The Ministry of Reconciliation

The shootings in Louisiana, Minnesota, & Dallas this past week (and Orlando a few weeks earlier) reveal the reality of living in a fallen world, of creation groaning under the weight of its own unrest. Two gruesome videos were followed by the deadliest day for law enforcement since 9/11. The racial wounds in this country remain unhealed. The only path toward racial harmony is through relational harmony, and the only perfect relationship that has ever existed is the relationship between God the Father, God the Son, & God the Holy Spirit. Relational harmony is best viewed through the lens of the Trinity: 1) the Image of God, 2) the Imitation of Christ, & 3) the Indwelling of the Spirit. 

The Image of God

God does something different when forming human beings than when fashioning the plant and animal kingdom. Rather than speaking humanity into existence, God forms us from the dust of the ground and breathes into us the breath of life. Before you could breathe, God first had to breathe into you. He also declares that every human life is made in the image of God. The reason that mistreatment and murder of others is wrong is not simply because it is against the law, but because you are dehumanizing and taking a life that does not belong to you. Those created in the image of God belong to God. The creator has left his imprint on the creature. When you don’t see others as created in the image of God, you are going to devalue human life. That’s why the shooting of a gorilla gets way more coverage than the 44 people on average murdered in this country every day, or the 3,600 lives we lose daily to abortion. Even the gun control debate neglects the obvious: the heart of the problem is the problem of the heart. James sums up this understanding well in his epistle: you desire, and you do not have, so you murder. 

The temptation is to not see the problem at all. Satan is the most devoted racist you will ever meet, and one of the greatest lies he would have you believe is that racism does not exist. Racism does exist because evil exists. He seeks to divide us between black and white, rich and poor, young and old, male and female, so that he might take the throne of our hearts for himself. Our own Southern Baptist Convention bears this sad reality through its own founding (in order for missionaries to retain slaves), a founding from which we have repented and sought reconciliation. Whatever our political affiliations, we need to understand that we have African American brothers and sisters in this country who live in fear for their lives. Whenever you deny the problem, you become part of the problem.

The Imitation of Christ

How should we respond to these tragic events? By following the example of our Lord, who commanded us to render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things which are God’s, to not be overcome by evil, but to overcome evil with good. We know that there are police officers who abuse their power, just as there are preachers who abuse their pulpits, and politicians who abuse their policies. But for every corrupt officer, there are thousands of good officers, men and women who put their lives on the line daily. These officers are the ministers of God to us; law enforcement is for our good. We need to treat police officers with respect, thank them for their service, and pray for them. I’ve admired the courage of Dallas Police Chief Brown during these days. Chief Brown lost his son, brother, and partner to tragic circumstances surrounding shootings and substance abuse. He has repeatedly declared that these divisions between law enforcement and citizens must cease. He has also taken this issue personally. Until we realize that this is our problem, nothing will change. Brothers and sisters, if you truly believe this is not your problem, remember that you are a sinner, and that automatically makes you a part of the problem. Jesus is the solution: our job is to live in such a way that points people to him. I’m glad Jesus didn’t think the way we sometimes do. He could’ve said "Humanity’s not my problem," but instead he took on the problem by becoming one of us. So when you see someone of another race, treat them with dignity and respect. When you see someone being mistreated, stand up for them. Have conversations and build friendships with people of other races and ethnicities. Learn from their experiences. We are our brothers' and sisters' keepers. See the world through their eyes, then see it through the eyes of Christ (who was himself Jewish and didn’t speak English).

The Indwelling of the Spirit

Finally, we must have an absolute dependence upon God’s Spirit to bring about change. When our forefathers and mothers faced times of national crisis, they got down on their knees, and they didn’t get back up until the Spirit of God came down. I want to call us to that same desperation for the movement of God, that same commitment for the things of Christ, that same longing for the power of the Spirit. The whole point of Christianity is that God has reconciled us to himself through Christ. Now, our job is to be made right with one another and to share his gospel (2 Corinthians 5:11-21). Remember, somebody’s son, somebody’s spouse, somebody’s father, somebody’s brother was killed in Louisiana, Minnesota, and Dallas this past week. Let’s pray for the day when justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream, for on that day when the Lord shall appear, there will no longer be black and white, rich and poor, young and old, male and female, but we will all be one in Christ Jesus. 

To listen to last Sunday's sermon on this message, click here:

For a previous post on our family friend Joe Goldring (and how we attempted to model these thoughts), click here:

When Faith Becomes Doubt

Faith is a wrestle with doubt, for true faith demands reason. Indeed, one of the problems in the Protestant world today is our prideful lack of engaging Biblical & cultural issues with our minds, which ironically is one of the ways our Lord commands his followers to love him. Noted Notre Dame historian Mark Noll addresses this modern shortcoming in his book The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. Sadly, in many church circles it has become meritorious not to critically assess and understand Scriptural doctrines and confessions, doctrines and confessions for which many of our forebears (not to mention our Savior) gave their lives. While informational availability is at all-time high, Biblical literacy is at an historic low. Contrary to popular belief, our faith is not "blind.” Jesus made sure there were witnesses who attested to his bodily resurrection. The New Testament authors compel us to “search the Scriptures,” to always be able to give a reason for the hope that lies within us. It is to our shameful neglect when we do not "desire the sincere milk of the word, that we may grow thereby."

Yet, even the most reasoned and experienced believers struggle with their faith from time to time. Spiritual discouragement comes to the best of us. Legend has it that D.L. Moody, the world-famous evangelist based out of Chicago in the latter 19th century, was once approached by a woman who smugly told him that she had never once doubted her salvation, to which Moody reportedly replied, “Madam, I doubt you are saved.” Matthew, the tax collector turned gospel writer, records an account of John the Baptist, whom Jesus lauds as the greatest born of women, nevertheless struggling with his own grasp of the gospel. John had preached repentance in the wilderness, letting loose his righteous condemnation of the Pharisees as a “brood of vipers” who should “flee the wrath to come.” He had boldly gotten in King Herod’s face when Herod took his brother’s wife as his own, committing adultery. As a result of his rebuke, the Jewish tetrarch had him thrown in prison. It was from that prison cell that John began to doubt. Much like Christian’s low disposition after encountering the Giant of Despair upon arrival at Doubting Castle (John Bunyan's Pilgrim’s Progress), the voice crying in the wilderness suddenly became overcome with spiritual laryngitis. Finally, he sent word to Jesus through his own disciples: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?"

