I have always believed in the Promise of Christmas.
There has always been something wonderful, magical and special about this time of year that goes back to my earliest childhood.
But how often does Christmas really deliver on its promises? A little bit here and there, but by and large, it's the endless drone of mind-numbing ads on TV, or the friction and pressure that comes when we feel obligated to purchase gifts for people we barely know. It's the unrealistic expectations put on us by others – and sometimes even ourselves.
Then there's that big "Post Christmas Letdown." It's the letdown of an expectation that can never really be met. We're not able to give what we really wanted to give, or maybe we didn't receive what we had hoped for. Then there are those bills that come due. …
So let's be honest here: Christmas at its worst is a crass, commercial, empty, exhausting and very expensive ritual that seemingly drags on for weeks.
But what is Christmas at its best?
It is a taste of heaven and a glimpse of things to come: the beauty of worship, the adoring angels, the love, warmth, promise and hope. All the things promised us in a life yet to come. You see, Christmas is a promise and a foretaste. But the best is yet to come.
Ever since I was a little boy, I've believed in the promise of Christmas. As a child, I always wanted to have a family experience … which was hard when you don't have a family.
When Cathe and I got married and had our sons, I thought I would realize the promise then. I always wanted Christmas to be what it wasn't for me, so I often overdid things a bit. Too many toys, I'm sure. And I was more excited on Christmas morning than the boys were.
I still believe in the Promise of Christmas – not the hijacked, commercial, secular, politically correct, Christ-less "Holiday Season," but the true and enduring celebration of our Lord's birth.
The essential message of Christmas is not "Let it snow!" or "Let us shop!" The message is "Let us WORSHIP, because God is with us." Isaiah 7:14 says, "Therefore the LORD Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel."
We all remember the gifts of the wise men, brought to the Child Jesus. But the first Christmas gift wasn't a gift to a child, but rather the gift of a Child. "For God so loved the world that He Gave His only begotten Son" (John 3:16).
That's what Immanuel means: God with us.
What a staggering thought that is! That's the very essence of the Christian life. Other religions tell you to try to live according to certain standards. Christianity teaches that Christ Himself comes and lives in the human heart. It's not us in our feeble attempts trying to "do it for God," it is God Himself living through us.
God with us! Without question, one of the most remarkable teachings in the Bible is that Jesus Christ Himself will actually enter and live in any human heart that welcomes Him. The old Christmas carol had it right: "Let every heart prepare Him room."
Jesus said in John 14:23, "If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him."
What an amazing statement! God the Father and Son are saying that they want "to make their home" with you and me! Jesus Himself said to His disciples, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." He also said, "I will never leave you or forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5).
Can we honestly wrap our minds around such a truth? That God Himself is with us? When we put our faith in Christ, we can know that we will never be alone in life. He is there. He will always be there.
As human beings living out our lives on a broken planet, we will certainly face storms, hardships, challenges and even tragedies in our lives. The Bible never said we would live a problem and pain-free life, even as Christians. But we will never, never be alone. So we don't have to be afraid.
Maybe your marriage fell apart this year, and you feel all alone. God is with you! Perhaps your children have forgotten about you. God is with you! Maybe a loved one that was with you last Christmas is gone today. God is with you! Maybe you are isolated in a hospital, convalescent home or prison. If you have put your faith in Christ, God is with you!
The holiday we call "Christmas" just can't deliver on its promises. Christmas can't bring harmony to your home, peace on earth or lasting happiness. No, but Christ Himself can do all of this and more. He can give us the very thing we long for most deep inside.
Not Christmas, but Christ. Not merriment, but the Messiah. Not "good will," but God. Not presents, but His presence. Anything or anyone short of this will disappoint, but God never will.
There may be many things you don't have this Christmas. You may not have as much to give as you did last year. You may not have a loved one with you who was with you last year.
Maybe you have been looking to the Christmas holiday or the things of this world to make you happy. C. S. Lewis wrote, "God designed the human machine to run on. He Himself is the fuel our spirits were designed to burn, or the food our spirits were designed to feed on. There is no other. … That is why it is just no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about faith. God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing."
It's not Christmas that will give you joy or lasting peace, but Jesus Christ. He, and nothing or no one else, is the true Promise of Christmas.
Greg Laurie is the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, Calif., one of the largest churches in America. He is also the featured speaker for Harvest Crusades, large-scale evangelistic outreaches that have been attended by more than 4 million people around the world since 1990. Greg is heard internationally on the daily radio broadcast, "A New Beginning." To learn more about Greg Laurie go to www.greglaurie.com.
12.29.2009
12.19.2009
Greg Laurie: The Real Beginning of Christmas
How often do you look at your watch in a given day? Or check the time? Or ask someone else what time it is? Why do we do that? We do it because we govern our lives by time. There is a time that we get up in the morning. There is a time when we go to work or school. There is a time when we go home. There is a time when we go to bed and when we get up the next morning and repeat the process. We live our lives by the clock, and we have a constant awareness of time.
According to the Bible, we even live our lives for a certain period of time – not a moment longer and not a moment shorter. You can eat free-range chicken and organic vegetables and use all of the lotions and potions and special vitamins available, but you will not live one day longer than God wants you to live. Nor will you live one day shorter. The Bible says, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die" (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 NIV).
As one person said, "Men talk of killing time while time quietly kills them." The problem is that we spend a lot of our lives doing things we would rather not be doing. We have control over some of these things, but not all of them. For example, the average American will spend six months of their lives sitting at traffic lights, one year searching desk clutter for misplaced objects, five years waiting in lines, three years in meetings and eight months opening junk mail.
As C. S. Lewis said, "The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is."
We live by time, while God exists outside of time. I am not implying that God is unaware of time, because He is completely aware of every minute and second of our lives and everything that is happening in them. But God lives in the eternal realm. Therefore, we might say that God's interpretation of time is quite different from ours.
God has His own timing, and there are times in life when it appears to us as though God is late, as though God is somehow disengaged and not paying attention. And sometimes as we look at the way the world is going, we wonder whether God is aware of what it is like right now.
That is how it was at the time of Jesus' birth. Israel was tired of waiting. They felt it was time for the Messiah to arrive. They were difficult and dark days in the history of Israel. In fact, the time in which they were living when Christ finally came was almost as bad as it was under Pharaoh's rule in Egypt, because they were under the control of Rome and the tyrannical rule of the puppet King Herod.
While Herod was known for the great buildings he erected, he was also known for his paranoia. He would have anyone he saw as a potential threat to his throne killed. He had two of his sons put to death because he thought they would try to lead a coup against him. It was said of Herod that it was better to be one of his pigs than one of his sons.
The fact is that 6 B.C. was a lousy time to be living in Judea. People were wondering when God was going to intervene. They had not heard from him for 400 years. Not a single prophet had delivered a message from heaven. There had been no miracles and no angelic appearances – only a stony silence from heaven. The people were probing. They were searching. They were wondering when things were going to change.
But there was a sense that something was in the air, that something was about to break. And indeed it was – because the moment was coming for the Messiah to arrive. It all started with the aged priest, Zacharias. As he was in the temple bringing sacrifices on behalf of the people, the angel Gabriel came to him with the announcement that he would be the father of the forerunner of Jesus, John the Baptizer. The wonderful story was about to unfold.
But we need to understand that the Christmas story did not start in Luke or in Matthew. The Christmas story began much further back. Although Jesus was born in a manger in Bethlehem, being God and being a part of the Trinity, he is pre-existent. He is eternal. When we celebrate his birth in the manger in Bethlehem, we are celebrating when he came to this world as a man. But he has always been and always will be. Jesus said, "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End" (Revelation 21:6 NIV).
Isaiah summed it up well when he said, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given" (Isaiah 9:6). That gives us the story of the arrival of Jesus from both heaven and Earth's perspective. "To us a child is born" is the story of a birth. "To us a son is given" is the story of a departure from heaven.
From heaven's perspective, the son left glory and came to walk among us and breathe our air and live our life and then die our death. From Earth's perspective, God came to us as a man who was deity in diapers – God almighty as a little, helpless baby.
When the angel appeared to a group of shepherds and announced, "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord" (Luke 2:11 NIV), essentially he was saying, "Don't look to the palace for the savior of the world. Look to the manger in Bethlehem. Don't look at that self-proclaimed god in Rome wrapped in satin, but look at the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. There is the savior of the world." He came and gave up everything to serve us. It was the ultimate gift to humanity. His pain was our gain.
Someone wisely said that history swings on the hinge of the door of a stable in Bethlehem. This was the moment in human history that God chose to bring us a savior. And our world has never been the same.
Greg Laurie is the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, Calif., one of the eight largest churches in America. He has just completed his autobiography, "Lost Boy," which tells the story of his turbulent childhood, growing up with an alcoholic, seven-times divorced mother, and finding a new life and destiny at age 17. Learn more about his life and ministry at www.greglaurie.com.
According to the Bible, we even live our lives for a certain period of time – not a moment longer and not a moment shorter. You can eat free-range chicken and organic vegetables and use all of the lotions and potions and special vitamins available, but you will not live one day longer than God wants you to live. Nor will you live one day shorter. The Bible says, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die" (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 NIV).
