THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO TV?

Over the next few Sundays in August, I’m teaching a series called, “THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO TV - a biblical teaching series for a generation of screenagers.”

As I prepared for this series, I asked my friends on Facebook to tell me what they think are the BEST and WORST current television shows. (Of course, I would choose Andy Griffith for the best show, and although it’s technically still on TV land, it’s really not what I’d consider a current TV show. So thanks to all of you who said Andy Griffith and I Love Lucy!)

I received almost 100 responses, and I tabulated them below for my unofficial DOD TV SURVEY. See if you agree with the results:

BEST:
NCIS
LOST
THE MENTALIST.
(receiving honorable mentions were The Amazing Race, 24, and the Office)

WORST:
OPRAH (landslide)
BACHELOR/BACHERLORETTE
KEEPING UP WITH THE KARDASHIANS
(receiving dishonorable mentions were Desperate Housewives, Nip and Tuck and Nancy Grace).

I haven’t seen any of the best, but one friend said that the show “Lost” is a parable of the Christian life, so I might check it out. Some of my personal favorites are Grey’s Anatomy (don't freak out...just hear this Sunday’s message); and The Deadliest Catch (the only show I DVR). Of course, during college football season I’m watching anytime OU or Auburn is playing.

This is a great place to address the question, “Pastor, should a Christian even watch a show like Grey’s Anatomy?” Well, I'm a Christian and I watch it. There are some Christians who sincerely believe that they shouldn’t watch any secular television, movies, or listen to secular music. I don’t have an argument with them because if watching this kind of television show causes them to stumble or sin, then they should definitely cut it off. Over the next few months as I teach through Matthew I'm going to address Jesus' words where He said that if your right hand causes you to sin, then cut it off. He wasn’t speaking literally, but if watching a certain show causes you to sin, I mean it literally - cut it off.

Some people remind me of the man who complained about all the sex and violence on his DVR! In Romans 14 Paul used the example of eating meat sacrificed to idols as an illustration of "disputable matters" that Christians shouldn't argue over. If watching a television show tempts you beyond your ability to resist, by all means, DON'T watch it. But if you can watch a show like Grey's Anatomy and understand that it reflects our corrupt culture, then maybe the misery of these fictional characters can give you some insight into the lives of real people who desperately need the HOPE that can only be found in Jesus.

"The Gospel According to TV" is an example of a "topical message series." This kind of topical series is outside my comfort zone. My typical Sunday morning style is to take a book of the Bible and teach through it verse by verse. I’m currently teaching through the “Parables and Miracles” in Matthew’s gospel. This is my favorite kind of Bible teaching because I believe God’s Word was written to be read and studied, verse by verse, line upon line, precept upon precept. This kind of expository Bible teaching builds strong Christians and strong churches.

Some of the younger pastors who are starting contemporary churches usually avoid long biblical series like the plague. They prefer short, topic-driven series that utilize current themes. I’m not criticizing them, and I say, “go for it if you’re reaching people for Christ!” But some of these young leaders have been told they can’t grow churches these days with expository, verse by verse preaching. Over the past 18 years, I’ve taught through most of the books in the New Testament and quite a few Old Testament books as well. And God has blessed our church with healthy growth!

So even though my favorite style is verse by verse, I enjoy taking a break every now and then during these lengthy series to provide a little variety. Over the past few years, I’ve taken August to present a different kind of series. I’ve done “The Gospel According to Country Music;” “No, that’s NOT in the Bible;” and “The Gospel According to GSPN.” Last August, during the Beijing Olympics, I taught a series called, “Go for the Gold – How to become a Champion for God.” These series are available online here.

So, I’m looking forward to this current series, “The Gospel According to TV.” My message titles are: “Grace Anatomy;” “American Idols;” “And Now a Word from our Sponsor;” “Desperate Households” and “Sunday Morning Live.”

It should be fun. These messages are going to be a little about TV and a lot about Jesus!

Want to still weigh in on what you think are the BEST and WORST shows on television? You can contact me at david@mail.gabc.org

WHAT'S A CAMP MEETING?

This week, I’ve been preaching at the Salem Camp Meeting near Covington, Georgia. It is the oldest continually running Camp Meeting in America. It started in 1828 and it has been meeting every summer since then. In fact, this week is the 181st meeting. I’m honored to be the keynote speaker each day at this refreshing experience.

So, back to the question--What's A Camp Meeting? Camp Meetings are a rich part of our southern spiritual heritage. They were both a catalyst and a result of the Second Great Awakening that swept through our young nation in the beginning of the 19th Century. As settlers moved westward and southward from the original 13 colonies, most of the families lived on farms that were isolated from their neighbors. The demands of these pioneer farms required that family members work hard to survive. Many of them lived without the benefit of having a local church, but they were committed Christians. Camp Meetings sprung up as an answer to the spiritual need of these brave pioneers. After the crops were “laid by” in the summer before the time of harvest, families would pack up their wagons and gather together to have a week or two of spiritual refreshing. Hundreds of people would gather and camp out in tents for the duration. There would be plenty of food, fellowship, and activities, but the main focus was on the preaching and music.

Today, at Salem Camp Meeting, they carry on the tradition. Hundreds of people and dozens of families gather at this location year after year for a combination of a family reunion and a revival. The families occupy “tents” which are actually rustic cabins that surround the several-acre property. Some of them were the original hand-hewn cabins built in the 19th century, but most of them have been upgraded to include air conditioning these days. Twenty to fifty extended family members may occupy one tent! When the families aren’t worshipping or eating, they are simply sitting out on the porches in rocking chairs visiting and resting. Remember those days? It’s a stark contrast to the mad rush of the modern world that is spinning just a few hundred yards from the camp property.

