Pastor Danny's Blog

Love Wins? : A Look at Bell on Hell

2011-05-04T14:44:00.044-04:00

American Christianity is full of fads. Almost every year, there's some hot new book that emerges on the scene with virtually everyone buzzing about the "new" insights it presents. Oftentimes, the commercial success of such a book leads to a whole cottage industry of rapidly-developed, similarly-themed products for the Christian consumer. (Can anyone say "Purpose-Driven ________ [just fill in the blank]"?)

Many of these popular works--like the various Purpose-Driven books--are quite legitimate and beneficial, in spite of our propensity to often go overboard in our response to them. Others, however, can be dangerously deceptive, tickling the fancy of modern readers while subtly drifting away from the moorings of biblical orthodoxy. Case in point: There's a hot new book out by a young, popular, trendy, "rock-star" preacher/pastor named Rob Bell. The book has a pleasant enough title--"Love Wins". But in this misguided effort, the author presents some supposedly "new" or "rediscovered" insights regarding the biblical teachings on Hell. These "insights", based on Robb's misinterpretation of scripture, are in reality quite erroneous and harmful. Unfortunately, "Love Wins" has been flying off the bookstore shelves like hotcakes and many deceived church people are embracing it enthusiastically.

So, what's the problem with Rob Bell's new book? Basically, in it he redefines the concept of Hell. On one hand, he sees much of Hell playing out in the hardships and injustices people have to endure in this life (i.e., we experience Hell on earth). On the other hand, Bell also still leaves room for a Hell beyond the grave. But it's definitely not your granddaddy's idea of Hell. Rob Bell envisions Hell not so much as an eternal destiny but as a temporary assignment. He envisions the Hell of the afterlife as a purgatory-type experience wherein all unbelievers--atheists, agnostics, and adherents of false religions--go through a necessary time of "pruning". During this pruning process, God's love melts and changes their hearts, enabling these unbelievers to then go to Heaven to be with Christ forever. Thus, in the end, according to Bell, "love wins!"

The dangerous thing about Rob Bell's skewed theology is that he carefully cloaks it in the wardrobe of one who claims to be an evangelical, Bible-believing Christian. He rejects the assertions of his critics that he is nothing more than a Universalist, emphasizing the fact that he still believes in the concept of Hell (albeit his own version).

FYI, Universalism is the unscriptural belief that in the end everyone--regardless of what they believed or did not believe, and regardless of how they lived their lives--is going to be saved. Universalists typically reject the idea of the existence of Hell altogether.

Universalism has been around for a long, long time. Rob Bell's theology is really nothing more than old-time Universalism dressed up in a new suit of 21st Century clothes. Bell may use a somewhat different vocabulary, and he may take a less-direct path to get there, but the end result is all the same.

Just to set the record straight, God's Love DOES win. But it never wins apart from the Truth. In order for Love to Win, Truth also must prevail. Love apart from Truth is sentimentality. And mere sentimentality will not get you into Heaven. It's only the Truth--God's Truth--that sets you free.

The church today is becoming increasingly fuzzy in terms of its understanding of clear biblical truth. This generation of believers needs to wake up to the reality that there's a lost and dying world out there--a world in desperate need of the good news of salvation available through Jesus Christ alone.

Make no mistake about it, Hell is real. But, thank God, no one has to go there. Because Christ--through the blood of His cross--has provided the way of forgiveness and reconciliation to Creator God.

And please be certain of this: There are not many paths to God. There is only One Way. And that One Way is Jesus. Indeed, Jesus unequivocally declared, in John 14:6, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life; No man cometh unto the Father but by Me."

Ultimately, Rob Bell's popular book will salve many consciences. It will make lethargic Christians feel less guilt for not sharing Christ with others. It will allow Christian families to feel better about their loved ones who have rejected Christ. It will enable churches to feel free to turn inward, devoting less emphasis to the "unnecessary" tasks of missions and evangelism. And it will free up pastors to spend their time preaching feel-good sermons to meet the felt-needs of their self-focused parishoners. But, in the end, it will do nothing for the advancement of God's Kingdom. As a matter of fact, it will probably keep some people out of it.

Pastor Danny

NOTE: For a much more scholarly response to "Love Wins", see the helpful critique written by Dr. Albert Mohler, President of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky--http://www.albertmohler.com/2011/03/16/we-have-seen-all-this-before-rob-bell-and-the-reemergence-of-liberal-theology/

British Isles Trip, Part 3: London

2010-09-07T13:24:00.047-04:00

After 4 days in Northern Ireland, Sandy and I hopped on board a plane at Belfast Inter- national Airport and made our way back over to England to see our friends, the Eckers, again. The following day--Sunday--I preached at one of the two inner city London churches where Lewis serves as Associate Pastor. The small congregation was a diverse group, with members from Jamaica, Africa and (of course) the United Kingdom. It was a joy to worship together with these dear brothers and sisters in Christ. (This was the second time I had preached in London, having previously done so in 2006.)

During our time in London, Sandy and I also enjoyed some sightseeing, taking in a few stops we had missed on our 2006 vacation itinerary. We visited the historic Tower of London and saw the famous Crown Jewels. Our guided tour was led by one of the uniformed Yeoman Warders (AKA "Beefeaters") who serve as the ceremonial guardians of the Tower. Their history dates back to 1485 when they originally worked as prison guards. Presently, there are 35 Yeoman Warders, plus a Chief Warder. We also got to meet and visit with Moira Cameron, who made history in 2007 as the very first (and still only) female Yeoman Warder in the group's 525 year history!

Another highlight of our trip was touring the British Parliament while it was out of session and open to the public. Most notably, I enjoyed visiting the House of Commons chamber which I've seen so many times on television. This often lively room is truly the center of action for the British government. I also found it quite surreal when we got to stand in the very spot where Prime Ministers such as Churchill, Thatcher, Blair and others have stood throughout the years as they debated policy and discussed world affairs. And now to think that our friend Jim Shannon from Northern Ireland serves in this historic deliberative body. This experience was truly a treat.

We also took in the world-renowned British Museum, which is filled with numerous antiquities from around the globe. The sheer volume of material representing ancient cultures is staggering. Rather than trying to cover everything, we selectively zeroed in on a few key preferences. The one essential that everyone absolutely has to see is the iconic Rosetta Stone, which provided the modern world with the key to understanding ancient Egytian hieroglyphic writing. I personally was enamored with the numerous Egyptian mummies and related artifacts on display. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians even mummified their pet cats? It's interesting to see the great lengths to which people have gone throughout the centuries in an effort to attain immortality and secure a place in eternity.

The various marble carvings from the ancient Parthenon in Athens, Greece were also quite intriguing. As I walked among these statues and carvings, it was fascinating to realize that the Apostle Paul probably viewed these very works of art when he first entered the city of Athens some 2000 years ago. (See Acts 17:16ff.)

Viewing these surviving icons from ancient civilizations made me think of the closing line of that classic poem about Jesus entitled One Solitary Life: "All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that one solitary life." I also was reminded that phrase from the old Bill Gaither song that says "kings and kingdoms will all pass away, but there's something about that Name." Indeed, countless kings and kingdoms have come and gone through the eons of time, but Jesus still reigns. In fact, He is "the same yesterday, today and forever." (Hebrews 13:8)

Sandy and I enjoyed our time in London. But during our stay we were again reminded of the sad reality that Europe is very much a post-Christian culture. For many persons "across the pond", the things of Christ are simply the relics of an outmoded and irrelevant past. There is a faithful remnant of believers in Britain, but that remnant is very much in the minority. God is still at work, but secular humanism is rampant and widespread. Sadly, I think many of us see America moving in this same direction. While Sandy and I were at Keswick, one speaker, equating Christianity to marriage, memorably noted that Latin America and Africa are presently in the Honeymoon Stage...while North America has "settled in" at the 25th Anniversary Stage...but, tragically, Europe is very much in the Divorce Stage. Let's pray that, by the grace of God, Europe can miraculously reverse this trend, and that we in the United States can somehow stem the tide and avoid going down the same treacherous path.

Pastor Danny

British Isles Trip, Part 2: Scotland & Northern Ireland

2010-08-31T23:55:00.005-04:00

After our week at Keswick, Sandy and I headed up to Scotland, while our friends the Eckers returned to London. We rode the train into Edinburgh, where we spent the next couple of days taking in the sites of that historic city. The centerpiece of Edinburgh is the famous Royal Mile, which is anchored on each end by Holyrood Palace, the Queen's official residence in Scotland, and ancient Edinburgh Castle, the highest point in the city...both of which we toured. One of the highlights of our time in Edinburgh was attending the 60th annual Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, a renowned marching band and bagpipe festival that takes place each August. Using Edinburgh Castle as a backdrop, the Tattoo features bands from the United Kingdom and around the world.

After 3 cold, rainy days in Edinburgh, we flew over to Northern Ireland to see some other dear friends. On the eastern side of the island, we visited with two special Irish couples with whom we did a house exchange in 2006. (They came to our home in Florida while we vacationed in one of their homes in Northern Ireland). Gerald is a retired police officer (and a Gideon). His wife Audrey is a retired school teacher. Both are active lay leaders in their local Baptist church. Their lovely daughter Jenny is a nurse. Harold and Marlene are a retired Baptist pastor and wife. Harold preached at our church in Florida in 2006. It was so refreshing to enjoy the gracious hospitality of these Christian friends again.

We also got to see our friends Jim and Sandra Shannon. Jim was the very first person from Northern Ireland that I ever met. About 10 years ago, he and his family began visiting our church in Florida every summer during their annual holiday time in the States. We began developing a friendship at that time and would look forward to getting together each year. In Northern Ireland, Jim is a political figure on the rise. After serving for several years as a member of the Northern Ireland Assembly, he was just recently elected to the British Parliament.

For our next stop, we ventured over to the western part of Northern Ireland and visited with Baptist Minister Clive Johnston and his wife Sheila. Clive preached at Mount Hermon in Danville in early 2009. It was good to renew fellowship with him and to meet his whole family--including his 3 adult children (one of whom is a dentist and whose services I desperately required while there!) Sandy and I immensely enjoyed being with the Johnstons. They took us around to parts of Northern Ireland (and the Republic of Ireland) that we had not previously seen. We visited the walled city of Londonderry (AKA Derry) and saw the historic cathedral where former slave-ship captain John Newton worshiped after his conversion to Christ. (Newton, of course, is best known as the author of the hymn Amazing Grace.) We traveled to the coast of Donegal and looked westward to the United States. (Did you see us waving?) We also got to visit the new Baptist work in Strabane where Joe and Darlene Cornell of Danville have been serving for the past year or so.

Ireland is truly a captivating place. Its beautiful rolling hillsides. Its picturesque coastlines. Its flocks of sheep grazing upon lush pastures. Its proverbial "forty shades of green" as immortalized in song by Johnny Cash. Its ancient rock walls, old churches, and rustic buildings. Its friendly, warm-hearted people. Its historic Christian heritage (a la St. Patrick and others). Its colorful music and culture. And its deep-rooted connection with the United States. Indeed, it was the Protestant Scots-Irish (Ulster Scots) of the northern part of Ireland who in the 1700s settled the mountains of Appalachia (my personal heritage). Later, following the Great Potato Famine of the 1840s, a whole new wave of Irish immigrants--predominantly Catholic--descended upon our great Eastern cities (i.e., New York, Boston, etc.) to build a new life for themselves there. So there is a strong bond between our nation and the Irish people--both north and south.

Sandy and I enjoyed our all-too-brief stay in Northern Ireland. It was a great time for renewing old friendships and cultivating new ones, while being personally refreshed and renewed by "the Emerald of the Sea."

Pastor Danny

British Isles Trip, Part 1: Keswick

2010-08-23T21:44:00.094-04:00

For years, one of my ministry dreams has been that of attending the annual Keswick Convention in England. This summer, after 25 years in pastoral ministry, I decided that it was time to pursue that dream. So, in late July, Sandy and I took a flight "across the pond" to enjoy a much-needed time of spiritual refreshment and renewal.

In England, we met up with our friends Lewis and Angie Ecker, who presently live in London. For nearly a decade, Lewis and I served together at the First Baptist Church of Clermont, Florida. In 2008, the Ecker family left Florida, so that Lewis could take up the role of associate pastor of two inner city churches in London. He also works with London's Street Pastors ministry. About 48 hours after Sandy and I landed at London's Heathrow Airport, we and the Eckers boarded a train for Keswick and made our way out into the English countryside.

The renowed Keswick Convention is a Bible teaching conference held each summer (since 1875!) in the village of Keswick in the beautiful Lake District in the north of England. In recent years, the attendance has grown so much that they offer 3 different "Keswick weeks" back-to-back-to-back. We attended the third of the three weeks for 2010. At the end of week 3, it was reported that some 12,000 participants attended the combined sessions. (Roughly 4,000 each week.) While some of each week's events are held at different smaller venues, the main worship gatherings are held in a massive tent that can seat approximately 3,500 people. The remaining attendees "spill over" to other nearby venues where they can watch the proceedings live via television.

The main speaker of the week was Alistair Begg, a Scotsman who pastors a large church in Cleveland, Ohio and who has a popular preaching ministry via radio and the Internet. When I lived in Florida I used to listen to Alistair Begg's recorded weekly sermons via our local Moody Radio station in St. Petersburg. Alistair spent the whole week at Keswick doing an exhaustive expositional study of Romans chapter 8. It was great! What a solid preacher of the Word he is.

The worship was led by famous British singer, songwriter, and recording artist Stuart Townend. Townend is HUGE in the United Kingdom, but less well known here in the States. On our side of the Altantic, he is best known for his popular worship song, "In Christ Alone." We would do well to learn more of his songs. They typically are rich in great doctrinal truths about the Person of God. Stuart Townend is not only a prolific songwriter, he also is a gifted worship leader. There is a special touch of God on his life. During our week in Keswick, Townend stayed in the condo right next to us. We enjoyed the opportunity of meeting him and fellowshiping with him. A very humble man of God with a worshiping heart.

Townend's "back up" band for the week was the British Contemporary Christian group Phatfish. Although I was not previously familiar with Phatfish, I have sinced learned that they are quite popular throughout the United Kingdom. (In fact, when we visited Northern Ireland the following week, we found out that some of our friends there knew all about them.) The lead singer of Phatfish is a young woman named Lou Fellingham. She's also a popular solo artist in Britain. She very recently had given birth to a new baby boy. Yet, she was in fine singing form at Keswick. Truly, she has a great voice with an exceptional range.

Sandy and I had such a great experience worshiping with other Christians from different lands. I love the corporate experience of 4,000 varied voices lifted as one in praise to God. And I just love meeting and interacting with followers of Jesus from different parts of the world. I always find that so refreshing, because there is so much we can learn from one another. The vast majority of the attendees at Keswick were from England, Scotland, Ireland or Wales. But there also was representation from Africa, the Middle East and Asia. One of the presenters on the program was from the good ole USA, but other than him--and our party of 4--I don't remember hearing anyone else with an American accent all week long.

After 7 spiritually-energizing days in the town of Keswick, it was kind of sad to finally have to leave. You sort of wished it could just go on and on. (But that's what Heaven is for, isn't it?) Nonetheless, our week in Keswick was an experience that Sandy and I will never forget (in spite of it being cold and rainy!) I wish you could have been there with us. Perhaps someday, Lord willing, we'll go again.

Pastor Danny

Remembering Jack Kemp

2009-05-07T16:21:00.027-04:00

This past week, political leader and former professional football player Jack Kemp died of cancer at age 73.

After a successful career as the starting quarterback for the Buffalo Bills, leading the team to consecutive American Football League championships in 1964 and 1965, Kemp decided to try his hand at elective politics. In 1970, at the age of 35, he was elected to a seat in Congress, representing Buffalo. But Kemp was more than just an ex-jock catapulted to office on the basis of his gridiron fame. Over the next 18 years, he proved to be one of the most effective and influential members of the U. S. House of Representatives, although he never held a major leadership position in the House. A voracious reader with a keen mind, Kemp—a physical education major in college—developed into one of Washington’s brightest thinkers and most knowledgeable students in regard to economic and fiscal issues. (My, how we could use him now!)

Kemp, whose tax-cutting philosophy significantly influenced the thinking of Ronald Reagan, was almost chosen to be The Gipper’s running mate in 1980. (He was 24 years Reagan’s junior.) In the end, however, he was passed over for George H. W. Bush. In 1988, Kemp made his own brief run for the White House, but his campaign never got off the ground. In 1989, he was named Secretary of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) which to me seemed not the best use of his abilities. (Treasury Secretary seemingly would have been a better cabinet position for him.) By the time he assumed the leadership at HUD, however, the most influential period of his political career was already behind him. When in 1996 he was finally named to run for Vice President on his party’s ill-fated national ticket, that was sort of his political swan song.

I always liked Jack Kemp. I think, if given the chance, he may have been a good president but, obviously, we’ll never know that. I do have a special memory of Jack Kemp, however, that I’d like to share with you.

In 1992, I was part of a group of Southern Baptists convening for a conference in our nation’s capital. The highlights of the week included a congressional prayer breakfast on the top floor of the Dirksen Senate Office Building where we were addressed by two Southern Baptists then serving in the U.S. Senate, one from each party. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. There was a young whippersnapper from Tennessee named Albert Gore, Jr. and some good ole boy from Mississippi named Trent Lott. Talk about diversity. Hmm.

The other major happening of the week was being invited to the Old Executive Office Building (now the Eisenhower building) adjacent to the White House for a special White House briefing. And who spoke to our group on behalf of the Bush 41 Administration? None other than then-HUD secretary Jack Kemp. I was impressed with Kemp, not only because of his articulation of political issues and public policy from a conservative perspective, but also because it was on that day that I first learned of his personal faith in Jesus Christ. In fact, as he spoke of how he incorporated his Christian faith into his political life, he also made a humorous statement I’ve never forgotten. He said that the Old Testament figure Nehemiah, who was both a builder of walls and a builder of people, was actually the very first secretary of Housing and Urban Development! (I loved that, and actually wrote that quote in the margin of my Bible.)

The other day, when I heard that Jack Kemp had passed away, it was a very busy week, but I took time to read just one of the many Internet news articles reviewing Kemp’s career and evaluating his legacy. Afterward, I was glad that I read the one article I did. Written by Fred Barnes of The Weekly Standard, it was entitled “What Jack Kemp Accomplished”. After reviewing the achievements of Kemp’s political career, Barnes ended the article with one highly unusual and totally unexpected paragraph tagged on the end. It said this:

“Kemp died on Saturday at 73. He leaves a large family and a wife, Joanne, who has been enormously influential in her own way, conducting a weekly Bible study in their home for more than 30 years and leading an untold number of people to faith in Jesus Christ as their Savior.”

Wow! I was amazed. Not by the Kemp family’s authentic faith in Christ, mind you—I already knew about that—but by the fact that this wonderful statement was published in a secular political newsmagazine. I was so impressed, in fact, that I immediately emailed Fred Barnes and commended him for his courage in closing his story with this beautiful little paragraph, which brought glory to God.

Truly, of all the things the article talked about, those closing sentences were the most important. For in the final analysis, it’s not the accolades and achievements we attain here on earth that matter. It’s how we personally respond to our Creator and it’s the spiritual treasures we subsequently lay up in Heaven. When it’s all said and done, knowing Christ and serving Him is what it’s all about.

Thanks, Jack, for a job well done.

Pastor Danny

Who Do You Look Like?...Revisited

2009-04-29T08:02:00.020-04:00

OK. Events of recent days have awakened me from the slumber of my blogging hibernation.

A friend of ours from Florida emailed me in response to my last blog about lookalikes. She reminded me that she always thought, before I grew my beard in 1998, that I looked a lot like Rick Moranis, the once-popular but now-forgotten star of the hit 1989 Disney film "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids". (Despite my repeated refusals to acknowledge that her claim has any credibility whatsoever, this determined friend doggedly has made the same argument for years. I've never admitted to her, however, that a couple of people in Kentucky once said the very same thing to me!)

My Florida friend has gone so far as to suggest that I post on my blog an old photo of my beardless self alongside an image of Rick Moranis. But, as I seem to recall, several years ago, a volcanic eruption or a tsunami--I don't remember which--destroyed all the photos of me from birth up until I grew my beard. (I least that's what I seem to recall.) So, apart from me being shaved or "Nair"-ed against my will, there is no way that one can accurately test out and evaluate my friend's far-flung hypothesis.

I will acknowledge, however, that back in the 1970s, when I was in college, there were some people who thought I then looked like actor John Ritter, who at the time was starring in the popular TV sitcom "Three's Company." Then, in the early 1980s, while I was in seminary, there were a few deranged ministerial students that thought I bore a strange resemblance--and let me emphasize the word "strange"-- to the then high profile televangelist Jimmy Swaggart. Sometime thereafter, I started combing my hair differently so people would stop sending me their tithes or asking me to autograph their bibles.

But I suffered the most severe blow to my ego just this week. (And this is what prompted me to rise up and write this blog entry.) Sunday afternoon, one of our church members told me that they had been getting their little grandchild ready for church early that morning. A religious program was on television at the time and the little child, with a quizzical look on his face, asked, "Why is Pastor Danny on TV?" His grandma turned around and--guess what-- it was the Reverend John Hagee preaching on the tube!

Hmm. I think I need a makeover. Or a NutriSystem subscription.

Think about it. In the 1970s, I was John Ritter. By the 1980s, I had morphed into Jimmy Swaggart. By the 1990s, I had evolved into Rick Moranis. And now, somehow, I've turned into John Hagee. Wow! I didn't see that one coming! One wonders what the next decade will hold. Could I potentially become a clone of the late Orson Welles, or the spitting image of President William Howard Taft? Only time will tell.

Of course, I've been so self-focused about all of this that I haven't even stopped to consider how these comparisons might be irritating Moranis, Swaggart and Hagee! After all, those guys might not appreciate being told that they look like Danny Davis. Hmm.

Pastor Danny

Who Do You Look Like?

2009-02-23T07:27:00.018-05:00

A shy, formerly obscure photographer from Indonesia has become something of a global celebrity almost overnight. Why? Thirty-four-year-old Ilham Anas bears an amazing resemblance to President Barrack Obama. (Ironically, President Obama actually spent 4 years of his childhood growing up in Indonesia!)

Ever since America’s new chief executive began his incredible rise to fame last year, people in Asia started mistaking Anas for the emerging American political leader. He recalls being stunned when someone in an airport in Malaysia stopped him and asked, “Are you Obama?” The inquirer then sought have his picture made with Anas and to buy him a meal.

Later on, some of Anas’ friends encouraged him to dress up in a suit and tie and pose with an American flag. They took his picture and posted the images on the Internet. In no time at all, the young Indonesian’s fame spread like wildfire and he was being pursued by television producers and ad agencies alike.

Since Obama’s election last November, Anas has made a number of appearances, his biggest gig so far being a commercial for a pharmaceutical company in the Philippines in which he portrays our commander-in-chief. (You can easily find the 30-second spot on YouTube.)

While he is happy to cash in on his good fortune, Anas indicates there are limits to what he will do. “I will take all opportunities that come my way,” he said, “as long as they don’t violate ethical codes and my personal values.” Anas went on to say, “I see my resemblance to Obama as a blessing. I used to look at the mirror and I had a negative perception of myself.” But no more, apparently.

Reading the story of Ilham Anas reminded me of something back in the late 1970s. There was a guy who ran a popcorn stand in a shopping mall in Lexington, Kentucky that looked like he could be the identical twin of President Jimmy Carter. It was uncanny. The two must have been separated at birth. The first time I saw the guy, I did such a quick double take that I almost experienced whiplash. Subsequently, every time I was in that mall, I couldn’t help but just stare at this man. He was almost a Carter clone. His hair, facial structure, everything! (I wish even now that I had a photo of him to show you.) One night when the mall was closing, I was sitting in my car in the mall parking lot. All of a sudden, this pickup truck pulls up next to my vehicle. I couldn’t believe it! It was the President of the United States! All alone, driving a truck, with no secret service protection whatsoever! Then, it dawned on me, “No, it’s just that guy that runs the popcorn stand.” I often wondered why that man in Lexington never cashed in on his looks like Ilham Anas is doing right now.

The newfound popularity of Ilham Anas reminds me of something else. In the Word of God, we are told to be imitators of our Lord. We are to follow His example, emulate His character, and let His life shine forth from our own. The First Century believers at Antioch did exactly that. Indeed, they “looked” so much like Jesus that they were the very first people on this planet to be referred to as Christians (Acts 11:26).

Are you an imitator of Christ? Do people see Jesus in you? Do you look like Him?

Don’t be just another face in the crowd…or just another guy running a popcorn stand. Remember Whose you are, and live accordingly.

Borrowing from the words of President Obama’s Indonesian look alike, hopefully your own testimony could go something like this: “I see my resemblance to Jesus as a blessing. I used to look at the mirror and I had a negative perception of myself. But that’s all different now. Because Jesus is in my life and He has changed my life.”

Amen.

Pastor Danny

Flat Maya Comes To Town

2009-02-11T23:51:00.011-05:00

Flat Maya was in Danville a few days ago. She was the special guest of Dan and Margaret Raines, arriving in Virginia from Texas via the U. S. Postal Service. That may sound like an unconventional way for a person for travel, but Flat Maya is an unconventional person. Although she’s as tall as me, she weighs less than a pound, is a fraction of an inch thick, and neatly folds up in order to fit inside a flat mailing envelope. In fact, that’s the way she gets from point A to point B—without a doubt, the most economical way to see the world.

Flat Maya, by the way, is the alter ego of the real Maya—the three-dimensional, non-folding Maya—a real, living, breathing human being made of flesh and blood rather than paper or cardboard. The real Maya lives in Tyler, Texas and she happens to be Dan and Margaret’s niece.

