Guess Who is Coming to Town

            You better watch out, you better not pout, you better not cry, I’m telling you why. You know who is coming to town!   That’s right, John the Baptist, that’s who!  Oh, you thought the other guy was coming—the one in the red suit.  No, it’s not time for him yet.  But in many of our churches, old John the Baptist is the one who will barge into our Christmas celebration this Sunday like the cold and the flu.  We don’t like it, we don’t want it, but there is nothing we can do but read the text (Mark 1: 1-8) and allow grisly old John to have his say.

        John the Baptist shows up every year on the Second Sunday of Advent like a bull in a china shop, embarrassing us with his crudeness, exasperating us with his directness, and shocking us with his bluntness.  We often treat him like a street preacher at the BBQ Festival, wishing he would shut up and go away.  And while he may look a lot like a street preacher and he does disturb the peace and throws cold water, quite literally, on our celebration, the difference is, while we are repulsed by the loud preachers of the street, we keep coming back to the booming voice of the wilderness that thunders, “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

        There is a word, a key word, that John the Baptist is fond of using, and street preachers too; the word is “repent.”   Street preachers use the word to condemn everyone and everything they don’t agree with.  Their message is focused on the past.  Go back to the old ways, to the way we used to do things, to the days before all of these modern ways became the ruination of our world! 

        But John the Baptist is not looking back, he is looking ahead.  He sees a new day coming, a day where people who have two coats will share with those who have none.  He sees a day where those in authority will not exploit their people. It is a day where righteousness and justice will reign and people will be empowered with God’s spirit and grace.

        The word “repent” simply means to change, and John the Baptist is telling us that this new day won’t happen like magic.  It’s more than just telling the fellow in the red suit what we want for Christmas and hoping he will deliver.  In order for us to experience this new creation when the valleys will be lifted up, the mountains brought low, the playing field leveled and all of God’s children can live together in peace—we have to change before we can experience the transformation.

        We need to repent, we need to change.  We need to change our attitudes toward those who are different and those who are less fortunate.  We are living in a contentious society marked by deep divisions that are often defined by prejudice and intolerance.  We don’t know how to disagree without being disagreeable.  We look down on the poor and blame them for their predicament.  Religious differences, racial and class distinctions and sexual lifestyles have become battlegrounds and we have no mercy on those who are wounded in the conflict of hatred and condemnation.   Every person, regardless of race, social class, sexual orientation, religion, or culture is a child of God, created in God’s image.  While I may not agree with a person’s lifestyle or personal standing, I need to see that person through the eyes of Jesus and demonstrate the love, mercy, and grace of God. 

        We also need to repent of our actions, or inactions.  We live in one of the richest nations on earth, the majority of the world’s resources are found in our country, but while we have more and more, we are giving less and less.  We have invested our lives in consumerism.  Money is becoming a narcotic for us.  And we are become stingier, less generous, and much more selfish with what we have.  Our churches, our non-profit agencies need our help.  All are struggling.  All of these agencies make a profound difference in the lives of others and impact our community. 

        Listen to old John the Baptist.  He is telling us to level the playing field, to share the resources that we have, to reach out and embrace the less fortunate, to repent, to change.  And when we do we will experience the transformation of God’s goodness and grace and we will really have a Merry Christmas when the guy in the red suit comes to town!

                                                                       

Faith Sees Best In The Dark

The cold rain and wind last Saturday morning was a fitting milieu for our sad journey.  My wife Joyce and I were on the way to Kinston, NC to bury our nephew who was only 47, far too young to end his earthly pilgrimage.

        William Dillahunt, Jr. was more like a son than a nephew to Joyce as he lived next door and only 2 ½ weeks separated him and our daughter, Lynn.  They were like brother and sister. He loved outdoor sports.  In fact, he loved hunting and fishing so much we didn’t think he would ever marry.  “Don’t have time,” he would say.

        But five years ago we attended his wedding as he stood before the love of his life, Susan, and together they pledged to love and to cherish each other “for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”  It was such a happy occasion that we never stopped to think that sickness and death would soon be knocking at their door.

        At first we heard he had Lyme’s Disease, but the doctors weren’t certain.  Finally, the terrible news was confirmed.  William Jr. had cancer.  His family, friends, and church family quickly rallied around him.  Social media spread his story and soon thousands of people were praying for him.  He faced his illness with courage and faith.  “I’m going to lick this thing,” he said. 

        His 47^th birthday was in January and we traveled to his church in Kinston for a surprise party.  The fellowship hall was overflowing with people who loved and were inspired by William Jr.  He was totally surprised and overwhelmed by the response.  Even as he thanked people for coming he expressed his faith and hope in conquering his cancer.  “My God is bigger than this cancer,” he would say.

