Thursday, March 10, 2011

An excerpt from my life story---The minibike

Although I can’t blame any Eddies’, I seemed to have my fair share of mishaps. My earliest recollection (I was probably about 7 years old) of such, was at the home of some of my parents’ friends. I do not remember their name, nor where they lived, but I can vividly recall the lay of the land and the look of the home. I also remember that they had at least two children. A girl who was much older than I and a son who was just a little bit my elder. This boy had a minibike.
Where I grew up, in a neighborhood, there was little knowledge of any type of motorized transportation designed for kids. Where I grew up if you didn’t push, pull or peddle it…it didn’t move. But these folks lived in the country with acreage enough to allow children to crash their motorized toys without fear of concrete casualties. A minibike is simply a very small motorcycle-like contraption usually powered by nothing more than a five horsepower motor. It doesn’t go very fast. It sits low to the ground and has a wide, cushioned seat to help aid in the balancing act performed by a little fellow as he blazes trails through the pasture.
At one of our visits to this home, the parents had all gone inside and left us kids to our own time of playing in the yard. The boy who lived here decided he would ride his minibike. So he did. Around and around the yard he went. I sat patiently and wondered if he would ever invite me to take a turn on his wonderful, motorized toy. Eventually, he pulled up next to where I was standing and asked me if I would like to take a ride. (I must at this point in my storytelling, make a confession. One of my greatest faults, which has existed since my childhood and still haunts me as an adult, is my inability to admit that I do not know how to do something. I will try to accomplish almost anything, even though I have no idea what I am doing. I guess this helps explain my fair share of mishaps). So there I stand, with an open invitation to take the reins of this motorized vehicle and head down the open trail.
So I accept the invitation. The owner steps off of the minibike and allows me to take control. I throw one leg over and plant my bottom firmly on the wide, cushioned seat. I am given instructions about the brake and throttle. The brake is simple a lever next to the left handgrip. All one has to do is extend the fingers from the grip and pull back the lever. The minbike stops. The throttle is a typical motorcycle-style throttle. To go, the rider just rotates the right grip in a backward motion. The further he rotates the grip, the faster the minibike goes. Simple enough.
So I nod, as does an F-16 pilot who has just given the deck crew permission to catapult his jet off of the deck of an aircraft carrier. I loosen the grip of my fingers holding the brake, and I increase the torque of my right wrist. Away I went. What an experience of liberation and power…for about 15 seconds. That’s when I hit my first bump in the trail. It probably wasn’t a huge hole, but it was sufficient enough to cause my right hand to increase torque beyond that which was wise. The rapid increase in speed threw my bottom of off the minibike, leaving me hanging on to both grips with all my might. My belly is on the seat, the throttle is wide open, and this demon machine is dragging me wherever it wants. Remember I made mention of how agile I was? I don’t know what the world record distance is for riding a minibike this way, but I must have come close. Eventually, the possessed vehicle did win, but only after dragging its passenger through a barbed wire fence and coming to rest in the middle of a tomato patch. This is where my parents found and rescued me. Even though I made several requests, my dad never would buy me a minibike. I wonder why?

Do You Want It?

I am not God. I do not know everything nor do I pretend to.

Not being God, I do not know other people's thoughts. I do not understand all the ways that the sin nature, outside influences and life experiences have molded their thought process. But I have observed that most people are as adults very similar to what they were as children.

The very outgoing child produces an outgoing adult. The very shy child produces a shy adult. Now I know that there are variants, but for the most part, this is the pattern. Those who were outgoing children, the ones who are not afraid to perform in front of an audience, are adults who have no or little trouble standing before others. Those who were very timid as children, still find it very difficult to have all eyes focused on them and their performance.

The insecure child that found his self-worth in bossing around others grows into the adult who is happy with nothing less than complete control of the situation. The weak spirited child who was controlled by others grows to be the adult who is everyone's doormat, constantly being stepped on.

Now I do know this, the Lord can change anyone. But the choice of change belongs to the individual. Many people foolishly believe that if a person just prays for change that God will miraculously alter your mind so that you become that which you desire. But this is not true.

