Should We Be Afraid? A Bibical Response to Terrorism

Soon after the cowardly and barbaric terrorists’ attacks on Paris, ISIS issued a threat to the United States. They claimed they were coming after Washington, D.C., then New York City, specifically Times Square. Should we be afraid?

Does the Bible have anything to say about terrorism? Oh, yes! The biblical world was full of terrorists and evil tyrants. Terrorism is nothing new; it is as old as sinful humanity. Terrorism operates out of fear, and the goal is to instill fear and uncertainty into the hearts of the people. This was the case in Isaiah 7, when not one but two evil kings sent a message to the people of Jerusalem much like the message ISIS sent to Washington and New York — we are coming after you, and we will destroy you.

The message had the desired effect for Isaiah 7:2 reports the hearts of the king and the people were shaken “as the trees of the forest are shaken by the wind.” This is when the prophet Isaiah confronted the king and said, “Don’t listen to the terrorists. It doesn’t matter what they say. What matters is what God says.”

And what did God say? Keep watch, keep calm, do not fear and do not lose heart. We are to be vigilant and cautious, calm and deliberate, but most of all we are not to be afraid, and we should never give up. But how is it possible to “fear not” when we have seen terrorists inflict so much death and destruction?

How is it possible? “God is sending a sign,” Isaiah reported: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Immanuel” (which means, God is with us). One of the most powerful promises in Scripture was given in response to a terrorist threat.

It would be over 600 years before the Virgin Mary wrapped her newborn baby in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, but Mary and Joseph were quickly forced to take their baby and flee to Egypt as refugees to escape the terrorism of Herod the Great. Three decades later the man “who was born of a virgin” was nailed to a cross by a ruthless government that ruled by fear and intimidation. Shortly before his execution he predicted that there would always be wars and rumors of wars. He said the terror will be so intense that the sun will be darkened and the stars will fall from the sky. (Mark 13)

I used to think this language was symbolic until 9/11. The sun was darkened on that cloudless September day, and the stars were falling from the sky along with the twin towers. And now we have not only the ISIS threat, but lone terrorists have attacked our children in schools, innocent citizens in malls and theaters, and even Wednesday night Bible studies have become terror filled.

But do you know what Jesus said right after he issued the dire warning in Mark 13? He said almost exactly the same thing Isaiah said to the king who was threatened by terrorism. Do not panic, do not fear and do not lose heart. Because, it’s not over. You can’t see it now, but a great day is coming when all that is wrong will be made right.

We are about to celebrate the coming of light into the darkness. No matter how deep, how forceful, how intimidating the darkness may be, it can never overcome and extinguish the light. Light is greater than darkness, love is greater than fear, for perfect love casts out fear.

The angel told Joseph that the baby’s name will be Immanuel, God with us. And God always has the final word. If God is for us, who can be against us? So hang on everybody. Don’t panic, don’t fear, don’t give up. We haven’t seen the end of this story, but we have a preview — we know what will happen. In the end, God wins! And evil, darkness, violence, wars and terrorism will be gone forever.

Lexington's Womderful Counselor

The Old Testament Prophet Isaiah foretold of the day when a “Wonderful Counselor” would come to God’s people to provide comfort, consolation, wisdom, and guidance.  Life is too hard and too complicated to make it on our own.  We all need a gifted counselor to help us navigate life’s turbulent waters.  Lexington has been richly blessed to have its own “Wonderful Counselor” for the past 35 years—Dr. Lee Dukes. 

        Lee Dukes is an icon in our community.  In October of 1980 he became the chaplain of Lexington Memorial Hospital, back when Lexington was a thriving community.  Furniture factories were in their prime, textiles were booming, jobs were plentiful, Lexington was growing and life was good.  The new hospital chaplain was creating new paths as he developed the Department of Pastoral Care and pioneered one of North Carolina’s first “Chaplain Associates” programs to provide continuous crisis intervention coverage. 

        In those early years Lee was directing four other hospital departments in addition to Pastoral Care:  Patient Relations, Social Services, Volunteer Services and the Adult Day Care, which was the predecessor of today’s Life Center of Davidson County.  Through all of this heavy responsibility, Lee was quietly developing a reputation as a wise and gifted counselor.  This is his strength, his calling, and his passion.  He has been present with countless numbers of families during times of trauma and grief, healed broken spirits, given new hope and direction to the despondent, helped those who were devastated by crisis to see new possibilities, provided wise counsel to professionals facing major career decisions, and he has been God’s faithful prophet, proclaiming comfort, redemption and grace to those in darkness.  Lee has helped untold numbers of individuals and families through times of distress.  Yes, Lee Dukes is Lexington’s “Wonderful Counselor.” 

        His long and respected tenure at Lexington Medical Center will end next month.  It is hard to picture Lexington hospital without Lee Dukes. A new chaplain has been called and a CareNet Office (a counseling service through Baptist Hospital) will begin offering services, but it just won’t be the same without Lee!