As one person said, "Men talk of killing time while time quietly kills them." The problem is that we spend a lot of our lives doing things we would rather not be doing. We have control over some of these things, but not all of them. For example, the average American will spend six months of their lives sitting at traffic lights, one year searching desk clutter for misplaced objects, five years waiting in lines, three years in meetings and eight months opening junk mail.
As C. S. Lewis said, "The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is."
We live by time, while God exists outside of time. I am not implying that God is unaware of time, because He is completely aware of every minute and second of our lives and everything that is happening in them. But God lives in the eternal realm. Therefore, we might say that God's interpretation of time is quite different from ours.
God has His own timing, and there are times in life when it appears to us as though God is late, as though God is somehow disengaged and not paying attention. And sometimes as we look at the way the world is going, we wonder whether God is aware of what it is like right now.
That is how it was at the time of Jesus' birth. Israel was tired of waiting. They felt it was time for the Messiah to arrive. They were difficult and dark days in the history of Israel. In fact, the time in which they were living when Christ finally came was almost as bad as it was under Pharaoh's rule in Egypt, because they were under the control of Rome and the tyrannical rule of the puppet King Herod.
While Herod was known for the great buildings he erected, he was also known for his paranoia. He would have anyone he saw as a potential threat to his throne killed. He had two of his sons put to death because he thought they would try to lead a coup against him. It was said of Herod that it was better to be one of his pigs than one of his sons.
The fact is that 6 B.C. was a lousy time to be living in Judea. People were wondering when God was going to intervene. They had not heard from him for 400 years. Not a single prophet had delivered a message from heaven. There had been no miracles and no angelic appearances – only a stony silence from heaven. The people were probing. They were searching. They were wondering when things were going to change.
But there was a sense that something was in the air, that something was about to break. And indeed it was – because the moment was coming for the Messiah to arrive. It all started with the aged priest, Zacharias. As he was in the temple bringing sacrifices on behalf of the people, the angel Gabriel came to him with the announcement that he would be the father of the forerunner of Jesus, John the Baptizer. The wonderful story was about to unfold.
But we need to understand that the Christmas story did not start in Luke or in Matthew. The Christmas story began much further back. Although Jesus was born in a manger in Bethlehem, being God and being a part of the Trinity, he is pre-existent. He is eternal. When we celebrate his birth in the manger in Bethlehem, we are celebrating when he came to this world as a man. But he has always been and always will be. Jesus said, "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End" (Revelation 21:6 NIV).
Isaiah summed it up well when he said, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given" (Isaiah 9:6). That gives us the story of the arrival of Jesus from both heaven and Earth's perspective. "To us a child is born" is the story of a birth. "To us a son is given" is the story of a departure from heaven.
From heaven's perspective, the son left glory and came to walk among us and breathe our air and live our life and then die our death. From Earth's perspective, God came to us as a man who was deity in diapers – God almighty as a little, helpless baby.
When the angel appeared to a group of shepherds and announced, "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord" (Luke 2:11 NIV), essentially he was saying, "Don't look to the palace for the savior of the world. Look to the manger in Bethlehem. Don't look at that self-proclaimed god in Rome wrapped in satin, but look at the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. There is the savior of the world." He came and gave up everything to serve us. It was the ultimate gift to humanity. His pain was our gain.
Someone wisely said that history swings on the hinge of the door of a stable in Bethlehem. This was the moment in human history that God chose to bring us a savior. And our world has never been the same.
Greg Laurie is the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, Calif., one of the eight largest churches in America. He has just completed his autobiography, "Lost Boy," which tells the story of his turbulent childhood, growing up with an alcoholic, seven-times divorced mother, and finding a new life and destiny at age 17. Learn more about his life and ministry at www.greglaurie.com.
12.16.2009
Greg Laurie: Have You Forgotten?
Two men who decided to go sailing instead of Christmas shopping with their wives launched their sailboat and were making their way out into the ocean when a big storm came. The boat took on a lot of water, and they eventually were beached. As they worked in the freezing water to get the boat off the sandbar, getting beat up against the hull, one turned to the other and said, "Sure beats Christmas shopping, doesn't it?"
In the midst of our search for the ultimate deals, maybe we all should take a deep breath and remember what this time is all about. Sometimes in all of the activity, we can lose sight of the real meaning behind this season. We are too busy celebrating Christmas.
It seems like we certainly have lost the name of Jesus in the Christmas celebration. We don't see the word "Christmas" as much as we used to. It has been replaced with "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" or "Winter Break" or even "the Winter Solstice," as some describe it.
It seems people have hijacked Christmas, just as they have hijacked Thanksgiving. The new name for Thanksgiving is Turkey Day. Turkey Day? What is that all about? I saw an ad in a newspaper for a bar that was serving vodka-drenched turkey, with the promise of one ounce of vodka in every bite. Of course, that must have been what the Pilgrims had in mind when they set a day apart to give thanksgiving to God. Their menu included eel and eagles, but turkey didn't come until quite a bit later. But we have turned Thanksgiving into Turkey Day and Christmas into Season's Greetings, and we have lost sight of their original meaning altogether.
I think we can even lose sight of God. It is quite easy to do.
The good news is that God never loses sight of us. The blessing the priests were to pronounce over the Israelites was, "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace" (Numbers 6:24–26 NKJV). The phrase "lift up His countenance" could be translated from the original language as "to look, to see, to know, to be interested, to have one's full attention." So God is saying, in effect, "I am going to bless you. I am going to keep you. And you have my full attention. I am paying attention to you."
Have you ever been pouring your heart out to someone who looks distracted, like they really don't care? As you are talking, they stare blankly into space and occasionally comment with a "Really?" or a "That's interesting." Or they are texting while you are talking, or worse, they take a call on their cell: "Hey, what's up? Yeah. ... No, I'm not doing anything. ..."
If you are wondering whether God is even aware of what is happening in your life right now, the answer is yes – absolutely. The essential message of Christmas is that God came to us. His name, Immanuel, means, "God is with us." He always is watching you, always caring for you – even when you are not always watching him.
On one occasion when Jesus dispatched his disciples across the Sea of Galilee and a great storm came, he was not on board at that particular time. He was on a mountain praying. They could not see him, but he could see them, and he ultimately came to them, walking on the water.
In the same way, he is watching you. He is praying for you.
Even so, we do lose sight of him. A friend of mine who is also a pastor told me that once when his son was praying, he said, "Lord, thank you for sending your only forgotten son." He meant to say "begotten son," but he misunderstood and said, "forgotten son."
That is how it has become for many people today. God's only begotten son is God's only forgotten son. And one of the easiest times to do that is during the Christmas season. We can be so busy with our activities that we forget all about Jesus, and we can lose him at this time of year. God's only begotten son can become for us God's only forgotten son. Often when we become too busy, we will cut out what we think are the nonessentials, like reading the Bible or praying. That always interests me when I hear people say they don't have time for Bible study. But maybe there are some things they could cut out so they will have a little bit more time for it. In fact, I think we will always find time for what is important to us, no matter what. And the last thing we ought to cut out is our time studying the Word of God, and our time of prayer as we get ready for the day. But often that is what people will cut out first.
And sometimes we can be too busy even doing so-called "spiritual things." We can be so busy working for God that we miss God. We think of people who are far from God as those who leave the fellowship of other Christians, ignore God's Word, and go out into the world and live foolish lives. But you can be active in church and attending every week and still lose sight of Jesus.
In Revelation 2, Jesus offers his prescription for renewal when we have lost sight of him: "Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works" (verse 5 NKJV). First, you remember. You think back and say, "You know, there was a time when my life was much stronger spiritually. There was a time when my commitment to Christ was far more passionate. I need to remember that."
Then, you repent. You get back to where you were before. The word "repent" means to change your direction. It is like hanging a U-turn on the road of life and starting to live the way God wants you to live.
Finally, you repeat. You "do the first works." In other words, you get back to where you once belonged.
The message of Christmas is God is with us. If you have lost God, if you have forgotten about him as the years have passed by, then I have good news: God has not forgotten about you. So don't forget Jesus during this Christmas season. He certainly hasn't forgotten you.
Greg Laurie is the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, Calif., one of the eight largest churches in America. He has just completed his autobiography, "Lost Boy," which tells the story of his turbulent childhood, growing up with an alcoholic, seven-times divorced mother, and finding a new life and destiny at age 17. Learn more about his life and ministry at www.greglaurie.com.
In the midst of our search for the ultimate deals, maybe we all should take a deep breath and remember what this time is all about. Sometimes in all of the activity, we can lose sight of the real meaning behind this season. We are too busy celebrating Christmas.
It seems like we certainly have lost the name of Jesus in the Christmas celebration. We don't see the word "Christmas" as much as we used to. It has been replaced with "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" or "Winter Break" or even "the Winter Solstice," as some describe it.
It seems people have hijacked Christmas, just as they have hijacked Thanksgiving. The new name for Thanksgiving is Turkey Day. Turkey Day? What is that all about? I saw an ad in a newspaper for a bar that was serving vodka-drenched turkey, with the promise of one ounce of vodka in every bite. Of course, that must have been what the Pilgrims had in mind when they set a day apart to give thanksgiving to God. Their menu included eel and eagles, but turkey didn't come until quite a bit later. But we have turned Thanksgiving into Turkey Day and Christmas into Season's Greetings, and we have lost sight of their original meaning altogether.