        He experienced a brief remission and we rejoiced that our prayers were being answered.  He shared his testimony in church.  Maybe the chemo was working, we thought.  But it wasn’t.  The cancer returned with a vengeance.  It was only a matter of time. 

        Two weeks before his death Joyce and I drove to Greenville to see him.  He was having a good day.  Joyce brought him a Halloween pumpkin filled with candy and he was as excited as a ten-year old.  We all knew that he wouldn’t be with us much longer, but as we talked, he shared that while he didn’t understand why this had happened to him, he knew that God was using him to be a witness.  God had a plan that William Jr. didn’t understand, but rather than being angry and bitter, he put his faith and trust in that mysterious plan that we will only understand better “bye and bye.”  

        The last few days were most difficult.  Like Christian who enters the waters of death in Pilgrim’s Progress, William Jr. was sinking in the deep waters.  On Tuesday of last week most of his family was able to see him one last time.  We prayed with him and said our good-byes.  In the middle of the night the Angels came and William Jr. left this world of suffering and pain behind.   As Christian sank in the waters, Hopeful called out, “Be of good cheer my brother, I feel the bottom and it is good.”  Death was not our enemy that night, but a friend.

        His funeral was a celebration of his rich life.  I shared that I had never seen a young man with any more courage and determination.  He faced his illness and death with dignity, grace, faith, and hope.  He knew that death was not the final answer.

        My old seminary professor shared these words at his young son’s funeral:  “The love of God is broader than the measure of men’s minds.  We cannot get over our sorrow, but we can get into it; and, when we do, we see the face of one full of sorrows and acquainted with grief, who understands us and undergirds us with the love of God.  When human wisdom cannot see a hand’s breadth before it in the dark night of suffering, then faith can see God, for faith sees best in the dark.”

                                               

The Best Court House We Ever Saw and Finest in the State

  (Last month I was honored to be asked to deliver remarks at the rededication of our old Courthouse.  As I reflected on the significance of this grand old building that has become the visible symbol of Lexington, I came to a deeper appreciation of what a true treasure we have.  The following article was published in the October 9 Dispatch  and includes many of the remarks I made at the September 11 rededication.)

 

 

      She stands tall and proud, the exemplary emblem of our community.  The six stalwart Corinthian columns are resolute, as they have been for 157 years, supporting the patterned entablature beneath the rising pediment crowned by the lofty cupola that holds the faithful old clock marking the minutes, hours, and days of our lives.  Having served as a “Temple of Justice” for a century, our antebellum old Courthouse has emerged from a year of obscured renovations as the most significant and distinguished landmark in our county.  She has become the shining light of our community, the symbol of our spirit, the herald of our history, and the visible declaration of our democracy.

        Davidson County was growing in the 1850s when the North Carolina Railroad came through, the trains stopping a short walk from what was then called Washington Square.  There was an old well on the Square and they said if you ever drank the water, you would always return to Lexington.  The flourishing young county had outgrown the existing courthouse, a two-story brick building at the very center of the Square.  In the spring of 1857, construction began on a majestic new courthouse of Greek Revival design, the most popular architectural brand of the era to mark a young flourishing America, still largely agrarian and Jeffersonian, where the greatest minds were engaged in perfecting society rather than building commerce.

        When the Courthouse opened in October of 1858, the Greensboro Patriot reported: ...by far the best Court House we ever saw, and the finest in the state. The citizens of Davidson may well be proud of the beautiful and magnificent temple of Justice which they have erected; it will stand for ages as a monument both of their taste and liberality, while the stranger in passing will involuntarily stop to gaze on its beautiful proportions, its majestic columns, and admire the artistic skill of the master workmen, which is so admirably and tastefully displayed in every part of the building.

        Powerful, persuasive, and compelling voices echoed through the second story court chamber for a full century, demanding justice, pleading for mercy, calling for action and searching for truth.  The imposing structure has witnessed great joy and heart-wrenching distress as lives were changed, fortunes were made and lost, and justice was served in the packed courtroom.  Beyond the articulate voices of the barristers and the magistrates, the old house has heard the eloquence of North Carolina governors, senators, and politicians of every persuasion.  Political rallies, community meetings, religious gatherings, and patriotic observances have been held within those sacred walls. Soldiers left for both World Wars from her steps and memorial services were held in her shadows.

