Lawson writes . . . sharing thoughts and memories

(The number of readers of my blogs has surged. I am going to periodically provide “re-runs” as a convenience for those new readers who may be searching the archives.  I will refer to these “re-runs” as Today’s Flashback.)

In my blog, Fried Chicken, www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/02/28,  I wrote of an experience where I went deep into the jungle by way of train, dugout canoe, and walking.  There is much more to the story.  I pick up with the late afternoon, and my return to catch the train carrying bananas back to the docks in Limon.

I made my way back to the river and then by canoe to the tracks to await the train.  There was no town, but there were a couple of buildings.  One was a general store and the other a saloon.  This settlement, known as Penshurst, was not on the map.  It was ignored.  There was no civil authority.  There was no school.  The small populace lived there in isolation.

This, seemingly, forsaken place was known for violence.  Machete fights and killings were not uncommon.  Perhaps an anger prevailed because of a feeling of non-existence.  What little income could be earned came from working down the tracks on the banana plantations or attempting to grow the chocolate bean.

I was there on a Sunday.  The workers had the day off or at least had quit early, and now as the sun began to set, the people began to gather at the saloon.  It was simply a tin roof building with partial sides.  They congregated to relax.  The music was loud, dancing rather seductive, and the smell of the booze drifted beyond the walls.

I walked past the saloon toward the general store which was closed.  I felt more secure being away from the atmosphere that prevailed where the people gathered.  As I walked pass, I could feel the stares and murmurings.  I knew I was in a place that I did not need to be as the sun set.  The train was late, and I began to assess my situation.  I determined to stay in the shadows.  Above all, I began to repeat a verse that was part of my confidence.  “He that is within me is greater than the one that is in the world.”  (1 John 4:4)

Darkness set in.  The music got louder, and I truly became apprehensive.  A couple walked down the tracks laughing together.  They looked over and spotted me.  They exchanged words, laughed, and walked on.  I knew they were commenting about this gringo.  I watched as they entered the saloon.  I was sure they would share with others of my presence.

I will confess that I was feeling alone and frightened.  Natural, I would say.  But I was forgetting for a moment that God’s people are never alone.  He is always there.  I know that my thoughts were focused on God’s presence and my dependence on Him.  My contemplation was broken by a change in the sound at the saloon.  The music softened.  I heard words of greeting between individuals.  The atmosphere changed.  Then as I looked toward the saloon, walking down the tracks toward me was a very large man.  As he approached, I stepped out to greet him.  It was my friend that I had spent the day with.  He had not heard the train whistle and became concerned.  He had come to check on me.  God did answer a prayer.  I was not alone!  For me, this was God’s angel that He had sent.

My friend stayed with me until the train came.  I boarded and went back to the city to catch another train the following morning to San Jose to return to my family.  I will always remember the feeling within me as I stood in the shadows that evening.  Many of you know times of feeling all alone.  It is not a desired feeling.  But please remember that you are not alone!  Your God is with you.  Depend upon Him in all circumstances.  He is our Protector and Provider.  Give Him thanks for His marvelous promise to keep watch over us.

“I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go . . . .”  (Genesis 28:15)

Lawson

I was at it again . . . that is . . . people watching.  Sitting in the mall watching people go by — it happened twice.  Once, it was a young man and woman.  Then there were several young men.

They all were dressed differently from the norm in the mall.  But what really set them apart was the style and color of their hair.  One young man had pink hair on one side and green on the other side.  Several of the group had high spiked hair . . . and different colors.  One young man even had a ribbon in his hair.  The clothes . . . well . . .  I will not even attempt to describe.

But all of them were happy, jovial, and friendly.  As they passed by, I looked at them, but not in a condescending manner.  I smiled and nodded.  They smiled back . . . one or two of them raised their hand to respond.  I was not bothered by their appearance and I wanted them to know it.  I know nothing of their morals or conduct, but for that moment in the mall they were not different from others — except in their appearance.

I began to think about what I had just seen.  Have I changed?  Years ago I would have called them freaks!  Or weirdos!  I know that the word freak was a condescending term for years as it referred to some disability of a person, but in the 1960s and 1970s, the word freak commonly described a person with something unusual about their appearance or behavior.  The persons using the term to describe such were persons who used their standard as the norm.  These young people to whom I spoke were freaks by the standard of the norm today.  And some would have called them weirdos!

But we don’t really call them freaks — we just recognize that they are different!  Or so we assume.  Some of these young people may be attempting to make some statement . . . or they may just enjoy being different!  Perhaps I find myself being a little defensive for them.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I am not defending rudeness, immorality, rebellion, or whatever might cause some to dress this way, but I am  saying we don’t know their motives.  I want to be careful in my judgement.  I do witness some young people with hairstyles and dress that have attitudes that convey certain messages to me.  But I come back to those I saw in the mall.  There was nothing to cause me to think they were immoral, illiterate, or rebellious toward society.

Those young people in the mall caused me to reflect back on my days at that age.  I don’t know that I was ever called a freak or a weirdo,  but by the meaning of the term in the 1060s and 1970s, I may have been a freak at times in the 1950s.  I recall some dress styles . . . and hair!  I remember using peroxide to make part of my hair almost white.  I remember shaving my head bald like Yul Brynner.  I recall painting a pair of shoes with regular high gloss enamel paint.  And you should have heard the response when I walked into the gym that night at a ball game!  There was a time, perhaps even with the red shoes, when I borrowed some strange, weird looking vest from a friend to wear to a ballgame that was so loud you could never wear it on color television.  Or that pink shirt with a white tie and white suede shoes!

As I recalled some of these strange appearances . . . perhaps I could have been called a freak!  I don’t ever remember a derogatory remark . . . but I did get attention.  Was that what I sought?  Or did I just enjoy being different this way?  Is that what these young people in the mall wanted — attention or just to be different?  If so, I am glad I gave a positive response to them.

Perhaps they responded to my friendliness because they were thinking, “Man you look like one of us . . . just much older!”  We freaks have a way of identifying with one another!

” . . . live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.”  (1 Peter 3:8)

Lawson

(The number of readers of my blogs has surged. I am going to periodically provide “re-runs” as a convenience for those new readers who may be searching the archives.  I will refer to these “re-runs” as Today’s Flashback.)

I always dreamed of being a soldier of fortune.  Understand, there are two uses of that term.  One means a mercenary.  That might have been part of my dream, but my thoughts were on the other use of the term.  An adventurer is also called a soldier of fortune.  Oh, that’s what I dreamed!

I never made specific plans.  I did understand that it would take money.  Would I earn lots of money, retire early, and be a world adventurer?   How much money would I need?  How old would I be before I could begin?  These were not serious questions, but they would pop up in my dreams of the future.  It was only after high school and dropping out of college that I thought more about it.  I did seek to start making money as fast as I could, and not always in a way that would reflect Christian values.

Somehow I got back on a reality track.  After a couple of years I found myself at Baylor University.  My route was still to make money, and I focused on business ventures.  However, through the influence of several young men, my mind and heart began to be open to what God might want me to do.  As I began to consider that, I set my parameters.  I would be a Christian business man or a Christian politician.  After a few months of that concentration, an inward struggle began.

I felt God was asking me to surrender my life to Him for ministry.  No, no, no!  That would not work in the plans I had for my life.  I would tell God that I would be committed to him as a lay person and witness for him wherever I went in the world.  I was even specific about what I wanted to do.  I would repeat to God that I wanted to go through those deep jungles, climb those high mountain, be welcomed in the high places of the world, and on and on, I would go.

God wouldn’t turn loose.  It was soon clear that God was going to win.  My inward feeling was God  insisted that I trust Him.  That He had the best for me.  There finally came that day I surrendered.  “Alright, God, I give up.  You win.  I turn loose all those dreams of being that adventurer, that soldier of fortune.”

It is such a joy to acknowledge that with all the wonderful life God has given me, I got the bonus of getting all those early dreams fulfilled.  God gave me everything.  I have gone down those rivers in dugout canoes, climbed those volcanos, walked through dense jungles, been a guest in villages where they had never seen a white man, sat in the high places in the Orient, and been a guest in the White House and Oval Office.  Yes, God can be trusted.  Give Him all that you have and you will get all you wanted!  Oh, it may not be the geography, travel, or wealth, but you will discover that you never came up short!  God is so good, loving, and kind.  Trust Him for what He has for your life!

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  (Jeremiah 29:11)   “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”  (Proverbs 19:21)

Lawson

Going to sleep is generally easy for me.  Most of the time I can get still . . . and I am ready to doze.  I have been known to “doze” at a movie, waiting in the car, sitting in a chair at a department store, and even sitting on the platform in the church!

But those times of going to sleep easily seem to be only for a nap.  Getting a night’s sleep is often different!  I have thought about the ease of going to sleep at certain times . . . and my mind raced back to times that I was “put to sleep.”  You know . . . at the dentist office or the hospital?

This thought came to  me some time ago and I made a note of some memories soon after the event.  It was another of those trips to Moffitt for a procedure.  As we walked in, I was greeted with hugs from several of the nurses who have come to know me so well.  My comment in response to the welcome, “I believe we are coming here far too often!”

As they began to prepare me for the procedure, the anesthesiologist came in.  He began tell me again the details of how he would anesthetize me.  I am so grateful for such comfort that comes by knowing I will not be aware of anything.  And being “put to sleep” is so fast these days.  After all the “hook ups” were completed and would only take opening the valve, the nurse asked, “Are you ready?”  Knowing I only had a moment to respond before the anesthesia would take effect, I responded, “Good night!”  And I was gone to “never-never land.”

Today such general anesthesia is so instantaneous.  Anesthesia has come such a long way, even in my lifetime.  The purpose, of course,  of anesthesia is the blocking of or temporarily taking away pain.  Most of you know the various types: local, regional, and general.

I well remember the use of ether.  I had it administered to me on several occasions.  It was never instantaneous.  The first time was with the removal of my tonsils.  I recall the doctor having me count backwards as he placed this mask on my mouth and nose and began to spray the gas on to the mask.  I remember a terrible dream — or something.  I was spinning around in a tunnel and there was a big spider trying to grab me as I was spinning close to its web.  Suddenly it was over!  Maybe the spider grabbed me –  perhaps that was the moment my tonsils were removed.  Who knows?  I do recall a sick feeling for hours after that experience!  I remember the time well — and the slow waking up in contrast to today’s  anesthesia.

The only good thing to say about ether is the origin of the name.  Ether in Greek means heavenly!  I suppose it is heavenly compared to the pain one might feel without it being administered – but for me, there was nothing heavenly about the fear I had in that dream while under the sedation that came from it.  Yet, the ether did prevent me from knowing the pain . . . and even the fear . . . of having my tonsils removed.

