Dangerous Birds

When I left the house this morning, Jake and Millie were on guard. About 4:30 a.m. I heard them bark. Knowing they were protecting us, I went back to sleep, secure in my thoughts. Later, as I ate breakfast, I looked outside to see what the hubbub was all about. Robbers? Thieves? No. It was worse than I thought. The culprit was birds up in the trees. Jake and Millie were going from tree to tree, barking at birds and standing guard. I think they’re on to something. What would happen to the creation if birds left their trees and began to live on the ground? It would throw all of nature into a tizzy. Thank you, Jake and Millie, for protecting us all from little robins, blue jays, and cardinals.

All kidding aside, I’m confident Jake and Millie would protect us from an intruder, unless, of course, the intruder brought food along. Then their loyalties would be divided. If you ever try to break into our backyard, please don’t bring food. Thanks.

Humor helps. Children’s views. When Jesus rose from the dead, it was a miracle He managed to get the tombstone off the entrance (actually profound). The men who followed Christ were called the twelve decibels (loud preachers, I guess). One of the opossums was Matthew, who was also a taximan.

Wedding Shower

John and Amanda’s wedding shower was this morning. A huge number came. It does a dad’s heart good to see his children being blessed. Being your Pastor is the highest professional honor of my life. It’s been a good 13 years. Thanks.

I received my 2009 Silver Dollar City pass in the mail today. You are my witnesses. I threw away the 2008 pass (I’m looking at it right now in the recycling pile). I put the 2009 pass in my wallet (I just now double checked to make sure).

Tomorrow I will preach on Peter’s grand confession of faith. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” The world is still reeling from that electric moment. Pray my sermon will at least make a stab at doing the text justice.

Humor helps. Lessons learned from Noah’s ark. Always be on time. Don’t miss the boat. Plan ahead; it wasn’t raining when Noah started building. Stay fit; even a senior adult can be asked by God to do something big. To be safe, travel in pairs. When stressed, float awhile. No matter the storm, if God be with us, a rainbow is always waiting.

John is 35

John turned 35 today. He’s having a little trouble with this birthday. He says he is for the first time as close to 40 as he is to 30, plus he’s halfway to 70. It’s amazing how these annual numbers take on murkier meanings as they get bigger.

After hearing him share his concerns, I said, “Son, if you think it’s tough to turn 35, wait till you have a son who turns 35. Now that’s tough!!” I noticed he looked at Caleb when I said it. I think he got the point.

John does have one huge advantage right now. He is hopelessly and helplessly in love with his sweetheart Amanda Bolin. Ruth and I are convinced they will have a wonderful marriage. My Grandpa Hill did not marry till he was in his thirties. He lived long enough to celebrate 57 years of marital bliss. We pray John and Amanda will celebrate the same experience.

Humor helps. Children’s perspectives. Moses died before he reached Canada. Joshua told his son to stand still and he obeyed him. David fought the Finkelsteins. Solomon had 700 wives and 300 porcupines. When Mary heard she was the mother of Jesus, she sang the Magna Carta.

Successful Amnesia

Do you remember the song, “Memories–pressed between the pages of my mind”? I can relate to it, but for me memory is being crushed and pulverized.

I was headed to Silver Dollar City yesterday. I reached in my wallet to retrieve my seasons pass. It read 2008 seasons pass. I knew immediately what I had done. When I received my new seasons pass the other day I reached in my wallet to take out the old one. While holding the two in my hand, I read 2008 and decided to keep it since this is 2008. I pitched the other card without reading it closely. Well guess what. It’s not 2008. Fortunately, the folks at SDC are very forgiving.

This morning I put my watch in my shoe to make sure I didn’t forget to put it on before leaving for work. I knew my foot has a better memory than my brain. Sure enough, as I started to leave home, I couldn’t find my watch. What is wrong with my memory? I remember when it was strong. No, I’ve forgotten it was strong.

Humor helps. Brain cells come, brain cells go (especially memory ones), but fat cells live forever. Egotism is the anesthetic that dulls the pain of memory loss. If I remember correctly, Sampson slew the Philistines with the Axe of the Apostles.

