I preached my first sermon in 1975. That seems absolutely bizarre to me. Until 1983 I mostly worked with Youth and music, but still preached quite a bit. This was in the Bible Belt, where you had a Sunday morning service, a Sunday evening service and a Wednesday evening service, which was actually a preaching service and not a Bible Study. Our Pastor gave me all the Wednesday nights and some of the Sunday nights. In 1983 I was called as the pastor to a church, still in the Bible Belt, and from that first Sunday there until the last Sunday of 2006 I pastored that church and then another in Ohio. For a couple of years I pastored two churches in Ohio at the same time. When I went to the funeral home in 2007 as staff clergy I was still in a pulpit somewhere almost every Sunday. In 2016 we came to Indiana. I have no idea how many sermons I have preached or Bible Studies I have led going back to 1975. In 1997 I did start putting all my sermon notes in a computer file, but before that it was all written out and none of that has survived. Thursday morning a young medical tech came into the room I was in and introduced herself. “I know you. You are the preacher there in Urbana.” We talked and she did what she needed to do and then I left.

          I thought about it after I left. I don’t really like being called ‘the preacher.’ I consider myself a pastor, first and foremost. But, I have preached only the Lord knows how many sermons. I have spoken on college campuses and at conferences. Even my final degree, my doctorate, was on homiletics, which is the planning, preparation and presentation of a sermon. Since coming to Indiana my health has gotten worse and worse and it seems I can be a pastor less and less. Maybe I should just start thinking of myself as ‘the preacher there in Urbana.’

          I mulled this over on my trip back from Huntington. If the last 46 years has been all about preaching, I should have a few sermons that stick out in my mind. I thought about it and thought about it. Nothing. Honestly, by the time I get home from church on Sunday, my mind is working on next week. Preaching does not come easy or natural for me. It takes effort. I know people who can step into the pulpit and let it fly. I cannot do that. I have changed my sermon from the chair to the pulpit, and it has been fine because the Holy Spirit was either giving me something or was playing a joke on me. Either way, He is in charge.

          I realized as my preaching efforts were drawing a blank, I had pastoring moments flooding my mind. People say I have a story for everything. That seems true. Hundreds of experiences, most good and some bad, but all have a story. I may be relegated to just preaching now, at least for a while, but I will always consider myself a pastor.

          And as I thought about that and as the news of the day kept intruding, a connection was made. I thought about Elvis.

          No, not that Elvis.

          I liked Elvis. He was always getting into trouble. A little bitty guy with an attitude. He had been born in Puerto Rico and brought to the mainland when he was about five. We had a thriving Hispanic community in Geneva, Ohio and his father and mother and sister settled there. Not long after arrival, his mother and father began to have problems and it ended in divorce. Eventually, Elvis’s mother, Sara, met Danilo, a really fine man, and they got married. But the dye had seemingly been cast for Elvis. He developed that attitude. As he grew older (and I am only talking fourth and fifth grade) he adopted the ‘swagger’ you often associate with Hispanic young men. Several times, his mother came into my office in tears because she was at her wits end. And Danilo struggled more than she did. He knew his stepson was headed down a dark path. Elvis was always getting into trouble at school and in the community. Something had to turn the boy around.

          For whatever reason, Elvis always seemed to respect me. That is another Hispanic trait. Always respect the priest. Obviously, I was not a priest, but it still applied. I did the Youth there, as well, and I always kept Elvis close. Partly because I wanted him to know he was important to me and partly because I did not want to turn him loose around the girls. In time, Elvis came to Christ. He still got in trouble, though. He was 17 and a new Christian and Satan did not want to let him go. But he was mellowing.

          After school, Elvis opted to join the Marines. I would not have thought he was tall enough, but he got in. There was a big going away party and Elvis was in full swagger. But as my wife and I were leaving he came running up to me and gave me a hug. He thanked me. I told him to be careful and keep his head down. We laughed and he went back to his party.

