The Original Marion North Carolina

          Here’s a story I bet you didn’t know.  It has to do with Marion, North Carolina.  No, not that Marion.  I’m talking about the original Marion that almost became the County Seat of Davidson County. 

          On November 22, 1822, Joseph Spurgeon introduced a bill in the North Carolina Senate to divide Rowan County.  The official Act establishing a separate and distinct county by the name of Davidson was formally ratified by the General Assembly on December 9, 1822.

          The citizens of Lexington assumed that their town would be named the new County Seat.  Lexington was the oldest and only established town in the new county.  A provisional court was often held in Lexington and the townspeople were confident that only the formalities needed to be addressed before Lexington became Davidson County’s Seat of Government, but the good people of Lexington were about to be disappointed.

          The General Assembly wanted new County Seats to be located as near as possible to the geographic center of the county.  A survey was made and it was determined that the geographic center of Davidson County was located on the farm of Martin Owens, in present day Holly Grove.  On April 17, 1823, the county purchased 108 acres from Mr. Owens for the sum of $300.  The land was laid off in lots and an auction was held.  Many lots were sold in the new County Seat which had already been given a name.  Frances Marion was a Revolutionary War hero known as the “Swamp Fox.”  The new County Seat of Davidson County would be named Marion, North Carolina.

          The people of Lexington were not happy with this unexpected turn of events.  One of Lexington’s leading citizens, Dr. William R. Holt, decided to do something about it.  The town’s first physician, an 1817 University of North Carolina graduate, had moved to Lexington in 1920.  Dr. Holt, a close friend of John Motley Morehead, was an influential and persuasive man.  His beautiful 1834 Greek Revival home, “The Homestead,” remains an active and charming residence to this day.

 

He took the matter to court arguing that the results of the survey were in error.  On October 30, 1823, the Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions ordered that the survey maps and papers be turned over to Dr. Holt “in order that he may have the center of Davidson County ascertained, certified and delivered” to the General Assembly by no less than, “The President of the University,” the Rev. Dr. Joseph Caldwell. 

A former professor of mathematics, Dr. Caldwell was President of the University of North Carolina from 1804 to 1833.  He was widely known in the Carolinas for his expertise as the “Astronomical Advisor” for the running of the boundary between North and South Carolina and Georgia in 1807.  An “Astronomical Advisor” was an expert in establishing boundaries. He was the most qualified man in the state to settle the Davidson County Seat controversy.

A former student of Dr. Caldwell, Dr. Holt persuaded him to disqualify the original survey.  We are not sure how Dr. Holt did it, but his friendship with his old professor certainly helped!   He could not, however, convince his aging old friend that Lexington was the geographic center of the new county, primarily because it was not.

          Dr. Caldwell was not unsympathetic to the needs of one of his former star pupils.  He stated that as long as the Courthouse was within five miles of the center of the county, there should be no problem.  He went on to argue that the County Seat should be placed in an established town so that the county folk upon visiting the town might return home “with improved feelings, minds enlarged, information increased, their various business in courts and stores finished to their minds, and their publick (sic) spirit, gratified and excited by the scene of general activity and prosperity.”

          Unfortunately for Lexington, the people who had purchased lots in the new town of Marion were not persuaded by the enlightened Chapel Hill rhetoric.  They demanded another survey which was done, but the results favored neither side.

It was finally decided that an election would determine the location of Davidson County’s Seat of Government.  Representatives from the new county needed to be elected for the State Legislature and the “hot button” issue quickly became the location of the County Seat.  A vote for Alexander Caldcleugh for State Senate would be a vote for Lexington.  A vote for I. Smith would be a vote for Marion.  In the State House, Jesse Hargrave of Lexington was running against William Bodenhamer who was an advocate for Marion.  Caldcleugh won his election by four votes (409 to 405) and Hargrave was victorious by two votes (649-647).    The men still faced a fight in Raleigh, but they were successful in establishing Lexington as the County Seat of Davidson County. 

The land that had been sold in Marion was purchased back by the county.  Davidson County later used the land that was once part of Martin Owens’ farm to build the County Home.  Today, the Davidson County Schools Administrative Offices are located on this property.  Close by you will find the only reminder of what almost became Marion, North Carolina, a street named Marion Drive.

When McDowell County in the western part of the state was formed in 1843, a similar controversy arose between those who wanted the new County Seat to be in the established town of Buck Creek and those who wanted to create a new town at the county’s geographic center.  In this case, a new town was created and on March 14, 1844, there was finally a County Seat named Marion.  It’s located in the geographic center of McDowell County.

But aren’t you glad Lexington became the County Seat of Davidson County.  After all, Marion just wouldn’t do. They didn’t know how to barbecue!

 

                  

DID I SAY THAT!