Many of these families have been attending Salem Camp Meeting for generations. They come back each summer because their grandparents came, their parents came, and they came every year as kids, and now they bring their children. There is a wonderful combination of sweet, elderly saints, young adults, and plenty of children singing and laughing as they ride their bikes around the open-air tabernacle. It’s almost like going back in time – a better time when family and faith were the two things that mattered the most.

In addition to the families who are staying in the tents, many residents from the area attend the services each day at 11am and 8pm. Choirs from many local churches come and provide special music, too.

The outdoor tabernacle was built in 1828. I’m amazed as I look at the huge hand-hewn timbers that support the massive roof. They were smart engineers back then without the benefit of computers or even blueprints. The only new addition is a shingle roof on the exterior which replaced the “brush arbor” from the earliest years. This tabernacle has stood through storms and heat for 181 years. The tabernacle’s roof begins about seven feet above the ground then soars to about sixty feet – and the principle of heated air rising actually draws a nice breeze into the outdoor pavilion. The air rises up through the exposed interior roof and escapes through an ingenious vent at the peak of the ceiling. I’ve been preaching at 11am and 8pm and I haven’t sweated any more than I do in the Worship Center at Green Acres. Amazing!

The dirt floor is covered with a thick layer of sawdust (wood chips) which also seems to keep the area cool as well. The old wooden benches have had cushions added, but it’s easy to imagine people sitting there in the same spots worshipping and hearing God’s Word 181 years ago!

I’ve been eating every day in the dining hall and the food is pure southern cuisine. They serve fried chicken every meal except breakfast! And there is plenty of fresh vegetables and cornbread, too. I’m becoming a “big preacher” just from being here a few days! I never thought I would tire of fried chicken, but I’m getting close! I feel like the Baptist preacher who was served fried chicken every meal for a week, and he really didn’t like chicken. He arrived at the ninth house in a row serving fried chicken and was asked to pray the blessing. He said:

“Lord, I’ve had it hot, I’ve had it cold;
I’ve had it young, and I’ve had it old;
I’ve had it tender, and I’ve had it tough;
But, thank you, Lord, I’VE HAD ENOUGH!”


In the 19th century, pioneers would pack a year’s worth of worship in just a few days of preaching and singing. God did a mighty work through these Camp Meetings. And I have sensed His presence in a mighty way this week at the Salem Camp Meeting.

Maybe what America needs for the next Great Awakening is a few more camp meetings! I wonder where we would be if we took a lesson from generations past.

If you want more information about the Salem Camp click here



Comments? Email me at david@mail.gabc.org

MUSIC: HERE'S YOUR NICKELBACK

I’ve always had an eclectic appreciation for music and enjoy a wide variety of genres. On my Facebook info page, I say my favorite music group is the Green Acres Celebration Choir and orchestra – I DO love hearing them week after week and listening to their latest CD in my truck.
But still, I've listened to different kinds of music since the time I was a teenager. I grew up listening to the Beatles. I made my first foray into music performance when two of my 6th grade friends and I declared ourselves “The Potato Bugs.” (We thought the Beatles were beetles – bugs, you see). We dressed up in potato sacks (honestly) and even sang at several places, including a talent competition at Florala High School (it was a shock when we didn’t win).
In High School, I was the lead singer and rhythm guitarist in a rock band called “The Inverted Illusion.” This was during the early 70’s when rock bands were named by choosing a random adjective and linking it with a random noun. Bands of the day included Iron Butterfly, Led Zepplin, and the band we modeled ourselves after: Grand Funk Railroad.
Today students have to have a DJ who spins the tunes, but back in the 70’s a live band was required for a good dance. So, the Inverted Illusion actually got PAID to play at quite a few Friday night dances. We weren’t that good, but we were very loud (and as they used to say about songs on American Bandstand, “It has a good beat and you can dance to it.”) The amplifier for my Fender Telecaster was as big as a doorway, and I think I still suffer a little hearing loss from those days. One of our songs was “In-A-Gadda-da-Vida” (by Iron Butterfly). It had a ten-minute drum solo that allowed the other three of us to put our guitars down and go get a coke while our drummer sweated away.
In college, I was in a touring group called “The Hear and Now Singers.” Sadly, some of those pictures have appeared on my Facebook page. We wore California-designed jumpsuits, and our concerts were professionally choreographed. We sang Christian songs as well as songs by Chicago and other popular groups.
I still enjoy most kinds of music (except heavy metal rock music and gangsta rap). Since I’m a huge Beatles fan I’ve downloaded almost all of their songs, as well as hundreds other songs. I was one of the early Napster downloaders (before file sharing was declared illegal). At the time, I had a dial-up modem, so the download times were agonizingly slow. I would start downloading a single song and then go off and watch TV for the next 15 minutes as one song downloaded! Since Napster was declared illegal, I’ve since been downloading songs using iTunes.
Despite the grey in my hair, I’m not just an “oldies” music guy. I have XM radio. I can read Lady Ga Ga's pa-pa-pa-poker face. And I know the Ting Ting's real name. But one of my favorite current groups is Nickelback. They’re a Canadian rock band who chose their name because band member Mike Kroeger used to work at Starbucks (when coffee was $1.95), so he found himself often saying, “here’s your nickel back.”
A couple of their recent songs sound like something you’d hear me say on Sunday mornings. Here are some of the lyrics to “If Today Was Your Last Day.”

