Day's End

 

Day is ended, nothing really left but memories.

I pause and wonder if there was anything left unsaid, undone;

Any harm caused to others; any love left unshared.

Is anyone different because I was alive?

Am I different because of the lives I encountered?

To get lost in these thoughts can lead to passive living.

Too much evaluation and not enough celebration.

 

Touch those you can; avoid those who intend malice.

Speak a soft word of greeting, thanks, forgiveness.

In doing so you bring light into darkness.

Peace into turmoil, hope into despair.

The love of God into your world.

Never

 

Never is a very misunderstood word.

When you speak it, you mean it with everything that is in you.

Life has many choices; some intentional, some unintentional.

The outcome can be expected, or unexpected.

 

Sometimes never gives place to maybe.

It is not a planned event, but circumstances bring new perspectives.

Experiences temper resolve when unforeseen possibilities emerge.

A new decision is then required.

 

Remaining with the proclamation of never seems noble.

But what if your premise was flawed from the start?

Never, based on not knowing all the facts, can seem certain.

But certainty is only valid with all of the information.

 

Walking away from never can mean defeat.

Or reconsidering never might open up even greater opportunities.

Those which only come after never has run its course.

Now rooms for new commitment have been opened.

 

Never rarely only involves the one who uttered it.

Others can get swept into the current of the promise.

They have choices of their own which brought them into play.

But a rescinded never can hurt nonetheless.

 

Never always has an end, even though none is implied.

When you see something beyond never, hope arises.

The self-imposed sentence of never can be revoked.

You can be released to a life only imagined.

 

There is a place in every life for never.

Without certainties, life can be chaos.

But never cannot override your will to find peace; love; happiness.

For it must always bow to what is right.

Alone - a Poem

Being alone is hard, especially in a crowded room.

You wonder why no one notices, then

You see it in their eyes as well.

They simply have a better mask.

Why must we all pretend to be happy, to be well.

Our culture has pressured us into a mold

Created by the minds of a few

To build a better society.

It’s easy to see why some retreat through drugs,

Destructive behavior, and even death.

Without a beacon of hope in their midst

They become shipwrecked without a future.

If you have a reason for waking in the morning

Share it with those you encounter.

You could be a glimmer, a brief glimpse

Of a future worth living.

Thoughts and Intents of the Heart

If any of you follow me on social media you know that I enjoy humor. With all the chaos in the world we need to laugh when we can. Occasionally, I post serious things; usually personal experiences or thoughts. The other day I had an epiphany that I was a cynic. Just so we’re clear, the definition of cynic is: a person who believes that people are motivated purely by self-interest rather than acting for honorable or unselfish reasons. I do not believe this about all people, but I found myself thinking that I knew “why” someone did what they did instead of simply taking the actions at face value.

When we begin to think we know “why” people do what they do we become judgmental and condemning. Hebrews 4:12-13 tells us, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” (ESV) The Word of God is the only thing that can discern the intents of the heart.

The Word, referred to elsewhere in scripture as the Sword of the Spirit, can separate motives from actions. I cannot. The only person I can truly know the motives behind actions is myself. The only way I can discern if my motives are pure is to measure them against the Word. This is not as simple as it sounds. We can talk ourselves into thinking that most any action can be justified. This is one of the reasons for the busy-ness of our society. We keep ourselves occupied so we do not have time for introspection; the time required to judge the thoughts and intents of our heart.

In one of the devotions I did during the 21 Days of Prayer, I shared on 2 Corinthians 10:4-6, which says, “For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ, being ready to punish every disobedience, when your obedience is complete.” We take these thoughts captive by, first of all, spending time contemplating our own actions to determine the “why” behind our actions. If our motives are found to be impure, we must submit them to the Word of God – punish disobedience – by confessing our failure and accepting the grace from God to destroy the arguments and lofty opinions which try to displace His Truth.

So, from one recovering cynic to another (hopefully), let us consider our own motives and leave the motives of others alone.

Blessings!

Dudley

Another Father's Day ... Without a Father

 Another Father's Day ... Without a Father

I grew up without fathers. My paternal grandfather died when my father was only a child. My maternal grandfather died when I was eight. My father died when I was nine. Father's Day did not have much meaning in my life, until I became one!

