If These Walls Could Speak...

If these old walls,
If these old walls could speak
Of the things that they remember well,
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love
Livin’ week to week,
Rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these old halls,
If hallowed halls could talk,
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin’ down and dinner bell,
And children playing at hide and seek
>from floor to rafter,
If these halls could speak.

They would tell you that I’m sorry
For bein’ cold and blind and weak.
They would tell you that it’s only
That I have a stubborn strreak,
If these walls could speak.
If these old fashioned window panes were eyes,
I guess they would have seen it all--
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek
Or followed after,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

That’s what these walls would say.
That’s what these walls would say.

We pulled into the driveway at my old home at 215 Riviera Drive, Booneville, AR with my two sons in the back seat. "This is the house where Daddy grew up", I told the boys. As we got out & walked down the sidewalk, I saw the huge tree that spread its branches across the street. "Do you know who planted that tree?", I asked the boys. "It was your great Grandma Ruby". I had gotten yelled at by Grandma when I was not much older than my 2 sons because I was taking a running start & jumping over the top of the young sapling that was freshly planted.

We approached the door & rang the doorbell. A woman answered the door & I asked if I could show my kids where I grew up. Since she was not the owner of the house, she was not too eager to agree. However as we stood on the front porch, the rightful owner pulled into the driveway. She was a single mom who still remembered my parents - and had heard of me - since she graduated Booneville High just 10 years after I did. She eagerly invited us inside.

It was the first time I stepped inside the house in over 8 years. It was before my parents moved out & began living with my sister, who was in Columbus, OH at the time. I had not been able to be there when everything was unloaded into the moving van. I saw that the original front door was still there, as was the same carpet & the same linoleum flooring in the entryway & kitchen. The cabinets, too, were the same as I remembered, & even the bookcase & desk that my cousin built years ago were still attached to the far wall of the family room.

It was surreal to see all the familiar surroundings that contained unfamiliar furniture. I took the boys through the kitchen & out the sliding glass doors into the patio/garage. We walked into the back yard where there were a few less trees (which were the ones I had climbed so much that the bark was worn slick). However the old metal storage shed (where I had kept my dog) still stood with the names of my Dad, my step-Grandpa, & a family friend still etched in the concrete foundation. A tree now was on top of a tall stump from one of the trees that had been cut down.

As we made it back inside the garage, I told the boys of how I had been racing my tricycle up the driveway & into the garage where the slick concrete prevented my stop & I slid into Grandma Ruby, causing her to fall & break a rib. I showed them the ladder that was nailed to the interior garage wall that lead up to the attic crawl space where I would sit as my Dad retrieved Christmas decorations located farther back in the musty attic.

We went back inside where I took the boys into the long hallway into the bedroom where both my sister & I shared a bedroom during my early childhood. I told one of my boys to look on the inside of the bedroom door to find the hole I had punched in the door when I had gotten mad at my Mom & slammed the adjoining closed door into the bedroom door, causing the doorknob to bust through the wood. Yep, it was still there. I showed them the place where we had repaired the 2 holes I had kicked in the walls of the hallway because Grandma wouldn't let me go outside.

As we went up the hall, I pointed out the bathroom where I took baths as a kid, got ready for school, & the linen closet where I climbed into for the perfect hiding place when I would play "Hide & Go Seek" with my cousins who would come visit. Then we went to the master bedroom at the head of the hallway where my Mom & Dad had their bedroom & bath. It was in that room where my family all gathered on my parents' bed after my dad delivered the news of my Mom's diagnosis of a malignant tumor the doctors found in her breast. I saw my Dad cry for the first time in my life on that day, as an 8th Grader.

After that, we went into the living room where I pointed out the piece of ceiling tile that was replaced after I had been playing in the attic & my knee slipped in between the boards, punching out the original tile that fell onto the couch below.

Yes, the owner of my old house found out a lot of history about their home that day. The house had changed hands twice since my parents sold it. The current owner got the house for a steal since the bank had taken over the payments from the previous owners. The house had worn well. It looked really good for being build in 1965...when I was just 2 1/2 years old. It was where I spend 2 decades of my life. It held so many memories.

We went back outside to leave & I told the boys how when I was their age, my Dad (their Grandpa) used to stand on the sidewalk below while I ran & jumped off the porch into his arms. They wanted to do that, too. So, I stood where my Dad did & caught both of my sons in my arms, watching the same wide smile on their faces that I had on mine when my Dad caught me.

I remember getting a fancy Casio brand calculator in 9th Grade for my Christmas present that had the ability to enter dates & figure out the number of days between 2 dates. I remember sitting in class at Booneville High School, calculating how old I would be when the year 2000 happened. Turning 38 seemed to far away back then. Little did I know then that the year 2000 would be the year that my Mom would die from cancer that was first diagnosed in her breast back during the days when I lived in this house. And just 3 short years later my Dad would follow suit.