Serenading the Dogs

I feel guilty about the “Hound Dog” fiasco. Jake and Millie deserve better. I decided to google Stephen Foster’s song “Old Dog Tray” in order to sing it for them. “Sporting with my old dog Tray” would ease the pain of “You ain’t no friend of mine.” “Old dog Tray’s ever faithful” would take away the hurt of being slammed for not being high class. “I’ll never find a better friend that old dog Tray” would remove the scandal of the “Hound Dog” ethnic slur. As I read Foster’s words, I could see myself standing on the back deck singing, “I’ll vainly, vainly seek a better friend than old dog Tray.” Suddenly I was jerked back to reality. If I sang this song to Jake and Millie, they would look at me as if I were the biggest hypocrite in the world. I truly believe they would rather hear Elvis sing “Hound Dog” than to hear me sing “Old Dog Tray.” That hurts.

Happy Memorial Day weekend. Thank a veteran for the freedoms we enjoy. In church this morning we will honor veterans and learn some good lessons for life from Mr. Lincoln.

Tonight Ruth and I are hosting a party at our house for the family. Our special guests will be Amanda’s parents, who are visiting from Ohio. We are all looking forward to getting acquainted with John’s future in-laws.

Is Hound Dog an Insult?

Sam and jumped on the trampoline yesterday afternoon. Sam is addicted to the song “Hound Dog.” He will listen to it over and over and over again until he finally runs down the battery on my iPhone.

While we were lying down on the trampoline, he was playing “Hound Dog” full guns blazing. I noticed Jake and Millie were only a few feet away. Being a caring kind of guy, I tried to imagine how they must have felt at hearing this song.

“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog.” Is that an ethnic slur in dog-world? “A-crying all the time.” Is this an impossible accusation? Can dogs cry, or do they only whine, and howl at the moon? “They said you was high class.” This got their hopes up. I felt confidence rising from them. “Well that was just a lie.” A staggering blow, after getting their hopes up. “You ain’t never caught a rabbit.” Few things could be more crushing than to be accused of failing in this most basic function dogs are expected to perform. “You ain’t no friend of mine.” How is man’s best friend supposed to respond to a statement like this? Oh mercy, I’ll have to buy Jake and Millie anti-depression medicine soon, all because of Elvis. I’m feeling all shook up. Sorry.

Gunfire

In an effort to carry my weight (no small task), I fixed breakfast every day this week. The highlight of each meal was the homemade biscuits. By “homemade” I mean I opened the can myself, without help from anyone at the store. Every time I open a can, I jump when it pops. It’s quite funny. If I raised our kitchen window and opened several cans, the neighbors would think we were having a gun fight.

My daughter put on her blog a picture of me which I felt made me look old. Yes, it looked exactly like me, but with photoshop and other enhancing mechanisms, I felt she could maybe help me out a bit. I told her my concern. She did something to the picture and took ten years off me. I wonder if I could bathe in that stuff.

I’m preaching about Lincoln this Sunday morning. It’s a sermon highlighting his relationship with preachers. It will give us about 12 good practical lessons for life. It should be a fun and helpful message.

Humor helps. Classified ads. Nordic Track, $300, hardly used, call Chubby. Georgia peaches, California grown, 89 cents per pound. Wedding dress for sale, worn once by mistake, call Stephanie.

Grandpa Disagreements

My grandson Ian received a special award last night at the Awana awards ceremony. He is precious. This assessment is accurate, whether I’m partial or not. Just because a grandpa is partial does not necessarily mean he’s wrong.

Speaking of grandparents, our Media Director, Randy Moore, is now a grandpa. He and I have gotten along so well through the years. I can not remember one time we have disagreed. But I see trouble looming on the horizon. What if he boldly proclaims his grandson is the most precious grandbaby of all time? I fear such a claim could have serious ramifications for our relationship.

Memorial Day is approaching. We will have a special tribute to veterans in our morning services. Thank you, Veterans, for making it possible for me to preach openly and freely without fear of recrimination.

Humor helps. Military assessments. His men would follow him anywhere, but only out of curiosity. She sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them. He has carried out all of his duties to his entire satisfaction. Since my last report, he has reached rock bottom and has started to dig.

Chocolate Chip Hour

Lilly Ruth and I spent my day off yesterday at the ultimate kids’ play-place, Bass Pro Shops. My heart melts every time I look at her. By the way, for your information, a chocolate chip cookie bought at Starbucks, if dispensed in small bites, will last one hour and 15 minutes. You might need that info someday.