        After 100 years of service, Davidson County moved into a new courthouse in 1958, leaving Judge L.A. Martin, a prolific author known for his Dispatch articles, “Around Court Square” to lament:  “They may move the courthouse, but they can never move court square.  They can never remove the atmosphere, the tradition, the history, nor the memories of the Old Courthouse I have known.” 

        After being largely abandoned for a time, the old Courthouse later became home to the Davidson County Historical Museum, but the aging house was failing.  A major and costly renovation would be necessary to guarantee the iconic landmark would stand for future generations.  The County Commissioners recognized the need, made the commitment, and last month the newly renovated Old Courthouse was rededicated with a new mission for a new day. 

        She has never looked better, almost dazzling as the morning sun reflects off her beauty.  In a couple of weeks she will be the centerpiece of our annual celebration as 200,000 will gather in her presence to enjoy Lexington BBQ.  This grand old building is much more than a home for our history and the focal point of our Square.  Our “Greek Temple” proclaims the birth of Western Democracy, of government of the people, by the people, and for the people.  As long as the Corinthian columns stand tall and resolute, we are reminded of who we are as a free people in a democratic society grounded on laws and justice.   As the proud old edifice has withstood decades of adversity from the passing of time, the changing seasons and severe weather, her renewed presence will decree the powerful truth that right will prevail, evil will be defeated, and justice and righteousness will triumph. 

        And while we no longer have a public well on the Square, we do have a magnificent monument to freedom, justice, and righteousness.  The stranger in passing will not only stop to gaze at her beauty, but will surely return to Lexington.  May God bless this building for generations to come.

                                                      

My Grandmother Told Me that Travel Is the Best Education

 

 

 

 

My grandmother taught me that travel provides the best education.  Her wisdom was evident a few weeks ago when a number of your Lexington friends and neighbors ventured on a two week European odyssey that took us to Hungary, Germany, Austria and The Czech Republic.  Two of these countries were behind the former Iron Curtain and I didn’t really know what to expect, but what I found was exciting and dynamic. 

I had heard that Prague was one of Europe’s most beautiful cities and I was not disappointed.  It was the only Central European capital to escape the bombing of the Second World War.  The city is gorgeous, but even more breathtaking was the joy and happiness that I found walking the streets.  The history of Prague is one of oppression.  Hitler seized Prague in 1938 and the horrors of the Holocaust decimated the Jewish population.  The Czechs acknowledge that they were “liberated” by the Soviets in 1945, but the problem was that the Soviets stayed.  Prague went from the Nazi frying pan into the Communist fire.  It was not until the student led “Velvet Revolution” of 1989 that freedom was finally realized and the Czechs have been celebrating ever since. 

The streets were alive with music, laughter, and energy.  Everywhere we went we were greeted with smiles and heartfelt welcomes.  The blessing of freedom is alive in the Czech Republic because most of the people remember life without it.  One of the lessons I learned is how precious freedom truly is. We talk about freedom.  These people live it. 

We found this to also be true in Budapest, a stunning and enchanting city filled with breathtaking beauty.  They have actually turned the former Nazi Gestapo and Communist Secret Police headquarters building into a museum that documents the atrocities of Fascism and Communism.  While I was not able to visit this museum I am told the experience is much like a Holocaust Museum.  It is called, “The House of Terror.”  They will never forget life without freedom.

While our trip was full of adventure, discovery, and beauty, the most powerful and moving moments for me were visits to the Jewish Quarters of both Prague and Budapest.  The Jews of Prague had been persecuted since the 12^th century when the Pope ruled that Jews and Christians should not live together.  Even so, there were over 120,000 Jews in Prague when Hitler invaded in 1938.  Only 5% survived the Holocaust. 

The Jews in Budapest were treated with more benevolence, at least at the beginning of the war.  The Budapest Jewish community had built the largest Synagogue in Europe, a stunning edifice that we visited.  While they were restricted in many ways, they had not been deported to Concentration Camps like the Jews in Prague.  But when Hungary started to show signs of resistance to Hitler’s maddening ways, the Nazis invaded Hungary and the full frenzy of Hitler’s rage was directed toward the Jews. 

There was a forced “death march” in which the sick, elderly and children were forced to walk until they collapsed and then were shot.  Over 2,000 Jews who were not deported died in the winter of 1944-45 of starvation, exposure, or disease.  The mass grave where they are buried is a peaceful memorial garden today.  Behind the iconic Synagogue is a powerful sculpture called the “Tree of Life.”  It is a Weeping Willow tree that forms an upside-down menorah.  There are over 4,000 metal branches, each containing the name of a Holocaust victim.  The Hebrew inscription on the sculpture reads:  “Is there a bigger pain than mine?”