There exist no deficiency in your character that is stronger than God's ability to alter it. Yes, God could take over and make you become that for which you long. But then you would cease to exist as you are. You would no longer be the creature that has absolute free choice, but you will have become a pawn in the hand of God. Every time you would make an unprofitable move, God would just slide you over where you belong.

If you want to alter your thoughts and your character you are going to have to work at it. The commitment you made 10 years ago is no good unless you have been working for the last 10 years to make it happen. The natural course is already set. You have been this way since you were a child. It comes easy. The vision you may have for yourself is going to take work to attain.

This is the difficult part because the nature of man is lazy. It is always easier to choose the path of least resistance. Staying the way you have always been is not going to take any effort. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. But if you really want to change, it is possible. There is nothing to keep you from being who you want to be, except for you.

One day during wrestling practice our coach was driving us hard. I had quit exercising because I was exhausted. The coach in his challenge towards perfection hollered "Do you want it Wilkes?".
"Yes Sir!" I responded as I restarted the workout. But it wasn't long before I had quit again.
"Do you want it Wilkes?" the coach barked at me as though my weakness was frustrating him.
"Yes Sir", I barked back at him with anger in my tone as my body starting resuming its duties. But soon thereafter I collapsed. I was convinced I could go no farther.
"Do you want it Wilkes?" the coach bellowed as though my exhaustion was the most offensive thing he had ever witnessed.
"No Sir", I replied with a smugness typical of a 16 year old.
"Finally the truth", he responded.

Do want to change? Quit quitting!!!!!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Politicians, Power and Invertebrates

If my memory serves me right, I was taught that an animal that lacked a spine is called an invertebrate. The older I get, the more I believe that most politicians fall into this category. Having never been elected by my fellow citizens, I do not know exactly how, or why, this transformation takes place. But it does! When one is looking for a vote his spine is as rigid as an oak plank, but as soon as he realizes he has won, he donates his oak plank to the nearest furniture mill. He’s not going to need it anymore, he’s a politician.

Once his lungs grow accustomed to the air of power that his elected position provides, his only concern is making sure that his lungs get their fix. What a rush it must be! I say that because most will abandon truth, their principles and sometimes even decency to assure that their future as a power-inhaling, elected official is secure.

My, oh my, how our day cries out for men of integrity. People who will do what is right, even it if means they may not be re-elected. I am not talking about disregarding the will of their constituents. I am talking about making courageous choices in challenging times. Doing what is right.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

A Full Belly

I am in the process of reading the Quran. I read heretical doctrine for the sole purpose of knowing for fact what they teach. This allows me to teach my people why we are not ecumenical. I have thoroughly studied the Catholics, Methodists, Pentecosts, and Assemblies of God. These four mainstream religions do not adhere to the biblical plan of salvation. Therefore the before mentioned label of “heretical” is certainly applicable.

Although these mainstream religions are heretical, they, in print, all teach kindness to other people. This is where Islam separates itself. I have never read anything so full of hatred. In the Quran, Muslims are commanded to kill Jews and Christians. This mandate is not a one-time mentioned doctrine delicately hidden away between lines, but rather it is plainly proclaimed hundreds of times.

The term “radical Muslims” is what has my belly begging my mouth for another round of Rolaids. These people who are killing others in the name of Allah are not “radical”. They are following the prescribed behavior laid out for them in their instruction manual…the Quran. Today’s media outlets would have us believe that most Muslims are decent peace-loving people and that these killers are extremists who have perverted their peaceful religion. The truth is that a Quran believing Muslim should kill every one of us when they have the opportunity.

Do I believe that some people identify with Islam (because of cultural heritage) and remain decent people…yes. Just as some people claim to be Baptist yet have no idea what Baptists believe. But anyone who claims to believe the Quran and practice Islam should be expelled from our country. In a civilized society, a person who believes in killing another simply because of a different theological view, should not be allowed refuge.