I think we can even lose sight of God. It is quite easy to do.
The good news is that God never loses sight of us. The blessing the priests were to pronounce over the Israelites was, "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace" (Numbers 6:24–26 NKJV). The phrase "lift up His countenance" could be translated from the original language as "to look, to see, to know, to be interested, to have one's full attention." So God is saying, in effect, "I am going to bless you. I am going to keep you. And you have my full attention. I am paying attention to you."
Have you ever been pouring your heart out to someone who looks distracted, like they really don't care? As you are talking, they stare blankly into space and occasionally comment with a "Really?" or a "That's interesting." Or they are texting while you are talking, or worse, they take a call on their cell: "Hey, what's up? Yeah. ... No, I'm not doing anything. ..."
If you are wondering whether God is even aware of what is happening in your life right now, the answer is yes – absolutely. The essential message of Christmas is that God came to us. His name, Immanuel, means, "God is with us." He always is watching you, always caring for you – even when you are not always watching him.
On one occasion when Jesus dispatched his disciples across the Sea of Galilee and a great storm came, he was not on board at that particular time. He was on a mountain praying. They could not see him, but he could see them, and he ultimately came to them, walking on the water.
In the same way, he is watching you. He is praying for you.
Even so, we do lose sight of him. A friend of mine who is also a pastor told me that once when his son was praying, he said, "Lord, thank you for sending your only forgotten son." He meant to say "begotten son," but he misunderstood and said, "forgotten son."
That is how it has become for many people today. God's only begotten son is God's only forgotten son. And one of the easiest times to do that is during the Christmas season. We can be so busy with our activities that we forget all about Jesus, and we can lose him at this time of year. God's only begotten son can become for us God's only forgotten son. Often when we become too busy, we will cut out what we think are the nonessentials, like reading the Bible or praying. That always interests me when I hear people say they don't have time for Bible study. But maybe there are some things they could cut out so they will have a little bit more time for it. In fact, I think we will always find time for what is important to us, no matter what. And the last thing we ought to cut out is our time studying the Word of God, and our time of prayer as we get ready for the day. But often that is what people will cut out first.
And sometimes we can be too busy even doing so-called "spiritual things." We can be so busy working for God that we miss God. We think of people who are far from God as those who leave the fellowship of other Christians, ignore God's Word, and go out into the world and live foolish lives. But you can be active in church and attending every week and still lose sight of Jesus.
In Revelation 2, Jesus offers his prescription for renewal when we have lost sight of him: "Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works" (verse 5 NKJV). First, you remember. You think back and say, "You know, there was a time when my life was much stronger spiritually. There was a time when my commitment to Christ was far more passionate. I need to remember that."
Then, you repent. You get back to where you were before. The word "repent" means to change your direction. It is like hanging a U-turn on the road of life and starting to live the way God wants you to live.
Finally, you repeat. You "do the first works." In other words, you get back to where you once belonged.
The message of Christmas is God is with us. If you have lost God, if you have forgotten about him as the years have passed by, then I have good news: God has not forgotten about you. So don't forget Jesus during this Christmas season. He certainly hasn't forgotten you.
Greg Laurie is the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, Calif., one of the eight largest churches in America. He has just completed his autobiography, "Lost Boy," which tells the story of his turbulent childhood, growing up with an alcoholic, seven-times divorced mother, and finding a new life and destiny at age 17. Learn more about his life and ministry at www.greglaurie.com.
12.11.2009
Review: "Going Rogue"
Sarah Palin was literally unknown before she instantly became a household name one late-summer day in 2008.
For more than a year after Palin and John McCain's presidential campaign ended, we continued to hear her name.
It was on the radio, the television, the internet, and in print. She was shamed by the mainstream media and praised by main street America.
Then, nearly a year after she burst onto the national political scene, she resigned from her position as Governor of Alaska.
Nobody understood why-- at least not with the bizare fairy tales the mainstream offerred as explanation. Plus, the question still begged an answer: Who is Sarah Palin?
Now we get to find out.
I have read this entire book and let me tell you: it's hot material.
It's like having some important documents in your hands: you instantly become more powerful and aware.
The things you hear and read from the media will now be more transparent to you. The unseen workings of politics and campaigns will now be more transparent to you.
And beyond the placid alpine lakes, jagged peaks, and busy fishing wharfs of Alaska is a story that tells more about what America needs for the future than what most reknowned PhD's can suggest.
It's the story of a single person's life.Yet, it tells you what we're all forgetting in this country.
It's a tell-all about things only "the wiser few" can detect through the fog.
It tells you what Washington and elitist politicians don't want you to hear.
It shows you who is about serving the people and who is about power and money.
All the while, it's not too political for anyone.
I reccommend it for high school reading-- especially juniors and seniors who will be voting in 2010. Then. of course, on to those voting in 2012.
Even so, it's hardly political enough to bore you.
You'll know the whole Palin family.
And Alaska.
For example, how do Alaskans get their food? What's up with Bristol? What do they do in the winter? How did Sarah meet Todd? What sports do they like? Why did Sarah go to so many colleges? How important is duct tape to their skin? What happens when there's a fire in Alaska? How do they get around? Or maybe how modern can they get?
As an immediate bestseller, "Going Rogue" is the kind of story that hooks you and keeps you coming.
It's vaguely remniscient of our own childhood memories as it touches on, both, warm memories, hard times, and the common sense morality you learned-- or should have learned.
Most importantly, it puts flesh and blood to Palin's often criticized image.
In fact, she's hated enough that the Associated Press attempted to demonize Palin by placing 11 "fact-checkers" on the book.
Guess how many "fact checkers" they put on Obama's recent memior?
None.
Guess how many facts Palin lied about?
None. Nada. Zero.
And Obama?
Too many.
You see, the left doesn't want you to read this book. And that's why you need to read it.
Palin is for real. But it's imperative-- for many aforementioned reasons-- that you read this book and break your mind away from oblivition.
All you need is a love for this country.
A cup of coffee, a comfortable chair, a warm fire, and a flannel blanket wouldn't hurt either-- there's not alot of hot air from Palin.
What a relief.
Our politicians blow enough hot air to create "global warming'!
Enough of my humor, I reccommend it for 16 years and older (Note: a few instances of colorful language occur but the value of the comical lessons are priceless).
It's not too rogue.
In fact, the title of the book is a sarcastic jab at... well...read it and find out!
As Christmas arrives, it may be a good time to pick up-- and READ-- a copy of "Going Rogue" before you get busy again.
You'll have a chance to get your copy signed whenever Mrs Palin comes through your state.
But also stick with the season and GIVE this book. It's a great gift. Encourage your friends to read it.
Here's to Sarah Palin and the USA!
For more than a year after Palin and John McCain's presidential campaign ended, we continued to hear her name.
It was on the radio, the television, the internet, and in print. She was shamed by the mainstream media and praised by main street America.
Then, nearly a year after she burst onto the national political scene, she resigned from her position as Governor of Alaska.
Nobody understood why-- at least not with the bizare fairy tales the mainstream offerred as explanation. Plus, the question still begged an answer: Who is Sarah Palin?
Now we get to find out.
I have read this entire book and let me tell you: it's hot material.
It's like having some important documents in your hands: you instantly become more powerful and aware.
The things you hear and read from the media will now be more transparent to you. The unseen workings of politics and campaigns will now be more transparent to you.
And beyond the placid alpine lakes, jagged peaks, and busy fishing wharfs of Alaska is a story that tells more about what America needs for the future than what most reknowned PhD's can suggest.
It's the story of a single person's life.Yet, it tells you what we're all forgetting in this country.
It's a tell-all about things only "the wiser few" can detect through the fog.
It tells you what Washington and elitist politicians don't want you to hear.
It shows you who is about serving the people and who is about power and money.
All the while, it's not too political for anyone.
I reccommend it for high school reading-- especially juniors and seniors who will be voting in 2010. Then. of course, on to those voting in 2012.
Even so, it's hardly political enough to bore you.
You'll know the whole Palin family.
And Alaska.
For example, how do Alaskans get their food? What's up with Bristol? What do they do in the winter? How did Sarah meet Todd? What sports do they like? Why did Sarah go to so many colleges? How important is duct tape to their skin? What happens when there's a fire in Alaska? How do they get around? Or maybe how modern can they get?
As an immediate bestseller, "Going Rogue" is the kind of story that hooks you and keeps you coming.
It's vaguely remniscient of our own childhood memories as it touches on, both, warm memories, hard times, and the common sense morality you learned-- or should have learned.
Most importantly, it puts flesh and blood to Palin's often criticized image.
In fact, she's hated enough that the Associated Press attempted to demonize Palin by placing 11 "fact-checkers" on the book.
Guess how many "fact checkers" they put on Obama's recent memior?
None.
Guess how many facts Palin lied about?
None. Nada. Zero.
And Obama?
Too many.
You see, the left doesn't want you to read this book. And that's why you need to read it.