How did Maya wind up with a flat version of herself? It seems that Maya’s class at school was reading a popular children’s book called Flat Stanley. In the book, the title character is a young boy named Stanley Lambchop. One night, a bulletin board hanging on the wall over his bed falls and flattens little Stanley in his sleep. He survives and makes the best of his altered state, soon entering locked rooms by sliding under the door, and playing with his younger brother by being used as a kite. Stanley even helps catch some art thieves by posing as a painting on the wall of a museum. But one of the best advantages of Stanley’s newfound flatness is his ability to visit his friends by being mailed to them in an envelope.

After introducing her class to the story of Flat Stanley, Maya’s teacher assigned her students the project of creating flat versions of themselves that they could then mail to different people in different places. So, being the good aunt and uncle that they are, Margaret and Dan decided to invite Flat Maya up for a visit to Danville. And, upon her arrival, they really showed Flat Maya the town, taking her around to a number of historic sites and notable landmarks in our fair city. They even included me in their plans, arranging for Flat Maya to come by the church and make a personal visit to my office while she was in the area.

I have to say that it was a real pleasure to meet Flat Maya. Although I was just making her acquaintance for the very first time, she seemed quite at ease in my office. After posing for a photo with me and Aunt Margaret, while Uncle Dan manned the camera, she just plopped down in a chair for a while and made herself right at home, just like she’d been there a thousand times before.

Flat Maya didn’t say much or ask me many questions, but I could see that she was quite observant, just basking in the moment and taking it all in. Apparently, she likes to live the biblical adage of being slow to speak and quick to listen.

Although she’s clearly a person of few words, Flat Maya must be pretty smart. After all, she’s been to so many different places and seen so many different things. In spite of her quiet and shy demeanor, one can readily see what a colorful person she is. Just look at the way she dresses. Her wardrobe is vibrant. Her hair is bright blonde. She definitely stands out in a crowd. Gee, I hope I’m not FLATtering her too much. (I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist!)

I didn’t really have time to learn much about her personal likes and dislikes. But I’ll venture a guess that she’s a fan of Bluegrass music. Her favorite group? FLATT and Scruggs, no doubt! (Oops! I’m sorry. There I go again!)

Physically, Flat Maya’s a little on the thin side, especially when you view her profile. (I’m not sure what they’re feeding her out there in Texas, but she definitely could stand to put on a few pounds. If we’d had time, I’d love to have taken her to Biscuitville for a high-carb lunch.) In many ways, Flat Maya has the physical attributes to be a fashion model. But she would only be successful at modeling if she were consistently photographed from the front, certainly never from a side angle.

Flat Maya is a definitely a special person. And she certainly has figured out an interesting and inexpensive way of seeing the world. I think next time I plan an international mission trip, I’ll try to recruit a team of flat church members to go with me. That way, we can save a whole bunch of money on airfare, opting for envelopes and stamps instead. The only problem is that I personally won’t be able to lead that team, unless I first can get someone to drop something heavy on me and flatten me out. Hmm. I can tell you right now that a bulletin board isn't going to do the trick. I'll probably need an anvil or a steamroller. (Ouch!)

The Round Reverend Danny

Wrong Number or Right Connection?

2009-02-07T21:47:00.008-05:00

"RRRIIINNNNGGG!!!" The late night call punctuated the quiet stillness of the church office. I was working after hours trying to get caught up on a few things when the unexpected cry from Mr. Bell's tireless invention suddenly broke my concentration. Gradually, the intermittent ringing sound worked its way back from the receptionist’s desk to the sleepy receiver in my study. At first, I was going to ignore it, thinking that perhaps someone was just calling to leave a voice mail for me for the next morning. If so, the last thing they would be expecting would be for a "live" person to answer the phone. I certainly didn't want to give them a heart attack! But then again, I thought it might be Sandy trying to reach me from home. After all, she was the only one who knew I was still at work. So I picked up the receiver and here's what transpired:

“Hello.”

“Uh...yes”, came the tentative reply at the other end. “Is this Danny Davis Ministries?”

It was a woman’s voice…with a distinctly northeastern accent….perhaps from New York or New Jersey. And the call definitely sounded like it was long distance. Her opening line certainly surprised me. Danny Davis Ministries!!? I had seen that guy on the Internet before. He's a traveling evangelist based out of California, whose primary ministry focus seems to be on divine healing, kind of a big fellow with sort of a modified 1980's-style mullet haircut. But why was this lady calling me at Mount Hermon Baptist Church? And how did she get my number?

“Well, my name IS Danny Davis, but this is not Danny Davis Ministries. Were you trying to reach Danny Davis, the evangelist?”

“I need to reach Danny Davis so he can pray for me,” she said, not really responding to my question.

“If you are looking for Danny Davis, the evangelist, this is not his number. But you can probably find his phone number on the Internet. I’ve seen his website before. I think it is www.dannydavisministries.com. I’m not sure, but you could do a search and easily find it.”

“Uh...OK…", she said. "I just need to get Danny Davis to pray for me.”

“Well…as I said, this is not Danny Davis Ministries…but my name is Danny Davis, and I am a pastor, and I would be glad to pray for you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“How can I pray for you?”

“Well, my mother is in the hospital in upstate New York. And I have been very worried about her. I was asleep and I was having a very scary dream. It was a terrible dream. I was so frightened. And suddenly, I woke up and the Lord told me to call Danny Davis and have Danny Davis pray for my mother. So that’s why I called.”

“Well, let me pray for you and your mother. Do you mind if I pray with you over the phone right now?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.”

After asking for her name as well as that of her mother, I proceeded to intercede for both women over the phone, with the long-distance caller listening intently to my petitions on her family's behalf. Following my closing “amen,” the grateful woman on the other end of the line spoke up once more:

“Oh, thank you, thank you. God bless you.”

“I’m glad I was able to be of help.”

“Oh, and I am so glad I was able to reach you. This was an answer to prayer. God told me to call Danny Davis. And God doesn’t make any mistakes.”

“No, He doesn’t, does He? I’ll continue to remember your mother in prayer.”

“Thank you so much. Thank you. Goodbye and God bless you.”

Praying at the House of Delegates

2009-02-02T20:06:00.031-05:00

Several days ago, Sandy and I were at the State Capitol in Richmond in order for me to pray to open a session of the Virginia House of Delegates. I had been recommended for this special assignment by our own Donald Merricks, a member of Mount Hermon Baptist Church who is in the second year of his first term in the House. Donald has done a wonderful job representing the people of his district (which encompasses most of Pittsylvania County), and I was honored to be nominated by him for this unique opportunity.

The House was scheduled to convene at 12 noon. Sandy and I had arrived in Richmond the night before. Early the next morning, I emailed an advance copy of my written prayer to the Clerk’s Office, as had been requested of me. Normally I don’t write out my prayers, but such is essential for an assignment of this nature. Not only do they want a written copy for the sake of their records, but, I assume, they also want to screen it in advance to make sure there are no potential problems. Before we left from our hotel room that morning, I received a phone call from a member of the clerk’s staff. She acknowledged that she had just received my email. She then proceeded to remind me, somewhat nervously I thought, that I would be praying for people representing a wide of variety of faith groups. Of course, I assumed this last minute reminder came to me because I had included the closing phrase “in Jesus’ Name” in my prayer.

I had wondered if praying in Jesus’ Name was going to present a problem. Like many Virginians, I realized that in recent months there had been a flap in the media regarding Virginia State Police chaplains praying in Jesus’ Name. Apparently, someone had filed a formal complaint because one of these chaplains had invoked the Name of the Savior while praying at some public gathering. So the powers-that-be, from the Governor on down, responded with a new ruling that State Police chaplains would henceforth be prohibited from using the Name of the Jesus in public prayers offered in certain, specified settings. It was my understanding that, in light of this ruling, three chaplains had resigned their posts in protest.

Now, I certainly wasn’t trying to stir up anything while I was in Richmond. When I received the original letter some time back inviting me to give the prayer before the House, I read it very carefully. It instructed me to offer up an inter- denominational prayer, respectful of the various faiths that would be present. But it also included the phrase “according to your own tradition.” Well, I knew what my tradition was. My tradition had always been to pray in the Name of Jesus. So, I decided I would carry on my own personal tradition before the House of Delegates. (By the way, I had used the Name of Jesus when praying before the U.S. House of Representatives in Washington, D.C. last fall. So why should I pray any differently on the state level?)

When Speaker of the House Bill Howell swung his gavel and called the House to order, the Sergeant-at-Arms brought forth the mace, signaling the beginning of the day’s business. Speaker Howell then introduced me and I prayed. Following the prayer, we all said the Pledge of Allegiance together. Then, Speaker Howell—a wonderful Christian gentleman whom I had met before—presented me with a commemorative gift, and I was escorted back to my seat on the House floor where Sandy awaited me. Later on, during a brief break in the House business, a delegate came over to me and thanked me for praying in Jesus’ Name. He told me that another Baptist preacher had “started the tradition” the week prior at the commencement of the 2009 session. “We haven’t gotten any flack over it yet,” he said, “but we probably will.” He then thanked me again for not being reluctant to use the Lord’s Name.

All in all, we had a wonderful visit in Richmond. Everyone at the Capitol was so kind, courteous and friendly, from the security guards and doorkeepers, to the pages and staffers, to the House and Senate members themselves. Good old Southern hospitality at its best.

The night we arrived in Richmond, Donald and Patti Merricks—whom in light of his present position I like to jokingly refer to as “The Honorable” and “Mrs. The Honorable”—took Sandy and me out to dinner. It was great being with them. The next day, following my prayer, we enjoyed meeting up with church members Brenda and Lindsay Bowman, both of whom work for Delegate Charles Poindexter. They graciously treated us to lunch. We also got to visit with Delegate Danny Marshall, who represents the City of Danville in the legislature. As an added bonus, thanks to Donald’s office, Sandy and I got to take a tour of the Governor’s Mansion later that afternoon. I actually thought Governor and Mrs. Kaine might be there to greet us, but alas, some pressing state business must have called them away at the last minute. At least that’s what I think.

Upon our return home from Richmond, our son Jordan emailed us and said, “Dad, First, the U.S. House of Representatives! Now, the Virginia House of Delegates! What’s next for you, the Danville City Council?”

The truth be known, Pittsylvania County’s Circuit Court Clerk, H. F. Haymore—another Mount Hermon attendee—lined me up just the other day to pray to open the next session of court later this month. So, there you have it! My career as an official political pray-er presses onward!

Pastor Danny ("Have Prayer, Will Travel")

Happy New Year 2009!

2008-12-30T09:27:00.005-05:00

As we prepare to "ring out" the old and "ring in" the new, I'm praying that you have a healthy, happy and spiritually prosperous new year!

While none of us fully knows what the future will hold, we DO know the One Who holds the future. And that makes all the difference in the world.

Because of His presence in our lives, we can face the coming year with confidence and assurance. For He has promised to never leave us nor forsake us.

May God bless you richly throughout this coming year
of our Lord two thousand and nine.

Pastor Danny

Nativity Scenes: For God So Loved the World...

2008-12-23T07:59:00.029-05:00

Sandy and I have always had nativity scenes in our home. At least one larger set on a table or mantle and a few smaller ones on our Christmas tree and/or scattered elsewhere throughout the house. Gradually, we started collecting them, one by one. And over the years, the number of our nativity sets has increased. We didn’t really intend to start a collection. It just sort of happened.

Our international mission trips became the primary impetus for this "hobby". We've always liked bringing back articles of remembrance from places we visit. And we've found that nativity sets are among the most meaningful items we can obtain.

It all started back in 1988. While in Tanzania (Africa) I happened upon a wood carver who was making and selling large nativity sets made out of dark, heavy ebony wood. The sets were quite impressive. The pieces were very large, the tallest human figures rising to about 10 to 12 inches in height. And there were 13 figures in all—shepherds, wise men, Mary and Joseph, baby Jesus, animals, and an angel. So it was a massive set, once arranged and displayed.

What most intrigued me about this work of art was the ethnicity of the figures. They were clearly African. An African Mary and Joseph, African magi and sheepherders, and an African baby Jesus in a manger! Typically, people have always tended to visualize Jesus through the lens of their own culture. For many Americans, that means seeing Jesus as a fair-skinned North American or European-looking male. And many of our manmade depictions of Jesus indeed render him that way. But Jesus actually came in the flesh as a Middle Eastern/ Jewish male. So our typical American perception of Jesus is no more accurate than that of the Africans. (Hence, we shouldn’t be so arrogant as to think we got it “right” and they got it “wrong”!)

But right then and there, in Tanzania some 20 years ago, was when I first started considering how intriguing (and precious) it was for various peoples of the world to envision the birth of Jesus against the backdrop of their own familiar cultural context. Because the Savior of the world indeed came for ALL of us.

I bought two identical ebony wood sets from the African vendor. After packing all of those heavy items and bringing them back to the States with me, I gave one of the sets to my parents as a gift. But the one we kept was destroyed when our home burned a few months later. So we lost it before we ever got to use it. Then, several years later, when my parents were downsizing and moving to a new home, they gave their set back to us. (They had tried to give it back much earlier, but we repeatedly had refused their offer.)

With the passage of time, Sandy and I collected other nativity scenes. A set from Honduras made out of brightly colored cornhusks. A simple three-piece, hand-painted wooden set from Ecuador. A beautifully crafted three-figure set from the Dominican Republic. (All of these reflecting a distinctive Spanish or Latin American flavor.) There’s also a simple olive wood nativity set from Israel. Plus, from Israel also, an olive wood Mary and child riding on the back of a donkey during their flight to Egypt. Sandy and I even have an unusual set we brought back with us from predominantly-Buddhist Cambodia, made by local Christian craftsmen there. All of these sets are hand-made. And each holds special meaning for us. For every time we look at them, we are reminded of the global scope of Jesus' redemptive mission.

The Bible frequently talks about the “nations”. When it does so, it’s not speaking of nations as we typically think of nations, i.e., political states. Rather, it’s referring to the various language groups, people groups, ethnic groups and racial groups that populate this planet. Jesus commissioned us to “Go and teach all nations…” And Jesus told us that before He comes again the Gospel “must first be preached to all nations.” So, God wants every unreached people group of the world to hear the good news of salvation in Christ prior to Jesus returning to gather up His own. Because someday, in Heaven, the Bible tells us that people from every tribe and every tongue will gather to worship the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I truly look forward to that great day with anticipation and joy!

Whenever I look at our various nativity sets from around the world, it reminds me that Jesus came for people from every nation. It also reminds me we have a responsibility to take the Gospel to people of every nation. And it also reminds me that someday, around the Throne of God, we will worship together with Christian brothers and sisters representing every nation. Hallelujah! What a kaleidoscope of color and symphony of praise that will be! And what a beautiful testimony to the greatness of our God!

Hmm. When you think about it, it’s quite amazing what a little nativity set can teach you.

Pastor Danny

A Politician in a Pear Tree

2008-12-02T19:20:00.056-05:00

It all started back in 1968. That was the first presidential election I really focused in on. I was an 11-year-old boy at the time, and it was that year that I became thoroughly enamored with the whole electoral process. While other kids my age were out enjoying the summer sun, I remember watching gavel-to-gavel coverage of both national nominating conventions on our black-and-white television. Later on in the fall, I began frequenting the local political campaign headquarters in my hometown. The Republican headquarters was a large storefront building, well supplied with buttons, brochures, posters, bumper stickers, and other essential campaign materials. I dropped by there several times. The young female volunteer that ran the place got so tired of seeing me. Finally, the weekend before the election, she told me that I had come in enough and she basically invited me not to come back. But, for all my efforts—I was there every time a new shipment of campaign materials came in—I came away with several different Nixon-Agnew items which I have to this day, including—my pride and joy at the time—a full-color reflector button that alternately displays Nixon’s smiling face and the memorable slogan “Nixon’s the One!” On top of everything else, I even signed up to be a Nixon volunteer! Ironically, I wouldn’t even be old enough to vote in a presidential election until 1976! But just prior to Election Day, I received a letter from the future president himself, thanking me for my vital support. You would have thought I was a key player in Nixon's great political comeback! (All of this was pre-Watergate, of course.)

The Democrat headquarters in our town back in ’68 was run virtually out of a shoebox in the tiny front lobby of a local business establishment. (There were only a handful of Democrats in the whole county then. Not nearly enough to fill a phone booth. I’m not being critical. That’s just the way it was.) After being interrogated—er, questioned thoroughly—by the local Democratic Party Chairman as to who my parents were and why I really wanted a Hubert H. Humphrey campaign button, I finally received from him a little star-spangled “HHH” pin, which I still have. I was grateful for it, but I never attempted to go back for more. That man just made me too nervous. I felt like I’d been to the principal’s office.

About that same time, my parents showed me an ad in a magazine wherein a political button collector was offering a special deal for anyone who wanted to get started in the hobby of collecting — 25 authentic presidential campaign buttons for just $5 (in 1968 dollars, of course). My dad ordered me a set. And that’s where it all started for me. Since then, sporadically, I have been a collector of political campaign memorabilia. In addition to visiting various campaign headquarters during election cycles, there were always flea markets, antique stores, and political collector conventions—yes, there are such things—not to mention the kind generosity of persons through the years who were cleaning out their attics and remembered that I had this bizarre hobby. (Incidentally, back in the late 1960s, some kind older gentleman that I never actually met gave me some of my oldest buttons—William McKinley and William Jennings Bryan buttons from the 1896 and 1900 campaigns, as well as an 1898 “Remember the Maine!” button, which was in reference to the sabatoge of a U.S. ship in Havana’s harbor that triggered the Spanish-American War. I also received an 1896 Joshua Levering photo button. Those of you that voted in that election will remember that the bald but mustachioed Levering was the Prohibition Party candidate for President that year. He didn’t win, by the way, in case you forgot.)

In the year 2000, my hobby took a new turn. In December of that year, Sandy and I found ourselves living in temporary housing for a few weeks, having just sold our first Florida home, while waiting to close on another. Thus, a lot of our Christmas decorations were packed away. So—with chads hanging all over Florida and the Bush-Gore presidential battle still undecided after Thanksgiving—it seemed like a novel idea that year to put up a political Christmas tree (bipartisan, of course) adorned with various buttons from my collection. That began a Davis family tradition that has continued to the present day. Since that time, we have always had a political tree in addition to our regular Christmas tree.

Along with its numerous presidential campaign buttons, our political tree is adorned with a number of other patriotic trimmings, as well as our growing collection of White House Christmas ornaments. (The White House Historical Association started issuing these ornaments on an annual basis in 1981, the year of our son Jordan’s birth, and we have all 28 of them to date.)

So, this blog is fair warning to you when you come to visit us during our Open House this Christmas. The first tree you’ll see when you enter our home will feature a whole lot more red, white & blue than it will red & green. And it won’t be adorned with traditional-looking angelic beings (unless you count the winged “Betsy Ross”-like figurine who sits at the top). Nor will it be decorated with images of tiny elves (unless you count my Dennis “Keebler” Kucinich buttons). Instead, you’ll see images of prominent political personalities as diverse as George Washington, George Wallace, and George W. And you’ll read colorful (if not exactly memorable) political slogans such as “The Grin Will Win!” (Jimmy Carter), “A Buck for Huck” (Mike Huckabee), and “You Go Girl!” (Sarah Palin). Not to mention the image of a smiling Santa Claus saying “Ho! Ho! Ho! Happy Howard Days! Dean for America” (Howard Dean). So, if after this excruciatingly long 2008 presidential race you feel like you can still muster up enough strength to endure all of these Ghosts of Presidential Campaigns Past, I hope you’ll elect to come and celebrate Christmas with us presidential style.

Pastor Danny

P. S. I'm Danny Davis and I approve this message.

Jonah Returns!

2008-11-08T16:14:00.017-05:00

Finally…I’m back at my old computer, blogging away once again after another long hiatus. Please understand that I’ve been quite busy since my last blog. It all started with a relaxing little boating excursion that I had planned to the coast of Tarshish, just to get my mind off things. I went down to the seaport with my travel brochures, I paid the fare, and then I settled back for what was supposed to be just a quiet and peaceful three-hour tour. At least that’s what the Skipper and Gilligan had told me. But then we ran into all kinds of trouble. It wasn’t long before I realized that this was no Carnival Cruise. A violent storm hit. The sea was raging. The boat was in danger of capsizing. And the experienced sailors were scared half out of their minds. (Not a good sign!) The next thing I knew, the Professor and Mary Ann had thrown me overboard, and I was sinking like a rock into the murky depths of the sea. Then, all of a sudden, I heard this enormous gulp. It quickly dawned on me that I was the gulpee. (In legalese, that’s the one that has been gulped). And, the next thing I knew, my travel itinerary had completely changed. For the next three days and three nights, I found myself lodged in this dark, damp, hot and slimy place. (These were not 5-star accommodations, to say the least. Just wait until hotels.com hears about this!) But, like the Hotel California, I soon learned this place was easy to check into but hard to leave.

Then, just as unexpectedly, I heard a loud belching sound and, with it, I found myself being propelled through the air like a missile, aimed in the direction of Nineveh, a place I never wanted to go. But when I landed on the beach, believe me, I hit the ground running, like the Allied troops at Normandy. Coated in seaweed and amino acids, and steeped in the aromatic fragrance of dead fish, I made an indelible impact on the Ninevites as I kicked off a lengthy preaching tour of their great city. (There were lots of conversions once they laid eyes on me!) Now, after all that—whew!—I’m finally back at my computer blogging again.

Actually, what prompted this particular blog was my recent appearance at our church’s annual Fall Festival. After preaching through the Book of Jonah earlier this fall, it was suggested that I portray Jonah for the kids on Halloween night. So, I put on my “biblical” costume which I hadn’t worn in more than ten years! (Last time I wore it was when I first grew my beard. I had a solo singing part in a large-scale Easter drama we did at my former church in Florida. Sandy had some reservations about whether I could still wear the costume. Hmmm, I didn’t realize that fabric actually shrunk with the passage of time. Fortunately, I could still wear my tunic and robe with room to spare.) I decided to color my hair this time, however. In my mind, I've always pictured Jonah with gray or white hair, either from aging, sudden trauma, or the digestive acids in the whale’s belly. So I went and bought an aerosol can of instant white hair color at Wal-Mart. (Some suspicious church member said they thought I might actually have washed out the color treatment I normally use and just went natural for a change! Some people can be so cruel, can't they?) Well, I sprayed this white stuff on. Man, was it sticky and stinky. And trying to spray it on my beard was a challenge. The big white cloud went up my nose, into my mouth and down my throat. (Cough! Cough!) I almost died of asphyxiation before I even got to the seaport at Joppa.

The Fall Festival folks had set up a Sunday School room for me that was supposed to represent a fish’s belly. And, throughout the night, as various trunk-or-treat-ers passed through, I would tell them a whale of a tale about my wild ride from Joppa to the bottom of the sea and back again. At one point, I was telling a group that I had a feeling that God soon would deliver me from my aquatic prison cell. I said that I had felt the whale’s stomach rumbling a bit and I warned them that I might come spewing out at any minute. One little tyke immediately ran and hid behind his mother, imagining the worst and wanting to avoid being hit by the coming gastric tsunami.

Later in the evening, a gang of pirates dropped by to see me. (Where is that in the Biblical account?) Either they were pirates or they all just got off the night shift at Long John Silvers. Argh! The colorful trio showed up either to rescue old Jonah or to rob him, I’m still not sure which. Nonetheless, there they were in the flesh—the diabolical one-eyed Captain Jamie, loyal First Mate Haley, and the always mysterious Buccaneer Whitney. It was kind of like Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean meets the Old Testament in High Definition. I also had some other notable visitors drop by earlier in the evening—Napoleon Dynamite and his amigo, Pedro. (AKA Caitlin "Brillo" Davis and the mustachioed Tiffany McGregor.) But, alas, they missed the photo op.

After my long stint in that stuffy old fish’s belly, I’m glad to finally be free again. No more boat rides for me. The big lesson of Jonah’s life is this: “God’s way is always the best way.” Never forget that. I sure won’t. Now that I’m back on dry land, watch for more blogs in the days ahead.

Pastor “Jonah”

Live...from Washington DC...

2008-09-29T22:32:00.022-04:00

“Just relax,” he said. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just remember, in a few moments you’ll be speaking from the very podium where every president in your lifetime has stood to address the nation during the State of the Union Address and at other times of national importance.”

And with those words, Daniel P. Coughlin, the Chaplain of the U. S. House of Represent- atives, quickly turned and walked off the platform, leaving me standing there all alone. A second later, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, the third highest elected official in our national government, entered the chamber, ascended to the Speaker’s chair, and gaveled the House to order.

“And now,” she said, “our opening prayer will be offered by the Reverend Danny Davis, Pastor of Mount Hermon Baptist Church in Danville, Virginia.”

And with that, I prayed my 150-word prayer to the Lord in full view of the scattered Congressmen and staffers on the floor; Sandy, our son Jordan, and a group of school children up in the gallery; and an indeterminable number of television viewers watching the proceedings on C-SPAN. After ending my prayer with the politically incorrect “In Jesus’ Name, Amen”, I stepped off the platform and the House recited the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. Then I publicly was recognized by the two members of the House who had made this rare opportunity possible for me: Congresswoman Thelma Drake of Virginia Beach—my son Jordan’s boss—and Congressman Virgil Goode, our local Congressman from here in Southside Virginia.

After their remarks on the House floor, we all exited the chamber. I then met up with Sandy and Jordan and the three of us were escorted to the Speaker’s Reception Room by Chaplain Coughlin, accompanied by Speaker Pelosi, along with Representatives Drake and Goode. Speaker Pelosi told me that the Speaker’s Reception Room was used to receive kings, presidents, prime ministers and other dignitaries, but on that particular day it was being used to receive me. (Whoa!) Chaplain Coughlin then presented me with a certificate in recognition of my serving as guest chaplain for the day. A House photographer came along to chronicle the event. It was all quite amazing—almost too much to take in—for a simple preacher like me that grew up in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky.