I know what it’s like to ask that question. At the age of 15, I underwent the most profound period of doubt I have ever known. I had struggled off and on for years with making sure I had “done everything right” in seeking the Lord’s salvation. Oh, I had seen him work and had known the power of answered prayers, even having the privilege of having led several people to faith myself by that age, but to really know that I could fully trust God was a concept I just had trouble grasping. I suspect others have been there. Did I really confess and repent of my sins, was I trusting in Jesus alone for salvation, and if perfect love casts out fear, why was I still afraid? Dad tried to reason with me from the Scriptures (this John the Baptist passage from Matthew 11 was one of his favorites to teach in the Youth Sunday School class I was in). On the way home from church one night, he said to me in frustration, "Son, you're going to wake up one day and find yourself pleasantly surprised that you made it to heaven." I sure hoped so. I walked in on Mom one time and found her in tears over my spiritual depression. I spent a lot of time in Scripture and prayer during my sophomore year of high school, asking God to deliver me from doubt.

Out of all the circumstances my pastor walked me through during his life (and there were MANY), this one still stands out above the others. He read me numerous Scripture passages, then said something that has stood with me: the only people who really doubt their salvation are those who truly know God or are truly seeking him. Otherwise, why does someone who doesn’t know God or isn’t seeking him have any reason to doubt what they don’t possess and don’t seek? They don’t doubt precisely because they don’t believe. He then asked, “Barry, are you willing to trust God with everything you have, whatever the consequences? Heaven or hell, sing or swim, your faith is in him.” I told him I was. He responded, “Why don’t you tell him that?” So I did. The peace of God overwhelmed my heart, assuring me that I was his child.

Although at times we can more easily sense the working of God than at others, faith is ultimately not dependent on our feelings, but on what we believe, in whom we choose to trust, and it’s not until we believe that we begin to understand. Noble Augustine, in his own struggle with faith, remarked that he used to attempt to understand in order to believe, but he finally came to the point where he believed in order to understand. Despite all the evidence in the world at our disposal, one must still place their visible trust in the invisible God. I love how Jesus doesn’t give John a straight yes or no answer in his response: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.” The implication: I am the one you are seeking. Trust in me.

After his crucifixion, the disciples of Christ are holed up in an upper room somewhere in Jerusalem, their leader presumably gone. Jesus miraculously appears to them in bodily form, displaying his resurrected body. But one of them, Thomas, was missing. When the others tell Thomas that they have seen the risen Lord, Thomas infamously replies, “Unless I see his pierced hands and side, I won’t believe.” The following week, with Thomas in tow, Jesus once again manifests his physical glory in their presence. He invites Thomas to see his pierced hands and to feel his pierced side, to which the disciple replies, “My Lord and my God!” And then, in case we’re also tempted to doubt, Jesus turns directly to you and me: Thomas, you have believed because you have seen, but blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.  The New Testament writers summarize it well a few years later: whom having not seen, you love.

So take heart, believer, because it’s not nearly as important how much faith you have, as who your faith is in that moves mountains. Thanks be to God for granting childlike faith to the least of these, including me.
 

And He Went Out, Not Knowing Where He Was Going

"And he went out, not knowing where he was going." The writer of Hebrews 11 uses those words to describe Abraham's journey of faith, the patriarch lauded in Biblical history for believing God, even when every possible circumstance told him not to. He left his homeland as a senior citizen, journeyed to a barren desert, and lived as an upper class camper for the rest of his life. He was an heir of the promise, but a promise that went beyond earthly terrain, "For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God." His family didn't even see the completion of that promise, instead dying in faith, "having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth." Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness (Genesis 15:6, Romans 4:3). God called him to go to a foreign land, to believe in a foreign promise, to have a child at a foreign age, to die a foreign death, and to do it all by a foreign faith.

"And he went out, not knowing where he was going." I wonder if that phrase doesn't describe every believer's life, including my own. Yesterday, I took a young pastor in the area to lunch. We met several years before in Louisville when he was a student at Boyce College and I was working on my master's at Southern Seminary. He told me he was from Hawesville, KY. I had gone 22 years of life without hearing of that town, and really didn't think much of that conversation until 5 years later, when I received a call from a pastor search committee there. That was 3.5 years ago. I now know where Hawesville is.

The same was true for my previous pastorate in Buffalo (KY, not NY). The only times I had traveled through Buffalo were for our family's annual Thanksgiving trips to my aunt and uncle's house, in which we inevitably got lost. We really didn't know where we were going. I ended up preaching there nearly 5 years. 

"And he went out, not knowing where he was going." In my case, I would add to that phrase, "And he went out, not knowing what he was doing." I remember wondering how in the world I was going to be able to preach consistently week after week. It was stressful enough just to prepare one message, much less one every 7 days. Yet, the Lord provided the study and the words. How would we pay off the building debt inherited with few people and with little financial support? Then I watched God miraculously reduce that debt by more than $100K in the middle of the worst economy since the Great Depression. I thought under my leadership the church would die, but God grew it. A few years later, under different circumstances and a new location, how would we build a building that kept literally shifting ground on us, and how would we pay for all the extra costs? Then God gave us the largest one day offering in the 177 year history of the church (almost $90K). Would our congregation ever consider worshiping in that multipurpose facility so that we might have an opportunity to reach more people? Then we did.

I used to drive all over Tell City, Indiana, praying that God would open a door for ministry in Perry County, not having a clue how to go about finding that open door. Finally, we put a post-it note on an actual door, when God led us to a congregation that desperately needed help, and he has since sent many new people and is changing lives in demonstrable ways. In 8.5 years of pastoral ministry, I've seen families reconciled that I never thought would be reconciled, I've seen people come to Christ who I wasn't sure would ever come to faith, and I've seen God use people I had no idea he would use, least of all me.

I think if people asked me to nail down the one overarching burden I face as a pastor on a regular basis, they would probably be surprised at my response: the sheer inadequacy I feel daily in serving as an under-shepherd of God's flock and attempting to lead his people in the direction he would have us go. Yet, that seems to be exactly his way of training his disciples. Some use 1 Corinthians 10 to say that "God won't give you more than you can handle." I believe the opposite to be true: God will give you more than you handle to cause you to utterly and completely depend on him. It's what the Apostle Paul describes as strength in weakness, the power of God working in jars of clay.