        Lee has blessed this community in so many ways.  In addition to the Life Center, he is also a founder of one of our greatest ministries, Hospice.  He has been one of the strongest advocates and leaders in the new FaithHealth initiative that will be continued by his successor.  In the hospital Lee is the face of bio-ethics and has facilitated this committee for decades.  He initiated and developed the first in-house assistance program for hospital employees to provide psychotherapy services when needed.  And there are scores of individuals who have not had the resources to receive Lee’s services, but he has provided them anyway. 

        Lee first came to Lexington in the 1970s as the Associate Minister of First United Methodist Church.  He has always been available as a trusted resource to the clergy and at least once a year leads an educational session with the ministerial association.  He is our community’s most vocal and eloquent spokesman for Mental Health.  No one has felt our state’s deficiency in dealing with the mental health crisis more than Lee.  He understands that we cannot have a healthy community without adequate mental health resources.  

        My family and I are personally indebted to Lee for his professional counsel and his personal compassion.  He has touched the lives of countless numbers of families in our community with wisdom and mercy. His retirement from the hospital is a monumental change for all of us, but because of his legacy Lexington is better equipped to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God. 

        Thank you Lee for being our “Wonderful Counselor!”

Recalling Miss Bobell, Bless Her Dear Heart

I remember Miss Bobell, bless her dear heart.  She had been the church organist for decades and was a blessing to the congregation, yes she was.  I knew Miss Bobell back in my college days, back before the war, when I was working at a church in LA (Lower Alabama).  She was old school, which was really old back then, believing that order and formality should prevail, even as sinners were flocking to the altar during revival time to escape everlasting perdition and persecution. 

Miss Bobell presided over the organ loft with a refined and dignified air which complimented the reserved and stately preacher, the venerable Dr. Graham.  She listened to Handel while most of the congregation listened to Hank Williams, and she tried, bless her heart she tried, to instill a little culture into that southern flock whose musical repertoire ventured little beyond Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn.

Miss Bobell had every reason to be proud, for she reigned over one of the few pipe organs south of Montgomery.  While the organ itself was a fine instrument, installed by one of the great organ companies of the north and pampered by Miss Bobell to maintain its melodious integrity, the unwieldy pump that supplied the air flow had been overhauled by the good old boys down at Leroy’s Machine Shop much to Miss Bobell’s mortification.  When the deacons saw the estimate from the organ company up north (doing business with any company “up north” was suspect in LA) they decided that Leroy could fix the motor just fine at a fraction of the cost.  The result was that every time Miss Bobell turned on the switch there was a loud mechanical ruckus following by a sucking “whoooooosh” as the air powered by Leroy’s makeshift contraption invaded the delicate pipes of the organ. 

Now Miss Bobell was a woman of ritual and part of her regimented routine each Sunday was to turn off the organ at the beginning of Dr. Graham’s sermon, ostensibly so people could clearly hear the learned scholar without distraction.  It would take place after the anthem which she always accompanied with flamboyant dexterity.  She would first look over the congregation to bask in the glory of another musical triumph and then she would proudly take her seat at the back of the organ loft.  Then, just as Dr. Graham was announcing his hermeneutical theme of the day, she would hit the organ switch and there would be a noticeable “shwoooosh” as the air escaped the instrument, much like the sound of air brakes releasing on a truck or train.  The sound was a sedative to many of the faithful who would settle into their pews with their eyes fluttering as Dr. Graham commenced on his laborious message in his professorial monotone. 

Miss Bobell apparently also had the spiritual gift of discernment, especially when it came to predicting the welcomed conclusion of the preacher’s discourse.  She sensed when Dr. Graham was nearing the end of the sermon, or when she felt it was time for the sermon to end regardless of Dr. Graham’s intentions, for just as he was about to reach his conclusion, even if he was in a rare moment of inspired glory, she would flip the switch to engage Leroy’s pump resulting in the loud mechanical ruckus followed by the sucking “whoooosh.”   All over the congregation heads would jerk and eyes would open as people glanced at their watches before reaching for the books to sing the final hymn.  Poor old Dr. Graham, with a lamented look of defeat, would say a meek word in conclusion just before Miss Bobell launched into her glorious final musical selection. 

I look back on those wonderful days almost half a century later and realize than it took both Dr. Graham and Miss Bobell to make the Word of God complete.  Dr. Graham may have put people to sleep, but the content of his messages were rich in thought, deeply grounded in the Word of God and powerfully true.  Miss Bobell, bless her dear heart, may have been eccentric and regimented, but she lifted us up to the heavenly places with her glorious musical repertoire.  But the power---the real power may have come from the good old boys at Leroy’s Machine Shop.  They were the ones who stirred the church and woke the faithful from their slumber, much like the Holy Spirit. 

And that’s the way God works, through the good old boys at Leroy’s machine shop just as much as the scholarly Dr. Graham and the artsy Miss Bobell.  I remember them all, especially Miss Bobell, bless her dear heart!

 

                                                               

 

God is Stll in Control, Even in Old Age!