       I’m preaching a revival this week at Paul’s Chapel UCC Church.  The revival started Sunday night and will continue through Tuesday.  I’m doing the preaching and the church has invited a different gospel group each night to sing.  Last night a local gospel bluegrass group named “Second Chance” provided the music.  They were very good.  If you like bluegrass, you will love “Second Chance.”  After “Second Chance” finished their selections, a young lady sang a solo. 

       When it was time for me to preach I started by thanking the congregation for the opportunity to be with them, then I thanked the ones who provided special music.  I made a mental note of the young lady’s name before I stood up, but as I was starting to say something about the music I realized I had forgotten her name.  But at the last minute it came to me and I thanked her (calling her by the right name) for the wonderful solo.  At that point I also thanked the gospel group—or at least I thought I did.  Joyce told me after the service.  “Do you realize what you said?  You didn’t thank “Second Chance” but “Second Wind!” 

       Many of you know “Second Wind.”  Alan Williams and Mark Motlow are two of the band members.  But they were not playing at Paul’s Chapel on Sunday night—“Second Chance” was.  The visiting preacher, however, got up and talked about how wonderful “Second Wind” could play.

       Did I say that!    I guess I did.  I’m getting old you know—or at least that’s my excuse. 

       I’ve always had a fear of calling someone by the wrong name at a wedding or a funeral.  I’ve done hundreds of weddings and funerals through the years, but so far I’ve called people by the right name.  (As far as I know!) 

I did a wedding years ago for a fellow named Norton.   Only problem was Norton was not his real name.  His real name was Paul Lathan, but no one knew that—except his mother who insisted I call him by his given name.  So when the wedding started I announced that we were there to witness the wedding of Paul Lathan and his bride,  The congregation gasped.  They were sure I had called him by the wrong name.  Only his mother knew why Paul Lathan was getting married rather than Norton.

       So thank you “Second Chance” and thank you “Second Wind.”  You can call me Ray!

TCBBQ

 

            Have you seen the promotional brochures and the posters for the 30^th Annual Barbecue Festival?  Over the image of the old courthouse you will see a banner that reads:  TCBBQ—Takin’ Care of Barbecue.  I was intrigued by the new slogan so I contacted Stephanie Saintsing Naset, the festival’s executive director who told me that the clever acronym was created with Elvis Presley in mind as he had adopted “Takin’ Care of Business” (TCB) as his personal motto.  His band was named the TCB Band and he even had TCB painted on the tail of his private jet.  In Lexington we “TCB—BQ,” we take care of BBQ!

            Two weeks from today over 175,000 people will pack the streets of Lexington town to celebrate our signature product—pork barbecue.  (Of course its pork!  Is there any other?)  From the day old Simon Peter had his vision on the rooftop in Joppa and God announced: “Q is good for you!  Take and eat with a little red slaw.”  (Lexington Standard Version), to BBQ pioneers Jesse Swicegood and Sid Weaver, and to today’s plethora of Barbecue establishments in and around town, that simmering, delectable, slow cooked pork shoulder just gets better and better.  Thirty years ago Dispatch Publisher Joe Sink along with Kay Saintsing created the first Barbecue Festival.  From the very beginning the festival has been much more than our delicious barbecue; it has been a celebration of community, a venue to share talents and crafts, a showcase for entertainment, and an affirmation of what is right with our world. 

            Lexington barbecue developed out of a basic need.  As the county seat of Davidson County, people would flock to town on court days.  They came not just to seek justice, but to shop in the stores, obtain professional services, and enjoy the fellowship of friends and family.  There were not enough restaurants to accommodate the large crowds, so entrepreneuring individuals decided to provide temporary food services.  They would dig a pit in the ground where they would slow roast pork shoulders over hickory wood.  Lexington barbecue was born!  The first official “restaurant” opened in 1919 when Sid Weaver set up a tent in the center of town.  Jesse Swicegood soon followed, and today there are over twenty barbecue restaurants that TCBBQ!

            Last Sunday was World Communion Sunday and I couldn’t help but notice the connection with our upcoming BBQ Festival.  Both celebrations focus on a table that brings people together.  A big, big table---it takes a big table to serve BBQ for 175,000 and an even bigger table for all God’s children to gather as they receive the bread and wine.  Both tables address basic needs:  the need for nourishment for our physical bodies and the need for spiritual nourishment for our souls. Both tables invite the creation of community.

            The table of our Lord is a table of love, mercy, and grace.  We come to the Lord’s table out of great need.  We need the Lord.  We need his mercy and grace that we find at his table.  But there are so many more people who are not in our churches.  Many are suffering.  They have medical needs.  Children are hungry and there are those who need encouragement and a helping hand. As we shared the bread and wine this past Sunday, I challenged my congregation to take God’s mercy and grace out of the walls of the sanctuary to the community where people are in need. If they are not coming to the Lord’s table, we will take the table to them.

