From the warm, swaying surf of Kealakekua To the mountainous big skies ‘round Missoula From the boulders that guard the shores of Maine To the bluebell explosion on the hot Texas plain There’s much to love about this land, our liberty and our Lord.   In a nation that opens its arms to the world We lie vulnerable to cultural confusion. Such conflicting beliefs, can we hope for relief, Or is “one nation under God” an illusion? Yet, so much to love about this land, our liberty and our Lord.   When our Anthem is played and our flag passes by, Do we rise as one big family to attention? Does blood spilled for freedom bring a tear to our eyes, Or has respect been replaced by dissension? Still, much to love about this land, our liberty and our Lord.   My country, ‘tis of Thee, sweet land of liberty May we always be free, under God, don’t you see?   Posted June 12, 2018

You and your BFF have a bucket list item to tick off, so you jet to The Big unEasy (sic) for the Sugar Bowl. Before the game your tummy’s ragin’ for Cajun, so you stroll over to Bourbon Street. Suddenly…

Retired in 1969 as a U.S. Navy captain, sporting his 24/7 smile, his joy is contagious. Frisky describes Wayne Bartz whose odometer just rolled over 100. Not miles. Years!

A lean, lonely coyote lopes through our neighborhood every afternoon, taking the same path, stalking its next meal. We do not schedule our walks to the mailbox then.

Some are not thrilled when told that Jesus is the only Way, the Truth and the Life, and that to get to God the Father, you must go via Jesus, God’s Son. (John 14:6)

Pushing back on the rowdy protesters of his day, John Lennon did a mic drop: “You say you want a revolution - We all want to change the world. But when you talk about destruction - Don’t you know that you can count me out.”

Are roller coasters your friend? Well, hang on. The attendant shoehorns you into the front row as you gloat like the beer TV spot when goofy Bob Uecker is yanked from his box and taken to the bleachers, thinking he’ll get the best seat in the house.

Seems like evil is pulling out every stop these days, hellbent to pit us against each other, doesn’t it? On Day 6 of Creation GOD said, “Let the Earth produce every sort of animal, producing offspring of the same kind.” Noting the vast array of critters HE had made, “GOD saw it was good.”

JESUS didn’t soften His message when teaching the motley crew HE had recruited down at the docks. To pierce their self-absorbed grumbling about which of them would rank higher in their LEADER’s cabinet, JESUS predicted: “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows.”

Son of a street preacher. All-State high schooler. All-Southwest Conference and two-time All-American at Baylor where twice he snared 35 tackles in a game. NFL Hall of Fame. 12-years as the Chicago Bears’ iconic linebacker. 1,488 tackles; half were solos.

Do you tiptoe in conversations today with your foot poised precariously near your mouth? Pick a topic.

Our family has just had a memorable two weeks. We came to the conclusion that, ironically, the same event can produce poles-apart feelings. 

Too many nations have been ravaged by war on their own soil. In this uncertain, nuclear age America’s shores lie vulnerable to our vilest foes. For some, this draws the drapes of fear over otherwise sunny vistas. But fear is actually a fraud, a perversion of truth.

In this season of your life can you describe yourself in a single word that best communicates the essence of who you are now? My word has two syllables.

When you must reach someone in a life-or-death crisis, and the voice on the other end of your call says flippantly, “He’s not here,” that’s not what you want to hear. Many Sundays ago two forlorn women trudge to where on Friday they’d seen their hero executed like a devilish felon.

For 50 years I've soaked up droplets of Chuck Swindoll’s wisdom that spritz away the secular grime on the windshield of my life. This winsome Texan has slow-walked me through God’s love letter with razorlike intellect, fresh insight and good ole boy humor.

“March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” This hails from Middle Ages astronomers plotting the constellations, Leo (a lion) and Aries (a ram, or lamb). Weather patterns armed early Americans with optimum dates to plant and harvest. The Lion of the tribe of Judah (aka King Jesus) will destroy His enemies at the Tribulation’s close.

Who seems impossible to love? He’s as approachable as giving your cat a bath. She’s an iceberg. How can you relate? Well, anger is an option, or the silent treatment. Or you could just terminate diplomatic relations. What would Jesus do? He says you should forgive, even love him. Ugh!