          As I said earlier, I left that church at the end of 2006. Sara kept me informed of what Elvis was up to and involved in. Then the bad news came. He was deployed to Afghanistan. I was no longer his pastor, or even Sara’s pastor, but I still cared for that boy.

          The church called a new pastor, a man who was eventually fired for inappropriate advances toward the young girls. But before that, he made it very clear he did not want me in his church. Even if we were having a funeral there that I was involved in, he did not want me there. (There is some basis for this. When a minister leaves a church, they are not to interfere with the congregation. There is much more to it than that, but I did understand him not wanting me there. But it bordered on hate with him.) Elvis was off in Afghanistan for 18 months. When he returned to the States, he had leave time and his folks wanted to have a welcome home party. Sara told me it would mean a lot to him if I went and it wouldn’t be at the church, So, I said I would pop in.

          When I got there it seemed like the going away party, only Elvis was in uniform. I intended to shake his hand, tell him he had been prayed for every day, thank him for his service and then leave. The pastor of the church was already seething that I was even there. Not that anyone cared about that. The inappropriate behavior accusations were starting to surface. I caught Elvis’s eye and started toward him, but he pushed through the crowd to me.

          “Pastor, we gotta talk.” “OK, Elvis, we can get together in the next few days…..” “NO! Right now!” And he grabbed my arm and dragged me to a small maintenance closet in the party center.

          Once the door was closed, I looked at the young Marine. He was trembling, tears stained his face, he could barely talk. I turned a couple of buckets over and we sat. “Elvis, what is going on?”

          “Pastor, I (sobbing now, then he got hold of himself) I killed people! I KILLED PEOPLE! OH, GOD, I KILLED PEOPLE!” He went on to tell me of the first firefight. The Taliban were going to kill him and his squad. He hadn’t fired his gun yet. Not really scared, but the idea of killing someone was holding him back. Then his buddy, next to him, screamed and fell back, blood spurting from his chest. And Elvis began pulling the trigger. He saw the enemy fall that he shot. He kept shooting, even when he started to vomit.

          Those weren’t the only people he killed, either. You see, the Taliban wants to kill. They want to die in combat. It all gets them points with Allah. Meanwhile, our kids don’t want to kill. They want to be with their girlfriend or boyfriend at the carnival, or working in a field or a factory. They want to play with their mutt Scooter. But they kill. They kill to save the lives of their buddies or their own lives. Some think in the big picture and they fight to keep terrorists from ravaging our civilians in cowardly attacks here in this country. But mostly, in those firefights, they just want to live through it. And then after, maybe in a mop closet, sitting on a bucket, you share your broken heart with someone you know will feel for you and who will understand your anguish.

          Our country has decided to cut and run, to leave people behind to be butchered. In my opinion, after 9/11 we should have gone in done what we needed to do, left an air force and special ops to keep the fanatics in line, and we should have gotten out. Those people do not want democracy. But regardless of what I think, to do all we have done in the last 20 years, and then just leave? I find that so hard to believe. But it is happening.

          And in doing this awful thing, we are making the sacrifices of so many, like Elvis, worthless. And yes, Elvis came home and now lives in Florida, but he sacrificed. All of them who came home, sacrificed. Parts of their very souls are still over there in the desert sands.

          Twenty years have passed since September 11, 2001. It seems our government has forgotten. But Elvis and his mates have not. I will never forget those building crashing down. Most of us will never forget. Nor should we forget.

           My educational journey started out at a Bible college in Tennessee. I have mentioned the school before. Extremely strict in all aspects. But, when you know the rules going in, you play by the rules. A baseball game would be chaos if Team A decided in the 4^th inning that from now on, they would get three balls and four strikes per hitter instead of four balls and three strikes. And, this rule change wouldn’t apply to Team B. You can’t change the rules during a game. Knowing this was a strict college, you understood the rules. I went because they were known for their high level of education. There were all sorts of rules, rules that my roommates disliked. But I was fine with them. Among other things, we were required to go to either the Campus Church or some local church that was approved of by the school. Obviously, they wanted you to attend the Campus Church. As strict as the school was, the church was even more so.

