Vinnon Williams--"Citizen of the Year"

        The Lexington Area Chamber of Commerce annually recognizes the “Citizen of the Year.”  It was my honor to present the award to Vinnon Williams, one of the most deserving men I know.  Vinnon has been a special friend since we arrived in Lexington in 1990.   Here are the remarks I made at the Chamber Banquet on Tuesday night.

      (Vinnon did not have a clue that he was being recognized!)

 

        It is an honor to stand here tonight to recognize a dedicated community servant, a man who has made a made a qualitative difference in Lexington, a man who believes that planning for the future involves investing in the lives of children and young people.  Most people call him by his first name, many former students still call him “Coach.”  I call him my good friend.

        A former educator and coach, he spent 21 years working with young people in the classroom and on the athletic field and court.  He changed professions, but he never changed his commitment to children as he works now to make a positive difference in the lives of the poorest and most deserving children in our county.

        Let’s step back in time 32 years ago, to 1983, when our honoree is attending his SS class at First Baptist Church.  The focus of the lesson that day was feeding the hungry, caring for the needy, providing shelter for the homeless.  The discussion wasn’t whether those were things we should do or not, but it centered around how all we usually do is talk about it.   The one we honor tonight led his class to not just talk the talk but walk the walk as they started the homeless shelter—literally in their SS classroom that had an outside door.  The Homeless shelter later became Crisis Ministry of Davidson County. 

        The nomination for Citizen of the Year, which came from a number of influential people, is primarily due to the work, the labor of love, that our honoree has tirelessly dedicated himself to in recent years. 

        The Lexington Kiwanis Club founded the Kiddie Kamp in 1928.  For almost 90 years now, this camp has provided a positive, happy, safe, and remarkable summer camp experience for children in this county whose families could not afford a camp, a beach trip, or a summer vacation.  The children, who are selected by the Department of Social Services, often come from unfortunate home situations where they are not encouraged, not valued, and sometimes abused.  These children are desperate for any type of encouragement and happiness.  They need a safe place, where they can have good food to eat, and where they are loved and valued. Kamp Kiwanis provides this experience, but it is an expensive endeavor.

       In 1946 the Kiwanis Club received approval from the Davidson County Commissioners to operate the annual county fair with the revenue providing for the Kiddie Kamp.  In the almost 70 years of operation, the county fair has had only four managers.  When Jaybird McCrary retired, Vinnon Williams became the fair manager, which is his labor of love for the children of this community.

        Jim Nance wrote:  As Fair Manager, Vinnon is totally responsible for one of the largest public undertakings in our community.  His managerial gifts and his love for and commitment to Davidson County have enabled him to make this project a continuing success even in trying and evolving times.

        Dan Smith says, “Vinnon has worked selflessly over many years to bring the Davidson County Fair to fruition.”

        Jimmy Holshouser:  “Everyone in the Kiwanis Club knows that our mission is to help children and Vinnon has taken this on as a personal challenge to see the fair grow and prosper to continue this community service to deserving youngsters in our community”

        Wayne Alley, who works with Vinnon, tells how Vinnon is working on the fair all year long, constantly on the phone.  The week of the fair, Wayne says “He will spend over 100 hours at the fairgrounds.  It is one heck of a job but he does it gladly because he knows the club’s purpose is to send 180 needy children to camp in the summer.

        Jim Tate wrote:  “He is a good example of a person with a positive attitude, a heart for giving and one who is a leader and mentor to others.”

        And Gene Klump summed it all up when he wrote:  “His efforts literally changes the lives of many underprivileged children in Davidson County through Kamp Kiwanis”

        His reputation and influence as fair manager led to his election last year as the President of the North Carolina Agricultural Fair Association.  Vinnon is also on the board of American Legion Baseball and volunteers each summer at the ballpark.  There is a long list of other accomplishments, but it is time for us to recognize a man who is most deserving of this prestigious honor.  Vinnon’s wife Gloria, has come in, and his son Chad, and his wife Brooke, and their sons Anden and Braden. 

        (At this point Vinnon received a standing ovation!)

       

A TRIBUTE TO MY HERO--ABRAHAM LINCOLN-ON HIS BIRTHDAY

        My hometown newspaper publishes once a week and it usually takes another week or two before I receive it in the mail.  It’s never a problem because my favorite section is not the current news, but a feature titled: “A Look Back.”  Events that were reported 50 years ago are highlighted and I know I’m getting old because I recognize most of the names.  A recent entry noted how the townspeople observed the big state holiday on January 19, 1961.  What state holiday?   Robert E. Lee’s birthday, of course.  We are talking Alabama here! 

