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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If you, the tens of readers, have wondered where I have been please allow me to explain. The lovely Mrs.Burchett and I had a wonderful spring break trip to Arizona last week. The week concluded by crossing off a long time “bucket list” item for me when we enjoyed a hot air balloon ride over the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona. It was amazing. This is a shot of the other balloon that took off with us that morning. At the end of the journey we celebrated with a champagne breakfast and I received an award that beleagured readers of these ramblings will heartily endorse. After completing the hot air balloon ride each passenger received a diploma from the pilot. The diploma is from the “College of Hot Air Knowledge” and that is an institution that should have offered me a scholarship. Now I can add that diploma to my impressive bio that includes such stunning credentials as “member of Sam’s Club”. Back home in not quite so scenic
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I have always proclaimed through good times and the Florida BCS debacle that I am a proud Ohio State Buckeye fan. This week I go back to my Buckeye roots to proclaim another proud association. My hometown of Chillicothe, Ohio is known to many Ohioans as the first state capital. Others know Chillicothe as the principal town of the great Shawnee Chief Tecumseh. Others remember Chillicothe as the place that Anne-Margaret tells Elvis she grew up in a brilliant scene from the cinema classic Viva Las Vegas. But now I have one more thing to put on the list. This past weekend the Cavaliers of Chillicothe High School won the Division 2 state high school basketball championship. I once played for the Cavaliers and for one of the great coaches that I have ever met, Tom Cuppett. Coach Cuppett put in place a winning attitude that I hope began to lay a foundation that eventually led to being state champs. Congrats to
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A couple of years ago I saved an article from USA Today . The title, We are Easter People, was intriquing enough to merit a second look. Here is a portion of the piece written by Diane Cameron. One of the lowest points in my life occurred years ago when I was living in Washington, D.C., at Easter time. My older sister had recently died and both of my brothers were seriously ill; my best friend was leaving town, and on top of that I was questioning my work. In my journal that April I wrote, “Am I depressed?” When I read those pages now I laugh and shake my head. “Depressed?” That I even had to ask. In that long year I thought I’d never laugh again, just as I thought I’d never again feel love, the joy of easy friendship, or the satisfaction of good work. I went to church that Easter out of both habit and desperation. I had grown
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Today is a bit of deja vu for me. I am in the middle of my real job which is television sports directing. This week I am working at a college basketball tournament. You may know that some of the humble ramblings appear at Crosswalk.com. I look at the credentials of my fellow bloggers on Crosswalk and I have to chuckle. Lots of doctorates and titles. Perhaps they haven’t noticed that my bio is filled with items like, “Dave is a member of Sam’s Club.”  The deja vu moment came from the realization that it was during a similar March madness basketball tournament that I got the inspiration for what would become my extremely modestly selling book, “Bring’em Back Alive“.  Here is an excerpt from the introduction. My spiritual insights generally aren’t revealed during television broadcasts of women’s basketball. I suspect that hardly makes me unique. But inspiration came clearly and forcefully during a telecast of an NCAA Women’s basketball tournament game from Boulder, Colorado. Let me set
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The verdict is in and I am a “bad Christian”. That is not who I am theologically or in God’s eyes but that is who I should remain for my tens of readers. The majority of you who responded prefer the old moniker. So the new name turned out to be every bit as popular as the New Coke. At least I took the risk. The demented minds at despair.com have this to say about risk. “If you never try anything new, you’ll miss out on many of life’s great disappointments.” To be fair there were some who liked the new name but the trend was clear and one fact is obvious. “Bad Christians” are more vocal. Reader Don understood the concept but offered a frightening prospect. I think you will lose some readership, and turn away some potential readers with the phrase “…Saint Who Sometimes Sins.” That scared me. What would be a smaller increment than tens of readers? Don also made this point.
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