MuddyPuddles

On June 12, 2007 I wrote a post called “Dreams”.  It dealt primarily with the dream that my oldest son, Jeff, had been pursuing of having his own hunting show on TV.  I talked about how, thanks to God opening so many doors, he was going to start airing on the Men’s Channel in July of ‘07.  That all did indeed take place but a couple of months later the Men’s channel went off the air.  Thankfully, Jeff was able to make a switch to a smaller, less significant channel, Fox Sports Southwest.  It wasn’t great but at least it was something.  Not many people got to see his show, however, because it was not listed under “NonStop Hunting” as it is named, but was listed under “Paid Programming”.  This was pretty frustrating for him and his hunting buddy, Daryl. It has been hard on him to be spending these thousands and thousands of dollars for travel costs for himself and his camera crew and to pay to have the shows professionally edited and to be on the networks that were not being heavily watched and with having the title “Paid Program”.  But, as in most things, you gotta pay your dues if you are ever going to break through to the “big time”.  Even “paying your dues” doesn’t guarantee that you’ll make the “big time”, but it is almost impossible to break through without it.  We knew that there was going to be a period of time—two to three years—that would be critical for the show to gain enough traction to stand on its own.  It’s extremely difficult to get the kind of sponsorship dollars you need to survive if you are one of hundreds of people who are pitching a new show to these inundated sponsors with limited advertising dollars (which are usually committed a year in advance). 

But, as before, God put Jeff in the right place with the right people at the right time.  Scott, a big whig in one of the sponsorship companies has been watching Jeff for over a year now and has kind of taken him under his wing.  He’s been a great advisor to Jeff and an encourager and has opened some other doors which has begun advancing Jeff’s cause.  Scott told Jeff that if NonStop Hunting could get on the “Versus” channel (goes to 75 million households) that his company would begin with a little money this year but would come in with a full dose of sponsorship in 2009.  Scott also has influence with some other sponsors and has received a commitment from one of those other sponsors that they will do the same thing.  So now the question would be whether or not Jeff could get on the Versus channel.  The odds were not too great for that to happen this year.  Not many slots open up each year and a lot of shows would like to fill those slots.  But without it, there would be no significant sponsorship which would make for some difficult financial choices to be looming ahead in the near future.  It’s getting very close to make or break time. 

At the urging of Scott and other influential individuals, the intermediary company that buys bulk time on the Versus channel told Jeff that he would receive serious consideration to be included in this year’s lineup if any time slots opened up but that they wouldn’t know anything for a couple of weeks.  That was a little over two weeks ago.  On Tuesday, two days ago, Jeff got the call notifying him that he was accepted on the Versus Channel.  It was a good day.  (In fact it was a great week since his sweet and healthy baby, Aubrey Grace, was born on the previous Thursday 2/14/08). Nonstop Hunting should start airing in July 2008.  (You can keep up with the latest details on his blog http://www.nonstophunting.net/.)  This breakthrough, along with Scott’s continued guidance and Jeff & Darryl’s continued efforts should get him over the hump.  When Jeff emailed Scott to let him know that Versus had accepted him, Scott sent Jeff a text message saying “Welcome to the big time.” 

Obviously, there is still very much work to do.  And there are not too many guarantees in this life.  But by any standard this was a huge breakthrough for Jeff and Darryl and the odds of them having long term success in this venture was increased exponentially.  God has truly blessed them.  Now they just need to take this wonderful opportunity and use it to God’s glory (as we all do with our own successes and failures).  God has blessed them bountifully.  I pray that he will continue to do so.  And may God Bless you as well.  Dennis       

In August of 1973, Bonnie and I moved to Arlington where I began teaching history and Industrial Arts (shop) to eighth grade students in AISD.  After teaching for three years an opportunity opened up for me to try something else.  An Elder where I worshiped was a custom home builder in Arlington .  His business was rapidly growing and he thought it might be time to hire a field superintendent, so he made a proposal to me. 
His proposal would be that I would come to work for him for the summer on a trial basis.  At the end of the summer, if either one of us decided that it would not be a good fit, then I would go back to school and he would go back to managing his own construction.  But if we both liked the marriage, we would make it permanent.  That sounded like a good plan to me so we gave it a shot.  After three weeks we knew it was right so we made it “permanent”. 