Alec Rowlands, a respected voice in our community, identifies seven cultures where we resemble the frog in a kettle. First, the culture of DEATH celebrates a loathsome disregard for human life in the womb and in euthanasia. The culture of DECEPTION has taken us from the drive-ins of our youth to today’s rampant drive-by’s.

Doesn’t that song sum up this post-pandemic era, hounded by those out to destroy us? Is there a Solomon to unify factions that kidnapped our one nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all?

Time to come up with more sure-to-fail “New Year’s resolutions.” We’ll start with that !@#$%^& diet. You know, those extra pounds that found your plate between Thanksgiving through, well, five minutes ago. DIY post-its totally blanket the fridge. Where’s that coupon from the fatness center?

It’s not about our presents under the tree. It’s about the cross.

Someone said, “Faith is like a rope. Its worth depends on what it’s tied to.” Jesus and His homies were sailing one night when a nasty storm swept in. Fierce gales whipped waves into a frenzy. The boys panicked, roused their napping Rabbi, blaming Him for their perilous predicament.

Holidays arrive with a mixed bag of hugs and hurts. Hearts that have been hijacked enjoy a heaven-sent hiatus with time for healing. Aging signs are deeper wrinkles and slower gait. The kiddos are taller and more grown up. Mom’s patented recipes reward our patience. If only this scene could be framed and frozen. Years from now memories will wear blindfolds, unable to retrieve words said --- only emotions felt.

It’s just too bad that November comes but once a year, leaving us only one Thanksgiving. That’s music to turkey ears. But, truth told, we need more than one Thanksgiving Day to say “Thank you” to all who’ve cheered us on along the way. Actually, it’ll take an eternity to express our gratitude to that special person who introduced us to the Christ of Christmas. And even longer to recover from the speechless shock of thanking Jesus when we see Him in person!

For more than three decades His Deal has been accompanying men in the marketplace who are either (a) curious about what Jesus Christ taught when He lived on earth or (b) are in a relationship with Christ, intent on applying the wisdom of the Scriptures in all areas of life. How would you answer the following?

Winter here in the northwest corner of the Lower 48 trumpets its return with strong, prevailing southerlies arriving in impolite, unwelcome belches. The well-behaved summer zephyrs carry seeds and spores that produce our plants, flowers and magnificent forests of evergreens. Recently Hurricane Harvey howled through Houston, leaving scores dead and $180 billion in damages. The Category 4 beast is America’s costliest natural disaster.

Onomatopoeia. -- Its roots are Greek, meaning “word making.” This seldom spoken figure of speech imitates the sound of what it’s describing. Listen to yourself saying these verbal Crayolas: bang, coo, oink, meow, roar, chirp, soothe, crash, pop, boom, beep, bow-wow, choo-choo, fizz, hiccup, moo, screech, splash, toot and zap.

When you start seeing TV commercials about Christmas, you know it’s almost Labor Day. Whose idea was it to salute the nation’s workforce by giving them a day off? Some say he was a carpenter; others, a machinist. Both must have been sad to see summer end and wanted one more backyard barbecue before tossing a tarp on the lawnmower and taking the snow blower in for a tune up.

Summer in Seattle tempts us locals to insist that the Emerald City is the most beautiful place on earth. Property with waterfront or a view command top dollar. Our temperate climate shields us from blistering heat. July and August skies roll back the clouds, revealing snowcapped sentinels guarding both flanks of dazzling Puget Sound.

Words can be like a double-edged sword, can’t they? A “blanket” of snow sounds cozy, but not to the person with no blanket. “Choking” back the tears is not life-threatening, but choking can be. To “have words” is usually not pleasant. And “news” can be good or bad. You get the idea. The Bible likens itself to a two-edged sword. Containing only truth, it does not speak out of both sides of God’s mouth. The Scriptures cut through the camouflage of double meanings, right to the heart of the matter, revealing even our intentions.

Some parents took their children to meet Jesus to have Him pray for and bless them. You’d walk on hot coals for this, but His dense disciples were offended by this intrusion. The Lord chided them, “Don’t dare hinder these babies from coming to Me. Heaven belongs to people whose hearts are like these dear ones.” Matthew 19: 13–15

Etymology is a snooty synonym for the study of the origin of words. For seniors who gum their applesauce, wordsmithing can be a sport. Words are teams; letters are players. Move just one player, and you can change the outcome of the game. Let’s scrimmage with two words that are quite similar: profess and confess.

