Originally Posted in February 2021

What it means to us. What it means to Him 


God did something special in giving this message to me!  I’m taking none of the credit for this fresh look at words spoken at events that happened over two thousand years ago. The story is not new, it’s His entirely.  As the song says, ‘God is good all the time.  All the time, God is good!’  Yes He is! 


What we’ve come to refer to by such terms as ‘Holy Week’ is here.  No doubt there will be many sermons preached on the Church’s observance of Communion.  This observance is also referred to as a rite, and observance, a ceremony, a sacrement, service.  By what ever your local assembly calls it, it was instituted by Jesus, and we are instructed to continue the practice.  As in other observances, such as baptism, it is a physical expression (or symbolic) of a deeply spiritual event.  Jesus Himself stated it perfectly when He said we should participate in communion as a physical act of REMEMBRANCE.

The question is: what is it that we’re supposed to be remembering?

Luke and Corinthians both answer that question when they record Jesus as saying, ‘In remembrance of Me.’  

The reason this meal is referred to as the ‘last supper’ is because it was the last meal that Jesus shared with His disciples.  He was about to die on the cross… and nothing in Heaven or Earth would ever be the same again!  It was a monumental event… at a monumental time in the history of mankind!

We have national holidays for similar reasons… days set aside to remember specific times and events in history.  For many years after World War Two, we celebrated VE Day (Victory In Europe) and VJ Day (Victory In Japan).  Those two celebrations are no longer considered to be ‘politically correct,’ and are no longer celebrated.  Yet, because it was a pinnacle turning point in the history of our nation, we still remember December 7th, the date on which Pearl Harbor was bombed.

Although VE and VJ days were considered as days of celebration and joy, because they were times of remembering victories… Pearl Harbor Day can never be remembered with joy and with a ‘celebratory’ spirit. It is a day of remembering tremendous sacrifice and great loss of life.

Now, let’s consider our original question.  What did Jesus want us to remember today when we receive communion?

Scripture tells us that the broken bread is to remind us of his broken body, and the wine to remind us of his shed blood.  This is what we’re told to remember as we receive communion… this is the purpose of communion.  But we already know that, don’t we? 

Yes, we do.  But just like the song ‘Jesus loves me,’ the message never gets old, never wears out, never loses its powerful message!

And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body.  And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.   Matthew 26: 26-28

And as they did eat, Jesus took bread, and blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take, eat: this is my body.  And he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them: and they all drank of it.  And he said unto them,  This is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many.    Mark 14: 22-24

And when the hour was come, he sat down, and the twelve apostles with him.  And he said unto them, With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer: For I say unto you, I will not any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of God. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and said, Take this, and divide it among yourselves: For I say unto you, I will not drink of the fruit of the vine, until the kingdom of God shall come. And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me. Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you.    Luke 22:14-20

…The Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread:  And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.  After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, this cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.  For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come.    I Corinthians 11:23-26

I often hear a term used which is interpreted as ‘participating in a rite or ceremony,’ and that term is ‘celebrating’ it… as in celebrating the last supper.  Personally, I don’t think ‘celebrating’ is an appropriate word for remembering the horribly painful, brutal, bloody death of our Lord and Savior!  We can’t begin to imagine the shame, the pain, the suffering that He went through!  Hollywood attempted to show us, but that was only a weak attempt at making us understand.  We always think of Jesus and His strength, faith, steadfast courage and unshakable spirit… yet scripture describes how He agonized over what was about to happen to him!  Think about that!  Remember it!  Now where is you ‘celebration’?

As in most all things, there’s both a ‘what’ and a ‘why.’  We’ve just had a brief and painful look at most of the whats of this last supper.  The ‘why’ is no less monumental in its supreme importance to God, to His will, to His plan for mankind, and to each and every one of us… then as well as today!

Two thousand years ago, our calendars changed.  Jesus Christ changed more than just our calendars, but everything!  Before him, God had a special family of people, people He referred to as ‘His Children.’  This was the Hebrew Nation.