      You know the line from Robert Browning, “Grow old along with me!  The best is yet to be.”  He was kidding, right?  I’ve watched people struggle with the problems of old age my entire ministry.  I’ve counseled many people trying to decide how to best care for an aging parent.  It was only a matter of time before it happened to me.

        My family moved into the brick house on Main Street in the late 1950s.  All four children were raised there.  It was the scene of many happy Christmas celebrations, birthdays, family meals and gatherings, graduations, piano recitals—it was home.  This was the house where I grew up.  Mother has lived in the house for almost sixty years.  But when my wife and I made a quick trip to Alabama to see her at the beginning of the summer, we were shocked at how much she had declined.  Our biggest concern was her medication.  She has to take pills three times a day and it was confusing even to me.  I went to the store and purchased one of those big plastic medicine organizers that had the days of the week and the times of each day highlighted in big letters.  Joyce faithfully organized all of mother’s medicine and we went over the details with her several times before we left, but we were very concerned.

 A few days after we were there mother fell at night.  A few days later she fell again, and then she ended up in the hospital.  She went from the hospital to rehab and as I prepared to leave the country on a mission trip I prayed that they would keep her until I returned.  My brother and I both agreed that she did not need to go home, but convincing her of this was a different matter.  I told my brother that as soon as we got back from Belize I would come to Alabama so that we could all talk. 

We agreed on a time to have “the talk” with mother who was still in rehab.  My heart was heavy as I went into the room, but I should have known that God had already prepared the way.  Mother told me she knew she could not return home without help, but she didn’t really want that.   I told her that we didn’t want that either.

        “Why don’t we look at other options?” I asked just as my brother walked in the door.  We talked to her about assisted living and she was open to the possibility.   But now we had another obstacle---where would she go?  

        If I had any doubt as to whether God was still in control it was all answered in one phone call.  My brother told me that there was a relatively new, assisted living facility in the area where a lady from his church had a good experience, but he didn’t know much about it.  I looked it up online and picked up the phone to call.  As the call was being processed I thought to myself that this was probably the first of many calls I would be making.

        A friendly voice answered the phone and I asked to speak to the person who could tell me about the services they offered.  When she told me that she would be that person, I told her who I was and briefly shared our situation.  After a moment she said, “What did you say your name was?  Did you go to school in Hartselle?  What year did you graduate?”  When I answered the questions she said with delight, “Ray, this is Brenda!   We graduated together!” 

        Browning’s poem, “Rabbi Ben Ezra,” is a statement of total trust and confidence in God, even when the issues of aging seem to be claiming our future.  His point is that God has a plan for all of life, not just when we are young and healthy.  In a telling line he proclaims, “Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.”  My mother is now a resident at the center where my high school classmate works.  She is still adjusting to the change, we all are, but I feel much better about the outcome.  As Browning said,   “Perfect I call Thy plan . . .I trust what Thou shalt do!”

                                                                       

 

 

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

 

A Blessing In Belize

 

 

 

            We returned this week from one of the most amazing mission trips I have ever experienced—and that’s saying a lot coming from an old codger who has been taking young people on mission trips since 1974.  Twenty-nine youth and adults from First Baptist and First United Methodist Churches joined together for an experience that brought three churches from two churches together in one powerful mission.

        We had the very best group of young people.  They took the initiative, never complained, exercised leadership, and opened their hearts that were overflowing with compassion and love.  We saw our youth come together and bond with the Belizean youth and each other.  The youth led in Bible School with enthusiasm and joy, they led the excellent devotions each night—they just called on me for announcements. They demonstrated maturity and wisdom.  They lived for each moment and celebrated the joy of God’s wonderful creation. 

        We started out with 30 children in Bible School the first day but by week’s end we had 70.   Our youth led worship at Belmopan Baptist Church last Sunday.  They spoke of their experience, sang beautiful songs, and were filled with the spirit of God.  Last Sunday night we attended a holiness service and our youth embraced this new experience with joy and excitement. 

        Some wonderful blessings came out of this trip.  One was working with Lee Mabe and the youth and leaders from FUMC.  Whatever differences we may have in our churches did not matter.  We were on a mission together, ambassadors for Christ.  We look forward to more joint endeavors in the future. 

        Everywhere we turned we saw the power of God.  From angels who appeared when we had flat tires (even one on the plane!) to children who remembered our youth from two years ago, to a children’s home where a simple gift became a powerful and emotional blessing—we knew God was smiling on our journey. 

        Perhaps two of the greatest blessings came on the last day of our mission.  Two years ago we celebrated baptism in the Caribbean Sea, but since we were with youth from the Methodist Church and baptism is understood differently in our churches, I didn’t consider this to be an option.  But I was approached by one of the Methodist youth who had never been baptized.  After quickly consulting with Lee to make sure he was with me if we get excommunicated, we all gathered on the south end of South Water Caye and without any notice, or bulletin, or planning—we had one of the most powerful baptisms I have ever experienced.  I told the youth this may be the closest thing to a true New Testament baptism we could have.  Many of our youth, and adults, were baptized or re-baptized in the warm Caribbean Sea.  And at the conclusion of the baptisms, the youth surrounded me and I, too, made the confession that Jesus is Lord and was baptized by all of them into the flowing waters of life. 

