“What were you thinking of?” she whispered as she turned and fluffed the pillow, and snuggled against his chest.

“To be honest?” he said, his arm under her cheek, his breath caressing her forehead. “There’s this woman at work with a drop dead gorgeous body, and sometimes I picture her when we’re making out. What about you?”

“My ex-husband. I mean, don’t misunderstand, I’m glad I left him, but he was much better at this part of our life than you are.”

SERIOUSLY! Are you nuts? Do you really think you can tell every stupid thought that goes through your brain and come off looking like a nice person?

Years ago in my struggling-to-develop ministry, with a church that was sometimes divided over issues, I got tired of people coming to me and saying, “Can I be totally honest?” Like, what was I going to say? “No, I’d rather you lie your head off”?

I got to the place where I started saying, “Only if I can be honest back.”

I discovered that when people ask, “Can I be honest?” what they really mean is, “I’m fixing to be very rude to you and insult you, and I’d like to get by with it by calling it honesty.”

If you haven’t learned it yet, marriage doesn’t always require total honesty. It’s like that Geico commercial where the narrator asks, “Was Abe Lincoln really honest?” And then it shows Mrs. Lincoln asking Abe, “Does this dress make my backside look fat?” And he studies it, then holds up his fingers in a pinch: “Just a little.” And she storms off with hurt feelings. At least they got it right. Some honesty hurts. And it’s not necessary.

I don’t want my wife telling me she wishes she had married someone else, even if it’s true. She doesn’t want me saying, “Just a little,” even if it’s true.

That doesn’t mean we have to lie. Jesus was a master at redirecting. When He was asked things He didn’t want to answer, He didn’t blurt out the truth. He often countered a question with another question. He redirected the conversation.

The classic might be the woman caught in adultery. Her accusers told Him, “We caught her in the act. Moses’ law commands us to stone her. What say you?” If He tells them to let her go, they’ll fry Him for heresy against Moses’ law. If he questions her guilt they’ll remind Him she was “caught in the act.” Instead, He just said, “Let he who is sinless throw the first stone at her.” He redirected their attention. Now instead of looking at her sin, they had to look at their own. Clever!

It’s a good trick to learn in marriage. It might work like this.

“What were you thinking of?” she whispered as she turned and fluffed the pillow, snuggling against his chest.

“I love the feel of your breath on my neck,” says the silver-tongued fox, grinning in the darkness.

Two days ago Ted Williams was standing on the side of the road panhandling.  He carried a sign which read, “I have a God-given gift of voice. I am an ex-radio announcer who has fallen on hard times.  Please! Any help will be greatfully [sic] appreciated. Thank you and God bless you. Happy holidays.”

Someone pushed a phone camera through their car window and asked him to show them that radio voice.  And he did.  Did he ever!  In a polished and trained voice, he said, “When you’re listening to ‘Nothing But the Best of Oldies,’ you’re listening to Magic 98.9.”  And for a moment, you had to check to see if your radio was on.  He definitely had the voice. He wasn’t kidding.

The video went viral, and a local television station in Columbus sent someone out with a camera, and the rest, as they say, is history.  Only this story is a little more remarkable than most.  In forty-eight hours Ted Williams has probably had more offers for work and help than he has had his entire life accumulated.

Kraft has him taping for some macaroni and cheese spots today.  The Cleveland Cavaliers have offered him a job as their announcer.  And he has had to get someone to field all the offers and help him make the right choices.  Today he has choices. Three days ago he had nothing but the hope that someone might give him a dollar on the street corner.

His interview with Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera was heartwarming.  He is a grateful man.  It was hard not to wipe a tear listening to him recount losing a life to alcohol and drugs.  Since most of us have been affected by drugs in some way, it is easy to connect with him.  Most families have someone whose life has been ruined or drastically altered because of drugs.  Sometimes it is easy to give up hope for those who are ravaged.

And then comes Ted Williams.  Lauer asked him if he thought he could handle the new-found pressure of offers and opportunities, of attention, and, of course, the money that will shortly come to him.  And Mr. Ted Williams told him why he thought he could.  “This time around, Matt, I have God.”

