What About the Children?

Today, as I have sat at my desk busily taking care of my business, I have had a little television on to keep me company. I usually just leave it on CNN when I do this and today was no exception. All day long they have analyzed, criticized, condemned and endorsed doing something about Syria. 

Now understand that I do not have access to any classified information; I don't have an inside informant; and have only briefly discussed the whole issue with just a couple of people. But, here is the back story as I understand it. The United States of America is a signatory of the Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production, Stockpiling and Use of Chemical Weapons and on their Destruction (Chemical Weapons Convention) . . . CWC for short. One hundred eighty-nine of the world's nations have signed the treaty and all but two have ratified it. The United States is one to have both signed and ratified the treaty. 

The CWC is not the first attempt at banning chemical weapons from the battlefield. The first attempt took place at the Hague in 1899.  However, in spite of their being banned they were widely used during WWI.  Then in 1925 the Geneva Protocol was adopted in which the world again affirmed the prohibition of Chemical weapons on the battlefields of the world.  

It is a credit to both the Allied and Axis forces that neither side resorted to their use during WWII.  Admittedly, Hitler and his regime did use gas in the death camps but he did not use it on the battlefield.  So we have (1) Hitler using gas in the death camps where he carried out his "Final Solution" to what he called the "Jewish problem;" (2) Saddam Hussein used it in the Iranian/Iraqi war on Iranians and again with the Kurds  (his own people) in the north; and (3) Bashar Hafez al-Assad used it on his own people on a large scale in August of 2013 killing about 1400 people about 500 of which were children. 

That's the background.  

Now I cannot and do not try and speak to the geo-political aspects of this. The main reason that I don't is because I cannot get the image of all those children, many the ages of my own grandchildren, laying on the ground wrapped in their burial clothes looking as if they are just taking a nap . . . but they are dead. 

The action of Assad is no worse or better than those of Saddam Hussein or Hitler. They are exactly the same. Disgustingly wicked and these men have become the faces of evil in our generation. It is the brutal disregard for the lives of children and snuffing out those lives with the very thing they must do to live, i.e., breathe, that lingers in my mind. For me the issue is a moral one not a political one. 

I am also not trying to defend or attack the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan nor am I too interested in the how of why we ended up fighting those wars and why it took so long. I suspect there is plenty there for us to be angry about and of which we are justified in being weary. But they are not the issue for me here. Let me add this has nothing to do with whether or not I like or dislike any President. It is all about an image that I cannot erase from my mind. The image of all those children dying by the very gasping for breathe they needed to live and all that as a result of their leader's choice to use Sarasin gas.  

Someone will say, "I am tired of the United States being the world's policeman." I am too but who do you suggest we get to take America's place? Who do you trust to make these decisions? The Russians or the Chinese? I find myself not asking why we are the world's policeman because I know the answer to that question. What I find myself asking is, "How is it under our watch it is always the children who seem pay the price?" 

Others will say, "Don't you know we are tired of war?" The answer is yes! I long for the days when men "shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore." (Isa. 2:4). But until God steps into history and "judges among the nations, and shall rebuke many people" wrong will need to be addressed by force.  But when that day of universal peace comes we need to remember that  "to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin" (James 4:17). Too often we equate sin with an action taken when it can be equally applied to actions not taken."  As Lincoln said,  "My concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right." 

We all want to join together and sing the words to the old spiritual that says: 

Gonna lay down my sword and shield
Down by the riverside, Down by the riverside, Down by the river side

Gonna lay down my sword and shield
Down by the riverside, Down by the riverside, Down by the river side 

I ain't go study war no more, study war no more, ain't go study war no more.
I ain't go study war no more, study war no more, ain't go study oh war no more.

Others will say it is none of our business or it has nothing to do with our national interests or security. To you I will only quote Martin Niemöller . . . 

“First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me —
and there was no one left to speak out for me. ―”

As long as men like Bashar Hafez al-Assad are allowed to utilize whatever means they choose to hold on to their power the world will be a serious risk. To see those children lying there asleep in death as the result of one man's barbaric act and do nothing seems impossible to me. 

Hardly a day goes by that I do not get something on my Facebook page or in an email deploring the deaths of millions of unborn children through abortion.  People from virtually all walks of life raise their voices in protest; spend their time and their money trying to change the abortion laws; and marching in the streets to effect change and end the carnage of abortion on demand . . . as well they should.

But I must ask, where are those who will cry out for the hundreds of children who struggled to breath and with every breath drew nothing but death into their lungs? Is their death lessened because they are fewer in number?  Who will speak for them? Are they not also among the "innocents."  Must their deaths go unavenged because "we are tired of war?"