It was a wonderful feeling to let my children experience this vital aspect of my life...to let them have a taste of my life as a kid....to relive some of the wonderful memories that happened at this old house that has weathered the test of time. So many meals together as a family, so many daily Bible readings my Dad would do at breakfast before we all left for work & school, so many friends who would run through the rooms of this house. So many ups & downs that took place in that house long before my boys were ever even thought about.

Life goes on & it's good to see that so do the memories........

KASU celebrates 50 years of public broadcasting - News

KASU celebrates 50 years of public broadcasting - News

When I read the story published in The Herald of Arkansas State University, my mind raced back to the days I was in college back in the early 1980s. I was one of the many in my class of 1985 to have seen KASU as it was & as it is now. I started as a green Freshman attending my "Intro to Broadcasting" classes in the KASU building. It looked like a large metal building...nothing fancy...a simple peaked roof... all on one floor. It was dwarfed by the large buildings that surrounded it, one of which was the Dean B. Ellis Library.

Then we saw the construction begin on ASU's new College of Communications, which would house the new studios of KASU and ASU-TV. After it was finished, and just in time for my senior year, I had the privlege of using the new state-of-the-art studios for the 100,000 watt voice of Arkansas State. One of the bragging rights I was told by the KASU staffers was that the station was the one to depend on when severe weather hit Northeast Arkansas. Jonesboro, AR was the capitol of "Tornado Alley" & KASU stayed 10 minutes ahead of the National Weather Service with it's comprehensive weather coverage.

When I wasn't playing Music of The Masters or KASU, I was recording a news voicer for their (then) news director, Jim Cathey or I was in my dorm room listening to the soothing Classical numbers that permeated the station's airwaves.

One of my earliest memories of KASU was in my 2nd semester as a Freshman. My Radio Production Prof asked me to find Doug Rogers (KASU's chief engineer) & have him find something for class. Everyone at KASU held themselves as people who had some degree of "class" and Doug "Don't call me Mister Rogers" Rogers held the most of it. When I found Doug & made my request on behalf of my class, he studied me carfully over the top brim of his black "nerd" glasses; His round face bearing strained in concentration. He finally said, "You must be new." I responded, "Yes, this is my first year here." He smiled & said, "You're going to be mine one day!" & proceeded to retrieve what I had came after.



I learned not just the basics about broadcasting from my experience at KASU, but to respect the medium of broadcasting itself. I learned professionalism as well as the knowledge of using the "Fifth Estate" to serve the public interest. One instance involved my repeated lapse of memory in properly pronouncing the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Each time I would intro the cut on the air, my brain would just go into suspended animation & I would say, "conducted by Leonard Bern-STEEN". In a flash, the studio phone would ring with my prof correcting me. "Bern-STINE! Bern-STINE!! Like a beer stein!" Never forgot it since.

Likewise, my prof at KASU would also invite public comment on the announcers on the air. I got a few. The critical ones were always sealed in an envelope & pinned to the bulletin board in the radio studio. The letters of praise or compliments were posted for all to see on the bulletin board. The one complementary letter I received was from a lady who was a faithful KASU listener to my Music of The Masters program. She wrote that I had such urbane speech in my pronounciation for Mozart. I correctly pronounced it as Mot-zart instead of "Mozzart, as other incorrectly did.

I had to look up the word, "urbane" since I wasn't sure she was complimenting my work.

So, happy 50th, KASU! You are the crowning jewel in broadcast excellence & a tribute to every institution that teaches broadcasting!

Siamese Twins: Resolving Christianity with Denominationalism

You know, Phil, you're more of a Southern Baptist than you are a Christian!

That critical statement was made to me as a college student at Arkansas State in the Baptist Student Center...by a fellow Southern Baptist student...over 25 years ago. I'm sure the intent of the statement was not good but I took it as a complement. Over the past 25 years, I've found that it has become more of a truth for me than ever.

I've been a bit absent in blogging over the past several weeks mainly because I've been traveling down a path in life that has required some careful navigation. To give some perspective to the situation, it should be understood that for me to fulfill the Great Commission in Matthew 28, I will need a conduit. That conduit is a local church. But beyond that, the local church needs to be under the accountability of a group of like-minded churches - a denomination.

Since childhood, I have attended a Southern Baptist church. I received Christ into my life at a Southern Baptist summer church camp. I was baptized into a Southern Baptist church on Bicentennial Sunday, July 4, 1976. I was an active part of the then (Southern) Baptist Student Union at Arkansas State & I was a member of a vibrant Southern Baptist church in Jonesboro, AR while I attended college. And it was during those college years that I wanted to really know why I was a Southern Baptist. Was it because of my parents or because of other factors...or both?

