As I write this post, it is Labor Day.  For many, today has little meaning beyond signifying the end of summer.  However, this holiday has great historical importance, and deserves to be appreciated for all it actually represents.  According to the official United States Department of Labor web page:  

“Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers.  It constitutes
a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.”

George Meany perhaps summed up the significance of Labor Day as well as anyone.  In Vital Speeches, he made the following observation.

“Labor Day is the only national holiday dedicated to the plain people, rather than heroes and historic events.  It provides an opportunity for all of us to recognize and honor the working men and women who have built America to its present stature and keep it going with such steady efficiency.  We need this annual reminder because during the rest of the year the contributions made to our well-being by the unsung workers of our country are taken for granted.  Only when some dramatic interruption takes place de we begin to realize how dependent we are in our daily lives upon the continuous miracle of production and service rendered by the great army of free American workers.”

I hope you will join me in taking a little time this Labor Day weekend to observe and appreciate the productivity of our American workforce.  I am greatly indebted in such regard. 
My father farmed and I have plenty to eat.  My father-in-law assembled automobiles and I drive a dependable vehicle.  My mother worked in insurance and I have security for my family and my possessions.  My mother-in-law taught school and I can write these words.  Truly, I have much to be thankful for as a result of my forebears, who simply got up each and every day and went to work and did their respective jobs.

I also hope you will join me this Labor Day in thanking God for the wonderful privilege of living in this great country, and of enjoying all the blessings pertaining therein.  I am reminded that I could have been born in any of scores of other countries who do not have the resources, the freedoms, and the heritage that America has.  As a result, I would never have known the great blessings associated with being an American citizen.  For that matter, I could easily have been born at some other time in the history of this great nation, and would still have never known the great blessings which I enjoy as a result of living in this particular day and age.  I have much to be thankful for.  Perhaps you do as well.
 
 
I told the story this week about my having gotten caught in a sudden deluge while walking this past Saturday evening out at the Tellico Dam, and being so far from my car.  I was literally drenched from head to toe.  It rained so hard that, when I got back to the car, the water was easily a foot deep in the parking lot.  My smart phone got so wet from just being on my belt clip that it has even stopped working.  (Yes, it is sitting in a bowl of dry rice even now.)  

Of course, it was not lost on me that all of this happened on the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.  I cannot imagine the fury those poor people who survived must have endured.  My whole episode was over in probably twenty to twenty-five minutes.  Their episode lasted months and even years.  I got in my car and drove straight home to a nice dry house.  They lost both car and home.  I was warm and dry inside of thirty minutes.  They were cold, wet, and hungry for weeks on end. 

As I am writing this, the Weather Channel is tracking one hurricane and four huge tropical storms in the Atlantic.  It looks like we may be in for a fairly rough year.  What I found intriguing is that the lead storm, Hurricane Danielle, is delaying the first ever 3-D filming of the wreck of the R.M.S. Titanic.  Ironically, while the filming has been suspended due to the ferocity of the storm at the surface, over two miles down, the Titanic sleeps as peacefully as ever, completely oblivious to the storm that rages above her. 

I am reminded of the story of Jesus peacefully at sleep in the hold of the boat as His disciples cried out in anguish in the midst of the storm on the Sea of Galilee.  They were in terror.  He was asleep.  They feared for their very lives.  He slept like a baby.  Why?  Was He not concerned for them?  Did He not care?  Was He indifferent to their danger?  No, none of these things.  He just knew that the storm held nothing to fear!  He knew Who held the power over the storm!  He knew no storm on earth could withstand the simple Divine command to cease and be still!

I take comfort in that fact.  It reminds me that my God is in control of my life.  No storm I face will ever make Him tremble.  I can rest in complete peacefulness because of this.  And so can you.  I do not know whether you are in the midst of a storm right now or not.  It has well been pointed out that, at any given time, we are either coming out of a storm, we are in the midst of a storm, or we are headed into a storm.  Life is full of storms.  But praise God, we serve a Savior Who is Master even of the storms of life.
 
 
In light of my current Sunday morning sermon series on the
life of David, I thought it would be appropriate to share the following story as related by Sam Whatley on pages 17-18 in
his book, Pondering the Journey (True Life Publishers, 2002).

In 1463, members of the City Council of Firenze (Florence) Italy decided they needed a monument to enhance their city. They commissioned a sculptor to carve a giant statue to stand in front of city hall. Someone suggested a biblical character wrought in the neoclassical style, an expression of beauty and strength.