Two weeks from today it will be my great joy to “Bless the BBQ” as part of the Opening Ceremony.  What I’m really doing is simply expressing gratitude to God, because he has already blessed us with a loving and caring community that loves to throw a party.  We’ll be ready to welcome the tens of thousands of guests who come to the celebration.  Don’t worry, we know how to TCBBQ.  We also TCGPT.  We’ll take care of God’s people, too!   

 

Where Children May Safely Play

        Tucked away in the little Old Testament book of Zechariah is a beautiful image of old men and women walking around the city of Jerusalem with canes while children play in the streets with laughter and joy.  It is a prophecy of life the way it is supposed to be—life in the Kingdom of God.  Dr. Eugene Peterson  in his presentation of the Bible called “The Message” shares the verse this way:  Old men and old women will come back to Jerusalem, sit on benches on the streets and spin tales, move around safely with their canes—a good city to grow old in. And boys and girls will fill the public parks, laughing and playing—a good city to grow up in.

        This is our hope for this community and every community.  But sadly, in a world of great evil and many manifestations of darkness, it is not safe for children or adults to be in many streets for fear of gunfire, bombs, or even a chemical attack.  The heartbreaking images of the bodies of innocent children in Syria are impossible to erase from our minds.  We are devastated by such horrific events and we want to respond, to do something—but what?  I don’t know what the answer is, but I don’t believe it is found in missiles and airstrikes.  When will we learn that a violent response to violence only perpetuates more violence?  I want to “study war no more!”

But violence is not confined to the Middle East.  Gun violence in Chicago is an epidemic with over 500 homicides last year and already over 300 this year.  Over 30 percent of the victims are teenagers and children.  Where is the blame?  Gangs, drugs, poverty, inequality?   All of us?   What is the answer?

        As much as I would like to help the suffering in Syria, Chicago, and other faraway places, there is little I can do.  But I can do something about the suffering in Lexington and Davidson County.  Around 45 percent of the children in Lexington live in poverty.  A couple of years ago the Southern Education Foundation ranked the Lexington School District the 66^th worst in the south in extreme child poverty.  Twenty-one percent of its students were living below 50 percent of the federal poverty level.  Most of these children are not laughing and playing in the streets. Many go to bed hungry. 

        Where do I start?  I begin by making a difference in the life of one child.  There are a number of community agencies, programs, and initiatives through the school systems that give you an opportunity to help children in need.  Mentors, tutors, encouragers, leaders, and helpers are needed.  They need financial support and administrative skills. You can get involved directly or indirectly.  The Backpack Program, Communities in Schools, Smart Start, The Boys and Girls Club, Project Potential, the YMCA, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, the 4-H Program, CHILL, Special Olympics, and a host of other programs make a qualitative difference in the lives of children.  Call your local school or an agency to see how you can help!

        You can even make a difference in the life of a Davidson County child by attending next week’s Davidson County Agricultural Fair.  Every summer around 180 deserving children are selected by the Department of Social Services to attend a week of summer camp where they can safely laugh and play.  Since 1946, the Lexington Kiwanis Club has operated the annual county fair to raise the revenue to operate Kamp Kiwanis.  Your $7.00 admission to the fair next week will help some child attend summer camp next year.  Have fun at the fair and help a child!  Now that’s a win-win!

        The needs of our world and even our own community are often overwhelming.  We cannot meet all of those needs, but we can meet some.  If everyone reading this column would do something---get involved in a program, make a financial contribution, volunteer your services—we can turn the lives of many children around and give them hope for the future!  And in the process we will be building the Kingdom of God, creating a community where children may safely play. 

                                                                       

 

FAITH/HEALTH AND THE KINGDOM OF GOD

        Most everyone in Lexington knows “Durango.”  I learned a few years ago that while everyone calls him “Durango” he prefers his given name, Kenneth.  Kenneth lives in Bob’s Board House on Main Street in downtown Lexington.  He is a fixture at American Legion Baseball games and the Davidson County Fair.  Years ago he rode a bicycle all over town and beyond.

        Jimmy Snyder has been a good and helpful friend to Kenneth for many years.  When I found out that Kenneth needed a medical procedure at Lexington Medical Center, I thought it might be a good “trial run” for FaithHealthNC. 

        The preparation for the procedure has recently changed and when Kenneth told me he wasn’t sure what to do, I looked at his instructions and it took me a while to figure it out.  This happens often with medicine.  Part of FaithHealth is helping people understand their medical orders. 

          Early Monday morning I picked Kenneth up from his apartment and took him to Lexington Medical Center.  Jim Tate, our FaithHealth Administrator had sent out an email last week explaining the need and had an immediate and positive response.  Gary Wikstrom had volunteered to pick Kenneth up after his procedure, so I had written down Gary’s phone numbers and also mine, but the nurse told me somebody had to be at the hospital during the actual procedure.  I told her that I would stay and then called Gary to let him know what was going on.  He came right on to the hospital.  We were both there when Kenneth came out of the procedure and we talked to the doctor.  