        That night we gathered for communion.  Rather than wine or grape juice we had pineapple juice and the bread was Casava Bread.  Just before we started, several of the Belizean workers—the cooks and maids—came to join us.  Lee Mabe and I served the elements, inviting all to join in the body and blood of Christ.   Then, when the service was over, the Belizean workers asked us to bless them.  We all gathered around these dear people, laying our hands on them as we prayed.  We prayed that God would bless them—but God had already blessed us in a powerful way we will never forg

Glasses of Kindness, Compassion, and Hope

        Twenty-five years ago I was the new kid on the block.  Moving to Lexington from a smaller town, I wasn’t exactly sure how I should go about becoming a part of the community.  Every community has its own culture, its own personality and I needed a mentor, an established citizen who would be a good example to follow.  That’s when I met Lee Jessup. 

        I first met Lee at the Kiwanis Club.  I was already a Kiwanis member, so I joined the Lexington Club and quickly discovered that Lee personified the spirit of the club.  He was engaging and affirming, full of life and energy.  It was evident that he was respected by the entire club, young and old.  The first thing I admired about Lee was that he was his own person.  We were both ministers, but Lee wasn’t your stereotypical, stodgy, and secluded First church preacher.  He didn’t follow the unwritten minister’s manual like I often did, Lee was writing his own manual and I liked his a lot better.  He was authentic, he was real and he was a vital force in our community. 

        Lee wrote a weekly religion column for The Dispatch.  He was the spiritual voice of the community.  Witty and entertaining, inspiring and grace-filled, his columns were about real life.  I couldn’t wait for the Saturday paper to come to read what Lee had to say. 

        I had only been in Lexington a couple of years when I heard that Lee was leaving.  My first thought was that Lexington would never be the same.  There would be a huge gap that no one else could fill.   Chad Killebrew, at The Dispatch, spoke to me one Sunday about becoming a religion writer for The Dispatch.  I would be joining three other writers to write a column once a month, rather than every week.  In my first column I paid a tribute to Lee and told the readers that there was no way I could take his place. 

        Then the big news came in 2001 that Lee was moving back to Lexington to become the president of the United Way.  It was a brilliant move by the United Way Directors.  They could not have selected a better person to inspire and motivate this community to compassionate giving and service.  Over the past 14 years Lee has become a good friend.  We attend a men’s Bible Study every Thursday morning.  We serve together in Kiwanis.  We cross paths at many community events. 

        A few years ago, Lee went with us to Belize as we were preparing for a medical mission trip.  He solicited hundreds of reading glasses that we later distributed across the country.  I had written the mayor of one Belizean city to inquire about using the community center for our medical clinic.  There is normally a rental fee that we were prepared to pay.  I mentioned in the letter that I would be visiting his town in advance of the medical team and that Dr. Jessup would be joining me.  I didn’t bother to explain what type of doctor he was.

        When we arrived we went to city hall to see the mayor.  It looked like we were getting the run around when I casually mentioned to the receptionist that Dr. Jessup was waiting with us and had glasses with him.  The next thing I knew people were rushing around, doors were opened and we were treated like VIPs.  The mayor, his brother, his wife, and all his cousins soon had new glasses and the community center was being offered free of charge.  The great Dr. Jessup had come to town and hearts were opened.

        For the past 14 years the great Dr. Jessup has helped us to see our community through glasses of compassion, kindness and hope. Davidson County has been blessed through his inspiring leadership.  The good news is that Lee will not be leaving town.  He will continue to be a vital force for good in our community.  And I know he will always be engaging and affirming, full of life and energy. 

        Lexington is a better city because of Lee’s presence and leadership.  We owe him a tremendous debt of gratitude.  Thank you, Lee.  I am grateful to call you my friend.

                                                       

If I Had Found The Box, I Might Have Found My Father

        I wish I could call my father on Father’s Day and tell him what a great dad he was. Daddy died in 1998.  Like King David, he was a man after God’s own heart.  A respected church and civic leader, my father was a man to be admired.  But also like King David, my father was a flawed man and sadly, that was all I could see in his last years. 

        When I was ordained in 1977 I asked the man I admired the most to speak at the service—my father.  He had always been a leader in the church and was a good public speaker.  I remember Daddy being the speaker on “Men’s Day” when I was a child.  He told a story about taking the family to the State Fair and somehow in the big crowd he lost me.  He said when we are lost God always comes searching for us and he described the great joy in finding his son and holding him in his arms. I remember it well and can still recall the fear of being lost as well as the elation of seeing my father. 

        I had a wonderful, happy childhood.  Daddy was everything a father is supposed to be.  But after I left home to go to school everything changed.

         We all have flaws and demons are relentlessly lurking in the shadows.  The demon of alcoholism invaded my father and suddenly I didn’t know him anymore.  I was devastated and felt betrayed.  My father was lost and that was when I made a tragic mistake.  I did not try to find him. 