Ruth and I are celebrating our monthiversary today. Life is good. We have now been married 458 months. Have at it, number-lovers.

Sam and I jumped on the trampoline last evening while Caleb brushed hairs off Jake and Millie. We are trying to find someway to preempt the snow storm we repeatedly experienced last year as the dogs shed their winter coats. All seemed to be going well until I laid on my back on the trampoline, looked up, and saw hairs floating over the roof of my house. I kid you not!! Over the top of the house. Oh no. I wonder who woke up this morning thinking that was frost in their yard.

I have a new idea for Jake and Millie. I heard of a place in Washington where you can board your dog, and someone will read to it while you are gone. Maybe I should read Ben Hur to them, and have them re-enact the chariot race by pulling me around the back yard in a red wagon. This has possibilities. Cameras, please.

Notre Dame, Obama

Pray for Notre Dame. Pray for the President. What is happening there this weekend reveals in microcosm the divisive cultural battle we find ourselves in as a nation. Our partisan strife is tearing at the very fiber of our society. We must find ways to stand firmly for what we believe in, to freely speak our conscience, and at the same time to get along with each other better.

We live in a free society. We must also be a kind society. Christlikeness demands nothing less of us. In all honesty, I am as clueless as anyone as to how we should most appropriately respond to the moral decline of our society. All I can say right now is, pray.

The Catholics have been our stalwart leaders in the pro-life movement from the first day. We Baptists wavered a bit at the first. It took us a while to understand the full ramifications of Roe vs. Wade. We finally came on board, but our debt to the Catholics as trailblazers is real. I feel sorry for them as they struggle with how best to deal with what will happen today at Notre Dame. Again I say, pray.

Notre Dame, Obama

Pray for Notre Dame. Pray for the President. What is happening there this weekend reveals in microcosm the divisive cultural battle we find ourselves in as a nation. Our partisan strife is tearing at the very fiber of our society. We must find ways to stand firmly for what we believe in, to freely speak our conscience, and at the same time to get along with each other better.

We live in a free society. We must also be a kind society. Christlikeness demands nothing less of us. In all honesty, I am as clueless as anyone as to how we should most appropriately respond to the moral decline of our society. All I can say right now is, pray.

The Catholics have been our stalwart leaders in the pro-life movement from the first day. We Baptists wavered a bit at the first. It took us a while to understand the full ramifications of Roe vs. Wade. We finally came on board, but our debt to the Catholics as trailblazers is real. I feel sorry for them as they struggle with how best to deal with what will happen today at Notre Dame. Again I say, pray.

Dads and Daughters

Last night’s Dads and Daughters Banquet was meaningful for all 300 of us who came. It’s nice to have a date with my daughter. Rebekah and I are grateful to have our picture professionally taken of us together, all dressed up in our go-to-meetin’ clothes. Did I get teary-eyed several times? Yes. Am I deeply touched by the stories? Yes. Am I glad to be the dad of a wonderful daughter? You bet!!

Thanks to Bob Roberts and the army of people who helped make it happen. By the way, speaking of daughters, one song I refuse to listen to any more is “Butterfly Kisses.” Having my emotions pulverized into tiny pieces has become way too painful.

Ruth and I are going to try to slip away for about four hours of time alone this afternoon. I will drive her all over town to run errands. While she goes in a store, I will sit in the car and study. Heaven. She is intertwined with my heart.

Are you ready for church tomorrow? I love going to church. See you there.

Dads and Daughters

Last night’s Dads and Daughters Banquet was meaningful for all 300 of us who came. It’s nice to have a date with my daughter. Rebekah and I are grateful to have our picture professionally taken of us together, all dressed up in our go-to-meetin’ clothes. Did I get teary-eyed several times? Yes. Am I deeply touched by the stories? Yes. Am I glad to be the dad of a wonderful daughter? You bet!!

Thanks to Bob Roberts and the army of people who helped make it happen. By the way, speaking of daughters, one song I refuse to listen to any more is “Butterfly Kisses.” Having my emotions pulverized into tiny pieces has become way too painful.

Ruth and I are going to try to slip away for about four hours of time alone this afternoon. I will drive her all over town to run errands. While she goes in a store, I will sit in the car and study. Heaven. She is intertwined with my heart.

