a house, a family, my home

Well this week it is down to Sooner and me (Sooner is our Dog). Belinda and Trey have left for 'Camp Gap', where they will serve as counselors with our Children at Mt. Lebanon. And Taylor, of course, has lived in Uptown, now, going on 3 years. So... it really is just down to me and the dog. Which has got me thinking about what I call, 'home.'

As I walked about the place this morn I thought over some of the 14 years this past March since moving into our house on Steeplechase Drive. Trey was 3 and Taylor was 10 - and I am amazed at how time has passed. Certainly long enough for me to have a cache of memories. Every closet, every wall, every mark on the floor - all of them seem to have a story. The progress of Trey's growth is noted with marks on a closet wall, and pictures that hang tell stories of things we'll never forget. Moments in time when the only thing that mattered was that we saw it and now have a memory to share. There's Taylor's acceptance letter into OSU, framed and on display - and a picture of her dancing on the lawn of the White House in Washington DC, when she was there with our church youth on Mission Trip. All amidst a wall full of other photo's telling the tale of the girl who once lived up the stairs. How can I forget the night her boyfriend fell through the attic ceiling, into the middle of our bedroom, while hiding from Taylor to surprise her. The surprise was more than he bargained for! And the color shade variance of a ceiling dutifully 'repaired' remain my nightly reminder of that memory long ago.

When we moved into our house in early 1996 Belinda and I had come to stay. We'd saved all we could, had sold our house just to the south of Trinity Mills, to now move as close to the church as we might. Our life was here, and our hearts were too, and all that was left was us getting as near our ministry as we might. So that here we have stayed - one day, one year and one memory at a time - to see what once was just a house become the place our family would call home. For just as Edgar Guest wrote, "it takes a heap of living to make a house a home," we Dennis' now know this as true.

The Bible says little about the structures that we live in, but much about the way we are to live while in them. It tells us that God's Word's, His laws and precepts, are to be in our hearts, on our lips, and posted on our doorposts and gate. Serving as reminders, whether going out or coming in, of both He and His ways. (Deut. 6) And though from our house we do move in, out, and about a lot; and sometimes feel the only thing we do here is 'hang our hats,' occasionally we talk, listen, and work to make sure we talk then of Him.

So I pray that your days this summer will find you enjoying time as family, whether traveling and away or at home and just down the street. I pray that you and yours might enjoy what is best about the place in which you live. Not its size or decor - whether big, little, new or not - but because it houses the people you love serving reminder of the times there spent with God. If away, be faithful - with each other and and to Him! And if at home, be there - always as He'd have you be! Working to make your house into a home, indeed!

For now and til then, I remain -

Pastor Sam

Evening in Colorado - 17 March 2010

It has been a full day for our family on this mountain, but for me, a day of repose. The evening now finds me with a fresh pot of coffee and my faithful guitar in hand – strumming softly and gazing out our window at the San Juan Peaks, listening to the quiet of this Colorado twilight.

As I look, this scene speaks to me in ways I did not expect - of loneliness and an isolation that is far removed from anything I regularly know. Making me wonder at those pioneers and mountain-men that settled here 150 or more years ago. What kind of man could be on a mountain alone for days and months at a time? Surely they were men who communed with God! For I know of no other practice or passion they might better pursue under such a state or circumstance. If survival itself occupies the most of life – in those treasured moments of repose, reflection and rest – surely the Almighty would be their consideration.

Mountains speak of grandeur and strength. Indeed, they insist it! But, when you are on a mountain alone – as those pioneers of old, or of me with my thoughts this night – they also speak of the finiteness and frailty of man. So that – gazing out my window – I am prone to conclude - when a man knows himself in this way, he forms a beginning of knowing and understanding God.

Deference makes a difference

It has been a quiet day on Steeplechase - as well, on the Parkway, just a block away. A visit to the hospital to see a member, an errand to Elliot's, and now, listening to music with Bible and lap-top in hand. I am working on tomorrow's message, which is from 1Peter, Vv. 1-7 covering a portion of scripture that is key for husbands and wives in marriage. The bottom line? We (all of us) are to submit - to defer to one another for the sake and glory of Christ - an alien practice in this culture of me first and you last.