I did some personal study on what those in the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) believe & why. And I asked myself if I believed this...and why. I came out of the experience with a confidence that this was the denomination through which God was leading me to serve out my part of the Great Commission. I was a Southern Baptist because "they agreed with me".

I moved from the comfort of the "Southern Baptist South" to the "barren wasteland" of the cold, unforgiving North - Pennsylvania - to pursue a job that really never materialized. Before I left my home of 23 years, I looked up the closest SBC church in my new locale. It was over 40 miles away. However, one Godly deacon at my home church encouraged me by saying that if God wanted me somewhere, He would have a church for me. I later found that this same lone SBC church had a "chapel" (a mission church) that had been started. It was in the very town I was moving into.

For over 18 years, I considered life in this town as my "spiritual boot camp" where God was shaping my life & using all of the spiritual education & knowledge I had gained while being so active in SBC life both at college & in my college church. And, applying what I had learned to real life was not a cakewalk. Yet it helped me gain more confidence in my relationship with God & with the relationship with my denomination.

Today, living almost 90 miles away from my "boot camp" and active in a "hybrid" church that is both affiliated with the SBC & the Baptist General Conference (BGC) for over 3 years, I found myself at odds with the very conduit I needed to fulfill what God was leading me to do. The church gave me a lot of confirmation about the changes I made in my approach to real life as I applied the spiritual knowledge I had gained during my college years. It also pushed the envelope to new ways to reach out to an ever-changing culture...and this challenged my conventional thought process.

However, one of the areas that I lacked was being connected to the other SBC churches in the local Association & to the State Convention (the Baptist Convention of PA/S. Jersey). It was this, combined with some other internal issues within the church structure, that was slowly causing an anemia in what I considered my "life blood" in my relationship with God. I began seeking God to see if He was leading me to another congregation.

I had this same feeling before when I was in college. I was frustrated that the church I felt led to join was not supporting the local Baptist Student Union. I was all set to move to another church - after only 3 months of membership at the present one - when I heard the pastor give some advice in his message that would alter my decision. He said that it is dangerous to practice "church hopping". A Believer should find a local church & work to become an active part of it. If there is an issue that is prompting someone to change churches, one should first try to "change the church".

That was enough for me to stay at that church & use my gift of persuasion to push for more financial support & involvment toward the Baptist Student Union. I was a member of this church for the 4 years I was in college...and before I left, that church had more than doubled its giving to the BSU.

Yet now, here I was again facing the same crossroad. When I made my intentions to change my church membership known to the pastor, that gave way to releasing other issues that had been left unresolved between the pastor, myself, & my family that I was not aware. I was asked to prayerfully stay on for another 3 months as the church goes through some re-structuring. This presented a conflict to me as I had thought I was following God's leading. Now, I'm given a new option. Was this a way God was showing me that my feeling was not shared by Him? Or was this something God allowed so as to give me yet another opportunity to lean upon His Guidance?

Needless to say, I agreed to giving it another try for the next 3 months. Even Gideon wanted to make double sure he was doing what God wanted him to do.

Gideon is often vilified for seeking such a sign of the Lord (twice!), but I
read nowhere in the scripture that God chastises him for his requests.
Gideon is not faithless in “fleecing” the Lord. What he does require,
though, is a strengthening of his faith. He has been nothing but obedient
before God, and God honors Gideon’s action in the face of fear with the
miraculous.

So in this case, I felt that I was making a fair decision about which path to take next. I haven't arrived at my destination yet.... But I know that God is the one Who is shining the light.

This whole situation caused a bottleneck in my walk with God because I believe Christianity & denominationalism are so closely linked. When I thought of that criticism that was given me back in my college days, I now can say that the two are Siamese twins...they are linked together - two of the same. To serve within the confines of one's own denomination is - or, I believe, should be - the same as serving Christ & His Church. Now, if one is serving within the confines of their denomination but has never had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, that person is no different than serving in the local Kiwanis Club or Red Cross chapter. But to serve one's denomination out of a relationship with Christ takes that service to a deeper level.

I make no apologies about the fact that I believe that the doctrines espoused within the SBC are the most accurate interpretation of the Bible than any other faith. I know there are many who do not share my belief. But that's just fine. I don't consider them wrong because I am not them. If a United Methodist believes the same way about their denomination, they should be as active in their church as I am in mine.

I know of many who tell me they go to a "non-denominational" church. Does something like this even exist? I'm not a math scholar, but how can anything be a "non-denominator"? A "denominator" is something shared or held in common. So a "non-denominator" (which, by the way, isn't found in my dictionary) would have to be something that is not held in common, right? So a non-denominational church would be a church where nothing is in common & there is no standard. Wouldn't a church like that also be "non-biblical"?