These Hebrew people, living in the very shadow of the temple, were not only subject to the laws of God… but also subject to Roman law.  They paid taxes to Rome, and Tithes to God in the Temple.  And their sins were never completely forgiven.  Instead they were atoned for, meaning, they were rolled forward for another year when all of these collected sins were atoned for all over again on the Day of Atonement.  A sacrifice was made, and blood was shed, to pay the price for the people’s sins.  ‘Church’  was a rather bloody place back then!

But Jesus changed all that!

Jesus came and not only taught us how to live in harmony with one another and with God, but He also preached forgiveness and love… and mercy and grace… faith and hope… and peace and joy.  He taught us how to find and to follow the pathway to the very heart of God! 

And then, He did something that bewilders and amazes us today.  He did something that all the blood of centuries of animals could never do… He paid the price for all sins ever committed before, and all sins committed afterwards.  He himself became the sacrifice, dying on the cross, as a final and complete sacrifice, which would remove sin from mankind for once and for all!  All that was required of us was to reciprocate… He’d give His life for us but He wants us to give our lives to (and for) Him!  He did this for everyone, everyone past and present…everyone who will give up (surrender) their wills unto Him.  

Oh yes, then, as even today, there are many who cannot or will not agree to this exchange… and they chose a temporary life on earth over eternal life in heaven.  And yet, He suffered and died even for them… even though they reject his unbelievably wonderful ‘deal.’  He did this for me, and He did this for you!

When we remember (like He told us to do) His broken body and the shed precious blood, we shutter in awe, our eyes flood with tears, our knees go weak and we fall to the ground in deep humility, respect, and  reverence.  We worship at His feet.  We worship because of what He has done for us.  We are to remember His great pain and suffering, which He willingly subjected Himself to, so that we might have eternal life with him!

We are involved in this equation.  We are the ‘why’ He did this!  We are the why He suffered, bled, and died on the cross.  He did it to save our filthy hides, to take the place for all of our sorry sins… Himself to die that WE might live!

Earlier we saw what was in it for Him.  But now we’ve seen what’s in it for US.  It is all together different… total polar opposites.  He got the pain, suffering, and death… but we get the joy, happiness, peace, and life eternal!  That second part takes away our tears.  That causes us to celebrate!  That joy sends us to our feet, our hands lifted in praise!  That’s what’s in it for us.

In many restaurants, especially in beach areas, you often see notification signs stating: NO SHIRT. NO SHOES. NO SERVICE.  The meaning is clear, their dining in NOT that casual!  Dress for the occasion!  Four and Five Star Restaurants will probably require a reservation!

Do we need a reservation to partake of the Lord’s Supper, to partake in communion? 

Actually, in a very real sense, we do!  The ‘reservation’ that is required is that we come to His table in sincere humility, and with an attitude of worship, understanding, and respect for what it means.  We need to reserve our hearts, minds, and spirits to come to the table in awareness and respect.  Read what Paul tells us in the book of Corinthians. 

“The Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread:  And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.  After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, this cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.  For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come.  Wherefore whosoever shall eat this bread, and drink this cup of the Lord, unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord.  But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup.  For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord’s body.     I Corinthians 11:24-29

Now, as we stand before the altar, and the loaves and the wine lay before us, this year let’s be honest with ourselves and honest with God… and let’s consider carefully not only what we are remembering, but also why.  And let’s consider not only what’s in it for us, but especially, what’s in it for Him!

Isn’t it amazing, that something so separate and diverse as are worship and praise, that they come together almost as one, in an event so monumental to our very faith!  We would miss oh so much to embrace the one and ignore the other!

It’s also amazing to consider that communion ‘flips the coin’ so to speak.  We tend to think that praise brings about worship… but during communion, it’s worship which brings on praise!  



A Big Yellow Cat

If I could go back… back to my childhood days… way back to the days when ‘a drug problem’ at school’ meant that the office was out of aspirin… I’d go back!  You’d better believe I would! Things were truly different  back then.  No, we didn’t have Covid, but we did have mumps, measles, chicken pox, and polio.  We didn’t have TV, but we did have AM radio that brought Amos and Andy, Fibber Magee and Molly, and Guy Lumbardo into our homes.  We didn’t have cell phones that rang during church… but we had telephones with long cords and a favorite place to curl up and whisper sweet nothing to that favorite someone across town.  We didn’t have TV to keep up us half the night… or the internet to rob us of valuable family time.  But we did have those amazing places called libraries that carried countless books on countless subjects that gave us countless hours of pleasure while reading.  Hardly anything was ‘right at our fingertips’ back then, which made possessing anything – mean that we had to put out some effort to possess it. This only made things much more dear to us.  And as one of the most popular songs of the day stated, ‘little things meant a lot.’