          Laughing was frowned upon at the church. Married men and women sitting next to each other had to be at least the length of a songbook apart. If you were not married you had to sit even further apart. Outside of calling out a hearty 'Amen' or 'Preach it, Brother' when the preaching called for it, you were to remain both emotionless and motionless.

          When we had services there the choir remained in the choir loft for the entire service. The choir loft was situated just below the baptistery, which was elevated up the back wall. I always wanted to go and see if there was an elevator back there, but there were ‘campus checkers’ lurking everywhere. While the baptisms were going on (we baptized by immersion) the choir would hum a song, which, I suppose, was intended to imitate the heavenly host.

          On one particular Sunday there were seven or eight people to be baptized. (They baptized every Sunday. It was kind of neat.) The second to last was a nine year old boy who could not get out to the pastor by walking, so he started to dog paddle. The whole front of the baptistery was clear acrylic and you could see down to the pastor’s feet, so it was sort of cute to see the little guy swim. There were a few titters in the crowd of about 3,000. The pastor reached out and grabbed the boy and then stared at the congregation. After a fifteen second glare he told us that this was a sacred moment and not a time for levity. While he was lecturing us, he was holding the little fellow up by the front of his shirt and we were treated to seeing the boy’s legs kick furiously under the water. It made the whole situation extremely funny, but we were doing our best to not even smile. Finally, he was baptized. 

          The last person baptized was a jolly man who was simply overjoyed with his new salvation. He only stood about 5'5" and he was also about that same size around. When he stepped down into the water, he was so happy that it made most of us smile, which further angered the pastor. He took the man and said, "My Brother, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Buried in His likeness..." At that point he pushed the man backward under the water. We all saw his feet leave the bottom of the baptistery. The next part of the phrase is, “Raised to walk in newness of life in Christ Jesus.” As the pastor said the word 'Raised' the man’s highly buoyant body surged to the surface and broke water. As his body shot upward it pushed a lot of water before it. When he got to the surface the water kept going, surging out of the baptistery and washing over the choir. The quite humming turned into gasps and squeals and screams. The congregation, already on the verge of forbidden merriment, broke out in actual laughter. The pastor was furious and kept us there an extra thirty minutes scolding us by preaching an intense sermon on proper decorum in the church. He preached this sermon while standing in the water of the baptistery, which just made it all the funnier.

          The way the baptistery was set up lent itself to humor anyway. As I said, the front was clear. When anyone went forward at the close of the sermon for salvation, they were baptized immediately. Since you only went forward due to the moving of the Holy Spirit, it was unplanned. Therefore, when folks were baptized, they were baptized in their street clothes. Women were not allowed to wear slacks at that church, so women were baptized in their skirts or dresses. When a woman stepped into the baptistery, she was to keep her arms rigid to her sides to hold the dress down. She was to stay like that the whole time, even while she was put under. Now, the natural reaction to being pushed over backward and forced under the water is to reach up and grab the person's arm that is pushing you under. It happened about half the time, which allowed the dress or skirt to float up. You would think that after all those years they would have caught on. But apparently, they were convinced that no one would see that dress or skirt float up.

         Imagine a church in which it was forbidden to smile or laugh. Throughout Christian history, many churches and denominations have looked down on enjoying one’s self in church. How hard would that be to deal with? Would you even go to such a church?

         I like to think Jesus had a sense of humor. When Peter got out of the boat and began to walk toward Jesus, he was fine until he looked away from Jesus and began to sink. Jesus reached out and caught him and said, in Matthew 14:31, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” All of this took place maybe twelve hours after Jesus had fed the 5,000. That amazing miracle was on their minds. Peter, by faith, had jumped out of the boat and started to walk toward Jesus. But then, seeing the wind and waves, started to sink. Do you think Jesus growled at Peter, “OH YOU OF LITTLE FAITH, WHY DID YOU DOUBT?” Or do you think maybe Jesus was laughing when he reached out and caught Peter, His very headstrong friend, and said, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” I have heard people condemn Peter for taking his eyes off of Jesus, but that isn’t fair. None of the other disciples even got out of the boat. I see Jesus enjoying the moment.