What I believe these people mean when they say they attend a "non-denominational" church is that they attend an "inter-denominational" church. It is a church that spans several denominations.... But doesn't this make the church its own denomination? I'm confused.

A group of "Jesus People" over 30 years ago started a community in downtown Chicago, IL called "Jesus People USA" (JPUSA). For years, they were on their own...they had no allegience to any denomination. That changed in 1989 when the community, after sensing God's direction, felt they needed accountability from a larger body of Believers. JPUSA chose to unite with the Evangelical Covenant Church & have remained with this denomination since.

I truly believe one cannot live the life Christ desires apart from a local church. And a local church cannot be a healthy church apart from an orgainzed group of like-minded Believers. Call it what you want, but any group of like-minded Believers (people who share a "Common Denominator" - Jesus Christ) is a "denomination". So for someone to ask me if I am more of a Southern Baptist than I am a Christian, I would have to respond by asking, "Which came first: The chicken or the egg?"

Collect Call to Dad

Is it any wonder why on Father's Day that the phone companies say they have a record number of collect calls to dads all over the world? I think it's primarily due to the fact that we have a lot of schmucks who are trying to be fathers. Why, you ask, do I feel this way? Because I see the kinds of examples found in the dad of today's culture. There are an increasingly amount of headlines where dads are beating their infant children, abandoning their familes, or generally abusing their position as head of the household.

I was in a convenience store recently where I asked the girl who waited on me what she was doing for Father's Day. She replied with little emotion that she really had no relationship with her dad & that they both were not speaking to one another. This, sadly, is the reply a lot of children are giving in terms of how they relate to their dads. So, that's why no one should be surprised at the number of collect phone calls that dads across the country will be getting today...if they even get any calls from their kids at all.

My dad died in 2003 from complications of Alzheimer's Disease. Even though I do not have a dad with whom to celebrate Father's Day, I have no regrets because my dad was not a schmuck. My dad grew up very poor in southwest Arkansas on a cotton farm, one of 5 children. He had 1 older brother & 2 younger brothers along with a sister. He did not complete high school but instead, like my mom, contracted the dreaded disease known as the "white plague" or tuberculosis while he was a teenager. He caught TB from his father who eventually died from the disease. My dad had a relapse of TB while being treated at the Arkansas State TB Sanitorium in Booneville before being released. It was there he met my mom, married, & began an accounting firm that he owned for 42 years.

He eventually received his high school credentials after graduating from Draughn's School of Business in Little Rock. And during his accounting career eventually became a licensed public accountant, though never desiring to become a CPA. Dad was not a handyman, nor was he a hunter, or an athlete. But he did do some painting around the house, attempt at some home repair, took me target shooting using his .22 long rifle, and I can remember a couple of years that he would take me & my sister camping at Blue Mountain Lake State Park.

One thing I never grew ashamed of was my affection & my love for my dad. Throughout my school years, when Dad would drop me off, it was as second-nature as breathing, I would always plant a kiss on Dad's cheek. Yes, even as a senior in high school. And yes, I got a few "ribbings" from my classmates because of it...but I'm guessing that's because they didn't have the sort of relationship with their dad as I did with mine.

Now as I am older, more & more of Dad's frequent sayings are drifting back to memory. One that I tried to live out is that "it is easier to change your attitude toward the world than for the world to change its attitude toward you". Dad was a hopeless optimist. He would always find a way to see the brighter side of life. When I would belittle a classmate because of his economic class, my Dad would quickly come to his defense saying my classmate may not have been able to help his condition & that I should not make fun of him.

My Dad was frequently taking calls from the American Red Cross when a soldier was injured & the family was needing to be conctacted. He helped the less fortunate by serving as the Executive Director of the local public housing authority. And he was quick to look the other way when an accounting client could not pay his fee for my dad's work on his books.

Another thing Dad frequently did was to verbally tell me that he loved me. I remember him as he would tuck me in at night saying, "Your mother & I love you with all our hearts." Even as I got older & into college, my Dad would say to me on the phone, "I love you, son." Wonder how many dads would say things like that today?

When Dad died, he died with me having no regrets. When he celebrated his 25th wedding anniversary, my sister & I secretly set up a savings account at our local bank. I made the teller swear to secrecy about the account, since my Dad served on the bank's advisory board. Saving some of our allowance each week, we presented my Dad with $450 cash in the entranceway to a cataloge showroom & told them to spend it all before they left as a way to honor this occasion. When it came time for me to get married, I had little effort in trying to pick who my best man would be.

It would be my dad.