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day's a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

Against the grain should be a way of life
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try
So live like you'll never live it twice
Don't take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars
Regardless of who you are
So do whatever it takes
'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life
Let nothin' stand in your way
Cause the hands of time are never on your side.

Another song I like is entitled, “If Everyone Cared.” The chorus says: “If everyone cared and nobody cried; If everyone loved and nobody lied; If everyone shared and swallowed their pride: then we’d see the day when nobody died.” Of course, even if people behaved better, people would still die, but fewer people would die at the hands of evil people.

Nickelback isn’t the first group to moralize with their music – almost all groups get around to trying to make the world a better place. In 1965 Jackie DeShannon sang, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” John Lennon preached his morality in “Imagine.” Pink warns young girls to strive for success in “Stupid Girls.” And, of course, Bono uses U2's music to preach for social justice.
To me, these and hundreds of other pop and rock songs just prove that there is a universal desire to make the world a better place. In other words, these musicians are all looking for THE ANSWER.
As Christians, we’ve found it – actually we’ve found HIM. Andre’ Crouch put it this way:
JESUS IS THE ANSWER;
FOR THE WORLD TODAY;
ABOVE HIM THERE’S NO OTHER;
FOR JESUS IS THE WAY!

So, go ahead and enjoy your Nickelback, but don't settle for anything less than the priceless GIFT of eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord!

comments? email me at: david@mail.gabc.org

DON'T STOP PRAYING!

After my last blog, I wanted to update my readers on my strategy to deal with my prostate cancer. Over the past three weeks, I’ve visited with a number of doctors including a radiology oncologist, an oncologist, and another urologist. I’ve also discussed my situation with many guys who have been diagnosed with prostate cancer and are living healthy, normal lives.

After much prayer and counsel, I have decided that rather than have surgery or radiation therapy at this time, I’m going to participate in what is called “Expectant Management.” That means doing nothing (which I’m pretty good at doing) for now. I will have my PSA checked regularly and have another biopsy in a year to 18 months.

This expectant management approach is an acceptable treatment option recognized by urologists. The key is that the person with the cancer has to be able to deal with the fact that there are cancer cells present without WORRYING about it. Some people, even those with my low numbers, might opt for surgery simply because they couldn’t cope with the idea that any cancer cells are present. Although I sometimes struggle with other sins, WORRY isn’t one of them!

In addition to waiting and watching, I’m making a specific effort to eat healthier, exercise more, and to take some natural compounds shown to reduce and even eliminate prostate cancer. These include Selenium, Pomegranate Juice, and other antioxidants. I appreciate all the suggestions and sample nutrients that members of Green Acres have shared with me.

Mainly, I’m depending on prayer. I have been humbled and overwhelmed by the expressions of prayer and encouragement that I have received over the past couple of months. Several groups in our church (including our deacons, Sunday Morning Bible Study groups, and other individuals) have laid hands on me and prayed for my healing.

My attitude is that of the Apostle Paul when he wrote:

"For I KNOW that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to LIVE is Christ and to die is GAIN!" (Philippians 1:19-21)

So, even though I’m not going to undergo treatment, please don’t stop praying for me. I’m asking God to remove even the few cancer cells that are present so that when I have the next biopsy in a year or so, we will find that it is GONE!

RELAX - I'M NOT WORRIED ABOUT MY HEALTH!

It may be a little unusual to post such personal health information on my blog, but I believe that this is probably the best way to get the word out to the hundreds of friends who have told me they’re praying for me and are interested in the results of my prostate biopsy. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about let me give you a little background.

As you can tell by reading the blog “Who moved the Stone?” below, I had the wonderful privilege of having a kidney stone in January. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise (Romans 8:28) because it led to (or was the result of, who knows?) a urinary infection which in turn led my doctor to recommend that I undergo a TUR surgery (Trans Urethral Resection of the Prostate). As part of the TUR surgery, a small amount of tissue removed from the prostate is routinely sent to a pathology lab. The pathology report revealed the presence of a low grade/early stage cancer of the prostate (only about 3% of the cells were cancerous).

Any time you hear the “C” word, it’s a little scary. But I never was scared or worried. And since I firmly believe in the power of prayer, I shared this information with our congregation and many other friends. I didn’t want to keep it private because I wanted as much prayer cover as possible. Over the past six weeks, I’ve been humbled and overwhelmed by the many expressions of love and the promises of prayer from people in Green Acres, Tyler, and around the nation. (Even if there were some weird rumors going around like I had colon cancer and was resigning from Green Acres!)

Six weeks after the TUR surgery my doctor had scheduled a prostate biopsy. I had that done on April 14. My doctor removed twelve cores of tissue from my prostate (another fun day), and these were sent to the pathology lab. I met with my doctor earlier today (April 23) to discuss the results of the biopsy and the report was WONDERFUL! I left his office praising the Lord.

Of the 12 samples, only one showed any misshapen cells that could be considered cancerous, and they are the same early stage/low grade cells that were found from the TUR surgery. So, the worst case would have been if they found more advanced, wider-spread cancer in the prostate, but instead, there is only a small presence (which we already knew from the TUR results).

For those who understand the medical numbers, my PSA is 2.9, The focal area on the one core showed low-grade adenocarcinoma with Gleason score 6 (3+3). Using the TNM staging scale, the cancer stage is T1a.