Looking back, I remember those simple pleasures, those special treats that we found while outside discovering the world around us.  You see, our world was the real world, and not some animated imaginary world on a small flat screen manupilated by our fingers.  A good example was:  About every six weeks or so, the city sent to our neighborhood a great yellow monster!

The street on which I lived was two blocks north of Battlefield Park.  It ran east and west. Connecting our street to Battlefield was Peabody Street, running north/south.  In the 40s, Peabody had yet to be paved… it was still gravel.*  Periodically, the city would send out this great yellow monster, a road grader, to smooth out the ruts and bumps of Peabody Street.  And the neighborhood kids lined the path to watch this great machine at work!   Oh what a treat that was!  The one in the photo is only a toy-model.  But it still brought a smile to my face!

I’ve always had a deep fondness for airplanes.  Perhaps that’s because our home on Evergreen lay directly below the landing approach to one of the main runways of Hawkins Field, Jackson’s original airport.  Those old Delta and Southern DC-3 lumbering directly overhead never got boaring to this young boy!

Back then, a dollar would buy far more than it does today.  In the late 40s, a fully dressed hamburger was only a quarter… and it came with condiments on BOTH buns (something you never find today) plus lettuce, pickle, tomato and onions.  A soft drink was 5c.  When I began driving, and dating… I had $5.00 set aside for my week’s spending.  I could take that $5, put gas in Dad’s car, buy the date and myself burgers and drinks, tickets to the movie, and still have money left over for snacks for myself the remainder of the week!  

In 1945, the southern city limits of Jackson was only yards south of US Hwy 80!  And I had a cousin who also lived on Evergreen, who walked south on Peabody, crossed Battlefield Park, then crossed over Hwy 80… to squirrel hunt!  Yes, I helped eat many a squirrel that was bagged just south of Hwy 80… when that area was mostly forrest and fields.

Not long ago I found an eye-opening bit of local history which underscored just how old I really am. It was an old highway map of Mississippi, dated less than 10 years before my birth. It showed that both Highway 80 (East and West) and Highway 51 (North and South) were only PAVED just a few miles outside of Jackson! Can you imagine traveling to Memphis on a gravel road? How about on a MUDDY gravel road?  

Yes, I know, times have changed.  And they keep on changing… especially in my lifetime.  But, times have also changed during my parents lifetime, and durning their parent’s lifetime!  Not long ago I saw a list of average salaries of profession people at the turn of the century (1900).  It stated that railroad engineers then made more that medical doctors!  Yes, times have changed!  It makes me wonder what it will be like when my great-grand children are adults.  I don’t think I want to know!




Let’s consider the following scenario:  You’re walking into your first day on a new job.  It is a large place, with several hundred employees.  You know that very soon your’ll be having interaction with dozens and dozens of these strangers.  But the only two that have welcomed you, or even reached out to you thus far are your immediate supervisor, and the HR Director!  It’s like walking into a new school, in a new state, half-way thru the school year.  It can bring on a real feeling of aloneness, even when in a crowd… as if you are a ghost no one can see!  Why won’t anyone reach out to me?  It’s almost as bad as being slapped in the face!

Fast forward to the last week in our area.  The entire central portion of the US had a week of sever weather, with high winds and very heavy rains.  These storm systems also produced tornados, which inflicted heavy damage in some areas, and even causing death and injuries.  These heavy rains caused flooding accompanied by major property damage.  Weather-wise, it’s been a rough week.

Fortunately, modern weather forecasting has given us ample warning time to prepare.  