In the midst of all the niceties, Speaker Pelosi turned to me privately at one point and said “Please pray for us.” Recognizing the tremendous pressures that the Congress was then under because of some of the critical issues they were facing, I assured her that I would. It was at the very moment that I suddenly was reminded of the fact that people are just people, no matter what position of power of prominence they may hold. And that everyone, regardless of status or stature, needs the Lord.

As our time together concluded, Sandy and I left the Capitol and went by Jordan’s office in the Longworth House Office Building to say our “goodbyes” to his co-workers, the other members of Mrs. Drake’s staff. During our stopover there, I was honored with yet another unexpected gift—a plaque containing an official copy of Congresswoman Drake’s remarks about me which would be entered into that day’s Congressional Record.

Congresswoman Drake had been so gracious and kind with her remarks on the House floor—not only in regard to what she said about me, but with the additional comments she made about her Senior Legislative Assistant, Jordan. It was a nice but unexpected tribute to a young man who has been a valuable part of her team for the past three years. Sandy and I were both humbled and proud. Mrs. Drake is truly a wonderful lady. She is just completing her second term on Capitol Hill. Obviously, we hope that her re-election bid this November is successful. It truly would be a loss both to her district and the nation if it were otherwise.

Earlier in the morning, prior to the opening of the House session, Sandy and I had enjoyed a leisurely private breakfast with Mrs. Drake and Jordan in the Members Only Dining Room. We were delighted to have that special opportunity to get to know her better. She is such a refreshing down-to-earth person, the type who quickly puts you at ease. She also is a person of character, integrity, and strong values. It is encouraging to know that there are people of her caliber serving in Congress. And the same goes for Virgil Goode. He also is a man of deep conviction and character. I feel better about things in Washington when I remember that both Thelma Drake and Virgil Goode are there. I truly thank God for public servants like these. May the Lord increase their tribe. Our nation surely could use a few more elected officials cut from the same cloth.

Pastor Danny

NOTE: By the way, I've learned that my prayer will be preserved for posterity on the House Chaplain's official website: chaplain.house.gov. Just click on the "prayer archive" and search for the prayer dated September 17, 2008. (Honestly, I just hope the Lord was pleased with it.)

Back from Cuba

2008-09-08T23:08:00.009-04:00

Can you believe it? Pastor Danny's Blog has lain dormant for an entire month! But, contrary to any rumors regarding my untimely demise, I'm happy to report that I'm still alive & well. And after a lengthy hiatus from the blogosphere—due to travels, family illness, and a host of pastoral responsibilities that I had to catch up on after returning home—I’m finally settling back into my cyberspace saddle again. I’ll try to get my journalistic juices flowing once more by sharing some thoughts regarding our church's recent mission trip to Cuba.

In mid-August, Sandy and I led a team of 15 persons from the Danville area to minister with a Baptist church in Cuba’s capital city of Havana. We worked with a congregation there that Sandy and I have known quite well since 2002. This was my fifth visit to the island and Sandy’s fourth. Returning to the church in Cuba and seeing familiar faces there—faces that we’ve seen year after year—is sort of like going home again. We have been there so often that, for Sandy and me, it’s almost like returning to a church that we formerly pastored. The people there are truly special to our hearts. This was Mount Hermon’s first mission foray into Cuba, and Sandy and I were truly delighted for members of our new church family to meet some of our dear Christian friends in Havana. (We had been there several times previously with members of our former church in Florida.)

During week one, our team was involved in a variety of mission activities. Every morning, we divided into 3 subgroups of five persons each, and conducted 3 simultaneous Vacation Bible Schools for children in 3 different neighborhoods. Much as in the USA, our VBS consisted of Bible teaching, music, crafts, recreation & snacks…except that everything is done in Spanish rather than English! (Thank God that love knows no language.) We ministered to some precious boys & girls throughout the week, some of whom are the children of prostitutes & prison inmates. One child we ministered to had watched his father hatchet his mother to death just a few days earlier. Another child’s mother had just died of AIDs. One group of kids we worked with came from a household of 41 women & children crowded into a residence built for 10. But the children were all so adorable. And they have such an authentic spiritual hunger. They loved us & we loved them. Thank God for the work that the church there is doing in reaching them for Christ.

Following lunch, our team members were involved in afternoon adult discipleship training sessions. Some of us taught sessions each day. I did a series on the theology and practice of the various worship expressions mentioned in the Bible. Cliff Hudgins taught on conflict resolution, listening skills, and other practical matters. Whitney Clarke demonstrated the use of object lessons to communicate spiritual truth to children. Other team members provided special music (vocal and guitar), drama, dance/ creative arts, and personal testimonies. Throughout the week, every team member spoke at least once. Some shared multiple times. In the evenings, team members similarly participated in corporate worship services which were hosted at a different venue each night. Cliff Hudgins and I shared primary preaching responsibilities throughout the week.

Our team worked hard, they sweated profusely (at least I did), and they connected beautifully with their Cuban brothers and sisters. I was proud of the work they did. Because of the busy schedule that had been planned for us, there was very little down time for the team. Indeed, our sightseeing opportunities were limited to just 3 afternoon hours squeezed into one busy Sunday. But the whole week was a memorable experience for all and I’m sure it left an indelible mark on each member of our team.

At the conclusion of week one, most of the team headed back to the USA while Sandy and I stayed behind. We had been invited to stay for a second week in order to engage in some additional ministry opportunities. Originally, there had been talk of me preaching/ teaching/ lecturing at the Baptist seminary for a week. But, when that opportunity didn’t materialize, there was a plan for me to share in several different Havana churches during the second week. Right before our departure to Cuba, however, my close friend who is a leader among Cuban Baptists told me that Sandy and I had been invited to speak to a pastors and wives conference that week at a Baptist camp and retreat center out in the countryside. Sandy and I would meet various pastors and wives from throughout the country. I would have the opportunity to address the pastors, Sandy would teach a session for their wives, and then Sandy would sing each night of the conference. So, that was our plan when we arrived in Cuba. But then Tropical Storm Fay showed up a week later on the day the rest of our team flew home. That was a Monday. This led to the last minute cancellation of the retreat, which was to have begun on Tuesday. Although good ole Fay missed Havana (barely), veering to the east, she went right over the area where the camp was located. So, it probably was a good idea they canceled the event. But, this led to our personal plans changing once more. Our friend worked hastily to make new arrangements for us. And everything worked out beautifully as if God had planned it that way all along (which I’m sure He had.)

After hunkering down for a day while the storm (such as it was) passed by, we headed out on Tuesday morning, traveling to different areas in & outside of Havana, meeting different pastors & leaders, being exposed to their vision & to their various ministries, hearing their hearts, discerning opportunities for future mission ventures, and speaking and sharing wherever & whenever God gave opportunity. During the course of the week, we attended house church meetings, addressed youth gatherings, spoke to a group of brand new Christians, participated in an inner-city ministry to prostitutes, drug addicts & alcoholics, and preached & sang during regular church worship services. It was a rewarding time of relationship-building, encouragement & spiritual renewal.

There are many things about our experiences in Cuba and our friends there that I can’t post on the Internet. Thus, I’ll reserve those comments for unrecorded, oral communication only. Over the next few days, however, I do hope to share with you some written reflections and remembrances of our island neighbor to the south, for Cuba and its residents are truly a land and a people that God has put on our hearts.

Pastor Danny

Let the Games Begin!

2008-08-09T13:33:00.025-04:00

The XXIX (29th) Olympiad began yesterday at precisely 8 seconds past 8 minutes after 8 o’clock on the 8th day of the 8th month of the 8th year of the millennium. Hmm... Talk about being behind the 8-ball! (In case you’re wondering, 8 is the number of prosperity and good fortune in Chinese culture. By the way, it’s also been reported that young couples were bombarding the marriage license offices and expectant mothers were lining up for C-sections on Friday—everyone wanting their big event to happen on 8/8/08 for good luck.)

The 2008 Olympic Games are some of the most anticipated in years, primarily because of their host country—the People’s Republic of China. Yes, this by far is China’s biggest step onto the world stage. For years, China was a largely reclusive, even mysterious land, intentionally isolated from much of the rest of the world in spite of being the planet’s most populous nation. Now, China will be under the full glare of the world’s spotlight for the next two weeks, a position they’ve never found themselves in before. It will be interesting to see how that all pans out. (As I write these words, the magnificent opening ceremonies held in Beijing’s new national stadium—“the bird’s nest”—were receiving global accolades. But that great achievement was tragically dampened just a few hours later with an unprovoked fatal knife attack on the relative of a US volleyball coach. Let’s hope the rest of the Olympics go without incident.)

The Far East’s sleeping giant has come a long way. Although China fell to the Communists in 1949, it was not until 1971 that the nation was finally granted membership in the United Nations. The United States also formally recognized the revolutionary government at that time, with President Nixon making an historic trip to China in 1972. In the decades since, China has been a growing economic power in the world’s increasingly globalized economy. (I wonder why Communists aren’t willing to admit the obvious: That without capitalism they simply couldn’t survive!)

Of course, as one would expect of a Communist country, China is still light years behind in regard to human rights, political freedom, and religious liberty. There has been hope of progress in these areas in recent years, but every seeming step forward always appears to be followed by two more steps backward. In fact, leading up to the Games, there has been renewed debate as to whether the Olympics should even be held in China at all. This past week, President Bush strongly condemned China’s human rights record, even as he was en route to Beijing for the Games’ opening ceremonies. Pretty courageous, I thought. But some thought he shouldn’t even be there. I suppose no one really wanted a repeat of 1980 and 1984, when the USA boycotted the Games in Moscow and the Soviets retaliated by boycotting the Olympics in Los Angeles, thus diminishing those contests considerably and harming the athletes more than anyone else.

Sandy and I will miss getting to watch this year’s Summer Olympics. We’ll be in Cuba—another Communist country—during virtually all of the Games. Although I’m certain we’ll hear nothing about Team USA’s achievements, we may hear reports regarding Cuba’s Olympic successes while we’re on the island. The Caribbean country is a powerhouse when it comes to two sports—baseball and boxing. So watch and see how the Cuban teams perform in those arenas.

When I think about the Olympic Summer Games, I think about heroic stories like that of Jesse Owens at the 1936 Games in Germany. The gifted African-American sprinter embarrassed Hitler and his claim of Aryan supremacy by winning 3 gold medals against the Furher’s stable of blond-haired, blue-eyed German athletes. Jesse Owens was truly a class act and a great American hero. I also am inspired by the story of Wilma Rudolph, a poor girl from Tennessee that won 3 gold medals as a runner at the 1960 Olympics in Rome. Rudolph, the 20th of 22 children, suffered from polio as a child and wasn’t able to walk without assistance until she was 12. But then she blossomed…and then some! By the age of 20, at the 1960 Games, the gazelle-like Rudolph was dubbed the fastest woman in the world! Then, in recent years, there was Kerri Strug, a petite 18-year-old American gymnast who during the 1996 Games in Atlanta became a national hero overnight. In pain from having injured her leg in an earlier jump, Strug refused to shrink back from the challenge before her. With everything riding on her, she clinched the gold medal for her team by making a courageous final vault in the floor exercises competition. Following a near perfect landing, she was in such agony that she couldn't even walk and was carried from floor in tears. But her bravery inspired a nation.

But when I think about Olympic heroes, I also marvel at a man like Eric Liddell, whose true life story was immortalized in the 1982 motion picture Chariots of Fire. If for some reason you’ve never seen that Academy Award winning film, you absolutely must see it. Liddell, known as “The Flying Scotsman” was a man who stood by his Christian convictions and, in the end, the Lord honored His faithfulness. He became a gold medalist at the 1924 Games in Paris. Later, Liddell became a missionary to China and ultimately a Christian martyr, dying as a Japanese prisoner of war during World War II.

But when I think about Olympic glory, my favorite remembrance is not of a gold medalist, but of an athlete that finished dead last in his competition: Derek Redmond of Great Britain, who tore a hamstring during the 400 meters at the Barcelona Games in 1992. In terrible pain, he got up and tried to continue, but he couldn’t. His father couldn’t bear to see his son suffering and struggling alone. So he raced from the sidelines, ran to his son’s side, put his arms around him and helped him to the finish line, to a standing ovation from the amazed crowd. Officially, that action disqualified Redmond. But it really didn’t matter. He was going to finish last anyway. The truth is both he and his father were winners that day. Indeed, we all were. For no one that witnessed that event has ever forgotten the blessing of that visual image of a loving father coming alongside his hurting son and helping him finish.

Without me even saying it, I trust you see the spiritual parallel in that. More than once in the Bible the Christian life is compared to a race. And if indeed it is a race, then we must remember that it’s not a sprint, but a marathon. And there are lots of ups and downs in the course of a marathon. There are times when we all make missteps and stumble. Sometimes we fall. Sometimes we falter. Sometimes we feel we can’t get back up again. Sometimes we feel we can’t go on. Sometimes we experience deep hurt and pain. But there is always One who comes alongside us…to comfort us, to love on us, to give us His strength, and to encourage us to remain faithful and finish the course that’s been charted out for us.

The loving action of Derek Redmond’s father reminds us that we too have a Father in Heaven. On occasions He may seem far removed from us during the race of life, but in all actuality, He is quite near. If today, you are experiencing stress, fatigue, weariness or pain in your journey, I pray that you will sense the Father’s touch in fresh new way. Remember, He will never leave you nor forsake you. And having Him in your life is far greater than any Olympic glory. And it's worth all the tea in China as well.

Pastor Danny

Inflation and Devaluation

2008-08-02T10:33:00.030-04:00

This past week, while I was in the process of securing foreign currency for an upcoming overseas mission trip, I noted with great interest a news report on National Public Radio about the financial woes of the African country of Zimbabwe. Dealing with runaway inflation that has severely decimated the nation’s economy and ridiculously devalued its currency, the national leadership in one fell swoop decided to simply eliminate 10 zeroes from all its hyper-inflated money! In other words, what one day was valued at $10,000,000,000 (ten BILLION dollars) was valued at $1 (one dollar) the next day. Whoa! That’s quite a free fall! (Gee, I wonder if I could get my bank to lop a few zeros off the outstanding balance on my mortgage. I wouldn’t mind a bit.)

Interestingly, the move by the Zimbabwean government came just a week after it issued a brand new 100 billion dollar note. But this latest action of eliminating the zeroes came out of dire necessity. The unprecedented rate of inflation—an unbelievable 2 million % per year!—was hampering the country's computer systems. Computers, electronic calculators and automated teller machines at Zimbabwe’s banks could not handle transactions in billions and trillions of dollars. Plus, it had gotten to the point that the citizens of Zimbabwe—the few that had any money—literally had to carry armfuls of cash with them just to purchase basic necessities of life. A loaf of bread, for example, was recently priced at a $250 BILLION per loaf! Wow! That’s a lot of bread for bread, man! And sometimes we think we’ve got it bad here in the good ole USA!

Although the government of Zimbabwe is basically trying to wipe the slate clean and start over with its virtually worthless monetary system, economists say that this latest action only treats the symptoms rather than the illness and it will, in essence, do nothing to slow the nation’s stratospheric inflation rate.

As I traded US dollars for Euros this week, and noted how much less the dollar was worth against the Euro than it was two years ago (the last time I made a sizeable foreign currency exchange), I privately moaned over the dollar’s slide in value. But then, when I heard about Zimbabwe’s situation, I was grateful that we here in the States weren’t dealing with a problem like that.

When I think about inflation, the worst time in my memory was back in the late 1970s, during the Carter Administration. I worked in banking then and remember the double-digit inflation we all were dealing with at the time. The so-called “misery index”—unemployment rate plus inflation rate—in June 1980 reached its highest point in the 60-year span from 1948 to the present. If memory serves me well, prime real estate loan rates from respectable lending institutions shot up to loan shark territory—near the 20% mark. On the other hand money market CDs—not compact discs, but certificates of deposit—at one point were paying over 15%. (In other words, if you had money, you could tread water and stay above the inflation rate. But if you were in debt, you were really feeling the squeeze.) And on top of the then-12% annual inflation rate—kid stuff by current Zimbabwean standards—people really panicked when gasoline jumped up over a dollar a gallon!!! Hmm, it’s funny how your perspective on things can change over time.

Speaking of double-digit inflation, the other night Sandy & I went to a Danville Braves baseball game. They were playing the woeful Pulaski Mariners. Final score: Danville 21, Pulaski 2. Whoa! Three touchdowns for the hometown heroes and a mere safety for the visiting squad! Some wise old sage in the stands said the D-Braves scored more runs that night—the first day of August—than they did for all their games in the whole month of July! Incredible! Actually, I think Pulaski’s pitching staff must have all been from Zimbabwe, because they seemed quite adept at letting numbers get out of hand.

Back to the point I was making—(whatever it was!)

When we think about issues like escalating inflation and currency devaluation, we’re reminded of how deeply economic woes can impact both individuals and nations.

In the spiritual realm, there are some parallels. When a culture begins to devalue the things that God values, there are some corresponding rising costs that have to be paid. When we devalue human life, when we devalue human virtue, when we devalue holiness & righteousness, when we devalue obedience to God, when we devalue God Himself, the spiraling spiritual cost can become staggering. Like the burgeoning federal debt, sin takes its toll. We indeed pay a cost for it today, but we also bequeath its immense burden to the generations that follow us. As the Bible says, “the sins of the fathers visit the sons.” Thus, when a culture devalues the things of God, its up & coming generations ultimately pay the price. Not the least of which is because they themelves often buy into (and even advance) the perversions of their parents.

The problem is, when a nation gets in a spiritual mess like that—where everything is out of balance and out of control—there is no quick fix to the situation. We can’t simply “lop off a few zeroes” and go merrily along our way. It’s not that easy. When there has been a devaluing of God and an escalation in costly disobedience, we need a help from beyond ourselves to remedy the situation. We need a turning back to God. Confession...Repentance...Forgiveness...Restoration—those are the vital steps needed to begin to bring life back in balance again.

Pastor Danny

Some Weighty Words

2008-07-29T08:56:00.040-04:00

The number one cable news show in America is Fox News’ “The O’Reilly Factor” hosted nightly by the colorful Bill O’Reilly. One of Bill O’Reilly’s favorite things, next to pontificating on the issues of the day, berating unpatriotic “pinheads”, and grilling guests bold (or foolish) enough to venture into his “no-spin zone,” is to broaden the vocabulary of his audience. Each night, O’Reilly dusts off some long forgotten word tucked away in the dark recesses of the English dictionary, sending it out via cable and satellite for the entertainment and education of the masses.

Some of O’Reilly’s favorite words—“bloviating”, “pithy” and “opine” (the verb form of opinion)—are frequently utilized when inviting viewers to email him their comments. He always warns his potential emailers against bloviating, emphasizing that all bloviation is the exclusive right of the host alone. He also encourages them to make their comments pithy and to be sure and give the name of their town with their name “if you wish to opine.” Then, he often will throw in some other interesting and strange-sounding word for good measure. For example, sometimes he adds “…and please don’t be a popinjay!” Or “please don’t be Pecksniffian!” or “loquacious!” or a “blooter!”

I have to admit that more than once O’Reilly has sent me scurrying to my dictionary to check out the meaning of some term he has used. Most of the aforementioned words pertain to verbal or personal excessiveness. For example, in case you’re wondering, a popinjay is “a person given to vain, pretentious displays and empty chatter.” From what I understand, the word’s origins have something to do with a parrot, a creature which interestingly offers quite a vivid illustration of the definition. A Pecksniffian is someone that is “hypocritically benevolent and sanctimonious”, the word being derived from the fictional Mr. Pecksniff, a character from a Charles Dickens novel. A blooter (as O’Reilly uses the term) is “a babbler, a bumbling idiot, a fool.” But you won’t find that one in the English dictionary. “Blooter” is an old Scottish slang expression with various meanings. After O’Reilly said the word on his show one night—without defining it—it became the most searched for word on Google the following day.

Words and their sounds can carry with them vivid imagery that helps us remember them. My senior English teacher in high school was my Aunt Jo Florence. (That’s right. Jo Florence. Never just “Jo” and never just “Florence”. Always Jo Florence. Except people usually said it altogether in just 2 syllables—“Joflarnce”.) Aunt Jo Florence taught me a lot about the English language. She helped plant in me the seeds that made me want to be a good writer. (Those seeds were further cultivated in English Composition class during my freshman year of college. My professor then was the colorful Dr. Tessa Louisa Brown Unthank, a British animal rights activist and ardent vegetarian. But that’s a whole ‘nother story!)

Aunt Jo Florence spent time with those of us that were preparing to go off to college, seeking to expand our vocabulary. She used word associations to help us create a vivid and memorable mental image for each word. One word that I’ve never forgotten is the word “truculent”, which means “fierce”. Although I never ever use that word, I always remember her telling us to “just imagine a big fierce Mack truck bearing down on you.” Yikes! Maybe that’s why I never use that word. I’m afraid to!

Anyway, words indeed are powerful tools. Jesus told us that our words are vitally important. It really doesn’t matter the size of our vocabulary. But what matters is how we utilize the vocabulary we have. Do we use our words to build up or to tear down? Do we use our speech to edify and encourage or criticize and complain? Do we speak words of healing and hope or do we use words that wound and weary others? Jesus says that someday we’ll give account for every word we’ve ever used. Ouch! In this day of mass communication, 24/7 news reporting, incessant Internet activity, and seemingly endless pontificating and bloviating—to borrow an O’Reilly phrase—it would appear that we all need to give a lot more attention to this matter than we typically do.

Words are important. Let’s use them wisely, carefully and thoughtfully. Please don’t be a blooter. Resist the temptation to act Pecksniffian. Avoid becoming a popinjay at all costs. And please, please—whatever else you do—if you write me in response to this blog, don’t be truculent!

Pastor Danny

A Capitol Fourth

2008-07-12T23:27:00.019-04:00

For Independence Day, Sandy and I traveled up to Washington, DC to celebrate our nation’s birthday with our son and daughter-in-law. This was a first for us—celebrating the Fourth of July in our nation’s capital. It was a weekend of baseball, hotdogs, flag-waving and fireworks. What could be more American that that? We arrived in DC on Thursday afternoon, the 3rd, and ventured on up to Baltimore that evening to take in a ballgame at Camden Yards, one of my all-time favorite ballparks. (The Washington Nationals were on the road that week. That’s why we opted to see the Orioles.) It was a pretty exciting game—including four homeruns and two triples—but the hometown team lost to the visiting Kansas City Royals, 10-7. Sandy and I agreed that the funnel cakes at the park that night were the worst we had ever had—hard as a rock!—but they were offset by the wonderful crab cake sandwiches we enjoyed before the game at the Wharf Rat Restaurant.

The next day, on the 4th, we left Jordan and Melinda’s apartment near the Pentagon in Arlington and drove down to the U. S. Capitol Building, near where Jordan works. Jordan and Melinda’s friends from Florida, Rob and Anne Marie, were up visiting with them. After the six of us made our way through security, we found a spot under a tree on the west lawn of the Capitol where we would be able to view the evening concert and fireworks show. This was the 28th annual edition of “A Capitol Fourth,” a nationally televised event celebrating our country’s birthday. It rained off and on throughout the afternoon and evening, and we all got a little damp, but fortunately the big show went on. The evening’s program was emceed by actor Jimmy Smits, who, a couple of years ago, interestingly, during the final season of the long-running television series “The West Wing”, portrayed a young Hispanic U.S. Congressman that was elected President of the United States. Musical guests for the festivities included 1980s rockers Huey Lewis and the News, last year’s American Idol winner Taylor Hicks, and 1950s rock n’ roll legend Jerry Lee Lewis, among others. I was particularly intrigued by the appearance of Jerry Lee Lewis. I honestly thought he was dead! Certainly, all of his talented contemporaries from his old Sun Records’ days in Memphis are long gone now—Elvis Presley, Carl “Blue Suede Shoes” Perkins, Roy Orbison, and Johnny Cash. But that night at the Capitol, “The Killer” proved himself to be very much alive. In his 70s now, Lewis was still banging those piano keys and singing like he always did. He opened with Chuck Berry’s classic “Roll Over Beethoven” and then performed two of his own biggest hits—both from 1957 (my birth year)—“Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” and “Great Balls of Fire”. With those two numbers, Jerry Lee closed the whole show, taking us right into the big fireworks display, visible high above the Washington Monument and across the city skyline. As we gazed upon the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, the National Symphony Orchestra played “The 1812 Overture”, complete with live cannon blasts. It was followed by an inspiring medley of John Philip Sousa marches, including my very favorite, “Stars and Stripes Forever.” (What would our country do without Sousa? Truly, his matchless patriotic compositions provide the soundtrack for our republic!)

The next morning—Saturday the 5th—was the climax of our All-American weekend. We went on a White House tour, thanks to Jordan. Once we were inside, a Secret Service agent told us we just missed seeing President Bush depart from the South Lawn on Marine One. He had lifted off only minutes before our arrival. Too bad. I had hoped to say “hello” to him. But it sure was thoughtful of him to leave the door unlocked and the porch light on for us so we could drop in for a visit. He sure is a trusting soul! After our tour, we rode the Metro back to Arlington and had lunch at a Salvadoran/ Peruvian Café (which kind of blew our All-American theme for the weekend). Then Sandy and I headed on back to Danville.

