Perryphrase

Non-Fiction Fish Story...Really...I Promise

2009-10-28T08:57:00.000-07:00

Fishermen tell three types of stories: 1) True stories, 2) Lies, and 3) Stories that start out true, but grow in creativity and length. The size of the fish, the bait, the boat, or the waves may increase with each telling.

The following story falls under category number one. It is 100% non-fiction. A few years ago, I stumbled onto an opportunity to fish at a pond and I was unprepared. It was a family get-together, cookout, reunion thing. They mentioned the pool to swim in, but failed to mention the pond to fish in. So there I was...bypassing the pool to contemplate the fish population of the pond.

The urge to fish was strong. But first I had to hunt. In the garage attic of our family reunion hosts, I found a rod and reel. The rod and reel had a cork and a hook. Fantastic! But I had no bait. I rummaged around for a fishing lure of any kind and found none.

The reunion hosts lived in a subdivision within a city. They had a well-manicured lawn (about as big as a phone booth) and a few tiny flower beds. Similar houses surrounded the large pond. I resisted the urge to dig up the flower beds in search of worms, but I needed some kind of bait.

A thought came to mind. I quickly hid the fishing pole and went back to where the humans were grazing around a food table filled with sandwiches, chips, and dip. It was there that I found the bait I had hoped for: bologna! Pronounced "ba-lo-ney," bologna is a refined slab of delicious round steak. It's an aquired taste. It's also a word commonly used by those who just heard a politician speak.

This was a rather fancy affair, so the sandwiches were trimmed of bread crust and cut up into tiny squares. I guess rich folk can't eat a whole sandwich. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I stuffed a few sandwich squares into my mouth and a couple into my pockets.

I chatted with a neice or two and headed back to the garage where I had stashed the rod and reel. I tried to make my way to the pier that went out over the pond unnoticed, but a couple of youngsters in the pool saw me and followed.

I tore off a piece of bologna and put it on the hook. Almost immediately, the cork started bobbing up and down. It wasn’t long before I caught a small perch. With a few more pieces of bologna, I caught a few more perch. But I'm not much of a perch guy. It was sorta fun catching them, but it didn't satisfy the fisherman in me nearly as much as a bass would.

When I started running low on bologna, an idea came to me. I caught a tiny perch that was no bigger than the palm of my hand, took the hook out of the perch’s mouth and stuck it through his (or her) back under the dorsal fin. I cast my live bait with baloney-breath out into the pond.

The perch made the cork bob up and down as it tried to swim away from the hook in it's back. Then the cork went straight down and disappeared! Whoa baby! The fight was on!

In order to keep this story on the non-fiction level, I will admit that when I reeled in the bass, he was not a wall-hanger (for the outdoor illiterate, that means he wasn't a big fish). The bass weighed a little over ten -- I mean, two pounds. But it was the way that I caught the bass that made it so much fun. Thankfully, I have witnesses.

Let's get out of the pond for a minute and into the parabolic significance of this story. Isaiah 25:8 predicts the atoning death of Christ on the cross and says, "He will swallow up death forever." Paul quotes this prophetic statement in 1st Corinthians 15:54 to reinforce the fact that Jesus saved us from the curse of eternal death.

With those Scriptures in mind, think of the Christian as the bologna, the perch as death, and the bass as Jesus. Before Jesus died on the cross, we (humans) were dangling on a hook without hope. Death feasted on us and continually swallowed us up. When Jesus died on the cross, He looked like another bologna-victim of death. But while in the grave, God removed the hook from Jesus, stuck it in death, and when Jesus rose from the dead, He swallowed death, like the bass that swallowed the perch, and ended death's pursuit of all who believe in Jesus.

To the unbeliever, it looks like death swallows life. But the believer knows it isn’t so. Death doesn’t swallow the Christian. Christ swallows death and gives the Christian eternal life!

Hooked on Jesus,
Perry Crisp

See For Yourself

2009-10-26T09:23:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked about two important places: Israel and Heaven. Dad has visited the first place. Mom resides in the second. One is just as real as the other.

My Dad went to Israel when I was just a child, but I'll never forget hearing his report to the church when he returned. His pictures were made into tiny picture squares called "slides" that fit into a carousel projector. I marveled at Masada. I was captured by the Via Dolorosa. I was wide-eyed when my eyes beheld Golgotha through the pictures.

Seeing those pictures made it all more real. All those stories I'd heard all my life came to life because my dad was there! He saw it! He walked where Jesus walked. He shed tears where Jesus shed blood.

There has always been a dream and a desire in my heart to go to Israel one day. But like Heaven, I always assumed I would be an old man before I saw it. But we serve a God who blesses us with occasional unexpected surprises.

Due to the generosity of someone I've never met, I will see Israel sooner than expected. Expect no devotionals from me next week. November 1-10th, I'll be walking where Jesus walked. I'll be crying where Jesus was dying. My hands will be raised at the site where His body did the same thing. My eyes will see in panoramic fashion what they once saw through tiny picture squares.

I've talked about the Sea of Galilea from behind a pulpit. I will soon sail across it in a boat. I've told the story of Jesus feeding thousands with a young boy's small lunch on a hillside. In a few days, I will sit on that same hill, breathe that same air, and become that little boy. Who knows? I may even break out a balogna sandwich to "christen" the moment.

In short, I'm going to Israel! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone I never met gave sacrificially for me to go. I could never express enough gratitude to the giver of such a marvelous gift.

Sound familiar? The two places my dad always talked about have now intertwined in my life. I'm going to Israel. But, I'm going to Heaven, too! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone sacrificed for me before we ever met. I will never be able to thank Him enough for His gift of eternal life.

Though I haven't met the benefactors who purchased my trip to Israel, I have met the One who purchased my ticket to Heaven. His name is Jesus. He gave His life on the cross on Golgotha's hill to open the door of Heaven for you and me. You may or may not ever see Israel. I hope you will have that privilege one day. But the far greater need of your soul is to know that you are going to Heaven. Your way has been paid.

You can pick up your ticket at the foot of the cross. Bow your heart before Jesus. Admit that you are a sinner in need of His saving grace. Ask Him to forgive you personally. Then, invite Him into your life. Accept Him and the sacrifice He made on the cross for you. With all your heart, mind, and soul give yourself completely to the One who gave Himself for you.

Did you? Have you? I hope and pray you have. If so, Mom and I will see you in Heaven.

Just as my dad saw the land of Israel and reported what he saw back to us, my mom did the same with Heaven. Days before the Lord took her home, Mom laid in her hospital bed and started waving her hands in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra.

Dad asked her what she was doing. She said, "Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"The music..."

"No, honey. I can't."

"Oh, it's beautiful! I've never heard anything like it!"

If you can't be in Israel this next Sunday morning, come to Lake Fork Baptist Church in East Texas. While I'm going to the place my dad talked a lot about, he will be preaching in the place I've talked a lot about. How good is God? God is good all the way through. All the day long.

Israel & Heaven Bound (separate trips, you understand)...
Perry Crisp

Besides Humans...

2009-10-14T09:11:00.000-07:00

Are humans unique among the living creatures of the earth? Of course, the Bible answers that question with a holy "Duhhhh!"

Genesis 1-2 explain the creation of the world, including animals and humans. It reveals two important facts: 1) We are the only living creatures said to have been created in the image of God, and 2) we are the only living creatures said to have been given mouth-to-mouth from God to jumpstart our kind (Genesis 2:7).

The Psalmist wrote that God made man a little lower than the angels and gave humans dominion over everything on earth (Psalm 8:4-6). In Matthew 6:26, Jesus used an example of how God takes care of the birds to show that God certainly cares for us humans, too. Then He asked a follow-up rhetorical question, "Are you not of more value than they?"

Since there are readers of this blog who feel their intelligence rises far above those of us who believe the Bible, let's ask some more questions. If you honestly look at humans compared to all other species, you will not find one of them that does the stuff we do. So, here we go...

Besides humans, who else does all this stuff?

1. Wears clothes.
2. Builds everything from dog houses to enormous football stadiums, skyscrapers, and outer space apartments.
3. Invents everything from singing birthday cards to nuclear missiles.
4. Sings karaoke.
5. Videotapes themselves singing karaoke.
6. Forces their family and friends to watch the videotape of themselves singing karaoke.
7. Flies through the air in a metal tube called an airplane.
8. Reads.
9. Clips their own toenails.
10. Wipes their own.........nose.
11. Provides for the well-being of other species.
12. Buys and sells goods.
13. Offers warranties on purchases.
14. Hides loopholes on warranties.
15. Commits suicide. (Okay, so maybe lemmings are an exception here. But do they KNOW they are committing suicide? Or do they just keep re-electing dumb leadership and follow blindly? Isn't it possible that the lemmings last words are, "Oh, snap!")
16. Digs up bones of other species, as well as their own, to examine and analyze them instead of gnaw on them? (Ribs at the bar-b-q place are not dug up)
17. Performs surgery.
18. Cooks food before eating.
19. Cries when slicing onions.
20. Slices onions.
21. Can't find keys.
22. Has keys they can't find.
23. Smokes.
24. Blushes. (Or, at least, once had the capacity to do so).
25. Gets goose bumps. (Makes you wonder if other species get people bumps).
26. Bothers with tombstones and cemeteries.
27. Puts "Humans aren't the only species on the planet...they just act like it" magnets on their refrigerators.
28. Has refrigerators.
29. Replaces parts that quit working: Dentures, glasses, knees, hearing aids, spouses, etc.
30. Comes up with lists of their own uniquenesses.
31. Posts blogs and articles on the internet in an attempt to refute the uniquenesses of humans.