Palin is for real. But it's imperative-- for many aforementioned reasons-- that you read this book and break your mind away from oblivition.
All you need is a love for this country.
A cup of coffee, a comfortable chair, a warm fire, and a flannel blanket wouldn't hurt either-- there's not alot of hot air from Palin.
What a relief.
Our politicians blow enough hot air to create "global warming'!
Enough of my humor, I reccommend it for 16 years and older (Note: a few instances of colorful language occur but the value of the comical lessons are priceless).
It's not too rogue.
In fact, the title of the book is a sarcastic jab at... well...read it and find out!
As Christmas arrives, it may be a good time to pick up-- and READ-- a copy of "Going Rogue" before you get busy again.
You'll have a chance to get your copy signed whenever Mrs Palin comes through your state.
But also stick with the season and GIVE this book. It's a great gift. Encourage your friends to read it.
Here's to Sarah Palin and the USA!
9.04.2009
A Box of Kleenex: Operation Johnny
I could not sleep last night. I read my friend Jordan's blog and came across this post:
Dear Momma,
There’s a guy who has changed my life. I’m not talking about a romantic love kind of change. I’m talking about a real change. His name is Johnny. You know him. I went to kindergarten with him, graduated high school with him. You had him in middle school… you gave him some clothes and stuff and I didn’t understand why. I get it now, momma. I get it. I wish I would have known back then, I wish I would have known what he was going through. I wish I would have known to love him sooner. His life was wrecked even before he was born.
A few years before he was born his daddy lit his house on fire for insurance money. The plan backfired on him and he ended up killing two of his older sisters and burning another one severely in the fire. They never could get sufficient evidence for him so the man walked away from that murder free. He didn’t pay a thing for it. When Johnny was three he left them. He didn’t say a goodbye, didn’t leave anything for him, just left.
When we started kindergarten together, I didn’t know he didn’t have a daddy. I had no idea. I had the best daddy in the world. I remember in kindergarten, daddy would still rock to me sleep every night. He would rock me and Jessie both, until we were almost asleep, then we would go in my room and we would all say our prayers together. Remember that, Momma? He made sure we never missed that. When we were in big crowds he would put me up on his shoulders so I could see. He played outside with me when you thought it was too hot. He helped me when I came home with words that were too hard to spell. Momma, who rocked Johnny to sleep? Who prayed for him? Whose shoulders did he get ride? Who played catch with him? Who taught him how to throw a football? Who helped him with his spelling words? He didn’t have any of that.
For a few years it was just him and his brothers and sisters while his mom tried hard to work and support them. They never saw much of her because she was always out trying to get more money. The only type of parenting he got was from his teachers at school, but they couldn’t be his parents. He needed a mom and daddy. He needed what I had. And I would get so mad at you and daddy. I thought you were so mean when you wouldn’t let me spend the night with a friend, or when you would spank me for disobeying you. I thought people like Johnny, with no parents, were lucky. I thought having no rules, no spankings, no one to tell me I couldn’t spend the night sounded so perfect. I was so wrong, Momma. Your rules and spankings, they shaped me. They made me who I am. You and daddy taught me so much. You helped me become the person I want to be. You taught me things back then that I still use today. I had no idea how important that was. I had no idea what you were doing then, but I can’t imagine my life without that. I can’t imagine how I would have learned everything without you teaching me. Who taught Johnny? Who helped him learn what was right and what was wrong? Who spanked him when he messed up and who hugged him when he did good? Who taught him things that he needed to become a young man? Who loved Johnny?
When he turned eight, his mom met a man named Steve. Johnny was so excited because he thought he was getting a daddy. He thought he was getting someone to play ball with him, to hug him, to put him on his shoulders, maybe even to pray for him. But he didn’t get any of that, Momma. You know what he got? He got cuts, bruises, scars. Steve beat him. For seven years, Momma. He beat him. Every day after school would come home and get beaten, then go and cut down big heavy trees and haul them back on his beaten body. They didn’t need wood. That was just another form of punishment. That was just another way for Steve to hate him. He did this every day, Momma. Every day he got told that he was no good. He bled. He cried. He hurt. For seven years! I came home from school and got hugged. I played with friends, ate snacks, and waited for supper. Johnny didn’t even have supper most of the time. I came home after school to everything I could possibly dream of. He came home to abuse. Every day, Momma. I didn’t even know what abuse was. I remember one time you were spanking me and I jumped and turned around and the belt hit my face. I thought that was abuse. I had absolutely no idea.
One day Johnny said he had had enough. Steve beat him so bad he was bleeding and had been knocked out. When he woke back up, Steve was asleep on the couch. Johnny went and grabbed a knife and put it on Steve’s heart. He almost killed him, Momma. But something in him made him stop. He said he put the knife down and went back to his room and just cried. You know what, Momma? I think I would have killed him. If a man beat me and my brothers and sisters every day for seven years, if he made me bleed and cry, if he treated me like an animal, I think I would have. It would be so easy for us to judge him and think that is just an awful thing to think about doing. But he didn’t know anything else. He never knew love. He was taught violence. He is a bigger person than me.
When Johnny was 14, his mom told him that his dad was coming back to town. Johnny was so excited and hopeful. He just knew that his dad would come and find out what Steve was doing to him and his brothers and sisters and save them. He just knew that he would apologize for not being there for so many years and want to restore their relationship. But that didn’t happen. He didn’t say he was sorry. He didn’t ask how he was doing. He didn’t tell him he loved him. The only thing his dad said to him that day was, “What’s your name?” His dad, the man who was supposed to come and save him, didn’t even know his name, Momma. He didn’t even know his name. He left that day and Johnny never saw him again. A few months later his girlfriend shot and killed him over a bottle of whiskey. The only memory he has of his father is him not knowing his name. Why, Momma? Why didn’t his daddy care about him? Why didn’t he want to save him from Steve? Why didn’t his know his name?
A year later, he came home one day and Steve had beaten his mom really bad. He and his brothers decided they wouldn’t take it anymore so they called the cops and they beat Steve up. They went to court and the Judge ordered a restraining order against him and put him in jail. They never heard from him again. As Johnny said, “And finally, life was good again… … … until she met another one.”
This time it was Carl. Carl didn’t abuse them near as much as Steve, but that’s because they were bigger now and they realized they didn’t have to take it. They threatened Carl and he knew they could take him if he tried anything. But one day Carl was holding a gun to Johnny’s brother’s head. Johnny beat him up until he was knocked out. After that, his mom got mad and kicked him and his brothers and sisters all out of the house. She married Carl. She chose him over her kids. How could she do that? How could she look at man like that and possibly think he was worth more than her children, her children who saved her life? I don’t get that, Momma. I don’t get it.
When she kicked them out, they were all on their own to find a place to live. Johnny had the hardest time finding a place to live. For some reason, nobody wanted him. Nobody would help him. Did anybody love him, Momma? He went to cousins, aunts, grandmas… and nobody wanted him. I don’t get that, Momma. I don’t get it at all. I have so many family members, so many friends, who would gladly open their door to me in a split second if I needed it. And he couldn’t find anyone. From that point on, he has been homeless.
There was a point in time when he lived with his grandma, but she would only let him be there at night. So he woke up every morning at 6:00 and walked to the Faulkner County Library where he stayed until they closed. He stayed there all day long, every day, for 3 months. He just sat at the same computer, wondering what he could look up today. How did he not go crazy, Momma? How did he stay sane? What did he eat during the day? Nothing, I’m sure. Momma, how did he do that? Didn’t anyone there notice him? Didn’t the people working there notice him? Did nobody offer to help him? How could they see him every day and not offer to help him once? Why didn’t they ask him why he was there every day? His grandma kicked him out after a while because another, more important, cousin needed to live there. He was back on the streets.
He found a cousin who let him stay on her back porch for a while. Yes, her back porch, outside. He said the mosquitoes ate him up. I can only imagine. How could she go to sleep at night knowing a family member was sleeping outside? How did he survive like that?
That was his story for a few years. Homeless. Looking for someone, anyone, to help him out. He worked when he could, but nobody would ever hire him because he was “slow”. His IQ wasn’t high enough. Everywhere he went, he got rejected. I can’t imagine that, Momma. I can’t. Someone finally helped him find a school in Hot Springs that is for people like him. This school will help him learn a trade and get a job. They give him a place to stay while he’s there. But what about when he’s not in school? When he has to come home for holidays or summer break… he has nowhere, Momma. He has a homeless shelter, and that’s all.
I invited him to come to our youth service on a Wednesday night a few weeks ago. That was my first time to see him since graduation. It was such a joy to see him. He made me laugh. After the service, I took him out to eat with a few of my friends, and he had the best time. We stayed out until about 10:00. He absolutely loved our youth kids. While we were eating, I asked him to come to church with us Sunday morning… he said yes without hesitation. He hadn’t been to church since he was a little boy. I asked him what he was going to wear and you know what, Momma? He didn’t have anything. All he had to wear was basically what he had on that day… and that was just a dirty old t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and some torn-up shoes. That’s all he had, Momma. My heart broke. I have clothes in my closet that I haven’t even worn yet. I complain when I don’t have clean socks. I buy jeans that cost more than all the clothes he’s ever had in his life. I am so spoiled.