I’ve celebrated the Fourth of July in a number of settings in my 51 years. This latest one at our nation’s capital was truly one of the three most memorable I’ve experienced. One of the others was back in 2001. Jordan and I were part of a mission team constructing a church building on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation in the town of Lame Deer, Montana. The 4th fell during the week we were there. We worked hard all that day and watched the fireworks that night. Launched off Squaw Hill—the highest point in town—that fireworks show was about the best and longest display of pyrotechnics I’ve ever seen anywhere. The Department of Interior’s Bureau of Indian Affairs must have had a big budget surplus that year. On top of that, we also got to observe an authentic powwow with Native American dancers in full tribal dress. Interestingly, this was all within a short distance of Custer’s Last Stand at the Little Big Horn. Another memorable 4th of July for me was last year at The Crossing in downtown Danville. Our first Independence Day since moving back to Pittsylvania County, Sandy and I just loved it. It was a good, old-fashioned, patriotic, family-style, hometown Independence Day celebration. Truly, Americana at it’s best, the way it was meant to be. Sandy and I told Jordan and Melinda that next year on the Fourth they’ve got to come down to visit us and experience Independence Day Southside Virginia-style.

Pastor Danny

The Walking Man

2008-07-02T14:56:00.028-04:00

Up and down Franklin Turnpike he goes. Back and forth. To and fro. Day after day. I see him most often along that 4-mile stint of 41 from Mount Hermon Baptist Church to Piney Forest Road. Sometimes, I see him quite a ways up Piney Forest, up near Mary’s Diner and even beyond. There he is. Day in, day out. Rain or shine. Hot or cold. Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn. In his baseball cap, Orkin T-shirt and/or UVA hooded sweatshirt.

He walks…and he walks…and he walks…and he walks…and he walks. I don’t know him. I’ve never met him. But I always take note of him. He’s always moving. He never stops. Never pauses. Never hesitates. He’s like a perpetual motion machine. Nothing ever deters him from his mission of mobility as he scoots on down the road at a rapid clip.

He must have one of the best cardiovascular systems in town. Certainly some of the strongest legs. And toughest feet. Walking, to say the least, is a passion--if not an obsession--for this man.

As I saw him again just today, I thought about a baseball player of yore named Eddie Yost. Back in the 1950s, Eddie Yost was the third baseman for the old Washington Senators major league baseball team. He played for the Senators for several years until they traded him to make room for some young kid coming up named Harmon Killebrew. (For those unfamiliar, Killebrew became one the greatest sluggers in baseball history during the 1960s and 1970s. But, that's a rabbit trail I can chase another day!)

Anyway, Yost was not known for his hitting. Rather, he was known for his incredibly high on-base percentage. (For you non-baseball fans, that means he got on base a lot, even without necessarily getting a lot of hits. How? By walks. Or, as they’re officially called in baseball parlance, “bases on balls.”) Eddie Yost wasn’t a great hitter, per se, but he had a keen eye. And he possessed great patience. And thus, better than most batters, he knew what pitches NOT to swing at. And, thus, he was very hard for pitchers to get out. For many years, Eddie Yost led the American League in walks. He’s also among the top 10 players in baseball history in terms of lifetime walks. Most of the other guys on that list were great hitters and household names. Guys like Babe Ruth, Ted Williams and Mickey Mantle. But Eddie just got walks. Hence, he became known by the moniker “The Walking Man.” And that’s what I call the guy who treks up and down Highway 41. Again, I don’t know his real name, but “The Walking Man” just kind of fits him. So, whenever I’m driving along and I see him speed-stepping down the sidewalk, I say to myself, “Hey, there goes The Walking Man again!”

As I was reflecting on all of this, I was reminded that one of the most commonly used terms in the New Testament for the Christian life is the word “walk”. The Apostle Paul, in his epistles, repeatedly wrote about the importance of our walk in Christ. Biblically speaking, our walk has to do with our conduct, our demeanor, our witness before a watching world. As people traveling along the roadway of life glance our way, what do they see? Do they see us walking at a steady pace, on the straight and narrow, with a sense of direction and purpose? Or do they see us stumbling and falling, stopping and starting, ambling along uncertainly as if we really don’t know where we’re headed? The manner in which we walk is vitally important.

Walking is indeed a good illustration of the Christian life. For it’s true that we’re all on a journey. And that journey has a destination. The journey is long, and it has its ups and down, hills and valleys. But the most important thing to remember is this: It’s not how you start. It’s how you finish. And it’s important to finish well. Thus, it's good to note that the journey of life is not a 100-yard dash. It’s a marathon. So, the goal is not to be a flash-in-the-pan, but a strong finisher. And the key to finishing strong is consistency and commitment.

How are you walking? Is it time for you to pick up the pace? Do you need to get refocused on the goal? Do you need to be reminded of what the whole journey is about and why you got into it in the first place? Not quite sure how to get going again? Remember what the Apostle Peter said: “…Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Peter 2:21). Wow! That's good to know, isn't it? Someone has already charted the path for us. We simply have to put on our spiritual shoes and follow Him, one step at a time.

So from now on, whenever you’re driving down 41 and you see the The Walking Man doing his fancy footwork, let his pedestrian passion be a continuing reminder of the daily spiritual walk to which Jesus has called you.

Pedestrian...er, Pastor Danny

Why Do Mission Trips?

2008-06-20T12:06:00.040-04:00

What’s the deal about church mission trips? I mean, why go to all the trouble and expense of sending a team of volunteers halfway around the world for only a couple of weeks’ work? Is that really good stewardship? After all, wouldn’t it be more cost-effective just to stay home and send the missionaries the money that you would have spent in sending a team there?

The above logic sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? But that simple calculation overlooks some key factors. First of all, it overlooks the fact that the first word in the Great Commission is “Go” and the first two letters in the word Gospel are “G-O.” Furthermore, it overlooks the fact that Great Commission is not merely a suggestion, but a commandment for us to move beyond the familiar confines of our local Jerusalem, taking God’s message of redemption to “all nations” (i.e., people groups) even to “the uttermost part of the earth.” Above all, it overlooks the whole principle (and power) of “incarnational” ministry. The Incarnation of Jesus Christ was God’s ultimate plan to connect with us. Christ came to earth in the flesh to show us what God was like and to demonstrate (through the cross) how much God loved us. Today, we who belong to Christ are His body in this world. We are His hands and His feet. We are His eyes and His ears. We are His touch and His voice. And thus we today are the most visible and tangible expression of His love to a lost and dying world. And nothing else even comes close. Not money. Not materials. Not anything else. There’s no substitute for seeing the love of Christ manifested through the life of a real, flesh-and-blood human being.

When a church sends out a mission team, it is making a big investment, without question. But the returns on that investment are out of this world…literally! Jesus said, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth…but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.” The real treasures of life are not silver and gold, but the eternal souls of men, women, boys and girls. Furthermore, the Bible also teaches us that “To whom much is given much is required.” And, when it comes to having been given much (in terms of material blessings) no one in the world even comes close to matching the prosperity of the North American church.

Truly, dispatching teams of short-term missionaries into the world is an investment of obedience to God in which the Great Commission comes more fully alive (to both the sender and the receiver) and the Kingdom of God is gloriously enhanced. In that regard, at I see it, there is (at minimum) a fourfold benefit to a local church sending out mission teams:

1. There is the benefit to the nationals, the native peoples of the lands we visit. When churches invest in direct hands-on missions, lives are touched for eternity. Lost people are saved. Believers are encouraged. Seeds are sown. Bonds of love and friendship are forged. On a mission trip, contacts are made that will never be forgotten, even if the parties never meet again this side of Heaven. And even when language seems to be an impenetrable barrier, the language of the heart, the language of love, always trumps the limitations of the tongue.

Over the years, Sandy and I have been blessed to meet and make friends with a number of believers in other countries. Some of these we maintain close contact with to this day. Our lives have been enriched by those Christian friendships—which transcend all cultural, ethnic and political divisions—and Sandy and I trust that we in turn have been an encouragement to each of them.

2. There is the benefit to our ministry partners, who live and work daily on the mission field. When a team of believers with servants’ hearts come to help, those who labor in God’s vineyard on an ongoing basis are greatly encouraged and refreshed. Whether they are national Christian leaders with whom we work directly, or appointed missionaries from the States serving overseas, our ministry partners are clearly blessed when a team comes to visit. Time and again, I have seen the tears, witnessed the smiles and felt the hugs that all say “Thank you for coming. It means more than you will ever know.” Truly, whatever gifts, talents or expertise a team brings with them—or whatever specific task they are assigned—it is the ministry of encouragement and the ministry of presence that most blesses those we assist. I’ve tried to make that a priority with every mission trip I’ve done.

3. There is the benefit to the team members themselves. When you go on a mission trip, it’s certainly not about you. Nonetheless, a mission trip does for you some things that few other experiences will do. It moves you out of the safety net of your comfortable and familiar surroundings. It challenges you to be adaptable. It teaches you teamwork and cooperation. It decreases your self-reliance as it increases your dependency upon God. It gives you a greater awareness of the activity of God in this world and a greater sense of gratitude for the blessings on God on your life. It gives you a vision of God’s kingdom far beyond just that of your own church. In fact, it gives you global perspective regarding God’s work in this world.

When you engage in cross-cultural ministry, it is indeed an eye-opening experience. Seeing brothers and sisters in other lands laboring in the midst of great adversity (and sometimes in the face of significant opposition and persecution), and to see them do it with such grace and courage and joy—this for you can be a great source of inspiration (and conviction).

For me as a pastor, leading church members on mission trips is a personal joy. For I know that for them it will be a time of significant spiritual growth. It also will be a time of deepened fellowship. Some of the closest relationships I have developed with church members have come through time spent together on the mission field. And when team members return home from such an experience, they all have a common bond that they share forever.

4. There is the benefit to the sending church at large. Theologian Elton Trueblood has said that “when the tide of missions rises in the church, all the other boats rise with it.” What are those other “boats”? Things like fellowship, worship, discipleship, stewardship, and so forth. In other words, the various factors that make for a healthy church. Pastor Rick Warren, author of the best-seller The Purpose Drive Life, further observes that “a church’s health is measured not by its seating capacity but by its sending capacity.” Indeed! Amen to that!

Teams returning from the mission field can bring a fresh wind of revival to their home church, resulting in a more fervent love for Jesus, an increased burden for the lost, and a greater passion for God’s work. Honestly, through the years, there have been some times as a pastor that I wish I could have chartered a whole 757 and filled it with people—hundreds of them—and flown them to some of the most desolate and difficult places on earth to do mission work. I think it would have done many of them a world of good. But alas, that’s not something I or anyone else can compel. People have to hear the call of God in their own heart.

A mission trip is no vacation. Far from it. (Note excessive sweating in photo above.) Some of the greatest challenges and stresses I’ve ever faced—spiritually, emotionally, and health-wise—and some of the hardest work I’ve ever done has been on mission trips. (But it is equally true that some of the greatest joys and greatest victories I’ve ever experienced have been on mission trips.) Once or twice, I even wondered if I was going to make it back from a trip. (i.e., one time I was placed under house arrest. Another time I became dangerously dehydrated and deathly sick.) But God keeps opening doors and sending me. And I keep going. And I keep encouraging others to go. Because I know that even though the cost can be great, I understand that the cost of not going is much greater. And the benefits of obedience extend far, far beyond what we can fully comprehend in this life.

Someday in Heaven, I look forward to seeing people of different tribes and tongues—people from places like Cambodia, Honduras, Cuba, Greece, Albania, Togo, and other places—coming up to you and me, saying “It was because of Mount Hermon Baptist Church that I am here today. It was because of what your church did that I found Christ. It was because a team from your church came to my country that I am now in Heaven. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Truly, for all of us that shared in the investment—by giving, praying or going—those very tangible results of our investment will be our joy and our crown.

Pastor Danny

Cambodia Impressions, Part 5

2008-06-08T22:29:00.032-04:00

Transportation in Cambodia is an interesting proposition. Probably the fiercest drivers I’ve ever seen anywhere in the world were in Greece last summer. Greek drivers (at least the ones in Thessaloniki) never, ever brake for pedestrians. Stepping out in front of an approaching car there is sheer suicide.

But, hands down, the most chaotic drivers I’ve ever seen are in Cambodia. (At least the Greek drivers I observed stopped for red lights.) In Cambodia, anything goes. Drivers routinely run red lights; they create new traffic patterns at will; they dangerously weave in and out of traffic; they unexpectedly make left turns or U-turns without any rhyme or reason; they straddle lanes and even create new ones; they even go in the wrong direction in the face of oncoming traffic if it serves their purposes. Like the Hebrew people during the time of the Book of Judges, every driver in Cambodia does what is right in his own eyes.

When riding as a passenger in Cambodia, it’s best not to look too closely at what’s unfolding right in front of you. Your trip tends to go a lot smoother (and you avoid potential cardiac arrhythmia) if you somehow don’t see all those close calls and near misses. The best advice I can give is to just relax, trust the Lord, trust your driver, and sit somewhere in the back of the van if possible.

By the way, our van driver was absolutely great. A wonderful young Christian man, he flawlessly drove us through some real tight spots. The only mishap we had during his two weeks of shuttling us from place to place was getting stuck in the mud one day on an unpaved road on an island in route to a remote village. But, thanks to some guys that came to our aid and pushed us, we were out of the mire in just a few minutes.

Back in the city of Phnom Penh the streets were almost always clogged with traffic. Donald Merricks daily posed the question, “Where are all these people going?” It was a mystery we never solved. (Ironically, later this month, Delegate Merricks will be in Richmond for a special session of the state legislature called by the governor to address transportation problems in our state. I suggested to him that he make a speech on the House floor that, after experiencing Cambodian traffic for two weeks, Virginia, by comparison, really has no transportation problems at all!)

The most common form of ground transportation in Phnom Penh is the moto (i.e., small motorcycle). The motos greatly outnumber the cars on the streets. One can only shudder to imagine how much more severe the transportation problems in Cambodia would be if all the moto drivers had cars instead!

The most interesting thing about the motos is how many people pile on them. Sometimes whole families will all be stacked up on a little moto, kind of like the Clampetts all packed in together with Granny in her rocking chair up on top. Sometimes you’ll see the bizarre sight of a young lady decked out in a formal evening gown and high heels on her way to wedding, dangling from the back of a moto. Often Buddhist priests in their long flowing robes can be seen riding as passengers on motos. Truly, motos are the premier taxis and limos of Cambodia.

But you’ll find much more than just people on a moto. Motos are also the U-Hauls of Cambodia. We saw moto drivers carrying crates of live pigs, baskets of fruit and vegetables, dead ducks—yes, literally! (Can anyone say “Aflac”?)—bicycles, large pieces of lumber, furnishings, plumbing, you name it. Everything but the kitchen sink! And if we had stayed one more day, we might have seen that as well.

The most exotic form of transportation we experienced during our trip was riding on the back of an elephant. I would love to tell you that we had to ride elephants to traverse some otherwise impassible terrain. That would make for a great mission story, wouldn’t it? But the truth is, it was simply an opportunity several of us seized upon one morning while waiting to meet up with our host. Two by two, we took turns riding the elephant through a park area that encircled a lofty temple. Wild monkeys (as well as other onlookers) gawked at us as we rode by. Being perched high atop a pachyderm wasn’t exactly the smoothest ride Sandy and I’ve ever experienced, but it sure was the most unusual. I learned that people definitely get out of your way when you’re riding on an elephant. I’m just glad that Tarzan wasn’t around to do his trademark yell and suddenly create a stampede.

The most unusual form of transportation we observed, however, occurred one day as we passed by the King’s Palace. A special ceremony was taking place and, from a distance, we could see an elegant procession that included some important person seated in a chair carried on the shoulders of a group of servants. The figure did not appear to be that of the king (with whose image we were familiar) but someone else, perhaps the nation’s prime minister. Anyway, riding in a chair on the backs of servants is not a mode of transportation you see everyday, at least not here in Danville.

Now, a word about our air transportation. We made our trip to Asia on Korean Airlines, one of the world’s finest commercial air carriers. In fact, in 2007, they won an award for best economy class in the world. Truly, the new Korean Air jets offer more leg room than most of the international flights I’ve been on. And that’s a real benefit when you’re looking at the prospect of a grueling 15-hour flight. Plus, Korean Air has exceptionally good service. Their flight attendants are very polished, polite and efficient. In fact, the airline has won plaudits for the stylish and elegant high-fashion look of their attendants’ uniforms. The only downside to their otherwise wonderful service is that they don’t always bring you enough fluids to drink (at least by American standards). And, sometimes the Asian dishes can be less than desirable for the Western palate. One day, for example, we were given the choice of an omelet or pumpkin porridge for breakfast. (Yes, you read that right…pumpkin porridge!) Amazingly, Roger McNeil and I chose the porridge. I suppose I had eaten so many omelets (such as they were) at our hotel in Phnom Penh that I just couldn’t bear the thought of another egg. Surely the porridge couldn’t be that bad, I rationalized. Well, after just one bite, Roger and I both knew that we had made a disastrous mistake. We immediately decided to forgo the remainder of our meal. When Donald Merricks—seated behind us—heard we had chosen the porridge, he said, “Hey, guys, this isn’t Goldilocks and the Three Bears!” Oh, well, you live and learn sometimes. Other than the porridge incident, I was quite happy with Korean Air.

Pastor Danny

Cambodia Impressions, Part 4

2008-06-05T08:41:00.030-04:00

The most effective way to do evangelism anywhere in the world is through a relational approach. Connecting with unbelievers. Cultivating friendships with them. Building trust with them. Not simply because you see them as a mission project, but because you genuinely love them and care about them as persons. In other words, your love for them and your interest in them is unconditional. It’s not based on their performance. It’s based on God’s provision. And although your highest desire for them is to see them become true followers of Christ, you’re going to love them wholeheartedly even if that never happens. You’re going to be there for them and be their friend even if they never ever receive Jesus. Because Proverbs 17:17 tells us that “a friend loves at all times.” And the truest friend (and the greatest hope) an unbeliever can have in this world is a Christian friend. And that’s true no matter whether you live in Cambodia or in Virginia or even on Mars!

Real evangelism (& real missions) is all about loving people authentically. It’s not about seeing them as a target or a goal or an assignment or even an enemy, but it’s to view them through the eyes of Jesus as precious individuals for whom Christ died. Individuals that are just like us. Individuals with feelings, hurts, desires, concerns, challenges & dreams. Individuals that need peace, forgiveness, hope &—most of all—Jesus in their lives.

While we were in Cambodia, God gave us some interesting opportunities to connect with people. One memorable person we met was the night manager of the hotel restaurant where we ate breakfast each morning. We would see him early in the morning before his shift ended. And we would see him again (at the beginning of his shift) late at night when we were returning to the hotel after a long day’s work.

The man spoke English, but not always clearly. At first he seemed somewhat gruff. He never smiled and he came across as rather abrupt. But over time he softened. Each day we greeted him and each day he observed our conduct and demeanor. One night as our team was returning to the hotel, he asked me to sit in the restaurant with him and talk for a while. We conversed as best we could, although sometimes it was difficult for me to understand him. (But I’m sure he had no problem picking up on the nuances of my Appalachian mountain twang.)

Every day, in the restaurant or in the hotel lobby, he and I would speak to one another. One day, I gave him a bilingual English-Khmer Gospel tract. The next day, I gave him a Khmer Bible. We talked about the tract. He told me it was helpful to him to be able to read it in both languages. He said it helped his understanding of English. But I wasn’t clear if the message of the tract was really getting through to him. On one occasion, he told me that he would pray to his god to protect us when we traveled back home, so I feared that my witness to him about Christ being the one true God just wasn’t connecting with him.

As the time for our departure neared, he told me how much he had appreciated our team, especially how moral we were. (You can better understand the significance of this remark when you realize that, sadly, many Caucasians—primarily older men—come to Cambodia for less than scrupulous purposes, i.e., to take advantage of prostitution and the sex trade.) The restaurant manager further commented on how much he appreciated all the groups that the “tall, thin man” (W.T.) periodically brought to stay as guests in his hotel.

The evening that we were leaving for the airport to make our long return trip home, my newfound Cambodian friend repeatedly shook my hand, spoke with me, and hugged me. He said, “Your group has been a very good, very moral group. Yes, very good, very moral. Things have been different for me since you have been here. I feel more peaceful. I think much more clearly. I feel better. I am going to regret to see you leave.” He told me this again and again. Truly, the Holy Spirit had been at work.

As we loaded our luggage, he was with us, assisting us every step of the way. It’s as if he couldn’t do enough for us. As we boarded the van, I noted the sad look on his face. And then, just before the van door closed and we pulled away from the curb, I was stunned by the last image I saw of him. He was standing there, with moistness in his eyes, waving and blowing us kisses. What an utterly uncharacteristic display of public affection from a Cambodian man! It truly touched my heart.

Before we left, I told my friend that I was glad to have met him. I told him how helpful he had been to us during our stay, and how much we appreciated him. I also told him that I would be praying for him and that, God willing, I would look forward to renewing our friendship again next year.

Please join me in praying for this young man. Without a doubt, his heart was tenderized by the God-honoring witness of our team. But he still needs to come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. It’s my hope and my prayer that this will happen in the coming year.

Pastor Danny

Cambodia Impressions, Part 3

2008-06-03T10:22:00.041-04:00

The Cambodian people have had quite a sad history…just in the 20th Century alone. After living under French colonialism for some 90 years, the Cambodians struggled to finally regain their nation's independence in 1953-54. But then, some years later, the long, grueling war being waged in neighboring Vietnam spilled over into their land as well, resulting in the loss of many lives and the weakening of the nation’s infrastructure. In 1975, the vicious Khmer Rouge were able to seize power in Cambodia, instituting an inhuman policy of genocide against their fellow countrymen. In their warped thinking, this was an effort to “purge” the land and create an “ideal” Communist state. Those dark years (1975-79) were later chronicled in a best-selling book entitled “The Killing Fields” and adapted into a major motion picture by the same name.

During our time in Cambodia, we visited a somber memorial known as Tuol Sleng. What once had been a school was transformed, in the late 1970's, into a horrific prison camp where torture and execution became a part of daily life. We walked the halls and entered rooms where, 30 years ago, hundreds and hundreds of innocent people had suffered unimaginable horrors. Saddest of all was a series of Walls of Remembrance containing the individual images of countless men, women and children who had been registered, photographed, and then put to death by the evil regime. I chose not to take the time to look into the frightened faces of all those that were slain. I just couldn’t bear the thought of all of those precious lives so violently and needlessly cut short. At one point, David Vernon, J Landrum and I paused, joined hands, and prayed. I felt like Isaiah in the valley of dry bones, as we prayed for God to reach down and breathe new life and hope into this land with such a tragic past. After 45 minutes on the grounds, all of us were more than ready to leave Tuol Sleng. All in all, I’m glad we stopped. For this one brief stopover gave us more insight into what had shaped modern-day Cambodia than anything else we did on our trip. But I would never want to visit there again.

Another important factor that has contributed to modern-day Cambodia’s identity is its deep religious heritage. Cambodia is 95% Buddhist, a fact that becomes quite evident when one sees the vast number of highly-visible wats (temples), spirit houses, shrines and idols found throughout the land, not to mention the large number of Buddhist priests that always seem to be roaming about.

Buddhism is the belief system of those who follow the Buddha (i.e., “the Enlightened One”), which was the title given to the religion’s founder. Buddhism is an impersonal religion of self-perfection, the end goal of which is not eternal life, but extinction. Buddhism teaches that the chief problem in life is suffering and that the only way to eliminate suffering is to rid oneself of all desire. Salvation is defined as reaching a state of “Nirvana”, which finally frees one from a cycle of continual rebirths (reincarnation). (Hmm, doesn’t sound very hopeful—or appealing—to me.)

Obviously, there are not many Christians in Cambodia. But we were blessed by each one that we met. We were especially grateful to have the opportunity to worship with Russey Keo Baptist Church in Phnom Penh, a vibrant and active congregation of some 150 believers. I was the guest preacher the Sunday morning we were there, sharing a Biblical message on Repentance drawn from Psalm 51. I was told that Dr. Jerry Rankin, President of IMB, had once preached at the church, using the same translator I used. We had a great experience worshiping there. Even though the service (except for my part) was in Khmer, the native language of the Cambodian people, we could feel the presence of the Lord in the midst of His children.

In spite of their dark history, Cambodians in general are a very gracious people. They typically are very polite and respectful of Westerners. Cambodians traditionally greet other people with palms together, in the manner of prayer. They lift their hands to chest level and bow slightly. It has been said that the higher the hands and lower the bow, the more respect is being shown. When someone extends this greeting to you, it is very impolite not to return it. Failure to return the greeting is basically the equivalent of rejecting an offered handshake in our culture.

Other important cultural taboos have to do with the head and the feet. In Cambodia, it is very insulting to touch an individual's head. The head is considered the most sacred part of the body. Conversely, feet are considered the least valued part of the human body, and thus it is insulting to point your feet at someone.

Winning Cambodians to Christ generally takes a good deal of time. It’s all about relationship-building. Bridges of trust have to be built in order to share the Gospel. Cambodians are very anxious to please. They do not wish to offend. This often can make it somewhat difficult to read their true feelings.

During our time in Phnom Penh, there were two waitresses who served us breakfast each morning at our hotel restaurant. They were very kind and respectful. Every day, we greeted them warmly and spoke with them as much as we could (with their limited English). Day after day, meal after meal, a friendly connection was being forged. After a few days, we shared with each of them a Gospel tract and then a copy of the Word of God in Khmer. The next day, I asked one of the girls if she had read the tract we had given her. “Yes,” she said, “but I did not understand it.” I asked if we might meet together one day so I could explain it to her more fully. “When?” she responded eagerly. We set up a meeting a couple of days later. On a slow afternoon near the end of her shift, she and the other waitress sat down with me and a translator. I had a burden for these two girls and I believed that they might receive Christ. I proceeded to share with them God’s plan of salvation. One of the girls said she knew very little about Christianity and that she had only recently heard anything about it. The other girl said that she had attended a Christian church once. When I asked them if they wanted to receive Christ, my heart was touched when one of the girls responded, “Will you be angry at me if I do not believe?” She so much did not want to offend me—a person she had met only days before, and one that she might never see again—that she felt compelled to express her concern. I assured her that I would not be angry with her, but I told her and her co-worker that I would be praying for both of them, and that when I come back again next year, I hoped to see them again.

