Henry Mallory was undoubtedly the toughest dude I ever met. He wasn't much taller or bigger than the rest of us, but boy was he tough. A kid, a man.....muscles where we still had baby fat, and hair where we had none. As the ol' ball coach would always say with a twinkle in his eyes, “Henry 'll knock you're jock off boys, better be careful.” Henry wasn't just tough he was fast also – fast like a locomotive running wide open. By the time he hit full stride wasn't anyone going to catch him, yet even while he was still picking up speed I saw very few who could stop him. His thighs looked like Herschel Walker's before there was a Herschel Walker. He'd soon run over a tackler than look at him. Henry didn't understand the concept of making a tackler miss, NO he looked for an opportunity to engage the enemy at every opportunity. He was a punisher! Lots of boys thought they were tough til they got in the “bull ring” with ol' Henry. You football players know what I'm talking about, don't you.
My best memory of Henry was in a game we played at historic Billy Meyer's baseball stadium during the years before Knoxville regained a professional team. The baseball diamond was still in tact, dirt infield and all. The hundred yards making up the football stripes went right through the third base side of the infield and out to the right field fence of the old park. If you've ever seen the movies, The Natural or A League of Their Own – it was one of those types of stadiums. It was a thing of beauty! I got chill bumps when we were given the news we'd be playing all of our home games that year at Billy Meyer. Take a look at the photograph below. In an era when ballparks didn't have water falls, and eighty-foot tall beer cans in the outfield section, it was every ball players dream to play there. For us boys growing up in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains it was simply our very own Wriggly Field.
Okay enough already! Enough nostalgic non-sense. I'm starting to sound like a seventy-five year old man talking to a bunch of young whimper-snappers. Let's get back to my favorite story about tough ol' Henry Mallory, whatta you say. So as the memory goes, we were in a ballgame that was as tight as tight could get. Neither team could score and the clock was winding down. We had an undefeated, un-tied season on the line and things weren't looking favorably for the boys playing for Coach Bob Stephens and the Faternal Order of Police.. Then we finally got the ball back, and as it seemed to always be the case we were snapping from the dirt side of the field. Their defense was as tough as ours and for the first time in my life I saw boys that could actually put ol' Henry on the ground. This alone is reason enough to remember the game, but then the “big play” happened! Everyone started clambering about passing the ball down field, we need a big play and running the ball hadn't got us anywhere. Coach Stephens called timeout and said (with his cigar hanging from one side) “Boy's were going to keep giving the ball to Henry til he wears 'em down.” Not very many of us were happy about this strategy. Sure we knew what Henry was capable of, but come on we've spent the entire game eating dirt and filling our nostrils with Billy Meyer dust, we wanted to get the ball to the grass for at least a few plays, but coach would hear none of this. Back onto the field with three yards and a cloud of dust once more. Then it finally happened! The quarterback handed Henry the ball for about the seventh play in a row from atop the dirt, and this time ol' Henry took off.
The crowd was on it's feet as soon as he got past the linebackers as he looked like a thoroughbred released from the gates at Churchill Downs. Nobody was going to catch him! Then the unthinkable happened. Henry's pants fell down round his ankles. I promise you I'm not making this up! Henry was so big compared to us normal size kids he couldn't fit in the uniform sizes we were given. Coming from a poor family as most of us did, he couldn't afford to buy pants that fit him, so he did the best he could. He tied a rope around his waist to hold up the pants he couldn't buckle, and guess what the rope broke. All the wear and tear from hitting the dirt and rocks of the baseball field finally took its toll on the cotton rope and sure 'nuff it broke in two at the worst possible moment.
Henry barely broke stride though. He tucked the ball in his left hand, reached down and grabbed his britches by the right and pull them up as far as he could. By then a few of the would-be tacklers that hadn't given up on the play caught up with him. Henry was determined he wasn't going to be stopped - not this time. With one hand on the ball and the other one busy with his laundry Henry ran right through two tacklers and landed face down in the end-zone for the winning score. The rest of us couldn't stop laughing long enough to cheer. What a sight he was running down field that day! A game that was marred by play after play consisting of three yards and a cloud of dust saw one of the most unusual spectacles in the history of the old ball park and the crowd on hand loved it. Did I mention Henry Mallory was tough? He was tough indeed!
