I had the pleasure last Thursday of enjoying lunch at my favorite upscale Mcrestaurant. Sometimes, if the place is packed, I sit with my back to the wall so I can see the people. Not much going on that day so I faced the window.

I was sitting and sipping my Mcwater when I saw a young man get out of an old car and walk to the other side. After pulling at the passenger door several times he was finally able to extricate a young woman. They were both thin, tattooed, pierced and wearing their favorite metal band T-shirt. Just as they were to cross the oncoming traffic something happened. They both instinctively held out their hands to one another. Nothing special about that except that I got one of those shivers like you get when the Holy Spirit sits down and eats your last Mcfry and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that these two really loved each other. Not only that, I also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God’s hand was on their union. For this couple He didn’t need me to look down on their body art, the way they dressed, or the music that bludgeoned them inside their old car. He needed me to stop and look at the beginning of what God can do in the lives of two young people. They, among the sea of those who would not, would be ok. These two would make it. These two were His and He would oversee their lives.

I finished my Mcmeal and went Mctowork.

Well, we did it. Vacation Bible School 2007 is in the History books. And, or course, it had all the earmarks of any other epic event:

There were balloons – no helium; the adults from the 60’s would not have left them alone

There was a man in a beard – a $5 beard from the local trick shop

There were sugared-up kids – some didn’t even hit the floor as they bounced off the walls

There were cars made out of toilet tissue rolls – these were a stroke of genius

There were dead cows – don’t call the ASPCA, these were left over from the Egyptian plaques

There were musical chairs – ah the sweet sound of Elder Gene’s voice.

There were songs – I can’t get them out of my head. I’m going to sue.

There was a heartbreaking story of a child with a boil on his _ _ _ _ – don’t worry it was popped.

There was noise – A jet engine is around 115 db. Jet engines are sissies.

There was chaos – of Biblical proportions.

There were tears – mostly from the adults because of the noise and the chaos.

There were children; there were dedicated workers; there was the Lord; shake them all together and what do you got? – Ministry, Ministry, Ministry

I watched adults come in from jobs that should have leveled them for the day. I watched them take a deep breathe, put a smile on their face, and greet the children with joy in their hearts. You can’t do that without the Lord.

Thank you Jesus for getting us through it – and thank you Jesus for putting us through it!!

I have the mother of all backaches. My legs feel like they aren’t my legs. They don’t move when I say move. I discovered that the snack we had last night has reappeared all over my hands. It seems to be made of some alien material – a material that earthly soaps and solvents cannot penetrate.

I discovered I got up sometime in the middle of the night, cut a piece of chocolate cake and left it in the plate on the counter, untouched, with a little toy hammer beside it. What does that mean?

Tonight I am Naaman. Once again in Norm’s robe. I really need to have this thing washed for him.

The kids are great!

It was great. Kids everywhere – sticky kids everywhere. I’m a little tired but I’m ready for another round. Did I mention I’m doing the story station? Yea, last night I was Moses. Tonight I’m going to be King David. My costumes are great (actually, I’m wearing Norm’s bathrobe. I hope he has a big towel at home). And I’m, well, I’m still good

The kids are great!

I’m excited. I’m psyched. Our people have worked day and night to turn the entire church into a NASCAR racetrack. There are pennants, race lanes, road barriers, spare tires, race sounds and a puppet show with a real racecar. It’s amazing.

The kids will be great!

I love to eat lunch with my buddy, Tom. Of course one reason is because he’s my buddy, Tom. But, the other reason is I like the way Tom prays. It’s especially great when the place is crowded. ‘Cause Tom “ain’t” shy.

Maybe you think Tom is loud and gonna’ rear back and let those pagans in close proximity have a good dose of old time religion. No. Or, maybe you think Tom is going to stand and with grand elocution meld centuries of sound theology into one two minute thanks over a Wendy’s single with cheese. Nope, nope, nope.