I could not have imagined knowing where I was going when I committed to follow the will of God, especially the darker parts of the journey, from watching my family be destroyed, moving to rural areas for the past decade and losing the immediate comforts of city life, to an engagement that I thought was the will of God that ended up not being the will of God, to relationships gone unreconciled, to seeing people suffer but feeling helpless to comfort them and to ease their afflictions, to pleading with others not to fall away: if I knew where I was going in this earthly life, I'm convinced I wouldn't make it. The writer of Hebrews makes a similar argument with Abraham and the others mentioned in his 11th chapter: "if they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God..." All I know is that the Lord has prepared for me, and for every other follower of Jesus, a city, a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.

So take heart, believer, if you don't know where you are going or what you are doing in this earthly life, because as long as you know who you are following, he will make your paths straight.

 

 

Tribute To My Pastor

(My Ordination Service at Glendale, April 2008)

I can hear his voice, echoing hundreds of times through thousands of sermons I sat under during his ministry:

“Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time” and “The only thing greater than greatness is the ability to recognize greatness.”

Every time my pastor uttered those words I stared at the very person who embodied their meaning, because Richard Oldham was the greatest man I ever knew. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know him. I knew him as my pastor, the only one I’ve had. Glendale Baptist Church was my church, and Bro. Richard was my shepherd. I knew him as my teacher. Anchored Christian School was my school, and RPO taught daily Bible classes and led twice weekly chapels for my entire K-12 progression. He handed me both my kindergarten certificate and my high school diploma. I knew him as my family member, for Pastor Oldham could often be found at our home on his birthday or special holiday occasions. How we loved him. I knew him as my friend, for I cannot count the number of times I've been on visits and journeys with him, or the times I’ve sought his counsel on every matter imaginable, from trusting in the Lord for salvation to how to ask a girl out on a date (yep). 

(RPO eating breakfast at our home, circa 1994)

I can see his gaze, a look from someone who consistently viewed the world through the eyes of Christ. I remember growing up with a profound respect for this man of God. I wasn’t the only one who revered him. There was a holiness and authority about his life that you couldn’t help but recognize if you spent just a moment in his presence. When he pointed his finger at me from the pulpit one Sunday and said, “Barry, you need to tithe,” this 10 year old boy immediately began putting 10% in the offering plate, knowing that God himself had a count on my piggy bank.  Even people who didn’t attend his church sensed his calling. Waitresses, grocery baggers, and hospital workers alike all addressed him as “Bro. Richard,” even if they weren’t particularly zealous in faith. To this day, I can’t bring myself to call him by his first name. When I strolled into church one Sunday night without a tie on, amid the congregational singing, he motioned me to the platform, leaned into my ear, and told me there were a number of ties on the back door of his office and that I was welcome to any of them. I went and put one on. I was 19. Age wasn’t a factor when it came to reverence for him though. I’ve seen grown men with grandchildren revert back to childhood in his presence, pastors of thousands and presidents of educational institutions reduced to mere students in Bro. Richard’s classroom of ministry.

(After I preached Southern Seminary's chapel service, April 2010)

I can feel his touch, the paradox of his plier-like grip and the steady thumping of his fist into my chest set against the warm embrace of his genuine compassion. He didn’t especially like to hug (though he frequently did), but he loved to help, particularly those in need. He had a gift of perfect timing when he spoke to you, for his words so often resounded like apples of gold in pictures of silver (Proverbs 25:11). When I was 7, too young to participate in the youth festivities but overly eager to partake in the pizza they received, their rejection left me in tears. Bro. Richard found out about it, sat me down, and encouraged me to remember how it felt, and when I saw someone else in the same situation, not to let it happen to them (he then made sure I got one of those slices).

At 15, after undergoing some profound doubting of my salvation, RPO knelt with me in his office, asked me if I was willing to trust in the Lord, heaven or hell, sink or swim, and to commit my life to Him regardless of the consequences. I laid my burden down that night, and the peace of God overwhelmed my heart. His heart for others goes far beyond my life. I’ve watched him walk around with a shopping cart at Winn-Dixie, stuff it with food till it was overflowing, and take it to a single mom with four kids living in a run-down motel room because their dad had just kicked them out that day. How often he would say to a young person, “God has his hand on you.” He had an ability to speak into people's lives and call into existence character traits and spiritual qualities that simply were not present beforehand.

Those cast aside by the world and even the church found the trajectory of their lives forever altered after an encounter with the Lord’s recruiter.

I’ve never seen anyone minister with the love of God to individual people as effectively as Richard Oldham did. No one.

(Kentucky Baptist Convention Youth Bible Drill, 2000)

I can taste his zeal, the zealousness of one who hungered and thirsted after righteousness, one who had tasted and seen that the Lord was good. He had a holy boldness reserved only for God’s select giants of faith. When a gunman entered our sanctuary and attempted to halt the morning worship service during my 4th grade year, I remember RPO staring him down, pointing his finger in his direction, calling on the Lord to protect his flock, and refusing to stop preaching: “No sir, you will not!” The deacons of the church gathered around the pulpit, surrounding my pastor, and the gunman surrendered. His heart did not fear. I went visiting with him one night in college to see a man who had just left his wife. He insisted that there was no one else involved, but Bro. Richard looked him in the eye and said, “____, I wasn’t born yesterday, and if you're seeing someone else, then you're in sin, and God will judge you one day.” It was as if the Holy Spirit vacuumed the oxygen out of that room.

Surely the prophets of old must have had this same anointing; yet, his zeal was coupled with deep humility.

When I went to men’s prayer breakfasts on Saturdays with my father (more for the breakfast than the prayer for an elementary kid), I heard my pastor pray, “God forgive me for my wicked heart.” If his heart was wicked, mine was desperately so. Before I preached in the chapel service at Southern Seminary, Dr. Mohler recognized RPO as the pastor who had raised up more preachers than anyone he knew in North America. Even as he rose to accept the ovation of recognition, his head remained down, his posture bent, recalling his life verse: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). God’s holy anointing rested in a humble vessel.