They approached Agostino di Duccio, who agreed to their terms. Duccio went to the quarry near Carrara and marked off a 19-foot slab to be cut from the white marble. However, he had the slab cut too thin. When the block was removed, it fell, leaving a deep fracture down one side. The sculptor declared the stone useless and demanded another, but the city council refused. Consequently, the gleaming block of marble lay on its side for the next 38 years, a source of embarrassment for all concerned.

Then, in 1501, the council approached another citizen, the son of a local official, asking him if he would complete the ambitious project, using the broken slab. Fortunately for them, the young man was Michelangelo Buonarroti. He was 26 years old, filled with energy, skill, and imagination. Michelangelo locked himself inside the workshop behind the cathedral to chisel and polish away on the stone for three years. When the work was finished, it took 49 men five days to bring it to rest before the city hall. Archways were torn down. Narrow streets were widened. The people from across Europe came to see the 14-foot statue of David relaxing after defeating Goliath. It was even more than the city fathers had envisioned. The giant stone had been transformed from the massive fractured waste of rock to a masterpiece surpassing the art of either Greece or Rome.

If ever any life demonstrates for us the truth of this story, it is that of the Biblical King David.  He could be on the mountain top one day and in the valley the next.  He could have a heart for God one moment and a heart for Bathsheba the next.  He can make those of us who read his story so proud of him one instant, and then so disappointed with him the next. 

As such, David represents me in all my good traits and in all of my bad traits.  I see so much of myself in him.  And yet, despite his many flaws (pride, envy, covetousness, etc…), God was still able to transform him and use him in such wonderful ways.  That gives me hope.  And encouragement.  And confidence.  It probably does the same for you as well.  Thank God, He both can and does use us in spite of our shortcomings. 
 
 
NO NOTS FOR ME! 08/18/2010
 
Tyler Campbell preached this past Sunday evening here at First Baptist Church in Lenoir City and he did a wonderful job.  He told the story of the gym where he trains and the sign that hangs on the wall.  The sign says “CAN NOT”; and has a very bold line drawn through it.  What a powerful motivational tool!  Too many people go through life worrying over whether or not they CAN accomplish something for the Lord.  Praise God for the testimony of the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:13 where he said, “I CAN do all things who Christ who strengthens me.”  Indeed, nothing is impossible for God (Luke 1:27)!  Therefore, if God is for us, who can be against us?! (Romans 8:31)

As I reflected on Tyler’s illustration, I realized that there probably needs to be one more phrase posted on the wall of my life and then struck through.  That sign needs to say “WILL NOT”, with a very bold line drawn through it.  For so often, my problem is less a matter of needing to be convinced that I CAN do something for God and is more a matter of overcoming my lack of WILL in an attempt to do something for God.  Indeed, unWILLingness is a major problem that plagues many of us.  The better question, therefore, is this:  “Am I WILLing to undertake something for God?”  For as the old adage puts it:  “Where there’s a WILL, there’s a way!”

This was the attitude that sustained Jesus.  This was the attitude that carried Him through life, and through death, and then back to life again.  For it was in the garden that He prayed, “Not my WILL; but Your WILL be done, Oh God!”  For my part, that is the attitude that I want to develop:  the attitude of Christ that embraces the WILL of God and says I WILL do this thing for God, Who strengthens me for this purpose.  Otherwise, I run the risk of coming to the end of life’s road only to see written across the pages of my life the words:  “CAN NOT”, “WILL NOT”, and ultimately, “DID NOT”. 
 
 
The Bridge Builder is a famous poem written and first published in 1900 by Will Allen Dromgoole.  While I had heard this poem before, I had forgotten its simple but profound message - until I heard it read at a funeral this week.  It speaks volumes about what the deceased father must have meant to his children who were there celebrating his life and his love for them.  It bears repeating here - this time from the heart of a father and mother (my wife and me) whose last week or two has been spent preparing to send three children back off to college.  

As you might expect, our three children are important to us.  They represent our future in that, when our time in this world is gone and we are enjoying our eternal reward, we will be alive not only in Heaven, but also in the hearts and lives of these whom we have loved and cared for along the way.  Because of this, my sadness at this now familiar time of year (helping them pack for college) is tempered by the joy at being able to see my children venture out and make their mark in this world.  Any part Mrs. Vickie and I can play in helping them accomplish this is only a labor of love. 

Here is Mr. Dromgoole’s poem in its entirety.

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim, near,
"You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again will pass this way;
You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head:
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."