The experience  years ago with the dentist was much the same way — as to the administering of it.  But I don’t know if it was ether or  nitrous oxide.  Nitrous oxide is commonly referred to as laughing gas.  Nothing to laugh about as far as I was concerned –nothing was funning about the experience.  Laughing gas supposedly gives you a euphoric feeling.  I cannot recall any feeling like that!  And now that I know of other uses of nitrous oxide — it probably put me in obit!  Did you know that they use nitrous oxide — laughing gas — in rockets . . . and in motor racing?

I am happy we have progressed from such administering of anesthesia.  I rejoice with the ease of the injection today of an anesthesia.  It is not only instantaneous, but there is no dreaming . . . and no remembrance of the procedure.

Don’t you wish going to sleep at night was always that instantaneous?  Restful?  And not dreaming or remembering the night?  But we set ourselves up for a delay in falling asleep.  We are suddenly quiet . .  and our mind becomes active.  We lay down and begin to think of what we didn’t get done on that day . . . or we start planning the next day . . . and on and on.

Recommendations have always come “to count sheep.”   Honestly, does anyone ever do that?  Now there are some things that can begin to relax us or divert our thoughts from regrets or plans.  Counting our blessings is good!  As a believer in a Heavenly Father, suddenly we are thanking God for those blessings!  Sometimes we can seek to quote a Scripture.  But if we don’t know any, we may frustrate ourselves — but we can certainly paraphrase some Scriptures we remember. Or, we can seek to sing (only in your thoughts) some hymns we have learned.  What I am recommending is to turn your thoughts toward God and it will amaze you how peaceful you become  . . . and soon you are asleep!  It is better than anesthesia!

“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trust in you.”  (Isaiah 26:3)

Lawson

(The number of readers of my blogs has surged. I am going to periodically provide “re-runs” as a convenience for those new readers who may be searching the archives.  I will refer to these “re-runs” as Today’s Flashback.)

In my word studies, my book Protected recounts many times God has protected me.  I also suggest many ways that God intervenes  to protect and care for His children.

As a young man, I worked in a large department store in Atlanta in the receiving department.  We would unload and unpack merchandise from clothing to appliances.  There was a large freight elevator used to transport these items to the various floors.  The receiving department was closed on Saturdays while the retail part of the store was open for the busiest day of the week.  Because of this, there was a need for someone to be in the receiving department to deliver special items that might be purchased.  Because of overtime pay, I volunteered for the job. That meant that during the day I would move items to various locations in the store.  The freight elevator was my responsibility.  It was an old elevator with rough walls and no interior door.  You had to be careful not to allow your arms to touch the sides of the shaft.

The elevator predated the present codes that require many safety features.  It did not even have some of the protection of the passenger elevators because it was simply built to transport freight.  One day I was leaving the seventh floor of the store and going to the basement.  As I moved the lever forward to descend in the elevator, I immediately sensed that it was moving at a faster speed than normal.  Within seconds I realized that the elevator was out of control.  Before I could react, I saw the first floor, then the basement, and subbasement floors.  I knew the elevator would hit bottom.  And that it did!  Within  minutes of coming to a crashing stop, I realized that I was standing, and had received no injury. This fall actually was measured as a nine-story fall.  As people scrambled to provide rescue, all marvelled at the fact that I could walk away with absolutely no harm.

Now I ask, “How is that possible?  No one can fall that distance in an elevator and sustain no injury.”  My conclusion is it was God! However, I must confess it was not my response at that time of my life.   But now I know!  Yes, my God, my Heavenly Father, who has unlimited power, who can be everywhere at one time, and who can rescue and protect, was there with me.  Again, it is to praise Him that I convey this experience.

Consider some circumstance in your life where you can look back and exclaim, “God was with me!  I perhaps did not recognize it at the time, but I see now that He was there and He protected me!”  Thank Him again and again!  Our Father does look after His own!

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand.”  (Isaiah 41:10)

Lawson

How times have changed!  About hugging and embracing, I mean!  And to be more specific — how it has changed among men, especially!

Not too many years ago it would have been the source of gossip . . .  the hugging of two men!  Men never touched men.  There would be a handshake, but that was the extent.  Men didn’t always go out of their way to shake hands.  It might have just been a lifting of the head backwards — chin coming up — as an acknowledgement to another man.  But, today, everywhere — even among athletes and  hard core laborers — there will be an embrace.

Hugging and embracing is seen everywhere . . . everyday!  It can be at a sporting event, in Walmart, at church, or anywhere two friends greet one another.  And it is not limited to men, of course.  Ladies are even more demonstrative about it!  And such overt expressions of hugging . . . and even a kiss on the cheek is seen between men and women!  What a different world!

Too bad we were not doing this back in my high school days — I mean the hugging between men and women! But regretting is not my purpose in this blog.  It is really one of celebration.  The world is better with this touch of friendship.  Reaching out and touching someone with a hug is a way of saying you care . . .  and it makes both feel better.  It overrides any inner feeling where one is hesitant to speak to another.  But when the two greet one another with a hug, the words that follow in conversation are always with a smile and interest in the other person.

Personal lives are better as a result of this touch — in fact, it is perfectly healthy to  touch in such a manner.  Touch is important.  Some in psychiatry say that hugging is great therapy.  There is a promotion among many professional counselors and medical professionals who recommend hugs as part of your daily routine.  These professionals believe hugs contribute strongly to our well-being.

It is said by some that we need 4 hugs a day for survival — I am not sure how they define survival.  If they mean just staying alive, then hugging is critical to life itself!  Those professionals say that we need 8 hugs a day for maintenance.  Again, no definition of maintenance, but I am assuming they mean staying healthy.  12 hugs a day, they indicate, will produce growth.  Again, is growth in mental health, physical, or both?

The explanation has to do with the  release of oxytocin into our blood stream.  Now, hear me, I don’t know what I am talking about — just repeating what I was told!  But it was said that hugging  releases the oxytocin which can help protect us from heart disease.  Again, I don’t know . . . but if true . . . then hugging is healthy.  Even if it was only to aid in a healthy heart . . . I am for hugging because it makes me feel good!

I believe much of today’s hugging is the result of the Hippie Movement.  Oh, they liked to hug!  The hugging with that generation increased their social network.  That is a good reason also for us to hug today . . . and the larger your social network, the more happiness one discovers.  An increase in friends is always healthy.  And hugs create a bond that a mere smile or handshake will not always accomplish.

Since thinking on this subject, I have observed several types of hugs:  The gently leaning forward and cheek to cheek hug; the embrace with an arm on the shoulder or around the neck; the side to side hug where the heads just touch; and then the well-known bear hug where the larger person lifts the other off the ground.  I guess I could list one more — not that I have seen it in public –  but that is when you hug yourself.  You know, get up in the morning and put your arms around yourself.

As you participate in hugs, or observe people hugging, you will often note a low sound coming from each . . . like a hum!  I remember when I hugged my accordion — squeezing it — a sound always was heard!  Truly, hugging brings an expression in many ways!

Yes, times have changed.  Hugging is beneficial.  Hug your spouse.  Greet your friends with a hug.  Even greet a new friend with a hug if it seems appropriate.  Even ask . . . or say, “I am a hugger.”  You will sense if they give you permission.  And if you need to get  your recommended 12 hugs a day all at one time (that would be 84 for the week), come to our church!  Hugging abounds!

Lawson

(The number of readers of my blogs has surged. I am going to periodically provide “re-runs” as a convenience for those new readers who may be searching the archives.  I will refer to these “re-runs” as Today’s Flashback.)

Most folks have heard the expression “flying by the seat of your pants.”  And most of us have some idea of what it means.  It is, of course,  old aviation slang.  Early flying was not by navigational equipment, but by the pilot’s judgement.  Sitting in his seat at the controls, the pilot would be sliding forward or even lifting himself slightly out of the seat to see the terrain and perhaps some familiar markings.  He had to depend upon his vision and some knowledge of the geography.

Much like the bush pilots of today.  The pilot does not file a flight plan because there is no registered airfield where he will land.  He simply knows something of the terrain and navigates by sight.  The navigation is by the pilot’s own initiative and perception.  He does not have an exact, predetermined plan.  He may make sudden changes in his flight.  Sometimes it may be a good decision, and sometimes it can be a costly decision.

God  reinforced in my life that I could not “fly by the seat of my pants.” We lived in San Jose, Costa Rica, but sought to minister in Limon.  Limon was an isolated city.  There was no road by which you could reach this city.  The only way to reach this city was by air or train.  The train was often unavailable because of washouts or landslides.  When the train was available, it was a nine-hour trip for the 90 miles distance by rail.  Flying time was very brief, usually only 30-35 minutes.  The shortest route was  a straight line between the two.  But even by air that was not possible.

Flying to Limon gave you that feeling of “flying by the seat of your pants.”   Imagine a small plane. Imagine dense jungle and high mountains.  By air  from San Jose it was necessary to go over the great continental divide.  The plane could not get enough altitude to go over that mountain range so it was necessary to fly through the  pass. In fact, it was almost like a snake to go though  several passes.  This meant a lot of turning and twisting, and for most flights the turbulence was strong.  It was always frightening to the children, and Judy and I would seek to calm them even when we felt fear.

“Flying by the seat of your pants” would take us through these mountain passes to Limon.  As we would clear these mountain ranges, ahead of us was  the beautiful Caribbean.  Before landing  we would see the beautiful blue water and the white, sandy beach.  The turbulence had released us and it was smooth flying now.  However, there was little time to enjoy the calmness and beauty.  Quickly we needed to land.  There was no airstrip, and so the beach became the runway.  After the landing and engines were shut down, we would debark with a sense of peace and thanksgiving.

After this experience on many occasions, one cannot help but hear a teaching from the Lord.  Life is not to be lived by “flying by the seat of your pants” but with a flight plan!  A flight plan can give the surest and safest route through life.  Whenever I have attempted to live my life on my initiative, things generally don’t go too well.  There are too many crashes if I am at the controls.  I soon discovered that my perception of my journey was based on instinct and personal want.  That was not the plan of God for my life.

God has a divine will for each of us.  Joy, peace, happiness, satisfaction, and add all those words we would like to use to describe our life can be ours.  But that life can only be experienced if we follow the flight plan God has filed for us.  We may not know our full destination in this world, but we can trust Him as the Pilot.

Take some advice from one who knows.  I spent too many years “flying by the seat of my pants.”  It did not bring fulfilment to me, and it caused me to waste many years of my life when I could have known the  joy and peace I have today.  Let God lead you each day through every mountain pass.  You will be safe, and you will have joy.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”  (Proverbs 3:5, 6)

Lawson

I like to read the messages printed on shirts.  I saw one today that fascinated me.  “Scars are tattoos with better stories!”