I became a father sixteen years after my father died. I was beyond anxious. I did not have a clear image of what a father should be. I did not have the benefit of seeing fatherhood modeled for me in my teenage years. And now, I had a son. I was now a father.

Looking back there are many things I wish I had done differently. I blew many teachable moments with my children because of the fear of getting it wrong. Well, I got it wrong. A lot. Somehow, all three of my children have become amazing adults. My sons are both amazing fathers, in my personal opinion, in spite of me. I give their mother most of the credit for how they turned out. She balanced the scales by being such an amazing mother.

If you still have your father, regardless of the relationship you have with him, go see him. If needed, ask forgiveness. More likely the case, forgive him. Realize that he tried. Even if he got it wrong, know that he tried. Tell him you love him. Tell him you are o.k. Just tell him something. I realize that it is his place to reach out to try to mend broken fences. Reach out anyway. Your father has something that you need. It's part of God's plan. Even if your father blew it, he still has something that you need. Try to redeem lost opportunities by restoring fellowship.

It's easy to justify bearing a grudge when you have been wronged, especially by your father. I know the questions. Why weren't you there? Why did you do that? Why did you not love me? Why? Why? Why? I've asked those questions many times in my fifty-two years of fatherlessness. Here is my conclusion that led to a totally different outlook on fathers and fatherhood. I forgave my father for dying!

During a counseling session years ago (the one and only time I remember seeing a counselor) I came to realize that I was holding my father responsible for many things in my life. He was my hero. He was a super-hero. A man's man, rough and rugged, smelled of Old Spice and foot powder. He could do anything. A police officer, a sergeant in the Reserves, a Boy Scout and Cub Scout leader, a deacon, father of five, still married to their mother, a loving son to his aging mother, handyman to the widows on our block, could rebuild a V-8 in the backyard, and on and on I could go. How dare he up and die when I needed him the most? How could he abandon me in my time of greatest need for a father, a mentor, a provider?

My father never abandoned his wife, family, friends, church, etc. His life was taken from him while trying to protect the citizens of Birmingham. Just so you know, God did not take him, as some ministers tried to convince me while grieving in the hospital waiting room. My father was only doing what he had sworn an oath to do: Protect and Serve.

After forgiving my father for dying, and realizing that it was ME that had placed him on a pedestal which no man deserves to be placed, I was able to process many things that led to my own inability to father the way my children needed. It came many years too late, in my opinion. I have asked their forgiveness. I have committed to be a better father, and now, grandfather, so that I cause no further emotional harm to them.

Back to Father's Day. Reach out to your father. If possible, see him. If not, call, FaceTime, Zoom, chat; whatever you have the ability to do. Give him some slack. You may have no idea why he did what he did. Regardless of the reason, press toward reconciliation. Even if he rejects it, you can live from this moment with a different mindset and hopefully be a better person. If your father is not living, write him a letter. Even though he will never read it, your children and their children can. Leave a legacy for them.

Happy Father's Day! I hope it is the best one yet.

Blessings!

Dudley

A New Thing

God always wants to do a new thing. Even when He accomplishes the same objective, God will use different means or methods to do it. For instance, when Israel needed water in the wilderness Moses was instructed to strike the rock with his rod. The next time, God told Moses to speak to the rock. In the New Testament there is record of Jesus healing three blind men. Once He spoke to the man, another He applied mud made from His own spit. The third man, Jesus laid hands on … twice!

I’ve heard it said that the only thing constant in life is change! As Christians we need to resist the temptation to pre-judge the method and keep our focus on the motive. Things may not look the same as before. They may not sound the same as before. But let us not mistake different for wrong. If our Lord can use different tactics to heal the blind or bring water to thirsty people, He may use different means to help us bear spiritual fruit.

Compare farming methods used 50 years ago to what is done today. Not only has knowledge increased on how to effectively raise a better crop, but technology (mechanical and otherwise) has increased dramatically to the point that yields have doubled for some crops. New is not bad, it’s just uncomfortable because of the habits we formed using the methods with which we got started.