        It was in Dixieland where I was born, way down south one frosty morn where the “Heart of Dixie” was the logo our license plates and Jefferson Davis pie was the staple on our dessert plates.  We never sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” in church because it was a Yankee song and we had to gently remind our great-grandparents that “The War of Northern Aggression” was indeed over and the outcome was not good.  Therefore it may surprise you to learn that one of my heroes as a boy was none other than Abraham Lincoln. 

        Two portraits hung over the blackboards in my elementary classrooms, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.  Mention the names of U.S. Grant or especially William Tecumseh Sherman and most southerners would launch into a vitriolic and venomous tirade not fit to print in anyone’s hometown paper.  But mention Abraham Lincoln and people would pause and speak of his greatness. 

        My grandmother took me to Washington, D.C. when I was a boy and I remember the feeling of awe as I stood before the imposing figure of our greatest president at the Lincoln Memorial.  She guided me to the wings of the memorial where the eloquent words of the Gettysburg Address and his second Inaugural Address are inscribed—words that inspired a little boy then, and continue to move this older man now. . .that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. . . With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in.

        Lincoln was not only eloquent, but his practical leadership and natural ability to bring people of differing persuasions together saved our nation.  Presidential historian Doris Kearns Goodwin in her exceptional book, Team of Rivals, describes how this little known prairie lawyer from Springfield, instead of appointing his cronies, brought his political rivals together to form his cabinet that would guide the nation through its darkest hours.  Long time adversary William Seward who started as the front-runner in the 1860 Presidential campaign and initially used his position on the cabinet to undermine the President, later called Lincoln’s magnanimity “almost superhuman” and said, “He is the best and wisest man I’ve ever known.” 

        The late historian Shelby Foote said that before the Civil War, people would speak of the United States in the plural.  The United States are . . .  But after the war, people said, “The United States is . . .”  Only the man who spoke of malice toward none and charity for all could create such unity.  How we need such eloquence and statesmanship today! 

        Have you noticed that Lincoln’s birthday on February 12 isn’t celebrated like it used to be?  Maybe we need to change that, to revisit our 16^th President, not only to learn from his genius and marvel at his eloquence, but to follow his example of graciousness, kindness, fairness, and genuine respect for friend and foe alike.  With our country so deeply divided, we need a Lincoln like leader to bring us together and experience a new birth of freedom, one nation, under God, because a house divided against itself cannot stand. 

        Abraham Lincoln is still my hero.

                                                       

 

       

       

Recalling the Boys of New Orleans

I was just a little boy, around 10 years old as I recall.  I was a good kid too, always doing what my momma told me to do.  I was with a bunch of other good little Protestant boys from small southern towns attending summer camp in Tennessee and we were having a great time.  At night we would gather around a big campfire under the star-filled skies and hear wonderful stories mingled in with an occasional ghost story to keep us from running away.

        The older boys, who had been to camp before, told us different kinds of stories that were much more frightening than the ghost stories the counselors told.  They told of a group of boys who came to camp every summer from New Orleans.  They were big and mean, bullies in every way.  They terrorized the smaller boys, taking their food, hanging their underwear in the trees, and sometimes teaching them a lesson with their fists that they would never forget.  There were stories of boys who were beaten and tied to a tree, covered with honey to attract the bugs and left for hours.  The legend of the New Orleans boys was growing bigger and more terrifying each and every day.

        I will never forget the sight of the big charter bus pulling up in front of the lodge and watching those big, bad boys getting off and surveying their domain.  All the little fearful Protestant boys who listened to their mommas looked on with fear.  Up to this point camp had been fun and carefree, but now, it was all about survival.  The New Orleans boys were back!

        They staked their claim the first few hours of their arrival.  I watched one crying boy being taken to First Aid with a bloodied nose.  Several others told of the New Orleans boys ransacking their cabins for snacks and tearing up a picture of one boy’s momma and daddy.  I managed to stay out of their way.

        The leader of the New Orleans boys was a tall, lanky boy named Jeff.  Jeff was street smart and talked with a strange accent, punctuating every sentence with a vocabulary that this good Baptist boy had never heard before. Jeff had a group of bodyguards who followed him around doing his dirty work. 

        One day I was walking into the back door of my cabin and Jeff simultaneously walked through the front door.  The cabin was empty and we were all alone.  He stopped and stared at me.  His silent message was loud and clear.  Get out of here little boy, this is my house.   But I didn’t move.  I stood still and stared back.  Finally, with much irritation and anger that I had not trembled in his presence he shouted, “What!” 

        I don’t know what came over me or what made me say what I did.  Jeff was much larger and definitely more intimidating than I could ever be.  I wasn’t a little John Wayne by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside of me caused me to speak and I heard my trembling voice say, “Jeff, you’re not nearly as tough as you think you are.”   