Evidently the man did not care personally to have a tattoo.  And . . . perhaps he was giving testimony that he had scars on his body — probably from battle!  Nevertheless, the message on his shirt spoke to me . . . and I began to reflect.

Scars . . . most people have them . . . men and women . . . and in all shapes, sizes, and places!  Scars are those marks left from a wound, sore, burn, cut, fall, injury, or however you desire to describe it.  I have a few scars . . . like everyone else.  And, like my friend with the shirt . . . my scars have a story to tell!

Perhaps you read my blog about my tattoo!  No story to tell there!  The tattoo was simply a statement.  Most people get a tattoo as a memorial to someone, a testimony of a religious stance, a statement of status, a pledge of love, or belonging to a particular group.  Of course, there are multiple reasons why people get tattoos, but what is significant about tattoos today . . .  this body art is a choice of the person.

Scars are not by choice . . . oh, most scars that we bear come without choice.  Suddenly we fell on a jagged rock that tore our skin, or there was a car accident and glass cut our face, or we touched that hot stove and burned our hand severely.  These are but a few of how we get scars.  The process of that injury healing, left a scar.  Scars are not something we choose to have . . . they came quickly and unplanned.

I thought of some of my scars.  Across the bottom of my foot is a large scar that is the result of my jumping from the barn roof as a boy and landing on some old boards with rusty nails.  One of the nails ripped open my foot!  There is a scar on my head from a knife when in anger a neighbor and I were throwing knives at each other. Then in my hand is a scar where a casing from a rifle blew up and the firing cap tore into my hand.  On that same hand is a scar when my hand got caught in a winch. And adding to that scar are the scars from skin grafts.  And then on my lower back is a scar from the surgery of removing a tumor.

Why do I have the scars?  What caused them?  Could they have been prevented?  I began to examine the reason I have scars.  Most  of them can be blamed on no one but myself.  They are not the result of intentional acts . . . but accidents!  And for me, accidents that perhaps could have been avoided.

No reason to address the reason for a scar from surgery.  The surgery was necessary . . . and the scar was inevitable.

Scars . . . we do all have them.  and we have them for different reasons.  Some can be prevented if we are mature, cautious, alert, and careful.  Some scars are not our fault . . . an accident caused by others . . . or surgery.

Are there any scars we would choose to have!  I mean . . .  would we be willing to deliberately bear a scar?  Getting the scar is never pleasant . . . it is usually painful.  Who would we choose such pain?

Well, I know one person who made choices and if scars were to be the result –  so be it!  He may not have known scars would be his . . . but after the first scar, he did not run away or seek to escape having more scars.  I am speaking of the Apostle Paul.  He had scars from beatings,imprisonment, and being stoned.  They were painful!  But these scars were evidences of his commitment to Jesus Christ.  He did not coward after the first scar, but received many because he desired a relationship with his Lord more than to escape receiving such scars. ” . . . I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”  (Galatians 6:17)  His scars were not only visible on his body, but he bore scars of isolation, being misunderstood, and persecuted.

Now you understand where my thinking went as I read the words on that shirt.  I so hope that whatever scars I have tell a better story than any tattoo.  And as I could not see any scars on my new friend . . . he knew they were there!  I do not seek visible scars from my commitment to Christ, but I pray that I will be faithful to Him –  whatever the cost.  My tattoo was removed . . . but may any marks in my body for serving my Christ be there always . . . for His glory!

Lawson

Recently my cousin Bob died.  We had grown up together as boys.  He and his brother were like brothers to me.

In the closing weeks of his life, I would call him.  In one call, I told him I needed to say two things.

“First, I want you to forgive me,” I said.  Then I began to relate something that happened when we were in the fourth or fifth grade.  I could not recall our exact age, but the location of the incident was well remembered by both of us.  I asked him if he remembered how we got in a terrible fight when our School School teacher had taken us to a cabin in the mountains.  There were six or seven of us young boys.  And as I continued to tell him of the scene . . . he responded, “I remember well.”

“I want you to forgive me for attacking you,”  I said.  “I think I was just trying to be a ‘big man.’”

He responded that we were both just trying to prove something.  But I asked him to forgive me for that.  Isn’t it strange that we can recall such an incident?  Certainly, we had fought and fussed many other times, but that one fight had been on my mind of these years.  It was so good to be released from that regret.

Then I told him that I wanted to thank him for something.  I began to tell the scene. We attended different high schools.  I would have been there in high school except for our family having relocated just prior to my high school days.  The two high schools played one another in football on that Friday night.  The game had been played on the field of the high school which I attended.

Our school won.  It was always a bitter rivalry between the two schools . . . regardless of the sport.

He remembered the game.  I asked him if he remembered what happened when his team bus arrived back at his high school.  Before he could respond, I continued with the scenario.  I had driven from our school to the parking lot of his campus to pick up my date who was required, as a cheerleader,  to return on the bus.

The players . . . most of them knowing me as we had gone through elementary school together . . . were still angered about losing the game.  Several of the players came over to my car and began to rock it and daring me to get out.  Suddenly I was becoming the scapegoat for their anger.  They were ready to drag me out of the car.  It was at that time that my cousin came over.  He was in a dilemma.  Would he stand with his teammates . . . or stand with family!

I said to my cousin, “  You chose family.  You went against all your friends.  You intervened . . . and you rescued me.  I want to thank you. I know it was not easy.  But, thank you.”

He made no real response, but said, “I remember.”  I am sure he remembered because it placed him in an uncomfortable position.

Like asking forgiveness for the fight, I felt a peace that I had  thanked him for that intervention.  Again, strange that the event had lingered with me all these years.  More than anything, I rejoiced that I could say those words to him.  Oh, I realize that they perhaps did not need to be said . . . but, then again, I believe they did.  Why else would they have been on my mind?

There are many other people who I need to say such to.  There are many memories.  There are others in my life where I need to say I am sorry — for cruel words, a snobby attitude, an act of disrespect, an anger expressed, and I could probably elongate the list!  Then I also need to say to so many how I appreciate their influence on my life, how they brought joy to me, showed patience and kindness to me, and how they will always be a part of my life.  And again, the list could continue!

Some of these people have completed their days on this earth . . . some, I have no idea where they are today . . . and probably none of them read this blog to identify with what I say . . . but who knows . . . perhaps they have forgiven me and one day in heaven I will be able to say thank you.

Consider my experience . . . give appreciation and thankfulness to those who have influenced your life.  And, certainly, if needed, seek forgiveness from those you have offended if you have the opportunity.

“Bear with each other, and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another . . . .”  (Colossians 3 :13)

Lawson

Thomas Wolfe’s “You Can’t Go Home Again” brought mixed reviews in the 1940s.  People across America loved it — people in his hometown did not!

Wolfe’s novel talked of changing America.  He made the point that it is impossible to recapture what has changed.  Today, the expression “You can’t go home again” has become part of our American speech.  It means that after you have left a place, you cannot return to relive those youthful memories!

But I will say, “I can try!”  And that I did just recently!  Oh, I have returned several times to those places of my youth.  But this recent tour seemed to have more significant meaning.  Perhaps as we get older, we want to make “one more” journey to those places filled with so many memories.  And so on a recent trip, we simply went to the places of my childhood and youth.  Names may not mean much to many of my readers, but there will be many that recognize locations such as Stone Mountain, Clarkston, New Deal, Pine Lake, and Pea Ridge.  There are other names, but the very names suggest special places.

Stone Mountain had changed even more since my last visit.  But there was a “feeling” as I would stand in those ancient places!  The big house at the top of Main Street where I grew up is no longer there — nor the small house built in back.  The entire place is now a funeral home and parking lot.  The old schools are not there — but the old rock gym stands as a historical site!  I tried to remember the route of the streetcar as it came to town.  I would point to a high stone wall where I remember jumping down on a bully after school!  I saw where family lived for generations — the houses were not as large as they seemed when I was a boy.  I can not bring back those days — but my memory cannot forget.

It was on to Clarkston – the days of my youth.  The large family store that had stood for years is a used car lot today.  I sat and remembered the Jolly’s General store. It was a large building, but later petitioned to provide for Dr. Flower’s Drugstore, the Post Office, later replaced by Gibson’s Radio and Television.  The family home has been replaced by a business; the bridge is no longer over Peachtree Creek; and the land and homestead of my grandparents has been replaced by hundreds of apartments.  Oh, the changes!

Names of streets and roads had not changed however.  So many bear names of family –  Jolly Street, Jolly Road, Lovejoy, Hairston, and others.  I would point out places — there is where my first love lived, there is where I got beat up after school one day, and there is where so-and-so lived, and on and on I would go!

Changes, changes, changes!  In the use of the term, it is true, “You can’t go home again.”  But nothing can erase what I have in my memory.  Most of the changes are disappointing . . . but the memories become more treasured each day.  I rejoice for a sound mind that can enjoy such memories.

Lawson

Related blogs:

Stone Mountain — Part 1  www.lawsonjolly.com/2009/12/27;   Stone Mountain — Part 2  www.lawsonjolly.com/2009/12/28; Clarkston, GA – www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/04;  Jolly’s Store — Part One  www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/12.;  Jolly’s Store — Part Two  www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/13

What if . . . ?  Did you ever play such a mental game?  You know –  speculating what might have been!  You remember certain times or events in your life and wonder what would have happened if you had taken that road?

As my wife and I were travelling recently, we passed a certain college.  I am not sure who spoke first, but we both asked, “Ever wonder what if?”  The reference was to the college and a position I had been offered.  That began a series of mentioning several things where we had not taken that road . . . and wondering what it would have been like if we had said yes.

I am not talking about some of those things people speculate about:  What if I had married so and so?  What if I had gone to another school?  What if I had not resigned that job?  What if . . . what if . . . what if?  It might be a mental game some people play . . . but it is probably not a healthy game to play!  Too many people believe something else would have made them happier or brought about a different circumstance in their life.

What Judy and I talked about were not choices that we might have wished would have been ours — like it would be easy for me to say “I wish that certain church had called me as pastor.”  Foolish to consider that.  There was not a choice.  I am talking about choices we did have.  Offers and opportunities to which we said “no.”  That is where our game was — invitations and opportunities to which we declined.

That college — so many years ago.  The invitation to become the vice-president.  What would it have meant to our family?  From that we began to thing about several such opportunities and how we might rank them.  There was nothing serious and regretful about our declining them, but it was fun.

We listed a particular church in a a distant state — we listed an opportunity to be on the staff of a Baptist State Convention — we added to the list the invitation to be a part of our National Convention.  Four opportunities we listed.  They were all very prestigious positions.