Our theme at FBCR for 2021 is “Investing In One Another’s Spiritual Fruitfulness.” Keep in mind that what works for you may not work for others. Let us not get lost in form but focus on function. When we are being used as an agent of change by the Lord it may not look or feel “normal.” That’s ok. Let us be like Paul, when he wrote to the Church at Corinth, “To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” (1 Corinthians 9:22 ESV)

Pliable, flexible, adaptable – these words need room in our lives when it comes to helping others grow. Give opportunity for God to do a new thing, or even an old thing in a new way. The first illustration given in this article was regarding Moses and water from the rock. The second time God provided water from the rock He instructed Moses to speak to the rock, not strike it. However, Moses, out of his frustration with the murmuring and complaining of the Israelites, struck the rock the second time instead of speaking to it. God still provided the needed water from the rock, but because of his disobedience, Moses was not allowed to enter into the Promised Land. To us, that seems like harsh judgement for such a simple failure. However, God was trying to teach His people how to trust Him and to listen to His voice, because God knew when they entered Canaan it would be a very difficult process. Israel would need to hear and obey what God said.

The same is true today. We need to become sensitive to God’s instruction, and then be “doers of the work.” When we do, we will allow the Holy Spirit to use us to help others develop spiritually.

Blessings!

Dudley

May the Fourth

May 4th has been an important day for me long before the Star Wars film brand was ever imagined. And oddly enough, it does have to do with a force, but not of the Jedi nature.

In 1969, I was a young nine-year-old boy, 5th child of my parents, the youngest, and do not remember having a care in the world. I was living life from my Monroe Avenue vantage point, on the west side of Birmingham. Little League baseball had just begun. Fair Park might as well have been Fenway Park. Those dim incandescents way up on a pole seemed as bright as any MBL park in the country. We had just finished opening day on this Saturday, May 3, 1969.

My middle brother, Tim, had caught a high and tight pitch with his nose. After surgery to repair his now deviated septum, was in West End Baptist Hospital, where my mom worked as a nurse's aide at night. I was at my sister's house, preparing to go with her and her husband to visit his family in Mississippi. She was expecting her first child; the first grandchild of my parents. Knowing what I now know about grandchildren, I'm sure there was much excitement in the house.

May 4, 1969, fell on a Sunday. Instead of the "normal" routine of preparing for church, we were loading up to go to Amory. Tim was struggling to breath through the gauze packed in his nose. Not sure where Wayne and Danny were.

Then, the phone rang at my sister's house. I immediately knew it was not good. I don't know why. She answered. After a few seconds I heard the phone drop and Kay crying. The news hit my nine-year-old ears with a thud: Dad had been shot.

I know I've written most, if not all, of this before; but never in light of May the Fourth Be With You. This day, there was a disturbance in the force. A true hero, my dad, father of five, husband of one wife, soon-to-be grandfather, little league umpire, Boy Scout leader, Cub Scout leader, sergeant in the Army Reserves, deacon at our church, and member of the Birmingham Police Department, was taken down.

No sagas were written and produced about his life. No published memoirs of his heroic acts while fighting crime in our city, or serving in Germany on active duty in the Army. No grand legacy to be recited from podiums throughout the ages. Just six people left to pick up the fragments of their lives and try to make some sense out of tomorrow. Just a widow with four boys at home wondering where the food will come from to feed them. Just a granddaughter to be born seven months later with no grandfather.

There was no tiny green man that showed up to help guide me through the tumultuous years which followed. No magical light-sword to help me fight the battles I would face in the coming days and weeks; decades even.

But, there were some pretty special people that made a difference where they could. My Sunday School teacher, Harry Collins, took time to talk to me when I needed a man's voice. My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Meridith, was kind to me when she saw my tears. Scout leaders like Yeager, Price, Wilburn, Abernathy, and others showed me what being a man was all about. Teachers like Tom Cheatham. Pastors like Mike Harrison and Doc Shell showed me how to seek after God for my answers instead of man. My siblings: Kay, Wayne, Tim, and Danny, who did who knows what that I never saw or heard to take care of me, mom, and each other, as we clawed our way back to normal.

I don't know that I ever reached normal. I wonder, often, what it would have been like to grow up with a father. I'll never know. I wonder what it would have been like for my children to grow up with a grandfather. They will never know.

Please don't pity me, or them. We survived. We live good lives. I adore my grandchildren. My children are amazing, and have married amazing people. I'm blessed. 

So when May the Fourth rolls around each year I do not think of Star Wars. I remember a true hero who died way too young. I remember my dad, Azell Leroy Harris.