I've heard all the arguments why we should not get involved and they all make some sense and I would not argue with many of them and I might, in a perfect world actually agree with some of it. The world in which we live is not always if ever perfect, it is rarely safe and it is seldom fair but that does not absolve us of the responsibility to act on behalf of the innocent.

People die every day by means that are immoral. No war is moral but some causes are so just that they demand a warlike response. To put it bluntly (and biblically) some people are so wicked that they must be cut off from the land of the living. The guilty must pay  - from the mouth that issued the order to the hand that carried out the deed and all those who stand in the way - the guilty must pay! 

Again, I am not too interested in the politics, the economics, the logistics, legality or a whole bunch of other things we could throw into the mix. The truth is, whatever we do or we don't do, there will be consequences to the choice that is made.  Both action and inaction will have unforeseen consequences. But the question that must be answered is, "Is it the right thing to do?" Is it ethical? Is it morally correct? You'll have to decide . . . I already have.

 

Now for my friends taken with Prophecy:  Is it possible that the two wars in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, the saber rattling by Iran along with the general unrest in that part of the world is nothing less than the gathering clouds of Armageddon?  

 

 

A Family Narrative

Robert Appleby
1852-1934

Tonight I have been involved in a thread on Facebook about growing up in Pasadena, Texas. It has been a wonderful journey down memory's lane as we shared stories and photos that literally brought back to the forefront of our minds things that had been hidden away in the recesses of our minds.

Those memories became the springboard for my own family journey. It was in the midst of all those wonderful memories that it dawned on me that my Appleby family was more like a Clan than a family. A Clan is a family but it is an extended family consisting of parents, children, cousins, husbands and wives who interact as a family. It is a place where aunts and uncles are more like you mom and dad and cousins are more like brothers and sisters.

Within the Clan there seemed to always be some sort of ongoing rivalry but when any member of the group was threatened from outside the group there was a closing of ranks and in some cases the election of a War Chief.

Now this was not something that happened in my generation. It was the result of a long journey that began when Robert Appleby stepped foot on Virginian soil and swore allegiance to the Commonwealth of Virginia in 1749. There was a certain wanderlust in our branch of the Appleby family tree so that by that within a couple of generations his  grandchildren had left their footprints and name across Kentucky (then a part of Virginia) and by 1819 was one of five families who were forming the community along Cane Creek that became Poplar Bluff, Missouri.

It was out of that Missouri group that my branch of the tree would grow into its own Clan. Robert and his wife Polly Flowers brought Charles Appleby into this world and Charles and His wife Rebecca Scott gave life to my great grandfather Robert. Robert, sometime after the age of 12 (1864-65), moved with his uncle in North East Texas (now the Plano-McKinney region). On September 2, 1877 he married Martha McGehee and took up farming in Collin County, Texas. Robert and Martha were, as one relative put it at the time . . . "dirt poor." They had no money and no real proper house . . .  all they had was a plot of land, each other and their hopes dreams and asperations.

They didn't have much in the way of the fineries of the day in which they lived but they did have a rock solid faith in God and were known for their character and integrity. They were the beginning of this thing I call my "Appleby Clan." Robert and Martha had eight children (William Lee, Mary Frances, Claud Elberta, Maude Jane, Clyde Delroy, Dora Florence, Minnie May and Jessie Jefferson). Claud Elberta was my grandfather.

For me, my fraternal grandparents were the head of the Clan. My grandfather was a man of great faith and a man who lived that faith. My grandmother, likewise was a woman of great faith and action. I believe it is from her that my girls have received their own drive.  If My Grandmother had been born in my generation she would most likely have been head of some large organization . . . . either business or charitable.

During my lifetime my grandparents, Dad and Momma as they were known, were held in high esteem by their children.  Those children were Ruth Agnes, Buford Marion (my father), Melvin Victor, Edna Mae and James Carroll.  As long as either lived they were held in high regard and honor by their children and grandchildren. Their faithful walk with the Lord was honored in the churches to which they belonged and through which they served. They did not possess much in the way of material wealth to hand down to their children. What they passed down was more significant than material wealth . . . they passed along the sense of family and its importance; they handed down a heritage of integrity, loyalty and fairness; they also passed along a sense of inclusiveness for extended family. As someone who was once a member of the family by marriage and now divorced remarked to me, "Once you become a part of your family it is virtually impossible to extricate yourself . . . you still treat me as though I was still in the family."

They also lived in close proximity to one another from the 1870's until the 1970's. That's almost 100 years. They seemed always manage to live in the same area. To be sure a few would move away, then when the head of the Clan moved the rest of the family, family by family, gravitated back to the same geographical region as the head of the Clan. For my older cousins, most of their memories of family and growing up are anchored in the Orange, Texas area. Indeed, that is where my own journey began.  Several chapters of fascinating family history come from the time spent in Orange.

