Chances are, you have not given a second thought to the all the nonsense going on in Washington D.C. No, I don’t mean that nonsense. That nonsense is affecting our lives on a daily basis. I am not referring to the foolish behavior of our elected officials. I am referring to the nonsense that is going on that will become a real issue in the next few years, but right now is just a sideshow. I am talking about the Washington Redskins.

          What, you may ask, does a football team in D.C. have to with us now or in the future? You would be wrong to ask that precise question. The Washington Redskins no longer exists. Caving under pressure, the owner of the team discarded the old name and is now considering a new name. In the meantime, the team formally called the Redskins is being called the Washington Football Team. Extremely catchy, I think. Actually, over the last 30 years, I have gone from being a diehard fan to someone who wouldn’t care if the whole NFL went out of business. I don’t care if the Colts become the Indianapolis Football Team or if the Lions become the Detroit Football Team. Doesn’t matter to me. But it does matter to me that the Cleveland Indians might discard their name for the same reason Washington discarded their name. Political correctness. (If the Indians change their name, I will be done with pro sports, period.)

          Ah, but these are just names and are offensive to some people. So what if they change the names? And how will that affect anyone down the road?

          I hope you realize that Indiana is just the word ‘Indian’ with an ‘a’ at the end. There were some major battles fought here involving Native Americans. The name of the state was likely made to honor the Native Americans for their bravery and boldness in battle. No one could possibly be offended by a state’s name given in honor of a group of people. But the Washington’s team name was given in honor of the warrior spirit and the Cleveland team name was in honor of a star player on the team who was Native American when the team was called the Spiders. Ownership decided Spiders was a lousy name for a baseball team, so after they went through several other names, they asked the local sportswriters for something better and they came up with Indians, after former star player and Native American Louis Sockalexis. This was around 1919, so they have been the Indians a long time. But it doesn’t matter that the name was in honor of Native Americans. Someone got their feelings hurt. Some years ago, my brother in law and I went to Opening Day. It was advertised that a large demonstration was going to take place against the name. When we got there we saw the demonstration. Two people who claimed to be Native Americans and who were wearing Hollywood Indian type clothes and about twenty people dressed like they were taking a long lunch from the office carrying signs and chanting. ABC, CBS and NBC were there interviewing the people dressed like Tonto, but they wouldn’t even point the cameras at the people in suits and dresses.

          So, what happens when the few who get offended turn their attention toward Indiana? Does the state cave? What about Indianapolis? That name means City of Indians. Surely that is a racial slur. Oklahoma means Red Men. Defiantly a racial slur. In fact, at least 21 states are named after Indian tribes or leaders. Such a slap in the face. It reeks of racism. But wait! There’s more! Wabash is a Native American word. Wabash, Indiana was the first city in the world to have nighttime electrical lighting. Could it be that the name would be changed to Sparks, Indiana (or whatever the state’s name is changed too) and the citizens be called Sparkys? You couldn’t very well call the Wabash River the Sparks River. That would sound dangerous. And where would it flow too? Now it flows to the Ohio River, but that is a Native American word, so that would have to be changed. Then, the Ohio flows into the Mississippi River, but Mississippi is a Native American word. And then the Mississippi flows to the Gulf of Mexico, but that name would have to be changed, too, because using the name Mexico in such a blatantly racist way would offend the Mexicans living here, particularly the illegal Mexicans. It would represent the effort to send them back to their homeland.

          And it really is just a few people who are offended, and most of them are not Native American! Just so you know, I think the Native Americans were not treated well by the early settlers and pioneers, and certainly not by the American government. If the various Native American tribes could have quit fighting each other and have banded together in the early days of settlements by Europeans, it would now be a land of Native Americans with very few European types. But they had their own political differences. In fact, I believe that Native Americans were treated worse than African Americans. This was the Native American home. In some cases, they were systematically slaughtered. War was waged on them. None of that was true among the African Americans.