The one thing that encourages me about this encounter is that some of our Christian friends from Russey Keo are now going to follow up with them and continue to build relationships with them, and the girls seem very open to that. And I believe that when/if I do see those two girls again—either next year in Cambodia or eventually in eternity—that they will be Christians. That is my hope and my prayer.

Pastor Danny

Cambodia Impressions, Part 2

2008-05-29T09:23:00.037-04:00

During our time in Cambodia, the Lord provided us with a diversity of opportunities. We spent week one ministering to MK’s from all over Cambodia while their moms and dads were gathered for an important annual spiritual retreat. This one week each year is a special time fondly anticipated by both the children and their parents. The M’s were deeply grateful for our coming, each expressing their heartfelt thanks for the loving care and Bible teaching we provided to their preschoolers through teenagers. It gave them a deep sense of security knowing we were there, with the freedom to focus fully on God’s agenda for the week. Many M’s told us they so appreciated the continuity we provided to their kids. By coming for consecutive years, we were able to build on the relationships begun last year, and the MK’s happily looked forward to seeing some familiar, loving faces again. M’s also told us that, living in isolation as so many of them do, it is such a wonderful thing to have positive adult Christian role models come from the States and teach their children Biblical truths. The MK’s hear it from mom and dad all the time, but to see and hear it from a different source is extremely invaluable to the kids in their personal spiritual growth and development.

During week two, we shifted gears, serving in remote villages by means of offering free eye clinics to the public. One day, we even had to ride a barge across a wide river to a distant island village where our eye doctor/leader had never even been before. We couldn’t believe it when our Cambodian van driver drove our rental van right onto the barge. I would never have dreamed it could have held the weight! Crossing the river was pretty exciting, especially since I got to stand next to a bicycle-riding pig farmer on the way across. Oink!

At each of the clinics, our team divided up and manned different stations, with the help of several Cambodian interpreters. After the eye doctor and his assistants performed their exams, some of our team filled prescriptions and fitted the patients with new glasses. Other team members manned blood pressure tables. Some worked with children. Some passed out Bibles and other Christian literature. Others did Gospel presentations to people in “the waiting room”. Still others took digital photo family portraits and printed them out for the people.

Every time we appeared at a village, it was truly a community event. People came from all over. One of the most amazing things to me was when an elderly Buddhist monk showed up to get his eyes tested! I smiled when he, like all other patients, was required to read portions of the Word of God (rather than an eye chart) as part of the eye test! Hallelujah! God sure gets His truth across to people in strange and unusual ways.

Speaking of God’s truth, during our Gospel presentations--led by Gary Caldwell (at left), Marie Stewart and myself--we always started at the very beginning with the Creation story and the Fall of Man. Then, continued on through to God’s solution to man’s sin problem, culminating in the crucifixion and the resurrection of Jesus. After each of these group presentations, many individuals prayed to receive Christ. Gary, Marie and I were always careful to tell the people that Jesus was the “one true God, the God above all gods” and that becoming a Christian meant embracing Jesus and Jesus alone as “the God of your life.” (This is a vitally important truth to convey when speaking to people in a Buddhist culture, with all of their idolatry. Jesus isn’t just an add-on to your life. He is the be-all and end-all!)

Sometimes, we might be tempted to wonder about the validity or sincerity of mass conversions such as these. Especially when we don’t have the opportunity to continue to directly follow up with the people. Only God knows the heart, of course. We must simply be faithful to what He has called us to do, and then leave the ultimate results to Him. But, here’s an encouraging thought. One of our translators, a devout 22-year-old Christian woman named Rangsey (at right, in the red shirt), came to saving faith in Christ as a small child when a similar type medical clinic came to her home village several years ago. Her life today is a testimony to God’s faithfulness to His Word!

During week two, God also provided us with some unique opportunities to observe firsthand the work of M’s in different places. We saw many innovative ministries God is using to build bridges of trust with unbelievers throughout Southeast Asia. Some of these I can’t discuss online. But suffice it to say that the ingenuity and creativity of our M’s in Cambodia—many of whom are laymen rather than preachers—is truly awe-inspiring. God really excited me about the doors He is opening and the incredible things that are happening in the Kingdom of Cambodia. And it’s only just beginning.

Pastor Danny

Cambodia Impressions, Part 1

2008-05-26T22:22:00.007-04:00

It was my first trip to Asia. And even before it began, I was already thinking it would in all likelihood be my last. After all, following my third trip to Africa in 2002, I had basically “sworn off” trips of that length, preferring to do mission work somewhat “closer” to home (like Latin America or Europe.) But now, here I was leading a team of 12 Mount Hermon members halfway around the world, to a place much farther than Africa, crossing 11 time zones as well as the international dateline in the process. I honestly had been dreading the trip. The grueling travel. All of those hours in the air. The jet lag. All in all, including short layovers, it was more than 24 hours of continuous travel, the longest leg being an exhausting 15-hour flight from Atlanta to Seoul, South Korea. Ugh! Being up in the air that long makes me feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone…a place wherein time and space are suspended. (By the way, on the return trip, when it seemed as if we lived through two successive Fridays, someone on the team said it reminded them of the movie “Groundhog’s Day”.)

Finally, we completed our long trek westward to the Far East (?) and we began to do our assigned tasks. As the days passed, however, God began to make clearer some of our reasons for being there. After our first week—in which I saw various ministry partners weep in gratitude for our coming to support them—I knew that this year’s trip must not be the ultimate culmination of our efforts to Cambodia. What we had begun, we must continue. I recognized that we simply had to send another mission team from Mount Hermon back again next year.

After that first week, I asked my wife Sandy, “Would you be willing to come back next year without me?” She had been part of the original team of six that we had first sent to Cambodia last year (without me). Yes, she replied, she would be willing to come back to Cambodia for a third time, whether I came or not. So, that’s what I thought would happen. We would send more people to Cambodia in 2009, but I personally would be “off the hook”, encouraging others to go but not directly participating in any future efforts myself. But then, as we moved into week two of our trip, and as I saw God moving and opening doors for us, and exposing us to so many potential opportunities, and as I saw lives being touched, I began to feel the compulsion that I too must return to Cambodia…even if I have to swim the distance rather than fly it!

In spite of my love for and interest in international missions, I honestly had never before had much of an interest in Asia. Particularly Southeast Asia. To me it had always seemed to be such a strange and mysterious place, so different and so far removed from us. But, in the final analysis, people are people, no matter where they live, how they look, or what language they speak. And all people everywhere need the Lord. Exposure is key. When God moves us out of our comfort zones, and we allow ourselves to be exposed to people of different cultures, God then uses those points of contact to truly open our hearts to other people.

In recent days, God began to put on my heart a love for the Cambodian people. A people who live in great poverty. A people who have known great misery (i.e., the evil Pol Pot regime and the “killing fields” of the 1970s.) A people who are in spiritual darkness due to the cultural saturation of Buddhism with its inherent idolatry. But a sweet people. A beautiful people. An open people. A spiritually hungry people. A people that need the Lord. During our time there, we were able to minister to many Cambodians and lead a number of them to saving faith in the one true God and the one true Savior of all mankind, Jesus Christ. And this, I believe, is only the beginning.

I wish there was some way to adequately describe to you all that our team felt, experienced and did during our two weeks in Cambodia. It was truly awesome. Some things I can’t post on my blog because of security issues. Suffice it to say that God exposed us to some remarkable things that He is doing in Cambodia. And I believe all of that unique exposure and insight was given to us for a reason. Not just to increase our knowledge, but as a basis for action. For I am thinking that God wants Mount Hermon Baptist Church—His global missions outreach center based in Pittsylvania County, Virginia—to put a major emphasis on Cambodia in the immediate future. What does that mean? I do not know at this time. But I want to encourage you to pray with me about that as we explore those possibilities in the months to come.

Pastor Danny

Fiesta Grande in Florida

2008-05-07T11:36:00.017-04:00

This past weekend, I made a quick trip down to Florida to speak at an important event for the Hispanic congregation that meets at First Baptist Clermont, my former pastorate.

Nine years ago—on the first Saturday of May 1999—First Baptist Clermont officially launched its Hispanic Ministry. For nine years it operated under the umbrella of the main church, with our Hispanic Pastor serving as a member of the overall church staff. During those years, the Spanish-speaking group had the goal of growing toward self-sufficiency, ultimately becoming a church in its own right. Just recently, they were able to incorporate as a separate, independent entity. No longer the Hispanic Ministries of the First Baptist Church of Clermont, they are now La Primera Iglesia Bautista Hispana de Clermont (or the First Hispanic Baptist Church of Clermont, if you prefer). So, this year’s 9th anniversary observance was cause for an even greater celebration.

When the ministry was launched back in 1999, we started out with Saturday night worship in the church sanctuary. But within a few months, we felt Sunday morning would prove more effective, so we moved the Spanish language service to Sunday at 11 AM, allowing the group to meet in our Christian Life Center (gymnasium), where they’ve met ever since. Once we started our Haitian ministry a couple of years later, we had three worship services in three different languages happening concurrently on our church campus, which was really exciting. Even more special were our periodic joint worship services, with all 3 congregations meeting together. We would have Haitian, Latino, and Anglo music all as part of the service. Then, the message in English would be translated electronically through headsets (a la the United Nations) for those without a basic understanding of English. Those special events were some of my happiest times. Each time we did it, I always learned a few new phrases that I could say from the pulpit in Spanish and in French as a way of connecting more intimately with our language groups. (Spanish is fine, but French is way too hard in my book! I always had much more difficulty with it.)

I was quite honored that the Hispanic congregation invited me back as guest speaker for this important milestone in their history. I had been one of the “attending physicians” in the “labor and delivery room” at their “birth.” Now, years later, here I was the “commencement speaker” for their “graduation exercises” as they prepared to “leave the nest” and move on to “adulthood.” It was a great time of celebration, thanking God for all He had done. Special guests included representatives from the Florida Baptist Convention, the Lake County Baptist Association, and First Baptist Clermont, the mother church, as well as some other Hispanic congregations from Central Florida.

Pastor Jose Soto hosted the festivities. Pastor Jose and his family—wife Maria, daughter Mari, son Pepe—have been involved with the Hispanic work in Clermont since its inception. Jose shares my heart for missions. He and I tried to work with other Anglo Baptist churches and Baptist associations in Central Florida to encouarage the start of additional Hispanic ministries throughout the region. We weren’t always that successful, however, due to (I believe) the fact that Anglo churches have to wholeheartedly embrace such a venture (as well as wholeheartedly embrace the Hispanic people) in order for it to thrive. Some churches, honestly, are just not prepared to do that. They enter into it erroneously thinking it’s simply a matter of giving the Hispanic group a set of keys and lending them some meeting space. Pastor Jose and I understood, however, that it's really all about mutual love & respect & being relational. And that's an example we tried to set for others. Pastor Jose also shares my global vision. Over the years, he led combined Hispanic-Anglo mission groups from our Florida church to Mexico (several times) as well as other parts of Latin America. He also accompanied me twice on mission trips to Cuba.

Just before I spoke Saturday night, Pastor Jose presented me with a plaque from the Hispanic church for the role I had played in their founding and development. I’ve received a few plaques in my life, most of which are now gathering dust somewhere. But this one will find its way to a special spot in my office, right alongside one presented to me by the Haitian congregation just before I moved from Florida in 2006. For, truly, these two language works represent two of my most personally rewarding ministry achievements during my 11½ years in Clermont. In the words of the Apostle Paul, they are “my joy and my crown.”

The service on Saturday night was great, but it ran a little longer than expected. We had dinner at 5:00 PM. Worship began around 6:00 PM. But I didn’t get up to speak until 7:00 PM. After concluding my remarks, and with the service continuing, I raced out the door to an awaiting car at about 7:25 PM, making it to Orlando International Airport in near record time. Then, passing through all the obligatory security checks, I reached the gate for my 8:40 PM departing flight just as everyone was boarding. After a raucous rock-and-roll rollercoaster of a ride—there were storms all along the Eastern seaboard—complete with crying toddlers exhausted from their last long day at Disney World, we finally landed (whew!) at Raleigh-Durham at about 10:30 PM. Sandy picked me up and we were home in Danville by 12:00 midnight, and then (after doing some final sermon prep and about four hours of sleep) I was up again to preach at our 8:30 AM service that morning.

It was a long day, but one I’ll certainly always remember with joy.

Pastor Danny

They came. They saw. They conquered.

2008-04-29T22:30:00.024-04:00

No, it was not the advance of Caesar’s warring legions. Rather it was five femme fatales from Florida that descended upon our defenseless city for one memorable weekend. And dear old Danville will never be the same.

Becky, Angie, Barbara, Donna, and Linda are all longtime friends of ours from the Sunshine state, and members of our former church in Clermont. They also were part of a Bible study group that Sandy led for quite some time. This is their second annual group trek to Southside Virginia to check in on the Davises since our move here a year and a half ago. The gang arrived on Friday and left on Monday. Yes, as you can imagine, it was a fun-filled, all-girl weekend at Davis Manor. Hairstyling. Pedicures. Chocolates. Wal-Mart runs. And the obligatory Chick flicks. You know, Ya-Ya Sisterhood, The Notebook, Steel Magnolias, and so forth. Lots of laughter and tears. Plenty of tissues on hand.

Obviously, as an only child (as well as a man who never had a daughter), I could only absorb so much of this. And then only in small doses. So, I kept finding reasons to periodically excuse myself from these august proceedings. Thank God for hospital visits and surgeries and emergency ministry calls!

Not since ol’ Jeff Davis fled from Danville’s Sutherlin Mansion to escape the clutches of the advancing Union army had a guy named Davis felt such an urgent need to flee from his place of abode. But, alas, my hopes for ultimate deliverance were dashed. As with those valiant soldiers who made their last stand with Custer at the Little Big Horn or those gallant men who went down in a blaze of glory at the Alamo, in the end there would be no escape for me. My fate was sealed. I was trapped with no way out.

In a way, it was almost like being the only guy at a Red Hat Society convention. For a moment, I actually thought I was back in Greece again with my legendary Pink Ladies. You know, like last summer when on our youth mission trip I quite unexpectedly was put in charge of 9 independent-minded teenage “daughters” for a whole week.

Herding cats was an image that repeatedly came to mind over the course of this weekend, just as it had last summer. Wherever we went together—me, driving a van with six high-octane women passengers, or me, the lone guy, eating out at some restaurant with six highly verbal & vivacious former Miss Americas—I could see the looks I was getting from others. I don’t know if it was looks of sympathy, or envy, or perplexity. But I got plenty of looks, nonetheless. Even from the very moment the girls first arrived, a guy was standing on the curb at Raleigh-Durham Airport, laughing and shaking his head at me while I tried to load them and their luggage into the van. Then, on Monday, at the Brown Bean, when I said my “goodbyes” to our guests just before Sandy drove them back to the airport, I was still on the receiving end of the shaking head syndrome from the great cloud of witnesses that had gathered for lunch.

Why am I writing about this and what does all of this have to do with anything? Frankly, I don’t know. I just know that writing is somehow therapeutic for me (i.e., it helps me to vent.) I also know that all weekend long the Clermont girls lived in perpetual fear that I would blog about them and some of their antics. (Bear in mind, it didn’t curtail their antics. They just lived in fear as they went ahead and did what they pleased.) So, I decided that I should do what I could to help them realize their fears. Of course, I would never write about anything embarrassing, like the spontaneous food fight that erupted in our breakfast nook between two of the group’s most mature, demure, and genteel ladies. (Thank Heaven it happened on a hard surface floor, and not in the dining room, where we have carpet!) But never in a million years would I even think of revealing anything of that nature. After all, in an effort to encourage respectable behavior and maintain a proper air of decorum and dignity, I would never, ever want to publicly disclose anyone’s acts of misguided indiscretion.

Well, it’s time bring this silly blog posting to a close, extending mercy both to its readers as well as to its subjects. Thanks for showing me some needed grace by being so understanding of my pain and by enduring my extensive bloviating. I promise to elevate the tone and content of my blog with my next posting. All in all, I think that after this past weekend I just need to go away somewhere in order to settle my nerves. Perhaps when I reach the busy streets of Phnom Penh in a few days, I’ll finally be able to enjoy some peace and quiet. I don’t think they watch chick flicks in Cambodia. At least when the women there gather for discussion and dialogue, I won’t be able to understand what they’re saying.

Pastor Danny

P. S. Please note that the names in the above tongue-in-cheek blog were not changed to protect the innocent because, after considerable reflection, it was determined that none of the aforementioned persons were without guilt.

New D.C. Ballpark

2008-04-18T23:25:00.023-04:00

Last Friday, Sandy and I drove up to Washington, DC to visit our son and daughter-in-law. The “kids” had bought us tickets for a baseball game at the city’s brand new major league ballpark, which had opened to much fanfare just a few days earlier. The game was a birthday gift for Sandy & me. (Both of us have April birthdays. By the way, I just realized that 2008 is a landmark year of sorts for Sandy and me. For the first & only time, our combined ages add up to exactly 100. Wow! In case you’re wondering, Sandy is 29 and I’m…well, I’ll just let you do the math yourself.)

Anyway, the two of us met up with Jordan and Melinda after work at Jordan’s office on Capitol Hill. It was such a beautiful evening that we decided to walk the several blocks to Nationals Park rather than drive or ride the Metro.

All in all, the new facility is really nice. Not over the top in amenities, but very nice, nonetheless. The first thing that stood out to me was its warm, cozy, friendly atmosphere. There’s probably not a bad seat in the house. We sat out in right field and had a great view. After two years of playing in makeshift surroundings—old, decaying RFK stadium, the former home of the NFL’s Redskins—this brand spanking new facility gives the transplanted Nats more of a sense of permanence. It also gives them enhanced credibility, fostering the sense that this is a real team that should be taken seriously.

The Nationals were playing the Atlanta Braves & wound up losing a 3-0 pitcher’s duel. During a brief trek to the concession stand, I missed the game’s only home run, a 6th-inning solo shot by the Braves’ Cuban-born shortstop Yunel Escobar, which broke a scoreless tie.

The Nationals are an interesting team. They’ve got a 6’11” relief pitcher that looks more at home on a basketball court than a pitcher’s mound. Big Jon Rauch, the tallest player in baseball history, has to step off the mound and stoop down when he and the catcher convene for a face-to-face conversation. The Nats also have an infielder named Felipe Lopez that’s a former Orlando-area prep star. He’s my son’s age and Jordan used to watch him play back during his high school days. Now he watches him play professionally in the nation’s capital. The D.C. team also has a new young outfielder from Melinda’s hometown of Bradenton, Florida. I love his name—Lastings Milledge. I’m hopeful that someday when Jordan and Melinda have a child, they’ll strongly consider Lastings Milledge as a name. My favorite National, however, is a guy named Dmitri Young. A former Cincinnati Red and Detroit Tiger, Dmitri has had his share of health and personal issues. A year ago, everyone thought he was all washed up. The Nats picked him up as a last minute replacement player when their regular first baseman got injured. He responded with a great comeback season. This year, however, Dmitri, a diabetic, showed up at spring training all ballooned out to 296 pounds! The regular first baseman is healthy again and Dmitri, suffering with a bad back, is on the bench.

I suppose that’s one reason I like baseball. It’s full of all kinds of stories and surprises. Stories of ups and downs, successes and failures, comebacks and setbacks. In other words, baseball is a lot like life. Washington fans got all excited when the Nationals won their first 3 games. Then, they became deflated when they lost their next 8 in a row. I just shrug and say, “Hey, it’s a long season.” After all, every major league team plays a 162-game regular season schedule. And it’s a long way from April to September. A lot can happen…and it usually does. Again, baseball is like life. It’s a long journey with many steps. But you live it one step at a time. And most of the time, one bad game doesn’t wreck a season. There’s always the hope of tomorrow. There’s always the opportunity for redemption.

Speaking of redemption, guess who was on the pitcher’s mound this week at D.C. stadium. A guy that’s a little bigger than the Nat’s 6’ 11” reliever. The Pope himself! The ol' right hander conducted a mass for a capacity crowd at the new ballpark. Last week, while we were there, the capital city was making all kinds of preparations for Benedict XVI's historic first pitch in America.

But let me regress and offer a couple of more comments about last week’s game. The game was good. But an additional part of the fun of going to a ballgame is experiencing the peripheral things that invariably happen in a ballpark setting. There’s the food. Yes, all four of us had the obligatory hotdog. We added nachos, salted-in-the-shell peanuts, and Cracker Jack for good measure. Then, there are the sideshows. Ever since the Nationals moved to D.C. from Canada two years ago (where since 1969 they had been the Montreal Expos), they’ve established a popular local tradition—a nightly footrace featuring big-headed caricatures of the 4 U.S. presidents carved into Mount Rushmore. Yes, that’s right. George W. (Washington, not Bush), Thomas Jefferson, Abe Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt. Poor Teddy, clearly the crowd favorite, is a lovable loser who never, ever wins, in spite of the thousands of adoring fans that cheer him on each night. The racing presidents are something of a takeoff on the racing sausages that been a staple at Milwaukee’s Miller Park for the past several years. Then, lastly, there are always the interesting people you see or meet at a baseball park. During this particular outing, I saw the laziest vendor I’ve ever seen at any ballgame anywhere—major league, minor league, or college; baseball, football, or basketball. I mean, this guy carried his cooler of products into our section, leaned on the fence near an usher, and hardly moved the whole game. He just looked around and ever so often he would call out to remind people that he actually was a real, live, breathing salesman, and not merely a life size cardboard cutout. This young mannequin—er, man—rarely climbed the steps up into stands, and only when someone beckoned him and waved money at him. I’ve never seen a commission worker do so little work. Usually, vendors are quick on their feet, eager to make a sale. This guy was like watching molasses race uphill. I can’t imagine he’s going to last in his job. Maybe, if the guy playing the role of Teddy Roosevelt ever quits or gets sick, this guy would be a great fill-in, because there’s no way on God’s green earth he would ever win a footrace…even with a five-minute head start.

It’s quite amazing what you can learn at a baseball game. But then again, it’s quite amazing what you can learn about life in general, when you take time to live it and observe it. All you have to do is keep your eyes open.

Pastor Danny

South Carolina Low Country

2008-04-10T14:23:00.025-04:00

March proved to be a very busy month. In addition to many ministry needs and church activities, I had to make two quick and unexpected trips to Florida to check on my dad following his being hospitalized twice on very short notice. I'm happy to report that that he is doing much better now and I deeply appreciate the prayers of so many of you on behalf of my father.

At the end of the month, Sandy and I took a few vacation days and made a roadtrip to South Carolina. We spent part of our time in historic Charleston, a truly beautiful and charming Southern coastal city. We had always wanted to visit Charleston, but had never had the opportunity to do so until now. It proved to be a great time of year for a visit. Everything was bursting into full bloom. The breathtaking azaleas and dogwoods were at their absolute peak. In fact, virtually all of the South Carolina Low Country was alive with vibrant brush strokes from God's colorful springtime pallet.

Living with a history buff, of course, Sandy knows that with every vacation she always has to make her obligatory visit to some great landmark of the past. Thus, while in Charleston, we took a boatride out into the harbor to tour historic Fort Sumter, where the first shot of the Civil War (or War Between the States, if you prefer) was fired. Interestingly, back in April 1861, for several intense hours, the Union forces stationed on the manmade island fort took quite a barrage of shells from several different onshore locations. Not able to mount an effective counter assault with their own inadequate artillary, the Union troops finally surrendered after sustaining significant damage to their defenses. Amazingly, in spite of all the flying brick and morter, the crushed walls, and blazing fires ignited by the shelling, not one single life was lost in that battle.

We also decided to visit one of several old plantations in the Charleston area. We opted for a place called Boone Hall Plantation, primarily because it was a setting featured in a number of film productions. For example, the popular 1980s television miniseries "North & South", Alex Haley's "Queen" starring Halle Berry, and most recently, Nicholas Sparks' tearjerker love story "The Notebook" starring James Garner (one of my wife's all-time favorite novels and movies).

While there, we learned some things about the South Carolina Low Country's Gullah Culture. This is the name given for the culture that evolved from those West African peoples that were taken captive and brought to South Carolina to work as slaves. A very interesting lady in period costume gave a colorful lecture and demonstration on the history, language, music, lifestyles and storytelling of the Gullah people, a people whose culture is not unlike that of the Creole people of Louisiana.

While we enjoyed taking in some sights, and doing some fun things, we also enjoyed just relaxing. Sometimes when we go on vacation, Sandy & I like to go somewhere quiet, off the beaten path, where we can just rest, read, relax, and just be together. On this particular trip, we stayed in a couple of South Carolina state parks. At each park, we rented cabins. The first one was great. It was in a peaceful, wooded setting within a thirty-minute drive of Charleston. The second one, however, was so remote that it wound up not being near anything....except for an Air Force Base and a MILITARY BOMBING RANGE!!!! Talk about peace and quiet! Actually, no bombing took place while were in the area, but the two days we were there, jet fighter planes flew over the park for much of the daylight hours. Hence, we vacated the premises during the daytime and went off exploring elsewhere. By the way, from the look of things, I really don't think anyone had stayed in that old cabin since the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Other than that bizarre episode, we had a great time on our trip. We stumbled across some beautiful scenery as we traveled through small towns on state highways, or drove along country backroads, avoiding Interstate highway travel as much as we could.

All in all, it was nice to visit the Palmetto State. (If you've never been to Charleston and the South Carolina Low Country, especially in the springtime, you definitely should go.) But, as is usually the case, it also was great to get back home again. Truly, there's no place like it. At least there's no secret bombing range near our home in Danville... as far as I know...so far.

Pastor Danny

The Tomb Is Empty!

2008-03-22T19:47:00.009-04:00

Hallelujah! He Is Risen!

