Mercy brought me to this place

I want to write of Joy unexplainable. I understand that phrase could be a bit awkward since I am trying to explain something that is in its purest form complex and simple which lends itself to unexplainable. For instance, I can’t explain why God in His ultimate goodness authored me into His story. I was freaking horrible and a destroyer of lives. Why He laid down authority and splendor and took on the form of a man and carried my shame to the cross I will never fully understand, but will continue to be grateful. I could give you some intense theological view that a few of my arrogant Calvinist, and Armenian brothers would debate over, but for the moment I will spare you… and myself. The truth is that you don’t care… the non-believing or even the fence sitting Christian does not care how much I know because the church has failed to show you how much we care. My plea is that if your unbelieving, if you’re the fence sitting Christians that gives the authentic Christian the bad name. If you have hardened your heart and refuse to trust the church or Christianity my aim is not to make you feel like crap and throw some guilt trip. I just want to remind you that there is a sovereign patient God who has given you an invitation to have life and have it to the full through the sinless life, gruesome death, and glorious resurrection of Jesus. You have been thought of and cared for before time. You were fearfully and wonderfully made. You are loved beyond measure. Know this, if you are reading this then “mercy has brought you to this place and grace will lead you home”. There is no life to shameful that it cannot find rest and forgiveness at the feet of Jesus. So would you… abandon pride and put on Christ. “Repent and be converted that your sins would be blotted out and times of refreshing can come in the presence of the lord”. I know you are tired of running so here is the invitation to stop, breath, and rest in Christ.

I love you much

Dreaming with a broken heart

There’s refuge in Christ. I could really end there and that would be sufficient. I have struggled tonight with whether I should list my past and my sins out… all the dirt, the pain, and the ruin. I was so dirty, so freaking jacked up, a user and abuser of anyone and everyone. I even peddled the gospel if I was in the appropriate crowd, but I refuse to illuminate a horrible past over a precious Savior. I will instead shine light on the cross of Calvary and the glorious gift God gave. My heart breaks tonight knowing that I have friends in my city sleeping with each other, my heart breaks to know that there are some who feel helpless and are contemplating suicide, and my heart yearns for you to know the truth. The truth is simple. It is easy to say and hard to live. God called you out and is calling you out. His work on the cross rendered us forgiven if we would just receive, repent and trust in Him for salvation. Do you realize that part of who God is is omnipresent? That means he is everywhere… EVERYWHERE! When your fooling around, getting slammed, glancing at porn, being lazy, taking advantage of people, and lying He is there, broken by your sin, grieved by your disobedience and ready to wrap you in His arms of love. He is not waiting with condemnation. Not yet at least. He is near tonight and ready to wash you clean, to make you whole in Him through the blood of Jesus. There is no need for excuses in His presence. Just be honest with Him (He knows anyways). I refuse to ramble, but as weird as it is I know your reading this and this for you is an invitation to the table where you’ll find forgiveness, newness and rest covered by the grace of God. If you fit these categories then I wrote for you. I pray for you. I believe God is going to change your life.

The arrogant Christian
The faithful believer
The college and high school student who justifies your drinking with (the bible doesn’t say it’s a sin)
The beautiful young lady who dresses to show her body because she has no self worth
The guy who takes advantage of a girl
The girl who takes advantage of a guy
The proud
The homosexual
The sexually active
The fearful
The faithful
The saved
The lost
Myself
The inconsistent
The workaholic
The desperate
The pastors
The worship leaders
The president
The soon to be saved
I don’t write for popularity, I am casting the net so some would be caught in the grip of grace.

I stinkin love you

Tj

We could feed the whole world with the crumbs from our bread

It was twenty-six degrees last night and most of us were warm beneath the blankets in our bed. Some of our biggest worries as our head hit the pillow came from a txt or some other form of cowardly drama. Most of us slept well. Our stomachs were full from not one, but several meals we ingested yesterday and most in excess. We were full. We woke this morning and showered using enough water to sustain a family in Africa for a week and we were upset if it wasn’t hot enough. We left the shower and headed to the closet or dresser where some stressed over not having enough to wear… while in reality most of our closets could clothe several families who have nothing. That’s where my part of the story picks up. I was standing there looking at clothes and began to be broken. In one moment I realized how selfish and materialistic I am… It really started a few weeks ago though when I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes and became disgusted with myself when I thought that some kid in Africa would love to drink my dirty dishwater because it wouldn’t kill them. It’s these two experiences that have begun to shape my mind in a new direction, but there are a few many people who have brought me to this place.