          I cannot think of a single instance where the use of an Indian word is to demean Native Americans. The former logo of the Cleveland Indians, Chief Wahoo, was demeaning, but only in the sense that Notre Dame’s logo is demeaning to Irish folk. No big deal. But a few seek to change everything to fit their world view. And the rest of us cave because we become convinced that if we do not then we are the ones who are racist.

          We see all this unfolding and it brings to mind an interesting side note to me. In Acts 11:26 we see the first use in the Bible of the word ‘Christians.’ The word is only used three times in Scripture. (A special prize to the first person who gets back to me on the other two places in Scripture.) From historical documents we know that the first use of the word was intended to be mocking. It was expected that when the early practitioners of the faith died out, the faith would die out. The believers (which they were called at the time), or the faithful, embraced the mocking name and made it their very own. Now, again, after almost 2000 years later, the name is being used in this country in a mocking way. Christians are viewed as hatemongers and racists. Churches and whole denominations are distancing themselves away from the Word of God and are making Christ a weakened caricature of what He really is in the Bible. And this all started because a few people didn’t want to hear about a powerful Savior. They want nothing more powerful than they themselves.

          DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO BECOME WEAK! If you want to stand up for the name of your state or your favorite fishing hole or a favored team, do it. Do not let the few rewrite history. BUT MOST IMPORTANT, DECIDE RIGHT NOW THAT YOU ARE GOING TO STAND FOR JESUS, FOR THE BIBLE AND FOR THE HOLY GOD. Just because you don’t see it around you just yet doesn’t mean it isn’t coming.

          A quick story, all true. In Ohio, near us when we were there, a nearby church had finally had enough of their denomination. They decided they were not honoring God by staying with the denomination. So, they announced their intention of pulling out. The denomination countered with the fact that they actually owned the building and grounds. If the congregation pulled out, they lost the building and grounds. In the case of most wishy-washy Christians, that would be enough to keep the church in place. However, these people went ahead and left their denomination. The denomination had no real desire to place another congregation there, but they saw the building, which the congregation had lovingly cared for, and the property as being a money maker for them. They sought to sell it all. When the denomination announced they were going to sell all of it off, a local newspaper reporter contacted them with a question; if they were going to sell it, would they consider selling it back to the congregation that had just left? The answer that the denominational representative gave the reporter was, “We would rather sell it to a brothel than back to them.” Think about that for a moment. That is not Christianity, but that attitude is hiding in the bushes.

          Stand up for the Lord at all costs.  

          After I came to Christ, I came to understand that I needed to curb any outbursts of anger. I always had a temper and it could erupt in a blink of an eye. It was a struggle to control my language and my actions. Anger sometimes worked out for me on the football field. As a sophomore I played a lot at defensive end, but I also played on all the special teams. On one play where we kicked off, I was running downfield on my side of the field and the play was going to the other side. I was intent on the ball carrier in case he came back to my side (you don’t really see it or understand it on TV, but the players running down field to cover a kick are in lanes that they have to protect and you are not to vacate those lanes), and he was about to be tackled there on the other side of the field. I was slowing down, still watching the ball carrier, when someone slammed into me, knocking me flat. It was a cheap shot but there was no flag. The other player, from the other team, got up and laughed at me. I was so angry! I decided that the next time they kicked to us I was going hunting for that person. The other team went three and out and had to punt to us. I didn’t care where the punt went, I was going to seek and destroy number 52. As it happened, he lined up on the other side of the field, so when the ball was snapped, I broke from my side and made a bee line for number 52. He was dead in my sights, not even seeing me. I brushed past several players and zeroed in. His back was to me, but I didn’t care. It would be a clipping penalty, but that didn’t matter. Just before I impacted him, he turned awkwardly and was suddenly facing me. He was a dead duck. I let my anger go and plowed into him. It was mean. I got up and looked down at him and laughed at him. Then I started trotting off the field, but saw that the extra point team was coming on the field. We had scored! Wow, I had no idea!