I find that last one fascinating. There are actually websites with articles and blogs piously pointing out that there are no uniquenesses that separate humans from other creatures. Yet, what other creature posts blogs or writes articles? I love the fact that "moron" finishes off the word, "oxymoron" in this case, don't you?

Face it. Humans are unique. You can trust Wikipedia or you can trust the Word of God. You can trust the most recent opinions of humanity's collective brilliance (which keeps changing every month) or you can trust the unchanging Word of God that has stood the test of time.

God created you with a purpose. You're not a lemming. You're not a cultured ape. You are fearfully and wonderfully made by a Creator who loves you and wants you to take a few honest steps in His direction.

I'm not a preacher because I figured out something smart by observation. I'm a preacher because I've found something real by application and participation. When I gave my heart and life to God through Jesus Christ, He changed my life.

32. Has his or her heart and life completely reborn through a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

Perry Crisp

Every Day Should Be National Day of Prayer...Yep, it's That Bad

2009-10-08T09:16:00.000-07:00

Samuel was frustrated. He had put up with Israel's disobedience and hard-hearted attitude for years. He had every reason under heaven to throw up his hands and walk away from the stubborn, rebellious nation.

Sam asked Israel for a list of all the ways he had mistreated them as a nation. They couldn't think of one. In 1st Samuel 12, Sam gave Israel a verbal highlight film of the many ways Israel had been unfaithful to God.

Score? Israel plenty, Samuel zero. Israel skunked Samuel in the game of disbodience. No one could blame Sam for his frustration with Israel. He could never be bad-mouthed if he chose to quit praying and interceding for the disobedient nation.

Hmmm... How are you doing when it comes to YOUR homeland? Do you get a wee bit frustrated with the direction and disobedience of this nation? America is racking up the points on the scoreboard of disobedience. Do I hear a collective sigh from the saints (not the fans in New Orleans, but the fans of the new covenant)?

Samuel did not give up on Israel. You and I shouldn't give up on America, either. Notice Sam's attitude, "As for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you. And I will teach you the way that is good and right" (1st Samuel 12:23, NIV).

Sam considered it a personal sin to stop praying for Israel. Though he had every reason under heaven to stop, Samuel's allegiance did not stop short of heaven. He was committed to obeying God, praying for his homeland, and spreading the truth of God's way.

Praying for others is a privilege and a responsibility God has granted us. To not pray for others, according to Samuel, is to fail God. Sounds like a good reason to pray!

The list is long of those who need our prayers. From the leaders to the laborers, the entire country needs the entire body of Christ praying fervently and consistently on behalf of this nation. We are off course. We have drifted into dangerous waters. We're trying to have a pool party in a cesspool. We need to plead before the throne of heaven for forgiveness of the mess we've made on earth.

The good news is, you will never run out of reasons to pray and heaven will never run out of resources to answer. When you put those two things together, a miraculous moving of the entire nation back to its foundations of faith is more than a possibility.

"Father, here we come to ask Your forgiveness for where we've been..." Ok. I've started the prayer.

You finish it...

Challenge Your Faith

2009-10-01T09:25:00.000-07:00

An atheist was camping in the woods when he heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the bushes. It sounded like something big was coming toward him. He heard a loud growling sound and decided it must be a bear. He knew better than to run, so he sat very still.

The hairy beast suddenly appeared in front of the atheist, but it wasn't a bear. It was Bigfoot! As soon as the atheist saw the enormous beast, he took off running into the woods. Bigfoot chased him and the atheist could tell the beast was gaining on him.

As the atheist ran for his life, he cried out, "Dear God, save me!"

Time slowed down for a moment and a voice from above bellowed, "I thought you didn't believe in Me."

The atheist cried back in desperation, "Please, God, give me a break. Up until two minutes ago, I didn't believe in Bigfoot either!"

The Bible doesn't waste a lot of time arguing with those who claim there is no God. But you can find one statement that clearly sums up the whole reality of atheism, "The fool has said in his heart, 'There is no God'" (Psalm 14:1).

Atheism makes no sense. There is more evidence to the existence of God than many of the things atheists DO believe in. Many atheists believe in global warming, yet there is significantly greater evidence of the warmth of an all-loving God. Some atheists believe we've been visited by life-forms from other planets in UFO's. I've seen one episode of "The View" and can see some logic to that. Yet, the evidence that God visited this planet in the life-form of His Son, Jesus, is more compelling than alien visits or even the existence of real, historical and famous people like Shakespeare or George Washington.

I am less concerned about atheism than I am a growing trend among those who profess to be Christians, yet do not believe the Bible nor the statements of Jesus Christ written in the Bible. How can a person be a Christian without believing the Bible which contains the story and message of Christ? How can you claim to be a follower of someone who makes exclusive claims which you do not believe? That blows my mind. It is as illogical as atheism.

Jesus said clearly, "I am THE way, THE truth, and THE life. No one comes to the Father, except through Me" (John 14:6, emphasis on the definite article because the original Greek intentionally places a "the" before each word).

How can that be any clearer? How does a person who claims to be a Christian decide what part of Christ he is going to believe and what part he isn't? What's the source of authority upon which to make such a decision?

If logic or intellect is his answer, then what if he is deranged or becomes deranged or allows a deranged philosopher to settle his beliefs for him? Who gets to decide the definition of sound, definitive logic? Where is his litmus of accuracy located?

My point is: There HAS to be a source of authority. To undermine the source is to step onto the slippery slope of relativism.

Relativism is grounded in mood, not truth. It is dangerous to place truth or reason on the shoulders of feelings. Feelings are not reliable. Feelings should always be on the shoulders of truth, not the other way around. There must be a solid foundation.

Relativism strenuously battles against absolute truth. Yet, I challenge you to defend your position or support your beliefs without making an absolute statement or relying upon an absolute tenet.

God has you cornered. As soon as you shout, "There are NO absolutes," you make an absolute statement.

Here's the greater challenge. Do the unthinkable. Read the Bible. Study it. Examine the life and claims of Jesus from the original source. Seriously. I dare you. You say it isn't true or accurate? Please show me where. I've studied it all my life and my faith depends on it. If there's proof that it isn't true, I'd like to know. Can you do that? Or would you rather just feel your way through life and hope you still feel good about your decision after you die?

Moods change. Truth doesn't. Oh, by the way. The first tactic the devil ever pulled on humanity was to get us to doubt God's word. Adam and Eve fell for that. And fell hard. Have you fallen for it, too?

I'm in a really good mood. Probably because I've found the truth.

Simon Says...So What?

2009-09-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

Raise your hand if you ever played "Simon Says." Surely, you didn't just raise your hand. First of all, you would look ridiculous sitting at a computer with your hand in the air. Second, I didn't say, "Simon says."

We used to play this when I was a kid. Somehow, my sister was always Simon. My brother and I never dethroned her. I can still see her skinny, tanned frame as she stood in the yard with hands on her hips, giving out commands. (For her husband's sake, I pray she has discontinued this practice). Oh, hi Lynn!

Who is Simon and why should we care what he says? Some say Simon really isn't Simon. Simon is Cicero. Cicero was a famous ancient philosopher, statesman, lawyer, political theorist, and Roman constitutionalist. He was a really smart guy. Like E. F. Hutton, when Simon speaks, people listen.

Or maybe, it is connected to Simon de Montfort and the year 1264, when Simon captured King Henry III at the English town of Lewes. For the next year, any order Henry III gave could have been countermanded by de Montfort. Henry's son, Prince Edward, (who, according to rumor, was at Woodstock...google it) took Simon's castle by force and used his flags as a means to surprise Simon's forces in 1265, thus ending the game, "Simon says."

Whether it is truly rooted in Cicero, the philosopher, or Simon, the conqueror, it is a fun game for children. But when you get older, you soon learn to stop letting Simon boss you around.

So, who SHOULD we listen to? First, you need to realize that there are still a lot of Simons out there, shaking their fingers at you, and telling you what is and is not acceptable. Modern philosophers will tell you to listen to your inner child. That's kinda dumb. Doesn't that bring us full circle back to the kid who used to listen to Simon? The cultural gurus would tell you to listen to anyone who meets with their esoteric chalk dust theories...which usually leave you coughing, choking, scratching your head, or starving. Spiritually, the world would like to hang twenty-five signs pointing in twenty-five directions and have you believe all are equally viable...except for the one that points to Christ.

You can believe anything as long as you don't really believe it. You can do anything any way you want to do it as long you don't tell anybody it's the right way to do it. And you can stand on any truth you want to stand on as long as it doesn't come from a Bible or quote Jesus.

OR...

You can be honest. You can make an honest search. You can question why the prevailing philosophy of this world wants to Simonize you away from Jesus Christ and the Bible. You can open your ears and your heart and listen for that still, small voice that speaks from a heart of love, grace, and peace.

I'm not Simon. I'm Perry. I can't tell you what to do or believe. I can only tell you that I'm a recovering Simon-follower who has found Someone far better to follow. I'm a follower of Jesus Christ. There. I said it. Let the politically correct police pummel me with their arrogance and smug faith in the shifting sands of today's "Simon" who was yesterday's nobody and tomorrow's forgotten idol.

I believe in the Rock of Ages. I believe in the One is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I'm going to listen to the One who took my punishment and bears my scars all because He loved me.

By the way...I'm in good company. A guy named Simon (Peter) met this same Jesus and left everything to follow Him.