        After Daddy died, I went to my childhood home to clean out the attic.  The attic in our home was not designed for storage, but that is what had happened.  There is one opening through the ceiling of the garage that is only accessible with a tall ladder.  When I entered the attic it was like stepping back in time.  Toys from our childhood, gadgets of every kind, and even an old aluminum Christmas tree filled the crowded space.  As I was carefully removing everything I saw a lone, isolated box at the far end. It was obvious that it had been placed far away from everything else.  I decided to wait and remove the box last.  What was it?  Why was it placed in such an inaccessible place?  There had to be a reason.

        After several days I made my last trip up the ladder and carefully brought the box down.  I opened it to reveal an olive green US Army coat.  I carefully laid the coat on the back patio as it saw the sunlight for the first time in decades.  It still had my father’s Master Sergeant  insignia on the sleeves. 

        Daddy served in the Korean War.  Like most veterans he didn’t talk about it.  He always said he didn’t see much action.  But when I found that box and opened it I realized that it contained much more than just an old army coat.

        So often in life we only see someone’s faults and failures.  We can’t find the real person because they are lost.  The key to finding them is discovering the reason they strayed.  It is often an experience that was too overwhelming, too devastating for them to deal with.  War has destroyed many lives.  So has betrayal, a devastating trauma, a broken relationship, or the death of someone we love. 

        My father and I still had a cordial relationship, but it was not the same.  Then he became ill.  He called me one day and asked me to speak at his funeral.  I made a visit to see him and for the first time in years he was my daddy again.  I realized as I walked out of the door that he had always been there, but I had not worked hard enough to find him.  It was the last time I ever saw him.

        I wish I had searched for my father the way he searched for me.  I wish I had found the box sooner.  If I had found the box, I might have found my father.  If I had found my father I would have experienced the same joy I had as a child when my father found me and held me in his arms. 

The Missing Children of Bedford Represent the Greatest Love

        Nestled in the gentle Blue Ridge Mountains of central Virginia, surrounded by acres of lush grass, playground equipment, and athletic fields, is a modern elementary school where children safely play.  It really is a gorgeous setting for this relatively new, attractive brick school whose mission statement is “to educate every child to be an academically successful student, a socially responsible citizen, and a life-long learner.”

        It’s been a busy spring.  The 4^th and 5^th graders performed an original play in March called “Failure is Impossible.”  Two weeks ago the classes had their field day and the Award Assemblies were held this week.  Yesterday was the 5^th Grade Graduation.  In so many ways the Bedford Elementary School looks like a very typical, all-American school—but it’s not.  You see, there are missing children. 

        There may be 100 children who are missing, perhaps more.  No one really knows the number.  Their last names would be Stevens, Reynolds, Yopp, Gillaspie, and Hoback to name a few.  They would be happy, well-adjusted children, participating in all of the activities, the plays, the outings.  Their moms and dads would be so proud of them and of course, their grandparents would too.  They would sit together at the Award Assemblies and the 5^th Grade Graduation with hearts full of pride and eyes brimming with tears, wondering how their little boys and girls grew up so fast. 

Their great-grandfathers would be proud too, if they were still living.  They would be in their 90s now, some approaching 100.  They would be so proud because they not only had been blessed with a long, good life, but they had watched their children, then their grandchildren, and now their great-grandchildren grow into responsible citizens, having families of their own.  They had become educators, doctors, ministers, farmers, and civic leaders.  They had made a profound difference in their community. But it never happened.

These children are missing because they were never born.  Their parents were never born.  Their grandparents were never born because their great-grandfathers who would be in their nineties now, were killed 71 years ago and they never had the opportunity to have a family.  Sitting next door to the Bedford Elementary School is the majestic National D-Day Memorial that pays homage to the valiant men who died in the D-Day Invasion on June 6, 1944.  The reason it is located in the little town of Bedford is because this community lost 21 boys in the Normandy Invasion, the greatest loss per-capita of any town or city in the United States.  Their last names were Stevens, Reynolds, Yopp, Gillaspie, Hoback plus 17 more. 

 A large delegation of Lexington travelers visited the memorial recently on our annual Bible Study Field Trip.  It was a picture-perfect spring day.  A quiet reverence, a holy hush hovered over us as we walked through the memorial listening to our guide’s commentary.  It was the largest military amphibious landing the world has ever seen involving 150,000 soldiers, 5,000 ships and 11,000 aircraft.    There were over 9,000 casualties in the invasion with 4,413 men being killed on D-Day itself.  Nineteen of the Bedford boys died within the first 15 minutes.  The magnitude of the sacrifice is incalculable, but it was necessary to defeat the powers of evil that threatened us.  General Eisenhower stated that this was a crusade in which we would accept nothing less than full victory.  Failure was impossible.  All of us in the group were touched and deeply moved by the power of the experience. 

I kept looking over at the elementary school.  I wonder how many men who died would have had great-grandchildren attending that school.  There are missing children all over our nation because a mother or father, a grandparent or great-grandparent gave the ultimate sacrifice.  But what if they had not died?  What if we had not engaged the enemy and turned back the tide of evil?  Would there even be an elementary school today?  Would we have churches in which to worship?  Would our children be able to safely play?