I am amazed that this country, that I love, has sunk to the point where she is at today. Jews, Christians and heterosexual white people are sitting ducks in the pond of the Political Correctness Police Department’s pond…and its duck season. The accusations are not tempered and almost every social woe is attributed to one of these groups. But if anyone dares to say anything against the ills of a minority or against the beloved Muslims then problems are sure to come.

I, for one, have a belly full of everything being my fault. I am a white man who believes the Word of God. The Bible teaches that homosexuality is a sin…I believe it. The Bible teaches that any sexual activity outside the bounds of marriage is a sin…I believe it. The Bible teaches that a man should work for a living (or not eat)…I believe it. The Bible teaches that I, as a child of God, should love even my enemy…I believe it, because he needs to be saved. The Bible teaches that I should obey the laws of the land…I believe it.

Since it is against the law for me to holler “fire” in a crowded theater, I won’t do it. It will cause a state of panic in which someone is likely to be injured. Since it is against the law to incite a riot, I won’t to it. I do not think an unruly mob is the answer to every problem. You see, we are a civilized people who do not look to violence as the first answer to every problem.

So if you are a peaceful Muslim who has never read the Quran….Read it! If you do not believe it denounce your religion. If you agree with it, and you feel it to be your duty to kill me, I hope that someday you realize your need for Jesus as Savior. Until then, get out of our country!

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Sinful Snow

It was exhilarating to enjoy its presence. Now it has passed and left a slushy, muddy mess to deal with. Sound familiar?

When The New Wears Off

Good Morning. I am setting on couch thinking about what fickle characters we are. I just took my dog outside for his early morning business meeting and I was pleasantly surprised to see the amount of snow which has remained on the ground. You see, In Louisiana snow is rare, and it’s sticking and remaining on the ground is even rarer. So we are excited. My boys will wake in a couple of hours and we will probably by-pass our Fruity Pebbles and head straight outside to play. It’s going to be a fun day.

But in other parts of the country, what we are excited about, they think to be mundane. To my Yankee friends, a little snow is no more tantalizing than the rising of the sun. I reckon that if I were exposed to as much snow as they are, its present appeal would soon wane.

This is the intrigue to me. We naturally get excited about the new or unique. Children get excited the first time their eyes behold that new toy. The new car owner can’t wait for all to see him in his new ride. I even had a North Carolina cousin get excited when I took him for a boat ride and he saw trees growing in the lake. He had seen pictures of them before, but he was awed by actually seeing Cypress trees. We southerners get excited about rarely seen snow.

But to all, the new becomes old. The toy that once produced a glisten in the eye of a child has now been reduced to being a bottom-dwelling occupant of a toy box that is rarely opened. The car that was originally washed every other day, now sits in the drive with 2 months of rode grime covering its paint and 2 inches of sand hiding its carpet. If my cousin were to move to the south, he would soon pass by the majestic Cypress trees and never give them a second glance. The snow that causes this southern boy to act like a 7 year old, would be a considered a nuisance if I lived in Minnesota.

What has happened? I guess the best I can figure is it has something to do with the Garden, sin and always wanting something different than that which we have.

Kids set aside their toys to play with something “better”.
Men and women set aside years of marriage to pursue something “better”.
God’s people set aside the “old Bible” to pursue something “better”.
Churches set aside the old traditions to pursue something “better”.

But soon the “betters” of life have become the old and mundane. So new “betters” must be found. But you know what…some of the old stuff is still pretty good.

So this is what I am going to do today…
1. I’m going to enjoy the snow, but I am also going to stand in awe of the beauty and grandeur of the Bald Cypress. I will not overlook the blessing of enjoying any part of God’s awesome creation.
2. When my boys wake up, I’m going to hug them as though I haven’t seen them in a month. Our soldiers wish they could hug their kids right now. I will not overlook this blessing.
3. I’m going to prepare my heart for another “routine” Sunday. “Same ole, same ole”. I am going to preach my message as though it is the last one I convey to the people. It may be. I will not overlook this blessing.
4. I will read my old KJV. I know to some there are “newer and better”. My Great-Grandfather preached from an old KJV. Bro. Hughes was preaching from an old KJV the night I finally cried out for Jesus to save me. God has preserved His Word for me. I will not overlook this blessing.
5. When my wife wakes from her slumber, she will still be as beautiful to me as the 15 year old girl I fell in love with 24 years ago. I will thank God for my wonderful wife and another day that He has given us together. I will not overlook this blessing.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

What Do You Think?