Over the course of the next three years I supervised the construction of about one hundred homes.  It was a great learning experience which has impacted my life significantly since then.  In fact, that is where I learned most of what I know about all phases of construction.  I took advantage of the opportunity to continually ask the subcontractors why they did things the way they did.  I developed great relationships with them and they became my mentors.  It was wonderful.

Part of my job included taking care of any call back warranty service for the first year following the sale of the homes.  I didn’t particularly like this part of the job, but this responsibility helped me to become a better superintendent because it taught me some things to watch for during the original construction.  If you do things right the first time, it saves you a lot of work on the back end. 

Even though the people I was dealing with on this warranty work were the actual owners of the homes, in some ways I felt as if I were a landlord.  And this gave me half of an idea.  I got the other half of the idea from the fact that the house Bonnie and I had purchased shortly after moving to Arlington had increased about 15% per year for the first three years we lived in Arlington .  We had put five thousand dollars (borrowed from Dad) as a down payment when we purchased it and when we sold it three years later, we cleared fourteen thousand dollars. 

Being the ponderer and the analyzer that I am, I was thinking that if I had purchased five houses when I purchased that one, and if I had rented them out for the three years to cover the payments and expenses, then at the end of the three years I could have cleared forty-five thousand dollars instead of the nine thousand that I did.  Since I was only making eleven thousand per year at the time, forty-five thousand sounded like a small fortune.  So I decided to go for it—at least on a small scale of one rent house.  I figured that would be a good way to gage the feasibility of my plan. 

So, I bought and devoured every book I could find on rental property and I attended every seminar I could find.  I really wanted to learn.

Since I had no money (I had used all my cash as a down payment on another house for us), and I basically had no credit, I knew that I was going to have to be very creative to be able to purchase a rent house.  One really doesn’t have to have money if he has the right kind of knowledge and intestinal fortitude.  (I have actually experienced purchasing a house and putting money in my pocket that I got out of the purchase closing.  You can afford a lot of houses using that formula.) 

So I looked and looked and offered and offered and I finally purchased my first rent house.  It was scary to do that.  I kept thinking “What if I can’t make my payment?”  “What if the tenants tear up the house?”   All of these negative thoughts kept trying to get into my head, but I kept reviewing what I had learned and I decided to give it a try in spite of my fears. 

Sure enough, I made some mistakes with my purchase.  I paid too much for the house.  Because of the high interest rates (12-15%) of the day, the rent would not cover the note payment plus the taxes and insurance.  I should have bought an older house that would have cost quite a bit less but would have rented for only a little bit less.  Then I could have at least broken even each month on the cash flow.

In spite of these mistakes and others, I was able to survive.  And I was able to see without a doubt that if I did it better, I could make it work.  So, I set a goal that one year from that day I would own at least 10 rent houses.  At the time, that goal felt and sounded impossible to me.  It sounds the same as ten thousand houses do to me now.  It just seemed so unrealistic.  I had no money and was making less than a thousand dollars a month and Bonnie was staying home with the boys.  But I decided that this was what I wanted to set as my goal, so I started looking at houses.

I would call on newspaper ads every week.  I would call on realtors every week and spent a lot of time looking for “deals”.  Honestly, I felt like such a hypocrite.  I kept thinking to myself, “Who do you think you’re fooling?  You can’t do this.  You are just a scraping by worker with no money.”  I really didn’t think I could do it.  It just felt too big.

But instead of giving in and giving up, I employed my “what if” strategy.  I thought to myself (on a daily and sometimes hourly basis), “If you really thought you could do it (accomplish this goal of buying 10 houses in one year) what would you do next?”  Whatever the answer to that question was—I would do it.  Even while feeling like a total hypocrite, I would execute the next step.  It was such a horrible, uncomfortable feeling to make myself do it.  But I was willing to stretch my comfort zone rather than be guaranteed failure.

I would make ridiculous offers that would have the realtors shaking their heads.  One realtor told me, “You’re not going to find many sellers that will agree to those terms.”  I told her, “I just need one right now.”  And she would present the offer.  Most offers were rejected—most.  But then one came back that I could work with, so I counter offered.  Eventually we came to terms and I was able to purchase a second house.  It was scary to sign those papers, but I signed them anyway.  And now I had two. 