One of the early warnings issued last week was to be prepared for possible power outages.  We have an electric range, so no power would mean no cooking.  Carol gave me a list of items that we might need over a period of 2 or 3 days, and off to Kroger I went!  The place was packed.  The ‘deadline’ for when the possible tornadoes were to hit was fast approaching.  Carol called me and said to forget the groceries, stop shopping, and to find a safe place in Kroger and hunker down.  I was instruted to STAY THERE!

I’ve seen my fair share of TV news-tornado-aftermath-coverage, and I know that tornados are not kind to Kroger, Lowes, Bed bath and Beyond, or to shopping centers in general.  I was already in the check-out lane, so I checked out.

There’s an old country song that says, ‘If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.’   Putting a twist to that, I decided that if I was about to die, I’d much rather die with the one I loved… than die with strangers I was with! 

I made it home just as a real tornado passed overhead less than a mile away!  Needless to say, I was very grateful, thankful, and happy to be alive and safe. The whole thing was a very frightening experience. We were so relieved when it was over!

And then, once again, only yesterday, very similar storm warning were issued.  Everyone it seemed, was taking them seriously.  I had an eye appointment that morning, and was told to come in early, as they would be closing early due to the weather.   Folks that we know were told that their workplaces were closing early.  Our church cancelled all meetings, including church service, that afternoon/night.  The city was basically closing down early yesterday! 

We stayed home, stayed in, and enjoyed watching TV!

And then last night… after the weatherforcasters had said  ‘all clear’ and the danger was passed, and there was no storm damage, and all was good again and ‘right with the world,’ I began preparing for bed.  And that’s when it hit me… my reason for writing this personal confession, and my reason for wanting to share it with you.  

Last night it suddenly hit me.  In all the ‘action’ involved with that earlier storm only days before, when that danger had passed, I was thankful, I was greatful, and I turned by heart toward Heaven in sincere appreciation to God for allowing us to be spared from harm.  I was aware of His loving hands around me!  But this time, last night for some reason, I had come complacent… I had lacked that same awareness of His loving providence!  It was as if I had ignored His loving, caring, intervention into our lives. I was shaken… not as much by what I had done, but by what I had not done!

That’s when He showed me the lesson in all this… in His wonderful, loving, way! 

Earlier that night, when the storm had left our area, and all was once again right with the world, I had simply gone on with my life, without pausing to recognize HIM and His presence in this situation.  It was as if I had treated HIM as the new kid on the block… the new one  at school… the new employee simply ignored. 

Like I said before, it was almost as if I’d slapped My Lord in the face!  That’s how I felt.

Wow!  To think that I could have done that!  

Now I had two things to thank Him for.  One: for His mercy in protecting us (and others) from the storm outside… and Two: for His amazing grace in revealing to me what I could be inside, and yet still loving me enough to expose that to me!

THANKS LORD!  Thank you for still loving me!


David and Goliath

This is the story of David and Goliath revisited… perhaps in a way you’ve never thought of it before!

Homework! Yuck!  Who of us really liked homework?  Little did we understand when in school that homework was a vital part of receiving a good education.  (The teacher can teach.  It’s up to us to receive it.)

Homework teaches much more than simply the scholastic facts of the lesson.  It also helps in teaching us discipline, responsibility, and maturity – as well a being an excellent tool in hammering information into our brains.

So?  What does this have to do with David and Goliath?  I believe it has much to do with this, perhaps the best known and best loved story in God’s Word.

First, let’s go back in time, and take a closer look at the setting of the story.  David was just a lad, not yet considered to be a ‘man.’  He was a shepherd boy, tending the family’s flock.  And shepherding took place outside of town, out on the hills and planes surrounding Bethlehem.  Sheep are ‘skittish’ animals.  Sheep are not fighters.  Sheep are basically defenseless.  David was their defense.  This is where David spent most of his time.  You might say, this was his open-air school house.

The other boys, back home in Bethlehem, were ‘city boys.’  I know, Bethlehem was NOT a thriving CITY by any means!  It was a small town.  But even in a small town, one is surrounded by social interaction.  There were homes, there shops, there was commerce and activity.  If you tripped and fell, there was someone near to lend a hand and help you up.  If you were in danger, a scream would alert others of your need for help.  Assistant was near… assistance in the form of other humans much like youself.  David, on the other hand, was alone… surrounded by helpless sheep… or so it would seem!