Are you ready for church tomorrow? I love going to church. See you there.

Music Day

Yesterday was Music Day for me. At the Senior Adult meeting I heard Kevin Hawkins, our new Minister of Music, lead his chamber choir from Glendale High School. They were stunning. I plan to sing like that when I get to Heaven. In the celestial choir, there will be 144,000 sopranos, 144,000 altos, 144,000 basses, and me singing tenor.

Last night we attended Caleb’s Grace Academy Spring choir and orchestra concert. It was fantastic. The climax was a time of singing Heaven-sent, earth-shaking, Hell-crushing hymns, accompanied by the huge pipe organ Second once owned. The whole scene was surreal, surely a foretaste of Heaven. Even Sam sat mesmerized through it.

Last night a friend who is going through a heartbreaking break-up with his fiancé sent me four country music songs he’s been listening to a lot. He said if I listen to them I will better understand what he’s feeling. To say the least, the songs are very sad. I’m going to recommend he not listen to those songs any more. As you know, I have a predisposition toward depression. That was one reason I decided to give up country music in 1995. Much of it is happy, but every once in a while, it presents a song so sad that you want to lie down on the floor and weep.

Music Day

Yesterday was Music Day for me. At the Senior Adult meeting I heard Kevin Hawkins, our new Minister of Music, lead his chamber choir from Glendale High School. They were stunning. I plan to sing like that when I get to Heaven. In the celestial choir, there will be 144,000 sopranos, 144,000 altos, 144,000 basses, and me singing tenor.

Last night we attended Caleb’s Grace Academy Spring choir and orchestra concert. It was fantastic. The climax was a time of singing Heaven-sent, earth-shaking, Hell-crushing hymns, accompanied by the huge pipe organ Second once owned. The whole scene was surreal, surely a foretaste of Heaven. Even Sam sat mesmerized through it.

Last night a friend who is going through a heartbreaking break-up with his fiancé sent me four country music songs he’s been listening to a lot. He said if I listen to them I will better understand what he’s feeling. To say the least, the songs are very sad. I’m going to recommend he not listen to those songs any more. As you know, I have a predisposition toward depression. That was one reason I decided to give up country music in 1995. Much of it is happy, but every once in a while, it presents a song so sad that you want to lie down on the floor and weep.

Younger than the Turtle

Ian, age 4, stayed all night with us Monday night. As I read a Bible story about Jesus, Ian said, “Jesus did a lot of cool things.” Amen. Yes, He did.

On the way to school Tuesday, Ian, Caleb, and I discussed the big turtle at Bass Pro Shops. When I mentioned it was 75 years, Caleb blurted out, “That’s older than you are, Grandpa.” He immediately knew he had inserted foot in mouth, but the damage was already done. We both howled. Ian was a bit too young to catch the subtle nuance.

Nathan and Rebekah have planted a little garden for Ian and Lilly Ruth to work in. I asked Ian to tell me about it. He immediately said, “It has poop in it.” What!!?? Mom quickly explained it’s cow manure.

We had a huge family get-together Monday night at our house. Lilly Ruth was not being nice. Her mother said, “Where did that sweet little girl I used to have go?” Ian then prayed at the blessing, “Jesus, please bring my sister back.” How do you keep from exploding with laughter in the middle of a prayer like that?

Easter Legend

Yesterday made five Sundays in a row of rain. Maybe there’s something to that old legend about rain on Easter causes rain seven Sundays in a row. Two more to go. We’ll see.

On the Oxford MS trip, I pulled out some of my old sermon material on Lincoln. I enjoyed editing it. I have three or four more sermons I could preach on Lincoln. My original preaching plan was upended by the fact little hoopla was made about the bicentennial of Lincoln’s birth. I thought the USA would be abuzz about it, and a series of sermons would be appropriate. So much for my knowledge. I still want to finish the series. Maybe Memorial Day or Fourth of July would work.

Four-year-old Ian begins t-ball practice this week at High Street Baptist Church. Tickets will be harder to come by than for the World Series. Pictures will be taken by the hundreds. Baseball greatness will be redefined. Without steroids.

Humor helps. Children’s definitions. First book of the Bible: Guinness. Animals entered the ark in pears. Unleavened bread: bread with no ingredients. Where Moses received the ten commandments: Mount Cyanide. The seventh commandment: thou shalt not admit adultery.