However, when I was growing up Pasadena, Texas was where pretty much all of the Appleby Clan was gathered.  It didn't matter if your last name was Appleby, Rich, Grace or Caplinger, you were in our family and a part of the Appleby Clan. Others would be added as time past and children grew up and married.

Mom & Dad's Wedding
London Jan 13, 1945

Pasadena really was "our town." We had our annual family conclaves and a whole host of minor gatherings from the late 1940's through the late 1960's.  We worked there, we worshipped there, we were educated there; we formed friendships that will last a lifetime there; we fell in love and married there; our children were born there; and we buried our parents and elders there.

In time, college, war, marriage and jobs began to scatter the cousins (my generation) all across the country. What once was a local clan within the greater Pasadena Nation became the scattered "Clans of Appleby" as we experienced our own family Diaspora. One by one the "Old Ones" who inhabited the land and set the family's character and preserved our heritage began to enter the great beyond. Now that generation has completed their journey and my generation has become the "old ones" among us.  Each cousin has become the head of their own Clan in another place.

This family into which I was born by the grace of God has a marvelous history, and honorable heritage and a story worth knowing and sharing. I remember my father's words to me as at the age of 18 I walked out of the Houston Federal Building where I had just registered for the draft. He said, "Son if they call you to service remember who you are and (1) don't volunteer for anything, they'll send you where they want you or need you, (2) don't do anything you'll regret later in life and (3) don't do anything that would bring dishonor to our name." By our name he meant the Appleby name.

By the way, for you family members who might be reading this you need to know that while largely pacifists at heart that Appleby family members . . .  your family . . . . has served this country in every major war from the American Revolution to the Iraq War and done so with honor. A few have given their "full measure of devotion" . . . . at least one during WWII, one in Korea, and one in Endo-China.

A Our Last Christmas Gathering
2008

I sometimes long for at least one last great a gathering of the chiefs and their families in one last conclave. I don't know if it is a doable thing but it would certainly be a good thing. To have an opportunity to pass down to our children and our children's children the wonderful story of the grace of God as it has played out in our Appleby Clan.  It is a wonderful story . . . I can only hope that we don't forget the story and it gets lost in the sands of time.

Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously and Enjoy Life

I want to give a big shout-out to Don Cole as it was something he wrote on the I grew up in Pasadena, Tx Facebook Page that sparked my thinking for this blog entry.
 

I had to be one of the last people of my generation to embrace social media in general and Face Book in particular. It just seemed silly to me. What would make anyone post what they had for breakfast complete with photo for the world to see? Better yet, what makes them think I am interested in what they had for breakfast?

After time and pressure from friends and colleagues I finally caved-in and signed-up for a Facebook account and was off and running. I started with no friends and now I have hundreds. I discovered that it was a powerful platform for making ones voice heard. I used it to help with my High School Reunion and I used it to oppose a name change for my College (You can read about that in some of the earlier postings on this blog) and I have used it countless time to express my feelings and thinking which were often opposed to one another. Oh yea, and I have used it to display where I've been and what I have been doing and that is part of the genius of Facebook.

For many it is a place to vent their frustrations. My only advice with venting is that you choose your words carefully for Facebook is full of ravenous wolves ready to pounce on your every word. Others seem to see it as their personal political, moral, ethical and/or religious soapbox. I suggest you just politely listen and then go your own way and ignore the ones you don't like unless of course you enjoy debate. More than likely though what  you'll get is an argument.  Get tired of it just click "hide" get really tired of it the click "unfriend."

What I really like about Facebook is that it has allowed me to become reacquainted with my own life as I have discovered friends from my past. Truth is, I have friends on my Face Book "Friends List" from every stage of my life. It is such a marvelous reminder of the Tapestry of my life just to see the names of people who knew me early in my life listed right alongside of those who I met just last week. I know better now what the song writer meant when he penned "trials dark on every hand and we cannot understand all the ways that God would lead us to that blessed promised land." Facebook has been the vehicle that reminds me how different and how much the same our life journeys are.

I join my Facebook Friend, Don Cole, in asking, "What happened to all those years?"  Friends have said to me more than once, "My how the time flies when your having fun" and I remember replying "Fun or not time does seem to fly." But then I remember that time is merely a tool for measuring our movement through life. It is how that life is lived that matters.

The human mind being created after the fashion of the mind of God and our most remarkable feature as a human has this uncanny ability to make time seem irrelevant. Things that happened in our youth live on in our minds as though they happened just yesterday. Scripture speaks of God being the same "yesterday, today, and tomorrow." I have this feeling that there is a sense in which the same is true of those "created in His image and after his likeness."  Perhaps, one day I'll talk about what this means for the belief that we are eternal spirits.

