Madison (Mattie is what her family and friends called her)slipped the mini-skirt out of its hiding place. Today would be the day. Mom was not back from work yet (she worked the 11 PM to 7 AM shift) and she had been dying to wear this new skirt for days now. She slipped it on, and was just finishing her bowl of cereal when Mom walked through the door. After the initial shock, there was an immediate confrontation. It ended with her Mom threatening to call her Dad and placing her on restrictions for the rest of her life. She changed her skirt in anger and rebellion. She stomped through the living room, flung the door opened and just before she went through it, she turned and in a hateful and angry voice, said to her Mom, “I hate you!” She stomped out the door slamming it behind her. Four hours later the principle called her out of her class and informed her she needed to go home, that something had happened and her Dad wanted her home. To her horror she learned that her mother had died shortly after she left for classes. That whole morning scene replayed itself now with an accusing finger pointed at a frightened teenager’s heart. “I killed my mother.” Over and over, this scene played out its message in unmistakable terms.
All of Mattie’s family and friends say the same, “She was never the same after her mother’s death.” After the funeral she was uprooted and sent to live with an uncle and aunt. She learned a trade and she also learned that the love of men could not atone for the grinding guilt she felt for what she had done. She went from one husband to another, until God in his great mercy brought Sam into her life. He was quiet, calm, strong, rock solid, and at peace with himself. Everything she needed. They got married and spent several years together. She let everyone know that those were the best years of her life.
We had her funeral today, she was 54. What caused her to die? We could say it was an ulcer in her stomach that allowed juices to leak into her intestines. We could say it was peritonitis that killed her. To the Doctors and the Medical Examiner that would appear to be a satisfactory explanation. But that is not what killed her. It was the 39 years of living with the fact that the last thing her mother ever heard her say was, “I hate you!” After 39 years of living with that awful truth, it finally ate a hole in her stomach and killed her.
My point is this: Love really does cover a multitude of sins. Love will remove the guilt and heal the ulcer. Never allow yourself to leave the presence of a loved one when you are angry, or have said something hasty or hurtful. It is an awful burden to carry in your body. It will kill you, it did Mattie.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
THE SCREECH OWL
I haven’t heard one of these little creatures in quiet a while. In fact, the last one I heard was back in the ‘40’s. The only ones I ever saw was after it had been stuffed and in a museum. They were called Screech Owls, and for a good reason. If you were outside after dark and just a little jumpy to boot, and one of these darlings of God’s creation cut loose - it would scare the living breath out of you. Their call, for all the world, sounded like a woman in severe pain, like she was being tortured to death.
It just so happened that the first time I heard Mr. Screech Owl, I was with my Dad. Still, my blood ran cold, and I looked at Dad half expecting him to be as scared as me. “What was that?“ I demanded, and in a quiet and calm voice, he said, “Oh, that’s only a screech owl.” “Well,” I responded, “it sure scared me.” Dad chuckled, and owned up to the fact that it scared him too, the first time he heard one, but that was when he was only a boy too. They became so common place in his day, that he hardly paid attention to them anymore. But this one sure set my heart to racing, big time. They are a small creature, only about nine inches long, and weighing less than seven ounces, but when they cut loose you can hear them from several hundred yards away.
Later, when any of my friends were with me and heard the sound they made, it was my turn to act all calm and cool about the matter. “Oh, that sound, it’s only a screech owl.” Dad even picked up some information on the birds for me, and understanding more about them, I lost all fear, and even came to welcome their eerie night time calls.
But, like a lot of God’s special creatures, their ranks really dwindled to the point, that they may even be extinct. It has been well over 50 years since I last heard one. They were harmless to people. Other than scaring the bejeebers out of you, they posed no threat at all. But, there are some special things I learned from these unusual birds, and that brings me to my point.
There are some things that frighten us, or at least, they do me. They bring “sudden” fear upon us. Death, suffering, even the presence and purpose of God are just a few. I was afraid God would call me to preach, or to serve him in some capacity. When the thought came to my mind, “sudden” fear would come upon me again. That caused me to put off surrendering to God’s call on my life for about four or five years. Why was I fearful? It was because I didn’t have enough information as to what God wanted to do with my life. The more I learned about the screech owls, the less fearful I was of them. The more I have come to know God and his will and purpose for my life, the less fearful I become of God. The more I know God and the more I listen to him, the more I know his yoke is easy and his burdens are light. Besides, perfect love casts out all fear.