          Gary took over, taking Kenneth home and getting him settled.   Gary also provided a meal for Kenneth and later in the evening, Michelle and William Hopkins also brought him a meal.  They also called him and checked on him.

          Kenneth called me that night.  He was thrilled with all the attention he received and went into great detail telling me everything that was brought to him to eat.  He told me that would last him for several days.  Then he said, as only Kenneth can, “Thank you for all the nice things you did for me today.”  

          The greatest gift we gave to Kenneth was not transportation and food, although that was very important, but we surrounded him with love and support—and that meant more than any medicine or medical procedure. 

          Kenneth’s words:  “Thank you for all the nice things you did for me today” echo as a blessing and a challenge.   Isn’t this what Jesus had in mind when he talked about building the Kingdom of God?

 

A VOID, A GAP, NEVER TO BE FILLED

The tears streamed down, and I let them flow as freely as they would, making of them a pillow for my heart." — Augustine

It's been almost 35 years ago, but I will never forget that hot summer night when I heard some noise over at the church and went to investigate. It was late on a Friday night, and we were living in the parsonage next to the church.

I encountered a group of teenage boys who were riding around town on a dune-buggy, engaged in a water balloon battle with their friends. They had stopped by the church to replenish the water balloons with our outdoor faucets. I had a nice conversation with the boys and asked that they make sure the faucets were turned off when they finished. They wished me a good night, and I told them to be safe. Little did I know …

I was a volunteer emergency medical technician on the local rescue squad, and it was my night to be on call. Around midnight I was jolted out of my sleep by a loud alarm followed by an announcement that there had been a wreck with injuries on a dirt road out of town.

I met my partner, and we were quickly en route with lights and sirens blaring. As we pulled up to the accident I was shocked to see the same dune-buggy turned upside down in a ditch. Several bodies were scattered across the road — the boys I met at the church. We called for backup and quickly started to triage the injuries. Two or three of the boys were seriously hurt, but their injuries were not life threatening.

But then I saw that one of the boys was not moving. Rushing over to him I immediately recognized that there was nothing I could do. He had been thrown from the vehicle and was crushed as it rolled over him. We took a sheet and covered his body while we attended to the injured.

Other ambulances came and transported the victims to the hospital while I stayed behind with the state trooper. We thought that we should find out who the young man's minister was and ask him to go with us to notify his family. We found his driver's license and when I saw his name I realized that I was the minister! They were members of my church.

He was their only child. I will never forget the anguish, the panic, the shock and disbelief. The father insisted that we take him to the scene of the accident. Then we went with him to the hospital where he sobbed over his son's lifeless body. I was with the family most of the weekend. I preached the young man's funeral. It was one of the saddest things I have ever had to do.

I think of this young man from time to time, but especially when I hear of a tragic accident like the one our community experienced last month. I do not know the family who lost their precious little girl in the pool accident, but my heart immediately went out to them.

Nicholas Wolterstorff, a prolific Christian philosopher, shared the deep wounds of his heart after the tragic death of his son in a book titled "Lament for a Son." He talked about the great void that is left. "Never again will anyone inhabit the world the way he did. Questions I have can never now get answers. The world is emptier. My son is gone. Only a hole remains, a void, a gap, never to be filled."

Paula D'arcy, who lost a daughter in terrible car wreck, wrote of her anguish in a book, "Song for Sarah: A Mother's Journey Through Grief and Beyond." She made the statement: "God never guaranteed anything to be permanent except his love. I made all the other conclusions."

I have no answers to these tragic events. However, I must believe that God's love is all we have and all we need. God's heart is broken as heavily as the parents. And God understands.

Almost a year after the young man was killed, his father stopped by the parsonage with a gift. He made us a beautiful wooden bookcase. It was the work of a master craftsman. There were no nails. The wood was dovetailed together. I was deeply touched by his gift. He had spent hours and hours making it perfect. "When you look at it," he said, "think of my son."

I do, but I also think of the father for I realized that he was finally walking through the valley. There was life on the other side.

 

TIGER CRUISE

 

        The Navy says she is 90,000 tons of diplomacy.  The USS Dwight D. Eisenhower is one the greatest aircraft carriers (My son Knight corrected me—THE GREATEST aircraft carrier) in the world.  The “Mighty Ike” leads a Strike Group that covers 2.5 million square miles of water including the Arabian Gulf and Sea, Red Sea, Gulf of Oman and Gulf of Aden.  They just returned from their latest combat and security mission to a much deserved hero’s welcome in Norfolk on July 3.  As the colossal carrier finally docked at the Norfolk Naval Ship Yards in front of thousands of cheering family members after being at sea for 13 of the last 16 months, I was having the experience of a lifetime.  I wasn’t standing in the cheering crowd watching the ship come in—I was actually on board the ship with almost 5,000 anxious sailors who were all so thrilled to finally be home!  In fact, I had been on the Ike since Monday and had seen and experienced things that most civilians can never even imagine.