What can we do to improve the Louisiana Missionary Baptist News? (Besides more pictures of me) We are always looking to better our product. Any ideas? Suggestions?

A Plea To My Blogger Brethren

My fellow bloggers. Two things are apparent. 1. You have at least a little spare time (else you wouldn't be reading this). 2. You enjoy (to some degree anyway) sharing your views through the medium of that which is written.

I am asking you to start writing. Not necessarily 50,000 word dissertations, but brief concise articles on issues relevant our work and the Word. I ask that you would then send me those masterpieces (mikewilkes12@gmail.com or mikewilkes@bellsouth.net)

Many months, we are struggling to find print-worthy material for the Missionary Baptist News. I am not promising that what you send me will be published, but the more material we have to choose from the more likely we are to produce a quality product.

Some of you are quaking at the thought of turning in something you have written because of your lacking the ability to write in a proper fashion. Have no fear, that is exactly what the editor is for. He will take the language you have butchered and produce a grammatical masterpiece. Then, all will be impressed with your grammatical acuity.

Seriously, will you give consideration to sharing with others that which you have gleaned.

Communism...Could It Be?

Yesterday, while coming home from piano lessons, my son asked me, "Dad, what is propaganda?" Since we were not engaged in any type of discussion along these lines, his question seemed strange. I asked him what in the world would prompt him to ask such a question. He told me that one of his classmates did a social studies project on the Cold War and the propaganda associated with it.

So I did my best to explain to him what I perceive propaganda to be. I told him that propaganda is basically information that is repetitively fed to a people, but the information is factually flawed. I went on to use the example of the "health care crisis" issue in our country. I told him that we certainly have very serious problems with our health care system and its costs, but we are nowhere near being in a state of crisis. But the political powers that be and the media have convinced many people that we do.

I explained to him that communism gets its foot in the door by presenting a supposed "crisis" and then persuading people that government is the only solution.

My son then looked at me and asked, "Well dad, are we communists yet?"

Its a crying shame my 12 year old son has better sense than our leaders.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Fair Is Fair

Why was president Obama so criticized for his association with Rev. Wright? Is it fair to think that just because he was close to and fellowshipped with the Rev., that he embraced the same hateful views?

Maybe they were just good friends. Even though they had some common ties, maybe the foundational rhetoric spouted by the Rev. was despised by the Pres.? Maybe he had a completely different view of the U.S. and race relations. Why is it automatically assumed that just because two parties join hands that they have the same foundational principles? Is it fair to make such an assumption?

Friday, January 29, 2010

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

Old and well-worn are both the discussions and debates about different Baptist groups and their inability to work together. The present day factions were formed many years ago and most of the brethren who were directly involved in the splits have gone to be with their Lord. So, those of us who are serving today are left to work with the bounds set by the problems of yesterday.

We learn of some of the pivotal points of yesterday's divisions from the remaining eyewitnesses, but most of our understanding is a result of the written documentation which bears testimony to the sad events of the past. But since recorders bore witness of the events with an influx of their own prejudices, no declaration of absolute truth exists which one might stand on and declare it as an unchallenged truth. So we are left to look elsewhere to see why different groups of Baptists to not work together for the cause of Christ.

How and why Baptists originally split may be debated, but the fact that they hold different views about how mission work is to be done cannot be contested. So it stands to reason, since different Baptists groups differ on how to accomplish the most foundational purpose of associated work, then they are unable to work in joint capacity for the cause.

