Avoid the Very Appearance

"Hey Bro! What did Dad mean when he wrote to 'avoid the very appearance of evil?'"

"Dad always means what He says. Avoid the very appearance of evil."

"The very appearance of evil, huh?"

"The very appearance of evil. Avoid it."

"I don't drink, don't smoke, don't dance...sounds like a bad country song, but I don't do anything evil. Am I okay?"

"You don't do much evil, but do others see that in you?"

"Huh?"

"Evil. Do others see it in you, or better yet, do they see you in evil?"

"How would I know if others see me in evil. And how can I stop them from thinking I am doing something evil?"

"By avoiding evil."

"Haven't we been through this before?"

"You still don't get it. Don't just avoid drinking, avoid the whole liquor store. Don't just avoid smoking, but stay out of the tobacco shop. Don't just avoid dancing, stay completely away from the club. Avoid the very appearance."

"Avoid the very appearance...So that means that, even though I'm not participating, I should never be near evil in the first place?"

"Exactly! Avoid the very appearance. Your witness is your walk."

"My witness is my walk?"

"Your witness is your walk."

"Sounds like a discussion for tomorrow..."

Coming Soon...

Coming Soon..."Conversations with my Brother..."

Look often for a series of postings titled "Conversations with my Brother," written by myself after inspiring times of prayer. These prayers, or conversations, occur between me and my Most Trusted Brother, and often happen during the morning commute.

First in the series, "Avoid the Very Appearance," will appear on or before Tuesday, 8/11. Stay tuned...

There you are

Dear Joseph,

I can't believe you're turning four! I watched you ride your bicycle today and my mind began to wander...

Just a few minutes ago, Mrs. Judy handed your tiny body over to me outside the operating room. I had been frightened, confused, and lonely, but there you were. I had been told you were gone, then told you were here and your Mom was gone, then told I would have to choose between the two of you, but there you were. Right outside the room where doctors were still fighting to keep your Mom alive. I was worried about her, but there you were.

We walked briskly to the elevator - you, me, and Mrs. Judy - and there you were. Nana and Pop looked on from a safe distance, and there you were. Mrs. Judy pressed a button, then gently lifted back a fold in the bundle I was carrying, and there you were.

I stared at your little pug nose, bruised and battered from the rough ride you had taken, and there you were. I felt around the bundle for your fingers. Couldn't get a grip, but there you were. I noticed a foot sticking out of the blankets, covered it but you kicked right out - there you were! We stepped off the elevator and into the NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit, and there you were.

I tried to comprehend what had just taken place, but couldn't keep up. Still - there you were. Mrs. Judy had me lay you down on a special bed, where nurses and doctors surrounded your body. I couldn't see you at all. Someone moved just a bit...and there you were.

I was asked to leave as they poked and prodded, adding needles, IV's, monitors, and oxygen masks. I wanted to hold your hand, wanted to hug you close, wanted to count your fingers and toes. But I couldn't see you for awhile. Still, that brief trip up the elevator had given me confidence in the NICU, and I knew...there you were.

I returned to the waiting room, where sat Nana and Pop...and I cried. I prayed, we prayed together, Nana and Pop and me...and there You were. The doctors came in with updates on Mommy, and I was scared, but I knew...there You were. Grandma and Papa and Aunt Lindsey arrived in a rush, we were there all together, but I wanted to be with you. Still I knew...there You were. I had prayed three times, and You had answered. I was still scared, still worried, still feeling confused and lonely, but...there You were.

Later the doctors returned with updates on you and Mommy. There was good news, and there was bad news. There was mostly uncertainty. I excused myself from Grandma and Papa, stepped into the bathroom, and I cried. And there You were. I prayed for strength, I prayed for courage, I prayed for guidance, I prayed for Your presence. And there You were.

By lunchtime, about 12 hours after we arrived at Huntsville Hospital, I was able to sit in a room with my wife. I had visited the NICU at least 4 times already, with Mrs. Judy comforting me each time I saw her. I asked about my Joey, and was allowed only a distant glance. Still...there you were. And there You were.