So, I am praising God for this good report! It just “happened” by “coincidence” that the passage I’ve been studying and preparing to teach on this Sunday is Matthew 6:25-34 where Jesus said, “Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life ….Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” Of course the word “coincidence” isn’t in God’s vocabulary! And I can honestly say that I haven’t been worried about what the results of the biopsy would show. And I’m not worried about the future.

I’m not naïve enough to believe Bobby McFerrin’s song, “Don’t worry, be happy!” Instead, the song I’m singing is:
“God is good all the time;
He put a song of praise in this heart of mine.
God is good all the time;
through the darkest night, His light will shine.
God is good; He’s so good; All the time!”

As far as treatment options, I’m going to be discussing these with a couple of other doctors (including my daughter and son-in-law, who are both physicians). I’m a good candidate for the “expectant management” treatment, which means that my doctor watches my PSA and performs another biopsy in a year to see if there is any change. Another option would be to undergo radiation therapy, which I am also investigating. As I consider my options, I covet your prayers and any advice from those of you who have walked in my shoes.

For your information, I feel great and am only able to play golf about six days a week now. 

Basically, I want you to know how much I appreciate your prayers and support. It means more to me than you’ll ever know. I agree with the sentiment of the Apostle Paul who wrote these words to the brothers and sisters in Phillipi, “For I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance.” (Philippians 1:19)

COMMENTS?
Email me at david@mail.gabc.org

Hugs ARE Better Than Drugs!

Not long ago I spoke on 2 Corinthians 13:12 where Paul encouraged the Believers to "greet one another with a holy kiss." I believe there is a greater need for us to express affection within the Family of God. Here's what I said in that message:

Have you ever heard preachers or teachers say that a kiss on the cheek was the general social custom of the time, and that today since our custom is shaking hands that we should substitute a handshake instead of a kiss? That sounds good, but it causes us to miss a very important point. All it takes is a study of the secular customs of the Roman culture and you will find that KISSING ON THE CHEEK was NOT a regular form of greeting among friends - they would actually shake hands - or men would grasp each others forearms - haven’t you seen the movies? Spartacus says, “Andronicus, how are you? And he grabs his forearm. Actually handshaking originated to show that a person was not holding a knife or sword in their hand.

During the time Paul wrote this, a kiss on the cheek was a custom reserved for family members. It’s the same with us; we kiss our children, our parents and grandparents, and our brothers and sisters, but we rarely kiss strangers. The point Paul was making is that the people in our church aren’t strangers, we’re part of the Family of God. We’re brothers and sisters in Christ, and when we gather together it’s like a family reunion. I never really liked for my Aunt Gertrude to kiss me because she wore a lot of lipstick and I usually had to wipe it off my face, but I sure loved her banana pudding so I endured her kisses! In other words, we should show the same affection here that we show to our biological family - maybe even more! Now I’m not advocating a frenzy of kissing, I’m just saying that we ought to be free to express holy affection to one another. That’s a lot better than getting one of those dead-fish handshakes and a mumbled hello.

Somebody sent me the picture (see above) of two infants. The story sounded almost too good to be true, but I checked out the facts and discovered that it is an inspirational, true story about the value of affection. Much of this information was gleaned from a blog by Donald DeMarco, a seminary professor in Cromwell, CT.

Kyrie (red dot on diaper) and Brielle Jackson were born on Oct. 17, 1995, a full 12 weeks ahead of their due date. At that time the standard practice at the Medical Centre of Central Massachusetts in Worcester, where the twins came into the world, was to place them in separate incubators in order to reduce the risk of infection.

Kyrie's birth weight was two pounds, three ounces. She gained weight quickly and slept calmly. Brielle, however, three pounds lighter than her sister, had breathing and heart-rate problems. The oxygen level in her blood was low, and her weight gain was slow. On Nov. 12, tiny Brielle went into critical condition. Her stick-thin arms and legs turned bluish-grey as she gasped for air. Her heart rate soared. The Jackson parents watched, terrified that their little daughter might die.

It is said that desperate moments call for desperate measures. Nurse Gayle Kasparian, after exhausting all the conventional remedies, decided to try a procedure that was common in parts of Europe, but virtually unknown in the United States. With parental permission, she placed the twins in the same bed. No sooner had she closed the incubator door, Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie and began to calm down. Within minutes, her blood-oxygen readings improved. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her left arm around her smaller sister. Brielle's heart rate stabilized and her temperature rose to normal.

In due time, the twins went home. Their parents placed them, once again, in the same bed where they continued to thrive. Even after five years, according to mom and dad, the twins still sleep together and, not surprisingly, still snuggle.

The photograph of Kyrie hugging her little sister, dubbed "the Rescuing Hug," appeared in both Life magazine and Reader's Digest. It brought fame to the pair and spurred a growing interest in co-bedding premature twins, triplets, and quads. The University of Massachusetts Memorial, for example, has co-bedded at least 100 sets of multiple-birth preemies. Observing this practice over a period of five years, the hospital staff there have not found a single case of twin-to-twin infection.

Someone has said that we need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance, and 12 for growth. This may not be mathematically accurate, but it does illuminate a truth about human beings: "I touch, therefore we are," is infinitely more revealing of human nature than "I think, therefore I am."

Science tells us that hugging is healthy in a variety of ways. It strengthens our immune system, reduces stress, assists sleep, and is an antidote to depression. Researchers at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill state that cuddling with your spouse can be good for your blood pressure. Kathleen Keating may not tell us everything we want to know about the mutual benefits of hugging in her book, The Hug Therapy, but she does make it clear that hugging can be wonderfully therapeutic in a variety of ways for people of all ages.