I invite you to pause and reflect on this Memorial Day Weekend.  I thank God for the selfless, brave, and heroic men and women who believed that “Failure is Impossible” even if it cost them their very lives.  Jesus said there is no greater love than a man who lays down his life for his friends.  The Missing Children of Bedford represent the greatest love.  

All We Ask Is That The Government Not Hurt Our Efforts To Do Good

        Thomas Jefferson said, “That government is best that governs least, because its people discipline themselves.”   We are constantly engaged in a philosophical and ideological struggle over the role of government in everyday life.  Those of us in the faith community are challenged and even commanded to help the poor, feed the hungry, lift up the downtrodden and care for the needy.  The sad truth is that many people of faith have abdicated this responsibility over to the government.  But not everyone!  There are many churches, agencies, and groups in this community who take their benevolent responsibility seriously and are changing lives in a positive way.  These are situations that the government should be applauding and encouraging, certainly not hurting!

        The Lexington Kiwanis Club has reached out to those in need by focusing on lifting up and enriching the lives of children through an annual summer camp.  When the camp first started in 1928 the target group was children who were malnourished and susceptible to the dreaded disease of tuberculosis.  Kamp Kiwanis today focuses on children who often come from troubled homes and do not receive the love and encouragement that is so essential in developing a positive self-esteem.  We still have children who don’t have enough food to eat and we feed them well, but the most important thing is to feed their spirits and develop their sense of self-worth.  We want each child to know they are special and loved in the eyes of God. 

        Our operation of Kamp Kiwanis, which gets more expensive each year, is strictly through private funds.  The only help we get from the government is that we ask the Department of Social Services to select the children to ensure we reach those who need this experience the most.  We receive no governmental funding or subsidy.  This is the reason why so many of us are dismayed by the recent action of the NC State Legislature to tax our primary source of revenue for our camp.  

        The new tax was implemented as an entertainment tax to generate more revenue from sporting events, concerts, and theater.  This is a tax we understand and support.  Governmental fairs were exempt from this tax but for some inexplicable reason or grievous oversight, county fairs were not.  Since 1946 the Lexington Kiwanis Club has owned and operated the Davidson County Agricultural Fair with the sole purpose of raising the funds to operate Kamp Kiwanis.  We are a non-profit that exists to help others.  The Kiwanis Club members volunteer their time to run the fair.   All of the proceeds go to bless the lives of these children who attend camp. No one is making money.  Everything is done for the children.

        We operate on a razor-thin margin.  All school children can enter the fair for a dollar.  The adult admission is $7.00.   We don’t charge for parking.  If this tax had been in effect last year, the club would have been forced to pay $6,800 to the state.  That would equal 970 people paying full admission or to put it another way; 27 children would not be able to attend camp. 

        I applaud the efforts of Representative Sam Watford who has introduced an amendment to exempt county fairs from this new tax.  He not only knows of the good work we seek to do, but realizes how detrimental this tax will be on a small organization like Kiwanis.  There are many times it is necessary for the government to get involved in the lives of citizens.  But when citizens are not only doing the right thing, but seeking to break the cycle of poverty so that the next generation will be less dependent on the government, the last thing the government needs to do is weaken that cause. 

        We can, and should, continue the debate on the role of government in our lives.  The more that faith groups and civic organizations can do to help people in need is a win/win for all of us.  It fulfills our mission and it reduces the burden on our government.  All we ask is that the government not hurt our efforts to do good.  

 

                                                                       

       

       

A Prophetic Voice 25 Years Ago

        A little over 25 years ago I made a visit to Lexington to meet with a man whom I had admired from a distance.  Dr. Hoke Coon served as Senior Minister of First Baptist Church of Lexington for 27 years. He had a remarkable ministry both in the church and the community.  Following his retirement the church formed a Search Committee and they were trying to convince me to become Dr. Coon’s successor.  Before I agreed to say yes, I wanted to talk to Dr. Coon, face to face. 

        Most ministers who follow a beloved, respected, long-tenured pastor like Dr. Coon don’t stay very long.  The same principle is true in coaching and business.  The legendary predecessor casts a shadow too great to overcome. But I immediately sensed it would be different with Dr. Coon. 

        We met over coffee and after a few pleasantries he looked at me and said, “I was exactly the age you are now when I came to Lexington.”  (I was 36)  “I didn’t think I would stay until retirement,” he went on to say as he stirred his coffee.  Then he looked at me and with a twinkle in his eye he added, “And you don’t either.”

        The truth is, it never entered my mind that I would stay in Lexington until I retired.  I preached my first sermon in Lexington 25 years ago next Wednesday on April Fool’s Day.  And if the good Lord is willing, the creek doesn’t rise and the faithful flock at First Baptist can put up with me, Dr. Coon was most prophetic. 