I recently heard David Nasser ask a question to a crowd of about three thousand, and it's stuck with me. He asked; “Are the songs we sing in worship compromised or complemented by the way we live our lives outside the walls of the church?” This morning I thought about his question as I listened to mine and Dale's favorite Christian music while writing about a childhood memory. A line from one of the songs I was singing along to speaks of giving praise and honor to God – the One that was, is, and is to come, Holy, Holy..... The praise part – yeah, I've got that! I rarely ever go a day without spending a good portion of it praising Him for all He is – not just for what He's done for me. The Honor thing, boy I just don't know. Does my life truly reflect honor upon Him? Now that's getting below the top layer of skin there. Sure, its easy to sing the words, to lift the hands, to cry the tears, to fall upon my knees in praise, but to live a life that brings Him honor? I gotta do a little more work on that one.
So often we get caught up in the world's vision as to what's “important”and we conger up all these visions of grand and glorious ways we can serve God. We want to have this really big ministry – this really big impact. We want to exit this world leaving our mark on mankind, so we think we have to do something the world sees as noteworthy. The truth is – the real truth is, God's already done the “Big Thing” we just need to focus on the small things, the three yards and a cloud of dust kind of plays. He gave the world His son as a sacrifice, as a means for atonement so what is it we can give Him equal in return. Nothing! Give Him praise, sure, bless His name, no problem, tell others of His goodness and mercy, no biggy but.......
Step down into the ditch and give a man a hand up requires getting your pants leg and shoes a little dirty. Are we willing to run that three yard play? Giving up our “Me” time once a week in order to teach a room full of folks (that don't smell so good all the time )to read and write. Will we put our heart into that three yarder just as we would the one that'll make the highlight film on ESPN? Some of us will, but there's a lot that won't. Many want the limelight, but few relish a role behind the scenes. For some of us the answer lies in the question, “Are the songs we sing in worship compromised or complemented by the way we live our lives outside the walls of the church?” We sing one thing, live another. We get goose bumps when we're on stage in front of God, but we'll walk to the other side of the alley to avoid getting our hands dirty by the beggar's plead when no one's watching.
Truth is; I'd love for God to see me as the Henry Mallory on His team. Running full-bore, ball in one hand, holding my britches up with the other, knocking the enemy on it's behind, and leaping for the end-zone, but you know what? If all He sees in me is that I'm willing to spend the remainder of my days lining up to run those plays that result in nothing more than three yards and a cloud of dust for His kingdom, then I'm okay with that. For I'll know in my heart my life does indeed bring Him honor.
I want to close this journal entry with a favorite quote from one of my favorite authors and teachers, A.W. Tozar. From his book The Radical Cross Tozar writes, “The cross will cut into our lives where it hurts worst, sparing neither us nor our carefully cultivated reputations. It will defeat us and bring our selfish lives to an end. Only then can we rise in fullness of life to establish a pattern of living wholly new and free, and full of good works.”
Three yards and a cloud of dust – for His glory, for His honor! doug
Let me tell you a story about the two dogs at our house, but hold on, before I do, let me tell you how we got to this point. Dale has been really struggling since last November with her grief over the loss of her sweet companion dog of eleven years, Phoebe. Me being the “fixer” that I am, immediately adopted us a new dog from the shelter. That dog which Dale named “Maggie” (a boxer / terrier) came way too soon, and had far too much energy thus, I found it a new home about a week later. With my fancy looking poster-board sign and a Walmart parking lot the Saturday before Christmas, the giving away to a good home project took far less time than did the adoption process. Maggie rode off in the front seat of a pickup with a very grateful new owner, leaving behind the former, and teary eyes one. My only comfort came from knowing I had rescued her from death, as she was scheduled to be “put down” as they call it, the same week I adopted her.