He went on to describe a transformation that he attributed to God.  In years gone by, he told them, “I didn’t acknowledge the Lord, or thank him for anything… but this time around, I’m acknowledging him in all my ways.”

Lauer complimented him that on the video that went viral he seems to be a thankful and humble man, saying things like thank you, and God bless you to anyone who spoke.  He asked where that came from, and Williams said, “My mom.”  He went on to tell how she had taught him to “do unto others as you would want them to do unto you, the golden rule, as she always put it.”   And then this:  “I always used to pray to God, religiously, ‘Lord please let my mom live to see another year, maybe this would be the year, when somebody would say, ‘Hey, man, you want a job?'”

His mom can be proud today.  And so can his children.  He comes to the limelight as a humble man, wise about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, and wiser still about the power of God over both!  God love Ted Williams!

I never thought I’d say this, but I was a little sorry to see the Christmas tree come down.  That single act seems to signify that Christmas is officially over.  It’s time to get back to work, move on.  But this Christmas was warm and comfortable, and I hate to see it go.

For the last four years or so, my family has opted out of the exchanging of presents.  That’s harder than you might think, especially when you have grandkids. We have chosen instead to take a trip, to do something that hopefully creates a memory that might last a lifetime.

We’ve been skiing a few times in New Mexico, and, indeed, still talk about the awesome snow storms, the dog that we thought was a wolf, the frozen water pipes that forced us to change rooms in the middle of the night, and every other unique event.  And we’ve loved every memory.

This year we took a trip to Grapevine, a little town which bills itself as “the Christmas Capital of Texas.”  It was a good trip. The town has a great light show around a gazebo right in town, and a great little historic cabin and courtyard all decorated in a way that provides hundreds of photo ops.

Then we spent a day at the Gaylord Texan’s Ice show.  It, too, gave us some great photo spots, and it is quite a spectacular achievement.  Thank goodness they provide you with parkas to wear in the 12 degree rooms.  The final scene,  lifesize ice sculptures of the nativity scene, is unbelievably beautiful!

The third day we packed up and drove to east Texas to another hotel.  We uncrated a PA system and rehearsed a little “show” of Christmas carols and other songs which we were going to perform at the nursing home where my mom resides.  This would be our first “working” Christmas Eve.  No cozy gathering at home. No sitting around the Christmas tree and enjoying family games.  Just singing to a bunch of people who may or may not know you’re there.

My mother has Alzheimers.  Her memory lasts about a minute, and sometimes not that long.  I have to remind her who I am, and in that moment her face brightens and she is excited.  Then, a minute later she will ask me who I am.  So we put on our little show knowing that my mother would not even remember we were there by the time we drove out of the parking lot.

I was a little reluctant to even suggest this kind of Christmas to my family.  I don’t know why.  They jumped on the idea so quickly, I was caught without a real plan.   We mentioned it to a few people, and got some ideas.  Judy Kingan made us a pile of cookies, and the staff who had to work on Christmas Eve had wolfed down half of them before we left.  The grandkids made a card for all 102 residents in the home, and handed one to each resident who came to our little show.

My granddaughter plays guitar and sings in our church youth band, but my grandson doesn’t put himself behind a microphone.  Yet at the nursing home, he grabbed a mike and stepped out front and sang every song!   My mother sat near us, and I was doubtful that she actually remembered who we were.  But during one song she motioned one of my sons-in-law over to her, and he leaned down and heard her say proudly, “That’s my son up there.” Amazing that she remembered.

After our little show, everyone had to be wheeled back to their rooms.  It was 6:50, past bedtime for most of them.  Mom stayed and visited with us for another 30 minutes.   Of course, we had to keep introducing ourselves.  But she was in fine form, and funny as ever.  I was glad my grandkids got to see just a glimpse of the woman she used to be.

“How long have you had that cough?” I asked after a spasm of coughing hit her.   “Well,” she grinned, “at least for two or three minutes.”   Well said from a woman who apparently knows she has a memory problem.