I do not share this to boast, but to share a truth.  I would like to believe that God allowed those opportunities to come as a challenge.  God has a plan for our lives.  The plan can be missed by individuals because they become flattered with the position offered . . . and prestige becomes the ruler of that life.  But prestige is not synonymous with happiness!

In each situation, after much deliberation and prayer, we concluded that God wanted us where we were at the time — to be the pastor of a church.  I can never totally explain it because I am amazed that I did not jump at the opportunity.  Even with God perhaps testing my commitment, I believe it took something stronger than my character.  Who doesn’t want prestige . . . and such?  I contribute saying no to a faithful, praying wife and the Spirit of God seeking to give guidance.

Prestige, fame, and fortune should never dictate our lives.  I am so grateful for God’s leadership over my life — as a result, my life has had more adventure, joy, and happiness than one could ever expect.  For that reason, I join with the anonymous person who said, “I would rather be the pastor of a church than the President of the United States.  To become President would be a step down!”

Every person must know and do what God has desired for our life.  Therein . . . and only therein . . . is genuine happiness.

Lawson

The media often refers to them as “Coach and First Lady.”  I am referring to Mark and Katharyn Richt!  Mark is the head football coach of the University of Georgia Bulldogs, and Katharyn, his wife, is also known as “America’s Water Girl” as she works the sidelines at games providing water to the players.

Mark and Katharyn are remarkable people.  We have known this couple for almost 20 years.  We have had the joy of seeing their family grow and the commitments that take priority in their lives.  They increased their family from their two boys, John and David, by adopting two infants from the Ukraine about 10 years ago.  Most of America know this incredible story and marvel at the compassion and love of this couple.

They are examples to others in so many ways.  We recently had the privilege of spending a couple of days with them and the more you are around them, the more you desire to present them as models to American couples.  Mark shared some things that so encouraged me and I believe could be an encouragement to all who would hear his heart.

He spoke of adversity.  His reference was to the past season with the Georgia Bulldogs.  Georgia lost their first two football games.  That can put a coach on what they refer to as “the hot seat.”  Everyone knows that if a coach is not winning, administration and fans begin to make some rumblings.  Mark was aware of that . . .  as were the other coaches and players.

So how does one handle such adversity?  Mark’s response was that you prepare for it.  Yes, prepare for adversity!  He had my attention because adversity comes in various forms and at various times to everyone.  He said that he nor the players panicked after losing the games. They did not fall apart . . . get rattled!

The coaches and players were prepared.  There was no blaming one another — coaches of players, players of coaches, players of players, or coaches of coaches.  They had prepared well through a spirit of unity — they were bonded together!  They all had made a commitment — players to coaches, coaches to players, players to players, and coaches to coaches.  It appeared they were truly united, whatever they would face.  They believed in one another!

The preparation for adversity prevented a season of defeat!  And look at the remarkable season they did have!  They would win the next 10 games!  All that Mark shared resonated with me.  Oh, the message received!

Adversity will come.  Am I prepared?  There must be a commitment on my part . . . I must not panic but know that I am bonded with One who will provide strength and direction during a time of adversity.  I will never blame someone or some circumstance for the adversity.  If I do, I will focus my energy on that and not on the victory that I can have in spite of the set back.

Mark’s strongest words that testified to his coaching responsibility  . . . and whatever he faces in life, resounded when he said, “In everything, I am totally dependent on God.”  That is the character of Mark and Katharyn.  The priority of their life is Jesus Christ.  My respect for them is always heightened when I am around them and see the testimony of Christian conviction.

Why knowing them is enough for me to shout, “Go Dawgs!”

Lawson

(Please read the two previous blogs, Part One and Two, before reading this blog.)

Perhaps there are times when people get caught up in some excitement and respond, but later rethink their response.  That perhaps happened at our church with many people.

The news of our church receiving a black person spread across the state.  We had not sought any publicity, and there had been no attempt to bring about the challenge that came to our city.  Many people in the area began to feel that this action of the church should not have been.

Our church ministry continued as if this young lady was no different from any other person.  As I scheduled her baptism with several others, I was approached by several to delay the baptism.  It was a ploy to perhaps allow the church to recant its decision.  If we truly meant what we as a church expressed on the Sunday morning she came forward, then we had no basis for a delay.

I did baptize her in a few weeks.  That, I believe, became a catalyst for the following events.  It had been about two weeks since her baptism.  It was Wednesday evening and we noticed a particularly large number of cars in the parking lot and people going inside.  We realized that this was not going to be an ordinary Wednesday evening prayer service.

When we went inside, we found the place packed.  People were standing.  There were members of  the KKK, church members that had not attended in years, and many towns people.  These individuals seemingly had put pressure on a few of the regular members.  Those members  called a special church conference as allowed in the constitution.  A motion was placed on the floor that I be dismissed as pastor, along with other staff and deacons.  Knowing that this would be a meeting not under the Holy Spirit, Judy and I left the church.

Later that evening, two respected men in the congregation came to the house to visit with us.  They told us the people decided to give me an opportunity to change my convictions.  If I would not, then a vote would be taken on Sunday to terminate my ministry.

I responded that under no circumstances were my integrity and convictions for sale.  Judy and I knew what the result would mean, but we would stand to lose much more than a job.  We agreed that self-respect and a commitment to Christ were our priorities.  There would be no compromise.

The following Sunday morning, we were fired along with other staff and deacons, ironically on Race Relations Sunday.  I was told not to come into the building again, and that all my books and personal items would be in boxes in the yard for me to retrieve.

Much more publicity would appear in newspapers across the state.  We were ostracized by many, and yet supported by thousands.  Letters and even financial support came from missionaries around the world, and church members and leaders from across the nation.  But for the time, furniture went into storage, family pets were given away, the children changed schools, and I had to begin to seek employment.

“Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life . . .”  (Psalm 138:7)  “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”  (2 Corinthians 4:8,9)

But God is all He promised!  We did not seek the attention or the abuse.  We had no agenda.  Our only desire then, and now, is to be loyal and faithful to the One who has called us. Let that be your commitment also.  ” . . . love him with all your heart, with all your understanding, and with all your strength . . . .”  (Mark 12:33)

Lawson

Our church excelled in a commitment to missions.  There was support of missions through giving and going.  A VW bus had been sent to Africa to aid a missionary family.  A mission trip to another state resulted in the planting of a new church.  Missions outreach locally employed creative methods at the county fair and other opportunities.  And the church was blessed to be the home base for many missionary families that were in orientation for overseas missions.  There were over forty families that would attend our church during their four-month program.

This mission spirit reached out to an area rehabilitation facility.  It was state owned and provided  rehab to young adults who had been injured in accidents or whose need was the result of some illness.  These individuals had difficulty being able to care for some of their personal needs.  Our men and women began to go one night a week to wash and set hair, teach make-up, and do anything that might encourage them.  There was an opportunity to share God’s love with them.  ” . . . I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these of mine, you did for me.”  (Matthew 25:40)

As a result of this ministry, the state asked our church if  they could bring these folks to our church.  They would provide transportation and encourage all that had interest to come.  Our church gladly responded.  As they began to come on Sunday mornings, there were some interruptions if the bus arrived a few minutes late.  Many in wheelchairs had to be brought to the front where there was adequate room.  One even came on a rolling stretcher and was brought to the front.  Others were on crutches, some were blind, and some had missing limbs, while others could manage on their own.  It was a thrilling moment as these young adults came to our church.

Of course, several of the patients were black.  Some in the church asked the question about what the church would do if one of them desired to join our church.  The response was that they would be welcomed as any other person.  These were years when churches had voted a policy about blacks coming into the church.  At this church, I had asked about the policy prior to accepting the call.  They had an open-door policy and it was in writing.

After several weeks, a young lady walked forward. She was black.  She had understood the gospel, and she acknowledged a saving faith in Jesus Christ.  I presented her to the congregation and there was the wonderful response of receiving her into the fellowship of the church.  The many missionaries in the service were so overjoyed that they could go to Africa and other places and speak of this event in America where segregation was  repulsive to other cultures.

There was true rejoicing as I indicated in my news article in yesterday’s blog.  As people left that morning, there was a spirit of joy.  Only one man had something derogatory to say.  Our follow-up to the young lady was exactly as for any other member.  Preparations were made for her baptism.

I wish I could tell you that the joy would continue.  But there is much more to this story.  The test of the church would continue.  The church had been victorious in the test of reaching out to all the patients at the rehabilitation center.  The church rose to the moment when tested of receiving this young lady into membership.

“I know, my God, that you test the heart and are pleased with integrity.”  (1 Chronicles 29:17)

Tomorrow’s blog will answer the question, “Did the church continue to respond in a Christian way to this challenge of the local culture?”

Lawson

For the many years I have been in ministry, I have written weekly articles for the church newsletters.  I want to share one with you today.  I reprint it without any editing, except for the name of the church.

“Sunday morning our church received another member.  The young lady professed Jesus Christ as Saviour.  A multitude of people spoke to her and welcomed her into our fellowship.

This scene happens almost every week in our church.  Yet Sunday, by two in the afternoon, every person in town had heard of the new member.

We got excited and spread the news on this occasion because of one thing — the young lady is black.

Why ___________ Baptist Church?  It should be obvious to every person, ___________ Baptist Church has that unusual spirit that God uses.  Certainly no other church could have responded in such a Christian spirit.  Many things were tested Sunday morning — our doctrine, our real mission spirit, and perhaps most of all, who the church belongs to.

If this was man’s church, many would have said no.  But we proved that it was the Lord’s church, and that it is for all His children.

I rejoice in being the pastor of people who place personal attitudes aside, and let the spirit of Christ prevail.  When people love their church enough to forget self, that church can truly honor Christ.

With one accord, let us sing as we move into the future, ‘To God be the glory, great things He hath done.’”

Perhaps you wonder why I rejoiced over the attitude of the church. This was written over 40 years ago.  It was at a time when the Civil Rights Act of 1965 was being implemented.  Though change was occurring, it was happening slowly.  This was to be the first all-white church in that state to receive and baptize an African-American.

It will not be easy, but I want to tell you the whole story.  My purpose in sharing is for me to continue to examine my heart and convictions.  We must be confident in our convictions.  “Test me, O Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind.”  (Psalm 26:2)  Perhaps it will help you also.  Tomorrow’s blog will give you the history preceding this letter.  The day after that, I will share the events that followed after the letter.

“I desire to do your will, O my God.”  (Psalm 40:8)

Lawson

In 1953, a friend and I drove down the east coast of Florida to Miami.  From there we crossed the Everglades to the west coast and travelled north.  I can never forget how I was fascinated by the Everglades.  I believe I fell in love with the vast rivers of grass and the sawgrass marshes.