David surrounded himself with God!  Perhaps, to put it in perspective, he allowed himself to be surround by God by continually welcoming God’s presence!

And here lies the reality of the difference between David and similar youth of Bethlehem.  David had a ‘need’ of God.  Yes, the other lads did also.  But David was acutely aware of it, whereas other boys were not.  The time would come when David would find himself in need of help and assistance… and he turned to his closest source of strength and comfort, God!

God is known for His unlimited strength and immeasurable power.  But God was not content for David just to know this as head/heart knowledge.  God, the great TEACHER of teachers, God gave David a little (what I like to think of as…) HOMEWORK.  It was like God was saying,  I’ve told you.  I’ve shown you.  Now you go home and ‘work’ this problem like I’ve instructed you.  The ‘problem’ came in the form of a BEAR!

David had listen to all of God’s lessons intently.  He had soaked them up eagerly.  So as the bear approached, David was ready.  His weapons of defense were hope, faith, and a secure trust in God.  And those weapons did not fail!  The bear was slain, and the sheep were saved!  And David got an A+ on his homework!

A similar insadent happened with a lion… and again, David prevailed.  David was learning!  

I like ‘catch phrases.’  One of my favorites is LET GO AND LET GOD!  To me, that perfectly illustrates David’s victory over the bear and the Lion. 

What I’m trying to say here is that before David ever stood before and up to Goliath, he had to stand before and up to his own personal weakness!  He had to learn the lesson of letting go and letting God.  Before Goliath came onto the scene, David had done his homework, and David had experienced what God could do!

Yes, when you read the story, some might think that David was speaking with a bit of pretensios braggadocio in telling those around him that he would take on Goliath.  But consider that moment, there in the Valley of Elah.  King Saul’s army was facing battle and blood, life and death, swords and spears, and an angry giant who towered over everyone.  Their minds and hearts were fixed on fear and not faith.  They were not of the mind-set to hear a testimony from a kid of God’s amazing grace and mercy.  But King Saul was!  It was he who made the decisioin to allow David to confront Goliath.

In truth, it was NOT David who stood up to Goliath, but God working with and through David.  David walked into the fray, but with God before him.  David took along his sling, but God gave that sling it’s power.  David picked up the stones, but God directed that stone to just the right spot to fell Goliath flat on his face.  And it was God who gave Goliath’s own sword into David’s hands… with which to sever the giant’s head! 

Was this a ‘miracle?’  On the human-side, it sure meets the requirements.  But what we call ‘miracles’ are simple matters for God.  All too often God uses ‘just kids’ to do His work.  And just what kid God uses is more often than not, the one who has ‘done their homework.”

2 Timothy 2:15 tells us… Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.  And remember, study often comes with homework.



Natchez Trace Parkway

I can’t remember the exact year, but I know it was fairly soon after the opening of the Natchez Trace north of Jackson.  Prior to that time our family’s trips to Carthage to visit Dad’s family was always thru Canton, then over to Carthage.  The new Trace gave us a ‘short-cut.’

Let me give you a brief description of Mom and Dad.  They were childhood sweethearts, and totally devoted to one another.  As far as I’m concerned, they were both excellent parents, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing.  Mom could be a bit hard-headed, as demonstrated by the fact that years before I was born, and before she got her drivers license, she took the car to town after Dad told her not to.  During the ensuing ‘settlement’ over this disagreement, Mom declared that she’d NEVER drive again…. AND SHE DIDN’T!  

Dad held himself to high standards.  I never heard a ‘profane’ word cross his lips… ever!  He didn’t smoke, drink, tell or laugh at ‘dirty’ jokes… and… he never fished on Sunday… really!  Dad’s one spot on his record was that he had a heavy foot when driving.  Speeding tickets were not often, but mainly because most speed traps had been closed before Dad flew through.

The speed limit on the trace was 50 MPH, which to Dad, must have seemed like 15.  On this particular late Sunday afternoon, we were flying low toward home from Carthage on the fairly new Trace.  