It’s funny how the memory works in someone who has lost it.  She still remembers clearly that she has four children, and can remember all our names.  Yet doesn’t realize that the one sitting beside her is one of those kids.  And yet, when she speaks of them, she says, “I had four children, you know.  And they loved me.  They were always so good to me.”   I am grateful that her memory recalls us that way.

She said to my daughter, “There are days that I just want to quit.  I don’t know why I’m still here.  And then, someone will come by and visit, or just say the right thing to me, and I want to live again. I want to go on.  You know, I just think God puts some people here just for that, just to keep us going.”   Maybe that’s why she’s still here.  She gives me inspiration.

Late Christmas Eve we’re trying to find anything open in a small Texas town, and we find a not-so-clean fried chicken joint.  And a convenience store for those who didn’t want fried chicken.  And we carried our treasure back to our tiny hotel room and feasted and played games and talked and cried.  And expressed our thanks to each other and to God.

I don’t even have words to express my personal thanks and love to my kids and grandkids for being the troupers that they are, and for genuinely giving up Christmas as usual.  We found Christmas extraordinaire!  And I hate to see it go.

I get to my favorite breakfast joint this morning just wanting to relax and enjoy my coffee and solitude. My heart still smiling from last evening’s wonderful Christmas program which my daughter produced, I wanted to write a thank you note, and just reflect on a great day.

But the greeter was nowhere to be seen, and no waiter came to me, so I finally just picked up my own silverware and headed to a table of my choice. I sat reading for ten minutes before someone noticed me, and came apologetically. I brushed away his apology. He serves me often, and he is a great waiter.

It’s a slow morning in the restaurant, so you’d think the few customers would get sterling service. But I heard a lady complaining to the manager that her bill was “forever” in coming. When she left, the manager huddled his waitstaff over in a corner and chewed them out. They were not there to talk to each other, he sternly rebuked. They were there to pay attention to the customers’ needs. They scurried away when he finished.

The three men hurried to a station by my table, and two of the women darted into the kitchen to grab waiting trays. But the third woman rushed to the bathroom with suddenly-flowing tears.

One of the men near my table whispered ugently to the others, like a soldier calling a helicopter rescue for the wounded, “Server down! Server down!” There was compassion in his voice.

I mused at his use of the word “server.” He had not said it derogatorily. He just said it as fact. Server. He knew what he was. He knew his role. He was there to serve.
I watched the bathroom door for her exit, and when she emerged a few minutes later, the tears had been wiped away. There was no hint of “server down” as she tossed smiles to customers on her way to the kitchen.

None of the other waiters spoke to her, but one by one, as they passed her in the doorway to the kitchen, or by the coffee stand, they would slightly pat her arm, or gently squeeze her shoulder. I watched these people give silent messages. With a touch, they were saying things like, “Hang on.” “It will get better.” “Don’t quit.” “Make it through the day.” They said it all with quiet touches and gentle pats.

In a small way, I related to them. And I admired them. They were servers. Still serving on a thankless day.

No holiday affects marriage quite like Christmas, because, in part, it “requires” much more financial expense than other holidays. These days the majority of couples have to squeeze the dollar, and live month to month paying bills and having nothing left over. Then Christmas comes, and the demands to buy, buy, buy, can be disastrous. When the bills for Christmas-related expenses come due, and there is not enough to go around, tempers flare, embarrassment prevails, and the results can be devastating on a marriage.

It’s a shame. What could be one of the most meaningful and enjoyable times of the year becomes one of the most dreaded. Parents fear they won’t be able to buy the presents their children expect. Couples overspend trying to “keep up with the Joneses.” Spontaneous visits to the mall result in silent drives back home as the mind is trying to calculate how we’re going to pay for what we just put on a credit card, and the sinking feeling of despair cannot be brushed away by the giggling of excited children in the back seat of the car.

