Month: October 2013

The Barflies and the Baptists | Bible lessons from Miranda Lambert

Sometimes, you like a song because it hits you where you live. It’s lyrics resonate with you, speak truth to your soul, taunt you with their malice, soothe you with their medicine, encourage you with their message. Other times, you find a beat inescapably enjoyable, whether the lyrics mean anything to you or not…or they may even deliver a message with which you whole-heartedly disagree, but still your toe taps. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. That’s the power of music. “Momma’s Broken Heart,” by Miranda Lambert falls somewhere in between. I have been as happily married as anyone has a right to be for more than three decades. Besides all that, I am not a woman scorned, so Hell’s fury still has me beat. In other words, I cannot say that I identify with the story. These things notwithstanding, I find the song fun and engaging and I cannot help turning it up when I hear it. I also, quite unexpectedly, found it informative and the seed for a good, if short, sermon. Or two. The Barflies and the Baptists So, the story is about a woman whose husband or boyfriend cheated on her or left her and she went a little nutso over it. Apparently, her mom is something like an “old school” Southern Baptist southern lady… Word got around to the barflies and...

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Let’s hear it for the man! (The sincere sentiments of a grateful dad)

Before Edward Frys, one of America’s premiere cakers (that is my short word for cake maker & baker), proposed to my daughter Holly, he proposed to me. Like the gentleman he is, he took me to dinner to tell me that he loves my daughter, that she completes him, and that he intends to make her his wife, if she will have him. And did he have my blessings? Is the the Pope Catholic? Does the earth orbit the sun? Did God make little green apples? You have to have walked where I have walked as a dad to love, admire and thank God for Edward Frys the way I do as a man. I am a man. I know how men are. I know how we see girls, from the outside in. I have always believed it is easier for a female to fall in love, romantic love, with a disabled man than for a man to do so with a disabled woman. I am a dad, the dad of a disabled daughter. How many times had I listened to her cry herself to sleep, this idealistic girl who was as in love with love as any little girl could be? How many of her friends did she watch get married with joy for them and an aching, gnawing pain for herself? How many times had the Devil...

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No Parabens and Phthalates here! | The Greybeard Chronicles

So, I am standing in the shower, under the jet stream of hot water cascading over my body with its invigorating, cleansing flow, studying the impressive array of chemicals for use on hair and body, when my eyes fall onto the St. Ives Apricot Scrub. Uncertain whether it is really what I want to put on my face (it may be made of apricots and sulfuric acid for all I know, and I do want to exit the shower with my face still on my skull), I turn the tube of cleanser around and commence reading up on all its glorious attributes. Imagine my relief upon learning that St. Ives Apricot Cleanser is, and I quote, “formulated without the use of Parabens and Phthalates.” Honestly, right up to the point that I read that St. Ives keeps these bad boys out of its face scrub, I was not aware they were a menace. Once I realized it, of course, it became very important to me that my life be as free of Parabens and Phthalates as possible. I mean, who doesn’t want that. Pursuant to my new-found interest in freedom from the Blackhead P’s (not sure the nickname will stick), I rushed to my laptop to make this declaration: The Journeyman blog has always been—and will forever be—formulated without the use of Parabens or Phthalates. I know not what course...

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There is a river!

There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God, the dwelling place of the Most High. God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved; God will help her at the break of day. Psalm 46:4 This is one of my favorite verses. (I have about a thousand or so.) I love it for the poetry in it, the beauty of the language. Something so soothing, so reassuring in its words, in its promise, even in its cadence. Every river has a story It was around 700 BC and Jerusalem was under siege. The mighty Assyrian army had encircled the city and cut off all supplies and communications going in and out. The Assyrians believed the city’s inhabitants would soon open the gates and surrender for lack of water. The Assyrians, however, were unaware of “Hezekiah’s tunnel,” a hidden, underground source of water that sustained the citizens of Jerusalem throughout the siege. It is a beautiful illustration of the hidden resource available to the people of God, a picture of that unseen Hand that holds the weary hand, steadies the wobbling knees, and sustains the weary warrior. Satan and his forces may do their dead level best. They may  succeed in isolating you from friends and family. They may successfully cut off supply lines. They may wait like vultures for you to...

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