A friend and I picked him up the next day and took him shopping. We couldn’t find much his size, but we got him five new t-shirts and some boxers. He didn’t even have clean underwear. His size is almost impossible to find. He needs a 4XL, but you know what, Momma? I don’t blame him for that either. He told me that when he was in high school his brothers and sisters would try to leave him and get rid of him… his step dad would beat him… his mom never showed him love. He ate whatever he could out of anger. It was his way of dealing with things. He was hungry for most of his life, so when he found food, he ate all he could. It’s not his fault, Momma. When people call him fat, it’s not his fault. Why can’t people realize that?
I was leaving for Peru the next day, and all he could think about was me being safe. He begged Pat to make sure nothing happened to me. He called me his best friend. That meant the world to me.
He left the next day to go back to Hot Springs and I didn’t see him again until this weekend. It was his birthday. I picked him up for church Sunday morning and then after church some friends and I had a surprise birthday party for him. It was his first birthday party in forever. He was so happy! He had his own cake, pizza (his favorite food), then we gave him some presents and played rockband.
My friends were great to him, Momma. They loved him. One friend got him a brand new pair of New Balances, his favorite. Another friend got him a gift-card. Three of them went in together and got him an MP3 player. We put all kinds of Christian music on it for him… and he loved it! And you and I, Momma, we got him a bible. And you know what? He loved it. I wish you could have seen his face when he opened it. It was amazing. That was his first bible. Momma, that breaks my heart. I highlighted verses for him that would be good for him to start memorizing. They are verses I have known for 15 years… and this was his first time to ever see them. How did he survive all of this without knowing those verses? How did he do this without church in his life?
We drove him back to Hot Springs Sunday night and the whole way back we sang songs like, “Amazing Grace”, “Jesus Loves Me”, and “This Little Light of Mine.” We sang it white people style first, but then he wanted to add some soul to it. It was so much fun! When we got to his school, we walked in with him and said our goodbyes. As he was getting on the elevator, he turned and said something I will never forget. He yelled out, “I love you!”
I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he had been able to say those three words to someone. Had he ever really loved anyone? Has anyone ever really loved him? Love… he had no idea what love was. Was this weekend the first time he had ever really been shown love?
It was so hard dropping him off because I knew I wouldn’t be there to hug him, to laugh with him, to talk to him. I prayed for him the whole way home. I prayed that God would open his heart and allow him to see His love.
Guess what, Momma? God answered my prayers. Tonight, around 5:30, he accepted Jesus as his Savior!! God’s love filled his life! He told me that he felt peace immediately. He has peace, and hope, and joy now. He has never known what those are. He has love. He has love that will last forever. God’s got him, now.
Momma, I don’t know why his life had to be the way it was. I don’t know why he had to endure everything he did. But I wonder if a small part of that was so that he could show me, through his story, how blessed I am. I wonder if it was so that one day I would hear his story and realize how much love I have been shown. I wonder if it was to open my eyes to people like Johnny in the world.
What scares me is the thought that there are more Johnnys out there. There are children right now who are living out this story. They need us, Momma. They need what we have. They need our hope, our love, our joy, our peace. They need us to reach out a hand to them. They need us to stop judging them, stop making fun of them… they need us to help them.
Part of me wants to just slap his mom. But a bigger part of me wants to hug her. She was probably raised the exact same way. She probably didn’t know any other way. She probably never had anyone love her. I’m sure she loved them, she probably just felt like there was nothing else she could do about it. I want to love her. I want to tell her it’s okay. I want to show her a different life. I want her to find God’s love like he did.
I asked him where his brothers and sisters are. Most of his brothers are dealing drugs. It was the only income they could find at the time. His sisters got pregnant just to have a place to live. They didn’t know better, Momma. They were just trying to survive. And now they are going to be judged, hated, and ridiculed by our society. Nobody will help them because they are “screw-ups”. Momma, I want them to be loved. I want to help them, too. I want them to know the truth.
This is a very mean world, Momma. Satan is big. But you know what? God is bigger. They need to know that. We need to tell them that. We need to show them that. We need to stop hating them, and start loving them. We need to stop judging them, and start trying to understand them. They don’t need ridicule. They need Jesus.
I know this isn’t the end for Johnny. He has a lot more he will have to endure. He has a lot of pain he will always remember. But I know that he now has a strength that he never had before. I also know that he has friends and people who love him. And Momma, I want to keep showing him love. I want to keep helping him. Maybe one day he can help someone else.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for taking me to church. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for being my Momma.
I love you,
Jordan
How incredible is that? Are you like me and completely speechless? Do you feel the need to grab a full box of kleenex and stuff it all in your chest? Are you not appalled and excited, sad and joyous, and speechless and wanting to share all at the same time? Are you not convicted? Me? I am floored by this story. I want to help Johnny. Don't you too want to help Johnny? Don't you too want to give him a hug, a smile, a high five, or a knuckle tap? Don't you too want to let him know you are part of his extended family?
How does Johnny feel after all those years? Confused? Helpless? Torn? Hated? Perhaps, Loved? Jordan and her friends showed him love. Yet, he still has no one to go home to. What is he going to do for Thanksgiving? Christmas? He now knows love. He now knows Christ. He now has a family. Are we going to stand idle as his first family did? Do you feel that desire in your heart to show him the difference in Christ?
I've been utterly moved by the Holy Spirit to do something. I'm going to take initative on this one and use this opportunity to create an informal mission for anyone who feels moved as well. We're going to call it "Operation Johnny". From now until Christmas 2009, I'm going to be gathering things for Johnny. Mostly clothes and some pocket money. This is an opportunity for us- as a family- to help Jonny get on his feet, to help him have a great Holiday season. You can give me- to give to him- whatever is on your heart to give him. Please contact me if you are interested in helping in some way. Remember, little things make a big difference.
As part of the "Operation Johnny", think about other Johnnys out there. Do you know one? Is there a kid in the library every day? A kid walking down the street every night? A kid that shows up with mysterious cuts and bruises? Is there someone you can show love to? I know of one, do you
Dear Momma,
There’s a guy who has changed my life. I’m not talking about a romantic love kind of change. I’m talking about a real change. His name is Johnny. You know him. I went to kindergarten with him, graduated high school with him. You had him in middle school… you gave him some clothes and stuff and I didn’t understand why. I get it now, momma. I get it. I wish I would have known back then, I wish I would have known what he was going through. I wish I would have known to love him sooner. His life was wrecked even before he was born.
A few years before he was born his daddy lit his house on fire for insurance money. The plan backfired on him and he ended up killing two of his older sisters and burning another one severely in the fire. They never could get sufficient evidence for him so the man walked away from that murder free. He didn’t pay a thing for it. When Johnny was three he left them. He didn’t say a goodbye, didn’t leave anything for him, just left.
When we started kindergarten together, I didn’t know he didn’t have a daddy. I had no idea. I had the best daddy in the world. I remember in kindergarten, daddy would still rock to me sleep every night. He would rock me and Jessie both, until we were almost asleep, then we would go in my room and we would all say our prayers together. Remember that, Momma? He made sure we never missed that. When we were in big crowds he would put me up on his shoulders so I could see. He played outside with me when you thought it was too hot. He helped me when I came home with words that were too hard to spell. Momma, who rocked Johnny to sleep? Who prayed for him? Whose shoulders did he get ride? Who played catch with him? Who taught him how to throw a football? Who helped him with his spelling words? He didn’t have any of that.
For a few years it was just him and his brothers and sisters while his mom tried hard to work and support them. They never saw much of her because she was always out trying to get more money. The only type of parenting he got was from his teachers at school, but they couldn’t be his parents. He needed a mom and daddy. He needed what I had. And I would get so mad at you and daddy. I thought you were so mean when you wouldn’t let me spend the night with a friend, or when you would spank me for disobeying you. I thought people like Johnny, with no parents, were lucky. I thought having no rules, no spankings, no one to tell me I couldn’t spend the night sounded so perfect. I was so wrong, Momma. Your rules and spankings, they shaped me. They made me who I am. You and daddy taught me so much. You helped me become the person I want to be. You taught me things back then that I still use today. I had no idea how important that was. I had no idea what you were doing then, but I can’t imagine my life without that. I can’t imagine how I would have learned everything without you teaching me. Who taught Johnny? Who helped him learn what was right and what was wrong? Who spanked him when he messed up and who hugged him when he did good? Who taught him things that he needed to become a young man? Who loved Johnny?
When he turned eight, his mom met a man named Steve. Johnny was so excited because he thought he was getting a daddy. He thought he was getting someone to play ball with him, to hug him, to put him on his shoulders, maybe even to pray for him. But he didn’t get any of that, Momma. You know what he got? He got cuts, bruises, scars. Steve beat him. For seven years, Momma. He beat him. Every day after school would come home and get beaten, then go and cut down big heavy trees and haul them back on his beaten body. They didn’t need wood. That was just another form of punishment. That was just another way for Steve to hate him. He did this every day, Momma. Every day he got told that he was no good. He bled. He cried. He hurt. For seven years! I came home from school and got hugged. I played with friends, ate snacks, and waited for supper. Johnny didn’t even have supper most of the time. I came home after school to everything I could possibly dream of. He came home to abuse. Every day, Momma. I didn’t even know what abuse was. I remember one time you were spanking me and I jumped and turned around and the belt hit my face. I thought that was abuse. I had absolutely no idea.