You don't have to take any baby steps or giant steps to find Jesus. He's only a prayer away. Call out to Him. He's waiting for you with arms open wide, not hands on His hips.

Perry says, "Jesus Saves." But Jesus saves whether Perry says so or not.

Clear Your Heart, Not Your Calendar

2009-09-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what some of that stuff on your calendar means? Not the stuff you wrote illegibly. The stuff printed on the calendar by the calendar-making people - the Calendarites.

The Calendarites have printed a couple of things on my calendar during this month that are incredibly significant, yet most Christians have no idea what any of it means nor how it relates to their faith.

Keeping in mind that this is a devotion and not a dissertation, let's glance at our "at-a-glance" calendars together and learn a little about some funny words printed there. Look at the 19th and the 28th of September. What do you see? Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Men, those are not famous fashion designers. Ladies, those are not famous athletes. They are Jewish holidays. Why should we care? We're Christians, not Jews. True. But Christianity came out of Judaism and Jesus was Jewish!

Reminds me of the Jewish Rabbi who sent his son to Jerusalem only to learn that his son met a Christian there and became a follower of Christ. The Rabbi was heartbroken, and went to God in prayer, "My son went to Jerusalem and became a Christian! What am I going to do?" God answered, "Why are you asking Me? So did Mine!"

Let's start with Rosh Hashanah. Translated, it means "head of the year." Believe it or not, "Happy New Year" hasn't always been celebrated by all things human on January 1st! The Jewish New Year isn't about fireworks and resolutions. It's about repentance and cleansing.

Rosh Hashanah is also known as the Feast of Trumpets. In ancient Israel, a trumpet (shofar) was blown for two reasons: to gather the Israelites together for an assembly or to sound an alarm to the troops that an enemy was approaching.

The trumpet means, "Get ready!" The trumpet is blown for 40 days to remind people to repent because Rosh Hashanah is coming. Sound familiar, Christian friend? I seem to recall the New Testament repeatedly warning followers of Christ to get ready and stay ready because of the promise of a trumpet blast that will announce the return of Christ! (1st Thessalonians 4:16-17). One big difference. When the trumpet blows to announce Christ's return, the Calendarites won't have it printed for us. 2nd Peter 3:10-12 reminds us that no one knows when that day will come.

Rosh Hashanah means, "Get ready." And the way to get ready is to repent. Turn from your sins. Be cleansed of your sins that have accumulated and now cling to you like dust and grime.

Are you listening for the trumpet? Are you ready for Jesus to return? I can't help but believe that Gabriel has been practicing and his angelic lips are near the horn. Repent and turn to Christ now while he's inhaling. Once he exhales and blows that trumpet, it will be too late.

How do you turn to Christ? Just tell God in your own words that you know you are a sinner and you want to accept the sacrifice of Yeshua (Jesus), who paid the penalty for your sins when He was crucified in your behalf. Ask Him to forgive you and cleanse you. God's grace is freely available to all who ask.

Yom Kippur. Day of Atonement. Separate the first two letters of atonement from the next three and you get the idea: "At One" -ment. Our sins separate us from God. To be atoned means to be made "at one" with God again.

All the other Jewish festivals are celebrative. Filled with singing and dancing before the Lord. Yom Kippur is a more solemn time. A time to 'fess up and seek God's forgiveness and mercy.

Yom Kippur was the only time of the year the High Priest could enter the Most Holy Place of the Temple. He would enter to atone for his own sins and for the sins of the people. A bull and goat were sacrificed and their blood was sprinkled on the mercy seat.

On this same day, a second goat was brought in -- a scapegoat was brought to the leaders of Israel. They laid hands on the animal, symbolically placing the sins of the Nation on it. Then they drove it out into the wilderness, believing that it was carrying their sins away.

Goat #1 paid for their sins with his blood. Goat #2 removed their sins from their presence. Goat #1 brought forgiveness. Goat #2 brought cleansing and restored them to a righteous standing before God.

At least, for a little while. It had to be repeated every year and was needed every month, week, day, and hour. Why? Because we are all professional sinners.

The Book of Hebrews in the New Testament explains all of this. It is called "Hebrews" because it reveals the truth of Yeshua's Messianic fulfillment to those Jews who seek to make an honest investigation of the claims of Christ. It brings the Jew to see that Judaism has been fulfilled in Jesus.

Yom Kippur. Day of Atonement. As a believer and follower of Christ, you have a Yom Kippur, too. There's been a day of atonement for you. It isn't on any of our current or recent calendars. It was etched into one calendar 2,000 years ago. "For Christ has not entered the holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us" (Hebrews 9:24).

Once Jesus made His sacrifice of atonement on the cross when He died for our sins, it finalized the need for annual sacrifices. "Not that He should offer Himself often...but now, once at the end of the ages, He has appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself...so Christ was offered once to bear the sins of many" (Hebrews 9:25-28).

By the way...Jesus IS returning. How do I know? He promised He would. He's kept every promise He ever made. Others can scoff and doubt. It makes them feel smart. That's fine. Jesus predicted they would, so when they do, they just make Him look right smart.

I don't know when Jesus is coming. I just know He is. When I see my calendar every September, it reminds me to be ready. Are you ready? If not, will you make an honest, unbiased search of the Bible for truth? Not because you already believe it ISN'T true and want to nitpick it to death, but because you really want to know if it IS true.

I know you're hungry for something that satisfies. Jesus is the bread of life, the manna from heaven, the source of living water, the light of the world, and the garment of righteousness.

Happy New Life!
Perry Crisp

What's That You're Wearing?

2009-09-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

"Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings" (Genesis 3:7).

An increasing number of television documentaries take aim at the Bible in an attempt to question the validity of its content. Scholars with a bias against belief in a sovereign God or sinful man pick apart Scripture by developing theories of logic that seek to trap God within the confines of human limitations. Like a glove that doubts the existence of a hand, they ignore the obvious.

They also ignore Biblical scholars with equal or greater credentials than the ones they interview because such scholars believe the Bible is true and accurate. Instead, they seek out like-minded doubters with the same agenda to convince us all that the Bible is not a valid source for the creation of the world, the existence of man, or the explanation of life.

Forgive me for being blunt, but the question begs to be asked: Why, then, do those who spout their doubt so freely against God's story still wear clothing? Don't get me wrong -- I'm GLAD they do! But why?

If the Bible-attackers and naysayers of God who diligently work to convince the world that the Bible is a myth and God is dead truly believe what they are spouting, shouldn't their logic lead them to stop covering themselves?

I'm not advocating a revival of nakedness. I'm asking those who are certain of the absence of God or the irrelevance of Scripture why they are still clothed. If, according to them, the Bible isn't true, including the creation and beginning of man through Adam and Eve, and the whole Garden of Eden thing -- then humans are not sinners and shame, guilt, and embarassment are not valid.

I, for one, am glad they are inconsistent at this point. But think about it. If there is no God, no sin, no fall of man, and all that follows according to Scripture, then why are we the only species shopping at JC Penney? After all, we're born naked. Yet we are quickly covered. Frogs are born naked and swim nude the rest of their lives.

Oh, I know what their answer would be. It is a social etiquette engrained in our society based on a false belief system that would be too shocking to our culture to reverse. Plus, you can get arrested.

I wonder. Is that an answer based on logic or is it a personal conviction? I have a sneaky suspicion that even if we removed the laws, even the loudest Bible haters would never feel comfortable removing clothing from their closets. Even the atheist thanks God for clothing.

I thank God for clothing, too. Especially at restaurants. But I believe the origin of the whole clothing thing goes back to the first couple. I believe it had everything to do with sin, shame, and the fall of humanity. I know I'm sacrificing my opportunity to be a guest theologian on PBS and the History channel, but I believe the Bible.

Blessed to be Dressed,
Perry Crisp

Lefty-Loosey, Righty-Tighty

2009-09-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

All dads are familiar with "daddy jobs." Daddy jobs are jobs that everyone else in the family gladly relies on dad to do. Dads get to deal with fun stuff like snakes in the house, spiders in the bathtub, and going outside at 2 a.m. to see why the dog is barking.

But there are other "daddy jobs" that a dad is called on to do because he's the only one strong enough to do them. The universal daddy job of all households is opening stuff. Well-taped packages that require a knife or sharp instrument? (Insert "toolman grunt" here). Daddy job. Sticky doors and drawers that swell and won't open easily? Daddy job.

The most common of all is the stuck jar lid. It can be a jelly jar, hot sauce jar, mayonnaise jar, or a jar of any kind with food products inside --- Daddy job.

"Dad, can you open this?" I've yet to figure out if that is a request, a command, or a challenge to my manhood. I always assume the latter and spring to the challenge. Thankfully, there haven't been too many that caused my face to turn red or my veins to thicken on my forehead. Most of them are opened rather easily. But every once in a while, a challenger comes along that is a worthy adversary.

"Dad, can you open this," asks your six-year-old daughter as she hands you a jar of preserves that has been passed down from grandma and has been sitting in an outside pantry rusting away since Truman was president. Without hesitation, you find yourself in a death-grip with that jar twisting with all your might. That old rusty jar takes you to your knees while your daughter looks at you in disappointment. You feel like Superman trying to open a jar of kryptonite and Lois Lane is shocked to see that you can't even open a jar!

After two or three innings, the old jar lid loosens and loses the battle against the man of the house. And yes, the man of the house takes a victory lap around the kitchen.