Mom and Dad had a habit of referring to one another in loving terms like ‘Honey’ and ‘Sugar.’  But around friends or company, Mom used Dad’s name, Hendrix.  This day, Mom had long since ceased saying, “Honey, please slow down,” or “You know the speed limit’s only 55.”  Now, it was more… “Hendrix, WHEN they stop you, it’s gonna be a BIG ticket!”

I guess this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  In a very calm voice, Dad replied, “Eloise, if you say one more thing… I’m going to stop this car and put you out.”

The gauntlet had been tossed.  The irritable force was about the meet the immovable object.  The fan had been plugged in.

Mom was silent for a long while… perhaps considering her options?  But Mom was never famous for keeping her silence.  

Even as she was beginning to speak the words about slowing… Dad’s foot was off the accelerator and onto the brakes.  We slowed to, then below, 55 and continued to slow… until Dad pulled onto the shoulder and stopped.

By now, in the back seat, my sister Mary Lilly and I had reached the point where, like the Star Trek theme says, we were where we’d never gone before!  Our parents, although practicing utter calmness, appeared to be in the actual process of splitting apart!  Could this really be happing?  Was it only some big joke?  We didn’t think so.  And then, Dad said the unspeakable word… OUT!

Mom opened the door and got out.  

What happened next was something truly unbelievable to my young heart.  Dad actually drove away, leaving Mom beside the road!  Mary Lilly was wailing in utter grief, shock, and terror.  I don’t think I was even capable of thinking at the time… I was in shock.

Dad pulled onto the roadway and accelerated.  Ahead the road curved, and when we rounded that curve, Mom had disappeared behind the trees.  

And then Dad slowed. He slowed real slow and made a U-turn, and headed back and picked up Mom.

She didn’t say anything when she got back inside, and especially not anything about Dad’s driving.  But she didn’t need to… he drove much more slowly the remainder of the way to our happy home on Evergreen.

Something tells me that they had, shall we say, a sweet reunion that night.  Like I said before, Mom and Dad were in love, and totally devoted to one another!  They were inseparable… except for once when he put her out of the car on the Natchez Trace!  



My mother’s been gone for twenty-five years,  and I’m now eighty-one… a great-grandfather almost a dozen times over.  So… let me get this off my chest.  I once sorta-kinda, lied to my dear mother.  OK, it was a genuine lie.

I was in the seventh grade at the time, Enochs Junior High.  That’s the time when boys really begin to think of girls as both exciting and desirable.  But there are two types of girls: first the ones who are ‘just friends,’ usually the ones you’ve know for many tears… and then there are fresh acquaintances who turn your head for the first time.  The girl of this story was a neighborhood girl, one who’d been a school mate for years… Winnie Holston.  Winnie lived one street over, on Silas Brown.  And Winnie was really gorgeous, which I somehow failed to notice at the time! 

We were about to have a sock-hop at Enochs.  It was to be my first school dance.  But I didn’t know how to dance!  I mentioned this to Winnie, and she suggested that I come over to her house after school, and she’s teach me a few dance moves.  Great!  Problem solved!

Now this was 1953, back during ‘old fashioned’ times.  And yet, even ‘back then,’ I considered my mother as ‘old fashioned.’  She had a belief young men didn’t visit young women ALONE in the house… and Winnie was alone in her home after school!  So… I didn’t tell my mother of my plans to learn how to dance.

My childhood pal Buddy Gorday lived at the end of our street.  To get to Winnie’s, Buddy’s was along the way.  So I told mother that I was going to Buddy’s.  But instead I made two additional rights and went to Winnie’s and learned to dance! (Would you say that in this case, two rights made a wrong?)  

Winnie and I played no other parts than that of dance instructor and student.  I may not have become a Patrick Swayze, but at least I didn’t embarrass myself and my dance partners on the gym floor!  Looking back, I’ve often wondered why!  Like I said, she was a real beauty.  I suppose that being friends, I was simply too close to the forest to see the beautiful tree in front of me. 


Praise, Worship, and Snuffy Smith

Award Ceremony

I’m not sure whether or not it’s original with him or not, but my son-in-law, a pastor, says this about worship and praise: “We praise God for what He’s done, and we worship Him for who He is.”  Some say that they are basically the same thing, you know, six of one, a half dozen of the other.  