We adults are often blind to the obvious. Sometimes, it takes two premature infants to remind us of what kind of beings we are. Through hugs and handshakes, smiles and squeezes, touches and tickles, kisses and cuddles, we honor and affirm one another. This is not something we need to learn. Brielle and Kyrie knew this long before they were conscious of it. But it is something we may need to re-learn, and surely something we should never forget.

So, as you head out into your world of people, don’t be asking yourself, “Who is going to hug me?” Instead be asking, “Who can I hug today?” Hugs are MUCH better than drugs!

Comments? Write me at david@mail.gabc.org

PENALIZING GENEROUS DONORS – Change We DON’T Need!

President Obama ran on the slogan: “Change We Can Believe In” and then “Change We Need.” I’ll be the first to admit that we’re in a financial mess, and we “need” some fundamental changes. However, one of the proposals of the President’s 2010 budget plan is to reduce the tax deduction that can be claimed for charitable donations. This includes money given to churches as well as other non-profit organizations. This effectively means a TAX HIKE for the most generous donors.

I believe that this is a CHANGE WE DON’T NEED! If you agree, then join what FoxNews has called “The Charity Revolt” and let your voice be heard. To me, this proposal is a violation of the principle of separation between church and state because the people most affected by this proposal will be religious donors.

Americans are generous givers, but studies have proven that “religious people” are much more generous than “secularists.” In the year 2000, religious Americans (33% of the population who attend worship at least once a week) were 25 percentage points more likely to give charitably than “secularists” (27% who attend worship less than a few times a year, or claim no religion). In terms of actual dollars given, religious Americans gave nearly four times more money per year ($2,210) than secularists ($642). Religious people also volunteered more than twice as often as secularists. (According to an article in The American Magazine.)

Many charities and non-profits that depend on their endowment income have been adversely affected by this recession. At a time when philanthropic giving is dropping, this proposal could drive the nail in the coffin for some non-profit ministries and organizations that depend heavily on large donations from generous givers. Most churches will survive, but they will be required to reduce their budgets if their most generous givers are penalized for making large donations.

The Obama Administration’s response to criticism of this measure is that the government is going to give money to non-profits to make up for this shortfall. Budget Director Peter Orszag said, “Contained in the recovery act, there’s $100 million to support nonprofits and charities as we get through this period of economic difficulty.” (quoted in The Washington Times, 2/27/09)

Okay, let me get this straight. The government is going to PENALIZE people who give the most to support churches and charities, and then they are going to turn around and compensate by giving government money to nonprofit organizations? How much of that $100 million do you think churches or uniquely Christian charities will receive? Don’t hold your breath. (Remember, ACORN is also a non-profit organization.) This is just another example of the government wanting to get into the business that has always been reserved for churches and charities.

We teach and practice that God’s Word instructs us to give a tithe (10%) to the Lord’s work. This proposal will penalize many people who are trying to honor the Lord by giving Him ten percent of their income to His work. This proposal doesn’t limit the amount most Americans can deduct for their donations; instead, it targets families making over $250,000 per year. It’s still a bad idea because it penalizes those who give the MOST money to churches and other charitable organizations.

The previously cited article in The American Magazine reports that the top 10% of households with an average income donate 25% of the all the money that is contributed to charity. And households with a net worth of $1Million or more are responsible for 50% of all charitable gifts. I’m surprised that there isn’t a louder outcry over this proposal from churches and other non-profit organizations.

This is certainly not an attack on President Obama because I am committed to pray for him and, unlike Rush, I wish him (and pray for) success as he leads us out of this recession.

However, we can’t be too surprised about this proposal because charitable giving doesn’t appear to be a high priority in his life. His and Michelle’s tax returns are public record, and over the past seven years, the average income they reported was $551,000 (a low of $241,000 in 2000 and a high of $1.6 million in 2005). The average percentage of their income that the Obamas gave to charity over that seven-year period was 2.17%.

But compared to Vice-President Joe Biden, the Obamas are wildly generous! Over the past decade, Mr. Biden and his wife Jill (a college instructor) gave a TOTAL of $3,690 to charity. That computes to an average of 0.2% of their income to charity. That’s not two percent – that’s two-tenths of a percent.

Contact the White House and your Senators and Representatives to express your opinion about this proposal. If you want to join THE CHARITY REVOLT then contact the White House and your representatives and say or write:

“I’m opposed to the Administration’s 2010 budget plan to reduce itemized tax deductions for charitable giving.”

As I said in the beginning of this blog, this is a CHANGE WE DON’T NEED. If you agree, then you need to let your voice be heard in Washington –NOW! I’ve included the contact information for the White House and for Texas and East Texas. You can click here to find the contact information for your own Senators and Representative.


President Obama
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW
Washington, DC 20500
202-456-1111

Representative Louie Gohmert
1121 ESE Loop 323, #206
Tyler, TX 75701
903-561-6349
903-561-7110 (Fax)

Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison
284 Russell Senate Office Bldg.
Washington, DC 20510
202-224-5922
202-224-0776 (Fax)

Senator John Cornyn
First Place
100 E. Ferguson St., #1004
Tyler, TX 75702
903-593-0902
903-593-0920(Fax)


COMMENTS? Email me at david@mail.gabc.org

WHO MOVED THE STONE?

I write this blog with apologies to Frank Morison who has written a wonderful book with the same title about the scientific proof for the literal resurrection of Christ.
However, the stone I’m writing about isn’t as large or significant as the stone that was rolled away from the tomb of Jesus. My stone was a pernicious kidney stone.