        That was the last thing I remember.  Jeff made quick work of me, leaving me beaten and battered between two footlockers. 

        A few days later I received a box of brownies from home.  Most of the good little Protestant boys got care packages.  The New Orleans boys did not.  My first thought was that I needed to hide these from the bullies, but then I heard another voice speaking to me.

        I found Jeff.  “What do you want?” he demanded, thinking I should have learned my lesson.  “I wanted to share something with you,” I said.   I opened the box of brownies.  His eyes widened and he said, “Those look good.”   “Take one,” I told him.  And he did.  We sat down together and ate the whole box!

        Jeff didn’t become my best friend that day, but he didn’t bother me anymore.  In fact, he would speak to me like we were friends.  And his boys stopped terrorizing my friends.  The voice that I heard that day was a Bible verse that I had learned in Sunday School.  “Love your enemies.  If someone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other cheek.”  

        I took Jesus at his word and discovered that he knows what he is talking about.

 

Celebrating The Light in The Darkness

Happy New Year!

        I hope you have been able to spend some time reflecting on the past year and looking forward to the year ahead.  One of my greatest hopes for all of my friends and family is good health in the year ahead.  Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, maybe it’s the healthcare calamity, or maybe it’s because I spend so much of my time with those who are sick, but I have come to realize that good health is one of our greatest and most significant blessings.   

        This truth came home to me during the month of December with two holiday gatherings that were powerful, poignant, and compelling.  Both were Christmas celebrations for cancer patients. 

        The first was the week after Thanksgiving when our church hosted a Christmas Dinner for patients of the Wake Forest Baptist Lexington Cancer Center.  This event is sponsored by Lexington Medical Center and is planned, coordinated, and implemented by Mary Miranda Clark, a cancer survivor who is a dedicated volunteer at the Cancer Center.  She actually started this Christmas tradition a number of years ago in her home and it has grown to the over 200 people who attended this Christmas. 

        It is a night of great joy, laughter, and hope.  Mary Miranda turns our fellowship hall into a winter wonderland.  The guests are treated to a delicious meal, to Christmas music, door prizes, and festive entertainment provided by the doctors and nurses of the Cancer Center.  For one special night cancer patients have a reason to smile and enjoy the holiday magic of the season. 

        Some of these same patients returned to our fellowship hall three weeks later when we hosted the Christmas party for Carolina Cancer Services that has just changed its name to Cancer Services of Davidson County.  Cancer is overwhelming whether one has adequate insurance and financial resources or not.  But when one is facing the trauma of cancer without insurance and without any resources, it is even more devastating.  These are the people who are served by Cancer Services of Davidson County.

        My wife, Joyce, and I watched and welcomed people as they made their way into the church, some struggling to make the short walk from their car.  Once again the guests were treated to Christmas music, delicious food, and holiday joy.   I listened as my son, Ray Nance, who is Director of Patient Services, talked to the patients about the light coming into the darkness—the true message of Christmas.  Looking around the room I saw people whose lives are surrounded by darkness, but on this night they had a message of hope and light.  I saw their smiles, heard their words of gratitude, and was blessed by their kindness.

        Over 1,700,000 Americans will be diagnosed with cancer this year.  Cancer is the second leading cause of death in our nation, surpassed only by heart disease.  Approximately 1,500 people in our nation will die every day of cancer.  You have over a one in three chance of having cancer in your lifetime.  You see, good health is such a rich blessing!

        As I reflect on this past Christmas, these two events stand out as highlights.  Our church has a beautiful Christmas Eve Candlelight Communion service in which we turn out all the lights and extinguish all the candles to experience a moment in the darkness.  As I stand in silence for a moment, absorbing the darkness in our packed sanctuary, I always think about people who are suffering, those with cancer, those who are terminally ill, and those whose lives have been shattered.  I talk about the darkness that preceded creation, but then I talk about the light because the first word of creation is light.  Let there be light!   And I light the Christ Candle to symbolize the coming of the light into a world of darkness. 

        Here’s a little secret.  I use one of those gas lighters, but I worry that it may not light.  So I have a pack of matches in my pocket—just in case!

        There are a lot of people suffering with cancer who have real worries about where they will find light.  We, who are blessed with light and health, can make a difference in their lives.  We can bless the lives of those who suffer like Mary Marinda does.  We can support Cancer Services of Davidson County.  We can share our blessings.

        I pray you will be blessed this New Year with light, health, and joy!  

 

Guess Who is Coming to Town

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                       

Faith Sees Best In The Dark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                               

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                      

My Grandmother Told Me that Travel Is the Best Education

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

                                                       

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A BELIZEAN BANQUET WITH BIBLICAL IMPLICATIONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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