Whenever you feel like your life is out of control and as crappy as a yard full of puppies, forget yourself for just a moment…
if only for a moment….
and try to encourage someone else.
Who knows? It might just be they are having a worse day than you.
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Lord, please help me. Help me, dear God, to say, or rather write, something profitable, something worth reading on this most difficult topic of race.
I need wisdom. I need guidance. May my words contribute to healing, not hate.
I have not been writing as much as I would like, but I felt it necessary to take a few moments to address the whole idea around the rallying cry of “Black Lives Matter.”
Folks, being that I am not black, brown, or transgender (somehow gender has been added to the mix – just check out the website), I admit there are things I don’t understand. But there is one thing I do understand, and my race has nothing to do with this truth: ALL lives matter, not just ones with a particular color or sexual preference.
Let me reiterate. ALL LIVES MATTER.
Yes, I said it, and I will not back down. Why? Because to do so would be un-biblical and un-Christlike. Regardless how one might want to politicize the issue, as a follower of Jesus, as one who believes God made all mankind in His image, I must stand firmly on Truth, not catchphrases.
Racism is wrong. Bigotry is wrong. And taking a statement that excludes the inherent value of all human life as your mantra is also wrong.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and I would not have agreed on several things, particularly in areas of theology and what is called the “social gospel.” Nevertheless, I believe Dr. King and I would have seen eye-to-eye regarding the “Black Lives Matter” thing. He would have said, “NO! NO! NO!” to all the violence and hatred. I believe he would be heartbroken at all the calls for unrest. He would certainly be ashamed of those who have used race as a tool for their own gain. Was it not Dr. King who envisioned a “color-blind” society?
If a person can’t say that “all lives matter” in public without being condemned, without being forced to apologize, then what does that say about the lives of others? What about my family? What about the Asian family down the road? Or the Indian woman that walks down the street with her husband and son? What about the Native American?
I guess one could argue the phrase is only meant to bring attention to the plight of the black community in America. One could also argue that by saying “all lives matter” one is, in a way, saying racism in America doesn’t exist. Possibly. But that’s a matter of opinion.
The truth is that black lives do matter, but so do white lives, brown lives, yellow lives, and red lives; red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. The proof was when Jesus offered Himself as a ransom so that every tribe and nation could be reconciled with God.
By the way, the majority of aborted babies are black. Do their lives matter? Jesus loves them, too.
All lives matter. Period.
UPDATE: This post has done nothing but depress me. I regret writing it.
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Once again I am composing a post upon my old iPhone (would someone set up a GoFundAnthony account and buy me an iPhone 6?).
I’m sitting in a school bus, under a bridge, all alone, after dropping off a bunch of kids on a summer field trip. They are riding the Riverboat while I sit here waiting. But, it’s a great opportunity to read and study.
Anyway…
One of the treasures I picked up the last time I was in Charleston was a new Bible. But this Bible is a little different – no, it’s a LOT different – from others I have: it’s in a different language! And I am reading it!
De Nyew Testament is a translation of the New Testament into the Gullah language. No, it’s not a paraphrase or a for-fun parody of the KJV; it’s a literal translation of the NT into a genuine language. Gullah (also known as Geechee or Sea Island Creole) is a language “traditionally spoken along the coastal area of South Carolina and Georgia.”
According to the preface, it took more than 25 years for folks from Wycliffe Bible Translators and the American Bible Society to pull this translation together. And let me tell you something: it’s worth getting.
If you are a fluent reader of English, then you can read Gullah. It will take some practice, but you’ll get used to it and start to pick up on its rhythm.
So, here I was under a bridge, in a school bus, next to the riverfront, reading a little from the Gullah version of the NT, when tears filled my eyes. And because of that, I wanted to write this post so I could share with you the particular verse of Scripture that got me. Read it through a few times, then let me know if it blessed you the way it blessed me 🙂
“Look yah! We oughta study pon how de Fada da bless we wid e lob! E da lob we sommuch dat e call we e own chullun, an we e chullun fa true. People ob de wol ain been know who God da, an cause ob dat, dey ain know we.” 1 John 3:1 (Gullah)
“Look yah!” We ought to be studyin’ about how the Father has done blessed us with His love! Glory be to God!