The reason most Baptists groups are unable to work together is found in the purpose for associated work. The foundation, upon which all associated work is established, is the endeavor of mission work. The intent of spreading the gospel to the entire world and establishing churches is universal among Baptists, but how it is accomplished is where the breach becomes irreparable.

Some struggle with this divergence and desire to be able to fellowship on the common points and overlook the major points of associated work. This is akin to the adage of “majoring on the minors and minoring on the majors”. In any effort of joint cooperation, if the two parties have differences relevant to the task at hand, and desire to work together, they will have to come to some sort of resolution concerning their dissimilarities.

Usually what happens when differences are present and the two parties are willing to work together, one of the two parties is willing to lay their view on the shelf and make their stand a “non issue”. Concerning mission work, I believe the Lord gave His authority to preach, baptize, teach and establish churches to His local, visible New Testament church. No other group, board, committee, convention or association has this authority. This authority cannot be re-delegated. I will not lay this principle on the shelf.

I can enjoy coffee at McDonald's with a Baptist brother although we may come from different associated works. But the church of which I am member cannot commit ourselves in any joint effort with those who hold an opposing view concerning the church’s purpose and responsibility. This being said, I think it wise to fellowship only with those who have built on the same associational foundation.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

AreYou Sure YOU Want To Be A Soul-Winner

My subject in this post is the oft used phrases "Winning people to the Lord" or "Soul-winning". Let me preface any further comments by stating that I am not in any way anti-evangelistic.

Within the confines of my fellow bloggers writings has been mentioned the disturbing use of easy-believism techniques. I define these as methods of possibly leading people to hell while convincing them they are on their way to heaven.

The presentation of the gospel to the lost should consist of these facts:
1. All have sinned and come short of the glory God
2. God loves you
3. God loves you so much He sent Jesus to die for your sins
4. God wants to save you from your present condition which does not meet His standards
5. This salvation is offered to you because of what Jesus has done for you
6. Jesus is the only way
7. God will save you if truly believe this, calling out for Him to save you
8. Hell is real
9. Heaven is real
10. Judgment is certain

In a nutshell, the conveyance of this message is evangelism. Some may reword it. Others might change the order. But these truths must be understood and truly believed in order for a person to be saved.

The problems arise after these truths have been presented. What is my obligation before God at this point? Do I now try to persuade them? Am I a "Jesus" salesman who is working on commission and fear a checkless payday if I don't make the sale? Or in my deep-hearted love for this lost person before me, am I blinded so that I cannot see the fact that if this person is going to be saved they have to turn to God...I can't make them.

Mass evangelism is a setting usually associated with huge tents, dynamic speakers and thousands of people hearing the gospel preached. At the close of the service it is common that "anyone who wants to be saved" raise their hand as a public acknowledgment of their needing Jesus as Savior. Then the evangelist will word a prayer usually having the penitent repeat the words. The words are not usually some out-of-way wacky heresy, but usually some patterned "sinner's prayer". Then the evangelist praises the Lord for all the new children of God who have been snatched from hell's flames. Then the new converts are encouraged to go join a church of their choosing.

But "repeat after me-ism" is not exclusive to mass efforts. It is also commonplace in one-on-one evangelism.

This is the most common practice of easy-believism. It is making things, not necessarily as easy, but as comfortable as possible for the sinner. It is a painful thing to stand at the foot of Calvary and have to confess that it is my sin that Jesus died for. So in order to make things easier, the message bearer will pray for the penitent, or simply ask the penitent to repeat a prayer, or raise his hand. This makes it easier.

Easier than what? Easier than taking them to the foot of Calvary and leaving them there.

You see, some believe if we do this (take people to the foot of Calvary and leave them) they (the lost) will not know what to do. But if we have properly explained to them everything the Bible teaches about their need to call on the name of the Lord we have told them all they need to know.

Too often are the times the lost man never truly turns to God, he has been dragged to a point of decision by some over-zealous evangelist. Now you have a person who has been convinced by man that all is well. Some time later the Word will prick their heart to be truly saved and they will fight off conviction with their recollection of their previously enjoyed "experience". How many people have you seen in your ministry who have been saved, but thought they already were? Personally, I've seen too many.