Don spoke in his posting about how it seems like no time at all has passed since we were just kids living a simple life in a small town. He talked about time flying by and how we wonder how it could have slipped by so quickly without our noticing that it had passed until we reach maturity (old age). He concluded that we must have been in some sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep for decades to awaken to the senior life with surroundings and times so seemingly strange to us now.

I share that thought to some degree. The Apostle Paul likened life to a race and I reckon he was right about that. I once fancied myself a "track star" in junior high school running the quarter mile sprint and high jumping. I can still hear my coach saying, "On your money, get ready, get set . . . go" except instead of saying "go" he'd blow his whistle. I liken those early years to the "on your money, get ready, get set" part of that instruction. It was a slow deliberate pace where you took note of the details of getting into the starting blocks and making sure you didn't "jump the gun." But when that whistle blew it was an all-out run. While the race was being run there was "no time to stop and smell the roses." At least not if we expected to win or even finish the race.

However, there were plenty of time between races when  we could have and perhaps should have slowed down and soaked in a little life. Maybe had we done so those intervening years would not seem like such a blur. But, as they say these days, "It is what it is" . . .  whatever that really means.

However we didn't, like Rip Van Winkle, sleep through the last forty years. We just didn't pay attention. We were too busy. We had to finish our education either in institutions of formal higher education or the school of hard knocks. We got jobs; we fought our war or protested fighting it; we started a career; we married and started a family. Many of us have buried our parents and the rest have become care givers as we struggle with our own weakness of the flesh. It wasn't that we didn't think about stopping and smelling the roses, we just couldn't seem to find a time to work it in our busy lives.

I guess it just wasn't important to us at the time. After all, we did seem to find a way to do what we wanted to at the time. I think we allowed the urgencies (squeaky wheels) in our life to take the place of the better things. As Jesus told Martha, she didn't choose a bad thing Mary just chose the better thing.

Somehow . . .  somewhere along the way our priorities got changed. As my friend Don Cole put it, "Adulthood, responsibility and choice of lifestyles will do that. Lying in a lush bed of fresh spring clover and searching the cloud formations for make-believe animals no longer are high priorities to us now. Seniors scour at the sudden thunder rainstorm rather than try to run barefoot between the raindrops."

Ah, but that image of God thing comes back and our minds have, as I have said earlier, have this

uncanny ability to make "time stand still" and as the intro to the original Lone Ranger series always began "We go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear." I still appreciate the smell of fresh cut grass or the air after a Spring shower. I stand on the porch during thunderstorms to watch the lightening and hear the thunder. And, yes, I'd jump in the puddles (maybe with a little less force) if I weren't worried about breaking a hip.

This is not really an article about nostalgia. It is more like an advice column. So here is my advice. As important as it is for us to come to the end of life's with a fist full of memories it is more important that we enjoy the moment in which we are living. For those of us nearing the end of life that involves a lot of remembering but for those not where we are there is still time to build some memories.

Remember that time with your family is more important than time on the job. My friend, don't be fooled, there is no such thing as quality time without quantity of time. Reconnect with friends of a day gone by, touch base with cousins and kin who have not been seen in far to many years. Don't make funerals your family reunion. Express your love to those you love.

Try smiling more and crying less. Hang out with children.  Laugh and smile at every opportunity to do so.  Truth is, none of us knows how much time we have. As I look back over the years I think of those friends who will never grow old because they died young. I attend High School reunions and am reminded that the rest of us a growing old . . . well at least most of us look like we are. Father time and mother nature have not been as kind as mom and dad.  You may not have as many years ahead of you as you have behind you, but they can be the best years of your life if you just don’t take yourself too seriously.

 

BTW - One of the reasons some of us can not see each other for years but when we do get together again it is as if we have never been apart is nothing happened between meetings. Give it some thoughts and stay connected.

 My latest sun is sinkin' fast
My race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past
My triumph has begun

They Were Just Boys

I just finished watching a Memorial Day Presentation on PBS. I make it a practice each year to watch this presentation which is hosted by Manny Manzano and Gary Sinise because it is simply one of the best. During this year's presentation the late actor Charles Edward Durning was used to represent the men and women who fought and died during the Second World War. 

I rarely get through one of these things without tears running down my checks and a lump in my throat and my voice dropping nearly an octave. This is partly due to the presentation itself and partly because the presentation is a salute to a group of people who cannot hear or  appreciate it . . . the men and women who died in the service of our nation. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for all that was sacrificed by so many to sustain the freedom I enjoy.

I am aware, and in the past have said so in this blog, of the sacrifices of family and fellow citizen in every war since the American Revolution to preserve that liberty. It moves me that people I never knew would believe so strongly in individual liberty and national freedom to offer up their own liberty, freedom and life for me to possess the same. To them, though insufficient, I can only say "Thank you."

However, what makes it such an emotional experience for me is that two of the most important men in my life served during the Second World War. One was my father-in-law, Floyd Dees and the other was my father, Buford Appleby.  Both of these men survived the war and neither of them ever shared much about their war experience.