          On Monday, before practice, we would watch the film of the game the Friday before, and the coach would yell at us for stupid plays and such. I was really hoping I could see myself crushing number 52. Oh, it was sweet! When the film got to that point, I saw how the whole play developed. The punt returner was supposed to return to the right side of the field, which was where I was stationed. But that broke down immediately and he had to head for the left side. It probably broke down because I had left my lane to hunt number 52. Number 52 was angling over to cut our returner off at the sideline, but then the returner cut back toward the middle of the field. Number 52 turned awkwardly to track him and I wiped him out. I threw the block that led to the touchdown. The coach showed the hit, then backed it up and showed the hit again. Four times we watched that hit, each time the guys would wince. Finally, the coach said, “Wade, that was a perfect hit. But why were you on that side of the field?” I just smiled and said, “I had a feeling, coach.” Funny thing, the coach saw through it and I wound up running extra sprints for leaving my area.

          But back to point, anger very rarely accomplishes anything. I played better football when I controlled my anger. We make better decisions when we control our anger. Once I went into the ministry, I found out that in church situations there are many times your anger can flare because people, who should be acting like Christians, just act like regular humans. Extremely frustrating.

          So, what should a young man do who has a sharp temper hiding inside, ready to explode? A young man who had once put the good of his team and the welfare of his opponent aside to track that opponent and try to separate his head from his body?

          The only thing I could think to do was to freeze my emotions. Bottle everything up. In a tense situation, I just shut down emotionally. Let nothing show. That was hard, but I was determined to not embarrass Christ.

          Board meetings at the church I pastored in Warren, Ohio were really hard. I was in my late 20s at the start and I really didn’t know much about human interactions. There was always a lot of fighting at the Board meetings. I just sat there, stone faced, gave my report and answered the Board president if he asked a question. There could be shouting and even name calling, but I sat there and didn’t respond. It wasn’t my job to control it and I didn’t try. To be fair, that all changed over the years to where a Board meeting was not a bad experience. But, at the beginning it was tough.

          About two years into that ministry we were having a Board meeting that was particularly loud. Suddenly, everything got quiet. People were suddenly uncomfortable. The Board president asked for a motion that we adjourn. The motion was made, seconded and carried. The meeting was over, but it was only half done. Everyone left in a big hurry. I had hitched a ride to the meeting with one of our deacons, and he said hardly a word all the way back to my house. I was confused by the time I got home, really bewildered. As I walked up the steps I saw Marsha was on the phone. When I walked in I heard her say, “OK, Louise, I am sure he is OK, but I will check.” She hung up and laughed. “Larry, you really shook everyone up tonight. You have to watch those outbursts.” That made no sense. “What do you mean? I didn’t say anything!” She was trying not to laugh and not succeeding. “Well, Louise said all of a sudden you raised your eyebrow. That was enough.” Now, you may think I am kidding, but I am not. In order to control those flashes of anger in tense moments, I had become like those massive stone heads on Easter Island. It was silly, but that was it.

          I don’t know when it began to change, but it did change. I have always felt that I was not worthy to be in the place God has placed me. As I went deeper into the ministry, I saw that I had to rely more and more on the Lord. I suppose that as I gave more and more of myself to Him, He began to solve that anger problem. Finally, a few years later at a different church in Ohio, a man walked into my office, sat down on a sofa, took a deep breath and said, “I always feel a sense of calm in here.” I was a little surprised, but that was when I realized that I was calm. There was a peace.

          Ephesians 4:26 says, Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger. We see here two things. The first is, we can be angry without sinning. The second is we are not to let our anger plague our sleep. Get over it. The meaning here, in the Greek language, is not the violent anger that so often affects us. It is literally exasperation. You can be exasperated about something, but you don’t have to get ANGRY about it. If you encounter something that makes you ANGRY, begin praying about it. Maybe for a minute. Maybe for an hour. We talk about ‘righteous anger,’ but is that just an excuse to let anger rule our day?  

