Pastor Dad

Being on the mission field with a free day is dangerous for me. I read and think too much for my own good. Take this verse for instance: Ephesians 4: 30 ESV  And  do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God,  by whom you were sealed for the day of  redemption.   31  Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.   32  Be kind to one another, tenderhearted,  forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. I read this and don't see hidden meanings. I don't see this as a mystery of the Word of God. It seems simple. Yet I see people, church-goin, Jesus-declaring, supposedly Spirit-filled people that are attempting to lead others that seem to be the opposite of what this verse says.  I love taking people on mission trips. For many its life-changing. For many, it opens their eyes to what a man or woman is. And it's not as much about what they do but who they are. And then when they get in a jam or life doesn'

            I don’t drink but this election season would be a great excuse to start. Without the usual attempts at humor I would like to submit a scripture that I believe is very relevant to us as we approach November 9, 2016. You see, I am getting a new president. This person will be my president because I have no plans of turning in my United States of America passport and I want to honor the Word of God with my life. But, let’s look at the words that Peter wrote in the New Testament before you decide to unfriend me. 1 Peter 2:13-17 NLT For the Lord’s sake, submit to all human authority—whether the king as head of state ,   14  or the officials he has appointed. For the king has sent them to punish those who do wrong and to honor those who do right. 15  It is God’s will that your honorable lives should silence those ignorant people who make foolish accusations against you.   16  For you are free, yet you are God’s slaves, so don’t use your freedom as an excuse to do evil. 17 

            I have never been colorblind. When you grow up in a community where there are only white people you tend to notice when someone isn’t white. No exaggeration. There were no bodies other than white bodies! Saying that you are colorblind when you’re really not is kinda cute, kinda silly, kinda self-serving. I learned about black people from, well, black people. I didn’t read an article or see it on the news. I actually met, talked to, and became friends. Here is some of that story.                        The first black person that I remember meeting was Arthur Tyson Jr. (Tookie). We went to high school together and were on the same basketball team. I would say we played on the same team but I didn’t play much. We also had Spanish together. We weren’t really friends because we didn’t really know each other but he was always kind and funny. I ended up not liking him much now that we’re adults. Not because he’s black but because he’s a Steelers fan. We are both older now, a

        As I get older I attempt to pay attention more. Not sure if it is wisdom, the realization of mortality, or some other condition in my brain that causes it but it happens. And as I pay attention I think of times lost, forgotten, and remembered. I try not to go to bed without saying what needs to be said to whoever it needs to be said to. Not bad things, or accusatory things, but things like, “Thank you”, “I appreciate you”, “I love you”. The bad, accusatory, and difficult things I try to pray a few days about before opening my pie-hole!                         So with all that said because it needed to be (see what I did there?), I come to something that needs to be said. I need to tell you about someone. No, really, I need to. 27 years ago this past weekend I met her. To spare you the time of reading a documentary, we got married 27 years ago this coming February. She was, and still is, shy and doesn’t like crowds. She shrinks in the face of a crowd to just a comfortable p

When I was young I don't remember getting offended. I'm confident that I didn't even know what the word offended meant! I remember getting upset. I remember getting my feelings hurt. I even remember getting mad. I guess I was offended and didn't realize it. What my parents modeled was very simple. Change what you can. Get over what you can't.  And if I chose to try and change something, I had to do so appropriately. For example, if I didn't like dinner, I was welcome to fix dinner the next evening myself. But, I was not to complain about the dinner that my mom or dad had worked to give me. I was not allowed to not eat the dinner that was prepared for me that I didn't earn or deserve. I could not, "sit out" or "kneel out".  In my home, I was not allowed to disrespect someone else and therefore offend them just because I was offended. Thus the problem in our great country. I'm offended as a white person so I go out and offend a

And now, there’s that…             I am so tired of political posts, election commentary, and, well, to be honest, social media! I cannot open any social account without being bombarded with different peoples political opinions backed up by the ever-so-reliable and varied internet “news” websites. If it wasn’t so extreme and laced with near hate, it would be humorous. But, truthfully, it is so far from humorous, entertaining, and even informing on anything except the person doing the posting. I have seen people completely forget the example that they should be putting forth because they have been sucked into the vacuum which is the current American political climate.             And this is why I have waited so long in doing anything like this but as a Pastor and someone who tries so hard to follow Jesus’ example, I believe this is necessary. We live in a truth-lite age. Truth is so absolute that there is a movement to remove all truth from our society. If you were born with a pen

I have always believed that there is a special place in everyone's life. It's my favorite place. A place where things may not be perfect but a place where it's right! A place where honesty prevails, failure is acknowledged and corrected, and where love is alive.  It's my favorite place. It's the place where laughter is louder and silence is peace. I've celebrated in this place and cried out in agony there. There has been more joy in this place than anywhere else. It's my favorite place.  I love my church, I love the ball field, I love the golf course and the basketball court but I love this place more. I hope you feel this same way about your place. It's my favorite place.  I pray for this place everyday. Everyday. I pray for safety and peace and love to prevail. I pray that it is my family's favorite place also because it's my favorite place.  I have traveled the world. Literally traveled the world. As I'm writing this I am almost 2,

Ok, so there is no meaning in the title but it did make you click the link. But please don’t close it just yet. I do have something to share. Or to ask. Or maybe just to type and get off my mind and my fingers. I have noticed a growing trend lately that I may be partly responsible for. I don’t like it and now I must try and reverse it but still stay true to my convictions on the matter. That can be difficult but it shouldn’t be. The reason that it is difficult really has less to do with me being conflicted and more to do with followers of Christ being afflicted. Afflicted with a “called” disease! I know that sounds silly but hang in there for just a few more paragraphs. I am certain that my true calling in life is to be a Pastor. I enjoy sharing what I have learned from God’s Word. I enjoy relationships for the most part and want to help others in their relationship with Christ. I believe that God has equipped me with tools that help me fulfill this calling. Along the way I have s

I am not a cop; though I serve them. I am not a cop; though I have been known to ride in police cars. I am not a cop; but I love them. I don’t think like them, act like them, or talk like them. They’re different. They see and experience things that the human mind can’t even begin to process properly. But they continue on; the good ones anyway! If they ever back up it is because their commanding officer has instructed them to. And usually, they’re not happy about it. Are some of them arrogant? Yep. But so are some preachers, doctors, factory workers, students, retirees, parents and children. Are some of them power hungry? Yep, see previous list! And some of them are good sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, coaches, Sunday school teachers, ministers, care givers, and friends. They are the most scrutinized group of people in the United States of America. They fight with or without recognition; the good ones anyway. When they make a mistake, it is

I originally posted this in 2009. While reading today, I decided it hasn't expired yet! Worry sits on the back row of the English as a Second Language class. He’d prefer the front row, but by the time he caught the city bus and endured the evening traffic, the best seats were taken. His hands still smell of diner dishwater where Worry worked since six this morning. Within twelve hours he’ll be at the sink again, but for now he does his best to make sense of verbs, adverbs, and nouns. Everyone else seems to get it. He doesn’t. He never diagrammed a sentence in Spanish; how will he ever do it in English? Yet with no English how will he ever do more than wash plates? Worry has more questions than answers, more work than energy, and thinks often about giving up. Worry thinks her son should wear a scarf. Today’s temperature won’t warm beyond freezing, and she knows he will spend the better part of his lunch hour throwing a football across the frozen grass. She knows better than