I’ve never had a kidney stone before, but I’ve been associated with two guys who had kidney stone attacks. The first one was when I was in college on a youth retreat. Robert, a tough guy who played college basketball, was one of our leaders. About 1:00am he woke me up with his face drenched in sweat and a wild look in his eyes. He said, “You’ve got to drive me to the hospital.” So I loaded him into the back of my 1972 Plymouth Satellite Sebring and we took off for the 40-mile drive to Jackson Hospital in Montgomery, Alabama. He was sitting/lying/climbing the walls of the back seat while his wife was trying unsuccessfully to hold him down. He was screaming with a guttural roar that sounded like an angry male moose. I’m driving thinking, “Come on, suck it up, it can’t be that bad.” Yes it can.

My second vicarious kidney stone experience happened in seminary. I was singing in the Easter cantata at the church where I served as Associate Pastor. Halfway through the performance, Barry (the minister of music) suddenly turned green and started sweating profusely. Next, he bent over awkwardly to one side making it hard to follow his direction. He finally waved his arms in defeat, called a stop to the music and hurried off the platform. Everyone was so stunned, we didn’t know what to do. A minute later, his wife scurried back on stage and motioned for me. She said that Barry was on the way to the ER with a kidney stone. Would I mind finishing directing the Easter musical? I remember thinking, “C’mon Barry, what a pansy!” He wasn’t.

At 3:00am on January 16, 2009 (three hours into my 56th birthday) I awoke with a dull pain in my lower left back that felt like a muscle strain. The pain wasn’t severe, but it was annoying enough to keep me from going back to sleep. I finally got up at 5:00 as I do on Fridays to teach our Men’s Fraternity group at church. I made it through that with no real trouble. It was fortuitous that I had a regular appointment already scheduled with my urologist that morning, whom I shall lovingly refer to as Dr. Jekyll. When I described my symptoms, he suspected it was a stone and sent me to another location for a CT scan. Happy Birthday to me. The scan revealed that there was a fairly large stone (5mm) present. But it still wasn’t hurting too badly, and, hey, I’m a tough guy. Meanwhile, my kidney function was also below acceptable levels, so my urologist and primary doctor (who I will affectionately reference as Dr. Feelgood) discussed admitting me to the hospital. Happy Birthday to me.

They were ready to admit me, but when my daughter (who is a Dermatologist) weighed in with the fact that I wasn’t really hurting (because I’m so tough), they agreed to allow me to stay at home and just come in on Saturday for an outpatient blood test. They told me to drink LOTS of water, so I was obediently guzzling it by the gallon. After a good night’s rest on Friday, I had decided that this kidney stone deal was a piece of cake and, as I had suspected all along: Robert and Barry were wimps. I was wrong.

On Saturday afternoon, I suddenly went from feeling a dull pain in my back to scream-like-a-girl level of pain in a matter of minutes. Let me see if I can help you understand how to replicate what I felt that day. First, get an aluminum softball bat and have someone start tapping you on your lower back – gently at first like shiatsu massage. But increasing in force until your “masseuse” is swinging for the fences. Don’t stop there, however. While they are hitting you with the bat as hard as they can, drive a dull nail through the bat and keep hitting. Then, with the person still hitting you with the nail/bat, have someone stand in front of you and take a very sharp ice pick and start poking your bladder from the front. Both people must keep poking and swinging until you are certain that the nail and ice pick are meeting somewhere between your kidney and your bladder. Then it gets bad. The bat and the nail and the ice pick get bigger.

I’ve never taken much prescription pain medication, but I had an old prescription bottle of Percocet. I took one – no change after an hour. So, I took another one. I couldn’t tell that it helped at all, but, hey, I am a tough guy so I’m trying to tough this out. I spent most of Saturday night pacing from one side of my house to the other (which seemed to take my mind off the pain), bent over in pain, singing every praise song I know between groans and grimaces. I’d try lying down, but the pain was too bad, so I’d get up and walk again. Then it got worse.

By Sunday morning, I was in such pain that I was nauseated (a new experience for me), so I couldn’t even keep water down. My daughter and son-in-law (who is also a doctor) arrived at our house after church and realized that I needed to get to the hospital asap. My daughter called Dr. Feelgood and Dr. Jekyll and they agreed.

So, for the first time in my life, I was admitted to the hospital. But to be honest, I don’t remember much about it. I recall getting into the hospital bed and getting an IV in the back of my hand.


The nurse giving me 4cc’s of morphine said, “this should take away the pain.” It didn’t. The pain was still there causing me to double up and need to walk around. That’s when the wonderful Dr. Feelgood came in. He works with many hospice patients so he is somewhat of an expert on pain medication. When he saw the morphine wasn’t working, he ordered Diladid (I think that’s it). Almost immediately, the pain disappeared as I vanished down into a warm, fuzzy, rabbit hole. (That’s why I call him Dr. Feelgood) So finally the pain was gone, but the stone was still there.

On Monday, Dr. Jekyll decided to “go after that pesky stone.” Because of the location of the stone, lithotripsy (using sound waves to crush the stone) wasn’t an option. Before I went into surgery, they gave me more drugs, which induced conscious sedation. I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure that all I did was quote scripture verses. Right. Then they gave me general anesthesia, and Dr. Jekyll did his thing. I’m not going to offend your sensibilities by telling you how he went after that pesky stone, just know that it wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t able to extract it during surgery. I think he only made it mad. Have you ever tried to drag a cat out from under a bed when the cat doesn’t want to come out from under the bed? I imagine that’s what that stone was doing – backing up and hissing at the surgical instruments.