        Our son, Knight, serves as a Chief Petty Officer on the Eisenhower and told me a number of months ago that a “Tiger Cruise” might be a possibility at the end of their long deployment.  I can’t find anyone who knows where the “Tiger” terminology comes from, other than an arbitrary Naval designation for civilians who are invited to board a ship for a cruise.  A sailor can invite a family member other than a spouse.  Knight invited me and Ken Severt, his father-in-law, as well as his brother-in-law, Heath. We knew that sometime around the end of June or early July the Tiger Cruise would be an option, but did not know the exact dates until a couple of weeks ago for security reasons.  Even then the dates could not be communicated by phone or emails. 

        After church on June 30, Joyce and I drove to Raleigh-Durham airport.  Joyce went on to our daughter’s (Della) house in Wendell and they came to Norfolk to meet the ship on July 3.  I flew from RDU to Jacksonville (via Chicago?) and arrived at the airport around 11:30 Sunday night.  On Monday morning I met Ken and Heath and we boarded a charter bus from the airport to the Mayport Naval port. 

        We arrived at the dock around 10:30 in the morning and I was surprised that the Eisenhower was not there.  But you could see her way off in the distance and since it was low tide and she has a 45-foot draft, they were waiting for high tide to dock. 

        No one is more organized than our military and they made sure no one was bored or hungry.  Under a big tent they had sandwiches and drinks that everyone enjoyed while a Navy band entertained us with great patriotic music.  We could hear the excitement building as the “Mighty Ike” was spotted moving in our direction and as she drew closer and closer it was evident just how massive the ship really is.  Commissioned in 1977, she is a 5-star nuclear powered aircraft carrier with a flight deck that is almost 1,100 feet long and covers over 4.5 acres.  The ship and air crew total over 5,500.  She can sail at over 30 knots, even fully loaded. 

        I had seen the Ike come back from deployments in Norfolk, but this was the first time I had seen the carrier with its full complement of aircraft.  There are 85-90 birds, primarily F-18 fighter jets.  It was an impressive sight!

        A number of sailors had elected to disembark at Mayport and so we witnessed some happy and tearful homecomings.  We simply cannot imagine how difficult long deployments are on family members.  Fathers, who have had babies born while they were away, are always allowed to disembark first.  A few years ago I saw a Navy mother reunited with her little 3 year old daughter after a long deployment.  I get teary just thinking about it. 

        The plan was that after all the departing sailors were off the ship, the Tiger sponsors would come ashore to find their Tigers.  However, there was this deluge of rain that starting falling—and continued to fall---it was raining cats and dogs and tigers, too!

        My flight out of Raleigh was delayed due to heavy rain, but you don’t delay a 90,000 ton aircraft carrier.  Knight found us in the middle of the monsoon and we were literally soaked to the skin by the time we got on board.  Not to worry though---every problem has a solution in the Navy.  A kind sailor who works for Knight took our wet clothes and put them in a dryer and another sailor spent several hours drying our shoes. 

        Once we had on some dry clothes, Knight took us to our berths.  The Tiger Cruise is not to make you comfortable.  You sleep where the sailors sleep, eat the same food, follow the same schedules—in other words, we experience what they experience.  We were placed in coffin racks.  They were 3 deep on either size.  I had the middle rack.  The first night I wasn’t sure I could even squeeze in it, and once I did I quickly discovered why it is so named.  There were maybe five inches   from my nose to the top of the rack.  You really felt like you were in a coffin and turning over on your side was an adventure!  These sailors sleep in these racks every night (or during the day for those who work at night) of the deployment.  Going to the “Head” (the bathroom) was another adventure.  You had to open a watertight door from our berthing quarters that placed you in a small room with an open manhole.  If you slipped and fell down the manhole, it would not be good.  Plus you had to negotiate around the steel cover that took the rest of the floor space in the tiny cubicle.  From there you opened the door to the head, where you would find showers, sinks, and toilets. 

 

 

        A person who is not in physical shape could not survive a Tiger Cruise.  You do a lot of walking and climbing.  All of the “stairs” are essentially vertical ladders and going from the crew quarters to the upper levels of the tower can mean a 10 to 12 deck climb.  We used to wonder why our son Knight was so skinny, but after following him around for three days on the ship—I knew.  And I was so thankful that I work out at the YMCA.

