Top 10 Reasons Why Letterman's Recent Exploits are NOT funny

Late Night TV Host, David Letterman, has long been a comedian I've enjoyed, at times. However, his recent admission of having "sex with women who work for me on the show,"' summarily applauded by his worshipful audience, leaves me disappointed. Not just because of his action - I am quite accustomed to hearing of this, thank you - but because of a perception of his 'cavalier comic' attitude and 'cheatingly friendly' venue in so explaining.

Now I do applaud his efforts to aid authorities in uncovering the 2 million dollar extortion scheme attempting to gain from his foray/s, but I DO NOT applaud the means by which he chose to share this. True Dave is not a preacher nor a politician, and one might argue he should not be held to their standard. However, he is a man upon whom many look and admire and, by his chosen response, he has sent one more grand signal to an up-turned world that sin is ONLY in the eye of the beholder, and that a good man's measurement is simply 'honesty,' and not behavior.

Well, Dave, with the love of Christ in my heart, under His grace as to my own sin, and by the value of His precious Word, I disagree.

So... here you g0 - Here are my Top 10 reasons why your actions and response to such are out of line.

#1o. A 'workman is worthy of his hire,' - nothing more or less (Matt. 10:10)

#9. It is an 'eye for eye and tooth for tooth,' - not _____ for a paycheck (Exodus 21:24)

#8. Sodom and Gomorrah were 'an example' of 'fire',- not fun (Jude 1:7)

#7. 'No man lives to himself or dies to himself, we are the LORD's' - (Romans 14: 7)

#6. "Masters, give your servants what is just and equal, knowing you have a Mater in heaven - (Colossians 4:1)

#5. "Watch out that no one deceives you after the world and not after Christ" - (Colossians 2:8)

#4. "Be not conformed to the world but transformed by Christ" - (Romans 12:2)

#3. "Father's, do not exasperate your children" - (Colossians 3:21)

#2. "Present your body as a living sacrifice to God" - Romans 12:1

And... reason number.....

#1. 'Thou shalt not commit adultery.'

Pastor Sam

Mary Travers - thought & reflection of her time

My musical propensity toward 'folk' was born from the smooth sounds of groups like the Kingston Trio, The Weavers and, later, Peter, Paul and Mary. Yes, before 'folk rock', there was folk, and though but a boy when such appeared on our American music scene, I liked it, learned to play it, and think fondly of it still. "Hooked" - I even enjoyed 'Up With People' and the 'Smothers Brothers' - the latter not just for their comedy but their music. After all, who didn't appreciate "If I Had a Hammer" and the "Ballad of John Henry" simply performed with vocals, acoustic guitar and a stand-up string bass.

But now, frankly, until yesterday - when news that folk music legend, Mary Travers, died at 72 of Leukemia, I hadn't thought much of this genre in a long, long time. Mary was the 'Mary' of "Peter, Paul and Mary" - whom my parents thought of as 'certainly' a 'Christian group' based on their first names, actually only their given names, as New Testament 'biggies,' but, as we all know, this was not so. Not entirely, though Paul Stookey did publicly profess faith in Christ by the late 60s - but that 's a sideline, so let's get back to Mary - she was born in Kentucky in 1936, to journalistic parents. In the 50s her parents moved to New York's Greenwich Village, where Mary was likely influenced by both her parents and the 'bohemian-like culture' of friends and neighborhood. Hip before hippies, this culture greatly influenced what was to come - a brooding in America needing only a cause, and perfectly delivered by the 60s itself, Civil Rights, and the Vietnam War.

Now I know that "Puff the Magic Dragon" may have (perhaps did) offer an alter or ulterior meaning - or at least I was warned. And I also know that many of the young people of that day and time, were, well... a mess. But we/they did think - if only for a while - and were changed because of it, though I confess to looking about now at what has and hasn't been and wondering, "where has our 'hammer' gone?" And though as an evangelical pastor I do not espouse to a politically liberal ideology or body-politic, I do espouse to a thoughtful, world-changing one, thank you very much! One, yes, that still challenges the status quo. For, if Jesus is not that towards this time, then we've misunderstood Him. For we of all people should be careful that we do not rob our own children of the one thing that the folk youth of the 60s held onto - which was hope. The hope that things could be, should be, must be better. Yes, I think we -even we Christian's - are woefully remiss when we sound only the bell of doom. For if our Christian youth are to change their world in Christ, it will be with the gospel - which is certainly a gospel of hope and not doom.

Mary Travers was 72. She has now passed from life to life eternal - and will be judged based upon what she did with Christ, as well as what she was or was not in Him. Period! Her time on earth was six score and 12. Her songs were the easy, at times woeful, songs of hope - if only for things least hopeful. By contrast, we have been given real hope in Christ. So... let me ask... 'what's our song?'