One day Johnny said he had had enough. Steve beat him so bad he was bleeding and had been knocked out. When he woke back up, Steve was asleep on the couch. Johnny went and grabbed a knife and put it on Steve’s heart. He almost killed him, Momma. But something in him made him stop. He said he put the knife down and went back to his room and just cried. You know what, Momma? I think I would have killed him. If a man beat me and my brothers and sisters every day for seven years, if he made me bleed and cry, if he treated me like an animal, I think I would have. It would be so easy for us to judge him and think that is just an awful thing to think about doing. But he didn’t know anything else. He never knew love. He was taught violence. He is a bigger person than me.
When Johnny was 14, his mom told him that his dad was coming back to town. Johnny was so excited and hopeful. He just knew that his dad would come and find out what Steve was doing to him and his brothers and sisters and save them. He just knew that he would apologize for not being there for so many years and want to restore their relationship. But that didn’t happen. He didn’t say he was sorry. He didn’t ask how he was doing. He didn’t tell him he loved him. The only thing his dad said to him that day was, “What’s your name?” His dad, the man who was supposed to come and save him, didn’t even know his name, Momma. He didn’t even know his name. He left that day and Johnny never saw him again. A few months later his girlfriend shot and killed him over a bottle of whiskey. The only memory he has of his father is him not knowing his name. Why, Momma? Why didn’t his daddy care about him? Why didn’t he want to save him from Steve? Why didn’t his know his name?
A year later, he came home one day and Steve had beaten his mom really bad. He and his brothers decided they wouldn’t take it anymore so they called the cops and they beat Steve up. They went to court and the Judge ordered a restraining order against him and put him in jail. They never heard from him again. As Johnny said, “And finally, life was good again… … … until she met another one.”
This time it was Carl. Carl didn’t abuse them near as much as Steve, but that’s because they were bigger now and they realized they didn’t have to take it. They threatened Carl and he knew they could take him if he tried anything. But one day Carl was holding a gun to Johnny’s brother’s head. Johnny beat him up until he was knocked out. After that, his mom got mad and kicked him and his brothers and sisters all out of the house. She married Carl. She chose him over her kids. How could she do that? How could she look at man like that and possibly think he was worth more than her children, her children who saved her life? I don’t get that, Momma. I don’t get it.
When she kicked them out, they were all on their own to find a place to live. Johnny had the hardest time finding a place to live. For some reason, nobody wanted him. Nobody would help him. Did anybody love him, Momma? He went to cousins, aunts, grandmas… and nobody wanted him. I don’t get that, Momma. I don’t get it at all. I have so many family members, so many friends, who would gladly open their door to me in a split second if I needed it. And he couldn’t find anyone. From that point on, he has been homeless.
There was a point in time when he lived with his grandma, but she would only let him be there at night. So he woke up every morning at 6:00 and walked to the Faulkner County Library where he stayed until they closed. He stayed there all day long, every day, for 3 months. He just sat at the same computer, wondering what he could look up today. How did he not go crazy, Momma? How did he stay sane? What did he eat during the day? Nothing, I’m sure. Momma, how did he do that? Didn’t anyone there notice him? Didn’t the people working there notice him? Did nobody offer to help him? How could they see him every day and not offer to help him once? Why didn’t they ask him why he was there every day? His grandma kicked him out after a while because another, more important, cousin needed to live there. He was back on the streets.
He found a cousin who let him stay on her back porch for a while. Yes, her back porch, outside. He said the mosquitoes ate him up. I can only imagine. How could she go to sleep at night knowing a family member was sleeping outside? How did he survive like that?
That was his story for a few years. Homeless. Looking for someone, anyone, to help him out. He worked when he could, but nobody would ever hire him because he was “slow”. His IQ wasn’t high enough. Everywhere he went, he got rejected. I can’t imagine that, Momma. I can’t. Someone finally helped him find a school in Hot Springs that is for people like him. This school will help him learn a trade and get a job. They give him a place to stay while he’s there. But what about when he’s not in school? When he has to come home for holidays or summer break… he has nowhere, Momma. He has a homeless shelter, and that’s all.
I invited him to come to our youth service on a Wednesday night a few weeks ago. That was my first time to see him since graduation. It was such a joy to see him. He made me laugh. After the service, I took him out to eat with a few of my friends, and he had the best time. We stayed out until about 10:00. He absolutely loved our youth kids. While we were eating, I asked him to come to church with us Sunday morning… he said yes without hesitation. He hadn’t been to church since he was a little boy. I asked him what he was going to wear and you know what, Momma? He didn’t have anything. All he had to wear was basically what he had on that day… and that was just a dirty old t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and some torn-up shoes. That’s all he had, Momma. My heart broke. I have clothes in my closet that I haven’t even worn yet. I complain when I don’t have clean socks. I buy jeans that cost more than all the clothes he’s ever had in his life. I am so spoiled.
A friend and I picked him up the next day and took him shopping. We couldn’t find much his size, but we got him five new t-shirts and some boxers. He didn’t even have clean underwear. His size is almost impossible to find. He needs a 4XL, but you know what, Momma? I don’t blame him for that either. He told me that when he was in high school his brothers and sisters would try to leave him and get rid of him… his step dad would beat him… his mom never showed him love. He ate whatever he could out of anger. It was his way of dealing with things. He was hungry for most of his life, so when he found food, he ate all he could. It’s not his fault, Momma. When people call him fat, it’s not his fault. Why can’t people realize that?
I was leaving for Peru the next day, and all he could think about was me being safe. He begged Pat to make sure nothing happened to me. He called me his best friend. That meant the world to me.
He left the next day to go back to Hot Springs and I didn’t see him again until this weekend. It was his birthday. I picked him up for church Sunday morning and then after church some friends and I had a surprise birthday party for him. It was his first birthday party in forever. He was so happy! He had his own cake, pizza (his favorite food), then we gave him some presents and played rockband.
My friends were great to him, Momma. They loved him. One friend got him a brand new pair of New Balances, his favorite. Another friend got him a gift-card. Three of them went in together and got him an MP3 player. We put all kinds of Christian music on it for him… and he loved it! And you and I, Momma, we got him a bible. And you know what? He loved it. I wish you could have seen his face when he opened it. It was amazing. That was his first bible. Momma, that breaks my heart. I highlighted verses for him that would be good for him to start memorizing. They are verses I have known for 15 years… and this was his first time to ever see them. How did he survive all of this without knowing those verses? How did he do this without church in his life?
We drove him back to Hot Springs Sunday night and the whole way back we sang songs like, “Amazing Grace”, “Jesus Loves Me”, and “This Little Light of Mine.” We sang it white people style first, but then he wanted to add some soul to it. It was so much fun! When we got to his school, we walked in with him and said our goodbyes. As he was getting on the elevator, he turned and said something I will never forget. He yelled out, “I love you!”
I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he had been able to say those three words to someone. Had he ever really loved anyone? Has anyone ever really loved him? Love… he had no idea what love was. Was this weekend the first time he had ever really been shown love?
It was so hard dropping him off because I knew I wouldn’t be there to hug him, to laugh with him, to talk to him. I prayed for him the whole way home. I prayed that God would open his heart and allow him to see His love.
Guess what, Momma? God answered my prayers. Tonight, around 5:30, he accepted Jesus as his Savior!! God’s love filled his life! He told me that he felt peace immediately. He has peace, and hope, and joy now. He has never known what those are. He has love. He has love that will last forever. God’s got him, now.
Momma, I don’t know why his life had to be the way it was. I don’t know why he had to endure everything he did. But I wonder if a small part of that was so that he could show me, through his story, how blessed I am. I wonder if it was so that one day I would hear his story and realize how much love I have been shown. I wonder if it was to open my eyes to people like Johnny in the world.
What scares me is the thought that there are more Johnnys out there. There are children right now who are living out this story. They need us, Momma. They need what we have. They need our hope, our love, our joy, our peace. They need us to reach out a hand to them. They need us to stop judging them, stop making fun of them… they need us to help them.
Part of me wants to just slap his mom. But a bigger part of me wants to hug her. She was probably raised the exact same way. She probably didn’t know any other way. She probably never had anyone love her. I’m sure she loved them, she probably just felt like there was nothing else she could do about it. I want to love her. I want to tell her it’s okay. I want to show her a different life. I want her to find God’s love like he did.
I asked him where his brothers and sisters are. Most of his brothers are dealing drugs. It was the only income they could find at the time. His sisters got pregnant just to have a place to live. They didn’t know better, Momma. They were just trying to survive. And now they are going to be judged, hated, and ridiculed by our society. Nobody will help them because they are “screw-ups”. Momma, I want them to be loved. I want to help them, too. I want them to know the truth.
This is a very mean world, Momma. Satan is big. But you know what? God is bigger. They need to know that. We need to tell them that. We need to show them that. We need to stop hating them, and start loving them. We need to stop judging them, and start trying to understand them. They don’t need ridicule. They need Jesus.