In the pantry of your life, there may be some things that need opening that fall into the category of "Daddy jobs." Not your earthly daddy. Your heavenly Father. There are some things that only the Father can open. Whether in your life or in the life of someone close to you, you can approach your Father and ask, "Daddy, can You open this?"

He can. God can open closed minds, barricaded hearts, and doors that we thought were permanently shut. Do you have a loved one whose heart and mind is closed toward God? Ask your heavenly Daddy to open it. Do you have a friend or someone you love deeply who has closed the door of their heart to you? Hand it over to your Father. Do you find it difficult to understand what the Bible is saying when you sit down to read it? Ask God to open your understanding. Luke 24:45 says, "And He (Jesus) opened their understanding, that they might comprehend the Scriptures."

Whatever the jar and however tight the lid, take it to Daddy. If He can open the closed tomb of His lifeless Son and bring Him back to life, He can open anything.

Perry Crisp

New Hunting Ranch for the PC Now Open

2009-09-02T07:40:00.000-07:00

New Hunting Ranch for the PC Now Open

Ever wanted to satisfy that innate craving to hate and hunt, but your political correctness keeps getting in the way? Sure, it's great feeling smug and self-righteous when defending the rights of the planet, animals and people less "people" than you, but what do you do with the call of the wild inside you?

Well, now you have an outlet! Bill Mayhem and Michael Moreorless have created El Rancho Diablo, government-funded (oops, that part was supposed to be a secret) hunting ranches for the Politically Correct. These ranches are conveniently located in several undisclosed locations on both the east and west coasts.*

What can you do at El Rancho Diablo? You can release the deep wells of anger and hatred you have for those pesky Christians and right-wing radio personalities at the top of your lungs without fear of having to defend your bias or irrational and unjustified disdain.

El Rancho Diablo is fully equipped with extravagant Shouting and Shooting Ranges. Our shouting and shooting ranges allow you the option of shouting or shooting a BB gun** at life-like fake wax*** replicas of Bible-thumping believers and your most despised radio right-wingers.

Want to pop a vein on your forehead while shouting at the top of your lungs at Rush Limbaugh, Michael Savage, Mark Levin, Laura Ingraham, or Shawn Hannity without fear of them talking back? No problem. Care to spew venom and hatred at a few smiling, hard-working, tax-paying, successful, upper-middle class Christians? Fire away!

Speaking of "firing away," we even provide weapons (because we know you've always wanted to hold one). At every shouting and shooting range, you can choose from a selection of BB guns ranging from BB pistols to semi-automatic BB rifles. Your personal trainer**** will assist you in the proper methods of gun handling. She or he will show you how to pick up the weapon, hold the weapon, and aim the weapon.

*A screening process is required to gain access to these locations to ensure that you won't actually have to confront a live Christian or right-wing radio personality.

**Of course, because this is a PC outing, the ranch only allows BB guns with blanks. All BB rifles come standard with recoil pads for your safety.

***No candles were harmed in the making of these replicas.

****Recently released Guantanamo Bay terror suspects.

Apply today. No logic necessary. Politicians, government employees, Oprahma, all news agency employees except FOX NEWS, and Liberal College Professors hunt free. No ID (or IQ for that matter) required. Lists of popular slogans and fool-proof irrelevant chants complete with demonstration signs supplied if you feel more comfortable holding a sign instead of a gun. While government funding lasts. Lawyers experienced in frivolous lawsuits are on standby for your convenience in case you wish to sue us.

Hugging an Answered Prayer

2009-08-27T07:15:00.000-07:00

I hugged an answered prayer last night. It is an "amazing grace" story that has encouraged me to continue even more boldly in a practice I've employed for several years.

Through the years I have noticed that waiters and waitresses are often mistreated and misrespected by the people they serve. I have seen people, even Christians, be embarrassingly rude to the person who takes their order, fills their tea glass, and delivers their meals.

I have a chosen the opposite path. If these human beings are going to be the targets of rudeness by other human beings on a regular basis, then I want to be a positive part of their day to help overshadow some of the negatives. At first, I started with simple acts of kindness and a little humor to let them know I wasn't going to be a problem customer. I also tip generously and unconditionally.

Another common practice of mine is to pray before each meal. Whether I am at a restaurant with family and friends or at my desk unwrapping a bologna sandwich, I pause to give thanks.

At some point, I started combining these two practices. I don't remember when, but one day, after my waitress took my order, I called her by name (thanks to the name tag) and told her we were going to have prayer before our meal and we would like to pray for her. I asked her if she had any specific needs. She gave a nervous answer, smiled, thanked me, and went to her next task, and I prayed for her.

I've been doing that ever since. I've made a few friends along the way in the restaurants I visit frequently. It has blessed me to pray for them. It has blessed them to have someone see them as a real person with real needs. On a side note, it is amazing how great the service is when you treat people with compassion and respect. Please don't do it for that reason or it will ruin the real blessing.

I have a long list of fantastic responses from waiters and waitresses that I could share with you, but I want to tell you what happened that resulted in last night's answered-prayer-hug.

The Lord called me to serve as pastor of Lake Fork Baptist Church in east Texas in November of last year. Shortly after God called us here, the church staff and their families invited us out to eat following a Sunday evening service. There is a restaurant right around the corner from the church. As usual, after the waitress came to our table and took our order, I asked her if she had any prayer requests.

She hesitated. Then she held back tears as she asked us to pray for her brother. She didn't go into any personal details, but the rest of the staff knew the young man and knew a little about his needs. Her request for prayer for her brother stuck with me. She was sincere. She smiled and thanked us. We prayed for him by name. That was ten months ago.

For ten months, every time I've entered that restaurant and seen that waitress, I've been reminded to pray for her brother, not knowing who he was...until last night.

After our Wednesday night services were over and we were standing around talking, one of my deacons tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I want you to meet someone who just met my best friend." I introduced myself to the young man and hugged him. He had that smile on his face that Jesus gives people right after He moves into their hearts.

My deacon told me the young man's name, but nothing registered. It's a common name. But the wife of our worship leader was looking at me funny. She had that wide-eyed look that indicated to me there was more to the story than I realized. She whispered into my ear, "Do you remember that time right after you came here that we went out to eat and you asked the waitress if she had any prayer needs, and she asked us to pray for her brother?"

I love it when the light comes on! Instantly, I had an "A-ha!" moment. This was him! I turned back to the young smiling man and said, "Young man, I prayed for you long before I ever met you." I told him the story. We hugged again. That hug was sweeter than the one before because I was hugging an answered prayer.

I'm encouraged to continue asking waitresses and cashiers and anyone else God puts in my path if they have a prayer need. There's nothing like hugging the neck of an answered prayer.

When you go to a restaurant, do yourself a favor. After they take your order, take theirs.

Perry Crisp

Big Mike

2009-08-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

Mike walked into our Sunday school class for the first time and immediately my eight-year-old mind went to work. Mike was ridiculously tall for an eight-year-old. His feet and hands were huge. He looked like a combination of three people: the body of a sixteen-year-old basketball player, the hands and feet of a twenty-three-year-old football player, and the face of an eight-year-old choir boy. He was shy, but all smiles.

Jodie and Melvin wanted to make fun of him, but I huddled them up and quickly reminded them how terrible our boy's basketball team for the church was. We needed Mike! So we started in with the smooth-talking, "Hey...Mike...buddy!"

Being incredibly skilled at transparency, my first question was, "Mike, do you play basketball?"

His answer startled me. He smiled and said, "Nope. I've never tried."

Never tried? This was alarming news to a boy who slept with a basketball, played basketball all day until darkness hid the rim, dribbled the basketball in the garage waiting for it to stop raining, and used every curtain rod and tennis ball in the house for an imaginary basketball game.*

Big deal. Michael had never played basketball before. He was only eight. How hard could it be to teach him what he needed to know?

You'd be surprised.

It was quite a challenge. Mike was so strong, he didn't shoot the ball, he launched it. His body had grown so fast that he was still catching up to it. His reactions were slower than a turtle race on slo-mo instant replay. His strength was greater than his mind could process. His feet were so big, he couldn't run. He galloped in a painful lumbering motion that looked like it hurt. It was like watching Elaine Benes dance.

He nearly wore out the center part of the court. By the time he almost got on the defensive end of the floor, we had the ball and were heading to our goal. As everyone passed by him, he would turn around and head to the offensive end. Shortly after he turned around, we were running back to play defense.

By the time our first game came around, our coach realized that Mike was a work in progress so he left Mike on the bench. It didn't hurt Mike's feelings at all. He was happy to be on the team and was proud of his FBBO jersey (First Baptist, Bevil Oaks...though the other churches thought it stood for Funny Boy Body Odor).

The game I remember most was a game against FBB (First Baptist, Beaumont). They were the rich kids. They had the high dollar brand new Pony shoes, four sweat bands on each arm, and shiny jerseys with their names stitched on the back. They were one of the few churches that had a gym in those days, so we always played them on their home turf.

Yes, it was church basketball. But it was all-out war. All we ever wanted was to beat FBB. But FBB was not about to lose to a backwoods church from the bayou. We were whistled for fouls every twenty seconds. If we got close to one of their players, it was a foul. Yet they could knock us over, take the ball, and run to the other end of the court and score without a whistle being blown.

I was the second one on our team to foul out. Eventually, all five starters fouled out and Michael was sent into the game. Bless his heart. He tried. He was such a big teddy bear. The boys from the other team were scared of him at first. But Mike's smile gave away the purity of his heart and they eventually started pushing him around.