I cannot comprehend how human beings can inflict such suffering and pain on other humans.  After visiting the two Jewish Quarters I felt much as I did after visiting the Holocaust museums in Jerusalem and Washington—sick at my stomach. 

We walked back from Prague’s Jewish Quarter to the historic Old Town Square.  There in front of the Old Town Hall we found 27 crosses imbedded in the pavement.  They represent 27 Protestant leaders who were beheaded on that Square in 1621 for rebelling against the Catholic Habsburgs.  Finding all of this almost too overwhelming to process, we returned to our hotel. 

I turned on the television to hear what was going on in the civilized world.  CNN was reporting the grisly execution of American journalist, James Foley . . .

 

                                                       

 

 

A NIGHT THAT CHANGED MY LIFE--THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS AGO

It was a night that changed my life although I didn't realize it at the time.   In fact, it was a night that would touch thousands of lives.  Thirty-eight years ago in the fall of 1976 Dr. Alan Neely, my seminary missions’ professor, took a group of students to a Foreign Mission Board Commissioning Service. The iconic Baker James Cauthen, retired President of the FMB and legendary Missionary to China, was the keynote speaker.  The service had a powerful impact on me.  I would soon become a pastor and missions would always be a priority in my ministry.  A new friend, Cliff Scarborough, also attended the service and it had an even greater impact on him.

     Cliff and I were unlikely friends.  He was older having completed a distinguished military career.  I was a green, non-military kid right out of college.  We connected because Cliff was from my father's hometown--Thomasville, Alabama.  

   Cliff knew that God was calling him into the ministry but it was not until that night he discerned the calling was to the mission field.

    We graduated in 1979.  I was already the pastor of a church.  Cliff applied to the Foreign Mission Board and he and Bettye were appointed to be missionaries to Belize.

    A few years later I read in the Biblical Recorder that Cliff was on a brief furlough, staying at the seminary in Wake Forest.  I contacted him about coming to my church in Roxboro and preaching.  We arranged a breakfast so he and Bettye could show slides and talk about their work in Belize. Cliff preached at the worship service and we went to our house where Joyce had prepared a delicious lunch.  

  As we were enjoying the meal and the fellowship, Cliff looked at me and said, "Ray, why don't you get a group from your church together and come to Belize on a mission trip."

   That was 30 years ago.  I'm in Belize again as I am writing this.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I have been to Belize in the past three decades, but it must be close to 50.

    I brought several groups from Roxboro to Belize in the 1980s, including Medical Teams.   The week before I left Roxboro Baptist in 1990 I was on a medical trip to Belize.  They tried their best to get me to change my mind and stay in Roxboro.  They almost had me convinced that I was making a mistake, until a spectacular sunrise with simultaneous church bells one morning reminded me that I needed to listen to a higher power!

    I traveled to Belize in early 1991 to teach some classes for pastors.  One morning at breakfast in Cliff and Bettye's kitchen in Belmopan, Cliff said:  "God has laid something on my heart, but I can't do it by myself.  I'm going to need your help and many others."

    Then he took a napkin and drew a diagram of a camp.  I have a dream of a camp where the pastors of Belize can come for theological training, where churches can have retreats and youths can come for summer camp, and where mission teams from the US can have a place to stay."

      Later that year I brought several people from FBC Lexington to Belize so Cliff could share his dream with them. Two members of that group, Austin Frye and Lonnie Davis, are no longer with us.

   We came back and shared Cliff's dream with the church.  We immediately had several men interested in a work team.  Our church has sent numerous teams through the years.  We helped with the construction of the Director’s home, the Blue Lodge and the Green Lodge.  Lonnie Davis never missed a trip in the early years.

    There was still the issue of financing.  I received a phone call one day from an older member of our church.  She asked me if I could pay her a visit later that day.  I was extremely busy, and almost begged off to another day, but this lady had never asked me to visit before.  I made time for a visit that afternoon.

    We had a nice visit and engaged in general conversation.  When I started to leave she handed me an envelope.  “This is to help with your project in Belize,” she said.

    I stuck the envelope in my pocket and returned to my office.  I was busy working when I thought of it.  As I opened the envelope I was thinking that every small gift, even $10 or $20 is important.  Enclosed was a check . . . for $10,000!

     I have been on the Board of Directors since we organized into a non-profit incorporation.  I am the only original board member still serving.  The camp is flourishing under the leadership of Eric and Julie Maas.  Pastors are being trained, Christians are being educated, youths have a place for summer camp, and US mission teams have a wonderful place to stay.  If I had saved that napkin on which Cliff drew the diagram that morning, it would be a good map of today’s camp.