         When you come to the Yoke, be prepared to enjoy yourself. The song says, Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is peace. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is love. There is comfort in life’s darkest hour, there is light and life, there is help and power, in the Spirit, in the Spirit, of the Lord.

How can you not laugh with all of that?

           Sometimes you see people do and hear them say the most ignorant things. In this ‘bonus blog’ there is a warning as to how we read the Scripture. In this case, people die.

          I have put out a prayer request for Edilia, an 84 year old lady in South Florida whose grandson died in a diving accident a week and a half ago. Edilia contracted COVID, apparently at the grandson’s funeral. The day after the diagnosis, she died. So, first we had prayer for the family concerning the grandson. Then, prayer for Edilia as she had just been diagnosed. And then for the family on her death. Such a sad, sad story of a family that is buried in grief.

          However, as Paul Harvey would say, stay tuned for the rest of the story.

          Let me say, if you are opposed to being vaccinated, that is your business. Our government has no business telling you what to do. Remember, this is the government that is allowing hundreds and hundreds of people to die in Afghanistan even as you read this, so when they tell us we need to be vaccinated and we need to wear masks, it is easy to disbelieve what they say. Maybe you are opposed to the vaccination because you don’t know what is in it. (You have been eating hotdogs and bologna for decades and you don’t know what is in that stuff, either. Besides, the ingredients for the vaccines are out there.) Maybe you don’t want to take the vaccine because you don’t think it has been tested enough. Perfectly valid. Maybe you have some other reason for skipping the vaccine. Your choice. But please, do not bring God into it.

          I find out a little more every day about Edilia’s death. I already knew that she had not taken the vaccine. But last night I was told that a close relative (either her brother or a nephew, not sure which) is telling the family not to take the vaccine because the Bible instructs us not to do so. I had heard this before, but I brushed it off thinking anyone who reads and studies the Bible knows better and those who don’t read the Bible will scoff at those silly Christians. But with this new news on Edilia’s death, I had to look this up.

          I don’t know how wide spread the thinking is for each one of these, but the idea that God tells us not to take the vaccine falls into three categories. Take your pick.

          First, we have the offshoot of the health and wealth gospel. This is the idea that if you believe in it strong enough and have enough faith, you will receive that which you pray for. It could be health or wealth. The Lord wants us to have it all. This idea comes from Matthew 21:22---And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith. That is pretty powerful stuff. It is also a single verse taken out of a passage with no context with it. This is exactly why I am always telling you folks to not let your devotionals be your only reading of the Word. That devotion al writer is going to take no more than a handful of verses and then tell you what to think. The above verse is in the passage where Jesus punishes the fig tree for not bearing fruit. The disciples are amazed at how quickly the tree withers. What is interesting is verse 21, which immediately proceeds. ---And Jesus answered them, “Truly I say to you, if you have faith, and do not doubt, you will not only do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say unto this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ it will happen. Jesus is saying you have to have enough faith and no doubt, you can move that mountain or you receive whatever you ask for. Those who teach and preach the health and wealth gospel leave out the mountain thing, because that is the key to the rest of it happening. They can’t move the mountain, they can’t pray and receive. And the mountain is not an abstract. He says this mountain. He is indicating, maybe even pointing,

 to a particular mountain. He means a real, honest to goodness mountain.

          The health and wealth gospel is so easy to take apart, but there are those out there saying if you have faith enough COVID will not, cannot, touch you.