My father was 29 years old when he became a part of the United States Army Air Force. Drafted immediately following the attack on Pearl Harbor Dad became and expert with regard to B-17's and C-47's. He was among the first men to be sent to Europe and North Africa. Having transported a B-17 to the Eighth Army Air Force in England he eventually found himself assigned to the IX USAAF, 52nd Wing, 315th Troop Carrier Group  34th Squadron. . . a combat group.

Dad would drop elements of the 82nd Airborne (504 parachute regiment) in the early hours of the
morning on June 6, 1944. He would also drop the elements of the 82nd during Market Garden at Grave in Holland as well as Operation Husky. He would finish the war with the Air medal with an Oak Leaf Cluster. Were it not for his personnel file I would never know just how much of a role he and his buddies played in the European Theater of Operations because he just never spoke of those experiences.  A great book on the subject is the late Michael N. Ingrisano's  Valor Without Arms: A History of the 316th Troop Carrier Group, 1942-1945 

I mentioned earlier that my Dad was 29 when he went into the USAAF and that made him one of the older men. In fact I recall one of his friends tell me that the only reason they didn't call him "Pop" was there was another man in the group older than him.

During the winters on his many trips to the Front he must have given away dozens of flight jackets, gloves and boots to weary infantrymen. This brings me my point. He once told my sister that after delivering gasoline and other supplies to Patton's 3rd Army they would often bring a plane full of wounded GI's back to Amien, France for medical treatment. Then he added with a great deal of pathos, "They were just boys."

I have thought about that phrase, "They were just boys" many times since. With the exception of a handful of men like my father they were all "just boys."  The men he dropped in the early morning hours of the Normandy Invasion were really "just boys."  The same was true of Market Garden and Husky. He knew every time a stick left his plane that many , if not most of them, would not be coming home. But it wasn't until he saw them being loaded into his plane as wounded soldiers he realized just how young they really were.

That's why I get so emotional. They were young, so very young. These, as he called them "boys,"

were giving up all their tomorrows for me to have a life of Liberty and Freedom. Don't misunderstand, none of them wanted to die but they were willing to die so I could have the life I enjoy. And die, many of them did. Nearly 400 thousand lifetimes were sacrificed so I could have my life . . . so you could have yours.

Each one of those lives had family they loved, dreams they cherished, hopes they aspired too and yet they gave them up so that you and I could have what we have. I don't know what their lives would have been had they not died on the battlefield. I rather suspect that all they wanted was exactly what I have. 

So I get weepy eyed when I think about their sacrifice. I get a lump in my throat when I weigh what they gave up and it just breaks my heart that they cannot hear my "Thank You." The only way I can pay the debt I owe them is to live well the life they gave me through their sacrifice.  I can only honor them by living my life to it's fullest.

Take a good long hard look at the life you are living. Does it justify their sacrifice? Is it being lived well?  They invested in your life. Whose life are you investing in?

Today My Friend Went To Heaven

Today my friend died. Dion Ainsworth who I first met in 1983 when I became pastor of the Woodland Baptist Church in Beaumont, Texas went to be with His Lord today (May 18, 2013) just eleven days after suffering a massive heart attack.

In the years that followed that meeting he and I worked together on many projects. You see he was the Director of Christian Social Missions for the Golden Triangle Baptist Association and I was Chairman of the Christian Social Missions Committee of the Association. Technically that made me and my committee his overseers but in reality we were just another tool through whom he would do ministry. Roy Lambert was the Director of Missions and Ed Savage was the Director Christian Education but as much as I loved these two men neither held a candle to Dion when it came to work product.

Dion was tireless. During those years such ministries as Opportunity Camp, Calvary House, and the Crisis Hotline came into being. Dion tapped into the talents and skills of laymen in just about every church in the Association.

I remember that when Roy Lambert retired I thought we, the Association, should look no further than Dion for his replacement. I think he was the right man at the right time for the Association  but not enough others saw him the way I did.

There are many memories and there is little value in recounting them all. They only serve to prove what I have always known and that is, no one ever labored more faithfully than did Dion.

I  not only remember him as being a hard working man but I knew him to be a gentle spirit. Dion work hard because he had a heart for people . . . he really cared and he knew what he did really mattered. It mattered to the future of poor and underprivileged children: it mattered to troubled and unemployed families; and it mattered to him. Dion always had time to help a troubled life.

I shall miss hearing the tone of his soft voice as we discussed virtually any and every thing. I do not question God's decision to call Dion home but I do wonder sometimes about what He was thinking. Dion, I am so glad God placed you in my life.

Feel free to leave your own thoughts below,  I'll let Ray Boltz say it for me . . . .