Dad did not withold his punishment if I deserved it, either. He did not give "time outs" ...no, he had a strip of an old worn out belt that was about 14 inches long. He would double that over & apply it swiftly to the backsides of either me or my sister at appropriate times. Never did I consider that this was abuse or a lack of self control.

The memories I have of my dad are those of a church leader. He used his talent of number-crunching by volunteering as my church's treasurer. He used his gift of administration by serving on the church's board of deacons. He used his gift of leadership by teaching many Sunday School classes. And he used his gift of singing by helping the bass section of the church choir.

I also learned the lesson of perserverence from Dad. I want to design a t-shirt that on the front would say, "I came from a dysfunctional family." On the back it would read, "My parents stayed married." When asked after a heated argument between my sister & my mom, "Dad, how are you able to stand it living with her?!?!?" He patiently replied that, "She was like this when I married her 35 years ago, and she was like this when I woke up in bed with her this morning." He made the choice to live out his committment irregardless of how he felt about her at the immediate time.

Yes, I miss Dad terribly. But I have peace about the fact that never have I had any regrets about how I treated him...nor of how he treated me. My dad was no schmuck. So, if you are a dad & wonder why you get so many collect phone calls at Father's Day, maybe it's because you just don't act like a dad should. There should be no reason that Father's Day could out-do Mother's Day in the number of cards bought & calls made for dear ol' Dad. But sadly, too many fathers have determined how fatherhood is being treated by the way they've treated their families.

I marvel at those who have said to me how difficult it is to be a parent these days. Being a parent is no more difficult in today's culture than it was during the culture of my father or even his father's. As times change & as society advances, so does parenthood. Each generation has its share of difficulties of parenting. But being a good father is one insuring factor how to keep parenthood from being such a dirge to the next generation.

I continually thank God for my Dad for providing me with the role model I needed to be as good of a Dad as he was. When I see him again in the splendor of God's Glory in Heaven, the first thing I'm going to do is give him a kiss on the cheek.

Religious Elites

The dictionary definition of elite is this:

–noun

1.	(often used with a plural verb) the choice or best of anything considered collectively, as of a group or class of persons.

2.	(used with a plural verb) persons of the highest class: Only the elite were there.

3.	a group of persons exercising the major share of authority or influence within a larger group: the power elite of a major political party.

–adjective

5.	representing the most choice or select; best: an elite group of authors.

Also, é·lite.

---

[Origin: 1350–1400; ME elit a person elected to office <>e(s)lit ptp. of e(s)lire to choose; see elect]

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

Last Sunday, my pastor spoke on righteous indignation and based his talk on the book of Mark. One of the passages he read came from Mark & as I read it, I was struck with some thoughts about how this affected me in some of my past experiences & in my own life.

The Man with the Paralyzed Hand

1 Now He entered the synagogue again, and a man was there who had a paralyzed hand.
2 In order to accuse Him, they were watching Him closely to see whether He would heal him on the Sabbath.
3 He told the man with the paralyzed hand, “Stand before us.”
4 Then He said to them, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent.
5 After looking around at them with anger and sorrow at the hardness of their hearts, He told the man, “Stretch out your hand.” So he stretched it out, and his hand was restored.
6 Immediately the Pharisees went out and started plotting with the Herodians against Him, how they might destroy Him.
[Mark 3] (Holman Christian Standard Bible)

I remember how I used to watch people closely to see if someone would do something that I would consider to be inappropriate so I could react with an "Ah-ha! Then when it happened, I could pass my judgment upon them & expose their hypocracy.

Just as the religious leaders then anticipated Jesus to violate the religious customs of His day, many of the "religious elite", as I once considered myself, still anticipate a similar violation of what is considered "sacred behavior" today. Jesus knew what the religious leaders were up to & intentionally asked the man with the paralyzed hand to come forward, publicly.

Can you imagine the thoughts racing through the disciples' minds? "Oh, no. Here He goes again. He's gonna really tick off the priests! He's not going to heal this guy on the Sabbath! This is going to be so embarrassing." I'm sure Jesus put the disciples in many an uncomfortable moment during His ministry. And as predicted, the religious leaders reacted by sneaking out to plot Jesus' demise.

Jesus, however, gave the Pharisees a question that no one was willing to answer. This angered Him all the more and only fueled His intention to derail the "religion" of the religious elite. Mark said what angered Him was the hardness of the hearts of the religious leaders. They were too proud to admit that they may be wrong in their believe of holiness. So, they sat silent in their pride.

I used to react that way, too, when I knew I was beat.

Nowadays, I see so many examples of how today's religious elite sit in judgment of fellow Believers especially. It is expected that in order for anyone to come to Christ in today's religious society one should first clean up their act and then they can approach the Throne of Grace. And if you are already one of the "chosen", you are scrutinized all the more & could face alienation by the church if you buck the system.