Fact is, if you were sitting behind us and couldn’t see Tom you would assume he was talking to another person at the table. No excess volume, no King James language, nothing special. Just talking, talking to someone known, someone trusted, someone respected, and someone loved. Tom talks to the Creator of the Universe like he’s known Him all of his life. Truth is, its only been a little over half that. And in that time he has drawn so near to Jesus that you couldn’t tell if he’s talking to Him or me – except that he’s closer to Him – and I’ve know him over 40 years.

I was at Quik Trip today and was getting my usual refreshing beverage from their beverage bar. A little boy next to me – must have been around 8 – was also taking appropriate steps toward quenching his thirst. He called his Mom over and said, “Hey Mom, look what a kid at school showed me. It’s called a suicide. He invented it but he showed it to me”.

Suddenly, I was back at the soda fountain in the drugstore at the corner of Fairground and Clay. Mickey’s mother worked there. We didn’t get a discount but we knew Mickey and Mickey’s mother worked there and that was worth something. Our favorite drinks were suicides. It was a combination of Coke, Pepsi, Nehi Orange, Root Beer and something new that had just come out. I think it was called Sprite. They were delicious and always a mystery because how they tasted on any given day depended on who was making the drink and exactly how long they held the cup under each dispenser. It was madness!

I came to myself and moved out of the young man’s way. I counted the number of drink dispensers, losing count somewhere around 22. Suicide, eh. These days, it just may very well be.

Our church ordained three men as Elders today. As I was standing behind the pulpit the gravity of the moment hit me. I’m not sure they realize it yet but their lives will never be the same. A call from God is an amazing thing – its forever. Romans 11:29 says, “For God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable. [He never withdraws them when once they are given, and He does not change His mind about those to whom He gives His grace or to whom He sends His call]”. While this verse speaks specifically to the eternal position of Israel I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to apply it to my three friends, my three Elders. No matter where they are, Elders. No matter what they are doing, Elders. Forever.

Lord, bless these men. Give them the strength they need to do what You’ve placed before them. It may not have hit them yet that they will forever be under Your call. They can quit on you but you won’t quit on them – its forever. They can ignore you but you wont ignore them – its forever. They can forget you but you wont’ forget them – its forever. Its forever. Give them a little time. They’ll get it. Amen

Oh, and Lord. Don’t hesitate to give these guys a challenge. Trust me, they can take it. Amen, again.

Our Granddaughter’s dance recital was this weekend. She goes to a wonderful school. A young lady, only a few years ago, began teaching dance to just a few girls – dance that openly honors the Lord Jesus Christ. This overt Christian bias shows in every aspect, from the music, to the costumes, to the programs, etc. I think it’s wonderful. But, then again, I would. It has now blossomed to the point that they have to have four different recitals to accommodate all the kids. Amazing!

I admit I’m openly pessimistic about our culture. It seems that the “slippery slope” has turned into a Niagara Falls. Everywhere we turn we see all manner of things that would lead our kids away from a godly lifestyle. And yet, in the midst of this torrent of the ungodly the Lord brings forth this oasis of the godly. I watched as child after child after child honored God, the God of the Bible by the way, with their talent. Every little movement, every modest costume, every prelude of Scripture, every piece of music that openly proclaimed Jesus, it was all about our Savior.

I was reminded that my pessimism not withstanding, God can still raise up something beautiful when and where He pleases. With God anything is possible. Seems like I read that in a book somewhere.

And by the way, my Granddaughter was wonderful!!

To all American Military men and women deployed on home and foreign soil:

Thanks to you, our church held service today. We worshipped the God of the Bible and His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ. No one came to stop us.

Thanks to you, my sermon proclaimed Jesus and Jesus alone as the “author and finisher of our faith” and “the way, the truth and the life”. I have no fear of repercussions.

Thanks to you, we went to lunch after church some miles away in another county. There were no checkpoints or hindrances to our travel.

Thanks to you, over lunch we talked openly of areas where we respectfully disagree with some of the policies of our leaders. No one was detained or arrested.