        You eat in the same mess (dining) as your sailor and this was where we had it made because we got to eat in the CPO Mess.  The first night we had t-bone steaks and huge crab legs—not to mention chicken and all the fixings.  I assumed that this was served to everyone, but I quickly found out that was not the case.  There are around 250 CPOs on this ship of over 5,000.  They have their private dining area where they are waited on by an efficient staff.  In the mornings we had eggs cooked to order or omelets, bacon, sausage, biscuits, gravy—mercy me!  It was very good.  After that wonderful meal the first night they later had an ice cream social!

        One of the most amazing events of the cruise was the air power display.  We found a great vantage point up high on the tower next to the flight control center.  The F-18 don’t fly off the carrier, they are catapulted.  In a blink of an eye, they go from standing still to over 130 miles per hour and they are airborne with a might roar of their powerful jet engines.  The F-18s put on quite a show. We saw them fly loops, upside down, refuel in flight, and fly in formation.  Helicopters hovered around the ship and flares were launched in the water.  But the most incredible moment came when I caught something coming from the east in the corner of my eye.  I looked just in time to see an F-18 flying so fast there was no sound.  She zipped across the front of the ship with laser speed and then it happened—a sonic boom!   We were in awe and overwhelmed by it all.  Finally, as the choppers displayed big American Flags, the F-18s flew over in precise formation.

 

        Later that afternoon we had the same vantage point as the dozens of F-18s departed the ship for their home base at NAS Oceana.  For the entire deployment these brave pilots had been flying combat missions and we watched, felt the heat from the jet engines, smelled the jet fuel, and saw the genuine emotion of leaving the ground crew who had supported them throughout this mission, knowing that in a few hours they would be reunited with wives and children for the first time in months. 

        After another wonderful meal in the CPO Mess, we watched a few episodes of “Duck Dynasty” with Knight and shared some good laughs before going up on the now empty flight deck for an evening display of the ship’s weaponry.  While the ship is always accompanied by a fleet of battleships and strike force vessels, it has its own firepower that was demonstrated in an awesome display of military might.  The scenario was an unknown and unresponsive vessel that could be potentially hostile.  First flares are shot in the direction of the vessel.  Then a warning is announced.  If there is still no response, the Captain can elect to attack.  Chills were going up and down my spine as the Captain’s voice boomed over the speakers, “Open Fire!”  I didn’t need a July 4 firework display!  It was incredible to behold!  And woe to the enemy, whoever they may be, if they are in the line of fire!  Knight arranged for us to have one of the 50 caliber casings as a souvenir.  

        We had the opportunity to tour the ships Combat Command Center and also Flight Operations.  The technology was astonishing.  I don’t think NASA could beat the modern technology onboard these war vessels.  I’ve never seen so many computer screens, digital and video displays, and high-tech stuff in all my life.  They can actually direct an F-18 to a precise landing on the flight deck with a six-inch margin of error.  This is necessary since they need to hook the recovery cable, otherwise they cannot stop.  My head was spinning when we finally decided we needed some ice cream!

 

        The incredible aircraft carrier, the mind-boggling technology, the awesome airpower, the chilling gun power were all overwhelming.  But when I was asked to name the most impressive thing I experienced on the Ike, I responded without hesitation, “The crew.”   The brave men and women who serve on the USS Eisenhower are by far the most committed, impressive, and competent service men and women I have ever known.  Every single sailor, from the lowest ranking sailor to the Captain, whom we had a chance to meet, was kind, professional, helpful, and extremely proud to be on the “Greatest Aircraft Carrier” in the world!  They asked me how I was doing, was I enjoying the cruise, could they do anything to help me, did I sleep well, did I like the food, and on and on.  And yet, here were individuals who sacrifice much more than I.  They are separated from their families.  They don’t see their children grow up.  They miss the everyday blessings of life we take for granted.  And they wanted to know how I was doing! 

 

        It makes me proud to be an American, proud of our military, proud of the brave men and women who serve with dedication and courage and great sacrifice, and proud of my son who has excelled as a member of the United States Navy.  And, I am grateful and so very thankful for each of every member of our military who keep us safe and preserve the freedom so many thousands have died to secure. 

        I was impressed that every night at 9:55 the chaplain comes on the speaker and delivers a brief devotion and says a prayer.  The prayers I heard were thoughtful, meaningful, and most appropriate to the occasion.  I didn’t realize that every night each member of this huge and mighty military vessel will pause to pray and reflect.  I was deeply moved.

        On the final night, after we had witnessed the awesome display of military might and power through guns and aircraft, we spent some time on the flight deck.   Military ships are dark at night for obvious reasons.  We looked up into the sky and saw one of the most incredible displays of power that is so mighty it puts all the guns and missiles and planes and bombs to shame.  150 miles out in the Atlantic, away from all artificial light, I saw the heavens in all of their majesty and glory and I stood in awe of the greatest power.  And as I reflected, I heard the words: 

O Lord, our Lord,
How excellent is Your name in all the earth,
Who have set Your glory above the heavens!

² Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants
You have ordained strength,
Because of Your enemies,
That You may silence the enemy and the avenger.

³ When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,
⁴ What is man that You are mindful of him,
And the son of man that You visit him?
⁵ For You have made him a little lower than the angels,
And You have crowned him with glory and honor.

⁶ You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands;
You have put all things under his feet,
⁷ All sheep and oxen—
Even the beasts of the field,
⁸ The birds of the air,
And the fish of the sea
That pass through the paths of the seas.

⁹ O Lord, our Lord,
How excellent is Your name in all the earth!

 

 

 

       

       

Jesus Has Something to Offend Everyone

 One of the things I love about Bible study is the good discussion that a difficult passage produces.

A couple of weeks ago in our YMCA Thursday morning group we were discussing one of the most troubling passages in the Gospels when Jesus calls a lady a dog. Jesus said WHAT? Yep, that's exactly what he called her (Mark 7:27) and to be honest, if I had been the Gospel writer, I think I would have let it slide. Surely, he didn't mean it. It's one thing to have a bad day, but this poor lady came to Jesus pleading for him to heal her daughter and before anyone could say, "Would you please pass the jelly?" Jesus called the poor woman with the sick daughter a dog.

Dr. Clifton Black, one of today's premier New Testament theologians who grew up in nearby Thomasville, says that we spend an awful lot of time trying to get Jesus off the hook on this one. But the truth is, he said what he said and try as we may, we can't erase it.

One insightful member of our study group asked the question, "If Jesus came to one of our churches today, would we be offended? Or would he even want to stay?" Jesus might well be bored to death in some of our churches, but my hunch is he would be kicked out before he got fed up and walked out on his own. You see, Jesus has something to offend everyone.

Liberal churches would be offended because Jesus is a conservative. He spends a lot of time quoting scripture and talking about repentance and the straight and narrow path to salvation. He commissions evangelists to go and preach the gospel and baptize the saved. He talks about being born again and even lectures on the final judgment and insists that those who don't pass the test will be cast into the eternal lake of fire. He blasts those who abuse children, saying it would be better that they be drowned with a millstone around their neck.

Conservative churches would be offended because Jesus is a liberal. His chief cause is the poor, and he believes in taxing the wealthy. He wants everyone to be helped, even those who don't deserve it. He would not exclude anyone, but all would be welcome in Jesus' church: sinners, drug users, prostitutes and illegal immigrants. He certainly wouldn't exclude someone because they are gay or because they were the wrong color. And don't expect Jesus to support the Second Amendment. When the disciples showed up at the Garden of Gethsemane with concealed weapons, he was not very happy with them. And if you try to explain to Jesus that if he won't protect himself he just might get himself killed, I think he would say: "Well?"

And for those of us who like to use the word "moderate," I don't think Jesus was moderate about anything — he might not even give us the time of day.

The thing that we must always remember when we study the Gospels is that the "bad guys" represent exactly who we are today — the religious establishment. We are the Pharisees, the scribes and the religious authorities. We must decide what is more important, keeping the establishment in business or following Jesus — even when he offends us.

Black, in commenting on Jesus' offensive words to the woman, said, "The deeper question with which Mark's readers must come to terms is whether she or he can follow a Christ so offensive as to die by crucifixion."

During this season of Lent, it would do us well to reconsider the true message of the cross in all of its dimensions: offensive, scandalous and penetrating. And then if we are not also abashed, in Black's words, "it is a safe bet that Jesus has been domesticated and his gospel has been neutered."

Whatever Jesus meant when he called the lady a dog can be discussed for a long time, but one thing is crystal clear — when they nailed him to the cross there was no mistaking its meaning. And if we are not offended to the point of falling on our knees and surrendering our lives to him, then we are nothing more than dogs.

A Reason To Smile

To my Dear Bess:

Smile!

That’s what you always told me—smile!  No matter what happened, good or bad, we always need to smile.  I remember one hot summer day, we were in the back yard shucking corn—well; you were doing most of the shucking.  Mother had gone to visit a new baby in town and you told me that people had it all mixed up.  “We should be rejoicing when someone dies,” you said; “because all of their troubles are finally over.  But a baby is born into a world of pain, heartache and problems—that’s when we should weep.”

I didn’t know what you were talking about, Bess.  Not then, anyway.  There were a lot of things I didn’t realize back then. I never thought about the fact that you were black and I was white.  Even though we said you were like a member of our family, I know now that wasn’t true.  You didn’t sit down to eat with us like a family member would.  It never crossed my mind that it wouldn’t have been “proper.”  Even though my parents would never tolerate any racist remarks or jokes, you were still “the help.” 

You never graduated from high school because you left school to work for my grandmother. You couldn’t walk down Main Street.  You couldn’t eat in the same restaurants, drink out of the same water fountain or even ride in the same seats on the bus as white people. I’m sure I would have been welcomed at your church, but there was a man who carried a gun to our church to make sure you knew you were not welcomed there. I remember the well-worn path behind your house that led to the outhouse.  We had two indoor bathrooms at our house before you even had one.