     God has blessed countless numbers of people through the Baptist Training Center of Belize.  Dozens of churches and thousands of Christians have traveled to Belize to do missions.  And to think, it all went back to that one night thirty-eight years ago.  It was a night that changed my life, although I didn’t realize it at the time.

 

A BELIZEAN BANQUET WITH BIBLICAL IMPLICATIONS

        It was a simple invitation.  “We’re having a fish BBQ Saturday night and want you to come.”  My wife, Joyce, and I were in Belize for a meeting when our friend, Liz, extended the gracious invitation.  We asked what we could bring, insisting that we could not show up empty-handed.  Liz finally allowed us to pick up some paper plates and cups and some soft drinks.  We were looking forward to the evening, but didn’t really know what to expect.  Little did we realize that we were about to experience an unforgettable Belizean banquet with Biblical implications!

        We were told to arrive at 7:30, but in Belize that means anytime between 7:30 – 9:00.  Being the punctual Americans we are, Joyce and I arrived at 7:30 on the dot---only to find no one else there, except two men working the grills.  They had three of these big barrel grills fired up and it was evident they were doing some serious grilling.  We introduced ourselves and discovered that these two gentlemen were our hosts for the evening.  Their names were Paul and Sepp and their accents told me that they were not from Belize, or Kansas, or Davidson County. 

        These guys were from Austria and every summer they travel to Belize with their families for a month of fishing and laid-back living.  They fish for a week and then invite friends, neighbors, cousins, and strangers to come and share in the bounty.  Paul and Sepp were grilling fish kabobs, fish balls (nuggets of snapper, grouper, and barracuda wrapped in bacon), pork, chicken, and pineapple bites.  Liz and her family supplied the salads and sides. It was a feast of epic proportions!

        Joyce and I were the only two “Gringos” at the celebration.  But everyone went out of their way to welcome us, take care of us, and make us feel like family.  We watched in amazement as over the next hour or so, people began to wander in and join the party.  There were young people, old people, small children, teenagers, elderly men and women, and families.  There were people from every walk of life, every culture, language, social standing, and economic level.  Paul and Sepp announced that the food was ready, but rather than people rushing to the front of the line, everyone insisted that someone else go first.

        We sat down to enjoy some of the best seafood I have ever tasted, but more importantly we enjoyed some of the richest fellowship I have ever known.  We talked, laughed, and told stories.  Everyone was making sure that we had enough to eat and drink.  Joyce had cookies for the children and one by one they came to take a cookie and without exception, said a heart-felt thank you.  Everyone was so kind, so authentic, so gracious, and so welcoming. 

        In the midst of the joyous revelry, I had a true revelation.  This is why the Bible talks about a banquet and feasting when it describes eternal joy.  I looked around at the incredibly diverse gathering.   Most of the people who were with us that night will never know the level of living that we take for granted.  Very few of those people will ever venture out of Belize.  Their way of life would be so very difficult for most of us to endure.  And yet, they shared in a joy and fellowship that night that so many of us, who have all the luxuries of life, long to experience.  It didn’t matter if one was young or old, rich or poor, educated or illiterate; on that night we were one, big, happy family.

        The prophet Isaiah talked about a feast on the mountain of the Lord with the finest foods, with vintage wines, a seven course meal and lavish gourmet desserts.  And on this mountain God will banish the pall of doom hanging over all peoples.  He will banish death forever and wipe all the tears away from every face.  (Isaiah 25: 6-8—The Message)

        I had always pictured a big banquet table in heaven that would be set with exquisite china, crystal, and silver, but now I have a different image in my mind.  I see a happy group of diverse people all gathered around picnic tables while some big barrel grills are smoking incredible delicacies. Children will be laughing and playing, old men will tell stories and young people will share their exuberance.  And something tells me that Paul and Sepp will be there, welcoming all of us to this heavenly banquet.  You better Belize it!

                                                               

                                                               

UPDATE FROM JERUSALEM

     I shared earlier about our friend, Yair.  I was fearful that he had been called up to active duty.  I received this email from him today:  

Dear Ray
I am doing great. I was not called on reserve and I have many cancellations, so I am back home, reading a lot and watching the news. Our everyday life is more or less the same even though there were missiles everywhere. Many of my friends were called and one of them is injured, but he is doing better now.
As for my reflections, I would make an emphasis that we are not just, to have not solved the conflict untill now, but untill there will be a state builder On the other side, we have to do what needs to be done in order to protect our land and citizens. I hope that the campaign will end soon and that life would go back on track.
Yair

Conrad & Hinkle Pimento Cheese and "Our State"

        I love “Our State” magazine.   The August issue came this week with a feature on “Southern Food: Six Classics that Define Us.”