Pastor Sam

09.11 plus 8

Knowing that I was in New York City, staying just 15 'city' blocks north of the World Trade Center on a mission trip, people often ask of my memories and impressions of that day - now 8 years past. And though I certainly claim no extraordinary or prolific abilities as a writer, I am known to do so - so that folks are justifiably curious that I have not written more about that day. Sure, my thoughts are recorded - my journal of the event was immediate - and, sure, the day is often mentioned in my sermons and conversation. Yet, still, some days leave us with an impression so strong and so multi-layered, that putting such to pen is, simply, well... difficult.

On this day, however, this 8th anniversary of that day - I 'd like to make a start by recording a few words, followed by brief lines of comment, concerning how it was I felt on 09.11.2001

Confusion - From a morning jog under a beautiful blue sky, to thoughts of horrible accident and then attack - in a matter of minutes each of these 'realities' came to my mind - and we were there.

Fear - Where's is the president? Talking to Belinda by cell phone, I began to fear the worst. Where is he? Is he coming back to Washington? Is he on a plane? I have no control!!!!

A Dad's attempt - On the phone with Taylor - saying what I should regardless of how I felt - 'It's OK Baby Doll. I am safe. The world is not ending. Don't be afraid. I promise you - I WILL come home!'

Shock - There is more! A plane is down in Pennsylvania. All are lost. The Pentagon has been hit!

Anger - Someone has to pay for this. Who made these people God?

Depression - We live in a fallen, confused world. Innocent die everyday. This world is not to be worshipped, I know, but why God? What is our purpose? I know the truth, but it's not enough. Not right now. Hide me under a tree!!!

My father's teaching - 'son, there will be a day you will want to quit. On that day your decision to not do so will be the real measure of who you are as a man.'

God's Word - 'yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil - for thy rod and thy staff comfort me.'

Our common humanity - the people on the street are no longer looking down. They are looking out, around, at each other and at me. They need my eyes to look at them. They need me. I need them.

Pride - New York is no longer 'them,' it is 'us.' It is an American melting pot. People from around the globe live here - and they have touched me forever. Most embrace the opportunity of this land - and are glad for it. This place, New York, is America - just like Texas is - not perfect, at times flawed, but a place I am proud of today.

Resolve spoken - I will not live in fear. Terror will not win. I will not take life, my family, my church, my community nor my responsibility for granted. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever!

Sleep - Blue sky is gone. Dust fills the air. Weary from a day I pray to never know again, I lay down on a bunk in a building near 7th Ave. & a street called B - just 15 city blocks away from the worst devastation ever performed through attack that this nation has known - and slept. Not perfectly, but some.

Resolve defined - the next morning I awoke. Dust, and now death, filled the air. This was not a dream. Sirens still sounded and people still cried - but I, along with you, got up, bowed my head, and thanked God for America and for Christ Jesus my LORD - my saviour, my country, my home! Then I dressed - and went out of the building and onto the streets of a cIty called New York - never to be the same again.

Pastor Sam

LABOR DAY - 'a 3 day weekend' - and why

To understand fully the origins and motives of Labor Day in the US one should travel back to the mid to late 1800s, when industrialized nations such as we were experiencing a zenith in prosperity - if but only for a few. Most now agree that this 'prosperity' was realized on the backs of an impoverished force of American labor-working long hours, 6 days a week, and under less than safe or commodious conditions. So that in 1882, when American labor leader Peter McGuire had witnessed a festival in Toronto celebrating Canada's Trade Union Act, and returned to New York to organize our first Labor Day Parade on September 5th of the same year, it was an immediate and sustainable hit - followed by more.

In 1894, facing the aftermath of a number of deaths at the hands of US military and marshals during the Pullman Strikes, President Grover Cleveland made reconciliation with labor a priority, and aggressively promoted a bill through congress to recognize the date as a national holiday. And though born originally from certain controversy and strife, the next 100 years have seen our American Labor Day become one of recognizing - not just those among us we call 'labor' - but the sheer dignity of all such laborem (its Latin root) under the sun - because from it is fueled the mutual good of we who accomplish, enjoy, and by it receive our bounty. Yes, if ever there were a nation primed to celebrate the success of labor, it was, and is - US (pun intended).

Now because I'm a pastor, serving a community knowing as much success and excess as any, I find myself this weekend wondering at this. I wonder how, or if, we even value labor today. Do we do fully understand this to be a marvelous device given by the mind of God from which He assigns us dignity and worth? To work with our hands - be that on computer, with a scalpel, or under a car - to create, to add to the common good and be fairly and reasonably recompensed for such is one of the supreme joys of life. For was it not the 'preacher' who learned and uttered- "it is good for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in all of his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days God has given him - for this is lot. (Eccl. 5:18) Yes, pity the soul who does not know this, either by choice or upbringing - and pity the time if such is ever lost altogether. For in that time we will really have lost our way. In that time, if work becomes our drudge, will it be because we are not paid well? Or, will it be be because we've failed to learn the simplest of value from that which we've been made best to posses - our labor?

