Hey everybody, this is spur of the moment, but here is a video that will be showing to the people coming to my daughter’s wedding tonight.
I will be doing a ceremony. 😍
Pray for us. Hard to let go. But I’m proud of the both of them.
Hey everybody, this is spur of the moment, but here is a video that will be showing to the people coming to my daughter’s wedding tonight.
I will be doing a ceremony. 😍
Pray for us. Hard to let go. But I’m proud of the both of them.
OH! Look! It’s my birthday! I am a whopping 53 years old today, and I’m excited! Why? I don’t know, but probably because I’m alive.
Yes, 53 years have passed since I was born in Chattanooga, TN. A whole lot of water has gone under the bridge since then.
But just last night, as we were heading home from Waffle House – that’s where we went for my pre-birthday dinner, I noted that, in reality, I didn’t do anything to be recognized for; my mother did all the work! She, of all people, should be celebrated!
It was long overdue, but I said, “I didn’t do anything on my own to be born; it was YOU who made the choice to have me … thank you.”
It was then that my wife said, “Then maybe we should not buy you a birthday present, but get your mom something!”
Ummm, nice, but it doesn’t work like that.
But then there was another birthday: the day I was born again. And the interesting thing about THAT day is that once again, similar to my earthly birth, the credit really belongs to a parent – my dad.
On a Wednesday night in September, 1973, I realized that I was a sinner in need of a Savior. Unfortunately, although I was convicted of my lostness, I didn’t know what to do about it. That’s when my daddy, my godly father, took notice and asked me what was wrong.
“I’m not saved…I’m going to hell!” I said.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. I nodded.
Then, right in the middle of a song service at 34th Street Baptist Tabernacle, my dad I snuck off to a tiny Sunday school room with tiny tables and tiny chairs, and there he walked me through a classic “sinner’s prayer.”
I was gloriously and miraculously regenerated! I was born again! I was saved!
I can’t remember if I ever actually thanked him for that day, but because of that day I know I’ll get another chance.
Below is what is written in my dad’s tattered old Bible. My new-birth certificate 🙂
Thank you, Mom and Dad.
It’s Friday, and I know you all are looking forward to a wonderful weekend, especially those of you (and us) in Georgia who are looking forward to slowly getting back to work.
Well, as most of you know, I don’t drive a school bus anymore, but years of driving left me with some stories – OH, the stories!
Here’s one that might bring a smile to your face – and help you explain the “birds and the bees” to your kids.
The following story is from a few years ago.
If you didn’t know by now (I don’t know how you wouldn’t), I am a mild-mannered school bus driver by day…I can’t tell you about what I do at night – it’s top secret.
Because I drive a school bus, I am privy to many things children will talk about when not around teachers or parents (they seem to think I can’t hear – I’m too focused on the road, you know). Most of what they talk about is mundane and full of drama (especially with the girls), but sometimes their conversations DEMAND that I insert my two cents.
However, it is rare to hear my elementary kids (grades K-5) talk about “the birds and the bees,” especially when the words they use are ones like “egg,” “sperm,” etc. Therefore, what was discussed today was destined to be turned into a blog post.
I was just driving, looking ahead at the road, when a 5th-grade girl (let’s call her “Sue”) sitting in a seat right behind me uttered the words “sperm,” “egg,” and “sex” in the same string of words. I am only assuming the string of words were put together in the form of a sentence, but the key words stood out above the rest she used. Immediately my eyes looked up to the rear-view mirror.
“Blah blah sex blah blah blah sperm and egg, blah blah blah, isn’t that right?” Sue asked a male student across the aisle from her.
Looking at Sue’s reflection in my student mirror, with a combined look of shock and inquisitiveness, I asked, “What in the world are y’all talking about?”
“Oh…yeah…we’ve been learning stuff in 5th grade…probably stuff we shouldn’t know at our age,” Sue replied. Then she called upon a 5th-grade boy (let’s call him Jack) and asked, “Isn’t that right, Jack? Tell Mr. Baker what we were learning about in class.”
Like a typical boy with little on his mind, Jack at first responded with a “Huh?” Then he went on to say, “Yeah, we talked about sex, and where babies come from, and all that.”
