Never Give Up

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By Doug Creamer

            I imagine you watched the Super Bowl on Sunday. I watch the Super Bowl every year. Maybe I should say it this way; I watch the commercials during the Super Bowl. Even though I won’t be discussing them with my students this year, I still watched them. It’s interesting to see how we market products and how that has changed over the years.

            I also enjoy the pregame pageantry. Every year they produce a video showing the beauty of our country and salute our men and women in the military. I like the singing of “America the Beautiful” and the National Anthem. I usually enjoy the half-time show. I just noticed by what I wrote that it seems that I enjoy all the things that surround the big game.

            Well, let’s be honest, often the Super Bowl ends up being a blowout. Many times by the end of the third quarter I have muted the game and am off doing other things. I always keep checking back and want to see the final score.

            This year was a different story. At half-time the score was tied and the game had my interest. The game remained close until the end. It was probably one of the most exciting Super Bowls in recent memory. Whether you liked the outcome depends on whether your team won. Either way, it was still a good, close game.

            I remember noticing that the score was 20 to 10 and there were about nine minutes left in the game. I told my wife that anything can happen and that either team could still win the game. My wife said that nine minutes in a Super Bowl could last an hour. I laughed, and it almost did last an hour. Well, unless you are living under a rock…and yes, I saw that Super Bowl ad… you know how the game turned out.

            It makes me think about something very important…no matter what our circumstances look like, we can never give up. Things can always turn around. I am realistic enough to know that sometimes they don’t turn around, BUT, I have seen things that looked impossible actually happen. I have seen it in the sports arena and I have seen it in life.

            I know people who have received devastating medical news and then seen God move in miraculous ways and change everything around. Some of the circumstances were uphill battles, but in the end, God won. I believe God uses modern medical procedures, guiding the doctor’s hands, to bring about His victory. But I have to admit, I still like seeing the miracles.

            I know some people who have reached the end of their rope in their marriages. They were ready to sign the dotted line and end it. But God stepped in and did a miracle. The enemy thought he had won, but God got the victory.

            I have read stories of people who were past broke and couldn’t imagine hope. But God used people to give them a chance. Some may claim they got some lucky breaks, but I believe they worked hard and God’s favor rested upon them. Their story again reveals that my God is going to win the victory.

            I firmly believe that God is a master at taking broken and messed up lives and turning them around. The enemy thinks he has won when people get hooked on drugs, legal or illegal. I know too many stories of people who have been set free from that trap. They may still be tempted, but God is going to help them keep their victory.

            I think we falsely believe that if we lose a skirmish that we have lost the battle. Everyone who fights loses some of the skirmishes along the way. We all get knocked down. We all fail. We all sin. The battle is the Lord’s. We have to get up and start fighting again. We also have to know who is on our side. God does not know defeat, He only knows victory. With Him on your side, you WILL overcome. You will defeat your enemy. You will have the victory.

            I want to encourage those who are fighting and feel like you are losing, KEEP FIGHTING, for the battle is the Lord’s. Get up! You can overcome, even though you have heard the whispers in your ear that you won’t. God is going to help you. You may get the miracle, or you may be called to fight the good fight of the faith. Keep fighting. Keep praying. Don’t lose hope. Keep believing. I believe you are going to see a victory.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Porch Lights

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By Roger Barbee

            This morning as I prepared my stationary bike for my ride in the damp, dark morning, I noticed our front spot light was still on and made a mental note to turn it off after my ride. Mounting the bike, I hoped that I would remember.

            Growing up in the 1950s of the South, all the mill houses, like ours at 312, had front porches that ran the width of the house. Chairs of various types would always be available for relaxing, and often porch swings hung by their chains from brackets in the porch ceiling, comfortably accommodated two adults or four playful children. Always painted white, the swings waited for a family member or members to “sit a spell” and rest or visit with a neighbor who happened by. After dark, they sometimes held young lovers who pushed gently back and forth whispering, snuggling, and maybe kissing—until a parent in the house turned the porch light on as a signal that it was time for the boy to leave and the girl to come into the house.