So the good Dr. Jekyll inserted a device forged from the depths of hell called a uretral stent inside the tiny tube that runs from my kidney to the bladder. The purpose of the stent was to dilate the ureter to allow the stone to exit. But the stent gave the stone a good run for the pain money! But the only time it hurt was when I breathed. Seriously, it hurt for a few days, and then felt better.

About a week ago, I was scheduled for another visit to Dr. Jekyll to go after the stone again. I had another CT scan performed before the visit to his office, and the scan revealed that THE STONE WAS GONE!

I had gotten emails and cards from friends quoting scripture saying, “this, too, shall pass.” Well, if I passed it, I wasn’t aware of it. Friends who’ve had kidney stones assure me that you KNOW when it passes. So I feel blessed that the stone is gone, and I’m feeling good again. I deeply apologize to Robert and Barry for thinking they were wimps, and I have a new found empathy for people who have kidney stones. I really do appreciate both Dr. Jekyll and Dr. Feelgood, and I have promised both of them that I will drink LOTS of water to prevent future stones. But, WHO MOVED THE STONE? Only God knows.

Comments?
Email me at david@mail.gabc.org

UPDATE to Grace on a High School Football Field

Click here for a video of the amazing story I shared below about grace on a high school football field in Grapevine, TX.

Wise Words from a Great Friend

Adrian Rogers was one of my heroes and mentors. I always considered him to be the “prince of preachers.” Over the last decade before he went home to be with Jesus, I had the privilege of knowing him on a personal level. He was a kind, compassionate, witty, positive friend who encouraged me and other young pastors. I miss him. In these days of economic bail-out plans, perhaps we need to hear his words of wisdom again:

“You cannot legislate the poor into freedom by legislating the wealthy out of freedom.

What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving.

The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else.

When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to get what they work for, that my dear friend, is about the end of any nation.

You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it.”

Dr. Adrian Rogers, 1931-2005

GRACE ON A HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL FIELD

UPDATE: Click here for a video of this amazing story!

One of my favorite Sports Writers is Rick Reilly. For years, the first page I would read in my Sports Illustrated magazine was his column on the back page. Rick has left SI and writes for ESPN Magazine now. One of his recent columns was so good that I want to share it with you. The following is his article:


They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas.It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through.

Did you hear that? The other team's fans?

They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions.

It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.
"I never in my life thought I'd hear people cheering for us to hit their kids," recalls Gainesville 's QB and middle linebacker, Isaiah. "I wouldn't expect another parent to tell somebody to hit their kids. But they wanted us to!"

And even though Faith walloped them 33-14, the Gainesville kids were so happy that after the game they gave head coach Mark Williams a sideline squirt-bottle shower like he'd just won state. Gotta be the first Gatorade bath in history for an 0-9 coach.

But then you saw the 12 uniformed officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field and two and two started to make four. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. That's because Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility 75 miles north of Dallas . Every game it plays is on the road.

This all started when Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something kind for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville , but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, Gainesville 0-8 with 2 TDs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery—many of whose families had disowned them—wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets.

So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."

Some people were naturally confused. One Faith player walked into Hogan's office and asked, "Coach, why are we doing this?"

And Hogan said, "Imagine if you didn't have a home life. Imagine if everybody had pretty much given up on you. Now imagine what it would mean for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."

Next thing you know, the Gainesville Tornadoes were turning around on their bench to see something they never had before. Hundreds of fans. And actual cheerleaders!

"I thought maybe they were confused," said Alex, a Gainesville lineman (only first names are released by the prison). "They started yelling 'DEE-fense!' when their team had the ball. I said, 'What? Why they cheerin' for us?'"

It was a strange experience for boys who most people cross the street to avoid. "We can tell people are a little afraid of us when we come to the games," says Gerald, a lineman who will wind up doing more than three years. "You can see it in their eyes. They're lookin' at us like we're criminals. But these people, they were yellin' for us! By our names!"

Maybe it figures that Gainesville played better than it had all season, scoring the game's last two touchdowns. Of course, this might be because Hogan put his third-string nose guard at safety and his third-string cornerback at defensive end. Still.

After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah surprised everybody by asking to lead. "We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us."

And it was a good thing everybody's heads were bowed because they might've seen Hogan wiping away tears.

As the Tornadoes walked back to their bus under guard, they each were handed a bag for the ride home—a burger, some fries, a soda, some candy, a Bible and an encouraging letter from a Faith player.

The Gainesville coach saw Hogan, grabbed him hard by the shoulders and said, "You'll never know what your people did for these kids tonight. You'll never, ever know."

And as the bus pulled away, all the Gainesville players crammed to one side and pressed their hands to the window, staring at these people they'd never met before, watching their waves and smiles disappearing into the night.

Anyway, with the economy six feet under and Christmas running on about three and a half reindeer, it's nice to know that one of the best presents you can give is still absolutely free.

Hope.
by Rick Reilly, ESPN Magazine
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Comments? Email me at david@mail.gabc.org

A FOUR-WAL-MART AFTERNOON OF CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

The words to one of my favorite Christmas songs say:

“It’s that time of year when the world falls in love; ev’ry song you hear seems to say, ‘Merry Christmas, may your New Year dreams come true.’ And this song of mine in three-quarter time wishes you and yours the same thing, too.”