          The second argument that Christians should not fear COVID and get the vaccine comes from the idea that humans used to live a very, very long time. I read some years back, a well known doctor from the Cleveland Clinic said that with the absence of detrimental external elements, the human body should be able to continually replicate itself. In the days before Abraham, people lived for hundreds of years. Therefore, if we eat as they did and live our lives as they did, we will also live a long time. Disease will have no effect on us. This sounds really good and has sold a lot of recipe books. The only problem is that diet is just a small part of it. Before the Flood, the Bible describes a completely different environment. The weather was different, the air was different, the land was different. The Flood changed that. Of a necessity, human kind became omnivores. Disease became more common. Life spans began to shorten. People still lived natural lives and ate good food, but by the time of Jesus, a man could expect to live to 55 years old, if he stayed healthy. The fact is, disease came into the world because of sin. Disease is like rain; it affects everyone in its path.

          The third argument is one I had not known of and it is one that would give me pause on the vaccine. There are many vaccines out there for many different diseases. More, in fact, than we realize. From my reading (which is certainly not inclusive) I found that there are 23 different vaccines that were created using fetal tissue during the research and development stage. Human tissue was needed and there was an abundance of fetal tissue. However, in almost all cases the tissue was taken from infants that were still born. Actually, most of these vaccines, such as polio, were developed before abortions became legal. After the vaccine became viable and there was no longer a need for research, they no longer needed the human tissue. In any case, the COVID vaccines did not use fetal tissue.

          Conclusion: If you hear someone saying that if you believe hard enough, you won’t get COVID, ask that dude to move Pike’s Peak and bring it here. Indiana could use a nice mountain. If you hear someone saying that if we just eat what they did in the Bible, we would have no worries, ask them why people live longer now than they did in Jesus’ day. And if you hear someone say that the COVID vaccines were developed using fetal tissue, ask for his data.

          I know of a family in South Florida who were devastated by an accidental death and now are doubly devastated by a foolish and almost criminal death. No need for it.

          If you don’t want the vaccine, fine. Just don’t blame God when sickness comes.

           She called me ‘babe.’

          I thought about just leaving it at that and letting you wonder for a week about who is calling pastor a ‘babe.’ Would it be someone he has gotten to know in a doctor’s office? Someone online? Is he dating someone? ‘Babe’ is pretty personal. Who does he know well enough that she would call him ‘babe?’ Oh, this is some juicy news!!!

          Well, she is about ten years younger than me, it looks like she has all her teeth and she has longer fingernails than I feel comfortable with. I have only met her twice.

          She is the fill in morning person at the drive-up window at the McDonald’s in North Manchester. As I said, ‘babe’ is a bit personal and I don’t want to hear it as I wait for my coffee. Actually, I would just like to get my coffee in less than fifteen minutes in the drive-up rather than be called ‘babe.’ Being called ‘babe’ does not help the experience.

          But it got me thinking. If I had responded in kind, I would be guilty of sexual harassment. In our society today, she is guilty of nothing, but because men are just brutish savages, I could be in real trouble for calling her ’babe.’

          New York’s governor Cuomo has gotten himself in trouble both for what he has said and for unwanted sexual advances. If it is all true, he should more than lose his job. He should go to prison. A person should have the right to protect themselves. However, this blog is about words.

          I started out my adult life when calling a woman ‘sweetheart’ was an acceptable thing. You opened doors for them. If you were walking with a woman, you might reach over and place your hand on her elbow. If you were standing and talking. you could put a hand on her shoulder. There were unspoken rules, but they were rules you could live with. The same went for female children and teenagers. None of it meant anything.

          But then, everything changed. To me it seemed that things changed suddenly, but I was assured by my wife that the change had been coming. Practically any interaction between men and women, whether physical or verbal, was sexual harassment. Looking into a woman’s eyes while you talked was sexual harassment. Looking elsewhere on her person was definitely sexual harassment. Telling a woman that she looked nice was sexual harassment. I was never much of a hugger, but it was during this time that I quit hugging altogether. Extreme circumstances, maybe, but mostly not at all. No lingering handshakes, no compliments, no endearments. Well, I do have some trouble with endearments. We will get to that.