            The porch light of 312, where I grew up, was a bare bulb screwed into a white, porcelain fixture. Usually white, the 25 or maybe 40-watt bulb, would be replaced by a yellow one during the hot months because mosquitoes and other unwanted bugs would not be as attracted to it as the white ones. Because the houses had no air conditioning the front porch became an extension of sorts for the family or living room where the cooler temperature of a hot summer day could be enjoyed. The dim, porch lights were turned on at dusk and turned off at dawn. Not as majestic as a lighthouse beacon, they served the same purpose- to guide sojourners by their 25-watt bulbs.  Those bare bulbs led family and visitors through the dark and into the house.

            I did, for once, remember to turn the front spot-light off following my ride. The back one, which illuminates the kitchen area, was turned off earlier. Our house, like all in our neighborhood and most neighborhoods today, has no front porch or, at best, has an outside vestibule large enough to stand while unlocking the front door. Modern homes are mostly built far from roads making contact with passers-by impossible, and the climate controlling system in each makes the desire for outside cooler air during hot, humid Southern nights obsolete. But modern homes have improved on the dim porch lights of post WWII America. Like ours, all or most, have spot-lights that come in several models, wattage, and other choices. Ours are operated by a switch in the house, but we could have ones that are motion detector controlled, dawn to dusk controlled, cell phone controlled, or with other systems. But the porch lights of today are installed for other reasons than the types I grew up with.

            The modern porch light is designed to repel. It is a beacon, but one that shouts, “Go away, or the house alarms will signal the police to quickly come.” It does not invite the sojourner but is a Maginot line sold to make us feel safer.

            There was a time in our lives that such home defenses were not needed, but those days slipped away. We now live in a culture of home invasion, purse snatching, and more. I do not fault homeowners for protecting their homes and family, but I question why our society has fallen to such a level that some are so brazen to invade a home or snatch the purse of an elderly woman in broad daylight. What bred in some people such bitterness that led to desperation then vile action? 

            Just as with the outside lights, I am like many people. But instead of lights, I am thinking about The Sermon on the Mount, which before this week I would have assured you that I had a solid understanding of, until I began reading Clarence Jordon’s explication. In Matthew 5:22, Jesus says, “ Whereas I say to you that everyone who becomes angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; and whoever says ‘Raca’ to his brother shall be liable to the Council.; and whoever says ‘worthless reprobate’ shall be liable to enter Hinnon’s Vale of fire.” (Hart)

            These are strong words that cause me to wonder if one reason we feel a need for stronger porch lights and such, is, as Christians (individually or collectively), we have shouted “Raca” to many of our citizens? Have we and do we look at Christian brothers/sisters and think “worthless reprobate”?  If so, then we have marginalized our fellow Christians and are in danger of being cast into Gehenna, regardless of our porch lights and alarm systems.

Knocking the Cover off the Ball

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By David Freeze

    I grew up idolizing my hero, New York Yankees baseball star, Mickey Mantle. Living on a small rural dairy farm, I really had to work to find someone to play ball with. My brother and sister didn’t care for sports much and still don’t. I couldn’t get enough of football or basketball, but baseball had that special appeal. At that time, I think baseball was truly America’s game. To me, it still is.

     Baseball on TV was rare then but sometimes I could get a game on the radio while sitting on the front porch swing during nice summer nights. We didn’t have air conditioning at home, so the cool night air was often a relief from a warm house. Just me and my small radio, searching for any game but especially grateful on the nights that the proper atmosphere allowed reception of a station carrying Yankees baseball.

     I had a cousin who often visited who loved the game as much as me. We could sometimes get my brother to play baseball games with us. I can never remember more than the three of us at home playing.

     Most fun of all was little league baseball that we played in Landis. I played on the Lions and my brother, along with our nearest neighbor, played on the Firemen. Our parents often shared the rides for the three of us to practices and games. There were only four teams in our league and we played twice a week.