I dreamed I went to heaven and You were there with me
We walked upon the streets of gold Beside the crystal sea.

We heard the angels singing Then someone called your name.
You turned and saw this young man And he was smiling as he came.

And he said, "Friend you may not know me now"  And then he said, "But wait"
You used to teach my Sunday School When I was only eight.

And every week you would say a prayer  Before the class would start.
And one day when you said that prayer  I asked Jesus in my heart."

Thank you for giving to the Lord I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord I am so glad you gave.

Then another man stood before you And said, "Remember the time
A missionary came to your church And his pictures made you cry.

You didn't have much money But you gave it anyway.
Jesus took the gift you gave And that's why I am here today."

Thank you for giving to the Lord I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord I am so glad you gave.

One by one they came Far as the eye could see
Each life somehow touched By your generosity.

Little things that you had done Sacrifices made.
Unnoticed on the earth In heaven now proclaimed.

And I know up in heaven you're not supposed to cry.
But I am almost sure There were tears in your eyes.

As Jesus took your hand  And you stood before the Lord.
He said, "My child look around you. Great is your reward."

Thank you for giving to the Lord I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord I am so glad you gave.

Thank you for giving to the Lord I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord I am so glad you gave

Because They Have Given So Much . . .

By now, most of my readers know that I am a semi-retired Baptist Pastor. Actually I am officially fully retired but because I don't think one ever retires from God's calling I refer to myself as "semi-retired."  In becoming "semi-retired" I have joined the ranks of a very special group of men and women. The one common denominator that we have in our lives is that we have experienced a very definite and precise call from God to what has now come to be called "vocational" ministry.

Personally, I have never thought of myself as a "professional" or "Vocational" minister. I have always thought of myself as a "preacher of the Gospel."  I remember clearly the night as a teenage boy I yielded my life plans to God's plan for my life. It was at the Boulevard Baptist Church in Pasadena, Texas.  Estol Williams was preaching, probably from Romans as he spent two years preaching through that book, but I don't really recall. I really wasn't listening. Instead I was reading in John 12 and when I got to verse 32 which reads, "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me," I knew what I was to do for the rest of my life . . .  I was to lift Jesus up. For me that meant nothing less than becoming a preacher of the Gospel.

Now I know that what I just said has nothing to the context and meaning of the passage. Clearly Jesus is speaking of His own death by crucifixion. In fact John shortly after verse 32 confirms this. However, on this day, God used this verse to speak to my heart about my lifes' work.  So that day my focus changed from becoming a historian to becoming a preacher. I pursued that calling like a laser beam and have never thought of myself since as anything more or less than a preacher of the Gospel.

So strong was this calling that whenever I went to a church I was quick to tell the "Pulpit Committee" (now refered to as Pastor Search Committees), Deacons and congregations that they did not pay me to preach. I wanted them to understand that when it came to preaching I worked for God not them. I preached for free. They paid me for all the other stuff involved in being a pastor of a Baptist Church.  The pulpit was my domain and my priority.

I went to school earned a BA degree, a M.Div. degree and a D.Min. degree and have been a student of the word of God all my life all to the end that I might understand and proclaim God's word and will to His people and to those who did not know him. Along with that preaching and teaching there were countless hospital and home visits; enumerable  meeting and conferences attended; countless marriages and funerals performed; people counseled and comforted, and a multitude of people met and countries visited.  The one thing I failed to focus on was my own old age. What does a God called preacher of the Gospel live on once he is no longer able earn his keep.  Here's what I have discovered. I am not alone in this. Most of the preachers I know who retire struggle to provided even the most basic of life's needs. 

When I talk to most lay people (non-clergy) about preacher's retirement they seem to think we were all pastors of a mega-church. I am here to say NOT!  Most of us never served in a large church. Someone once said, "God must especially love poor folks because He made so many of them." I'd paraphrase that a bit and say, God must really like small and medium size churches as He seems to have so many of them."  Most "preachers" never serve in a large place and by far-and-away most preachers never have a salary that permits putting anything aside for retirement.

I remember the first church I pastored my entire salary package (base pay, retirement allowance {$15 month}, insurance of all kinds allowance, and book allowance) came to $9800 per year. Since I didn't opt out of social security (one of the smartest things I didn't do) that came out of the $9800 as well. Glad they had a parsonage (manse). I'm betting most preachers my age could tell the same story.  It was a struggle but, after all, God called us to preach not retirement planning. In fact most of us thought we would die in the pulpit. Many of us have even said that we would like to spend our lives preaching and then have God call us home in the middle of a sermon.  By the way, that has happened to a few preachers over the years but will not happen for most of us.  No, most of us will because of health issues, or age, or some other circumstance actually have to retire. It is then that we realize, "I should have done something to prepare for this." Well, some of us did.