Mike let them. Though a hundred times stronger and a foot taller, he let them run into him, knock him down, and push him around.

Our coach called time-out. Coach encouraged Mike to keep his ski---his feet planted and not let them push him around. And because Mike couldn't keep up with the speed of the game, Coach told Mike to stand close to the other team's goal and not let them drive in for a layup. Mike smiled and nodded.

Sure enough, Mike stood where Coach told him to stand. But he just smiled at the other team as they went around him and scored. I was about to snap. Not at Mike. I loved Mike. Mike and I had become buddies. Mike was the kindest, most gentle kid I'd ever met. He would do anything for me. I was just tired of seeing them score over and over and make taunting gestures at my buddy.

As Mike stood under the other team's goal, the rest of our team had the ball on our end of the floor and were trying to run a play. One of the players from the other team stole the ball. He was the biggest "show-off" on their team. He had been teasing Mike and making fun of him since Mike first smiled at him.

When "Show-off" stole the ball, there were only ten seconds left in the game. He drove the ball right toward Mike. Mike just stood there, smiling at him. I'd had enough. I yelled, "Mike, hit him!"

Let's hit the pause button on the action for a second. In my eight-year-old church-basketball-playing mind, when I said, "Hit him," I envisioned Mike stepping in front of the show-off, standing his ground, and having some type of bodily contact that would either be called a foul or a charge.

Mike's mind took a more literal route.

Mike looked at me as if I was his commanding officer and I had just given him a direct, yet puzzling command. But a command it was, and he was determined to carry it out. After he looked at me, he looked at the show-off. The smile on Mike's face was replaced by a furrowed brow and tight lips. Mike's right man-hand drew up in a fist big enough to cover "Show-off's" entire face. Mike pulled that mighty fist back and let it fly.

The show was over for "Show-off." Mike's punch landed squarely and "Show-off" reversed his motion and landed flat on his back.

I was amazed at how quickly everyone's eyes went from the floor to the bench. EVERYONE was looking at me...especially Coach. The blood left my face and I shrugged my shoulders as I pleaded my case, "I didn't mean 'HIT HIM' like that!"

After that game, I quit trying to make Mike into my image of what I thought he should be. It was reassuring to have a huge friend who responded so well to my commands. But I gave up the plans I had for him because it was what I wanted...not what Mike wanted.

Since then, I've learned a great deal about plans. Not only have I learned that I cannot decide or coerce the plans of other people's lives, I've learned to feed my own plans and agendas for my life into the shredder, too. Why?

Life's not about me. I'm not here for me. Life's about purpose. If my life has a purpose, then there must be a Purposer. In fact, there is. God created me and you for a purpose. God has plans for you. Awesome plans. "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'" (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV).

I command no one. I am called to surrender, submit, and serve. Lest you think that sounds icky, let me assure you -- it is the greatest place and path that any of us can be in or on. To be where and who God made you to be is indescribably fulfilling.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20, NIV).

Don't worry. I won't hit you. Unless God tells me to. So far, He hasn't. Even when I've tried to talk Him into it.

Hopefully, Mike's learned the same lesson I have. I hope you have, too. Let God be your guide. He has the plans and knows the way.

Oh, and if you see a guy my age with an unusually large nose, would you tell him, "Perry's sorry."

Perry Crisp

*Curtain rod basketball with a tennis ball is fun. The curtain rod is at just the right distance from the wall to allow a tennis ball to squeeze between it. Some of the best dunks of my life were in a living room. Enjoy!

Gainer or Loser?

2009-08-20T07:37:00.000-07:00

A "gainer" is a type of dive in which the diver does a backwards flip while his body is going forward. The diver faces the water, springs forward off the diving board, and the movement of his body continues progressing forward. Yet, while moving forward in the air, the diver reverses his momentum, causing his body to do a back flip while progressing forward.

The only difficult part of this maneuver is convincing your mind that such a thing makes sense. Of course, there is also the "trial and error" period that can be painful until the dive is perfected.

I have seen people try this dive who were over-anxious about getting the back flip motion going a millisecond after their toes left the board instead of waiting until they got to the top of their jump. Ouch! Tossing your head back too soon before clearing the diving board area can give you a nasty headache.

The other mistake I have seen people make is freezing up or losing their bearings before they finish the backward rotation. Ouch again! Faces, bellies, and backs make an awful popping noise when they hit the water like a bulldog chasing a parked car. Side effects include redness, occasional swelling, a serious stinging sensation, laughter from the pool rats, and momentary embarrassment.

My advice? 1) Wear a shirt and a ski mask until you get the gainer perfected. 2) Learn this dive when you're young. Adults, don't try this at home.

My daughter was surprised to see her 47-year-old dad do a gainer the other day. I wasn't suprised that I could do the gainer. I was more concerned about my ancient knees cooperating at the impact of the bounce. But the springiness...springyness...oy... (I feel the need to introduce a new word). But the sprength of the limber diving board took a great deal of pressure off my old-man knees and I got the bounce I needed.

I felt like a kid again!

A gainer at a swimming pool is to be celebrated. But what about when a Christian or a church does a gainer? What do we do when we are moving forward in Christ and the momentum of the Holy Spirit of God is launching us unto new heights, and we foolishly give in to the temptation to reverse our motion?

It is a guarantee that every time a believer or body of believers is making great leaps of spiritual progress, the enemy gets busy in an effort to stop or slow down the progress. He pulls out all the stops. He whispers doubt into the heart and pride into the head to convince us to reverse our motion.

When the devil is successful in convincing us to gainer, we end up a loser. A messy "splat" is heard and felt. It is heart-wrenching.

Observers sit poolside and turn to one another in confusion, "What are they doing? They were going in the right direction. Why did they stop? Why did they try to go back?"

God's people have always struggled with this. A few days after the Israelites were delivered from the bondage of 400 years of slavery to the Egyptians, gainer-whining could be heard among the masses. In nasal-sounding tones that are reminiscent of (other people's) kids in the back seat of the family car, the Israelites whined, "We want to go ba-a-a-ack to Egypt."

Those sitting by the Red Sea pool leaned toward one another and said, "They want to go back? God just set them free from slavery and is leading them to the Promised Land --- and they want to go back?"

We do. We all do. We gainer from time to time. But what do we do when our gainer leaves us feeling like a loser? We go back to the sprength of the One who lifted us before! His grace and forgiveness heals the pain of our splat.

Christianity is a second-chance sport. Failure isn't final. "One-and-done" isn't the way God operates.

Come on in...the water's fine.
Perry Crisp

Yes, You CAN

2009-08-13T08:22:00.000-07:00

At the back corner of our church property you will find a small, fenced-in area with a sign that reads "Cans for Christ." It is a place where people can drop off their aluminum cans for recycling.

The beauty of recycling aluminum is that the aluminum can be melted down and reused over and over again. It can be a coke* can today or an airplane tomorrow. (Not all by itself, you understand). Or it can be melted down and end up on a bicycle, a computer, a car, a boat, or a house (as a gutter, wiring, or siding).

Take a journey with me for a moment. Let's be an RC Cola can. An RC Cola can is a thing of beauty. You'll not find a more beautiful color of blue than the blue on an RC Cola can. I can hear some of you now: "Why RC?" This is a devotional article, not a business meeting. I'm writing this and I like RC Cola. You Dr. Pepper people just back off! (Insert smiley face here).

So, we're an RC Cola can. We're shipped to a convenience store near Lake Fork, Texas. A tall, lanky preacher from a church up the road stops at the convenience store, opens the refrigerator door, picks us up, purchases us, and takes us back to his truck.

There he pops the top and we pour the refreshing content of our can down his throat. When he gets to the bottom, we're empty. Our usefulness appears to be completed. At first, he tosses us into a Subway bag along with the trash from his recent lunch. We're done! We're trash! We're doomed to life in a landfill next to a smelly diaper!

But then he retrieves us from the bag, pulls up to a small, fenced-in area, and tosses us into an apparent graveyard of empty cans. We look around and there are cans of every nationality and race scattered all around us. The generic cans are there. Apparently, Baptists buy the cheap stuff.

But the big dogs are there, too. You know, the popular ones with all the nice theme songs and commercials. A few energy drink cans are also laying around. They look tired. And don't look now, but there are a few beer cans, too. Some Presbyterians must be sneaking onto the Baptist parking lot at night to drop off their cans. Or maybe one of the Sunday school classes had a fish fry and needed the beer for batter (wink, wink).

Eventually, someone loads us and all the other cans into a truck and we are delivered to a recycling center. There we go through a painful process. We are cut up into tiny pieces, sprayed with chemicals, crushed, melted, beaten, molded, and remade into a flat panel. We're not sure what we are now. We wind up at a manufacturing plant that makes airplanes and we are riveted onto the wing of a beautiful, massive airplane.

We are no longer a single can quickly consumed. We are now a part of something bigger. Now, we soar high above every convenience store, grocery store, coke* machine, beverage truck, and warehouse. A flight from DFW takes us right over Lake Fork. We find the church, the parking lot, and the tiny fence where we once laid. It wasn't a graveyard after all.

On the count of three, I'm going to snap my fingers and we are no longer the aluminum can/airplane. One, two, three. SNAP.

The little fence is a lot like the buildings just to the east of it. People enter as individuals who feel that their lives have been spent and tossed onto the landfill of broken dreams. But God uses empty containers. We are called upon to die to ourselves, take up His cross, and follow Him. Our old nature is melted down. Our old life is removed like dross. We are made into something new and beautiful.

