Charlie Daniels—dead? It can't be true! Talk about a guy who was larger than life. If you ever saw his iconic beard or watched him play the fiddle or heard him sing (country, rock, or Christian—he did it all), you never forgot him. A few years ago, Diana and I met Charlie Daniels as part of an interview for Moody Radio. Like most truly great people, he was as humble and homespun as his blue jeans. Jeans accompanied by a large brass belt buckle that read, "Jesus is Lord." Most of us know CD’s music—but not as many know that…
The Stench of Anger
It’s one in the morning. We are jolted awake by the sound of an alarm—our LP gas sensor. What to do? I remove the tanks from our camper and set them out in the yard. But the camper now wreaks of gas. Is it safe to breathe? Should we even be in the camper? Are we an inch away from a Hollywood explosion? Ultimately, we spent most of the night in our minivan. Not exactly restful—but at least breathable. And safe. What was maddening was that over the weeks that followed, we continued to notice a sort of rotten egg…
Take off the Mask
To my way of thinking, it’s the worst part of Coronavirus: wearing a face mask. No matter how it’s made—and despite claims to the contrary—a face mask is hot, confining and uncomfortable. It’s also one more thing you have to remember to take with you the second you leave home. I’m intrigued by the creativity, though, that people have injected into this new tradition. You see all kinds of face masks—have you noticed? Some feature the logo of a favorite sports team. Or a sticker. Or the colors of a favorite university. I’ve noticed that if you…
Paid the Bill
They say that troubles and tragedies come in threes. First, there was the washing machine. Aged and infirmed, it died an inconvenient death when we were in the middle of building a room addition and were stretched for cash. The next week, on a bitterly cold night, we woke to the sound of our smoke detectors. It was our furnace—nearly melted and ready to explode. Replacement cost: five thousand dollars. A 66-passenger school bus rammed into our car just one week later, totaling the thing—another few thousand bucks we didn't have. Though there were no injuries on the bus (which…
Just Ask
There’s magic in those undulating waves of orange and red. Magic in the mesmerizing dance of smoke and ash. Sitting around a campfire conjures up an uncommon sense of tranquility. That tranquility, of course, ebbs and flows when little tykes are around. Noting the many little ones enjoying the fire with us, my dad started tossing out single-serve packages of M&Ms. The kids happily snatched them up—all except Ava. Bundled in a blanket on my wife’s lap, Ava was easy to overlook. Noting the grand fortune that the other kids were enjoying, she unbundled herself, a three-year-old on a mission. …
Fringe Kids
I miss the fringe kids. The ones with the Mohawk haircuts. The ones that wore spiked collars and weird shirts. Somewhere along the way, we got swept into the high school ministry as small group leaders. The students in our group didn’t come from church. At first, it was jarring learning about the boy with severe depression, abusing his medicine. Or the girl with sexual orientation issues. Every one of these fringe kids had a story—and they were mostly all quite sad. But over time, we got to know them. More than that, we loved them. So the weird hair…
God Knows
“It seemed like an ordinary day at first,” said my friend Jack. “Then we got the call.” “What call?” I asked, knowing a story was brewing. “A call to visit Eddie and his family—immediately.” “Why the rush?” "Hospice had moved in, and his kidneys were shutting down after a bout with cancer." “Did you know Eddie well?” “Well enough to know he didn’t seem to know Jesus. Eddie was bony and drugged. He slept mostly, while his two boys took turns stroking his arms or shoulder. Occasionally, they were able to rouse Eddie to share a quick memory or funny…
Real Hero
Marvin H. Mischnick did not look like a hero. He was wrinkled, hard of hearing and in need of a shave. Understandable for a man at the unlikely age of 99. As I sat in his living room, his World War 2 stories oozed out. “I was a photographer for division headquarters, G2 Intelligence section. We were advancing in the city of Cologne, Germany. Our general wanted to know if the bridges over the Rhine River would support our troops and equipment. So they sent me behind enemy lines to take pictures.” Marvin recalls operating the camera was “hard to…
Lawn Care…Soul Care
As temperatures climb up, the lawn trucks roll in. I refer to the fleet of yard care vehicles that will clog the streets of suburbia from now until Halloween. They will mow, trim, weed, and fertilize—for a fee. Though our town prohibits the roar of their mowers and blowers before 7:00 am, the convoy carrying the platoon of lawn care commandos is in place and unloaded by O-dark-thirty most mornings. While we could probably afford to outsource our lawn care, I’ve decided to do it myself. Want to know why? First I need the exercise! Mowing the lawn gives me a…
When Auto-Correct Equals Auto-Corrupt
Like most other humans, I text. A lot of those messages I tap on the phone screen, though I also rely on voice-to-text communication. But I've noticed that whatever method I use, my phone appears to be biased: in favor of all things vulgar. If I should happen to slightly misspell a word, the phone often suggests something naughty, including profanity of all kinds. The phone's predictive algorithm goes so far as to look at specific words I've typed and then recommends "typical" follow up ideas. Words that may be extremely inappropriate. Have you experienced this? I bet you have….