(RPO being recognized by Dr. Mohler at Southern Seminary, April 2010)

I can sense his eccentricities, even though some of the aspects of his life I probably found more ironic than he did. He ALWAYS wore a tie. Always. He mowed his yard in a tie (complete with work suit). He helped build the Living Christmas Tree in a tie. On the annual summer mission trips to Mexico, he labored in a tie (and so did everyone else), in sweltering heat. He wore a tie underneath his hospital gown. Sometimes, he even wore his tie to bed. Whenever someone asked to go on a prayer breakfast in Bible class, RPO would immediately schedule it for the next day, and Shoney’s would be bombarded by adolescence. One of our favorite events was to have him “fix” our desserts at the buffet bar. He would take a large plate and top it with everything imaginable until it overflowed with ice cream, cookies, and a colossal portion of toppings. He loved to fellowship with young people. He gave out upwards of 50 bonus points on his tests because he wanted everyone to make an “A." Although the teachers didn’t care much for this practice, students loved him for it. He taught every last one of us how to lead music, even if we couldn’t sing at all, because he wanted us to have the ability to lead churches in every aspect of ministry if necessary. I couldn’t have known then how that skill would come in handy for many of us.  Every year, the junior high and high school took a two day trip to Mammoth Cave. The rest of the world calls that type of event a “retreat." RPO called it an “advance," because "Christians don’t retreat" (he also took us to the Parthenon replica in Nashville, the Hermitage [Andrew Jackson’s estate], the Red River Meeting House, My Old Kentucky Home, and a host of other places). He paid my first speeding ticket when I took him to help his sister Edith move out of her apartment in Louisville. He also didn’t tell a soul. Mom and Dad had no idea (and probably still don’t until this post). His command of Scripture was immense, which gave him a full repertoire of Biblical allusions, as he mentioned to me on several occasions that I drove like the charioteer Jehu (“furiously" in KJV parlance). He was one to talk, as Bro. Richard rarely obeyed the speed limit (“The Lord’s work requireth haste,” he often remarked). When Christmas time came around, watching our pastor open presents was an event. He refused to tear wrapping paper and would save it for future years (“I grew up in the depression…”). He rarely threw away anything. He never owned a television set nor did he use the internet. His preferred method of communication was an old electronic typewriter, letters from which must number in the thousands. He had proficient letter writing, eloquent speech and diction, and unmatched presence. He was a Shakespearean character, an other-worldly figure from an era long gone by, one from which we have much to learn.

(Dr. Al Mohler, RPO, Rev. Raymond Ward, & Dr. Hershael York, April 2010)

I owe everything in my life to Richard P. Oldham because of the Lord he so faithfully served. So many memories are too numerous to mention. The streets of heaven are crowded tonight, for there are thousands of lives within its gates who have been touched by his ministry. Although my pastor was far from perfect and was as much in need of Christ as any of us, at times I looked into his life and thought: Surely, this is what the Lord must be like.

Somehow, I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was witnessing a glimpse into the character of God.

Richard Oldham represents the kind of life I want to live, the kind of church I want to lead, and the kind of man I want to be. I thank my God upon every remembrance of thee.

For more info on Bro. Richard's life and ministry, click on the links below:

Bro. Richard's Obituary in the Bowling Green Daily News

Coverage of RPO's Celebration of Life Service in BG Daily News

Video of Bro. Richard's Celebration of Life Service 

     (my tribute begins around the 26 minute mark)

Dr. R. Albert Mohler's tribute to RPO on The Briefing

Baptist Press article on Bro. Richard's Life and Legacy

My Reflections on Bro. Richard's 50th Anniversary as Pastor of Glendale Baptist Church

RPO presenting me with my kindergarten certificate, May 1991

In Front of Glendale BC, Circa 1992

At the grave of RPO's parents, Bruce and Lessie Oldham, in New Castle, August 2013

Celebrating RPO's 75th birthday at our home, June 13, 2005

Dr. Mohler recognizing RPO at Southern Seminary, April 2010

RPO with some of the men called into ministry under him. Front Row, L to R: Johnny Deakins, Lonnie Mattingly, Eric Martin, and Jerry Adamson. Back Row: Barry Fields, Ed Snider, Daniel Bates, Brian Berkley, and Chris Turpin. He also received an honorary doctorate from Shawnee Baptist College that evening and preached the graduation commencement ceremony, May 2006.

Glendale Baptist Church album, circa 1975

Tribute To A Family Friend



Learned tonight that a lifelong friend of our family has passed away. Joe was at every get-together (Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, etc.) we had on Mom's side for as long as I can remember. In addition to his job working for the highway road crew, Joe also labored on the farm and milked cows for my Aunt Pearl & Cousin Charles Lee. He mowed the yard for my great-grandmother, Bessie Ashbaugh (Granny), Aunt Pearl's sister, for decades. He would fix things around the house for her, never taking a dime, though she offered to pay him many times. Joe brought Granny Kentucky Fried Chicken every Saturday. Whenever Granny cooked, she always cooked enough for him. He brought her mail in every day and would fuss at her when she got it herself. He often took Granny and Aunt Pearl to the beauty parlor and grocery store in what must have appeared to outsiders as a modern-day Driving Miss Daisy arrangement. He usually drove a Cadillac because that was his favorite car. Joe could frequently be found hanging around High Grove Grocery because of his love of people. He would carry grocery bags for folks, calling them by name. He used to give my little sister quarters just because he knew she hated holding change (the germs freaked her out). He would regularly sit out in the barn with my cousin & a group of men that would gather around from the different farms & shoot the breeze. I called them the world-problem solvers. Watching him try to work an iPhone he purchased a couple of years back was an experience as I attempted to show him how to use it. He was always amazed when someone showed him or told him something new. He just had a natural curiosity about him, coupled with a generous spirit. His surname was Goldring, but it might as well have been Goldheart. Though not related to any of us genetically or by marriage, he was as much a part of our family as anyone. In fact, Granny’s children, Betty & Patsy (my grandmother and aunt), referred to him as “brother." Granny often remarked that Joe was as good to her as a son would have been. In a world often torn apart by racial & ethnic divisions, Joe's love for us and ours for him represented what humanity can be, what the Apostle Paul describes in Galatians 3:28: there is neither black nor white, there is neither Jew nor Gentile, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, but you are all one in Christ Jesus. I can't imagine not having you around in this life. Rest in peace, my friend.
 