I did not know that one day we would live in Miami and be so close to this remarkable place.  During the years we lived there, I had many opportunities to become more acquainted with the Glades.  Almost weekly I would be involved with families who lived in the Glades — especially the Seminole Indians.  I always looked forward to the pumpkin bread that awaited our arrival.

Our weekly ministry gave me the privilege to see life as it was lived in isolation.  I came to love the people, and I have many treasures that were given to me by individuals — even Chief Osceola.

Apart from these relationships, my two sons and I would go fishing in various places in the Everglades.  We enjoyed the thrill of catching the huge mud fish . . . observing the alligators playing in the gator holes . . . and often watching as a small gator would bite our fish bait and one of the boys struggling to pull the gator in until the line would break, or I would cut it when I thought the gator was too close.

There was even one time when we had to retreat as a large gator continued to swim toward us.  I realized he was going to come on land.  I sent the boys to the car as I hastened to pull in our lines.  I then retreated to the car.  The gator continued to come and I started the car and began to slowly drive away.  I am convinced if we had not left that the gator would have bitten the tire of that red Volkswagen!

With the boys, there were camping trips.  I recall one where we had to use the boat to go across the water to a dry, open place.  There the tent was pitched and with some others, we camped for the night.  My boys and I have talked about that night.  I think we were all uncomfortable.  We had probably invaded the domain of some alligators — and we should not have been there.  Gators are extremely dangerous — especially if it is mating season.

But now I look back at several things and I ask myself, “What in the world was I doing?  Why did I take my sons to such a place?”  The question truly behooves me with the news that has come from the Everglades.  It is now reported that there are tens of thousands of Burmese pythons there!  Some have been there for years . . . owners releasing their pythons . . . and others escaping from pet shops during hurricanes . . . and they have multiplied rapidly.

A Burmese python can grow to 26 feet and 200 pounds.  They can swallow animals as large as an alligator.  They kill their prey by coiling around it and suffocating it.  They are diminishing much of the wildlife.  Rabbits and foxes are rarely seen now.  The population of raccoons, opossums, deer, and bobcats has declined drastically.  Just this month a python was captured that weighed 156 pounds and was almost 17 feet long!

I know that they are much more prevalent today than in those days we spent there!  But still there were pythons! Why didn’t someone tell me?  Or why didn’t I think?  I know I would not go there to camp today . . . or even go into some of the areas where we used to fish.  Yet, I look back at dangers that probably existed when we did adventure there!  And now with “wisdom” I continue to ask, “Why didn’t I use good sense?”

That is probably a question many of us have asked about some experiences or adventures.  We wonder why we did it?  But we look back and realize nothing happened!  But I know the safety of those days was not chance!  I look back with a grateful heart that a God who superintends my life was there.  He was the protector and guardian.  I give thanks to Him!

“But you are a shield around me, O Lord.”  (Psalm 3:3)

Lawson

Recently as I made some hotel reservations, my mind drifted back to hotels/motels where I have stayed — or almost stayed!

My first hotel experience was in Washington, D.C.  It was the Harrington Hotel — still in operation today.  Remember my blog on the Harrington?  (www.lawsonjolly.com/2011/06/10)

And another fascinating experience is told about the Winecoff Hotel in Atlanta.  I stayed there shortly after it was remodel from the damage done by the fire that killed 119 people.  You have strange thoughts being one of the early guests.  (www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/09/29)

I recall as a high school senior going to a sporting event in Macon, Georgia with five other guys.  We rented a hotel room for two — I imagine at about three or four dollars.  However, we slipped the other four fellows in.  With one double bed, we slept on the floor and in a chair at the times we were not rotating to have our two hours on the bed.  I recall it being a very miserable night!

Then I remember being in a city with the family for a convention.  We had made advance reservations.  Arriving, we saw an overgrown swimming pool . . . shabby buildings, and knew we would never stay there.  I asked to inspect the room — that was a mistake!  When I asked for my deposit to be returned — the next 15 minutes became tense.  I had my two boys come into the office with me.  When I knew that nothing would prevail to get our deposit back, we left.  I immediately called American Express.  They were helpful, and not only called the motel to say the charge would not be paid, credited our account, and I believe placed that motel on an “alert list.”

Yes, there have been some interesting experiences.  I can truly say we have stayed in the best of hotels . . . and have stayed in some of the worst!  Most of the “in-between” are hard to recall.  It is those that are “unusual” that you can recall.

So . . . I share with you my three most memorable hotels.  I begin with a small hotel in Sequirres ,Costa Rica.  Well, the locals called it a hotel.  It was more of a boarding house, but the only lodging in town.  We checked in . . . but was forced to check out only a few hours later.  Read about this experience in a previous blog.  (www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/03/09)

Another memorable hotel was in a mountain village in Korea.  It was a summer tourist hotel . . . but closed for the season.  Yet the owner made rooms available for those that requested.  There were six of us and he gladly rented three rooms to us.  The accommodations were more than sufficient – but there was no heat and the temperature was in the twenties!  When we were in the hotel, we kept our heavy coats on, and got in bed to attempt to stay warm even in the middle of the day.  The owner offered us breakfast — if we wanted to cook it.  And that we did.  He provided the eggs and bread, and we simply cooked them over a gas stove.  I am sure it is a wonderful place for vacationing in season!  There was a ice skating rink, soccer field, and beautiful gardens — at least when things were in bloom.  I specifically remember the natural spring!  It was a spring that produced natural, sweet carbonated water.  It was truly a wonderful drink –and it even came cold!

But perhaps the most memorable — and I have stayed there on several occasions – is in Limon, Costa Rica. We have even stayed there with the children when they were young.  The hotel was unpainted and needed repairs.  It lacked sanitation.  There were 12 rooms.  One would ask, “Who would stay there?”  The answer is in, “There was no other place.”  The hotel had few, if any, Americans or tourists.  But because of the port city, there would be some mariners that would stay when their ship would dock.

The hotel was on the beautiful Caribbean Sea.  The window looked out over the water and it was a beautiful sight. But as you turned from the window, you were confronted with the reality of the room.  There were no glass windows — only shutters to close when it rained.  And in Limon, it rained 300 days a year out of 365, at least at some point during the day.  The temperature was over 100 degrees and no air-conditioning, or course.

The water was turned off at 5 p.m. each day in the city.  So imagine the sanitary conditions!  You dare not drink the water!  The hotel did include meals in the cost of the room, but caution needed to prevail.

There were no locks on the door and so the bed would be pushed across the door for protection.  And the bedding!  Linens were never changed . . . you simply slept on sheets that others had used for many nights.  The hotel only changed them when they reached a point that there was no choice.  Therefore, you slept in your clothes and laid other items over the linens!  Oh yes, this ranks as the most memorable hotel I have stayed in . . . and I believe my wife and children would concur!  On our last visit, another hotel had opened in the city!  They were now catering to tourists!

Well, there you have it!  Memorable hotels!  There might be some more in the future . . . but my choices are really mine today and I am a little more choosy!

I want comfort and security these days!  But I grateful for the experiences shared!  Life builds memories . . . even in the arena of hotels.

Lawson

Growing up, I could always anticipate having fried chicken for Sunday dinner.  My grandmother and grandfather Jolly always welcomed the family for Sunday dinner.  With the exception of Thanksgiving or Christmas, I knew there would be fried chicken.  In fact, there was a large platter of chicken.  Georgia, the cook, would kill and dress several chickens to provide for the large family that would eat.  Like many families in the south, fried chicken was synonymous with Sunday dinner after church.

There is one occasion when I had friend chicken that can never be forgotten.  I had traveled by train to Limon from San Jose, Costa Rica.  From Limon I journeyed by rail on a train going deep into the interior to transport bananas.  From my exit from the train, I then went up the river several miles in a dugout canoe.  Leaving the canoe, I walked several miles into the dense jungle.  At last I came to the home where I was to be welcomed.   When dinner time came, two other men joined us.  The four of us sat at the table while the ladies would serve us, and then eat later as was the custom.

The table was crudely made from wood and not very stable.  The floor of the home was dirt, and dogs and chickens would pass through the house.  As we were talking, the host reached down quickly and grabbed one of the chickens.  He threw it on the table, picked up his machete, and with the broad side of the machete he hit the chicken several times.  It not only killed the chicken, but broke most of the bones.  He called for his wife who picked the chicken up.  She quickly moved to the outside wood stove where upon it was a large vat of hot grease.  She dropped the chicken into the hot grease.

I suddenly realized that she did not pluck the feathers from the chicken, nor did she clean the entrails from the chicken.  As the men continued to talk, my mind was on that chicken.  This would be the truest fried chicken I had ever eaten, if I was going to eat it!  This was truly a ‘stuffed’ chicken.

It a few minutes, the chicken was removed from the vat and placed on a large wooden platter.  I looked at that natural fried chicken.  The host asked that we bow for a blessing.  He began to bless the food.  He gave thanks for all God was providing at that table.  I believe I had one eye open looking at that chicken.  I believe my thoughts were, “Thankful for that chicken?”

As must be, I would eat that chicken.  I did not want to offend my host.  I was careful to allow them to pull it apart where I could avoid the feathers.  I was relieved to see them pluck the feathers and lay them aside.  It was in the spirit of commitment to the Lord that I ate that day.  However, Judy and I had a song that we would sing to ourselves on such occasions.

“Lord, I’ll go where you want me to go.  I’ll eat what you want me to eat.  I’ll swallow it down, without a frown, but, Oh, dear Lord, you’ll have to keep it down.”

And He did!

No matter what, we are to be thankful!

“Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

Lawson

Gone are the days when you could leave your doors opened – unlocked!  Days when things were safe in the yard!  Days when you simply trusted most everyone!  Yes, we live in a different world from those days!

Today, people will remove items from your porch — people will ramble through an unlocked car to see what they can find — people will change price tags on items in a store — shoplifting is a costly crime to many stores — a lost item such as a credit card will seldom be returned — and examples could be named endlessly.

Dishonesty, fraud, deception, and stealing are part of our wayward culture.  I will not try to be some social professor who would talk of the social changes and the whys!  But I will simply remind you of those days of the past!

When I think of honesty, my memory serves me well of many examples.  But perhaps the one that refreshes my spirit the most goes back to Jolly Store.  Some of you have read my blogs about the store.  I will not repeat my heritage in the store, but you can read the blogs for background. (Jolly Store – Part 1 www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/12;  Jolly Store – Part 2  www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/13)

The Jolly Store did not open until about 8 o’clock each morning.  Most folks in town were going to work prior to that and so obviously breakfast had been eaten earlier.  Often people would prepare for breakfast and discover they had no bread for toast.  Because the store had not opened by the time the bread delivery truck arrived, the delivery man would simply leave the bread in front of the door which was covered by a large awning.