I continued on that way and eventually found a seven house package.  The seller was willing to carry the note so we worked out the deal.  That was a big one.  And I signed all those papers.  That made nine.  Then I found another house, worked out the negotiations and purchased it.  That made TEN.  Can you imagine how awesome I felt at the end of that year knowing that I had purchased ten rent houses?  It was incredible. 
The way that people looked at me had now changed.  The way that realtors looked at me had now changed.  The way that my friends looked at me had now changed.  And even the way that I looked at myself had changed.  I had credibility.  I had busted through the obstacles and self-doubts and fears and had accomplished my goals. 

I still made a lot of mistakes, but that was just a part of the journey.  I’m still making mistakes, and I will continue to make mistakes until the day I die.  But I didn’t make the biggest mistake of all.  And that mistake that I didn’t make was to let fear keep me from launching out toward a goal and a dream.  It’s like the old saying, “It is better for someone to try something and fail than it is for them to fail to try.”

I have purchased quite a few more houses since those early days.  I’ve also sold quite a few and have even lost a few through foreclosure (when the economy went into the tank during the 80s— (that was grueling)).  But now, because of experience and knowledge about real estate and about life, and because of a much expanded comfort zone, not many things scare me as much as those early leaps of faith.  And because of my willingness to take those risks, my life has been much richer and fuller than it would have been had I stayed safe.  For that I’m thankful.

And now, my dear reader, I want to encourage you to dream a dream and to set a goal.  Do not let yourself give up easily on that goal but start taking baby steps toward that goal today.  Use that “as if” principal to move yourself forward.  Act “as if” you thought you could accomplish it.  And before you know it, you will.  Don’t let this opportunity get away from you!  I mean it—for real.  Make it happen. 
May God bless you as you bravely move forward into the unknown.  I encourage you to not let fear be your deciding factor.  Trust in God and move ahead.  Sincerely,  Dennis

When my oldest son, Jeff, was about 10 years old, Bonnie and I took the boys on a ski trip to Ruidoso, New Mexico .  We had been skiing before and Jeff had taken lessons and I had worked with him some, so he knew how to ski and get on the chair lifts and all those other basics one needs to know when hitting the slopes.  Jarod, on the other hand, at age 5 was experiencing his first outing.

At that time, all skiers had to start at the base where a two person chair-lift could take them up the mountain where there were several options for more chair-lifts that could take them even further up the mountain.  Since it was at Christmas time, the lines at the bottom lift were fairly long.

To make the line move more rapidly, the staff encouraged people who were skiing single (without a partner) to yell “single” so that they could be paired up with someone else who was also “single” so they could ride the chairlift together.  This was oftentimes a great advantage for the single skier because he had the opportunity to legally cut in line for the good of all. 

Since I was there with both my boys and Bonnie wasn’t too interested in skiing that day, I told Jeff that I needed to help Jarod get on and off the lift and that he needed to yell out “single” so that he could ride with someone else.  Jeff wasn’t too keen on the idea of riding up with a stranger, but after some gentle prodding he reluctantly hitched a ride.  I told him to wait for us at the top. 

When Jarod and I arrived at the top we found Jeff waiting as agreed.  To my pleasant surprise, Jeff’s first words were (with enthusiasm) “man, that guy was interesting!”  “Really,” I said.  “Yeah, he was interesting!”

My first thought was “what could someone say on a 5 minute chairlift ride that would make a 10 year old boy think he was interesting?”  So, I asked Jeff to tell me what was said.  After a brief explanation of the ride, it dawned on me that this was a perfect teaching opportunity.  So, we spent the next few minutes observing (wisdom) what had taken place and then capitalizing on it for use in our own lives.

What had taken place was that Jeff’s “new best friend” had asked Jeff a few questions.   He had asked Jeff where he was from and how old he was.  He had asked him how long he had been at the ski slopes and how many days he was going to be here.  He had asked him about which ski run was his favorite.  He had asked him about his family and about his favorite sports.  In short, all the conversation was about Jeff.

So, I reaffirmed to Jeff that he thought this guy was interesting, “right”?  Jeff said “yes.”  And I pointed out that all the questions the guy had asked were about you, “right”?  Jeff said “yes.”  And I pointed out the human nature in us that makes us believe that people who are interested in us are interesting to us.  And a light bulb came on in Jeff’s head.

I asked Jeff if he wanted people to think he was interesting.  He said, “yes.”  Then what you need to do is to ask the people about themselves and they will see you as an interesting person.  The light bulb brightened.  We then set about picking out about 5 or 6 questions that Jeff could ask each of the new best friend strangers he would be riding with so that he would be prepared to ask them the questions. 