Craige, you slept in an old train car last night downtown with no heater. You have made getting out of bed every Wednesday at 4 something worth it. This morning was the first morning you didn’t start the fire in…… well, no one knows how long. Some of the guys were worried. Frank assured us that the “professor is fine”. Hope to see you next Wed.

Mema, for giving your food away or not eating until you are certain that everyone else is full. For doing without so much so you could give to so many.

Dud, for taking a pair of gloves off your hands in 20 degree weather and giving them to someone you don’t know, not because you had to, but just so he would be warm.

The 5,000 kids that die every day from unsanitized water. That’s 2 million a year.

The 192 (not counting the two homeless shelters, hospitals, jails, and rehab) homeless people in Albany that face insurmountable odds everyday and keep going.

I sometimes want to be sad when I hang out with my friends downtown, but I am realizing they have so much and I have so little. I take everything for granted. Including God. Just like I stand beneath the flood of clean water every morning. I also stand in the presence of a holy God who desires a relationship, a oneness with me. I am overwhelmed by His goodness and drink it in, but soon leave His presence drawn away with the desire for more stuff. I pray that one day we choke on our excess and vomit it up so that we see how completely depraved we really are and how glorious Christ really is. He has given everything to us. Some He has given some much and to some little, but you have to remember He is the One that said the last will be first, that being weak is being strong, and that if we truly die we can fully live. My hope today in sharing my heart is that you will hear the voice of God breaking through your stuff and reminding you that there is much more. That in Him is fullness of joy and peace that overcomes every conflict. There is rest for the weary and hope for the beaten down. Today, right this minute there is forgiveness of sin and restoration for the soul. I pray that some of us would become poor in His presence so we could know the splendor of being rich in Him, that some of us would thirst today with a desire for Him to quench it and for hunger pains to grip our soul for more, more of the all-satisfying, completely sufficient Christ.

Would you say your full today? Or have you been blinded by so much stuff?
Proverbs 27:7

Nepal… The most gripping writing of my life

This Friday John, Blake and myself with drive to Myrtle Beach, SC. We are doing a benefit for a ministry in Nepal and my heart is broken. Here is the deal. Between the ages of 8 and 16 girls are enlisted into the sex trade. Many of them becoming sex slaves and spending their lives in shame and bondage. 68 % will become infected with HIV and most will die prematurely. I am going to give you a little more info then I am going to make two points that I want you to digest and think deep about. We are going to Myrtle Beach to help raise money to send a missionary to Nepal. He has been many times and works with a local pastor. The pastor and his wife have set up in their own home a place of refuge for these little girls who manage to get free. The pastor and his wife actually buy the girls out of the sex trade. Yea… they buy them out, teach them the Word of God and show them the beauty of Christ. I read a testimony the other day from this ministry that talked of an eight year old that was the sex slave of the cities police chief. He was leaving town so the minister and his wife bought the little girl so that she would be free. When the missionary visited the first time several years ago the little girl would not make eye contact and hated men with good reason. He visited recently and she is now twenty or so with her own family and has a deep love for Christ. I don’t know a better picture of redemption. The word redemption in Greek actually means to “to purchase, to pull of the slave block”. That’s what this pastor and his family along with a group of missionaries are doing. They are redeeming these little girls and giving them a reason to live. Teaching them it was not their fault and that there is restoration in the arms of a loving God. Guys, how selfish and stupid are we as Americans. I got sick to my stomach last night when I thought about what is going on around the world. Right now 600-800 thousand young women are being trafficked in the sex trade while we complain and distress about miniscule things, like the economy or the price of gas. I am not going to rant all night. I will make my two points and be done.
I want to compare and contrast America with Nepal

Nepal.

