Last winter I was killing time at Baton Rouge Airport before heading home. The airport is designed with a large central glass dome and some trees in the middle of the atrium. The early morning rush was over and the airport was surprisingly quiet. I heard something that caught my attention. Chirping. Not some bozo on a cell phone. Actual bird chirping. I looked up and saw what looked like a couple of sparrows flitting about near the top of the atrium. Somehow these wild birds had found their way inside the airport terminal. I watched them for awhile and I thought about how cold it was outside that day. I reflected on how “lucky” those birds were to be in a climate controlled atrium and not have to brave the elements. They could pick amongst the left over food of the travelers. Airport food might be wretched for humans but it was a feast for foragers. What a life! And then it hit me. That is what I
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During Easter week USA Today featured a provocatively titled piece. The front page headline asked the question: “Is Sin Dead?” A famous television preacher was asked by CNN’s Larry King if he used the word sinner. I don’t use the preacher’s name because I get bombarded by his fans who ignore my point entirely. “I never thought about (using the word ‘sinners’), but I probably don’t,” The upbeat preacher answered. “Most people already know what they’re doing wrong. When I get them to church, I want to tell them that you can change.” But how can you be cured if you don’t know the disease? I understand that many of us (present company included) were damaged by a legalistic and graceless upbringing. But that is a theology problem. The truth remains the same. The late Howard Cosell signature phrase was “telling it like it is”. Our culture seems increasingly less capable of calling simple concepts by their name and it carries over to the church. Our politically
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(This is a no time to write day. Please accept this gently read post from the archives.) Warning: The following post may (or, sadly, may not) contain humor. This blog was produced in a program where irony and satire are processed. May contain sarcasm fragments. If you are allergic to humor or attempts at humor please avoid this product.  A potentially incendiary topic came up again as I rummaged through the Healthy Living section of the Dallas Morning News. I had ventured onto the thin ice of male and female brain differences in an earlier post. Having survived that article I am demonstrating the lack of male brain development by going there again. My bride and her female co-conspirators often forward e-mails that point out the unique qualities of men. For example… Question: What is the difference between men and government bonds?Answer: Government bonds will mature. My only defense is that the grey matter of the average male truly is different. Some of the key findings include that, on
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Today is a milestone for the humble ramblings. This is post number 500 in the brief history of this site. A lot has happened in the two and a half years that I have been blogging. Who knew that I would be publicly chronically a very personal journey that Joni and I traveled with her breast cancer? Yet your encouragement, prayers and care were a great help. Many of you have been blessed by her faithfullness and courage. I have lost several dear friends in the brief amount of time I have been writing this blog. An amazing number of readers kindly responded when my Mom died. This blogging is an odd thing. You feel a connectedness to many you have never met because of our mutual connectedness to Jesus. I reviewed the “bad Christian” archives to see which articles impacted the most readers over the first 500. I have to offer full disclosure here. I am throwing out the most read
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Today is opening day for most of major league baseball. I am leaving soon for my real job directing the Texas Rangers at Seattle Mariners television opener. And that will likely be my real job until you people start buying more books! In my mind there is no more special day in sports than opening day in baseball. The smell of freshly cut emerald green grass delights the senses. The base lines are painstakingly and perfectly defined by a grounds crew that is committed to perfection on this day.  Red, white, and blue bunting give the ball park a festive world series look. The players today act like little boys. This is the one day that these privileged athletes seem to forget they are millionaires and actually appear grateful that they are paid to play a kid’s game. Children skip school and parents do not care because memories are being made for both of them. The hot dogs taste like gourmet food.  Tacky souvenirs are treasures to be kept. Giant foam fingers become family treasures. The atmosphere
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Today I am preparing to attend another funeral. Our friend Nancy lost her fight with cancer and is now at peace with Jesus. Several months ago my niece told me about a song by the group Diamond Rio. The song is called “God Only Cries For The Living” and I revisit that tune at times like this. Here are some of the lyrics from the song. God only cries for the living, ‘Cause it’s the living that are left to carry on. That is a hard truth. The living are left with the financial and legal affairs. Disposing of personal items that generate tearful memories. And the living are left in a place that Scripture tells us is only a temporary dwelling place. Paul writes about our “dual citizenship” in his letter to the Philippians. For, as I have often told you before and now say again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their
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Yesterday I suffered a nasty bout of writer’s block so I decided that if I was going to be unproductive I might as well watch television. That philosophy of time management has been challenged on more than one occasion by the lovely Mrs.Burchett. Surprisingly the dip into the often vapid world of cable television proved productive. I stumbled upon a fascinating History Channel feature on Ben Franklin. I knew Franklin as a brilliant statesman, inventor, writer and a bit of a scoundrel.  Courtesy of www.earlyamerica.com But I did not know that in his autobiography the venerable statesman admitted a radical plan.  “I once conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection.” Wonder how that worked out? Benjamin Franklin could have saved himself some aggravation by reading Paul’s letter to the Roman church. Hold that thought. Franklin outlined the thirteen virtues he desired to master. Here are his baker’s dozen of admirable traits as written in his autobiography and in the language (and spelling) of
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