Tribute to Louise Pinkston


I never met Louise Pinkston, but I knew her. I never spoke to Louise Pinkston, but I heard her. I never saw Louise Pinkston, but I encountered her. I knew her through the youngest son she raised, Matthew Brandon. I heard her gentle and quiet spirit through his prayers, pleas of quiet desperation for a movement from almighty God. I encountered her humility through his demeanor, a simple desire to be faithful to his Lord.

Most of us don't know that Matt scored a 31 on his ACT or that he graduated as valedictorian of his more than 500 member class. Matt wouldn't want you to know because those kind of accomplishments aren't important to him. His mother raised him to acquire his approval from the Lord, not from men. Rather than using his degree and background in pursuit of the almighty dollar, Matt instead chose to pursue a calling from the Almighty.

Mothers play a crucial role in the lives of their sons, perhaps most crucial. Their years of love and support provide invaluable physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual stability. Louise knew her role. Even as Matt was born late in the lives of her and Gene, Louise attended every band recital and ball game imaginable in order to cheer her son as he played the tuba. Her years of support led to great blessing for the church he serves, as he now leads our worship gatherings every week.

I knew her through the many students who came to Matt on a weekly basis. I heard her through the countless algebra & geometry problems they brought to his desk, the benefit of having a student pastor with a background in engineering (an opportunity I only wish I could have had). I saw her through the wise counsel and truth in love he gave to middle and high school folks who sometimes sought Matt out in their dilemma before their parents, such was their trust in his character. Louise was there. She was right there.

I knew her as a newly called pastor, for her son has provided a servant's heart and has taken on numerous responsibilities during this time of transition. Her desire to serve rather than be served was plainly evident in the life of her son. His determination to be in Henderson as often as possible to check on and care for his parents demonstrated a life seeking to help others rather than himself. He learned that from somewhere. He learned that from someone.

The writer of Proverbs reminds us that a mother is praised when her children rise up and call her blessed. Today, all heaven is ringing with applause, as one of God's choice servants has completed her mission. Oh, we may have never met her, but we knew her. We sure knew her.

Note: Louise Pinkston went to be with the Lord on Tuesday, March 26th, 2013. Her son Matthew is Pastor of Students & Worship at Hawesville Baptist Church.

Gay Marriage Debate

The following article is available online:

http://www.laruecountyherald.com/content/letter-gay-marriage-debate-continues#.T7Pv_OezkJQ.twitter


LETTER: Gay marriage debate continues

Wednesday, May 16, 2012 at 10:37 am

For the better part of the past two decades, the debate over the definition of marriage has steadily intensified. Numerous states have undergone public referendums banning homosexual arrangements or, contrarily, allowing civil unions. Recently, our president came out in favor of gay marriage, offering his personal support. As a pastor, I have had to ask, "How should the church of God respond?"

I believe the answer is twofold. As Christians, we must decide if we desire to be obedient to the culture or to be obedient to the scriptures. The Bible makes clear that marriage is not simply a legal contract, but rather a covenantal union between one man and one woman, an earthly portrayal and representation of Christ and his bride, the church. Believers must stand firm in their convictions about a relationship that defines the very core of family identity and the continuation of society through procreation. The definition of marriage has remained unaltered for thousands of years, and it seems unwise for our civilization to disengage from that historical pattern.

Yet, believers cannot simply end the conversation there. We must learn to love our neighbors as ourselves, for every person on this planet has been created in the image of God, including those with whom we disagree. While we cannot endorse homosexuality as a marital union, neither can we promote homophobia nor behave as if those who engage in homosexual acts are somehow less valued by the God who loves his creation. Nothing could be further from the truth. When I was in college at Western Kentucky University, I had the privilege of competing for the forensic (speech and debate) team. Within that community, I developed friendships with many individuals who identified themselves as gay or lesbian. I learned that the vast majority of these folks were upstanding citizens and most of them were kinder than many Christians I know. I discovered that they needed the message of Jesus Christ just as much as I did and our differences did not hinder our friendships. We must speak the truth, but we must speak that truth in love.

Let us endeavor to unapologetically declare God's word to a generation in need, and let us commit to a sacrifical love embodied by a carpenter from Nazareth who gave his life for those who disagreed with him. Speak the truth, in love.

Barry E. Fields

Pastor

Mount Tabor Baptist Church

Buffalo

Not My Brother, Not My Sister, But Me, O Lord...

Mt. Tabor Family,

So far this week, we've been greeted with the news that former California governor Arnold Schwarzeneggar fathered a child out of wedlock with the family housekeeper a decade ago. Until just a few days ago, the movie star neglected to tell his wife and children, as well as the voting public. Over the weekend, International Monetary Fund (IMF) President Dominique Strauss-Kahn, a man who has had a successful track record with this financial institution and who many considered to be a viable presidential candidate in his native France, was arrested and charged with raping a maid at the hotel where he was staying in New York City. These stories are not uncommon. How often have we learned of politicians, entertainers, athletes, and business tycoons who appear to have it all, only to throw it away for seemingly nothing? It seems that the more powerful one is or the more successful one becomes, the easier it is to fall.

Yet, underneath these scandalous headlines lies something far more common: the depravity of the human heart; the desire to turn away from the face of God. While we may not have the name recognition or run in the same influential circles as those mentioned above, the truth is that you and I face the same temptations every single day. We are constantly confronted with opportunities to be unfaithful to our spouses, dishonest with our families, or arrogant with our co-workers. In the Bible, Paul warns believers that anyone who thinks they stand better take heed lest they fall. Solomon lets us know in Proverbs that pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

It's not just the tabloid sins that get us in trouble. Every time we neglect prayer before making a major decision, place other priorities ahead of worshiping and serving the Lord, or value our comfort and entertainment over loving our neighbor, we are saying exactly the same phrase as these public figures in our hearts: "God, I don't need you. I can make it on my own." Even if the vices you are enjoying appear to be kept under the radar, rest assured that "the secret things of the heart will one day be revealed." Only through a careful and consistent dependence on the Spirit of God to work in our lives and a total saturation of his word can we have hope that the same fate met by these individuals does not also meet us.

God help us to stay close to and dependent on the Lord who sees and knows all.