My personal belief is that there can be, and usually is, a distinct difference between what we do, and who we are.

Example One:  Our prisons are filled with vile murderers and rapist who have committed unspeakable acts on innocent victims.  And yet, back at home, there are countless mothers who still love those guilty monsters.  That’s because they can still see and love them as their own flesh and blood children.  They love them because of who they are… their child… in spite of what they’ve done.

Example Two:  But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.  Romans 5:8

Example Three:  It happened on May, 1, 1943 in the war-torn skies over Europe.  Weather had made havoc of the Army Air Force bombing mission of an enemy submarine base.  Several planes had mechanical problems and turned back, several more got disoriented in the horrid weather and turned back.  And then enemy fighters attacked the few remaining planes! 

Aboard one bomber was what can only be described as a miss-fit.  His name was Maynard Smith,  The others called him ‘Snuffy Smith’ in derision, after a popular cartoon character of the time who was a back-woods, cantankerous oaf.  Maynard was what the military called a ‘screw-up.’  He didn’t adjust well to military life.  He was in trouble as much as he was out of it.  But, the USAAF needed ‘warm bodies’ to fight, and Maynard Smith met that qualification.  Maynard was assigned as a gunner in a bomber. 

Maynard’s aircraft was hit… in the fuel tanks!  A blazing fire erupted.  3 crewmen immediately bailed out, never to be seen again.  The German fighters continued the attack.  Maynard grabbed a fire extinguisher and battled the flames… and then alternated this with firing back at the fighters.  He also tended to the wounds of the others around him, as best as he could.  As the fire burned through the fuselage of the plane, Maynard threw out burning debris from inside the plane through these holes.  He alternated between battling the blaze, firing at attacking fighters, and attending to the wounded… until the piloted somehow managed to get the crippled plane back across the English Channel an to friendly base.  The plane broke apart on touchdown.  But all 6 of the remaining crewmen survived! 

For this, Maynard Smith was awarded the Congressional Medal Of Honor… for single-handedly saving the lives of all the others!

There was a huge difference between WHO Maynard Smith was and what Maynard Smith DID.  And as if to farther illustrate this, on the very day that he was awarded the Congressional Metal Of Honor, he didn’t show up for the ceremony!  He had to be found! And why?  Because, he’d messed up yet again, and was on KP in the kitchen, being punished by doing menial tasks, like peeling potatoes!  He had to be removed from a punishment detail so that he could be given our nation’s highest award for valor!  Yes, this is a true story.

As for me, I praise Him for what He’s done for me and for my family. And I worship Him with a grateful heart and with all of my being… for who He IS, and WAS, and forever WILL BE! 




Once there was a young but very skill skilled artisan, a sculptor who worked in stone.  He was commissioned to do an important work, one to be placed in the town’s square.  But he was fearful of taking on such an important project.  So before he began the work, he returned to his teacher for additional training.

The teacher knew that his former student was capable of doing this work, but he also understood that the student was but a poor man, who could not afford the quality tools required for such an important commission.  “I will teach you how to do even greater work than that which you already capable, however, I require that you used my tools!

Day after day, the student hung onto the teacher’s every word, as he soaked up both knowledge and skill from the great master.  He learned quickly, but his young hands were not accustomed to using the master’s tools.  So when the master-teacher wasn’t looking, the student reverted to using his own, familiar tools. 

But the master knew.  He could tell by the cut of the stone. 

One morning as the student was about to begin work, the opened his toolbox only to discover that every tool had been smashed and broken into a worthless heap!  As he held the mangled remains in his hands, the teacher walked in.  “Why?” The student asked.

The old master looked at the bewildered student with loving eyes.  “I have not destroyed your tools,” replied the master,  I have destroyed only those  tools, the ones you now hold to your chest.”  Picking up one of his own fine tools which was laying before him, the old master continued, “I asked you to learn to use these tools… because they are now… your tools!” 

Are we too trusting in our selves, and in our own abilities?  Like the young sculptor, are we too comfortable using our own tools… instead of the quality tools freely supplied to us in His Word by our Lord and Master  

Scripture tells us in 2 Timothy 2:15 

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. 