It is not our duty to buy our children a lot of nonsense. A generation ago the purchase of presents at Christmas had special significance to children because they didn’t get much during the year. Toys weren’t purchased every time a new one came out. Or every week during a mandatory trip to the mall. So opening presents at Christmastime was special. But kids get toys and gadgets all year long now. And they get clothes when they need them. It seems that the idea of opening a bunch of presents at an annual moment should have outlived its purpose or value.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could find a way to make Christmas about memories, and family, and, oh, I don’t know, Christ? Perhaps that’s why so many stores have begun dropping the “Christmas” and calling it “Holiday.” Maybe the marketers are afraid we’ll remember that the “holiday” was really supposed to be about “Christ.”

I don’t suppose for a moment that a short article from me will cause anyone to save a few dollars this Christmas. But just in case it could, here are a couple of tips that might save you some pain in a couple of months.

  1. Don’t go shopping with your friends. They’ll spend more than they should to impress you, and then you’ll spend more than you should so they won’t think you’re broke.
  2. Have a talk with your spouse and be brutally honest about whether you have any excess money lying around that you can just blow on the kids or each other. And then stick to your personal financial ability. No cheating. No lying.
  3. Plan some kind of activity that your family can do that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and which gives you a chance to talk about love and life and… the meaning of Christmas.
  4. Go to a church’s Christmas program, and sit back and enjoy the fact that your family is sitting there beside you. And since most churches’ programs are free, it won’t cost you a dime. You can even ignore the offering plate if they pass one.

Above all, be sensible at Christmas time. Share the story of Jesus, a Savior born like men, given by a loving God. You won’t fall out of favor with your family if you don’t spend a lot of money. And you’ll be miles ahead if you perpetuate the beautiful story of the baby in a manger who became the Savior who died, and now lives. In you. In your family.

Have a MERRY Christmas this year!

The people of Oklahoma tried to get an amendment to their constitution that would guarantee that Sharia law could never be used to overrule their own laws. In some circles, they have been ridiculed for wanting such a law. A judge has done what seems to be an increasingly popular thing in American politics: he has overruled the vote of the people and declared such a law unconstitutional.
But Oklahoma is not alone in its fear about the growing demand by many Muslims in America who for some reason seem to think that they should be allowed to rule their communities by their own laws. The Muslim communities in America are becoming more adept at using the media to spread their cause. And some are even appealing to the neighborhoods where new mosques are being built with marketing that would look just like that of a new church in the neighborhood, and even claiming to have a “faith in Christ.”
I was shown an ad for such a mosque in Spring, TX, and the advertising appeal included the line: “Get all your questions answered: Status of women in Islam, Jihaad, what do we believe in, and our faith in Jesus!” Sounds like a new Christian church! But it isn’t. It’s a mosque, and no matter how many clever ways they may advertise, they simply do not accept that Jesus Christ is Lord, that He was the Son of God, the Messiah, our Savior. They acknowledge His existence, they speak of him as a great prophet, but they think that His disciples hid His body, and therefore there was no resurrection.
If naive Americans would watch what happens in the countries that are governed by Muslims, they might get a better sense of what’s intended. The latest example might be that of Asia Bibi, a Christian mother of five who was condemned to death in Pakistan because it was alleged by a co-laborer in the fields in which she works that she spoke out against the prophet Mohammed.
She appealed her case to President Asif Zardari, and a government minister looked into her case and said there was no evidence that she had blasphemed the prophet. It looked like she might get off in an appeal. But the Lahore High Court, perhaps fearing the president may pardon her, passed resolution preventing the president from interfering in “the commandments of Islam.”
Last Friday, the cleric of a mosque in Peshawar, Maulan Yousef Qureshi, held a rally and told his crowd, “Anyone who kills Asia will be given 500,000 rupees as a reward from” his mosque. Since there is a possibility this woman could win her case in appeal, this decades-long religious leader wants to be sure his people know that he will not allow the courts to let her live. “We expect her to be hanged,” he said, “and if she is not hanged then we will ask mujahideen and Taliban to kill her.”
I hope the judges in Oklahoma read international newspapers.