See you Sunday,

Bro. Barry - Psalm 19:14

Tribute To Andrew Singh

My friend’s getting married. This is the day in which my dear brother, Andrew Singh, is pledging himself to another. Surely, it is the biggest day of his 27 year life thus far. When he came to the United States for the first time over a decade ago, I know that he did not expect to be here for this moment. God certainly works in mysterious ways. For the past three years, I have watched a pastor who knows how to care for the souls of his flock, observed an international come into a rural area and embrace this community with his whole heart, and learned what it really means to walk with the Lord, day in and day out. Together, we have formed an unofficial duo, the “Bachelors of Buffalo.” Today, the plural becomes singular.


Andrew and I have had many experiences during our friendship. For starters, “Ghandi” (my affectionate nickname bestowed on him) is always singing to himself, and I have learned many Southern Gospel songs from an Indian. Then there’s the cell phone, which is constantly plugged to his ear: “How are you doing, my frieennnddd?!” There’s the Hindi / Southern accent, which is incredibly difficult to place. One day Andrew said to me, “Brother, people always know who I am when I call them. I don’t even have to say my name!” I wonder why, Reverend Singh! There’s the mispronounced syllables, wherein my foreign friend often replaces a “v” with a “w”. Andrew’s conversation with the minister yesterday at the rehearsal: “Pastor Carl, when I do remove her “whale”? (he meant to say “veil”). Perhaps Jonah will show up today, big fish in tow. Since he is an avowed Methodist and I am firmly Southern Baptist (missions AND potlucks), we often have theological “conversations.” We finally just settled on an introduction whenever we meet new people: “He sprinkles. I dunk. We’re still friends.” The looks we’ve received from folks have been priceless.


Then there’s the other, more serious side of my friend. Whenever I’ve had a tough day or a difficult situation at church, there’s always one person who is going to call and ask how things are going. When people are sick or feeble, you can bet there will be a man of God visiting them in the hospital or singing to them in the nursing home. Whenever our folks have surgery, I try to go the hospital and pray with them, then return later on to see how they’re doing. I thought that was pretty good until I observed my Methodist brother. Andrew will ride with them to the hospital, stay all day, and take them home that night. When two of his fellow seminary students were tragically killed in a car accident 18 months ago, Andrew preached their funeral and wrote a song commemorating their lives, telling everyone present that “Jesus is Lord.” I have met many people that have a heart after God, but most of the time they are older and have more experience. With Andrew Singh, though, you can sense the presence of the Lord just by being around him. That is unusual for someone his age.


Around two years ago, he began conversing on the phone with Arpita, his future bride. I could tell something was up by the way his face brightened when he spoke of her. Through providence, Arpita was able to come to Kentucky (the “Promised Land”) this past summer. She enrolled at Asbury and is working on her master’s in counseling. She’ll need it living with my absent-minded friend. Andrew’s mother was responsible for setting up the relationship (in Indian tradition, the parents often pick spouses for their children). As we were coming back from Elizabethtown one day, Andrew looked over my way and said, “Brother, I am going to find you a wife.” We all laughed, then Arpita stared back at him and responded, “Yeah, call your mom!” I think he’s met his match (we are currently in the bargaining stages for naming their future firstborn son ‘Barry’. It has a great ring to it, in my opinion).


Seeing them together the past few months, I believe the Lord most definitely has his hand on these two. Andrew’s first name is actually Arpan (Andrew is his middle name). In the Hindi language, Arpan and Arpita are the masculine and feminine words for the same meaning: “offering to God.” Today, they offer themselves as living sacrifices (Romans 12) to God’s kingdom work. The two become one.


My friend’s getting married. And I couldn’t be happier for him.

Pandora for Palin?

Recently, Sarah Palin, Alaska's well-known governor and former Republican vice presidential candidate, announced that not only would she not seek re-election in 2010, but she would not in fact even finish her term, telling the world that her resignation would be effective at the end of the month. Maureen Dowd, the ever-opinionated columnist for the New York Times (hey, opinions are what she gets paid for), just wrote an editorial on the bizarreness of this whole scenario. By far, the most humorous line of the column, whether you agree with Dowd's assessment or not, occurs about midway through the article in reference to the governor's speech:

After...burbling about how “progressing our state” and serving Alaska “is the greatest honor that I could imagine,” and raving about how much she loves her job, she abruptly announced that she was making the ultimate sacrifice: dumping the state on her lieutenant.

Wow. I'll admit, I'm not quite sure what Governor Palin is trying to accomplish here. Maybe she's not trying to accomplish anything, and that's the whole point. Perhaps she's had enough. Personally, I didn't feel that the governor had the necessary qualifications to serve as vice president should John McCain have won the election, but in a year in which Republicans had EVERYTHING going wrong for them, maybe he felt he had to gamble, hoping that her star power and political talent would be enough to galvanize the base and attract independent voters. At any rate, Sarah Palin's year in the national spotlight serves as a warning to anyone seeking power or position: be prepared to get hit hard, have a purpose that is greater than yourself, and pray for endurance to make it to the finish line. Godspeed, Mrs. Palin.

Too Quick To Blame?

In America, the Bill of Rights provides citizens with several constitutional guarantees, one of which is the right of Habeas Corpus (innocent until proven guilty). However, in today's society, it's often reversed, as individuals accused of wrongdoing are typically considered guilty until proven innocent. Here's an interesting take on the Kentucky Men's Basketball Coach John Calipari situation at UK from ESPN commentator Jay Bilas:


So far, the biggest target in this saga has been Calipari. Because we have this ridiculous notion that the head coach is responsible for everything that goes on in his program, Calipari is taking the blame even though his name is not even mentioned in the Notice of Allegations. Remember, the Notice mentioned the name of a representative of Memphis’ athletic interests over a single phone call. If the NCAA had anything on Calipari, it would have unloaded it in the Notice. It does not.

And later…

Call me old-fashioned, but I require established facts and evidence before I call someone a cheater. I am not naive about the way things work in basketball, because I see it every day. But there is a difference between the problems with the culture in the game and making specific allegations of academic fraud against an individual. We all share the blame collectively for what is going on in the game, but we should require more evidence and hard facts before we indict any individual.
So far, the only “evidence” against Calipari is that he was the head coach, and the head coach is responsible for everything that happens on his watch, that he was the head coach at UMass when Marcus Camby accepted money from an agent and the head coach is responsible for everything that happens on his watch, and he’s at Memphis and he lets Worldwide Wes and the FedEx CEO hang around his program.