“And eggs and sperm, right?” Sue continued.
“Oh, yeah, that too,” Jack confirmed.
“Well,” I said, shaking my head, “you’re probably right…you’re too young for that stuff.”
“And a…a….a….” Sue stuttered, trying to complete a word.
“Asexual?” I questioned, attempting to complete the word she was trying to remember.
“Yeah! Asexual! We learned about being asexual, too,” Sue replied.
So, as you see, I was drawn into a conversation that grown-ups dread, especially when it comes to dealing with little kids that are not your own. Therefore, taking charge of the discussion, I immediately began to extend my wisdom on the subject.
“So, you know what asexual is, then?” I asked.
“Yes,” sue replied.
“Well, that’s what you should be…asexual,” I said. Sue tilted her head with suspicion.
“Yep, that’s what you need to be – asexual. That means you don’t need a boy; you don’t need to date anyone; you don’t need any of that – just have babies all by yourself, or cut off your arm and in no time you have another you, just like a starfish. Simple.”
“I don’t think that’s the way it works, Mr. Baker,” said an incredulous Sue. Then she looked at Jack and asked, “What wrong?”
Jack, looking a little sad, then said, “I don’t want to be asexual…I don’t like asexual. That makes me sad.” Then he stepped off the bus.
With a serious, yet “no duh” look I caught Sue’s eye in the above mirror and asked, “Do you really want to know where babies come from?”
“Sure. Where?” replied Sue.
I explained it this way…
You see, first of all, all that stuff you see on TV, all that stuff in the movies…especially that Rated-R stuff…all of that is fake; don’t believe it. All that stuff you see them doing is not real; men and women don’t really do all of that.
Secondly, I have kids, so I know about these things. That whole “Stork” thing…that’s made up, too.
Here’s the truth, OK? What happens is when a woman has a baby, she goes to the hospital to get it. She goes to a really nice, expensive room, where she gets really comfortable and waits around a while. They put her on a bed, lean her back, and then cover her up with a blanket, making sure she has everything she needs. Then, at some point, the doctors and nurses roll in a cart with a big tray on it. On that big tray is a bunch of cabbages.
What happens is when they roll in that tray full of cabbages, the woman is then given one choice, one cabbage, to pick. She picks the cabbage she wants, then they turn it over. Whatever baby is under that cabbage is the one she gets, the one she has to take home.
That’s where babies come from. You understand, now?
“Cabbages, huh?” asked Sue, her lips snarled up to one corner of her face.
“Oh, and Sue,” I said, as I was approaching her stop, “this means if your mom wants to have another baby, she doesn’t need another husband, either.”
Sue looked at me, head tilted, with a look on her freckled face that screamed “this oughta be good,” and then asked, “Oh, really?”
“Absolutely!” I exclaimed. Knowing Sue’s mom is divorced, I went on to explain, “If she wants another baby, all she needs to do is call down to the hospital and order a tray of cabbages, and they’ll get one ready for her. Then she can just pick.”
Stepping down the stairs after the bus came to a stop at her street corner, Sue looked back at me with a smile and said, “Cabbages, huh? Have a great day, Mr. Baker…see you tomorrow.”
And THAT is how a bus driver explains the birds and the bees.
I wrote this back in 2016 before I actually became a grandfather. Emma Louise and I haven’t had any real conversations, as of yet. But when we do… mmwwaahahahaa!
I’m not a grandfather, but I act like one. You know, the kind of old guy that says what he want to say when he wants to say it, then blames others for not understanding his wisdom? That’s me. I’m an up-and-coming codger.
Grandfathers are also notorious/famous for telling tall tales, embellishing the facts, and leaving grandkids confused about actual historical events. Of course, the point of those stories is to keep a kid’s attention for more than 30 seconds; the straight truth can be boring at times.
So, even though I’m not literally a grandpa, I play one on the school bus. It keeps me entertained.
Many times on Facebook I share short little conversations I’ve had with children on the bus (they say the darnedest things, you know). However, today I’m skipping Facebook and going straight to the blog.
I’m sure all of you are gonna hate me after you read this.
Me: Good morning.