From that moment on, Jeff’s outlook on the day changed.  Originally he was planning to ride the chairlift so he could ski down the mountain.  Now, his purpose was to ski down the mountain so he could ride the chairlift.  It was great to watch him eagerly yelling out “single” and then to watch him in line as he anxiously waited for the chair ride to start.  Then he would start pummeling his new companion with questions.  It was great!  He ended the day feeling very interesting indeed.

Now, as a grown man, Jeff is considered a very interesting person by many people.  Bonnie and I receive compliments about him all the time.  And, periodically, I gratefully think back to that friendly stranger on that two man chairlift on the mountain.  And I thank him for being such an “interesting” person.  I’m sure he doesn’t have a clue about how much impact his friendliness has made in Jeff’s life.  It was a defining moment.  May God Bless him and May God Bless you.  Have an awesome week!  Dennis 

One of the great advantages of growing up in or near a small town is the opportunity for almost anyone to play at least one if not several sports during his/her school career.  Looking back, I know that so much of what I am today and how I see myself was shaped by my involvement in the athletic programs at my school.  As I think about the many mental snapshots that come to mind, one of my favorites was truly a defining moment in my life.  I’ve never shared it with anyone in my life—until now. 

Though I was pretty small, one of the positions I played on the football team was “wide receiver” (we used to call it “split end”).  I probably only caught about 8 or 10 passes (or less) in my senior year but I remember several of them very vividly.  The first one I caught was when I was coming over the middle and the ball just happened to hit me on the hip and stopped.  I draped my arm around it and drew it in.  After a few steps a defender grabbed me and pulled me down.  As soon as I got to the ground, an unmistakable revelation (not miraculous or Spiritual) popped into my head.  A reality light bulb came on.  It was a defining moment.  I realized, clearly, instantly, undeniably that I could have gained another yard or another foot or at least another inch before going down.  I didn’t have to stop at that precise spot.  I could have made it farther.  I went down because, in my mind, I had been tackled and so on my way down I quit fighting for progress.  No one else on earth knew that what had just happened was a turning point for me and for my life.  To all observers, it looked like just another play.  But in that instant I made up my mind that I would never stop fighting before I was down again.  I was not going to make it easy for anyone who was trying to prevent me from reaching my goal. 

I stayed true to my commitment.  I remember two specific times after that when I had the ball and was running down the field.  I juked the tacklers so they were unable to get a direct hit on me but they grabbed me and hung on to my back as I just kept pulling with every ounce of strength I had.  I felt like buckling, but, for awhile longer, in spite of being on the verge of collapsing, I was able to keep driving forward.  Those plays seemed to go in slow motion as players from both teams joined the struggle – some pulling and some pushing.  It was awesome.  I treasure that memory.     That became who I was and how I saw myself.  And because of it I know I had an impact on my team mates and others who were watching.  About 10 years after graduation, a classmate of mine said that watching my determination had been an inspiration to him.  Hearing him say that made my day (and week and month, etc.).

Since then I occasionally feel a temptation to give up on something.  And I see others give up on their dreams or cave in when sensing a struggle or hard times.  But the reality (the real reality) is that we can all do so much more than we realize and we can all endure so much more than we ever believed possible.  It’s just a matter of not stopping the push forward.  We can complete the longest race if we never stop taking just one more step and then another.  And not only does that help us complete the race, it inspires others to keep going when their times are tough as well.  May God Bless you take that next step and as you accomplish all you can, to his glory.  Don’t go down without fighting to the end.  God Bless.  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

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 used to be considered a very conservative Christian.  This will probably shock some who know me now.  I was very staunch in my defense of “sound doctrine” as taught by the Church of Christ .  I grew up in a pretty isolated little community in the Church of Christ .  I didn’t know much while growing up, but I did know that we, in the Church of Christ, were the only ones going to heaven and that it was a shame that all those good people in the Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran and Catholic churches were going to hell if they didn’t convert to the “non-denominational” Church of Christ.  There was no debate about that or much of anything else that I knew of at the time.  (I found out later that there was a debate in our church about whether it was okay to put in a water fountain, but that was under my radar at the time.) 