Joseph, you are a fighter. You fought hard to stay alive and God allowed you to win. And there you were. For the next several days, for what seemed like an eternity...there you were. As Mommy improved and God once again proved His mercy, there you were. Mommy was released and we travelled home without you. A scary feeling, leaving my little baby boy in the hospital all by himself. But there You were.

We visited daily, several times a day, and there you were. We changed diapers somedays, other days we simply stared at you, but there you were. We held your hand and you gripped tight one day...THERE you were!

Things began to improve with our little Joey...and there You were!

We moved to the progressive side...there You were! We gave you baths, held you in our arms, cried over you and prayed over you and rejoiced over you...even boasted over you...because there you were. And there You were.

Joey, you can guess the rest of the story. We brought you home and you are now healthy and happy, no one even remembers the trauma. But you and I do. We both know because...there you were. And we Both know because...there You were.

As I finish writing this, I look into your bedroom. There you are. You are sound asleep in too-little pajamas with your Lovie clutched in your arms, but there you are. Your snoring makes me giggle, because there you are. Your little brother rolls over in his own bed and I know I need to leave before he wakes. There you both are.

I stare at ny healthy boys, one turning 2-1/2 and the other turning 4 and I know, without a doubt, no questions. God, there You are!

Happy Birthday Sunshine! And thank you God for being there with us, every step of the way.

Love,
Daddy

Waffle Time!

"See Daddy! I told you!" Joey burst into the shower, rubbing his eyes as he spoke. His Sponge Bob jammies were twisted and turned from rolling around in the bed, showing his 'Dora Belly.'

"You 'told me so' what, son?," I asked.

"I told you so! I told you I'd get up in time for Waffle Time!"

And so he did. And so he has for the past 2 months, at least 3 or 4 days a week. And each time he gets up for "Waffle Time" makes it a little harder to go to work.

"Waffle Time," as Joey has named it, is our time together. Just the two of us, father and eldest son, while Mommy and little bro are still asleep. We spend the evenings together as a family in the backyard, but this is our time. Every one of my off-days is spent with the boys, giving Mommy a break when possible, but this is our time. We read stories at bedtime, one for Jacob and another for Joey, but this is our time. The two amigos!

We don't do much, just pop frozen waffles in the toaster and scarf 'em down. We drink apple juice, wash the syrup off, and get sticky together. Oh...and we talk.

A 3-year-old has some pretty tough stuff on his mind:

"Daddy, when you get home from work today, will you help me ride my bicycle?" (Of course, my precious little fella...)

"Daddy, sometimes Jacob drinks my juice when I'm not looking." (That Sneaky Pete, he probably learned that trick from...uh...er...from me...)

"Daddy, Mommy doesn't let us jump off the back of the couch anymore." (You go, Mommy!)

Whatever the discussion is, whatever words exchange, it doesn't matter. We're creating memories together, memories that he may well forget tomorrow but that I will hang onto when Joey has a little boy of his own. And it's these little memory-making moments that I long for.

Now please excuse me...the waffles just popped up. Have you got time for your little ones today?

Toys In The Attic???

Leavin' the things that are real behind...

Leavin' the things that you love from mind

All of the things that you learned from fears

Nothing is left for the years...

Toys! Toys! In the attic - Toys!...

- Aersomith, "Toys in the Attic"

The greatest rock band in American history is, without questions...undoubtedly...And don't even try to argue with me...

Aersomith!

I was first enticed by Steven Tyler's boys from Boston back in the nineties, when "Permanent Vacation" and "Angel" were fresh on our minds. I was first in line to buy "Pump" the day it went on sale at Camelot. And my first rock concert was, you don't hafta guess, AEROSMITH!

After Joan Jett's opening act, I was amazed to see the then-forty-ish Steven Tyler rip up the stage at Huntsville's VBC. From one side to the other, on top of speakers and into the crowd, Steven created the stage dive before there was such a thing. From Steven's scarves on the mike to Joe Perry's excellent guitar solo's, I was hooked! No more John Conlee for me...it was all Aerosmith all the time.