        The six classics are Pepsi Cola, Okra, Boiled Peanuts, Redeye Gravy, Honeysuckle, and Pimento Cheese.  I quickly turned to the article on Pimento Cheese, knowing that I would read about Conrad and Hinkle, but was stunned when they were not even mentioned.  The article was written by a Northern transplant by the name of Scott Huler.  I decided that I should write a letter to the editor to complain about this grievous omission!  (Wake Hamrick has a great letter in the August issue--not complaining about anything)

        I reread the article on Saturday morning to make sure I didn’t miss a reference to the Pimento Cheese King, Conrad and Hinkle.  It wasn’t there.  I wrote my letter and then called Lee Hinkle to make sure I was correct that C&H starting making Pimento Cheese in the 1930s.  Lee said someone had told him about the article and said they were mentioned.

        So I went back and read the article again, but could not find it.  Then I saw it—not in the article, but a sidebar placed by the editors that asked “Where do you get yours?  Musten & Crutchfield in Kernersville?  Conrad & Hinkle in Lexington?”

        Feeling better that we were at least referenced, I changed my letter.  Here is the letter that I sent to Our State this morning:

Editor:

          I loved your August feature on Southern Foods, especially Scott Huler’s article on Pimento Cheese.  Lexington’s Conrad and Hinkle Grocer has been on the town Square since 1919 and has been producing the most enticing, mouthwatering pimento cheese for over 80 years.  As synonymous with Lexington as our barbecue, people travel across state lines and time zones to enjoy this exquisite delicacy. 

Mr. Huler should visit Lexington and sample the quintessential Carolina caviar.  One taste of Conrad and Hinkle Pimento Cheese on fresh bread with a homegrown tomato—Oh my!  This Northern transplant will be shouting glory!

Ray Howell

 

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem

The escalating conflict in Israel is of grave concern to everyone, especially to people of faith as the Holy Land is sacred to the world’s three major religions.  Several of us were in Israel just a few weeks ago.

 

I think our guide in Israel, Yair (whom we all called Jaya) is in the military reserves.  I have tried to contact him, but have heard no response.  I was in touch with him less than a month ago, so I am inclined to believe he may have been called up to active duty. 

 

I recall standing on the top of Megiddo (Armageddon) and talking about why the Apostle John selected this place to represent the ultimate conflict between good and evil.  No other land in the world has witnessed more war than the Holy Land.  Now, once again, there is deadly conflict in the land.

 

The Scripture that comes to me today is Psalm 122: 6-8  "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:  "May those who love you be secure.  May there be peace within your walls and security within your citadels."  For the sake of my family and friends, I will say, "Peace be within you."

 

I will never forget my first trip to Israel in 1996.  We had just landed in Tel Aviv and were greeted by our wonderful guide, Sarah.  One of the first things she told us was:  "Of all the places in this huge world, God selected this small land to touch the earth." 

 

Is it more than irony that the most conflicted land on earth is where God reached down and touched us with his love and blessed us with the Prince of Peace?

 

Once again we pray for the peace of Jerusalem.  May God reach down again and touch the earth.  May the Prince of Peace shower his healing and protective grace upon the land.

 

 

 

RULES ARE RULES, BUT RELATIONSHIPS ARE MORE IMPORTANT

      Joyce and I are pretty sure we were the oldest chaperones at youth camp last week.  Joyce said she knows she was the only chaperone on Medicare!  When I told one of the counselors that I took my first group of youth to summer camp in 1974, he looked at me like I belonged in the Smithsonian. 

        Our youth attend Passport, an ecumenical organization that sponsors Christian camps all over the southeastern United States.  The counselors are all very young (mostly graduate school), the atmosphere is high energy, and the programming is exceptional.  The camps are held on college campuses, a great experience for the Middle and Senior High students who receive a Passport the first night assigning them to a group.  This group stays together for Bible Study, recreational events, and mission projects.   Working with local mission groups such as Habitat for Humanity, the Salvation Army, clothes closets, food banks, and low-income housing, the students spend several hours each day engaged in a mission activity in the community.  We were in Danville, Virginia, a city devastated by the loss of industry and the economic collapse.  Being from Lexington, we felt their pain!

        On my first youth trip back in 1974, I established a bunch of rules.  We had not been at camp an hour before the girls informed me that the boys brought beer with them—a major violation!  I had only been at the church a few weeks and wasn’t much older than some of our youth.  It was clear that I was being tested and I prayed for wisdom to handle the situation in a redemptive way. 