It wasn’t until I got to a Christian College that I first discovered how much debate was going on in the religious world about various doctrinal topics.  One of the big debates at the time was about pre-millenialism—the thousand year reign.  I had never heard of that word before.  When someone asked me what I thought about it I didn’t know what to say.  So, I called my mom and asked her, “Mom, what do we believe about pre-millenialism?”  She said, “We don’t believe in it.”  So, I told my friend, “I don’t believe in it.”  He was really impressed with my finely tuned and in-depth and expansive Bible knowledge.

It wasn’t until I became a Bible Major and got heavily involved in the doctrinal discussions that my conservative mindset really took hold.  It was pretty much the same mindset that the folks had back home, in reality.  But since there was no one there to debate them it hadn’t really taken hold of me when I was there.  But now it had.

In the years that followed, with pure intentions, I did my best to “defend the faith” and to not be swayed by “false teachers”.  I condemned many people for their hard hearts and their lack of understanding or their unwillingness to see the obvious truth as taught in the scripture.

When I started teaching an adult Bible class (see “Bible Class” blog) I really started studying more deeply so that I would be prepared to defend my position if anyone wanted to challenge it.  This started opening my eyes to things that didn’t exactly line up with the way I had been taught.  The more I studied the more it seemed that we were just like the Pharisees.  I had always pictured myself standing right beside Jesus as he condemned the Pharisees.  It kind of made me squirm to see that he was looking straight at me when he was doing all that scolding.

I had also witnessed a young couple who seemed to have love for people just oozing out of their pores.  They were so ignorant of what the Bible really said (though they thought they weren’t), but I felt so much love from them that it made me re-examine my own life.  I thought to myself about how Christ had said we would know we were his disciples by our love.  From what I could tell, we were not known for our love.  We were known as the ones who didn’t believe in “music” and we were the ones who thought we were the only ones going to heaven.

As my eyes started seeing the light I had this intense battle going on in my mind.  I couldn’t decide if I was being open-minded or if I was “going to the dogs”.  After all, I had (and have) so much respect for those sincere and intelligent men who taught me what I believed and yet the conclusions I was coming to were different than theirs. 

After about two years, after I had time to chew on these things over and over and to test them in many different settings, I came to the conclusion that the old way was not the right way.  It was the way of rules and regulations and Jesus had set us free from those types of things.  It was time for the new way of grace and mercy and love and freedom.

Sometimes I get impatient with my brothers who still believe in the old ways.  As I look back at what I once believed it seems so clearly obvious that it was wrong.  How can anyone not see that?  And yet, while in the heat of the battle, it took me two years to get from there to here.  So, I guess I sometimes need to remind myself about my journey and the patience I needed and then I need to have a little of that patience to deal with my more conservative brothers and sisters on their journey.  After all, I’m thankful for the patience of those who had to deal with me when I was there.  I just pray that God will open their eyes sooner rather than later because these sandals are killing me.  God Bless you, my friends, as we all sojourn together on that road to Emmaus.  Sincerely,  Dennis

Our Elders, who all seem to be really honorable men, would allow more rapid change if a very large majority of the congregation was pushing for it.  But they don’t seem to have the desire or the will to initiate the changes, especially if they think the vocal minority will strenuously object.

The silent majority is not crying out for changes in a vocal manner.  But they are crying out in other ways.  Since their needs are not being met, they just come to church less and less.  They engage in church activities less and less.  They just invite friends less and less.   When they do come it is often out of a sense of “ought to” rather than “want to”.  It is not a place for which my soul longed.

So, as the reality soaked in to my brain about the mindset and mentality of this congregation, I realized that I needed to escape for awhile.  It is not a rebellion.  I just need some space.  I don’t feel spiritually downtrodden.  In fact to a large degree my soul feels unburdened.  I am now free to go and worship somewhere where I’m inspired by the worship service.  I’m freed up from the “naysayers” who have their brakes engaged as part of their lifestyle.  I’m freeeeeee!!!

Footnote:  I know that I could have and should have done more on a personal level to help set up programs or environments which would have more fully met the needs of those around me.  The Elders would have allowed it.  So I know that I was part of the problem.  Some of the mud I’m slinging has landed on me.  

BTW, after visiting with one Elder for quite awhile after turning in my letter of resignation, I did agree to be a DINO (deacon in name only).  I didn’t want too but he seemed to appreciate my willingness to do so.  They are in the process of trying to add Elders and Deacons and it’s probably better if it is not announced from the pulpit that I resigned at the beginning of this process, so I guess I’m okay with it for now.  More later!