I am reminded of a song by Chris Christian, a contemporary Christian artist of the 1980s, titled, Why Are We First (To Kill Our Own Wounded?) which asks the question why do we, as Believers, shoot first & ask questions later when dealing with struggles from our own? Why do we plot to destroy a fellow Believer's spirit by condeming them before we understand the plight they are in?

This encounter with this man who had a paralized hand came in church. Back then, if you had a condition like this, you were considered cursed by God because of something you or your parents did. You were prevented from entering the santuary of the Believers until you went through a clensing. How is this different from someone who is known child molester, AIDS patient, practicing prostitute, active homosexual, or deadbeat dad today?

It seems Christians today want their sanctuaries to be safe havens from the very people who need to be in there to find hope for their hurting lives. We have no problem going to them on street corners & "ministering to them" because it may make us feel worthwhile & important...if not superior (elite) to their situation. We come as a knight in shining armor to resuce the perishing. That's all fine & good. But what if the perishing enter into our sanctuary? Well, we get more than a little uncomfortable.

And heaven forbid that someone reaches out to them by sitting with them, talking to them, or showing any sign of comradery with them. It now becomes a blight upon our "witness" because they can take our actions to mean that we approve of their behavior or that we endorse the lifestyle they are in. And when the religious elite see that you are associating with people like this, they begin to plot with the Herodians of our day to destroy you.

Just who were the Herodians? They were a political party among the Jews, supporters of the Herodian family, and therefore to some extent in opposition to the Roman government, and also the Pharisees who were in favor of purely religious theocracy. Sound familiar to any of the "big church" style of today's religious elite? When we start messin' with the religious theocracy in our society, we are just asking for trouble.

Yet, Jesus snubbed the noses of this bunch of religious elites & intentionally asked this man to stretch out his afflicted hand. And when he did, he did it as an act of faith - but he also implicated himself by doing this because he participated in the "crime" that Jesus committed by healing on the Sabbath. This man put more faith in Jesus than in the religious leaders of his day.

Now that's a thought.

What if all the Believers started following what Jesus wanted them (as individuals) to do instead of following the drivel from the religious elite? How would this affect your church? How would it affect all of Christianity? And more importantly, how would it affect the spread of the Gospel?

"Fair Weather" Friends

Not everyone has heard of this phrase. For me however, it was a way of life during my years as a grade schooler & even on into high school. My favorite saying is that I've had so many "fair weather" friends, I should've been a weatherman. Typically, the "fair weather" friend is that friend supports you & sticks by you only during "fair weather". If life or your friendship gets the least bit "stormy"....your friend will be nowhere to be found.

I've had more than my share of "fair weather" friends. In fact, I graduated with about 80 of them in my senior class...out of a total of 81. It's no wonder why I have little desire to go to any high school reunions at my Alma Mater, Booneville HIgh School. This had its start as far back as 1st Grade. Mrs. Rogers' class. By the end of the school year, when somone needed a scapegoat, a butt-end to a practical joke, or someone to dominate, they came a-callin'.

This went on for what seemed like indefinately until my senior year. Oh, there was one bright spot: When I was pulled from Journalism class one day by a classmate for a photo. I remember the day... the classmate was carrying the camera as we walked down the hall. I finally asked why I was going along. I was honestly expecting some prank to be pulled at my expense & have it photographed. Instead, I was told that I was getting my photo taken with another classmate because we had both been voted as "Most Civic Minded" by the Senior class.

You mean I was voted for something ...?

I would've been happy with being voted "Most dorky" just so I could say that I was voted on at all. But to be voted on for something as "mature" as Most Civic Minded was indeed a shock. Could they not find anyone else to fill the category? Was I just picked because no one else wanted it? Well, whatever the reason, I was photographed & published in the yearbook... And the rest is history.

Having the first 12 years of my life blemished by "fair weather" friends, I became naturally gun shy of anyone who appeared to be patronizing me or displayed the slightest hint of insincerety. Granted, a lot of my suspicion toward friendship was abolished by many friends I met while in college at Arkansas State University. It was there that I really was able to have friends that showed me genuineness & acceptance based on who I was.

One, in particular, was Greg. He was a year ahead of me but he became my prayer partner in the Baptist Student Union. I have never let him slip from my radar. We have gone long periods where we have not communicated with each other, but that's what happens in life sometimes. Greg was a groomsman in my wedding. And I have never stopped thinking about or praying for Greg.

as a person who desires genuine friendship, I also have the tendency to give out genuine friendship. It is so against my nature to be two-faced to someone. What you see is what you get....or as the computer geeks put it, "WYSIWYG". This is why I am like a sponge to water when someone shows me the same amount of transparency about themselves as I try to do with others.