But thinking of it now, I am drawn to the word deference and reminded of what happened today. For, when walking out of Elliot's I and another approached the exit door at the same time. However, before I could let him pass, he put out his hand and gestured for me to pass first. This one move, simple yet strong, made the passage of us both, through this very same door - a better pass, indeed. In this sense, his deference towards me made a difference - not just in the event itself, but in the way we both perceived and received the other. Not a bad thing in life, at Elliot's or, ... in marriage.

Blessings -

Pastor Sam

Mrs. Powell, 'Little Dog' & Smokey

There are not many days over the past years that you could drive into my neighborhood and miss seeing her. She walks the streets of Steeplechase regularly - most days twice. Her long coat is black, whether lightweight in spring or heavy in winter, and her hair is always pulled in a soft, mid-necked, bun. Her cheeks are flushed, complimenting the twinkle of her eyes, and her shoes are modern - the kind for sport - representing the part of her not reminiscent of a more proper and gentler time.

Now Mr's Powell will always stop and talk to you - she is never in a hurry - while beside her, waiting patiently, stands her joy. He is a black and white dog, with shaggy coat, a mix of terrier and hound. His name is 'Little Dog,' and together they walk each day - her talking, he listening, both leading the other. They are become the dearest and most welcome fixtures of our neighborhood. Reminders, to us, that no matter how things change, some things remain - just as Mr's Powell, Little Dog, and their twice daily walks.

It was a week ago that I noticed I'd not seen Mr's Powell with Little Dog. This made me curious, the weather being nice, so I asked as I passed her front yard by - 'He's been sick, Pastor,' then added, 'he's getting old, like me.' 'Not so, Mr's Powell.' 'I'll pray for LIttle Dog.' 'Please do,' said she.

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On Monday of this week Belinda burst into our front door to exclaim, 'Sam, I just saw Mr's Powell! Little Dog has died!' I sat there, not really surprised, but still, feeling an intense sadness at this news. I thought of Mr's Powell companion, and realized I'd never heard him make a sound. Not one! In fact, I wasn't even sure he could. Not a bark, growl, nor whimper or cry! His was only the occasional wagging of his tail, based solely upon the encounters, comments and voice of Mrs' Powell. Little Dog had always seemed old - though I know this not to be true. Mr's Powell had told me he was a 'rescue dog' - one who'd been 'abandoned' and whom she'd 'taken in.' This was Mr's Powell kindness. Not to a fault at all. Not soupy or feigned - but careful. Careful that none would suffer or be alone. She had thought he might make a good companion for her other dog, and, since she didn't know his name, or if he even had one, she took to calling him, simply, 'Little Dog,' because, 'well, after all' - 'he was smaller than her other.' Mr's Powell laughed each time she told this, and loved adding the story of her taking him to the vet the first time. When the Doc asked, 'what's his name,' she replied, 'why he's just Little Dog,' to naught but increasing impatience that she just wasn't understanding. She took great pleasure in this, I could tell. All with that same twinkle in her eye.

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Today Belinda came into the front door with exciting news. 'Guess what,' she beamed. 'I just saw Mr's Powell!' 'And?' I asked. 'She's walking, Smokey!' Now Smokey is our neighbor's dog who lives in the backyard between us and she. He is the pet of Mr's Powell's son and family. Smokey is a delightful dog, but, like many in homes of young families today, he pines for attention and to be, well, walked. So... I ran to the door as around the corner they came. Sure enough, there was Mr's Powell and Smokey - she talking, he by her side, both walking the other.

As she looked down at young Smokey, to explain to him the way things were, Smokey looked up, and quietly wagged his tail in reply.

Pastor Sam :-)

Halting the Tragedy of Haiti

Diplomats, ambassadors and leaders around the globe are talking about the tragedy of Haiti, now made even worse by the effects of a devastating earthquake in its capital city this week. Former President Bill Clinton, has said, "I believe if we recover the living, bury the dead, take care of the wounded, and clean the streets, we can start again." And President Obama has initiated one of the largest relief efforts in recent U.S. history by pledging $100 million for the earthquake-stricken Caribbean country.