I personally don't win anything or anyone for the Lord. I tell people about Jesus. If there is a soul won in the great battle between God and Satan, I didn't do it. I just put someone on the playing field by leaving them at the foot of Calvary.

What My Jesus Went Through For Me

After the arrest in the middle of the night, Jesus was next brought before the Sanhedrin and Caiphus, the High Priest; it is here that the first physical trauma was inflicted. A soldier struck Jesus across the face for remaining silent when questioned by Caiphus. The palace guards then blind-folded Him and mockingly taunted Him to identify them as they each passed by, spat upon Him, and struck Him in the face.

In the early morning, battered and bruised, dehydrated, and exhausted from a sleepless night, Jesus is taken across the Praetorium of the Fortress Antonia, the seat of government of the Procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate. You are, of course, familiar with Pilate's action in attempting to pass responsibility to Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch of Judea. Jesus apparently suffered no physical mistreatment at the hands of Herod and was returned to Pilate. It was in response to the cries of the mob, that Pilate ordered Bar-Abbas released and condemned Jesus to scourging and crucifixion.

There is much disagreement among authorities about the unusual scourging as a prelude to crucifixion. Most Roman writers from this period do not associate the two. Many scholars believe that Pilate originally ordered Jesus scourged as his full punishment and that the death sentence by crucifixion came only in response to the taunt by the mob that the Procurator was not properly defending Caesar against this pretender who allegedly claimed to be the King of the Jews.

Preparations for the scourging were carried out when the Prisoner was stripped of His clothing and His hands tied to a post above His head. It is doubtful the Romans would have made any attempt to follow the Jewish law in this matter, but the Jews had an ancient law prohibiting more than forty lashes.

The Roman legionnaire steps forward with the flagrum (or flagellum) in his hand. This is a short whip consisting of several heavy, leather thongs with two small balls of lead attached near the ends of each. The heavy whip is brought down with full force again and again across Jesus' shoulders, back, and legs. At first the thongs cut through the skin only. Then, as the blows continue, they cut deeper into the subcutaneous tissues, producing first an oozing of blood from the capillaries and veins of the skin, and finally spurting arterial bleeding from vessels in the underlying muscles.

The small balls of lead first produce large, deep bruises which are broken open by subsequent blows. Finally the skin of the back is hanging in long ribbons and the entire area is an unrecognizable mass of torn, bleeding tissue. When it is determined by the centurion in charge that the prisoner is near death, the beating is finally stopped.

The half-fainting Jesus is then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with His own blood. The Roman soldiers see a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be king. They throw a robe across His shoulders and place a stick in His hand for a scepter. They still need a crown to make their travesty complete. Flexible branches covered with long thorns (commonly used in bundles for firewood) are plaited into the shape of a crown and this is pressed into His scalp. Again there is copious bleeding, the scalp being one of the most vascular areas of the body.

After mocking Him and striking Him across the face, the soldiers take the stick from His hand and strike Him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into His scalp. Finally, they tire of their sadistic sport and the robe is torn from His back. Already having adhered to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, its removal causes excruciating pain just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage, and almost as though He were again being whipped the wounds once more begin to bleed.
In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans return His garments. The heavy patibulum of the cross is tied across His shoulders, and the procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution detail of Roman soldiers headed by a centurion begins its slow journey along the Via Dolorosa. In spite of His efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious blood loss, is too much. He stumbles and falls. The rough wood of the beam gouges into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders. He tries to rise, but human muscles have been pushed beyond their endurance.

The centurion, anxious to get on with the crucifixion, selects a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross. Jesus follows, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock, until the 650 yard journey from the fortress Antonia to Golgotha is finally completed.

Jesus is offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic mixture. He refuses to drink. Simon is ordered to place the patibulum on the ground and Jesus quickly thrown backward with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drives a heavy, square, wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Quickly, he moves to the other side and repeats the action being careful not to pull the arms to tightly, but to allow some flexion and movement. The patibulum is then lifted in place at the top of the stipes and the titulus reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" is nailed in place.
The left foot is now pressed backward against the right foot, and with both feet extended, toes down, a nail is driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees moderately flexed. The Victim is now crucified.