Don in Georgetown.
I haven’t heard one of these little creatures in quiet a while. In fact, the last one I heard was back in the ‘40’s. The only ones I ever saw was after it had been stuffed and in a museum. They were called Screech Owls, and for a good reason. If you were outside after dark and just a little jumpy to boot, and one of these darlings of God’s creation cut loose - it would scare the living breath out of you. Their call, for all the world, sounded like a woman in severe pain, like she was being tortured to death.
It just so happened that the first time I heard Mr. Screech Owl, I was with my Dad. Still, my blood ran cold, and I looked at Dad half expecting him to be as scared as me. “What was that?“ I demanded, and in a quiet and calm voice, he said, “Oh, that’s only a screech owl.” “Well,” I responded, “it sure scared me.” Dad chuckled, and owned up to the fact that it scared him too, the first time he heard one, but that was when he was only a boy too. They became so common place in his day, that he hardly paid attention to them anymore. But this one sure set my heart to racing, big time. They are a small creature, only about nine inches long, and weighing less than seven ounces, but when they cut loose you can hear them from several hundred yards away.
Later, when any of my friends were with me and heard the sound they made, it was my turn to act all calm and cool about the matter. “Oh, that sound, it’s only a screech owl.” Dad even picked up some information on the birds for me, and understanding more about them, I lost all fear, and even came to welcome their eerie night time calls.
But, like a lot of God’s special creatures, their ranks really dwindled to the point, that they may even be extinct. It has been well over 50 years since I last heard one. They were harmless to people. Other than scaring the bejeebers out of you, they posed no threat at all. But, there are some special things I learned from these unusual birds, and that brings me to my point.
There are some things that frighten us, or at least, they do me. They bring “sudden” fear upon us. Death, suffering, even the presence and purpose of God are just a few. I was afraid God would call me to preach, or to serve him in some capacity. When the thought came to my mind, “sudden” fear would come upon me again. That caused me to put off surrendering to God’s call on my life for about four or five years. Why was I fearful? It was because I didn’t have enough information as to what God wanted to do with my life. The more I learned about the screech owls, the less fearful I was of them. The more I have come to know God and his will and purpose for my life, the less fearful I become of God. The more I know God and the more I listen to him, the more I know his yoke is easy and his burdens are light. Besides, perfect love casts out all fear.
Don in Georgetown.
Monday, November 05, 2007
HE QUIT
His name was Billy Jack Hoover, he was my wife’s younger brother’s best friend. They were inseparable. Billy Jack and Charlie went to the same school, from kindergarten through the twelfth grade. Both played sports, and both had a Cushman scooter on which they rode up and down highway * with abandon. Why they were able to remain good friends is anybody’s guess. They played some of the “dirtiest” tricks on one another that you can imagine. Charlie was a people person. He always had to have his friends around and he never met a stranger. You would see Charlie talking to someone you did not know, and you would swear they had been acquaintances for years. When they finished their conversation you could ask him, “Who was that” and he would reply, “I don’t know, we were just talking.”
Anyway, over the course of time Charlie made friends with a farmer who lived down the road a couple of miles from their house. He even worked for him some. One of the farmer’s cash crops each year was watermelons. He would give Charlie one or two to take home with him at the end of each day’s work. He even told him anytime he wanted a melon, just come by and get it. Here’s where the plot began to thicken. Charlie told him he would like to play a trick on his friend. It was okay by the farmer, so at an appointed time, (read after dark) he and Billy Jack arrive at the watermelon patch, to “steal” a couple of the farmer’s products. With perfect timing he shows up with shotgun in hand and Charlie conveniently flattens out in a furrow and behind some rather thick watermelon vines. Billy Jack froze in terror when he heard the booming voice asking, “Boy! What do you think you’re doing?” And then the deadly sound of a shotgun being cocked for serious business. The unwitting victim was close to tears when Charlie rose up off the ground and he and the farmer enjoyed a hearty laugh at his expense. A real tussle broke out between Charlie and Billy Jack.