I know this isn’t the end for Johnny. He has a lot more he will have to endure. He has a lot of pain he will always remember. But I know that he now has a strength that he never had before. I also know that he has friends and people who love him. And Momma, I want to keep showing him love. I want to keep helping him. Maybe one day he can help someone else.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for taking me to church. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for being my Momma.
I love you,
Jordan
How incredible is that? Are you like me and completely speechless? Do you feel the need to grab a full box of kleenex and stuff it all in your chest? Are you not appalled and excited, sad and joyous, and speechless and wanting to share all at the same time? Are you not convicted? Me? I am floored by this story. I want to help Johnny. Don't you too want to help Johnny? Don't you too want to give him a hug, a smile, a high five, or a knuckle tap? Don't you too want to let him know you are part of his extended family?
How does Johnny feel after all those years? Confused? Helpless? Torn? Hated? Perhaps, Loved? Jordan and her friends showed him love. Yet, he still has no one to go home to. What is he going to do for Thanksgiving? Christmas? He now knows love. He now knows Christ. He now has a family. Are we going to stand idle as his first family did? Do you feel that desire in your heart to show him the difference in Christ?
I've been utterly moved by the Holy Spirit to do something. I'm going to take initative on this one and use this opportunity to create an informal mission for anyone who feels moved as well. We're going to call it "Operation Johnny". From now until Christmas 2009, I'm going to be gathering things for Johnny. Mostly clothes and some pocket money. This is an opportunity for us- as a family- to help Jonny get on his feet, to help him have a great Holiday season. You can give me- to give to him- whatever is on your heart to give him. Please contact me if you are interested in helping in some way. Remember, little things make a big difference.
As part of the "Operation Johnny", think about other Johnnys out there. Do you know one? Is there a kid in the library every day? A kid walking down the street every night? A kid that shows up with mysterious cuts and bruises? Is there someone you can show love to? I know of one, do you
4.14.2009
When I Think About Easter
When you think of Easter what pictures conjure up in your mind? The Easter Bunny? Colorful eggs? Chocolate eggs? Dressy church attire? Fluffy yellow chicks?
For me, I see two wooden logs perpendicularly joined. On them, a shadowy figure hangs- by the tendons in His hands and feet. The pain is gut- wrenching. His eyes are half open, looking up occasionally to the bleak sky. His lower lip, dry and flaky, quivers as He struggles to survive as any human would. His tan skin, tamed by the desert sun, now a deathly pale. The flesh of His back, cut and exposed, cannot rest against the log, His body aches as if fever has taken Him. Nothing can ease the pain. No position, no movement, nothing. His head, made to be crowned, is crowned. Crowned with thorns and draped with cuts and matted, bloodied hair. Below him, several people weep. But He does not mind them, not with the pain, and certainly not with the purpose of this pain. Blood drips from His body slowly. The trickling of the blood is a constant reminder as to why He bears this immense pain. The wailing below does not distract Him. He mumbles, only loud enough for a man below to hear, “Father , forgive them, for they know not what they do”. How sobering is it that a man in such pain can only think of others? Others: the only reason, He, a fleshly man of supernatural being allows this? Others: the reason He resists to use his unlimited powers!
He makes it to the finish- but not alive. No, death was the finish for Him. He ceased to struggle against it. He allowed His own death. While two others being punished beside Him have their legs broken, this man has His heart speared. The blood from His immortal heart spurts from His ribs and falling to the ground below. It falls in an instant in time, yet, falls in slow motion. For the moment it splattered on the ground was the most piviotal moment in history.
How could such royal, holy blood be allowed to shed? Others: it is that word again! Others! This stout, sinless heart- now a sagged, lifeless organ, shed its own blood for others. There has to be a sin in this! Who are we as mortal men to cause the blood of this immortal man to be shed? At the last hope that He may retain life spurts from His ribs, a flash of light streaks the sky. Seconds later a voice booms and moans in response to the light. It seems as if the sky is crying. Crying for joy that such heathen, imperfect men as we can now find salvation through the gift of this immortal man’s life! Yet, the voice booms in deep sadness. Shame on us that we pitiful men had to require this royal, holy blood to be shed.
As the clouds scatter, several men gather below. These mortal men were the followers of this immortal man who was now dead. They had become well disliked, but they continued to follow this man. How must they have felt seeing their leader, whom they knew was immortal, in a deceased state? A sagged, bony body with pale, bloodied skin. Cuts exposed from His flesh and flies feasting on his dried, crackled blood. His hair matted, and bloodied and His lips bare and dry. His eyes shut tight and his brow slightly furrowed- as if He died wincing at the pain. As they wrapped Him and carried Him to a tomb, these men wept as children. Their insides cringed and their souls sobered as they put Him in a tomb and covered it with a large, heavy rock. A rock no man could move, and only levers could move.
For three days, His followers were mocked. Mocked that their King was no king after all. Mocked that their dead Savior was no savior after all. Did he not have a purpose? How could he be immortal if he is dead? Had they wasted their time with Him? Three days had passed and gloom was still on their idle faces and racing minds. But their spirits were lifted on this third day. The rock to the tomb had been removed and the swaths of bloodied cloths He had been wrapped in remained! This was not the work of a human. Who would want a naked, rotting, bloodied body? Who would carefully separate the dried patches of blood and skin from the cloth on this dead, naked man? Supernatural, was it not? His followers were reminded that this King of theirs, this Savior of theirs was, indeed, immortal and of a purpose on this earth. He had risen Himself and was alive! The blood was shed, they were saved by His grace, through their faith and yet....He was alive! He was a King! An immortal King. A Savior! A supernatural Savior. Indeed, this was proven by Him rising again- rising alive AFTER the price was paid. This man did this for us ALL but He did this on one condition: that an individual believes in Him, confess it to Him, repents, and accepts the gift of eternity- paid for by His blood.
Surely, if He DIED for us, we can LIVE for Him! What a gift! Who is this man to give such a selfless gift?? This man was Jesus. The spurting of Jesus’ blood from His ribs, His allowing it, and His ceasing to use His supernatural powers until His own blood was already shed is what conjures in my mind when I think of Easter.
For me, I see two wooden logs perpendicularly joined. On them, a shadowy figure hangs- by the tendons in His hands and feet. The pain is gut- wrenching. His eyes are half open, looking up occasionally to the bleak sky. His lower lip, dry and flaky, quivers as He struggles to survive as any human would. His tan skin, tamed by the desert sun, now a deathly pale. The flesh of His back, cut and exposed, cannot rest against the log, His body aches as if fever has taken Him. Nothing can ease the pain. No position, no movement, nothing. His head, made to be crowned, is crowned. Crowned with thorns and draped with cuts and matted, bloodied hair. Below him, several people weep. But He does not mind them, not with the pain, and certainly not with the purpose of this pain. Blood drips from His body slowly. The trickling of the blood is a constant reminder as to why He bears this immense pain. The wailing below does not distract Him. He mumbles, only loud enough for a man below to hear, “Father , forgive them, for they know not what they do”. How sobering is it that a man in such pain can only think of others? Others: the only reason, He, a fleshly man of supernatural being allows this? Others: the reason He resists to use his unlimited powers!
He makes it to the finish- but not alive. No, death was the finish for Him. He ceased to struggle against it. He allowed His own death. While two others being punished beside Him have their legs broken, this man has His heart speared. The blood from His immortal heart spurts from His ribs and falling to the ground below. It falls in an instant in time, yet, falls in slow motion. For the moment it splattered on the ground was the most piviotal moment in history.
How could such royal, holy blood be allowed to shed? Others: it is that word again! Others! This stout, sinless heart- now a sagged, lifeless organ, shed its own blood for others. There has to be a sin in this! Who are we as mortal men to cause the blood of this immortal man to be shed? At the last hope that He may retain life spurts from His ribs, a flash of light streaks the sky. Seconds later a voice booms and moans in response to the light. It seems as if the sky is crying. Crying for joy that such heathen, imperfect men as we can now find salvation through the gift of this immortal man’s life! Yet, the voice booms in deep sadness. Shame on us that we pitiful men had to require this royal, holy blood to be shed.
As the clouds scatter, several men gather below. These mortal men were the followers of this immortal man who was now dead. They had become well disliked, but they continued to follow this man. How must they have felt seeing their leader, whom they knew was immortal, in a deceased state? A sagged, bony body with pale, bloodied skin. Cuts exposed from His flesh and flies feasting on his dried, crackled blood. His hair matted, and bloodied and His lips bare and dry. His eyes shut tight and his brow slightly furrowed- as if He died wincing at the pain. As they wrapped Him and carried Him to a tomb, these men wept as children. Their insides cringed and their souls sobered as they put Him in a tomb and covered it with a large, heavy rock. A rock no man could move, and only levers could move.