5th Grade Boy: Good morning.
Me: How are you feeling today? You holding up?
Boy: What? Yeah, I’m ok. Why?
Me: I mean, it must be pretty hard; I heard the bad news.
Boy: What bad news?
Me: About your goldfish dying.
Boy: What? I don’t have a fish. At least not anymore. I haven’t had a fish in a long time.
Me: So it died.
Boy: I don’t know. I guess.
Me: Well I’m proud of you for taking it so well.
Boy: Uh, OK.
Me: And I heard about your cat, too. That was horrible.
Boy: Huh? What about my cat? Nothing happened to the cat.
Me: Well, I heard it died in a horrible freak lawnmower accident. I know that must be hard on you.
Boy: What? My cat didn’t die in a lawnmower accident! He just ran away.
Me: OK. If that’s what they tell you. You believe that.
Boy: Guess what!? (says the boy to another kid in a seat beside him) I had a cat die in a freak lawnmower accident! Cool, huh??
I pity my grandchildren [actually, my granddaughter], don’t you?
Last night I was blessed with the wonderful privilege of holding hands with an 8 year-old boy and his mother as he prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior! It was awesome!
The “sinner’s prayer” was involved, though. Was this a problem?
Let me describe what happened, then let’s talk about it.
It was Wednesday night, and that’s when the youth meet downstairs and the adults meet in the main sanctuary for prayer and discussion of Scripture (we are currently going through the book of Proverbs a chapter each week). After I had already gotten started, the mother and her son came in and sat in the auditorium. Frankly, I thought it was odd that they both came in…maybe he got in trouble, or something?
Well, it was only after the meeting was finished that Cara and Jhett (Yeah, that’s his name. Cool, huh?), a young rodeo star in his own right (he’s a champion mutton rider!), walked up to me and wanted to talk.
“Jhett has something he wants to ask you,” his mother, Cara, said.
“Oh, really?” I responded. “What is it you want to talk about?”
Then, with a nervous voice, he looked up and said, “I want to be baptized.”
I said, “Oh! Well, let’s sit down and talk about it.”
I had to make sure what was going on, so we then sat down on the steps in front of the stage. I needed to know, first of all, if Jhett knew what baptism was and why it was important. I needed to know if he was even born again.
After some simple discussion, it became clear to me that Jhett had never actually become a Christian by repenting of his sin and giving his life to Jesus. If he had, he didn’t remember. However, it also became clear that he associated baptism with giving one’s life to Christ, so all I felt was needed was clarification and a little instruction.
Some people rightfully worry about false conversions when it comes to children. I’m one of them. The last thing I will ever do is preach a sermon to a bunch of children and make a blanket plea for “all who want to go to heaven come forward.”
Another thing I am very hesitant to do is ask a child to pray the “sinner’s prayer” with me.
Now, wait a minute! Haven’t I written a strong defense of the “sinner’s prayer”? Yes, I have! As a matter of fact, my dad led me through the prayer, helping me say what needed to be said, when I was only 6 years old (Sept. 27, 1973 – a Wednesday night). Why, then, would I be hesitant to lead another child through the “sinner’s prayer”?
Simple: I need to know that what they are doing is genuine and not coerced.
So, last night I explained to this wonderful young man what it meant to be a sinner, what sin was, and what God thought of it. I explained the first half of Romans 3:23, to which he responded with a look of shock. Then I told him about the “gift of God” and eternal life through faith in Jesus.
After first explaining everything in the most elementary way possible, then after asking if he understood, Jhett nodded in approval. He understood that he was NOT saved and WAS lost. He understood that he needed to be SAVED before being baptized. And when I asked if he wanted to pray to make Jesus “boss” of his life and trust Him with his soul forever, he said, “Yes.”
Why am I writing all of this? It’s important you see where I had to make an informed, wise decision where others may have either rescheduled with Jhett, or excitedly moved forward without any hesitation.
When it comes to adults, especially, I am a firm believer in: “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved” (Romans 10:9). If a person is unwilling to publicly profess his/her faith in Jesus, then I highly doubt their conversion.
“Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.” – Jesus, Matthew 10:32-33
Therefore, I had to pause for a second after I initially prayed with the boy. The first time we prayed, I asked him to pray to God in his own words something similar to a prayer that I would say. It was a “sinner’s prayer.” But when I was done, and Cara asked him if/what he prayed, he looked a little embarrassed and shook his head. I could tell he was nervous.
His sisters had come in and were sitting on the front row, watching with expectation. That probably didn’t help.
I then asked him something like, “Why don’t you do this…why don’t you go ahead and talk to God, just like we’re talking now, and tell him you are a sinner, ask for His forgiveness, and ask Jesus to take control of your life?” He balked at the idea.
(His mom nicely and wisely asked the girls to leave the room for a few minutes.)
“Can you pray to Jesus, Jhett?” his mom asked. With a frown and a shake of his head, he replied, “I’m too nervous.”
These were questions that I had to consider at this point, and doing the wrong thing could be catastrophic.
I then asked, “Would you like for me to pray aloud and say the words so that you can follow along?” His eyes lifted.
“Would that be OK?” Cara asked. He nodded with a smile.
“Then let’s pray,” I said. “And let’s all hold hands.”
Why did I go forward with the “sinner’s prayer”? Because, as I discerned, I had not made an emotional, manipulative call for Jhett to come forward to accept Jesus – he came of his own free will. Even though his understanding of baptism was initially mistaken, the fact that he wanted to be saved, even though he was confused about the process, was evident and his desire was genuine, not coerced.
In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with using the “sinner’s prayer” as a tool to help someone who is already being drawn by the Holy Spirit unto Christ. I do think it’s important, however, that we use discretion when praying with children.
Now let’s go fill up that baptistery!
(My thanks to Cara and Jhett for letting me tell this story. Oh, and we may also have an up-and-coming “preacher” in the midst 🙂 )
Today I thought I’d go back and see what I wrote in the first February of this blog. Unfortunately, I didn’t start writing until August of 2009, but then I stopped after only a few posts. I didn’t start back up until July of 2010, so my first February wasn’t until 2011.
I wanted to see what I had written 10 years ago, but this is the best I can do 🙂
Do you know what a “small bus” is? Maybe you know it as the “short bus.” Either way, it is a bus on which the physically and mentally handicapped ride to school. Fun, fun, fun.
One day I was filling in on what was called a “Special Needs” route. Being that I was not familiar with where all the stops were, it would have helped to have someone on board, like an attendant, to give me directions. You see, even though drivers are supposed to write out directions, the ones that get left for the sub drivers aren’t always up-to-date. Attendants regularly help with the “rights and lefts.”
Oh, I’m sorry! You need to know what an “attendant” is, don’t you?
Usually, on all “Special Ed” routes, there is what is called an “attendant.” This is the person who rides along to watch the kids in the back, making sure they stay seated and buckled in, ensuring their safety. However, many times the attendant’s job consists of being cursed, spit on, puked on, drooled on, kicked, and even looked at “funny.”
Anyway, I did not have an attendant this special (pun intended) day. I had a list of directions, but they were pretty vague. I might has well been driving blind, cause I was totally in the dark. I needed a little help. Then, I pick up my first student…maybe she could help me? Nope….she was blind.
Me: Good morning. How are you doing?
Girl: I am doing great! You don’t sound like our regular driver. You filling in for him?
Me: Yeah, and I wish he had left better directions to get where we need to go. I wish I had some help.
Girl: Don’t worry, I’ll keep you on track. (EXCUSE ME!!)
Me: (Puzzled) What are you going to do, whack me on the back of the head with that stick? (Yes, I said it.)
When the “blind lead the blind,” nobody gets picked up; nobody rides; and the Destination is never reached.
Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch. – Matthew 15:14 KJV
Teachers of the Word, be mindful of your doctrine…
Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine. Continue in them, for in doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you. – 1 Timothy 4:16 NKJV
Followers of the Word, be mindful of your teachers…
But there were false prophets also among the people, even as there shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon themselves swift destruction. – 2 Peter 2:1 KJV
Just the other day I shared a post from Pastor Randy which generated a lot of response, some not so positive. Well, I guess I’m a sucker for punishment because I’m going to do it again.
