to build the old style.  We are capable people.  It’s okay to build the new style.  It is the same water coming through the pipes—and that is what’s important.  The choice is yours.  Choose wisely.

Sincerely yours.   Dennis

Twenty-five years ago today when I got in from work I had a message on my answering machine that would impact my life forever.  I wrote about that message and its effects in 1994.  The following, with a few minor modifications, is that writing.  I wanted to share it with you today in honor of my dad.  It follows: 

I heard a tape today that talked about how important it is for a father to spend a lot of time with his kids.  Quantity of time is as much if not more important than the quality time.  This is partly true because you cannot always plan the quality time.  It just arrives unexpectedly and if you don’t spend quantity of time, you just miss out on the quality times that could have been.

The tape also talked about how important it is to touch your children and to make physical contact with them.  The man speaking related how his 12-year-old son still liked to sit in his lap and to be near him and to even kiss him.  That brought back memories of one of the last times I saw my dad.

One Tuesday afternoon in 1982 he had a heart attack.  When I got in from work, I heard a message on my answering machine from Mom saying Dad had a bad heart attack.  We packed up and went down to Llano that night.  When I came into that room I could see that he was in a lot of pain.  I came over and hugged him and cried.  We had such a good visit - it was all deep - no shallowness there - no small talk - no chit chat.  With life hanging in the balance, the walls and shells around us were stripped away.  He said he was ready to go if it was his time.  (I think he even preferred it). But he said he was going to try to make it for Mom and my brother still at home.  He said he didn’t know a body could hurt so much - so much pain.  Near the end of our conversation he asked me to kiss him.  I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  He said “on the lips.”  I leaned over and kissed him again - on the lips.  I think he knew he was going to die.  And I think he wanted to show me and tell me in no uncertain terms about how much he loved me.  This kiss was heart to heart with no paraphernalia - just pure love - no facades, no inhibiting pride or pretense – just a deep and abiding expression of love. 

I think that is the only time in my life that I kissed my dad on the lips.  I shall never forget it. 

My dad knows he did a good job raising me.  He knows that although I sometimes drove the whole family crazy, that he did instill in me a sincere and honest heart.  I am a weak person, no doubt, but my sincere desire is to be a man after God’s own heart, full of integrity and sincerity and patience and love.  I thank God for my dad.  Of all the fathers in the world I was so blessed that mine was that man.  I hope I can instill some of those same qualities that my dad instilled in me, into my two precious boys.  If I can do no more than that, my life would be a success. 

My dad made it through that night and felt a little better the next day.  We decided to move him to Austin where the medical facilities were better.  He would be more vulnerable during the trip, but would have a better chance of surviving once we got there.  Dad made the trip just fine and slept well that night.  The next morning, Dad felt wonderful.  It was so good to see him feeling good.  We saw him quite a bit that day but had to be careful not to get emotional because the heart monitor would go crazy.

Mom’s brother, N.D., came up from Hereford to see Dad.  In many ways, Dad had been like an older brother or a father figure to him.  The heart monitor really went crazy when he came in.  I never really appreciated how deep their relationship was until that moment.  They were both speechless because of their inability to keep from breaking down and crying.  That made me love and respect N.D. more than I ever had before.  That also, as well as many things N.D. told me about later, made my love and respect for my dad grow deeper. 

I cried a lot that night.  Everyone else seemed very happy.  Although Dad had been through a good day, the doctor never would show a lot (or even a little) optimism.  We wanted him to so badly and we tried to convince ourselves that things were better, but he just never would paint any bright pictures for us.  I think I knew – way down inside - that he was not going to make it.  The uncertainty is so draining.

The next morning, while waiting for the visiting hours (15 minutes) to come, a nurse came out to tell us that “he’s not quite ready yet” and to “wait a few minutes”.  Near the end of the visiting time, I asked the nurse if we would get to extend our visiting time since we had missed out on the regular time.  She said “yes”.  When the regular visiting time was over the nurse came out and said, “Y’all can come in now.”  Instead of leading us to his room, she asked us to wait in a vacant room because the doctor wanted to talk to us.  Shortly, the doctor came in and told us that early that morning my dad had either extended the existing heart attack or had a second heart attack and they had been working on him all morning trying to revive him and that there was nothing more they could do.  Those words were so hard to believe.  My dad had always been there - my whole life - he can’t be gone.  We all cried and held each other in disbelief.  I asked if we could see him and the doctor said yes.

We walked into his room.  It was so obvious that his spirit was gone.  His body was there but he was not.  We cried some more.  We held each other some more.  We talked about this wonderful man that lay before us, some of the crazy things he did, the quality of his life.  Laughing and crying, rejoicing and weeping.  The mystery of the heavens and earth had taken place in this room.

When we got back to Mom’s house, I went out into the shop where Dad’s tools were.  I put my hands on the handles of all the tools I could find.  My dad held these tools last.  I wanted my hands to be where his had been. 

The funeral was special.  Since it was delayed a couple of days while we were waiting for my sister and brother-in-law to get in from South Africa , we had time to come to grips with what was happening.  My brother-in-law preached the sermon.  “Can you imagine James growing old?” he asked.  And we couldn’t.  He also talked about the many wonderful memories that we could cherish because of this man – the nostalgic memories, the crazy things he did (sometimes on purpose and sometimes not).  But most of all he reminded us of the Christian heritage this man had left us.  His goal in life was to see his family grow up to be Christians and to lead Godly lives. 

That was more important to him than making a lot of money or having a lot of power or impressing his friends.  In that, he succeeded.  He had five kids who are all faithful Christians to this day (even in 2007).  They all have strong Christian families and are passing the legacy on down to their children and grandchildren. 

I thank God for blessing me with this awesome man as my father.  I feel compelled to make a difference in other people’s lives because of that blessing.  My father died 25 years ago on April 30, 1982 at the age of 56.  In 10 days he would have been 57.

—I will always love you Dad!!! —

God Bless!

Dennis

I do not see joy in the “naysayers.”  I do not see peace.  I see worry and fear and consternation.  It seems they are worried, fearful and fretful primarily about losing control—especially of losing control of what takes place in the assembly.  Though they won’t admit it, they kind of wish the second half of Galatians 5:6 was not in the Bible (“the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love” (NIV)), because, to them, other things count as well.  It just doesn’t seem right that faith, expressing itself through love, could be the only thing that counts, but there it is in black and white.  It’s pretty clear.

It is very difficult for this group to accept the grace of God.  For one thing, it just doesn’t seem right that it should be a free gift (as in “free”, as in “unearned”).  It just doesn’t seem fair that they have worked so hard for so long and then here comes this young whippersnapper that hasn’t worked all that hard and he’s going to get just as much of this free grace from God as they are and he hasn’t even done anything to earn it?  It just doesn’t add up in their eyes.

In order to accept this grace as a free gift they would have to internally and whole heartedly acknowledge that all this effort they have put into their religion for all these years (or decades) has not earned them even one tiny miniscule jot or tittle (Matt 5:18)of a smidgeon of worthiness to be saved.  It has not earned them one bit of righteousness (“There is none righteous, no, not one.” Romans 3:10 (KJV)).  No.  Not one.  God did it all.  Only He Is Righteous!

One would have to swallow his pride to get to that place.  It’s not all that easy to do, because it’s been there for a long time.  It feels like a part of their nature.  It feels like it has been earned—this pride about who they are and what they’ve done.    But getting rid of it would make room for peace and joy and hope and love. 

I hope they get there.  I’m praying that they will. 

Dennis