I stayed in Social Security, opened a Plan-A retirement account with the Annuity Board, and later migrated to a 403B account with Guidestone.  The Social Security is not much, the Plan-A was safe but small, but the 403B account took some major hits in the last few years. Twice it was hit hard as the result of financial institution speculation and Wall Street's machinations. So after 25 years of contributions and earnings the action of people other than myself left me with a greatly reduced retirement account. It would have been worse but God put an investment banker in my life who gave me some good advice. I took it and got half my retirement account back over a three year period. Unfortunately it means my retirement income is about 1/2 what it would have been but thankfully it is as a preacher friend of mine says, "adequate."  We get by.

I knew when God called me he would provide for my needs. And, you know what, He has. He put us through College as a young couple, Through seminary and nearly 40 years of ministry. Over the years we have learned to depend upon the Lord (could there be a song in that). He has faithfully supplied all our needs and a great many of our wants. And like I said, our retirement income isn't what we planned or expected but it is adequate to our needs. Can't say much about the wants though.

Not every pastor is so fortunate and because they are not I want to make a few suggestions for your consideration and action:

1. If you are a member of a small to medium size church (any denomination) talk to you pastor about his retirement. If your church does not provide a retirement allowance ask your leadership, "Why not."  Get informed.

2. Contact your denominations retirement organization. Most denominations have one. For Southern Baptist it is  GuideStone Financial Services.  They can explain all the various retirement options available to your pastor.

3. Get involved in Mission Dignity.  Since 1918, GuideStone Financial Resources (Formerly the Annuity Board of the SBC) has been on a “Mission” to provide “Dignity” to retired Southern Baptist ministers, workers or their widows.  As I stated above many served small, rural churches that paid only modest salaries and couldn’t afford to contribute to their pastors’ retirement. Often, these loyal soldiers of the cross had to work extra jobs just to make ends meet.

Mission:Dignity currently helps more than 2,000 people with extra money needed for housing, food and vital medications. It has also ensured a well-deserved dignity, independence and, often, the ability to continue serving. These are men and women who have faithfully served God’s people and now find themselves struggling to meet even basic needs.  Give them a call and see how you can make a difference.  Visit Mission:Dignity of FaceBook.

Addendum:  Since I posted this I have received a fouth suggestion . This one is for those who belong to the large and/or mega church. It's something their own church does but I suggest is something any church can do. Churches can make Mission:Dignity a part of their missions budget. Anothr thing he mentioned was that some of the Sunday School Classes adopt a particular retired minister and send them a monthly stipend directly. It occurred to me when I heard this that even if you are cash strapped you could get a group together and cut their grass every week or so. That's about $30 a month they could use for, say medicine or maybe just day out with lunch. As my Dad used to tell me, Son, don't just stand there do something."

God Is Not Truant . . .or, He Doesn't Skip School

I have listened for more years than I care to admit to friends who believe that somehow God, like some misbehaving student, has been expelled from our public schools. Every time something terrible happens in a school the first thing I hear is not sympathy for the families who suffer loss but,  “This is what happens when you

take God out of the schools.”

Now don’t misunderstand me at this point. I grew up in a day when beginning in the first grade (no kindergarten or pre-school in those days) until high school graduation we began every school day with a morning devotion, prayer and the pledge to the American flag. I don’t know who arranged all that in elementary school and Junior High school but when I got to High school it was our Youth for Christ Club. That club meet on campus prior to our home room classes.  But even back in my day it was not the best attended club.  The other thing was that we did not, as best I recall, have classes that used the Bible as a text book for religion or as literature.

I still think this is a good idea and that it served some noble ends.  I am also pretty sure that at the time not too many listened attentively to the devotion nor participated in the prayer. However, virtually everyone recited the pledge to the flag. Truth be known that was probably because we were required to stand for the pledge and not the other elements of our morning ritual.

Then along came various non-Christian religious and non-religious groups who wanted equal time or the practices stopped altogether. It proved impractical to accommodate every group wanting access to the school facility and the student’s attention. Besides, the Christian parents didn’t want the Muslim teaching their children and vis a versa. The atheist didn’t want anyone teaching anything religious. All sorts of things were tried to accommodate these various groups. Ultimately the atheist carried the day when they managed to get a federal court to rule that proscribed prayer and Bible study in school violate the First Amendment to the United States Constitution. So it became the law of the land that proscribed prayer and Bible study would not be allowed in the school.

It should also be noted that the hard core evolutionist joined the fray by pointing out that “Creationalism” was a religious belief and not a scientific hypothesis and therefore it too had no place in the public school.  It didn’t matter that in actuality evolution and creationalism were both working hypothesis that had to be established by experiment and logic.