As He slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in the wrists excruciating pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain -- the nails in the writs are putting pressure on the median nerves. As He pushes Himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He places His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again there is the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of the feet.

At this point, as the arms fatigue, great waves of cramps sweep over the muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless, throbbing pain. With these cramps comes the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by his arms, the pectoral muscles are paralyzed and the intercostal muscles are unable to act. Air can be drawn into the lungs, but cannot be exhaled. Jesus fights to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, carbon dioxide builds up in the lungs and in the blood stream and the cramps partially subside. Spasmodically, he is able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in the life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences recorded:

The first, looking down at the Roman soldiers throwing dice for His seamless garment, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

The second, to the penitent thief, "Today thou shalt be with me in Paradise."

The third, looking down at the terrified, grief-stricken adolescent John -- the beloved Apostle -- he said, "Behold thy mother." Then, looking to His mother Mary, "Woman behold thy son."

The fourth cry is from the beginning of the 22nd Psalm, "My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?"

Hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, searing pain where tissue is torn from His lacerated back as He moves up and down against the rough timber. Then another agony begins...A terrible crushing pain deep in the chest as the pericardium slowly fills with serum and begins to compress the heart.

One remembers again the 22nd Psalm, the 14th verse: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels."

It is now almost over. The loss of tissue fluids has reached a critical level; the compressed heart is struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissue; the tortured lungs are making a frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues send their flood of stimuli to the brain.

Jesus gasps His fifth cry, "I thirst."

One remembers another verse from the prophetic 22nd Psalm: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou has brought me into the dust of death."

A sponge soaked in posca, the cheap, sour wine which is the staple drink of the Roman legionaries, is lifted to His lips. He apparently doesn't take any of the liquid. The body of Jesus is now in extremes, and He can feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. This realization brings out

His sixth words, possibly little more than a tortured whisper, "It is finished."

His mission of atonement has completed. Finally He can allow his body to die.
With one last surge of strength, he once again presses His torn feet against the nail, straightens His legs, takes a deeper breath, and utters His seventh and last cry, "Father! Into thy hands I commit my spirit".

Written by, Dr. C. Truman Davis

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A Little Squirrely

Ever seen a squirrel in the middle of the road when a car is closing in? "Do I stay? Do I go this way? Do I go that way?" "OK, I'll go that way. No, wait, I'll stay. Hold on, I'll go the other way". "But maybe I shouldn't". "OK, I will". "I'm really not sure if I'm certain about maybe making a possible decision about this predicament". Then, SPLAT. Squirrel dinner. Complements of the Micheline Man.

Often are the times I have the mind of a squirrel. While my mind is focused on a particular subject, another thought enters my mind's peripheral. "Should I stay with I'm working on"? "Boy, oh boy, that other sure looks good". "But if I leave the trail I'm currently on, I'll never find my way back". "But maybe the other will lead to something sweeter". "No, stay where your at". "OK, I'm going to chase the new, I can come back to the old". "Maybe".

Now if you are wondering what usually happens within the confines of my cranium whenever I am in this indecisive state...

Lets just say there are a lot of skid marks on my mind's highway.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Adoption

Does my dad, Ray Wilkes, need to adopt me? Do those who have been born again by the Spirit of God need to be adopted by Him?

Friday, January 8, 2010

Get 'Em Wet to Get "Em In

I'm not looking for any names to drag through the mud. I'm just wandering if the belief that one is baptized into the church a common belief among our missionary baptists brethren? If so, what is their biblical basis for such an idea?

Are You Sure You Are Convicted?

It is a common thing to hear a person claim they are “convicted” about a certain belief. Their using this word is the way by which they suggest that God is the one who has led them to their conclusion.