          As hard as it is for a minister to avoid these things because of the need to encourage and lift up, it is harder for men in an office setting. I received a call from an HR manager telling me that one of their men was accused of inappropriate touching. They had to send him for counseling. Could I talk to him? His story was that they were in a meeting and sitting around a table. To many people, to small of a table. He was seated next to a woman so close their knees were touching. And that was inappropriate touching. When you cannot interact with half of your co-workers, how do you do your job?

          Now I have entered the time in my life that if I touch a shoulder, it is assumed I am steadying myself, if I hug someone it is assumed I was falling and reached out and if I look into someone’s eyes while talking with them it is assumed I am trying to place them in my mind. But even so, endearments are still a no-no. Endearments are really the only thing that has given me trouble. I get to the point of friendship and I naturally call someone ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’ or something akin to that. (Never ‘babe,’ though. That was reserved for one person.) Endearments are a natural thing, and we men are prohibited from using them. I don’t know. Maybe that is a good thing?

          However, endearments are used in the Bible. ‘Beloved’ is used 103 times. ‘Dear’ or ‘Dear ones’ is used, depending the translation, a dozen times. ‘Friend’ or ‘friends’ is used (again depending the translation) a hundred times. And there are groups of words that denote friendship and caring. Paul calling Timothy his ‘son in the faith’ and a woman ‘a blessed worker.’ Maybe it is just because I have never tried to come on to a woman, but endearments are hard for me to see as a threat. I look forward to the Lord welcoming me into heaven with a ‘welcome, My dear son.’  

          If I slip and call you ‘sweetheart’ or ‘sweetie’ or some such, just remember that I am an old man and I am slipping. If I call you ‘babe,’ you can slap me really hard. I don’t mind being an old man, but I don’t want to become a dirty old man.      

           By the time I started pastoring a church in Geneva, Ohio I had already been a pastor for twelve years and had been in the ministry for twenty years. I had never interacted much with pastors outside of my own denomination and I was more than a little leery of other pastors. I had heard of pastors who rejected the Bible and pastors who did bad things and pastors who were not trustworthy. But eventually I began to find this was true in my own denomination, as well. When the church in Geneva contacted me (they were of a different denomination) I was ready to step out of what had become my comfort zone. However, the Geneva church wanted me to become part of the local ministerial group. Twelve different churches, twelve different denominations. I figured I would go to a couple of meetings and not return.

          The funny thing, though, is that these people became the best friends I have ever had in the ministry. Chuck, the Methodist minister, probably is the best minister friend I have ever had. Totally dedicated to the Lord and to the church he pastored. Skip, the Missouri Synod Lutheran pastor was just a joy to be around. Harold, the Church of Christ pastor, was like sitting with an Old Testament prophet. Rick, the Christian Missionary Alliance pastor, was like talking with Paul. Harry, the Assembly of God, was the only other pastor who got up as early as I did and once a week we met for breakfast at a little restaurant. I think they didn’t like us coming in, because I could get Harry happy in the Lord and he would start squirming and fidgeting and pretty soon he would bellow out an ‘AMEN BROTHER’ and startle the other diners. Harry was so easy. There were others, all great people. I learned that it was possible to believe the Bible but have a difference of opinion, but if you really believed the Bible, you came to the same conclusion. Jesus willingly died for our sins, was buried and rose again, and salvation is only through Jesus. That was a great time in my life.

          So, when the first pastors’ retreat came up, I was eager to go. I asked at a meeting of our local pastors who was going. No one was going. Chuck looked over and said, “Think twice about going, guy.” Skip said, “Yeah, Larry, it really is not a good time.” They all seemed to be in agreement, but they weren’t saying why. So now, I really wanted to go.

          The retreat grounds were about four hours away. Beautiful day, beautiful drive, beautiful grounds. I got there at 10 AM and checked in. I was looking forward to the next three days. Lunch was at 11:30, so after I got settled, I headed over to the pavilion where we would be taking our meals. This was where my education began.