          There is so much to get angry about right now. But does that anger draw us closer to the Lord, or push us farther away?

          The library in the township I grew up in was on the same road on which I lived. This is not the same as saying that it was close by. It wasn’t. But it was on the same road. To my father, reading was a complete waste of time unless it was reading the manual for a piece of equipment. But for me, reading was what mattered. I would go to the library as often as I could, usually when it was raining and we couldn’t get into a field, or during the time between harvest and planting. I could go as long as I had all my chores done. Then, if I wanted to waste my time, I could walk down to the library.

          I would leave the house fairly early so I could get there when they opened. If it was raining and I was returning books, I would wrap them in some kind of plastic. I might be drenched, but the books would be safe. I would go in, return the books and then head for the shelves. Anything about baseball or the Navy or flying was fair game to take and check out. But I also loved biographies. I wouldn’t check those out. It was quite a walk and those were heavy, so I would read those there. I would read for an hour or so and then put a small piece of paper in the book to mark my spot, and then I would return it to the shelf. When I came back in a couple of weeks, it would still be there. No one seemed to enjoy biographies. I read about presidents and war heroes and people like Harriet Tubman. Amazing people.

          And I would also pick out a book of poems. I never checked those out. If I was caught reading poetry at home, I would be accused of being a girly boy, whatever that was in my father’s mind. Actually, if any of my friends saw me reading poetry, it would have been rough. But I really enjoyed the cadence and the flow of poetry. Often, I would sit there with a dictionary and read some of the great works. But never for long. I had to get back. Maybe the rain would quit or the snow ease off. I had to go.

          It was during one of those poetry times that I picked up a book of one of my favorite poets. Mostly because he was an American, but I also really liked his stuff. In that thin, little book I found a poem that has always stayed with me. I read it and for the first time in my life I fully realized that I had choices for my life. If I didn’t want to be a farmer (and I didn’t, no offense to you farmers), I didn’t have to be. I could go my own path. It was a liberating feeling, but it was also kind of scary. Anyway, this is the poem;

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

          I could take another path! I could do whatever I wanted to do!

          But what did I want to do? Well, of course, I wanted to be a major league baseball player. Obviously. And I wanted to play for the Cleveland Indians. Again, obviously. But, even at a very young age, I knew that playing baseball for a living was probably not going to happen. But something was out there! Whatever I wanted to do!

          I put the book back on the shelf and then gathered up the books I wanted to check out. When I got up to the desk, the librarian went through the process of checking out in silence. An older lady, she was always quiet. It was a library, for heaven’s sake. When she was done, she held up a finger. “You need a book mark and I have one that would be perfect for you.” She got in a cabinet and rummaged around and came back with a worn book mark and handed it to me. “Keep it,” she said. On the bookmark was the poem I had been reading. The old lady’s eyes were twinkling.

          I got older and settled on my life’s work. I decided I wanted to teach and coach. I wanted to teach history and coach either baseball or football, or both. I really wanted to impact young lives. I accepted Christ during the summer between my junior and senior year in high school and I decided that when I went to college, it would be a Christian college. I would major in history but also have a Christian emphasis in my life. My high school football coach had done that and it was his witness that brought me to Christ.

          So, I went to college with a plan. I also thought I might even preach some. Again, my high school coach preached quite a bit. I could do that. So, I did a double major. History and Theology.

          But I was unsettled. One night I lay on my bed in my dorm room trying to study. My mind wouldn’t focus. Marsha and I had decided to get married that summer and that was on my mind a lot, but that night getting married was not bothering me. I couldn’t figure it out. I took up my Bible, hoping the Lord would deliver me an answer in the Scripture. My battered, old book mark fell out. I picked it up and was going to put it back in the Bible, but I stopped to read the poem again. “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” I remembered how I had felt that day when I read that. Strange I would recall that. As I thought about it, I wondered if the Lord was telling me something. Was He telling me that I couldn’t combine the two callings? That wasn’t what He wanted for me? Was He giving me a choice of two paths? “And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood” Hold on here, buddy! This isn’t Scripture! I don’t have to listen to this! But, wait, isn’t the Lord able to speak to us in any fashion? Can you do these two things?