Hallelujah! He Is Risen Indeed!

And Because He Lives,

I Can Face Tomorrow!

It's Maundy Thursday, but Sunday's a-comin'

2008-03-20T11:02:00.020-04:00

Hello, again. Yes, I'm still alive & well. Please excuse my recent absence from the blogosphere. Several pastoral (as well as personal) demands have kept me from being able to find the time to write. But I hope to get back into the swing again soon.

Today, however, I just had to send out a word of greeting to everyone in celebration of this most holy season. Today is Maundy Thursday, a time of reflection commemorating that fateful night when Jesus gathered with His disciples in the Upper Room for one last intimate encounter before the approaching storm of Calvary. In the quietness of that far away place on that long ago night, Jesus revealed (to the grief & horror of his closest associates) the acts of betrayal, denial & abandonment He soon would face. In full anticipation of the unspeakable violence of the cross, He spoke only of love, service & sacrifice, while instituting the Lord's Supper as means of foreshadowing (and later, remembering) His pending work of redemption.

After Jesus & His small entourage left the Upper Room that dark night, arriving at the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed with the weight of the whole world on His shoulders. His hours of passion (or intense suffering) had now begun. The clock of destiny was ticking. Soon would follow the arrest, the mockings, the beatings, the kangaroo courts, the trumped up charges, the political maneuverings, and--finally--the crucifixion itself.

The nails pierced His flesh & spilled His blood. But the ridicule & rejection from the crowd caused His deepest pain. Yet, because of who He was, He could respond only in compassion & grace. Thus, words of mercy, as unexpected as an oasis in the desert, fell softly as gentle rain from His parched lips. "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing." Finally, after six agonizing hours on the Cross, the price of our redemption was paid in full. "It is finished!" Jesus exclaimed. And then He breathed His last. His corpse was laid to rest in a borrowed tomb, the hopes & dreams of many buried right along with Him. The sun finally set on that horrible day which we now call Good Friday. The Messiah was dead. As dead as dead can be. It was all over...or so it seemed.

But then, early Sunday morning, something incredible happened! The cold earth gave way to new life! Joy rose like the sun. Hope emerged from the shadows. Love illuminated the landscape. It was the greatest turnaround, the greatest comeback, the greatest victory the universe had ever known! Jesus was ALIVE! Hallelujah! And because of that one amazing resurrected Life, we too can now live.

Today, tomorrow & Saturday, I encourage you to take time to reflect on all that Jesus endured for you. Especially, the high price He paid to atone for all your sins--past, present & future. And then, on Sunday, celebrate the fact that the One who died for you didn't stay dead. Instead, He rose from the dead. He conquered death, Hell & the grave. He's alive & well, and He lives still today! He's our living Lord...our forever Friend...our great & mighty God. And because of Him, we not only have hope for today & tomorrow, but we share the hope of forever as well.

So, whenever you face a sad & somber Thursday, a hurtful & hateful Friday, or a demoralizing & depressing Saturday, just remember that Resurrection Day's a-coming. Indeed, it's already here! Thus, whatever challenges you have to deal with today (or any day), you never have to face them alone. Because Jesus is alive...He's real...He's here...& He's promised that He will never leave you nor forsake you. Hallelujah!

Pastor Danny

Beards: More Than You Ever Wanted to Know

2008-03-03T10:14:00.043-05:00

Recently, a feature article on beards appeared in the Danville Register and Bee. Marie Stewart made me aware of the article and told me that in it several men shared why they grew their beards. Then Marie said, “Danny, I’ve just got to know. Why did you grow your beard?” I laughed and said, “Well, Marie, that sounds like something I’ll need to write about in a blog.” “Oh, please do,” she said. So, here it is...a blog about beards.

The timing of this is quite interesting. After all, it just dawned on me that I am standing on the threshold of the 10th anniversary of the birthday of my beard. It was during Easter season back in 1998…back before the dawning of the new millennium. My church in Florida was preparing for a major Easter musical drama, with our choir & cast all outfitted in biblical period attire. My wife Sandy was serving as our Interim Minister of Music at the time. Several of the men decided to add to the air of authenticity by growing beards. Since I had a minor solo in the production, I decided to grow a beard as well. I didn’t really feel an urgency to grow it to be biblically authentic. Rather, I had always wanted to grow a beard, and as a pastor there really had never been much opportunity for me to grow one. The only time I had attempted a beard was back in my seminary days, and I learned then that I was a slow-grower when it came to facial hair. So I needed a good cover or excuse to take the time needed to grow a decent beard. And this Easter musical provided me with such an opportunity.

Once I grew the beard, I liked it, and decided to keep it. I really liked the idea of not shaving. But there was another side benefit as well. A lot of people thought it made me look older. And I liked that. Because there was actually a time in my life when a lot of folks thought I was about 10 years younger than I really was. One time when I was in my early 30s pastoring a church in North Carolina, a traveling salesman came to the door of the church parsonage. When I answered the door, he said, “Hello, young man, is your father at home?” “No,” I replied, “he actually lives a few hundred miles from here.”

So, the beard gave me the appearance of greater maturity. And I liked that. Later on, with the passage of time, as I started getting older and closing in on AARP membership eligibility, I started wondering if I should shave it back off to look younger. But then I was afraid of what I might discover underneath. And I certainly didn’t want to scare anybody. For, you see, our church in Florida increased in membership and had quite a bit of turnover during the years I was there. Ultimately, we reached a point where most of our membership had never even seen me without a beard. Only a very few even remembered the way I used to look. So, I didn’t want to send anybody into shock. And now the same is true at Mount Hermon. Only a handful of members remember me as a clean-shaven guy from 20 years ago. Most folks have no idea what lurks under this beard.

Sometimes guys think that growing a beard makes them appear more manly, you know, like Grizzly Adams or Chuck Norris. But it didn’t work for me. Most people said my beard made me look more like a Teddy bear. One person even said I looked like a Koala bear. But I promise you that I’ve never even been to Australia and I don't have much of a taste for eucalyptus leaves.

Over time, my church in Florida added several staff members that had beards. I guess beards, like birds, have a way of flocking together! (By the way, have you noticed a new trend at Mount Hermon? Our new Youth Minister has a beard. Sounds like a conspiracy, doesn't it? But thankfully our new Children’s Minister is not similarly inclined!) At one point, I think virtually the whole staff in Florida had beards. (Not the secretaries mind you, just the male ministers! We were in the same state as Ringling Brothers, but we weren’t running a circus!)

One day, a guy at my Florida church put a written message in the offering plate that said, “Surveys show that Americans generally don’t trust people in leadership positions that have beards. Therefore, I think our church staff should seriously consider shaving.” I thought he was kidding. When I talked to him face-to-face, I quickly found out he was dead serious. Well, I told him to hurry up and sell his Gillette stock because it just wasn’t happening. The guy soon decided to move his membership to another church with a bald-faced pastor. By the way, I never did find out what “survey” he was supposedly quoting. When I pressed him for more info, he didn’t know either. He admitted the he just heard that somebody somewhere had somehow done some survey at sometime. Hmm.

Regardless of surveys, it is interesting to note that our country has not had a president with facial hair since William Howard Taft, who lost his bid for re-election in 1912. In 1944 and again in 1948, the Republicans nominated the last presidential candidate with facial hair, mustachioed Thomas E. Dewey of New York, who lost to clean-shaven FDR and Harry S Truman respectively. Since that time, presidential politics have been totally clean-shaven (if not clean).

Actually, if you go back in history, the Republican Party has the hairiest legacy. The GOP was really stylin’ from 1860 to 1912—the hairiest period in the history of the republic. During that era, our nation had 6 bearded presidents and 3 mustachioed presidents (out of a total 11). The only 2 clean-shaven guys were Andrew Johnson, who was impeached, and William McKinley, who got assassinated. (Read your own assumptions into those incidents.) Of those 9 follicly-abundant chief executives, only one—Grover Cleveland—was a Democrat (and he merely had a mustache). By the way, we’re still waiting for a Democrat president with a beard…but I don’t believe Hillary will be able to pull it off (either the presidency or the beard!) Abraham Lincoln, of course, was our first bearded president, growing the beard shortly after his election in 1860 at the suggestion of someone that thought he might look better with some face covering. Good ole Benjamin Harrison was our last completely whiskered commander-in-chief, exiting the White House in 1893.

Some people, like the aforementioned former member of my church in Florida, think it’s strange for a preacher to have a beard. One of my great preaching heroes, however, is the late Charles Haddon Spurgeon of England. Like a lot of 19th Century males, Spurgeon, that “prince of preachers”, boasted quite a healthy-looking beard. I’ve seen a few pictures of a young Spurgeon without facial hair and—believe you me—he looks a whole lot better with some coverage. (If you see younger pictures of me, you might arrive at a similar assessment.)

Down in Cuba, this whole beard thing is quite interesting. You don’t really see all that many Cubans with beards. For one thing, it really gets hot in Cuba. But, for another thing, Fidel Castro and his band of young revolutionaries were so identified as “the bearded ones” back in their day that a lot of folks today don’t really want to emulate that image, which has come to represent failure, oppression, power-grabbing and broken promises. Interestingly, from the first time I visited Cuba, I learned that you’re never to speak Castro’s name aloud, so as to avoid suspicion that you were saying something derogatory about him. So, whenever you want to refer to El Presidente, you simply stroke your chin silently, and people instantly know of whom you're speaking without you even uttering a word.

Somehow it seems interesting that the 10th anniversary of my beard coincides with “the bearded one” stepping down after 49 years as the leader of Cuba. I have no idea what either of those things has to do with the other, but it’s interesting nonetheless.

Pastor Danny

Blessing Buckets

2008-02-28T15:18:00.032-05:00

Throughout the month of February, our children’s mission groups led the way in challenging the rest of our church family to get involved with a very important ministry project. It was an effort to tangibly partner with God’s Pit Crew (http://www.thegodspitcrew.org/), a Danville-based Christian ministry that makes a rapid response to people in crisis situations. (For example, most recently, God’s Pit Crew arrived in West Tennessee just hours after a series of violent tornadoes tore through the region displacing hundreds of people. They quickly provided basic necessities to individuals & families that had lost virtually everything.) Our project in February was to fill “blessing buckets” that would be distributed by God’s Pit Crew when they arrive on the scene at disaster sites like storm-ravaged Jackson, Tennessee. These large plastic buckets (comparable to big 5-gallon paint cans) were stuffed with various personal care items & necessities like soap, toothpaste, diapers, baby formula, etc. Personal notes to the recipients also were included.

Our kids volunteered to buy goods & fill buckets. Then they challenged the rest of the church family to do the same. So far, 105 buckets have been turned in. This past Wednesday night, Randy Johnson & other representatives from God’s Pit Crew were on our church campus to pick up the buckets, do a presentation for our children, and personally thank our church family for partnering with them in this effort.

After Randy Johnson shared photos of the devastation in Tennessee & told of the families being helped through our generosity, church member Gary Caldwell—who spearheaded this project for us—led in a brief dedication service for the buckets that were going out. He told our kids that this whole endeavor was truly a picture of the Body of Christ working together. Our children’s mission groups were the “hands” that gathered the goods for the buckets and now God’s Pit Crew would be the “feet” that would deliver those buckets to people in need.

Following Gary’s remarks, the children all stood to pray over the buckets. As each child stood silently over the specific bucket they had filled, they prayed for the individual that eventually would receive their bucket. It was a very moving ceremony, one that I hope makes a lasting impression on our children. Afterward, all of the kids physically carried the heavy buckets out to the God’s Pit Crew truck and loaded them on board. Then, for fun, they one-by-one got to climb behind the steering wheel of the God’s Pit Crew race car. (But, I promise you, none of our little Jeff Gordons actually drove the car!)

A special “hats off” to Randy Johnson & God’s Pit Crew for their selfless ministry of caring for others! I’m indeed glad that our church is a ministry partner with them. And a big "thank you" to our Mount Hermon Baptist Church "Bucket Brigade" for giving so generously and for being a blessing themselves.

Pastor Danny

Motley Memories

2008-02-21T19:39:00.021-05:00

The other day I drove up to Lynchburg to visit a church member in the hospital. As I made my way up Highway 29, I saw the exit sign for the small community of Motley. The sight of that name on the sign stirred up some old memories.

The first time I ever laid eyes on Danville, Virginia was back in November 1984. I was in my last semester as a student at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina. During my seminary days, in order to gain some desperately needed pulpit experience, I tried to take advantage of as many preaching opportunities as I could. I was on the seminary’s pulpit supply list, but honestly, the calls to be a fill-in preacher at a local church were few and far between, like two or three times a semester at best. So, I was really happy when I got the call to preach in this mysterious place called Motley, Virginia. First of all, I had never preached in Virginia before. And, on top of that, I had barely even been to Virginia. Indeed, except for one other seminary trip to Newport News, the only other times I had ever been to Virginia were back when I was in high school. Once a year, the first Saturday of October, my high school band from the mountains of eastern Kentucky always traveled to Bristol, Virginia for a big marching band competition. So, other than those annual treks to one of the westernmost points of the Old Dominion, I had minimal personal exposure to the Commonwealth. Again, I was happy to be able to preach in Virginia. (Actually, I was happy to be able to preach anywhere!) At that point, I had only preached in my home church back in Kentucky as well as in a handful of churches in North Carolina that were relatively close to the seminary. (By the way, those Tar Heel churches that suffered under my early preaching were so delighted to see me go out of state for a change, rather than subjecting them to more pain.)

On the Sunday I was to preach at Motley, I left home early that morning. Sandy did not go with me. We had found it to be quite challenging for her to join me on these longer preaching expeditions with a 3-year-old in tow. So, I made this particular trip on my own.

Driving up Highway 86 and crossing the state line into Virginia, I very soon came upon this city called Danville. I made a wrong turn at one point, however, and rather than connecting with Business 29, I wound up on Main Street and drove the length of it. I went past “church row” downtown and past all the old historic Victorian homes. I crossed the river, past the old textile mill with the big “Home of Dan River Fabrics” sign. As I made my may through the slumbering city early on that quiet Sunday morning, a feeling of peacefulness came across me, and I thought, “Danville, Virginia…Hmm, this seems like a nice city…a nice place to live.”

Ultimately, at the end of North Main, I wound up on Highway 29 and made my way northward to Motley, to a small country church. The only thing I remember about that Sunday was the grand introduction I received. A very sincere but inarticulate chairman of deacons was charged with conducting the service that day. When he stood to introduce me, I was surprised to see him reach into his suit coat pocket to pull out a rolled up copy of my personal resume that the seminary had mailed to him. Unbelievably, he proceeded to read haltingly through the entire document, stumbling over words as he went. In the process, he shared with the church family vast amounts of critical and pertinent data about me, such as my place and date of birth, my brief stint working as a busboy for a Holiday Inn restaurant back in the summer of ’73, and my first job out of college as a bank teller/ loan collector! I’m sure all of this was absolutely riveting to everyone else in attendance, but for me it was about as fun as a botched root canal job. By the time he finished and I finally got up to preach, I was sweating bullets and the small crowd was so glazed over that I doubt they even heard a word I said.

After the worship service ended, I left Motley and made my way back through Danville, stopping somewhere along Piney Forest Road to get a Coca-Cola. Again, I thought, “Hmm, this seems like a nice place.” Then I got back in my ’78 Chevy Impala—the one with a classic baby blue exterior and black vinyl seats—and proceeded back home to North Carolina.

It’s interesting what happened next. I was graduating from seminary that December, which was just a few weeks away. So, at that time, I had resumes all over the place, trying to find a church that would be willing to take a chance on me. An older pastor friend of mine that lived in Newport News had sent my resume to a number of places. The only one of those places that ever even acknowledged receiving my resume was some entity called the Pittsylvania Baptist Association in (whoa!) Danville, Virginia! Rev. Donald Harlan, then-PBA Director of Missions, wrote me a nice typewritten letter on PBA letterhead just a few weeks after my trip to Motley. He stated that there were not many pastorless churches in the association at that time, so he couldn’t really offer me much encouragement about possible ministry opportunities. After I read his letter, I immediately turned to Sandy and said, “Well, there’s one place in the world now where we know we’re NOT going…and that’s Danville, Virginia.”

It’s funny how God works, though. Not very long after that, I get a call from the chairman of the pastor search committee of a church named Melville Avenue Baptist Church in—“Where did he say?”—Danville, Virginia! They had received my resume--not from Don Harlan, but from another source. (No, not the guy in Motley with the rolled up copy! Actually, they got it from the seminary.) Soon thereafter, Sandy and I came to Danville and met with the search committee. They heard me preach. One thing led to another. And by Easter Sunday 1985, I was the pastor of a church in—of all places—that nice city I had first driven through just five months earlier when I was on my way to a preaching assignment up in good ole Motley.

This week’s trip to the hospital in Lynchburg for some reason prompted me to recall that long ago moment in time. And it also reminded me of a good God who, as part of His divine plan, first brought Sandy and me to Danville in 1985 and then back again in 2006. And yes, after more than 23 years, I can say that first impressions are true. The Danville area IS a nice place to live. It was back then and it still is today.

Pastor Danny

Away in a Monastery

2008-02-14T14:54:00.022-05:00

Last November, at the annual meeting of the Baptist General Association of Virginia, I was the winner of a drawing for a free spiritual retreat at LivingStone Monastery in Newport News. (The last time I won any kind of drawing was at a bankers’ convention in Cincinnati for two free tickets to a National League Championship baseball game, but that was more than half my life ago, long before I was a preacher, and back when the Cincinnati Reds used to have good teams. But that's a whole other story.) This past week, I finally claimed my prize from LivingStone, which provided me with three days and two nights free room and board, as well as a quiet spiritual atmosphere conducive to personally connecting with God.

I had never stayed at a “monastery” before. Actually, LivingStone is an extended ministry of Hope Community Church, a young Baptist church in the city of Newport News. The actual facilities were originally built in the 1950s, as the home of the Order of Poor Clare, a cloistered community of Catholic nuns dedicated to a ministry of continual intercessory prayer. In 2004, when the nuns finally decided to vacate their increasingly urbanized surroundings for a more placid, country setting, they put the property up for sale. But they would only sell it to a Christian ministry that agreed to perpetuate the longstanding intercessory prayer tradition of the location, a proposition to which Hope Community Church readily agreed. Hence, LivingStone Monastery remains a citadel of intercessory prayer. And the monastic tradition continues on as eleven workers of the ministry actually make the facility their full-time home. The facility also serves the larger body of Christ by providing opportunities for personal and group retreats. And their extended campus serves as “home” to six different churches of varying flavors that worship there throughout the week, as well as a food bank, a thrift shop, and a ministry providing weekly hot-cooked meals for the needy.

For my personal spiritual retreat at LivingStone, I decided against bringing a lot of things to read. Just my Bible (two translations, actually—the New International Version, from which I preach, and The Message) as well as one devotional book—the classic Spurgeon’s Morning & Evening Devotions. I have been on personal retreats before. Sometimes they have been more study-oriented. This one was much more prayer focused, which was intentional on my part. That’s why I didn’t want to bring too much reading material. I didn’t want to spend time reading that I really needed to spend praying.

I spent the bulk of my time either in my tiny room, or in the chapel, or walking the grounds praying. I also participated (with the resident workers and the handful of other guests) in LivingStone’s daily corporate prayer times. The monastery operates on a daily “rhythm” of prayer. Three times a day, everyone stops whatever they’re doing to gather in the chapel for brief prayer services at 7 AM (just before breakfast), 12 Noon (just prior to lunch), and 9 PM (to close out the day). There’s no preaching, but a lot of scripture is read aloud responsively. And there are a number of recited (as well as spontaneous) prayers of adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication offered to the Lord. It was more of an ancient, liturgical or contemplative approach to prayer & worship, rather than what one might regard as a typical “Baptist” approach. But I found it very refreshing.

Interestingly, throughout the day from 7 AM to 9:30 PM, the Prayer Chapel is open for people to come and go as they may. Praise music can be heard echoing from the chapel throughout the day. Sometimes, it’s in the form of a CD recording. Sometimes, there’s a live singer/ guitarist, leading gentle praise unto the Lord. People come and pray and worship privately as the music is played. Artists, seeking godly inspiration for their artistic expressions, come quietly to the chapel and set up easels and paint or draw images in worship unto God while others are praying.

As I’ve already noted, the history of this place is deeply rooted in prayer. For more than a half-century, the St. Clare nuns would offer intercessory prayer around the clock. Interestingly, there is another chapel that is separated from the current prayer chapel. The only thing that links the two is a pair of lofty, massive, swinging doors, high above the altar area. These doors can be opened so that sounds of worship can emanate from one chapel to the other. Yet, anonymity is maintained as persons on either side of the wall remain hidden from each another. For years, the nuns would pray in the interior chapel, out of view of the general public. Yet, the public was free to come into the outer chapel (the current prayer chapel) and listen to the prayers of the nuns, day or night.

I had set some goals for my personal spiritual retreat, and all of them were met within my almost 48 hours on site. Some of the prayer goals were personal—things that I needed to bring before the Lord during a time when I could give them a long, concentrated, uninterrupted focus. But one of my prayer goals was to intercede for our local body of Christ in an exhaustive, comprehensive way. Thus, during my retreat, I prayed for our entire church family, individually, personally, by name. I prayed through our church directory. I prayed through the most updated version of our church prayer list. I prayed through the many names and addresses I have recorded in my day timer. I prayed for all the people whose phone numbers I have stored in my cell phone. (Thus, this prayer effort extended far beyond our Mount Hermon church family to include friends, family, churches I formerly pastored, as well as many mission partners around the world.) The point of me telling you this is to let you know that, if you are reading this blog, in all likelihood, you were prayed for. All of you were prayed for at least once. And some of were prayed for multiple times during my stay.

It’s a four hour drive from Danville to Newport News. But the trip was well worth it. I was there at the monastery from approximately noon on Monday to noon on Wednesday. It was a timetable that proved to be just right for what I had hoped (and needed) to experience. God truly blessed me by providing me with the gift of this unique opportunity. Perhaps, Lord willing, I’ll go back to LivingStone again sometime. But I'll definitely continue the practice of periodic personal spiritual retreats, whatever the venue.

Pastor Danny

A Super Bowl Never to Be Forgotten

2008-02-04T16:02:00.000-05:00

It rarely happens, but this year’s big game really lived up to its hype. It was a classic showdown: the undefeated New England Patriots—one of the greatest teams ever to play the game—facing off against the surprising wildcard New York Giants. Super Bowl XLII—(That's 42 for you non-Romans out there)—was an epic David & Goliath confrontation, pitting the pursuit of perfection against a potential miracle upset.

For the mighty Pats, under the masterful leadership of the handsome & heroic Tom Brady—that golden boy with the golden arm—this would be the last notch in their gun belt. Yes, that final stop in their magnificent quest for a perfect season, an accomplishment so rarified that it had only been achieved once before in the long, hard-hitting history of the NFL.

For the Giants—whose team name seemed a gross misnomer in this potentially lopsided affair—it was the opportunity for young (& often erratic) Eli Manning to prove himself. The “Prince Harry” of the Royal House of Manning, Eli has always stood in the long shadow of legendary dad Archie and Crown Prince Peyton, the successor to the throne.

Absolutely nobody expected the Giants to be in this year’s big game. They had sorely disappointed their fans last year, falling far short of expectations. And when their gifted & glamorous running back (& UVA alum) Tiki Barber decided to hang up his cleats & retire early, no one thought the Giants would accomplish anything notable this season. But when it was all said & done, that scrappy gang from New York was the last team left standing to take on the glorious Patriots & perhaps deprive them of their seemingly inevitable date with destiny.

Many fans, in search of history, were rooting for New England to climax their pristine, record-setting season with a bold exclamation point, dismembering, decapitating and disemboweling the hapless Giants on their way to 19-0 elegance. But some folks (like me) enjoy rooting for the underdog. Rather than joining the bandwagon on the way to a coronation, some of us believe that the game still has to be played before the crown should be bestowed. (Hmm. Can anybody say “Barack” and “Hillary”?)

Anyway, as the great contest finally got underway, little Eli, like a young shepherd boy armed with only a slingshot and 5 smooth stones in his hand, valiantly took the field against the seemingly unconquerable foe. For 3 quarters of the game, a strong defensive battle ensued. The Giants had trouble scoring, but—gasp!—so did the invincible Pats. For the longest time, the score surprisingly remained frozen at 7 to 3, Patriots.

But then, in the game’s final quarter, when it appeared that Eli and company might never get the ball across the goal line, they scored a clutch touchdown and took the lead. But knowledgeable Giant fans breathed none too easy. For every credible armchair quarterback in America knew that cool Tom Brady would never roll over and play dead. General Tom marched his army down the field and quickly reversed the Giants’ fortunes with a quick score of their own. The Patriots were back in control, and things looked grim for young Eli. Surely, there was no way little Manning could do it again. But just when it seemed the tiny Giants’ hearts were about to be squashed into the turf, Eli literally escaped the clutches of his potential captors and lofted an unbelievable desperation throw that put his team within striking distance. Seconds later, he threw his second touchdown pass of the quarter. Suddenly it was 17-14, Giants. Only seconds remained on the clock. Tom the Great & his gladiators mounted a final assault. But their last ditch effort fell short. The Touchdown King’s last pass was incomplete. Grown men wept. Women screamed. New England fans rent their clothing, donning sackcloth and ashes. There was no joy in Patriotville. The mighty Brady had struck out.

Without a doubt, Super Bowl XLII was a great game with tons of drama, emotion and heroics. And the truth is: Heroic feats inspire us. They touch us deeply. They remind us of the God-given potential within any of us to rise up and courageously meet the challenges that come our way in life.

Lest we forget, however, life’s greatest heroes are not those who play with a pigskin on a gridiron, but rather those who know and do the will of God each day. Thus, while you may never have the chance to lead your team to the Super Bowl, you can still be a hero as you walk by faith and allow your life to be shaped according to God’s plan. Anybody that does that is pretty super in my book.