But in spite of all of your troubles, you still loved me and cared for me like I was your own.  And in many ways, I was.  I loved you and looked up to you.  You had a way of putting everything in the right perspective.  You taught me so much about life, about forgiveness, and about faith. I remember coming down to visit you at your little house.  There were three pictures hanging on the wall:  Jesus, John F. Kennedy, and Martin Luther King, Jr.  I didn’t understand why you had those three pictures, but I do now.  Three men who believed in equality.  Three men who gave you hope.   

I remember watching Dr. King speak from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  I was nine years old and I was watching it with you.  My small heart soared with his eloquent words of justice and equality.  I wanted his dream to become my dream.  I wanted to live in a world where people were judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin.  I remember you watching, but not saying much.  Seems like you knew more trouble was to come.

Five years later, I remember very well.  It was April 9, 1968 and we were watching Dr. King’s funeral service.  It was the first time I ever saw you cry and I thought about those three pictures, those three men—symbols of hope—all three dead.  You were wiping your tears with your apron.  There were still dishes to be washed. 

I called you right before you died and remember what you told me?  You told me to smile, because you were going to that glorious place where there would be no trouble, no more killings, and no more pain. I tried to smile, but it was hard to because of the tears.

I’m writing to let you know that, while I know you always smile in heaven, we have a reason to smile here.  Last month our City Council voted to name a major street, Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard.  I’ve been an advocate for the name change, just as I was for the adoption of the MLK holiday in our county a number of years back.  And not just because it was the right thing to do.  It’s because of you Bess.  Because I can still see you wiping away your tears with your apron as they buried Martin Luther King.  I want you to know that Dr. King’s legacy did not die that day—and it never will. I have tried to live my life working for his dream.  When I take a stand for equality and justice that some may not like, I think of you.  And I think I see you smiling. And there are no more dishes to do.

                                                                                                                                                          

Happy New Year From the Hospital

How did you welcome the New Year?  What would you think about spending it in the hospital?  That's where we were when 2013 arrived earlier this week. 

My wife, Joyce, had a knee replacement on New Year's Eve at Wake Forest Baptist--Lexington Medical Center.  Having surgery on a holiday week didn't sound very appealing at first, but the more we thought about it we decided that is was a great time to have surgery.  There were fewer patients in the unit and the care we received was extraordinary. 

As a minister, I visit the hospital frequently and experience healthcare from the pastoral perspective.  For the past six years I have been privileged to serve on the Lexington Hospital Board and have experienced healthcare from the administrative perspective.  But this was different.  My wife was the patient.  This time I was on the other side. 

The quality of Joyce's medical care was excellent.  Dr. Gordon Kammire, one of the best orthopedic surgeons anywhere, performed the surgery.  His warm, personable and engaging manner was refreshing and reassuring.  The Lexington Orthopedic Group is one of the finest in the state.  There is a dedicated wing of the hospital affectionately called "Joint Camp," reserved for their patients.  The first thing they tell you is:  "You are not here because you are sick.  You're just having some body repair."

Patients have their first session at Joint Camp a week before their surgery.  They are told exactly what to expect, what is expected from them, and every question is answered.  C. J. Miller is the head nurse and with her optimism, enthusiasm, and great sense of humor, patients can't help but excel.  All of the nurses, Christine, Janie, Melissa, and Annie, were kind, personable, skilled, and caring.

The morning after surgery Monette Frye, the director of a truly remarkable Physical Therapy department, helped Joyce stand and take her first steps with her new knee.  Her nurturing spirit and heartfelt encouragement were contagious.  We are very blessed to have such competent and compassionate healthcare professionals in our community.

We know that we received the best possible medical treatment, but we received something more--genuine care, sincere kindness, and authentic compassion.  Everyone, from the hospital administration, the doctors, the nurses, the technicians, the therapists, the cafeteria workers and the custodians were friendly, helpful, and concerned about our well being.  Our church family and friends in the community prayed for healing and expressed their concern.  Friends and family expressed their prayerful support on Facebook. Everywhere I went people asked about Joyce. Healing is so much more than a hospital, healing is found in a community.  When a community displays compassion and concern and works to provide optimal medical treatment for all of its citizens, the entire community becomes whole.

We ate black-eyed peas and collard greens in the hospital on New Year's Day, but not because we needed good luck—true healing transcends luck.  We realized that it wasn't that we were in the hospital on January 1 that mattered, but as the New Year dawned we were being healed.  New beginnings start with healing, not just in body, but in spirit, in our families and community. 

Happy New Year everyone!  My prayer is that 2013 will be a time of good health, happiness, and healing—for all of us and for our community.