The bread was not doubled stack, but each loaf could be seen in the large square wooden boxes.  The bread delivery men knew that they could claim the boxes the next morning, or as some did, on their return route in the afternoon.  Knowing the bread was in front of the store, people who needed bread would come to the store and select what items they wanted from the bread trays.

No one was around.  Those individuals could have taken all the bread they wanted and no one would have ever known.  Most of the time, there would be money in the bread tray in place of the bread.  There might be the exact change . . . or there might be more than the cost of the loaf of bread.  Sometimes there was bread missing, but no money,  Yet, not once did my folks get concerned or believe that someone had stolen the bread.  They knew that before the day was over . . . settlement would come.

And sure enough, before closing time someone would come in and pay for that bread . . . sometimes someone would come in and say they did not have the exact change and left a quarter or such.  My folks did not question the person, but would simply give them the change due them.  Now is that not a wonderful example of honesty!

I believe it could still be that way.  I know that in those days there was a morality different from today — and such morality was not based on whether a person was a Christian or not.  Though we seemingly live in a morally corrupt society, honesty could prevail if our lives were controlled by the One I call Lord!  Christ in a person — controlling that person — will simply reflect who He is.  And He is perfect –not only in honesty – but in every virtue that reflects perfection!

“Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.”  (1 John 2:6)

Lawson

“He was a ruthless dictator!”  That was the reaction of the young nurse at the hospital.

As we talked, she learned that I had spent time in her native Haiti.  When she asked me about some of my adventures, she was amazed that I had survived.  She talked about the persecution her mother faced when she openly acknowledged she was a Christian.

She was both fascinated and shocked that I had not met with more opposition.  I did confess to her there were questions as to whether I should be there.  Those were the days when Haiti was ruled by the dictator, Jean-Claude Duvalier. He succeeded his father in ruling the country.  He was known as “Baby Doc.”  During his rule, he was ruthless.  Hundreds of thousands of Haitian were killed — many fled the country.  And during these terrible days, I found myself seeking to go into the mountains of Haiti.

With my companion, we spent almost two days in Port-au-Prince, waiting for Baby Doc to approve our trip.  No one was allowed to leave the city without proper papers being signed.  Guards were at the roads leaving the city and required documentation.  The papers we had to sign gave agreement that if we disappeared, the government was not responsible and would do nothing to help locate us.

We witnessed Baby Doc’s exploitation of the people.  He lived in a large palace — drove recklessly through the city –and even blew his horn as to laugh when he saw us on the street.  He raped Haiti of its economy while he lived in luxury.  Poverty was the worst in all the countries of the Americas.

Once outside the city, there was little opposition from his regime, but the threat from witch doctors and their followers became the next force to deal with.  At night as we would camp, the voodoo drums and chants would continue through the night in hopes that we would be scared.

During the days when we would see groups of people, they desired to touch our skin as most had never seen a white person.  Most witch doctors refused to meet with us.  They were incensed that we would come into their territory.  However, those Haitians who sought some authority in their life other that voodoo, welcomed us and opened that hearts to us.

The young nurse had come to the United States after Baby Doc had gone into exile.  She only knew the terrible stories that her mother had told.  She loved her country, but feared to live there even after new leadership.  She wanted to talk more, but time did not allow because of her responsibilities, and she had completed her test on me.  Through the faith of her mother, she was a Christian.  She was radiant and joyful for her salvation and freedom.  But she was still puzzled on the freedom I had when I was in Haiti.

She inquired about how I could explain that we were able to go into those virgin areas of Haiti. I responded that God has promised that when He sends us, He is with us!  He has promised!

“And surely I will be with you always, to the very end of the age.”  (Matthew 28:20)

Lawson

P.S. If you have not read one of my other blogs on Haiti, check this one:  www.lawsonjolly.com/2010/01/16

“Gimm’e an RC Cola and a Moon Pie.”  Remember that song from the 1950′s?  Well, some of you might, but many would wonder what I am talking about.  It is really a southern thing!  But the combination of a Moon Pie and a RC (Royal Crown) Cola was a popular thing in those days!

I recently had both in the pulpit with me.  I was using them as a promotional item — not seeking to sell them, but to award those in the congregation who accomplished a certain thing.  I was surprised that it was the “old-timers” that were most interested.  It brought back memories to so many.

Big Bill Lister made the song famous.  It simply reflected the popularity of the Cola and the Moon Pie.  I can remember that the expression, RC Cola and Moon Pie, was a cliché for “let’s stop and have something to drink.”  Oh, I loved the Moon Pie and the RC Cola, but sometimes I would choose something else.

The Moon Pie became a part of history in 1917 in Chattanooga.  Tradition says a salesman was visiting a company store that catered to coal miners.  He asked the men what they thought would be a good snack during the day.  They said it needed to be something filling and taste good.  The salesman asked what size should the snack be.  A miner held out his hands to frame a circle.  The image was the moon!

The salesman reported this to the bakery.  He watched some of the bakery workers dipping a graham cracker into marshmallows.  He thought it looked good, and he suggested putting another cracker on top like a lid and then covering it with chocolate.  Thus was born the Moon Pie!

In the 1950′s, the combination with the RC Cola began.  No one really knows how they seemed to combine.  But there were ads from various places that said, “RC Cola and Moon Pie — 10¢.”  For a dime one would get a 16 oz. Cola and a large — almost 6 inches across — Moon Pie!

It is not easy to find the individual, large Moon Pie today.  Most of them are smaller.  Whatever the size, the Moon Pie is simply two round graham cracker cookies  with marshmallow filling the center, dipped in chocolate.  There are other flavors today — but for me, the true Moon Pie is chocolate!

Did you know there is a world championship Moon Pie eating contest?  Yes . . . annually in Oneonta, AL.  There is also now the “heated” Moon Pie.  This has occurred since microwaves were introduced.  There is also a Moon Pie Ice Cream Sandwich.  And mini Moon Pies are thrown at Mardi Gras.

Some things may change . . . but they stay around.  I am glad that the RC Cola and Moon Pie are still available.  The bottle may have changed as has the size of the Moon Pie.  But they are still available.  They may not taste the same to me today as 60 years ago . . . but just to hold them in my hand brings back so many memories.

Make memories . . . hold to them . . . and enjoy them.  And may your best memories be of how God has blessed you!

Lawson

Funny thing happened the other day!  Well, funny to me . . . but not to a certain lady!

My wife and I were making some usual rounds of thrift stores.  It does not take long for me to make the circuit in the store and give a glance.  I am not usually looking for anything in particular.  I then will find some comfortable chair that is on sale and sit while Judy continues her browsing.

In this one particular thrift store, the furniture is located toward the back of the store.  I usually seek some chair close to the front so Judy can find me when she is ready to go.  I went toward the front door and stood for a few minutes.  Next to the doors there was a wheelchair.  I assumed that someone had used it to come from their car, but felt secure enough to walk around the store without it.

As some more time passed, I realized that it did not belong to anyone, but was in the store to aid customers — yet it was for sale.  I assumed that I could sit in it as I would in other chairs in the store.  So I walked to the wheelchair and seated myself.  It was comfortable and I believe that in a few minutes I was almost nodding with sleep.

Several people walked by me.  I believe because of my age and that I seemed to be struggling to stay awake, people assumed that it was my wheelchair and that I was confined to it.  They would graciously smile and I would return the acknowledgement.  At this point I began to think I should get up and move around and find another place to sit.  As I was contemplating this, a lady approached the doors to leave, carrying a number of bags.  She truly had her arms full.

She began to shuffle the bags in such a way to get a hand free to open the door.  She nodded toward me with a smile.  I believe it was one of sympathy toward me, as well as mentally communicating, “I can get it open.”

At that moment I aroused enough to realize she needed help.  I immediately jumped up from the wheelchair and exclaimed, “Let me help!”

She gave a low shriek . . . her face expressed surprise and shock . . . and her bags began to shift in her arms!  I thought she was going to faint!  She did everything but exclaim, “It’s a miracle!”  It was obvious that she thought I had suddenly been healed . . . jumping from the wheelchair . . . and offering to help!

No words were exchanged between us as I opened the door for her.  But make no mistake, she was shocked thinking she had witnessed a miracle.  I am sure it was a topic of conversation to friends.

Enjoying the moment . . . I settled back into the wheelchair.  I always have fun . . . but that was truly fun!

There was no miracle that day . . . but I do believe in miracles . . . because I serve a God of miracles!  And I am so happy that He can perform miracles.  I don’t know any of us that could not use a miracle things in our lives!  Trust my God of miracles!

Lawson

Uncle Tom’s Cabin became the best-selling novel in the 19th century — second only to the Bible in sales.  This novel, by Harriet Beecher Stowe, featured Uncle Tom, a suffering black slave . . . and other stories of slavery.  It showed the shame of slavery and how fellow human beings, whatever their color, should be treated with Christian love.

Of course, some condemned the book, while others cheered the publication.  It made a profound influence upon those who were in places where their influence could bring about changes.  Abraham Lincoln believed in the equality of mankind for most of his life.  Yet, he was not able to do much in bringing about equality and the freedom of slaves — as he was not yet in a position to rally for equality.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin made an impact upon his life.  As President of the United States, he was in a position to set in motion the emancipation movement.  Many believed that the Civil War was provoked by this novel.  Legend is that when President Lincoln met Harriet Beecher Stowe, he asked in jest, “Is this the woman who started this war?”

My point is not the issue of slavery . . . or the power of the Presidency . . . or any social or moral issue.  My point is that much which we do can ultimately have an influence on society.  If President Lincoln initiated action to free slaves . . . did he find courage and fortitude to do so because of the influence of the writings of Harriet Beecher Stowe?

Legend reveals that he was greatly influenced . . . and she influenced much of society through her novel.  One may not have influence on the President . . . or through some publication to influence a nation, but imagine if each one of us had a profound, positive influence on just one person . . . what might that person become or do to begin something positive for society?

Don’t ever disregard your influence.  Everyone influences others — positively or negative.  It may be parent to child, neighbor to neighbor, student to student, teacher to student, salesperson to customer, customer to salesperson, worker to fellow worker . . . we do have the opportunity to give positive influence.  Imagine if those of us who are called by the name Christian would influence another person, what a different world we might see.  You may influence a future president, congressman, commissioner, school teacher, or pastor.  And all those would use their influence to help shape others or bring about changes in our society.

I know how my life has been influenced by so many, even when they did not recognize it.  One of my books is dedicated to five young men who allowed me to share their home.  They had no concept of how their life-style and spirit brought my life to understand what a life lived for God could mean.  They shaped one life . . . probably many.  I have such responsibility to do the same . . . don’t you?