A few months ago we dog-sitted my sister-in-law's little purse size, foo-foo of a dog for about four days. Just long enough for me to get attached, as I truly do love animals. Angie saw this when she returned from Florida, and knowing how Dale was still hurting from her loss of Phoebe told me that she would get us one from the same breeder as a gift of love. How wonderfully sweet she is. I can't recall the exact breed, it's one of those that weighs less than a pound, but cost as much as fist full of gold. As soon as Dale got wind of the secret plan she put a halt to it, or so she thought. Angie, not picking up on Dale's decisiveness went ahead and got her one for her birthday last month. Dale was very appreciative of the gesture, but refused to budge about accepting the gift, thus the puppy went to our daughter-in-law. Strike two!
So last week I get a call from Dale while she was still at work as she began to tell me about this beautiful, stray, Pit Bull puppy with a pink collar which had been hanging out at the Sheriff's office all day. She wanted me to come down and take it home. No way! There was no chance I was getting involved with this again. If she wanted a dog, she would have to prove it by bringing it home herself. I simply wasn't going to do it. If things went wrong, I didn't want to take a chance of someone's (Dale's) memory getting distorted to the point that the way the story goes, I brought home a stray puppy she never wanted to begin with. Nope, ain't getting involved. Well sure enough, Dale brings it home, thus it's Dale's new dog, one she's named Maggie. I took it to the Vet – no chip. I posted it's picture at the shelter – no one claimed it. I even went as far as to call the “found dog information” into the local radio station – no calls came in. It began to look like she was going to be our dog after-all. It's a beautiful white, six month old Pit Bull with gorgeous green eyes. If you lost one in this area please call me asap, please. LOL
At the beginning I wrote “let me tell you about the two dogs at our house” so what gives, where did the other one come from? Glad you asked! The “other” dog arrived soon after Dale brought home the stray last week. The puppy I mentioned slept for about two days trying to recover from what appeared, (by the number of tics on her) to have been several days and nights of traveling the back woods of this area. When she wasn't sleeping she was loving on us, laying by our feet wanting her belly rubbed. She was simply a great dog – at last we've finally found the right one I thought! Then as she got her energy level back to par this new dog showed up. Mischief abound! Shoes chewed to shreds. Picture frames, baseboards, family heirlooms, table legs all gnawed to pieces. Clothes, boxes, of books from the closet floor, night stands - you name it, drug throughout the house every time we turned around. Every time the door opened she would dart out and run throughout the neighborhood, ransacking every garbage container she spotted.
The last few days have been nightmarish. I work out of the house for the most part and there's been very little work getting done lately. But, once she wears herself down, or senses she's in big trouble, she becomes the sweetest dog you've ever laid eyes on. She loves to love on people. She loves to lay by your feet and sleep away as she softly snores. She's a thing of beauty at those moments. You can't help but love her, or at least I can't. Then the door opens up again, or I head out to get some work done and the light switch is flipped on and here goes the crazy out-of-control dog once more. Carpet ripped to threads, poop and pee-pee everywhere except on the newspapers.
Pillows toss here and there - a mess in every room. What pure evil lies within this sweet little puppy dog. Typical untrained puppy stuff for the most part, but it's turned our lives upside down. I sat down to write this about two minutes before Dale decided to take her to the animal shelter, and even though I love her this time I agree, she's way too much for our lifestyle. Again, I take comfort in the fact we helped rescue her from the streets / woods filled with tics and other dangers. Maybe somehow her rightful owner will find her, or maybe the right family with a fenced in yard will come along and give her a good home. I pray that this happens, anyway.
The Eighth chapter of Romans may very well be my favorite one in the Bible. Truthfully, I've never been a huge fan of the early letter's Paul wrote to the churches at least in comparison to the fondness I have for the writings he put forth during his imprisonment in Rome a few years later. Yet, Romans Chapter 8 – I do like indeed! At the risk of boring you with too much Bible stuff, as opposed to all the really cool things I write about – like puppy poop, pee-pee, and dog drama, let me share with you what I believe to be at the very heart of this chapter as Paul writes;
5. Those who are dominated by the sinful nature think about sinful things, but those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit. 6 So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. 7 For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will. 8 That’s why those who are still under the control of their sinful nature can never please God.
9 But you are not controlled by your sinful nature. You are controlled by the Spirit if you have the Spirit of God living in you. (And remember that those who do not have the Spirit of Christ living in them do not belong to him at all.) 10 And Christ lives within you, so even though your body will die because of sin, the Spirit gives you life because you have been made right with God. 11 The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.