Families which try to stay close to each other usually do so by having annual or bi-annual reunions. My dad’s family has tried to gather annually ever since I can remember. Recently we’ve tried to have two reunions, one in the summer and one around Christmas. This year we moved the Christmas one to Thanksgiving.
My gracious nephew, Dr. Cary, and his wife Lorrie, invited the whole clan into their home. Some got hotels, some found niches for air mattresses. They have 40 acres, and we used it! We abused their barn, their four-wheelers and tractors, and every other toy we could find. But in their graciousness, they acted like they thoroughly enjoyed the chaos.
That’s the way it always is. No matter which relative opens his house, there is absolute chaos, and absolute joy. We are glad to be family, and glad to be keeping the tradition alive with the youngsters, letting them meet cousins and other kin they’d never meet without the reunions.
I remember the first year after my dad passed away. I didn’t want to go to a reunion. It seemed wrong, somehow, for us to gather and not have Dad there, because he loved reunions like no one else. But then we thought that it would be wrong not to gather, so we did so in his honor.
This year our Mom was absent. No, she’s not dead. She has simply lost her memory. It rattles her to be away from her little corner of the world. She doesn’t know where she is, and she doesn’t know who we are, and we do her a disservice to take her out of her environment. So we left her in her home. She would not make the long drive well, and she might not ever return mentally to her safe cocoon.
We didn’t speak of it. Not in public, anyway. But it was on our minds. When it came time for the big meal, and my nephew was about to pray, I thanked him and Lorrie on behalf of the family for their hospitality. And I thought about saying something about “Nanny’s great big, wonderful family.” That’s the way she has fondly described us for years. But I hesitated. It would have caused a gush of tears. And my nephew struggled to get through his prayer without cracking as it was, so it was good I didn’t open the door.
It was in all our minds anyway. It didn’t need a public reminder. We looked around that room and silently, in the midst of our joy, there was this hint of sadness at who was NOT there. Even when we speak of next summer’s plans for a family reunion, we know that they will not include Mom. She may be with us still, but she isn’t here.
Each year the absence of one reminds us that we are all fading. One day it will be us who is missing from the reunion. I don’t want to sound morose. I just want to celebrate the here and now. Today, I am here. I will rejoice!

Christians ought to see the handwriting on the wall with President Obama’s appointment today of Elena Kagan to the Supreme Court. She is the first gay nominee to the Supreme Court.

The highest court in the land which deals with the interpretation of the most extreme laws that govern us all will now have (when she is confirmed) a gay person deciding the course all Americans will take. Among the critical laws facing Christians in particular are freedom of speech laws versus the new Hate Crimes law, same-sex marriage, transgender rights which apparently can trample on the rights of non-transgendered people, and gays in the military.

Is the deck stacked against traditional Christian interpretation of the Bible? I think so. I shared a video recently in which President Obama referred to the “Holy Koran” several times, and always with utmost respect. But when he referred to Christianity he did so with a touch of mockery, and asked, Which version of Christianity should we choose? The James Dobson kind, or the Al Sharpton kind?

He even referred to the Old Testament with mockery, citing loosely passages from Leviticus, references to the Law of Moses, laws which no Christian lives under or practices. But that didn’t seem to matter to the Commander in Chief. And now comes the inclusion of a lesbian on the Supreme Court, in spite of the fact that the vast majority of Christians in America still recognize homosexuality as a sexual choice, and as such, a sin. Romans 1, I Corinthians 6, and I Timothy 1 are not Old Testament verses. They don’t come from Moses’ law. They come from the New Testament, and they are unmistakably, unequivocally against homosexuality. That’s not “hate speech.” It’s simple preaching about what is declared moral and immoral by God in the Christian era. It’s in the same sentence with adultery, and fornication, and stealing, all things we “choose” to do, and all sin.

But in today’s hubbub of applause, what we’ll hear is simply that one more woman has been appointed, making this president the most “woman friendly” president ever. No, he’s the most anti-Christian president ever. From his first act as President, sending American tax dollars to other countries to fund their abortion clinics, in spite of our own financial crisis, to today’s act of appointing a gay woman to the Supreme Court, a woman who has never even been a judge, it is clear that the agenda of this president does not reflect my Christian values.

God help the American Christian in the future.