But, what of all of this?

Well first - I am pleased. America and the world must always do what we can to help those in need. This is our human voice and the necessity of any who call themselves civilized.

But second - I am made more aware. Aware that aid alone will not fix the problems of Haiti. The problems of corruption and vice among leadership have manipulated these people far too long and they have been made to suffer - not because they are evil, but because they are vulnerable - the way poverty always is.

For this reason the Christian community does well to step up, and to these ends I am pleased with efforts at aid prompted by our Baptist agencies, both nationally and from Texas. Indeed, 'foreign mission' must also be a commitment to this country just 600 miles away. Some of us can go, if not now in the many opportunities that will come; but all of us can pray. We can pray for the Haitians and the missionaries who will have ample opportunity to witness in the name of Christ as they face the pain and devastation of a nation, once more, on its back.

Of course, I understand what Mr Clinton was saying, and I am in favor of the effort and aid committed by Mr Obama on behalf of the U.S. However, I must add that this alone will not halt their tragedy. Their real tragedy is deeper than death and toppled buildings, and to this tragedy lasting peace will only come through the love of Christ communicated mercifully by those of us who know Him. In this, then...

May God bless Haiti, and us -

Pastor Sam

December 22, Merry Christmas, indeed!

How many more times will I say it, 'Merry Christmas?' I suspect many more. For, in all the years I've been so doing, I find this greeting no more compelling than now. Why? Well because of the response. For though most all always are nice - and though some will add a 'thank you' and even echo the self-same back. There are others, a growing number I find, who now politely, almost 'correctively' say... "Happy Holidays to you, too!" And for this, I am compelled to insist my greeting remains - 'Merry Christmas, indeed!"

Now... before you either decry or applaud me, may I first insist on being clear. I am not asking congress to pass a law that the phrase be a must. Or, that retailers be strictly black-listed for not so using. No! I am simply electing to use what has become in my lifetime a wonderfully powerful witness and testimony. For as the saying has fallen from the masses, it now may trickle from the lips of those joyfully in Christ once more.

So... do not grow weary this Christmas 2009 and beyond. Let the world in which you live hear aloud your good witness - even in the simplicity of that age-old greeting. And... let the redeemed of the LORD say so -

Merry Christmas, indeed!

Pastor Sam

December - a marvelous month to me

When it comes to months of the year I face no dread in December. I suppose this means I am fully crossed over in my mind to the world of 'pastor', because I know this is not nearly so true among all, but... December is a marvelous month to me. In December I preach of but one thing - Jesus. In December I concentrate on but one function of my calling - people. And, in December I strive to allow but one activity unto the example of my life - giving.

Now my reason for this, I know, lies squarely within the message of Christ - He gave to us so that we might give to others. Yet it also lies in the community called ParkwayHills. I love you all so very much. The lights are up on your houses and streets, the wind turns decidedly from the north, and the ParkwayHills 'Parade of Parties' begins. How I love coming into your homes in December - from the grandest to the most humble, and among the very youngest to the old. Belinda and I find joy as we visit with you and share in your journey - and December makes a perfect month for such.

For many of you, this year has been a journey of joy - one of gallantry and courage. For others it has been a journey fraught with burden - one of sorrow and pain. For all of us, however, this is a month we may lay what is or is not aside and come together around our common journey point - the coming of Christ into our lives bringing salvation regardless of health, income, status, race or creed. Who doesn't want to celebrate that?

So, today, may this pastor be a voice of encouragement to you? May I sound the call for celebration? For certainly, December - this marvelous month to me - really is a marvelous month indeed.

Pastor Sam

Listen! Your watchmen lift up their voices; together they shout for joy. When the LORD returns to Zion, they will see it with their own eyes.

Burst into songs of joy together, you ruins of Jerusalem, for the LORD has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem.

The LORD will lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God. Isaiah 52: 8-10