The Coalition To Ban Coalitions...

Hank Williams, Jr. once sang a song entitled, "The Coalition To Ban Coalitions."  Although recently ol' Bocephus and I parted ways over differing political ideologies and a few terrible songs, I do agree that we have too many groups "ag'in" things.  This is especially true for churches.  A Facebook friend posted the other day, "Wouldn't it be nice to be known for what we are for, rather than what we are against?"  I couldn't agree more.  We spend hours in the pulpit condemning sexual immorality, gambling, abortion, drug abuse, divorce, etc, yet we hardly reach out to those suffering from the effects of those very sins.

Recently, a well known baptist pastor headed up the opposition to expanded gambling legislation in Kentucky.  In one of his Facebook posts he said, "Everyone who comes to _____ ______ Church for help with gambling addiction will receive the cell phone number to every senator that voted for it."  Call me liberal, but that's a little too far right for me.  Call me a realist, but gambling exists, legally or illegally.  The message I infer is they would rather insult legislators than help people with inevitable addictions.

Do we need to stand up for what we believe in? Absolutely, but I have never believed blowing up an abortion clinic or threatening an abortion doctor was the answer to the question:  WWJD?  Nor is name-calling or saying you will "reveal that senator's sins to the world."  Last I checked, that is Jesus' job, not ours.  I'm sorry, Pastor York, but this pastor here doesn't see opposing expanded gambling as "spiritual warfare."  To me, "spiritual warfare" is battling Satan over the souls of God's creation, not battling the legislature over public policy.

One More Day...

"I just want one more day."  I remember my grandfather, J.B. Morris, speaking those words after my grandmother, Pauline, moved into the advanced stages of Alzheimer's and was experiencing mini-strokes that left her barely responsive and clueless to her surroundings.  This was not the woman I grew up calling "Granny." For years, I had watched my grandmother hustle and bustle around the house answering his beckon call.  His sweet tea glass was never empty and he never missed a meal. Life had been busy.  As a farmer, he was up at dawn and down at dark, but now things where different. He had stopped farming after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and over the past few years I had watched him pay back every favor she had ever performed for him.  It wasn't until he found her in the yard at 3 am one morning that he was convinced she had to be placed in a nursing home, but there was a catch, "If she's going, I'm going with her,"  I remember him saying. Granddaddy would often tell us that he prayed that God would let him live one day longer than Granny so he could take care of her until He called her home.  The final years of their life together was the closing scene in one of the greatest love stories ever told.  During WWII, J.B. wanted to serve his country like many young American men his age.  When he went to enlist at the recruiter's office, he was turned away due to an issue with his eyes.  Searching for work, he headed to Evansville, IN where he found a job with Servel, Inc, an appliance company turned government manufacturer during WWII.  J.B.'s duties at Servel consisted of delivering parts to the lines that built the American fighter planes the dominated that European and Asian skies.  It was on a delivery that he met a young woman named Pauline Hagan from Hancock County, KY, dubbed a "Rosie the Riveter," she riveted wings to fighter planes.  Later in life J.B. would tell friends and family how his parts inventory was low because Pauline kept asking for extra rivets just to see him coming on his delivery scooter.  After several weeks of carpooling to work with 4 co-workers, Granddaddy said it was a dark night as he pulled away from the local burger joint that he realized how beautiful Pauline was as she waved goodbye to him in the window.  They began spending more time together after work, and in August 1944, they were married in a little baptist church in Evansville.  After the war, he brought her back home to Hickman County farm life where they raised three children and six grandchildren, instilling in them the Christian morals and values that kept them together for nearly 64 years.  Granddaddy's prayer of "one more day" was never answered, but God knows best.  He passed away on January 22, 2008 after complications from a heart attack.  I can suspect that it only took him three months of harassing and begging the Lord in heaven to hurry up and bring his wife home too.  On April 28, 2008, I received the call that Granny had left this temporary world for her permanent home.  Most people would cry, but I didn't.  I just smiled because I knew where she was and that my Granddaddy was at the gates waiting for her.