          Since I didn’t know anyone, I got my tray and went to a table of four pastors. I asked if I could join them and they invited me to sit. I am a listener, especially the first time in a group. I am not shy. I am just gauging people. You learn a lot about people when you are quiet. These pastors were having a discussion of a few troubling passages in the Bible. One said he just didn’t feel that a certain passage even belonged. “I cannot believe that a loving God would say that!” Oh boy! I sat back to see the fireworks begin! But a couple agreed with him. The fourth spoke up and said that he believed that part of the Scripture, but had a hard time accepting another part. WAIT? WHAT? WERE THESE GUYS SERIOUS? One of the men turned to me and asked what I thought. “Well, I believe the whole Bible is God’s Word and is infallible.” This was met by laughter and then I was asked what I really thought. “Well, again, I believe the whole Bible is God’s Word and is infallible.” They looked at me like they thought I was joking, then one said, “You are serious, aren’t you?” They just couldn’t wrap their minds around that concept.

          Word spread quickly that there was a fanatic in the group. As the day wore on, whenever there was a break in the schedule, someone would come up with one passage or another that they questioned and wanted my take. Finally, at the evening gathering, I became the target. How could I possibly believe all of it? Finally, I quit listening and started talking.

          “What I find interesting here, folks (there were female pastors as well, so I couldn’t just say ‘men’), is that he can say one thing and you can say something different and you over here can say something else altogether, yet you can all agree to disagree. Which leaves me with two questions. One, why can’t you just accept what I believe? Instead you are all mad at me. Second question, if you all disagree on various passage, who decides what is right and what is wrong? There is only one truth. There is no truth for one and a different truth for another. Allow me to answer these two questions. First, you cannot accept what I say and are angry with me because you know that if I am right, you folks are in real trouble. And second, if you accept there is only one truth and not multiple truths, you folks are in real trouble.” After that first night I was avoided like the plague. I went back for two more retreats and was challenged again on various things and then avoided. I seriously had a great time.

          In Genesis 3:1-7 we have this; Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?”  And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.”  But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die.  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”  So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths.

          We have always been told, of course, that the first human sin was Eve eating the fruit. But the first sin was “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.” In Genesis 2 God told Adam that that they could not eat of the tree. He never said you could not touch it. So, the first sin was altering the Word of God. Satan, in the form of a serpent, led Eve down that path.

          And that is how Satan works today. All he has to do is to get us to question the least little thing in the Scripture. Not some big thing, like did God create all or was Jesus born of a virgin, but something small. Something you can blow by. ‘Boy, the way Paul wrote, he sure didn’t like women. Wives submitting to their husbands…I don’t know.’  And the first little question is put into your mind. And most people never try to find out what was behind what Paul said.

Here is something interesting. Gallup Poll, 2017. 71% of Americans claim to be Christian. I was surprised it was that high until I read what the normal definition of ‘Christian’ is in this country. But, only 21% say that the Bible is all God’s Word, no errors. Think of that. If one part of it is wrong, then you cannot trust any of it. So, less than one fourth of the people in church around the country think that the Bible is true and therefore can be trusted. The rest are willing to take it, but with a grain of salt.

It is not American values that are being challenged in society today. The values that are being challenged today predates America by eons. Biblical values are being ripped down. America was built on Biblical values. But we have become so watered down as Christians that we can’t bring ourselves to even say ‘Biblical values.’

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the Cross. Lift high the royal banner, it must not suffer loss!

I do not worry about the country. The country will only be as strong as the real Christians in the country are strong. The founding fathers knew this and it is in their writings. But when only 21% of professing Christians believe the Bible to be the error free Word of God, our country has no chance.

I have two e-mail addresses; oldirishguy51@yahoo.com and nypc6972@yahoo.com. If you have an issue with any passage of Scripture, please contact me and we will figure it out. Do that before you write off even the tiniest bit of Scripture. Be strong in the faith.