Girls wish they were chaste and could have a chance at purity…
Girls long for modesty and wear the shame of deep humiliation…
Missionaries have to buy girls out of slavery to give them a chance at purity…

America

Girls are pressured to loose their virginity…
Girls think it is attractive to expose their body and see nothing wrong with it…
TV promotes promiscuity and jokes at the concept of purity…

I hope you get the picture. God has created you to be pure and chaste. He has given us guidelines for sexual purity and He has done so for our own emotional, physical, and spiritual wellbeing. I pray that we as Christians would take a deep look into the mirror. Guys if you claim to be a Christian and are pressuring your girlfriend into any sexual act you are far from a Christian and should zip your pants and repent to God and beg forgiveness for not respecting and valuing your sister in Christ. Girls if you are showing everything you have in an attempt to be trendy or “cute” I would that you realize you are a precious daughter of God who has deep value and purpose, either that or stop claiming Christianity. What does it say to the world when we teach and claim that being pure is the way of the cross then live lives totally contradictory. I am not writing this to condemn you. I was there. I was the guy who defamed the name of Christ with my lust and I would that no one had to walk through that. Ever. That is probably the reason I am so dogmatic. I was a rank sinner who valued nothing, especially my own body, while claiming Jesus. Five years have passed since I purposed in my heart to be pure for Christ and my future mate and it has been awesome and sometimes the most difficult thing on the planet. I said all that to say this. Don’t throw away a purity that Christ has given you and that little eight to sixteen year old in Nepal would die for. Beyond that get caught up in the sweetness of Christ and realize There will be someone to value your purity. As for those who have blown it, today, right this minute can be day one of a life pure in Christ.

I love you
Tj

TJ Mauldin: The Sober Drunk

From the look on his face I knew he must have seen the heaviness in my eyes. I hated this moment and loved it with everything in me. See, my friend Mike is in prison and today was the first day I got to visit. We laughed, got choked up a little and glorified God in the midst of his bondage. He killed a few people several years ago in a drunk driving accident and was sentenced to 5 years this past December. I want to write this in hopes that you see a deep element of our Sovereign Gods grace and the forgiveness that flows only from Him. This journey of forgiveness for me starts Thursday, January 16th 2003. I was sitting in class and the morning felt off, as if discernment lead me to believe that this day would be different. I was reading Jeremiah that day and had laid my head down on my bible. The call came over the intercom, “ Mrs. Smith, could you send Tj to the office?” I still remember the way Mrs. Garcia’s voice sounded, it was the sound of a voice holding back tears. I arrived at the office and Holly met me there with a concerned look on her face. Our stepsister Christy was there waiting for us and not knowing that we were clueless said, “I am sorry about Tim”… The next five minutes played out like a movie with her being the one that had to break the news that my best friend, who was my uncle, and more like a dad had died. I remember Holly crying and I held her all the way home in the back seat of Christy’s car. I was angry. I remember seeing my grandmother slumped over in grief when we arrived and my dad in turmoil. The two days that lead to the funeral were horrible, I sat and stared at the piano where Tim would get my sister to play him songs. I played some, but not much. The funeral came with a black cloud of heaviness and we filed in one by one. I had Holly on one side and Brooke on the other. There was a message that talked about the redeeming grace of God and the hope of a future in splendor. We hung on that last prayer as if it were the end of the world. I held my dads back as he walked past the casket. I could feel him trembling from the painful separation that death had caused him. I walked out and around the side to go back in to say goodbye. I mean, I knew he wasn’t there, but I wanted to say bye. I walked in the side door of the Chapel as they were rolling him out the opposite side. I collapsed to the floor and lost it. I think it was that moment when the truth rested on me. He was dead and we were left to loneliness. I was picked up by brother Jimmy Hagadorn and some others and walked out side. I stood against the wall and a cousin named Belinda held on to me until I gained some sense of normalcy. They walked me around to the family car and we left. I read a poem at the graveside and it was done. Together we stood there as God closed the final chapter of my uncle’s life…what I thought was the final chapter.
A couple years later we went to court to meet the man who killed my uncle that night and to testify against him. I wanted more than anything in that moment to cause him as much harm as possible. I stared at him that day with such hate and condemnation. I never knew how wrong I was. Fastforwarding a few more years I met Mike Littleton. When I met Mike he was intense. I mean, every other word was Jesus, or glory, or pretty much anything to direct the conversation back to the glory of Christ. He was more fired up about serving God than anyone else I know. I had the privilege of fishing off the coast with Mike, singing with Mike, having dinner with Mike and His family who I love dearly, and then God used Mike to seal a hole in my heart. The hole of bitterness and hate that I had for the man that killed Tim slowly began to heal. I have realized through being Mikes friend that I am just like the man who killed my uncle. There is no difference. He was just caught up in different sin, a sin that unfortunately took someone’s life. The beauty of all of this is that without Mike allowing God to use hum in “whatever way He saw fit” I don’t know if I would have ever forgiven the man who killed Tim, but because of Mikes willingness to serve God in the midst of Hell I am strengthened, blessed and forgiving… forgiving. Mike taught me the value of a saved soul. How there really is true restoration and forgiveness in the presence of Jesus. I don’t know I wrote this for anyone to read or more for myself. To remind myself that there is a God who loves me and loves Mike, a God who though I nailed Him to the cross loves me and has forgiven me a far greater debt than I had to forgive the man that killed Tim. I can’t wait for eternity. I hope I see Tim, but I am certain he will be there… I want to see the face of the man who killed Tim and this time I want to see him as a brother in Christ. I want to know that his eternity is secure in Jesus. I want Him to be free in Christ. I know this would not have been possible if I had never been gifted with a friendship with Mike Littleton and for that I am grateful. Don’t you see, Mike taught me that we are all drunks, druggies, and whores. We all have murdered and lied… The reason this is true is because if we have broken one commandment it is equal to breaking them all. The liar will burn along side the rapist and the adulterer will burn with the prideful. While the hookers worships along side the saint if she was repentant and had given her life to Christ. The beggars and thieves will stand in the gates of glory along with the murderers who have given their lives to Christ. He has the power to save anyone at anytime. I could go on, but I feel like I am rambling. So here it is, decide today. Be forgiven and learn to forgive others. Jesus has extended His nails pierced to receive us as sons and daughters. He does not hold the cross to our account, but paid our bill with it. Please, ask God to forgive you, forgive other, and now… forgive yourself.