I have said all of this to say that the courts have indeed pretty much frightened public schools into doing away with any mention of God from a Christian viewpoint from the school day. School districts have eliminated morning prayers and devotions; they have banned Christian clubs from school facilities; a few allow the Bible to be taught for its literary value but not its content. In Texas there is even a group that monitor these kinds of class to insure that they follow the stringent guidelines laid down by the state. 

I must state that while I agree with much of the logic behind these decisions I do not think that the first amendment of the American Constitution was intended to take religion out of the public square. My personal take is that the Government is prohibited by that amendment from establishing, supporting, sustaining one religious group over another. The reason: America was to have no state religion as was seen in England between the Church and the Government and the King and the Archbishop. The Amendment was intended to create a wall of separation so that the Government did not control the church and the church did not control the government.  It was never intended as a wall of separation to preclude either from having access to the public square.  Indeed, it was intended to open the public square to all religious persuations. It was to prevent either from intruding onto the other.

I offer the following just to give the reader a sense of the history of the first ammendment:   On highway 20 in Virginia, about seven miles east of Orange there is a monument with the embossed image of John Leland's face. Leland was an influential Virginian and Baptist preacher who championed religious liberty prticularly as expressed by Thomas Jefferson. Many historians believe this monument marks the very spot where James Madison and John Leland met to discuss Madisons candidacy for Virginia delegate to the Convention to ratify the Federal Constitution. It was at that meeting that Leland pressed Madison concerning his stand on religious freedom and individual rights. Madison promised Leland if he was elected, he would do all in his power to see that religious freedom and individual freedom would be incorporated into the Constitution by amendment. Elder John Leland and hence the Orange Baptists based on Madison's promises gave their support to Madison election.  Madison Expressed his views in a document entitled, "A Memorial and Remonstrance."

As expected, Madison voted in favor of ratification of the Constitution and then, true to his word, he drafted and introduced twelve amendments to the Constitution. Amendment 3 of Madisons proposed Bill of Rights reads, "Congress shall make no laws establishing articles of Faith, or mode of worship, or prohibiting the free exercise of religion, or abridging freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition to the government for redress of grievances."

The members of the convention condensed Madisons proposed third article. In fact, they changed it to the First Amendment which reads; "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."

I am also of the opinion that in our multi-cultural world state-sponsored religious exercises should not allowed in public schools.  But to exclude voluntary expressions is also wrong. Religion can be expressed voluntarily without being coercive in dozens of ways by the students and even in the classroom.  The cheerleaders in Newton, Texas have demonstrated this. 

Having said all of this I want to say loudly and clearly . . .  GOD IS NOT TRUANT!  God does not skip school and cannot be kept out of class. While it is possible to prohibit proscribed prayers and Bible classes in our public school it is impossible to remove God from anywhere. God is Omnipotent! He is everywhere all the time. To declare that the state has removed God from the school is to be guilty of idolatry. It is to ascribe to the state a power that it does not have . . . the power to move God in any direction against His will. The government at every level is infinitely impotent when it comes to God.  It is God who establishes the government. The government is His servant as much as Balaam’s Ass was His servant.

We have not banned God from our schools, our culture or the public square because we don’t have that kind of power it would take to do that. The Scripture is replete with references to this fact. Just two examples are: “God is an ever present help in time of trouble . . . .”  “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me,  your right hand will hold me fast.”

Some will say, “You are straining at a gnat.”  I beg to differ. To say that by removing prayer and other Christian expressions from the school, or the public square or from anywhere is the moral equivalent of removing God is idolatry. It is to make someone, some institution or some movement bigger than God.  Richard Lovelace famously stated, “Stone walls do not a prison make,  Nor iron bars a cage.” The same is true about God. You cannot put God in a box and you cannot keep Him from being where He chooses to be.

So, what is the conclusion of the matter for the Christian. It is this: Whether in a public school, the public square, the local church or wherever you are “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."

So my friend while you may not be allowed to pray publically in school and while you may not hold a Bible class on campus and the public square is off limits for public displays of personal or corporate faith you can be assured that God is there with you. In fact He got there before you did to prepare the way for you.

Now briefly, a word about tragedies that happen. After any and every  tragedy is a particularly appropriate time to reach out to God for comfort and guidance. We’ll never be able to explain things like what happened in Newtown with the murders of so many children. Politicians cannot explain it; theologians have no answer; and social scientists don’t have a clue and every self-serving, simplistic and simply wrong explanations by media talking heads will not do.
 
I am thankful for that cadre of faithful ministers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ who after these kinds of tragedies take to their pulpits and offer the kind of leadership that enables us to find our way through the wilderness of our sense of hurt, bewilderment and loss. They give us words of hope and do not use these tragedies to further their personal agendas and fill their war chests. Instead they lead their congregants, many who came to worship with heavy hearts, find hope in the Eternal God who was present in the midst of the tragedy and in the midst of the congregation.