So on Tuesday next - when we each go back to 'work' to punch our time-clock, construct an email, or complete a task - remember the celebration of all those who've gone before. Those who, like most of us, did not make it onto 'American Idol' or into the grand arena of our present day temple - 'Sport', but who marched in a parade of 1882, and have as such reminded us of a kind of soul-dignity from which life on earth is made. Think of those persons, and then... think, again, of yourself, and be glad.

Happy 'Labor Day' all

Pastor Sam

Ready or not, here I come!

Remember playing hide and seek? You know, where your friend/s would hide as you closed your eyes and counted out loud to ten? At the end of the count you'd call out loud something like this... "ready or not, here I come" - adding to the thrill while warning those hiding that if they weren't ready, they better be because - the count (hiding) is now over. 'Seek' has begun.

Now I have noticed that this phrase is played repeatedly in everyday life. There is a time for counting (preparation), and there is a time for doing. Once doing starts, counting is over - so that we continually find ourselves saying under our breath.... 'ready or not!"

This Sunday will be a 'ready or not' Sunday at Parkwayhills. Students will advance to the next grade, to a new room, in some cases -even - a new hall. As well, many teachers and workers will do the same. Facing new pre-schoolers, children and youth, it will be a day filled with excitement and activity. Yes, after all the preparation, after the planning, the training, and the painting, comes... the doing, 'ready or not!'

When Jesus came to earth it was a a ready or not moment. When He comes again it will be one as well. Are we ready? I pray so, for... ready or not the clock has begun.

"You must also be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect Him." Matt. 24:44

Pastor Sam

21 August 2009

Saturday Afternoon - "The Footstool"

Sometimes I cry when I come to the church - not from sadness but from joy.  I love walking its halls when they are quiet - like today, a Saturday afternoon - and sensing the shadow that is cast by our city as it drives by.  I relish coming into my study, to linger in my room and behind the desk where I've sat since 1994.  But mostly, I pine for walking into our darkened worship center and up the west baptistry stairs to my 'closet', where I pray. There, in this humble room with little decoration at all, I spend time with God.  It is a room 'found' for me by maintenance - an empty closet, really -  and decorated/painted by my friend, Janie Zimmerman. It is simply furnished, and in all this time it has not changed.  I could barely tell you what rests upon its walls - save two pictures of John Wesley and Dwight Moody. But... I can tell you of the stool.  

The stool is an old footstool from my grandparents living room.  I sat on it as a boy, and remember it as a piece of furniture nestled between the chairs of my Mama May and PaPa.  It always held their Bibles, until they sat down, then it would hold me.  I'd sit with them, quietly, listening to their soft, almost muted voices commenting upon scripture and the ways of God, enthralled by the mystery of their faith.  A faith so personal, so close, and so intimate that you could - yes - smell and feel it.  

An impression was made upon me from that old footstool - an impression lasting more than 50 years. So that when I go up to my closet to pray today, I remember.  I remember a faith - first seen in my grandfather and mother, then passed on to my Mom, my Dad, and to me.  And with head bowed and body prone over that same stool, I pray... God move this church by first moving me.  Change me. Make me. Cleanse me from my sin. Let Jesus be seen in me.  And, may Your glory be magnified in this place!  Tomorrow and forever, Amen! 

Pastor Sam 

15 August, 2009

Saturday, August 8, 1948

It was 61 years ago today that my Mom and Dad were married - 08.08.48. She was 17, and 3 months out of High School. And he was 1 month short of his 23 birthday, home from the Navy and a war. They met in Dallas, where they both worked for National Linen Supply Co.  My Dad was a 'Route-man,' working for his older brother, Ted, who served the company as its Service Manager.  My Mom worked in the office and had the job of checking in the drivers as they came in from their deliveries.  

The story goes that she had been there exactly 1 week.  As Friday came, Dad returned from his 'out of town' route, after having been gone all week.  Because of this, he'd not yet seen the new girl - Mom.  Crossing the great garage, called 'barn,' with his large smile and good looks in tow, he made his way to the window where she was.   As Mom tells it from there, she turned to one of her girlfriends to ask, "who's this?"  They said, that's "Delmer Dennis, isn't he cute!"  Then she, in just about the same breath,  said, 'that's the man I'm going to marry' - and 5 weeks later, they were. 

Growing up I didn't know about other kids and their parents, but I always knew Mom and Dad were in love. When she saw him, she glowed. And, when he saw her, well, let's just say we kids knew that a hug, pat, or a kiss was coming.  They were 'hand-sy" before "hand-sy" was cool and we kids just learned to accept it. We grew up with the security of always knowing how they felt for each other, and that, somehow, this would never pass.  

When my Mother called me on a July morning 20 years ago this past summer, she was crying when she said, "Sammy come quick, you're Daddy's gone!"  But she was wrong.  For he has never really left.  So that today, when we talked on the phone I knew how she'd begin.  "Today would have been our 61st," she said.  And I replied to both her voice and heart with, "I know, Mom. I know."