Thanks Mike

In Short: Heaven

I am not eloquent, extravagant, or profound. I am simple, honest and full of integrity. I am not perfect, pious, or cynical. I am flawed, forgiven and redeemed. I have dreams; dreams that are at times so heavy it feels like my chest will cave in or my head explode. I love dreams. More than dreams I love people who empower us to dream. People who at all cost live in such a way or die in such a way so that their dreams are realized, but more, that others dreams are realized. I don’t dream about economy, don’t fret about tyranny, and I don’t strive for a dollar. My dreams are centered in another place. A place where tears are foreign and smiles are plenty, a place where grace is the government and mercy the law. In this place no mans hand has ever touched, they are not needed, therefore haven’t had the opportunity to corrupt. It’s builder and maker is God, sovereign over all, perfect in power and the originator of splendor… and He is for you. That is, if you are in Christ. This place was made possible to you and I through the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. He died so that we could dream this dream, so that this dream would be our reality. I pray today that my head would be in Heaven and that my feet would be planted firmly on the earth. Everything here is temporal, everything there is eternal, never ending and good. It is the place that every true believer calls home and every non-believer calls fantasy. For me, this is home. Heaven is made tangible to me every day when I stare in the mirror and see a life so radically transformed by something so much bigger than myself, someone so much bigger than myself. Can you dream? Or has this age robbed you of all your innocents and childlike faith? I hurt for those who cannot see heaven as more than clouds and stars, more than constellations and atmosphere. Heaven is near. With every breath I take I am one step closer to realizing the dream that Jesus died for. Heaven is where He is. Heaven is the reward to the undeserving sinner who has been made the saint through the blood of Jesus. Heaven is that city who’s builder and maker is God. Can you see? Soon we will… until then dream, to God sized dreams and live them out hear on the earth. Live out the Jesus that loves you. Shine light in the darkest place… and dream, dream, dream. I am going to shine and dream and write and laugh and sing and refuse to be part of a society that cannot see, that has refused to dream.

Albany Georgia … Take off the Mask

To the unbeliever or bitter and broken x church attender in Albany, Georgia

I am sorry that you have watched worship leaders sing about being in love with Christ on stage and stepping off and living something totally different.

I am sorry that you have walked into some churches and were never greeted or welcomed

I am sorry that your “Christian” friends do everything that you do and then try to say it’s wrong.

I am sorry that some preachers in this town wear masks and can’t stop competing with other churches.

I am sorry that you have had to hear other churches bash Sherwood I threw this in cause I like the Catt and Garrett. I don’t go there

I am sorry that no one came when you were broken and that the church didn’t pick you up when you were down.

I am sorry that all you have heard about Jesus is a list of rules.

I am sorry for being in love with my ego for a season and some of you having to stomach that crap.

I am sorry for every idiot that tells you if you give the church your money God will give you more money and good health as if that Is the gospel.

I am sorry for the preachers I this city that would rather you attend their church and be a number on the role then ever tell you the truth and challenge you with holiness.