12 Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. 13 For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. 15 So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” 16 For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. 17 And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering. NLV
Two dogs, the fleshly Doug dog -vs- the spiritual Doug Dog – a problem I've been dogged with my whole life. The fleshly one will tear up a house in a second. He will chew up furniture, run away, making a mess in every corner. The spirit-filled one is lovable, pure, and innocent and will sit at your feet all day long.
In the flesh I'm the worst person on earth in many ways. I've done things I would never want to admit to. Many of you who are still hanging out with me on this journal thing remembers some of those admissions in the beginning. Ugly! There's hurts I've caused others I still regret today, yet I know there's no way to go back and fix things. I'm still ashamed of my past as suspect Paul was of his. He knew the difference in the two dogs that lived inside his body, thus he wrote from a first-hand account Romans 8:1 which reads; So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. I still today condemn my past behavior even though I'm a new creation in Christ. Get it, I condemn my past behavior – not me as a person. God has forgiven me, so I've forgiven myself as well, but I also know the ugliness that lies in my wake, and it makes me sad. It's good to know just how bad the fleshly dog can be – thus it becomes the warning sign on the fence that says “STAY OUT.” Not losing our focus on today by looking back at our past is one thing, yet forgetting the lessons we've learned from our past mistakes is a whole nother thing.
The Spiritual Doug dog feeds the hungry, has compassion for the oppressed, will stand up for what's right, and loves on those that may not choose to love him back. The spirit-filled dog is good to have around. He'll protect your home, chase away danger, and will fetch your slippers and paper. I like the spiritual dog that resides in me.
Paul, at some point in his writings confesses, the things I do not wish to do, I do - yet the very things I wish to do, I don't. The spiritual dog never stops doing battle with the fleshly one, that's just the way it is! In other words, as much Paul wanted to always be in the Spirit dog mode sometimes the fleshly dog took over and chewed up a good pair of shoes -again. Like Paul - I too! This has dogged me my whole life - maybe you too? If so, just know this, in the big dog owners manual there's a very important bit of information we need to always hold on to, as it goes like this; And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory.
So take hope my fellow Dogs, for even if your name is Maggie there's a wonderful home awaiting you. Doug
There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
As you probably know, these words come from a wonderful song on Chris Tomlin's Hello Love C.D. I'm truthful by saying its one of my favorites, yet the full truth is that nearly every song on the C.D. is a favorite. It's choked full of good tunes, good lyrics, good messages.
And my faith shall be my eyes – since hearing those words for the very first time, they've stuck in my head as a sort of spiritual goal to reach for. How wonderful it would be to live a life where we're lead from place to place not by our eyes, yet by our faith. Oh, to be blind to the world.... Louie Giglio, Matt Maher, Jesse Reeves, and Chris Tomlin are the songwriters.
I got up this morning with the lyrics from this song in mind. I start my day often with the intention of making a difference for the Kingdom, but too often notice the afternoon shadow has crepe across the wall as the clock reads five-thirty, and there's little evidence I've even existed.
It's not that I lack a calling, a game plan, the energy level to get things done, you know the really important things. None of these. So often the problem is with the execution and lack of focus of my eyes. I'm like a child looking here, then there, then back to here. So much catches my eyes that I'm often frozen for far too long throughout the day, week by distractions of many a sort. Next, I look up from the bed and see that it's once again sleep time and the process begins again. I will rise once again in the morn, I suppose.
So many places to go, so many people to see, so much learning to be had, so much love to share, so many feet to wash, yet I'm led all to often by my eyes, not my faith. Gotta get out of this rut, gotta get focused in my heart. Gotta rise up and be about my Father's business and not my own. Before my God fall on my knees........
My friend Ken has a great adage but I can't remember exactly how he puts it into words, yet it says to my heart; 'I get into peoples lives for business, but find God has placed me there for so much more.' I like that. I want to be that. I want the blessings that come from that. I want the sense of satisfaction that comes from being obedient. I will rise up again this morning with those objectives.
Mother's Day is just a few hours away. Will I rise up to be a good son, honoring my Mom for all she has done?