Thanks to you, while riding in the car, we enjoyed a myriad of radio stations (music and talk) all containing programming of the owners choosing. Ideas of every kind were openly expressed.

Thanks to you, the entire day passed without the sound of a gunshot or IED detonation. All was peaceful in our community. There were no casualties from enemy engagement

Thanks to you, tonight we rest in the comfort of our home. I have firearms but feel no need to keep one “handy”.

Thanks to you, we will awake one more day in the most remarkable country in the history of mankind.

Thanks to you, we remain free

A prayer: “God our Father, we pray for safety for the warriors who provide the canopy of peace and freedom under which we live. May they remain safe in Your care and may they sense the awesome power of Your Presence in their lives. In Jesus name I pray – Amen and Amen”

Tonight our church was invaded by 4 yr. olds. One of our members is a teacher at a local Pre-K and we were fortunate to have them hold their graduation ceremonies in our sanctuary. It was a hoot! Myself and one brave Elder attended as sort of support staff. Well, actually, we ran the sound and hid out in the sound booth with the door locked – 4 yr. olds remember. We only came out when cake was served.

All the children were as good as gold and looked so grown up in their diminutive caps and gowns. As each child’s name was called to come up and receive his or her diploma the child’s wish for adult employment was also read aloud. There were some of what might be considered the usual – one teacher, one doctor, one policeman, one police woman, one fire fighter and two mail carriers. But, the list included things that didn’t appear on the grown-up job radar at the time of my Pre-K Baccalaureate. There was one Power Ranger, one roofer, one house cleaner, and one Spider Man. The winner, however, with three wannabes was, yep, you guessed it, three race car drivers. That’s right, three race car drivers. So, the way I figure it, if the kids get their wishes, it looks like future education and healthcare services may falter but NASCAR will be fully staffed. Gentlemen, and ladies, start your engines. Go fast and turn left.

Hopefully, the Spiderman-to-be will watch his waistline a bit better than most of us have since we were 4 yrs. old. Spandex can be so revealing.

We have a Bible study on Wednesday nights. That in and of itself is not dramatically different from most churches that I’ve been a part of except for the fact that I (the heralded pastor/teacher) completely lose control of the event. That’s right. All control, gone. Hmmmm. Allow me to elucidate.

It was about the 3rd or 4th week before it happened but it happened – total loss of control over a group of people that sit under my teaching on a weekly basis. I saw it happening; I knew it was happening; everything within the context of how I had been trained that Bible study should be was self-destructing; a total melt down. People were talking all at once and I was not included. How could this be? Should I stop it? Well, if so, how? I’m invisible and powerless. I could stamp my ordained foot and flash my God badge. Maybe if I had a whistle or something. I cleared my throat – no good. I faked a cough – no good. I wrote on the board (its one of those dry erase things. I like those). It didn’t matter what I did. These people would not stop …..... wait, they would not stop what? Suddenly, the light came on. It wasn’t chaos at all. It was connection. This little group was “gelling”; they were becoming comfortable with one another. They were becoming comfortable with me; comfortable enough to put me respectfully on the back burner for just a few minutes; comfortable enough to open up and express themselves one to another. They were becoming a family. Imagine that – a family. They were catching up with one another. They were listening and talking at the same time about what had happened since last we met. They were interested in one another. It boggles the mind.

If you should ever come to our Wednesday Night Bible study, come prepared. Chaos? Maybe to the uninitiated. What some may define as chaos comes regularly now and I have found that I miss it should it ever skip a night. All I have to do is sit back and watch as this tightly knit group of people ride a mild, though somewhat raucous wave of chaos until it settles onto the calm shore of connection. Sometimes I write on my board. I love it.

I had an opportunity to be a visitor at a meeting of a local Christian Writers Group tonight. It was quite impressive how much talent was represented there, from our little town, people who had written children’s books, magazine articles, books on Christian apologetics, lots of stuff. Since I was a visitor, the moderator asked the person who invited me to make the introduction. I did my usual – immediately turn red and hope for the rapture. But, it didn’t come – at least I hope it didn’t. I’m still here. Never mind, I know it didn’t happen because Bobbie’s still here too. Whew! Scared myself for a moment.