        Rules are rules, I thought; and the boys broke the rules in grand fashion!  I called them in for a “Come to Jesus” meeting and they feared the worst.  If I had followed the letter of the law, I was to call their parents and ask them to come and take the boys home.  But rather than condemn these young sinners, I asked them what would happen when I informed their parents of their transgression.  One boy started to cry.  His daddy was the sheriff; a no-nonsense, tough guy.  His son was convinced he would hang him on the courthouse lawn. 

        In a moment that God most certainly directed (because I was scared the death), I introduced the concept of grace.  I would forgive these boys, but it they EVER did anything like that again—I would introduce the concept of judgment.  The boys were angels for the rest of the trip.  Looking back, it was that moment that defined my relationship with those young people, a relationship formed by grace.  They didn’t just learn about the Gospel, they experienced it!

        I worked with those youth for four years and kept up with them for many years after.  All of them, without exception, became great leaders in their churches and communities.  The boy who cried became a respected political leader in the state of Alabama.  Gradually, the distance of time and miles took their toll and I lost touch.

        A few years ago on Easter Sunday we had a visitor in the congregation. A mother was taking her son to visit Wake Forest University.  She had been one of the youth on that memorable trip so many years ago.  She shared with me that the church had a reunion and most of my old youth group was there.  They started talking about me, about that first youth camp, and we reconnected. 

        I have learned that it is through mission trips and youth camps that lifelong relationships are made.  We may have been the oldest chaperones at camp, but we wouldn’t take anything for the powerful experience of sharing these dynamic formative moments with our wonderful young people. We see lives changed and lifetime patterns of Christian service established.

        I don’t talk much about rules anymore.  Oh, we have rules, but if you have a relationship based on respect, trust, and love you don’t need to worry too much about them.  I don’t think our kids broke any of the rules, well, except curfew—but what do I care!  At my age, staying up past 10:00 pm is a curfew violation!   Let the kids have fun!   They will remember it for a lifetime.

 

 

America's Top Ten Sacred Sites

        Colin Beamer and friends are on a wonderful journey that placed them in New York City on July 4.  Colin posted that they visited the 9/11 Memorial.  It started me thinking about “sacred sites” that every American should visit if they have the opportunity.  Here is my list of the top ten sacred sites.  All but one is on American soil.  While Washington DC is number one, the others are placed in chronological order rather than order of importance. 

1)           Washington, DC:  You will discover the entire American Experience in Washington.  Gaze on our nation’s sacred texts at the National Archives.  Be inspired by our great leaders at the monuments and memorials:  Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, FDR, and MLK.  Pay homage to our fallen at the War Memorials:  WWII, Korean, and Vietnam, and don’t miss Arlington.  Review our nation’s history at the Smithsonian Museums and the Newseum.  See our nation’s government at work at the White House, the US Capitol, and the Supreme Court Building.  Be inspired and pray at the National Cathedral. Stand on the National Mall and simply be proud to be an American.

2)         America’s Historic Triangle:  Jamestown, Williamsburg, and Yorktown.  This is where it all began.  The first permanent English colony at Jamestown.  A visit to Williamsburg is to travel back in time to Colonial America and an experience of the spirit of Revolution that was building.  Yorktown is where the dream of independence became a reality in our unlikely victory over the powerful British.

3)         Boston and the Freedom Trail:  The fires of Revolution were also burning in Boston.  Walk the Freedom Trail.  See Bunker Hill, the Old North Church, and relive the Boston Tea Party.  Follow the midnight ride of Paul Revere to Lexington and Concord and see where “The Shot Heard ‘Round the World” was fired.  Every citizen of Lexington, NC should visit Lexington, Massachusetts if they have are able because the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” landed here just a few weeks later when brave Patriots named our town Lexington.

4)         Philadelphia:  When the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence placed their signatures on this priceless document, many thought they were signing their death warrant.  The odds were against them.  They truly risked their “lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor.”  Visit Freedom Hall and the Liberty Bell.

5)         Fort McHenry:  This year marks the 200^th anniversary of our National Anthem.  Most Americans don’t realize how close we came to losing our new found independence in the War of 1812.  The story of Francis Scott Key and the writing of the National Anthem is an amazing experience.  Combine this with a visit to the American History Museum to see the actual Star Spangled Banner.

6)         Mount Vernon and Monticello:  A visit to the home of two our founding fathers is another journey back in time.  It helps us to understand the genius of two of our greatest founders.

7)         Gettysburg:  This is sacred ground.  It was here that the Civil War turned.  It was also here that Abraham Lincoln uttered his immortal words that have galvanized our nation ever since.  “That government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the face of the earth.”

