What turned my head was the sign for Aunt Beaut’s pan-fried chicken.
Why is it when God wants to get my attention, the easiest way to do it involves chicken? My belt really is a leather fence around a chicken graveyard.
Anyway, last week we were in downtown Charlotte on vacation. And there on the corner of West Trade and Tryon Street was the King’s Kitchen. Open for lunch or dinner, the restaurant trumpets “New Local Southern Cuisine.”
They had me at “Southern.”
True, I can get fried chicken anywhere. But when was the last time you went into a restaurant that had collard greens, cream corn, and butter beans all on the menu for lunch?
So I staked the place out, and the next day my wife and I walked the block from our hotel to sample the King’s Kitchen for lunch.
I immediately knew something was different about this place when I read the quotation on the wall just inside the door [click to continue…]
How’s this for a welcome to a pastor’s study?
NOTICE
The Pastor of Calvary Church Receives Sinners and Eats With Them.
Any Questions?
Now there’s a guy who’s either long on courage or short on brains! But he knows his New Testament. And if he does it in the right spirit, he also understands something about the searching heart of God.
In answer to the question hanging on the pastor’s door, Jesus once told a story. [click to continue…]
(Tense Truth: The perfect truth of the gospel was placed into the hands of a group of people whose lives were a complete mess. Jesus knew this, but commissioned them anyway.)
Picture the scene in that upper room on the day of the Resurrection. Rumors and testimonies are flying! A strange mixture of fear, joy, and disbelief. Suddenly, according to John’s account, the Lord Jesus appears and says, “Peace to you; as the Father has sent me, so I’m sending you” (John 20:21).
Hello and head out! Victory and a vision. A Conqueror with a commission. And now these disciples would duplicate on earth what was first transacted in heaven. “The Father sent me. In the same way, I am sending you.”
But wait a minute. Before we glory in our visions of Pentecost, it would do us good to remember who it was the Lord was talking to. So send I . . . WHO? [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
“So I guess you’ll write something about this in your article,” my dad said.
“Probably,” was my reply. Probably, indeed. I don’t know what you do with your fish stories, but mine wound up in the freezer. And somewhere in heaven, Jonah must have been smiling.
Long ago now – about 15 years – I took the kids fishing. This trip was a lot more fun previous ones because they were able to bait their own hooks. All totaled, they caught 18 fish, and loved every minute of it. I just caught one. But I had no complaints.
“Asking to be caught.” That was my interpretation of what Daddy called “guarding his nest.” I called him Big Boy, and for good reason. He was the biggest bass I had ever seen in all my years fishing the family pond. And what was most amazing was that I actually saw him! Hovering in the water there, about three feet from the dam, he just stayed in one position.
Silently, breathlessly, I flirted with Big Boy for an hour. [click to continue…]
I expected to learn some things and be reminded of some things when I made my first trip to Thailand. I was not disappointed. To put an exclamation point on our trip, here are some things I learned along the way…
You may think you know what humidity is, but you’re wrong.
My wife had one unending childhood adventure.
Churches everywhere are made up of humans, with human needs, human potential, and human flaws.
Pastors may not speak the same language, but the leadership issues they face are the same worldwide.
It’s amazing the trust you can gain with a sincere smile. [click to continue…]
There’s an old colloquial saying in Thailand that has become something of a joke. Makes for a great t-shirt, too. When foreigners would travel to the Land of Smiles, and ask if this whatever was the same as the whatever where they came from, or the whatever from another part of the country or town, the standard reply was, “Same same, but different.”
Why do they have the same two kinds of markets sitting right next to each other? Same same, but different.
Are the people on the southern coast the same as the people in Chiang Mai or Bangkok? Same same, but different.
Do the cooks turn out that Thai cuisine they way their grandmothers did it? Same same, but different.