That’s only one of may instances I could site, but the real point of this article happened a couple of years later when these two friends were in high school. It was track season. Charlie was a letterman in four different sports all four years of high school. In track he ran the open quarter and was the anchor leg on the four-by-four hundred relay, and the mile relay. They were competing in the regional finals. The meet was held in an ancient stadium in Kilgore, Texas. To show you how ancient, the track ran in front of the bleachers on one side of the field, and behind them on the other side so that during the race, the participants were hidden from view down the back stretch. It came time for the half-mile race. That was Billy Jack’s event. All went well on the first lap, then during the second lap, they disappeared behind the stands. We waited expectantly to see how he was doing. The other runners sprinted from behind the stands and as we identified each one, we realized there was no Billy Jack. We waited five or ten seconds more, but no Billy Jack. I begin to think it in my mind, but then a voice from behind us articulated it for everyone, “He quit.” Sure enough, when they went to look for him, he was sitting on the curb, arms folded over his knees and his head resting on his arms. He was fine, but he would not look at or speak to anyone. He was ashamed. In his shame, he wanted no companionship at that moment. He had quit.
My point is this; I’m sure that all of us have thought about it at some time in our ministries. “I think I will just quit!” It’s alright if you think about it, but not too much. Just don’t do it. Someone has said, “The only sure way to fail is to quit.” Don’t let it be said of you that, “He quit!” What and awful epithet to carry to our grave, to be engraved on our tombstone, “He quit.” You will reap in due season if you faint not, that is, if you don’t quit.
Don in Georgetown
His name was Billy Jack Hoover, he was my wife’s younger brother’s best friend. They were inseparable. Billy Jack and Charlie went to the same school, from kindergarten through the twelfth grade. Both played sports, and both had a Cushman scooter on which they rode up and down highway * with abandon. Why they were able to remain good friends is anybody’s guess. They played some of the “dirtiest” tricks on one another that you can imagine. Charlie was a people person. He always had to have his friends around and he never met a stranger. You would see Charlie talking to someone you did not know, and you would swear they had been acquaintances for years. When they finished their conversation you could ask him, “Who was that” and he would reply, “I don’t know, we were just talking.”
Anyway, over the course of time Charlie made friends with a farmer who lived down the road a couple of miles from their house. He even worked for him some. One of the farmer’s cash crops each year was watermelons. He would give Charlie one or two to take home with him at the end of each day’s work. He even told him anytime he wanted a melon, just come by and get it. Here’s where the plot began to thicken. Charlie told him he would like to play a trick on his friend. It was okay by the farmer, so at an appointed time, (read after dark) he and Billy Jack arrive at the watermelon patch, to “steal” a couple of the farmer’s products. With perfect timing he shows up with shotgun in hand and Charlie conveniently flattens out in a furrow and behind some rather thick watermelon vines. Billy Jack froze in terror when he heard the booming voice asking, “Boy! What do you think you’re doing?” And then the deadly sound of a shotgun being cocked for serious business. The unwitting victim was close to tears when Charlie rose up off the ground and he and the farmer enjoyed a hearty laugh at his expense. A real tussle broke out between Charlie and Billy Jack.
That’s only one of may instances I could site, but the real point of this article happened a couple of years later when these two friends were in high school. It was track season. Charlie was a letterman in four different sports all four years of high school. In track he ran the open quarter and was the anchor leg on the four-by-four hundred relay, and the mile relay. They were competing in the regional finals. The meet was held in an ancient stadium in Kilgore, Texas. To show you how ancient, the track ran in front of the bleachers on one side of the field, and behind them on the other side so that during the race, the participants were hidden from view down the back stretch. It came time for the half-mile race. That was Billy Jack’s event. All went well on the first lap, then during the second lap, they disappeared behind the stands. We waited expectantly to see how he was doing. The other runners sprinted from behind the stands and as we identified each one, we realized there was no Billy Jack. We waited five or ten seconds more, but no Billy Jack. I begin to think it in my mind, but then a voice from behind us articulated it for everyone, “He quit.” Sure enough, when they went to look for him, he was sitting on the curb, arms folded over his knees and his head resting on his arms. He was fine, but he would not look at or speak to anyone. He was ashamed. In his shame, he wanted no companionship at that moment. He had quit.
My point is this; I’m sure that all of us have thought about it at some time in our ministries. “I think I will just quit!” It’s alright if you think about it, but not too much. Just don’t do it. Someone has said, “The only sure way to fail is to quit.” Don’t let it be said of you that, “He quit!” What and awful epithet to carry to our grave, to be engraved on our tombstone, “He quit.” You will reap in due season if you faint not, that is, if you don’t quit.
Don in Georgetown
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