          I began to pray. In my mind I saw that split in the woods. Two trails. One, the one I was headed for, was well traveled. Many others had passed through these woods and had chosen the obvious path. But here was another. The grass was getting high and was catching the blowing leaves. It wasn’t where I wanted originally, but there was unknown adventure there. I decided on my one path that night. I would take the less traveled road.

          The end of the poem says, “I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” Today, I feel like those ages have passed. Oh, the trail goes on. I cannot see its end just yet. But I feel I am getting near the end of the trail. I have wondered about the other trail from time to time, but I have never regretted the trail I took. It has been an adventure.

          God bless you all.

          

         On October 5, 1975 I stepped up to a pulpit to lead the first song of that day’s church service. I was terrified. It was my very first day at my very first church as a staff member. In this case, minister of music and youth. There weren’t very many there that day, but it seemed to be a vast crowd. The piano was about eight years out of tune and it sounded like the lady sitting at the keys had a hammer in each hand as she played. My knees felt like they were made of water. All of a sudden, I just wanted it over. And it did end, about an hour and a half later. The pastor assured me I had done fine. His wife gave me a little hug. Some of the folks told me the music was great. My wife just shook her head. I was surprised I could breathe again.

         If someone had come up to me after that service and told me that one day I would be involved in services that would go out on something called the internet and would have the possibility of being seen in almost every country in the world, I would have just stared at that person. That would be stupid in the extreme. And yet, our Sunday services have the possibility of being seen by millions. They aren’t, of course. But the technology makes it possible. (This blog is read by more than just our church folks. In fact, it has been read in 78 nations. If you are reading this and did not know that our church has a web site with a number of things, including our worship videos, then I invite you to go to http://urbanayokeparish.com/ and look around our site.) It is amazing how much technology has changed in just 45 years.

         My wife and I didn’t have a TV for the first year we were married, but when we took the plunge, we went fancy. 19 inch screen, built in rabbit ears and, get this, COLOR! My parents didn’t have color, her parents didn’t have color, but we did! We paid for that TV for three years, but we had a color TV. It sat about three feet from the wall because it was so thick. Watched it every night. Now I have a 55 inch television that my son gave me, it is about 3 inches thick and I don’t even watch it every night.

         In 1976 we bought our first pocket calculator. That doesn’t sound like such a big deal now, but then it was cutting edge tech. You could add, subtract, multiply and divide. It was awesome! We played with that thing for hours, until the light in row five burned out. In 1977 we bought a gaming console. A company called Atari had come out with a video game called Pong. Simple little game involving hitting a square light with two rectangular lights and driving the square light into a goal. Actually, it was supposed to be like tennis or Ping Pong. You tied the game into your TV and then you played for hours. Atari had made a deal with Sears to sell the game and Sears sold it under the Sears name. With the Sears game you actually had two games to choose from. Tennis or hockey. I don’t recall anything being different in game play, but it was just the idea you were playing tennis or hockey. We bought the Sears version and I hooked it up to our 19 inch COLOR TV. It was clear and sharp (and in black and white, because it wasn’t made in color). What fun we had! And, oh my, we got our first phone with push buttons! That was really fun. We tried to match the tones by whistling.

         Times have changed. Computers and devices that bring the world into your hand. We no longer have to pay for long distance phone calls. My phone is not attached to the wall. It is in my pocket. I don’t use any of the features of the internet, but I could. I could play games on it, I could check e-mails or Facebook, I could watch television or movies, I could use it as a global positioning device or, if I was really lame, I could (and do) use my phone as a phone.