Pastor Danny

P. S. Jordan, I'm sorry your boys lost.

Pastor Danny Meets Lady Liberty

2008-01-31T19:30:00.000-05:00

At last…a dream come true for me. I finally got to meet one of Danville’s most notable celebrities. No, no, no. Not native son Jon Dalton (AKA Jonny Fairplay) of “Survivor” fame. Get real. I’m talking about none other than Lady Liberty herself, the most recognizable (and inspiring) fixture along Danville’s Piney Forest Road.

Yes, it’s the time of year again. Tax season. The time of year that no one likes. But…if there is one bright spot to it all, it’s the annual re-emergence of Lady Liberty, that All-American icon who stands day in, day out—from January 1 to April 15—waving, smiling, dancing, laughing, and greeting all the cars that pass by her spot in front of the Liberty Income Tax offices. Cars beep their horns. Drivers smile & wave. People take photos with their camera phones. Recently, a dad even stopped with his little boy who insisted on meeting (& dancing with) Danville's living, breathing replica of the Statue of Liberty.

I didn’t dance with Lady Liberty--trust me, it wouldn't have been a pretty sight--but I did stop long enough for a photo op with her. But even more than getting my picture made with her, I'd been wanting to meet her for a long time. It was last year, during tax season, when I wrote a blog in tribute to her. (March 1, 2007 - "Rockin' Lady Liberty.") I did not even know her then, but this happy lady with the strong personal magnetism really inspired me. Especially in the way she loved her work and poured everything into it. And so I decided to share my thoughts about her in one of my Internet postings.

Soon after that blog posted, several readers commented to me that they too had admired Miss Liberty's joyful disposition. Then, I got a call from Carolyn Grace, also a Mount Hermon member. I had not been at the church very long, so I didn’t realize that Carolyn was the owner-operator of the Liberty Income Tax franchise here in Danville. Carolyn runs the enterprise and handles the marketing. Her husband Robert is the tax expert. They also employ several other people.

Carolyn was absolutely delighted with my blog and had shared it with Lady Liberty herself (whose real name is Yolanda, by the way.) The blog was a real encouragement to her as well. But it didn’t stop there. They sent my blog posting on to the corporate offices of Liberty Income Tax, and the folks there loved it, too. And all of this was simply further affirmation to Carolyn Grace and the other folks at Liberty as to what a great marketing tool Lady Liberty is. In fact, she’s the best advertising investment the local Danville office makes. People all over Danville recognize her familiar face and they love her undaunted enthusiasm.

But it's more than simply putting a person in a costume and placing them in a promient place. It's all about the person inside the costume. And Yolanda's persona is what makes the Lady Liberty concept work so amazingly well. (Hmmm. I think there's a sermon in there somewhere, don't you?)

Keep up the good work, Lady Liberty! You're an inspiration to all of us. Long may you wave!

Pastor Danny

Roundball Review

2008-01-28T19:58:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday afternoon, Sandy and I joined our Royal Ambassadors and Challengers on an outing to an Averett University basketball game. Bobby Jones, our church’s Brotherhood Director, had asked me a few days earlier about attending with the boys. I said that I would love to, but that my wife absolutely had to come with me. Even though it was an all-guy outing, I told Bobby there was no way on God's green earth I could go to a basketball game without Sandy. She’s a big-time hoops fan (especially when it comes to her University of Kentucky Wildcats). Her dad ingrained it in her at a young age. In fact, if you cut her veins, she not only growls; she bleeds Kentucky blue. But she loves basketball in general, regardless of who's playing.

Sandy & I met our busload of Mount Hermon guys & chaperones at Averett’s gym. The hometown Cougars, with an 8-8 won-lost record, were taking on the league-leading Shenandoah University Hornets, at 12-3. The game started slow & it looked like it was going to be a long, long night. Shenandoah couldn’t hit their foul shots & the seemingly timid Averett squad couldn’t hit anything but their foul shots! More than halfway through the first half, the score was a surprisingly anemic 16-8, with the hometown team on the low end of the spectrum. It looked doubtful that Averett would even score 20 points by halftime. But then, all of a sudden, it was like somebody waved a magic wand and Averett became more aggressive and started finding the bucket. By the end of the first half—faster than you can say Mike Krzyzewski—the score had reversed dramatically to 34-24, with Averett now in command. Throughout the second half, Averett continued their domination, ultimately coasting to a 77-54 win. What started out as a snoozer wound up as a pretty exciting Averett win.

Anyway, here are my various & sundry observations from the game:

1. Averett has a nice gymnasium for a school its size. Very nice, new and clean. Good location & parking availability.

2. Not a lot of people seem to go to Averett games. The official recorded attendance was 249, but with all the empty seats, and everyone all spread out, the size of the crowd seemed even less than that. I believe you could have taken a short trip down the road and found a larger crowd at the local Wal-Mart.

3. Averett only has 5 cheerleaders. That’s about the smallest cheerleading squad I’ve ever seen. I wondered, is it that hard to make this squad, or did only five students try out?

4. Mr. Cougar—the school mascot—didn’t show up until the second half. Hmm. Maybe he got caught in a traffic jam at Wal-Mart. But, once he arrived, I didn’t miss the chance for a photo-op with him.

5. Averett has at least one enthusiastic group of diehard fans. A very eclectic costumed group of students paraded in just before the opening tip-off. They made the most noise all night. The menagerie included two Roman gladiators brandishing swords—(leftovers from an Easter pageant, perhaps?)—an Irish Leprechaun in a glittery green top hat—(a castoff from St. Patrick’s Day, possibly?),—a half-dressed guy with an old man mask, another guy waving a hastily spray-painted “A.U.” flag, and two guys dressed as giant condiment bottles—Mr. Mustard & Mr. Ketchup. Sounds strange, I know, but you had to be there. At times, especially early on in the game, they were more exciting than what was happening on the basketball floor.

6. Saturday also was BB&T night at the game. I kept wondering why I was seeing so many bank employees in attendance. Several familiar faces from the bank were there, including a number of bankers that attend Mount Hermon. Unfortunately, they didn't bring along any samples from the vault to distribute to the fans.

7. Averett’s tallest player is “only” 6’ 7”. Yes, I know, that’s a whole foot taller than me (!), but that’s still kind of short for a “big man” in college basketball these days.

8. Averett has one international player. A 6’ 6” backup center from the Netherlands, not necessarily a place known for its stellar basketball. Several years ago, however, we took our son Jordan to Indianapolis to his first ever NBA game to see his then-favorite team, the Indiana Pacers, and their center was a big blonde guy from the Netherlands named Rik Smits. He had a gawky 7’4” frame and was known as “The Flying Dutchman.” So, whenever Averett’s only international player made a good play, I referred to him as “The Flying Dutchman,” which caused a few raised eyebrows around me, I'm sure.

9. Our own C. J. Robertson was invited to engage in a halftime shooting competition. C. J. made enough buckets to secure a $10 gift certificate from Ham’s Restaurant. Yea, C. J., that makes you a professional now!

10. Kids like to eat & talk more than watch the ballgame. The concession stand folks were delighted that we brought our group. A few of our younger guys made more runs back & forth from the bleachers to the concession stand than some of the reserve players made up & down the hardwood all night. I don’t know which ran out first, the game clock or the money in our kids’ pockets. Good thing we didn’t go into overtime! But, after the game, for good measure, we stopped at CiCi’s Pizza & ate again.

Well, there you have it. No great spiritual insights to share in this particular blog posting, but—as they always used to say in the last line of my hometown paper’s society column—“…and a good time was had by all.” And so it was.

Pastor Danny

God's Storehouse "Volunteer of the Year"

2008-01-17T17:13:00.000-05:00

This past week, I attended the annual meeting for God’s Storehouse, the local non-denominational Christian ministry that provides groceries for the needy. It was a time for reviewing the past year and celebrating all that God had done in 2007 through this important helping agency. Our church, like many churches in the Danville area, provides regular ongoing support to God’s Storehouse. So this was a great opportunity for me to learn more about the ministry.

One thing I learned is that 2007 was the busiest year in the 20-year history of the ministry. There were more requests for help and more assistance provided than ever before. The needs definitely have been up. But, according to Executive Director Becky Wales, it also was one of the “most blessed years” in the history of the organization. Statistically speaking, 20,284 bags or boxes of food were distributed in 2007. Those allotments of groceries were dispersed among some 16,018 family units (or approximately 1335 families per month). Each bag or box of food stuffs is approximately 20 pounds in weight, which is a pretty nice amount of provisions. And the total bottom line cost to God’s Storehouse in providing this gift is only about $7.50 per box—a figure that includes all of the organization's operating costs exclusive of capital improvements! (That’s a whole lot better than you and I could do shopping at our local grocery stores!)

Of course, one thing that makes all of this possible is the support provided by churches like ours, as well as that provided by other community groups and agencies. But one of the greatest sources of support comes from corporate sponsors, such as Food Lion.

Four Food Lion supermarkets in the Danville area were recognized at the annual meeting for their Herculean efforts on behalf of God’s Storehouse. In 2007, these local Food Lion stores graciously provided some 172,000 pounds of food to the ministry at absolutely no cost! These are food stuffs at or near their official expiration date that—while still good—would normally have been discarded by their distributors. Thus, products that at one time would have tragically wound up in the dumpster—(what a waste!)—now are being redirected to feed hungry people throughout Danville and Pittsylvania County. Praise the Lord!

As I sat there listening to these encouraging reports, I couldn’t help to think back some 20 years ago to when this ministry was being birthed. When I was pastor at Melville Avenue Baptist Church, I remember going to Pittsylvania Baptist Association pastors meetings and hearing Kirk Lashley—then pastor at West Main Baptist Church—talking about the need for this new ministry as well as providing frequent updates on its development. Finally, due to the vigorous efforts of Kirk and other like-minded visionaries, God’s Storehouse came into being in the fall of 1987. And from its very humble beginnings, it has grown into the important ministry that it is today. I don’t think any of us in Danville and Pittsylvania County could imagine life without it. For two decades, God’s Storehouse has met a vital need in our community.

One other thing. What really prompted me to attend the God’s Storehouse meeting was the ministry’s announcement of the winner of their annual “Volunteer of the Year” award. As I knew in advance, that person for 2007 was none other than our own Jolanda Clayton. For nearly 15 years, Jolanda has been a warm ray of sunshine at God’s Storehouse, unselfishly giving of herself in service to others. Jolanda had no idea that she was going to be so honored that night. In fact, her daughter Whitney had to concoct quite an elaborate scheme just to get her mother there. It seems that Jolanda was tired after a hard day of volunteer work and she just didn’t feel up to attending the meeting that night. But at Whitney’s dogged insistence, she finally relented. Even with her husband Buddy in attendance—as well as son Wickham and daughter-in-law Georgina (visiting from England), and granddaughter Catie—it amazingly didn’t dawn on Jolanda that she might possibly be receiving an award. Somehow—thanks to a little bird named Whitney—Jolanda was under the impression that Mount Hermon Baptist Church was being recognized because of our children’s ministry’s efforts in collecting canned goods. So, Jolanda thought she was there for Whitney, our church’s children’s minister. But was she ever surprised when Becky Wales called her name and handed her the plaque!

One of the great joys I have as pastor of Mount Hermon is seeing so many of our members on mission with God throughout this community. We have a great number of members serving in a variety of ministry settings, often flying “under the radar” in unsung roles. None of them do it for personal gain or for individual recognition. They do it simply because they love Jesus and they love people. Although I know that the soft-spoken and gentle-spirited Jolanda is quite embarrassed by all of this recent attention, she certainly is a wonderful example of someone quietly and unselfishly serving others. She has found a special niche and God is definitely using her. May God greatly increase her tribe by calling out more like her!

Pastor Danny

Opening Day of 2008 Virginia General Assembly

2008-01-12T10:31:00.000-05:00

This past week Sandy and I traveled to Richmond to be part of the opening of the new legislative session of the Virginia General Assembly. Mount Hermon member Donald Merricks—a newly elected member of the Virginia House of Delegates—was being sworn into office. Donald and Patti wanted their pastor and wife there for the special event, so Sandy and I were honored to be part of a contingent of Merricks supporters in attendance at the festivities. Most of them were relatives. Some were political associates. The vast majority were from our church.

The day started at 7:00 AM with the 42nd annual Commonwealth Prayer Breakfast at the Greater Richmond Convention Center. Leaders and dignitaries from both political parties were in attendance. Several key figures in state government were on the program itself, such as Governor Timothy M. Kaine and Virginia Supreme Court Justice LeRoy Roundtree Hassell, Sr. I was inspired and encouraged by the authenticity of faith openly verbalized by many of the participants. There were a few attempts at political correctness on the part of some, but a number of speakers were not ashamed to verbalize the name of Jesus or stress the importance of the Bible and prayer to their lives.

In the process of the morning’s festivities, I learned that Speaker of the House Bill Howell leads a weekly Wednesday morning bible study in his office. Attorney General Robert McDonnell heads up a Tuesday morning bible study. I think Donald may plug into Bill Howell’s group. I met Speaker Howell when he was here in Danville campaigning with Donald in October. A very fine Christian gentleman, with a son in the ministry! Throughout the course of the prayer breakfast program, lots of scripture was read, several prayers were offered, and an African American choir called the Celebration Male Chorus provided inspiring music.

The main speaker was Mark Earley, former state attorney general and the unsuccessful Republican candidate for governor in 2001. After his political defeat, Mark Earley embarked on a whole new career as President and CEO of Prison Fellowship Ministries (the ministry that Chuck Colson founded). Earley’s message was seeker friendly, but uncompromised. Acknowledging that some in attendance might merely admire Jesus as a figure from history, while not trusting Him as their personal Lord and Savior, Mark Earley nonetheless faithfully exalted the Person of Christ. Following the message, the governor offered a response, affirming the words of Mark Earley. Then, Lt. Governor Bill Bolling prayed the benediction, quite notably closing his prayer “in Jesus’ Name.”

After the two-hour breakfast, our entourage paid a visit to Donald’s new office in the House office building. Then, we walked across the grounds and toured the Capitol building. Before the opening legislative session began, we gained entrée to the House chamber, where we saw Donald’s new desk, which is located right next to that of Delegate Danny Marshall of Danville.

Shortly before noon, tickets in hand, we made our way upstairs to the House Gallery where we were able to look down at the proceedings on the House floor below. At 12 noon, the House convened, the delegates were called to order, and the chaplain gave the invocation. Quoting from 1st Timothy chapter two, he recalled in his prayer that God’s people are to pray “for kings and for all those in authority” further noting that it was “God’s will that all men might be saved.” Then, before praying for wisdom and guidance in regard to the day’s proceedings, he prayed for the salvation of all the House members! Hallelujah! There was no political correctness in that prayer. Then Donald and the other members of the House all stood and were sworn into office simultaneously. It was indeed a proud and humbling moment for all the delegates and their families.

The House was still in session when Sandy and I left later in the afternoon to return to Danville. Donald still had a long day ahead of him. That evening, he and his House colleagues, as well as the members of the Senate, would all assemble together in the same room for the Governor’s annual State of the Commonwealth Address. I was proud of Donald. All of us were. And our church family needs to take seriously the scriptural admonition to pray for him in this key leadership role…even more so, since he is a member of our body, and hence an extension of our church family.

Wednesday was a great day. I must admit that I’ve always had a real interest in politics. Both my grandfather and my father held local elective office in Kentucky. I, too, as a young adult was involved in politics on a small scale. But at the age of 25, God called me into the pastoral ministry. So our family’s political involvement jumped a generation to my son, who now serves in Washington on the staff of a member of Congress. If, however, I had ever had the opportunity (or the calling) to run for political office, I would have wanted to conduct my campaign in the manner that Donald Merricks did. He did it the right way. The way a Christian should. And we all should be proud of him for that. On the day he publicly kicked-off his candidacy, standing in front of the county courthouse steps in Chatham, Donald—making his first race for public office—said that as a political novice the only two things he had to offer were his name and his reputation. He went on to say that he intended on keeping both intact. From where I stand, he accomplished that goal with flying colors.

Godspeed, Donald! May the Lord continue to guide you in fulfilling the duties of your office just as He did throughout your campaign.

Pastor Danny

Happy Three Kings Day!

2008-01-05T11:25:00.000-05:00

Living in Florida for more than a decade, my wife Sandy and I became quite fascinated with Hispanic culture. One of the things that particularly intrigued us was the way in which our Latino friends observed certain holidays. For example, we learned that historically in many lands of Spanish heritage—Spain, Mexico, Cuba, Puerto Rico and other places—January 6th is about as big a holiday as December 25th. January 6th? That’s the date on the church calendar known as “Epiphany.” In Spanish-speaking countries, it is known as El Día de los Reyes (The Day of the Kings) or Día de los Tres Reyes Magos (The Day of the Three Royal Magi). This day, for people of Spanish heritage (as well as some other cultures) is the true climax of the Christmas season. It is the literal “twelfth day of Christmas” we so often sing about. It is the day (supposedly) when the wise men, with gifts in tow, finally completed their long journey to see baby Jesus, having been guided by a magnificent star in the heavens above. (See Matthew chapter 2).

Now, of course, no one knows for sure how long it took the wise men to reach Jesus. It could be anywhere from a few days up to two years. We base that on the edict of King Herod to kill all baby boys, ages two and under, living in and around Bethlehem, the place where the Messiah was to be born. Herod based his evil order on the timing of the appearance of the star as related to him by the wise men. We also know, according to the Bible, that when the wise men reached their destination, they saw a “child” in a “house”, rather than a newborn babe in a manger or stable. So, contrary to our typical coffee table arrangements of the nativity, the wise men were not there on the night of Christ’s birth. To be historically accurate, it might be better to place those Magi figurines on another table somewhere across the room.

Over the centuries, a number of legends or assumptions have arisen regarding the wise men. For example, we don’t know that there were literally three. We know only that there were three gifts. And we have no clear evidence that they were actually kings, although we can assume with some certainty that they were men of financial means. And we also can safely conclude that they were learned men with a keen interest in stargazing. The Bible makes no mention of their names, although somewhere along the way they acquired the unusual monikers Gaspar (or Caspar, as in the friendly ghost), Melchior and Balthazar. (Definitely not among the most popular baby names for 2007.) Other than the Bible telling us that they came from the east, we don’t know anything about their land(s) of origin, although some have speculated that they came from Persia (modern-day Iran). Others see them as royalty representing the 3 known continents at the time of Christ—Europe, Africa and Asia—and even arriving by 3 distinctive modes of transportation—horse, camel and elephant! (Wow, I’ve never seen a nativity scene with an elephant!) Of course the Bible doesn’t tell us how the wise men traveled. Camelback has always been a pretty safe assumption for that time and locale. I’m fairly confident, at least, that it wasn’t by Greyhound or the Orient Express. Obviously, people like to read between the lines and fill in the gaps. And many people tend to have very interesting imaginations.

Now, back to where I started—the traditional Hispanic observance of 3 Kings Day on January 6th. This is the day that children receive their gifts. The gifts are delivered by the wise men rather than Santa Claus. In preparation, the night before, children—instead of hanging up stockings—place their shoes in a prominent place before they go to bed. In Mexico, children traditionally leave their shoes by the family nativity scene or by their beds. Often, the shoes are filled with hay for the camels. In Spain, the shoes are polished in preparation for the kings’ visit. Food is left for the kings as well as for their camels. In Puerto Rico, the children fill a box with grass or hay for the camels and place it underneath their bed.

I kind of like this idea of the 3 wise men, rather than Santa Claus, delivering presents. Of course the downside is that you have to wait 12 more days before you receive your gifts, which could be problematic if you’re a really impatient person.

I also like the idea of Christmas extending over a period of 12 days. Now, of course, we in North America tend to celebrate Christmas in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Unfortunately, a lot of that has to do not so much with our religious observance of Advent, but rather our excessive commercialization of Christmas (i.e., the ever-expanding Christmas shopping season, which once began after Thanksgiving, but now in many instances starts immediately after Halloween!) But once we finally get to the actual day celebrating the birth of Christ, it just all seems to end so abruptly (except for after-Christmas sales and gift returns!)

Speaking of commercialization, I recently read that some retailers in the United States, located in regions with a sizeable Hispanic population, have been test-marketing a Three Kings Day emphasis in their stores the past couple of years. Traveling Magi have been sighted in Houston and El Paso-area Wal-Marts. One mall in Florida I know of even replaces its Santa with the 3 Wise Men after December 25th. I suppose these merchants see all of this as a new way to increase their profits by extending the Christmas shopping season for 2 more weeks!

Ironically, in Spain, as well as with many of our Latin American neighbors to the south, the 3 Kings tradition has been losing ground in recent years. This is because of our ever-shrinking world and the ever-increasing exportation of American culture to other lands. Many people of other cultures welcome this encroachment, because they want to be like us, and that includes celebrating Christmas the way we do (i.e., an increased emphasis on shopping and Santa Claus).

Anyway, I personally think this whole 3 Kings Day thing is kind of neat. And to me it would be sad to see this old tradition go by the wayside. So, although I’ve never done it before, I think I’ll do my part to keep it alive by putting some grass or hay in my shoes tonight. I know Sandy might not like the idea of a bunch of camels traipsing through our house while we sleep, but I think it’s a lot better than running the risk of reindeer hooves putting a hole through our roof.

Buenos Noches!

Pastor Danny

Highlights of 2007

2007-12-28T08:32:00.000-05:00

It's that time of the year when virtually every major media outlet in the world of news, entertainment & sports publishes their annual “Best of…”, “Top Stories” or “Year in Review” lists. In a tip of the hat to that grand old tradition, I’ve decided to compile & share my own personal list of ministry highlights for the past year at Mount Hermon Baptist Church. Here goes!

1. Lottie Moon Christmas Offering for International Missions. Mount Hermon has a long and inspiring history of missions giving. That history reached new heights this past year. After closing out 2006 with a record-setting $70,000 Lottie Moon offering, we set out to do it again in 2007. As I write these words, we’ve already exceeded $60,000 in receipts with one more Sunday remaining in 2007. That means that in the past 13 months, Mount Hermon has given more than $130,000 to support the vital work of the more than 5,000 IMB missionaries serving around the globe! Hallelujah!

2. Mission Trip to Cambodia. 2007 was also a year for greater hands-on involvement in missions. In May, a team of 6 Mount Hermon members responded to an urgent plea for help from one of our IMB missionaries in Cambodia. On short notice, our team traveled across the Pacific to work with missionary kids while their parents were involved in an important annual spiritual retreat. Traveling to Southeast Asia was by far the most far-reaching mission trip our church had ever taken. And this was the first step in a continuing hands-on ministry relationship with our friends in Cambodia. In fact, we'll be taking another team to Cambodia in May 2008.

3. Mission Trip to Greece. In July, 46 Mount Hermon youth & adults took part in the most far-reaching youth mission trip in our church’s history. Working in conjunction with the SBC's International World Changers, our group was involved in a wide variety of ministry projects in the historic city of Thessaloniki, following in the footsteps of the Apostle Paul, who planted a church there in the 1st Century AD. Our young people made a significant impact in the ancient city, which today has a metropolitan area population of over one million. Much noteriety was given to a major beach cleanup project involving several of our people. Team members were given special recognition by the mayor, interviewed & photographed by a local newspaper, and filmed on location by a local television crew, in each case faithfully giving glory to Jesus Christ.

4. Mission Trip to Baltimore. Another contingent of youth & adults traveled up to Baltimore, Maryland around the 4th of July to work with a new church plant as part of our North American Mission Board’s PowerPlant ministry. This was the second successive year we had undertaken an endeavor like this, as Mount Hermon youth also participated in a PowerPlant project in Richmond in 2006. (By the way, in 2008 our youth will be involved in hands-on mission work in New Orleans, as that city continues to rebuild from the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.)

5. Calling of Whitney Clarke. In October, Whitney Clarke became our new Minister of Preschool & Children. A product of Mount Hermon, Whitney returned to our community after earning a seminary degree in Texas, marrying, and living overseas for a time in Japan. Whitney has been a wonderful addition to our church staff. She and her husband Randall, the Chaplain at nearby Hargrave Military Academy, and their daughter Catie are a real blessing to us. I personally look forward to working with her for years to come.

6. Calling of Josh Mark. In November, Joshua P. Mark was called as our new Minister of Youth & Young Adults. He officially begins his duties with us January 1, 2008. Born in Canada, Josh grew up in Bradenton, Florida. After graduating from college, serving with a church in British Columbia, and attending seminary in the Pacific Northwest, Josh came back to Bradenton and served with in a church there. He and his bride Elisabeth “E.B.” will soon be in Danville. I look forward to their arrival and I am excited about their future ministry with us.

7. Sanctuary Renovation/ Organ Installation. Just in time for the Christmas season, our new Rodgers organ was delivered, the spacious, newly remodeled stage area was completed, and new lighting was installed. The changes added a considerable amount of space to the platform, expanding the potential for our choir, orchestra, creative arts team, and drama ministries. The renovations also gave the front of the worship center a whole new look with a friendlier, more open feel. I’m excited about the possibilities for the future.

8. Marriage Conference Weekend. In September, we held our first annual ministry event to strengthen marriages. Several married couples (and couples preparing for marriage) were blessed by the teaching ministry of Murrill & Deborah Boitnott. It was truly a highlight of the year. From now on, every other year, we will host an event like this at Mount Hermon. In alternating years, we will lead groups from our church to off-site marriage enrichment retreats. In October 2008, for example, Sandy & I plan to take a large Mount Hermon contingent to Ridgecrest, North Carolina for a Festival of Marriage weekend. Then, in 2009, we’ll bring a special guest conference speaker on site once again.