So, use that influence!  As some might say, “Rock this nation!”

Lawson

Our world provides plenty of news about homes being invaded.  It certainly is a frightening experience.  I find myself with an attitude that probably should not be expressed when I hear how a person or persons invaded a home.  Sometimes it has been to the harm of the persons in the home . . . or it may only be the plundering of the home when the residents are away.  Whatever the circumstances, it is a reality in our society.  We must be on guard for intruders!

We had an invader a few years back.  We returned from a trip.  As we opened the garage door and drove into the garage, we sensed something . . . you know that feeling you get, but you don’t really observe anything?  Getting out of the car, I slowly opened the door into the kitchen.  Carefully and cautiously I peered in.  I could see some items overturned.  I said to my wife that someone was inside, or they had been.

I suddenly heard a slight noise.  In the garage, by the door was a short 2×2.  Armed with this, I opened the door.  Curtains were in disarray, several things on the kitchen counter were broken or disturbed, pictures were tilted, and some wood shavings were on the floor.

The slight noise I had heard was no longer.  I could not hear a sound.  I quickly surveyed that the front and rear doors were locked.  “Is someone in the house?” That was my recurring thought.  My wife is now beside me.  As we both surveyed the kitchen, eating area, and the family room, our eyes beheld the pantry door!  There, close to the floor was a hole!  Not the kind made by a kick . . . but one made by the teeth of some animal!

Suddenly, we knew that the animal was still in the pantry.  Quickly I grabbed something and covered the hole.  What is in there?  Whatever it was, we had it trapped.  We began to survey the house.  This animal had been all over the house, looking for an exit.  Blinds had been destroyed, curtains damaged, and just a general mess!  But before we could deal with the destruction, we needed to deal with the intruder.

It was an invader.  This animal did not belong in this house.  The animal may not have come to attack us, but it certainly had plundered the home.  By process of elimination — size, noise, etc. we concluded it was a squirrel.  We had many squirrels in our oak trees –but now one is in our home.  Have you ever thought how to get a squirrel out of a pantry?

We considered several options — my first was the shotgun!  But what a mess it would be in that pantry!  That was not really an option.  We could not just open the door and expect the squirrel to run toward an open door.  The squirrel might be so frightened that it would run wild all over the house. We began to call several agencies — animal control, wildlife refuges, etc.  No one would come, nor did any of them have a suggestion.

We finally came up with our own method.  Now I will share it with you.  Hopefully, you will never face this dilemma.

We got several large pasteboard boxes and several sheets of plywood from the garage.  We used the breakfast table, and other items that would help work our plan.  We made a tunnel from the pantry door to the front door with these items.  When we were ready, I removed enough of the top near the pantry door to where I could peer over to see when the squirrel would come out after I removed the blockage we had place over the hole it had made.  Judy went across the street to be able to view the front door and be far enough away that the squirrel would not hesitate to run into the yard.  It took some waiting, but at last it cautiously made its escape!

The only thing that we could smile about was the squirrel’s eating habits.  This was shortly after Christmas and in a candy container on the kitchen counter were Hershey’s kisses — plain chocolate and chocolate with nuts.  Did you know that squirrel emptied all the candy on the counter . . . unwrapped and ate what it wanted . . . but only ate the ones with the notes?  Through the wrapping, the squirrel could tell the ones with nuts.  The squirrel had no desire for plain chocolate.

You are probably wondering at this point how the squirrel got in the house.  Here is the background.

We were leaving on a trip.  I had backed the car out of the garage so that I could secure the garage door from the inside.  With the car in the driveway, we remembered several other items we wanted to take with us.  We began to take these to the car — leaving the front door open.  Evidently, the inquisitive squirrel saw an opportunity to look inside.  While he surveyed the house, we closed the front door, locked it, and departed.  The squirrel was to have the house for the week!

We were extremely careful after that experience.  We are still extremely careful today.  We enjoy the squirrels in the yard . . . but we are extremely cautious that they remain there.  There are just some things not welcome at our house!  I can expand that statement and say there are many things not welcome . . . even in our lives!

There are many invaders that desire to intrude in our hearts and minds!  Beware!  They will plunder and attack.  Many a life has been destroyed by what we have allowed to slip into our life.  Let us protect ourselves!

“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith . . . .”  (1 Corinthians 16:13)  “Above all else, guard your heart.”  (Proverbs 4:23)  “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and mind in Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 4:7)

Lawson

We are a few days into the new year.  How are you coming with those resolutions you made?  Have you gotten started?  Will you hold to your commitment?

Easy for me to ask such questions . . . of you!  But don’t ask me about mine.  I didn’t make any.  I have never been a fan of New Year’s resolutions.  Oh, I remember those younger days when it was in vogue to make them.  I remember not only would the teacher ask us to do a list in class, but at New Year’s Eve parties — private or at church — it was like a game.  You had to make a list . . . and usually the sheet of paper that was provided had numbers.  You were expected to come up with 10 resolutions for the new year.

I remember specifically one such occasion.  It was a church function.  It was to be a serious list.  I cannot recall what all I put on the list. Trying to be cooperative, I probably listed things like:  be faithful at church, be kind to my family, read my Bible, don’t curse, help people, make better grades, etc.  But after making a “spiritual or serious” list, I suppose I reverted back to my usual attitude.  I remember exactly number 10.  On that last line for resolutions, I wrote for resolution number 10:  “I resolve to do my best to ignore the previous 9.”  You can imagine how that went over with the adult leadership!

I am not saying resolutions are not good.  They have an important place in the development of our life.  But they need to be made when we recognize the need and not just at the beginning of a new year.  Resolutions are a commitment we make — certain goals to reach.  They may be to break some habit or to begin some habit.  Such evaluation of our life is important.  But when we make resolutions, do we also have a plan of how to accomplish such a goal?  There must be a strategy.

I was fascinated with a reported list of the top ten resolutions made this year.  The language varied among list, but the intent was the same.

1.  Spend more time with the family. 2. Get more exercise.  3.  Lose weight.  4.  Quit smoking.  5.  Enjoy life more.  6.  Quit drinking.  7.  Get out of debt.   8.  Be more educated –study.  9.  Help other people.  10.  Get my life organized.

I agree with you — those are all worthy goals — if you have the need.  Most of these speak of failure already in our life.  Habits have been formed that are recognized as dangerous to health, emotions, and relationships.  Seems to me that the list is inferring that we need to get control of our lives.  Again, just listing resolutions does not bring accomplishment.  There must be a plan . . . and a discipline to stick to the plan.  The old saying, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.”  Strategy is not difficult.  Look at that list and you could quickly give suggestions.  Though the one with a drinking problem could list many things to do, it may just start with not hanging around people that drink too much, etc.  Or the one about getting out of debt — it begins with spending less, etc.  Making plans to reach a goal is not difficult.  It is the discipline that is hard.

I have learned that whatever habit I want to break . . . or habit I want to begin, I just cannot accomplish it by myself.  I have good intentions . . . I may discipline myself for a period of time . . . I may even sense that I am accomplishing them, but soon time passes and I realize that I have not stuck to it!  Thus, I just give up.  Do you identify with that?

But those intentions are possible.  I have discovered the strength I need to accomplish those worthy goals.  It is through the strength and inner presence of Christ.  Oh, there must still be a desire and discipline to allow Him to accomplish in my life those needed corrections and goals, but His presence in my life seems to hold me to accountability.  Though I have a long way to go in some of those desires, I am so thankful for some habits that have been forfeited that could affect my life — health-wise, emotionally,  financially, in relationships, attitude,  and I could go on.

If you truly desire to make some changes — let me offer to you the power of Christ in your life.  It will make the difference!  If you want to make those goals and resolutions . . . you can start today . . . you don’t have to wait for a new year!

“I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”  (Philippians 4:13)

Lawson

Celebrating  New Year’s Eve has changed for me through the years.  I can remember as a young boy and those early teen years when it was the one night a year that I could stay up until midnight.  We did not have a celebration at home, but our church always had a New Year’s Eve Service.  There were activities and food prior to that stroke of midnight.  We would usually go to the church about 9 p.m. and there would be a fun time until about 11:30 p.m.  Then we got serious.  We would sing hymns, and people would give words of thankfulness for the past year.  The pastor would present a Scriptural thought while everyone was watching the clock!   About one minute to midnight the pastor would begin to pray.  The purpose was to be praying at the hour the new year arrived.  I often wondered if he prayed with one eye opened looking at the clock!

As a teenager, the same privilege was granted me to stay out a little past midnight on New Year’s Eve.  I had transportation and that provided some freedom.  With friends, we would do many different things prior to midnight.  It might be a movie, a fellowship at someone’s home, or just cruising around.  However, until I graduated from high school, my freedom that night ended a few minutes before midnight.  The family rule was that I had to be at the church for those final minutes of the year!

Several churches, where I would be the pastor in later years, had the tradition of the church gathering to celebrate the New Year’s arrival.  Sometimes it included a meal followed by activities for all ages, or a later gathering for refreshments and some fellowship.  Always, however, there would be a worship service about 11:30 p.m.

In these later years, it seems that the New Year arrives without my being aware.  If there was some way to celebrate its arrival before I go to bed, it could be a good plan!  I don’t mean to sound like someone who is a Bah Humbug or someone too old to stay awake until that hour.  I believe my perspective has changed.

I see each new day as a reason to celebrate.  I rejoice over the arrival of each new day  given to me.  Hopefully, there will be enough new days for a whole year, but I will not take anything for granted.  I will choose to complete each day with thankfulness and a hope for the tomorrow. And when I awaken to that new day, I celebrate.

Whether we have a celebration of a new year or a new day, we certainly need to look back.  Some look back and remember some difficulties in their life.  Others remember something special that occurred. Whether it was good or bad, it is past.   We cannot change any of it or relive it.  We must, however, give God thanksgiving for His care over us.  And we must look forward with anticipation of  a tomorrow!  Close the door on yesterday and the past year.  See tomorrow and the tomorrows that follow as something special God is giving to each of us.

Whatever tomorrow or the year may hold, God sees it all.  We are under His watchful eye.  We can face each day with the confidence of His love and care.  Let’s welcome tomorrow with joy because of Him!

” . . .  the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.”  (Deuteronomy 11:12)

May you have a happy and blessed New Year!

Lawson

I grew up in an era when hitchhiking was safe and enjoyable.  In fact, it was more fun to hitchhike than to  take the streetcar or the bus.  You had no fear from the person who would pick you up, and the person stopping seem to express a trust in you.  Present generations cannot relate to those days.  Oh, don’t we wish that was the world of today?