But as that song keeps running through my head, the lyrics change to: “It’s that time of year … when the world goes crazy … every neighbor tries to out-decorate his friends …”

Yep, it’s that time again – time for decorating for Christmas. I have to admit that the older I get, the less excited I am about pulling down all the boxes (about 30—not exaggerating!) from the attic and then untwisting Christmas light strands and trying to get them to work.

I think simple is better. There’s no way I’m going to put out thousands of lights that are computer-controlled to pulse in time with music. I have a friend in Tyler who does that - of course, their neighborhood is clogged with dozens (hundreds?) of cars trying to see the show. You can save yourself the drive and watch his light and sound show on youtube or click this link.

FYI, nobody is going to post my decorations on you tube, so don’t waste time looking!

Cindy and I have survived 34 years of marriage by agreeing that she will decorate the inside of the house and I will decorate the outside, and never shall the twain meet! I wasn’t able to get the jump on the Christmas lights until this past week. I was gently reminded that “all the other neighbors have their lights out.” So, I bent my back to the job – literally.

For me, decorating our front yard means lining the sidewalks with C7 lights (all you men will understand my decoration-code-speak). That involves spreading out the lights along the sidewalk and then inserting plastic light holders into the ground and then clipping the light into each holder. It’s a long way down to the ground these days – in fact, I had one older gentleman tell me that it’s so hard to bend down to tie his shoes that when he does it, he looks around to see if there is anything else he can do while he’s already down there!

So, since I used approximately 9,000 lights (my estimate), I spent several hours bending down and bending up repeatedly …. Only then to find out that I had the plugs at the wrong ends ….. so I got to do it again! Oh Joy to the World! The sound I keep hearing wasn’t a crackling fire, but a crackling spine! And those weren’t chestnuts popping—those were my joints! Do You Hear What I Hear? It wasn’t a Silent Night as I groaned into a hot bath later!

Okay, when the sidewalks are lined, then I get to put fake garland around the outer and inner front door (we have a porch) – and then I string miniature lights through the garland – that’s a pretty simple task.

The hardest job is stringing hundreds of miniature lights on the two 10 feet tall Christmas-tree shaped holly bushes that frame our front door. They’ve grown so tall and broad that it’s gotten harder each year to string the lights around them. And invariably after I placed the lights, one or more strands of lights would decide to stop working. So this year I came up with the brilliant plan of using those “light nets” which are lights that are connected to form a net that simply drapes over bushes. Thus began my Four-Wal-Mart-Afternoon adventure. Ho Ho Ho.

On the way home from church, I drove to the Troup Highway Supercenter and found the clear light nets. (That’s trip #1) I had no clue how big the nets were so I estimated two per bush. I got home and started putting them on and found that one bush is much wider than the other, so I was one net short. So I drove to the South Broadway Supercenter and fought the traffic and crowds and purchased one more box of net lights. I paid my $8 and drove back home (that was trip #2). Laughing all the way ….

I got back to my house and opened the box only to discover that I had mistakenly bought multi-colored lights instead of clear! I uttered a pleasant interjection at this point and got back in my car and drove back to the South Broadway Supercenter since I recalled they had plenty of lights. The parking lot was almost full by now so I drove around searching for a parking space in Smith County. I finally found one about 6 miles from the front door. Park! The Herald Angels Sing!

I walked up to the cashier in the Garden Center and told her of my mistake. I asked her if I could simply swap it out for the clear lights (I had the receipt). She explained that it would mess up their inventory, so I had to go to customer service. So I walked all the way through the crowded aisles of the store and got in line at customer service. I’ve never seen so many people in line. I’m sure that there were even Angels From the Realms of Glory there.

I finally got my $8 back and then returned to the Garden Center to buy a box of clear net lights. Of course, you can probably guess by now – they had dozens of boxes of multi-colored light nets, but not one single box of clear lights! So I left that Wal-Mart (that’s trip #3) Oh, Come on all you faithful! I even stopped by the Lowe’s down the road to check to see what they had … nada. It was a ghost town on the Christmas aisle because they had reduced all their decorations to 50% off.

So, I drove across town back to the Supercenter on Troup Highway, and voila! If you’re thinking they were out – you’re almost right. I searched among the dozens (hundreds?) boxes of multi-colored light nets and found the last two boxes of clear light nets hiding behind several stacks of multi-colored boxes on a center display. I grabbed them and held them over my head in victory like I was lifting the trophy for winning the Master’s Golf Tournament. “Yes!” I screamed as I headed to the cashier. The little lady next to me who heard my yell looked at me and asked, “Aren’t you that preacher I see on TV?” I was dressed in my sweats and cap and didn’t look very ministerial at that moment so I replied, “Joel Osteen? I get that a lot! No, I’m not him. Merry Christmas!” And I quickly moved to another line to check out. (And that was Wal-Mart trip #4). Tyler has grown so large and the traffic is so bad that I was wishing I lived in Oh Little Town of Bethlehem!

So as the winter sun was setting, I returned home and finished placing the light net on the holly bush (with one extra box left over just in case), and when I plugged everything in, it worked!!!! So what should have taken me about 45 minutes to do ended up taking almost four hours and I used up about 20 gallons of gas!

Oh well, Merry Christmas to you. When I was sitting at a traffic light on one of my many Wal-Mart trips I saw a hand-lettered cardboard sign nailed to a telephone pole that said, “We hang lights” with a phone number listed. I wrote the phone number down.
God Rest Me Merry Gentlemen ...

Comments? Email me at david @mail.gabc.org