I am not sorry for living a life that strives for integrity and honesty

I am not sorry to write and tell you I care about you. I don’t know you, but I know and remember well what a life without Christ was like. It was like I was drinking sand hoping it would one day turn into water.

I am not sorry to write and tell you Jesus loves you beyond measure and wants to be your greatest treasure.

I am not sorry to point you back to the verse no one uses because they say it’s elementary. If you are reading this and haven’t been to church in a while… Go grab the bible crack open John 3:16 and just read it. If you are a long time professing Christian who is reading this… do the same… and be moved!!!! You should be!

I am not sorry for following Christ.

I don’t have anything else. I just always want to be transparent with my friends and family. I want to apologize to every unbeliever or bitter church member who has ever been hurt by church…

The real church binds up the broken hearted,preaches unashamedly the Gospel of Jesus Christ.. that he died, was buried and rose again and He is the only way to heaven, feeds the homeless, holds hands with the dying, speaks to the prostitute and loves them in spite of it. We as a church have been commanded to love, be truthful, and share the gospel, He will separate the wheat from the tares. Our precious Jesus, my greatest treasure. If you are at a church doing something other than this last paragraph the it’s not the church. It’s a building called church.

Seeking the Greatest Treasure
Tj

Faith is Hoping Beyond Hope and Doing when all’s Been Done

Faith is taking hold of things we cannot see and hanging onto them with everything we have. Faith is laughing, when situations demand tears. Faith is following your God sized dreams into the darkest of caverns and over the most beautiful mountaintops. I have a confession to make. I am at times… faithless. I know I serve the most awesome God of the universe and that “His plans for me are good”, but I still get scared to death at the thought of stepping out on a limb for His renown. People who have their own measure of faith surround me and some are huge. Others are discouraging and would rather drowned your faith instead of helping you realize the dreams God has placed in your life. This is my resolve; step…step…step one at a time toward the dream God has placed in our lives. I know that I know He has called me and many of you who are reading this to do things with our lives that will scream His eternal glory. How long will we allow fear or doubt to bind hands that Jesus declared were made free?

My dreams:

Share the gospel all over the world. With music or not both are worship to me.

Build a non-profit ministry that equips worship leaders who are genuine and real. Not showboats or frauds. Create an internship program where young worship leaders can learn from the ground up, from setting up sounds to writing worship songs.

Fund up and coming bands that are full of integrity and give them opportunity.

Send 50,000 dollars a year towards the freedom and rehabilitation of sex slaves foreign and domestic.

Be a ministry that sends help and hope to discouraged pastors and youth workers all over the nation.

Write songs that shake a nation.

Adopt a child from here in the states.

Be a godly husband to a godly wife.

Write a book.

Be evangelistic.

If you have read this far then you are acquainted with my dreams, you are aware of what burns in my heart. I am aware of my God, the perfect sovereign holy God that I call Father and Friend. He is able to keep that which I have committed. If you are reading this and have had struggles dreaming God sized please just put your name in the response and I will commit to pray for you almost every day.

Holiness Much?

Often times I write, sing and preach about the love of God. I will outline points of sermons to adequately explain the justice that we are escaping and the mercy we are receiving from the hands of a totally sovereign, but completely patient Savior. This morning I was confronted with an issue that I do not dwell as much as I should and I definitely don’t teach it as much as I should. The holiness of God… So rich, so deep, so convicting… His holiness is so perfect that when Isaiah came face to face with the holy presence of God the Father all he could do was wail the phrase, “woe is me”, “I am undone”, “and I am a man of unclean lips”…. When Isaiah stood face to face with the King of kings he realized how small he was and how wretched his sin, but God did not leave him in that state. God willed for a piece of coal to be taken from the alter and touched to Isaiah’s lips. It wasn’t a form of torture or torment, but more like a healing touch to cauterize the wound of sin that lay gaping open in Isaiah’s life. I can’t describe how desperate I am today for the Lord to reach down with His merciful fire and touch the wound of sin in my life, in my city, and in the world. To return to Isaiah for a moment it was just after God touched his lips with the coal that God asked this question. “ Who shall I send? Who will go for Us?”… Isaiah’s reply overwhelms me with hope. He says this, “Here I am! Send me.” The same man who moments earlier has been so grief stricken and broken over his sin all he could do is air his dirty laundry, but now he volunteers without hesitation to be the mouthpiece of God. What happened? Well, Isaiah did not run from God’s holiness, nor did he refuse it. Instead he received Gods purging fire from the alter and understood that he had been forgiven. In turn his life shifted to a life consumed and propelled by the glory and holiness of God. My hope for my life today is that I will embrace the holiness of God at all cost, boasting only in the cross of Christ.