We most always take that verse to refer to the importance of diligent, careful Bible study… and it does.  But tucked in between those words pertaining to scripture and study is the word WORKMAN.  I take that to mean that after we have read the Word, and we have diligently studied the Word, and we have confirmed in our heart what ‘thus saith the Lord,’ then we are prepared to take up the Master’s tools and do His work, His way, and for His glory.  After all, we are but the student!  


Doing What Old Men Do

    I’ve just returned from a delightful outing with my childhood pal Buddy Gorday.  For the past hour, we’ve been sitting in his truck in the parking lot of the Madison County Airport, a very active airport for its size, watching aircraft takeoff and land… and sharing sweet memories of the past.  We were doing what old men do.

    There was a time, way back when, in the days when I was far, far younger, when I simply couldn’t relate to this.  This morning my memory was jogged to such a time, many years before, when I experienced a stark and powerful illustration of the ‘progress’ of time, which I could not at that time comprehend.

    Buddy is only eighteen months older than me.  But a year is much, much longer when you’re ten… than when you’re eighty.  Remember?  This day, Buddy and I were far closer to 10.  We were in his front yard at the time, probably doing what robust, active boys did during those days long before TV and video games.  We chased one another, dared each other to ‘see’ if we could jump over the neighbor’s hedge, always doing active and physical things like that.  And that’s when we spied him… and old man slowly making his way down Evergreen Street.

   I don’t recall if he had a cane or not, but he walked slowly, carefully, and slightly bent over as if he needed one.  I stopped my activity, and simply stood and watched, actually a bit confused.  In my young mind, I could relate to only my then young and active body.  I couldn’t understand his slow gate and posture.  My thought was:  Why is he walking so painfully slow?  Doesn’t he understand that all he needs do is to stand elect and walk purposefully and correctly?  I even walked a few paces myself as if to demonstrate!      

   Fast forward seventy years.  Now I understand.  

   This morning, when Buddy pulled up in my driveway, it was two ‘old men’ meeting to go out and play again.  But we had no plans to chase one another around the yard, or to jump hedges.  It was to do what ‘old men’ do… sit and watch the airplanes take off and land.  It’s only ‘the fun’ that has changed to other things.  I’m sure we haven’t changed a bit!

The photo above is of Buddy and me taken on Evergreen Street. I’m sitting in my beloved and much-used airplane ‘kitty-car.’ I’m not sure of the date, but at the time, we were just doing what kids did in the 1940s.



1950s Magazine Art

   I’ve been blessed by having numerous (male) heroes in my lifetime, beginning with Hero Number One… JESUS!  Then of course there was my father, Hendrix Murphy, and his father, Matthew Murphy, and mom’s father, Patrick Murphy.  Over the years I learned to admire and respect (in no particular order) Winston Churchill, John Wayne, Red Skelton, and numerous ‘aviation greats’ such as Chuck Yeager, Jimmy Doolittle, Douglas Corrigan, and Bob Hoover.  

   My passion for model airplanes introduced me to another… a super talented aviation artist who created the covers for Model Airplane News Magazine, and other publications, for many years.  His name is Jo Kotula, (1910-1998).

   Jo was Polish.  He and his family immigrated to the U.S. in 1910, when Joe was but 6 months old.  By the early 1930s his work was appearing in national publications like Saturday Evening Post, Colliers, Newsweek, Air Trails and Popular Science.  He began painting covers for Model Airplane News in 1932, continuing for 38 years, creating more than 400 dramatic paintings.  He also illustrated for Air Force training manuals during and after World War II.  He was among the first aviation artists who mastered the difficult technique of portraying reflective bare metal in bright sunlight.  One of this personal features was not to depict the sky as simply bright blue filled with puffy white clouds!  Yellow, as seen in the illustration, appeared to be his sky-color of choice, appearing often in his work.  

   I found this copy of his 1950 work for Air Trails on-line and downloaded it.  Next, I imported the file into Paintbrush and painted out the wording.  The original magazine must have been old, as there were a couple of tears and folds, in addition to a mark or two… all of which I did my best to repair.   I now have a framed copy of this ‘restored’ tribute to Jo Kotula hanging on my office wall.  If only I had an original of his work!