My son lies in the next room. Will I rise up and be the Father he needs today?
Rooms full of loneliness across the street. Will I rise up and head over to the nursing home that so often cries out for me?
Hearts a breaking, lives turned upside down, marriages being destroyed in many a friend's life. Will I rise up and pray today, I mean really pray?
I just finished a book which left me with only a so-so feeling about what I learned from it. I was excited after hearing a review of it by Jimmy Buffett of all people, so I ordered it right away. Mr. Margaritaville said, The Language GOD Talks; by Herman Wouk led him to think about the purpose of life and the existence of a higher power, which he had not entertained in many a year. To me that was good enough reason to throw a few bucks Amazon's way. Hey if this book can make a long standing, self-proclaimed Agnostic rethink, maybe I need to learn it's secrets also. I wasn't so moved. It's a tough read from a seventy-something year old writer that communicates at a much higher level than I can comprehend with ease.
Yet, with that being said let me share the quote Wouk uses as a central theme throughout, other than the claim that God speaks in the language of calculus. I know, go figure! It comes from a conversation he has with renown scientist Richard Feynman and here's my best shot at paraphrasing the encounter. Feynman describes in intellectual detail the vastness of a universe with billions of planets and a space that spreads across an infinite plane, yet we are to believe that we're merely here as a Godly experiment to see if we choose good over evil?
Thus he concludes, the stage is far greater than the drama, so Feynman believes it can not be true. There is no such creator, nor purpose for our lives. Wouk, (who greatly admires Feynman) goes about the business in this book, not to disprove his theory, yet to say it is merely possible that it's not accurate. Thus a trip to nowhere for my simple, small mind. Though I didn't exactly fall head-over-heels in love with the book, it's nice to see Jimmy Buffett is still willing to explore the possibility he doesn't have all the right answers. That there may just possibly be more to life than the pleasure which comes from Dark Jamaican Rum, though as memory serves me, that's good also.
So why am I sharing this with you at the risk of boring you to death? It's to make this point. When we see our lives without purpose. When we see the world as being too big of an elephant to eat, even one bite at a time. When we have such a bleak outlook for our future existence – we'll struggle to rise up. You see as I was describing from my personal experience it's tough enough even when you know your life is purposed. It's a struggle to focus on the important issues at hand though you have a game plan. Live is hard we often cry, so the role of servant-hood in the midst of merely getting by becomes far too much of an expectation – thus we fail to rise up.
We, as true believers know - that we know God created the universe and all that's in it for His pleasure. Our lives say we do the same. We could have a yard without flowers but we choose to plant because this brings us joy. We could choose to never have children, after all the world is full of reasons as to why we shouldn't, yet we conceive because we draw pleasure and joy from our children, and even more so from our grandchildren. We're much like God. We create for the mere purpose of inner joy and pleasure so why is it so hard for some to accept the notion God does likewise. The planets, the galaxies, the earth, the people upon the earth is all His creations purposed to bring Him pleasure. I'm pretty sure that's Bible stuff right there, and I didn't just make it up.
Rising up comes from purpose, comes from focus, comes from a heart full of His love. Let our Faith become our eyes is a prayer cried out only by the most willing of servants.
Have you noticed there's a stirring in the church in America today. Pastors are moving beyond the church of old as if the Bride is getting ready for a June wedding. Walls which have separated the church from the hurting and the hungry for far too long are being torn down. Everywhere you look new churches are being formed by church planters. These aren't just more of the same old churches, these are ministry-driven churches. Congregations of folk that want to feed the hunger, house the homeless, care for the sick.
They are coming together asking in one accord that God heals spirits, families, communities, and cities. In Birmingham, in Dallas, in Knoxville, in Houston, in L.A., in Simi Valley - all across this land believers are rising up by the thousands, millions. Not motivated by some political rebellion, but by a calling to serve, a calling to be about the Father's business as the twilight is upon us. Rev. Francis Chan describes the motivation to do so as being a “Crazy Love” and I like that! A crazy love for the One that has shown from the very beginning to have a crazy love for us!
And I will rise when He calls my name - A willingness, a focus, a purpose, a desire, a crazy love all will lead us to rise up today, and again in the morn. doug