9. "Discover Mount Hermon". This newly-developed seminar for seekers and prospective members debuted this year. Led by yours truly (with assistance from the New Member Team) this special quarterly luncheon event provides an opportunity for people to meet the pastor, learn more about our church—who we are, what we believe, how we function, etc.—and be presented with the Gospel. This not only helps clear up many questions in the attendees’ minds, but it also has already proven to be an effective, non-threatening “ice-breaker” that motivates people right then and there to make a personal commitment to join the church and/or follow Christ.

10. Choir Christmas CD. Our adult choir worked very hard this year recording a beautiful new CD entitled, “The Joy of Christmas.” Our choir has done CDs in the past, all of which have been well received. This was their first ever seasonal recording, however. The new music was presented live to our congregation & community on December 8th & 9th. Subsequent sales of the CDs were brisk throughout December, with many people wanting to share them as Christmas gifts. Most importantly, as in the past, these CDs are an extension of the worship ministry of our church by which we are able to reach out and touch others.

Wow! A lot of things happened in 2007. Of course, there are countless immeasurables & intangibles that you cannot easily compile in a list like this. For example, broken hearts mended, wounds healed, relationships restored, sins forgiven, joy reclaimed, freedom achieved, encouragement extended, devotion deepened, growth experienced, etc. You get the picture. But I certainly thank God for all of those wonderful victories as well!

Yes, it's truly been a great year at Mount Hermon. I just can't wait for 2008!

Pastor Danny

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2007-12-24T00:03:00.000-05:00

Feliz Navidad (Spanish)

Joyeux Noel (French)

Buon Natale (Italian)

Mele Kalikimaka (Hawaiian)

Heri ya Krismasi (Swahili)

Froehliche Weihnachten (German)

Vrolijk Kerstfeest (Dutch)

Καλά Χριστούγεννα (Greek)

Nollaig Shona Duit
(Irish Gaelic)

圣诞快乐 (Chinese)

С Рождеством (Russian)

God Jule (Norwegian)

Feliz Natal (Portuguese)

عيد ميلاد سعيد (Arabic)

In as many ways as we can possibly say it, Sandy & I want to wish you a most meaningful celebration of the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ.

As people the world over pause this week to celebrate our Savior's birth, our prayer for you is that you might experience a fresh touch from God in your life.

May the Lord bless you this Christmas and always.

PASTOR DANNY

"And she shall bring forth a Son, and thou shalt call His name JESUS: for He shall save His people from their sins."

Matthew 1:21

Favorite Christmas Carols

2007-12-20T09:23:00.000-05:00

This past Wednesday was time for our annual churchwide Christmas caroling expedition. After dinner, we divided into groups & visited various shut-ins & nursing homes from Danville to Dry Fork. It was a fun time of ministry & fellowship. I believe that the singers as well as the listeners were blessed. Afterward, we all warmed up to some hot chocolate in the church fellowship hall. This whole experience inspired me to give thought to my own favorite Christmas songs. Although it’s hard to narrow down the list, here’s my personal Top Ten.

1. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. My absolute favorite Christmas song. It’s really a song of Advent, a song of yearning for the Messiah to come and “ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here.” This ancient song has a strong Jewish feel, a haunting melody, and compelling words of spiritual desire. I love it.

2. Sweet Little Jesus Boy. An old Negro Spiritual that expresses a heartfelt sense of our human struggle and our deep need for Jesus. It’s a beautiful, soulful prayer addressed directly to the Lord. Near the end, it poignantly offers Him an apology for the world’s rejection & mistreatment of Him: “Please, sir, forgive us, Lord, we didn’t know ‘twas you.”

3. Mary’s Boy Child. The newest (1956) song on my list. A joyous, Caribbean-flavored tune about the birth of Christ. Harry Belafonte first recorded it, and then Mahalia Jackson. I love it. The song's chorus—“And man will live forever more because of Christmas Day”—does not mean that everyone will automatically go to Heaven just because Christ was born. It means that if Christ had never come to earth in human flesh, there would have been no cross, no resurrection, and thus no hope of forgiveness, redemption & eternal life. Jesus' sacrificial death for our sins is our only hope of ever attaining Heaven. But even then, it's not automatic. There's a personal response of faith that each of us must make.

4. O Come, All Ye Faithful. One of the classics. In my mind, I think of it (along with Silent Night and Joy to the World) as one of the “Big 3” Christmas carols. All three are special, but I personally prefer this one to the other two. It’s a great worship song. The chorus—“O come, let us adore Him”—is a wonderful admonition to all of us, at any season of the year. In fact, many churches today sing the chorus (and variations of it) at various times other than Christmas.

5. Good King Wenceslas. It’s technically not a Christmas carol, although it’s always considered as such. It tells of a king who goes out to give alms to the poor on St. Stephen’s Day (December 26th, the day after Christmas.) The weather is cold and the snow is deep. The king’s page, who accompanies him on the journey, reaches a point where he feels he cannot go on. But with the assistance of the king, the page survives. The song ends with this phrase, “Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.” All in all, the lyrics of the whole song are rather strange, but I love this tune. It plays in my head every Christmas.

6. Coventry Carol. An old English carol dating from the 16th Century. It has a dark, somber, reflective tone. The words are heavy—referring to Herod’s edict to slay all of the young infants born around the time of baby Jesus—and the melody is quite haunting. But it really touches my heart. It has a strange beauty to it.

7. Beautiful Star of Bethlehem. This old bluegrass/ country song has a strong mountain flavor to it. In fact, it’s quite popular in the mountains of Appalachia, the place of my heritage. I love the feel and message of this song. And you can’t do it justice vocally without the strumming sound of a good old acoustic guitar in the background.

8. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. There are some powerful lyrics in this old carol, most notably, “Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day, to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray.” Whenever I hear a secular recording artist sing this song, I always wonder if they are grasping the true meaning of what they are singing.

9. O Holy Night. A beautiful song. Its great lyrics point to the world’s desperate need and longing for a Savior—“Long lay the world in sin and error pining”—as well as our need to respond to Him in worship—“Fall on your knees!”

10. We Three Kings. A song about the journey of the wise men. When you hear it, don’t you just feel like you’re riding on a camel? OK, we don’t know that these men were actually kings and we don’t know that there were actually three of them in number, but it’s a beautiful song nonetheless. The verses describe each of the three gifts—gold, frankincense & myrrh—and how they relate to Jesus’ royalty, deity and death. The final verse refers to Him as “King and God and Sacrifice.”

Well, there you have it. I’m sure a few of the songs on my list may have surprised you. But they’re truly my favorites, although I like many others as well. I also enjoy a few secular songs of the season, but I won’t delve into those now. I want to keep the main thing the main thing. After all, Jesus IS the reason for the season. By the way, what are YOUR favorite Christmas songs (and why)?

Pastor Danny

Favorite Christmas Movies

2007-12-15T13:28:00.001-05:00

Earlier this month, the Believers Sunday School Class had their annual Christmas party at our home. One of the most anticipated highlights of this class’s holiday get-together is the after-dinner game planned each year by class member Michael White. A dermatologist by day, Mike’s greatest joy seems to be coming up with these unusual games. This year’s contest was a Christmas trivia game based on the movie A Christmas Story. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen that film, but Mike thinks it’s the greatest Christmas movie ever made. And he’s not alone. Oddly enough, there are quite a few other people that feel the same way. My youth minister at my former church was one of them. He absolutely loved this film!

The 1983 comedy stars veteran actor Darren McGavin in the role of the father. The setting for the story is a 1940s Indiana town. Nine-year-old Ralphie Parker wants only one thing for Christmas—“an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model BB rifle with a compass in the stock.” He sets out to convince the world this is the perfect gift. But along the way, he runs into opposition from his parents, his teacher, and even Santa Claus, all of whom tell Ralphie, “No, you’ll shoot your eye out.” The whole movie is filled with all kinds of childhood hijinks and misadventures, including a memorable scene in which a kid, on a dare, gets his tongue frozen to a flagpole.

Every year, one of the cable television channels runs A Christmas Story non-stop for 24 hours on Christmas Day. A few years ago, during one of these exhaustive marathons, I forced myself to finally watch it, because I had heard so many people talk about it. Honestly, it’s a dumb, unfunny movie to me, but “to each, their own,” I suppose.

When the Christmas party trivia match-up was over the other night, the members of the winning team—much to their surprise—were awarded Daisy “Red Ryder” BB guns through the generosity of Michael White. A special gift also was presented to the class teacher, David Sloan—a full-size replica of the ugly tabletop “leg” lamp that is prominently featured in the movie. Perhaps David will display the lovely item in the waiting area at his eye care clinic!

All of this focus on A Christmas Story got me to thinking about my own favorite Christmas movies. Here’s my personal Top Five:

1. Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) starring Jimmy Stewart. A great story with thought-provoking spiritual overtones. What would the world be like if you had never been born? (i.e., Are you making a difference with your life?) What really makes one rich in life? Truly, it’s not money, but love, friendship, caring, and servanthood. Those are the values that will last. There are so many heartwarming scenes in this film that I can’t even begin to list them. The real tearjerker for me is when a desperate George Bailey is standing on the bridge in the falling snow, tearfully praying to God to give him his life back, “I want to live again! I want to live again! Please, God, let me live again!” That always puts a lump in my throat.

2. The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945) starring Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman. I love the extended sequence in which a group of kids at the Catholic school rehearse their rough-around-the-edges Christmas pageant. That’s a real classic. I also love to hear Father O’Malley singing with the nuns around the piano. The tension between Father O’Malley and Sister Mary Benedict throughout the film is a poignant reminder that sometimes in life Christians of different perspectives can experience disagreement and misunderstandings, something we all have to guard against. Their resolution of this conflict at the very end of the film is heartrending. One of my favorite characters is the successful but troubled businessman Mr. Bogardus played by Henry Travers. I love his “conversion experience” in the film. By the way, this same actor also appeared as the angel Clarence in It’s a Wonderful Life. Just think. Two of the greatest Christmas movies of all-time and this wonderful British character actor played an important supporting role in each of them. (By the way, he’s also great in the Academy Award-winning film Mrs. Miniver.)

3. The Bishop’s Wife (1947) / The Preacher’s Wife (1996). The original starred Cary Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven. The remake featured an all-African American cast starring Denzel Washington, Whitney Houston and Courtney B. Vance. The remake also includes a dynamite soundtrack featuring Whitney’s dynamic voice. I like both of these films, but I think I may like the newer one a little better. I love the ending of both, when the tired & distracted pastor (Niven/ Vance) with the help of an angel (Grant/ Washington) suddenly recovers his vision, remembering what it’s all about. This becomes quite evident when he steps into the pulpit revived & refocused.

4. A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), the classic animated television special based on Charles M. Schulz’s Peanuts comic strip. As a kid I watched this show the night it premiered on network television. The extended monologue by little Linus in which he recites (in King James English) the entire birth narrative as recorded in Luke chapter 2 is just absolutely priceless. I also love the simplistic animation and acting, as well as the smooth jazz piano soundtrack. The look as well as the message of the film is simplicity. Less is more. I.e., when you’ve got Jesus that’s all that matters. The most delightful transformation of this film is when the pitiful little tree nobody wants suddenly emerges beautifully decorated. To me, that’s a picture of what Christ does for us.

5. The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (1966), the classic animated television special based on the popular Dr. Seuss book and featuring the voice of Boris Karloff. Yes, I saw this when it premiered also. (I didn’t care for the newer live-action, full-length, feature film version starring Jim Carrey. It just doesn’t compare.) In the original animated work, I love the evil Grinch’s powerful “conversion experience,” during which the green meanie’s miniscule heart multiplies several times in size and the old Grincheroo does a complete one-eighty from heel to hero, akin to the Apostle Paul’s turnabout on the Damascus Road. That climactic scene always puts a warm feeling in my own heart.

HONORABLE MENTION # 1: Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (1984). There are several film versions of this classic tale, but I like this George C. Scott version best of all. It’s another “conversion” story, as the heartless and unlikable Ebeneezer Scrooge—the pre-Grinch—does a complete turnabout with the help of some ghostly visitors. Interestingly, this is my son’s very favorite Christmas film, and has been since the time it premiered (when he was but a tiny preschooler). As just a little guy, he couldn’t wait to watch this film each year, and he would be mesmerized by it, watching it by himself even without Sandy or me present. For that reason alone, I just had to include this classic on my list.

HONORABLE MENTION # 2: You’ll notice that my list above does not have a “religious” film on it. Frankly, while there have been numerous films depicting the life of Jesus in total, there really had not been a notable film focusing solely on the events surrounding His birth. That is, until last year. The Nativity Story (2006) was a pleasant surprise to me. More than any other film I’ve ever seen, I think it gave a fairly realistic portrayal of Mary and Joseph and the challenges they faced. It was reverent, but not over the top in its depiction of the couple. Mary and Joseph come across as believable. Not as stained-glass halo-wearing images, but as real flesh-and-blood people. I’ve only seen this movie one time, and that was a year ago when it was first released to theaters. Perhaps if I get to watch it some more, it will move up on my list.

So there you have it. My top Christmas movies. I suppose the reason I like these in particular is that they’re all so heartwarming and uplifting. There’s an underlying theme of hope and redemption that can be traced through each one. If you—or your kids—have somehow never seen one or more of these, I encourage you get the DVDs, pop some popcorn, and settle down on the sofa for a special evening of enjoyable holiday entertainment.

Pastor Danny

White House Christmas Tour

2007-12-11T14:25:00.000-05:00

Recently, I received a telephone call from Capitol Hill in Washington DC. No, it wasn’t the Speaker of the House calling for advice. It was my son Jordan.

“Dad, I can get you and Mom into a White House tour next Wednesday morning at 7:30 AM, but I need to know right away if you can do it.”

My dream from the time I was a small boy was to someday go to the White House, either by electoral vote or as a tourist. Having reached the age of 50, I had come to realize that the latter approach was now my only viable option for attaining my childhood goal.

I came close to getting to the White House fifteen years ago. In 1992, during the original Bush Administration, I was part of a group of Southern Baptist ministers attending a public affairs conference in D.C. We were invited to a White House briefing with then-Secretary of Housing and Urban Development (and later VP candidate) Jack Kemp. But it was held in the adjacent Old Executive Office Building rather than the White House itself. Close, but no cigar.

But now, my son was opening the door for me to finally fulfill my dream. A lifelong student of presidential history, as well as a history and political science major in college, I was delighted that this long-awaited opportunity was finally presenting itself.

“Yes,” I replied. “We’ll be there. Tell W. & Laura & the kids that we’re coming.”

Faster than you can say “George Stephanopoulos” I called Sandy at home and told her the good news. Sandy had visited the White House once before, back during the Carter Administration when she was an 18-year-old high school student on her senior trip. It was a much different world back then. Nowadays—in our Post 9-11 culture—getting into the White House is about as easy as getting a baseball player to admit that he’s used steroids. You have to go through your local Congressman, applying far in advance, and even then, it’s far from a sure thing. Jordan, a Congressional aide, had been trying for two years to get us in.

When we got to the White House early that morning, it was a cold day and the snow was starting to fall. Inside, the mansion was beautifully decorated for Christmas. Gold had been chosen as the predominant color for this year’s decor. And the theme of this year’s Christmas celebration was a salute to our national parks. Artisans from each of the 50 states had painted original designs and images on clear glass ornaments in commemoration of our various national parks and historic sites. These colorful ornaments were proudly displayed on the large tree in the circular Blue Room. During our 30-minute self-guided, self-paced walk through the White House’s first floor, we also passed through the East Room, the Green Room, the Red Room, the State Dining Room, the Cross Hall, and Entrance Hall. Along the way, Sandy, never at a loss for words, joked with several Secret Service agents. Fortunately, she didn’t create enough of a scene to bring us under suspicion.

I kept hoping we’d bump into George. I envisioned him sitting there next to the tree in a recliner, with his feet up, wearing a cardigan sweater, sipping his hot cocoa, reading the morning newspaper. But alas, there was no such encounter. No sign of any members of the First Family, as a matter of fact. Not even Barney, the family dog.

By the time we exited the White House and began making our way up Pennsylvania Avenue, the snow was really coming down. Before the day was over, some 3 inches or more would fall in the capital city. Not having experienced a real snowfall in more than a dozen years, Sandy and I relished our windy walk all the way to Capitol Hill—about a mile and half from the White House. By the time we reached our son’s office, we looked like survivors of the recent cruise ship that sank in Antarctica. Snow and ice was all over us. After grabbing some lunch and thawing out for a bit, we took a cab over to the National Cathedral. The last and only time we had visited that magnificent structure was almost 15 years earlier. This time, since tourist traffic was slow, one of the guides gave us an hour-long private tour, sharing with us many interesting facts we’d never heard before, as well as reminding us of some we’d forgotten.

Afterward, we made our way back to Capitol Hill to be part of the Capitol Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony. This year’s tree—a 55-foot fir—was shipped down from the state of Vermont. Numerous Vermonters had made their way south for the special occasion. As the sun set, the wind picked up and the snow seemed to intensify. I can tell you that there was definitely no global warming going on in Washington that night! As we stood there shivering, the entire Vermont Congressional delegation (only 3 people—2 U.S. Senators and one U.S. Representative) took turns speaking proudly of their home state’s great gift to the nation. One the senators even had laryngitis, but that didn’t deter him from offering his own ornate oratorical observations on the magnificence of the tree and the heroic efforts of all that had been involved in any way in its 54-year life span, from planting to cultivating, to cutting to transporting, to erecting to decorating. Before the ceremony was all said and done, I think every citizen of the state of Vermont had a part on the program, with the notable exception of Howard Dean. (I certainly would have recognized his unique scream anywhere.) We were so glad when the Speaker of the House finally pushed the button that lit the tree. Interestingly, as soon as she did so, the entire crowd—wet and cold—immediately dispersed. Again, Sandy and I made our way back to Jordan’s office, looking by now like Nanook of the North after a robust day of subzero seal hunting.

The next day, we drove back to Danville. (Interestingly, unknown to us at the time, another Mount Hermon couple—E. B. and Ramona Cassada—were touring the White House that very morning, just 24 hours after we did. By the way, they didn’t get to see the president either.) Scheduled for that Thursday evening was the lighting of the National Christmas Tree on the White House lawn, a much bigger event than the one we had observed at the Capitol the night before. I would like to have stayed, but since George W. didn’t even bother to come down and greet me on my first trip to his home, I decided that I wouldn’t go back to help him with his Christmas tree lights. As far as I was concerned, he was on his own on that one. Besides, Sandy and I didn’t want to spend yet another night freezing out in the cold wind waiting for more lights to come on. We’d rather be all warm and toasty over at Dick Cheney’s place, sitting by the fire and helping him clean his hunting rifles.

Pastor Danny

Don't Trust This Compass for Direction

2007-12-07T15:24:00.000-05:00

Throughout the years, you’ve probably heard stories about malicious adults placing harmful substances in Halloween trick or treat candy so as to hurt unsuspecting children. We recoil at the thought of someone being so devious and cruel. And yet, sometimes, the most harmful things that can be foisted upon innocent children are not those items they can ingest orally but the ones they can absorb mentally and spiritually.

Such is the case with a new major motion picture being released today. “The Golden Compass” looks like an ideal holiday movie for kids. It has the look and feel of J.R.R Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy and C.S. Lewis’ “The Chronicles of Narnia” series, both of which are allegorical fantasies with strong spiritual underpinnings. “The Golden Compass” also has an underlying spiritual theme, but not in the way you might imagine.

Now before I proceed, let me say that I seldom raise concerns about movies, maybe once every few years, and only when I feel such a pastoral response is absolutely needful. And while I’m not trying to lead any kind of crusade against “The Golden Compass” or put a guilt-trip on anyone that’s already seen it, I feel it is incumbent upon me as a pastor to give the parents in my church a heads-up about some of the concerns involving this seemingly wholesome holiday film.

“The Golden Compass” is based on the first book in a popular 3-volume series by British author Philip Pullman. An avowed atheist, Pullman writes in the genre of C.S. Lewis, but with a very different agenda. His trilogy has been referred to as the “anti-Narnia,” reflecting his deep personal disdain for Lewis’ Christian-flavored fantasies. In a 2001 interview with The Washington Post, Pullman declared, “I’m trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief.” Two years later, he told another interviewer, “My books are about killing God.” Pullman has been more toned down in recent interviews, however, perhaps because this movie adaptation of his first book needs to be broadly successful if the final two books are to make it to the big screen.

Launched in 1995, Pullman’s books—following in the wake of the successful Harry Potter series—have been extremely popular across the Atlantic, winning several awards in the United Kingdom. Here in the United States, Al Roker of NBC's Today Show recently made “The Golden Compass” part of his children's book club. The book also is reportedly being sold nationwide in schools through Scholastic, which claims it is appropriate for grades four and up. The story itself focuses on a 12-year-old girl and her daemon (pronounced "demon"), which appears in the form of a talking animal. Everyone in her world, in fact, has a daemon in the form of a talking animal. Early in the story her young friend is kidnapped, and she sets out to find him. What follows is an unfolding adventure in which the two of them help rescue the world from institutional Christianity, learning along the way that sin is the key to “wisdom” and that saving the universe depends on killing the God of the Bible. Whoa!!!

Supposedly, most of the anti-religious elements of Pullman’s trilogy are found not in his first book but in the latter two. In addition, the film version of “The Golden Compass” tones down some of the more blatant anti-Christian elements of the story. The director admits that this was intentional in order to make the film more palatable for the general public, thus enhancing its potential for financial success “so that we have a solid foundation on which to deliver a faithful, more literal adaptation of the second and third books.”'

While it’s likely that a good many moviegoers could go and watch this film as a pure fantasy-adventure without grasping its deeper spiritual agenda, the biggest concern I have is how this film potentially could entice countless numbers of children to read the books, which I believe would be to their detriment.

If you’re interested in finding out more about this so you can make your own determination, here are a few suggested website links:

Focus on the Family’s movie review:

http://www.pluggedinonline.com/movies/movies/a0003536.cfm

Baptist Press articles:
http://www.bpnews.net/BPnews.asp?ID=26849
and http://www.bpnews.net/BPFirstPerson.asp?ID=26986

Dr. Albert Mohler, President of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, commentary:
http://www.albertmohler.com/blog_read.php?id=1065

Pastor Danny

Merry…Uh…?

2007-12-03T00:09:00.000-05:00

Perhaps you’ve recently heard about the city of Fort Collins, Colorado, which earlier this year formed a Holiday Display Task Force to review the municipality’s longstanding policy regarding outdoor holiday displays on public property. As the Task Force set out to do its work, it acknowledged that Fort Collins has grown over the years to become a “dynamic, culturally diverse community” that is now “home to people of many religious and cultural beliefs and traditions, including Christian, Jew, Hindu, Baha’i, Buddhist, Wiccan, atheist and Muslim, among others.” The Task Force went on to note that “city residents celebrate a variety of winter holidays, such as Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, Birth of Bahu’u’llah, Bhodi Day, the Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa and more.” Furthermore, in an effort to make all residents feel “valued, welcomed and included”, the group sought to come up with a plan that would unite all residents in a generic wintertime seasonal celebration that would be inclusive to all. So, here (in part) is what they came up with. First, they advocated the “decreased use of decorated greenery that carries connotations of particular holidays; for instance, removing red ribbons from wreaths and removing stars and ornaments from trees.” Then, they recommended that the exteriors of city buildings be decorated with “white (rather than colored) lights, secular winter symbols not associated with any particular holiday (snowflakes, icicles, etc.), and unadorned garlands of greenery (not decorated with ribbons or ornaments).” The group went on to say that “it is important to have an environment that communicates a welcoming message to all who enter these common areas, regardless of the holidays they may or may not celebrate.”

Bah! Humbug! Who was on that Task Force? Grinch and Scrooge? How about Lenin and Marx? Sounds like somebody had an agenda. Without coming right out and saying it, what they were clearly trying to do--under the guise of inclusiveness and tolerance--was eradicate every vestige of Christmas from the public square. Not content with taking Christ out of Christmas (i.e., secularizing a holy day for Christians) they were seeking to wipe out the holiday altogether, even though reportedly an overwhelming majority of the city’s residents preferred to maintain the traditional focus on Christmas.

Fortunately, common sense ultimately prevailed. The Fort Collins City Council, under heavy public pressure and intense media attention, soundly rejected the recommendations of the Task Force by a vote of 6 to 1. So, Christmas is still safe in Fort Collins…at least for now. But reading stuff like this just makes you wonder where our country is headed. Just think what would have happened had Fort Collins chosen to adopt this anti-Christmas (and, in essence, anti-Christianity) policy. Just think what it would be like if every municipality in the nation chose to ban all public displays of Christmas. Kind of scary, isn’t it?

There was another public official that long ago sought to wipe out Christmas. His name was King Herod. He was the original Grinch. When he first received news of the birth of the Christ child, he felt threatened and responded with hostility. Unlike those wise men who joyfully sought to worship Bethlehem’s babe, Herod was filled with nothing but utter distain for the newborn king. In his mind, the birth of Jesus was not something to celebrate. Rather, it was something to obliterate. So Herod mobilized the powers of government to wipe out every trace of this little king ever having been born. He sent out his murderous minions on a mission of mass extermination. In a powerful precursor to the Holocaust, countless innocent infants were slaughtered…but not the One they were after. By God’s grace, Jesus survived…and so did His mission of redemption to a lost and dying world.

Since the time of Christ, many secularists have tried to do away with Christmas. It’s nothing new. Many Communist countries —being officially atheistic— have long prohibited their citizens from acknowledging and celebrating the birth of Jesus. But I never dreamed I would see a movement like this gaining traction in the United States of America, of all places. It’s just another example of political correctness run amuck. When will thinking people wake up and smell the coffee, recognizing how utterly absurd all of this p.c. nonsense really is?

Anyway, while the ultimate news out of Fort Collins wound up being positive, this whole bizarre episode just makes me thankful that I live in a place like Danville, Virginia.

Pastor Danny