 
 
 
Many of you asked for the story I told about Walter and Arthur this past week.  I found the story in a book by Kevin Baerg titled Created for Excellence:  12 Keys to Godly Success (Inspiration Press, 1995), pp. 15-16.  Here is the story as related by Mr. Baerg:

The other day I ran across the story of how a friend of another great dreamer missed quite an opportunity. One day, this friend was taken for a ride far out in the country.  They drove off the main road and through groves of trees to a large uninhabited expanse of land. A few horses were grazing, and a couple of old shacks remained.

Walter stopped the car, got out and started to describe with great vividness the wonderful things he was going to build. He wanted his friend Arthur to buy some of the land surrounding his project and get in on the ground floor.  But Arthur thought to himself, “Who in the world is going to drive 25 miles for this crazy project?  The logistics of the venture are staggering.”

And so Walter explained to his friend Arthur, “I can handle the main project myself, although it will take all my money.  But the land bordering it, where we’re standing now, will in just a couple of years be jammed with hotels and restaurants and convention halls to accommodate the people who will come to spend their entire vacation here at my park.”  He continued, “I want you to have the first chance at this surrounding acreage, because in the next five years it will increase in value several hundred times.”

“What could I say?  I knew he was wrong,” Arthur tells the story today.  “I knew that he had let a dream get the best of his common sense, so I mumbled something about a tight-money situation and promised that I would look into the whole thing a little later on.”  “Later on will be too late,” Walter cautioned Arthur as they walked back to the car.  “You’d better move on it right now.”

And so Art Linkletter turned down the opportunity to buy up all the land that surrounded what was to become Disneyland.  His friend, Walt Disney, tried to talk him into it.  But Art thought he was crazy.

 
 
 
Way back in 1953, the following parable first appeared in an article by Theodore 0. Wedel titled "Evangelism - The Mission of the Church to Those Outside Her Life" (The Ecumenical Review, October 1953, p. 24).  In light of my message this past Sunday morning on Matthew 16:13ff regarding the responsibility of the church to reach the lost, I thought I would post it today.

"On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur there was once a crude little lifesaving station.  The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought of themselves went out day and night tirelessly searching for the lost.  Many lives were saved by this wonderful little station, so that it became famous.  Some of those who were saved, and various others in the surrounding area, wanted to become associated with the station and give of their time and money and effort for the support of its work.  New boats were bought and new crews trained.  The little lifesaving station grew.

Some of the members of the lifesaving station were unhappy that the building was so crude and poorly equipped.  They felt that a more comfortable place should be provided as the first refuge of those saved from the sea.  So they replaced the emergency cots with beds and put better furniture in the enlarged building.  Now the lifesaving station became a popular gathering place for its members, and they decorated It beautifully and furnished it exquisitely, because they used it as a sort of club.  Fewer members were now interested in going to sea on lifesaving missions, so they hired lifeboat crews to do this work.  The lifesaving motif still prevailed in this club's decoration, and there was a liturgical lifeboat in the room where the club initiations were held. 

About this time a large ship was wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in boatloads of cold, wet, and half-drowned people.  They were dirty and sick, and some of them had black skin and some had yellow skin.  The beautiful new club was in chaos.  So the property committee immediately had a shower house built outside the club where victims of shipwreck could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting, there was a split in the club membership.  Most of the members wanted to stop the club's lifesaving activities as being unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal social life of the club.  Some members insisted upon lifesaving as their primary purpose and pointed out that they were still called a lifesaving station.  But they were finally voted down and told that if they wanted to save the lives of all the various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters, they could begin their own lifesaving station down the coast.  They did.

As the years went by, the new station experienced the some changes that had occurred in the old.  It evolved into a club, and yet another lifesaving station was founded.  History continued to repeat itself; and if you visit that sea coast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs all along that shore.  Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but most of the people drown!"

Remember, church, what you have been called to do!!!
 
 
As we celebrate our nation's 234th birthday, I thought it appropriate to post the following piece by Otto Whittaker.  I hope you find it thoughtful during this time of the year. 

I AM THE NATION
by Otto Whittaker

"I was born on July 4, 1776, and the Declaration of Independence is my birth certificate. The bloodlines of the world run in my veins, because I offered freedom to the oppressed. I am the nation! 

I am 250 million plus living souls and the ghosts of millions more who have lived and fought and died for me.

I am Nathan Hale and Paul Revere. I stood at Lexington and fired the shot heard around the world. I am Washington, Jefferson, and Patrick Henry. I am John Paul Jones, the Green Mountain Boys and Davy Crockett. I am Lee, Grant, and Lincoln.

I remember the Alamo, the Maine, Pearl Harbor and 9/11. When freedom called, I answered and I stayed until it was over, over there. I left my heroic dead in Flanders Fields, the rock of Corregidor, on the bleak slopes of Korea, in the steaming jungles of Vietnam, and the desert sands of Kuwait.