Filed under Bible Study, blogging, book review, God, translations, Uncategorized, worship
I would like to set the scene, to provide you with a little context, before I continue with this totally off-the-wall (or maybe on-the-wall) post.
First, I am sitting in the dining area of a large hospital in Chattanooga (the one in the news, actually), sipping on a hot cup of coffee (it’s 100 degrees outside, but it is stinking cold inside). The coffee was for drinking while waiting on my daughter – she is here doing some stuff, the details of which would probably bore you.
Second, I am writing this on my cell phone – my dependable little iPhone 4S with a cracked screen – causing my eyes to lose their ability to focus at a distance.
Third, as a matter most important to the context, I had to go to the men’s room. That’s where I took the accompanying photo, the impetus for this post.
Because I am a man of proper upbringing, after making use of the facilities, I stepped up to the sink to wash my hands. However, before I could begin, before I could even turn on the water, I was taken aback by something my mind had a hard time comprehending – a space between the back of the sink and the mirror on the wall.
Hawaiian shirt and New Balance shoes: I’m stylin’.
I must have looked like a dog hearing a strange, new sound. Fortunately, no one else was in the room, so I stood there, perplexed, wondering to myself, “What the heck?” Why was there a space? What would happen if I placed my marbles on the counter? Was there really that big of a gap, or was it just an illusion? Was I being pranked? Was I on television?!
For a couple of minutes all I could do as I stood at the sink was wonder why anyone would build it this way. When I finally leaned forward to wash my hands, I saw my feet and thought, “Maybe doctors designed this to see if their shoes needed polishing?” Then I realized I don’t even know what kind of shoes doctors wear. Don’t they usually cover their shoes with footies? Maybe the architects had full-length mirrors to sell? Maybe somebody wanted to show off his plumbing?
Anyway, a simple trip to the bathroom turned into a list of questions. Instead of just accepting things as they were, my questioning nearly led me to spread unhealthy germs by nearly forgetting to wash my hands! So many questions, and I’ll probably never get a satisfactory answer.
I took a photo of the sink and mirror in question with the intent of quickly posting it to Facebook, including with it some quirky remark. That’s when the Holy Spirit interrupted my thinking and spoke to my heart. He said, “Men question the placement of a mirror, yet they dare to understand all my ways?”
I paused and looked at the picture I was editing on my photo app. Then, in my spirit, I heard, “My ways are higher than your ways. My mirrors are far higher than man’s mirrors.”
So often we question the ways of God, don’t we? Why not just admire the beauty of His Wisdom and rest in His provision? Why not accept the fact that we’re never going to understand why He does all He does, or allows all He allows, and just trust Him?
After all, the last thing we need to be doing in this sin-sick world is spreading germs.
Filed under blogging, current events, Faith, General Observations, God, Struggles and Trials, Uncategorized
I had another post prepared for today, but I pulled it; it made me look too good.
I miss my dad, terribly so. He was everything I am not: consistent, strong, a good husband, good father, brave, and a harmonica player. He never lost his temper (that I saw), never cursed, and never let me know it if he ever worried. I was never ashamed of him, but was always proud to be his son.
It’s been 24 years since he died, and I’ve gone many an aniversary never even thinking about it. But this year is different; I wish he was here.
I don’t deserve any praise or gifts. I don’t even want any well-wishes. All I want is for this day to be over. I’m not worth celebrating.
Dad, I know you can’t hear me or read this, but I wish you were here. I need to talk, to hear some advice, to just go do something together. On the other hand, I’m glad you don’t have to see me like this; you’d probably wonder where you went wrong. Knowing you, you’d be proud of me for the things I’ve accomplished, but in your heart you’d be worried, and I’d be silently ashamed. Like I said, Daddy, I know you can’t read this, but thankfully, the next time we will meet I will have been transformed into the likeness of our Saviour, clothed in righteousness, and without fault. There will be no shame or regret, and then we can both give honor, together, to the only Father who is truly deserving of praise.