8)         Pearl Harbor:  The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor changed our world forever.  Over 2,500 Americans died and it propelled us into World War II.  To visit the Arizona Memorial is a powerful and sacred experience.  It still holds the bodies of 1,102 sailors including Harold Tussey of Davidson County.

9)         Normandy:  D-Day not only won the war, but it saved democracy for our time.  Yet, more American lives were lost in one day that the entire war in Iraq.  The American Cemetery holds the bodies of 10,000 American soldiers, plus the Wall of Missing has over 1,500 names.  We must never forget. 

10)      The 9/11 Memorial.  This is the Pearl Harbor of our generation.  No one will ever forget where they were and what they were doing on September 11, 2001.  Freedom is never free.     

"The Shot Heard 'Round the World" Should Still Be Heard, Especially in Lexington

        What truly defines a community?  Where do we find our identity?  Can we go back to our birth to discover our true spirit? 

        The naming of Lexington shortly after the battle of Lexington is a remarkable story.  I have always wondered why we haven’t promoted this amazing link with the American Revolution.  I recently wrote letters to the Mayor, the City Council, the Tourism Authority and other community leaders, urging them to adopt the “Spirit of 1775,” as our birthright.  Here is the column I wrote for The Dispatch on June 21.  As we celebrate our nation’s birth next week I hope we who call Lexington, NC home will seize the “Spirit of 1775” and claim it for a new day!

        Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere." Nothing is more patriotic than reciting Longfellow's epic poem, recalling the brave Minutemen who gathered in the town tavern before confronting the British army on the Lexington green. The Brits must have been shocked when they arrived in Lexington, Massachusetts, in the wee hours of April 9, 1775, for they had no intention of waking the slumbering town. There was nothing in Lexington that concerned them — or so they thought.

The only reason the British were marching through Lexington was because it was on the way to Concord where the Patriots had a large arsenal of weapons and ammunition. But what they did not understand was there was something much more important to these passionate Patriots than guns and ammunition. It was this notion called freedom. The brave and courageous Minutemen stood their ground, but the British would not be deterred. "The shot heard 'round the world" was fired, and eight brave Patriots were quickly dead. The fight for independence had begun.

A few weeks later, as Dr. J.C. Leonard told the story, a messenger stopped in a small, unnamed North Carolina settlement and shared the riveting news from Lexington and Concord. The settlers, who also believed in this notion called freedom, were so deeply moved and inspired by the valiant sacrifice of the Minutemen that they made a stunning proclamation. They decided to name their settlement Lexington in honor of the New England battle.

Taking the name Lexington was indeed stunning because this part of North Carolina was swarming with Tories and British sympathizers. Only four years earlier Benjamin Merrill was hanged for treason for seeking a redress from the excessive taxation imposed by Gov. William Tryon. The members of his Regulator militia were forced to sign an oath of loyalty to the Crown or face the same fate. Yet, in this hostile environment, a full year before the Declaration of Independence, the spirited and freedom loving people who lived here took a bold and audacious risk — they staked their claim for the cause of freedom! "The shot heard 'round the world" was indeed heard loud and clear right here where we call home.

This is a powerful story that I have told many times. But I think we need to do more than tell this story, we need to claim it. This is our birthright! This is our legacy! This is who we are as a community! We were born in the "Spirit of 1775." It is this same spirit that can inspire and motivate us today.

Ten years ago I suggested that we should promote this unique legacy as part of our identity as a community. Bob Stiff, who was the editor of The Dispatch, endorsed the idea and wrote an editorial about it in July 2004. He stated: "Everyone involved in tourism promotion and economic development should be telling the tale about Lexington's unique and courageous declaration of independence more than 229 years ago." No one really took the ball and ran with it then, but today is a new day, and I am convinced that the time is right for us to claim our birthright. Yes, I'm back on my soapbox again.

Shortly before his death, Joshua gathered all the tribes of Israel for a grand convocation. They had settled in the Promised Land but were experiencing many difficulties. Joshua felt that they had forgotten their past, their heritage — they had lost the spirit of freedom that had defined them for generations. The 24th chapter of Joshua is an historical recitation in which Joshua went all the way back to Abraham and reminded the people of their unique identity as a people blessed by freedom.

I have petitioned the mayor, the city council and community leaders to consider seizing the "Spirit of 1775" and claiming it as our birthright and identity as a community. I believe it can make a difference, not only in tourism and economic development, but it will also renew the true spirit of our community. After all, "The shot heard 'round the world" was quickly heard here and should continue to be heard today, especially in Lexington.