Anyway, he started the introduction with the age old, “I’d like to introduce my friend, David Kight”. That’s good, used to that, nothing new. But, then he paused and said, “And he’s not just a friend, like an acquaintance, no, he’s not like that at all, he’s a true friend, a real friend”. Wow, something new has been added – a true friend, a real friend.

It set me to thinking – What’s the difference, friend, real friend, same-same right? No, it’s not the same, not by a long shot. When I stop to think, I’ve had lots of friends – you know, those people who know about me, where I live, where I work, so on and so on. But, I don’t have a lot of real friends. I mean true friends, real friends like the Bible talks about. Especially, in the church setting, I have found over the years its difficult, almost impossible to develop true, real friendship.

But this is crazy. In church we’re all true, real friends – aren’t we? We even call each other brother and sister. Doesn’t that mean we’ve reached that steep plateau of true, real friendship? Maybe for you, but it hasn’t always worked that way for me.

You can tell a true friend that you blew off your quiet times last week and went through your old Beatle albums. You can tell a true friend that some days you find it hard, almost impossible to be nice, in fact some days it just feels good to be a little bit mean. You can tell a true friend that you did that thing again that you try so hard not to do and swore you’d never do but do anyway sometimes. You can go to lunch with a true friend and not ask the blessing so loud that you make a baby cry 4 tables away. In fact, you can go to lunch with a true friend and not a say the blessing at all because he knows how thankful you are just to be alive. You can tell a true friend that sometimes you laugh at Larry the Cable Guy and you can tell a true friend that sometimes you cry every time you watch Toy Story and the girl cowboy doll sings about being tossed aside by her owner. You can tell a true friend that sometimes you think you hear the audible voice of God and you can tell a true friend that sometimes you wonder if He’s even there at all. Most church friends that I’ve had aren’t that kind of friend – but I wish they were.

I bet Jesus was that kind of friend, a true friend to the disciples. I bet, somehow, he let them know that they didn’t have to play act when they were around him; they didn’t have to always pretend like they had things together or that they knew what steps to take or that they weren’t really afraid of the dark. I bet Jesus was a true friend. And you know what, I bet He still is!!

A very good friend of mine found out a few days ago that his job was being phased out and his services would no longer be needed. Now, this man is not an old man. He had been in this position for 11 years, since he was quite a young man and assumed that he would be in this same position many years hence. Did I mention this job was, in its own way, a very real position in ministry. He is married and has a 2 year old child.

Now, in today’s economic climate, these stories come a dime a dozen. I’ve been there and many of you have also been there. Hold up, I haven’t gotten to the point yet. The point is Romans 8:28. You know it; “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose”.

Of course the import to this verse is that no matter what we are going through, God will work it out for his children. That’s a given. No one I know in the faith disputes that. The catch is that this “working out” is a process, it takes time and, as I was taught in counseling school “in the meantime, while God is working out, it can turn into a really MEAN time’. There is a lot to wade through. Let’s see, we have anger, worry, anxiety, uh help me out here, disillusionment, disappointment in the situation and in yourself. The list is longer, but you get what I’m saying. When bad things come upon us our humanity responds just exactly like humanity responds – with all these emotions and questions.

All right, I’m ready for the point – and I bet you are too. He came to me not because he was afraid that Romans 8:28 would not apply to this situation in his life. He is dead certain that it does and in due season God will always do what He says He will do – He will take our life’s situations, though they be negative, do His thing, and turn them into something that is positive in our live. My friend has that much wired – God’s gonna’ do what He says – Duh! He came to me because he new I would allow him to talk about the MEAN time that it takes to get through the meantime. He was afraid that if he showed hurt or anger or worry around his church friends, those who look up to him and his position, he was afraid that they would turn him away and see him less a Christian or even worse, he was afraid of being given one of those pat churchy answers that make the person giving it feel spiritual and makes the one receiving feel like throwing something (in love of course. He felt isolated from the very ones that are intended to be a source of solace in a time of hurt.