It began as a private, upstairs dinner with best friends. They one-upped each other, relating a melange of memories of their world-changing, three-year lay-off. Before this iconic evening ended, mankind’s worst miscarriage of justice became an Indelible swoosh of shame, splashed across scrolls for centuries.

On Saturday morning in my youth when ringmaster Jack blew his whistle, the Sealtest “Big Top” appeared on our tiny TV screen. What a thrill! But when the circus came to our town --oh my-- elephants as big as my house! Frozen in fear, I’d try to stare down the king of the jungle with my lyin’ eyes. Out of their cages, those menacing monarchs were dominated only by a lifeless baton! I was that close to being Leo’s lunch.

It’s that Palm Sunday. JESUS is healing the blind and crippled. Jerusalem’s religious elite witness the supernatural evidence of who this Nazarene carpenter is. For all who had eyes to see, He’s their expected MESSIAH.

Ahhh, time-travel those lazy, sunny, summer daze. When we were kids, that carefree season lingered forever. Remember those endless hours of staring up where astronauts play. But times have changed. We’re leg-ironed with adult duties, impossible expectations. To make it more interesting, stir in crippling inflation, bank closures and the specter of global war.

Is the annual outbreak of colorful spring flowers God’s way of apologizing for winter? Seeking someone’s forgiveness is vital in growing fragrant relationships. It’s often daunting, but it’s where healing begins.

At a certain age you stop getting stronger, sleeker and speedier. The moment you’re born, you start dying.

Arriving in riot-ravaged Detroit in 1964 to be a deejay at WJBK, the first Motown star I met was Marvin Gaye. It was four years before his mega-hit, “What’s Going On?” -- a question still stumping us.

On the 1st and 15th of each month we post a new blog. Michael McDonald’s serving of this song, entitled “Peace,” is angelic. He implores God to “stay within our reach.” In lieu of our blog, hush your cares, listen to Michael… and be at Peace.

You need not burrow far into your address book to find a name that no longer needs contact info. Today’s calls seem to be from telemarketers or news of a death. A day’s coming when people will be unable to reach you, a day when “Rest in peace” will be an understatement, whether the departed is on streets of gold or burning coal.

Early on Mom rewarded me for memorizing God’s Word by giving me Christian biographies. When I failed to prepare, I fell back on the shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept.” Mary, Martha and their brother Lazarus often hosted the Son of God in their home. When our Lord arrived soon before He was crucified, Lazarus had been dead four days. Jesus was touched by his sisters’ grief. From deep within His humanity … “He wept.”

What’s your track record for keeping promises? King David left us a Post-it that reads, “The Lord keeps every promise forever.” When you cast your lot with Jesus, He’ll always be with you, no matter what curves life throws at you.

A new year is a clean slate. Swipe off the past, and focus on who God says you’re becoming.

One of the most pensive additions to our Christmas library was written by two good ole boys who sing primarily Southern Gospel. Mark Lowry put his stand-up comedy chops aside to write these tender words. The melody is from Buddy Greene, Nashville’s harmonica virtuoso. Mark sings his poignant lyrics as we send this beautiful carol from our hearth to yours.

Innovation is on fire in Israel. Dream it, then stream it. Soon flying cars will be sky taxis, ala Marvel Comics, to speed health care to the boonies. If only we had an app to delete anxiety and see life from God’s perspective? We do!! It’s …. (drum rol-l-l-l-l-l) …THE HOLY BUT.

Where do words come from? Who spoke the first ones? Can anybody make up a word? Who decides its definition? Do the Webster boys own the franchise? It reminds me of the ads you hear before Valentine’s Day, you know, the ones promising to name a star after you!

As a lad in Memphis in the forties and fifties, I went to school on a city bus. A 7 cent token was my ticket to ride. Come duck-drowning downpours, sleety streets or hellish humidity, my lone option was a segregated, smoke-belcher.

It’s one of those four-letter words. 2,600 years ago Daniel wrote: “God controls the course of world events. He removes kings and sets up kings.”