The last think I want to be to someone is a "fair weather" friend. I avoid giving this perception to others at all costs. And if I feel like I have been a "fair weather" friend to someone, I almost instantly try to alter my behavior to correct myself.

Moving into a new area has been my biggest challenge because I have to start all over again at meeting & making new friends. I feel at times I wish I could just add years of history to all the new friends I've met just so I can have the depth that comes from a long-term friendship. And these new friends have begun to develop a "history" with me which has led to establishing a bond that I long for.

There are times I wish there would be a person like me who would come up to me & treat me the same way I like to engage others. Initiate a conversation by placing their hand on my shoulder...giving hugs...asking questions that go deeper than the weather or how my job is going. I know, however, that no one can be exactly like I am... And I can find contentment in just their willingness to accept me & to receive the love, admiration, fondness, and respect I want to show them.

The 25th Anniversary of my graduating class came & went last year. It wasn't even a blip on my radar screen. However, I can say that a few of my graduating class has become a little less of a "fair weather" friend as I have made the initiative to reach out to them. One was last year when my classmate, Allan, lost his father. I read about it in my local hometown newspaper (that I still get). I made a intentional point of looking up his name online & calling him....sending flowers to the memorial service. We talked for about 30 minutes on the phone & he still asked if I was in radio. Just the fact that he even remembered what career I was in is a big deal.

It's such a shame that some must put on a costume to be able to relate to another person. It's so much effort to not be who your are...it's confusing as to why exert that much energy on trying to snow someone. Being yourself is so easy. At least it is for me because after living 12 years of my life at the expense of others' jeers & cruel comments, my skin has toughened up to the point that I don't really give a whit about what another's impression of me would be. I treat others with no assumptions or expectations...either on their part or mine.

Oddly enough, one friend who I had throughout grade school who (even to this day) has become a "fair weather" friend, wrote a quote in my senior high school yearbook when he signed his name. That quote has become my mantra...even though this friend did not follow it as far as our friendship was concerned:

"Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead..
Just walk beside me; And be my friend."

Blogged with Flock

I Don't Hate Gay People ... but --

I have always tried to live out the phrase, "While I do not agree with your opinion, I will fight to the death for your right to express it". I kept thinking this as I followed the fallout from the comments made by retired Miami Heat All Star Tim Hardaway. All of this started when Hardaway's former team mate, John Amaeche, came out of the closet prior to releasing his memoir.

Hardaway, on a live radio interview, made no bones about how uncomfortable he feels playing on a team where a fellow player is homosexual. He responded honestly to a question about how he would feel about having a gay team mate. Hardaway simply stated he would not want that person on his team. And if there was a gay team mate, Hardaway said he would distance himself from that person. Why? Because as he put it, "I don't think that is right". That's called an "opinion".

The radio interviewer pushed him in his response by asking Hardaway if he realized what he was actually saying was homophobic or even bigotry. Hardaway answered with the quote that landed him in hot water both with the general public & the NBA: "''Well, you know I hate gay people, so I let it be known. I don't like gay people and I don't like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don't like it. It shouldn't be in the world or in the United States. So yeah, I don't like it."

Then that's when everyone started jumping off the deep end.

Myself, I don't hate gay people. I know gay people & I've been in close proximity of gay people. Gay people do not bother me any more than a Democrat does. My applecart doesn't get upset by a gay person anymore that it would by an Arkansas Razorback supporter. But....

What I really don't like is taking away my first amendment.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

So, I realize Congress has not passed any legislation recently that would cause Mr. Hardaway to be arrested for his comments on that Florida radio talk show. But NBA commissioner David Stern, upon learning of the remarks, banished Hardaway from this year's All-Star weekend in Las Vegas. Well, I guess that's the price you pay for expressing an opinion.

While Hardaway, I'm sure, feels badly for how his foot got placed in his mouth on a national platform, I guess the next move for him is to be required to take sensitivity classes for homophobes. And this has also unleashed a wave of reactions from all the gay / lesbian groups. ESPN.com says, "[John] Amaechi taped a spot for PBS' gay and lesbian program In the Life. He said the anti-gay sentiment remains despite Hardaway's apology. 'It's vitriolic, and may be exactly what he feels,' he said. 'Whether he's honest or not doesn't inoculate us from his words. It's not progress to hear hateful words.'"

I understand Mr. Amaechi may be hurt ...even offended by Hardaway's words. But has he ever ran for public office? He would hear enough "hateful words" to put him in therapy for the rest of his life.