We talked, or actually he talked and I listened. He went through his feelings and expressed them in a most articulate manner, some he expressed a bit louder than others but still he covered them all. When he finished, I put my hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was alright? He said he was fine, thanked me for listening and we went back to work. Simple as that.

Now, to the moral. I have no doubt in my mind that this guy will be fine, his family will be fine and more than anything else I know his faith is fine. He just needed someone he trusted to process a little instead of being one those who thinks a show of humanity on the part of a Christian some how diminishes their faith and even what God will do in their lives.

God is a pretty tough customer. He’s not afraid of your emotions, feelings, reactions and all that human stuff. Guess what? He made all that human stuff – its His stuff to start with.

Stuff is gonna happen to you – trust me. And when it does, God has already set in motion all the wheels that need to turn to make it come out a blessing on the other side. But, in the meantime, that can be such a MEAN time, find someone you trust and go through it, one by one. If your friend is wise, he won’t try to give you solutions or quick fixes or even religious platitudes, he’ll just listen, pat you on the back and send you on your way knowing full well that your God, the God of the Universe, has already taken care of it all, down the road, when the MEAN time becomes a SWEET time, a Romans 8:28 time will happen – Praise God!

I just wanted to thank all of you, as well as the entire country for helping me to celebrate a day dedicated to a guy you’ve never met and I suspect never heard of until know. Oh I know the formal name is Veteran’s Day, but since February of 1967, for me its been “Johnny Junkins” Day.

Now, I don’t want to give a false impression. Johnny and I were not friends – no, far from it. I was a year behind him in high school, I knew him, even hung out at his house a couple of times, but we were not friends. I was terrified of him! We were all terrified of him! He was the meanest, toughest “you know what” in our entire school which to the teenage mind meant he was the meanest, toughest “you know what” in the entire world. He had failed a couple of grades and he seemed like a grown up man to all of us except this grown up man would beat you half to death if you gave him the slightest provocation or sometimes just because it was Tuesday. Even the teachers would cross to the other side of the hall.

In gym class they used to let us, or make us, box. The standing rule made by the principal was that anyone who boxed Johnny had to not only wear headgear but also a catchers mask. They went through 3 catchers masks my junior year. After graduating in 1966 with an overall average of exactly 70, exactly (what are the odds – talk about your no kid left behind), Johnny joined the Army and volunteered for Viet Nam.

When I heard that I rode my bike to my best friend Mike’s house who just happened to live next door to the Junkins. We laughed and joked about how with Johnny over there it would be a slaughter. How could anyone stand up against the power and rage of a Junkins let loose – not to mention armed with an M-16. When school began the next September Johnny was a local legend, bigger than life, bad to the bone, indestructible – a 19 year old superman in green that would knock you’re name out of the phonebook.

When that day came in February, I remember it was still cold and really windy. They couldn’t open the casket. They just put his senior picture on top with a bronze star draped over it.

I can’t listen to the politicians a lot on “Johnny Junkins” Day – not either side of the aisle. I’m sure they mean well, but it seems like both sides try to take credit for what Johnny did and use this sacred day to further their on private agendas. Maybe I’m too sensitive but it seems Johnny deserves more than a day off for the Post Office and the banks being closed – and they never once mention Johnny – at least not the one I knew, or the one you knew, or your Dad, or your brother, or your Uncle, or your Grandfather – and it makes me sad because they will all forever be heroes to me – the unknown Johnny’s, both men and women, who have either risked or laid down their lives throughout the entire history of this nation, including today, so that you and I might sleep safely at night. They’re all heroes to me and I thank God for them.

So, happy Johnny Junkins day. You can sleep well tonight – the Johnny’s are still on the job – and they’re all heroes to me.