Prison Much? How About Freedom.

I typically don’t like to write on topics that are always focused on and somewhat overused. I like to be fresh, original and capturing… I believe my writing is a gift from God so my hope is that when your done you feel like you have brushed the hand of God. Not that I think I am anything special. I just want everything you read to somehow open your heart to the grace giving, life-changing Jesus. So, I want to write about something I have experienced in my own life the past few years and try to be as transparent as possible. Before I start I want you to understand that I know nothing is new under the sun and I am probably repeating some old guy who wrote deep philosophical ideas or a songwriter that penned this before I was born or the Bible.

I have encountered hurts in my life that have been challenging to get over, and crippling to who I am. I thought for a season that the way to defend myself from ever hurting again was to build walls around my life and heart so that there was this wall insuring my protection and safety. I mean, I built a wall around my song writing because it was scrutinized, walls around my heart because it had been broken, walls around being befriended because some had left. In a sense you could say I have made Fort Knocks look like a daycare. The Truth: walls are agonizing and more painful than the reality of facing obstacles. All the time I spent thinking I was safe and protected from hurt I was imprisoned by my own fear. The walls that I thought protected me were keeping me from taking a step forward. It is a shame that we put up walls when Jesus spent all His time tearing them down. Jesus stepped on the scene and with every teaching took a sledgehammer of truth to the hypocritical culture of the Pharisees. He did not back down in the face of hurt, but endured it knowing His Father was going to lift Him up in due time. Basically, when Jesus said cast all your cares on Him He meant it in the most genuine and forgiving way. He knew dying for you would be heavy, but He also knew that giving His life would tear down the wall of sin between God and man allowing there to be deep reconciliation. There were no walls standing that day when the work was done. He had crumbled them all. Unfortunately over time we as people have stopped trusting who He is and what He has done and brick by brick we have begun a work that breaks the heart of God. We have decided in our minds that the prison of fear is ok and the cavern of Faith is to deep to dive into. I wonder today if there is anyone as sick as I am with tiptoeing up to the wall and glancing over at your dreams and callings? I wonder if there is anyone who will realize that when Jesus died He died for every fear and every shame. He died so that walls could be broken and destroyed. Why in the world are we spending our time with our hands full of stones when they should be full of God? I know one thing to be sure… Sometimes the wall seems more simple and safe to trust in, but the truth is that it will rob you of vitality and purpose. Please, stop staring at the walls in your life thinking they bring safety and begin removing them one by one. I am writing for your freedom and mine. Here’s a hammer. Lets’ do work.

The Unexpected Sermon

I spent most of my Saturday preparing for Sunday morning and reflecting over the sweet truth God had shown me in His word while I was in Virginia this past week. I had formed the sermon into a three-point picture that I aimed to paint vividly in the mind of the Pine Cliff Baptist Church congregation. I set my alarm for 6:30… it was loud. I stumbled out of bed, turned the coffee pot on and had a glass of orange juice. I spent some time praying and asking God to do big things, things that I know I couldn’t do on my own. I asked Him to shine bright and to pour out His spirit and His goodness. Then, I suited up… literally put a suit on and for those of you who know me know that I would rather not. I am going to try to make a long story short so I am skipping some minor details like drinking coffee, brushing my teeth, not being able to find my black belt, and the drive into south Camilla…lol. I am at the church now and it’s traditional. It reminds me of some of the churches I spent time in when I was younger. There are no cathedral ceilings, no big chandeliers, no nice piano and definitely no “contemporary music, which I loved. I stood on the front row and sang along with the other parishioners who seemed to be mostly older men and women who loved to farm, or owned farms, or knew someone who owned a farm. Since my grandfather was pretty much the sickest piano player and hymn lover I didn’t have to crack the hymnal open to follow the song. I stood some, sat some and prayed a little. There was a young kid probably around the age of eight who prayed over the offering and for some reason prayed for the food that “goes through us”… it was genuine, but funny. It was about this time when there was a short silence and then all attention shifted to one young man who walked slowly to the stage. He was sixteen or so with a shaved head and the left side of his body didn’t seem to want to work with the right side. He carried his cane in one hand and a poem in the other. He took his place behind the podium and leaned forward with a sort of crippled strength. He slurred his words as he spoke of resurrection Sunday and the perfect gift of salvation that Jesus delivered to us on the cross. He smiled a half smile, which was to him the equivalent of a full one and more than I sometimes muster and both sides of my face work. He talked for a few more minutes and everyone was captured in the truth and sincerity of his delivery. He limped off the platform and at that moment I realized that I had witnessed what the cross was all about. It is about making the crippled victorious, the broken whole and the lost found. I marveled… then, he was finished and attention shifted once more. All eyes were on me to preach the morning message and I had just witnessed the sermon of my life.