         Back in the 1970s, if someone asked you what you wanted to eat, the choice was meat loaf or hamburgers or pork chops or chicken or some such. Now, the choice is Chinese or Italian or fast food. A home cooked meal then was a project that lasted several hours and required thought and preparation. Now a home cooked meal is made in a microwave in your home. Then, if you were going on a trip it meant driving your bedroom sized car and planning to stop every 120 miles for gas. Now it is cramming into your shoebox sized car and planning on stopping every 375 miles for gas. Back in the day, if the husband and wife were going out to eat, it meant that the husband would be sitting in a chair in the living room fuming as his wife took forever to get ready. Now, if the husband and wife were going out to eat, it means that the husband will be sitting in a chair in the living room fuming as his wife takes forever to get ready. I guess not everything changes.

         On June 21, 1973, I heard the most amazing story. I heard how a man loved me, and the rest of the world, so much that He willingly allowed Himself to take my place and to take the burden and punishment for my sin. He allowed Himself to be sacrificed for my sin so that I would not have to pay the price. And He only asked that  I accept this wonderful gift and I could then have a place in His Kingdom for ever and ever. At first it seemed too good to be true, but something inside me kept telling my brain that this was the only way. Not fully understanding, but understanding all I needed to understand at that moment, I accepted that man, Jesus Christ, as my Savior.

         So many changes. Life is full of them. You cannot get away from change. Some are great! Some not so much. The person I witnessed so many of the great changes with is no longer with me. Everything changes. Except for the love of Jesus Christ. He continues to offer eternal life. So many reject Him. So many mock Him. Now many are calling Him racist, which is sheer ignorance. Jesus was more dark than He was white and He died for all. For Jesus, it is about grace, not race.

         When you really stop and consider the changes in the last 50 years, it boggles the mind. But the same story that brought me to Christ, can bring you to Christ. It is the same story a young man named Martin Luther heard 500 years ago that brought him to salvation. And it is the same story a man named Saul, a killer of Christians, heard on the road to Damascus that caused him to accept Christ as Savior and thus become the Apostle Paul.

         It really is simple. Accept that Jesus died for your sins so that you do not have to pay the eternal judgement for those sins. Accept Him as your Savior. If you have questions about that, my e-mail is oldirishguy51@yahoo.com. Get hold of me and we will talk.

Blessings to you this day.

         July 3, 2020.

The Declaration of Independence was not signed on July 4, 1776. It was signed on July 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 of 1776. As members of the Continental Congress filtered in to Philadelphia, they signed the document that declared independence from England, who had one of the most feared armies in the world. It took several days for everyone to get there, and when they did arrive, they signed. Overwhelming heat, war ready to break out, their own lives in the balance, these men started the process. For most of them, they emerged from the war impoverished, grieving for lost loved one or, in some cases, they never got through the war themselves.

The War of 1812. Again, fought against England. By now, Washington D.C. was the capital. The British marched on the city and burned it. This war started as a naval confrontation. The mightiest navy in the history of man against tiny sailing vessels with puny cannon. Again, a fearsome army against rag-tag woodsmen. The war was fought from 1812-1815.

 The Civil War. The country was torn apart on the question of states rights. The right in question was the right to own another human being. In the writings from the South at the time leading up to the war the question often asked was, If the federal government can take away the right of someone to own slaves, what other rights will they take? Before the war, each state acted more or less as an independent nation. They were joined together as a nation, but mostly each state made and had their own laws. There wasn’t even a federal tax. Federal money was generated by tariffs and commerce tax. Obviously, the government wasn’t awash in cash. If you served as a Representative or a Senator, you knew you were going to be losing money. You ran for office and served out of patriotic duty. The president was a full-time job, but other government positions were losing propositions. The war changed everything, not just slavery. Incredible heroism was on both sides.