I realize this is not a famous All-Star Basketball figure, but consider these lines from a blog I read from a gay friend of mine: "I hate homophobes. Specifically, the ones of [his hometown]. ...If you are a homophobe and live in [this town] and happen to be reading this wonderful blog of me, guess what. I hate you. I said it." Whether we want to admit this to ourselves or not, this sort of expression goes on all the time around us. People have the right to say what they want to say & how they want to say it.

Frankly, I would love it if Hardaway, while agreeing he made one huge faux pas, sued the britches off of the NBA for their display of bigotry toward him over his personal opinion. Everyone has the right to have their own opinion...we are reminded of this every time a minority gets on TV. We should respect the opinions of the minority...but not the opinions of the majority.

Did I get that right?

Did the NBA have to ban Hardaway for his comments? I don't think so. Why? Because of the law of action vs. reaction. His punishment would've come (if it hasn't already) from society who reacted to his expression of opinion. He is the one who will have to live with his comments...not the NBA. But the NBA banned Hardaway for one reason & one reason only: To protect their own butt. Not specifically to "punish" Hardaway. The NBA just wants to keep their nose clean & out of the target of any special interest who might assume that they just might be in agreement with Hardaway by their inaction toward his offensive comments.

Hardaway displayed no aggression toward gay people, he never threatened any gay people, and he has not had any instance where he has done any sort of violence to gay people. What he did do, however, is voice his opinion about gay people. And I have always thought that in America, anyone can do that.

Turning 40

The Herald of Arkansas State University published a very fitting tribute to the anniversary of obtaining "University status" for the former Arkansas State College in 1967. It took a Rockefeller to finally bestow upon a once small agricultural & mechanical college the title of "Arkansas State University".

What is still amazing to me in this piece is to read how when ASU first tried to get University status, it was the University of Arkansas who put the kibosh on it. I guess it is fitting to have the razorback as a UofA mascot. They've always had a history of hogging as much as they can.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree.....!!!

We took down our Christmas tree today. It had stood, bare of any ornaments, for at least a week before I started the process of disassembly. "Process" because the tree is pre-lit & must be plugged in very particularly or not all of the sections will be illuminated.

When I was a kid, I enjoyed crawling up into the attic of my house & helping my Dad look for the boxes containing ornaments & all the other parts of our Christmas tree. I would help lower the boxes down as my Dad would hand them to me & then we'd spend a Saturday afternoon matching the paint color on the tip of the branches to the color on the pole to create a very nice tree for the holidays.

For me now, I would rather take a beating than to spend more than 30 minutes trying to erect this 250-pound, 7 ft. pre-lit tree. In the past, I would get the box, stored in our basement, and try to lug the thing (which was as heavy & awkward as a casket) up our basement steps. then lug it through the length of the house to our living room. We'd then slide the bottom, middle, & top sections into place, "fluff" the branches out, & before adorning it with ornaments, I'd spend 3 hours with my arms stuck inside the prickly branches of the tree trying to figure out the jigsaw puzzle in getting all right plugs plugged into all the right plug-ins to have all of the sections lit up evenly. I can safely say, I am not in the Christmas spirit when I finish.

Once it's up, it's a sight of beauty. I think it's so pretty we should just leave it up all year & call it a "Valentine's Tree", a "St. Patrick's Tree", an "Easter Tree", a "Veterans' Tree"....etc. Either than or put a large bag over it & slide it in a corner. Nevertheless, against my desire or motivation, it has to be disassembled & taken down. So, facing no other alternative, I begin the task armed with a roll of masking tape & a Sharpie. I am determined this year to label every plug & every section of this beast so when it's time to erect this thing in 11 months, it can be done with the least amount of frustration.

Instead of lugging the whole box back down to the basement, I choose this year to carry each section down separately, placing each in the box. My wife asks if it was "easier" to do it this way. I reply that it is never "easy" to manhandle this tree every year...but taking it down in sections did "break up the task" better.

Before the tree is laid to rest in its "coffin", all of the pre-lit leaves must be "defluffed" & then the branches folded up. The only way for the branches to stay folded up (and therefore easily stored) is to tie each layer of branches up with rope. My wife & I work to keep all the branches from falling back down while one of us finagels the rope around the section of the tree to tie up each layer of branches. None of us have enough hands to do this & basically the whole scene looks like a very bad Laurel & Hardy movie.

However, as of today, the thing is down, in its casket, & buried until after Thanksgiving. It has been labeled for the next assembly & I now plan on bringing the beast up one section & a time & plugging in all of the lights to see if they all twinkle properly. Yet as I was taking the tree down today, I noticed that there was still one plug dangling that seemed to be all alone & somehow out of place. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a section of lights that went all season long without being lit.... But at this point, I am in no mood to explore the other 57 versions of combinations in plugging in those pre-lit branches to find an answer. I'm actually maintaining a good mood today.