I immediately began collecting every single Aerosmith album I could find. And what I learned from the collection surprised me: The band who could never get any better was once much better! And who could argue, considering the familiarity of their lyrics in everyone's mind even today. Love 'em or hate 'em, Aerosmith had made their mark on the music scene.

They had toughed it out through drugs, women, booze, and the whole "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll" scene. And if they could survive it, so could us teens.

Looking back now, I still love Aerosmith. I love the depth of their lyrics, the showmanship of the boys, and the openness of their testimony. Now, don't misunderstand - I have no idea whether the boys from Boston ever found Christ. I have no idea whether they are Christians or not, saints or sinners. But what I do know is that they struggled, overcame, struggled some more, overcame again, struggled even more (almost to the point of death), and overcame AGAIN. In the end, there's a reason for the lyrics to "Toys in the Attic." Just not sure now that it means the same as it did back then...to the band OR to me.

I've got things in my past...skeletons in my closet...toys in the attic...but I've learned and moved on. I've left reality at times. I've left things I loved at times. I've learned from fears MANY times. And I've got a few years under me with nothing to show for them.

But I'm thankful that God has protected me. He has saved me from the attic, from the ghosts in my past and the bats in the belfry. And He has forgotten my sins. Blotted them out, removed them, erased them...gone!

And He let me keep the memories of good Aerosmith music!

Speaking of Toys in the Attic, guess what I just found? Cleaning out my desk, I ran across a stack of our original books "Time Flies: My First Thirty Years." This was published about 5 years ago with a retail price of $29.95, but I would like to move them on out. Follow the "Buy Now" link below to get your copy for only $9.95. (As the guy on TV says: "No small talk. Truth is, We Need The Money!" LOL Enjoy this nice little toy from our attic. :) - Philip

There is a river...

As I watched the bustling and raging Flint River cresting over dry land this morning,

this song from the sons of Korah came to mind...

"There is a river - its streams delight the city of God,

the holy dwelling place of the Most High.

God is within her; she will not be toppled.

God will help her when the morning dawns.

Nations rage, kingdoms topple;

the earth melts when He lifts His voice.

The Lord of Hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our stronghold."

- Psalms 46:4-7

Holman Christian Standard

No matter how the rivers rage, no matter how high the waters rise, no matter how white the waters churn, I will not be afraid. My God, too, is a River who created all rivers. God is my refuge. God is my strength. God is MY God.

Next Blog Please...

Well, I finally did it! Something I'd never done before, but always wanted to. Something I'd always wondered about, but was afraid of for whatever reason. Something that had tempted me often, teasing me with statements like "Just a quick peek" and "Come on, nobody else will even know." And I finally gave in.

This morning, at a weak moment and in an attempt to procrastinate and postpone the inevitable, I did it. I clicked the "Next Blog" link at the top of the page.

"¿Cómo se hace un jarrón de cerámica?"

What a letdown! "?Como se hace...?" Now I gotta call Mrs. Prestridge from Ninth grade Spanish to figure it out! The teaser in me thought I might hit something exciting...maybe another minister or freelancer praising God, maybe an artist showcasing his latest work, or maybe some proud Grandma in Searcy showing off photos of the latest addition.

But I landed on a "ceramica" website! I can do the math and deduce, from the pics and the wording, that this is a blog about ceramic sculpting...I think? Whatever it is, my eyes, mind, and brain were deceived and letdown.

Just proves that we never really know what's behind closed doors. Temptations arise and we become enticed. We want to take a quick peek but are afraid of getting caught. So eventually we let our mind run wild and start hoping for things unknown. Then we open the door...and there it is...

And it also proves that we never know who may open the door on us. As a Christian, that can be kinda scary! What if someone, some non-Christian in a third world country, opens the door to find me blogging about the hottie across the street? What if my own minister stumbles across the blogspot and finds me obsessing over a too-long sermon this past Sunday? What if a potential Christian witness gets turned into a candidate for hell simply by my writing and actions?