Fair Grove Graduation

Happy Mothers Day. This is always a holiday easy for me to celebrate. My mom blesses me every direction I turn. I’ve already called her. Make sure you do the same for your mom.

Ruth, Caleb, and I spent the last two days traveling to and from Oxford MS, 736 miles roundtrip. We attended my cousin Josh Hill’s graduation from Law School at Ole Miss. I told him I expect to never pay a lawyer’s fee again as long as I live.

Josh reports for duty August 10, and will go to Camp Pemberton, Quantico, and Rhode Island his first year as a Marine Corp lawyer. He has to learn all the ins and outs of military law. Before this, he has to pass the MS state bar exam the last week of July. Pray he will do well.

Our trip to MS was delayed for two hours by the terrible storm we had here Friday morning. Fair Grove school was severely damaged in the storm, leaving them without a place to hold their graduation ceremony next Sunday afternoon. We at Second are gladly dismissing our services next Sunday night, May 17, to let the good folks of Fair Grove enjoy their graduation here. They expect about 2000 to attend. I think they will have a good experience here at Second.

Salsa on Waffles

Had tacos for breakfast again. I was so excited about eating them that I had trouble concentrating on my prayer and Bible time. I tried to convince John and Caleb to put salsa on their waffles. Neither consented. Where did I go wrong? I thought I raised them better than that. An adventurous spirit is a wonderful thing.

I speak tonight at the MSU BSU for the third and final time this semester. I believe some of the students there will become career missionaries. Pray for our time together tonight. I want to be a catalyst for missions everywhere I go, especially with college students.

Jake and Millie have returned to the back deck. I assumed it was because Ruth didn’t have the heart to keep the gate closed. I was wrong. She told me this morning the reason they were on the deck is because Caleb and Sam have trouble remembering to close the gate behind them. It will be interesting to see how Ruth handles this mini-drama. New door. Scratching dogs. Forgetful grandchildren. I’ll keep you posted.

My cousin Josh Hill graduates from Ole Miss’ Law School this Saturday in Oxford MS. I’m proud of him. He will do the United States Marine Corp proud.

Weathering

Ate tacos for breakfast. Cured sinus trouble I had last week. The food was left over from a Cinco de Mayo party several single adults had at church last night. I do love Mexican food, and Italian, and Greek, and Chinese,. . . .You get the point.

I’m figuring out Ozark weather patterns. Someone told me we are experiencing Blackberry Winter. Wow. Confusing. We have Indian Summer in the middle of Winter, Blackberry Winter in the middle of Spring, between the two the ground hog comes out to predict whether or not it will rain on Easter, thereby determining our weather for the next seven Sundays. I got lost in there somewhere.

Yesterday was grandchildren day. Sam was up and alert at 5:30 a.m. I took Caleb to school, and then did the same for Ian, who recently prayed, “I remind you of the cross that you died on, and that’s sadly. And don’t do that again, okay, God?” I asked him what characters were in the Disney on Ice show he went to. He replied, “All the ones in the commercial were there.” End of conversation. Babysat Lilly Ruth. She put some sunglasses on. Looked like a movie star, except prettier.

Hosea Bilyeu and I will be teaching Pastors at his church at noon. Pray God will bless our time.

Number 10 Tomorrow Night

I have preached eight times this week. Number nine will happen tonight. Am I exhausted? Maybe. Am I exhilarated? Absolutely. I’m speaking on missions tomorrow night at FBC Nixa and can hardly wait to preach my fire bucket sermon.

“Rain on Easter means rain the next seven Sundays.” I had never heard this old saying before, but one of our church members called it to my attention this morning and then added, “It rained on Easter, and has rained all four Sundays since.” Three more to go. We’ll see.

All this rain makes me think of two things. One, the 1000 trees we helped plant at the home for disabled adults. At this rate of rainfall, at least 999 of them will survive. Two, our Victory Garden. There’s no hint of drought on the three and a half acres of food we have planted for the poor.

Humor helps. PUNishment. She made whiskey, but he loved her still. A dog gave birth to puppies and was cited for littering (sorry Jake and Millie). Two silk worms had a race; they ended up in a tie. Two hats were on a hatrack; one said to the other, “You stay here; I’ll go on a head.”