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. Old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new" (2nd Corinthians 5:17, NKJV).

"Anyone who belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten, and everything is new" (2nd Corinthians 5:17, CEV).

"They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31).

Perry Crisp

*Generic word in the South for all carbonated beverages...also know as "pop" or "soda" by my friends up North. We know it isn't politically correct and we are comfortable with that.

GLAD I'm No Longer HEFTY

2009-08-10T08:41:00.000-07:00

It's trash day. In our neighborhood, several neighbors share a trash corner. Every Monday, each neighbor carries his or her week's worth of trash to the corner and adds it to the ever-growing pile.

There's no dumpster. We just drop our sacks and stacks of trash on the grass near the street sign. There are huge sacks of trash and little sacks of trash. There are white sacks and black sacks. There are high-dollar, reinforced, double-walled trash bags with objects bulging and pushing, but not bursting through the sides of the bag. There are cheap bags that rip and tear easily.

All bags of all kinds from all neighbors taken to the same exact spot and left there. Later in the day, a trash truck pulls up to trash corner and picks up all our trash and takes it away. By mid-afternoon, trash corner is always cleared of trash...as if the trash had never been there.

This morning I drove past trash corner without stopping. Not because I didn't have trash. I'd been carrying three trash bags in the bed of my truck for two days. I put the trash back there in anticipation of trash day. But after a couple of days of hauling it around, I forgot it was back there. I became accustomed to seeing it there and didn't even notice it when I drove out of the driveway this morning. I drove right past trash corner with my trash still in my truck.

I made it about a block and a half before it dawned on me that I forgot to drop off my trash. I turned around at the next driveway and returned to trash corner. I removed the three bags from the bed of my truck and left them there.

After I set the trash bags down, I looked up at the sign. The sign had two identifying markers on it: a county road number and the name of the county. I looked up and saw the county name -- Wood -- and that's when things turned weird.

As I stood beneath that Wood County road sign with my trash bags at my feet, my mind transitioned from the physical to the spiritual. I saw myself standing beneath a Wooden cross, having laid my bags of sin at the base of it.

This is what Jesus did for me. And for you. But it wasn't a Monday. It was a Friday. Good Friday. Jesus took the trash of our sins away to a hill called Calvary. On that hill, Jesus "became sin for us" on a wooden cross and removed every bag. He didn't toss it in a landfill and cover it up. He took it down to the ocean floor of the Sea of Forgetfulness and there it dissolved.

How often do we carry our sinful trash around with us? How many times do we overlook our baggage and bypass the cross? Turn around. Repent. Take your sins to Sin Corner and gratefully lay them beneath the Wooden cross of Jesus.

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" - 1st John 1:9.

Perry Crisp

Yabba-Dabba-lujah!

2009-08-03T08:32:00.000-07:00

Every Flintstone cartoon ended the same. After a slab of prehistoric ribs was set on the Flintstone's car, causing it to tip over, the family would make their way to their boulder-home. Once they were inside their rocky residence, Fred would reappear on the front porch to set out an empty milk bottle.*

Fred would then go back inside the house, pick up the kitty (a saber tooth tiger), and toss it outside. As soon as Fred slammed the door shut, the kitty would go back inside the house by jumping through an open window. Then the door would open, the kitty would have Fred by the collar, and would toss him outside and shut the door.

The final scene was always the same. Fred was left outside his own house, banging on the door, yelling, "Wilmaaaaaaa!"

Why I remember the vivid details of childhood cartoons but couldn't tell you the first thing that happened at the Battle of Bull Run is beyond me. But let's stay focused.

That final Flintstone clip is the picture I want us to see. Fred. Outside his own home. Banging on the door. Tossed out by the family pet.

Do you see the sad irony? It's Fred's house. He's the owner. He's the provider. He works in the rock quarry day in and day out to make a living and provide for his family. He's the man of the house. The slab of rock that has "Mortgage" chiseled at the top and "Signature" chiseled at the bottom has Fred's "X" inscribed into it.

If it weren't for Fred, that cat would be Teradactyl food. But the cat is cozy inside the house of Fred and Fred is left outside his own home.

Now turn to the Book of Revelation. The second and third chapters of Revelation are messages from God to seven churches. God, the Creator, Owner, Founder, and Provider of the church writes these words to the church of Laodicea: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock..."

What? God is standing outside His own house...knocking. God wants in. That disturbs me. The Church is God's own special people, redeemed by the blood of Jesus. Is it possible that we could go on with "church" in cozy kitten-like comfort without God?

Yes, it is. I've been in churches all my life. Before it was ever an occupational hazard, it was an occupational hazard by proxy. Not only am I a preacher, but I'm a son of a preacher. I've always been in church. I love the church. But I've seen enough churches to know that God isn't always inside. At least not in any discernible way.

If you sense the presence and power of God in the church you attend, then thank and praise God for it. I do...every day. In far too many churches, His absence is overwhelmingly noticeable. God often seems like a visitor, an occasional guest, or an inactive member.

God should be the most active member of the church.

What hinders God's activity? What keeps God knocking on the outside of the church? Disunity. Corporate sin. Pride. Unauthorized revisions of His authorized revelation. I'm sure the list is longer, but these are the main reasons.

The better question is: What encourages God's activity? It is so simple. Just add the word "genuine" to the front of each of the following answers: Prayer, worship, brokenness, honesty, acceptance, forgiveness, unity, ministry, fellowship, brotherly love, proclamation of His Word, and lifting up the name of Jesus.

God also shows up where He's expected and invited. That might be the simplest of solutions for some fellowships.

It should go without saying, but I will. Hasn't He bled enough for us already? Why should He have to bloody His knuckles on the doors of our churches?

Fred had a rock house. God has a house that rocks...if we will let Him in and let Him loose.

Perry Crisp

*For those born post-1970, it was once common practice for every home to be visited by the milk man in the wee hours of the morning. You could set your empty glass milk containers on the porch at night. In the morning, the milk man would pick up the empties and replace them with fresh, cold milk...so I've read.

Nuttered

2009-07-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

Words never uttered...from the animal kingdom:

Fish: "I'm thirsty."

Cow: "That hamburger looks good."

Snail: "It all happened so fast."

Eagle: "No thanks. I'd rather walk."

Vulture: "Gross! I'm not eating that!"

Snake: "Hey, look! A guy with a hoe. I wonder if he's friendly."

Porcupine: "That was the best massage I ever got."

Cat: "I hope Jamie wants to play 'fetch' today!"

Alligator: "What! No salad bar?"

Turkey: "I love November."

Salmon: "I'll be back."

Armadillo, Opossum, Rabbit, & Turtle: "Always look both ways before crossing the road."

Words never uttered...from me:

"May I please have a pickle?"

"Oh boy! Algebra!"

"I wish I had a cat."

"I wonder what's on HG tv."

"Alright! Golf AND Nascar on tv at the same time! Cool!"

"I'll be back right after I get an earring and highlights."

"Fishing? Nah, I'm too tired."

"I only feel like preaching ten minutes today."

Words never uttered...from Biblical characters:

Adam to Eve: "Oh yeah? I'll have you know there are PLENTY of women who find me attractive!"

Eve to Adam: "Honey, I wouldn't eat that if I were you."

Noah (before the ark): "I've always dreamed of operating a zoo."

Noah (after the ark): "We sure could use some rain."

Abraham: "Sodom seems like a nice place to raise a family."

Lazarus: "I don't believe in miracles."

Satan: "You really need to think this through."

Jesus: "I could probably help you get to heaven. Or you could try one of those other guys. Either way."

God: "I changed my mind. I don't love you any more."

Perry Crisp
(Okay, so I admit. My quiet time got a little off-track this morning)

Elperryjah

2009-07-28T12:20:00.000-07:00

Elijah, the prophet, stood alone before Ahab, the king of Israel. Ahab was not high on God's "This is how you should rule Israel" list. In fact, "Ahab did more to provoke the Lord God of Israel to anger than all the kings of Israel who were before him" (1st Kings 16:33).

Because of Ahab's sin, God was going to turn the water sprinklers off. Israel was about to see clear skies. No rain. No sprinkle. Not even a light mist. Hebrew forecasters would soon forget how to say "precipitation."

Elijah had the privilege of telling the wicked king about God's "No Repentance, No Rain" policy. Elijah was a Tishbite from Gilead. Mean anything to you? Basically, Elijah was a renegade preacher from the back woods of a foreign country. He was no dignitary. Not a politician. Like today's politicians, he knew nothing of foreign relations. He just knew that God set him on Ahab's front porch, told him to ring the doorbell, deliver a message, and run!

Why Elijah? We're not sure. Other than the fact that Elijah was close enough to God to hear Him speak. Apparently, Israel wasn't. God will do that sometimes. He will use an available witness to confront a wayward soul just to get His message across.

Elijah's name and his story begin and end with God. "El" means "God" and "jah" means "Lord." All that's left to his name is "i." Add a little English to a lot of Hebrew and you could translate Elijah's name this way: God(me)Lord. A lot of God at the front and back...and a little bit of me in the middle. That's the way it should be for all of us.

Even in his name, El-i-jah was surrounded by God.

Zoom in on this one scene and you'll see a fiery, rugged, rawboned country preacher facing a rotund, posh, self-absorbed king. Elijah walked into six decades of immorality, idolatry, rebellion, and violence and pronounced a multi-year drought.

It was not a good time to invest in an umbrella company because Elijah was right. The drought came. The land of Israel suffered an unprecedented string of days, weeks, months, and years without a single drop of rain.