The persistent use of this word in connection with one’s theological views produces obvious problems. At the same time one person is claiming God has convicted them that women wearing pants to church is wrong, another is claiming God has convicted them that it is alright. Since neither have a clear-cut biblical basis for their argument, they must play the “conviction” card.

I have personally seen this card used to condone everything from staying home from church to gambling at casinos. It is purposed to be the trump card. The perfect time to play this card is after all cards of debate have been played, and neither participant has clearly convinced the other. When one claims “well, I am convicted” the game is over.

“I am convicted” means they have convinced themselves (without clear biblical basis, else that card would have been played) that God has ordained their view as the one to which all others should conform.

No. What I just wrote is not correct. The “I am convicted” view is not a stamp of approval by God, but rather one who is claiming to have been convinced by God. In other words, how can you possibly argue with one who is claiming to stand simply where God has put them?

According to Mr. Webster, all meanings of the word “convict” carry with them some sort of guilty connotation. The only time people are convicted by God is when He is revealing their sin to them. The word convict never means simply convinced, much less convinced by God.

What people really need to do is be honest. It is not called “a conviction” it is called “an opinion”.

I do know that some will disagree with what I have written. But I want you to know that I am really convicted about this.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Oh No!!! The Preacher Doesn't Know!

It’s been a while, so I will slowly insert my toes into the blogging waters lest I move too fast and lose my footing. I’m restlessly sitting in a hotel room in Dallas. It’s the wee hours of the morning and the reading of preachers’ blogs has served me as a passer of time.

But the more I read, the more concerned I grow over the seemingly unscathed view some preachers have of their opinionated conclusions. Without a doubt, some issues are so clearly and repetitively addressed in the Bible that God has left man without any room for opinion. For example, the only way someone can open the Bible and teach works for salvation is to clearly distort or ignore what God has said. But a wide array of issues are not as clear.

The issues which are not as lucid are varied. The precise placing of the time when Lucifer was cast down or exactly when Jesus will return are obvious examples of issues which have produced a myriad of hypotheses.

We preachers have to frequently deal with these questions, and others, from people who look to us as those who should have the answers. But the honest truth is that sometimes even we preachers do not have a definitive answer. Without a doubt, we have opinions, after all we are preachers and when God called us into the ministry it seems as though our opinion gene was genetically enhanced and our pride cells were multiplied. In other words…I know what I am talking about and don’t even think about telling me I’m wrong!

Is it a bad thing for a preacher to simply say, “I don’t know”?

Well, I don’t know.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Am I An Indian?

Last week, as usual, I picked the boys up after school. Hayden was sitting in the back seat and Hunter was in the passenger seat. We are heading home and we are having our usual discussion about their day. What did you have for lunch? Did anyone in your class get in trouble? (The last question is simply a bait to allow the boys the opportunity to confess)

I looked over at Hunter and he had already started on his homework. He likes to start on his homework before we get home so he will have more time to play baseball in the yard. He was working on something to do with Indians.

He asked me a couple of questions and then I proceeded to let him know that my great-grandmother was full-blooded Indian. After hearing this news, the floodgate of questions was opened. After a while he started trying to figure out how much Indian blood he had. After I told him that I was 1/8th Indian, I tried to explain to him that he was 1/16th Indian. He looked over at me with a funny look and said, "No, Daddy. How many quarts?"

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Do You Remember?

I posted earlier what I would miss about some of my instructors. Here are a few things I'll remember about some students.
Jared...your wrong.
Mark...iron your shirt.
Josh...Arkansas stinks.
Alex...turn your chair like the rest of the class.
Martin...go back to Texas(you can leave your wife and kids here, they're sweet).
Tommy...awesome guns.
Tim...the boogey man
Justin...have any holes in your wall?
Joey...check your britches.
Micah...want some fish?
Wayne Lee...Deacon/Calvary.
Josh L...what did you tell the husband when counseling him?
James...buy a used car, not new one.
Jonathon...wake up
Jessie...country
Cole...how can 2 totally different sounds come from the same box?
Richard...poked anyone lately?

Followers