I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I, too, have heard some seriously stupid answers to the question of “why?” when it comes to the death of children (I worked in a funeral home for several years). The “angel” and “He needed them” reasons were also sickening to me. Yet, some of my Calvinist friends have also attempted to give some pretty sad excuses (ask John Piper), but that’s another argument for another day.
Anyway, “be still and know that I am God” is in vinyl lettering (from Hobby Lobby) above the mantle in our dining room.
I thought this Tuesday Thoughts edition was going to take a while to figure out what to write. I was wrong. It comes out of something that happened last week: 4 year old Wyatt Spann died from cancer. And this reminded me of something that happened a few years ago–the death of another young child, Noah Crowe, from cancer. It’s not “MY” feelings about these tragedies, but the things “some” people say. To be more specific: What some who call themselves ‘Christians’ say to broken and grieving hearts. It’s not only at funeral homes where they speak these abominations, but being active in disaster response, I’ve heard some of the same poor, DEPLORABLE theology.
Below are some of the DESPICABLE, VILE, LOATHSOME AND WRETCHED things some people believe, and Dear Lord In Heaven, say to people in the worst moment of their lives:
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She’s no longer the baby I could hold in my arms. If I hold her these days, it’s a quick hug, a slight embrace. Gone are the days when she would put her head on my chest and fall to sleep, completely trusting in me to protect and provide.
But now I pray she’d seek your embrace, your protection, provision, and peace in Your rest.
An evil lurks around each corner, in the valley where death hides in the shadows. No longer there, I can’t be her guide. If You are not her Shepherd, the shadows will prevail.
Watch over her as only You can do. Guide her, with pain, if necessary, to the prize at the end of her race. I’ll be in the stands cheering.
Today is my granddaughter Emma’s first birthday! Yay Emma!
But what I wanted to do for you (and her) is share what our daughter Alicia wrote on her Facebook page. I believe you will be blessed (and she won’t mind).
But let me tell you what, her first birthday party was the event of the year in Charleston, SC! I shudder to think what her Sweet 16 will be like!
But again, I hope you’re blessed with Alicia’s story.
One year ago today a beautiful baby girl was born into this world. Due to her prematurity she would be rushed to the NICU where she was cared for by amazing nurses and doctors. There she thrived with the love and nurture of strangers for ten days until we were chosen to be her parents. On January 16th, 2019 we got a call that flipped our world upside down and the journey it set us on has been amazing. We had waited so long to adopt that I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen for us. I never should have doubted God because he taught me a huge (and expensive) lesson on patience and trust.
The day we met her there was a very special nurse that watched us from afar as we cried and held our little girl for the first time. She later came to us and told us that she had been rocking her earlier that evening and praying over her. You see, she did not know at that time that her birth mother had chosen adoption for her. All she knew was the circumstances of her birth and that she had not had any visitors for ten days. She later told us that the very day we came to meet Emma was the day she had been rocking and praying over her. She prayed for God to do something special in her life and to watch over her. To bring her love and a good home. Little did she know that God would provide just that the very same day! Not only did we cry seeing her that night, but this angel of a nurse said she cried too watching from afar as we met our daughter for the first time. Whew! That still makes me all wet eyed!
For seven weeks we went back and forth to the hospital every day to see our sweet girl. We fed her, cuddled her, bathed her and cherished our quiet time bonding with her. We were ecstatic to take her home the day after Valentines Day. We were nervous, but embraced parenthood. It has been about ten months since we brought her home. Ten blissful months. Yes, there was fighting, crying and exhaustion. We had a hard time adjusting to the roles of a working mom and a stay at home dad busy with school, but we did it. Somehow together we got through it and we wouldn’t have done it any other way. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything in the world.. we finally have a baby girl!
She has grown to be so fun, loving and so very sweet. The way she gets excited when her daddy walks into the room warms my heart and the way she looks for me across the room when she is starting to get nervous makes me melt. This feeling must be motherhood and I love it! I thank God for choosing us to be her parents and for entrusting us with her life. Happy First Birthday sweet Emma Lou! We love you so very much and are so excited to share our life with you!!!