Dale McAlpine, a 42-year old preacher who has preached in Wokington, Cumbria for years, was arrested April 20 for violating the Public Order Act. His crime? He was preaching on a street corner and named several sins, including drunkeness and adultery. A passerby asked him if he believed homosexuality was a sin, too. He told her he believed it was. A homosexual Police Community Support Officer approached the woman, then approached the minister and told him a charge had been made that he preached against homosexuality. The PCSO identified himself to the minister as the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender laison for the police, and the minister said, “It’s still a sin.” Shortly thereafter three uniformed policemen arrived and arrested the minister.
We preachers have been trying to scream for a few years that the Hate Crimes bill was unnecessary, since laws against every crime in it are already in force, and we’ve tried to show what the true nature of the bill is. It is a restriction of free speech. It is intended to ultimately silence moral preaching.
Only the courageous will be able to take a stand for strong moral writing or preaching. And as Europe goes, so goes America. Now that we see what the Public Order Act is accomplishing in Scotland, we see what is coming for the Hate Crimes law in America.
This is not the first time the Public Orders Act has been used to silence Christians. In 2002, a pensioner named Harry Hammond was holding up a sign that read “Stop Immorality. Stop homosexuality. Stop Lesbianism. Jesus is Lord.” He was arrested. As was Stephen Green, a Christian campaigner. He was handing out leaflets at a Gay Pride festival in Cardiff in 2006.
Hang on, America. It’s just a matter of time until your preachers, too, will be arrested if they dare quote scriptures that offend homosexuals. So far, no adulterers, murderers, fornicators, liars, thieves, haters, schemers, or other sinners have protested preachers’ rights to preach from the scriptures that identify their sin. Only homosexuals.

I was fully prepared to yawn my way through another National Day of Prayer. Forgive me for not sharing the ecumenical enthusiasm so many others seem to have.
I find prayer to be a very personal and real connection to the God I believe in. I know Him as Jesus Christ. That is my personal belief. I didn’t get the concept from the government. I didn’t ask the government’s permission to have it. It is my faith, and I exercise my belief in it on a daily basis, and would do so with or without the government’s consent.

This year’s National Day of Prayer has been met with the typical nonsense of the politically correct crowd. U.S. District Judge Barbara Crabb recently ruled that it was unconstitutional, that it violates the First Amendment. The Pentagon invited, then disinvited Franklin Graham, the son of Billy Graham, to be a speaker at its event on the National Day of Prayer. Why? Because he called Islam a bad religion after 9/11 when Muslims blew up the Twin Towers to punish the Satan America.

This government does not acknowledge that we are a Christian nation. Obama himself said, “We are no longer a Christian nation.” And you know that with the scrutiny of the ACLU and other anti-Christian organizations this White House will do nothing that might be interpreted as favoring religion. In fact, in light of Crabb’s ruling, perhaps Obama won’t even sign the proclamation naming a National Day of Prayer.

Make no mistake about it, a National Day of Prayer has to be inclusive of all religions. In many meetings around the country stages will enjoy Muslims, Rabbis, Christians, and Hindus, and maybe even Buddhists to speak and lead in prayers.

No thanks. Prayer is not a public ceremony to me. And I’m hard headed enough to believe that prayer to a non-existent god is a waste of time and energy. Prayer to a statue is meaningless. Prayer to “something” is pointless. Forgive me for yawning.

But I did get excited the other day when Gov. Bob McDonnell of Virginia thumbed his nose at the ACLU, and reversed his predecessor’s ruling that Chaplains could not pray in Jesus name. McDonnell decided that if you believe in Jesus, you’re entitled to pray in His name. Oh goody. Now chaplains have permission to pray to the God they actually believe in.

Don’t worry, the attorney general will probably file suit to force the Chaplains back to mediocre prayer to nothing. Even some Christians are whining that the governor has opened the door for people to pray to Allah, or even, gasp, Satan.

Good! If someone believes in Allah, he ought to be able to pray to Allah, and I can sit silently by while he does. Even he worships Satan, and wants to pray to him, let him. It’s his right. My God isn’t frightened by it.

So, anyway, next Thursday is National Prayer Day. If you haven’t prayed since last year, by all means grab this opportunity.