God provided for Elijah's food, water, and shelter. When the time was right, God sent Elijah out again to stand before a thinner, thirstier shadow of a king. When the smoke and dust settled, Elijah, the lone prophet of God prevailed over hundreds of Ahab's false prophets.

We live in a day and in a land where immorality and ungodliness surround us. We are called upon to sometimes stand alone against the evil that everyone else ignores or accepts. When we do, we are never really alone. God looks for special people in difficult times to stand for truth and righteousness.

Will you?

God probably wants to use you to lead others through difficult times. You can be someone's El-i-jah. In fact, go ahead and put your name between the "El" and the "jah" --- El________jah.

Surrender to the God who wants to surround you and let Him use you. All it takes is a lot of Him and a little bit of you.

Elperryjah

Are You Over, Over?

2009-07-20T08:24:00.000-07:00

"Get over it!" Someone recently gave me a motorcycle patch with those three words on it.

Great advice, isn't it? If only we knew how. No matter what "it" is that we need to get over, the issue isn't always so easily resolved.

Some things take a while to get over. Grief is a natural process when we experience a significant loss. A process which often takes time and great effort.

Occasionally, we experience things we will never get over. They permanently impact our lives. They shape who we are. They mold our character and our outlook. These can be good as well as bad. On the good side, I will never get over being forgiven of my sin and adopted into God's forever family. On the bad side, I will never get over being born in Louisiana! (Can't wait to see the emails I get on that one).

But seriously... There is much that we can and should get over. So, why don't we? Is it because we don't want to? Possibly. Even negative attention is a type of attention. It is attention we won't get if we "get over it." Pathetic attention is still attention. Enabling attention is still attention. We may not get over some things because of the attention we get from it. But does the word "unhealthy" mean anything?

Sometimes we don't get over things we should get over simply because we don't know how. It isn't really a lack of desire. It's a lack of direction.

We need God's help. Thankfully, God provides it. Proverbs are not just proverbial, they're provisional. And directional. God helps us get over anything from speed bumps to mountain passes in His Word.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths" (Proverbs 3:5-6, NKJV). The NIV says, "He will make your paths straight." In other words, stop trying to figure it out for yourself, and start trusting and acknowledging God as your pathfinder. He will lead you and guide your steps. You'll be surprised what God can help you get over.

There are also times when God guides us to others to help point us in the right direction. Make no mistake about it. I believe in counseling! I believe that God calls and equips people in fantastic and amazing ways to give guidance and counsel to His children to help us along our way.

I don't recommend secular counseling (no matter how degrees they have behind their name) because they leave a very integral part of the puzzle in the box. They don't address the spiritual. And if they do, they do so with vague generalities. Why leave the greatest source of hope and healing out of counseling?

I highly recommend solid, licensed, Bible-based Christian counselors. God has placed them in my life when I needed them and I have found their ministry invaluable. GASP!!! A pastor who had to see a counselor??? Absolutely. If you've read enough of my stuff, you've probably already thought about recommending it anyway!

I certainly recommend counseling. We all need help along the way. Proverbs also says, "Where there is no counsel, the people fall; but in the multitude of counselors there is safety" (Proverbs 11:14).

So, get over it. Getting over something doesn't mean you forget it. It means it no longer hinders your ability to grow and function the way you were meant to. When it may seem impossible to us, Jesus reminds us that nothing is impossible with God.

Got to Texas as soon as I could...
Perry Crisp

Nose Prose

2009-07-15T08:50:00.000-07:00

I have a big nose. There. I said it. It' snot a family trait. Oops. It's not a family trait. It isn't big because I wiggled it too many times. It isn't a compensation for big fingers. My nose is big because of a diving accident.

In my early teens, our community swimming pool had an awesome diving board. It was so limber, it would almost touch the water when you pushed off. Like most pools, this one had a deep end, a shallow end, and a slope bridging the two.

Back in those pre-frivolous lawsuit days, it was no big deal if the lifeguard forgot to put the rope across the pool with the little white and blue kegs on it to mark the division between the deep and shallow ends. The day my nose got bigger, the rope was curled up, taking a nap in the pump house.

The broken-nose dive was quite a beautiful swan dive. I hit the board hard, sprung high, spread my wings, pointed my toes, threw my head back, and flew...and flew...and flew. Beyond the deep end. I entered the water and met the upward slope of the bottom of the pool.

Concrete met bone. Concrete won.

I pug-nosed the bottom of the pool. It was bad. I looked like I had been chasing parked cars.The nose bone broke, flattened, and widened. The bleeding eventually stopped. The swelling and bruises slowly disappeared. But the bone has remained the same.

I considered surgery until I found out what it was called: Rhinoplasty! Really? Is that necessary? Isn't it bad enough to have a big nose without having to be compared to a rhinoceros? If they are kind enough to come up with "liposuction" and "tummy tuck," instead of...nevermind. You get the point.

I'm comfortable with the scenter of my face...no matter how much facial real estate it occupies. Besides, it was a beautiful dive worthy of an ESPN highlight reel... If only we'd had film back then...or TV...or electricity.

That dive taught me some important lessons: 1) Feel free to dive, but remember there's a bottom. 2) Keep arms extended upon entry and hands ready to meet the bottom of the pool.

Unless...

Unless you are soul-diving into the pool of God's grace. In that case, feel free to spring high and dive straight down with no concern for the bottom. There isn't one. Same with the pool of God's love. No bottom. Dive deep!

How do I know? I've been to the cross and found grace and love immeasurable. The more you realize the amount of love and grace it took for God to send His Son to die for your sins, the easier it will be to convince you of the infinite nature of it.

It's as plain as the nose on your face...or even mine.

Perry Crisp

Same Difference

2009-07-13T09:32:00.000-07:00

When I pastored my first church, I was very young. Mid-twenties. Full of ideas. Most of my ideas were shot down by the much older congregation. The most memorable was when we were discussing ways to make ourselves visible to our community and I suggested we have "dinner on the grounds" after church one Sunday. An old, moss-backed deacon stood up and said, "Preacher, we tried that back in '65 and it rained."

The stunned look on my face froze in complete disbelief for a solid two minutes. What was the old guy saying? He was saying, "We're tired of trying and failing."

Same road. Same results. That's how we think. It's logical enough...usually. You don't talk to certain people because you have tried and tried and they continue to snub you. You don't expend tired energy on something when you've already tried and failed.

Peter understood. He had fished and fished all night long and caught nothing. I feel his pain. Someone defined insanity as "doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." The guy who said that may have been in the boat with me at the time.

There is a lot of truth in that. But it isn't a hard and fast rule. It's a general observation. What if you do the same thing over again, but this time you do so with a different attitude, a renewed motivation, or utilizing the strength and energy of someone else's enthusiasm?

We tried it again in '85 and it didn't rain. It was an enjoyable and successful experience. As people drove by, we waved them in as an invitation to eat with us. And they did!

Peter fished all night and caught nothing. He was tired. His enthusiasm for fishing gone. His hope of catching depleted. But he had Jesus in his boat this time. And it was Jesus who asked for a guided fishing trip.

"Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing; nevertheless at Your word I will let the down the net" (Luke 5:5).

The legend of tall fishermen tales was born. They caught so many fish, their nets were breaking. They had to bring in a reinforcement boat. They filled both boats so full of fish that they were starting to sink.

Same lake, same boat, same nets, same fishermen. Much different results. Why? This time, they had Jesus in the boat.

Jesus once said something we need to remind ourselves of at least once a week: "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible" (Matthew 19:26).

Let's try this again...with Jesus on board.
Perry Crisp

Catfish Christians

2009-07-09T08:52:00.000-07:00

My daily route to the office and back takes me by a series of beautiful homes, ranches, pastures, and across portions of Lake Fork. It is a beautiful commute.

With one exception. A catfish. A large catfish. Hanging on a fence post. He's been there quite a while. Apparently, the owner of that property caught a nice big catfish and wanted us all to know it. So he slipped the bottom jaw of the catfish over the top of a t-post and left him there.

And left him there.

And left him there.

Some people hang wreaths on their doors. Others have ornate signs decorating their driveway to inform us that "The Hendersons" live there.

But this is Texas. We're liable to hang anything from a prized catfish to a freshly-killed coyote over our fences. We even pull up to the local diner with our tailgates down, facing the highway so everyone can see the deer, hog, or snake we kilt (that's how we say it...not killed...kilt...don't tell a Texan that a kilt is a man-skirt unless you want to wind up on our tailgate).

Back to the hanging catfish. It's July. Not July in Ontario. July in Texas. The catfish has been there so long, I can't even remember when I first saw it. But it's been months. Catfish aren't supposed to be brown. But they get that way when they've been out of the water and in the sun long enough.

It really doesn't even resemble a catfish any more. There's not much left but bones and fried dried fish flesh. Jerky anyone? Sorry.

Do you know what I've noticed about myself? Even though I know the catfish is gross, I still look. I even anticipate it. "Here it comes...here it comes...there it is...ewwwwww..."

Half a million dollar homes to look at, and I barely see them. The most beautiful lake in Texas with the most awesome-looking bass boats on it, and my thoughts are elsewhere. But I notice the catfish.

That catfish got me to thinking about Christians. The same thing that happens to a catfish out of water happens to a Christian out of fellowship with Christ and His church. We get dry. Crusty. Hardened. It's hard for a leathery soul to feel much. Christ will never leave us nor forsake us, but we can take leave of and forsake our call to follow Him.