Art Fraser

I wanted to write something for my family about my Grandfather, a gift for them to remember.

There was a time when the greatest thrill of my day would be slipping on these knee high rubber boots and go wading the creek (I called it a “crick” since that’s what I heard John Wayne call it once in a movie) and catching crawdads, shooting snakes, and of course looking for Indians, who I thought could be around any corner ready to scalp me. Needless to say I was in a fantasy. I would spend all day walking, running, and digging in the “crick”. There were no watches, no schedules, and for sure there was no concern for anything other than crawdads and Indians. I would be brought back to earth by the sound of Ma calling from the front door of the “mountain house”. Lunch was ready or it was time to get things together to go to town. Town was ordinary, but at the same time magical because it was nestled in the midst of high mountain and rolling hills. My Pa would drive us to town. He always drove and would tell me stories all the time and ask me questions. Mainly about duck hunting and fishing when I was young and later in life when my visits were not as frequent he would prod to know if I would ever be serious about school as I was about fishing and ducks, but even then it came from a deep desire to better me and see me grow. I had no clue. I thought him a hard man with unique ideologies. For instance, he would not let me come to the dinner table shirtless; he wanted respect as if he were the general and I the lowly private. Looking back today I wish I had the chance to thank him. To ask him what books he would suggest and what it was like to be in the navy during uncertain times. I would ask him about when he hitchhiked back home in his navy attire and would laugh more at his dry humor, his dry, dry humor. He was a funny man who enjoyed making his family laugh and though there was this strange “family fear” of him there was deep respect for who he was. He was Pa to me. He liked to show me records that he had alphabetized in the front closet, books that were interesting, and every time he went to take a nap in his chair he would kind of nestle his head into the back of the chair as if there was this special nook that no one could see, but perfectly held his head while he napped. He had eight tracks of Marty Robbins, loved politics, and loved his family. I guess my fondest memory of him was when he would come home from work and kiss Ma, or when she would be washing dishes and he would sneak up behind her and give her a big hug. He was himself with her like he wasn’t with anyone else. He loved her and she him. They were funny and perfect. When she fell in love with making quilts and pillows, he learned to sew and worked along side her. He didn’t diminish her dreams and helped her realize most of them. He was a remarkable man in an indifferent time. I never knew how much I would value his advice and conversation until, well, now. I am sitting here staring out the window into thick South Georgia fog and it reminds me of the mountains. I think about him because that was home to him. The apple orchards, the junior college, the roadside fruit stands and the waterfalls that he would pull of the side of the road to make sure we could see. Most of the locals knew him by name and he knew them. If not directly he had read some book on the area and it’s history. He would drive Ma to any and every yard sale she wanted to visit. He was a genuinely good, brilliant, American. I want to wrap this up so I will jump ahead. He was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was quick and ugly, making him weak and frail. I remember the day at the hospital before his flight to Boston. I walked in to see him and tell him I loved him. He smiled and grabbed my hand with a reassuring grip and in that moment he was saying I got this, don’t worry about me. I stood there for a bit and we exchanged no words. Then, he looked at me and said, “ I am proud of you”. We embraced for a while and tears ran down my cheeks. I looked at him and said, “Pa, that really means a lot to me”. He looked and grinned and with one breath he let out a “psh” like a “whatever” and we laughed. He died a few weeks later and those that were with him said he was hallucinating in his last few days and saw me sitting on the sink by his bed. He was certain that I was there with him and in some way I know I was. I know he is not here, but I would like to think when it’s foggy and the weather is right for putting on rubber boots and wading through the “crick”, that he is among that great cloud of witnesses watching. He would be pleased to know I am a book lover and admirer of Ronald Reagan. He would like to know I don’t care much about fishing anymore and am working on a degree. He would like to know I nestle my head into the seat where I am about to nap.