I am the Brooklyn Bridge, the wheat lands of Kansas, the granite hills of Vermont. I am the coal mines of the Virginias and Pennsylvania, the fertile lands of the West, the Golden Gate and the Grand Canyon. I am Independence Hall, the Monitor, the Merrimac, and the Challenger.

I am big. I sprawl from the Atlantic to the Pacific.. .more than 3 million square miles of land throbbing with industry. I am more than 2 million farms. I am forest, field, mountain, and desert. I am quiet villages and cities that never sleep.

You can look at me and see Ben Franklin walking down the streets of Philadelphia with his bread loaf under his arm. You can see Betsy Ross with her needle. You can see the lights of Christmas and hear the strains of "Auld Lang Syne" as the calendar turns.

I am Babe Ruth and the World Series. I am 200,000 schools and colleges and more than 300,000 churches where my people worship God as they choose. I am a ballot dropped into a box, the roar of a crowd in a stadium, and voice of a choir in a cathedral. I am an editorial in a newspaper and a letter to Congress.

I am John Glenn and Neil Armstrong and their fellow astronauts who whirl through the spaces above my head. I am Eli Whitney and Stephen Foster, Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, and Billy Graham.

I am Horace Greeley, Will Rodgers, and the Wright brothers. I am George Washington Carver, Jonas Salk, and Martin Luther King, Jr. I am Longfellow, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Walt Whitman, and Thomas Paine.

Yes, I am the nation and these are the things that I am. I was conceived in freedom and, God willing, in freedom I shall spend the rest of my days.

May I always possess the integrity, the courage, and the strength to keep myself unshackled, to remain a citadel of freedom and a beacon of hope to the world."

May God bless this great country!  And may God find this country worhty of His favor!

 
 
 
This past weekend, I was honored to have been asked to conduct two wedding ceremonies down in the Atlanta area.  In the first one, I wore a black suit.  In the second one, I wore my black ministerial robe.  In both ceremonies, however, I also wore a little something extra:  cat hair!  Those of you who attend our church regularly already know of my ongoing frustration with my wife's cat, Rudy.  Technically, she is a long-haired white Turkish Angora.  From my perspective, she's a self-centered, egotistical tyrant - a rival, who steals my wife's affection and inflicts humiliation on me at every conceivable opportunity.  Apparently, her number one purpose in life (or so it appears to me) is to persecute me with a neverending deposit of cat hairs.  She evidently does a good job of it, especially when I am dressed in black as I was this past weekend.  Right up to the time of the ceremonies, I was preening myself of cat hairs.  All the while, in my mind, I could just see the beast laughing at me!  In light of that, I thought I would share a poem someone sent me recently.  If you are the victim of a bullying cat like me, maybe you can appreciate the following piece (author unknown). 

ODE TO A SHEDDING CAT

I think that I shall never see
A cat that sheds as much as thee,
Thy fur that sticks is all around
On chairs, on mats, in little mounds,
I sweep the floor, you shed some more
I wash the rug and you just shrug,
You should give thanks I tolerate that
Or you would be a crew-cut cat!
 
Thank you! 06/14/2010
 
Yesterday was a bittersweet day in the Jackson house as we took our oldest son up to the Air National Guard base in Knoxville to be deployed overseas for a portion of his military service.  As is the case with most all who have members of their families serving in the military, we are justifiably proud of him.  At the same time, we are understandably concerned for his safety during this time.  We appreciate your prayers for him while he is away.  In light of that, along with the fact that it is now approximately half-way between Memorial Day and Independence Day, I thought I would post a copy of a poem that I recently read from the pulpit.  It is part of a collection of original poems recently copyrighted by Pat Walker, a dear friend and precious lady who is a part of our church family. 
It is titled simply "THANK YOU".

Thank you just doesn’t seem enough
For all that each of you have done
Taking a stand, defending our freedom
Marching on till the victory was won.

For us who have never been a part
Of battling for our country’s rights
We really can truly never comprehend
All you went through as you fought the fight.

But because of brave men like you
Who kept going through every trial and test
We Americans can freely and thankfully say
In all the world, the USA is the very best.

Thank you for your service
For your commitment to the Red, White, and Blue
For protecting the “Sweet Land of Liberty”
We forever from our hearts want to say – “Thank You.”

Remember, freedom is not free.  Especially during this time
of the year, please take the time to seek out and then express your appreciation to our service men and women, both  veterans and those currently serving.  It will surely mean
a lot to them.