And later…

And to continue to discredit Calipari with references to wrongdoing he played no part in is simply wrong. If there is evidence that Calipari knew about or participated in the alleged academic fraud, then bring it forward. Just mentioning Camby and a vacated Final Four appearance does not tell us anything about the current situation.
Maybe Calipari and Memphis had a part in this alleged wrongdoing. But maybe, just maybe, they did not. As reasonable people, we should establish the facts first. Just because the NCAA alleges something doesn’t make it true.
Until then, a deep breath and some perspective wouldn’t hurt.


Anyway, thought he had some thoughtful points. As always, GO BIG BLUE!

Reason for the Season?

In describing the modern trends of Holiday shopping in our culture, author Donald Deffner tells this story:

A television interviewer was walking streets of Tokyo at Christmas time. Much as in America, Christmas shopping is a big commercial success in Japan. The interviewer stopped one young woman on the sidewalk, and asked, "What is the meaning of Christmas?"

Laughing, she responded, "I don't know. Is that the day that Jesus died?"

There was some truth in her answer.

Too often, we have a tendency to celebrate Christmas as simply a season filled with Christmas trees, candy canes, and Santa Clause. We live in an age where Christmas is typically more about receiving gifts than it is about giving. Although there's nothing wrong with any of these activities, sometimes it's pretty easy to lose perspective on the real meaning of Christmas. History really hasn't changed a whole lot. 2000 years ago when Jesus was born, taxation was the news of the day. Contrary to popular imagination, there probably weren't hundreds of people gathered around the stable that night anticipating the birth of the long awaited Messiah. More than likely, it was just Mary and Joseph, that couple who had gotten to Bethlehem too late to find a room at the local hotel. The Jewish prophets and priests were looking for a conquering king of noble royalty, one who would defeat the empire and usher in an age of peace unlike any Israel had ever seen. And yet, Jesus wasn't found in a mansion, but in a manger. He came down from the throne to be crowned with thorns. The one who was born in a cradle was destined to die on a cross. Why? Because of love. One commentary puts it well: "Jesus paid a debt he didn't owe because we owed a debt we couldn't pay." In a season of presents and cards, there is a gift that should never be forgotten, there is a debt that has been paid, and there is a spirit of Christmas found not in one day, but over thousands of years and through all eternity, the story of a king who is coming to reign. Even Santa Clause can't beat that.



The Dynamic Inventor of Dynamite

Some time back, I came across this compelling story about Alfred Nobel, the Swedish inventor of dynamite. The article below was written by Dr. Jack Graham, pastor of Prestonwood Baptist Church in Plano, Texas. Since reading this, I've used Nobel's example several times in sermons and speeches. Hope you enjoy it!

Alfred Nobel:

Alfred Nobel was a Swedish Chemist who invented dynamite and other powerful explosives used for weapons. When his brother died, one newspaper accidentally printed Alfred’s obituary instead of his brothers. It described Alfred as one who became rich by enabling people to kill each other in unprecedented numbers.

Shaken by that assessment of his life, Alfred stared at his own mistaken obituary, and resolved that the fortune he had made from his accomplishments would thereby be used for the benefit of all humanity, and thus began the Nobel Peace Prize. Nobel came to a defining moment in his life. He had the opportunity to look at his life and start over.

A Different Kind of Bird Brain

There is a wonderful story in the Times today about Alex the parrot, the bird whom scientists have used for the past 30 years in judging animals' cognitive abilities. Alex had a vocabulary of more than 100 words and could recognize colors, shapes, and my personal favorite, he could even tell what materials certain objects were made of simply by picking them up! Sadly, Alex died this week. However, his life is a fascinating story, and one that can lighten up an otherwise heavy day.

Way to go, Alex!

Pastor's 50th Anniversary

I've written this article to several newspapers...thought it might be interesting.

In a couple of weeks, Glendale is planning on having a dinner to honor our pastor, Bro. Richard Oldham, who is celebrating his 50th anniversary at the church this month. Most pastors don't make it 50 years in ministry, much less fifty years at the same church! I wanted to provide you with a brief background of his life.

Bro. Richard grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, during some of the darkest days of the depression. He was a member of the Walnut Street Baptist Church, where Dr. Finley Gibson was pastor. After graduating from Union University in Jackson, Tennessee, at the age of 21, Bro. Richard was offered a full scholarship to pursue a Ph.D. in English at Auburn University, but turned it down because he felt God had called him to pastor a church. He would serve churches in Tennessee, Kentucky, and Michigan before coming to Glendale in 1957. His first trip to Bowling Green was by passenger train down at the old depot!

Through the years, Bro. Richard has led the church to open several ministries to our city. When he first came to Glendale, our church family consisted of just 19 members and still met at a house on Jones Avenue, a couple of blocks from the present location on Roselawn Way. Since the church had no money, Bro. Richard suggested selling $25,000 worth of bonds in order to construct a building. The only place they could find with that little money was an abandoned sink pit on the edge of town, where the Smallhouse neighborhood sits today. They constructed what became known as the "flat-room" auditorium, which is now part of the East Wing of the church complex.

After he came to Glendale, Bro. Richard began spending many hours visiting throughout Bowling Green and the surrounding community, and the church began to grow, so much so that by 1962, the church had completed construction of a 700 seat auditorium. The church would continue to grow, peaking in the 1970s, with attendance sometimes reaching 1500. One of the earliest ministries of the church was the Bus Ministry, which was used to go into the inner cities and surrounding areas of Bowling Green and Warren County to pick up children and adults who didn't have transportation to church. In 1962, a local youth radio broadcast known as Teentime was started in the auditorium after church on Sunday evenings, and that broadcast still continues today. In 1972,the church began construction of the Day Care and Child Development Center, the West Wing of the church. Also in 1972, the Anchored Christian School began inside the church with a small kindergarten class of 5. Today, the school has a pre-12th enrollment of more than 180. In 1993, we purchased the Cave Mill property, and in late 2003, construction was finally completed on the Anchored Christian School building, which also functions as a church Family Life Center.