Many people who attempted to hitchhike became discouraged.  You had to know the art of hitchhiking.  You would see a fellow walking toward his destination, back to the oncoming cars, and holding his left hand up with the thumb pointed in the direction he was walking.  That spoke of little confidence in catching a ride.  If you were a serious hitchhiker, you stood still on the side of the road, facing the approaching cars, and holding your right hand up with the thumb in the air or slightly pointed toward your destination.  You would make sure your clothes looked presentable, and you would express a smile of happiness.  You wanted that driver to say to himself, “There is a happy young man.  I would trust him and probably enjoy his companionship as I travel.”

Hitchhiking was the cheapest way to travel.  People often assumed you could not afford transportation or that there was no bus or streetcar available.  I mention streetcars because much of my hitchhiking was for short distances within the Atlanta area.  Going to a movie just a few miles away, we would find ourselves hitchhiking.  Of course, if there were more than two of us, we would split up into pairs, and one group would walk up the road some distance.  Most people would not have room for more than two.  But if they did and the first pair was picked up, we would ask if the driver would pick up our friends.

There are a few, very memorable experiences from my hitchhiking days. One seemed so routine, but I remember it from the pain I endured.  I was a senior in high school and had owned a car.  But because I liked to hitchhike, and because I was stingy with my gas, I thumbed a ride from Clarkston to Stone Mountain where my grandmother lived.  I remember so well that Propane Gas truck driver who stopped and offered me a ride.  It seemed that the bounce in that truck was something unbelievable.  I did not tell the driver how uncomfortable I was, but I found myself in misery.  I was assuming it was the type truck, and remarked to myself that I will not seek a ride with this model truck ever again.  Later, as I left my grandmother’s I decided to take the streetcar home because I was still feeling the effect of that ride.  But I was to know the next morning that it had not been the result of the truck ride.  I had a kidney stone.  The bounce in the truck had broken it loose.  Within hours I was in the hospital.  I was glad that it had not been something to cause me from hitchhiking again in the future.

The longest journey by hitchhiking was from Texas to Georgia.  A friend and I made the long journey.  I cannot remember the exact time, but we were on the road for more than 24 hours.  Some of our rides were only for twenty or thirty miles, while a few took us for 100-200 miles.  One fellow stopped and offered us a ride.  He even said we could drive for him.  As we got close to him, we realized we needed to drive because he was intoxicated.  But we decided to pass up the opportunity.  What if he passed out and we did not know his destination?

We got one ride in a truck pulling a mobile home (called a trailer in those days).  We tried to get him to let us ride in the mobile home so we could sleep, but he would not let us because of laws and regulations by his company.

The most difficult time was going through Mississippi.  We were in the middle of Vicksburg National Park at about 3:30 a.m. in the morning.  It was cold and misty.  It must have been at least 3 hours before we got a ride.  Very few cars traveled that stretch of U.S. 80 that time of morning.  But at last, we got a ride and continued our odyssey.

As a confirmed hitchhiker, I always felt compelled to pick up others who were thumbing when I was in my car.  During my time in North Carolina and driving to the Atlanta area or other places where I might be doing youth revivals, I had the opportunity to pick up many fellows.  The most memorable was a young sailor.  In the course of our travel, I had the privilege to share the Gospel with him.  I carried a small New Testament that was marked with Scriptures.  At the bottom of the page where he would read, it would have written to turn to page such and such.  As he would read those Scriptures, I would explain  them to him.  The result was that during that ride he came to a personal relationship with Christ as his Savior and Lord.  He asked me if he could have that New Testament.  I did not give it to him because I felt it was so special to me.  I have regretted to this day that decision.  However, the great surprise about a year later came as I was watching the show “Name That Tune.”  This young sailor was on the program.  When they interviewed him they asked what he was going to do when he got out of the Navy.  He replied, “God has called me to preach.”  Obviously he had gotten into a church, grown in the Lord, and experienced God’s will for his life.

Hitchhiking has vanished from the culture of yesteryear.  The interstate highway system has contributed to the demise.  But most of all, fear has been the major reason.  I will not pick up hitchhikers today.  I admonish everyone not to do so.  Do not hitchhike or pick up a hitchhiker.

But there are pleasant memories of those past days.  Perhaps you can relate and have some interesting stories.

Again, thanks for letting me share my memories.

Lawson

” . . . a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”     (Luke 2:11)

Lawson

Probably most people who attended church when they were a child participated in a Christmas play.  Sometimes it is called a drama or a pageant, but for me it was always a Christmas play.

There was nothing sophisticated about the play . . . or the participants!  Most of the time there was a narrator who told the story while we children or young teenagers performed.  There would be a few times when a line was spoken by one of the wise men such as, “We have come from the east.  Do you know where the baby has been born?”  Or the innkeeper might say, “I have no room.”

Those of us participating dressed the part in whatever our parents could manage to find around the house.  The angel was always a girl in a long white dress . . . or something similar.  Mary always was dressed in blue . . . usually just a piece of blue cloth draped over her dress. And all the boys wore bathrobes!  Yes, bathrobes!  We would just wear the robe over whatever clothes we had worn to church that night.  We didn’t even go barefooted or dress in sandals.  We just wore the shoes we wore to church.

I don’t ever remember being Joseph . . . or one of the wise men.  I think I was always a shepherd!  I distinctly remember being a shepherd on several occasions.  The reason I know is how I recall trying to find a shepherd’s staff each year.  Part of my education at that age was learning that no tree grows in a u-turn!  I do know that we would find some odd shape staff . . . and even on a couple of occasions we used a limb that was soft enough to bend the end over and tie it with wire so that it looked like it had a hook at the top!

I always thought the innkeeper had the best part . . . even if it was a speaking part.  All he ever did was stand outside a cardboard-made prop with the word “Inn” painted on it.  Sometimes a door was painted on the cardboard and a section of the Inn was cut out to look like a window and all the innkeeper had to do was look out the window to Mary and Joseph and shake his head, “No.”

Those were delightful days . . . oh, yes, we were nervous!  But it was part of going to church and participation was mandated . . .  by our teachers and enforced by our parents!  But I can say that we learned well the Christmas story!  I wonder how folks would respond to such a simple presentation today?

From such an experience comes one of the most delightful stories I have ever heard.  A pastor related what happened in his church with the children and a Christmas play.  The church made the identical presentation each year.  The children looked forward to being a part of the play.  In the church was a young boy that had been the victim of polio.  He wore braces on his legs and required the use of crutches.  He wanted so much to be in the play.  For a couple of years he was passed by because of his limitations.  But on this particular year he was asked if he would like to be the innkeeper.  He responded with joy and excitement.

He only needed to open the door of the inn and respond to Mary and Joseph by saying, “I have no room.”  He practiced his line over and over.  He was confident . . . and so excited.  He did well with each rehearsal.  On the night of the play, he took his place and waited for his moment.

At last, Mary and Joseph knocked at the door of the end.  As the young boy opened the door . . . his excitement and joy overwhelmed him.  He responded loudly and with great enthusiasm, “Please come in . . . I have been waiting for you!”

There was laughter by the congregation . . . but the pastor said it was the best Christmas play ever!

What a line!  “Please come in . . . I have been waiting for you.”  Really now?  Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?  Christ has come to earth . . . and His desire is to be invited in to each and every heart!  Have you asked Him in?

“Here I am!  I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in . . . .”  (Revelations 3:20)

Lawson

Christmas is a time of joy!  Children are excited! Families laugh and love!  It is truly a season of joy!  I have looked back and remembered times of special joy at Christmas.  Sometimes, that joy was even expressed with tears.

It was Christmas 1956.  I was pastor of a church in Texas and we had a special Christmas Eve program.  As soon as it was completed, I began a long, lonely journey to Georgia.  I was anxious to get home and see my family and friends.  U.S. 80.  I had traveled this highway before.  I had often hitched a ride with a friend going the direction toward Georgia.  I had ridden the bus on occasion. And the last time I had been down this highway I hitch-hiked that 1000 miles.  But now I had a car.  Though a long trip, that 1950 Plymouth was my rocket home.

There were very few service stations or businesses opened at these late evening and early morning hours. There was not much to attract your attention.  Passing the time, I know that I thought a thousand thoughts.  I thought of home and  family.  I looked forward also to seeing some old friends and sharing with them my new life.  Oh, it was to be a wonderful holiday.

Somewhere in Louisiana, about 2 a.m. I was listening to the radio when suddenly there was  static and cracking.  Then a voice seemingly broke in, and I heard “This is WSB, Atlanta, Georgia.”  How could this be?  I was too far away to pick up this station that was so familiar to me.  It happened, of course, as a result of what is called in the industry, a skip.  Because of some unusual atmospheric conditions, the sound wave was bouncing over some clouds and falling upon me!  My attention was fixed on hearing WSB.  Suddenly, the station began to play “I’ll Be Home for Christmas . . . .”  Oh, the emotion of that moment.  Tears began to flow down my cheeks.  The tears were an expression of joy and excitement.  As a 23-year-old, I had no apology for my tears.  I was going home and my heart was bursting with anticipation.  I can never forget the emotion of that moment!

Yet there is another Christmas where my heart experienced joy. A joy that overwhelmed me.  It was the Christmas of 1961.  Judy and I were in a committed relationship, and we knew that marriage was in our future.  In fact, we believed that on our first date!  Although we both anticipated marriage in the short future, there was still no official announcement of our plans.  I was the pastor of a church in Clearwater and Judy attended there with me.  The entire church knew it would only be a matter of time before an engagement would be announced.  Yet no one knew that time.

As Christmas approached, I could not think of a better time.  I talked with her father and received permission to officially propose to her.  Then at the precise, planned moment, I asked her to be my wife.  But I did not ask in the usual manner.  My proposal would be different, and few men in the world could use the words of my proposal.  As I gazed at her, I sang ” ‘Tis the Season to be Jolly!” 

And she responded yes!  Suddenly there was a joy unspeakable.  Within my heart there were fireworks, shouts, singing, laughter, joy, and even tears.  Many of those emotions were visible also.  What a Christmas joy I experienced!

The joy that must overwhelm us at this season is what we often sing “Joy to the World,! The Lord is Come.”  Celebrating Christmas must be more than the joy of being with family and friends.  There should be an emotion that is pure within our hearts–a joy beyond expression.  To know that because of the coming of Jesus Christ into the world, our lives can know a peace beyond what the world can ever offer.  Joy, happiness, and even tears should overflow from our hearts at the Christmas season.  Try to imagine a world without Jesus Christ–or your life without Him!  God so loved us that He gave to each of us His Son to be our Saviour and Lord.  Oh, we must celebrate with great joy!  And if tears are an expression of your joy, so be it!

“Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!”  (Philippians 4:4)

Lawson