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If we had more parents and grandparents acting like parents and grandparents, much of the stuff we see going on today would never happen. If only people would apply the Wisdom of Proverbs to their lives…what a better world it would be.
Pick Your Own
If the typical Child Protective Services agent of today had been around when I was a wee heathen, my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents would have been hauled off to jail. My parents, especially my paternal grandmother, would have wound up on the front page of the newspaper. They would have made the evening news on television. The story would have read something like this…
APNews. Mary Baker, the half-Cherokee grandmother of sweet little Anthony Baker, was arrested for gross child abuse, today. Mrs. Baker, widow of the late William Baker (saw mill owner; moonshine runner), was found to have left marks on cute little Anthony’s backside…
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If, if, if, (please understand) IF I robbed a bank, I can imagine how things would turn out. Aside from being sad, it would probably be comical.
Personality. I don’t have the personality to rob a bank. I don’t like making people angry. It really hurts my feelings when people think poorly of me. I want people to like me, not want to hunt me down. If I were to rob a bank, my request for money from the teller would start with a “Hi, how are you today?”
The Note. What kind of note would I give the teller? It would have to be crafted in such a way as not to embarrass me if read in public. What if I misspelled a word? What if I used poor grammar? What if I used a preposition to end a sentence with? It would stress me too much to think that I committed a crime for which I would forever be ridiculed for a poor choice of criminal words.
The Getaway Car. That’s a joke. Just as soon as the deed was done, my car would either die, or not even start. We have the worst luck with automobiles. And besides, what kind of bank robber drives a mini-van?
The Defense Attorney. Considering that I could not keep the money I would have stolen, I would not be able to afford a good lawyer. From my experience, most defense attorneys I have met probably buy shares in Orange Suits R Us.
If I were to rob a bank, I would get caught, convicted, and sent to prison for life. My name and reputation would be permanently ruined. The name of Anthony Charles Baker would forever be associated with the seedy, felonious, arch villains of history.
Suppose I never walked into one of those cool, new banks that have complimentary cappuccino machines and free back rubs. Suppose I just stayed at home with my little dog and a computer, but let one finger on my right hand rob the bank? All my finger would need would be the correct access codes, false identities, foreign bank account numbers, and an expertly manicured nail with a healthy cuticle.
Eventually, as these things usually turn out, my finger would get arrested. No, wait…I would get arrested, correct? Maybe it would take a few years to track me down. Maybe I would slip up and get caught while spending holiday (as the Brits say it) in Mont Carlo on my 90 foot yacht.
The fact is that I would get caught, and the reality would be that the whole body of Anthony C. Baker would be imprisoned, not just the finger. In other words, you can’t give the FBI the finger and walk away.
The finger is part of the body. And just like my finger is part of my body, I am part of the Body of Christ, the Church. The apostle Paul made it very clear that every believer is more than just an individual, but a “member” of the whole. Some, as he put it, are eyes; some are feet; and some are fingers (Romans 12:4,5; 1 Corinthians 12:12; Ephesians 5:30). Each one of us has a particular function, but each one in particular is a part of a whole.
So often we think that we can act with total independence and bear the consequences for our own sins by ourselves. Many, when questioned about unwise choices will respond with, “This is my life, so don’t judge me…I’ll accept the responsibility.” What they fail to realize is that their sins affect more than one individual member – they affect the whole Body.
If my finger robbed a bank, I could argue, to no avail, that my body was innocent, that my reputation should not be harmed, and that my finger should be held accountable. I could say, “Arrest the finger, not me!” How silly would that be?
When the world sees us, they see Jesus. Christians, by definition, are “little Christs.” We, by design, are the hands and feet, the Body of Jesus Christ on the earth. By our actions the world should see that Jesus is loving and compassionate, but also holy and obedient to His Father’s will. What, then, do they think of our Savior when we live in open sin?