But Bro. Richard has made a much bigger impact on this community than simply brick and mortar. To date, over 7000 individuals have made professions of faith in Christ at Glendale, and over 4000 of these have been baptized. Our pastor has especially had an impact on influencing young people to serve in the ministry. Over 250 individuals have gone out from Glendale to serve as pastors, evangelists, teachers, and missionaries. They are collectively known as "Swordsmen." Several of these now pastor churches numbering in the thousands, so Bro. Richard's scope reaches far beyond the walls of Glendale. In fact, if I'm counting correctly, about 10-15 of these individuals have named one of their children after him! The church has also been instrumental in starting various community centers around the city, including a service for several years at Beech Bend Park; the Oak Forest Chapel, which still continues in Riverside, KY, under the direction of assistant pastor Johnny Deakins; the Glendale Chapel, now known as the Victory Baptist Church, pastored by R.B. Adamson, who was a swordsman at Glendale. Others who are currently pastoring and have come from Glendale include Kevin Hamm, pastor of Gardendale's First Baptist Church in Gardendale, Alabama; Hollie Miller, pastor of Sevier Heights Baptist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee; Bill Ricketts, pastor of Prince Avenue Baptist Church in Athens, Georgia; and Mike Routt, pastor of Circle Drive Baptist Church in Colorado Springs, Colorado. These are just some of the individuals . There are many more if you want the full list!

But Bro. Richard's real legacy is far more personal. He has tremendously impacted this community by conducting thousands of weddings and funeral services in this area, all at no charge. Many of the funerals he conducts are for people who aren't from our church, but they have asked him to be their honorary pastor. Many times the funeral directors will call him if there is no one to conduct the funeral, and he is always ready to help. In addition, Bro. Richard makes daily hospital visits to encourage those who have gone through medical problems. He will visit anyone if someone asks him to. He has never been married, often telling people that he feels "married to the Lord." Several times he has received offers to pastor bigger churches with much better salaries and benefits, but he has felt committed to the work at Glendale and Bowling Green. Whenever finances have become tight, he has increasingly reduced his own salary. He could easily be making 20 times as much as he does today. He consistently sacrifices for those who have no money, and if the church benevolent fund is low, I've personally seen him many times reach into his own wallet and give what little he makes away.

I know I'm biased, and I also know he's not perfect, but Bro. Richard's legacy is something that deserves to be remembered and appreciated. On Friday, July 13th, at 6:00 PM at the Carroll Knicely Center on Western Kentucky's South Campus in Bowling Green, Kentucky, we will be having a celebration in his honor. Currently, about 100 of the Swordsmen are planning on coming from out of town to be at this event. Bro. Richard has a lot of humility, and he probably wouldn't allow this event if he knew about, so it's supposed to be a surprise. Thought you guys might be interested in hearing about it.

The Times They Are A Changin'

Hello Friends,

Today is my last full day in the states for the next week or so (hopefully). Some of us from the speech and debate team are leaving tomorrow afternoon for the Republic of Argentina (not really sure if it's a republic, makes the writing flow better), where we will be competing in Buenos Aires for the International Forensics (speech/debate) Tournament. Currently, there is a huge anti-American rally going on in downtown Buenos Aires, led by none other than my favorite world leader to harass in extemp, Hugo Chavez. While at the tournament, I'm supposed to give a speech on an historical element of Argentina, so right now that looks like it's going to be the research paper from last semester's Latin American class. When in doubt, use stuff that's already been graded...at least it provides some feedback. I've never been to a serious anti-American rally before...maybe I could pass for being Canadian!

I'm really worried about losing my passport while down there...so much so that it may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. My Spanish is about as good as President Bush's English, which may not help me in tight spots. Should I not make it back for some reason, I'll be sure to let someone know (though I don't really see how that would be possible). The country of Argentina is definitely worth visiting, it's just their track record of government over the past fifty years is a little intimidating, and the collapse of their currency in 2001 certainly doesn't escape one's mind easily. We're traveling to the land of Juan Peron, Domingo Sarmiento, Julia Rosas....I just hope our hotel is close to the U.S. Embassy!

On a lighter note, I don't know if it's the weather or the season, but everybody and their brother (well, sometimes their sister too, if you live in Butler County) is getting married! I think I've touched on this topic before, but I've counted five weddings that I would like to go to within the next few months, and all of constituents involved are close to my age. Sadly, to the chagrin of American Idol hopefuls everywhere, I wasn't invited to sing at any of these ceremonies. It's really the oddest thing....I always sing at funerals, but never at weddings. There's some twisted form of irony in people not wanting to hear you until after they're gone, but alas, we must move forward.

Graduation is in two months....and the world isn't stopping. I don't know for sure what's going to happen after Seminary next year. I just want to do something that makes a difference. Guess that goes for all of us :0)

Mayberry Anyone???

At the writing of this post, I find myself in the middle of nowhere, which roughly translates into a place called Seward, Nebraska, which has an odd, cow-like smell in the air that gives a lot of credence to its name. We are at what I assume has to be the only hotel around, the local Seward Super 8, and let me tell you, should this hotel burn down, yours truly is gonna be mighty cold tonight, because there's absolutely no place else to go! (There's a Wal-Mart off in the distance, but I've heard of people who've gotten kicked out for trying to temporarily live there, so that won't be attempted should anything go wrong). The town claims to have a population of six thousand, but I'm having trouble finding the other 5, 880...(maybe they've gone off to get an early start for the Fourth of July Parade, which apparently is a pretty big deal in this town, judging by the local signs).

The only (and I do mean ONLY) reason we are here is for a speech and debate tournament this weekend at Concordia University, which is supposed to be a few miles up the road. Judging from the looks of things, that may be misleading information. There is absolutely nothing around here except cornfields and country roads. There's a restaurant in the vicinity called Vallentino's which claims to serve Italian food, but out here in the Midwest, and especially here in the Midwest, I'm not taking any chances! I'm sort of afraid to wander too far off for fear of getting lost...there's a very good chance you may never be heard from again (I'm not entirely joking).

Well, I guess I'd better sign off for now...Once again I have procrastinated as far as memorizing my speeches (a habit that has oddly gotten stronger as the years go by), and I must now attempt to get them ready for the tournament. I don't know what it is...I always do better when I don't have the speech memorized until the final round...oh well, no sense tempting fate!

By the way, I would just like to go on the record by saying that I love global warming right now...it is absolutely freezing out here!!!