My father’s family came to this country from England in 1696. My mother’s family came here from Ireland sometime around 1720. The Wades came as three brothers and came in at what is now the Portsmouth, Virginia area. The brothers eventually travelled to the Fredericksburg, Virginia area together and from there they split up, one going north, one going south and one going inland. The one who went inland, with his new family, was my ancestor. They eventually settled in what is now Kentucky but at that time was still part of Virginia. My mother’s family shows up in the census of Russell County in present day Kentucky in 1720. No one knows for sure when they entered the country. It is thought that my mother’s family, O’Sullivan, (later shortened to Sullivan) may have come to these shores as many of the Irish did, as slaves.

I had family that fought in the Revolutionary War, in the War of 1812 and in the Civil War. In the Civil War, I had family on both sides of the issue. Again, family fought in the Spanish/American War, World War One, World War Two, Korea, Vietnam and the wars in the Middle East. When my time came, against my parent’s wishes, I joined. I was part Wade, part Sullivan. It was kind of what we did.

As a history major in college I focused on the Civil War. I dragged Marsha to battlegrounds at Spotsylvania, Fredericksburg, Chattanooga, Chickamauga, Chambersburg and Gettysburg. We were at Fort Defiance. Frederick, Maryland. We were at the headwaters of the Potomac River. During the Revolutionary War, there was a lot of fighting in the ‘west,’ which was Kentucky and Ohio. The Americans had built a string of forts along the western border. One of those forts has come to be known as Boonesboro, commanded by Col. Daniel Boone. I had a direct ancestor that fought there. The fort has been recreated and in front of the fort is a tall monument with the names of the soldiers that fought there inscribed on it. I couldn’t find my ancestor’s name, so I began to climb. (I was a lot younger) Finally, at the top, I found his name. Meanwhile, Marsha was going nuts, sure I was going to get caught and put in federal prison. I called down and asked her to throw her camera up. She looked at me and said, “Sorry, I didn’t bring it.” The one time I needed the camera and it wasn’t there.

Anyway, there is a point here. My family has been here for over three hundred years. It is highly likely that my mother’s side came as slaves. (In spite of Tim Kane’s absurd claim that colonial Americans invented slavery by enslaving Africans. That man was almost the vice president of the United States with Hillary Clinton.) I am extremely weary of hearing that I have ‘white privilege,’ whatever that is. I see monuments torn down that reflect stages of history of this country that I love. I hear that the white Europeans came here and stole the land from the peaceful and nature loving natives. I see history being rewritten to make criminals out of my family and thousand of others. And I see people who would not know a cotton plant if they tripped over it claiming they need reparations because they were slaves.

The first person to die in the Revolutionary War was a black man. Thousands of black, native American, Asian people have died fighting to defend this country. Hispanic, black, white, red, yellow….they all look pretty much the same wearing a camo field uniform with an American flag on the shoulder, carrying a gun, going into combat. They look the same because they are the same. They are Americans. And, surprise, surprise, they all bleed red.

I can say, I really don’t know any people who are racist. I see a lot on the news who are. They were made that way by an out of control media. But regular people in this country, whatever their background, love the country.

Remember 9/11? We had a gathering of our whole community. We were a racially diverse community and I saw tears on black faces, Asian faces, white faces, Hispanic faces. America had been attacked. Americans had died. America was going to go to war. And it was breaking our hearts.

But you can’t make news when everyone is united. You can’t make political gains when everyone is united. So, you work to divide. And then you blame others for the division.

Can America get through this? I do not know. But I do know that we cannot get through on our own. Back when the country was becoming a country, the people went to the Lord in prayer. When war again hit the country thirty odd years later, the people went to prayer. There is a story from the Civil War. Fighting had been fierce, but Sunday came and fighting was set aside. A Confederate unit was sheltered on one side of an old dirt road. On the other side was a Union unit. On the Confederate side a chaplain began a service. There was a call from the Union side. “We have no chaplain! Can we come over.” They were invited over. The officers were not happy, but they finally came, too. They spoke the same language, sang the same songs, prayed to the same God, believed on the same Jesus. For a few hours in a clearing of some woods, the divided came together.

And it can be done again.