     I remember my first time at the old Landis ballpark, originally used for semi-pro and high school baseball. The covered wooden stands and the field itself both seemed huge, especially to a small 11 year old boy. We had a team shirt, which I still have, and a ball cap. That shirt lasted a long time. Those games were more than 50 years ago.

      Another thing that lasted a long time were the baseballs. I remember how special we felt to ever see a new baseball. The pictures I have seen of early 1900’s major league players never included a new white baseball. All our practices were done with old balls, some of them heavy from getting wet previously. Those were also the days of the good little league teams only having three or four wooden bats. Yes, wooden bats just like the major league players used. Old balls and well-worn bats simply were baseball back then.

       Most games began with a new ball and a good used one as backup. We just needed enough balls as a team to warm up with. Should one of the game balls get lost, the home team had to put in play one of their best warmup balls. Someone was always sent to look for a lost game ball on the very big field at Landis. And they kept looking until the ball was found.

      My point here is that game balls were often used for a long time and could on occasion begin to show damage. First signs would be scuffs and occasionally the stitching began to break. Little red threads made those stitches and one break usually led to another. Still we played on unless the cover did actually begin to come loose. Each time the ball was hit hard, the cover would continue to unravel. The horsehide started to flap but only on the rare occasion could someone hit the ball so hard the cover actually came off. Usually a mammoth clout finished off the ball and another one from the warm- up bag replaced it. No one complained and we all thought losing the coverless ball was just a part of the game. But the mammoth clout wasn’t that common and took special effort.

      But how about that baseball, the one with the cover knocked off? Roy Hobbs, in the movie, The Natural, hit it so hard and well that the ball unraveled on the way to the outfield. In our life, should we always try our hardest for the things we believe in. The term, “Knock the cover off the ball”, today means going hard, giving our best and just simply making the best effort we can for the intended result. How we can go wrong when doing that?

    Do your best on your walk of faith. If God tells you to do something, work hard and do your best. God will do all the things you can’t do.

     Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. 1 Corinthians 9:24-25.

Groundhog Day!

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Groundhog Day is celebrated in many locations around the U.S. The biggest ceremony takes place in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Georgia has its own groundhog meteorologist as well. Gen. Beauregard Lee lives in Dauset Trails Nature Center in Jackson. From The Atlanta Journal

His Presence

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By Ann Farabee

The young baseball player began to step up to the plate, while holding a bat that was about as big as he was.

But, before he positioned himself, he looked around, searching for the presence of the one he most wanted to see – his father.

He knew his dad had promised he would be there that day, but he was unable to see him in the crowd.

It only took one pitch – and he was off! Rounding the bases as quickly as those little legs could carry him, he heard a voice from the stands, “Keep going! Keep going!”

He recognized that voice – as the voice of his father.

As he touched home plate to complete his first ever home run, he looked up – and there he was – his father running toward him to scoop him up in his arms.

As he swung him around, the son cried out, “You were here the whole time – and I didn’t even know it!”

While witnessing this, and hearing those words from a child, I was reminded of the story of Jacob in Genesis 28. Jacob was in a hard place in life. A dark place. A cold place. A lonely place.

I can almost envision the pain, fear, exhaustion, desperation, and perhaps tears that he experienced while in that place. The sun had set, so he stayed all night, and used a rock for a pillow.

It was not a comfortable place to be.

It was a hard place to have to stay.

But – oh it was so worth it.

Because God showed up – to let him know that He was with him in ALL places – wherever he went – and that He would never leave him.

As Jacob began to awaken from the dream, the reality of the personal life-changing encounter with the Creator of the World left him with these words in his heart and burning on his lips, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not.”

It had not been about the place at all.

It had been about the Presence – of the Father.

God WAS there the whole time.

God IS there the whole time.

God WILL BE there the whole time.

But yet – too often – we know it not.

Or we do not even notice.

His Presence.

His Promise.

In our place.

Priceless.

Ann is a speaker and teacher. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com

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