If I robbed a bank with my finger, the authorities would condemn me, Anthony Baker. If I treat my neighbor poorly, am unfaithful to my spouse, or harm my children, what does that say about Jesus? The eyes of the watching world will say, “If that’s a Christian…”
As part of the Body of Christ, we are responsible for the name of Christ. In “the name of Jesus” we pray, but “in the name of Jesus” we also live our lives in front of the lost. They have a hard time disassociating the “finger” from the Body. The reputation of the Body (the Church) and the name it bears can be stained by the actions of only one member.
It is not a pleasant thing to consider, but if Jesus is concerned about His reputation, would it be wrong for Him to remove a “member” for causing the rest of the Body, including the name of Jesus, to suffer reproach? That’s what He did in the book of Acts with Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1)?
Do you claim the name of Christ? Do you call yourself a Christian? If you do, are you living in open, blatant sin, such as fornication or adultery? What about constant lying, or gossiping? These are things from which we are told to “flee.” Why? Because you are telling others that the Person attached to the “finger” approves of those things.
If Jesus takes His reputation seriously, to live in rebellion and unrighteousness would seem awfully dangerous. But I’m not pointing any fingers.
(Originally published in 2012, but still very applicable. Wouldn’t you agree?)
Filed under Christian Living, Christian Maturity, Uncategorized, Witnessing
Honestly, I wanted to write about something else (Obama’s speech at the National Prayer Breakfast – you’ll be surprised at my take, I bet), but before I had a chance I took the time to read Wally Fry’s blog, Truth in Palmyra. I am so glad I did.
Seriously, I was moved to tears while reading Melissa’s story of becoming complete in Jesus, her Messiah. Oh, folks, there are so many more out there like her, like she was, hurting and empty without hope. Won’t you share this story with them? Lead them to the cross.
A….35 year old…..Jewish….lawyer…finds Jesus. If the emphasis on those three things seems a bit much, allow me to explain. We all know that the older one is, the more resistant one tends to be to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Most people, if not converted by 35 will not be. I have nothing against lawyers, but the facts are that overall, with their emphasis on proofs and logic, attorneys might not seem prime candidates to accept the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Last, but not least; we have Jewish. As a whole, the Jewish people have rejected Jesus as the Messiah, and conversions are not that common. So, what we have here is a 35 year old Jewish Lawyer who has accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.
Meet Melissa Zellniker Presser. Melissa is one of my blogging friends and dear Sister in Christ. With that introduction behind us; I will…
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There’s been a lot of debate in recent years over something called the “rapture.” Even good friends within the Church have slung a lot of harsh words as a result of arguments over dispensationalism. Frankly, I think much of the debate over end times (eschatology) has become a distraction from what’s most important: we all could meet our maker at any moment.
So, even though it’s ok to discuss what may or may not happen in the near or distant future, let us not forget that souls are being escorted into eternity every second.
As I sit here in the waiting room of a hospital, sitting with family from our church, not knowing what the next few hours will hold, my advice is simple… Don’t worry about the sound of a trumpet until you’re prepared for the unexpected horn of the truck that could run over you today.
Filed under Faith, Future, the future, Theology, Uncategorized
Wow! Just…WOW! This post is from a blog I just started following, and it will surely be part of a future sermon. Who am I? Read and find out 😉
I am an Israelite in the desert, You have delivered me and still I doubt. You have performed miracles before my very eyes, and still I question You.
I choose the world and then curse You when everything goes wrong. I keep turning away, and yet You still protect me and give me chances that I don’t deserve.
I am Jonah, running in fear from the purpose You have given me.
I am Gideon, I try to tell You that You’ve got the wrong one, that I am not good enough to do what You need done. I doubt that You can use someone like me.
I am David, I allow my momentary impulsive desires to compromise everything You’ve built and everything You’ve done for me.
I am a pharisee, I consistently choose legalism and rules over truth and compassion.
I am the rich young ruler, unable to part with…
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The Recovering Legalist 