Makes you think, doesn't it? Made me think, for sure. I think I'll be more careful what I do behind closed doors, online and in person. And might you do the same?

Next Blog, Please...

Random Thoughts About Stormy Weather...

There's just something about a good strong storm that makes men think.

Storms scare me, pure and simple. I'm scared of hurricanes, even though they rarely reach this far north. (Katrina and Ike notwithstanding...) I'm scared of tornadoes, having seen firsthand the destruction of massive North Alabama tornadoes every spring and fall. I'm scared of thunder, and the old adage "that's just God moving His furniture around" doesn't quite cut it. I'm scared of lightning, and would never be so inventive as to fly a kite in it. Sometimes I'm even scared of rain, what with all the flooding and so on...


Storms isolate me, creating kind of an icy "all-alone-in-this-great-big-world" kind of feeling. The wind, the rain, the snow, the snow, the snow...did I mention snow? Snow is a lonely kind of weather...why would God make snow anyway? OK, back down and hold your fire...snow IS gorgeous, fun, exciting, and all that jazz...but I'm just not a snow fan. "One man's junk is another's treasure...," and you can keep your white flaky treasure up north! LOL

But storms also excite me! The blood starts flowing, adrenaline gets running, and my veins pop out. Guess it's in my blood cause I'm a guy and I feel the need to protect, to be in control, and to keep everyone safe. And it's the uncertainty of safety in a storm that creates the next and greatest stormy emotion...

Storms make me rely on God! I realize during a good storm that God is sin control, He owns it all, He can calm it down and He can brew it up! He can build things with snow dunes, and He can tear things down with flood waters. He gives us sense enough to stay off the roads, and gives us His cover when we must drive in a storm. In short, no mater how isolated my little pea-brain thinks it is, GOD is always with me.

Next time you're caught in a good storm, scared and alone as you may be, remember this most famous word from God that has helped me remain confident through countless waters:

"Through the storm you do not walk alone.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you."
-- Isaiah 43:2

Life is a marathon!

"Life is a marathon, not a sprint...

Pace yourself."

(Paraphrased from The Love Dare by Stephen and Alex Kendrick)

I've just finished a conversation with one of my coworkers in which she was trying to plan the "madness of the day." As an Event Coordinator, Resha has these "mad" days quite often...she has confided in me that the anxiety leading up to these big days is eating away at her private time, causing a lack of energy and enthusiasm. Resha needs to pace herself.

In their recent book The Love Dare, the Kendrick brothers talk about the "marathon" that is life. It seems that we have become too busy to do the most essentials of life: Love God, love each other, and love life itself. And now we need to pace ourselves

I have recently become friends with several avid runners, some of whom have even travelled overseas to run in distinguished marathons. While I never plan to get that deep into running, I am picking up some life-lessons from each of these guys. The first piece of advice they will give is to pace yourself.

Some runners start to at a sprint, only to give up during the middle leg of the race. Others begin slow, then sprint mid-ways through; they hope for a dramatic comeback, but never seem to get quite caught up. And still another group tries to sprint the last leg; failure is eminent, since their body is already worn out by that time.

My advice is to follow Runner Scotty's advice, who is adhering to the advice Coworker Resha was given, which matches the advice the Kendrick brothers give: Start steady, remain steady, and end steady. In short, pace yourself!

Right now I encourage you to being a new pace in life. Get up early enough to begin the day with God, who can then set the pace for the remainder of the day. Pause for a break along the way, thanking and praising Him for the little things that make life memorable. Then, at the end of the day, be sure to spend enough quality time showing God how much you appreciate the gift of life!

Happy 2009! At the risk of adding to an already perfect piece of advice, I simply quote my Pastor, who quoted the prophet Isaiah...

"Do not call to mind the former things or ponder things of the past. Behold I will do something new, now it will spring forth." (Isaiah 43:18)

This year, I resolve to forget the past while making things right for the future. Enough said?