        Lexington has become our home and we feel blessed to be a part of a caring church and community.  Each Sunday I have the awesome and joyful privilege of sharing the good news of the Gospel to my church and over the radio. I’ve had the joy of watching children grow up in the church and become mature adults.  I have witnessed many life milestones and have had the sacred responsibility of walking with families through times of illness, heartache, and death.  I’ve had the great joy of presiding at many weddings and the solemn task of conducting way too many funerals. I get to go to youth camps and go on mission trips with our young people.  And traveling with Senior Adults is always rewarding. 

        Every week I have the joy of leading community Bible studies at the church and the YMCA.  For well over 20 years I have been blessed to share with you, the readers of the Dispatch through this Religion Column—a task I inherited from my friend, Lee Jessup.  I’ve helped write a book on Davidson County History.  I had great fun working with my good friend, Harold Bowen, broadcasting Lexington football games and American Legion Baseball games.  I’ve been able to help with campaigns to build the Davidson Medical Ministry Clinic, the Hospice House, and the Chapel at the Prison.  I’ve served on the Boards at both Lexington and Baptist Hospitals.  I’m proud to be a part of the Kiwanis Club and every summer have the great joy of working with children at Kamp Kiwanis.  I even get to give the blessing at the BBQ Festival every year!  Wow!  I think I just heard the angel Clarence say, “You’ve had a wonderful life.”

        It would not have been possible without Dr. Coon.  That day we met over coffee he offered to leave the church.  I told him that I wanted just the opposite.  “I need you to help me,” I said.  “I want you to be as involved as you can be.  There is enough love in a church for more than one minister.”

        Help me, he did.  He became my mentor, my confidant, and my friend.  But he always stayed in the background.  He was a humble servant to the end. 

        If the Lord is willing, I’m looking forward to several more years of service in our church and community.  This is what God has called me to do and l love what I am doing.  My wife, Joyce, and I are blessed in so many ways.  We have a wonderful family, five precious grandchildren, and we love our favorite town—Lexington.  

        Twenty-five years ago Dr. Coon knew something I did not.  I’m thankful for his prophetic voice.

                                                               

                                                            

Travel Is the Best Education

        We returned Monday night from a wonderful, relaxing 10-day Eastern Caribbean Cruise.  The idea for this trip was born last year at the Kiwanis Valentine Dinner when Jim and Debbie Tate were talking to us and we were all bemoaning the cold, miserable winter weather.  Jim and Debbie love to cruise—so we started talking about taking a Caribbean Cruise the next winter.  And we did!

        We always like to travel with friends and we were joined by Kathy Hinkle, Linda Engstrom, Kay and R. N. Hardin, Tom and Ann Lackey, and Jim and Debbie.  It was a great group and we had fun traveling together.

        Our cruise departed from Fort Lauderdale on Friday, February 27.  I’m a firm believer that you should never wait until the day of the cruise to fly to the port—too many things can happen.  We decided to fly to Fort Lauderdale on Thursday and spend the night before the cruise.  On Monday morning before our departure, Jim contacted me and asked me if I had seen the weather report for Wednesday night.  I had not.   Snow was developing and it looked like Charlotte would be hit with a major snowstorm.  Tom and Ann had decided to drive to Florida and they were looking like the smartest ones in our group.  I contacted the others and we made reservations at an airport hotel thinking that if we were at the airport, we would have no problems.  Little did we know. . .

        The snowstorm was looking more and more like a certainty and we left Wednesday afternoon for Charlotte.  Kay and R. N. rode with us.  After checking into the hotel we went for an early dinner with Jim and Debbie.  Linda and Kathy came a little later. 

        Around 6:00 p.m. the snow started.  We had just finished dinner and Jim and I decided that we needed to take our vehicles to Park N’ Go that night, rather than wait until morning since they were calling for 8 inches.  We asked the shuttle driver if he could just drop us back at the hotel, rather than take us to the airport.  He said that he had never done that before, but he was happy to oblige. 

        When we got back Kathy and Linda were checking in.  We had reservations on the 8:30 shuttle the next morning to the airport.  Our cars were parked.  We were ready to go.  But that is when USAIRWAYS decided to take the forecast seriously and we were notified that all USAir flights the next morning in Charlotte were cancelled. 

     Jim and I jumped on the hotel shuttle and went to the airport as big flakes of snow were falling.  We went the USAir counter and thankfully had a very helpful agent.   As she was trying to rebook our flights Jim and I watched the board behind her lighting up like a Christmas tree with one flight after another reading, “Cancelled, Cancelled, Cancelled.”

        When the airline cancels your flight the computer rebooks you.  Our rebooking information was coming to us on our phones.  They had us leaving Friday morning and flying to Philadelphia!  We knew that would not work.

        The agent would find us some seats but before she could book them, the computer would grab them first.  She was fighting the computer and the computer was winning. 

        Finally she said, “I’m sorry but I can’t get you to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow.” 

        But then she added, “I can get you to Miami, if that would work.” 

        Miami is only 30 miles from Fort Lauderdale.  Soon we were all booked, not on the same flights, but we were all booked to Miami.