Today those who deal with the realities of change in this, the only nation in Asia never colonized, face great challenges and great opportunities. And yet, they hold on to a culture that is the friendliest form of fierce independence I have ever met. Same same, but different. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on March 17, 2009
in Enlarging Your Capacity,Exploring the Possibilities,Five LV Laws,Insight,LV Alter-egos,LV Cycle,LV Stories,Leadership,Life Currency,Love,Principle of Freedom,Principle of Legacy
Maewyn Succat. Bet you never thought to hang that name on your son. But Maewyn wasn’t from around these parts, and his name apparently suited him as he grew up in his native Wales.
Maewyn had a pretty respectable upbringing. His granddaddy was a preacher, and his dad was a deacon – though rumor had it that Dad’s religious affiliations had more to do with tax deductions than spiritual passion.
In most ways, I suppose, Maewyn was your typical teenager. Times were tough, but youth is a time to dream of something better. No doubt this teenager had dreams, hopes, and plans to get there.
But all of that came crashing down when Maewyn’s family estate was attacked and he was abducted, placed in chains, and hauled off into slavery, far away from his home and his family.
What do you do when all you’ve ever known is ripped away from you? How do you respond when your dreams, your hopes, your family, and your heritage become distant memories or painful reminders of a life that once was?
Some children encounter such things at very early ages, and never remember their heritage or parents. Not Maewyn. He’d seen too much. Known too much. Missed too much. [click to continue…]
I never knew Bill Hyde.
I will one day.
Bill was a church planter. I know a little about that; I planted a church five years ago. Bill planted six hundred, and just before he died, he hosted a then-record 3,700 participants in a Pioneer Evangelism conference. His vision: to plant 3,000 churches. He took what people were adding in the Philippines, and began multiplying their efforts ten-fold.
I never heard Bill’s deep bass voice, singing or otherwise.
I will one day.
Bill gave up a career in music or teaching because, as one person put it, he wasn’t content leading a quiet, happy life teaching music. Instead, he and Lyn, his wife, chose the frontlines of the battle. They were appointed as missionaries in 1978.
I never hung out, played golf, argued, or even shook hands with Bill. I sure hope I can one day.
Jim Cox, his former co-worker, said that Bill was a big guy:
Big in stature, big smile, big laugh, big hands, big heart. Bill was a musician, a teacher, a planner, an organizer and a doer. He had strong opinions, enjoyed a good argument and a game of dominos. Bill and I played golf together weekly. He was my perfect golfing companion because he was as bad a golfer as I—not that we kept score anyway.
Bill and I have met in one way. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
“This is my god,” he said, pointing emphatically to the marquee below him.
“This” was the Midtown Cinema – Mobile’s downtown porn theater in the 1970s.
It was a Friday night, and a group of us had met to do street ministry in downtown Mobile. We left the church parking lot armed with tracts – little booklets that explain the facts of the gospel – and hearts filled with boldness and expectancy. The people I joined on that particular night were a who’s who of influence and friendship during my high school and early college days – Terry, Wayne, Greg, Pat, Pam, among others. We spent some time at the bus station, as well as the sidewalks beneath the majestic oaks that line Government Boulevard. We gave literature to anybody who would take it, and talked to anybody who would stop. I remember that several people prayed to receive Christ that night. Most didn’t.
[click to continue…]
Sunday afternoon we had a big group of couples at our house. I was hanging out with the men when Robin walks in and says, “There’s somebody at the door you need to talk to.”
Translation: Somebody’s going to ask for our money, and you’re going to make that decision.
Optional Further Translation: I don’t want to make that decision, but I reserve the right not to like it! (She knows I’m a sucker for Girl Scouts, local bands, or anybody else raising money by selling something.)
This was no Girl Scout. Boy Scout either. It was a guy about my age. And he was selling oranges.
That’s right, oranges. Grapefruit, too. And I bought them. Half a case of them, in a household of two, for $39.50.
I live half a block from a major supermarket. We don’t eat oranges that much. Grapefruit? Never.
But I bought. And I’d like to tell you why. (Yes, there are reasons beyond being a sucker.)
[click to continue…]
What turned my head was the sign for Aunt Beaut’s pan-fried chicken. 