For three days, His followers were mocked. Mocked that their King was no king after all. Mocked that their dead Savior was no savior after all. Did he not have a purpose? How could he be immortal if he is dead? Had they wasted their time with Him? Three days had passed and gloom was still on their idle faces and racing minds. But their spirits were lifted on this third day. The rock to the tomb had been removed and the swaths of bloodied cloths He had been wrapped in remained! This was not the work of a human. Who would want a naked, rotting, bloodied body? Who would carefully separate the dried patches of blood and skin from the cloth on this dead, naked man? Supernatural, was it not? His followers were reminded that this King of theirs, this Savior of theirs was, indeed, immortal and of a purpose on this earth. He had risen Himself and was alive! The blood was shed, they were saved by His grace, through their faith and yet....He was alive! He was a King! An immortal King. A Savior! A supernatural Savior. Indeed, this was proven by Him rising again- rising alive AFTER the price was paid. This man did this for us ALL but He did this on one condition: that an individual believes in Him, confess it to Him, repents, and accepts the gift of eternity- paid for by His blood.
Surely, if He DIED for us, we can LIVE for Him! What a gift! Who is this man to give such a selfless gift?? This man was Jesus. The spurting of Jesus’ blood from His ribs, His allowing it, and His ceasing to use His supernatural powers until His own blood was already shed is what conjures in my mind when I think of Easter.
4.05.2009
If Tomorrow Never Comes
There are a ton of things I could write about right now. Many of you readers know what I am going through right now. I am, though, not ready to write about it. I am still learning and searching trying to stabilize and establish myself. I will write about that when I am ready. Until then, here's something:
We all take for granted the people and things around us. This past summer, my Aunt Virgie passed away. She was a third grandmother to me. She had lived thirty minutes from my house for years until they moved to South Arkansas. I became caught up in my high school and college life and only saw her but about three or four times until she died. I deeply regret not putting somehing, anything on hold to go see her and let her know how much I loved her. Every time I think about her now, I tear up. I cannot do that again. I WILL not do that again. I vow to never make that mistake again to anyone I truly love. I think Garth Brooks said it best...
Sometimes late at night
I lie awake and watch her sleeping
Shes lost in peaceful dreams
So I turn out the lights and lay there in the dark
And the thought crosses my mind
If I never wake up in the morning
Would she ever doubt the way I feel
About her in my heart
-
If tomorrow never comes
Will she know how much I loved her
Did I try in every way to show her every day
That shes my only one
And if my time on earth were through
And she must face the world without me
Is the love I gave her in the past
Gonna be enough to last
If tomorrow never comes
-
Cause Ive lost loved ones in my life
Who never knew how much I loved them
Now I live with the regret
That my true feelings for them never were revealed
So I made a promise to myself
To say each day how much she means to me
And avoid that circumstance
Where theres no second chance to tell her how I feel
-
If tomorrow never comes
Will she know how much I loved her
Did I try in every way to show her every day
That she's my only one
And if my time on earth were through
And she must face the world without me
Is the love I gave her in the past
Gonna be enough to last
If tomorrow never comes
-
So tell that someone that you love
Just what youre thinking of
If tomorrow never comes
-
Find this song and listen to it. It's always hard to tell people you love them- especially for guys. It's thought to be an feminine and intimate thing, but you dont want to live with this regret.
1.22.2009
Without Hope
Sit back a minute, close your eyes and honestly ask your self what life would be like without hope. Yes, seriously, HOPE.
Chaos, lack of purpose, no love, hatered, and hurt. These are to name a few. Quite depressing, indeed.
It never occurred to me what life may be like for troubled youths. But then I came actoss this article about a HS football game flipped, turned upside down. and flipped again. I can now look at people in a different light. I can now find it in myself to give the most undeserving of them love and , subsequentially, hope. And appropriately so, because they are likely the ones who need it the most. Read this article below and you'll know what I'm talking about.
They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas.
It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through.
Did you hear that? The other team's fans?
They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions.
It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.
"I never in my life thought I'd hear people cheering for us to hit their kids," recalls Gainesville's QB and middle linebacker, Isaiah. "I wouldn't expect another parent to tell somebody to hit their kids. But they wanted us to!"
And even though Faith walloped them 33-14, the Gainesville kids were so happy that after the game they gave head coach Mark Williams a sideline squirt-bottle shower like he'd just won state. Gotta be the first Gatorade bath in history for an 0-9 coach.
But then you saw the 12 uniformed officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field and two and two started to make four. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. That's because Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility 75 miles north of Dallas. Every game it plays is on the road.
This all started when Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something kind for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville, but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, Gainesville 0-8 with 2 TDs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery—many of whose families had disowned them—wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets.
So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."
Some people were naturally confused. One Faith player walked into Hogan's office and asked, "Coach, why are we doing this?"
And Hogan said, "Imagine if you didn't have a home life. Imagine if everybody had pretty much given up on you. Now imagine what it would mean for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."
Next thing you know, the Gainesville Tornadoes were turning around on their bench to see something they never had before. Hundreds of fans. And actual cheerleaders!
"I thought maybe they were confused," said Alex, a Gainesville lineman (only first names are released by the prison). "They started yelling 'DEE-fense!' when their team had the ball. I said, 'What? Why they cheerin' for us?'
"It was a strange experience for boys who most people cross the street to avoid. "We can tell people are a little afraid of us when we come to the games," says Gerald, a lineman who will wind up doing more than three years. "You can see it in their eyes. They're lookin' at us like we're criminals. But these people, they were yellin' for us! By our names!"
Maybe it figures that Gainesville played better than it had all season, scoring the game's last two touchdowns. Of course, this might be because Hogan put his third-string nose guard at safety and his third-string cornerback at defensive end. Still.
After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah surprised everybody by asking to lead. "We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us."
And it was a good thing everybody's heads were bowed because they might've seen Hogan wiping away tears.
As the Tornadoes walked back to their bus under guard, they each were handed a bag for the ride home—a burger, some fries, a soda, some candy, a Bible and an encouraging letter from a Faith player.
The Gainesville coach saw Hogan, grabbed him hard by the shoulders and said, "You'll never know what your people did for these kids tonight. You'll never, ever know."
And as the bus pulled away, all the Gainesville players crammed to one side and pressed their hands to the window, staring at these people they'd never met before, watching their waves and smiles disappearing into the night.
Anyway, with the economy six feet under and Christmas running on about three and a half reindeer, it's nice to know that one of the best presents you can give is still absolutely free.
Hope.
Chaos, lack of purpose, no love, hatered, and hurt. These are to name a few. Quite depressing, indeed.
It never occurred to me what life may be like for troubled youths. But then I came actoss this article about a HS football game flipped, turned upside down. and flipped again. I can now look at people in a different light. I can now find it in myself to give the most undeserving of them love and , subsequentially, hope. And appropriately so, because they are likely the ones who need it the most. Read this article below and you'll know what I'm talking about.
There are some games where cheering for the other team is more important than winning.
By: Rick Reilly
They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas.
It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through.
Did you hear that? The other team's fans?
They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions.
It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.
"I never in my life thought I'd hear people cheering for us to hit their kids," recalls Gainesville's QB and middle linebacker, Isaiah. "I wouldn't expect another parent to tell somebody to hit their kids. But they wanted us to!"
And even though Faith walloped them 33-14, the Gainesville kids were so happy that after the game they gave head coach Mark Williams a sideline squirt-bottle shower like he'd just won state. Gotta be the first Gatorade bath in history for an 0-9 coach.
But then you saw the 12 uniformed officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field and two and two started to make four. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. That's because Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility 75 miles north of Dallas. Every game it plays is on the road.
This all started when Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something kind for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville, but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, Gainesville 0-8 with 2 TDs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery—many of whose families had disowned them—wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets.
So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."
Some people were naturally confused. One Faith player walked into Hogan's office and asked, "Coach, why are we doing this?"
And Hogan said, "Imagine if you didn't have a home life. Imagine if everybody had pretty much given up on you. Now imagine what it would mean for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."
Next thing you know, the Gainesville Tornadoes were turning around on their bench to see something they never had before. Hundreds of fans. And actual cheerleaders!
"I thought maybe they were confused," said Alex, a Gainesville lineman (only first names are released by the prison). "They started yelling 'DEE-fense!' when their team had the ball. I said, 'What? Why they cheerin' for us?'
"It was a strange experience for boys who most people cross the street to avoid. "We can tell people are a little afraid of us when we come to the games," says Gerald, a lineman who will wind up doing more than three years. "You can see it in their eyes. They're lookin' at us like we're criminals. But these people, they were yellin' for us! By our names!"
Maybe it figures that Gainesville played better than it had all season, scoring the game's last two touchdowns. Of course, this might be because Hogan put his third-string nose guard at safety and his third-string cornerback at defensive end. Still.
After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah surprised everybody by asking to lead. "We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us."
And it was a good thing everybody's heads were bowed because they might've seen Hogan wiping away tears.
As the Tornadoes walked back to their bus under guard, they each were handed a bag for the ride home—a burger, some fries, a soda, some candy, a Bible and an encouraging letter from a Faith player.
The Gainesville coach saw Hogan, grabbed him hard by the shoulders and said, "You'll never know what your people did for these kids tonight. You'll never, ever know."
And as the bus pulled away, all the Gainesville players crammed to one side and pressed their hands to the window, staring at these people they'd never met before, watching their waves and smiles disappearing into the night.
Anyway, with the economy six feet under and Christmas running on about three and a half reindeer, it's nice to know that one of the best presents you can give is still absolutely free.
Hope.
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