        Linda and Kathy took an early afternoon flight to Miami and were waiting for us when we arriving around 6:00 p.m.  Our travel agent, Angela, had arranged for a driver to meet us and without any delay we were our way to Fort Lauderdale. 

        We arrived at our hotel and they informed us that they were overbooked and did not have any rooms.  If you travel you know that you must expect the unexpected, which is what we have learned to do.

        We had a wonderful cruise.  The weather was perfect, the ship was lovely, the food delicious, the fellowship was fantastic.  Most of the trips we take are filled with excursions, historical tours, and events.  But Joyce and I decided we were going to spend most of our time relaxing.  We didn’t get off the ship very much but enjoyed all of the exceptional services and amenities that come with modern day cruising.   We had dinner together with our group several times and both Sunday mornings we gathered for a time of meditation and reflection.  We came back refreshed and renewed.

        The young man who picked us up at the Miami airport told me that he was back at work for the first time in 3 years.  He went on to explain that he had cancer and had been through extensive surgery and treatment, but now he was healthy enough to work again.  Suddenly, cancelled flights and overbooked hotels seemed very small in comparison.

        Since our hotel was overbooked they sent us to the Hilton and refunded our money.  Not a bad deal considering we were about to spend 10 days sailing the beautiful Caribbean Sea.  And we were healthy and blessed to be able to travel. 

        My grandmother used to teach me that travel is the best education.  Her words continue to be true.   

       

       

Tribute to a Dean of Righteousness

 

        I grew up in Alabama where football was king and Bear Bryant had more clout than George Wallace.  I knew very little about Tobacco Road and the great ACC basketball traditions of Everett Case and Frank McGuire.  When I moved to North Carolina in the 1970s NC State became my adopted team.  I soon learned about the great legacy of Norm Sloan, David Thompson and Tommy Burleson.  I rode the emotional tide of Jimmy Valvano’s 1983 NCAA Championship for the ages. But there was always this quiet guy at the other school, the one where they wear light blue—a guy named Dean. 

        I didn’t know if Dean was his first name or if he was an actual Dean at the university.  He didn’t have the personality of Jimmy Valvano, he wasn’t a lightening rod like Lefty Driesell, he didn’t rub people the wrong way like Mike Krzyzewski; but he was a consistent winner who ran a clean program and never let any one player, not even Michael Jordan, become bigger than the team. While his basketball accomplishments were extraordinary, when I learned that Coach Smith was a dedicated member of the Binkley Memorial Baptist Church in Chapel Hill I started to realize that there was more to the story.

        Dr. Robert Seymour became the founding pastor of Binkley Church in 1958 and served for 30 years.  One the church’s first members was Dean Smith who was then an assistant basketball coach.  The two men quickly became good friends, an influential friendship that would last a lifetime. 

        Dr. Seymour’s prophetic voice guided his church to be on the cutting edge of social issues.  One of the first interns at the church was James Forbes, an African-American student from Union Theological Seminary.  Forbes went on to a legendary career of his own, later becoming the Senior Minister of the Riverside Church in New York City.  But his short time at Binkley Church was transformational and resulted in a dramatic, but little known event that many credit to ending segregation in Chapel Hill.

        The North Carolina basketball team often ate at the Pines Restaurant, a popular upscale Chapel Hill institution.   Of course, the basketball team was all white and the restaurant only served white people, as did all the other restaurants in Chapel Hill.  That all changed one day at lunch when four men entered the restaurant and asked to be seated.  Two of the men were black.  The manager was quickly summoned and was about to deny their request until he recognized one of the white men who was the Assistant Basketball Coach at the University of North Carolina.  Without any resistance, Dean Smith, along with his pastor Bob Seymour and a black student and a black minister were seated.  Most people never learned about this until years later.  Amazingly, it took place a year before the much publicized Greensboro lunch counter sit-ins. 

        A few years later it was Bob Seymour who told now head Coach Dean Smith that it was time for him to recruit a black player.  Charlie Scott had committed to Davidson and was actually enrolled in the freshman class but a visit to the campus with his parents had resulted in an ugly incident when they were refused service at a diner.  Charlie went home and called Dean Smith who brought him to visit the UNC campus.  They didn’t go to a diner.   Coach Smith brought the prized recruit to church.  Years later Charlie Scott would recall, “That’s when I knew he cared about me as a person.”

        It wasn’t just racial issues, but Dean Smith was a champion for women’s rights, equality for homosexuals, and other progressive causes.

        John Feinstein, an acclaimed sports writer, was interviewing Coach Smith a few years ago and asked him to tell him the Pines Restaurant story.  Smith gave him an angry look and said, “Who told you about that?”

        “Rev. Seymour,” he responded.

        “I wish he hadn’t done that,” Coach Smith said. 

        John Feinstein said, “Why?  You should be proud of doing something like that.”

        Dean Smith leaned forward in his chair and in a very quiet voice said, “You should never be proud of doing what is right.  You should just do what’s right.”

        And he did.  He did what was right his entire life.  He was a Dean of Righteousness.