What kind of Catfish Christian are you today? Are you enjoying the cool waters of an ongoing swim with Jesus? Or are you flopping around on dry ground, starving yourself of what you most need to truly live?

That cafish didn't turn brown overnight. Your heart won't harden toward Christ overnight, either. It happens gradually. We need fellowship with Christ as regularly and importantly as we need oxygen. But we let so many things get in our way.

Something the preacher or the Sunday school teacher or the deacon said... The way sister Lulu looked at you... Whatever tries to get in your way, do me a favor. Try to imagine a catfish swimming itself right out of the lake onto dry ground and climbing up to the top of a t-post because of what Mr. Bass or Miss Perch said...

Sound ridiculous? Sure it does. That's the point.

Off the Fence Post, Into the Fish Pond...
Perry Crisp

Dropping Like Celebrities

2009-07-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

Roll was called recently and a great number of celebrities went from "here" to absent: Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Ed McMahon, Billy Mays, Karl Malden, Fred Travalena, and Steve McNair. All of them died within days of each other.

We could categorize their deaths with various adverbs: Some died valliantly. Others died mysteriously. One died tragically. But the adverbs we most often hear at this time are "expectedly" and "unexpectedly."

The world may have expected a few on that list to die. Farrah, Ed, and Fred battled long illnesses. Karl was pushing 100. But the others were a complete shock. Michael died in bed with a doctor nearby. Billy died a few hours after receiving a slight bump on his head. Steve was brutally murdered.

But is death ever unexpected? Everyone dies...eventually. None of the founding fathers of our nation are still getting mail. All the old Pharaohs have entered their mummy clothes and pyramids. The Huns have all ended their pillaging. Any sign of Billy the Kid? Sir Walter Raleigh? Julius Casaer? Even George Burns eventually smoked one too many Sir Walter Raleighs.

Death is never unexpected. The date and time of a person's death may catch us by surprise, but death itself is written into everyone's calendar.

The Bible makes an exclusive claim: "It is appointed unto men once to die..." (Hebrews 9:27, KJV). The Psalmist asked a rhetorical question: "What man can live and not see death?" (Psalm 89:48). We know the answer.

Death is an inevitable chapter of life. But it isn't the end of the story. There have been a lot of soft words and phrases attached to death to make it more palatable. My least favorite one is "expired." Sounds too much like a gallon of milk or a credit card.

"Passing" is a better word for death. Not just because I will finally be able to "pass" something, but because "passing" paints a more accurate picture. Since death is not the end, it is then a transition. It is a passing from one place to another. It is leaving the land of clocks, calendars, and aging to enter the land of eternity.

Death itself may not be optional, but the route you take after death is. While your loved ones are asking, "Why?" you'll be facing a different kind of "Y." You will go in one of two directions.

Before you die, you have a choice to make. There are important plans you need to make. I'm not talking about funeral arrangements or cemetery plots. I'm talking about reservations.

Where you will spend eternity is a choice you need to make before your name is called. Your choice is heaven or hell. If you want to go to heaven, you have to choose Jesus Christ while you're on earth.

Everyone will want Jesus after their first second in hell.

In spite of what Oprah and Obama say, the Bible says there is only one way to heaven --- through Jesus. Jesus had this to say about that: "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me" (John 14:6).

I only shared half of each verse from Hebrews 9:27 and Psalm 89:48. The Hebrews passage finishes by saying, "...but after this, the judgment." Judgment is as inevitable as death. We are all guilty because we've all sinned against God. The rest of Psalm 89:48 asks, "Can he deliver his life from the power of the grave?" The answer is --- you and I can't, but Jesus can!

Jesus is the only one to conquer death. He died in our place to pay for our sins. Having finalized that payment, He then rose from the dead. Death couldn't hold Him. And now...death can't hold those who've placed themselves in Jesus' hands by faith in His atoning death.

Fred Travelena may be the least recognized name on the list of celebrities who have recently died. Fred was a celebrity impersonator. You and I will one day impersonate these celebrities, too. We, too, will die. Expectedly.

Shouldn't you make the necessary arrangements?

Author Relatively Unknown,
Perry Crisp

Set Free for Freedom

2009-07-01T09:49:00.000-07:00

The 4th of July is a blank box on my calendar. No plans. Yet, even that is symbolic of Independence Day. Freedom means we can make our own plans. We can even make our own un-plans. I love the 4th of July!

What bothers me is the health of all that the 4th of July symbolizes in this country. Independence Day used to shine like chrome at a Barrett-Jackson auction. Maybe it's just me, but there's a dimness to this date that wasn't there before. Do you sense a slight absence of some of the majesty of it's former glory? Has a layer of neglect covered our nation's holiday of freedom?

Soldiers are on their way back home to this fertile soil of freedom having handed freedom to the citizens of another country at a great personal cost. Shouldn't there be more people at the airports welcoming THEM home than people at Never Never Land saying "good-bye" to a bizarre and deeply-troubled soul?

The story of substance in this country will be the men and women in fatigues laying down their duffel bags to hug their spouses, children, parents, and siblings. But that's not where the helicopters, cameras, and reporters will be. They will be focused on a lifeless being who used to dance and sing.

Freedom should be celebrated with gratitude for those who purchased it and defended it, and a commitment to keep freedom intact.

Have we yet realized how much freedom we've forfeited to people we know nothing about in Washington? People who've never fought FOR our nation's freedom continue to grab more and more freedom FROM us.

We let them take from us rather easily what has been purchased for us with great difficulty.

I'm proud to be an American and grateful to live in this great country. I am grieved by what I see happening to it. But my true permanent citizenship is in a country not found on any map or planet. Heaven is my home. God is my Father. Jesus is my Savior and Supplier of my eternal freedom.

The joy and hope of being a believer in Christ can be found in the security of our soul's freedom. It's an eternal joy and an un-iffy hope. The same One who purchased our spiritual freedom by His sacrificial death on the cross of Calvary came back to life to guarantee that our freedom remain untarnished and eternally secure against all enemies.

No one can snatch me (nor the freedom Christ purchased for me) out of my Father's hands.

The freedom purchased by Christ cannot erode, wane, dissolve, or be diluted in any way. It's a forever freedom that never needs polishing.

Because I am an American, freedom runs through my veins. But because I am a Christian, freedom goes deeper than my flesh. It's in my soul. As much as I love the Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence, my passion for freedom runs deeper than the documents of man. I stand and stake my life and eternity on the Bible, which is the Word of God.

In fact, I don't think the tenets contained within the documents of American freedom would have ever been written without the truths found in the Word of God.

Arguments can be made back and forth as to whether we are or are not a "Christian nation." But one thing is undeniable. The content and character of these United States of America and her place in history would have never been what they've been apart from the truths of Christianity or the Christians who founded this nation.

It was that freedom of the soul purchased for them by the blood of Christ that drove them to forge a free land. A freedom so valuable they were willing to purchase it with their own blood.

Celebrating Independence Inside and Out,
Perry Crisp

Hope Beneath the Rope

2009-06-25T07:34:00.000-07:00

A man sat broken in the pew next to me last night after church. A stranger, yet a brother. He spilled his life out to me in raw clarity. Anger, hurt, emptiness, and regrets outlined his life.

He described himself as barely clinging to a knot at the end of his rope. Ever been there? Yeah. Me too.

He talked of how things used to be. Things used to be great. At one time he was walking with God and had even enrolled in a Bible institute with plans of becoming a preacher of the gospel.

Life took an unpredictable bounce. Bad news left a bad taste in his mouth. Like Job, this man's religious friends laid a load of blame and guilt on him. The bad taste left his mouth and settled in his attitude. His attitude toward God, the church, and life grew worse and worse.

He has spent years living on poisonous bitterness and rebellion. Every time he drove by our church, he felt drawn to go inside. Last night, the arguments against walking into a church house filled with strangers lost out to a deep desire to come home to God.

I told him to let go of the knot. He looked up at me with fear. "As long as you're holding onto that knot, you're not giving God control of your life," I said. "Let go. God will catch you before you know you're falling."

The man released his grip on the knot and landed instantly in the grip of God's grace.

After repentance came regret. He looked at me and said, "I wish I could go back to where I was...to the way I once felt."

With that statement, he had no idea how much we had in common. Regrets have a certain flavor to them that lay long on the tongue of our memory. Yet, as much as we'd like to go back and do things better or different, we can't.

We can't travel back in time. People named Garmin or Tom-Tom may adjust easily to your wrong turns, but others won't. Board games may let you go back ten spaces, but life doesn't.

There is one exception. God has allowed one moment in history to which we can all go back. The cross.

We can all go back to that moment on Calvary's hill when the Son of God hung on the cross to pay the bill for our sin, guilt, and regrets. The outstretched arms of Christ are infinite. They stretch around the world and across human history. They reach to the beginning and end of time and cover the sins of us all. Forgiveness drips from the cross.

We sat together on that pew last night equal in God's eyes. Equally sinners. Equally forgiven. Peace covered us because our pasts are covered.

It was pretty awesome to see a man who was at the end of his rope only moments before, take his first steps toward a new beginning. That's what God does...when we let Him.

I look forward to seeing my new friend Sunday and introducing him to his new family and his new future.

"We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand --- out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise...
"Christ arrives right on time to make this happen. He didn't, and doesn't, wait for us to get ready. He presented himself for this sacrificial death when we were far too weak and rebellious to do anything to get ourselves ready...God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him" (Romans 5:1-2, 5-6, The Message).